Pirate Trip: (Historical Romance) (Scavenger Hunting Book 2)

by L. L. Muir

“…and I would sleep a lot warmer if Mary were here.” William, then.

  “You’d have to share,” said Sim.

  Cleary chuckled. “He already has. Go on, tell him, Martin.”

  “What do you mean?” William’s volume rose.

  “She’s kissed him, that’s what,” Cleary answered.

  An uncomfortable silence followed, when Connor had expected all out war.

  “I wouldn’t have a wife that would kiss another man.”

  “Shut yer gob, Kenneth.”

  “Sound advice for any man.” Connor winced, not intending to enter the conversation. He’d merely been thinking too loudly.

  “You’ve nothing to complain about,” said Sim. “Miss Mallory would never kiss another man.”

  Connor shook his head, though no one would see. “Ye dinna ken her well at all. Why, for the right trinket, she was ready to kiss a pirate just to fulfill her silly quest.”

  Gasps came from all directions, and he was glad he hadn’t removed his weapons.

  “When?” Sim rolled to face him. “When was she prepared to kiss this pirate?”

  “Were you there when Black Brian gave her the chain? Was he not a pirate?”

  “What are ye braying on about? O’ course we were there. And aye, Black Brian would have had his way with her, if he could have. But before he could put his hands on her, he fell to his death. The wall collapsed beneath him. By the time we found him, he was gasping his last.”

  “Poor Miss Mallory had a terrible time of it,” Padruig said quietly. “Not because she mourned the man, but death was new to her.”

  Oh, how she’d played upon their sympathies. But it was best they learned the truth now.

  “Ballocks,” he said. “Mallory has witnessed death before. My friends and I dispatched at least two villains to hell within twenty feet of her, mere weeks ago, aye? She seemed to weather that storm well enough.”

  “Aye, she told us all about it,” Sim said, “how ye cut the bastards down and saved herself and her friends from a horrible fate.”

  “Then I have misunderstood. Why was Black Brian different?”

  “Because she was the one to prepare him for his grave, aye? As ages go, she was the adult among us. The woman of the house. She took the duty seriously while we dug a right big hole for the man. She said she’d never touched the dead before. Greeted on and off for a day or two, then nary a tear after that.”

  “Aye,” said another lad, Brand, perhaps. “And it was the days after that were the more frightening. Give me a simple lass who will greet when she is sad, and I’ll be a happy man.”

  The others thought the sentiment was amusing, and their laughter lightened the tension at long last. The lads seemed to appreciate the hour and soon ceased their talking, leaving Connor with his own thoughts.

  He was a right bastard for assuming Mallory had been dissembling for these lads. Perhaps she had grown fold of them all—fond enough to desert her quest and take up their cause. But to what end? Simply to see them safe?

  He’d assumed a few things about the lads, as well. But he was beginning to understand them. An honorable bunch, sure, no matter whose employ they might have had. And they’d taken good care of the womenfolk in a trying situation. Too bad they’d lost their hearts to a couple of girls who, for a few years, wouldn’t recognize up from down, let alone know their hearts.

  One day, they’d know just what they wanted. Like Mallory. With any luck, it wouldn’t be a piece of pirate’s treasure or anything quite so frivolous. And when they did mature, he only hoped they would stay well south of Scotland.

  “William?” Martin finally spoke. “Dinnae fret over yer Mary. I plan to find someone a bit more like…Miss Mallory before I settle for a wife.”

  Half a dozen lads proved they were yet awake when they muttered similar convictions.

  Connor’s new appreciation of them cooled instantly when he realized they were plenty old enough to know what they wanted. And what they needed was someone like Connor to wave them off.

  He wasn’t quite finished with Mallory Naylor. Yet. And even when he was, she’d need more than a mere boy to make her happy.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The air in the cottage chilled, but Mallory didn’t mind it. The blanket was warm, as were her toes. But something had awakened her.

  Janine’s back was to her, and her long form rose and fell with her deep breathing. The fire had died, but a few coals kept the room from complete blackness. Mal rolled onto her back and expected to find Mary sleeping just as deeply as her friend, but the girl, and the blanket, were gone.

  Mal could imagine the girl meeting William in the woods…

  It was none of her affair. She was not the mother, here. And if Mary’s confession in the carriage had been real, she would be confessing to William and not giving him more reason to believe she loved him.

  Either way, it was not Mallory’s concern. And yet…

  She groaned inwardly as she sat up and pulled her boots on. Why should she lie there, unable to sleep, and wait for Mary to return when she could march outside and put some fear into the young lovers?

  She slipped her cloak around her shoulders and moused her way out the door. The hinges, thankfully, were silent, so Janine need not be disturbed. The moon sat low in the west, but the night was far from dark. She closed her eyes and listened, then followed the slight sounds toward the trees that grew east of the barn.

  The ground was still soaked from the storm, so she walked carefully to keep her steps quiet. The newly drenched trees gave off a taste of spring, though it was still summer, and the pungent tang of pine needles filled her mouth so completely, she could believe one had slipped between her teeth.

  She heard no voices, but the snap of a twig told her she was headed in the right direction. Ten feet into the trees, another twig snapped just behind her, but before she could turn, a gloved hand pressed gently against her mouth. She recognized the smell of Connor immediately, so she resisted the urge to scream.

  “Quiet now, there’s a good lass.” He lifted his hand and allowed her to turn.

  She whispered back, “What are you doing out here?” Hopefully, he hadn’t arranged a rendezvous with Mary.

  “Following lovesick laddies.” He nodded to the trees. “Come.” He took her by the hand and led her another twenty feet, pulled her behind a large pine trunk, then pointed ahead and to the right. William hid behind another tree and watched something ahead. He hadn’t noticed the two of them, so intent was he on someone else.

  Mary stood in a small clearing and waited for a young man to come to her. When he turned slightly, Mal recognized Martin. The girl closed the distance and lifted her arms, along with the corners of her blanket, but the invitation was ignored.

  “Why did ye ask me here?” Martin didn’t bother lowering his voice much. He obviously thought they were far enough from the barn and cottage that no one would hear them.

  “I need your help.” The girl tilted her head to one side and slid her bottom lip forward. “I need William to stop wanting me. I would not break his heart if I could help it.”

  “He already kens ye kissed me.”

  She gasped. “You told him?”

  “Someone else. But ye underestimate him. Ye think he never doubted ye? A captive, falling in love with her captor? And so quickly?”

  Mary’s bottom lip disappeared. “Then you knew, all along—”

  “That ye only used his feelings to save yerself? Of course. We all kenned it. But William, too kind by half, wouldn’t deny ye, if yer father was as brutal and unforgiving as ye made out. My guess is yer father is nothing of the sort.”

  She denied nothing. “So William doesn’t truly want to marry me?”

  “No,” Martin said, cushioning the news not at all. “He and Kenneth wanted to join the navy and fight the Spanish.”

  “So he will not be heartbroken?”

  “He may pretend to be. But nay. Just tell him and be done with it.”

/>   Mary stretched up on her toes and kissed Martin on the cheek, then headed back. Connor pulled Mallory around behind him and Mary passed. Martin slowly followed. William waited less than a minute before heading back himself.

  Mallory stepped around Connor, but he stopped her. “I have to get back,” she said. “Mary will see that I am gone.”

  “Let her worry.” He pulled her elbow until she stepped close. “Do ye remember? We’ve been known to meet in the woods, on occasion, aye?”

  “I have forgotten nothing. And what I remember are the times when you followed me, ambushed me.”

  He shook his dark mane and chuckled. “Odd that I do not remember it that way. In fact, I remember clearly--a come hither tilt of the head, a pair of hips that dared me to follow… Has it been so long yer memory is fading?” He swung her around until her back was against the rough bark. “I remember half a dozen such trees.”

  She remembered them too, along with the smell of clean bark and crushed leaves.

  He bent to kiss her, then allowed his lips to hover an inch away while he snaked his hands inside her cloak. Holding her sides, just below the arms, he pulled her chest against his own.

  Yes, she wanted him to close the distance and kiss her senseless, but it had to stop. This habit he encouraged would only torture her later.

  “If you do not mind, Connor, I prefer to save my kisses for my husband.”

  He pulled his head back and scoffed. “Ye’ve never mentioned a husband before. Bridget would have warned me if ye’d been promised—”

  “My future husband, whomever he might be.”

  “Auch, aye. And no doubt ye wish me to aspire to the position?”

  She shook her head, trying to be anything but coy. “You will be as dead as Black Brian soon enough. If I marry, it will be to a dull man who does not carry eight blades in his clothes, someone who will live a long tedious life with me.”

  “And tedious children, I suppose?”

  She shook her head again. “Children die too.”

  He laughed as if she’d said something funny. Poor man. He was not comfortable with the discussion, but hopefully, that would mean a quick end to it.

  “Perhaps ye can teach them to be quiet and cautious.”

  “Perhaps.” She laid a hand on his chest, to push him away, but her fingers slid to the exposed flesh below his neck and she recoiled from the feel of it. “Your skin is cold.”

  “Ballocks!” He yanked up his shirt, took her hand, and pressed it against his ribs. “I am warm, lass, especially where my heart beats.”

  He was right, and her fingers grew warm while she stood and waited for him to release her. Finally, she had to pull her hand away before she allowed it to wander.

  “Warm now. But for how long?”

  He laughed and tucked his shirt back into his breeches, never looking away, as if he might keep her from moving if he held her gaze. “I am no prophet, but I will live long and well, Mallory Naylor. Dinnae fash for me.”

  “If you say.” She glanced over her shoulder. “May I go now?”

  He frowned, lifted his hands again, then let them fall without touching her. “What am I to do with you, Mallory Naylor?”

  “Nothing.” She shrugged. “You should leave us while you can, before someone mistakes you for Black Brian and hangs you.”

  “I will not leave until you are safe. Perhaps I should send word to your father while I keep you away from the harbor.”

  “The harbor? You cannot think I still mean to find a pirate.”

  “Do you not?” He gestured to the path back to the cottage. “I suppose yer plan was to take the young lovebirds to a priest? If so, ye could have found one without going all the way to the city, aye? But it seems ye no longer need one.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are ye certain ye do not mean to find a pirate?”

  “Padruig is of Clan Harris. He wanted to take Janine home with him. The other two planned to go along. My plan was to take the lot of them north, to get them away from the borders, where the boys might be hanged for even touching the girls, let alone travelling with them.”

  It was a relief to have him know it. Hopefully, he might have a good idea for getting the lads to safety without the need to dress them…in dresses.

  “I would welcome your suggestions.”

  He tilted his head back onto his shoulders and looked at the stars. “Why would you not tell me from the start?”

  “You have been known to argue with me for the sake of arguing.”

  He nodded and brought his attention back. “It would have been a sound plan—"

  “If I hadn’t been wrong about the girls.”

  “Aye, they are a mite young to give their hearts—”

  “They convinced me they were just as smitten as… Bridget and Rory.”

  Connor shook his head. “Bridget and Rory were not smitten with each other, Mallory. They were destined for one another. And I worry that ye and I—”

  “I must get back to the house.” She backed away quickly, then turned. “Mary will worry.”

  “This conversation will continue—”

  “No need. I know just what you meant to say.” She hurried along the path so she couldn’t hear more unless he shouted.

  “How could ye know,” he whispered, “when I do not know myself?”

  The loft was silent when Connor returned, but he didn’t bother keeping his movements quiet. There were at least two lads still awake, and he’d be damned if he’d let everyone sleep soundly when he might never close his eyes again.

  Heaven help him. Was he in as much trouble as Rory, then?

  He was thankful Mallory had stopped him when she had. Who knew what he might have professed to get her into his arms again—where she fit so perfectly…as if she was destined to be there?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Mallory closed the cottage door behind her, felt her way to the far wall, and placed a small bit of wood on the fire to chase away the chill she’d allowed to follow her inside. The dry wood caught immediately and lit up Mary’s knowing gaze.

  “And just where were you?” she asked.

  “Looking for you,” Mal answered. “I hope you found what you were looking for.”

  Mary nodded, then turned her back and said no more.

  Whether or not William wished to join the navy, he’d at least been spared a direct attack on his heart. When Mary told him the truth, at least he wouldn’t be surprised, thanks to Martin, and his pride might survive.

  She would worry about Padruig in the morning.

  That night, within the safety of the barn, Connor dreamt of Black Brian standing at the helm of Connor’s own ship, his gold chain around his neck once again. An ugly version of Connor himself, with a sword at his hip and his shirt flapping in the headwinds. The man grinned at something on the main deck below.

  Connor followed his gaze and found Mallory in her green gown, standing hip-deep in a barrel. Captain Oriel and his crew were debating on whether or not to toss her overboard, since she was obviously a stowaway—a silly English girl on a meaningless scavenger hunt.

  “No!” Connor tried to find the steps, so he could hurry to Mallory’s side and plead her case. He would pay for her passage and whatever rations she needed, but he couldn’t find the steps!

  Black Brain cocked his eyebrow and waited for Connor’s capitulation. There was no time to argue.

  “Aye, ye can have her,” Connor shouted. “Just doona let them throw her over!”

  Suddenly, Mallory and Black Brian stood before the captain. And while she took her vows to the pirate, she frowned at Connor.

  Not the kind of woman to kiss another man?

  Ballocks.

  By the time the lads had finished with the work Jorgeson requested, Mallory and the girls had a hot breakfast waiting--fresh biscuits, churned butter, and peeled eggs. She heard the horses gathering in the yard, but when none of them came inside the cottage, she wanted to know why.

  She opened the door. A str
ange man blocked the stoop and she gasped. He ducked his head to peer past her, then turned away. “Three, just as he promised.” He took a step to the side and gestured toward the carriage. “Come now, ladies. No one will harm you.”

  An Englishman, wearing a navy longcoat and matching breeches tucked into his stocks. The clothes were very similar to what Mallory, Bridget, and Vivianne had worn when they’d stolen cousin Phinny’s new wardrobe and left for their Scavenger Hunt.

  Was it so long ago?

  Mary and Janine followed Mallory out the door. Kenneth and William marched around the corner, into the yard, and stopped when they realized there were new faces.

  One of the six newcomers grumbled from atop his horse. “How many of these blighters are there?”

  A man standing before the barn tossed a rope over the loft beam, then caught the end. “Looks like we’ll have to reuse the rope a few times. Hope we don’t have to wait for them to strangle.”

  The girls screamed, but they would just have to comfort each other. Mallory had to think quickly.

  “Should be nine or ten of them,” said the well-dressed one.

  A man on horseback pointed a gun at the two boys and herded them toward the barn. Through the wide doorway, Mal could see Padruig, Martin, and many of the others kneeling with their hands behind their heads. They looked terrified.

  “What do you intend to do with our guards,” she demanded, with her hands on her hips. The men all exchanged knowing looks, but ignored her.

  “I do hope ye mean to pull down that barn,” Connor said, riding into the yard with his long sword already drawn. “Surely ye weren’t about to hang one of my men.”

  The man in blue seemed intrigued and moved smoothly—too smoothly—toward Connor. “Your men?” He reached casually for the horse’s bridle, but Connor pulled the beast away. “Black Brian, I presume?”

  “Lord Pellham?” The man nearest the carriage got down from his horse and hurried forward, to stand between Connor and the nobleman. “This cannot be Black Brian, sir. We have been misinformed.”