by Eliza Knight
She laughed all the harder, then went to a sideboard he’d never seen before and poured him a mug of ale. “Here ye go.”
“Ye’ve turned my great hall into a home.”
That made her smile widen and her blue eyes sparkle with pleasure. “Our home. Our family’s home.”
“So, where did ye put everyone? Did ye banish them from the island?”
She laughed, the tinkling sound echoing off the rafters and stones and warming his insides. How he’d missed her. “Oh, nay, silly. I turned the old barracks into a…” She blushed. “Well, I wouldna call it a brothel exactly. I’ve been calling it the pirate’s point, simply because when I see a pirate enter the castle, I’ve been pointing.”
“The old barracks, what did ye do with my treasure that was guarded there day and night by my men?”
“Some things I put to use in the house, like this lovely table and that tapestry, and well, this I took for myself.” She pointed to a diamond necklace at her throat. “The rest of it I had placed in your new treasury.”
Shaw narrowed his eyes. “I liked my old treasury.”
Jane put her hands on her hips and glowered up at her husband. “And I like not finding an orgy on my breakfast table.”
Good God, he’d never heard her say that word before. He hadn’t thought she’d even know what it meant. And that made him chuckle. What a different lass she was from the innocent he’d saved six years before. But no matter how exposed she was to the baser ways of life, she always remained sweet and good to him.
“Excellent point, my love.” He pulled her in for an embrace, calming some of her ire by kissing the breath from her. “Now, show me the new treasury.”
“I thought ye’d want to keep an eye on it, so I had it moved to the north tower taking up the entire level above our rooms.”
He twirled a tendril of her hair around his finger. So silky. He leaned forward, breathing her in. Triton’s trident, he loved the scent of her—floral and a vague hint of spice, and something else that nudged at his possessive side. “Ah, a good place for it.”
“Aye.” She giggled. “There was nothing up there, save a few dusty broken chairs and a decade’s worth of cobwebs.”
“And where will the bairn sleep?”
“In the chamber opposite ours.” She wrapped her arms around his middle and gazed up at him. “I know it is not customary for a nursery to be so close to the master chamber, but I dinna think I will be able to bear being so far from our bairn, especially when I must spend so much time away from ye.”
“I could not deny ye that, my love.” And he kissed her again, and then gazed deep into her eyes. “A bairn. Our bairn.”
“Aye, another prince.”
“Or a princess.”
She grinned. “Aye.”
“Speaking of princes, how is Alexander?”
Jane chuckled. “Well, it has been a feat of pure skill to keep him away from pirate’s point, I can tell ye that much, but he has been spending a lot of time with Thor while ye were gone. I think he’s taken a liking to the man.”
Shaw grinned. “Ye really have worked magic. Thor is the least tolerant of anyone under the age of twenty summers.”
Jane rolled her eyes. “It helps that Alexander treats him like a god. He may have given him a big head, to be honest.”
“Thor with a bigger ego than before? Impossible.”
“I assure ye, it is quite a thing to see.”
Shaw let out a low rumble of a laugh. “And your father? When will he arrive? He’ll not have me arrested for Livingstone, will he? He’s not planning to arrive with a dozen ships?”
Jane pressed her hand to his heart, making it jump all the more. “Nay, my love. Never. While he is in disagreement with your chosen profession, he would never harm the man who risked his life for me more than once.”
Shaw wrapped her up in his arms, kissing her deeply. “I would do it all over again.”
“Speaking of that…” She winked. “There is something else ye should know.”
“What is it?” God, he loved the sparkle in her eyes.
“I’ve learned how to use the crossbow verra well now. Thor says I’m a natural.”
Shaw laughed with pure joy. “I never had any doubt.”
Copyright 2017 © Eliza Knight
SAVAGE OF THE SEA © 2017 Eliza Knight. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part or the whole of this book may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted or utilized (other than for reading by the intended reader) in ANY form (now known or hereafter invented) without prior written permission by the author. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal, and punishable by law.
SAVAGE OF THE SEA is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and or are used fictitiously and solely the product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental.
Cover Design by Kim Killion @ The Killion Group, Inc.
Created with Vellum
Also by Eliza Knight
Pirates of Britannia
Savage of the Sea
Leader of Titans (Nov. 2017)
The Sea Devil (Jan. 2018)
The Stolen Bride Series:
The Highlander’s Temptation
The Highlander’s Reward
The Highlander’s Conquest
The Highlander’s Lady
The Highlander’s Warrior Bride
The Highlander’s Triumph
The Highlander’s Sin
Wild Highland Mistletoe (a Stolen Bride winter novella)
The Highlander’s Charm (a Stolen Bride novella)
A Kilted Christmas Wish – a contemporary Holiday spin-off
The Conquered Bride Series:
Conquered by the Highlander
Seduced by the Laird
Taken by the Highlander (a Conquered bride novella)
Claimed by the Warrior
Stolen by the Laird
Protected by the Laird (a Conquered bride novella)
Guarded by the Warrior
The MacDougall Legacy Series:
Laird of Shadows
Laird of Twilight
Laird of Darkness
The Thistles and Roses Series
Promise of a Knight
Eternally Bound
Breath from the Sea
The Highland Bound Series: (Erotic time-travel)
Behind the Plaid
Bared to the Laird
Dark Side of the Laird
Highlander’s Touch
Highlander Undone
Highlander Unraveled
Draped in Plaid
Wicked Women:
Her Desperate Gamble
Seducing the Sheriff
Kiss Me, Cowboy
Under the name E. Knight
Tales From the Tudor Court
My Lady Viper
Prisoner of the Queen
Ancient Historical Fiction:
A Day of Fire: a novel of Pompeii
A Year of Ravens: a novel of Boudica’s Rebellion
About the Author
Eliza Knight is an award-winning and USA Today bestselling indie author of over fifty sizzling historical romance and erotic romance. Under the name E. Knight, she pens rip-your-heart-out historical fiction. While not reading, writing or researching for her latest book, she chases after her three children. In her spare time (if there is such a thing…) she likes daydreaming, wine-tasting, traveling, hiking, staring at the stars, watching movies, shopping and visiting with family and friends. She lives atop a small mountain with her own knight in shining armor, three princesses and two very naughty puppies. Visit Eliza at http://www.elizaknight.comor her historical blog History Undressed: www.historyundressed.com. Sign up for her newsletter to get news about books, events, contests and sneak peaks! http://eepurl.com/CSFFD
Excerpt of Leader of Titans — Book Two
Enjoy an ex
cerpt from Book Two in the Pirates of Britannia series, LEADER OF TITANS by Kathryn Le Veque:
PROLOGUE
The village of Carantec
Coast of Brittany
1445 A.D.
Sweet, silky, and tender to the touch….
But she tasted like stale ale. And the smell… well, he wasn’t a picky man at times when it came to bed partners, so he could stand it. At least long enough for him to get what he’d come for.
“Do not make me wait,” the woman begged him, grasping at his breeches in an attempt to pull them down. “I must feel your heated rod between my legs, thrust up into my body. Impale me!”
Had Constantine le Brecque not been so consumed with lust, he might have laughed at that. Impale me! He could think of at least three different ways to impale her with his stiff manhood.
Which orifice, exactly, did she mean?
“Patience,” he whispered, hand on her breast, pulling at her taut nipple. “In all good time, my lady. In good time.”
“Non!” she cried, throwing her legs open as wide as they would go and trying to maneuver him between them so she could feel his erection through his breeches. “Now!”
Somewhere, he caught a whiff of rank body odor, more than likely from the bed linens they were frolicking on. It was a seedy room, after all, in a seedy tavern located in an equally seedy town along the coast of Brittany. A fog was rolling in from the sea and the scent of salt and water were heavy in the air, mingling with the dirt of the town and creating a layer of filth that covered everything. Men, women, buildings… even the food. It was all covered with the grimy filth.
But it was the price one paid to visit this pirate’s enclave by the sea.
One could find anything here, for a price. Even the wife of a French pirate who, in order to seek revenge against her philandering husband, was willing to deliver most of her husband’s wealth to his English enemy on the condition that he would spend the night with her, doing things to her that her husband no longer would.
That was the easy part for Constantine. He’d bedded so many women in his lifetime that one more needy whore wasn’t going to make a difference. The act would bring him a great deal of wealth and plant a figurative English dagger in the back of one of his most hated enemies. He’d been negotiating this particular event for almost six months, by way of messages sent through servants, luring the wife of the Dureau Van Rompay right into his own little trap. Only for the money, of course.
Always for the money.
Dureau was the brother of Nicolas Van Rompay, the great French pirate king, and a particular thorn in the side of Constantine and his Britannic pirate allies. The man had been raiding along the southern and western coast of Cornwall as of late, right into Constantine’s territory, and taking what did not belong to him. Constantine had engaged the man when he could catch up to him, using his newly-confiscated 22-gun Flemish warship, but Dureau had always been a step ahead of him.
Six months ago, Dureau returned to his home port of Carantec, and that was when Constantine began to undermine the pirate where it hurt – in his home, with his wife. If Constantine couldn’t get the man on the sea, then he’d most certainly get him on land.
Or, in bed, so to speak.
Dureau played dirty, but Constantine played dirtier.
Now, he had Dureau’s wife where he wanted her, writhing and begging for him to impale her in any hole of his choice. But he wasn’t going to do it unless she showed him the money she’d brought - Dureau’s money. That might take some coercing considering how hot the woman was at the moment. She squirmed around like a bitch in heat. To appease her, Constantine dipped his head down and suckled on a nipple, nearly bringing her off the bed.
“Soon, ma chérie, soon,” he said huskily. “But you do not think this will be so easy without you holding up your end of the bargain, do you? You want something and I want something. Show me your reward and you shall receive mine.”
The woman groaned unhappily as she bucked and twisted beneath him. “Now?”
“Now.”
A heavy sigh. “In my bags.”
Constantine continued to tease her even as he looked over his shoulder to a series of trunks and satchels against the wall near the door. The woman didn’t travel lightly; she’d come to the tavern with an entourage of six women and several guards. Constantine had seen her arrive but he never showed himself to her attendants, knowing it would get back to her husband. Of course, he wanted Dureau to know, but only when it was safe for Constantine that he should. To have someone run for the husband now would be deadly.
But what he should have known was that he’d already been seen. He was well-known along these shores. Men talked.
And men were coming.
But Constantine wasn’t thinking about that now; he was only concerned with the moment at hand, the great deal of wealth he’d been promised, and the fact that the tide would soon be coming in. His ship, The Breath of Gaia, wasn’t far off shore. The tide would bring it closer in and he could make a swifter escape. He didn’t want to linger in this hell-hole any longer than he had to.
Kissing the woman’s face, her hands, and her shoulder, Constantine pushed himself from the smelly bed and went to the bags against the wall. He began to yank them open as the woman sat up, a frown on her flushed face.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. “Must you look at it now?”
Constantine grinned at her, a devilish gesture that was sure to soothe and tame any female fits. He used the grin like a weapon at times, disarming as it was.
“I must, ma chérie,” he said. “Business before pleasure, you know.”
He yanked open the top of a particularly large and heavy satchel, and was immediately greeted with the great treasure inside. It was a good thing the satchel was leather because of the sheer weight of the contents; gold and silver groats with the face of Henry V pressed upon them glittered weakly in the dim light, some of them hardly used. There were also strands of valuable pearls, bejeweled rings, and a spectacular gold necklace inlaid with precious stones, jade, and chalcedony. Great emerald pendants strung on golden chains or silk ribbons were thrown haphazardly into the pile, joined by exquisite brooches that proudly displayed their ruby gems.
In all, it was a rather astonishing cache and extremely valuable. In fact, Constantine hadn’t seen so many rare valuables like this in a very long time and he couldn’t help his reaction as he turned to the woman on the bed.
“This all belongs to Dureau?” he asked, surprised.
The woman was propped up on her elbows, looking at him with a mixture of lust and impatience. “I took all I could,” she said. “There is little left at this point. Not only is that satchel full, but so is the one beneath it. All of it full of my husband’s treasures. Take it and welcome, but if you do not come to bed immediately, I may take it all back.”
Ignoring her warning, Constantine untied the leather straps on the top of the second satchel and yanked that one open, too; as she’d said, it was full of more of the same and Constantine could hardly believe his eyes. He had no idea the prince of the French pirates, men known as the les porteurs d’eau, or The Water Bearers, was so wealthy. Their ships weren’t particularly fine and they lived in rather unspectacular hovels, but evidently, they hoarded their wealth and didn’t spend it on foolish things like fine homes or fine ships.
This put the situation in a whole new light.
Grabbing the satchels, Constantine quickly made his way to the only window in the room, one that faced north over the channel. Lashing out a big foot, he kicked open the wooden shutters, breaking the sash on one of them, and as they slammed back, Constantine thrust his head from the second-floor window.
There were men below, standing in the torch-lit darkness of a damp night. Taking the time to secure the leather ties tightly on both satchels, Constantine tossed out one and then the other to his men waiting below. They scrambled, catching the heavy bags, grunting with the sheer weight of them.
“What do you have in these, Con?” one of the men hissed up to him. “Rocks?”
Constantine waved the man off. “Get to the ship,” he said. “But send the tender back for me as soon as you can. High tide will be here soon and we must push off. Hurry, Kerk!”
Kerk Lesander, an excellent knight and shipmate who had been with Constantine since before he’d taken on a life of piracy, flashed his toothy grin as he grabbed both bags and rushed towards the shoreline where a small ferrying vessel, manned by four of Constantine’s men to row it, sat just on the edge of the water at low tide. It was beached, essentially, and as Constantine watched Kerk run for it, he could see the lights of the Gaia close by the coast, flickering faintly as the fog rolled in. Soon enough, those lights would disappear, which meant that Constantine needed to leave his situation sooner rather than later if he wanted to make it back to the ship without becoming lost in the fog.
The sense of urgency was building.
“Do you want us to remain here, Con?” Another man below caught his attention. “Shall we wait for you?”
Constantine nodded quickly. “I shan’t be long,” he assured the man. “Stay out of sight, Gus. Be ready to run.”
Augustin de Russe, a very big man with a mean streak in him, nodded seriously. “Hurry, Con,” he rumbled, looking about suspiciously. “I do not like the rabble I am seeing. I think I have seen some of those men before, if you get my meaning.”
Constantine did. The man meant he’d seen enemy pirates that he recognized, men that possibly belonged to Dureau. “I will,” he said, pointing at the man. “But you watch the door. If you see Van Rompay, you will whistle.”
