by Eliza Knight
But as he’d expected, Livingstone raised his hands in surrender, his face visibly paling.
Shaw’s grin widened. Och, but that had been too easy. Livingstone wanted him to board his ship, probably so he could attempt to run Shaw through, or at least take the lives of the six crew members he’d let go five years ago.
“Another day, Livingstone, ye bastard!” Shaw growled. “Cease following us, else I blow your ships to a thousand pieces and see ye sink into oblivion.”
“Ye have something of mine on your ship,” Livingstone sputtered.
“On the contrary, I’ve nothing that belongs to ye.”
“A woman. The nuns at Iona saw ye take her. Give her over, and our business shall be done.”
“The only woman on this ship is my wife, and I guarantee ye’ll never get your filthy hands on her. And if ye try, well, my cannons are primed for eating wood.”
Livingstone blustered. “I know ye have her!”
Shaw just raised a brow, because clearly Livingstone didn’t believe that Lady Jane could be his wife.
“Sail on, pirate scum, but I will come after ye.”
Shaw gave a mock salute. “I shall count on it.”
Chapter Nine
Until now, Jane had not realized just how terrified she was of Livingstone.
Aye, she’d known him to be a threat—but the threat had always been a far off danger. Now he was visible. His face was right there, screwed up in anger, visible from her tiny porthole.
When the ship had made a hard turn and then sailed through the sea as though Davy Jones himself was on their tail, she’d leapt up from the chaise where she’d been dozing after a full day of reading only to see the ships ahead.
Being on a pirate ship, she’d assumed they were about to board and pillage some poor merchant or however these men went about making their fortunes. But then she’d spotted the flag. The royal flag of Scotland, and beside it Livingstone’s terrifying crest of a man holding a cudgel in one hand and a snake in the other. Oh, how fitting for a man like Livingstone. For he was a snake that would strike a person until their dying breath.
Her enemy’s serpent like eyes slid over the hull, and seeming to spot her face, he demanded Shaw release her to his care. Nay! Nay!
For a split second, she’d been certain Shaw was going to hand her over. Why would he save her so many times if only to just give her up? Perhaps Livingstone had offered him a great chest of gold. Pirates could be bought with such things. And there was no guarantee that any ransom would be forthcoming with Alexander’s apprehension. A chest of gold right in front of him was a sure thing.
Heart hammering, she sank to the floor of the cabin, shaking. Below her, she could feel the vibrations of the cannons being rolled to their firing positions.
Through the open porthole, she could hear the shouts, though she could barely make out what they were saying. She only caught snippets of words here and there that made no sense.
As she sat cowering like a fool, something inside her snapped. She was tired of running, tired of hiding, tired of being a coward. This was no way to live, quaking pathetically on the floor.
For the last five years, she’d known she was meant for something greater than a virtual prisoner awaiting her death sentence, and she wasn’t about to let Livingstone or her pirate husband make her decisions for her. Not anymore.
With renewed resolve, Jane stood. There had to be something in this hugely ornate cabin that she could use as a weapon. A pirate wouldn’t be a pirate without a stash. She searched the room, opening up a cabinet painted with scenes of a battle and trimmed in gold. And she wasn’t disappointed. Inside, was an arsenal of weapons that gleamed in their holders. Swords, daggers, axes, maces. She looked at a hand cannon, but having never used one before, she was fairly certain she would blow her own hand off at best and her face off at worst.
A sound outside her door had her startling. Was he coming already to drag her up on deck?
Oh, what a betrayer he was! No gentle warrior was he.
Jane’s fingers brushed the hilt of a sword. But she wasn’t a fool. She’d never be able to take out Shaw with a sword. Likely, she’d barely be able to keep him at bay. He’d knock it away as though she held a comb out to him. The man was made of steel and could disarm her before she registered he was in the room.
Outside the cabin door grew silent, and she resumed her frantic search for a weapon she could actually use. Then she spotted a crossbow and a neat stack of sharp arrows in a quiver beside it.
This she knew how to use. She’d practiced a few times with her older brother when she was a lass, before she’d married wee William and wished she could use it on him. Ironic that she was now prepared to use it on her second husband. But if Shaw so much as thought she would go with Livingstone, that he could betray her in this way, he had another thing coming—an arrow to the heart specifically.
Jane loaded the crossbow, sat on the chair facing the door and waited. As soon as the handle lifted, she stood, cocked the lever into place and prepared to let the arrow fly.
Shaw opened the door, a fierce frown already on his face that darkened when he took in the sight of the crossbow. A shudder passed through her, and she sought out the same resolve that had her searching for a weapon to begin with. Strength, girl, she thought to herself.
“Are ye going to shoot me, wife?”
“That depends.” Her voice shook, making her frown all the fiercer.
He shut the door, crossed his arms over his massive chest and leaned back against the door as though he had all day and not one care in the world. “On what?”
“What your plan is.”
“My plan? It hasna changed.”
“Then perhaps I am imaging things, but I do believe that was Livingstone just outside my porthole.”
“Ah, aye, ’twas.” Shaw’s gaze roved up and down her body, a slow grin covering his face.
She didn’t like that grin. It was arrogant and made her think he believed she was a fool. Well, she wasn’t a fool. That was why she’d picked up the crossbow to begin with, to show him she wasn’t going to just be given away. “And?” she urged, frowning fiercely and jabbing the crossbow into the air as if to drive her question home.
“Careful with that, a crossbow is not a toy.”
“I know it’s not a toy, ye jackanapes.”
He grinned. “Ye’re verra pretty when ye’re angry, love.”
Jane let out a frustrated growl and waved it again.
Keeping his eyes on hers, Shaw said, “When I was a lad, I thought I would die.”
Jane narrowed her eyes on him. “What has that to do with the current situation?”
He ignored her. “My father, Chief MacDougall, was not a verra nice man.”
“Shaw, I will not go with Livingstone. Ye canna make me.”
“Our clan fell on hard times. And so he decided to try his hand at piracy.”
“Did ye hear me? I will not go! I willna allow ye to go back on our agreement.”
“Well, as ye can imagine, being a pirate isna something ye just decide to do.” He waved his hand at the crossbow. “Much like going from being a lady to an assassin, I imagine.”
“I will not hesitate to shoot ye if ye try to take me off this ship.”
It appeared she’d developed a sudden muted affliction, for he did not register that she spoke at all.
“So my father ended up sailing his ship right into the path of the pirate king of the Devils of the Deep. Fool that he was, he thought he could take the pirate on with his skilled warriors, but ye see the thing about pirates is, they dinna fight fair. They fight to survive, no matter the cost.” At that, he uncrossed his arms and pushed lazily off the door.
For a split second, she panicked that he was going to attempt to disarm her and she was going to have to shoot him, but instead, he sauntered toward the porthole window.
Jane followed him with the crossbow, keeping it aimed now on his back, which seemed much less honora
ble. Could she shoot him in the back? Nay. She was actually beginning to believe she wouldn’t be able to shoot him in the chest, either. She wasn’t a killer. And she owed a debt to this man. Besides, part of her was starting to doubt whether or not he was going to give her to Livingstone. Not to mention, she was overly curious about the story he was telling. But she couldn’t let that curiosity distract her.
“I was on board that ship with me da. And when he saw me peeking from behind a pile of crates, he offered me up as chattel to the pirate. Sold me off in order to gain his own freedom. I was eleven. And I didna want to be sold off to be a feast for the Devils of the Deep. For they looked like devils, laughed like devils and killed like devils. I was certain they must eat children. I wrenched a sword from a dying man’s hands and raised it against the pirate king.”
“Why are ye telling me this, Shaw?”
Though his back was to her, he turned enough that she could view his profile, could see the nostalgic grin curling his lips.
“The king of pirates laughed at me. Bastard dropped his sword and laughed his arse off. The men of the crew did the same. So I ran at him, sword extended, and he just swatted the blade away, knocking me down with it. His crew tossed my father back onto his ship and set fire to it. I watched me da leap overboard into a skiff and row away. Never once did he call out for me or look back.”
Jane felt a pang of sadness for the father who’d abandoned him without a backward glance. The father who’d sold his son in order to save his own arse.
“I didna let that stop me from fighting. From running. I leapt overboard. Fought a shark. Fought every damned bloke on that ship. For years.”
A shark? Saints… He really was a god.
Shaw turned around to face her, the muscle in his jaw tight, his gaze raking over hers and settling on her eyes, locking her in place. Her hands trembled. The crossbow trembled. Her shoulders hurt from having held it so steady.
“That man became my true father. He taught me to have faith in myself, even when my own blood didna have faith in me. Even when I didna have faith in the world.”
Jane lowered the crossbow, unhooked the lever. “I dinna understand.”
“Have faith, Jane. Have I let ye down yet, lass?”
She shook her head.
“Since the day I met ye, I’ve been saving your arse, just like my pirate king did mine. And I’ve fought a hell of a lot bigger monsters than that blackguard.”
Jane had the sudden urge to laugh and cry all at once. A jolt of energy rushed through her. She glanced down at the crossbow, suddenly needing to let it go. But Shaw was right there, taking it from her hand and returning it to the cabinet full of weapons.
He turned back to her, and she held her ground, knees no longer knocking together as she stared at him. This was a man who was used to hardship. A man who’d known little love except for in the oddest of places—from a pirate king who’d taken him under his wing.
“What was his name?” she asked.
“Who?”
“Your king.”
“His name is MacAlpin. He lives still. Back at Castle Dheomhan.”
“He was there?”
“Aye.”
“Why did ye not introduce me to him?”
Shaw grimaced and whatever pain she saw reflected in his eyes quickly faded. “He is unwell.”
“And that is why ye are now ruler of the ships?”
He laughed at that. “Ruler of the ships? Aye. That is why.”
“He did not have any children of his own?”
A dark look passed over his features. “A pirate’s life is not exactly conducive to family.”
“Oh.”
Shaw ran a hand through his hair. “He adopted many sons.”
“And ye must have been his favorite.”
“Mayhap.” He grinned with pride. “Or ’haps I was just the best.”
Jane smiled and sank back onto the bench beneath the window. “Thank ye for sharing that with me.”
Shaw shrugged as if he’d not just told her a dark anecdote of his past. In fact, the very piece that made him into the man he was today.
“It may be safe to say, I’ve seen ye at your worst, lass, and perhaps ye needed to know that I, too, have been despondent in the past. But know that I’m not going to just toss ye to that monster.”
“I’m sorry about your father.” She wanted to hug him.
“And I’m sorry ye were ever entangled with Livingstone to begin with.”
She shrugged, tucking her knees up beneath her skirts. “Seems the lot of a lass, does it nay?”
“Nay. Just because ye’re a lass, doesna mean ye should expect or accept that your lot in life is to be abused by men like that.”
Now it was her turn to shrug. “Alas, Shaw, lassies are told from the day they are born that is exactly what we should expect and accept.”
“Not anymore.”
She raised a brow. “Says who?”
“Me.”
“Ye’re going to suddenly change the world? Verra ambitious of ye.” She teased.
Shaw grinned. “I am under no illusions that I can do that, love, but if I can change it for ye, and if enough bastards see it, mayhap they, too, will change the way they treat women.”
Jane cocked her head, studying him. There seemed to be a lot more than met the eye with Shaw. Despite being a pirate, who were known for their philandering lives of debauchery, he held a deeper respect for women than most ordinary men.
And it would appear that his men did, too.
Aye, they had wenches at their stronghold, and he’d alluded to having plenty of lovers. But, all of the wenches seemed happy. Not abused or downtrodden.
Though he insisted on a specific code of good conduct with women amongst his men, she would have thought to see at least some of the men behaving in a less than chivalrous way. But there hadn’t been even one. Not a single slip. That led her to believe that this was a running precedent with Shaw. That for a long time, he’d made sure his men treated women not only better than pirates, but better than other beings with a cock between his legs.
She blushed at the vulgar thought. It would seem that in the company of pirates for less than two days, she was already starting to think like one. Shaw was rubbing off on her. Or perhaps allowing her the freedom she’d never had before. The freedom to be vulgar if she wanted to. The freedom to explore who she was and what she wanted.
And for some reason, that made her smile all the more.
Chapter Ten
He’d told her too much.
Shaw knew that the moment he stared at her and felt a kindred spirit. The moment she passed him a secret smile that knocked against a deep part of himself he’d kept locked away for longer than he could remember.
Because of that, he quickly left her, backing out of their room without a word. He raced up on deck and set about working his men harder than usual if only to work off his own steam. Sweat soaked through his shirt, drenched his hair. And still he worked harder, sweating out the thoughts of her, the affects of her. And still her beautiful face flashed before his eyes. The way her mouth had opened when she moaned with pleasure. The way she’d smiled up at him as though they shared a secret. Like hell he was going to sleep in his cabin, for sleep was the last thing on his mind.
Rather than subject his resolve to further damage, Shaw slept on deck, definitely not preferring the chilly sea air to the warm sweet body in his cabin, but needing distance from her and the strange sensations she was tugging from inside his chest.
By the next afternoon, the long stretch of beach on the Cornwall coast came into view, and with it, Holywell Tower and Perran Castle—Poseidon’s Legion stronghold. Perran Castle jutted into the sky just off the beach of Perranporth. Farther to the north, Holywell towered like the earthly Mount Olympus.
It’d been at least a year since he’d seen Constantine le Brecque, though they’d known each other for many years, just as they were both coming in their own. Their first encou
nter had been quite volatile when Shaw attacked the merchant ship Constantine was sailing with his adoptive father. Shaw had let the two of them go. The first time, he’d been merciful, but damn if Constantine didn’t hold the attack over his head. Probably why their second encounter had come about. Constantine had attacked the Savage of the Sea to get revenge after wrongly assuming Shaw had seduced a devious wench away from him. Poor bastard hadn’t perceived that wench’s wiliness until Shaw pointed it out, and then Constantine had tried to rip Shaw’s head off with renewed effort.
When Shaw had knocked away his weapon and offered mercy for a second time, Constantine had begrudgingly backed off. On and off, they’d been at odds with each other, but the bond had never been broken. If anything, it had been strengthened.
When death was on the line, Shaw knew he could always call on Constantine, and the pirate would be there for him. Sometimes Shaw had to pay, and sometimes he demanded payment for a favor.
Constantine had been attempting to negotiate with Shaw for the last year about gaining access to the French port. Shaw was going to help the Sassenach take it. Beat those French bastards —les Porteurs d’Eau, the Water Bearers, and their vicious captain, Nicolas Van Rompay, a man ruthless and evil to the core. Below decks, they made their victims row their ships with a pirate lashing their backs as they went. Shaw knew this because three of his men had been captured during a fight, and he’d had to enlist Constantine’s help to gain them back. But the poor bastards had died from their injuries anyway. In addition to working their victims to death, the Water Bearers also chopped off their feet, so if they did by some miracle manage to escape the heavy chains that kept them at the oars, they couldn’t run, and the blood and puss from their wounds just brought sharks to feed.
Together, Constantine and Shaw had executed the row boss, but they’d not been able to overtake the French who were bent on utter destruction rather than what most other pirates wanted—riches, treasure, freedom and wenches. The French fed on the blood of their victims. Unholy blackguards. Not that Shaw was a holy man himself, but he believed that the devil was true, and he believed in the sea gods.
