Her eyes suddenly glistened with unshed tears.
Damn, crying lasses are no’ what I need.
“Watch over him, and I will treat you like one of the crew.”
“I wish ye to treat me different than yer crew,” he whispered. If his statement shocked her, she did not show it.
Instead, she crossed the small space between them, and raised her hand to the scar on his cheek. Her skin was warm and dry, but not soft. She wore her calluses like a badge of honor. This woman worked as hard as any man, but she smelled deliciously female. The urge to taste her berry-red lips, and slide his tongue across her nipples, won out.
As his head dipped, brushing his lips over hers, he kept his hands at his sides. They wanted to rise, to cup her buttocks, then slide around and fondle her soft breasts. When her other hand alighted on his chest, then slowly wandered its way to his waist, he groaned against her mouth.
“What do you want, Balfour?”
The question, spoken against his lips, was intriguing.
What do I want, besides having my real name on her lips?
This was no tavern wench, to tup beneath wrinkled sheets. She was so much more, and he ached to please her. The thought shocked him, and he stepped back.
“I want to bring ye pleasure, to show ye what a man can do with his mouth, and his tongue.”
“Only his mouth and tongue?”
The flame of a nearby oil lamp made her eyes sparkle. Did she mean to tease him with words? “I am quite capable of pleasing a woman, without impaling her with my cock.”
At the shock of his words, her mouth opened wide, giving him a chance to demonstrate what his mouth and tongue could do for her. He thrust his tongue deep inside her delicious mouth, then pulled it back, and settled on her lips. She tasted like liquid sunshine and honey, with a light bite of sea salt.
When he nipped her lips, her arms circled his waist. Her heat spread through her blouse to his naked skin, warming his heart. He kissed her cheekbones, then licked the edge of her warm lips. Hungry for more, he sank his tongue inside her mouth, and drank in her essence. Thrusting his tongue forward and back, he mimicked the thrusts of lovemaking.
She moaned, and her hands rose, loosening his hair from the sash, then tangled in his locks. She ground her body against him, pressing against his arousal. He held his breath, then succumbed to her ministrations, breathing his joy and pleasure into her mouth. When she pulled back, and gazed up at him, he picked her up, settling her on the edge of her small desk. Papers and a leather-bound ledger flew to the floor, and a squeak escaped her lips.
Grabbing a pillow from her bunk, he tossed it to the floor, at her feet. Unlashing her crude belt, he paused when her hands clamped over his.
“Balfour, what are you doing?”
“I am pleasuring my captain. Remove yer breeches, and I will bring ye to yer peak within moments.”
“My peak? What?”
“Trust me?”
“After you tried to escape?”
“After I saved yer son.”
Struggling with the twisted sash holding up her trews, she groaned. “I really miss zippers.”
“What be zippers?”
“Never mind,” she said, as she lifted her bottom enough for him to slide the breeches to her knees. The boots impeded his way. Kneeling to remove them, her womanly fragrance filled his nostrils. His cock roared to life, and threatened to rip free of his breeches, but this was not the time for his pleasure.
The urge to copulate rose, but Niall forced it down, as all he wanted was to make her explode into his mouth. No matter how much his arousal pleaded to plunge inside her, his flesh would only know his hand, this night. This moment was for her.
Freed of her boots, her breeches pooled on the cabin floor. He slid her long shirt upward, until he bared her heavenly mound to his gaze. The oil lamp’s flickering light hid most of her generous curves in shadow. His thumb brushed the reddish curls, then delved inside, until the lonely digit discovered the hidden bud. When he pressed against the sensitive pearl, she cried out.
Standing, Niall planted a gentle kiss on her mouth. “Ye best keep quiet, Captain, or yer men will discover us.”
She nodded. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Yer no’ doing a thing. ‘Tis me, pleasuring my captain.” Niall knelt again, and stroked her hidden depths with his fingers. She was warm and sinfully wet, and the need to taste her lady parts drove him to settle his mouth between her legs. He leaned forward to nestle against her secret place. Pressing his hands against her inner thighs, he opened her like a flower, until his face could fit snug against the lovely petals.
His tongue lapped at the folds, then suckled on the bud of her desire. As his lips covered the tiny nub, and licked, she moaned softly, squirming atop the rickety desk. Her sweet juices flowed from her hidden core, tasting like sweet cream and honey. Pulling his mouth away, he took a deep breath filled with her heavenly essence, then slid a finger inside her hidden channel.
She moaned.
With his cock at full attention, and straining for release, he grabbed a square of linen from where it had fallen beside her pillow. He slipped one hand inside his breeches, while using his head to keep her legs apart. As she moaned and squirmed, he licked and suckled. The tension in her thigh muscles snapped, and she clapped her hand over her mouth. Barely suppressing the keening cry of her release, she drenched his face with her honey, at the same moment Niall’s cock exploded into the scrap of linen.
***
What had she done? How could she have allowed him to undress her, then touch her so intimately? When Balfour stood, and pulled a soggy cloth from the front of his pants, she slammed her knees together. She couldn’t move from atop the desk, but her mind understood. He had ejaculated, while licking her to the best orgasm she had ever had the privilege to enjoy.
Suddenly self-conscious of her lack of clothing, she jumped from the table and pulled on her pants and boots. The knock on the door made her heart jump. “Who is it?”
“Raven, Captain. I wish to apologize…”
“Apology accepted. I am in bed, so I will talk to you tomorrow.”
“Might I--”
“Good night!”
Raven jiggled the latch, then must have thought better of it. As his footsteps faded, she turned her attention to Balfour. He wasn’t looking at her, but at the door. Did he assume she frequently welcomed men into her room? The heat of a blush raced over her cheeks.
“I think you should leave,” she said.
Balfour straightened, and headed to the door. As his shoulder muscles twitched, he glanced back at her. The right side of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “I am glad I was of service.”
Before she could respond, he was gone.
“Damn.”
Keeping her distance from both men wouldn’t be easy, but once the ship reached their island, she would breathe a sigh of relief. A locked cabin door and a crowded ship were no deterrents to two handsome men, who wanted nothing more than to sleep with her. In her previous life, she would have enjoyed the burden.
Back home, in New England, she dated, flirted, and slept with men. Just a few men. It was fun, and something to do, after a hard week building boats. But now…
I’m in Hell.
Balfour had a magical tongue, but she suspected he wanted more. All men did. Her husband certainly did, and he had forced her into this life. Five long years ago, he’d kidnapped her, dropping her in 1598 Scotland. He had died before she had discovered how he had managed to propel himself through time. Until she also figured out how to time travel without Doctor Who’s Tardis, she was at the mercy of her surroundings.
And, now I’m alone.
CHAPTER 12
Pacing the confines of her cabin, days after Balfour had made her scream into the palm of her hand, Blair made a mental list of what to do next. She had a suspicion that the old Sea Hag, a witch who lived on the scraps her villagers provided, was her dead husband’s a
lly. She had disappeared the day he died, when the English had rousted them from their beds, killing many of their people.
That she, and many of the villagers, had managed to escape was a miracle. She thanked God every day that she had survived the attack. Happily for her, her husband had not.
“I want to go home.” Home to a job she loved. She scratched her head, realizing she worked with people that probably didn’t even know she had gone missing. Since the death of her parents, she had kept to herself. Returning to her empty house, every weeknight, she hit bars and went home with men on the weekends. Strangers. Was that how Captain Carlton MacIan had found her? Had he watched her? He wanted her expertise with shipbuilding, but took so much more.
Until she could track down the Sea Hag, or someone with the means to return her to the future, she needed to return to the place she had named New Lincoln. It was a beautiful place, but a harsh Scottish winter was heading their way.
“Autumn gales will grow in strength,” Bill had said. Since winter was closing in, getting their cargo to their island was a race against time. The food, and gold they had brought aboard from their secret cave, should set them up for years. She felt assured that leaving her adopted home behind, was the first step in finding peace.
“Land ho!”
Cries of relief from the crew had Blair running to the main deck.
“Finally.” The days had passed slowly, and the sight of the coastline was welcome. Balfour was already there, standing at the rail. He had clothed himself, but the sash was gone. His sandy hair blew around his head like a golden halo. Billowing sleeves, a boot propped on the rail, and his eye-patch, gave him the pirate persona she’d come to enjoy in films.
Was he familiar with the islands that lay ahead? If he recognized their destination, he might let their secret out, if he managed to escape.
Blair walked to the rail, and waited until he acknowledged her presence.
“Captain?”
“Balfour, you are to remain below deck, until we make port.”
“Shall I lock him in the hold?” Raven’s grave tone surprised her, more than finding him at her shoulder.
Had he watched her move, to stand beside Balfour? Balfour paled, but said nothing in response. Smart man.
“No. He will give me his word that he’ll stay in Keegan’s quarters until called for. Then we will use him as a pack animal.”
Blair spoke her last words to smooth Raven’s feathers, but the hurt in Balfour’s eyes made her wince. Balfour nodded, Raven chuckled, and Blair did all she could, not to look at either man. After Balfour disappeared down the hatch, Raven stepped closer.
“I doono’ trust him.”
“What can he do? He’s on a ship. The water is too cold to escape by swimming. Once on the island, men will guard him, so he can’t steal a boat. Besides, where would he go?”
Raven grunted, then looked toward the coast.
“We are on the outskirts of Pentland Firth. He has been below decks for most of the day, and has no way of knowing we are south of the Pentland Skerries, the northernmost tip of Scotland. He certainly has no knowledge of New Lincoln.”
“Someone led those dirty English to our shores. The traitor might still be among us. He might use our prisoner as a means to send word of our home’s new location.”
His words made sense, but once Balfour met her people, he would see they were no threat to anyone. Could he live among them? She feared he had left someone important behind. If it was a woman…
“I need you to watch anyone interacting with Balfour. If there is a traitor in our midst, he might talk to him. In the meantime, see to our landing. Fill the skiffs, the same way we loaded the cargo. Tell the men to take care not to overload the boats. The breakers can be deadly.”
“Aye, my captain.” Raven’s fingers swept along her chin, and he leaned down and brushed a kiss across her mouth.
Blair didn’t move a muscle, until Raven walked away. When her husband touched her this way, she had learned to feign indifference. Funny. She hadn’t kept her emotions closeted, while Balfour’s head was between her legs.
Heat suffused the length of her spine, and settled in her womb. She’d never experienced lust this intense, not even in college. She’d made love to the captain of the football team, but nothing felt as pleasurable as Balfour’s tongue.
Holy Moses! The man was good!
She sensed he was a decent man in many other ways, as well. He certainly cared for Keegan. The boy was growing, and needed a good man to follow. If Balfour escaped, his leaving would devastate the boy. She’d miss him, too.
Silly girl.
***
Anchored off shore, men filled Blair’s skiff with sacks of flour and potatoes. Baskets overflowing with wool, simple medicines, and fruit, headed to shore in another small boat. With The Black Thistle at anchor, Blair cupped her hand over her eyes, and gazed toward the beach.
No one stood on the rocky shore, but that was to be expected. Until they knew if the skiffs carried friends or enemies, the villagers would watch and wait out of sight. On board the ship, Blair had ordered their colors lowered, in case any ships passed close by. Once empty of cargo, The Black Thistle would anchor in a hidden inlet. A skeleton crew would remain aboard on watch, and would set sail if necessary, luring any visitors away from their home.
“Time to depart, Capt’n,” Bill said. He gestured toward the rope ladder.
Blair glanced around for Keegan.
“The lad is already ashore.”
“Really?”
“The prisoner has him,” Bill said. “and since they seem to get along, I thought it best to hurry them ashore.”
Blair noticed his gaze flicked toward Raven, who prepared to board her skiff. Raven said, “This is not Balfour’s home. Is the prisoner well guarded?”
Ignoring Raven, Bill met her gaze. Did he understand her misgivings? “He loves the lad. The men have their orders to watch over them both.”
Nodding, she climbed down into the skiff filled with goods. With her ledgers in a waterproof sealskin sack, she settled on the bench seat. Raven sat at the rear of the little boat, minding the rudder. Several crew members dipped their oars, and plowed the waves toward New Lincoln, and home.
Home? This isn’t my home.
However, she promised to do whatever it took, to make these people comfortable. Good food, such as the apples, would be a welcome sight to the villagers. She wished apple trees grew on the island. Gorse bushes, thistles, and other scrub plants were enough to feed a flock of sheep and a few Highland cows, but their people were desperate.
Until the villagers re-established their sheep herds, they traded precious swords and daggers for wool and other cargo. The wool would help keep her men and their families warm.
The dead English privateers wouldn’t miss their confiscated weapons.
When had she turned callous? Could it have been witnessing the battle that desecrated their village without warning? When the battle raged against the English warship’s well-dressed seamen, she was awed by how the pirates fought. Women and children had battled alongside their men, allowing a great many of their number to escape, and hide. When several crewmen returned, after the English had burned their homes, and slaughtered their animals, her people had scavenged the remaining English bodies for their weapons.
From the bow of the skiff, she spied Keegan sitting on Balfour’s shoulders. As she smiled at the pair, a cry went up from the men, behind her. Twisting to glance over her shoulder, a huge wave broke over her head.
CHAPTER 13
The wave slammed Blair to the side of the skiff. Wood creaked, and men cried out in terror somewhere above her. Raven yelled several Gaelic curses at the same moment the force of the wave tumbled the skiff into the churning surf. When flung from the boat into the icy depths, she opened her mouth in surprise. Swallowing seawater, she flailed her arms for purchase, but a sack from their pile of cargo shoved her toward the bottom of the seabed.
&nb
sp; Blair struggled toward what she hoped was the surface, only to slam her head into the crushed side of the upside-down skiff. Blackness rolled over her as she tumbled upside down, and planted face-first into the pebble-strewn sand beneath the breakers. She tasted blood, and salt. She was wary of sharks, and other horrible sea creatures, known to live in the Pentland Firth. These waters, north of the Scottish mainland, were teeming with hungry fish. When something latched onto her upper arm, she screamed. Silent bubbles of much-needed air escaped.
She was adrift and drowning, while her son watched. The horror he must feel, of losing his second mother, could prove too much for the poor child. She needed to reach the surface. When she kicked against something soft and fleshy, whatever had grabbed her arm released her.
Blair’s head broke the surface, and water sluiced down her face. Her sash had disappeared. Water in her boots weighed her down, and she struggled to kick, but slimy seaweed wrapped around her ankles, threatening to keep her from reaching the shallows. When a muscular arm swept around her, and a huge hand cupped her breast, she screamed.
“Doono’ fight me, lass. I be helping ye.”
A head of dark gold hair had burst from beneath the last wave. “Balfour?”
“Aye, lass. We must swim, or yer bairn will cry.”
Balfour, gripping her waist, pulled her toward shore. Several of her men waded into the surf, grabbing her from Balfour’s arms. “Bill! The other men?”
“We got them, Capt’n, Raven, too. He reminds me of a drowned rodent.”
Balfour chuckled, then sprawled on his back, on the pebbly beach. “I fear ye have lost the cargo ye be carrying.”
Bill held her hand, and muttered a few Gaelic curses. “We needed those potatoes.”
Blair jumped to her feet and gazed out past the crashing breakers. “Holy Moses! I hope we saved the apples!”
The other men laughed, and headed toward the villagers, who watched from farther up the beach.
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