“Phallus,” Moira whispered. “Or plug and ginger.”
“Moira,” Kyle returned her whisper, but horror filled his voice. “No. I’ve exhausted you. You need food and sleep, not more of this. Besides, there are no more punishments to give.”
Moira’s eyes twinkled as she laughed, and Kyle looked at her as though she’d lost her sense. “Not for me,” she giggled. “You sailed away rather than trusting me to come back. You got yourself arrested. If I hadn’t manipulated Daisy and bribed the justice of the peace, you’d be swinging from the gallows instead of making love to me. I’m most displeased.”
Kyle growled playfully as he drew Moira onto her side and gave her bottom a ringing slap. “You need food and sleep. Then we’ll discuss who gets the ginger. Your fine little arse may be ready sooner than I thought. Now move over, sweet one. I intend to hold you all night and all of tomorrow, and maybe well into the next moon.”
Moira’s grin stayed in place as she slid toward the wall, and Kyle drew the covers over them. Kyle kept his word. He held her throughout the night and most of the next three days, when Moira awoke only to eat and use the chamber pot. She assured him she was fine, but by the third day, Kyle grew anxious.
Thirty-Five
The Lady Charity and the Lady Grace sailed north after leaving Wicklow, happy when the sun set and the town was out of sight. Kyle and Keith agreed that it was time to make a run to the Isle of Canna to store the goods they’d accumulated and recover items they were ready to trade. From there, they would continue across the Sea of the Hebrides to the Isle of Barra, which lay slightly southwest of Canna. The route would force them to either cross the Irish Sea to sail closer to the coast of England, Wales, and Scotland, or they would sail close to Dunluce and Rathlin Island before crossing the North Channel and sailing closer to Scotland. Given their druthers, the twins avoided the English coast, which meant the English navy.
During the three days Moira spent sleeping, Keith raided three ships. Kyle, through messages relayed by Tomas, told Keith to do as he wished, but Kyle wouldn’t join the fight. He gave his men permission to join the Lady Grace during the attacks if they wished for their share of the bounty. Some did, but most remained with Kyle, secretly hovering and worrying about Moira. The attacks slowed their progress, and what should have taken a day to sail past Dublin wound up being the three Moira slumbered. They lost the wind at their backs for another four days. Moira was in a malaise for those four days. Rather than put the men to the oars, Keith and Kyle agreed to allow whatever breeze stirred to propel them. Kyle wanted Moira to have all the time she needed to rest.
But as they neared the Dublin port, Kyle was beside himself. No fever had set in, for which he was grateful, but she barely stirred in her sleep. She woke long enough to eat the three meals he insisted and to assure him she was merely tired.
Fed up of being fussed over, Moira eventually ordered Kyle from the cabin, insisting it was the only way she would get enough rest. With great reluctance, Kyle left the cabin and went above deck to speak to Keith. His haggard appearance made Keith’s eyebrows shoot nearly to his hairline.
“She’s that poorly?” Keith asked without a greeting.
“That’s the thing. She runs no fever, has no cough, no aches and pains. She just sleeps,” Kyle explained.
“Can you blame the lass? Living with you is exhausting,” Keith said with a brotherly grin.
“I ken,” Kyle agreed, a tinge of his Scottish burr slipping into his voice. “I ken she fled her home sennights ago, and that was likely the last time she slept well. Even there she didn’t sleep much because she tended to her nephew when he had night terrors.”
“And you’ve been quite demanding,” Keith’s grin broadened as he waggled his eyebrows.
“Aye,” Kyle muttered with remorse.
“Kyle, she sleeps because she knows she’s safe. The lass has run herself ragged for years, then everything from the last few days would have done in a weaker woman. She’s with you, and she knows she no longer has to worry. She trusts you, Kyle.”
“Maybe, but I still wish for her to see a healer,” Kyle stated.
Keith frowned, but nodded. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. Maybe the healer could brew something to give her some strength back,” he suggested.
“That’s my hope.”
“Where do you wish to go ashore?” Keith asked, already certain of what Kyle would say.
“Dublin.”
“You want her to see a physician, not a healer. Do you really think it’s that serious?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I want her to see one. You know the Irish have even more myths about healing than the Hebrideans and Highlanders, but most of their clans have a physician with his own plot of land, free of rents. They are both scholars and healers. If something is wrong with Moira, then a physician is more likely to find it, more likely to make her well.”
Keith realized that Kyle’s desperation grew each day. They rarely went ashore in Dublin, preferring that their customers come to their ships anchored well beyond the harbormaster’s reach. The threat in Wicklow was infinitesimal compared to a town as large as Dublin. Keith also knew Kyle wouldn’t be dissuaded, and he secretly held his own fears for the woman he already considered his sister. He’d come aboard the Lady Charity three days earlier and seen Moira so deeply asleep he feared she was dead.
“I’ll find one,” Keith offered. Kyle nodded, relief washing over him.
“You risk much for her. For me.”
“If anything happens, you need to be the one with Moira,” Keith stated.
“Don’t tempt fate,” Kyle rushed to say.
“I’ll row ashore before dawn tomorrow. I should be able to rouse someone and have him to you before sunrise,” Keith promised.
“Thank you.” The brothers mouthed their customary “I love you.” It was no secret to any member of their crews, but every man turned a blind eye, never speaking against their captains. It might have been a moment of softness between the twins, but they would run any man through who attempted to mock them. Kyle returned to his cabin to find Moira sitting up in bed, the chamber pot in her lap as she leaned over it.
“Moira!” Kyle exclaimed as he rushed to the bedside just as Moira vomited.
“Shh,” Moira hissed. She whispered, “My head feels like I’ve had too much disgusting Scottish whisky.”
“Our whisky isn’t disgusting. If you’ve had a sore head, it’s because you’re used to that swill you Irish call whiskey.” Kyle teased Moira once he saw she was well enough to cast sarcasm at him. He lifted the chamber pot from her hands and laid it on the floor beside the bed, within reach in case Moira needed it. “What else feels poorly beside your head and your belly?”
“That’s it,” Moira confessed. “Is there water?”
Kyle fetched the waterskin from the table and helped Moira bring it to her lips. She sipped at it until she shook her head, fearful it would all come back up. Dark circles under Moira’s eyes signaled she wasn’t yet recovered from her exhaustion. Her new symptoms confirmed Kyle made the right decision to call for a physician. He slipped onto the bed alongside Moira, and she curled into his warmth.
“I don’t know why I’m so tired, Kyle,” Moira mumbled around a yawn. “I’ve never slept this much. I didn’t feel ill before, just sleepy. Now I feel both. I didn’t care for supper, but I was hungry. My belly didn’t care for it either. I cast up my accounts, and that made my head pound.”
“A physician is coming in the morning, sweet one,” Kyle assured her.
“No. That’s not necessary. That means you have to go into some town. I don’t want that,” Moira disagreed.
“Keith will go and be back before sunrise.”
“Mo grá —”
“No, Moira. Argue with me, and you will earn yourself a trip over my knee when you’re recovered. Something is wrong,” Kyle choked on the final words.
“I know. I’m scared,” Moira admitted.
�
�Leeches,” the physician announced. “She needs to remove the bad humors from her blood.”
Kyle stood at the foot of the bunk as the doctor examined Moira, but he couldn’t agree with the remedy. She was already weak. Kyle couldn’t imagine how she would survive such a treatment.
“She’s with child. She doesn’t need leeches. She needs fresh air and a hearty meal.”
Kyle turned toward the old woman who’d accompanied the physician. She’d introduced herself as the physician’s mother and one of the town’s midwives.
“Pardon?” Moira asked as she leaned forward, her eyes darting from Kyle to the old woman. She’d felt immediately at ease when the woman arrived. She was kindly, unlike the healer Moira encountered on her way to Wicklow. The physician had set her on edge the moment he lifted her hand. Now the woman’s pronouncement made Moira nauseous all over again.
“I’d say it’s still very early, mayhap not even a month. The lass needs some meat on her bones, then a little attention from her husband. It’ll put her right as rain. A good loving always does. Granted, that’s what got you in this state,” the midwife said with confidence. She flapped her hand at the trio of disbelieving faces. “The lass is exhausted but now can’t keep food down. She says she hasn’t had her courses since she came aboard the ship, which means before she took up with him,” the midwife jerked a thumb toward Kyle. “The pennyroyal in the basket on yon table is withered and old, so clearly it’s not being used. And the way this man looks at his wife, I doubt he gives her a minute of peace. Not that how she looks at her husband is any more innocent.”
The midwife gave her son a scolding look and brushed past him. She eased Moira onto her back and pulled back the bedcovers. She raised Kyle’s leine that she wore up to her middle. The doctor turned away in scandalized disgust. The healer tsked and shook her head. “You came into the world the same as everyone else, Robby. This is why I came with you when I heard a lass needed tending.” She pressed gently against Moira’s middle, then grinned at her. “Are your breasts swollen and tender?”
Moira considered what the woman asked. Her breasts had ached when she rolled onto them, but she’d also assumed it had been from being near Kyle without being able to enjoy his touch. She pulled the neckline away from her chest and looked down the leine, her eyes widening. She nodded her head before she turned terrified eyes toward Kyle. She blinked back tears, but they streamed down her cheeks. Kyle pushed past the physician, and the midwife wisely stood back, having witnessed the same scene countless times.
“We’re going to have a bairn,” Kyle whispered with wonder. “Our own bairn.”
“You’re not angry?” Moira asked before dropping her voice so low Kyle strained to understand. “You’re not going to leave me?”
“I love you,” Kyle swore as he cupped her jaw, his fingers tunneling into her hair. He poured all of his love, wonderment, hope, and happiness into the kiss. He prayed Moira understood what he couldn’t put into words. As her hands clung to his biceps, and she returned his kiss, he was certain she did.
“Told you, Robby. A little loving would put her to rights. You and your bluidy leeches,” the midwife scolded as she and the physician slipped from the cabin. Neither Moira nor Kyle noticed.
Thirty-Six
With a diagnosis in place and excitement coursing through her, Moira improved each day. While still fatigued and queasy, Moira insisted that she needed the fresh air the midwife advised. She spent more and more time above deck as the Lady Charity and Lady Grace continued their progress north along the Irish coast. She often stood beside Kyle at the helm, and he enjoyed giving her a turn at the wheel. They hadn’t spoken about their future beyond the trips to Canna and Barra that the brothers planned. Moira was eager to see Senga and to meet Caragh. From stories Kyle shared, both women had given birth to sons only months before Moira and Kyle fatefully reunited.
The only wrinkle in their journey came when Moira was the one to sight a ship in the distance. She pointed it out to Kyle and eagerly asked if they would raid it. He’d looked at her with astonishment and asked if she’d lost any sense she ever had. He wouldn’t raid a ship while she was aboard. He would hang back, and if Keith wished to raid, he would do so. Moira made the grave error of countermanding Kyle’s decision before the crew. She’d done it on their behalf, but most of the men backed away from the arguing couple. Moira swore she would remain below deck while Kyle attacked, and Kyle cursed a blue streak about her being a bampot if she thought he was going to risk bringing the fight aboard a ship that carried the woman he loved and their unborn child. She’d narrowed her eyes and swept them over the deck, making it obvious he displeased her with how he shared the news of their good fortune with the crew.
Kyle ended the argument by hefting Moira into his arms and carrying her to their cabin. He’d been tempted to swing her over his shoulder, but he worried it would be too uncomfortable for her. But when they reached their cabin, and Moira continued to argue, he pulled her over his lap, stripped down her leggings, and spanked her soundly. She accepted the punishment, but her mutinous glare at the end, rather than her usual offer of contrition, brought them nose to nose.
“Moira, maybe it’s the bairn that’s making you so testy, but I am not risking your life for some bluidy cloth and who knows what else. Now you will cease,” Kyle warned.
“Or what?” Moira mocked. “You’re a pirate. Your men will think you weak if you keep coddling me and not providing for them.” She sucked in a deep breath and tried to back away, realizing she’d gone much too far by questioning his position as captain.
“Remove every stitch of clothing on your tempting little body, Moira,” Kyle commanded. He went to the chest that held the implements they’d begun to experiment with as Moira’s health improved. “Bend over the table and keep your legs wide.”
Kyle rummaged through the chest until he found the four items he desired. Looking at Moira’s body as she stretched over the tabletop made his cock swell until he had to adjust himself. He loosened the laces and opened the waistline enough for his rod to spring free. He stood behind Moira, reveling in the sight she presented before he thrust into her. He’d seen the moisture between her thighs and knew she was as aroused as he was.
“You should not have argued with me before my crew, Moira. If you wish to disagree, I will hear you out, but only in here, where we have privacy. You know that you would have received the lash if you were one of my men,” Kyle said as he leaned over Moira, thrusting over and over. He slid his hands beneath her until he cupped her fuller breasts. He squeezed until she gasped, pain and pleasure shooting through her. She pushed her hips back to meet each of his surges. “This is not your punishment, sweet one. This is your recompense to me. You will not climax, or I will deny you until we reach Canna.”
“You won’t,” Moira disagreed. “That would only be denying yourself.”
“I have no intention of denying myself anything, Moira.” Kyle pulled her hips away from the table, keeping her from feeling any friction against her nub. He slammed into her over and over until she trembled with need, and he shuddered with his release. Moira cried out as he pulled free from her. “Do you wish to keep testing me, sweet one?” Kyle asked as he rubbed her nub twice, then pulled his hand away.
“No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did. Not on deck, and not in here,” Moira confessed.
“And how do I know you’re not just saying that so I will ease your aching quim?” Kyle pointed out.
“I suppose you don’t, but I am,” Moira insisted. Kyle didn’t doubt that she was, but he wouldn’t offer absolution that easily. He didn’t mind her disagreeing with him. But he wouldn’t allow it where anyone else could hear, and he wasn’t going to accept either of them throwing about insults. They’d come too far and endured too much to create hurt and resentment.
“You may have made your restitution first, but you will still have your punishment. Lean over the table again,” Kyle instructed. He pressed his b
ody over hers again but kept his weight off her, not wanting to hurt Moira by trapping her against the hardwood surface. He held out two small marble balls for her to see. “Do you remember me telling you about these?”
“Yes,” Moira rasped. “I’m to hold them within my quim and not let them fall out.”
“That’s right, sweet one.” Kyle pressed the balls into Moira’s channel and felt the muscles contract around his fingers. He eased his digits out and pinched her nub. She cried out and squirmed.
“You’re trying to make me drop them,” Moira accused.
“You’re doing very well,” Kyle said, the earlier edge gone. He stroked his hand behind her shoulder blades before massaging her shoulders. “Promise me you will speak up if you think anything is harmful to you or our bairn.”
“I promise, Kyle. I know what I said earlier was foolish and contrary to my promise. But I mean it. I wouldn’t do anything risky,” Moira assured him. Kyle massaged the globes of her backside, aroused all over again by the view. He’d yet to plunder her rosebud with his cock, but they’d been working to ready her. He withdrew the small plug that was already in place.
“You’ve been an apt pupil with these, Moira. I’m proud of you. But this next one will be painful. It is larger, and it will have ginger on it,” Kyle warned. He’d done nothing more than dab a few drops around the rim of her rosebud the night before, so Moira could get a sense of the sting. “Your words were more than insulting, and so were your actions. Contradicting me in front of my crew does make me look weak. You knew I wouldn’t do anything to correct you before the men, and you took advantage of that. By disregarding my word and as my—” Kyle stumbled over his words.
The Red Drifter of the Sea: A Steamy Opposites Attract Pirate Romance (Pirates of the Isles Book 3) Page 27
