Righteous Side of the Wicked: Pirates of Britannia

by Jennifer Bray-Weber

  “What have we here?” He cocked his head as he leered. “What’s yer name, lass?”

  His gravelly voice pricked her into a shaky answer. “Treva MacDougall, sir.”

  “Treva, eh? A ripe morsel, are ye?”

  He ripped the blanket she held tight to her chest from her. “Aye. Ripe, ye be. The lads will find many a use for ye.” He bent closer still, his rancid breath smothered her and his lips curled into a ghastly grin. “When I’m done with ye.”

  He grabbed her arms, pulling her upright. She had found her voice, screaming with all she had, desperately trying to fight him. The more she thrashed the harder he held her. But she struggled against him anyway. He struck her so hard the tang of blood coated her tongue. All went white for a moment, and then the sharp pain followed, bringing tears to her eyes.

  He hit her again, spouting curses and calling her nasty names. She couldn’t get her bearings, struggled to stay awake. Was vaguely aware he had ripped her clothing. Oh God, he was going to rape her. Terror slammed into her chest. She scratched at his face, shrieking, as he tried to bunch up her skirts.

  Shouts and clamoring broke out somewhere else on the ship. A loud thud slammed against the cabin door. The racket had stalled him just enough for her to snatch at the sgian dubh at his waist. It happened so quickly. The knife had little resistance as it punctured through flesh. He bellowed, grabbing at his crotch and buckling to the floorboards.

  Half-blind from horror and swirling darkness, she fled, crashed into the door and flung it open. In that moment, she flinched at the gunshot blasting through the companionway. A pirate crumbled at her feet. The sailor who had fired the shot helped her over the dead man. ’Twas like a terrible dream she wasna quite living—running topside, metal clashing against metal, shouts, guns discharging. She slipped on the wet deck, falling to her hands and knees. ’Twasn’t from the rain. ’Twas blood. Blood from a sailor not much older than she who lay dead, staring wide-eyed at her. She scampered back, fighting the rise of bile in her stomach.

  The ship jolted. Someone had cut the anchor, sails unfurled. By the looks of the skirmish going on around her, the sailors were regaining control. The pirates were jumping overboard.

  She spotted her wretched attacker at the boat’s railing. Wet stains darkened down the leg of his breeches. He swayed, clearly suffering immeasurable pain. But his deranged stare bore straight through her.

  “I will hunt and kill ye, little girl.” His strained warning was a promise she fully believed. He smiled broad and true just before he stepped back off the railing and disappeared. She couldn’t take a full breath. What was wrong with her? He was gone and she still couldn’t fill her lungs.

  Warmth enveloped her hand. She blinked hard to clear her vision, unaware that tears had welled in her eyes.

  “’Tis all right, Treva. Breathe. Look at me. Breathe.”

  Coire had squatted before her and was holding her hand. He seemed…concerned. She hadn’t realized she’d been trembling until he rubbed her arm.

  “He’s not here. He canna hurt you.”

  “I…I…haven’t had a restful night since. I know he will make good on his promise.”

  “Nay, lass.” He reached up to swipe a stray tear with the pad of his thumb. “I winna let that happen.”

  Confused, she searched his face. Why? Why would he say such a thing? “Nay. Dinna say things ye dinna mean.”

  He dropped his head, and her heart crushed. She knew better than to think he cared enough to honor his vow. She had not met a man that could keep his word. Even Da had disappointed her. He broke his promise of always protecting her and Mama. But then Coire looked up. His blues were a stormy blend of doubt and wonder.

  “I canna say what will happen tomorrow, in a fortnight, or a year from now, but while ye are with me, Dread winna harm you.”

  A promise he could keep. Nothing more, nothing less. Treva knew then he was the closest she’d ever come to an honorable man.

  What was this strange feeling? Aye, from nearly the moment she met him, she wanted Coire, wanted to lie with him, moan his name. She was drawn to his prowess and his wolfish grace. But she didna expect to feel this…this exposed.

  He moved her in ways she couldn’t describe. ’Twas scary but exciting, too. Like riding a pony full speed down a steep hillside. She thrived on risk. He was a risk worth taking. “I want to kiss ye.”

  He shifted his weight to sit on his knees; he hadn’t expected her to say that. The corner of his mouth curled. “For saving yer life?”

  “Nay.” She slid from her seat before him. “Because I want to.”

  Slowly his lingering gaze upon her mouth rose to meet hers. “I winna stop you.”

  “Thank God.” Treva cupped her hand to his cheek. The stubble scratching her palm was delicious. His jaw clenched, the muscles contracting beneath her touch. Her fingers slid into his long chestnut-honey hair at the back of his neck. The length of it tickled and brushed down her arm. A lifetime could have passed as she wandered in the cornflower blues of his eyes.

  His tongue licked his bottom lip and she couldna keep her taut need at bay any longer. Treva pulled him in for her kiss. Lips soft and giving were just what she longed for on lonely nights. Lips like Coire’s were something she wished to wake up to…someday, though she doubted she’d ever settle into a quiet life. But now, at this very moment, here with an enticing pirate, her lust of his flesh quashed sweet and dreamy.

  She pressed harder against his mouth, twined her arms around his neck. Clutching her waist, he gathered her closer. Their tongues met in fervent union, a dance of exploration. Just as with their first kiss, she drowned in him, losing all sense of surrounding.

  Treva wanted to touch him, run her hands over his bare skin. She couldn’t think beyond ridding him of his tunic. Grappling with the fabric while refusing to leave his mouth for even a breath proved difficult. He ripped it over his head and his mouth collided with hers again. Her palms skated over his shoulders and back, mapping out the solid, heated planes. Down her hands slid until they dipped into the valley below his waistband.

  Coire growled into the kiss, gripped a handful of hair at her nape, and yanked her head back. He devoured her throat, laying waste to any shred of caution she might have had if she were a proper lady. Treva arched into him, giving him better access. Her breasts rubbed against his chest. She hadn’t been prepared for the bundles of shock shooting to her core as the damp cloth of her dress abraded her nipples.

  He slipped a hand into her bodice, gently kneading her breast until he freed her. Cool air was quickly replaced by his wet, warm mouth. Heaven help her. Coire suckled, licked, and grazed his teeth upon her nipple whilst his other hand plied her other breast. Soon, with a little writhing and help from roaming hands, she, too, was bare from the waist up. Sweat sheened her forehead, her panting was nearly as quick as her racing heart.

  She was wilting in a haze of desire, desperate to be led further into celestial sin. Treva had to have him. Now. She shoved him back to the floorboards and hiked up her skirt to straddle him. Whilst still stunned by her sudden action, she gripped his face with both hands and kissed him hard. Only the need to suck in breath drew her away. And then she became focused on untying his breeches.

  The cabin door swung open.

  “Capt’n.”

  Treva froze, didna dare turn around at the sound of Jonesy’s voice.

  Coire shot daggers over her shoulder. “Get. Out.”

  “Uh, um, ’pologies.” The door clicked closed.

  An uneasy feeling settled within her. Jonesy was a nice fellow. He’d been trying so hard to be a gentleman. But the captain had her eye, not him. And that made her feel bad.

  Coire expelled an agitated sigh. “I’m verra sorry.” He rolled her off, lifted her bodice to cover her, and helped her to her feet.

  “I’m only sorry that ye want us to stop.” With the hand not holding up her dress, she brushed aside the hair in his eyes. The impulse was too much, perha
ps too intimate.

  He grasped her by the wrist. “I dinna want to stop, lass.”

  “Then let’s not.”

  Chapter Six

  A low chuckle rumbled from his throat. “Ye are a bold woman.”

  “Ye only live once, Coire, and what a short life ’tis.”

  His amusement reshaped, as if he sobered. A darkness fell upon him. One she recognized. And shared. Base, honest, raw.

  She dropped her hold on her bodice and let the fabric fall. But he didna look down at what she offered.

  His nod was near imperceptible. “’Tis a verra short life indeed. I’m eager to savor my good fortune.” He yanked her flush to him. Skin to skin, her breasts mashed against his hard chest. She didna wait for his next move but he met her kiss with an open mouth.

  Treva couldna get close enough to him. Any hairsbreadth between them was a chasm.

  Without breaking the connection, they twisted and stumbled but soon she was on her back in his bed reveling in the weight of him, in how he caressed her breasts. The sensations he created thickened the potent fog once more. She explored every inch of him she could reach, committing his back, shoulders, and waist with her hands to memory as if she were a blind woman. But she fell short, unable to touch him in equally tantalizing parts of his body. And taste. She had to taste him. She broke the kiss in favor of his neck. Salty, masculine, heady.

  Coire pushed back on his fists. Confidence budded within her as his gaze feasted upon her. “Beautiful.”

  She skimmed a finger down the rippling ridges from his chest to his navel. “Beautiful,” she answered.

  “I want the rest of you naked.”

  “Ye first.” Twasn’t out of modesty. Nay, she simply wanted to admire him before the power of desire overcame them.

  Coire got to his knees with a devilish smirk and slipped his breeches off his hips down to his thighs.

  Treva swallowed…hard. His shaft nestled in a crisp thatch stood out thick and stiff. Spellbound, she reached for him. His whole body became rigid as she touched him, tested the weight of him, stroked his velvet smooth length. He sucked in breath through his teeth. She glanced up to his pained, curious expression staring back at her.

  Driven by an erratic pulse, she brought her tongue to the tip of him to capture the bead of moisture there. Never had she ever tasted a man this way, but suddenly she wanted to devour him. She slipped him into her mouth, wrapped her lips around him. Treva wasna sure what she was to do next, but she loved hearing his raspy curse and throaty moan. She withdrew, dragging her tongue along the underside of him. Coire’s breath hitched, his shaft twitched. Aye, she loved eliciting his response. She did it again, taking him further into her mouth and licking him as she pulled back. And then again. His sounds, they goaded her. She gripped him tighter, sucked faster. His hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers gripping her hair, and he guided her pace. But when she moaned, he abruptly tugged her away.

  “Ye do much more of that, love, and this’ll be over too soon. Lie back.”

  She wasna ready to stop, but by his randy, dark expression there was more good things to come. He stalked up her body to snare her mouth, momentarily distracting her until his hand roved across her hip and veered between her legs. Acute sensitivity perforated from her center as his fingers buried into her downy mound and dipped into her folds. Heaven above, she lost her faculties as he expertly slid inside only to drag her wetness back over her achy nub. He swirled and sank his fingers in again. Each pass, he plunged deeper, rubbed longer. Mind-numbing flutters beat from her crux. She couldn’t return his kiss, unable to perform even the simplest function as he manipulated her to heights she’d never been before. Just as she was about to burst from the inside out, he stopped. She couldn’t be sure, but she may have whimpered.

  His gruff voice rasped in her ear. “I canna wait any longer.”

  “Nay.” ’Twas a plea, a plea to bring her as close to heaven as any sinner could reach.

  Coire settled between her thighs. The tip of his shaft wedged at her entrance. Anticipation of him penetrating her drove her mad. But then he pierced her with a searing stare she felt all the way to her heart. She couldna look away, he held her suspended between unknown passion and a secret place only he could take her.

  Captive in his eyes, he entered her slowly, allowing for her to adjust to his generous size.

  “Lass…so good.”

  ’Twas all she could do to swallow. No man had taken time to relish the prelude of joining with her like this. This felt…amazing. She bit upon her lower lip at how he filled her. Treva tilted her hips up as he seated himself as far as he could go. He eased nearly all the way out and slid back in, setting a deliberate pace. The leisurely friction was tormenting. She gripped his arse cheeks, encouraging him to pick up momentum. Otherwise, she might perish from going insane.

  Coire pumped faster. Skin slapped against skin. Musk of their union mingled in her quickened breaths. She abandoned his arse to plant her palms on the wall behind her head to keep from slamming into it as he plunged into her. Treva met him thrust for thrust, needing him to take her to the very edge of existence. More, she had to have more of him, crawl inside him, be one with him.

  Rocking, bumping, they ground together. Higher she soared. Unable to see past the cloud of desire, she finally closed her eyes. Treva spiraled, her center bunched tight. Like kindling catching fire, she exploded.

  Coire captured her scream in a fierce kiss as he continued to pound into her. He broke away mere heartbeats later and withdrew. The corded sinew in his neck clenched upon his release, his groan echoed through the cabin. ’Twas the most sensual thing she’d ever heard.

  Her body rained down like embers into a sanguine repose. Coire collapsed beside her on the paltry mattress. He tucked her into him. Sticky sweet, she nestled into his chest.

  His fingers drew circles upon the curvature of her back spreading blissful shivers in their wake. “Mo sionnach àlainn,” he whispered.

  His beautiful fox? If she hadna already lost her head over Coire, she was gone now. It didna matter what the future held for her, for him. All that mattered was this moment.

  “Thank ye…for showing me what…this…can be like.”

  His circles stalled. “Pleasure is to be given. And ye gave well.” He sat up, kissed her soundly, and left the bed.

  “I’m needed topside.” He handed her a rag from the wash basin to clean up evidence of their coupling. “We must find a place to ride out the coming storm.”

  “I understand.” Though she would rather remain wrapped in his protective arms, revel in the unfamiliar peace she found there, she couldna expect him to stay.

  He stuffed himself back into his trousers, watching her. She wished she could read his mind. As it was, his expression was guarded. Treva should do the same. Should. Not so easy while lying naked in his bed.

  Coire scooped his tunic off the floor. On his way up, he gripped her chin and placed a tender kiss upon her lips. And then he was gone.

  His affections were so…personal. Her head reeled, her heart billowed. The void within her felt even more barren with his departure. ’Twas startling. Was it possible to be so high in the boughs for someone so quickly? It was. She was.

  Coire just may be her biggest risk yet.

  The rain fell in heavy, wayward sheets, the wind boisterous. Kelpie found shelter in a small Colonsay cove to ride out the storm. Coire stood at the rail as the ship bobbed and jounced on the turbulent surf, mindlessly scanning the island’s black outline against the moody nighttime sky. The cold rain splattering him was refreshing against his heated skin. But still, it didna wash away the persistent thoughts of the woman he left in his cabin.

  She had done something to him. Made him feel differently. She understood a pirate’s life, that there was no promise of tomorrow. That even the next breath was not guaranteed. It saddened him. She shouldn’t know how that feels. More still, the injustice brought on by Graer and Dread against her infuri
ated him. Infernal scugs. While Graer wasna an immediate threat to Treva, Dread was. Coire had dismissed the way the vile pirate captain had eyeballed her at the tavern. Thinking back, he realized he’d mistaken ogling a fresh, fair lass for overdue retribution. Dread likely would have succeeded had Coire not decided to go after her.

  He meant what he said to her. He would protect her from Dread as long as he was able. Hell, if luck smiled upon him, Coire would have an opportunity to kill the unhung, soddin’ wastrel. How many lasses hadn’t escaped him? How many have suffered at his hands? Just the thought had Coire itching to shove his pistol between his deadlights and pull the trigger.

  Ah, but he was no fool. Without her hardships, Treva might not be the person she was today. And that connection between them wouldna exist.

  Despite her saucy tactics to bed him, it had been clear she shared herself with him in a way she never had with another man. ’Twasn’t just a swive for her. Not for him, either. Every sigh, the taste of cream beneath the brine, the musk hanging in the air, the friction they created seared upon his mind. Whatever became of them, this night, with this woman, he would treasure.

  The storm’s temper lulled, but the rain drummed steady. Coire decided to fetch food from the galley. Mr. Shaw sat at the long table cradling his bowl of pottage in the crook of his beefy arm and doing his damnedest to get a spoonful into his mouth without spilling the broth. Coire ladled up his own bowl and sat across from his first mate. The hot, savory gruel chased the chill away, but not the bushy-browed stare of Mr. Shaw.

  “Speak yer mind, Mr. Shaw.”

  His jowls flapped as his frown deepened. “’Taint me bidness.”

  “The lass? Nay, ’tis not.”

  “But Jonesy—”

  “Will get his head straight.”

  “And ye?”

  “Have my eyes wide open.”

  Mr. Shaw, finding his answer acceptable, nodded. “What next?”