by Eliza Knight
“Oh, my God.” She was going to be sick. Her own name gave a clue as to her parentage… For her middle name was Fern.
“Sí. That is she,” Santiago said after she revealed her mother’s name. “Bella dama. What happened to her?”
Alesia could have fainted right then and there. She stumbled backward a step, nearly falling off the rail, save for Thor’s arms reaching out to grab her before she tumbled. “But…”
She glanced up at Thor, searching his eyes for something, but not knowing what it was. She couldn’t grasp this situation. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. Her vision blurred, throat grew tight. What felt like an attack of panic edged its way along her skin, threatening to take hold. Then Thor touched her face, sliding a gentle finger along her jawline, centering her.
“Dinna fash. I’ve got ye. ’Tis ye and me against the sea, love.”
“Aye.” Alesia turned back to Santiago, straightening and summoning the strength in her voice. “My mother died. She died poor, ravaged and bitter. I was a wee lass, helpless in the world, and the only words she had for me on her deathbed were of ye weighing anchor and forgetting about her. But what about me? I had to grow up on my own, fighting for every breath, every moment, every crust of bread.” As she railed at the man who’d sired her, the decibels in her voice grew along with the iron in her spine. How long had she waited to shout these words? To let all of this pent-up anger and hurt out? “I fought those who wished to hurt me. Those who wished to use me. Where were ye then? I came here today to tell ye to bugger off. To tell ye that ye’re a bastard. A vile devil in human flesh. A curse on ye!” She jabbed her finger at him. “A curse on your whole ship.” She whipped a blade from her belt, wrenched it behind her shoulder, and before anyone could stop her, not that they would have, she flung it between the boats.
Time seemed to stand still as everyone watched in sheer disbelief as the knife twisted through the air. As if in slow motion, Santiago tried to duck the coming blow, but he wasn’t fast enough, and the blade sank into his arm just above the elbow.
“That’s for my mother,” Alesia cried. “I dinna care enough about ye to exact my own vengeance. Ye are nothing to me.”
“You bitch!” Santiago clutched at the dagger in his arm, fury lacing his words and etched in deep grooves on his face.
“Nay, Father,” she said evenly, calmly, “ye’re a bitch, and ye’ll die like one, too.” At this point, Alesia could no longer stand to look at him. Without a backward glance, she spun on her heel, hopped down from the rail and headed toward the cabin—all the fight gone out of her.
To say Thor was shocked watching Alesia’s shoulders sag as she trudged away was an understatement. The lass had been ready for war, covered in weapons. But seeing the man who’d cared so little for her over the past twenty years, who’d abandoned both her and her mother, seemed to have drained the light from her. She was his wee fighter. He couldn’t stand to think that the sight of the man before them had drained her of her spark.
Santiago was still sputtering, and Thor wanted to leap from his ship to the Spaniard’s deck and pummel him into the planks.
“Could I not just fire one wee cannon, Cap’n?” Edgard said beside him.
Thor grunted a laugh, knowing all of his men felt the same way. The men had come for a fight, and so had he. He’d wanted Santiago and his bastard crew to feel the wrath of Thor. But it would seem his specially made cannonballs would not be fired this day. However, they didn’t need to fire a cannon to steal the bastard’s Spanish gold. The call for the bairn of Santiago had been to bring the child to him, not to hand her over.
“We’ll be taking our doubloons,” Thor called. “All of it.”
Santiago laughed. “You think me such a idiota, Captain Thor?”
“I think ye must honor the pirate’s code. We did ye a service, and now ye owe us the doubloons as promised.”
“La niña has aligned with you, Scottish scum. I’ll not be honoring anything save seeing the tip of my sword pierce through your pecho.” He thumped his chest.
“If ’tis a fight ye want, then ’twill be a fight I give ye.”
Santiago let out a bellow of agreement, which was all the encouragement Thor needed to launch his attack. With a single word from Thor, Edgard turned to the men and issued orders. Their ship lurched into action. Men climbed the masts and untied the ropes they’d use to swing through the air. The rudder was positioned to the right degree. Rowers pressed their oars into the deep black of the sea, propelling them closer to the Spanish ship and closing the distance of some twenty feet. The wood of their hulls and guns clunked together like lightning and thunder. The Devils of the Deep did not stop as they flew threw the air like crows to land on the deck of Los Demonios de Mar.
Shaw, Con and Kelley launched similar attacks on the other two Spanish ships, leaving Santiago to Thor. Likewise, his men ducked from Santiago’s sword, swiveled from his bullets, but never struck the man, giving Thor the time he needed to make sure his ship was secure before he, too, joined in the melee.
Gripping a rope with one hand, his claymore in the other, Thor let out his battle cry, one that mirrored that of the warriors from his clan in the Highlands as they went into battle. The haunting sound was enough to give Santiago pause, or maybe to recall where he’d heard a sound like that before.
The man’s vacuous eyes met Thor’s as he swung through the air and landed with a booming thud on his feet upon the Spanish deck. Swords drawn, the two of them circled each other, determination written on both their faces.
“Come to die, escoria?”
Battle waged around them, cannons booming, swords clinking, sparking, fists connecting with flesh. Men grunted with both pain and general excitement. They were a bloodthirsty lot, and this was their game.
Shaw and Kelley had boarded the other two Spanish ships, but Con was swinging toward Santiago’s galley, landing with a roll and a swipe at one of the Spanish pirates with a laugh.
“Pardon the interruption,” he said with a degree of arrogance as he swatted away one of the Spanish swabs as though the man were no more than a fly. “I but wanted to remind our friend here, dearest Captain Santiago Fernandez, of the mercy I showed his men when I took the Leucosia.”
“The Astorga,” Santiago growled.
Con shrugged. “Scum by any other name is still scum.”
“English bastardo.” Santiago spat upon the wood.
“I dinna need Santiago’s mercy,” Thor interrupted. “I am under no obligation to show him any, and I do not plan to lose.”
Con chuckled. “Oh, aye, I know you’d kick his arse into next week. Alas, ’twould be unfair, for Santiago is honor bound to do you no harm given he owes me a favor, after I did not kill his captain. He must give you life in return.”
Santiago growled. “Estoy obligado por honor not to kill him, however, I can harm him as much as I want.”
Con shrugged. “Suit yourself, but I would call a truce if I were you, for Thor does not look as though he will stop at a mere injury.”
Thor’s chest heaved with indignation and a fiery need to give Santiago a scar to remember him by. Red flashes crossed his eyes when he imagined the pain he’d seen in Alesia’s countenance.
“May I make a suggestion?” Alesia’s voice cut through the melee, and even the men who’d been fighting on board ceased for a fraction of a second to spot her as she stood upon the rail of the ship’s starboard side, still decked out in weapons. When had she gotten there?
Pride pounded in Thor’s heart as he beheld her. “By all means, lass.”
Santiago looked ready to say something but kept silent.
“A battle with fists. Between the two of ye.”
Thor breathed a sigh of relief, half expecting that she would have suggested she fight Santiago herself. While he would have enjoyed seeing her pummel the bastard into the planks, he would have certainly murdered the man if he dared to touch her.
“Sí,” Santiago said first. �
��What are the terms?”
“A fight until one of ye falls and canna get up. But not a fight to the death.”
The ship’s inhabitants held their breath, waiting for Thor to answer. How the hell could he agree to this? He’d been waiting his entire life for this moment. Had lived and breathed on the image of Santiago’s blood. He glanced at Alesia, saw the pleading in her eyes, felt a twinge in his heart. Ballocks, but this was difficult. He was torn between his lust for revenge and the love he felt for her. If he were to disagree, then he’d lose her. But he’d also gain his freedom from bloodlust. Every muscle in him tensed. His enemy so close. What was worse? Betraying his desire for revenge, or betraying his heart and the woman he loved? What would his mother wish for him? An image of her face, of her eyes and smile as she stroked his cheek when he was lad flashed into view. And then he knew. “Agreed.”
The men aboard the other ships had also ceased their fighting. A whoosh of exhales mingled with the wind, and one look at Alesia’s proud face, and Thor knew he’d made the right choice.
Shaw nodded his approval. Even though Shaw was the pirate prince of the Devils of the Deep, he had made it known that this was Thor’s battle, and he supported Thor’s decision.
The ships were called closer, grappling hooks attached to make them practically a single floating city. Men stood on the rails and hung from the ropes as Santiago and Thor both stripped to the waist on the center of the Spanish ship, prepared to fight until one or both of them collapsed. Thor was not going to collapse. Not with Alesia watching. The lass was a fighter, the strongest person, male or female, that he’d ever met. She had determination that rivaled all others. No matter what, he would stand for her, even if he could no longer see, hear or feel, he would remain upright.
Alesia stood between the two of them, a strip of crimson fabric clasped between her fingers as she held it alight. As soon as the fabric left her grip, they would begin.
Thor’s heart beat steadily. He was surprisingly calm. For so many years, he’d wanted to rip out Santiago’s heart, but now he found himself gaining satisfaction from the notion that he could simply beat the man into a bloody pulp. He’d won the lass. Without Santiago, his heart never would have been as complete as it was now.
With a stomp of her foot and a whistle from her perfect lips, Alesia let the fabric drop and leapt back out of the way to stand beside Edgard.
Santiago wasted no time lunging for Thor. A mistake that would prove his undoing from the beginning. Thor let him. He let the bastard tire himself with every leap forward and every stumble. Thor stepped out of the way, tripped him and kicked him in the arse on his way down. Santiago had sweat dripping from his temples, slicking the skin of his torso, while Thor was barely heated at all.
However, watching the man stumble and fall, as amusing as it was, and as humorous as the brethren found it, was growing tedious. He wanted to be done with it. Upon the man’s next growling lunge, Thor punched him square in the jaw, the sound of teeth cracking echoing in his ears.
Santiago stumbled backward, shaking his head, disoriented. But he didn’t drop to his knees, though he did wobble.
Thor walked calmly forward, gripped Santiago by the shoulders and put all his force behind head butting the top of his head against Santiago’s forehead.
The man fell backward like a sack of grain.
Thor stood over Santiago as he blinked his eyes open, a lump forming in the center of his forehead.
“I wanted to kill ye,” Thor said, trying to calm the bloodlust in his veins. “I still want to kill ye. But I willna. Consider this my victory. I want ye to remember upon seeing the bright dawn of every morning, that somewhere on this vast sea is your daughter, and that she is married to me. That your grandchildren will have my blood running through their veins. Let that be cause enough for ye to die a little each day.”
Santiago closed his eyes, feigning unconsciousness, but there had been a knowing in his gaze, a hardening. An understanding that showed Thor his words had been heard and comprehended.
A tiny flutter against his hand had Thor looking down. Alesia entwined her fingers with his and raised his arm in the air, letting out a whoop of congratulations.
“Our victor!”
The Pirates of Britannia cheered for Thor, while the Los Demonios de Mar grumbled their irritation. A few of them stepped forward, lifted their captain from the planks and carried him out of sight.
“Thank ye,” Alesia whispered, leaning up on tiptoe to kiss Thor on the cheek.
“For what?”
“For being a man of honor. For being ye. For protecting me.”
Thor tugged her into his arms and kissed her properly. And when he pulled back, he said, “Ye bring out the best in me, lass.”
“I love ye.”
“I love ye with all my heart.”
The Devils of the Deep surrounded their captain, still clutching their weapons, muscles tight, and ready to fight any of the Spaniards who might try to retaliate on behalf of their captain, but none stepped forward. In fact, they put their weapons away and held up their hands in surrender.
But surrender was not what Thor wanted. Just the gold. Which he directed Edgard to find and distribute amongst the Scottish and English brethren.
Hand in hand, Thor and Alesia walked to the edge of the ship. Thor lifted her onto the rail and leapt up beside her. He gripped her about the waist with one arm, and held a rope with the other, swinging them back onto the Leucosia. The men removed the grappling hooks from the Spanish ships, watching them drift away.
“Are ye ready?” Shaw asked, landing beside them.
“Back to Scarba?”
“Aye,” Shaw said with a grin, “but not afore we do one last thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Make Miss Baird into Mrs. Thor.”
Con chuckled as he landed on deck. “Aye, Shaw’s got much practice as he married me and Gregg.”
Thor looked to Alesia. “What do ye say? Do ye wish to be the mistress of The Sea Devil?”
Hope and love and pride shone in her eyes. “Aye, verra much.”
He’d thought his chest could not swell with any more happiness, but he found himself surprised.
“I pronounce ye Thor and Alesia, man and wife, Captain and Mistress of The Sea Devil,” Shaw boomed.
And then Thor kissed her thoroughly.
Chapter Eighteen
“Who resides at your castle now?” Alesia languidly ran her fingers in lazy circles over Thor’s massive chest.
They’d arrived at the Isle of Scarba, the Devils of the Deep stronghold off the west coast of the Highlands of Scotland. The better part of the last three days had been spent in the cottage house that belonged to Thor on the pirate isle, though they had made an exception to join the brethren in Shaw and Jane’s castle for a celebration of their victory and marriage.
Pure joy swelled in Alesia’s chest.
“A cousin,” Thor said, twirling a tendril of her dark hair around his finger. “Theoretically, I conceded to the next in line, though they all believe I am dead anyhow, so it matters not.”
Alesia propped herself up on her elbow and stared at him. “Why do ye not want them to know ye’re alive?”
Thor rolled onto his side to face her, his big hand splayed on her hip, tucking her closer. The fire that had been gently crackling let out a little pop that startled her into his arms. Naked breasts crushed to his bare torso. Her husband chuckled, taking the opportunity to scoop her up over his body. Eagerly, she straddled him, liking this position most of all. She enjoyed being in control and watching the way Thor writhed beneath her. Already she could feel him growing hard between her legs, his pulsing flesh pressing against the very heat of her.
“If they knew I was alive, those loyal to my parents would want me to come back and take my place as chief.” He shifted slightly beneath her, leaning up to trial his tongue around a turgid pink nipple.
Alesia braced her hands on the muscles of his shoulder
s, massaging gently as she moved her hips back and forth. She bit her lip, enjoying the friction she created. The pleasure that could be had between the two of them never grew old. If anything, it grew only more intense. Meeting Thor had changed her life in so many ways, but best of all, was that he’d opened her up to hope, happiness and sheer joy.
“And ye dinna want to be chief?” She gasped as his teeth grazed her sensitive flesh.
“Nay, love, I dinna.”
“Why?” Alesia gripped the back of his neck, scratching gently in a silent plea for him to quit his teasing and take her nipple into his mouth in earnest.
He gripped her buttocks, the steely bands of his stomach coiling and flexing. Finally, he took a nipple into his mouth. Alesia’s head fell back on a moan, fingers tangling with his hair, her question momentarily forgotten.
“I like being a pirate. The brethren are my family. Ye are my family.” His breath fanned over her skin as his lips searched out her other nipple, and she arched against him, sighing. “Besides, the sea is my home. Her gentle waves my way of life. I couldna bear it if I were land bound.” He shifted beneath her enough that the tip of his arousal pressed to the exact spot she wanted.
Alesia rose a little on her knees, giving him what he desired, and then she sank down, allowing him to fill her. Oh, but it felt so good. Would she ever get over the sensation of being filled? Of the pleasure it brought, the blissful, decadent and wicked sensations it brought over her? Nay, nay, nay…
“And ye, love, why do ye ask? Did ye want me to conquer the castle? Capture it just for ye? I would be happy to do it. Ye only need ask.”
