Pirates, Passion and Plunder

by Victoria Vale

  Rowan’s world was spinning around him, and the only thing anchoring him was Caragh’s death grip on his arm. He looked down to her, but his vision was hazy as everything Catriona told him swirled about in a confusing array of new facts and details. Everything he had believed for the past ten years had been wrong. The mother he adored but thought abandoned him had lost her mind to grief. Grief he caused when he ran away.

  “Lad, dinna do that. Dinna think that way,” Catriona cooed. “She doesnae blame ye. Ye are nae the one who caused her grief. Yer da did that, even in death.”

  Caragh listened to the tale in horror as she recalled the story Rowan told her, what he had believed to be the truth for so long. She watched as he took in this new version, and she did not know what to do to help him.

  “Mama, Da, can we just go home? I need to get Rowan inside.”

  Chapter 13

  Rowan looked up but saw little as Caragh led him to her family’s cottage. He entered and took the seat Caragh showed him. He did not notice that no one else entered with them. He watched in numbness as Caragh kneeled between his knees. She rubbed her hands against his to warm the skin he did not even realize had grown cold. In a repeat of the night when he told her his version of the past, she did not say anything. She kissed the backs of both his hands, but otherwise remained silent. He watched her for a long time until he could not bear the distance between them. He scooped her into his lap and rested his forehead against the crook of her neck. She held him and hummed as he tried to work through revelations that changed everything about his life. Everything except for the fact that he loved Caragh, and she loved him.

  He did not know what to do. He had been set adrift, and he did not know if he should go to his mother or continue on as if he had never learned the truth. “Whatever you decide, I will be by your side,” Caragh murmured as she kissed his temple over and over.

  While the events of the evening before were still not forgotten and were still a wound that needed healing, it seemed insignificant in that moment. He pulled her tighter against him, and they stayed that way until the sun moved past the zenith, and Catriona poked her head around the door.

  “They should come in. It’s their home,” Rowan whispered, and Caragh nodded her head to her mother. Her family filed in quietly, and it was a subdued afternoon and night. Rowan’s grief over discovering the truth to his past, and the family’s grief in losing their youngest son made it a solemn gathering.

  Caragh convinced him that they should remain in the cottage rather than return to his ship. She had her own sleeping quarters as the only daughter. She shot her parents a warning glare as she led Rowan to the curtain that separated her alcove from the rest of her cottage. Her parents stood together and nodded.

  Once they were tucked into the bedroll, Rowan ran his hand over her hip. “What do we do, mo chridhe?” Rowan whispered.

  Caragh caught the word “we” and tension eased from her. “I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

  “I’m not sure. For the first time in years, I don’t have a plan or a path set. I feel cast adrift with you as the only anchor keeping me from floating into the abyss.”

  Caragh inched closer, so they lay on their sides, chest to chest. “Then we remain here at the cottage or on your ship until we know what you want to do.”

  “It’s not just about what I want anymore.”

  Caragh remained quiet because she was not sure what he meant. Did he mean he felt a duty to go to his clan? Or did he mean he would consider her wanted?

  “I meant I’m not making these decisions alone. I’ll listen to you and your wishes.”

  “My only wish now is for us to find somewhere safe while we think about these choices.”

  “Your parents are kind, but I do not want to overstay my welcome. And I will not make love to you in your parents' home. Not yet at least.”

  Rowan knew her brow scrunched together, even though he could not see it. He rubbed the grooves until they smoothed. “This is not how I thought I would ask you, but will you marry me? Caragh, I love you. I know I have much to atone for, but I want to show you that I am committed to us.”

  “You don’t have to marry me to do that.”

  “Perhaps not, but I want to, nonetheless. I want to pledge myself to you, binding us once and for all. I want to plan a life together, perhaps even a family, if you’re willing.”

  “That all sounds very typical, and you are not remotely typical.” Caragh chuckled in the quiet chamber.

  “But you are practical. I love you, and you love me. We want to be together; we are together. I would make it official so the rest of the world might know. I am yours from now until the end. That sounds like marriage to me, but I want to make that pledge to you, to speak those vows. I don’t want either of us to ever doubt again that we belong together.”

  Caragh pushed onto her elbow as she considered what he said. His voice did not sound as though he spoke out of guilt nor did it sound overly excited with wishful thinking. It sounded as it usually did, solid and serious.

  “I am practical. I want a family, and I want you. That must mean I want a family with you, but I don’t know that I want to raise a family aboard a ship. And I know I don’t want the life my mother has. She’s happy and content with my father coming and going, but I could not live that way. At least not as your wife. I don’t know that we want the same things, Rowan.”

  “Do you fear I will pick the Lady Grace and raiding over you?” He did not need to feel her head nod or hear words spoken to guess at her fear. “They stopped holding their appeal once I fell in love with you. Why do you think I steered us away from the Spanish carracks? I could have maneuvered to force the last boat off-course, then boarded it. I had no intention, no interest, in doing that while you were onboard. Your life and safety far outweigh what I could commandeer from some boat I would later sink. I still love sailing, but I don’t need the pirating anymore.”

  “This is a lot of change in the space of so little time. In a day, we have nearly driven each other away, reconciled, learned your family is not entirely as we believed, and now you’ve asked me to marry you. In the space of a moon, we’ve met, bedded each other countless times, argued, and fallen in love.”

  “When you put it that way, it does seem overwhelming. I see it far more simply. I love you and you love me. We want to be together; we are together. Marriage is what comes next.”

  “You said that already.”

  “I was appealing to your practical nature the first time, but now I’m telling you my priorities.”

  “And this isn’t an emotional and rash decision?”

  Rowan chuckled.

  “You know me far too well for me to try to deny I can be emotional, though I would deny it to anyone else, but this is not a rash decision. I intended to ask you when we came ashore this morning, but my plans changed with your impetuous swim last night. I brought you home, not only so you could see to your family, but to give you a choice. You haven’t had one up until now.”

  Caragh swallowed the lump in her throat before she hoarsely whispered, “You would risk me deciding to stay here? I thought that was what caused our rift last night.”

  “That was when I thought you meant to escape, that you couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”

  “Before last night, did you think I would choose my home over you?”

  “I didn’t know. I just hoped you wouldn’t.”

  “Rowan, my home is wherever you are. I am home whether I am in this bed where I’ve slept almost all my life, or I’m on the Lady Grace. As long as we are together, then I’m where I’m meant to be.”

  “But--”

  “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  Their lips collided as Rowan propped himself on his forearms above her.

  “I said only a moment again I would not make love to you in your parents’ home, at least not until we are wed. I find it a struggle to keep that pledge.”

  Caragh reached between them and guide
d him into her cunny.

  “Good thing I didn’t make such silly promises.”

  They made love throughout the night, slowly and silently. Rowan did not pull out, and they climaxed with one another over and over. When they were finally satiated and too exhausted to keep their eyes open, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  Chapter 14

  Caragh reached for Rowan as she came awake, but her arms found only empty air. She jerked fully awake as she pushed her hair from her eyes. She pulled the sheet to her chin when she saw her mother hanging a gown she had never seen before on the hook by her bed. Her mother hummed as she brushed out the gown.

  “Good morn to ye, ma wee sleepy head. Yer mon instructed ye werenae to be woken, but I think he will be regretting his own words if ye are still snoring by the time he and yer da return.”

  “What are Rowan and Da doing together? Dear God, did Da challenge Rowan? He never did anything I didn’t want. Mama?”

  “Calm yerself. Rowan left before the sun rose to hammer on the priest’s door. When Father Robert refused to perform a marriage without the banns read, yer mon came stomping back to the cottage. Da spotted him while he was milking the cow. He took Rowan back to Father Robert’s. Da is fairly certain he can be more persuasive than Rowan. He may nae be as young as yer braw pirate, but he kens plenty aboot Father Robert that the priest would prefer others didna, like his love of Scottish whisky. Now up with ye. Ye canna be going to yer wedding in naught but yer chemise.” Catriona glanced at her daughter and grinned, “Or even less.”

  Caragh gasped and pulled the sheet back up to her chin.

  “Dinna act the virgin now. If ye werenae with child already, then I would imagine last eve did the trick.”

  Caragh face felt like it was on fire. “You heard us?”

  Catriona giggled. “Nay. I only suspected it, but ye confirmed it. Come now, yer brother Adam was at our wedding.” Catriona rubbed her belly to prove her point, and Caragh coughed as the air stuck in her throat.

  They spent the next quarter hour dressing Caragh and pulling her hair back into braids laced with ribbons. They finished as they heard the door swing open.

  “Caragh.”

  “Catriona.”

  A pair of male voices boomed as mother and daughter stuck their matching visages around the curtain.

  Rowan stopped dead as he took in the sight of Caragh with her hair done. He reached out his hand, and he was sure he would swoon as he gazed at his bride in a gown that appeared to have been stitched around her. It fit to perfection.

  “Your wedding gown, Caty.” Caragh’s father murmured.

  Rowan was only vaguely aware of the others in the cottage. His attention was riveted to Caragh. She took his hand as they stepped outside. The entire village seemed to have turned out to watch her marry her pirate captain.

  The ceremony was over in a matter of minutes, as Father Robert refused to conduct a full Mass for a pirate. They spoke their vows as they held each other’s gaze, enraptured with one another. The world fell away as they pledged themselves and sealed it with a kiss that made Father Robert clear his throat. The crowd responded with a mixture of cheers and grumbles; not everyone was welcoming to the pirate, and Caragh had not missed that on their walk to the kirk.

  They returned to her parents’ home, but Caragh felt the hostility growing among those who lost family members during Rowan’s raid and then Ruairí’s two nights before. Once they had eaten, Caragh pulled Rowan aside. “Take me home.”

  “I thought you were home.”

  Caragh looked around the cottage she spent nearly her whole life. It held countless fond memories, but it no longer felt like home. “I mean the Lady Grace. Our cabin. Take me home.”

  “If that is what you wish. But we can return any time you want. You need only make your wishes known, and I will bring you for a visit with all due haste.”

  “Such a formal way to say we can pay a visit.”

  “It’s a rather formal occasion.”

  “I certainly hope only one part of you stays this stiff once we’re in our cabin.”

  Rowan pulled her into his embrace and squeezed her bottom.

  “Your cheeky mouth will earn you a spanking if you keep it up.”

  “I have every intention of keeping it up well into the night.”

  Rowan growled into her ear as his tongue whorled about the shell before kissing her just below her lobe.

  “I believe you have just secured the spanking you so desire. This one will be entirely for pleasure.”

  “Then let us be on our way.”

  Caragh’s humor sobered as she bid farewell to her family, but they understood the nature of separation better than most. They had avoided the topic of her brother Eddie, but as she prepared to leave Bedruthan Step possibly for the last time, she looked at each of her family, and said a prayer of goodbye to her little brother. No one had blamed her, but she could feel the hollowness they all shared.

  Once aboard the Lady Grace, Rowan paused only long enough to introduce her to the crew as his wife before guiding her to the ladder well. She dashed to the cabin and threw open the door. Rowan was on her heels as he pulled at the laces of her gown. It was only the knowledge that it had been her mother’s dress that kept him from ripping it from her. He was not so gentle with her chemise, which lay in tatters on the ground by the time she helped him strip bare.

  Rowan carried her to the table where they first made love. Even from the beginning, they both knew they found something rare. Rowan slid into her as she wrapped herself around him. Caragh watched her every emotion reflected in Rowan’s eyes, and he read her just as easily.

  “We’re home,” they shared the same breath.

  About Celeste Barclay

  Celeste Barclay is the author of steamy historical romances, transporting you to the medieval Scottish Highlands, and on Viking conquests--where men are strong and women are fierce.

  She lives near the Southern California coast with her husband and sons. She loves spending time at the beach reading a book or splashing in the surf. She's an avid swimmer, a hopeful future surfer, and a former rower.

  A lifelong fan of historical fiction, a chance encounter with an historical romance novel changed Celeste's taste in books. Now she devours her favorite authors' newest releases while crafting stories you can't help but fall in love with.

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  Bought by the Buccaneer

  by Vanessa Brooks

  Chapter 1

  Pineapples, by the basket-load. She had never come across so many exotic fruits in one place before. She had heard of pineapples, of course. There were a number of pinery-vinery houses in England; however, she had never actually seen one. She smiled at the brown-skinned stallholder, who indicated she should pick one up. As she turned it, Florence marvelled at the quilted surface and rising green plume that topped it.

  “Lady Florence!”

  Dear Lord, they’ve found me already.

  Throwing the pineapple back on the stall, she grasped her skirts and scuttled away, dipping between the colourful market stalls.

  “Florence, come back here this instant!”

  “Humbugs!” she spluttered. That was her brother’s voice. Herbert had obviously followed her, the nasty sneak. Ever since they’d begun the long sea voyage, undertaken to deliver her to her new husband, Sir Carlton Avery Gilbert Roach, Under Governor of Jamaica and Governor of the Island of Cigateo, her brother had become overbearingly protective and smothering. It had become worse once they’d left England and she was his sole responsibility. They’d travelled aboard the Royal Navy ship, Britannia, a first ship of the line, a hundred gunner, no less.

  Arriving in Jamaica, on the previous day, Florence was desperate to explore the
vibrant town of Kingston. They were presently staying in an apartment at the governor’s residence. Florence had managed to escape Herbert’s oppressive presence and stepped out to explore the market stalls in the square.

  Nineteen and married, Florence considered herself to be a woman of the world. This trip had been made to bring her to a husband she had not actually met since they had been wed by proxy. She saw the sea voyage as an adventure, one that had liberated her from the boring stricture of English society. At last, Florence felt she’d achieved the independence she craved, which, remaining in England, she knew she could never attain.