The Renegade (The Renegade, Rebel and Rogue)

by Christine Dorsey

  “If I fell over the side? Would you be heartbroken?”

  The question was asked without guile, and for a moment Keegan considered answering it in kind. Of course he’d be heartbroken. Despite her annoying habits, of which there were many, he’d come to like Zoe—like and desire.

  But he had to remember his purpose in kidnapping her in the first place. No matter how fond he might be of her, it was avenging his father that mattered most.

  Keegan tried to ignore the collapse of her smile as he muttered something about needing her to flush out her brother. “Come on with ye.” It wasn’t necessary to disengage her arms. They now hung limply at her side. Keegan grabbed her hand, dragging her back toward the galley. She stood quietly still while he quickly wrapped the jug and foodstuff in his jacket and tossed it over his shoulder.

  What was wrong with her?

  Zoe blinked, trying to focus her mind, but found nothing but blurred images. Had she just wrapped her arms around the Scot? It didn’t seem possible, yet her hands seemed to tingle, and the feel of his tousled hair seemed real.

  Zoe pushed that disquieting thought aside and tried to concentrate on what she was doing. Basically, she was placing one foot in front of the other as the Scot led her across the deck. Why was she following him? He’d kidnapped her from her home. But then he did seem the lesser of two evils, she remembered as the prone form of a snoring pirate caught her eye.

  Actually it was the tar’s knife that truly snagged her interest. It was broad, tapering to an evil-looking point. It was just the type of weapon she needed if she ever hoped to gain her freedom from both her kidnappers.

  Yes, she would secret it beneath her skirts. Save it for a time when she could use it. On the Scot? Biting her lip Zoe stared at the broad back of Keegan MacLeod. Could she ever plunge a blade into his flesh? She’d just begun turning the question over in her groggy head when his fingers let loose of her hand.

  Zoe lunged to the side, nearly tripping over the sleeping pirate’s legs. Ignoring his stench she grabbed for the carved knife handle just as his eyes opened.

  He looked at her, and she at him. Then they both let out a yell.

  Zoe’s was cut short as she was unceremoniously tossed over a shoulder. Blood rushed to her head, confusing her already rum-soaked mind. But she managed to hang onto the knife as she was bounced and jostled down the ladder. Darkness overpowered her as Keegan rushed through the outer hold. Then she was being pushed and shoved into the small compartment being used as their gaol.

  She was none too gently flattened onto the straw and ordered to stay put, in a gruff whisper. Too afraid to do anything but, Zoe watched wide-eyed as the Scot pried open a barrel, tossed his booty inside and slammed the lid back on. Then he covered the escape hole, kicked straw about, blew out the sputtering nub of a candle and plopped down on the floor beside her.

  It wasn’t until she felt his weight pressing into her side that Zoe remembered to bury the knife beneath the straw. Any sound she made was drowned out by the grating of the key in the lock.

  “Don’t utter a word,” Keegan hissed into her ear as his fingers worked on the buttons of her bodice. He heard her sharp intake of breath when his hand clamped over her breast, the soft moan’ when his lips covered hers.

  Then the door slammed open and light filled the hold.

  “What the hell?” Keegan did his best to sound disgruntled. His hand lifted to shade his eyes and he counted two pirates plus their captain.

  “There she is, Cap’n, just like I told ya.”

  “Actually you said she was on deck.” Holt’s gaze traveled over Zoe. “Which she obviously is not.”

  “I’m tellin’ ye, Cap’n, she was there. Stole me knife she did.”

  “What’s this all about?” Keegan pushed to his feet, wishing now he hadn’t opened Zoe’s bodice. Captain Holt couldn’t keep his eyes off the V of the shift that covered her breasts.

  “Regis here claims he saw Lady Zoe on deck.”

  Keegan snorted. “Takin’ the night air, was she?”

  “She was stealing me knife and scarin’ me half out of me wits. When I woke—”

  “Ye were asleep? On watch?” Keegan arched a brow as the tar turned crimson beneath his weather darkened skin.

  “Just restin’ me eyes if truth be known.”

  “I’d say ’tis more like dreamin’ of beautiful ladies.”

  The third pirate, the one named Stancil, snickered, then laughed aloud, earning himself a punch in the side from Reggis.

  “I weren’t dreamin’ I tell ya, she was there.”

  “Aw, come on Reggis, ya can see she’s here havin’ herself a little rough and tumble with the Scotsman.”

  “I’m tellin’ ya she was—”

  “Enough!” The captain’s voice thundered off the beams. “Search the hold.”

  “You’re wasting your time.” Zoe rose, brushing straw from her skirt. She ignored her gaping bodice as she faced Captain Holt. “I can tell you all you need to know.”

  “Zoe.” Keegan reached toward her but she stepped out of his grasp. A cold wash of impending doom flowed over him.

  “Can you now?”

  “Yes.” Zoe straightened her back. “If I’d been on deck with a knife you’d be dead, your throat slit from ear to ear.” She shifted her gaze. “And that goes for every one of you.”

  Keegan suppressed a grin as he watched the captain’s face go pale, then scarlet. His eyes narrowed, then with a sweep of his arm he ordered the other two to follow him from the hold. “It’s too dark tonight, but in the morning I’m sending someone down here to go over every inch of this hold.”

  Keegan waited for the door to slam and the lock to rattle before letting out his breath. After lighting the candle he pried open the barrel and reached for the jug. He took a swig before he passed it to Zoe, who still stood facing the door.

  “What are we going to do?” she asked. Without turning around she accepted the jug and took a deep drink. “They’ll find the hole if they really look.”

  “That they will.”

  “Well then?” Zoe faced him. “What are we to do?”

  Keegan took another drink before passing the jug. “It seems t’ me we should have thought of that before wakin’ one of the pirates.”

  “I... I tripped over his legs.”

  His expression registered doubt. “Where’s the knife, Zoe?”

  “What knife?”

  “The one that fish bait Reggis was squealin’ about. The one ye stole from him.”

  “There’s no knife. You heard the captain. He most likely dreamed the whole thing.”

  “That was me sayin’ that and ye and I know he didn’t dream any of it.” In two strides he was beside her. “Have ye got it hidden in yer skirts?”

  “No. Stop it. What are you doing?”

  “Searchin’ ye like those bloody pirates should have done.” Keegan sifted through layers of petticoats with one hand while the other warded off her flailing hands. “What were ye plannin’? To stick a knife in my ribs while I lay sleepin’?”

  “No.” Zoe tried pulling away. His palms were curved around her thigh, following it down to the top of her stockings and back. “Will you stop! It isn’t there.”

  Keegan let his fingers linger. “Well now, I can’t tell that.” He shifted his palm to the warmth between her legs. “Where is it?”

  “I don’t have a knife.”

  His thumb inched up. “Zoe?”

  “I don’t...” Zoe sucked in her breath as he moved ever closer to the spot where heat speared painfully. “It’s in the straw,” she blurted out. Her breathing was shallow, but no more so than his.

  There was a moment when Zoe thought neither of them cared about the knife anymore. He looked at her and she looked at him and the heat between her legs seemed to warm the air between them. Zoe remembered how on deck she’d wanted him to kiss her and her lips parted.

  Then he stepped back. Her petticoats fell to curtain her legs.
<
br />   “Where in the straw?” he asked, but he was already kicking about. When he heard the scrape of the blade on wood, he smiled, then bent over to retrieve the knife. “Now Zoe, I think I’ll keep this, if ye don’t mind.”

  “But I do.” Which was a silly thing to say, for it was obvious he didn’t really care what she thought or wanted. In disgust Zoe picked up the jug and took a big swallow. Then another. “I still don’t know what you plan to do in the morn when they come searching.”

  “Nor do I. Keegan stuck the knife in his boot. “Perhaps we shall have to slit all their throats tonight. It was a jest, Zoe,” Keegan added when she went pale. “Though goodness knows, ye be the one who suggested it.”

  “I don’t think I really could. Despite what I said to Captain Holt.” She took another swig. “What is it like to kill a man?”

  Keegan slid down the bulkhead till he sat in the straw. He looked away. “Not something I would recommend.”

  “But you want to kill my brother.”

  His stare found hers. “Aye. For as hard as it is to kill ’tis harder still to watch those ye love suffer.”

  She was treading on dangerous ground. Zoe knew that. Yet she wanted to know. After all this time she wanted to hear what Keegan thought her brother had done. She took another fortifying swig. “Tell me,” was all she said and passed the jug to him.

  Keegan swirled the liquor around then took a swallow. “They were dying all around me. My brothers. All three of them died that morning.” He shook his head. “Why I lived t’ tell of it is beyond my ken. But it was only me left to protect our da, and me that failed him.”

  “It was a battle.”

  When he looked up, Zoe continued. “I’ve read of it in the newspaper. You couldn’t have saved your father.” She took another drink. “So many men died.”

  “Aye, honorable deaths. That I could have accepted... for him... for me. But I listened t’ yer brother and handed over my sword. And watched as they tortured my da. Watched while they stripped him naked and sliced through his flesh. And all the while I tried to get loose and kill them.”

  Zoe watched his hands clench, then took another swallow. “I don’t believe... Fox wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t torture an old man. He just wouldn’t.”

  Keegan leaned his head against the bulkhead and shut his eyes. “Believe what ye like.”

  “I will.” Zoe pushed onto her knees. “You don’t know Fox. You don’t—”

  “That’s the funny thing.” He looked at her from under heavy lids. “I thought I did.” He shook his head. “When I first saw him it was as if he and I...” With a self-disgusted shake of his head Keegan continued. “As if I had known him before. ’Tis why I trusted him. ’Tis why I must have my revenge.”

  His words vibrated through her and for the first time she felt niggling fissures of doubt. Could Fox have done something so heinous? Again Zoe reached for the jug.

  “He was the only one who ever cared about me,” she said after lifting a corner of her skirt to blot at the rum dripping from her chin. “Except Miss Phelps, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  His tone made Zoe look up. Her eyes were narrowed... and slightly unfocused. “I can’t understand what you have against Miss Phelps. She was... is a saint. She took care of me night and day, seeing that I never had to so much as lift a finger... for as long as I can remember.”

  “She also fed ye nothin’ but broth, and saw ye were bled regularly. Don’t forget that.”

  “It was for my own good,” Zoe said, but with less conviction than previously. To blur her own doubts Zoe took another gulp.

  “What of yer mother and father?” Keegan asked, then added. “Ye might wish t’ be careful with the rum. ’Tis fairly strong.”

  “I’m fine. Never better.” Zoe shrugged. “My parents died when I was nine. But even before that I didn’t see them much. I really was ill most of the time.” When he didn’t argue with her, Zoe took another drink and continued. “My brother became the Earl of Werwick then.”

  “Foxworth?”

  “No,” Zoe giggled. “My brother Dalton. He’s a prig.” Her lashes drifted down as her head lolled back against the bulkhead. “Not like Fox at all.” She didn’t say anything for a long time and then her eyes opened and her gaze met Keegan’s. “I am sorry about your father... and your brothers.”

  Zoe watched him take a deep breath and nod. He looked so sad she wished she could console him somehow. But she was afraid that wasn’t possible.

  “Keegan.”

  “Aye.”

  “I know you think I... I exaggerate about being sick.” Zoe struggled to her feet. “But I think... think this time I really am.” She just managed to make it to the corner before heaving up all the food and rum she’d consumed.

  Nine

  “Zoe.”

  “Ohhh. Please, let me die in peace.”

  “Zoe, for God’s sake get up with ye.”

  “I can’t” With a moan Zoe slitted open her eyes. Her tormentor squatted beside her, shaking her shoulder, making the nausea worse. “I know you think this is my imagination... but it isn’t. I’m really going to die this time.”

  Keegan braced himself against the ship’s roll, cursing under his breath when he lost his balance, falling against Zoe. “There’s a storm. From the feel of it the Sea Maiden isn’t faring well.”

  “I’m dying I tell you.” Zoe gave him a feeble shove, then groaned. “I think I shall be sick again.”

  “Here.” Dragging her up, bending her across his stabilizing arm, Keegan held Zoe. But she only gagged a few times, then fluttered her hand to indicate she was finished. “Do ye feel any better?” Keegan pulled her against his body.

  “No.” The room tilted and Zoe grabbed her head. “I’m dying I tell you.”

  “I’ve no doubt ye feel like it. Perhaps even wish ye were. But ’tis just the price ye pay for drinkin’ strong spirits.

  “But I didn’t—”

  “Ach, but ye did.”

  Zoe blinked. She vaguely remembered bringing the jug’s mouth to her own... often. But surely she hadn’t been drunk. “I have to lie down.”

  “Ye can’t. We need to get above deck.”

  “But—”

  “Zoe, for the love of God, look at me.” He swung her round to face him just as the timbers groaned and the deck heaved. They both flew against the bulkhead in a tumble of petticoats and legs. Keegan quickly sat up, bracing himself and Zoe for the violent lurch as the Sea Maiden righted itself in the roiling surf.

  It never came.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Zoe scrambled to her feet, her queasy head and stomach momentarily forgotten.

  “I’m not sure.” Keegan clawed at the barrel top. The two pistols, he jammed in his waistband—the broadsword, he strapped about his middle. “Come on with ye,” he yelled as he rolled the barrel away from the escape hole.

  “Won’t they see us?” Zoe hesitated for a moment. “It’s daylight.” She doubled over to push through the hole. “I’m so sick,” she muttered, but by this time she realized the Scot was paying her no mind. As she stepped into the main hold she realized why.

  Briny water lapped around her knees, soaking her skirts. And it seemed to be rising as she stared down at it.

  “Come on.” The Scot grabbed her hand, nearly pulling her arm from its socket. She had no choice but to follow as he sloshed through the chilly water, fighting past the floating debris.

  In the eerie light streaming in from above, the ladder speared out of the water at an awkward angle. Zoe wasn’t sure how they reached it, for the water seemed to rise faster than they could move. She tripped once, going under the water before the Scot could pull her up. Soaked, hair plastered to her head, Zoe trudged through water, waist-deep now.

  “Can ye swim?”

  “What?” Zoe spit out salty water, then coughed, finally realizing what he said. “No! No.”

  Water splashed down the hatch in waves. The Scot pushed her
in front of him, latching her fingers around the rung. “Hold on,” he yelled, his face close to hers. Still, she could barely hear his words. Above her the sea roared, and the wind screamed.

  And the ship groaned.

  Then just as her toe caught hold of a ladder rung, a deafening cracking noise sounded. It was followed by a violent lurch that pried Zoe’s fingers from the splintery wood and sent her sailing through the air. She landed with a splash, having no time to do more than gasp a startled breath before sinking beneath the dark water.

  “Damnation! Keegan grabbed for Zoe with one hand, managing somehow to hang onto the ladder with the other. The damn ship was breaking to pieces, seawater pouring through tears in the hull. He’d lived on the rock-strewn Scottish coast long enough to know it wouldn’t take long before they sank. His only chance was to get above deck... immediately.

  With a curse he jumped into the swell of water filling the hold. It was too deep to stand, too murky to see. Keegan dove beneath the surface where he’d seen Zoe sink, feeling his way to the tilted deck, pushing off the bottom when his lungs screamed for air. He jackknifed under again, and this time his fingers tangled with something long and silky.

  Zoe’s hair.

  With all his strength Keegan kicked, surging toward the surface, pulling Zoe with him. His mouth broke clear and Keegan gulped air as he shoved Zoe out of the briny water. An empty keg floated by and Keegan managed to curve her arms under his about the rounded sides.

  She was pale in the watery light and Keegan tried not to believe the worst as he scissor-kicked toward the ladder.

  The sloop was in constant motion, jerking this way and that, with explosive noises that sounded like the felling of giant trees. Keegan had seen the rocks work their destruction before. With the white-tipped waves crashing over them the hard granite outcrops near the shore were deadly. And quick.

  Time was of the essence if they were to have any chance of survival. Keegan blinked water from his eyes and glanced toward Zoe as he maneuvered her, floating atop the barrel toward the ladder.