Pirates of Britannia Boxed Set Volume One: A Collection of Pirate Romance Tales

by Barbara Devlin

  Nothing mattered more at that moment than her son.

  Chapter Three

  Isle of S. Uist, Lyon Lands

  “I AM HERE to speak to Darach Lyon, the laird’s son. He is expecting me.” Dorian kept his head turned, ensuring his face was shadowed. His accent was perfect and he hoped to give the impression of someone who found the guard beneath him.

  As expected, his father’s guards were keen and suspicious. “If ye are expected, why not come to the front entrance?”

  Reginald, who was, thankfully, of British descent, maneuvered his horse closer. “Tis my fault. I became disoriented and directed my lord to this entrance.”

  The guards exchanged looks.

  “Inform yer laird I am here. Sir Leopold, the Third.” Dorian sniffed and lifted a handkerchief to his face before looking the guard in the eye. “See that it is done immediately. I fear that I do not feel well at all.”

  This time, the guards avoided meeting each other’s gazes. No doubt, they attempted not to laugh at thinking the British to be overly weak.

  One lone guard left and, scant moments later, Darach was at the doorway. “Well done men. Go see about patrolling and ensuring no one can come this close before being discovered in the future.” He snarled, pretending to be bothered before looking to Dorian. “Lord Leopold, I didn’t expect ye to arrive as yet. Please come with me. My men will see about yer horses.”

  It was difficult not to embrace his brother who did his best not to look directly at him. Once they were inside the gates and through a side door in the main house, they finally clutched arms.

  “Ye shouldn’t have come,” Darach hissed. “Tis too dangerous. Da will be angry with ye, Dorian. When I told him ye wanted to come, he was furious and wanted to find a way to deter ye.”

  He feared asking about their mother. Instead, he turned his attention to studying his older brother’s face. “Ye look well. How is Da?”

  “Weary, but refusing to leave mother’s side. His heart is broken, of course. But otherwise, he is well.”

  “So she is still…” Dorian swallowed past a lump in his throat. “Mother is…”

  “Aye. It won’t be long now. Her hold on life is weak.”

  Dorian moved toward the stairwell. “I need to see her.”

  “Wait.” Darach went past him and toward the great room. He leaned toward Dorian. “Follow my lead. Cover yer face a bit.”

  Once again, Dorian held the handkerchief up to his mouth and went behind his brother with Reginald.

  “I apologize ye do not feel well, Lord Leopold. I will show ye to a chamber where ye can rest. Perhaps, ye will be well enough to continue on to yer destination on the morn.” Darach motioned for a maid that Dorian did not recognize.

  “See about preparing the chamber next to my mother’s. It has the best ventilation.”

  Needing to see the familiar space, Dorian looked to the great room. No one was about in the large space. A lone lad barely paid them any mind as he sat by the hearth wrapped in a blanket.

  The maid remained at the bottom of the stairs and glanced toward Dorian. “Is there anything else, Milord?”

  “Aye,” Darach said as he met her gaze. “Bring a simple meal as he does not feel well. Ensure he is not bothered. If anything else is required, I will send for it.”

  The maid hurried off and the brothers made haste up the stairwell.

  Darach looked over his shoulder at his brother. “Where has Ian gone off to? It would be best if he wasn’t found to return with ye.”

  “He continued on to the village to our sister’s home where he will remain. I will talk to ye about him later.”

  They came to the chamber he remembered as his parents. Dorian tried to move around Darach to go inside.

  “I think it’s best if ye remove that ridiculous attire. It would shock Mother to find a British man at her bedside.”

  “Oh, aye.” He looked down and realized the soft colors and white shirt were very different from what anyone there was accustomed to seeing upon a man.

  Darach guided him to a chamber next to where they stood. Once inside, his brother went to a trunk. He dug around inside the trunk and he pulled out a tunic and breeches. Both looked familiar.

  “Ye kept my clothes?” Dorian held the tunic for a moment meeting Darach’s gaze. “Why?”

  “Mother insisted.” His brother motioned to a door. “This will lead to our parents’ chamber. I will go in and prepare them. Wait until I call.” Dorian sat down for a moment, saddened that his brother had to explain such a thing. He knew where the door led, he’d grown up there.

  THE DIMNESS OF his mother’s chamber added to the somber atmosphere. His father looking haggard and twice as many years aged as Dorian had been gone. At once Dorian rushed to embrace him.

  “Son. Ye shouldn’t have come. Tis too dangerous. Eyes are everywhere,” his father explained as his gaze bore into Dorian’s. “But it is so good to see ye.” Once again, his father pulled him close. The action was so unlike him, another sign of how bad the situation with his mother had become.

  “Come, see her.” The laird pulled him toward the bed. “She is barely coherent and may not recognize ye. Tis normal as of late.”

  It was good that his father didn’t release his arm right away as Dorian could feel his resolve crumble. His legs gave way at the sight of the unrecognizable woman in the bed.

  His mother’s hair had been brushed away from her gaunt face, which only served to draw focus to the sallowness. The once proud cheekbones now protruded sharply from the sunken features. There were dark circles under her eyes and her purpling lips were cracked and dry.

  Still as a corpse, his mother did not appear to be breathing. Leaning closer, he studied her chest until noting the shallow breaths.

  “Mother.” The word choked out, sounding more like a croak. “It’s me, Dorian.”

  There was no response, so he tried again. This time, he took her cold hand in his. “I came to see ye.”

  IT WAS HOURS later that Darach finally pulled Dorian from the bedside where he’d fallen asleep, his head upon the bedding.

  “Come, we must speak.”

  They entered the all too familiar study where they’d spent many a day going over clan business.

  “Where is Father?” Dorian asked. “I would like to speak with him.”

  Darach let out a long breath. “Getting much needed rest. He keeps vigil over her.” His brother closed his eyes and his brow furrowed. “I don’t think it will be much longer.”

  “I should return to the room then.” Although unsure of the reason for Darach pulling him away, he suspected it was to be out of the servants’ earshot.

  The silence of the room was oppressive when his brother did not speak. The smell of well-worn leather accompanied by whatever wax had been used to polish the surfaces filled his nostrils. When the fire in the hearth crackled, the sound completely filled the space. Darach finally spoke.

  “Are the stories they say about ye true?”

  “Nay…”

  “The atrocities ye are accused of…”

  “I know my reputation, Brother. And I will tell ye some are well earned. I have no mercy nor do I care what happens to anyone who comes against my men or me. However, I would never harm an innocent man, child or woman.”

  Darach searched his brother’s face. “So ye have killed many.”

  Where the conversation was meant to go? He didn’t care to find out at the moment. It was more important to him to be with his mother. If her eyes opened, she had to know he’d returned.

  “Whatever ye want to know, ask directly. Now is not the time to tell long tales.”

  “By harboring ye here, I am not only putting our clan in danger, but the family as well. I have bairns here under my roof. I married.”

  Dorian wanted to charge Darach and hit him until blood flowed. That his brother reminded him of something he already knew filled him with rage. Although it was the truth.

  “I will not
be here long. I must return to our mother for I will leave early in the morrow.”

  Darach seemed to relax and he nodded. “Several guards asked about ye. Although I feel they do so because of curiosity, we never know.”

  No matter the risks to himself, Dorian did not wish to leave his mother. He would, hopefully, speak to her once more before returning to the ship. At the same time, he’d not put the family at risk to do so.

  “I will see her once again and then leave.”

  “Tis not that I wish ye to…” Darach squeezed Dorian’s upper arm. “Understand me. Father is not able to lead right now. He is too consumed with our mother’s plight. I have to think of everyone.”

  “Of course. I understand. There is no need to say more.” Dorian raked both hands though his overly-long hair. “Promise me ye will let her know I was here if she opens her eyes.”

  Looking past him to the wall, Darach’s nod was barely perceptible.

  But Dorian did not leave the next day as promised. Unwilling to leave his mother’s side except when maids came to see about her needs, Dorian felt and probably looked as sallow as she. No one urged him to leave, not even Reginald, who would only watch him in silence when he returned to the adjoining chamber to pace.

  “DORIAN.” HIS MOTHER’S barely audible word shook him awake.

  He lowered his face to hers. “Aye, I am here. I am here.”

  Unfocused eyes scanned his face. “My beautiful boy.” A loud wheezing sound came from her but she remained focused on him. “Remember yer promise.”

  “I do. Mother?” Her eyelids fluttered shut and she did not speak again.

  LORA LYON SLIPPED away on the morning of the third day, the same day his ship would leave.

  Only then did Reginald speak. “I suppose ye have a plan for us.”

  “We leave now.” Too exhausted to care one way or the other, Dorian went to the trunk. He reluctantly undressed and, once again, donned the costume.

  “Let us make our leave.”

  THAT HIS MEN rarely asked questions was good. He and Reginald rode in silence back to the coastline where the other two would be waiting with the birlinn. The heaviness of heart weighed almost as much as the yearning to remain there. Home never ceased calling to him and this time was no different.

  No matter how many times he looked over his shoulder and remained alert at any sound, this place was still home. Everything was as he remembered, from the thick, high walls surrounding the keep to the lazy sheep on the hillsides.

  “Someone is ahead.” The words were soft. Immediately, they guided their steeds into the thick forest and stopped.

  “I did not hear anything,” Dorian whispered.

  The man held up his hand and, within seconds, the unmistakable sound of hooves was followed by men speaking.

  These strangers were headed to his family’s keep. Someone had alerted them. Dorian and Reginald guided the horses deeper into the forest.

  In his mind, he went over different scenarios. What would happen at the keep? Were the men he’d left behind at the shore captured or dead?

  Dorian and Reginald didn’t speak for a long while as they traversed the extra distance that it would take to circumvent the shoreline.

  Although he’d not accepted it at first, Kevin had convinced him of a second alternative. Kevin would take the ship around the southern side of the isle where they’d sit offshore for an additional day.

  If they reached the alternate shoreline in time, they would have to signal the ship. However, if for whatever reason they did not, The Mawdelyn would leave and they’d be left behind.

  Movement ahead caught their attention and they pulled the horses to a stop. Just past the line of trees, a wagon pulled by two horses ambled by. They’d reached another small village. Dorian scratched his head. They’d only traveled perhaps two hours. He did not recall a village this close to his family’s lands. However, he supposed, in almost a decade, things were bound to change.

  Men’s voices sounded. It had to be the same group that had headed to the keep. Those men must have been sent to follow them by whichever guard wished to capitalize on the price on Dorian’s head.

  He and Reginald exchanged resigned looks as they were surrounded.

  “I do believe ye are a wanted man,” a heavily-bearded man called out.

  The group, that looked more like pirates than he did at the moment, had drawn swords.

  “My Lord,” the bearded man added with a snicker.

  Yes, someone in Darach’s guard had definitely contacted the authorities about his presence.

  There were too many men for just the two of them. Rather than fight, he and Reginald allowed themselves to be disarmed and captured.

  “Take them back to Lodabrach,” the leader instructed. “Do not return without the reward.”

  Obviously, the man wasn’t exactly an exemplary citizen since he did not go himself. Four men were dispatched once he and Reginald were unarmed and tied up. The actions, of course, were done with a couple of kicks and punches thrown in for good measure.

  With their hands bound and fastened to the front so they could guide the horses, they rode with two men flanking them. Obviously, the group was not experienced at handling prisoners. Dorian almost laughed.

  About an hour later, Reginald blew two sharp, short whistles. A private message, he’d managed to untie himself from the saddle. The men flanking him exchanged a look. “What did ye do that for?”

  “I have to shit,” Reginald replied. “I am attempting to distract myself.”

  Dorian whistled one high note and one low note telling Reginald he was prepared.

  “They are communicating,” one of the men with Reginald told the others. “We should gag them.”

  Before they could stop, Reginald fell from the horse with severe convulsions that were so horrible Dorian almost believed the man was ill. The men who’d flanked Reginald jumped down from their horses. Quick as a flash, Reginald head-butted one and the man fell sideways, unconscious, to the ground.

  Before the second one could react, Reginald slammed his bound hands into the man’s face. As the man lost his balance, Reginald grabbed the sword from the man’s belt.

  At the distraction, Dorian hit one of his guards on the back of the head, knocking him off the horse. When Dorian slid from his horse, the other guard rushed toward him with dagger drawn.

  Like a cat, Dorian leaped atop a fallen tree avoiding the knife’s fell swoop and jumped from there to a higher one.

  “Get down from there,” the man screamed.

  Dorian peered down at him. “And if I don’t?”

  “Yer friend will die.”

  “That, I doubt.” Dorian lifted an eyebrow as Reginald lowered the handle of the sword directly on the man’s nape sending him face first into the dirt.

  They bound the still unconscious men’s hands and retrieved their horses. After collecting all the swords, Reginald looked up to Dorian with a broad smile. “That was entertaining.”

  Once again, they mounted and urged the horses to a gallop toward the shore. Time was running short. Soon, the sun would sink and any chance of finding The Mawdelyn would be gone.

  Chapter Four

  IT WAS UTTERLY useless. Another day ended as Ileana and Lily attempted to purchase passage on the ship that had left that morning. Thankfully, there was another, which had appeared that morning off the coast line.

  Neither Ileana nor Lily had any luck when asking about it. The first ship that had left was headed to the Caribbean and would not stop in either England or Ireland. And now, no one seemed to know anything about the new ship’s destination.

  Huddled together, she and Lily sat on a bench along the side of the road that ran down to the edge of the sea along the front of the small sea village. If they didn’t get passage soon, she’d be forced to travel by birlinn to a nearby smaller isle and, perhaps, find shelter there.

  “I believe that is one of the men who came ashore earlier from the new ship,” Lily h
issed.

  “Who?” Ileana looked in the direction where Lily was staring but didn’t notice anyone of interest.

  “There,” Lily motioned with her chin. “The one who is whistling and using a dagger to cut his fingernails.”

  They watched as the man leaned back and, on occasion, looked up and down the street. Although to outward appearances, he seemed without a care in the world, he was alert to every single movement.

  Ileana doubted he’d missed them watching him. However, he did not give the impression of caring whether they did or not.

  “Should I speak to him, Milady?”

  “Nay, he seems a dangerous type. Perhaps we can ask the innkeeper to have her husband make inquiries.”

  Lily huffed. “We do not have that kind of time, Milady. I will ask about passage. Surely he won’t attack me because of it.”

  “I will talk to the man.” Ileana stood. “Keep an eye on Gregor,” she directed as she motioned to the boy. Gregor sat, playing with a stack of stones.

  Putting aside any fears, Ileana neared the man. The closer she got, the more she realized he was unlike any man she’d ever seen. His shirt was open down the center of his chest. With dark brown hair that grew past his shoulders and a gold hoop in both ears, he very much fit the picture of a villain in tales of lore.

  His eyes were almost as dark as coal as he watched her move closer. He did not seem welcoming or threatening.

  “And what, beautiful lass, can I do for ye?”

  “I wish to purchase passage aboard the ship offshore. Can ye help me?”

  His laughter rang out clear and loud. “Aboard that ship?” He pointed to the large vessel. He lowered his arm and, once again, began laughing.

  “I do not know what ye find so humorous. I will pay for passage for my maid, my son and me to either Ireland or England.”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “It is not a passenger ship. Believe me this, lass. Tis a favor I do ye, by not helping with this madness ye are set upon.”

  With that, he stood and strolled away from her, once again whistling.