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

by Eliza Knight

  During a siege, Constantine’s quartermaster had been taken, strapped to the bow of Van Rompay’s ship and left to die in torment. And Constantine wanted revenge.

  As they approached, Shaw called for his flag to be raised so whoever was in the guard tower at Perran would know who he was.

  Despite that, a loud boom echoed on the wind as the castle sent a cannon ball careening toward their ship. As predicted, it landed about a dozen feet from the starboard side. Just as it always did.

  “Bastard,” Shaw muttered. “Drop the skiff.”

  As he rowed toward shore, three more cannons were fired, all missing Shaw and his ship, but rankling nonetheless.

  Shaw vacated the skiff in the shallow pools of the shore and trudged up the wet beach with Thor, Kelly and Lachlan at his side.

  “Ho, there!” called one of the men from the guard tower.

  “Bugger off,” Shaw shouted. “Get le Brecque. We’ve come to parley.”

  The pirate guard waved a crude gesture their way and then ducked out of sight. A moment later, the gate rose, allowing them entry into the castle bailey.

  With their hands on their sword hilts, Shaw stared down the English pirate knights who lined the inside of the bailey. Covered in armor, their eyes glittered from inside their helms. Shaw shook his head. No matter how many times they’d seen him, fought with him, they still acted like he might draw his sword in their bailey. For most pirates, stabbing their allies in the back wasn’t unusual. But he had a soft spot for Constantine. Maybe because the man reminded him so much of himself. Another brother in arms, if not by blood.

  After a quarter hour, Constantine finally made his appearance. Tall and broad, Constantine was blond as a golden god with eyes to match. The men often teased that he was borne of the waves and lifted up to the sea gods as an offering. Likely they were jealous that no wench could look at Constantine without falling madly in love. Where Shaw was dark, Constantine was light. Exact opposites.

  “To what do we owe the pleasure of Savage gracing our doorstep?” Constantine asked, a wide grin on his mouth as they approached each other in greeting.

  “’Haps we’ve come to plunder your women and ravage your gold,” Shaw jested, slapping Constantine on the back.

  Constantine laughed and gave Shaw an equally rough punch to the shoulder. “You always were one for jesting, weren’t you?”

  Shaw frowned. “Bastard.”

  That only made Constantine laugh harder, but then he abruptly stopped. “Come inside.”

  Shaw glanced to his men and nodded for them to follow. Inside, the castle was dimly lit. Wenches lounged with men while servants refilled their cups.

  “We were just finishing the nooning. Are you in need of sustenance?”

  “Aye,” Shaw said.

  They took seats at the table and were served trenchers of roasted meat, bread and mugs of ale. Constantine eyed him up and down before finally saying, “Tell me why you’ve come.”

  “We need to cross the channel freely.”

  Constantine sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “So you’re wanting a letter of marque?”

  “Aye.”

  “And what will you offer as a toll payment to cross without being boarded?”

  Shaw rolled his eyes. He was only here out of respect for Constantine’s claim on the channel. If he wanted to cross without permission, he damned well would. “The French.”

  Constantine raised a brow. “The French?”

  “Aye. Trésor Cove will be yours.”

  “Why are you crossing the channel?”

  “My wife.” Shaw didn’t expand.

  “My arse.” He slammed his hand on the table with an obnoxious laugh. “Why are you crossing the channel?”

  Shaw raised a brow in challenge. “I just told ye. My wife.”

  Constantine narrowed his eyes, as if deciding that maybe Shaw wasn’t lying. “You have a wife?”

  “Aye.”

  “I want to meet your woman.”

  “Not bloody likely.”

  “Where is she? You wouldn’t have left her back at Scarba. She’s on your ship, isn’t she?”

  Shaw glowered, annoyed that Constantine had guessed that. “If she’s important enough to get you to help me with the French, which I’ve been trying to get you to do for the past year, you would never let her out of your sight. I want to meet her before I agree.”

  “Nay.”

  “Then we are at an impasse, and I reserve the right to raise my sword against you for having trespassed onto my territory.”

  “And ye can rest assured that I will not rest in seeing that Trésor Cove is never in English hands.”

  Constantine chuckled and stuffed a piece of chicken into his mouth. “Interesting terms we have here. How about we battle for it?”

  “Battle for what?”

  “Whether or not I see your wife.”

  “Bloody hell, Constantine. Ye know it wasna me who was rutting your lady.”

  “She was most definitely not a lady.”

  “Needless to say. ’Twasna me.”

  Constantine eyed him. “All right. You’ll have the letters of marque, but we’ll accompany you.”

  “Nay.”

  “Why not?”

  “We’ll come back here when our business in England is done.”

  “You still haven’t told me what your business is.”

  “Nay, I havena.” Shaw stabbed his meat.

  “What is the big secret?”

  Ballocks, he wasn’t about to tell him the truth. “My wife’s family is in need of rescuing.”

  “You married an English lass?” Constantine looked skeptical.

  “Extended family.”

  “Hmm… We’ll still come with you.”

  Shaw gritted his teeth. “Nay.”

  “That is the deal, Savage. Either I come with you, or you let me have a night with your wife.”

  Shaw slammed his fists down on the table. “That is never going to happen.”

  Constantine raised his mug of ale and smiled. “Looking forward to traveling with you. It’s been a long time.”

  It was a lot easier to come out of the cabin and walk the deck now that Shaw wasn’t on board. While two of the sailors tried to warn her against it, one glower down her nose as though she were their nursemaid had them nodding solemnly and ducking their heads before they went back to their duties.

  Jane walked to the rail, gingerly stepping over coiled rigging and ducking out of the way of the men as they worked. She wouldn’t put it past Jack to haul her back to the cabin like a sack of potatoes if she proved to be in the way. A swift gust of wind whipped her hair as she viewed the beach and massive castle towering over it. Four skiffs had been pulled up onto the sand. But Shaw and his men were nowhere in sight now. They’d gone into the eerie-looking castle that flew a flag she’d never seen before—one with a dragon on it.

  “My lady, have ye had enough of the sun yet? Ye should be gettin’ back into the cabin, else Cap’n Savage will be having my arse skinned on the gibbet.” Beside her stood the rat-faced Jack. He was at eye level with her, muscles bulging out of his shirt, ready to pop the linen at its seams.

  She sniffed at him. “I dinna think your captain would do such a thing to ye. He counts on ye.”

  Jack laughed hoarsely and tugged at his collar. “Then ye dinna know him well.”

  Jane just smiled, believing she probably knew him best out of everyone. Shaw seemed to let his guard down when he was with her, even while he was ruthless to everyone else.

  “Please, my lady, I’ll bring ye something sweet, like a honey cake or some such.”

  “Are ye bribing me, Jack?”

  “Well, ’tis better than tossing ye over me shoulder, as I’m sure ye’d agree. Besides, Cap’n wouldna like that.”

  Jane sighed. “Nay, I suppose he wouldna. And neither would I. I might have to skin ye on the gibbet myself.”

  Jack’s eyes widened. “Pardon my sayin’ so, m
y lady, but I think Cap’n Savage has chosen a fine lass for a lifelong companion.”

  “Hmm.” Jane cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes, trying not to laugh. “I’m glad ye think so, Jack.”

  Jack looked sideways, unable to meet her gaze. “Well, then. A honey cake?”

  “Nay. I dinna think I will oblige ye in that.”

  Jack mumbled something under his breath.

  “And I’ll be certain to let your captain know that ye did try most earnestly to keep me locked up, but I just wouldna remain. In fact, I’m happy to retrieve the crossbow and tell him I threatened to shoot ye.”

  Jack eyed her skeptically and then looked as though he might have a fit of apoplexy as he gazed over her shoulder.

  Jane jerked her gaze back toward the shore in time to see her husband marching out of the castle with his men. Every time she saw him, he took her breath away. His dark hair blew in the gusts of wind coming off the sea, as did the plaid he wore around his hips. He and his men made a fearsome foursome, but she only had eyes for him. Without knowing him, she would say he certainly lived up to his Savage moniker, and to look upon him was to invite nightmares. The blades gleaming at his hips promised death by a thousand cuts, if one could be so lucky. And yet she knew he could bring pleasure with those hands, not just pain. Intense, heart-stopping pleasure.

  “Too late,” Jack muttered with a groan.

  Though she couldn’t see his face, she imagined her husband was staring right at her. His head was certainly turned in her direction, and the prickle she felt along her spine had to be his fierce glower. She’d directly disobeyed his order to remain in the cabin. What had possessed her? Perhaps it was the intense need for air, and not just the kind she could gain from the porthole. Mayhap it was that he’d been ignoring her for days, and so she sought to gain his attention even if it were negatively. Why had he been ignoring her?

  She was miffed about it. Only having the company of the swabs who brought her meals and seemed too nervous to answer any of her questions.

  At least she wasn’t pointing a crossbow at him this time, so she supposed he wouldn’t be so angry with her, would he? But that didn’t seem to be the case. Shaw started shouting at her the moment he was on the water, pointing and bellowing like a man gone mad. She raised her eyebrows and watched as though she were studying an exotic creature, all while Jack pleaded for her to go back to the cabin before their captain returned.

  But Jane remained, tempting fate, tempting his ire, wanting to irritate him as much as she’d been aggravated at being locked in a cabin for days like a tarnished prisoner unworthy of his company.

  Though her heart lurched in her chest at the way he flew up the hemp ladder and sailed over the side of the ship, she held her ground. If she weren’t certain he was a man, she might have thought he was a demon with supernatural powers.

  His glower was intense, eyes bright with fury.

  “How dare ye disobey me?” he growled, advancing on her.

  The men of the ship backed up, perhaps afraid they were about to witness their captain flay his wife, but none of them were brave enough to stand up for her.

  Jane opened her mouth to answer, but she was too shocked to say anything. Jack had the gall to nod emphatically as if to further prove the point that she’d disobeyed an order, and that he’d known that and tried to reason with her. The image might have made her laugh if she wasn’t starting to get a few prickles of fear. Would he tie her to the gibbet? Had she tested his patience a might too much?

  Holding her head high, she said, “I wanted fresh air.”

  “I told ye to remain in the cabin.” He stabbed his finger toward the closed door that was to be her prison. “Never to come out. Ye directly went against my orders. Do ye know what happens to men when they go against my orders?”

  She shook her head, feeling her belly flop. “Nay, but that is irrelevant as I am a woman.” Oh, why was she goading him? His men gasped, taking another step back at her insolence.

  Shaw’s emerald eyes glistened with fury. “They get killed,” he growled, picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder and stomped toward the stairs to their cabin.

  He surged through the door and slammed it closed behind them. He tossed her onto the bed and came down on top of her, covering her completely with his large, muscular length.

  Jane shoved at his shoulders, suddenly very afraid. “What are ye doing?” This was not the man she knew.

  His eyes blazed with fury. The normal control he exhibited seemed to have deserted him, and with it, the man she knew.

  Shaw gripped her hands, put them above her head on the pillow, pinning her legs with his until she was completely immobile.

  “Ye are mine.” He emphasized every word. And then his guard dropped, and behind that blazing fury, she witnessed something new. Something different. A maelstrom of emotion that threatened to eclipse them both as her heart reached out for his.

  But as much as her heart hammered against his, Jane couldn’t just back down. She wouldn’t be bullied. So she narrowed her eyes. “For now.”

  “Nay.” His low tone was menacing, but she ignored it.

  “Aye. That is why we handfasted. Ye plan to be rid of me.” Why did that sound like an accusation? And why did she sound hurt by it? Wasn’t that what she wanted?

  “I willna give ye over to that clod.” He jerked his head toward the door, toward whoever it was that he imagined was coming for her.

  “What clod?” She frowned, confused. “Livingstone?”

  “Le Brecque. He is going to try to take ye from me.”

  Her insides warmed then. All the anger, the menacing tones, it wasn’t because he was mad at her, it was because he was mad at himself, at the emotions that brewed inside him, threatening to do him harm. “Are ye jealous, Shaw?”

  He scoffed. “I never get jealous.”

  She raised a challenging brow. “Then why have ye pinned me to the bed to tell me that ye willna be letting me go to some man I’ve never met? Ye wanted me to have faith in ye, have faith in me.”

  There was a flicker in his eyes, and even when he tried to shutter them, she could still see it. “What if I dinna want to be rid of ye?”

  She didn’t say anything, because she didn’t believe him. He was a pirate. And also because she didn’t know if she could stay with him. Sailing the seas, living lavishly and without the law all sounded well and good, but she’d only been with him for a couple days, and already they’d encountered enemies. Death was a very real possibility every second of every day.

  Even still, she needed to appease him. “I promise, I will not leave ye for any clod.”

  “Any man,” he stressed.

  “Any man.” Did she mean it? Was she serious? Saying those words at first had been a way to appease him, to calm him. But the moment they were out of her mouth, something different altogether warmed in the pit of her belly. Jane didn’t want any other man. When she thought of her future, the only one who felt right, who had ever felt right for the past five years, if she were being honest, was him.

  Shaw sighed as though she’d just given him the greatest gift and then bent to kiss her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Blast it, but he wasn’t fit for sainthood!

  With a wife as beautiful and tantalizing as Jane, it was a surprise to Shaw how much restraint he’d been able to exhibit over the last two days.

  But was it truly restraint, or something else?

  Avoidance might be a more accurate term.

  First, he’d avoided her by sleeping on the deck and ordering the swabs to see to her needs. Now he’d left her in the cabin once more to sleep on the deck all over again because he couldn’t seem to control the storm raging inside himself. The way he’d felt when he saw her standing on the deck, so stunning, enticing, the jealousy—and, yes, he hated that jealousy was exactly what it was—that he’d felt when Constantine said he wanted to sleep with her, came back to him full force.

  When he sa
w her standing on the deck of the ship, her golden locks blowing in the wind, he’d been struck with a number of emotions, besides jealousy, the strongest of which was the mind-blowing need to possess. To kill any man who dared threatened his possession. Mine. Mine. Mine.

  Constantine, at once his ally and his adversary, had not let any alliance they might have ever get in the way of stealing a woman from him. In fact, he seemed to take great pride in tempting Shaw’s lovers. There had been three now that he’d stolen right out from under Shaw. Likewise, Shaw had paid him back in kind.

  But this was different.

  Jane wasn’t a mere wench, but his wife. And the woman he’d not been able to stop thinking about for five years. A lass who made his heart skip a beat, made his body rock hard the minute he laid his eyes on her.

  Jane who came apart in his arms when he touched her and then begged him not to possess her fully.

  He was still shocked that she’d promised not to leave him for any man.

  Och, but any man, even fictional, made him crazy with jealousy.

  Triton’s trident… He wanted to possess her, but it would seem the possession had been entirely her doing.

  Shaw raked his hands through his hair and then scrubbed them over his stubbled face. He’d barely slept with the tangle of deliberations running amuck in his head. He was quick to wake the crew and go about his day, though contemplations of Jane were never very far.

  Blast it all, his life had been exceptional before she’d sent that missive. Before he’d seen her in Edinburgh.

  Perfect.

  Whisky, women and mayhem. The three things he loved the most.

  Och, but if he were being honest, that was not the truth, for he’d enjoyed their brief sojourn five years before on the way to Iona. He’d been content with only exchanging letters with her, and disappointed when it was obvious to do so would only put her in danger.