by Eliza Knight
He gazed down at her intensely, knowing that she was his breath as well as his doom. Opening his mouth, he wanted to tell her he was sorry. That he’d warned her the life of a pirate’s wife was dangerous, deadly, but the words stilled on his tongue as he took in the angry set of her mouth, the coldness in her eyes.
“Get your hands off me,” she growled. Her eyes were cold, her voice like ice.
“Jane—” he started, but she cut him off, bringing the heel of her tiny foot down on his bare toes.
The move hardly hurt at all, but he knew the reaction she wanted, and because it hit him in the chest, he did wince.
“Ye were right,” she seethed. “We dinna suit. I will return to my father with my uncle.” Wrenching away from him was easy, given his arms seemed to have gone numb, his brain blank.
He watched, speechless as she ran back toward their cabin, and he moved too late to cover her, but he had nothing to give her anyhow. By the time she was through the door, he’d barely reached the stairs.
Blood rushed in and out of his ears. But the slice of blade on his arm had him turning, reengaging in full on battle. The wound he sustained was not deep and did not hamper his fighting abilities. He came at his enemies like the Savage he was, letting them know just why his crew was named the Devils of the Deep. He let all the anger he felt at what had happened to Jane and how he’d had to hurt her come out in the blade of his sword.
Shaw had cut down five men before Van Rompay called a retreat.
“No mercy!” Shaw bellowed.
But then Van Rompay bellowed Shaw’s name, showing him that he held Alexander with a knife at his throat at the bow of the French ship. “Let us go, or I will kill your treasure.”
Shaw, knowing just how savage the French were, had no doubt that Van Rompay would gut the lad and force feed his insides to Lorne.
“Allow them safe passage,” Shaw called to his men. To Constantine he said, “Our agreement still holds.”
Constantine nodded, calling for his men to back away and to remove the grappling hooks from the French ship. Those French pirates still left alive on Shaw’s ship leapt aboard their own, and a within moments, the ships were floating away from each other.
“Ye must truly love her.”
Shaw jerked at the sound of Jane’s uncle standing beside him. “What?”
“To have given her up like that, ye must love her.”
“Is that a jest?”
Uncle Edward shook his head. “I could see the turmoil in your eyes. I know what ye meant to do.”
Shaw narrowed his eyes. He barely knew himself, how could Edward Lindsay?
“’Tis a moot point and one easily solved. We were handfasted, there is no marriage set in stone, and ye heard her. She will return with ye to her father.”
“Dinna be a fool, Savage.”
Shaw gritted his teeth. “Letting her go would be the opposite of foolish.”
Uncle Edward only shook his head, walking away, leaving Shaw to wonder what the hell he meant as he turned to get his ship back in order.
Chapter Sixteen
Jane was dressing so quickly she actually tore the cuff on her sleeve when she yanked it hard against an opposing force—which happened to be her thumb, and now smarted with pain.
“Blast him!” The unladylike curse rolled awkwardly off her tongue but felt so very good when she shouted it out, relieving a little of the tension in her shoulders. So she tried one of the more vulgar terms she’d heard a crewman say that was far too offensive to put in writing, and that lightened her mood all the more.
How could he have said those things about her in front of everyone? A worthless wench he’d picked up in London? A harlot? Well, so much for cursing, because now her shoulders were ten times tenser. She’d been naked, her body exposed to everyone, and with his words, her humiliation was complete.
After she finished pulling on her boots and a cloak, sufficiently covered from head to toe, not an inch of skin showing, save for her hands, face and part of her neck, she braided her hair and then wrenched open the door to her cabin. In her haste to escape, to remove herself from any thought of Shaw MacDougall, the true Savage he’d shown her he was, she had completely forgotten that there was, in fact, no escape. The scents of the salty-sea air, smoke and blood whipped at her with the wind generated from their quick sailing toward Perran.
The captain’s quarters were on the quarterdeck, a half-dozen steps up from the main deck, and so coming out of the door, she was immediately faced with the crew, and right below her, Shaw at the helm.
Nay, no longer Shaw to her, but Savage.
She wanted to rake him over the coals, tie him to the mast and whip him as he deserved, the bloody scoundrel. How could he have used her so ill? And how could she have allowed herself to be swept away by foolish, sentimental feelings? To fall in love with him? To admit such love to him…
How mortifying! He’d probably laughed at her when she said it, for he certainly had not returned the sentiment.
Och, more the fool her. This was her own fault.
She’d fallen in love with him years ago and allowed that naïve girl’s fantasy to bloom into something ridiculous and so farfetched she was surprised she’d not seen it sooner. But sometimes it took a lash of betrayal for one to see the truth.
And now she saw it. Aye, her eyes were wide open.
She’d married a pirate. Nay, handfasted. But in the eyes of Scottish law, it was legal and binding. But it didn’t matter, she’d given him the greatest bargaining chip she had—and that didn’t even include her virginity.
Savage, prince of the Devils of the Deep had well and truly plundered her. Taken the treasure she’d held secret and safe for five years—and promptly lost it—and her innocence all in a few day’s time.
She had nothing left now.
Turning from the wide, wooden wheel, he glanced up at her. Shame etched in his tragically beautiful emerald eyes. Regret, too. Seeing that sorrow, part of her heart clenched, wanting to reach out to him, to tell him all would be well, but she couldn’t do that. She had to harden her heart against him. Any regret he might feel was likely because she would no longer allow him into her bed. And the shame? Perhaps that came from having tied himself to her in the first place.
He’d never told her he loved her. She’d only been reading into things like a foolish, lovesick idiot. Any passion and emotion she’d felt in his kiss had only been lust. If he cared for her, he would not have turned his back while that vile pirate touched her. He would not have said those horrible things about her, been willing to give her up.
She’d given him what he wanted, and he had no use for her anymore. Hadn’t he said all those years ago that one day he would return to reclaim the debt? This whole situation was about that, and nothing else. The debt had been paid in full.
The pain of humiliation and betrayal sank deep into her heart. Why had he saved her all those years ago? Better that she would have perished along with everyone else. Better that she not know what it felt like for a pirate’s weapon to pierce her soul.
“Drop me off at the nearest port, Savage,” she demanded, standing over him, chin high, and looking down on him as though he were a lowly, wicked servant and she his master.
“Nay.” He turned away from her and faced the sea, seemingly undisturbed by her demands.
Her belly clenched, threatening to toss up what meager contents it contained, but still she stood strong. “I demand ye drop me at the nearest port.”
Savage slammed his hand on the wheel with a cracking sound, and she was surprised to see that he’d not split the wood. “I said nay, dammit.”
Her mouth fell open at his tone, the words. “Why? Why will ye not let me go?” She couldn’t help the anguish in her tone.
“Because the nearest port is there.” He pointed toward Perran, which she recognized from before. “And unless ye plan on gracing Constantine’s bed as his mistress, ye’ll not want to remain behind when we leave.”
“And what if I do?”
He didn’t answer her, though his shoulders stiffened when he turned around and ordered his men to ready the ship to pull into port.
“I dinna want to be on your ship another moment.” She was close to tears, her chin wobbling, and she clutched her cloak tighter around her, wishing it were more of a fortification.
“This is war, Jane, war. Do ye not understand that? Ye dinna get to choose where ye go.” He would not look at her, but his words penetrated all the same.
Her mouth fell open a little at that. War. She’d not thought of it that way. “Ye intend to get Alexander back?”
“Aye.” He left it at that, but it didn’t answer any of the questions she had. Why would he choose to go and get him? That would be the honorable thing to do. And he was a pirate, without honor.
A flicker of doubt filled her. Maybe he wasn’t as ignoble as she’d thought. But his next words ceased her from thinking anything positive about him.
“Ye think I’m going to let the French have the greatest treasure of Scotland? Bah! It is mine, and I will get it back.”
It, as though Alexander were not a person at all.
So it was about vengeance, about getting back the prize he’d lost. The treasure. When it came down to it, that was all he cared about. The coin he would get from returning Alexander to…to who? Livingstone would—
Dear God! Livingstone! The man would pay handsomely to have Alexander. Not to keep him safe. Nay, to kill him. Had that been Shaw’s plan all along?
She couldn’t allow that to happen, which meant, she would have to take matters into her own hands. The crossbow came to mind, but the vision of shooting Shaw in his black heart didn’t bring her the joy she thought it would. Instead, it brought her grief.
There was no hope for it. Even if she did shoot him, his men would be on her in a second. There would be no mutiny in her honor, they all loved Shaw. Worshipped him.
“I hate ye.” Though she spoke the words, they were words only. In her heart, she still loved him deeply, and that made her all the angrier. How could she love someone who had treated her so cruelly? Betrayed her?
His stance tightened. The set of his shoulders made her want to weep. Still, he said nothing. He didn’t even turn around so she could look in his eyes and show him just how much he’d hurt her. Well, it didn’t matter anyway. As black as his heart was, he wouldn’t care.
She whirled around and slammed back into the cabin.
An hour or so later, the sun had risen and the ships sailed into the English pirate cove. Thor, Kelly and Lachlan waited on the sandy beach, arms crossed over their chests as though they’d guarded the shore since Shaw had been away the week before.
The men were exhausted and looking forward to a few hours respite, though they were all on alert after the attack at sea. So far, there had been no other sightings of the French or the Spanish, or Livingstone for that matter, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be sailing on the horizon at any minute.
After ordering the crew to dock the ship and settle the sails, he had Jack assign watch to the men, who’d take shifts between resting, repairing the damage to the ship and guarding against their enemies imminent arrival.
Shaw knocked on the cabin door, hesitant to speak with the woman who deemed him a devil.
“Go away!” she shouted from beyond the wood, and it was not wholly unexpected. In fact, he’d been waiting for it.
He could shoulder his way through the door, demand she speak to him, but somehow, he did not imagine that would go over very well.
“We have docked at Perran.” He kept his tone calm, hoping it would soothe her ire.
“Why should I give a fig?” Ouch. There was only a bitter bite in her reply.
Shaw kept his temper in check, though he felt his irritation riling. “So ye must open the door and debark the ship.”
“I will not.”
Shaw gritted his teeth. “Ye’ve no choice, Jane. Open the door.”
“Allow me?” Jane’s uncle spoke softly from the bottom of the stairs, his eyes filled with pity that only grated on Shaw’s nerves. “’Haps I can reason with her.”
Shaw shrugged. “Suit yourself. But if ye canna get her off this ship, ye’ll remain here with her.”
Edward nodded. “Aye, Captain.”
It was the first time Shaw had heard the man call him captain, and he was a little taken aback by it. Well, he didn’t have time to dwell on it.
Shaw grunted and trod down the stairs, his limbs heavy.
On the beach, his men greeted him with solemn faces, having heard the news from the crew who’d already debarked.
“Best take care of that,” Thor said, nodding toward Shaw’s arm. He’d forgotten the wound he’d sustained on the ship, and blood still seeped from the slice.
The sight of it still didn’t sting as much as the rejection from the woman he…loved.
“There are more important things to worry over than a trivial wound.” Shaw gave his men a grave look. “We were attacked by the Water Bearers at sea. They took the Black Knight and Alexander.”
“Damn,” Thor growled, his eyes piercing the ocean beyond as though he could call upon the gods to view just where their enemy lay. “We should have been with ye.”
Shaw shook his head. “If ye’d come with me, we never would have gotten the two of them out of England. As it was, they were reluctant to join us, and right before they arrived, Santiago, the bastard, came aboard trying to cause trouble.”
“So the Spanish and the French are on our tails,” Kelly said.
Thor growled, letting out a low curse in regards to Santiago Fernandez, his mortal enemy. Thor had never told him all that happened when he was captured by Santiago some years ago, but they all knew it was horrendous, and ever since then, their brother had wanted to murder the bastard.
“Aye. We’ll deal with finding the French first, since they have our treasure, and since I promised Constantine in exchange for our letters of marque, we’d help him gain the French port. And then, Thor, we’ll go after the Spanish.”
“What of the lass?” Lachlan asked, eyes going toward the ship.
Shaw turned around, trying to hide the hope glittering in his eyes at possibly seeing her coming off the ship. She’d come out of the cabin but did not appear to be debarking. In fact, she looked to be arguing with her uncle. Hands flying, hair wild. Oh, the lass was furious, and he was at a loss as to how to calm her.
“If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll not be causing me any trouble,” Shaw muttered. “And she’ll get her arse off my ship.”
The men let out low whistles.
Shaw jerked back toward them. “What are ye making that noise for?”
“Ye’ve fallen for her.” Kelly shook his head, made a clucking noise with his tongue.
“I have not,” he lied.
“Aye, ye have,” Thor added. “Else ye wouldna be so irritated.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Aye, and she’s rebuffed ye,” Lachlan remarked.
“To hell with the lot of ye.”
He couldn’t help turning back around to see that Edward had been able to convince her to get off the ship. She marched down the gangway ahead of him, and on the dock, Jack waited, just as Shaw had asked him to. No doubt, the pirate was overjoyed the lass had finally decided to debark as now he would be able to join the rest of the crew in a bit of respite before they returned to the ship. With war ahead of them, there was little time for rest on the sea, and the crew was likely counting down the minutes they could sleep before their captain steered them back out on to the waters again.
Changing the subject away from the woman, and needing to put distance between them so he wouldn’t have to greet her on the beach in front of his men—and possibly, nay definitely, be rebuffed again, he said, “We need to devise a plan of attack.” Shaw led his men into the castle where Constantine was already gathering his men around a great oak-planked table. He’d r
olled out a map and stabbed a dagger through the place labeled Trésor Cove.
“We sail tonight,” Constantine said.
“All my men will travel with us,” Shaw agreed.
“And the woman?”
Shaw bristled. “Let me worry about her.”
As if on cue, Jane entered the castle, her eyes flashing over Shaw, a blush of fury on her face before she looked away again. She spared no one else a glance, which pleased him more than he wanted to admit.
“She’s angry with ye,” Constantine pointed out with a chuckle, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “’Haps taking her off your hands will be easier said than done.”
“Bugger off, ye bastard,” Shaw said. “The woman is mine, and I’ll see ye sliced end from end before I let ye touch her.”
That only made his ally laugh harder. Without thinking, Shaw twisted back around, cocked his fist and slugged Constantine in the jaw. The man stumbled back from the table, confused, but he quickly gathered his wits in a charge that slammed into Shaw’s gut. Their men leapt back, ready for what was coming and getting the hell out of the way.
Shaw and Constantine fell to the ground, a fury of flying fists and cursing tongues.
The men around them shouted their excitement at their captains throwing punches as though it were their sworn duty. Had there ever been an occasion they’d spent together that hadn’t ended in a brawl?
They’d met by the blade, and they’d likely die by the blade, even if they had periods of friendship in between.
“Stop it!” The shrill demand came from Jane, cutting through the blood that rushed through Shaw’s ears and the intense need to pummel Constantine into the stone floor.
Shaw scrambled to his feet, swiping blood from a split lip, equally pleased to have done as much damage to Constantine. He backed away, resting his hands on his hips.
Constantine, too, climbed to his feet. They were both out of breath, redness on their faces that would likely turn to bruising come morning.
