She turned away with a sharp toss of her head.
Only when she glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw him stalking toward her did she realize her mistake. One look at his face made her blood run cold. Her foolish act of defiance had sparked his anger, and the transformation from affable rogue to ruthless Viking couldn’t have been more startling. With his blond hair and icy Nordic features, he looked every inch the cold and heartless barbarian.
She felt the strong urge to cross herself. Fear trickled down her spine. What would he do to her?
She sensed him behind her and knew she was about to find out.
It was time for her reckoning, whether she wanted it or not.
Five
Erik had been enjoying himself replaying the night’s adventures with his men when he’d glanced over and noticed the lass talking to Randolph. His good mood had evaporated like water tossed on sauna rocks.
He sure as hell hoped Randolph kept his wits about him and didn’t let anything slip about Bruce. The less she knew, the better. The lass had given him enough trouble already. Which reminded him, he thought with a dangerous glint in his eye, he and nursemaid Ellie had some unfinished business to settle.
When she turned and caught his gaze, he motioned for her to come to him. He couldn’t have been more stunned when she looked right at him and turned away. It seemed so out of the realm of possibility that she would not only ignore his summons (in his experience—which was extensive—women loved that little quirk of the finger), but also dismiss him, that if it weren’t for the head toss that went along it, he would have assumed she hadn’t seen him (despite the fact that she’d been looking right at him).
His temper flared like fire on dry kindling. Normally it took something akin to an act of God to rile Erik’s anger, but the wee nursemaid had managed it with a mere toss of her head. Albeit as far as dismissive tosses of the head went, it was quite a spectacular one. She’d lifted her tiny, pointed chin, glared down her thin nose, and flipped her frozen mop of wavy dark hair as if she were the Queen of bloody England.
He wasn’t used to being dismissed by a woman or to having his commands disobeyed, and neither sat well with him. Who the hell did this little nondescript nursemaid think she was? Unwilling passenger or nay, he was captain of this ship. And she damn well better learn the chain of command around here. He wasn’t going to have some imperious nursemaid throw his ship in disarray. She’d caused enough trouble for one night already.
They hadn’t escaped completely unscathed in their skirmish with the English. One of his kinsmen had been hit in the arm with an arrow—nothing serious, but it needed to be tended—and Randolph appeared to be suffering from his dunking-turned-near-drowning.
Not wanting to chance leading the English to Bruce on Islay, Erik had decided to put in on one of the numerous small isles along the Scottish coast between the tip of Kintyre and the Ayrshire. He could see to his men and wait for the English to grow tired of their search before joining Bruce and the others.
He should have had Domnall fetch the lass to him, but he was so angry that he stormed over there himself.
He waited for her to turn around, but she sat there as if she didn’t know he was standing right behind her. Yet she was aware of him. He could see it in the slight stiffening of her back and hitch of her breath—a hitch that was strangely erotic.
Suddenly uncomfortable, he cleared his throat.
She gave him a regal turn of the head that made the muscles in his neck and shoulders bundle up in knots.
“I bid you to come to me,” he said.
She tilted her head to look at him. “Did you? Hmm … I didn’t notice.”
His jaw clenched until his teeth hurt. Something about this lass grated on his normally unflappable good humor. He took a threatening step toward her, looming over her. “Next time I call for you, you will bloody well listen,” he said in a low voice. “Do I make myself clear?”
Her eyes widened, and she nodded.
All of a sudden Erik realized two things at once: she wasn’t quite as confident as she appeared, and he was scaring her. He swore under his breath and took a step back, wondering what the hell had gotten into him. He couldn’t remember ever trying to use his size to intimidate a woman.
His anger cooled as suddenly as it had sparked. He didn’t intimidate women; he didn’t need to. Realizing they’d started off on the wrong foot, he smiled and took a seat on a chest opposite her. “You can stop looking at me like that; I’m not going to eat you.”
She eyed him warily, one side of her mouth quirking. “I was thinking more along the lines of pagan sacrifice.”
He laughed. The lass was obviously still stuck on his Norse blood. “I assure you, I’m thoroughly tame.” She gave him a look to suggest she didn’t believe him for a minute, and he grinned. Smart lass. “If you think I’m bad, you should see my cousins.”
The MacRuairis made even their Viking forebears seem civilized. He’d been just as surprised as anyone else when his cousin Lachlan had decided to join the Highland Guard. His war name of Viper wasn’t far off the mark. Lachlan had the heart and the morals of a snake—in other words, he didn’t have any. Erik wondered how he was faring up north. He’d been surprised when his bastard cousin had volunteered to go with the ladies when they’d been forced to separate. Like him, Lachlan had been born on the sea. Being land-bound so long would make his cousin half-crazed—if Bella MacDuff didn’t do it first. The defiant Countess of Buchan, who’d risked everything by crowning Bruce, couldn’t have made her disdain of MacRuairi more obvious.
The lass shivered. “Thank you, but I think I’d rather not.”
He waited for her to look at him. “You’ve nothing to fear. I meant it when I said you would be safe.”
Their eyes held for a moment, and he sensed that she believed him.
She lowered her gaze and fiddled with the fur around her feet. “I thought you would be angry after what happened.” She peeked up at him from under her lashes and said shyly, “Thank you for rescuing me. I got a cramp and couldn’t move.”
Ah, he’d wondered what had happened. “What you did back there was rash. The English boats would not have reached you in time. If I’d been a few minutes later, you would have drowned.”
She quirked a delicate brow. “You are lecturing me on rash?”
He grinned unrepentantly. “It’s not rash when you know the outcome. I’ve got the wind at my back. Always.”
She dismissed his boast with a not-very-discreet roll of the eyes. “How could you be so sure the English captain would take your challenge and not simply wait for you to come to him with his archers ready?”
His gaze turned appraisingly. If the lass had captained that ship, the English might have fared better. Waiting is exactly what the English should have done. Not only would it have given time for the other boats to come to their aid, but coming about and setting all their bowmen on them would have resulted in many more injuries to Erik’s men. “Superior English pride,” he answered with a smile. “It will get them every time.”
“And what about superior pirate pride?” she asked archly.
He let out a sharp bellow of laughter. “You can bloody well count on that as well.”
The lass was proving to be surprisingly amusing. He wasn’t used to women challenging him. They usually bent over backward to please him. He studied her pale face, half-expecting something to have changed. But the same pale, nondescript features stared back at him. He was glad, however, to see the fear was gone from her eyes.
He couldn’t resist challenging her right back. “You don’t fool me one bit, you know.”
She eyed him quizzically. “I don’t?”
He shook his head. “Nay.” He hadn’t missed the look on her face when they were flying over the waves. For the first time, she hadn’t looked as though her laces were pulled too tight. He kicked his feet back and folded his arms across his chest. “You were having fun.”
Even in the
dark he could tell she was blushing. “I was terrified,” she protested. Holding his gaze, she gave him a small, conceding smile. “But it was thrilling. I’ve never gone that fast in my life—in the daylight, let alone at night.” Her gaze fell on his face, and he had the strangest sensation that she could see right through him. He had to force himself not to shift uncomfortably. “Who are you?” she asked thoughtfully.
He paused for a moment, considering what to tell her. “My men call me Hawk.”
“That explains the sail.”
“Aye, and the prow of the boat.” He pointed to the carving, though it was too dark to see.
“Just like the dragon ships,” she said with a shudder.
He grinned—back to the Viking again. “It’s meant to ward off sea monsters and other terrifying beasts.”
“And what wards off you?”
He chuckled. The lass was definitely entertaining.
She tilted her head, the hazy moonlight casting her features in a ghostly glow. “I’m surprised that I’ve never heard of you.”
“Why should you? I’m just a regular ol’ pirate, trying to eke out a living the only way I know how.”
From the sound she made, he guessed that his pretense of modesty didn’t fool her one bit. “Your talents are wasted as a pirate. Have you ever thought of putting those skills to lawful use?”
“For whom?” He watched her carefully, wondering if she’d in fact heard something. “King Edward?”
She shrugged. “Among others. My brother-in—” She stopped so suddenly, he wondered what she’d been about to say. “Many people would pay well for a man of your skills.”
The lass was hiding something, he’d bet his ship on it. But then again, so was he. “I appreciate your advice,” he laughed. “But I prefer the freedom of being beholden to no one but myself.”
“You aren’t married then?”
He resisted the urge to shoot back with a definitive “hell no.” Instead, he gave her a teasing wink. “Not yet, but I’m always looking, if you’d care to apply for the position.” Her eyes widened and before she could form a reply, he added, “But I have to warn you, there’s quite a bit of competition.”
He was disappointed when her expression didn’t even flicker. Instead, her eyes grazed over his face in a way that made him vaguely uncomfortable. “I’ll just bet.” She gave him the perfect condescending nursemaid smile. “Superficial charms can be amusing … for a time.”
Erik frowned. Superficial? What did she mean by superficial? He’d been trying to get a rise out of her, yet somehow she’d managed to put him on the defensive. It wasn’t a position he was used to, and he sure as hell didn’t like it.
The lass wasn’t acting the way she should at all.
Taking advantage of his shocked silence, she said, “Please, you seem like a reasonable enough sort. If you won’t take me back, will you at least let me go? I can find my way back—”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said, cutting off her entreaty.
“But why?” she protested. “I swear I heard nothing about what you and that man were talking about. Why won’t you believe me?”
He wasn’t as immune to her pleas as he wanted to be. He hated denying women anything. He hardened his gaze, trying to ensure she would stop asking. “Your pleas are useless. I will not change my mind. I will return you as soon as it is safe to do so—and not before.”
Her eyes flashed in the darkness, and her lips pursed tight. “You are being ridiculous. This is madness. Do you even know where you are going?”
“Of course I bloody well know where I am going.” As if he would ever get lost.
She looked as though she didn’t believe him. “You can’t mean to sail around all night. You have to put in somewhere. It’s almost dawn and the English will be looking for you. Besides”—she indicated Randolph—“your man needs tending.”
You have to. Erik didn’t enjoy being told what to do, especially by a tiny lass whom he could lift over his head with one hand. Nursemaid Ellie was going to have to learn that she was not the one in charge. But despite the bossy edge in her voice that made him want to grind his teeth, Erik smiled. “Thank you for the reminder.”
He suspected he was about to get the rise out of her that he’d wanted before—tenfold. She could try all she wanted, but she would never be able to manage him. Still, watching her try was going to be amusing.
Her brow furrowed. “What reminder?”
“We had a deal.” He shook his head in mock chagrin. “I usually don’t like to do this until we know each other a little better. But for you I’ll make an exception.” He stood up and motioned to Domnall. “Tie her up.”
Her gasp of outrage was all the satisfaction he needed to assure himself that he was no longer the one on the defensive. Ah, the world was flat once again.
* * *
Overgrown … arrogant … pirate!
Ellie had never been treated so ignobly in her life. Bound and gagged like a common prisoner! She didn’t know whether she was more outraged or humiliated. Never mind that the linen bonds were loosely tied or that her punishment was undoubtedly deserved—the blasted pirate didn’t need to enjoy it so much. And from the broad smile and the way his eyes crinkled up every time he looked at her, she knew he was enjoying every minute of it.
Gallant, ha! He was a loathsome scourge, and she would do well not to forget it.
Ellie spent the better part of the next hour cursing him to perdition—drawing on an impressive repertoire of oaths built from years of being surrounded by brothers—before sleep finally swallowed her anger.
She woke to warmth and the gentle sway of being rocked in her mother’s arms. Sighing with contentment, she rubbed her cheek against the fuzzy wool plaid, inhaled the soft scent of myrtle, and snuggled deeper against the hard chest—
Her eyes snapped open. She was no longer a child. Her mother was gone; she’d smelled like roses, not myrtle, and she’d certainly never had a hard chest.
Ellie startled. Her first instinct was to break free, but she couldn’t move from the viselike hold.
“Unless you want to take another dip in the sea,” a deep voice drawled, “I suggest you keep still and not give me a reason to drop you.”
The pirate. Of course. Who else would hold her as if he had every right to touch her so boldly? He had one arm under her legs and the other wrapped around her back, cradling her head to his chest as if she were a babe. But the way his hand gripped her arm … his fingers were dangerously close to brushing against the curve of her breast. And much to her embarrassment, her body was reacting to his nearness. Her nipples had tightened into hard points beneath the thin linen of her chemise, and she knew better than to blame the cold.
Even worse than the nearness of his hand was that her bottom brushed against a very significant bulge below his stomach. She tried not to think of it, but every time he took a step forward, her body bumped against his in a most intimate fashion. He felt … harder than she expected. But the contact was too brief, and she felt the strangest urge to intensify the friction and snuggle against him.
Her cheeks burned at the betrayal of her body. Though it was still dark, she kept her face burrowed against his chest, not daring to look at him for fear that he would see her reaction. Her awareness was made all the more humiliating by the fact that he probably didn’t even notice the way their bodies touched. No doubt he had women in this position—in many different positions—all the time, whereas she’d never been held this close to a man in her life.
She felt like a silly, blushing maid—which was exactly what she was. But having never felt like this before, it was quite a blow to her womanly pride. She thought herself immune to such girlish behavior. And certainly she knew better than to fall prey to the charms of an incorrigible rogue like him.
But she couldn’t deny the pirate’s appeal. Thomas was right: it was hard not to like him. He was attractive, witty, and certainly exciting to be around. But he’d relied on
that flashing grin for so long, she doubted he ever took the time to get to know anyone—or ever allow anyone close enough to know him. Life was a game to him. He took nothing seriously. He would flirt—brilliantly, to be sure—but there would never be anything more.
Yet her body didn’t seem to understand that as well as her mind did. It didn’t make any sense. Undoubtedly she was attracted to his handsome face. But lots of men were handsome—including Ralph—and this had never happened to her before. It was disconcerting to not be able to manage her body’s reaction to him. Thankfully, however, there were only a few steps to shore.
The shallow draft of the birlinn allowed the boat to be beached quite easily and, if necessary, dragged across narrow stretches of land. Like the Viking longship which it had been modeled after, the West Highland birlinn had been built for getting in and out of shallow waters quickly, making it perfect for quick attacks and raids. And for pirates.
She was relieved when he set her down gently on the rocky beach. “Milady,” he teased with a courtly flourish of his hand.
Her mouth quirked at the parody, despite the fact that he was as far from a gallant knight as could be, and that she was furious with him.
Suddenly, her hands went to her wrists. “You removed the binds,” she realized, surprised.
“Eager for me to put them back on so soon? I thought we’d wait until we were a little more private. But if you insist …”
Her skin prickled with a strange heat at the undeniable sensual implication. The only explanation she could come up with for this odd reaction was that she must still be suffering from the aftereffects of being pressed so intimately against him.
Pretending she hadn’t heard the suggestive tone in his voice, she schooled her features into perfect placidity. “Where are we?”
Seeing that she wasn’t going to play along with his flirtatious game, the teasing smile slid from his face. He almost appeared to be scowling. “Somewhere the English won’t hear you if you’re inclined to screech like a banshee again.”
The Hawk: A Highland Guard Novel Page 8
