Wee Will motioned to a bench. Faith sat and the man stood before her as if he had something to say. After pulling a piece of parchment from his pocket and handed it to her.
Captain is good man, it said. She lifted her brow in question.
“He rescued you, did he?” Aye, the man must be a saint, to be sure. Rescuing men here and there.
The tall man nodded his head and grinned.
She tipped her head to the side and inspected the man before her. He appeared kind and loyal. Exactly what she’d expect from the captain’s crew and it explained how he navigated the volatile waters bordering the Highlands. Even now, she thought as she looked toward shore, they moved about in order to keep their location a secret from her clan.
She set her hand on Wee Will’s arm. “Thank you,” she said as she squeezed.
She laughed when he blushed.
These men were so different from what she'd expected. Kind, funny, shy, and loyal. Even now as Colin and Alec performed their duties on deck, they did so with laughter, Alec teasing poor Colin until the man wrestled him to the ground.
The lads acted much like the lads in her clan, yet she felt no resentment from the captain’s crew.
The captain, she thought as she rubbed her brow. What was she to do about him? Did he think she’d give him something so precious and then allow him to treat her as if she were nothing but a tavern wench? She glared at the captain’s cabin as if willing him to come out and speak to her.
Frustration and anger filled her. She couldn’t focus on practicing, but she’d not sit idly by.
“Alec,” she called to the mate, “give me something to do.”
He glanced toward her and a frown pulled on his mouth. “Do?”
“Aye. You have duties, give me something. I loathe standing about all day.” A keep was a busy place with people to feed and chores to be done. Idleness was foreign to her and she needed to be occupied or else she’d dwell on her lairds and Graeme.
The man scoffed and shook his head. “Nay, m’lady. The captain will have me head.”
She marched over to him and grabbed the line he repaired. While she wasn’t well versed on what duties a ship's mate held, surely mending a rope wasn’t beyond her skills.
“M’lady!” Alec protested and gripped the line. He yanked so hard, she slammed onto the deck and landed right on her arse.
“Ouch.”
The mate stammered and reached to help her stand. She swatted his hand away as she stood.
He bent to grab the roping.
“Nay,” she said, waving him off. “I’ll mend it.”
Alec grumbled for a moment before his face brightened. “Go to the bow, m’lady. The captain won’t see ye there.”
“Fine.” She rubbed her arse and headed toward the bow.
“That’s it, m’lady,” Alec called. “I’ll bring more for ye to mend, if ye like.”
She waved at him and sat on a bench at the prow.
The wind cooled her heated skin. Thank the Lord, the captain hadn’t seen her land squarely on her arse, again. Bad enough half of the crew had, but had thankfully not laughed at her.
She unwound the rope to allow a certain length of material to twine with the new line. Certainly rope was one of the most necessary resources on a ship. At least she’d be helping, pulling her weight.
After she’d mended the one length, Alec dumped another at her feet. He walked away without comment, for which she was thankful. Head down, she focused on her task.
When sweat began to trickle down her back, she glanced up. The sun sat high in the sky and beat down on the ship’s deck with a vengeance. The breeze had stilled and the waves gently rocked the ship as if it were in a calm bay, not the middle of the sea. She grinned at the memories of her seasickness. How the thought of stepping foot on a boat used to churn her stomach. Och, and how she’d pitched her stomach all over Captain Ross.
If Hope and Honor could see her now. Not only on a ship, but seemingly pleased to be and with sea legs, to boot. Her sister would give her that look, the one that always made her squirm and want to become defensive. With the mere lift of her brow, Hope could make a man begin to sweat and a woman’s eyes well with tears. Her sister wasn’t unkind. Nay, she strove to be kind and loyal to all of the clansmen. But she’d an air of authority about her and the trait could be intimidating.
Hope’s ire usually passed if one didn’t press the matter under discussion. She worried her lip. Why wouldn’t her sister and Aidan pay the ransom?
Vexing, to be sure. She wanted to yell at Hope and Aidan until the walls of the palisade crumbled. Now she needed a plan. One to get her home and one to help Graeme. God help her, she wanted to help the man obtain his goal.
Why did he need the money? If what Bram had said was true, the Blue Boy had made its way from one venture to the next adding goods to the hold and then selling them. Shouldn’t there be enough profit?
Shading her eyes with her hand, she pondered how to broach the subject with Graeme and find her way to the shore and safely to her home.
Something bothered her and she tried to shove the idea back. Yet no matter how much she tried, the idea appeared with vexing persistence.
She didn’t want to go home, true be told.
She wanted to remain on the Blue Boy—with Graeme.
Chapter 12
She tipped her face up toward the sky. The sun kissed her profile and made her skin glisten. Golden waves of curls eased down her back nearly to her trim waist. A waist he’d had the pleasure of spanning with his hands with no hindrance of clothing.
Not wanting to ruin the moment, he continued his perusal, leery of making his presence known. She wouldn’t be happy to see him after his earlier treatment of her.
A wave sloshed over the ship’s bulwark, dispelling the moment.
Faith jolted. When her gaze met his, she grimaced.
He held up his hand to stop her retreat. “Lady Faith.” Och, what an amadan. He raked his fingers through his hair, then settled his hands at his waist. “I’m . . . I’m sorry, darling.”
With a haughty tilt of her chin, she said, “’Tis nothing to be sorry for, Captain Ross.”
He groaned. “Graeme.”
She laced her arms before her chest. “I know your name.” With that said, she turned and paced away from him.
Someone chuckled behind him.
“What do you need, Bram?”
“Not a thing, Captain. But ye need to ken how to talk to a woman.”
Graeme pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed for patience. “And you ken how to speak to women?”
Bram slapped him on the back. “Och, I used to be able to talk a lady out of her corset, to be sure.”
He cringed at the image of Bram doing as he said. But, he was in quite the situation and mayhap his mate could help him. After he set his arm around Bram’s shoulder, he said, “Tell me all you ken.”
“Ye have to speak sweetly, Captain.” The man sauntered along the deck. “Pretend I’m Lady Faith.”
He chuckled. “You’re a lovely lady, Bram.”
His mate fisted his hands at his waist. “Och, Captain. Ye have to practice.”
Rolling his eyes heavenward, he nodded and bowed to Bram.
“That’s it. Be cordial and make sure ye tell her how lovely she looks.” He fluttered his eyelashes. “Remember, she’s a lady, not the type yer used to, to be sure.”
With a heavy sigh, he resigned himself to play this game with Bram. It couldn’t hurt, although he’d never had problems wooing a lass before. Truth be told, he’d usually had to turn some of them away. Why was Lady Faith different?
“Come on, Captain,” Bram groused. “You’ve got to listen.”
“Aye, aye.”
Bram limped in front of him, swishing his hips left and right. It took all of Graeme’s self-control not to burst out laughing, but he managed. “M’lady?”
“Me?” Bram said as he turned around and cocked his hip.
“Aye,” he said as he approached his mate. Och, his mate. He wooed his mate. “You look lovely today.”
“Humph, just today?” Bram scowled and mimicked tossing his hair over his shoulder.
“Pardon, m’lady. You always look lovely.” He held out his hand. “Would you care to take a stroll around the deck?”
“I thought ye’d never ask.” Bram held out his elbow and he accepted. “Such a lovely day.”
Not certain what else to say, he remained silent.
Bram ripped from his hold. “Captain, ye have to keep talking to me, talk sweetly.”
Bollocks. Talk sweetly to a lad? “Bram, you canna expect me—”
His man growled at him. “Do you want the lady to forgive ye? Or do ye want her to continue glaring and mayhap use her bow and arrows on ye?”
He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. Never had he thought his mission to secure money would lead to him talking sweetly to a grubby mate who hadn’t bathed in more than a fortnight. “She wouldn’t dare.”
“Aye, I bet she would.” He pointed toward the bow of the ship.
Graeme pivoted and exhaled. The man had a point.
Faith stood near the railing of the ship, the sun setting behind her. Rays of fire blazed around her, haloing her as if she’d risen from the center of earth like a wicked siren. When she lifted her bow, stretched and drew the arrow, her silhouette made him ache with desire. She wore britches and a worn liene. He saw every curve and the slope as she arched her back, pushing her breasts forward.
He swallowed hard and couldn’t tear his gaze from her.
The arrow released, arched gracefully through the early night sky with a swoosh, and pierced a barrel.
Her grin had him pacing toward her.
She turned with a gasp as he tugged her into his arms and her bow and quiver fell to the deck. This spirited woman set his blood on fire.
“You have captivated me—from the moment I saw you in the wood.”
Her eyes narrowed when she realized his intent. But he didn’t give a damn. He plunged, pressed his lips against hers, and pulled her close. Heat radiated from her as if the sun did halo her, touched her as it set into the sea.
Finally, she responded, linked her arms around his neck, and pushed her breasts against him. He wanted her, wanted her with a need only she could sate. He cradled her face with his hands, kissing her as if they could kiss forever.
“Captain!”
Faith ripped from him, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and flushed a deep red as she stumbled back.
“I said to talk sweetly to her.” Bram moved between them, as if he were guarding Lady Faith. “She’s a lady.”
Aye, and if Bram kenned what they’d done the night before, the man wouldn’t know where to find his tongue.
“Thank you, Bram,” Lady Faith said as she set her hand on his shoulder.
His mate tipped his head at her. “M’lady, I apologize for me captain. He’s just a man, ye see.”
Faith laughed, a lilting gurgle which struck him deep in his chest. He moved a step closer, wanting her heat. Bollocks; he released a pent-up breath and steeled himself from the emotions that were flowing into his mind and heart. ’Twas purely physical . . . truly. And her spirit, such a spirited lass needed to be celebrated and cherished—damn those emotions again.
“Not to worry, Bram. I can take care of myself.”
His mate shrugged. “But aren’t ye here on our ship, m’lady?”
Her brow pitched downward and she glanced between them. “Och, ’tis the truth of it.” Her smile softened the bitter edge of her words.
“Not to worry, m’lady,” Bram said and then patted her on the back. “Yer a grand prize, to be sure.”
When her gaze narrowed, Bram stepped back and held up his hands. “No offense intended, m’lady. Why, the men canna stop talking about yer fishing with a bow and arrow. And when ye blessed the damn fish—och, ’twas the first time we’d seen that.”
She took mercy on him and shook her head. “No offense taken, Bram. ’Tis been a grand adventure.”
He watched her, the way she grinned at Bram, the way she leaned toward him, spoke gently to him. A grand adventure, she said. With her loathing of the sea, surely she’d never ventured this far from home. And he’d been the one to steal her, rip her from the bosom of her family. And he, the son of a laird, had kidnapped a lady.
A true lady. His stomach clenched as if he were a lad and his mother had caught him stealing a tart before the evening meal. He’d handled the entire situation wretchedly.
Why had he followed her in the wood? Each step she took, they followed, and when she went to take down the stag, he determined the moment perfect to make his presence known.
Deep down, he knew her beauty, the grace of her movements through the wood had attracted him. Dedication to finish a duty. Even when it rained one eve, she stalked the stag without a care of the drenching.
Mayhap ’twas that moment. The moment he realized other ladies paled in comparison, her bravery and strength readily apparent to all. And now he had a quandary. They’d refused to pay the ransom. In the back of his mind, he wished they’d row to his ship with a bag o’ coin. But, with each passing moment, it was obvious the lairds of Wild Thistle Keep had made up their minds and he’d not see any ransom.
And what to do with Lady Faith? he thought as she stared at him with a questioning arch to her brow.
She could remain on the ship. Travel with him and his crew. A bit of hope hovered in his heart for just a moment. But just as the hope began to bloom, he shook his head.
“Captain?”
Her sweet voice pulled him back to the situation at hand. He noticed Bram headed to start mending the mizzen course sail. He’d determined what to do with her, but he’d have to stop looking at her beautiful face—it befuddled him. Giving him the blasted hope and making him feel as if he could complete his mission and keep the lass as well. Yet, deep down, he admitted the impossibility of the situation. A lady, especially one whom he’d kidnapped, wouldn’t forgive—wouldn’t want to forge a life together on the high seas—no matter how intimate they’d been.
She kept an eye on him and the wind blew and tousled her hair. A storm kicked up and if she reacted as she had in the past, he’d be spending the night guarding her.
Aye, his crew could handle the ship. His time aboard gave him the skill to determine the strength of a storm. This storm would be more like a bairn wailing than the Devil trying to take them down.
He grinned and moved toward her. The way she flicked her gaze to the water, then back to him, part enamored, part suspicion, heated his blood. Thoughts of her glorious body flashed before him. More thoughts of her body naked against him had him growling.
She stepped back and shook her head. “Graeme, I do not like the wicked look in your eyes.”
He trailed his finger along her jaw. “Nothing wicked about it, darling. My intent is clear.”
With eyes wide and turning a deep green, she visibly swallowed. He swept her into his arms and carried her to his chamber, crew be damned. ’Twas none of their business and if Lady Faith didn’t want his attentions, he’d know.
She sighed, rested her head against his chest and the warmth of her seeped into his skin. Together as one, he thought and held her tighter. With a brisk kick, the door burst open and he laid her upon the bed.
“The door,” she whispered, then she started to remove her liene. She laughed as she fumbled with the knot at the tie.
“Nay,” he said as he stilled her hand. �
�I want the pleasure of undressing you.”
She nodded as desire banked in her gaze and those lovely eyes twinkled.
As fast as he could, he shut the door and approached the bed.
Blood roared through his body, shifting his desire to stark need. How he wanted this woman—needed this woman. And the closer he strode to the bed, the more Faith’s hooded gaze heated his core. He ripped his liene and tartan from his body.
“Come, stand for me.”
She tipped down her gaze for a moment, then stood boldly before him.
He walked around her, slipped his hand beneath her hair, grazing her neck as he did so. She shivered when he moved her golden locks aside and kissed the back of her neck. Pressing against him, she sighed when he trailed his kisses over her liene and to the round of her shoulder. He held her arms to her side, felt her quake.
The crash of waves sounded in the chamber and the pitch of the ship had her leaning heavily against him. He wanted the air filled with her gasps of pleasure as he slowly yet thoroughly seduced her.
He set his hands at her waist, still clothed; she inhaled as he whispered, “My sweet, my darling.”
He suckled her ear and reached around her. Untying the liene, he pulled the thin material down over her shoulders and to her waist. She arched and moaned.
He cupped her breasts, loving the weight of them, the hitch of Faith’s breath.
“Aye,” she said with a heady sigh.
“Aye?”
Faith covered his hands with her own and squeezed. “Aye.”
His cock nearly burst as she ground her soft buttocks against him. Sweet, delicious torture.
Highland Faith Page 12
