Pirates of Britannia Box Set

by Devlin, Barbara

  They spoke for a long while about the plans for the next few days, of problems with the crewmen and other logistics. Deciding to continue the conversation indoors, Kevin called for Connor to man the wheel.

  They made their way to his quarters and Kevin poured a glass of whiskey, offering Dorian a glass.

  “No, thank ye. I think I’ve had enough,” Dorian said grimly. He sensed that Kevin had something to say. But instead of prompting the man, Dorian decided to give him time to speak when he was ready.

  Instead, he directed the conversation to the crew. “Why did Mulligan and Short fight?”

  “The same reason they always argue. Short claims Mulligan shirks his duties and he is forced to do extra work.”

  “What do ye think?”

  “That Short is annoying.”

  Dorian shook his head, his lips lifting just a bit at the corners. “I do believe Mulligan to be lazy.”

  “Aye, but he plays a good fiddle.”

  “True.”

  “How long are they in the stockade for?”

  “Two days. They will be let loose in the morning.”

  “In the same cell?”

  “Aye.”

  Dorian chuckled. “I wonder how bloody they are.”

  Kevin met his gaze. “What do ye plan to do about the passengers? We will be at sea for a while yet.”

  “Come with me.” Kevin had appeared at the entryway, his large body blocking the view out. “Captain MacAlpin will see ye.”

  Ileana’s stomach tumbled. She feared getting sick, but she managed to stand on wobbly feet. She smoothed her skirts with both hands and then pushed loose tendrils of hair back into her loose knot. “Very well.”

  Lifting her chin a notch, she followed after the tall pirate who had to bend over at every exit. She wondered at the captain, if he were tall or not. It was silly to have such musing at a time like this. However, anything was better than shaking like a leaf.

  They arrived at a door and Kevin knocked before leading her into an interior that took her breath away. The space was lavish, the likes of which she’d never seen.

  On the floor were thick, decorated rugs so plush her feet sunk into them, to one side was a dark wooden table with intricately carved legs. Upon it, rested parchment and a lamp. There were oil paintings on the walls she was sure had to be done by master artists. A huge, four-poster bed with plush bedding took her attention next. A fur was thrown atop it. Standing sideways, with his face shadowed, stood a man just as tall as Kevin. With auburn waves that fell to the center of his back and thick, muscular arms straining the fabric of his tunic, she automatically knew he was the Sea Lyon.

  She narrowed her eyes in an attempt to get a better look at him. But he’d placed himself strategically so that she could not.

  “Missus MacTavish. I am told ye wish to speak to me.”

  His voice was deep and gruff, like a man not used to long sentences.

  She cleared her throat. “Yes, well ye see, I am found to be in distress due to…”

  He cut her off by lifting a hand. The sparkling jewel on his middle finger took her attention. “Spare me the details of how ye came to be here.”

  “I require passage to England. I wish to raise my son with the help of my friend, Lily, once there.”

  He didn’t reply. Instead, he raked his hand through the long tresses and seemed lost in thought. Ileana looked to Kevin, but the man had lowered to a chair and seemed preoccupied with the ceiling.

  “I can pay. Although not much, but ye can have everything.”

  “Everything? Interesting proposition, Missus MacTavish.”

  The way he said her name was as if he hated her. It didn’t make sense, of course, since they’d never met. Once again, she attempted to get a good look at him.

  “Kevin, see that the lady remains here. I must see about something.”

  Finally looking to her, Kevin took her by the arm and guided her to a chair, blocking her from seeing the captain as he stalked out the door.

  “Why didn’t he reply?” She attempted to get around the man, but he held her arm. “Please tell him to return. I did not get to tell him how important this is to me.”

  Kevin softened his hold when she collapsed into the chair. “He is aware. Give him time to ponder.”

  With that, Kevin, too, left and she found herself alone. It confused her that the captain was trusting enough to leave her alone in his quarters. Interesting. However, there was nowhere she could go if she dared to leave with any of his belongings.

  After what seemed like an hour, she stood and walked about the space. He lived quite extravagantly. However, there was little in the way of personal effects.

  Other than beverages and what looked to be herbs of some sort, there was nothing that made the space feel like someone’s home. It was hard to explain, although it was so well-appointed. Between the art and the furniture, there were few who could boast to live as well. Yet, something was missing. Somehow, she knew this was not to his taste.

  The man had a Scottish accent and, as such, he should have preferred tapestries and a tartan of some sort added to the room. No, instead, it was as if the space belonged to someone without pride in his ancestry.

  And it could be that he didn’t have anything to be proud about. It was often through a cruel twist of fate or a monumental loss that a man came to be what this man was. A pirate. Yes, a great man, feared and revered, but all the same, a lawless man without a home.

  She lifted a small looking glass and caught sight of her appearance. She’d lost weight and the lack of sunshine had given her a sullen appearance. To her, she looked to have aged, looking older than her five and twenty years of age. Thankfully, her hair remained a bright golden brown and thanks to having washed it the night before, it was clean. Her eyes, although flat from grief, were still the hue of a sunset which most people commented on for their rarity.

  Thinking of the color of eyes, she recalled another set of beautiful eyes. The man had been so attractive. She almost wept at the thought of him. Dorian Lyon was young, brash and handsome. And he had the most startling green eyes she’d ever seen. The color of a young leaf, they showed light outdoors and darkened when he angered or kissed her.

  He’d been her first lover and the only love of her life. How often she’d gone back to the fate-filled night when she’d made the worst decision of her life.

  Chapter Six

  Lily opened the door when whoever knocked did not. Outside stood Connor, his dark gaze flitting to her and then past her into the room. “Do ye wish to go up?”

  She looked back to the bed where Gregor slept soundly. “He just fell asleep. I don’t wish to wake him.”

  “Just ye then?”

  “Me?” Mouth agape, she peered up at him. “What if he wakes?”

  That he stood so close made her mouth go dry.

  “Can ye take me to the galley? I wish to get something to eat and bring back something for him when he awakens.”

  “Aye, but only if ye go with me outside for a bit.”

  She nodded, secretly glad he insisted. Not only because she had grown to enjoy seeing him, but because she tired of being cloistered.

  The salty air slapped her face none too gently and she took a deep breath and turned her face up to the sun. “Tis a nice day, wouldn’t ye say?”

  Connor studied her with interest. “Ye should not speak so loudly. Tis best to keep the crew from knowing that ye are about.”

  “Why do ye and Reginald insist on making them out to be some sort of monsters? Most that I have met have been gracious and not at all disrespectful.”

  He huffed. “Ye do not have eyes behind yer head or ye’d think otherwise.”

  Lily chose to ignore him. Instead, she went to the side of the ship to peer down. The water was so dark, which she understood to mean it was deep as well. Although she’d grown up on Uist, she’d rarely had the opportunity to go to the shore. Only twice in her entire life had she gone and now to be upon a shi
p in the center of so much water was like a dream.

  “I find that I like the sea,” she said, more to herself than to her companion. “Tis so peaceful.”

  “That is because we have not hit a storm as yet.”

  Turning to look at him, she narrowed her eyes. “Ye are usually high in spirits, preferring to whistle and sing. What has ye down today?”

  For a moment, Connor seemed taken aback. His expression sobered as he considered how to say whatever it was that he thought. Finally, he shrugged and shook his head. “Everyone is allowed a change in temperament. Why do ye think I am not the same today?”

  The question was silly, of course. Perhaps, it was meant to distract her. Lily smiled. “Ye miss home. Or no, that is not it. Ye have an ailment or perhaps melancholy over a sweet girl ye left behind.”

  She disliked the idea of the third option. Not that she could ever aspire for a husband like him. Although living the life of a pirate, it was easy to tell he was high born. He, no doubt, would one day return to that life heavy of coin and resume his life in an extravagant castle with servants. People like her seeing to his every need.

  “No. Ye are wrong on all.” His brows furrowed. “Now ye seem to not be as lively. Perhaps, my sour mood has dampened yers.”

  “No,” Lily started. “I was considering that, for me, being here is not much different than my life before. I am a maid, a mere servant. As a matter of fact, if I can be honest with ye, things are better here. I only take care of Gregor, whom I love. And other than mending with the mistress, I have no other duties.”

  She held out her hands for his inspection. “My hands are not as callused already. Daily wash was horrible.” She made a face and was glad it made him smile.

  Connor’s mood did improve at hearing how being there on the ship, Lily was glad for it. Her pert nose sniffed the air when the aroma of tobacco reached them. How he wanted to take her in his arms, press his lips to where freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks.

  She was quite a lovely little creature with delicate bone structure which belied the fiery, fearless woman beneath.

  Her dark brown eyes, much like his own, rarely lowered. They met his when she spoke or asked a favor for herself or those in her care.

  It had taken him by surprise how much he looked forward to seeing her with the child, who she doted upon.

  “I must see about Gregor,” she said suddenly, taking a step away. He took her arm and pulled her back just as two men rushed past. “Be of care, little one.”

  She looked up at him in surprise and, without hesitation, he kissed her. He covered her mouth with his surprising him as much as Lily.

  “What are ye doing?” Lily pushed him back and glared up at him. “Why did ye kiss me?” Her cheeks had turned a pretty pink as she attempted to catch her breath. “Just because I am of a low station doesn’t mean I will succumb to ye. I have values.”

  Connor fought not to laugh at her lack of fear. “I apologize. I have been wanting to kiss ye since the first day we met.”

  “Then ye should ask, not simply do it without permission.” She shook her head. “Let us go see about Gregor. I will forget this happened.” Lily held up her right hand. “This time.”

  Sidestepping, he blocked her path. “Will ye so easily forget it?”

  Lily snorted, not replying so Connor continued. “Miss Lily Roberts, may I have a kiss?”

  Her eyes widened just a bit before she let out a soft breath. “No sir, ye may not.”

  Chuckling, he led her to get Gregor. They’d bring the boy back up for a few moments of fresh air. It would also give Connor more time to attempt to convince her to give him a second kiss. For one from the fair lass would never be enough.

  Dorian paced beside Kevin, who stood at the helm. No one paid them much mind. Everyone else was either partaking of the midday meal or performing their duties. Once the crew took notice that he was recovered and back in charge, they went about their day as usual.

  Below, on the deck, he watched as Mulligan and Short appeared. The taller man, Mulligan, went to a barrel of water and dunked his head in. After, he removed all his clothing and grabbing a cloth, he dipped it into the water and began to wash himself.

  Short hovered not too close, probably annoyed to have been beaten to the water.

  Dorian went down to the deck only to stop at the bottom of the stairs as a wee child toddled toward him with arms outstretched.

  “Boat, boat,” the boy said with a wide grin on his face. The child held up a carved wooden item up to him. “Wadda,” he pointed to the barrel where Mulligan continued washing up and Short paced.

  Unsure what to do, Dorian looked past the child who’d obviously gotten away from his nursemaid. He pointed to where the child came from. “Go away.”

  The boy was unfazed by his command and, instead, threw his arms around Dorian’s leg. “Wadda.”

  The boy’s hold was tight, but Dorian managed to free himself pushing the pudgy arms off. This time, the boy screamed and fell to his bottom. “Wadda!”

  “I do apologize, Milord.” A young woman rushed toward the boy. “I went to look for him in the wrong direction.” She took the boy by the arm and hoisted him up to her hip.

  “See that he remains away from the main deck,” Dorian said and walked off. “Da. Da. Da,” the boy called after him.

  “When are ye returning to yer quarters?” Kevin asked. “The woman is still there.”

  They sat in the galley with the other men eating a hearty goat stew. He met his friend’s gaze. “I know her.”

  “Ah,” Kevin said. “So what do ye plan to do?”

  “I don’t know. We won’t turn toward England. Of that, I am sure.”

  Kevin watched him for a moment. “Then what will we do? We can’t keep them onboard. The crew is grumbling about it. Bad luck to keep women on a ship.”

  “What of the quartermaster’s wife? She tends to the goats without much in the way of protest.”

  Dorian drank down his beer. “What do ye suggest?”

  “That we divert and leave them in Ireland.”

  “Ah.” He looked around to several men who watched them, listening. Pirates were notorious for eavesdropping on conversations. He glared at the men. “Tis bad luck to listen to yer captain’s private exchange.”

  The men looked to each other but, other than shrug, they continued looking to their table.

  He motioned to Reginald and had the man accompany him to his cabin. It was preferable to have someone there who’d stand up for the wench. At the moment, he would not be above throwing Ileana MacTavish overboard.

  Upon entering the room, he found her in his favorite chair, her legs pulled up and her head against the side. She slept with her head cushioned in her crossed arms against the side armrest.

  Dorian looked to Reginald. “She suffers so.” His dry remark startled her awake. It was several seconds before she searched his face with rounded eyes and mouth agape. Yes, it’s me. The man ye left for another.

  “Reginald will see ye back to yer cabin, Missus MacTavish.” He walked to his table and peered down at the parchment. On there was a map. He would look to see what the nearest port was where a lady and her two in tow could safely purchase passage to England.

  “Are ye…”

  “I am Captain MacAlpin, the Sea Lyon, Missus MacTavish. I am in command of this vessel and what I say goes.”

  “What I mean…” Once again, she studied him, leaning forward in the chair. “Dorian?”

  The captain was so much like Dorian while at the same time a totally different man. True, many years had passed and it was possible that he’d transformed into the muscular man with a lack of emotion who stood before her, not seeming to recognize her.

  Not one flicker of recognition in the hard stare. However, he was as beautiful as she remembered and it was impossible for someone else to have those eyes. Green as the newborn grass of spring.

  Much like her Dorian, this man�
�s hair was a tumble of auburn waves. However, Dorian had always kept his hair shorn. Captain MacAlpin’s auburn hair fell to his shoulders. Currently, it was pulled back with a leather strap, but it did not deter the invitation to run one’s fingers through it. He wore a white tunic, loosely tied at the throat.

  His hard jawline was darkened by the presence of a short beard and upon his right earlobe was a golden ring.

  “Dorian is dead,” he finally replied and she gasped. Before she could formulate a word, he closed the distance, his face so close she could smell the beer on his breath.

  “Did ye ever wonder whether I lived or died?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “No, do not answer that. I know ye did not.”

  Ileana lifted a shaky hand to touch his jaw, but he moved back. “I did. Of course. I always prayed for ye.”

  Darkened eyes met hers. For the first time, she saw emotion. Dorian’s lip curled. “Don’t say what ye think I want to hear. If ye fear for yer life, that I will toss ye and yer child overboard, don’t. However, if ye continue to lie to me, I may be tempted.”

  Reginald cleared his throat. “Excuse me for a moment, Captain.” The wise man walked out no doubt to stand just outside the door.

  Ileana reached for his arm and he recoiled. Her eyes bore into his. “I was young and fearful of standing up to my father. It wasn’t easy for me to not slip away and meet ye that night. To run away with ye would have been preferable to what awaited me with MacTavish. Forgive me, please.”

  The beauty had not changed much. If anything, she’d become even lovelier over the years.

  Dorian, however, did not feel anything. He’d expected rage and anger to overtake him and that he’d lose all control. Instead, what he felt was pity and something else he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Perhaps, it was a slight nudge reminding him that he was once madly in love with the exquisite creature.

  A tear slipped down her cheek as she studied him. “I didn’t know ye were the Sea Lyon. I always assumed ye’d gone to another part of Scotland to live.”