by Eliza Knight
Jane didn’t pull back. She kissed him harder, learning swiftly what he liked, and better yet, what she liked. Her hands shifted from clutching his arms to up around his neck, and she brushed her breasts provocatively against his chest.
“We canna…” she murmured, rubbing herself on him. “We canna…”
“Whatever ye desire, love.” Oh, devil take it, she was going to be the death of him. Had he just agreed to do as she asked? To not make love to her? Hell, she was crushing herself against him with wanton abandon. Did she even know what she wanted? He had to take her at her word. He’d vowed not to claim her fully until she begged.
Well, if he wasn’t allowed to make love to her, he was going to damn well make her want him just as much as he wanted her.
Not wanting to frighten her but needing to touch her all the same, and knowing that taking her to the bed would scare her out of whatever desirous trance she’d fallen into, Shaw backed them toward a bench at the base of the bed and sat, pulling her down beside him and swiftly lifting her legs over his thighs. From there, he was able to glide his fingers up under her chemise, stroking behind her knees, the tops of her thighs, until she instinctively parted her legs.
Sweet heavens, he could feel the very heat of her radiating down those thighs, and it was a sweet torture to wait the seconds it took to reach her center.
He slid his fingers over her glistened folds, and when she stiffened, he crooned, “God, ye’re beautiful,” against her ear and bit her lobe. “I love the way ye feel.”
Her stiffness retreated, and she clung to him, tilting her head to the side as he trailed his lips down her neck to her collarbones and then even lower to trace his tongue over her taut nipples.
Jane moaned as he teased her breasts with his lips and her slick folds with his fingers, finding the tight little nub that sent bundles of fiery pleasure rippling through her. She trembled in his arms, her breaths coming in pants. Bright blue eyes were wide, then heavy-lidded, then wide again as she fought against her own willpower.
No boy lord would have been able to give her what Shaw could. Perhaps if she knew the pleasure to be had in his bed, she would come to him more willingly.
“Let go, Jane,” he murmured against her breast.
“I canna.” She gasped. “I canna.”
“Aye—” he dipped a finger inside her tight sheath as he continued to circle his thumb on her nub, “—ye can. Let go for me, love.”
Thighs trembling, gasping for breath, she rocked her hips tentatively at first, and then judging by her cry of delight, she realized how good it felt to move against his hand, and her rhythm increased.
“This…is…wicked,” she crooned.
“But it feels good, aye?” He captured her lips as she said agreed and kissed her deep.
Not more than a few breaths later, her body tightened around his fingers, and she let out a loud cry into his kiss, shuddering as a climax took hold of her. Shaw stroked her until the quaking subsided and she sighed and loosened her grip on his neck.
He was harder than granite, and if she so much as gave the word, he’d lift her up and plunge deep inside her.
“That was…” she started to say but trailed off, avoiding his gaze as a heady flush covered her skin. “I’ve never…”
Shaw grinned. Damn, that had been good. “I’m glad I could give ye pleasure, love.”
She bit her lip, peeked up at him. “Shall I give ye pleasure?”
Mo chreach… His gut tightened. “Och, love, ye already have.”
“Then ye have felt what I…felt?”
Shaw leaned forward and gently bit her lower lip. “Aye,” he lied, for if he allowed her to touch him, to give him the release he so desperately wanted, he’d end up taking her rough and hard. Pirates may be known for plundering and pillaging, but Shaw was going to draw the line with his wife.
Chapter Eight
Jane woke with the dawn, feeling more rested than she had, well, ever.
She lay on her side facing the wall and the open windows, which brought the scent of the sea and a gentle breeze. Rolling over, she prepared to smile at her husband but found the bed beside her was empty. She patted the place where Shaw had lain. It wasn’t cold. He must have woken not too long ago. When she slipped out from beneath the covers and stretched, she felt a renewed energy rush within her veins. And a chill. The room was so cold. She rubbed her arms, shivering. The floor was frigid enough to freeze her toes, and she hopped over to the rug to warm them a little. The bed hadn’t been this cold. Shaw’s heat did amazing things.
Amazing things…
Her eyes fell to the bench where he’d pleasured her. Heat washed up from her breasts to her face. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever have imagined… And likely, if she’d not called for him to come and help her, she wouldn’t have felt…any of the wonderful sensations that had rippled along her limbs.
His words came back to her, about lovemaking being a man’s duty and not a lad’s… An involuntary shiver passed through her. Oh, how right he was. After what they’d experienced, she couldn’t imagine anyone else sliding their hands between her legs, or pressing their mouth to her breast.
She was surprised to still be a maiden this morning, surprised he’d listened to her plea and surprised she was even able to voice it, especially when he’d laid her out on his lap.
For there was an intense curiosity to call him back to his chamber so they could kiss some more.
Leisurely, she walked from his room through the door leading to her own chamber to find that laid across the rose-gold coverlet was a beautiful gown of sky blue and silver trim, a crisp linen chemise with silk ribbons, a new pair of soft wool hose and smooth kid-leather boots with silver buckles.
It had been so long since she had anything pretty to wear. Jane slid her fingers over the soft silk of the gown. This was too beautiful to wear on the ship. She’d ruin it. The saltwater spray would leave dimples and stains in the fabric.
“Do ye like it?” It was Shaw, standing behind her in the doorway, leaning on the frame, arms crossed over his chest.
Heaven help her, he was too handsome for his own good, and certainly too stunning for hers.
A blush crept over her as she stared at his arms and recalled the way they’d felt wrapped around her. “I love it. Thank ye.”
A knowing grin curled his sensual lips. “Put it on. I want to see.”
“All right.” She waited for him to leave, but he didn’t. Standing there like a fool, she gazed at him and then the clothes, unsure how to ask him to leave so she could change, and then felt all the more foolish when she recalled the way she’d let him touch her the night before. She supposed undressing and redressing in front of him would not take away from her virginity and was no less scandalous than what they’d shared when the sun was down.
Turning her back on him, she slipped her worn chemise over her head. A shiver coursed over her, more so at the way his gaze burned into her back than the sudden chilly air touching her naked skin. Her breath hitched, and she stood frozen for a moment before she was able to regain her senses. When she did, she was quick to put on the new crisp one, sighing at the feel of the fabric sliding over her skin. Nothing had ever felt so good against her—except maybe his hands. The fact that he’d picked out these garments for her, that he was watching her dress, made it seem as though he were the one slipping them over her figure. Traitorous nipples tightened, and she squeezed her thighs together. Dressing had never been so…sensual. A fleeting sense of disappointment floated over her when she pulled on the blue gown, tightening the laces in the front. Whatever this was, this teasing dance, it was almost over. But when she went to grab the hose, she found her fingers brushing over Shaw’s.
“Allow me, lass.” His voice was gravelly, as though he found it hard to speak.
“What?” Jane glanced at him, seeing the way his eyes had darkened with desire. How could she argue with that stare? But she did. “Nay. I can do it myself.”
&nbs
p; “I know ye can. But I want to.”
The pirate prince knelt on the floor before her, and she all but melted. He waited, and she found herself nodding. Shaw lifted her foot onto his muscular thigh and then slipped her toes into the wool, rolling the hose up to above her knee, making her gasp at the feather-light touch of his fingers.
Who knew that the act of putting on hose could be so…intimate?
Everything with this man was so intensified.
He tied the ribbons holding the hose in place and moved to her other leg. By the time he was done, her breath was erratic, her heart pounding and all she could think about was asking him to kiss her. She cleared her throat instead, working hard to get ahold of herself.
“Thank ye.”
“Ye look beautiful.” He still knelt on the floor looking up at her, and she had the absurd notion that he was kneeling down before her like a vassal, worshipping at her feet.
And while she rather liked that, it also made her want to kiss him all the more. “Thank ye. Please get up.”
He grinned, leaping to his feet with an agility that was surprising for a man so large. He towered over her, his dark wavy hair as silky looking as her gown. He’d shaved the stubble from his face, and when he smiled down at her, she could see a slight dimple in his cheek.
“I canna wear this on your ship.” She slid her hands down the silky skirts. “’Twill be ruined.”
Shaw clucked his tongue in disagreement. “I’ve a cloak for ye to wear on deck. Besides, no wife of mine will be dressed in rags.”
“Oh, so many gifts. And I’ve nothing for ye.” She looked away, feeling suddenly shy.
“Ye are gift enough.”
Jane narrowed her eyes, flicked them back at him. Why was he being so…chivalrous?
“Come now. The crew awaits us. I’ve had a meal prepared and sent to our cabin aboard the ship.” He pulled a cloak from where it hung in the wardrobe and held it out to her.
“Nay, wait. I canna begin to thank ye, Shaw. My debts are piling higher than I think I shall ever be able to repay.”
“Ye’ve given me Scotland’s greatest treasure, Jane. Stop thanking me.” He appeared serious enough that she nodded, though she mentally prepared to help in any way she could.
Outside, the sun had yet to burn the morning mist away from the sea’s surface. The crew lined the ship, waiting expectantly to greet their captain. Though Jane had been hopeful there would be another female aboard, her hopes did not come to fruition. Shaw explained that a female on board was bad luck, and that even as his wife, she would normally remain behind. However, because she was the key they needed to unlock the treasure box, she would be allowed on board this time.
All four ships were readied, their sails high and the men singing a song about hoisting the mizzen and other such things she didn’t fully understand. Before she’d been on the Savage of the Sea, she’d never realized how complicated it appeared to sail a massive galley. It was actually quite impressive to watch the way the crew worked in unison, each one having their own specific duty that worked in tandem with the man before and after him.
Shaw led her into his richly appointed cabin, all too aware of the hand he pressed to the small of her back, and the oak door that now stood closed.
Jane turned in a slow circle, taking note of the vast wall of books that he’d kissed her against, and then the pianoforte, the harp, the large ornate table, the huge four-poster bed, the rich velvet curtains, gold-gilded paintings, thick and lavish tapestries. It was truly a cabin fit for a king—or prince.
She sat down at the table where he indicated. Served on gold-plated chargers were delicious looking honey-buns, slices of ham and quail’s eggs.
When Shaw did not join her, and indeed there was no place set for him, Jane furrowed her brow. “I am to eat alone?”
“I’m captain of the ship, love. I have to man the helm.”
“Oh.” She’d not thought of that and tried to hide her disappointment.
“Stay here. Dinna venture out on deck. A ship is a dangerous place for a lass. There’s plenty to do in here to keep ye occupied.”
“What if I want fresh air?”
He walked to the porthole, opened it up and pointed out. “Fresh air.”
Jane tried not to frown. “Thank ye.”
Shaw grunted, distracted or perhaps needing to get out of the cabin, away from her. Whenever they were together, the air itself seemed charged. Indeed, she was surprised he’d not tried to kiss her this morning.
“I’ll return later this evening.” His tone was gruff.
She tried not to notice. “How long until we reach England?”
“First we sail to Cornwall. Perran Castle, the stronghold of Constantine le Brecque.”
“Who is he?”
“He is the leader of Poseidon’s Legion.”
Jane nodded. “I recall ye mentioning needing their permission to sail.”
“We dinna need permission exactly,” Shaw said with frown. “Rather, I dinna want to engage with them as it will take more time to do so than to simply sail on. And if I’m not mistaken, this business with Alexander and the Black Knight is of the utmost importance, and we’d best not wait.”
“Aye. Livingstone has likely been hunting Alexander for years. And he must have spies in England. Someone is bound to give away their position soon. If they havena already.”
“Exactly. As much as I love to kick the arses of Sassenach pirates, I dinna want to do so at the expense of my treasure.”
“Completely understood.”
He left her then. She enjoyed the lavish breakfast and then went to peruse the bookshelf for something to read, finding a copy of Beowulf. Flipping open to the first pages, she was immediately intrigued and went to sit on the cushioned chaise by the porthole, breathing in the sea air and reading to the gentle rock of the ship.
Whatever fears she’d had about being married to a pirate, or about even getting involved with a pirate, soon faded away.
No more than an hour into their journey, Shaw saw the sails of an approaching ship through his spyglass from the west. Despite how many times he’d changed their course, they continued following in their direction. He was certain of one thing—the approaching ship was following them.
With his four ships and le Brecque’s two, Shaw could easily overtake whoever it was, but engaging out on the sea was not in his plan. He had a strict schedule to stick to. Suffering any losses would put them behind that schedule, and put his crew, his wife and their mission in jeopardy.
“Blast it,” he muttered. “Sail ho!”
“Everything all right, Cap’n?” Jack asked.
“Signal Thor, Kelly and Lachlan that we’ve got rats at the stern.”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
“And haul wind, Jack, we’ll not be stopped by a bunch of scallywags.”
Jack called out orders to the men and signaled to their other ships. Soon they were hauling arse through the waters, and the white sails of those who followed grew smaller and smaller until they were out of sight.
For several hours, they continued to monitor their rear, and as the sun started to set, the sails reappeared on the horizon at their stern.
“Blimey,” Shaw growled.
“They want something from ye, Cap’n,” Jack muttered.
“Aye. And they willna be getting her.”
“Ye know who it is?”
“Pretty damned sure. Livingstone.”
Jack groaned. “Not that bastard again.”
“Aye. He wants Lady Jane, and he wants me on the gibbet.”
“For the foul up at Edinburgh Castle?”
“Aye.” Shaw didn’t go into more detail than that. Livingstone had a lot to be angry about. Shaw’s having gone back on their deal. Shaw having saved Jane instead of murdering her—and now once more, he’d thwarted the blackguard’s plans where Jane was concerned. Having married her, offering her his ultimate protection would have Livingstone no doubt seeing red. On top of tha
t, Shaw suspected Livingstone knew that he was going after what the man wanted most.
The man’s reputation was at stake, not to mention all his hard work at covering up the existence of a king that was not under his control.
The bastard was likely already looking deficient to his peers for having given the pirates back to Shaw’s care, and now those who wanted Alexander dead and buried would be even more irritated that Livingstone had fouled up once more.
Perhaps it would be best to face the bastard now while they were at sea, while he had had twice the guns and crew. Send a message at least that he wasn’t afraid.
“Avast, lads!” Shaw called out. “Turn it about. I’m in the mood for a fight.”
Loud whoops went up among the crew as they leapt to change up the sails and signal to the other ships that they were turning around.
The wind blew in their favor, helping them close the distance in short order. Shaw sailed with his three ships behind him, heading straight in the direction of the two royal galleons without veering off path. Livingstone, seeing that Shaw was heading straight for them, turned his ships, separating—always a bad idea.
Shaw navigated his four ships right between them, moving to stand up on the rail at the bow searching out Livingstone. The man was spitting mad, standing at his helm, red in the face, hands fisted at his sides.
“Cannons ready,” Shaw bellowed.
Livingstone shouted something unintelligible that was lost in the wind.
“What was that? Retreat or die!” Shaw grinned widely. “Guns forward!”
Oh, how he wanted to shout fire. To watch Livingstone’s ships be completely obliterated. But the truth of it was that if he fired, Livingstone would also fire. And though they were outnumbered, they would still be able to do some damage to Shaw’s ships, and possibly harm Jane. What he was doing, threatening to fire, was risky, because if Livingstone was in a risk-taking mood—which might be the first in his sad life—Shaw would have to accept the challenge.
