by Eliza Knight
“Nay,” she said, shaking her head, her long blonde locks bobbing against her bare shoulders. “I was naïve. Fancied myself in love and let a handsome young groom seduce me. He promised to take me away, to marry me.”
Wraith was affronted that any man would lead her astray—betray her, and so openly and on her father’s own land but then again, he’d kidnapped her… though unknowingly. Women were so vulnerable. It made him angry, so angry in fact his blood heated with hatred. How many of the women he’d delivered to Orelia had been just like Faryn? And hadn’t he himself bargained for her from the vulgar queen—yet again taking her control away?
Disgust roiled in his belly.
“Had ye no chaperone?” he asked absentmindedly, not sure why he’d even asked in the first place.
“My father chose the groom as my escort when I rode, as my maid was quite old. Francis had ample opportunity to woo me and he took advantage of that… Although I suppose I am to blame for most of it.”
“Nay, never, Faryn. Your father should have had more control over his men, and Francis should never have used ye in such a way. Was he punished?”
Faryn shook her head, her eyes downcast. “Nay, he disappeared the next morning. My maid found us nude in my bed and she screamed, calling for my father and the guards. Francis fought his way out and I never saw him again.”
Wraith nodded. He thought of Bréagadóir, wondered if the man had actually been behind Faryn’s fall from grace. He could have planned the whole thing—paid the man to seduce her. It could have all been a ruse to gain her father’s money. Then it hit him. Wraith knew instantly why the man had seemed familiar to him. He’d seen him before. Dealt with him before. The eve of his family’s murder. Bréagadóir had come to the castle his mother had inherited on the coast of Ireland, but he’d been dressed as a beggar. He’d begged food and shelter and they’d let him sleep in the stables. Must have been how the murderers had gained access—he’d opened the gates. Let them in. Whoever it was had been bent on seeing that the castle remained in Irish hands, not Scottish. But there was no way that Bréagadóir wasn’t the mastermind. Nay, he wasn’t that smart—and he still had all of his fingers.
“Come, I have to show ye something.”
Wraith took an iron key from behind a plank of wood that had blended seamlessly with the wall of his cabin. He was still shirtless and Faryn found herself breathing hard, her heart erratic at not just his near nakedness, but at what she’d revealed, how he’d reacted.
She’d seen the anger simmering inside him. And she was both intrigued and excited that he would be angry on her behalf.
He took the key to a chest beside his desk and unlocked the padlock, an audible click echoing in the silence. With steady hands, he lifted the lid, which made a loud creaking noise, as if rarely used. She half expected to see a skeleton or even the heart of Davy Jones pop out from the depths but instead he lifted a large package wrapped in dark green velvet.
He took it to the table where they’d eaten only that morning and set it down.
“This is proof.” A light came into his eyes.
She furrowed her brow. “Proof?”
“Faryn, lass, I have not been altogether honest with ye. My name is…”
She held up her hand, not sure if she wanted to hear what he had to say. “Wait! Dinna!”
His face fell. “Why?” His voice sounded far-off, choked.
She came forward and took his hand in hers. “Wraith, I’ve come to know ye over the last week and I know ye to be a good man. A pirate ye may be, but this is where ye keep your treasure.” She tapped his chest. “Ye have a heart of gold. I can see in your eyes the depths of your soul and I’ve grown…fond of it. Dinna take that away.”
A smile curved his lips and he bent to kiss her knuckles.
“I too have grown to care for ye, leannan. Let me show ye who I really am. Let me tell ye why I took an interest in ye, so ye dinna think I want ye only for a lover’s tryst. Ye mean so much more to me than that.”
His words meant more to her than she could have ever realized. They meant the odd relationship they’d forged was not one-sided. Not something she’d made up in her mind. He cared for her. Perhaps a future was possible… “If ye promise it will not ruin what we have, then go on.”
“I promise.” He pulled her against him, kissed her softly on the lips, the heat of his body sinking into her. Warming her fear, making her feel safe and…at home. Something she hadn’t felt for a long time.
When he finally pulled away, she was only half interested in what evidence lay beneath the velvet and instead wanted only to take him by the hand and lead him to the bed they’d shared.
With reluctance, she stepped back, as it was evident how very important Wraith believed it was to share with her his past and his proof.
“I am Scottish borne, my father a powerful man in Scotland. But my mother was Irish. And when he married her, he inherited her father’s title upon his death. A title that now should be mine. My father was the late Earl of Drohgard—overlord of your father.”
Faryn gasped, her hand coming to her throat, and she stepped back, nearly tripping on the overflowing linens she still had wrapped about her. “Nay! Nay!” She shook her head, fear suddenly coming over her. He was more than a pirate. He was a cold-blooded murderer. Had she read him completely wrong?
She turned and raced for the door of the cabin, not caring that the ship’s crew would see her in such a state. She had to get away from him, for he could only wish to reveal himself, the heinous and satanic man that he was, in order to kill her too! Stories of the murders of his family from a few years ago came to mind. Her father’s description of the scene flashed before her eyes. So much blood. Severed limbs. Broken bodies. Even the children. All murdered. And the eldest son, she couldn’t remember his name, but nevertheless he was gone. Run away from his deeds. That was he, her Noir a murderer.
“Faryn!” he bellowed and then was on top of her, pinning her down.
She thrashed against him. “Nay! Dinna kill me. Please, I know nothing. I dinna know ye, ye can let me go. I swear I will tell no one. Please!”
“Faryn, listen! God, woman! Have ye no wits? I am innocent. Innocent. Someone has framed me.”
His frantic words struck a chord in her. Innocent? “Ye didna murder them?” she asked meekly.
“Never. I loved my family. I love them still. ’Tis why I must get back to Ireland. I must clear my name. I have proof.” He pointed at the velvet package again. “I was forced to leave. I became a pirate to support myself and my need for revenge. Joined the Devils of the Deep, a pirate brethren, and they became my new family. I searched all this time for evidence to clear my name. And now I’ve gathered enough. But the king will not just offer me an audience, despite his having known my father, I will have to bribe him to see me. I’ve amassed a small fortune but the bounty—the daughter of a lord is well worth her weight in gold. ‘Tis why I bargained for ye. Ye shall help me. And now that I know who your father is, he can help me, too, for he knows me. He knows I wouldna have killed my family. He can vouch for me.”
Faryn nodded, although she wasn’t sure that her father would do any such thing. In fact, the more she thought of it, the more she realized he’d probably written her off completely. Wasn’t that apparent in the fact that he had not accompanied Bréagadóir in the search to find her? Or perhaps he was covering the lands and Bréagadóir had agreed to scour the seas.
Aye, that must be it. Her father must be searching all of Ireland for her.
“Show me.” She pointed to the package and, taking her hand, Wraith led her to the table.
He squeezed her hand and then let it go, and while she was still scared, she felt the absence of his touch immensely.
With measured movements, he unwrapped the velvet, revealing a small pile of items and papers.
He first showed her a letter. “This is a letter one of my spies intercepted. It is from the murderer—although he hasna signed it—but h
e confesses to an accomplice of their deeds and how he plans to petition the king for the earldom—my father’s titles and estates—my rightful inheritance.”
“Did he ever gain such?” She couldn’t recall if there had been a new earl or not, though she had never really paid attention to those things, if she was privy to the information, which wasn’t very often. After she’d been sorely used and heartbroken, which was shortly before the murders, she kept to herself, and then she was betrothed to Bréagadóir and soon captured by Wraith.
“Not as of yet. The Lord Chancellor, Viscount Loftford, holds the estates in the name of the king, taking the money for himself. He says he holds it until I am found.” Wraith stopped talking for a short moment and stared off into the distance. “Loftford was a friend of a sort of my father’s. I think he doesna believe me capable of the heinous crimes I’ve been charged with, but so many have placed blame on me. I believe he waits for me to return to tell him myself what happened.”
“And now ye shall.”
He nodded and then picked up the next item, a jeweled belt. “This was my father’s. He had it on him when he was murdered, but when his body was found the belt was missing. The belt was being sold at a market, and when I questioned the man who sold it, he described the man who had sold it to him. A witness. Ye can still see the blood dried between the links here.” He pointed to a dark reddish-brown stain between several jeweled links.
Faryn nodded, feeling her stomach recoil.
“And this last bit is the piece de résistance.” He tapped another velvet-wrapped object. “But I canna show ye what it is.”
Faryn frowned. “Why ever not?”
“I have never shown anyone before. I am…” he trailed off, his face suddenly looking vulnerable. “Mayhap this is all too much for ye. Ye’ve already bared your soul to me.”
She squared her shoulders, and with as much strength as she could muster covered in only a linen sheet, she spoke. “Wraith, I am not a child. I have been through more than most women I know, and I’ve come out on top, and strong.” Now she told him, only because of what he’d said, and because she wanted him to think she could handle whatever it was that lay hidden beneath the fabric. “Show me. I will not shy away from it.”
He nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. “I took this myself from the scene, when I fought one of the attackers.” He unfolded the cloth carefully, revealing a gold ring with a large ruby. “I will have my vengeance on the man who did this.”
The way the ring sat on the linen, the crest faced away from her and she could not read the tiny inscription along its side.
“A ring,” she said, unable to state more than the obvious.
“Aye. The ring of the man who killed my father—I wrenched it from his finger as we fought.” With the tip of his finger, he rolled the ring so she could see the crest.
It was then Faryn lost her balance and her struggle to remain calm. She turned away quickly, gasping for air. But it was no use. She ran to the nearest chamber pot and vomited. Just when she thought her stomach was good and empty, she heaved again.
“I knew I shouldna have shared this with ye, it is too much after your confession,” Wraith muttered as he gently pulled her hair back and rubbed a wet cloth on her neck and face. “Forgive me.”
But she shook her head. It wasn’t that he’d shared the information with her that disturbed her, but the ring.
A ring she’d seen many times before and on a man she would never have guessed could be capable of murder. A man who in her turmoil over the last few years, she hadn’t noticed was missing his prized family heirloom.
Her father.
Chapter Ten
Wraith was called to the stern while Faryn splashed water on her face.
Her whole body was numb, yet it tingled all the same, and every time she recollected the ring, her stomach protested. But seeing as how she’d already emptied it, there was nothing left for her to toss up. So she sat, huddled in a ball on the corner of the bed, against the wall, totally in limbo.
How could she bring Wraith to her family now? Knowing that her own father had been the one to murder his family…
She hoped and prayed they never set foot in Ireland after tonight’s discovery.
Her father would try to kill Wraith. To finish the job he’d started so many years ago. This had to be a mistake. Someone must have stolen the ring… But even as she thought it, she could recall witnessing her father on the battlefield, seeing him be ruthless at a meeting of lords. If he felt at all threatened, he was merciless.
And once Wraith found out who the ring belonged to, he would never look at her the same again. Her father was a cold-blooded murderer. Wraith would unknowingly resent her, put the blame for his family’s death on her.
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and took a few long, slow breaths. What was she to do? She didn’t want to leave Wraith. She didn’t want him to get hurt or worse. She didn’t want him to hate her… With that, she came to a startling realization, a strong tug in her chest and a lump in her throat. She’d come to love him. For all they’d only known each other a short time, he was the only man who’d ever made her feel special, important, cared for.
She couldn’t let him walk to his own death. She had to stop him.
Was it best to steer him away? But how could she? When he discovered the crest was her family’s, there would be no stopping him. He knew who her father was, where her family’s keep was located.
If only she could convince him to go to the Lord Chancellor of Ireland first. Viscount Loftford spoke for the King of England, which was also the King of Ireland. He would be able to resolve this matter.
Aye! That was it. She would convince him to go to the Lord Chancellor first, before taking her home—except she didn’t even want to go home, now. Not ever. But that was beside the point. Right now, she had to figure out a way to save Wraith. Viscount Loftford was the key. While there, she would seek an audience with the man herself. She would confess that she recognized the ring. She would tell him of her father’s deeds. And then she would drop to her knees in front of Wraith, beg his forgiveness, swear to him she hadn’t known.
And pray pray pray he believed her and took mercy on her.
Wraith stood at the helm of his ship and peered through the telescope at the far-off shore of Ireland. Clew Bay was their destination. A port town that was rife with pirate activity, but there was no need to draw attention to themselves. When the sun set, they would lay anchor at sea, and just before dawn, sail into the northern beach of Keel, and from there make their way south on horseback to from the west coast to the east coast, and Dublin. ’Twas necessary for his own safety and that of his crew that they not dock close to where he needed to meet the Lord Chancellor. Most of his crew would remain aboard the ship, and if he did not return within the allotted time, they would retreat.
Already they’d taken down his pirate’s flag and replaced it with a regular sail in case they were spotted. There was nothing to distinguish them as friend or foe, and he hoped that they ran into no other ships before laying anchor.
One more night with Faryn.
That was all he had until he returned her to her family and made his way to the Lord Chancellor. He’d spent years at sea, dreaming of the moment he could bring justice for his parents and himself to light. And here it was.
So, why did it feel like a knife twisting in his gut? He rubbed the imaginary soreness and indicated to Churl that he was going below deck to his quarters. “Let the men be merry tonight, for just before dawn we dock and our true adventure begins.”
He descended the ladder and paused outside his cabin door. How would he say goodbye to her?
Was he becoming such a dim-witted fancy pants? Never had a woman made him feel this way before. He refused to put his feelings into words. He shook his head and opened the door.
Faryn sat on the bed, curled up into a little ball, looking lost and forlorn.
Perhaps the lass needed a bit of what he s
ought.
“A glass of whisky?” he asked, walking to an armoire that housed drinking cups and liquor.
Her eyes lit up at his suggestion. “Aye, please. I’ve only ever had wine and ale before.”
He chuckled a bit at the excitement in her voice. “Drink it slowly. ’Twill warm your belly and soothe your mind.” He pulled out the whisky and poured a healthy portion for himself and a smaller splash for Faryn. He handed her the cup. “To us.” A sweet smile curved her lips, making him want to take her in his arms and kiss her. Not just any kiss but the kiss of a man in lov—
He shook his head and slugged back the entire cup of spirits, letting it burn its way down his throat until it sat hot in his belly.
She too slugged back the liquor, and screwed up her face with distaste. “Whew!” she breathed. “I had thought ye sipped it.”
Wraith let his head fall back with a laugh that burst from the center of his being. The little imp had watched him chug his drink and followed suit, thinking that the proper way.
“What? Was I not supposed to?” Her nose wrinkled and she looked genuinely concerned.
He only laughed harder.
She stood and her hands went to her hips, her brows furrowed. “Captain, I demand ye tell me what ye’re laughing at!”
“Ye, leannan. Ye are exactly the balm this hard-hearted pirate needs.”
He did kiss her then, his mouth covering hers, his tongue sweeping in to claim her for his own. She tasted of sweet whisky and femininity. He swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed, where he laid her, before coming down on top of her, not breaking their kiss.
Faryn sighed against him, arms circling around him. Ever willing and excited to make love to him. It only made his heart swell thicker in his chest. Slowly he tugged the white linen shirt she wore from her body, before he caressed her breasts and nipples, letting his mouth fall where his hands had splayed. She tensed and arched against him as he nuzzled her breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, grazing it with his teeth.
