Pirates of Britannia Box Set

by Devlin, Barbara

  Robbie began stroking her arm once again, as if sensing her need of his touch…his assurance. “He offered you what you wanted most.”

  “Aye.”

  “But he lied.”

  Her heart lurched. “Aye.”

  The tension in the silence was enough to make the cottage seem to shrink.

  Glynnis could feel something between them shift—it was barely there, but it was precious. Robbie let out a slow breath then tucked his finger under her chin and nudged her face up to meet his. In the light of the candles placed throughout, his face was soft yet sharp. His eyes fierce and fiery yet gentle. “If he were alive…I would kill him.”

  She reached up and pulled his head down until their lips almost met.

  “Not if I killed him first.”

  His deep, throaty chuckle made the points of her breasts harden and she gasped, suddenly overcome with the need for him. Heat bloomed in her belly, spreading in all directions until she was trembling uncontrollably.

  “What am I to do with you, Glynnis?” he asked, brushing his lips against hers.

  She sighed. “Make love to me.”

  And he did, until the sounds of returning Rees ripped them from their haven.

  Chapter Fourteen

  On the morning of his fortieth day as a Rees, Robbie felt less like a Rees and more like a lovesick puppy, whimpering after his master.

  But he’d be damned if he didn’t like it. Over the course of the last several weeks, he’d spent more time with Glynnis than he had with any other woman. They made love—as he was wont to do at every opportunity—but afterward, they would lie in bed, spent and content, and talk long into the third watch of the night. She spoke of her pig and chicken, wondering about her little cottage, and she would ramble on about her many trips to the shore to find goods washed up by storms. And he…well, he spoke of his father—of how he was before he’d lost his wits. How his mother spoke of the great Sir Ioan Bowlin, knight of the Homme du Sang, a group of revered and feared warriors who fought for the Church and the king. As a lad, he’d begged for the stories of how his father and his brothers-at-arms would battle reivers and Church enemies, and come out victorious each time.

  As he spoke of his father and those stories, he began to surmise that his decision to turn to robbery had been born of his desire to hurt his own father…as his father had hurt him by choosing vengeance over his family.

  But he would find time to think of that later—if he ever did.

  When he wasn’t with Glynnis, he was helping the crew gather supplies. His knowledge of the back-alley market had become a benefit to the Rees as they looked to sell their stockpile of smuggled goods for the money they would need to implement their plan—a plan he had yet to hear. As it was, he’d left that morning, before the sun had even kissed the horizon, to accompany Brendan to Port Eynon Bay, where his ship was anchored.

  He’d left Glynnis in the care of Rose and Lucia…though Lucia was still nursing the wounded man, so it was up to Rose to keep Glynnis out of trouble.

  Keep watch over her, Rose… Or I will kill you myself… In all his years, he never thought to be trusting something as precious as the woman he loved with another woman. Though, Rose was more than capable of dispatching anyone who dared lay a hand on Glynnis, Robbie wasn’t too sure Rose could handle Glynnis. She was fierce and fiery and determined when he dared to tell her to remain in Dwyn Twll and not follow him to Port Eynon where the ships were moored. She nearly bit his lips off when he’d pressed his mouth against hers for a farewell kiss. He’d growled, she’d purred, and they’d kissed again…deeply, desperately. As if it were their last kiss. It had nearly set off another round of passionate bed play, but Brendan had called for him, interrupting his plans for a proper send off.

  A smile tugged at his lips. When he’d left her that morning, curled up, naked in their bed, he’d promised her he’d return…and then they’d repeat the pleasures of the night before…every night.

  For the rest of my life… But he hadn’t told her that last bit. How could he? He still couldn’t understand the driving need to claim Glynnis as his own, to put his name after hers, to put his baby in her belly. And to be as equally, unequivocally hers.

  Robbie gripped the ship rail and watched the crew load the supplies and cargo as they prepared to sail toward the hidden port near Cobh where they were to meet up with one of Brendan’s contacts in the Na Madrai Mara, the Irish faction of pirates who—according to Saban—hadn’t really picked a side yet. Were they enemies…were they allies?

  It remained to be seen.

  “Angus sent word to wait at the Cantankerous Cock for a boy…says the boy will know us.” Brendan came to stand beside Robbie, his gaze as far away as the sky from the sea. “I just hope the little pisser is loyal to money. They are easier to control when you have the coin.”

  “Are you worried about him betraying you? This boy?” The first mate asked, a man Brendan had called, Jaimie. He was bearded, sun baked, and wiry about the chest and arms. But Robbie knew that men like him, men of the sea, men of the Ganwyd o’r Mor, were more than how they appeared.

  “Nay. They are Irish but at least they aren’t as fickle and underhanded as the Spaniards or French,” Brendan grumbled, ducking his face as a large wave slammed into the ship, spraying them with chilly sea water. As one could expect, there was a storm on the horizon, churning up the sea, even in the harbor.

  Robbie wiped his face—which was quickly becoming a pointless task—and pushed away from the railing. “The Cantankerous Cock…” That’s the inn where he’d left Bruce. Damn, but that felt like years ago. He could hope the man had stuck around—Robbie had been his main source of coin during their venture, and he’d left more than enough money for the fool to find comfort and food at the Cock. If the drunkard didn’t spend the coin in a night, that is. “I might know someone there who can keep an eye on things for us…in case the boy decides to make off with the coin without us.”

  “Who?” Jaimie asked, his brown eyes wary.

  “Bruce Bolton. He accompanied me from Liverpool.”

  “Do you trust him?” Brendan asked, his expression sharp.

  Did he trust Bruce? Bruce was known for his slow simmering temper, but Robbie had gone and left the man behind—and after telling him he was useless. I really should have left a note. But it was too late to go back and pen a quick missive to a man who probably would have burned the note in pique anyway. So…could he trust that Bruce hadn’t gone and made Robbie an enemy?

  Fool. Bruce would die for you, and you know it. He’d have a lot to make up for once he reunited with his oldest, most trusted friend. He’d buy him an ox cart full of barrels of ale, just to show him he meant nothing by abandoning him in Cobh.

  “Aye, I trust him.” If he’s not deep in the bottom of a tankard already.

  Some time later, after the sun lit the water on fire as it was extinguished by the coming night, and while the men settled in for a meal of dried mutton, boiled parsnips, and ale, Robbie found Brendan standing at the aft railing staring out over the sea. His expression was pensive, weary, his hands holding tightly to the rail before him. He moved easily with the ship, as a man who’d been born to ride the boards, but he held himself stiffly, as if waiting for something.

  It had taken Robbie less time to acclimate himself to the rolling of the ship than it had when he’d boarded the Saint Anne for his trip east to Port Eynon, and he was thankful for it. As much as he hated the taste of mutton and parsnips, he knew food was the fuel that would get him through the next four days…before he could return to Glynnis, and find refreshment in her arms, once again.

  If they ever actually left Port Eynon, that is.

  God, but you have become maudlin. Soon you will be singing songs of meadows and ewes, and drinking brandy and pissing while sitting down. It was Bruce’s voice he heard in his head.

  Shaking himself, he took a place beside Brendan and looked out over the vast sea. The Irish Sea was a tumultuous
bitch at the best of times, but tonight…it seemed as though she were holding her temper in check…just for him. The storm that had threatened earlier turned southward, leaving the Torriwr a little bucked but still seated.

  Smiling at the thought, he gripped the railing and peered through the gloom to Brendan; the flickering lanterns hung from the masts scattering meager light.

  “Have you dealt with the Spaniards before?” he asked, trying to get more information from a close-lipped Rees. Robbie hadn’t been invited into the closed meeting between Brendan and his cousins. He’d known that, though they claimed he was a Rees, they still didn’t see him as “one of the family.” And he wanted to believe he didn’t mind but…well…he did mind. The Rees had a plan, they just weren’t going to tell him about it. He hated running headlong into danger, especially danger he hadn’t created himself. And especially when Braw Bruce wasn’t there to be a meat shield for the more dangerous bits. Certainly, Robbie could handle himself in many situations—with a sword and even a pistol—but the not knowing made him wary. The anxiety pressed down on his shoulders, like a boulder of unknown and trepidation crushing him. He thought of the look of the Rees men as they huddled around a small fire in the corner of Dwyn Twll, speaking in hushed tones, and casting glances at him over their shoulders. Glynnis watched him as he watched them, saying nothing, just standing beside him. Even the memory of her comforted him—if only for a moment.

  Brendan didn’t speak but he did turn his head to meet Robbie’s gaze. Silence was met with the slapping of the water against the ship as it sliced through the murk.

  Finally, Brendan nodded. “Aye. We all have, one time or another. They like to poke the dragon, taking Welsh ships and flooding our smuggling ring with poor goods.”

  “So they can muddy your reputation?”

  “Aye,” Brendan replied, “and so they can thumb their noses at Saban, the vengeful bastards.”

  Bracing an elbow on the railing, Robbie determined to open the door, even a crack, and see what lay beyond. “Did you know my grandmother?”

  The question seemed to strike Brendan between the eyes, he flinched but then shook his head.

  “Nay. She was here and gone before even Saban was born.”

  “Has Ioan…Daid…ever spoken of her?” He didn’t know why he cared, but he did. Ilone was his connection to the family he’d been raised to believe were his enemies. What would father say if he were to learn that he hated his own flesh and blood?

  Brendan pushed away from the railing and crossed his arms, peering at Robbie in turn. “Not to me, nay. But we have all read the letter.”

  The letter…the one Ioan had insisted he read.

  “Your father…he did not know the truth, I take it…” Brendan speculated…correctly.

  Nay, his father had not known the truth, that his own mother had lied about who his father was and how she’d ended up in England, unlawfully married to the Earl of Heathcombe.

  “Nay. But if he had…things would be different.” He’d have been raised to understand where he’d truly come from. He’d have known his cousins, and his own father wouldn’t have wasted away to nothing, despising a man who already despised himself.

  “Look, Robbie… This is all new to us, we have never known Ilone, and so we never thought to meet her kin. Daid, especially, had given up hope. But…now that you are here, aye, things will be different…” He stopped, eyeing Robbie expectantly. “…if you choose to stay, that is.”

  Stay?

  Before he could even ponder the surge of longing that rose into his chest, a shout off the bow made them both turn. A torch flickered in the distance, toward shore, and Brendan cursed, a slow, menacing smile growing on his face.

  “They are here.”

  Robbie immediately knew Brendan was speaking about the Spaniards, it was in the dangerous grin and the malice in his voice. He’d wondered why they’d loaded the ship but hadn’t weighed anchor. It must have been a trap set for greedy pirates, and the bastards had fallen right into it.

  His heart thudded, the rush of the challenge bleeding through him.

  “I am ready, Cousin.”

  Brendan’s grin grew as he tossed Robbie a sword. Robbie welcomed the weight of the sabre, how it felt in his grip, how he felt with the weapon in his hand. This was a sensation he was used to, and it was one he relished.

  The report of a gun was the first of many as row after row of blood-thirsty men climbed over the railing.

  With a shout, Robbie leapt into action, a smile on his face. He didn’t even know he’d been stabbed until he’d felled his fifth marauder and felt the warm slide of blood down his back.

  Chapter Fifteen

  In reality it had only been three days, but it felt like lifetimes had passed since Robbie had left her, in their bed, replete and worried, to hie off with Brendan, Lucian, Saban, and their crew.

  Their bed… When had she begun to think of the cottage bed as hers let alone one she shared with Robbie—a Rees? She’d practically been forced to follow Saban and Robbie that night so many weeks ago, and she’d been so eager to leave them all and go back to her life of seclusion and barely surviving.

  And now…she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

  “Now, Annabeth, you must wait your turn. There are plenty of ribbons to use. Let Bonnie choose hers first, her dress is smaller,” Glynnis said, offering a gentle, patient smile to the little girl who was sitting, cross-legged, in a circle of other little girls who were staring up at Glynnis. Since the men had left, Rose and Lucia had seen fit to move the families of the crewmen into Dwyn Twll. With their men gone on whatever mission of revenge the Rees had planned, their families were vulnerable. And so, they were brought to the safest place in Wales to hide until the men returned.

  If they returned…

  Forcing that thought from her mind, she handed a bundle of ribbons—more than likely stolen and then smuggled—to the little flaxen-haired Bonnie. Bonnie chose a silk ribbon in a pale blue to go with the dress she was making for her doll. Annabeth chose three ribbons; red, yellow, and blue, for the dress she was making for herself.

  To keep her mind and hands busy, Glynnis had volunteered to help keep the little girls occupied so as to give their worried mothers time and space to think and plan… just in case the worst happened.

  Is it time to admit that you have painted all the Rees with the same muddy brush as William? Aye. It was. William had soured her against his family, but his family didn’t deserve her bile. Despite their criminal livelihood, they truly cared about the people who’d taken up the banner of the Ganwyd o’r Mor. She’d heard from a few of the wives that Saban sold the goods to merchants in London and then used some of the money to help repair their cottages, buy their seeds for planting, and keep them in fabrics and furs.

  The Rees were generous in their criminality.

  And one particular Rees had handily stolen her heart.

  “They have come back!” A young boy, no older than Annabeth, came barreling out of the tunnel from the cliff entrance. He was gasping and huffing, trying to catch his breath. “The ships, they are anchored in the harbor!”

  Surging to her feet, Glynnis couldn’t stop herself from running even if her legs were broken.

  She rushed through the tunnel and into the clearing through the wall of trees and bushes. Indeed, the Seren Mor and Torriwr were anchored in the harbor, but where were the men?

  Had something gone wrong?

  “I believe the man you are looking for is coming in on one of the boats.” Glynnis spun to find Rose leaning against a tree. “They will want to bring their spoils in through the sea cave entrance and into the lagoon.”

  Glynnis didn’t wait to thank Rose but fled back down the passage.

  She skidded to a halt, nearly falling on her face, when she saw the women and children clustered around one side of the cavern, the lagoon side. They were cheering, and some of the children were thrown into the air by a few of the men who had disembarked fi
rst.

  He is home!

  Driven by the urge to see Robbie, to know he was well, to touch him and kiss him, Glynnis pushed through the throngs of happy people to the shore of the lagoon. The boat was laden with crates and sacks… But there were no men left in that one.

  Sighing, Glynnis swallowed down the rush of abject disappointment.

  He is home…he just wasn’t in that one.

  And she said the same thing as another four boats arrived, carrying goods and men. Brendan and Lucian arrived on the fifth return trip.

  “Brendan,” Glynnis planted herself in front of the large man as he tried to make his way through the men unloading the boats. “Where is Robbie?”

  Brendan’s face fell, and the whole world began to tip, sucking the air from her chest and the heat from her skin.

  “Brendan… tell me…”

  Brendan bowed his head and broke eye contact. “He was…wounded in the fight on the Torriwr.”

  Nay! Not Robbie! She stopped breathing.

  “He…he saved my life, Glynnis,” Brendan murmured, his tone a mix of awe and regret.

  Glynnis wrapped her hands around her belly as her heart plummeted into it.

  “Nay…do not tell me…” She couldn’t get the words out. It couldn’t be true. Robbie couldn’t be dead.

  “Tell you what? That blackguard better not be trying to steal you away from me,” a deep, familiar, teasing voice said from behind her. Again, she stopped breathing, but this time it was relief that made her heart drop.

  “Robbie?” she whispered as the man she loved gripped her arm to spin her into his embrace. She shuddered.

  “Aye, love. Returned as I promised,” he said, pressing a kiss into her forehead.