Savage of the Sea (Pirates of Britannia: Lords of the Sea Book 1)

by Eliza Knight

  She’d been married before, nearly raped when he first found her. Of course, she knew what happened between a man and a woman.

  “Turn around.” Though a demand, his voice was remarkably soft, surprising even himself.

  Obediently, Jane turned to face him, her eyes squarely on his chest, and a lovely blush creeping over her creamy skin. God, he wanted to lick every inch of her.

  “Look at me.” With two fingers on her chin, he gently encouraged her to tilt her head up.

  Again, she did as he demanded without argument, her eyes piercing into his. Blast it! Why did she have to look at him like that? Half-fearful, half-resigned—and yet there was a curiosity buried deep in that fear and resignation. Whatever her apprehensions were, she was interested in what would happen.

  That was encouraging. Enough to make him stay. If she looked at him like she had when he kissed her on deck, he wouldn’t be able to go through with what he truly desired. Dread wasn’t what he wanted in a bedmate. He’d never taken a woman against her will, and he wasn’t about to start now. But he would have her. And willing she’d be. If there was one thing he was good at, it was gifting the lasses bountiful rapture. He knew she’d liked it when he kissed her on the beach. Knew she’d trembled then from pleasure, desire.

  Shaw stroked the hair away from her temple, tucking it behind her ear, never letting his eyes leave hers.

  Leaning forward, he brushed his lips over hers at the same time he slid his fingers over the length and curve of her collarbone. Neither of them closed their eyes, gazes locked in a battle for who would submit first. With her quick inhale of breath against his mouth, his blood immediately rushed hot and heavy through his veins and straight to his cock. Trailing his fingers over the column of her neck, he caressed her lightly, teasingly as he continued to kiss her with gentle persistence.

  Shaw wanted to see every reaction, to gauge whether she liked what he was doing and to finally see her surrender. She, he suspected, was working hard to keep her sharp and steady resolve. To keep this a simple vowed transaction.

  With his other hand, Shaw ran his fingers up and down her spine, feeling her muscles ease with each stroke. Each stone defense she’d erected, he was taking down with one touch and slide of his lips. Slowly, he backed her toward the bookcases she seemed so enamored with, and when her bottom hit the wood, he pressed his hard body fully against her luscious curves, swallowing back a groan at the gasp on her lips. Triton’s trident, but full body contact felt damned good. All he had to do was lift his plaid, lift her skirts and then that wicked, wet heat would be his. Shaw did groan then, imagining sinking deep inside her, Jane’s legs wrapped around his hips. If he kept this up, he’d come before he got there.

  Her eyelids fluttered and then widened as she worked to keep control of the situation.

  Rather than deepen the kiss, Shaw freed her lips from his, but only to grasp her hand and bring that upward to kiss each fingertip. Her mouth pressed into a tight line, but the rapid rise and fall of her chest, as well as the way her eyes twitched, were telltale signs that he was getting to her.

  “Surrender,” he whispered, taking one of her fingers into his mouth and gently flicking it with his tongue before sucking.

  She let out a little cry and tried to tug her finger away, but he only sucked harder, pinning her to the bookcase with his hips. The hardness of his arousal tucked tightly at the crux of her thighs. When she wriggled, it was a pure delicious torment.

  Dipping to kiss her again, he whispered. “Ye will have me undone, love.”

  Eyes widening, she glanced down at where their bodies were joined, a naïve understanding lighting her eyes. This woman had been married. Aye, she’d been a child, but she must have…

  Och, she couldn’t be a virgin. Just unused to the wooing of man since she’d only been married to a boy. Oh, aye, there was much he could teach her about the loving between a man and a woman.

  “There is much pleasure to be shared,” he said, letting her finger go and leaning down to press his lips to her neck where her pulse leapt. “So much pleasure.”

  Her heartbeat quickened.

  “Do ye like it when I kiss ye?” he asked.

  “Aye,” she answered without hesitation. “Nay.”

  “Which is it?” he teased, nipping her jaw.

  She sighed. “It should be nay.”

  “But it isna.”

  “Nay.”

  Shaw chuckled, taking her earlobe between his teeth and gently tugging, as he gently rocked his hips back and forth. “Tell me what ye want.”

  She sucked in a breath, tilting her head to the side. “I want ye to leave me alone.”

  Those were not the words he’d expected to hear, and indeed, they did take him by surprise, for as she said it, she clutched his shirt and let out a soft gasp. With her words, she was saying nay, but with her body, she was very much saying aye.

  “I will leave ye if that is your wish.” He skimmed his tongue over her jaw, then over toward her mouth where he captured her lips in a possessive kiss.

  The kiss was hot, deep, and if he were a true bastard, he would have ignored her words, lifted her skirts and taken her right there against the books. But as much as he wished he was a true blackguard at that moment, he simply couldn’t take advantage of her. She wanted him, her body couldn’t lie. Tight, pointy nipples pressed through her gown to tease his chest, but as much as he wanted to, he wouldn’t touch them, not until she begged.

  “Aye,” she moaned. “Leave me. Please.”

  Shaw stepped back with a groan at the cool air that replaced her sweet heat.

  The front of his plaid jutted out with the hard length of him. He scraped his hands through his hair, and then swiped them over his face, close to shaking with his rampant need. Damn, but he’d never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Jane. Never been this physically affected. It was mind-blowing.

  “A drink?” he asked gruffly, clearing his throat.

  “Aye,” she said, letting out the breath she’d been holding. Her gaze raked over the length of him, widening as she took in the bulge of his plaid. She licked her lips, eyes still hazy with desire, and it took every bit of willpower not to reach for her again.

  Even now, her nipples were still two delicious points pushing through the softness of her plain gown. The garment was not meant to entice in the least. A dull brown, and threadbare in spots, it came all the way up to her neck and did nothing to flatter the curves he’d felt beneath. But it didn’t matter, at this moment, the damned thing was the most erotic piece of clothing he’d ever laid eyes on—and he’d seen all manner of silks and lace on the wenches at his pirate ports.

  Tearing his gaze away, he walked to his liquor cabinet. “Whisky?”

  “I’ve never had one,” she said. “But it seems appropriate at this moment.”

  Shaw chuckled. “Aye, love, that it does.”

  Chapter Six

  A few hours later, the sun shone brightly through the porthole, centering on Jane where she sat in the exact spot she’d taken up when Shaw offered her whisky before leaving the cabin. He’d not been back to her relief and her despair. She was warmer, perhaps a bit tipsy, but still a maiden.

  Aye, though she’d been married, a consummation of the marriage had never occurred. Not for lack of desire on William’s part. But their marriage contract said they were to wait for a certain date, which when it came to pass found her indisposed, and then they’d traveled to Edinburgh. As a result, she was still virgo intacta. And if she had her way, she would remain that way. But only if Shaw did not kiss her like that again. Because no matter how hard she’d tried to hold out, before he’d stopped, she’d been ready to shed her gown and give him everything he seemed so intent on gaining.

  She let out a shuddering breath as she stared at the door, the same thing she’d been doing since he’d left her to go up on deck. At any moment, she’d expected him to come back into the cabin and make good on his promises of pleasure.

  Tru
th be told, there was still a part of her that was ready and willing to allow him. The way he’d kissed her, touched her, had felt so incredibly good.

  The more rational side of her head reminded her, rather logically, that if she could just satisfy him with kisses, then he would take care of Livingstone and she could be on her way.

  They’d only handfasted. And she knew how very temporary a handfasting could be. Also, if she were still a maiden, she would be that much more appealing to a man who actually wanted to wed her. The thought of marriage, however, left her with a sour taste in her mouth. Her first marriage had been disappointing, and this second one, if it could be counted, would be dangerous. She was tired of being a pawn in the games of men, which is what would happen if she were to marry someone else. After this was over, she’d have to go home to her father, as he would expect such, and he’d sell her off to the next man in want of a wife.

  The realization made her belly roll. Maybe it would be best to give in to Shaw. To let him take the bargaining chip her father could use away. Besides that, no respectable man would want to bed down with a woman who’d lain with a notorious pirate.

  But if she did give in… And, oh, how that wicked part of her wanted to, then Shaw would forever own her. Even if they did separate, how could she ever forget the way he kissed, the way he owned her with the swipe of his tongue? It would be that much worse if he entered her body.

  Jane rubbed at her eyes and let out a frustrated groan. So, no, she could not allow him to finish what they’d started.

  She was in way over her head. The man was a master of seduction, and at least a half-dozen times when he’d been kissing her, she’d been one heart-stopping breath away from utter surrender.

  The door swung open, sending the hem of her skirts to ruffle with the sudden disruption of air. Jane gasped, hands falling to her sides, belly falling to her feet.

  Shaw stopped on the threshold, as if he’d not expected to see her there waiting. The man was magnificent, and huge, taking up the entire expanse of the doorway. That dark, billowy shirt clung to the muscles of his upper body. A slight V of skin where the laces at his throat had come undone exposed tanned skin. Dark hair pulled into a queue. Mouth in a firm line. Glittering, heated emerald gaze that swept her from head to toe. Saints, she felt like he was stripping her bare with that one intense stare.

  Heat washed over her, and it could have been only a few moments that he was gone for all her body recalled exactly how his hard one felt on her. “Shaw.” She blew out a breath.

  He cleared his throat, dragging his eyes from her legs to her eyes. “We’ve arrived.”

  “At your castle.”

  “My island.” His chest puffed a little bit.

  She clasped her hands, hoping that squeezing them together would help her to still their trembling. “Your own island?”

  “Aye. Scarba. ’Tis mine.”

  On shaky legs, she stood and strode toward him. “I am ready.”

  He raised a brow, gaze darkening with desire and falling to her lips.

  “To debark the ship,” she clarified.

  He let out a soft chuckle, but his eyes still held the intensity of a man filled with hunger.

  She might be a maiden, but it wasn’t as though she’d not witnessed that look before. Even on wee William. But Livingstone had intervened before they were able to move forward with their marital obligations, and brutally cut short William’s life.

  As much as an arrogant child as he’d been, she had not wished him dead.

  “What are ye thinking of?” Shaw studied her, and she realized she’d been frowning.

  Jane wiped her face clean of her thoughts and worked a troubled smile from her lips. “I was just thinking about the last time I was brought to the home of a husband.”

  “Do ye miss him?”

  That was not a question she’d expected to hear from Shaw, and she decided to be honest. “Nay, but I didna wish him dead.”

  He nodded, not seeming to need anything more, then swept his arm out indicating they should leave. Jane took the narrow stairs first, with Shaw behind her. She could feel his gaze on her, heating her, and she couldn’t help but notice the sway of her own hips and tried to cease the movement as she walked. Oh, why did women have to be cursed with hips?

  At the bottom of the stairs, her face was sufficiently reddened she was certain, not only from the heat of her cheeks, but also the bawdy cheers the men gave, clearly thinking their prince had kissed the breath out of her—among other things.

  Jane jerked her gaze toward the ground, but then Shaw took hold of her elbow and whispered. “I know ye’re no weak lass, and they need to know it, too. Ye’re their mistress, their pirate princess, love.”

  She jerked her head up then, staring at each of the men as they passed toward the starboard side and the wood-planked gangway that had been lowered leading to the dock.

  The men tipped their hats and bowed their heads as she passed. As debauched and ferocious as they appeared, the feeling of excitement and pride that filled her chest was like none she’d ever had. When she’d arrived at the Douglas home years ago, she’d been a meek, head-bowed bride, and so they had always treated her that way. Shaw was giving her permission to be bold, to be strong.

  How different life was for him, for his wife.

  Wait—she was his wife.

  No matter how short she planned for their marriage to be, the realization seemed to strike her all over again and had a shiver passing over her spine.

  Once they were on the dock, men and wenches alike called out to them. There had to be nearly a hundred people there to greet them on the beach. There were more pirates in plaids, some in breeches, women in extremely low-cut gowns and a few children ran around several bonfires that rose high up into the sky. Hounds, too, wagged their tails and barked for their masters who’d returned. A mug of ale was shoved into the hands of each man that disembarked from a steady line of people passing the beverages from a barrel.

  Beyond the beach was a massive twenty-foot-high stone wall, and from what she could see from inside the opened gates, dozens and dozens of buildings with smoke puffing out of chimneys surrounded a massive stone keep.

  The Devils of the Deep truly had their own world. A well-fortified world. The sun shone down on them, bright and cheery, which seemed in strict contrast to the nature of their wealth.

  Shaw took her hand and raised it into the air. “My wife, Lady Jane!”

  That was all he needed to say, as his fierce expression said the rest. She was his. And anyone who dared to touch her or go against them had best be prepared to feed the fishes. It only took a breath before the entire crowd raised their mugs in the air and shouted their congratulations to their prince.

  Three men pushed their way to the front of the crowd, and beside her, Shaw stiffened, standing taller.

  The newcomers were huge. Full of muscle and bravado and with a fearsome look about them that made her shudder. They wore plaids of similar coloring to Shaw, the same billowing black linen shirts and weapons gleaming all over their bodies. One stood out in particular as incredibly terrifying. A shock of blond hair covered his head, and piercing blue eyes seemed to cut her right down the middle. But most distinctive of all was a massive scar that ran from an eyebrow down one cheek, as though someone had hacked at his face. Oddly, it did not detract from the beauty of his features. He stood between the other two. All of them had their arms crossed over their chests, glowering in her direction. The man on his left was just as dark as Shaw and could be a younger brother. The third man had ginger-colored hair knotted on top of his head.

  By the rood, she would not want to encounter any of them in a darkened alley or on the rough seas.

  “Allow me to introduce my wife to ye, lads,” Shaw said, tugging her forward, even though she resisted. They were just as terrifying as Shaw was. “Lady Jane.” He pointed to his men. “These are my captains, my brothers in arms. Thor, captain of The Sea Devil.” The man with the scar
bowed his head. “Kelly O’Murphy, captain of The Dark Sidhe,”—he indicated the ginger and then pointed to the dark one—“Lachlan MacBeth, captain of The Monster of Loch Ness.” The men bowed their heads to her, hands over their hearts.

  Though the gesture was one of loyalty, it did not ease her fear when she looked at them. If Shaw wasn’t there, how was she to know they wouldn’t toss her out to sea?

  “We grew up together, each of us adopted by the pirate king.”

  These were Shaw’s brothers. All of them raised by a pirate king. How fascinating. And terrifying. Perhaps if they truly did consider themselves brothers, they would be more inclined not to kill her?

  “And where is your pirate king?”

  Shaw turned his regard back to the three menacing pirates. “They will protect ye with their life, Jane.”

  Jane suppressed a smile, feeling her hand tremble in Shaw’s grasp. He gave her a fierce nod, no calming smiles like he had for her in the privacy of their cabin.

  “Gather inside brethren,” he bellowed. “We’ve a new adventure that awaits us.”

  With her hand still held in his, Shaw led her across a cobbled bailey and into the towering, stone keep. The inside was elegantly appointed and expensive beeswax candles dripped from chandeliers and candelabras. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised, given his cabin was also well done up. Shaw MacDougall was a wealthy pirate and seemed to appreciate the finer things in life. That part of him was oddly endearing. When she was a lass, she’d often imagined pirates living in dark, dank hovels that resembled dungeons. Shaw lived like a king.

  “The men will be gathered soon, and we shall feast.” He led her up a circular stone stair and into a chamber designed for a woman. A rose and gold-colored tapestried carpet of woven flowers and angels matched the curtain on the ornately carved four-poster bed and the curtains by the window.

  “This will be your chamber.”

  “We are not to share one?” The question was out before she had a chance to pull it back. It was not unusual for lords and ladies to have separate chambers. She’d just thought with him being a pirate…that perhaps he was not as civilized.