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

by Barbara Devlin

  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.

  The door swung open quickly and her father’s butler, Christopher, answered the door. His gray eyes nearly popped out of his head, his hair disheveled and a robe tied closely around his small, elderly frame. The poor man was no doubt abed and not expecting any visitors, much less one as large and intimidating as Thomas, who still gripped her waist possessively.

  Christopher’s eyes snapped from Thomas to Katherine, and he gasped. “Miss Bingham! Is all well?” he tittered, rubbing his eyes. “We have been out of our minds with worry. You never arrived home and days have passed!”

  “All is well, Christopher,” she whispered, and placed a hand on his small, frail shoulder. He was a quiet man who seldom showed much emotion, but he had been with her family since they came over from England and he had always had a kind word or smile for her, though he never attempted to tamp down her wild nature and wanderings. Once her schooling ended and her tutors and governess had been dismissed, where a typical English miss would be married off and start a family, becoming the mistress of her own home, Katherine had been left to her own devices. After all she had been through the last sennight, she felt a sense of resentment toward her father for leaving her all alone. Aye, the wars up north in Ulster had pulled him away from her the past several years. He could not help that. And, aye, it had not been his fault her mama passed away. But he had found time to visit England, under the guise of reporting to his queen, to tend to another wife and child? It made her stomach churn with distaste. Had she meant so little to him, in the end?

  Christopher’s eyes looked between her and Thomas questioningly, and she cleared her throat. “Christopher, this is my husband, Sir Thomas Esmonde.”

  “Husband?” His eyes popped open once more. “How so, mistress?” Seeming to finally realize that he had done more gawking than helping, Christopher signaled them to come in, helping to remove Katherine’s soaked-through cloak.

  “It is a long story. My father has died,” she paused and closed her eyes, choking back a tear that finally decided to make its appearance. Apparently being back in this home was going to make all her emotions finally explode. Clearing her throat, she continued, “I shall be staying for the night, then Sir Thomas and I shall be on our way. This is no longer my home. I shall pack a satchel and be gone.”

  “Nay! Katherine, you cannot mean that! This shall always be your home.”

  “Christopher, ye know that is not the case. This manor is the property of the queen, who will learn of the death of her Governor and be finding a replacement. I must prepare to start a life elsewhere, with my husband.” She gripped Thomas’s hand tightly and squeezed. He was her lifeline, keeping her feet grounded before she floated away, lost in the world once more.

  She could tell Christopher wanted to argue, but could not. He knew she was correct. “I will have the servants prepare you a bath, Miss Bingham,” he bowed.

  “Her name is now Lady Katherine Esmonde,” Thomas corrected the man with his low gravelly voice.

  “Right, right. Good, good. My apologies, Sir Thomas. Lady Katherine.” Christopher scuttled off in a harried state and Katherine watched the old man, certain she would miss him terribly as she would her favorite maid, Shelly. That thought made her pause. When she had last left her home, she remembered Shelly on her hands and knees cleaning something that looked nothing like mead out of the carpet.

  “Christopher?” Katherine stopped the man in his tracks and he looked over his shoulder in question. “Was my father terribly cruel to the servants?” His eyes widened, then closed. He sputtered as if trying to think of something proper to say to her question. Katherine held up a hand to stop him. “Shelly was cleaning up blood over a sennight ago, was she not?”

  Turning to look at her, Christopher fisted the tie around his robe nervously. “Aye, my Lady. She was. Your father returned to deliver a missive for you and was displeased by one of the maids. He… well, aye, it was blood Shelly cleaned up. Come to think on it, I have not seen Shelly all day…”

  Katherine gasped and clutched her chest. Her father had been a greater monster than she ever suspected. How these servants had ever loved her so, despite her father, she would never know. Then a thought hit her so hard, it nearly knocked her over. Her father
had been here, in this house, delivering the missive he wrote, instead of simply speaking with her himself. He had had the time to scold and beat his servants, but no time to speak with his supposedly precious daughter. The new information made her heart break in two. How had she been so blind? “I am so terribly sorry.”

  “’Tis not your fault, Mistress… I mean, Lady Esmonde. You have a kind soul he never possessed.” Deciding he had said too much, Christopher pursed his lips and turned away, seeking out the maids to ready her bath.

  Thomas escorted her up the stairs, holding onto her as if knowing she was on the brink of exhaustion and heartache, yet when they reached the landing, he kissed her forehead and moved her in front of him. “Lead the way, Lady Esmonde.” Och, well. She quite liked the sound of that. She decided at that exact moment that her grief for her father, though she could not deny it, would not control her. She would not be angered at Thomas for seeing what she was so blind to: that her father was a horrid man. Thomas and his family had suffered so much. How could he look at her waves of blonde hair and deep blue eyes, so like her father’s, and not resent her or be repulsed? He had been when he first met her. He had been disgusted by her. But Thomas had a big heart beneath his gruff exterior and had learned to love her for who she was, and she loved him all the more for it.

  Leading him up to the second-floor hallway, she opened the third door on the right and guided him inside. Her body shivered at the frigid air within. Her hearth had gone unused so long and blackness filled the void.

  Stepping close to her, Thomas pulled her hips against his. “Ye are nothing like yer father, love. Never think it for a moment. I am sorry I treated ye unkindly in the past. Ye have had a hard life. I know that now.”

  She scoffed and waved him away. “Lonely. Life has been lonely. Hard? Nay. I had a home, clothing, food, and a hearth. Servants. A large bed with loads of warm blankets. Nay, my life has not been so bad. I only wanted to help those in need, and I failed miserably. I feel awful.”

  She lowered her head, but he lifted her chin with his fingers. “Ye have a kind heart. We will make things right.” All she could do was lick her lips and nod, hoping it was true. Just then three lads came through dragging a large wooden tub and two lassies came in carrying large buckets of steaming hot water to pour within it. Once it was half full of boiling water and steam, more servants came through with buckets of cooler water, mixing lavender and rose oils to the bath as the lads fussed with building the fire in the hearth and lighting a few candles. Katherine sagged against Thomas, never more ready for a bath.

  “My thanks to all of ye.” They nodded and scurried away, leaving her and Thomas alone in her bedchamber. Her large bed, with vines intricately carved into the tall wooden posts, towered in the corner, calling her name. How she wished to loosen the soft yellow curtains and sleep for ages.

  Thomas’s nimble fingers worked at the soaking wet laces on the back of her gown and she watched as the fabric loosened, sagging mercifully off her body. He pushed the gown down her shoulders and over her arms, bringing her shift with it. Gooseflesh puckered her skin and the tips of her breasts beaded from the sudden onslaught of cold air. Though the fire raged in the hearth against the wall, the chill was enough to make her teeth chatter.

  Her wet skirts hit the rush mat covering her wooden floors with a thud and she crossed her arms and stepped out of her clothing.

  “Allow me to help ye bathe, love.” Thomas put out a hand and she instinctively took it, allowing him to walk her over to the steaming bath, the wondrous floral scents wafting up to her face as she stepped in. A sigh of relief escaped her as her feet absorbed the heat before lowering her weary bones beneath the water.

  “Oh, this feels divine,” she murmured, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.

  She felt the linen wash rag the servants had left graze her back and she knew Thomas meant to bathe her. Opening her eyes, she turned in the tub to look over her shoulder. “Nay. Ye are soaked to the bone as well, Thomas. I wish for ye to disrobe and join me.”

  He quirked a dark brow and a slight smirk lifted his lips. “Ye do, do ye? Are you certain? Ye have refused my touch since… that day.”

  “I am sorry for that. Ye dinnae deserve my censure. I understand ye did what was needed. I miss ye, Thomas. And besides, ye are cold; dinnae deny it. Join me.”

  It appeared Thomas needed no further convincing. Coming around the tub to face her, he slowly pulled his dirty and soaked tunic over his head. Katherine narrowed her eyes as she appreciated his finely muscled chest and the spattering of dark hair she loved to run her hands through. She knew exactly where that dark trail led, and she licked her lips as he removed his weapons and belt, unbuttoning his breeches slowly, and yanking the wet woolen fabric down his hips and firm backside. His impressive manhood sprang free and she bit back a groan. By God, had she been fortunate to find a husband with such a magnificent male member. Just looking at it gave her chills as she remembered all the nights of passion they had shared. How had she denied him for the last two days? And why did two short days feel like a bloody eternity without his touch?

  “Keep looking at me like that, Kat, and I will not last more than a moment.” He stepped one powerful leg into the bath and Katherine got up on her knees to make room for him. Her breasts protested at the sudden exposure to the cold air once more, but she watched as he lowered himself down fully into the water. Her core throbbed and her breasts were heavy with need.

  Silence surrounded them as the firelight flickered across the room, creating shadows all around. “I want ye, Thomas. I need ye.” She locked gazes with him and all the breath left her lungs from the intensity staring back at her. His emerald-green eyes lowered as lust grew evident in his features.

  “Then take what ye need from me, love. I am yours to command.”

  She needed no more encouragement than that. Feeling beneath the water, she found his hard shaft and stroked it gently as she scooted forward on her knees, straddling his thighs. When he was poised just beneath her, his stiff rod nudging her entrance, she lowered herself with a sigh as she felt him consume her inside and out. His hands came around her, gripping her hips hard, but he allowed her to keep a slow, languid pace. She loved the rough lovemaking they shared, but tonight, right now, she wanted to slowly make love to her husband, to savor every sensation. The way the coarse hairs of his chest dragged across her sensitive nipples, the glide of him as she lifted up and down on him, and the scent of the lavender and rose as it consumed their skin, mixing with his natural spicy-musk scent. His muscles against her soft flesh made her feel protected and cherished. And when their mouths came together, tongues twining, she rode him slowly, already feeling her body begin to quake. It was as if they were connected in every way.

  He panted lowly and she knew he would lose himself soon. Pulling back slightly, she arched her back and tilted her head, closing her eyes as waves of ecstasy wrapped around her, pulling her into a world of pleasure. His mouth latched onto one of her breasts just as one hand went between them, finding that one spot that made electricity flow through her body with the barest touch.

  Moving her hips more wildly, she rode the wave, knowing water splashed all around them but not finding the will to care. Her body was not her own. He owned every inch of her and by God, did the man know how to make her melt into a puddle of warmth.

  Whatever will Thomas used to hold himself back snapped as he groaned and lifted his hips, thrusting forcefully up into her. She bore down, feeling their lovemaking cresting as they both shouted out their pleasure, his hand gripping her backside fiercely as she finally shuddered and collapsed against his wet chest, their foreheads touching and breath mingling.

  “I love ye, Kat.”

  “I love ye, as well, Thomas. I know ye did not mean to keep me in the beginning. I know this started out as a plot for revenge, but I vow to make ye want to keep me every day for the rest of your life.”

  Thomas pulled her back, picking up the linen and once more
running it across her breasts. “I will keep ye forever and ye need not try to convince me, though I am interested in watching ye try,” he waggled his brows playfully as he ran the cloth across her back. “Ye put a spell on me, love. Without even trying. That is what I love about ye. Ye do not even try to be a good person, ye just are.”

  After several moments of slowly washing one another, Katherine had felt herself growing tired. Thomas lifted her out of the bath, dried her off and carried her to bed. He knew well enough by now that Katherine preferred to sleep in the nude, so when he climbed in beside her and pulled the covers over their bodies, cocooning them in warmth, Katherine rested her head on Thomas’s chest, lulled to sleep by the steady heart beating against her ear.

  Chapter Thirteen

  THOMAS WAS ANXIOUS to be on the road. According to Katherine, the caves they sought were almost an entire day’s ride to the northwest. The weather had taken a turn for the worse, but he was finally on the correct path to find the treasure that had haunted his dreams his entire life. Even last night, he could see something, possibly the sword of light, glowing beneath the earth, calling to him as it always had. Only now, because of his wee bonny wife, he knew where to find it.

  Juan, who had stayed behind at Clew Bay the night before, was to meet them at dawn with a cart and an extra horse. Katherine may not like it, but with the rain falling in sheets, he would not allow her to ride a horse and become wet again. She could catch her death and he would never forgive himself. Besides, they would need a way to safely transport whatever treasure they found, and it would be good to have some extra protection.

  That morning, Katherine had pulled back her blue and yellow rush carpet and lifted up a loose floorboard, revealing the none-too-small treasure she had collected throughout the years. Thomas’s jaw nearly hit the floor. Gemstones, jewelry, gold coins, and other valuables filled the spaces between the ceiling boards and floorboards. She had claimed in the past that some of it had been left behind by pirates carrying treasure, but much of it she believed were gifts from the fay, wishing to help her aid the people. Thomas had thought her daft at first, but when his gaze landed on the ruby brooch set in gold and etched with intricate Celtic carvings, he could not help but believe in her theory. From all he had heard about the Treasure of Danu, this ancient brooch had once belonged to the fay. Why else would it have appeared in a cave for only Katherine to find, if not to show her that more existed?