by Eliza Knight
If she kept worrying that lower lip, he was liable to take it between his own teeth and start nibbling.
“Then we are in agreement,” she whispered.
“Are we?” He leaned closer, breathing in her sweet floral scent.
“Aye,” she whispered, momentarily affected by his closeness. “Please, take me aboard your ship, MacDougall.”
“My lady will not call me MacDougall or Savage.”
“What should I call ye then, gentle warrior?”
“Not around my men. Call me Shaw. Or master if ye prefer.” He snickered, unable to help goading her.
She rolled her eyes. “Shaw it is. And call me Jane.”
“Not Ja--Marina?”
“I canna believe ye remembered that.”
“Lass, I could never have forgotten ye.”
At that, her eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect little circle. Hell, he surprised himself by admitting it. There was only one way to make them both forget his blunder.
Shaw reached for her, settled his palm at the base of her spine and hauled her up to his frame, feeling all those lush curves pressed so tantalizingly against him.
“In my world, when a bargain is struck, it must be sealed.” He eyes searched hers, pleased that there was hardly a hint of fear.
“And how do ye propose to seal this?” Jane’s gaze flickered to his lips. “The same way ye seal other bargains with pirates?”
He chuckled. She wanted him, even if she refused to admit it. “Nay, love. Never that way. I’ll show ye.” And then his mouth was on hers, nibbling those plush lips like he’d wanted to, tasting the sweet succulence of her gloriously sensual mouth, and laying claim to what she offered. Innocent and tentative at first, she quickly grew bolder, imitating the slide of his tongue.
Oh, ballocks… She was heaven and hell all at the same time. Sweetness and fire. Kissing her had been a mistake. Agreeing to have her in his bed under the pretense of marriage was worse, for with that one kiss, he knew he’d never get enough of her. The touch of his lips to hers had awakened something inside him that should have been left undiscovered. But it wasn’t. It was gaping and grasping.
She was consuming him.
And he couldn’t pull away.
In fact, he wrapped his other arm around her and lifted her up off her feet, pressing his hard cock to the apex of her thighs so she would know just how much he desired her, so she would know just what she’d bargained for.
Jane was his. And so were all of her secrets.
No coherent thought other than she’d never been kissed like this before went through Jane’s mind. She should slap him, push him away, at the very least demand to be put back on her own feet and a good measure of space put between them.
But she did none of those things. Instead, she found herself winding her arms around his neck, parting her lips and sighing against his demanding lips. The spicy-salty scent of him surrounded her, doing something wild to her senses. Suddenly, every part of her was alive with a tingling fire that only seemed ready to burn hotter.
Parting her lips seemed to be a wicked invitation, for as soon as she did it, his devious tongue swept along the open seam, causing her to gasp.
Oh sweet heavens, that felt even more divine. Just that little lick sent a jolt rushing through her. And before she could catch her wits, he’d done it again, and again, and then her own tongue was reaching forward to test it out. She touched the tip of her tongue to his and could have been struck by lightning, so massive was the force of current that went rushing through her.
This was wicked, oh, so very wicked. And yet, she couldn’t make herself stop.
And did she have to? She’d given herself to this man. Had agreed to share his bed in exchange for him vowing she was his, a marriage that may end up being a total sham, for all she knew. But that didn’t change the fact that she’d agreed to it, that in order to be saved from Livingstone, to keep the rightful king safe, she had invited this pirate to lay claim to her.
And lay claim to her, he was. There could be no doubt about the way he owned her body at that moment. She couldn’t move. He had her completely enthralled. Completely captivated. Intoxicated.
It was he who pulled away first. He who stared into her bemused eyes with a satisfied expression that she would have found overly irritating if she wasn’t so busy trying to find her bearings.
Shaw set her down on her feet and grinned at her as though he’d plucked a tart straight from her fingers and devoured it.
“I hope that satisfies your need,” she murmured, “for sealing deals.”
He chuckled then, a sound that caressed her nerves but did very little in the way of calming her. In fact, it did quite the opposite. She licked her lips, trying to avoid looking at his mouth as she very much wanted him to kiss her once more. He might have set her down on her feet, but she was barely standing on her own. Every line in her body reached for him, wanting more of what he’d just given her.
“That was just a taste, love, of what satisfies, but not nearly enough.”
“Shall we do it again then?” she asked in challenge, and then felt the heat rush to her face for having spoken so boldly.
Shaw’s darkened gaze swept over her, daring and devilish, and right along with it, her body quivered. He wanted her. And she…wanted him.
“Oh, sweet Jane, we shall do it again many more times. But first—” He glanced back out at sea, and for the first time she noticed the two men sitting in the skiff. How could she have forgotten about them? “Let us get back to the ship, else we give your pursuer more chances to come and find ye.”
She expected him to offer his arm as they turned on the beach to walk toward the rowboat, but he did not. Nor did he wait for her. Instead, he took off at a solid march, leaving her to trail behind.
Well, he was no gentleman, and he did not claim to be one. Trying hard not to pout at his brutish ways, she started to step forward when he turned and frowned at her.
“Are ye waiting for a gale, love?”
“What?” she asked, offended at his obvious remark on her pace, and irritated that he should go from kissing her to treating her like a bothersome pest.
“Come on then, we’ve not got all day.”
Jane lifted the hem of her skirt and hurried forward until she was beside him. She clamped her mouth closed against any admonishment she might have made when he pressed his hand to the small of her back in a show of possession. When the lapping water of the shore touched the tips of her boots, he swept her up in his arms and carried her like a lover through the water to the skiff, depositing her in the center and stepping in behind her.
Perhaps there was a bit more gentleman in him than he cared to admit. That thought made her smile.
“Row,” he ordered his men.
Jane gazed out toward the sea, refusing to turn around to look at the abbey. She was afraid she’d see the disapproving looks of her aunt and the other women who she’d lived with. They’d cared for the last five years, and she in turn cared for them. Mother Superior had taken her in without any assurances that a dowry would be coming to pay her way. Mother Superior and Agatha, who’d kept her secrets.
And she could not give them anything, not even a pitiful farewell. For to tell them she was saving their lives by disappearing would be to give them too much. Better that they remain ignorant of Livingstone’s crimes and the political upheaval that Jane herself had become embroiled in. Aunt Agatha would keep quiet about it, she was certain, not wanting to further ruin Jane’s reputation and her own by association.
The passage over the water was quick, and at the base of the hull of the ship, Jane stared up at the vastness of wide wooden planks, cannon heads, steely pegs, rigging and sails. This ship was a powerful and mighty force in and of itself. She recalled how the last time she’d been aboard, she’d been so full of hope and fear. And now, she was boarding in much the same state.
“Up ye go, lass,” Shaw said behind her. “Else ye want me to toss ye over my shoulder a
nd carry ye.”
“Nay,” she said quickly, glancing back at him, afraid he might do just that. “I can manage.”
She gripped the slippery, thick ropes and put her foot on the first rung, hoisting herself up. The climb up was harder than the climb down had been, but she managed it, not unused to putting her body to work. She’d done quite a bit of manual labor at the abbey and was pleased she’d not lain about idle like some other ladies who’d passed through.
At the top, Jack pulled her over the rail and grinned. He looked just as rascally as he had before. Roughly her height and thick with muscle, he had hair stiff from the salt and skin as brown as bread, eyes as dark as night, and a braided beard that reached his chest. “Welcome back, my lady.”
Shaw leapt onto the deck beside her and pulled her roughly into his side, his arm slung over her shoulder. “Lady Jane has returned to us,” he said to his crew. “She is to be my wife.”
At that, the entire crew burst into uncontrollable laughter, and Jane felt her face heat to what the fires in Hell must truly feel like.
Chapter Five
A growl ripped from Shaw’s throat that had the entire crew clamping their beaks firmly shut. “Laugh all ye like, ye landlubbers. But ’tis the truth.” Shaw gripped both of Jane’s hands in his, prepared to announce his vows to all standing before them when he realized they needed something to wrap their hands for the traditional handfast. “Jack, lend me your sleeve.”
Jack ripped off his sleeve without question, wrenching the fabric free as though it were nothing. His soon-to-be wife flinched but didn’t say a word.
“Wrap our hands,” Shaw demanded of his quartermaster.
“Ye’re serious, Cap’n.” Jack’s mouth was wide, as was the rest of the crew, and he looked as though he would say more, but Shaw fixed him with a look that said one more word would equal a deadly punishment.
The men from the boatswain, mates down to the lowliest swab, understood he was serious, and they grew silent as the grave.
“Aye.” Shaw’s voice rumbled low, threatening, and he felt Jane’s hands tremble in his. “Do it fast. We need to be on our way.”
He returned his gaze to Jane, taking in her eyes flickering from the crew to him, creamy cheeks a shade paler. She looked as nervous as he felt, which irritated the bloody piss out of him. Why should he be nervous? Was he weakening already? It was only a handfast. As soon as he saw Livingstone into his grave, he’d part with the lass and tell her she need not worry about being tied to a pirate for the rest of her days. He’d set her free.
For she could not truly want a marriage with him. What lass would? Especially one who was born of noble blood and had been married before to an earl. She would be seeking out a better match if she wasn’t in danger of losing her life. Indeed, if Livingstone had never found her, she’d still be safely tucked away in the abbey.
Besides, when the business was done, Shaw would have what he wanted—the lass in his bed and a pile of gold to keep the whereabouts of Alexander secret. He didn’t care about the lad’s position in Scotland. Shaw bowed to no king. What he did bow to was the power of gold. And with what she was giving him, he and his men could be set for a few years or more.
“Well?” He eyed Jack, who seemed to have frozen in place. “Get on with it.”
Jack nodded so violently his hair came free of its queue. But he did what he was told, wrapping their hands in his torn sleeve. The tighter their hands were wrapped, the more Jane’s trembling calmed. Interesting, because it only made his insides twist all the more.
Not one to dally, Shaw leapt right into it. “From this day forth, with this crew and the sea as our witnesses, I handfast myself to Lady Jane… What is your full name, love?”
“Jane Lindsay Douglas.” Her voice was soft, just above a whisper, and she blushed, glancing up at him through her lashes like a virginal bride, which he knew she couldn’t be. She’d been married to a sixteen-year-old lad, and Shaw remembered being that age and just how randy he’d been.
“I hereby handfast myself to Lady Jane Lindsay Douglas, now Lady Savage.” He winked at her gasp.
“And I…Lady Savage,” she choked on this last word, “handfast myself to Shaw MacDougall, Prince of the Devils of the Deep.” She closed her eyes, a visible shudder whipping through her.
Och, that was a knock to his pride.
“Relax, love, it may seem like ye’ve sold your soul to the devil, but I assure ye, I’m only a man.”
Sparkling blue eyes blinked open to gape at him, trepidation in their depths. She nodded, though it was obvious she was only doing so out of pretense. No matter, their business would soon conclude and she’d be on her way, free to live her life away from him and his men.
“Ye may kiss your bride,” Jack added, and the whistles went up around the ship.
Shaw grinned. He’d not miss an opportunity to kiss her again. The first time had been incredible. The second would be even better. Tugging her close by their joined hands, he bent down and swiped his lips over hers, feeling the way she trembled against him.
But it wasn’t the kind of trembling he wanted in his woman. Jane was trembling from angst, not from pleasure or anticipation. That wouldn’t do. He might be a dangerous and deadly pirate, but that didn’t mean he wanted his woman to fear his touch.
Shaw wrenched their hands from the ties and cupped the side of her face, gently stroking. He gazed deep into her eyes, hoping to ease some of her distress. But it only served to make her tremble all the more.
Damned if that slight quake of worry didn’t feel like a kick to his ballocks.
“Blast it,” he muttered and turned away from her. He wanted to kiss her, not make her faint. “Jack, take her to my cabin. The rest of ye, all hands on deck! Set the sails, ready the masts. Away we go to Castle Dheomhan. From there, a new adventure awaits!”
His crew let out a cheer and went about their duties hoisting sails and working the rigging as they sang. Shaw gripped the helm, steering them away from Iona and back toward Scarba and the rest of his fleet. Kelly, Lachlan and Thor would be surprised as hell to find out he’d handfasted himself to a woman. Like his crew, they’d probably wonder what had gotten into him, question his mental capacity and possibly even his skill with a sword.
As they navigated away from the island, the stone abbey growing smaller, Shaw could make out the billowing white sails of an approaching ship. They were too far away to see exactly who it was, but if he were a betting man, and he was, he’d say it was Livingstone. They’d left in the knick of time. If he’d waited to come to Iona until the morning instead of sailing through the night, he’d have been too late. A sharp bristle of anger stabbed at his middle, and his insides twitched with the need to wrench the helm, turning the Savage of the Sea toward the blackguard. To order the canons loaded and to fire upon the bastard. But he didn’t have his full crew on board, nor all his canons loaded, and Livingstone likely did.
Shaw supposed a battle to the death would have to wait for another day—but it would happen. That made him grin, for he loved nothing more than a good sea battle. And if anyone deserved to be beaten, it was that bloody whoreson. Shaw gave a mock solute to the distant ship and growled, “Scurvy dog.”
“Cap’n?” Jack approached, glancing at the ship in the distance and then back at his captain at the helm.
“Aye, Jack?”
“The lass is in your quarters. Would ye be wantin’ me to be taking the helm? Make the ceremony official?”
Shaw sneered. Aye, he wanted. He wanted to head to his quarters and show the lass just what a pirate’s pleasure was, but instead, he growled at his quartermaster and then looked back out to sea. The rest of the crew was looking at him as though he’d lost his mind, though discreetly as they worked, and he couldn’t be having that. They already probably thought him mad for having wed in the first place. If he didn’t then go make the lass his fully, they’d start to doubt his sincerity as a man, as a pirate, as their prince.
“Bl
oody hell. Take it, Jack,” he demanded, and then stormed across the deck, punching one of the swabs as he went for daring to gape too much.
The lad went flying, one of the boatswains grabbing his hand before he sailed overboard. The men cheered, seeming to have gotten their confidence in him back quickly enough.
Shaw stomped up the steps to his cabin and burst through the door. Jane leapt a foot from where she stood staring at his overstuffed bookcases. When she turned to face him, he felt her gaze like a punch to the gut. With his foot, he kicked the door closed behind him, drowning out the cheers of the crew.
“I wondered how long it would take ye to come to me.” She lifted her chin, challenging. The blue of her eyes were piercing, and he found himself wanting to look away.
What was it about her that made him feel like that? As though she could see deep into his soul and know his fears, lay them out before him. He was a man who never doubted, never shrank, but in her presence, he felt reduced somehow. Weak. It was quite vexing.
“A wife should not speak to her husband like that, let alone one as dangerous as me.” Shaw’s tone was low as he slowly advanced on her.
To his pleasure, she didn’t seem at all affected. Quite the opposite, in fact. She tipped a shoulder and glanced at him as playfully as she had when she’d been in his cabin five years before. “If ye’re a pirate prince, does that make me a princess?”
He chuckled. “Doesna work that way.”
“Hmm.” She turned back to the books and slid her fingers over the titles. “Ye’ve added quite a few things to your cabin since the last time I was here.”
“Aye. Plundering is my passion.” Shaw approached her from behind and pressed his hands to her hips, possessive. She wobbled but didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned a fraction of an inch backward. Was that permission? He leaned forward, breathing in the sweet, floral scent of her hair and pressed his lips to the delicate shell of her ear. “Do ye know what comes next?”
Jane sucked in a ragged breath when he darted his tongue out to tease the sensitive flesh behind her ear, and she whispered, “Aye.”
