“Aye. Small, looks like a lass not a woman, dark hair, and blue eyes,” the healer’s son replied.
“That’s her.”
Moira’s heart raced as she eased her arm away from her side and felt for the fire poker. She wanted to sigh when she realized it was within easy reach. She knew what would happen next. The man intended to take her and ransom her, just as the farmer attempted.
“The tavern owner at The Leg of Mutton says the Red Drifter will pay him for keeping her safe, but I say I take her to the Red Drifter myself,” the man said.
“Who will pay more? The pirate or the chieftain? That’s who you take her too,” the healer reasoned.
“Who do you think? A man will pay more for his lover than his sister. Besides, I don’t think Dónal MacDonnell has the coin with him that the Red Drifter likely has on his ship.”
Moira’s heart stopped racing. She feared it would stop altogether. Dónal hadn’t sent someone to find her; he’d come himself. She would have to find her way to Wicklow and to The Leg of Mutton. It was undoubtable that Dónal would lodge at a tavern rather than make camp. She prayed he hadn’t heard about Kyle’s offer and that he wasn’t awaiting her at The Leg of Mutton. Without a cloak or a cap, she couldn’t disguise herself. While she knew plenty of Irish women fit the exact description the man gave his mother, she couldn’t imagine there would be too many of them unaccompanied in a town like Wicklow.
Without warning, the man spun in her direction and stalked toward her. Moira snatched the poker and swung it at the man’s head as he reached for her. It connected with the ringing sound of metal against something hard. He staggered back, and Moira leapt to her feet. He appeared unarmed, but Moira knew he was likely to have at least one knife strapped to him. How she wished she had a knife, but the poker’s length allowed her to keep her attacker at a distance lest he wanted to be skewered.
“You think to turn me over,” Moira stated without preface. “Take me to the Red Drifter, and he will reward you. Take me to my brother, and I will kill you. Try to attack me now, and I kill you while your mother watches.”
“I tied my wagon out front,” the man said.
“Splendid. You ride in your wagon, and I ride my horse.” Moira wouldn’t get within arm’s reach of the man.
Twenty-Six
Kyle woke to a knock on his cabin door. Rubbing his dry eyes and wishing he’d been able to sleep through the night rather than nap, he pulled the door open to find Tomas in the passageway.
“We and the Lady Grace dropped anchor out of sight, but we’re near Wicklow,” Tomas explained.
“Thank you for waking me,” Kyle said before clearing his throat. “Only Keith and I will go ashore this time. I know you disagree, but I want to draw less attention to us. If Moira is hiding, either from me or because she can’t find me, I don’t need every penny-pincher within a league trying to grab her for ransom.”
Tomas frowned but nodded. They’d already decided on the plan as they sailed north, but Tomas had contested it. Now he had no choice but to obey his captain. When Tomas left, Kyle hurried to dress. He strapped as many knives to his legs, belt, and wrists as he could. He slung his sword at his waist. He hadn’t been this armed for his meeting with Dermot. But he prayed this was the day he would find Moira, and he would fight everyone who stood in his way if she wished to be with him. He steeled himself against the possibility that she would spit in his face for endangering her and leaving her behind. He would take her anywhere she wanted. He just needed to know she was safe, see it with his own eyes, hear it with his own ears. And if she would let him touch her, he would hold her until she pulled away.
The four-hour sail took twice as long when the wind shifted against them. Rowing against the wind and choppy seas made it slow going, so it was nearing morning. Kyle once more wanted to arrive on land with darkness to hide his presence. He and Keith would make The Leg of Mutton their first stop to learn whether the tavern keeper was sheltering Moira. He made his way above deck and looked out at the earliest hint of dawn. He nodded to Tomas, who would remain in command of the Lady Charity while Kyle was ashore. Snake Eye waited at the rail, and Keith bobbed in a dinghy beside the Lady Charity. Kyle and Snake Eye soon joined Keith, and they were on their way to the docks.
The Leg of Mutton was quiet as Kyle and Keith crept inside. Men lay asleep or unconscious, Kyle neither knew nor cared. The twins slipped through the main room and made their way to the back of the first floor, where the tavern owner and his family slept. With their ears to the door, Keith and Kyle nodded before Keith eased the door open. Positioning himself at the foot of the bed, Keith stood watch as Kyle poked the man awake.
“Is she here?” Kyle demanded. The groggy man looked between Kyle and Keith, then noticeably gulped.
“No,” the man whispered. With a scowl, Kyle prepared to step back. But the tavern keeper’s next words froze him. “But her brother is.”
“Dónal MacDonnell is here?” Kyle hissed.
“Aye. I swear I told him nothing about you searching for her and wanting her to come here. But the town can’t stop chin wagging about the pirate looking for his mistress.” At Kyle’s murderous glare, the man coughed. “Begging your pardon, but that’s the rumor. The MacDonnell said his sister was a loose woman who ran from her marriage. He said his sister gave her husband an apoplexy, then ran away with her lover—you—and he would pay in gold for anyone who brought her back. The entire town is on the lookout.”
“And how did he come to be in Wicklow?” Kyle asked.
“He’s been checking ports all along the coast, but he heard your ships,” he jerked his chin toward Keith, “were spotted here.”
Kyle glanced back at Keith before nodding at the bar owner. “The same deal stands. Protect her, and I will pay you well. Dónal MacDonnell has neither the funds nor the honor to pay what he’s promised. He’s more likely to kill you, so you can never tell the tale.”
“I know,” the man mumbled.
Kyle and Keith slipped from the tavern as silently as they entered. Stepping into the shadows, they kept their voices lowered.
“Every fishmonger, whore, and dockhand will have their eye out for Moira,” Kyle grumbled. “I’ve made her life go from bad to worse to bluidy wretched. Someone could already have her. Someone could turn her over to Dónal, and I would never know.”
Keith remained quiet, once more allowing his brother to think aloud. He nodded, prompting Kyle to carry on as Keith stood with his arms crossed, his senses on alert as Kyle focused on his thoughts.
“We need at least three men to stand watch here and two to follow Dónal when he goes out,” Kyle decided. “You and I will keep looking, but we stay out of sight and only listen. Snake Eye goes back for the other men. If he hurries, he can return with them before sunup.”
With only a nod, Keith walked back to the docks with Kyle. Kyle relayed his instructions to Snake Eye. Once his trusted crewman pulled away and rowed toward the ships, Kyle and Keith turned back toward the town but stopped before they left the harbor. Finding a place to hide beside the harbormaster’s station, the brothers watched as dockhands showed up for work. Within an hour, the quay was teeming with fishermen, fishmongers, and men loading and unloading freight. The twins listened for any gossip about their previous visit or anyone who might speculate on their return. As the early morning hours ticked by, the brothers heard various men share their suspicions that the Red Drifter and the Scarlet Blade would return to find the woman the Red Drifter lost. They heard nothing about Dónal’s presence, but they heard various outlandish theories about themselves. Some made them grin, others made them roll their eyes.
As the sun rose higher, Kyle and Keith slipped away from the harbor and went back to The Leg of Mutton. Finding his men skulking behind the building, Kyle learned that no one had seen hide nor hair of Dónal. From what they learned, the man drank like a fish, which wasn’t news to Kyle. Dónal had stumbled and fallen on the steps before reaching his second-floor cham
ber some time in the wee hours of the morning. They assumed he was still snoring in bed. Keith and Kyle debated the merits of splitting up, and while neither relished the other working alone, they agreed it would be more efficient and less noticeable. One redhead would catch people’s attention, twin redheads guaranteed more rumors than they created their last time at port. With a plan in place to divide the town between them, and instructions given on how Kyle’s men should track them if they had information, the twins embraced and parted.
Moira approached Wicklow on the gelding as the man, who remained nameless just as his mother and the farmer’s family had, steered his wagon along the country lane. There was more than one fork in the road along the way, so she considered it a blessing in disguise that she came with the man. Since they’d traveled in the dark and with the wagon, the journey took several hours more than Moira bargained for. But when the rooftops came into view, Moira observed the man. She witnessed his anxiousness and excitement grow. She knew he envisioned the coin he believed Kyle would give him. But Moira feared that the man would double-cross her. After all, his mother had been prepared to drug her.
“Is that Wicklow?” Moira asked innocently.
“Aye,” the man grunted.
“Do you know if the Red Drifter is in port?”
“He must be if he’s looking for you,” the man snapped.
Taking a deep breath to keep her patience, Moira continued to coerce information from the man. “I wonder if he is at the tavern waiting for someone to bring me to him or if he searches on his own.”
“He searches with his devil brother,” the man said.
Kyle and Keith. I shouldn’t have expected anything less. Maybe they’ll find me before Dónal does.
“The Leg of Mutton sounds like it should be a tavern by a farm,” Moira mused. “I suppose it’s on the other side of the town since I don’t see any farms near us.”
“Daft woman,” the man grumbled. “No. It’s near the quay. Do you think pirates seek their ale and women on a farm?”
“Oh! You must be right. I didn’t think of that,” Moira demurred to the man, just as she had to Dónal countless times while cursing the loathsome man. “I’ve never been to a town with a port. I wonder if it’s very large.”
Casting her an annoyed look, the man nodded his head. “It’s large, and it's busy. Stay close to me.”
Moira opened her eyes wide and nodded. Looking back in front of her, she scanned the buildings they approached before she glanced at her companion. She kneed her horse and took off, knowing the man couldn’t hope to keep up with his wagon. She heard his curses as she raced toward the town. While he might take her to Kyle, she couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t take her to Dónal. She slowed her horse as she came to the edge of town, not wanting to draw too much attention to herself. She sniffed the heavy, salty scent in the air and pointed her steed in the direction from which it blew.
Looking over her shoulder periodically to ensure her nameless companion hadn’t caught sight of her, Moira wound her way through the streets until she heard the noise coming from the dockside. The calls of fishmongers and the sea shanties from the various crews drew Moira closer. Vigilant about her surroundings and her location, Moira swept her eyes over the crowds. She grew uncomfortable as more gazes shifted to her. She feared people would already think they knew who she was—the dark-haired, petite, unaccompanied woman who fled hearth and home to make her life as a pirate’s mistress. Atop a large gelding with no cloak, she was a beacon for attention.
Moira decided she needed to find a place to stable her horse and continue on foot. She wanted to get lost in the crowds and be less conspicuous. She found a tavern with a stable attached to it. Peering around for a stable hand, she breathed easier when no one greeted her. She had no coin to rent a stall, but she couldn’t just let the horse go, so she entered the structure slowly. Looking around but finding no one, Moira led her steed to the furthest stall from the door. It was clean and empty. She worked quickly to shovel hay into the stall before slipping from the building. Remaining in the shadows, Moira tucked her hair beneath her collar, hoping to make herself look more like an adolescent lad than a woman. Her borrowed leine fit better than the one she wore when Keith attacked her clan’s ship, but it was still loose enough to hide her breasts.
Moira remained hidden as she watched people come and go. She listened for any snippets of conversation she could catch, but she heard nothing of use. Frustrated but resigned to setting out on her own, Moira stepped into the streets and once more pointed in the harbor’s direction. Unsettled and self-conscious, Moira fought to keep her composure as people jostled her, the road becoming more congested as she grew closer to the docks. A five-minute walk brought her close enough to hear the seagulls calling to one another, and she could see the tops of masts only yards ahead of her. Increasing her pace, Moira eased through the crowd, trying not to bump into people and muttering a quick apology when she did. With the ships now in unimpeded view, Moira once more struggled to remain patient, wanting to sprint down to the docks and demand someone tell her where Kyle was. But she stopped short as familiar voices, then two unwelcome faces stood before her.
Moira looked at her brother Dónal and his second, Orran. Both men stared at her as though she were an apparition, and she gaped at them in horror. As the two men made to come after her, Moira bolted. Just as she’d run from Dermot, she ran from the two men pursuing her. She heard Dónal calling out orders to men she couldn’t see. No longer caring who she bumped and jarred, Moira turned down the nearest street and then the next, hoping to evade her brother and still draw closer to the docks.
“Moira! Stop!” Dónal called, and his voice was too close for Moira’s comfort. She pushed herself to run as fast as she could, crates and barrels on the docks nearly within reach. An arm looped around her waist and lifted her off the ground. She writhed and thrashed as Dónal shook her. She recognized the feel of Dónal’s hold, having been pinned by him too many times before. Orran came to stand before her, sneering and drawing too close.
Moira pushed back against Dónal and kicked her foot into Orran’s groin. She dug her nails into Dónal’s arm but couldn’t get him to release her. When he brought his other arm in front of her, she grabbed his hand and yanked it to her mouth. She sank her teeth in as far as they would go. Dónal released her at once, and Moira took off again. She scanned the ships in the docks, looking for the Lady Charity or the Lady Grace. But none of the ships belonged to the MacLean brothers. Instead, she identified several that belonged to her clan. Her brother had sailed with a full contingency to retrieve her.
A man turned toward Moira, and relief flooded her. She recognized Snake Eye just as he recognized her. She made for the dinghy he stood near and prayed she could make it there before Dónal and Orran recovered. It was to her great misfortune that Snake Eye waited at the far end of the quay. Unprepared for anyone else to stop her, she slammed into Beagan and stumbled backward. Her eyes widened, shocked to find the man who led her escape was now part of her capture.
“Don’t speak, lass,” Beagan murmured. “You needn’t fear. We came with Dónal not to return you to him, but to be sure you made it free this time. The council came.”
Moira stared in stunned disbelief before she shook her head. She strained to peer over Beagan’s shoulder, seeing Snake Eye running toward her. Before she understood what was happening, MacDonnells surrounded her, effectively hiding her from sight. She recognized every man who’d stood outside Sean’s chamber now escorted her back to her brother. None looked at her, but she didn’t feel endangered until she stood before Dónal. He reached out for her, but Cormac stepped in front and scowled.
“That’s what made her run in the first place. The O’Malley won’t want a battered bride,” Cormac pointed out. Moira watched Dónal cast her such an ominous glare that she feared he would kill her before handing her over to Dermot. Swallowing and keeping her eyes forward, she continued walking with the MacDonnell men servi
ng as a shield. The group marched back to The Leg of Mutton, and Moira fought back tears. She’d reached her destination, but she’d found the wrong man. As she approached the door, she blinked several times, positive she was seeing things. Leaning against the corner of the building with his head down, she was certain she was looking at Tomas. He glanced up and winked before casting his eyes down. Moira’s eyes darted from one man to another who loitered next to the building or in its shadow. They were all from the Lady Charity.
Entering the building, relief washed over her to know Kyle would soon learn where she was. She peered at the faces inside, but she saw no one she recognized. Her heart dropped, fear replacing the relief. Dónal reached among the men and grabbed her arm, his grip punishing. He pulled Moira forward until she stood beside him, looking at the tavern keeper and a woman Moira assumed was his wife.
“Take her to my chamber, watch her strip bare, and take her clothes,” Dónal commanded the woman. Moira shuddered unintentionally. Dónal looked down and sneered at her. “You’re not going anywhere.”
The bluidy hell I’m not. I walked around in front of a pirate crew in nothing but a leine. I’ll be bluidy Lady Godiva before I let you keep me trapped. Kyle’s here. I won’t have long to wait. I can manage. But I’ll run out of this tavern as naked as I came into this world if that’s what I must to get away from you, you smarmy bastard.
Moira nodded demurely, none of her mutinous thoughts showing on her face. She followed the woman without objection and remained silent as she stripped. The woman looked at her with pity, but Moira wasn’t interested. She’d spotted the window that hung over the street below. She also noticed the bedsheets were clean. She might not have to go naked after all. She handed her filthy leine and leggings to the woman. When the woman looked at Moira’s boots, Moira gave her a mulish pout.
The Red Drifter of the Sea: A Steamy Opposites Attract Pirate Romance (Pirates of the Isles Book 3) Page 20
