“Where else would we be going?”
“Not your cabin?”
“Lass, you aren’t making sense.”
“You still think of it as ours?”
“Of course,” Ruairí noticed Senga’s anxiety as she seemed to shrink into herself again. “I didn’t come chasing after you just to let you go on your merry way. Senga, you’re no one’s curse. Not mine, not your own. You are, however, the most infuriating woman I have ever met, and the one I shall love for the rest of my life.”
“I love you.”
Ruairí was sure he’d heard nothing better than Senga sharing her feelings for the first time. “Will you marry me, little one? I intended to ask you in our cabin this morning, but alas, you sent me on a merry chase to earn your hand.”
Senga fell against Ruairí but tried to pull back when she remembered his injuries. He anchored her in place, and she breathed the scent of sea air and pine that she’d always know was his. “I’ll marry you. I’d marry you this very moment if I could.”
“Then you won’t be fleeing my arms again?”
“I wasn’t running away from you so much as I was trying to outrun what I was sure fate would deliver. I love you.”
“I shall insist upon hearing that several times a day and more often at night. I love you, mo bhòidhchead.” Ruairí hadn’t called her his beauty since early in their relationship, using other pet names instead. It reminded her of why she’d agreed to leave her home on a whim. She realized she was grateful for the intuition that said she should follow him. That intuition reared its head again, and she felt a calm settle over her as her soul seemed to speak for her.
“I want to marry you today, Ruairí. I don’t want to wait.”
“I’m glad to hear that because I already intended to take you to the kirk before returning to our ship.” Ruairí saw her shock once more. “Yes, she’s ours now. You’ll be my wife and are already my partner, whether or not I said as much. I rely on you, and so you should have your own share of our enterprise.”
“Pirates! They really are pirates!”
Senga had completely forgotten the old couple who sat on the donkey cart behind her. She laughed as she nodded her head. “I won’t be traveling with you after all, but I thank you for your offer.” Ruairí led Senga to his horse and mounted behind her. “I can’t believe you haven’t keeled over yet.”
“I may very well do that the moment we get back to the Lady Charity. Until then, I have a wedding to attend.”
Rowan and Caragh followed Ruairí and Senga into the kirk. It took little effort and a large sum of coins to convince the parish priest to marry them without the banns being read. Ruairí and Senga were married in less than a quarter hour, and the two couples rode back to the coast. None of them wanted to remain, knowing people had already recognized them. At the dinghies, they agreed to sail on to Glasgow to pay the earl his due before going their separate ways for a few weeks. Ruairí agreed to meet Rowan in two month's time to sail to Barra. They’d visit their clan together with their wives. Tomas rowed in silence as he counted his blessings that he might survive to see another sunrise.
Once aboard the Lady Charity, Ruairí introduced Senga as his wife to wild cheers. Even the most hardened and grizzled of his crew had fallen in love with Senga. He had few concerns for her safety now, and he granted the crew the right to a night of merriment while he planned to make merry of a different kind. Senga tugged at his hand and tilted her head toward their cabin.
They hurried below deck where Senga was undressing before Ruairí finished bolting and barring the door. She insisted upon inspecting Ruairí’s wounds before letting him touch her. He grumbled that she was taunting him with temptation when he’d already suffered enough that day. Senga couldn’t believe Ruairí hadn’t torn any stitches and that he was still on his feet.
“I have reason to celebrate and reason to remain in the land of the living. I know I shall be sore in the morning, but I feel far better than I expected after making a mad dash after my wayward wife.”
Senga had the good grace to look repentant at the reminder of the trouble she’d caused that day and the danger in which she’d place not only herself but Ruairí, Caragh, and Rowan. She didn’t move when Ruairí approached. He led her to a chair and sat down without a word before guiding her over his lap.
“You said back in your cottage that you would’ve liked to be spanked.” Ruairí couldn’t bring himself to say her late husband’s name or to even acknowledge she’d been married before him. “You shall get your wish now, little one. You talked your way out of a spanking when I found you sparring for the first time. You can’t talk your way out now.”
“Yes, Ruairí,” Senga demurred. She shifted to find a better position across his lap as she waited for her punishment to begin. The wait was nearly as much agony as she assumed the spanking would be. She glanced at Ruairí, but he was staring at her backside, appreciation clear on his face. He ran his hand over her bottom in a soft caress.
“You shall receive ten slaps on your pretty little arse, and you will count each one. You will thank me after each one. Thank me that I love you so much that I’d protect you from yourself.” Ruairí drew back his hand and landed his palm across her bottom. He appreciated the way the skin rippled.
“One. Thank you, Ruairí.”
“I love you, Senga. I’ll do anything I have to, to keep you safe.” He brought his hand down again.
“I know. Two. Thank you.”
“I shall pinken your beautiful arse.” Ruairí enjoyed seeing the color rise in Senga’s backside. He loved the feel of her across his lap and the way her bottom felt each time his hand landed. He could feel himself hardening with each swipe across her globes. He landed spanks on each cheek and across where her thighs met her bottom. After the last one, he rubbed her stinging flesh until her moan was one of pleasure rather than pain. He nudged her legs apart and slipped his fingers between them. They were soon soaked with her dew that slickened the insides of her thighs.
“I think you enjoyed that punishment a little too much, little one.”
“I admit that I did, Ruairí. I’m sorry for what I did, and I appreciate you loving me enough to want to protect me. But I won’t apologize for how much I want you, how much I need you.” Senga eased from his lap and came to kneel between his legs. She pushed them apart wider before drawing the laces of his leggings loose. “I would show you just how much I appreciate you.”
Senga freed Ruairí’s engorged cock and slid her tongue over it from root to tip, swirling and flicking her tongue as she made it twitch. She blew cool air over it before allowing her warm mouth to descend up on his rod. She moaned as she worked him, sucking hard enough to draw her cheeks in. She took him deeper than she ever had before, relaxing her throat as she nearly swallowed him. Ruairí grunted but forced himself not to push her head down further. She gripped the open waistband of his leggings as she continued to work him, sliding up and down as she hummed. Ruairí couldn’t suppress the need to thrust. When he felt his need to climax threatening to end their interlude, he pulled her free and walked her toward the bed. Ruairí spun Senga around and pushed onto her hands and knees. His hand rained down several more spankings, but these were for their mutual pleasure. Senga rocked her hips back, wanting the pain and pleasure that only Ruairí could offer.
“Please, Ruairí. I need you. Please,” she begged.
“I know, little one. And you shall have to do without just a little longer. You will know how I felt when I couldn’t wait to be with you once again.” Ruairí’s hushed tones made Senga’s sheath clench with a burning ache to be filled by him. When Ruairí knew Senga was on the cusp of desperation rather than arousal, they fell onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs as their bodies fused together.
“I promise you shall only chase me to our bed from now on,” Senga whispered.
The love they shared shone in every word they whispered and every caress they shared as day passed into night, and th
e sun rose again to shine upon their future.
Chapter Sixteen
“Wife,” Ruairí called down the ladderwell to Senga as the sun rose. When Senga appeared from their cabin, rubbing her eyes while yawning, Ruairí laughed. “I didn’t keep you awake that long last night.”
“The stars had already disappeared before I shut my eyes. Now the sun hasn’t even realized it’s daytime,” Senga grumbled.
“I thought you wanted to bid farewell to Caragh and Rowan before we depart. It’s been a sennight since we married, and much as I don’t want to, we must set sail.”
“I don’t. I want to stay with them longer now that we’ve learned Caragh is expecting.” Senga sighed, her exhaled breath blowing her hair away from her forehead. “But I understand we can’t stay here forever. Where will we go after we report to the Earl of Argyll?”
It was Ruairí’s turn to blow out a deep breath. He didn’t relish telling Senga their next destination, but it wasn’t any better than if they sailed to the Mediterranean like Rowan and Caragh had. He waited until Senga climbed the steps before offering her his hand as she stepped onto the deck. He led them to the rail, where they watched the pinks and purples inch their way above the horizon.
“We’ll be making a run to Ireland after I trade in Glasgow.”
“Ireland? That’s bluidy pirate central!” Senga shook her head vehemently. “Why there? Neither the MacLeods nor the MacNeils are welcome there.”
“The MacLeods aren’t, which is no longer your concern—you’re a MacNeil now—but Rowan and I are. We offer too much profit for the Irish to turn us away.”
“But Ruairí, they’re slave traders.” Senga’s eyes opened wide, but before she could speak, Ruairí snarled.
“I have never bought or sold a person in my life. My crew may come and go as they replace or are replaced, but I’m no slaver. Not after what happened to Rowan and me.” Ruairí felt the bitterness that had been at bay for most of the time he’d been with Senga threatening to resurface. He turned a frigid glare on Senga, who looked anything but intimidated.
“I never said, never even thought you were. But you’d do business with those who are.”
“We’re pirates! Who the hell do you think I do business with?”
“Don’t snap at me,” Senga warned. “I told you when we met that I knew who you are and what you are. But that doesn’t mean I have to agree with who you associate with.”
“But you don’t mind if I kill people and plunder their treasure.”
Senga opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. She took a long moment to consider her wording before she laid her hands on Ruairí’s chest. “It’s not as though I haven’t seen men die. It’s not like I haven’t killed men too. I’ve been on raids, and you witnessed me fight in my cottage. But there is something utterly repugnant about someone who can buy and sell other people. Knowing that someone forced my own husband into indenture makes my reaction all the stronger. I’m not blaming you so much as I’m angry at the situation. I would have killed Alane myself for what she did to you.”
Ruairí pulled Senga into his embrace, laying his cheek on the crown of her head. The sense of security and peace she offered made the bitterness in his heart recede once more. He knew she was right, but he’d felt attacked and came out swinging.
“Senga, I know which men are the slavers, and I don’t do business with them. I’ve attacked more than one ship with human cargo, and I’ve always done what I can to set them free. It was a pledge Rowan and I made to one another before I left the Lady Grace and its captain sold me to my predecessor here on the Lady Charity.”
Senga wrapped her arms around Ruairí’s middle and nestled further into his embrace, his arms and chest engulfing her in their warmth and protection.
“I think we’ve just had our first fight,” Senga murmured.
“Aye, I’d say we have. Lucky for us, it was a brief one. I can accept we won’t always agree, and that’s fine, but please have a little faith that I still recognize some right from wrong.”
Senga heard the plea in Ruairí’s voice, and she felt guilty for having so little trust in her husband. She nodded before leaning back. “I do. I suppose there can be honor among thieves.”
“Shall we row over to visit Rowan and Caragh before we depart?”
“Aye. I’d like that.” Senga bit her bottom lip before gazing up at Ruairí. He could practically see the wheels turning in Senga’s mind, but his mind and his stiffening rod were focused on the way her teeth sunk into her lower lip. He pulled it free before his mouth descended to hers. He tugged at that lip before sweeping his tongue within the silky depths. When Senga moaned, Ruairí’s hands slid to her backside, pressing her against his arousal.
“Do you see what you do to me, wife? Do you feel it?”
“How could I not?” Senga laughed, but another moan escaped as Ruairí swooped in for another kiss. She felt drugged, as though she floated above the world upon a cloud, until she realized Ruairí had lifted her off her feet so they could see eye to eye.
“What are you thinking about, little one?”
“I disagreed with you. In public, where someone might have heard me. I questioned the captain and offered my opinion when it wasn’t asked for.”
“You did, but we’re partners. The Lady Charity is as much mine as it is yours. You have a right and you have a say.”
“But I did that in public. Someone could have heard my insubordination.”
“Senga—” Ruairí’s left eye narrowed as he examined his wife, tilting his head to the right. He bent his head to bury his nose in her hair and bring his lips to her ear. His warm breath sent a shiver down Senga’s back. “Are you admitting to your crimes in hopes of punishment?”
Senga nodded but said nothing as Ruairí lowered her to the deck. He gripped her backside in a merciless hold, his hand hidden while Senga’s back was to the rail. His fingers bit into her flesh as he pressed his rod against her mons. She fisted his leine as she looked into his cornflower blue eyes. He glimpsed the submission in Senga that they discovered after their wedding. It wasn’t fear. He never wanted that. It was a pleading for his dominance. He’d noticed that the tension eased from Senga while he was punishing her. It was the opposite of what he expected. It was as if she found comfort in relinquishing control and letting him decide her fate. Ruairí realized he hadn’t truly considered the hardship Senga must have faced after losing her first husband and son, along with the drain that working at the tavern was on her soul. She was tired of fighting alone, and welcomed Ruairí’s control because it meant she no longer had to fend for herself.
“You shall have to wait until we return from the Lady Grace to learn of your punishment.”
“Yes, mo chridhe. Whatever you say.” The words were submissive, but Ruairí caught the usual fire that sparked in Senga’s chocolate-brown eyes.
“And after I am done, how will you show your remorse, wife?” Ruairí’s heart sped up as he waited for Senga to describe what he knew would happen. He held his breath, waiting for her response.
“I shall kneel before you, pressing my breasts together for you to do as you please. When you are ready, I will unlace your leggings and free your rod.” Senga paused, her tongue darting out between her pressed lips, but it slid back into her mouth. “I will lick your cock before I take it in my mouth. I’m going to suck you.”
Ruairí growled as he pounced. He pressed Senga back against the rail as his tongue flicked her earlobe before laving her throat from her collarbone to her jaw. He tugged on her earlobe before drawing it into his mouth. Senga’s hand crept between them before cupping his aching rod. She rubbed her palm over it and felt it twitch within her hand. There were no illusions between them that Senga had as much power over Ruairí as he did her. Senga had the ability to bring Ruairí to his knees. He grasped her wrist, pressing her hand against him once more before pulling it away.
“We’ll never visit with our cousins at this rate.” Ruairí stepped awa
y from Senga but didn’t turn from her, knowing his arousal was on obvious display.
“I think you’ve just punished yourself as much as you will me when we return.”
“Bluidy agony,” Ruairí grumbled.
They took the dinghy across to where Rowan anchored the Lady Grace and spent much of the day with Rowan and Caragh. The men discussed their intended destinations before they would meet again to decide whether they would return to Barra. Caragh and Senga sat in the sun upon crates as they watched the men. They talked about everything and nothing as they enjoyed each other’s company, knowing it would be several weeks before they saw one another again. When Senga and Ruairí could no longer delay returning to their ship if they were to make the tide and sail toward the Firth of Clyde, none of the four had dry eyes.
Chapter Seventeen
Senga entered the cabin before Ruairí, and by the time he had locked and barred their door, Senga already had the laces to her kirtle loosened. She observed Ruairí as he trained his eyes on her breasts, then her mound when the skirts dropped to the floor. She stood with her hands clasped behind her back as Ruairí meandered toward her, the anticipation making it hard for her to breathe. He stepped behind her and rested his hand on her belly.
“One day I will plant my seed and it will take root in here. It’ll be my child that grows within.” It wasn’t often that Ruairí thought about the husband and child Senga had before him, but in moments like this, his possessiveness threatened to swallow him. He slid his hand over the curls nestled at the juncture of her thighs and dipped his middle finger into her sheath, drawing the dew over her bud. He circled it until Senga couldn’t withstand the urge to squirm and drop her head back against Ruairí’s chest. Ruairí purred beside her ear, “Wet for me already?”
“Always, mo chridhe.”
The Dark Heart of the Sea: A Steamy Fated Lovers Pirate Romance (Pirate of the Isles Book 2) Page 12
