Pirates of Britannia Box Set

by Devlin, Barbara

  “I will take that chance!” Thomas charged at Richard, deflecting the man’s defensive swipe, pushing him back several feet. Fear flashed in Bingham’s eyes and Thomas grinned. He should be afraid. Thomas was a knight, and not one of those knights awarded the honor due to his title or riches. He had come from nothing and risen above because he fought with brute force and absolute focus.

  “Take a swing at me, ye old Sassenach bastard!” Thomas backed off and put his hands out, waiting for the man to make his move, all other sounds except the beating of his heart fading into the wind. Pain throbbed through his injured sword arm, but he would focus through the sensation of blood flowing down his limb. With a sneer, Bingham charged Thomas, sword pointed straight at his heart.

  He could hear Katherine scream, and cursed his wife and boatswain for not being able to follow simple instructions. He would punish them both when this was over. If he lost his life, it would be her doing.

  Just before his enemy’s blade caught his chest, Thomas deftly slid to the right, rotating his body so he swung around and caught Richard in the side. The man grunted and looked down at his wound as Thomas pulled his blade away and watched Bingham crumple to the ground, blood spilling from his side. “You are nothing more than a dirty pirate!” Richard roared.

  Leaning down to wipe his blade on the man’s tunic he whispered, “I am no pirate. I am a knight. All I do, I do for the people of Ireland whom ye have betrayed. I shall make certain my queen knows of yer treachery.” Looking across the way, he saw his blasted wife staring at him with wide-eyed horror, covering her mouth with her hands just as his boatswain finally got her under control and carried her away.

  “Devil’s bollocks!” he cursed under his breath and turned to face all the men. “Load the cargo! None of Bingham’s crew is to be harmed under the white flag unless any man dare challenge me.” Looking around, the English crew stepped back and he nodded with a grunt. His men may have been fewer than Bingham’s, but they were also desperate men with little else to live for than a good fight, a bonny wench, and the thrill of their next conquest. They would not think twice to slay any man aboard this ship, if he dared interfere.

  His men began their descent into the cargo hold, coming out carrying multiple wooden crates of random goods. Once the last one was hauled across to The Morrígan using the plank they had placed between the two ships, Thomas took a deep breath before facing Bingham’s remaining crew. A few men had dragged Bingham and Murrough’s bodies away and another hurried to scrub the deck of the blood. No doubt there would be a new captain stepping up as soon as Thomas left. He had just killed his two enemies. It was done. Now, to deal with his unyielding wife.

  “Ye were saved today by yer white flag. Steal Irish goods again, and no flag will save ye.” Thomas winked as he walked across the gangplank. He had regained some cargo and was interested to see what they had secured. Then he would deliver it to his grandmother for distribution. Some would call it piracy. He called it justice.

  Clutching at his injured arm, he hissed at the sting. He knew it was a mere flesh wound, but it would need to be sewn up by the ship’s surgeon. First, he needed to face his wife’s ire and teach her a lesson about obeying his commands.

  Katherine swallowed hard as her husband slammed the door behind him, shaking the walls all around. Mayhap she should have stayed in the cabin, but knowing Thomas was about to battle with her father, her nerves had caused her to quake, replacing all logic with a need to flee. Poor Charles. She had kneed him in the bollocks, causing the man to grunt and fall to the floor from the unexpected blow, but the cursed lad refused to relent or see reason. She was not a prisoner aboard this ship, no matter what her husband believed. Still, the lad now had a fat lip, sore bollocks, and likely a bruised shin due to her sudden onslaught of panic.

  In truth, watching Thomas cut her father down had only been the second worst moment of her life. The first worst was watching her father take a swing at Thomas when he had his back turned. It had been her fault for distracting her husband, but she had hoped to make him cease in his actions, to convince him to take her father hostage and allow the queen to choose his punishment for his crimes. Instead, she had left Thomas distracted and vulnerable, allowing her coward of a father to cut him across the arm.

  Looking at him now, blood dripping down his arm and soaking through his tunic, she gasped and clutched her chest. Her father had done that to him and she praised all the gods, Christian, Pagan, Greek and Roman, whoever would listen, that the gash had not been across his chest or worse. She would never have forgiven herself. She resisted the urge to vomit. Her father was dead. In her heart, she knew he deserved it, but he was still her papa and despite his latest treatment of her, he had always loved her and been kind… however, she had recently learned that he held too many secrets from her: a wife and daughter in England, his treatment of the people he was meant to govern, his theft of their needed goods, the murder of Thomas’s uncle and the needless slaughter of Thomas’s previous crew, to name a few. Katherine shuddered, wondering what else she still did not know of her father. Mayhap she was better off not knowing.

  “Thomas…” she whispered and stepped toward him. “Yer arm needs stitching.”

  She gasped in fright as Thomas’s green eyes flashed at her, his teeth gritted with suppressed rage. Grasping her outstretched wrists, he pushed her back until she fell onto the bed, his hard body towering over hers. “Blast my arm, Katherine! Ye disobeyed me!” His voice rumbled through the room, causing her to flinch and close her eyes. “Why? Why could ye not listen to me?” He shook her slightly and she steeled herself against his anger.

  “Why?” she hollered back, refusing to cringe or cower. “Ye tell me ye plan to kill my father, then ye think I will stay in the cabin? I only meant to convince ye to reconsider, to take him as a prisoner, but once I saw what he did to ye,” her eyes looked away from him and locked on his wound, “I knew ye had no choice but to kill him.” She was losing her resolve. Saying the words out loud shook her to her core. Her father was dead. Would they be throwing his body overboard? A tear trickled down her cheek for the loss of her papa, yet she felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude that Thomas had come back to her whole. This wound would heal. Never had she felt so bereft, yet relieved, at the same time. Her husband was well, and her father would never hurt another innocent again.

  “I am sorry, Thomas,” she whispered.

  He gritted his teeth and shook his head. “I must punish ye, lass. Then, I must order lashings upon Charles.”

  She blanched, coldness flooding her veins. “What? Nay! I… I kicked him in the bollocks! He tried to keep me here and I would not listen! Aside from forcing me violently, which he and I both knew ye would kill him for, he had no choice! ’Tis all my fault!”

  “Aye? Then ye will tell this to my crew, for they will expect a lashing.”

  “What do ye mean?”

  “Ye will take what I give ye in front of the crew. Or else I risk mutiny. There are rules, lass. Ye should not even be on this ship. Ye disobeyed my command, almost got me killed.”

  “What? Nay… Thomas, nay!” she squeaked as he lifted her from the bed and hauled her over his shoulder. Panic flooded her. Was he truly going to give her lashings? Thrashing wildly, she beat at his back as he flung the door open with a bang. She saw the steps leading down to the main deck fly past her just before he set her on her feet, holding her close so she could not run.

  “Avast! My bonny wee wife has something she wishes to say to ye!” Thomas shouted as the men stopped whatever task they were performing and looked to their captain. Katherine was disheveled in her dirty green gown, her hair blowing about her face in the wind as their ship continued its journey toward Clew Bay. The sails whipped loudly above her and she shivered, wishing she wore her cloak. The men gaped at her and she covered her bosom with her hand as best as she could.

  “Katherine, love. Tell my crew what ye said to me.” When she narrowed her eyes at him and stomped on
his foot, a few men laughed behind their hands, unable to hide their mirth. “Ye are only adding to yer punishment, love.” He breathed in her ear.

  Swallowing hard, she turned away from Thomas and imagined clawing his eyes out. “I told him I disobeyed him and hurt Charles in order to escape. Charles did not disobey the captain. I did.”

  “Aye. Charles!” Thomas roared, and the small boatswain sidled up slowly, his brimmed hat in his hands as he looked toward the ground.

  “I apologize for failing in me duties, Capt’n,” the lad murmured, and Katherine felt pity for the boy. He truly never stood a chance against her.

  “I take partial blame for that,” Thomas said. “I know my wife is wee, but she is a spitfire. I should have left her with Juan. He would have known what to do with her.”

  She gasped and stomped on his foot again, though he showed no sign of feeling it. “As her punishment, since one must be doled, she will receive ten lashings…”

  “Thomas! Nay!” she cried in horror. He would take a whip to her back?

  “To her arse,” he grinned and looked down at her. Cheeks flaming, her eyes widened at him with disbelief. The man would not dare spank her arse in front of his men… would he?

  “Ye cannae! I will hate ye forever, ye brute!” She struggled against him as he sat upon a barrel and pulled her down swiftly, draping her across his knee. His large, firm hand rested against her backside and she stopped fighting. He was going to do this, here and now, in front of everyone. She may deserve it, but she still hated him for humiliating her. He killed her father and now he would take away what little dignity she had left? A tear slipped down her cheek and she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, preparing for the sting of his hand.

  She felt his hand lift away and tensed, awaiting the blow. She would let him do this, then she would leave him forever, she vowed. Whatever connection they had formed would be destroyed if he did this to her.

  Suddenly, he stood up, bringing her with him and wrapped an arm of steel around her waist. “I will conduct the rest of her punishment in private, lads. I think my wife has suffered enough.” Air rushed into Katherine’s lungs as she looked around at the crew, who mostly appeared to agree with his decision, aside from a few looks of disappointment. Rotten pirates. Thomas dragged her back up the stairs and into his cabin once more, shutting them into their private space.

  “Ye are a bastard,” she spat, pulling away from him once they were alone. “How could ye humiliate me?”

  Stepping closer to her, his height towering above her, he looked menacing with his dark beard and glowering eyes. “I had to make an example of ye, Kat. Ye disobeyed me. Now the crew knows that Charles was not at fault and they believe I will punish ye privately. ’Tis the best I could give ye under the circumstances.”

  Another tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away with her sleeve. “Ye vowed never to hurt me, Thomas.”

  He stepped closer again and wrapped his hands around her waist, placing a kiss on her forehead. “And I meant it. I would never hurt ye. But my crew need not know that. I know it seems strange to ye, but I have to keep everyone in hand, Katherine. And though ye and I both ken that is not possible with ye, it must appear so.” He chuckled and spanked her arse softly, making her squeal in indignation. She wanted to remain angry at him, rail at him for her humiliation, yet in truth, she had openly disobeyed and this was a ship filled with pirates who had expectations from their captain. Mayhap she should be grateful he had not followed through on his threat. Most men would have spanked their wives, or worse.

  “Do ye forgive me, love?” he whispered in her ear. A chill ran up her spine as his hot breath spread over her skin.

  “For what? Humiliating me, or killing my father?”

  He cringed but did not back down. “Both. I hope ye can understand why I had to do both.” Now his fingers threaded through her hair and she wanted to melt into him. She wanted to accept his apology and tell him she did understand. Still, her father was dead at his hand and though she could not blame him, she was not ready to jump into bed with him, as he seemed determined to do with his hands continuing to knead the soft flesh of her rear and his erection pressed into her stomach. Nay, she was not ready for that.

  Pushing away from him, she cleared her throat and looked at his arm. “Ye need to see the ship’s surgeon for that wound, Thomas.”

  “’Tis only a flesh wound,” he said with a hooded gaze. Dear God. The man was bleeding from the arm, had just killed two men, and had threatened to beat her in front of his crew. She had heard of men seeking pleasures of the flesh after battle, but this was ridiculous.

  “Go. Shoo!” she said, pushing him toward the door, and opening it behind him. “Get yourself cleaned up, Thomas. And mayhap ye should sleep on deck tonight.” Shutting the door in his face, she turned and rested against the hardwood, wondering how she would ever resist him if he came knocking again.

  Chapter Twelve

  If his wife had believed she could keep him away from her bed, she had learned how wrong she was. Two more days had passed since his battle with her father, since the day he intentionally humiliated her in front of his crew. She had cast him out of his own cabin, or at least attempted to. Though she would not allow him to make love to her, she never denied him the warmth of his own bed, nor the warmth of her body. Lying next to her all night, touching her, yet not being welcomed between her sweet thighs was a bloody torture he could not stand another day. Fortunately, Clew Bay’s shores and numerous islands could be seen in the distance. They would arrive soon enough, offload the cargo they had collected from the English ship: mostly bolts of cloth, barrels of ale, boxes of ammunition, and a few trunks of coins that would go a long way to pay his crew and help buy supplies for the people.

  Bingham’s words rang in his ears. He was certain his queen now thought him a traitor. And while he preferred to stay here in Ireland, his honor demanded he seek an audience with his queen. He had worked hard all his life to be loyal to England and though he admitted to feeling more loyalty to Ireland, he had not intentionally betrayed his queen. Most importantly, he wanted to be a respectable husband for his wife, even if she would hardly speak to him at the moment. He had vowed to give her a good life, a better life, and he could not do that without his queen’s blessings. Now more than ever he understood that while the pull of the sea was strong and would always entice him, he needed to find structure in his life, if not for himself, then for Katherine. Mayhap one day they would have children. That thought made his insides warm, and images of wee lads and lassies running around danced in his mind.

  Never before had he once thought of children, but with Katherine, every time he made love to her, he prayed his seed would stick. He wanted to watch her grow round with his child… and he could not do that without a home, and without a place to settle. Could he find a way to stay here in Ireland, help the people, build a home, still sail the seas when the itch called, yet stay in the good graces of his queen? It seemed far-fetched, and as their ship maneuvered through the scattered islands around Clew Bay, he pushed his wayward thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand.

  Thomas threw out a few commands to his men to lower the anchor and get the cargo to shore. No doubt his grandmother would already have been notified of their arrival and was sending men to collect the many sacks, barrels, chests, and wooden crates. He needed to get his wife. She had drifted too far away from him emotionally and now that they were back on land, he was determined to get back into her good graces. May heaven help him, he was in love with his infuriating wife and would do anything to prove it. He had to play the role of captain all those days at sea, but once they were alone, he wanted only to be her husband and to share in the journey to find the treasure with her… as equals.

  Then, she stood before him, not having bathed in days, wearing her ill-fitting gown, and looking like the bonniest lass in all of Ireland. Still, he knew what he needed to do for her before they traveled to the caves. “Come, Katherine.
We must greet Grace. Then, we leave for our journey.

  Her eyes widened and she looked around the ship one last time before disembarking with him. “Can we not stop to rest, Thomas? I could use a wee bath and new clothes, if ye dinnae mind.” He felt the edge of annoyance in her voice and could not blame her.

  “Aye, I thought we could get ye cleaned up and gather yer belongings back at New Castle Manor. ’Tis not more than a wee ride from here, and ye can have a proper bath and clothes that fit ye.” He looked down at her straining breasts. As much as he enjoyed the sight of her bosom nearly spilling out of the borrowed dress she had worn for over a week, he knew she was uncomfortable.

  Seeing the merit in his idea, she bit her lower lip and nodded. “Aye. It will be hard for me to be there, knowing my papa is… gone.” She swallowed hard and he pulled her to him.

  “I know, love. We shall only stay until dawn, and then we will be on our way.”

  Looking up at the sky, dark gray clouds blocked out most of the world. By the few stars visible overhead and the sliver of moon peeking through, Thomas calculated that it was just before Compline, though it was hard to know through the haze. The church inland from the bay would likely be ringing the bell for prayer soon.

  “I see ye did nay sink me ship or kill me crew.” Thomas turned, holding Katherine close to him as he faced his grandmother.

  “Did ye expect me to?” He quirked a brow at her questioningly.

  “I wouldnae have gifted them to ye if I thought ye would. Ye are back sooner than expected. Have ye found the treasure, then?”

  “Nay. We spent some time on Scarba with Niall, who assured me seeking the treasure on Scottish soil was futile. We believe we know where to search and are headed that way in the morn. However, as ye can see, we are not empty-handed.” His crew’s feet crunched on the coarse shore sand as they unloaded cargo from skiffs, setting them down near Grace and her men. “Bolts of cloth, coin, and ammunition. The crew has taken their cut of the coin. The rest is for ye to keep or distribute.”