“Minx, I know what you’re up to.” Ruairí hissed over his shoulder.
“I could say the same,” Senga teased as she patted his bollocks.
“I think I shall take a lesson from my cousin.” Ruairí swung around, catching Senga unprepared. She squealed as his hand landed on her backside over and over. He was certain it had to be sore from the night before. “You’d like to hear our plans and hope to take advantage of me to convince me to tell you.”
“Take advantage.” The huskiness in Senga’s voice was like an arrow to his cock. It pulsed within his leggings, and he wished they were in their own cabin, so he could press her against the wall and sink into her. “I rather like that idea. So, what’s the plan?”
Senga didn’t back down; instead, she pressed her body against Ruairí’s. When Ruairí’s arousal pressed back against her belly, she stretched to flick his earlobe with her tongue. Ruairí fisted her hair as his mouth crashed down onto hers. The kiss was hungry and punishing, but neither he nor she gave quarter. Both sensed Rowan and Caragh moving about the cabin, but neither was interested in anything beyond their kiss. When they gasped for air, they turned to look at Rowan and Caragh, who stared back at them. Ruairí watched a predatory gleam creep into Senga’s eyes, and when he glanced at Caragh, he saw a matching expression. His head whipped back around when Senga pulled the laces loose at his waist. She sank to her knees as she freed his aching rod. Ruairí glanced back at Rowan and Caragh. His cousin’s large frame blocked any view of Caragh, but from the way Rowan’s head fell back, Ruairí guessed Caragh and Senga were like-minded.
Ruairí leaned forward and braced his hands on the wall as Senga’s satiny mouth slid over his cock again and again. He couldn’t take his eyes off Senga as she drew him close to the precipice, but he refused to let it end so soon. He drew Senga off her knees before spinning her around. He gathered her skirts and pushed them into her hands.
“You are going to get the spanking you deserve, little one. You couldn’t be patient for a few more minutes. You knew Rowan and I would tell you and Caragh everything, but you refused to wait until we were ready. Your cousin is as guilty as you are, and from the sounds of it, she’s getting the spanking she deserves.” Ruairí tipped Senga over his arm and knee, bracing his foot on the bedframe. The sound of his palm making contact with Senga’s backside was in harmony with the sound of Rowan’s hand striking Caragh’s bottom. Neither woman struggled to get away or begged for lenience. After ten spanks, Ruairí pinched Senga’s tender flesh as he glanced once more at Rowan, who lifted Caragh and carried her to the table. Ruairí lifted Senga, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him as her mound rubbed against his cock. He pressed her against the wall and sank into her. When he was seated to the hilt, he paused, reveling in the sensation of being joined with his wife. But need soon got the better of both of them. Their bodies rocked together as desire took control.
“I’m too close, Senga,” Ruairí whispered. “I can’t last much longer. If you’re not close, then I have to slow down. I won’t finish before you.”
Senga fisted Ruairí’s hair and tugged as her mouth covered his. She met each of his thrusts as her body sped toward release. Her body turned rigid as her core spasmed around Ruairí’s length. She squeezed her legs and clung to Ruairí as pleasure crashed over her, threatening to consume her. Ruairí pressed her head against his chest, smothering her scream. He grunted as he spilled his seed, stars dancing before his eyes.
Afterward, Ruairí and Senga set their clothing back to rights and waited for Rowan and Caragh to do the same. It wasn’t the first time Ruairí and Rowan coupled with women in the same room. They’d shared women many times over the years, even at the same time, but neither of them imagined their wives would consider making love while in the same cabin. Senga and Caragh shrugged as their husbands watched them, unsure what to do next.
“We still want to learn what you’re planning,” Senga spoke first. She locked gazes with Ruairí, challenging him to answer. The two couples spent the next hour planning various ways their arrival could play out. Senga and Caragh both balked at the suggestion that the women stay behind while the men ventured ashore first. Caragh spun away from Rowan, then turned back and glowered at him.
“No!” Senga exclaimed. “You are not leaving us behind to fear they’ve killed you.” She imagined standing on the deck of the Lady Charity, watching an arrow pierce Ruairí’s chest as he approached the shore. She trembled as she thought of how terrified she’d been while Ruairí fought at Stornoway, and she had no way to know whether he’d been killed.
“And you think we’ll take you with us to face the same threat?” Ruairí countered. “Not bluidy likely.”
The women listened as Rowan explained their reasoning that it would be safer and easier for the two men to escape if things turned out badly; it was far more dangerous and difficult if the four of them traveled ashore together. Senga recognized the hard glint in Ruairí’s eyes from when they first met. She accepted that nothing she said would shake his resolve, but she wasn’t ready to give in.
“Very well,” Senga nodded. “We’ll wait. On deck.”
“No!” Ruairí and Rowan bellowed together.
“You’ll wait in one of our cabins until we return for you or order the sails hoisted.” Rowan ordered.
“Do you intend to lock us down there?” Caragh stood with her hands on her hips as she tapped her toes.
“Yes.” Both men responded in unison once more.
Ruairí pulled Senga into his arms as Rowan and Caragh spoke in hushed voices. He stroked Senga’s back as she trembled. “I need you to trust me on this, mo ghaol. Rowan and I have spent half a lifetime keeping ourselves alive in places where we aren’t welcome. I need to rest assured you’re safe on one of our ships, or I won’t go ashore at all.”
“I’m scared,” Senga choked. She struggled to breathe as she fisted Ruairí’s leine in her hands. “It was different at Lewis. Yes, you were going into battle, but it wasn’t as personal for you as it will be on Barra. The stakes were different. If they’d captured you, I might have been able to bargain for your life, but here, well, I mean nothing to the MacNeils. I’ll have no way to help you or protect you.”
“Senga, let me worry about this. You can’t control what will happen any more than I can, but you can let me shoulder this burden. Let me be the protector this time.”
“You’re always protecting me. Always,” Senga wept. “I feel so useless since I can’t protect you.”
“Useless? I recall two occasions where I would have died if you hadn’t protected me. The crew says you were a cutthroat on that Barbary ship. They claim to fear you more than they ever did me. Senga, do you not realize that you’ve been in danger since the moment you came aboard the Lady Charity? Even before that, you were in danger. I nearly didn’t get to you in time the night we met. Please, let me keep you safe. I’ll breathe easier if you remain on the ship.” Senga sensed the urgency as Ruairí pleaded with her. She nodded as the fight drained from her, and she relied on Ruairí’s strong arms to keep from collapsing.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Senga shivered as the dinghy fought against the surf in the early morning light. They’d spotted a blond woman on the battlements who disappeared moments later. Ruairí explained that the woman was Rowan’s mother. He and Rowan relented about keeping the women locked in a cabin, but insisted the women remain in the dinghies just before the break in the surf. Ruairí’s arm kept Senga pinned against his side as they bobbed over the waves. While he watched the beach, he whispered to Senga, but his words trailed off as two women and an older man raced down the path to the sand. He recognized his parents in an instant, and he was certain the other woman was his aunt. Before the dinghies reached the break in the surf, Ruairí and Rowan ordered the men to stop rowing. He pressed a kiss to Senga’s forehead before swinging over the side and dropping into the thigh-deep water. His mother lifted her skirts to her knees as she waded
in to meet him. She stumbled, and Ruairí lurched forward to catch her, knowing he couldn’t reach her. His heart slowed when his father braced her against his side, but they continued to wade toward him.
“Ruairí!” Lady Charity cried. “Mo mhac, mo mhac.” Ruairí’s mother chanted “my son” over and over until she wrapped her arms around that son for the first time in a decade. A moment later, Angus MacNeil engulfed his wife and son in an embrace that threatened to suffocate both Charity and Ruairí. The three clung to one another as the time apart slipped away.
“Mama, Da,” Ruairí breathed.
“Mo ghille,” Angus choked. Ruairí blinked away tears, hearing his father call him “my boy” as he had until the day Ruairí and Rowan fled Barra. “You’re finally home.”
“Home?” Ruairí repeated. “Am I welcome here?”
“I’ll kill anyone who says otherwise.” The vehemence in his mother’s voice took Ruairí aback. He peered down at the tiny woman who’d both scolded and comforted him. “Are you here to stay?”
Ruairí expected the question was coming, but he wasn’t prepared for it so soon. He glanced back at the dinghy and spotted Senga gripping the side. “That depends on whether it’s safe for my wife. I won’t go any further if you can’t assure me that Senga will be safe. Rowan won’t agree either if Caragh is in danger.”
“Your wife?” Angus grinned and clapped Ruairí on the shoulder.
“Senga?” Charity leaned around Ruairí and gasped. She tried to push past the two hulking men who kept her from being knocked over by the surf. “Senga MacLeod, is that you, lass? I don’t understand. The last I heard—” Charity trailed off as she shook her head.
“Your brides are safe with us. Bring them ashore where they aren’t getting sprayed by the surf,” Angus ordered. Ruairí and Rowan exchanged a glance before they returned to their dinghies to retrieve their wives. The men carried the women ashore, but Charity pulled Senga into her embrace before Senga’s feet touched the sand.
“Senga, is it really you?”
“Aye, Lady Charity.”
“Ruairí’s aunt has told me so much about your mama.” Charity froze as she strained to see Rowan and the woman who spoke to Laurel. “Ruairí, did you say Caragh? As in Caty and Henry’s lass?”
Angus roared with laughter when Ruairí and Senga nodded. “You mean, cousins married cousins?”
“Aye, Da.” Ruairí grinned as he peered down at Senga’s upturned face.
“You called Rowan’s mother Laurel. I always assumed her name was Grace, that he’d named his ship after his mother like you did,” Senga whispered.
“No,” Ruairí murmured in response. “He said the ship moved through the water with the same grace his mother did, like a queen.”
The three couples and Lady Laurel made their way to the keep, but Senga stood in stunned silence as an older man suddenly accused Rowan and Ruairí of being outlaws. Her hand hovered over the hilt of her dirk, and she noticed Caragh made the same move. Neither of them wore swords, but Senga was confident her cousin was as well armed as she was, with knives strapped to various parts of her. A collective gasp ran through the bailey as Lady Laurel stepped forward to defend her son and nephew. Senga was aware Laurel hadn’t left the keep since the day they brought Rowan back with his dead father’s body slung over his horse. She sensed Laurel’s outburst stunned many, but she understood the woman’s vehement defense of her son. Laurel appeared ready to tear the man to shreds until Angus intervened. Before Senga understood what was happening, the man was being dragged away, with an order to lock him in the dungeon.
“I’ll explain later,” Ruairí whispered. “Let’s get you inside.”
Senga accepted the chair offered to her, but she turned away when food was placed before her. The smell was so overpowering that she feared she’d be ill in front of everyone. When she glanced around and realized no one else was offended by an odor, she realized it was her. Ruairí nudged her shoulder, a frown marring his face when she stared blankly at him.
“I wasn’t seasick, Ruairí. I had morning sickness,” she whispered. “My sense of smell is overly sensitive. It was this way when I was carrying James. I can’t eat much, or I will be ill.”
“Can you manage some bread and watered ale?” Ruairí offered, and when Senga nodded, he poured her a chaliceful, then broke off the heel of a loaf. “Just nibble, if that’s all you can manage.”
Senga sat back and followed Ruairí’s suggestion. After a few bites, she felt more herself as she listened to the conversation swirl around her. She and Ruairí answered questions from Ruairí’s sisters, Sinead and Saoirse, and his brother, Rab. They attempted to distract his siblings when they pressed to hear how Rowan and Caragh met. Senga gushed over Ruairí’s bravery when he came to her rescue. Sinead and Saoirse, both hanging on every word, murmured how romantic their brother was.
By the time the meal ended, both Caragh and Senga appeared exhausted. Lady Laurel had already noticed Caragh’s rounded belly, and Senga sensed that Caragh had deduced she was carrying too. Senga didn’t doubt Lady Laurel and Lady Charity realized she was expecting as well. She followed the two older women to a chamber abovestairs while Rowan and Ruairí met with Angus.
“How do you feel, mo ghràidh?” Ruairí sat on the edge of the bed as Senga stirred. He dropped a kiss on her forehead as she blinked to clear the sleep from her eyes. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did. How long have I been up here?”
“A couple of hours.”
“How did things go with your father?” Ruairí shook his head, but his face broke into a smile that turned his handsome face into a masterpiece. She reached out and ran her fingertips over his cheeks before twirling a lock of his blond mane around her finger. “Are you going to tell me, or will you keep it a secret?”
“My father asked Rowan to take on the lairdship.”
Senga’s mouth dropped open in shock. “What did Rowan say? How do you feel about that? Rab told us earlier that he was glad to no longer be the heir, but that would’ve made you next in line.”
“I’ve never wanted to be the laird. I teased Rowan about it over the years when we were children. Even though we were born within an hour of each other, as the younger of the two of us and as his cousin, I gloated that I’d never be stuck listening to bickering farmers and angry fishwives. I bragged that I intended to spend my days in the lists with the other men while he’d sit in his chair and get soft around the middle.”
“It amazes me that you remained friends,” Senga pursed her lips until she could no longer contain her smile. “What did Rowan say?”
“He said he would consider it, but he refused to decide until he spoke with Caragh.” Ruairí picked up Senga’s hand and entwined their fingers. “Are you disappointed that I won’t be in line to be laird? That you won’t be the lady of the clan?”
“What? Of course not. I stopped thinking about being the lady of any clan when I was five-and-ten and ran off to marry a farmer. When we met, all I knew was that you were a pirate. I have no aspirations, but I’ll support Caragh as she learns her new role. My mother trained me to be a chatelaine, and I haven’t forgotten how, but I don’t want to be one myself.” Ruairí sighed with relief. He’d expected Senga’s response, but it relieved him to hear it. He didn’t want to disappoint his wife by denying her a position of respect within the clan. “But Ruairí, you’ve governed over your crew and been in charge of your ship for years. Will it bother you to take orders from Rowan?”
“Not in the least. It’s what we grew up believing would be our future. Rowan is not the type to abuse his position, and I’m happy to be his second. That’s how it was supposed to be. It’s the most normal thing to happen since we left here.”
“If this is what you want, if this is what will make you happy, then I’m all for it.” Senga wrapped her arms around Ruairí’s broad frame as he nuzzled her neck. He stretched out beside her as they held hands, and Ruairí told her stories about how he and Rowan
used to hide beneath the bed when they got in trouble. He laughed as he recounted how one time his mother and aunt were on the hunt after he and Rowan pinched three pies from the kitchens when they were supposed to be milking cows. The mothers knew the boys were hiding beneath the bed, but the cousins refused to come out. The boys screamed and rolled out from under the bed when the women climbed onto the mattress and jumped over and over. Their mothers terrified them, making them think the bed was about to collapse on top of the boys.
“Mama and Aunt Laurel are a lot like how you and Caragh are together. Or at least they used to be. I hope Aunt Laurel improves now that Rowan is back.”
“I think she already has.” Senga replied. Then they spent the rest of the afternoon under the covers until it was time for the evening meal where Angus announced Rowan’s new position.
Ruairí toasted his cousin and their homecoming as he surveyed the clan members who sat before him. While Kisimul Castle didn’t feel like home yet, neither did it feel foreign. The familiarity was a comfort to Ruairí as he settled into the idea that he and Senga would build their future within those walls. The last shard of ice melted from the Dark Heart’s soul as he watched his wife charm the MacNeils, her hand resting lightly over her belly where a new life grew.
Epilogue
“Ruairí? Ruairí! Are you listening to me?” Senga huffed as she twisted in her husband’s arms. The sun’s last rays gave the sand a pink hue as they stood with their toes in the surf. Their evening ritual of walking along the beach together was one of the few times they could be alone outside their bedchamber. Senga ran her fingers over the tattoo that lay hidden beneath his leine, just as she had for the past twenty years. She gazed at the laugh lines that bracketed Ruairí’s sensual mouth. She recalled that the grooves were just starting to show when they’d met, but then they had been from his intense scowl. Since returning to Kisimul, the last vestiges of Ruairí’s anger and bitterness had disappeared, and the lines around his mouth and eyes came from the many smiles and laughs they’d shared. “You’re not listening, are you?”
The Dark Heart of the Sea: A Steamy Fated Lovers Pirate Romance (Pirate of the Isles Book 2) Page 26
