When he pressed his lips to hers again, raw need twisted in her belly, and a desire stronger than any she’d ever experienced, turned her knees to jelly.
When he kissed beneath her ear, then traveled down her neck, his cheek stubble grazed her skin. He slowly returned and captured her lips, as if he worried that she would scream.
I should.
He tasted yummy. His hands roamed over her waist, hips, and buttocks. When they slid up her belly, then cupped her aching breasts, Blair moaned.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
He leaned in, cocooning her beneath his muscular body. Dizziness, amid a sense of peace, distracted her. He pushed the sash from her head, and tugged playfully on her braid. In a brief moment of clarity, she felt everything: the coolness of the wooden door at her back, the warm, hard plane of his chest pressed intimately against her breasts, the long length of his rigid erection…
Memories of the horror her husband had put her through rose, and she came to her senses, pushing against his chest. “Get off me!”
The cabin’s dim light couldn’t hide his frown. The soft groan of a man on the brink of losing his prize filled her with regret, but his obvious state of arousal was a game-changer.
“I mean it. Back off!”
He stepped back so fast, she nearly fell forward.
He kept her from falling. Once she was steady, he released her. “I beg yer pardon, lass.”
His voice was low and gentle, but she wasn’t fooled. Men wanted only one thing, and she wasn’t about to give it to a total stranger.
“I am the captain of this ship. You will address me as Captain, or I will send you back into the hold. Do you understand me?”
“Aye…Captain.”
“Good. I suggest you return to the galley, and see if Cook needs any help. He has his hands full with injured men. I will meet you there, because I have several questions I need answered.”
He nodded, bowed, and picked her up by the waist.
“What are you…?”
Once he had set her aside, he opened her cabin door, and stepped out into the hallway. She’d forgotten she had blocked his way. After running trembling fingers over her clothing, she smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear. She re-tied the loosened braid, and replaced her sash. Eager to join her men on deck, she hurried down the hallway, then climbed the stairs.
For a brief moment, she thought that the stranger stood near the top, beside the closed door to the upper deck. It wasn’t him. It was Raven. He spun toward her, as if surprised to find her in the dark stairway. He stepped lower, until they were an equal height, then pressed his large chest against her, pinning her to the wall.
Not again!
CHAPTER 5
Blair shoved her first mate away, and jumped onto a higher step. Breathing hard, she glared down at him. The hatch suddenly opened, and two of her crew descended, then abruptly halted. One was Jamie, the injured man her prisoner helped save, and the other was Thomas. Silence stretched until a gust of wind blew the door shut.
“Captain, I be taking Jamie to the crew cabin. He says he is only bruised.”
“Have Cook look him over. Anyone else hurt?”
The seaman glanced from the first mate to Blair. “Nay. We shall have a mess on our hands, once the storm leaves us be.”
“I’m sure we can manage. When it is safe, we’ll put into shore. Go get him settled.”
The injured sailor nodded his thanks, and headed to the lower level. Blair glared at Raven, until he growled and fled onto the deck. In the shadowy stairway, she recalled her prisoner. His mossy green eyes were the exact color of her son’s. Their hair color was much the same, although the stranger’s hair appeared darker. “His hair is always wet. Hmm…”
“My hair will dry, once the threat of drowning has stopped.” He climbed the stairs, but stopped two steps below her.
“I told you to stay with Cook.”
“I heard ye argue with yer first mate. I was about to bloody his face.”
“Because he touched me? My relationship with Raven is none of your business,” Blair said. His protective gesture stirred her insides a tiny bit, but he had no business fighting her battles.
Blair marched to the bottom of the stairs, pushing him ahead of her. She shoved him into the galley. “Put him to work. He tends to get underfoot.”
“I be happy to have help,” Cook replied.
Blair bounded up the stairs and through the door. A stiff breeze stole her breath. Raven stood by the helmsman, pointing at various items in the distance, on their starboard side.
“I spotted a spit of land, Captain. Our cove can no’ be far.”
“We need to be certain, Raven. If it isn’t our secret cove, we could end up on the rocks, or drop anchor near a village filled with English soldiers.”
Raven didn’t argue, just nodded and talked with the crewman steering the rudder. The ship was in dire need of repairs. Besides the damaged rigging, they would need to bail the accumulated water filling the hold.
“Thank God this happened before we gathered our winter goods.” They were alive, a definite plus, but the transportation of the food, wool, and gold would see their entire village through bad times. Winter loomed. She felt it in her bones.
The sandy-haired man, with the delicious lips, had never introduced himself. Weariness weakened her spirits, and she hadn’t the energy for a confrontation. He was hiding something, but he’d been through a trial by water. He obviously did not plan to get captured by Scottish pirates.
He didn’t sound English, a point in his favor, but he was still a mystery. What little he’d shared, was spoken with a rolling Scottish burr. What did he mean, when he claimed her accent sounded familiar? She’d never met any other Americans. Did others live anywhere near the Scottish Highlands? Americans were actually English colonists in 1603, right? Everyone she’d met on the ship, or in their hidden village, claimed never to have heard anyone who sounded like her. If others like her lived nearby, had they also traveled through time? Even more importantly, could they help send her back to the future?
Her thoughts returned to her prisoner. Looking at his mangled face had made her cringe, while a painful memory made her stroke her own left cheek. She’d suffered a black eye the day she was kidnapped, and brought through a time portal. A quickly crafted eye patch had helped her recover.
“I have just the thing!”
Racing back to her cabin, she dug through her trunk. Trews, wool blankets, and a couple of simple dresses flew across the cabin, until she found the perfect gift.
“Holy Moses. This isn’t a gift.” She stared at the bit of leather lacing and soft wool. The precious item was the first thing she’d made with her own hands, besides boats. Once thrown into the Scottish Highlands, she realized that growing up in a large town with running water, nearby restaurants, computers, and taxis, had spoiled her.
Sometimes she yearned for a mall, usually when her village was short on food. A hungry belly was a sad sight. Neighborhood supermarkets were only a memory. Clean clothes? Only possible when the barrels on deck, or in their village, collected enough rainwater, and she convinced Cook to heat some in a large pot. Was there anything sweeter than fresh-washed sheets?
The sudden memory of her prisoner’s kisses brought her to a standstill. Grasping the soft wool eye patch, she shoved away the image of his battered face, and warm hands. Her own hands were rough and calloused. It had been hard to get used to the use of lye in the wash water. She missed her favorite skin cream, but she was happy here.
My crewmen are good men.
They would stay true to her, as long as she appeared strong, and in charge of The Black Thistle. It was, after all, her ship. The bastard that had married her was gone, and everything her former husband once owned, now belonged to her. She had a feeling that Raven wanted what was hers. This was exactly why she kept him on a tight leash.
With a sigh, she vowed to ignore men in general, and headed out in search of her p
risoner, to offer a way to lessen his misery. The eye patch could only help him heal. Her step was light and quick. Was it because she was off to help an injured man, or because she wanted to kiss him again?
Silly girl.
***
Niall sat in the corner of the galley, willing his body to regain its control. While he had kissed the captain in her cabin, his cock had grown as hard and thick as the driftwood he had clung to, in the sea. He would rather cling to her maidenly curves, but she had pushed him away. A shame, since she had tasted of spices similar to the cider Cook had offered him, earlier.
Cook left him alone to go tend to the injured, and the solitude was welcome. A chilly breeze seeped through the hallway and galley from the storm-tossed sea above decks, but until the waves decreased, the old cook stove would remain cold and dark.
Niall pressed his back against the wall, pulling the borrowed cloak over his body. In the galley, pots and pans had flown off their hooks, and a bag of flour had burst, thanks to the rolling waves. The mess was gone, thanks to him. A lantern glowed as it dangled from the ceiling. It swung with the ship, and the gentle movement rocked him to sleep.
Niall woke slowly, and kept still. Someone was pressing their fingers into one of his many scabs. When pain shot from the bruise around his ribcage, he fought against grabbing the miscreant’s hand. Instead, he used words.
“Ye best remove yer fingers, lest ye want them ripped from yer body.” He winked his one good eye at the young lad, who immediately stepped back.
“My pardon, sir, but ye were about to topple off that wee stool.”
Niall glanced around. He sat in the corner of the cold galley cooking area, waiting for…what? The captain? She mentioned she planned to question him.
“I dinno’ mean to scare ye, lad, but ye were prodding a sensitive part.”
“Since yer covered with bruises and scabs, my chances were no’ good from the start.” The lad giggled, and his cheeks reddened at his joke.
“Did ye want anything, besides to save me from falling on me face?”
“Oh, aye. The captain means to talk with ye. She wishes ye to meet her in the dining area.” He pointed to a slightly larger room next to the galley, and agreeably less damp than his prison cell.
He was still at a loss as to what he could reveal, that would keep her from ordering his death. When he assisted in the rescue of one of her crew on deck, he had proved his strength. If he acted as if he wished to join her crew and had other valuable talents, would she spare him?
Before following the lad, he dropped the cloak on the stool. Straightening, he stopped in the doorway between the two small rooms. The captain sat at the head of the table with her hands clasped in front of her, on the scarred wooden top. Her first mate, Raven, stood against the wall in a dark corner. He was a dangerous and jealous man.
Niall vowed to watch his step, and show no feelings toward the captain, even though he was a man and she was a woman. Salvation would require all his strength, in order to act unaffected by her beauty, scent, or taste.
When his cock twitched, he pulled out a chair opposite her, and sat. With the table between them, his physical reaction might remain hidden. Leaning back casually, he laid one arm over the back of the rickety chair.
The captain smiled at him, then her expression turned cold. “I have a few questions for you.”
Raven strode out of the shadows to stand at her shoulder. “Aye, then we shall most likely toss ye back into the sea.”
The captain glared up at her first mate. “Raven! That’s not a remote possibility. Keep quiet, or leave the room.”
Niall was glad to hear he wasn’t destined to drown today, but Raven glared at him. When her attention returned to him, Niall’s swollen cock filled his breeches near to bursting. His gaze centered on her breasts, rising and falling as she breathed. When Raven stormed from the room, he relaxed.
“Excuse me,” she said.
Niall’s eyes rose from where they had settled on her chest, and their eyes met.
“Please refrain from staring at my…”
“Staring at a beautiful woman is ingrained in the Highlands, however…” Niall tipped his chair back, “I apologize.”
“So…,” her cheeks reddened at his admission, “you are from the Highlands? Near Wick, I assume? It’s closest to where we plucked you from the sea.”
Inhaling a deep breath, he did his best to meet her gaze, while he unraveled his lies. “Aye, I hail from a small village near Castle Ruadh. I fish whenever my stepfather allows me to slave for little pay. Other times, I work the fields as a day laborer.”
“Is your stepfather a wealthy man?”
The question did not surprise him. She was fishing for his worth. “Nay. Just a poor fisherman.”
“You are very strong. Are you trained as a warrior?”
Niall shrugged his right arm. It was a tad stiff after his fall from the cliffs, and the bruised ribs worried him. Was he well enough to raise a sword to defend himself in battle? “Nay.”
“You look like a farmer.”
Niall stiffened, then willed his body to relax. She believed his lies. To throw her off balance, he smiled. He wished he could see her clearly, but his bruised face still affected his vision. Reaching up, he prodded his left cheek, then winced. Heat washed over him, and his damaged left eye and cheek throbbed. His ribs ached. When he had jumped on deck to help save one of her men, the discomfort had not interfered at the time, but now he was hurting. Other pains had lessoned, and scabs covered his recent jabs from the driftwood raft.
“I brought you something that might help you heal.”
Her statement caught him off guard.
When she stood, and rounded the table, her scent washed over him. Lowering his hand, he waited to see what she planned to do, to soothe his injuries. If she wanted to strip, and straddle him in the chair, his pain would fade into oblivion. When she held out a small piece of wool attached to two short lengths of leather strips, the image of her breasts rising toward his mouth, as she rode him to orgasm, faded.
“What be this?”
“An eye patch. It’ll keep your damaged eye from straining to stay closed. Keeping it covered will let it heal. Tie your hair at the back of your neck with this, and I will show you how it works.”
Niall shoved his fingers through his hair, then accepted a short strip of thicker leather. He tied his hair into a short queue, then lowered his arms.
She stepped closer and positioned the wool over his left eye. It rested alongside the left side of his nose, running from his brow, to below his eye. The darkness and softness of the wool was not as pleasurable as the gentle touch of her fingertips, as she centered the cloth. The leather ties pulled across his forehead and above his left ear. She walked behind him and tied them at the back of his head.
“Too tight?”
“Nay.” The strings were fine, but he lied about the tightness, elsewhere. Feeling like a green boy, alone for the first time with a tavern wench aiming to share her wares, he stifled a groan and waited.
She returned to her side of the table, and stood gazing down at him. “How does that feel?”
Settling back in the creaking wooden chair, he glanced around the room. His damaged cheek felt the slight pressure of the cloth, but the strain to keep his left eye closed had disappeared. “Aye, ‘tis fine. I thank ye, lass…Captain.”
She cocked her head to the side. “You look like a pirate.”
“I would like to join yer crew.”
“What?” she cried, as she tumbled onto her seat. The chair teetered backward, and as her arms flailed, he raced to her side. When the chair stopped bobbling, and the front legs slammed back onto the wood floor, she glared up at him.
“Go sit down.” She pointed at his chair, and he complied.
“Why?” she asked.
Hesitating, he rearranged the eye patch, then responded. “Ye saved me from certain death. I was set upon by mercenaries loyal to Angus Sinclair. When
they discovered I carried nary a coin, they decided to kill me. Lady luck shined down upon me. The edge of the cliff crumbled before a sword could take me head, and I ended up in the sea.”
She glanced at the ceiling.
Was she pondering his words, or listening for the storm? Near silence meant the weather had changed for the better. The ship rocked with a gentle rhythm, and the men above decks were laughing. Some sang as they worked.
“I will have to talk this over with my men. When it comes to The Black Thistle, they are a bit reclusive. We have families to protect.”
“Aye, like yer son?”
She smiled. “Keegan is young, and anxious to be a pirate, and if you harm him, I’ll…”
“I doono’ hurt bairns.”
“What about women?”
Niall squinted. Did she feel his recent kiss had been an attack on her person? Was he losing his touch? “I have ne’er forced myself on a woman. They usually fling themselves at me, even with these scars.”
When he gestured to his face and chest, the captain smiled.
“I can imagine. Unfortunately, I don’t want you touching me, again.”
Niall groaned.
This is turning into a verra’ long voyage indeed.
***
Blair clasped her fingers together in front of her. She considered her prisoner’s words, but he was holding something back. She could feel it. She also sensed his displeasure at her command that he keep his distance. If he touched her romantically, she might end up in trouble. Raven kind of trouble. Worse, he still had not shared his name, which she would rectify immediately.
“What’s your name?”
He smiled, as if he was waiting for the question. “Ye may call me Balfour Green.”
He certainly didn’t look like a Balfour, but it was a common enough name in the Highlands. “Well, Green, I will bring your request to the crew.”
He chuckled, probably since she had ignored his first name.
“Will you please return to the galley? My men will need to eat, before we reach land.”
My Hunted Highlander Page 5
