by Pride, Mia
“I am sorry, Thomas,” she whispered.
He gritted his teeth and shook his head. “I must punish ye, lass. Then, I must order lashings upon Charles.”
She blanched, coldness flooding her veins. “What? Nay! I… I kicked him in the bollocks! He tried to keep me here and I would not listen! Aside from forcing me violently, which he and I both knew ye would kill him for, he had no choice! ‘Tis all my fault!”
“Aye? Then ye will tell this to my crew, for they will expect a lashing.”
“What do ye mean?”
“Ye will take what I give ye in front of the crew. Or else I risk mutiny. There are rules, lass. Ye should not even be on this ship. Ye disobeyed my command, almost got me killed.”
“What? Nay… Thomas, nay!” she squeaked as he lifted her from the bed and hauled her over his shoulder. Panic flooded her. Was he truly going to give her lashings? Thrashing wildly, she beat at his back as he flung the door open with a bang. She saw the steps leading down to the main deck fly past her just before he set her on her feet, holding her close so she could not run.
“Avast! My bonny wee wife has something she wishes to say to ye!” Thomas shouted as the men stopped whatever task they were performing and looked to their captain. Katherine was disheveled in her dirty green gown, her hair blowing about her face in the wind as their ship continued its journey toward Clew Bay. The sails whipped loudly above her and she shivered, wishing she wore her cloak. The men gaped at her and she covered her bosom with her hand as best as she could.
“Katherine, love. Tell my crew what ye said to me.” When she narrowed her eyes at him and stomped on his foot, a few men laughed behind their hands, unable to hide their mirth. “Ye are only adding to yer punishment, love.” He breathed in her ear.
Swallowing hard, she turned away from Thomas and imagined clawing his eyes out. “I told him I disobeyed him and hurt Charles in order to escape. Charles did not disobey the captain. I did.”
“Aye. Charles!” Thomas roared, and the small boatswain sidled up slowly, his brimmed hat in his hands as he looked toward the ground.
“I apologize for failing in me duties, Capt’n,” the lad murmured, and Katherine felt pity for the boy. He truly never stood a chance against her.
“I take partial blame for that,” Thomas said. “I know my wife is wee, but she is a spitfire. I should have left her with Juan. He would have known what to do with her.”
She gasped and stomped on his foot again, though he showed no sign of feeling it. “As her punishment, since one must be doled, she will receive ten lashings…”
“Thomas! Nay!” she cried in horror. He would take a whip to her back?
“To her arse,” he grinned and looked down at her. Cheeks flaming, her eyes widened at him with disbelief. The man would not dare spank her arse in front of his men… would he?
“Ye cannae! I will hate ye forever, ye brute!” She struggled against him as he sat upon a barrel and pulled her down swiftly, draping her across his knee. His large, firm hand rested against her backside and she stopped fighting. He was going to do this, here and now, in front of everyone. She may deserve it, but she still hated him for humiliating her. He killed her father and now he would take away what little dignity she had left? A tear slipped down her cheek and she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, preparing for the sting of his hand.
She felt his hand lift away and tensed, awaiting the blow. She would let him do this, then she would leave him forever, she vowed. Whatever connection they had formed would be destroyed if he did this to her.
Suddenly, he stood up, bringing her with him and wrapped an arm of steel around her waist. “I will conduct the rest of her punishment in private, lads. I think my wife has suffered enough.” Air rushed into Katherine’s lungs as she looked around at the crew, who mostly appeared to agree with his decision, aside from a few looks of disappointment. Rotten pirates. Thomas dragged her back up the stairs and into his cabin once more, shutting them into their private space.
“Ye are a bastard,” she spat, pulling away from him once they were alone. “How could ye humiliate me?”
Stepping closer to her, his height towering above her, he looked menacing with his dark beard and glowering eyes. “I had to make an example of ye, Kat. Ye disobeyed me. Now the crew knows that Charles was not at fault and they believe I will punish ye privately. ‘Tis the best I could give ye under the circumstances.”
Another tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away with her sleeve. “Ye vowed never to hurt me, Thomas.”
He stepped closer again and wrapped his hands around her waist, placing a kiss on her forehead. “And I meant it. I would never hurt ye. But my crew need not know that. I know it seems strange to ye, but I have to keep everyone in hand, Katherine. And though ye and I both ken that is not possible with ye, it must appear so.” He chuckled and spanked her arse softly, making her squeal in indignation. She wanted to remain angry at him, rail at him for her humiliation, yet in truth, she had openly disobeyed and this was a ship filled with pirates who had expectations from their captain. Mayhap she should be grateful he had not followed through on his threat. Most men would have spanked their wives, or worse.
“Do ye forgive me, love?” he whispered in her ear. A chill ran up her spine as his hot breath spread over her skin.
“For what? Humiliating me, or killing my father?”
He cringed but did not back down. “Both. I hope ye can understand why I had to do both.” Now his fingers threaded through her hair and she wanted to melt into him. She wanted to accept his apology and tell him she did understand. Still, her father was dead at his hand and though she could not blame him, she was not ready to jump into bed with him, as he seemed determined to do with his hands continuing to knead the soft flesh of her rear and his erection pressed into her stomach. Nay, she was not ready for that.
Pushing away from him, she cleared her throat and looked at his arm. “Ye need to see the ship’s surgeon for that wound, Thomas.”
“’Tis only a flesh wound,” he said with a hooded gaze. Dear God. The man was bleeding from the arm, had just killed two men, and had threatened to beat her in front of his crew. She had heard of men seeking pleasures of the flesh after battle, but this was ridiculous.
“Go. Shoo!” she said, pushing him toward the door, and opening it behind him. “Get yourself cleaned up, Thomas. And mayhap ye should sleep on deck tonight.” Shutting the door in his face, she turned and rested against the hardwood, wondering how she would ever resist him if he came knocking again.
Chapter Twelve
If his wife had believed she could keep him away from her bed, she had learned how wrong she was. Two more days had passed since his battle with her father, since the day he intentionally humiliated her in front of his crew. She had cast him out of his own cabin, or at least attempted to. Though she would not allow him to make love to her, she never denied him the warmth of his own bed, nor the warmth of her body. Lying next to her all night, touching her, yet not being welcomed between her sweet thighs was a bloody torture he could not stand another day. Fortunately, Clew Bay’s shores and numerous islands could be seen in the distance. They would arrive soon enough, offload the cargo they had collected from the English ship: mostly bolts of cloth, barrels of ale, boxes of ammunition, and a few trunks of coins that would go a long way to pay his crew and help buy supplies for the people.
Bingham’s words rang in his ears. He was certain his queen now thought him a traitor. And while he preferred to stay here in Ireland, his honor demanded he seek an audience with his queen. He had worked hard all his life to be loyal to England and though he admitted to feeling more loyalty to Ireland, he had not intentionally betrayed his queen. Most importantly, he wanted to be a respectable husband for his wife, even if she would hardly speak to him at the moment. He had vowed to give her a good life, a better life, and he could not do that without his queen’s blessings. Now more than ever he understood that while the pull of the sea
was strong and would always entice him, he needed to find structure in his life, if not for himself, then for Katherine. Mayhap one day they would have children. That thought made his insides warm, and images of wee lads and lassies running around danced in his mind.
Never before had he once thought of children, but with Katherine, every time he made love to her, he prayed his seed would stick. He wanted to watch her grow round with his child… and he could not do that without a home, and without a place to settle. Could he find a way to stay here in Ireland, help the people, build a home, still sail the seas when the itch called, yet stay in the good graces of his queen? It seemed far-fetched, and as their ship maneuvered through the scattered islands around Clew Bay, he pushed his wayward thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand.
Thomas threw out a few commands to his men to lower the anchor and get the cargo to shore. No doubt his grandmother would already have been notified of their arrival and was sending men to collect the many sacks, barrels, chests, and wooden crates. He needed to get his wife. She had drifted too far away from him emotionally and now that they were back on land, he was determined to get back into her good graces. May heaven help him, he was in love with his infuriating wife and would do anything to prove it. He had to play the role of captain all those days at sea, but once they were alone, he wanted only to be her husband and to share in the journey to find the treasure with her… as equals.
Then, she stood before him, not having bathed in days, wearing her ill-fitting gown, and looking like the bonniest lass in all of Ireland. Still, he knew what he needed to do for her before they traveled to the caves. “Come, Katherine. We must greet Grace. Then, we leave for our journey.
Her eyes widened and she looked around the ship one last time before disembarking with him. “Can we not stop to rest, Thomas? I could use a wee bath and new clothes, if ye dinnae mind.” He felt the edge of annoyance in her voice and could not blame her.
“Aye, I thought we could get ye cleaned up and gather yer belongings back at New Castle Manor. ‘Tis not more than a wee ride from here, and ye can have a proper bath and clothes that fit ye.” He looked down at her straining breasts. As much as he enjoyed the sight of her bosom nearly spilling out of the borrowed dress she had worn for over a week, he knew she was uncomfortable.
Seeing the merit in his idea, she bit her lower lip and nodded. “Aye. It will be hard for me to be there, knowing my papa is… gone.” She swallowed hard and he pulled her to him.
“I know, love. We shall only stay until dawn, and then we will be on our way.”
Looking up at the sky, dark gray clouds blocked out most of the world. By the few stars visible overhead and the sliver of moon peeking through, Thomas calculated that it was just before Compline, though it was hard to know through the haze. The church inland from the bay would likely be ringing the bell for prayer soon.
“I see ye did nay sink me ship or kill me crew.” Thomas turned, holding Katherine close to him as he faced his grandmother.
“Did ye expect me to?” He quirked a brow at her questioningly.
“I wouldnae have gifted them to ye if I thought ye would. Ye are back sooner than expected. Have ye found the treasure, then?”
“Nay. We spent some time on Scarba with Niall, who assured me seeking the treasure on Scottish soil was futile. We believe we know where to search and are headed that way in the morn. However, as ye can see, we are not empty-handed.” His crew’s feet crunched on the coarse shore sand as they unloaded cargo from skiffs, setting them down near Grace and her men. “Bolts of cloth, coin, and ammunition. The crew has taken their cut of the coin. The rest is for ye to keep or distribute.”
Grace smiled widely and stopped one man to open the chest he carried; it was filled with Spanish coins. “Aye. This will do. Ye have done well.”
“Ye will appreciate its source. ‘Twas off Bingham’s ship. His men surrendered, so we boarded and unloaded their cargo. Bingham is dead. So is Murrough.” She did not even flinch at the words. Aye, he had killed his uncle, Grace’s son. Even she must have known it had to happen. He had disavowed the family and turned his back in support of their enemy. Thomas had vowed to avenge his mother, and he had. A nod and a blank look was all he received from his grandmother. He suspected she would grieve privately for the loss of her last son, yet he knew she understood the need to be rid of him. Mayhap he had saved her from the task.
He felt his wife stiffen beneath his grip as he announced her father’s death, but he refused to look at her. Unfortunately, Grace did not have the same issue. Scowling at Katherine, she sniffed and then spat. “Ye rid me of one Bingham, yet ye marry the other.”
“Enough!” he growled at his grandmother when he felt Katherine cringe beside him. “She is my wife, mind ye. She is helping me find the treasure. She alone knows where to find it. Ye would do well to show her respect.” He cared not who his grandmother was. He would not abide anyone’s disrespect of his wife.
Grace raised a brow at his outburst, but only pursed her lips with distaste. “How can she know where the treasure is when nobody knows for certain?”
“She knows. I believe her. She has proof of its existence. Leave it at that. When we find it and deliver it, ye will give Katherine her due respect.”
Grace scoffed and looked at Katherine menacingly. “I cannae give respect to a Bingham. But if she knows what ye say, I will not kill her.”
“Ye willnae touch my wife, ever, or I vow I will kill ye.” Katherine gasped as he threatened his grandmother. He hated to say the words, but he meant them. His wife was his to protect. He loved her, and nobody would ever touch her and survive.
Grace, for the first time in his memory, was speechless. With no more than the tilting of her brimmed brown hat in farewell, she turned away from them, shouting orders to her men.
“Come Katherine. The sooner we are at your manor, the sooner ye can bathe and get some rest. Are ye all right?”
Straightening her back and squaring her shoulders, Katherine tilted her chin up with pride. “I am fine, Thomas, even if ye just threatened to kill Grace O’Malley.”
“It shall not happen as long as she never harms ye. Let us find my horse and be on the road.” He wanted to say more to her, but for now, he was exhausted and filthy and he knew she felt the same. They would have plenty of time to talk once they were settled for the night. He only hoped he could gain back her affection.
* * *
Had Thomas truly threatened to harm his own grandmother simply to protect her? She hoped it would never come to that, but she finally understood to what lengths Thomas would go to keep her safe and her cool treatment of him suddenly felt unfair. All he had ever done was try to do right by her… since he stole her away, that is. Even then he had been saving her, though he did not know it at the time.
The cold wind chapped her cheeks as Thomas’s brown horse flew through the darkness, bringing them closer and closer to the warmth and security of her own home. Her gut still clenched as the image of her father crumpling to the deck of his ship continued to replay in her mind, making her dread her return home. Though her papa had almost never been in residence, she had always been comforted by knowing that he would return. Now, she knew he never would, and though he deserved his fate, should not his own daughter feel more pain at his loss? Was she an awful woman for not shedding a tear? The anger in his eyes and the violence of his abuse rang in her memory and she shuddered. Thomas was right, of course. He would have beaten her to death if he ever had her back in his possession.
By the time they arrived at her manor, she looked up at its three stories and sighed as Thomas dismounted, taking her with him. Her entire body was soaked; it had begun to rain shortly before they arrived, and though the journey from Clew Bay to her home was a short one, days at sea had left her famished, exhausted, and desperate for a hearth, new garments, and a decent night’s sleep in her own bed. How long would this remain her home? Now that her father was gone, the queen would be selecting a new
governor, and she would be forced to move.
Thoughts of their future niggled at her. She had been fascinated by the life of pirates, but a life at sea? Though she enjoyed the journey, it was not sustainable, and Thomas was no pirate, not really. Though he could be a brute and would not hesitate to take a man’s life if needed, he was also a knight who followed a strict code of honor… or at least attempted to. She knew his concern for his Irish people warred with his duties to England. Once this was all over and they had the treasure, where would they live?
Thomas finished speaking with the stable lad and looked at her with a frown. “Come, Kat. Ye are shaking and soaked to the bone.” Leading her by the arm, her teeth chattered and she folded her arms across her chest in a fruitless battle against the cold. Walking up to the large wooden front door of the only home she had ever known, she took another deep breath, a sense of displacement washing over her as if she no longer belonged anywhere.
With his large fist, Thomas banged on the front door, then pulled her close to him. As if reading her emotions keenly, he said, “We will build a new life together, Kat. I vow it. Ye will have a home and a safe place to lay your head. Nobody will ever harm ye again.”
His words were reassuring and she nuzzled into him, truly believing his every word. She loved him and trusted him with her life and surprisingly, with her heart. Once again, guilt overwhelmed her for being so trusting of the man who killed her father.
