When the ship lurched, Blair fell sideways, and landed in Raven’s arms, bringing a sudden halt to their intense conversation. Both rolled to the floor, slamming against the wall. Thunder roared and the crack of a lightning bolt splintering wood brought them quickly to their feet. Blair raced toward the stairs, but Raven grabbed her around the waist, shoving her behind him.
“Ye stay behind me, Captain.”
She wouldn’t argue with him, this time. Chivalry might be non-existent on a pirate ship, but Raven wanted only to keep his superior officer from unknown harm. Even behind the taller, wider first mate, seawater blasted through the open doorway, drenching her. After her fitful nap, she’d forgotten to wrap her sash around her head, and her hair was twisted into ragged, soaked tendrils, clinging to the back of her shirt. Momentarily blinded, she slammed into Raven’s back. He’d stopped and set his raised hands on the doorframe.
“Why’d you stop?” she asked, as she peeked beneath his arm.,
On deck, chaos reigned. Two men lay moaning underneath the debris of the splintered shards of the stern railing strewn across the deck. Another thunderous roar hit them, and the ship rolled sideways. A huge wave broke over the bow, and Blair and Raven raced to grab hold of the injured men. Nearly swept overboard, all clung to an undamaged railing. She stared out at the black, churning sea.
“Holy Moses! We’re mere inches from certain death!”
“I be losing my grip!” Raven cried.
Blood trickled from the injured mens’ foreheads. They were unconscious, but breathing. “Help us!” Blair ordered, shouting. Three more of her crew ran across the slick deck to them. “Take these men below decks. Have Cook see to their wounds.”
“Captain, ye must get below decks. ‘Tis too dangerous, here. I shall see to the rest of our crew!”
Irritation sprang up, but Blair bit her tongue. Raven professed feelings for her, but she assumed he only wanted to protect her from the elements and debris. Of course, if Raven proved to her men that he was more valuable to the ship, and not cowering below deck, she might have a problem controlling her crew.
When another huge wave broke, icy water sloshed across the deck, stealing her breath. The crew had battened down the sails, and the rudder was useless in the deep valleys and mountains of roiling water. What she wouldn’t give for a diesel engine, right now! The Scots and their Viking forbearers were fabulous boat-builders, so The Black Thistle would survive, if it stayed clear of the rock-strewn Scottish coast. However, without a GPS, or even a sextant, getting their bearings again could prove difficult.
The rain was cold, heavy, and impaired her vision. Praying the ship stayed afloat, she found her sea legs and headed below stairs. When another wave followed her down, nearly throwing her to the lower deck, she thought of their prisoner, one deck below. Was water filling up the hold?
***
When water closed over his head, Niall kicked to the surface. The horror of his fall from the cliffs had returned, but this was worse. Trapped like a fish in a net, the cold stinky water had awakened his need to live, just as it had the first time.
When his Sinclair plaid had threatened to pull him to the bottom of the sea, he had shoved his leather belt over his hips, then clawed at the pennanular clasp. The heavy wool garment had fallen away. After he had kicked off his boots, he cursed his haste. He should have kept his dagger, or the small knife he always kept hidden in his boot. Both weapons were lost to the depths of the raging ocean.
Disoriented, he had managed to reach out and clutch the drifting log. Sharp bits of its broken branches tore at his shirt, and chest, until the thin material ripped into pieces. He had watched them float away as, naked and bleeding, he had worried about sea creatures lurking below, following his blood trail. Would they devour him after he drowned? He had hugged the drifting island, and prayed.
Somehow, he had managed to climb out of the water, and had settled on top of the log. Darkness, and the shifting current, kept him from finding land. He remembered how, as the night had closed in around him, he had faded into unconsciousness, until wakened by the shouts of men, coming from high above him.
Another bracing wave of icy water covered his head, a terrifying reminder of his current ordeal. Death loomed, unless he escaped the cell. He kicked to the surface again. The top of the cage was only a hand’s breadth away. A woman’s cry of distress had him sputtering. “Help me!”
“Hold on!” she said, “I’ll get you out!”
Niall swam toward his cell door. His sleeping pallet was well under water, and waves sloshed into his prison, with each roll of the ship. In mere moments, the entire hold would be under water. As he reached the locked door, the captain dove beneath the water. When his prison door swung open, he sank low enough to push through the small opening, grabbed her around the waist, and kicked.
When he reached the stairs, he shoved her ahead of him. Coughing up water, he pushed against her rounded bottom. Her soaking-wet trews hugged her curves.
Definitely no’ a boyish figure.
When they reached the galley level, Niall slammed the door behind him, and grabbed several cloaks from a peg on the dining area wall.
“We must keep more water from filling the hold, or we be bound for the sea bed.”
“Okay. I’ll close the door to this deck as well. I should have thought of that.”
Leaving his own soaking wet hair covering most of his face, Niall brushed wet hair from her cheeks. She was quite pale, and had clamped small white teeth on her bottom lip. Her wet shirt was plastered to her chest, and she wore no undergarment. The rounded globes of her breasts pressed against the wet fabric. The cold dunking caused her nipples to poke toward him, red as sweet berries.
A rush of heat spiked between his legs, until another wave of salt water slammed against them. Searing pain washed over his open wounds. The moment the water receded, and they climbed farther up the stairway, he turned his head, so his undamaged eye could get a better look at her.
She was beautiful. When a bolt of lightning flashed, her green eyes sparkled. A nearby lantern swung from the rafters, and its flame deepened the shadowy curves along her cheeks and throat. She blinked, opening her mouth, but no words came out.
“What?” he asked.
“I had no idea the water had risen in the hold. You could have drowned.”
Her words, no more than a whisper, tugged at his heart. She sounded sorry that he had almost died. He should consider this a lucky turn of events. If he could win her over, he might survive long enough to escape.
“A storm rages above, I assume?” When she only stared at his mouth, he licked his lips. Everything tasted like salt. What would her lips taste like? “What I mean, is, I was dreaming, reliving my near drowning. ‘Tis an unpleasant way to awaken.”
She smiled and nodded. “You can tell me all about it, later. I need to see to my men and the ship. Join Cook in the galley. He might have something you can eat.”
Before Niall could offer his thanks, she threw the cloak around her damp shoulders, and headed toward the upper deck. He wanted to follow her, but hunger and thirst drew him into the galley.
“Good morning to ye,” Cook said. “Sit yerself down, and I shall feed ye.”
If the grizzled old man was surprised to find Niall roaming free, he did not show it. “Aye, the captain said ye would treat me well.”
“Yer soaked,” he said, then grabbed a loaf of bannock from a hanging basket. He had not lit the fire in his cook stove, and Niall shivered. He wrapped the cloak he had grabbed around his shoulders, collapsing into a chair by the old man’s work table.
Niall coughed for several minutes. “Aye. The hold has filled with seawater. I would have drowned, if yer captain had not remembered she had ordered me locked in a cell. I owe her my life. Again.”
The older man scooped liquid from a large barrel in the corner, and filled a tankard. The air filled with the scent of cinnamon and apples.
“Drink this, and wait here.�
�
Cook stepped into the hallway, and Niall wondered if he went in search of the beautiful captain, or one of the other pirates.
Pirates!
Realization shook him to the core. These were not simple fishermen. How would he escape this mess? As Niall sipped the tart apple cider, the cook returned with an armful of clothing.
“Put these on, or ye shall catch yer death. If the captain wants ye alive, ye best comply.”
Niall accepted the dry rags. “My thanks.”
“I be also good at doctoring, so if ye will excuse me, I have injured men to tend to.”
“Injured? How?”
“Lightning hit the ship.” Cook shook his head, and hurried away.
Niall shivered as he stripped off the cloak. Lightning was dangerous, and deadly. He prayed the men and the ship were not fatally injured. He was wet, but alive. Dying inside the hold of a damaged ship, as it sank beneath the sea, was not something he wished on anyone. “Even pirates.”
He tore the sodden shirt up and off, then slipped the ragged breeches down over his hips and buttocks. His feet were numb from the cold bilge water. He missed his knee-high deerskin boots, then thought about his lost longbow and sword. They must have fallen with him, from the cliff.
The cook had left him a piece of dry linen. Patting his damp skin, he then bent at the waist to dry his hair.
“Holy Moses!”
Niall whipped around, drawing the cloth up to cover his naked groin. His wet hair settled on his face, partially blinding him, but he recognized the beautiful red-haired captain. She stood in the doorway of the galley with her mouth hanging open, and her eyes wide. He must have given her a perfect view of his rear. Would she enjoy his other assets as well?
He dropped the towel.
***
“Holy Moses,” Blair whispered. The breathless curse was not as private as she’d hoped, since he had turned toward her, and dropped the small towel. A naked man stood in her galley, turning her insides to mush. Even the scars on his muscular chest, and strong jaw line, did not detract from his raw animal power. He reminded Blair a little too much of her dead husband. “Not good.”
“Ye doono’ like what ye see?”
Speechless, she glared at the sandy hair matted to his head. After his near-drowning, the wet strands barely covered his swollen left eye. Deep purple bruises across his cheek looked painful, and tiny jagged cuts peppered his torso and arms. A dark bruise raced along his ribcage. When she glanced lower, his thigh muscles bunched. He must have heard her whispered curse, since he had turned to face her, but he appeared relaxed. Unlike her, he was comfortable in his skin.
“Why are you naked? I only told you to get something to eat.”
He smiled at her, as if her words had given him ideas.
“Stop that.”
“Stop what? I only want a wee taste,” he said, crossing his arms over his wide chest. Muscles bulged, and his penis twitched.
“I am not on any man’s menu!” Not anymore. She licked her lips unconsciously. Blair’s former husband had kidnapped her, and forced her to marry him. Raven had caught her in a weak moment. When he smirked, she stiffened.
“Be calm, dear lady. Me clothes were soaked, as ye well know. Yer cook was gracious enough to find me breeches, and a shirt.”
“So why aren’t you wearing them?”
“I thought it best to dry the damp and dirt away, first. I dinno’ think I would be…watched.”
“I didn’t come down here to watch you.” She glanced around the small galley, surprised her prisoner was alone in a room filled with cooking knives. “Where is Cook?”
Without answering, he pulled on a ragged pair of leggings. They hung enticingly low on his hips. He tied a rope belt to keep them in check. The torn cloth covered his thick legs to just below his knees. His feet were as bare as his chest.
“He is caring for yer injured crew.”
“What? Oh, right.”
“Lightning struck yer ship, he told me.”
She exhaled a slow, deep breath, and tried to think of other things, while he slipped a tattered shirt over his head. Her damaged ship needed repairs, but until the seas calmed and the rain halted, she would not have a chance to see to those repairs.
“Right. Two men were on deck during a lightning strike. Then a huge wave almost swept them into the sea. How do you feel?”
“Yer still wet.”
He changed the subject!
Blair glanced down. Her nipples jutted out, so she pulled her cloak around her, and crossed her arms over her chest. The sodden garments made her shiver. “Yes. I’ve been busy. Answer my question.”
He squinted his undamaged eye, and stroked his whiskered chin. The dark gold bristles did nothing to detract from his handsome features, despite the bruises and the scar. “I dinno’ drown, thanks to ye. I ache in…many places, but I be healing.”
Blair resisted looking at his groin. “Glad to hear it.”
He walked toward her. “Yer accent is familiar to me. I have heard several talk as ye do…”
Accents like hers? An American accent? “Where?”
He hesitated.
Was he hiding that part of his life? She hadn’t had time to question him. When he didn’t answer, and glanced at the floor, she raised both hands. “Fine. Don’t answer. I need you to stay here, understand?”
He nodded, so Blair headed toward her cabin. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not on her ship, in the middle of the sea.
Not in this storm.
Inside her cabin, she stripped off her soaked clothing, and toweled dry the best she could. Slipping into a dry shirt and loose leggings, she braided her hair, then tied a dark green sash around her head to keep her wet locks out of her face. Dry socks were next. She slipped on a pair of waterproof over-the-knee boots to replace the footwear that had filled with icy seawater.
Blair, Raven, and the injured men had nearly fallen overboard. Death would have come quickly in the high waves. If her handsome prisoner hadn’t been plucked from the ocean yesterday, and had continued to bob in today’s enraged sea, he’d be dead.
Shaking her head, she wondering why she kept referring to a bruised and bloodied man as handsome. A soft knock pulled her thoughts from the man she’d spied in all his glory, standing in her galley. Inhaling a calming breath, Blair headed toward her door.
“Who is it?”
The door creaked open. The man filling her thoughts poked his head through her door. She tried to clench the hilt of her gully knife, but it was behind her, on her bunk.
Out of her reach.
“I beg yer pardon, lass. There be screaming coming from above decks.”
As she grabbed her knife, and slipped it in her belt, she forgot about chastising him for walking into her cabin. Shoving past him, she raced to the top of the steps. As she pulled open the door, high-pitched screams filled the air. A man lay tangled in the ropes next to a large fallen chunk of the ship’s mast.
“Pull him loose!” Blair ordered. Several men rushed to the downed man. They staggered across the pitching deck, attempting to raise the broken rigging from the trapped crewman. The rain had stopped, but several waves still crashed over the side. If they didn’t free him soon, he could be pulled overboard, and the weight of the tangled lines would drown him.
When her prisoner sailed through the door and onto the deck, he shoved Blair into the doorjamb. Her shoulder screamed at the sudden pain.
“ ‘Tis Jamie!” another crewman yelled.
When the prisoner reached the men, her crew glared at him. As they all stood over their comrade, the prisoner bent and gripped the tangled mess. With his feet planted wide, and his massive thighs bunched beneath his rags, he lifted the debris enough for the others to pull her man free.
“Let go!” Blair said, and ran toward him.
He lowered the tangled rigging, and stumbled back toward the rail. The boat dipped into a deep valley, and a powerful wave headed toward him. Blair grabbed his wrist
, and pulled him toward the safety of the stairs. She slammed the door, and waited in the shadows until the boat righted itself, and the wave receded.
“That was close. Thanks for helping save Jamie. He’s a good man, with three children,” she said. The darkened stairway was quiet, and his face was in shadow. His breaths warmed her cheek, sending her moving down a step, but he followed, descending two steps, bringing him eye level with her. He was too close for comfort.
The door was wrenched open. Thomas stood at the transom. “Captain? Ye be fine?”
Blair pushed the prisoner back until he rested against the far wall. “Yes. How’s Jamie?”
“Bruised, but he be on his feet. Orders?”
“Keep everyone safe, and away from falling rigging. Let me know when the seas calm.”
“Aye, Captain.” Thomas said, his high-pitched voice betraying his surprise. He left the hatchway door open.
“Let us get out of the wind,” the handsome stranger said. Tugging her forearm, he led her down the stairs, to her cabin, and pulled her inside. He closed the door behind them, shutting out the world. His damp, calloused hand suddenly cupped her chin, but she wasn’t afraid. A pair of warm, dry lips settled over her mouth, and she was too shocked to move. She tasted apples and…cinnamon?
His kisses warmed her, sending heated blood surging through her veins. She realized what he was doing to her, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she peeked.
He’d closed one eye, the one not hidden beneath his hair. Tiny water drops lingered on his dark eyelashes. Women would kill for long lashes like his. When he suddenly pulled his head back, releasing her mouth, she gasped for air. His warm hands settled on her waist, and he twirled her until her back connected with the door.
Blair inhaled the scent of salt, sea, and manly musk, as well as the apples. “I see Cook opened his barrel of cider for you. He must like you.”
“The question, lass, is…do ye?”
His good eye bore into her, and she melted into a puddle of goo. When her toes curled, and the special place between her legs wept, a cry slipped out. “Holy Moses!”
He chuckled.
Pleasure warmed every square inch of her skin, and she wanted nothing more than to lean into him, and take whatever he offered. He smiled, as if he knew what she was feeling.
My Hunted Highlander Page 4
