Her finger tingled as she descended the stairs and ran through the gate, down the path toward the docks.
“Row me out!” she ordered.
“Nay, my lady, ’tis too dangerous.”
“Then I’ll do it myself.” She started to shove a row boat to the shore.
“Nay, nay! Granuaille will have my head.”
“I will have your head, for when Granuaille is gone, who do ye think will rule? And who do ye think will remember that ye weren’t very good at following orders?” Antónia hated to pull on that vicious hat, but it needed to be done to be heard, to be obeyed.
“Aye, my lady. Aye. Allow me.”
Several guards pushed the boat into the water, with her inside. They climbed in surrounding her like a human shield and rowed her out to the Lady Hook.
When she arrived, she started to climb the rope ladder only to see Sweeney’s smiling face at the top.
“I see I don’t need to make good on my promise to bring the English sot to ye, Annie, for he’s done a good job of finding ye himself.”
“The Theodosia?”
“Aye. A grand statement, if I ever saw one.”
Sweeney pulled her over the side as the Theodosia sailed closer and then she could hear Titus’ voice carrying on the wind.
“By order of the queen, I have come to collect Lady Antónia Burke—my bride. Come willingly, else I be compelled to board your ship and take what is mine, for this Sea Dog has letters of marque, and won’t hesitate to make good on them.”
“Alas, we are at an impasse, Captain, for there is no lady aboard this ship,” Antónia shouted.
Titus’ laughter could be heard across the water. “I will take her in whatever form she chooses, but it is my hope she’ll sail the seas with me, plundering ships and collecting doubloons.”
“And what about Calais? What about a tavern romance?” she called.
“We make the Theodosia our home, and every port our Calais.” A confession of love in their own language.
Antónia’s heart lurched and she stared down at her finger. The ring had turned from black to a brilliant red.
“I would sail the earth with ye, English.”
“And I you, pirate wench.”
Sweeney tossed the grappling hooks, tugging the ships close as Antónia climbed onto the rail. She barely waited for the distance to close before leaping through the air. Titus caught her in his arms, swinging her around in a circle, his eyes alight with pleasure, happiness and love.
“I love you, pirate wench,” he whispered.
“I love ye, too, English.”
Antónia wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned up, just as he lowered his mouth to hers. Their lips collided in heated passion, longing. How could she ever have imagined a life without him?
“How can this be?” she asked.
“’Tis fate.”
“I don’t believe in such things.”
“Then believe in us, my love.”
“I do. I do.”
Titus lifted her into his arms and shouted, “Pardon us, we’ve business to discuss. An addendum to write.”
“Best keep the sails low,” Antónia teased, repeating his words from their first transaction. “And prepare to settle in. Storms brewing and we’ll likely not be done for a few hours.”
“Days.”
And then Titus was kissing her again and the whole world erupted into cheers.
The End
If you enjoyed BREATH FROM THE SEA, please spread the word by leaving a review on the site where you purchased your copy, or a reader site such as Goodreads or Shelfari! I love to hear from readers, too, so drop me a line at [email protected] OR visit me on Facebook: facebook.com/elizaknightauthor. I’m also on Twitter: @ElizaKnight. If you’d like to receive my occasional newsletter, please sign up at www.elizaknight.com. Many thanks!
About the Author
Eliza Knight is an award-winning and USA Today bestselling indie author of over fifty sizzling historical romance and erotic romance. Under the name E. Knight, she pens rip-your-heart-out historical fiction. While not reading, writing or researching for her latest book, she chases after her three children. In her spare time (if there is such a thing…) she likes daydreaming, wine-tasting, traveling, hiking, staring at the stars, watching movies, shopping and visiting with family and friends. She lives atop a small mountain with her own knight in shining armor, three princesses and two very naughty puppies. Visit Eliza at www.elizaknight.com or her historical blog History Undressed: www.historyundressed.com.
More Books by Eliza Knight
The Conquered Bride Series
Conquered by the Highlander
Seduced by the Laird
Taken by the Highlander
Claimed by the Warrior
Stolen by the Highlander
Protected by the Laird
Guarded by the Warrior
The Stolen Bride Series
The Highlander’s Temptation
The Highlander’s Reward
The Highlander’s Conquest
The Highlander’s Lady
The Highlander’s Warrior Bride
The Highlander’s Triumph
The Highlander’s Sin
Wild Highland Mistletoe – a Stolen Bride winter novella
The Highlander’s Charm
A Kilted Christmas Wish – a contemporary Holiday spin-off
The Thistles and Roses Series
Eternally Bound
Promise of a Knight
Breath from the Sea
Under the name E. Knight
Tales From the Tudor Court
My Lady Viper
Prisoner of the Queen
Ancient Historical Fiction
A Day of Fire: a novel of Pompeii
A Year of Ravens: a novel of Boudica’s Rebellion
Other Ever My Love Titles
Dear Reader,
If you want to read more titles in the Ever My Love collection, please do! You can follow the ring as it makes its way through the centuries!
Of Love and Legend by Kathryn Le Veque: Medieval England – The ring finds its way into a notorious outlaw’s possession only to curse the woman he loves.
Forever Her Champion by Suzan Tisdale: The Scottish Highlands – The ring escapes with a little girl… and the curse follows.
Breath from the Sea by Eliza Knight: Tudor England – The ring once again becomes the prize for the lawless when an infamous female pirate tries to steal it from a Queen’s Naval Captain.
Only You by Cheryl Bolen: Georgian Era – Twin sisters vie for the ring – and for the Duke of Axminster.
Call of the Wild Wind by Sabrina York: Regency England – The ring enters the proud and proper Regency set where the curse finds new life.
The Guardian Mist by Susan Stoker: Modern Times – Mistaken identity, soul mates, and the last chance for the ring to fulfill its destiny.
Enjoy!
Eliza
Colter Valley
Hildie McQueen
Other Works by Hildie McQueen
(In reading order)
MAIL ORDER BRIDES FOR ALL SEASONS
Wilhelmina, A Winter Bride
Aurora, A Romantic Bride
Lucille, A Lucky Bride
Esther, An Easter Bride
SINGLE TITLES
Beneath a Silver Sky
Under a Silver Moon
HEADING WEST SERIES
Where the Four Winds Collide
Westbound Awakening
Where the River Flows
SHADES OF BLUE SERIES
Big Sky Blue
A Different Shade of Blue
The Darkest Blue
Every Blue Moon
Blue Horizon
Montana Blue
Midnight Blue
THE GENTRYS OF MONTANA
(Sensual)
The Rancher
The Marshal
The Outlaw
The Young Widow
Each day a step forward
Every night a tear on my pillow
Loneliness cannot be contained
In the darkness of my dreams
The morning brings new calm
My heart rejoices in the day
New life will spring forward
From the depths of my heart
Come to me again life
Bring with you eternity
For in the promise of love
Do I find happiness again
Chapter One
Montana 1860
Not exactly how he planned to die. Patrick Callahan pulled his gaze from the barrel of the man’s gun to meet the hard stare. “If you wanted me dead, you would’ve shot me by now.”
He should have known better than to sit down to the card game, when he’d had one too many whiskeys and now he paid for it.
The gunman spit on the floor, his aim not wavering. “There’s nothing I’d like more than to kill an Irishman right now. I’ll just take the money instead. All of it.”
“It’s my money. You well know I won it fair and square,” Patrick said in spite of the warning look he got from his friend Jerrick who sat across the table. Jerrick rolled his eyes and shook his head knowing Patrick would not give the man what he asked.
When the gunman gave him a pointed look, Patrick pushed the man’s gun aside. “If you don’t like it, that’s your issue.”
The man was short and from the red veins on his bulbous nose, spent a great deal of time in the saloon. “The both of ya think you can just come into this town and do as you please. You’re nothing but a couple of…”
“Watch what you say about me, old man,” Jerrick brought his gun to the man’s temple. There was an icy tone under the calmly spoken words. “’Cause if you shoot off at the mouth once more or shoot that gun, you’re gonna die whether you get lucky enough to kill my friend or not.”
There was dead silence in the room as everyone waited to see what the man would do. Patrick let out a breath not happy that Jerrick was coming to his rescue. He had things in hand…mostly. He lifted a brow at Jerrick in silent question.
The man lowered his gun and got to his feet, all the while Jerrick kept the gun at his head. Yellowed eyes met Patrick’s then flickered to the stack of money in front of him. “This ain’t the last of it.” He shuffled to the bar and ordered a drink.
Jerrick leaned back in the chair keeping his gaze on the man at the bar. “Damn sore losers. Can’t stand them. If you can’t afford to play, then don’t.”
“Thanks for the help. Not sure if you meant for the man to shoot me or not.” Patrick began dealing another hand to the other men at the table. “You in?”
Jerrick chuckled. “I’d done something if he’d cocked the gun.”
“Hope so.” Patrick played on, not wanting to give thought to the man’s unfinished sentence. Bent Branch was not the town for him. It was time to move on, find a place to settle down and begin a cattle ranch. Move forward with his plans. His parents hadn’t moved all the way from Ireland for him to end up in a backward town like Bent Branch.
A huge cattle ranch was what he’d build. With a handsome house and plenty of land for the cows to graze.
His mind was made up. No matter what the obstacles, he would accomplish it. Make his father proud, if he were alive.
“No use in losing my life over something as useless as a card game,” Patrick told Jerrick as they looked at the cards.
Jerrick nodded. “Men die over stupid things everyday.”
Another man at the table cleared his throat. “You boys got that right.”
Patrick considered his father who’d run their ranch into the ground, lost everything he’d worked so hard for his entire life in the last few years after going deeply in debt in an attempt to save his wife’s life. She’d died anyway, despite all the money his father spent on medical treatments. Just a year later, his father followed. A broken man, unable to face life without his beloved wife.
Patrick understood the love and dedication, he loved his mother after all. But she suffered too long, hanging on through all kinds of painful treatments, which only served to make her linger in horrible pain. In the end, he’d almost been relieved at her finally finding liberation in death.
With distaste, he scanned the dim interior of the saloon in the small Wyoming town of Bent Branch. Restlessness had bothered him for days. Patrick put a card down and looked at Jerrick. “You know when we arrived a few months ago, I considered that perhaps this was a good place to settle. But I’ve got an inkling it’s not.”
“I’m thinking Montana,” Jerrick, two years younger than Patrick’s twenty-eight, said while looking at his cards. “It’s time to go. Lots of land there, plenty of lush open spaces where we can let cattle roam. We can build big houses with stables and barns.” It was uncanny how well his childhood friend seemed to read his mind.
He agreed with Jerrick. “I think you’re right. This town has nothing for us.”
Two days later, they packed up and left Bent Branch without a backward glance. The promise of a new start made it easy to leave the dreadful town. Patrick wasn’t sure exactly where he’d finally decide to settle, but he heard of a blossoming town in a Montana valley where people were prospering at ranching and farming thanks to the rich soil and pleasant weather. He wasn’t interested in farming, but cattle needed to graze on good grass and if it was plentiful there, then it would ensure an abundant healthy stock.
The first night on the trail, they settled into bedrolls next to a campfire. Patrick looked up at the star filled sky and mused at the beauty. Perhaps tonight somewhere in the world, his future wife did the same. Not prone to fanciful daydreaming, he scowled at the direction of his thoughts.
It would be a long time before he married, if ever. The farther west one went, the more scarce women of a marriageable age were. “You reckon we’ll settle in that valley in Montana?” he asked Jerrick while knowing the cowboy had no more idea than he did.
“Yeah. I’ve got a good feeling about it. Don’t know about you, but I am ready to find a small parcel and get to working it.” Jerrick pulled out his harmonica and began to play, the melody wafting into the air joined by the sound of the wind’s soft whisper as it blew through the trees.
Jerrick never aspired to more than a simple life. In a way Patrick envied his friend’s modest dreams. Not that Jerrick lacked ambition; he’d been raised in an affluent family and knew the life money could bring. Unfortunately what his family had in wealth, his parents lacked when it came to love, caring, or support for each other. Rarely did they spare a kind word or any demonstration of love.
When Jerrick was eighteen, his ruthless father banished him from the family fold over the simple transgression of falling in love with a business rival’s daughter. The sad thing was after he’d been ostracized from the family, the young girl cut ties with him as well. She’d only been interested in him when he had money and social status.
Patrick felt his eyes get heavy. “I have a good feeling about the valley, too. Both of us will find what we’re looking for and twenty years from now we’ll remember this day. Out here without a care in the world except our horses and our bellies.”
“Yep.”
The following days were a repeat of the one before. Upon waking, they gathered up their bedrolls and after washing up in a nearby creek continued on. The days were warm, but the mornings still had a cold chill to them, which made them move at a hurried pace.
“Sure would like a hearty home cooked meal and a good cup of coffee,” Jerrick muttered as he mounted one morning. “Hope there’s a town near by.”
Patrick looked up at the sky and nodded. “I agree with you. I can hardly call what we drank this morning more than muddy water.” He shuddered at the thought. “We need more provisions.”
The sun was high when they finally spotted a small smattering of buildings. Looked to be a prospecting town by the lack of care in which the buildings were erected and small
tents scattered along a shallow creek.
Patrick maneuvered his horse around deep muddy ruts. No one greeted them when both walked into what looked to be a makeshift eatery. The woman beside the stove shuffled over. “If you got money, set on down. I’ll get ya some coffee. Got eggs and bread comin’.”
Jerrick answered for them both. “Thank you, ma’am. Can you tell us what the name of this town is?”
The woman wiped her hands on her apron. It was hard to tell her age, as she seemed to have lived a hard life. Her thin dreary brown hair was pulled back from her round face as she made her way back to them with two mugs and a kettle of coffee. “Gunner’s Creek,” she replied dryly. “Not much to it. My husband and I are leaving as soon as he finds gold.”
Patrick and Jerrick exchanged looks, not sure how to respond.
In spite of the lack of character to the place, the food was flavorful, the coffee strong.
“How far from the Montana border are we?” Patrick asked when the woman began to clear their plates. “We’re headed to Colter Valley.”
She got a wistful look and lowered her head as if fatigued by life. “You’re in Montana, just crossed over when you got to Gunner’s. A family passed through not but a day ago headed there to Colter Valley. Sure wish it was me. I’d like to leave this decrepit place.”
Lightness entered his chest at the woman’s wistful statement. They were on the right track and soon would arrive at their final destination. His anyway. Although he assumed Jerrick was more than ready to settle down after all these weeks on horseback.
“Is there a place to purchase some supplies here?” Patrick asked.
“Just down a couple buildings on the right. The mercantile is small but well stocked.” The woman watched them stand and gather their hats with a longing expression. “Have a safe trip, gentlemen.”
A couple miners lingered in front of the mercantile, both looked to them with suspicion, no doubt seeing them as competition for prospecting.
“Gentlemen,” Jerrick tipped his hat and granted them a wide smile. “Passin’ through, just looking to get some supplies for the road.”
The men relaxed and nodded in return. One of them pointed into the store. “Henry’s got what ya need in thar.”
Lords of Ireland II Page 50
