The Savage Sabre

by Winchester, Rosamund

  She had volunteered the information based on what she’d witnessed with her own eyes. Essa had trusted him not to hurt her even though she knew that revealing the information brought an end to her usefulness to the Ganwyd o’r Mor.

  And so, he trusted her in return. But it wasn’t just trust that he felt toward her.

  He lived in close quarters with the woman he wanted more than any woman he’d ever met, and he couldn’t even touch her. Aye, they sat together, ate together, and talked with one another, but he kept his physical distance from her, even going so far as to make her mount her horse using a mounting block so that he couldn’t wrap his hands around her waist and pull her into him where she belonged.

  He’d never been so thankful for the ability to procure horses when he needed them, because it had been sensual torture riding to Dwyn Twll with her in front of him. Now, he just led her on her own horse.

  The thought of horses must’ve conjured them because he heard the telltale whinny just up ahead. When he finally pulled his head out of his arse, he noticed that Essa was nowhere in sight. As deep in thought as he’d been, he’d fallen behind.

  A surge of terror collided with a brief moment of rage, and he spat.

  “Shite!” His feet moved without thought, pushing him faster and faster until he was at the clearing. He stopped dead, his heart pounding, as he came face to face with Essa, her head thrown back as she cast her face to the sky. She stood there, her eyes closed as the sun reached down to worship her, bathing her in its warmth.

  His breath caught at the vision before him. The light shimmered over her dark hair, highlighting it with blues and indigos, and her skin, though it had already looked sun-kissed, seemed to glow as if from within.

  God…this woman…

  He stalked closer, expecting her to tense once she realized he was there. Instead of doing as he expected, she dropped her face and turned to him, a heart-shattering smile curving her luscious lips.

  “Took you long enough to walk the path. I thought you might have fallen,” she said, her gaze meeting his boldly.

  His heart racing, his mouth could not hold back the next words. “I have,” he ground out before striding to her, slipping his hand around her head, and crushing his mouth to hers.

  Once her heart returned to a normal beat, and the place between her legs stopped throbbing—as much—she let out a long, satisfied breath.

  Saban Rees was a man unlike any other, and not just because he had made her body sing and her soul catch fire. It was because he had done something she never thought was possible…he made her feel free.

  As she lay there, in the arms of a man who had brought her to heaven and back, her mind still wouldn’t quiet down. Her brother, his lies about Demonios de Mar, his lies about the Ganwyd o’r Mor—what was his end goal? What was he working toward, and why had he kept it from her?

  “What do we do now?” Essa asked, her body still thrumming, her blood still pounding through her veins.

  Saban, his naked chest beneath her cheek, stopped breathing for a moment before letting out a sigh.

  “I would say that we can ease the ache in my cock, but I know that is not what you mean.” His voice sounded tight, as though he were holding something back.

  As tired as she was after their third round of love making—twice beneath the trees outside the clearing, and once when they returned to the cottage—the tone of his voice pulled her into complete wakefulness.

  She pulled away, leaning on her elbow to peer down at him where he lay on his back. Naked. Dragging her gaze from the planes and valleys of his hard body, she stared, instead, at his face. “What is it?”

  His left hand traced circles over her back, and his gaze caught on her naked breasts, not for the first time since she’d shed her shirt, but she could tell that though his eyes were on her, his mind was elsewhere.

  Her hand over his heart, she could feel it speed up, and she watched as his mouth opened then closed. Saban clenched his jaw, the muscles working beneath the cut of his beard.

  “Saban?” she prodded, suddenly anxious over words yet spoken.

  Finally, he grunted, turning his head toward her to make eye contact. She couldn’t look away even if she wanted to.

  “We leave on the morrow,” he announced, and she gasped, stunned.

  “Por que? Why? Where are we going? What happened?” The questions wouldn’t stop once they’d started. Exasperated, she pushed up, sitting up completely, and ignoring her nakedness. She didn’t care about that, couldn’t care about it now.

  Saban followed suit, sitting up and crossing his long, thick legs at the ankles and he leaned back on his hands.

  “Why?” he repeated, “because we need to stop your brother from continuing to interfere in our business. Where are we going? We are boarding the Seren Mor to sail to Cobh, where, word is, Santiago Fernandez had weighed anchor. What happened…” He seemed to hesitate, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. “You happened, Esperanza.”

  For the second time in a few moments, she was stunned by what he’d said.

  “Me?” she asked, blinking. “What did I do?”

  Saban’s lopsided smile made an appearance, and she was hard pressed not to kiss it off his face.

  “You did not do anything,” he replied, his smile growing as his gaze dropped to her exposed breasts, and then lower, to the dark thatch of curls between her thighs. “I decided that, since you have become our ally, we will protect you from whatever your brother is planning.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” she snapped, her mind spinning. “What is there to protect me from and how is taking me to Santiago protecting me?” She could hear the shrill incredulity in her voice, and it made her flinch.

  Saban reached out, wrapping several strands of her hair around his large hands. He rubbed the strands gently, as if finding comfort in the contact.

  “I am going to Santiago because I am the Brenin of the Ganwyd o’r Mor; I have business with him. I am bringing you because I cannot be without you.”

  Her heart kicked her ribs and her breath caught. Pressing a hand to her chest to make sure she hadn’t died, Essa peered into the sea green eyes of the man who had just exposed his greatest weakness.

  Her.

  “You cannot mean that,” she murmured.

  He tipped his head, the hand in her hair moving to her cheek to caress the skin of her face. She turned her face into it, needing his touch like she needed to breathe.

  “I do, fy artaith. You are my torture, my treasure, my Essa. I cannot bear to be parted from you for as long as it might take to confront Santiago.”

  She understood his words more than she could utter. In such a short time, Saban Rees had become a part of her, one she couldn’t do without.

  Shuddering, she swallowed a sigh before asking, “But what is it you are protecting me from? My own brother?”

  Saban nodded. “By now, he has heard that you were part of the crew that raided the Torriwr, and he has probably sent someone to find you—if he does not come himself.”

  Essa couldn’t fault Saban’s logic. Her brother would be livid with her disappearance and trickery, and she knew that once he discovered her gone and where she’d gone to, he would be on the next ship to Port Eynon Bay.

  Dios! Why had she not considered that?

  “You are right, he will come.”

  Chuckling humorlessly, Saban replied, “Of course I am right. I am a man. If someone I cared about was taken, I would do whatever was in my power to get them back. I would tear a hole in the sea, if that is what it took.” He took her chin in his hand and held her in place as he devoured her mouth with his, scorching her with a kiss of possession so deep, she knew she was well and truly owned by him.

  Breaking the kiss, Saban’s gaze bored into her. “I would come for you, Essa.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ernesto had once thought the sea a tempestuous bitch who took lives and livelihoods without care. But now, he wondered
if he’d found favor with her. The storm that had blown in without warning had actually helped them, forcing the ship to the east, where it skirted many of the ships headed into the Irish Sea. Also, they’d made excellent time, reaching their destination a full day sooner than expected.

  Si, the sea had befriended him, it seemed.

  Now, bedraggled and smelling of sweat and brine, Ernesto climbed down the rope ladder dangling over the side of La Corona and into the small skiff, sitting beside two other men on the low bench.

  The sun had set hours ago, but he had not wanted to make his move until he was certain it was dark enough to enter the bay without being noticed. As it was, La Corona was a mile out to sea, so their rowing would he laborious, but they couldn’t risk being spotted by lookouts in Port Eynon. The growing Welsh town was filled with sympathizers loyal to the Ganwyd o’r Mor, but what could he expect from a people who made their living on the goods the Welsh pirates stole? The whole town could burn for all he cared—he hoped they would all die a fiery death. Not before he found his Esperanza, though. He needed to see her, to make sure she was safe, unharmed, and untouched.

  No one touches Essa but me. He grit his teeth, grinding them so hard he could taste the enamel.

  Urgency bleeding into his body, he nodded to Pedro who signaled the men to begin rowing in sync. The oars cut through the water with ease and, soon, the little boat was slicing through the waves toward the sleeping Ganwyd o’r Mor and their whore town.

  In silence, they arrived at a small stretch of beach just on the other side of an outcropping of rocks. It was the perfect place to make landfall. They could not be seen from town and it was so dark under the moonless sky, that they’d see anyone approaching with their torches or lanterns held high.

  “Comandante, we can make camp there,” Orleon, a mercenary, said, pointing to a raised area of long grasses. “The weather is dry and warm, there will be no need for a fire.”

  Ernesto nodded, waving Orleon and the remaining group to do whatever it was they did when they made camp. And as they worked quietly, he sat in the sand, just above the tideline and turned his attention to the west, where he was sure the Ganwyd o’r Mor were resting or carousing, drinking or feasting—living happily without any idea that their greatest enemy was on their shores.

  A sneer lifted his upper lip.

  He was so close to Saban Rees, close enough to reach out and touch him with the tip of a blade. But he had to bide his time, wait for the pendejo to show himself. Once he did, Ernesto would exact his revenge against the Rees family and rescue his darling Essa as well.

  And she would be so grateful, she’d give herself to him…and he would take and take and take.

  “Essa, mi amor…I am right here. Wait for me.”

  Saban listened to the report from one of his best lookouts and cursed.

  Damn. The Ganwyd o’r Mor had intruders.

  “Tell Brendan. I have left him and Rose in charge during my absence. They will need to set up regular patrols to make sure whoever the intruders are cannot make a ruckus in town.”

  Cooper gave a short salute before taking off in the direction of the hidden entrance.

  “What was that about?” Lucian asked, coming to stand alongside Saban on the beach where their skiff was waiting to take them to the Seren Mor anchored a quarter-mile off shore.

  “Cooper was on patrol last night, caught sight of a small group coming ashore. They made camp on the east side of town. They did not make a fire, so he assumed they were not there as friends. We can only assume they are with the Demonios or part of the crew claiming to be the Demonios.”

  “Either way, they bear watching,” Lucian remarked, his expression tight.

  “Aye,” Saban replied. “I trust that Brendan will know what to do if something happens.” The truth was, he trusted each and every one of his family and crew with his life. You didn’t get to be Ganwyd o’r Mor unless you could be trusted at his back.

  And now, he had one more person to add to that list. He turned his gaze to where his woman was standing. Essa stood several yards away, facing the sea, her long, black hair braided into a rope that reached the top of her luscious arse. Today, she was once again wearing her black breeches, and she’d donned one of his shirts which she’d tucked in at the waist. Her feet were encased in soft leather boots that she’d “purchased” from the quartermaster with promises of hard labor in the days to come. At her waist was another of her “purchases”; a leather sword belt with a cutlass hooked through it. When she’d first asked for a sword of her own, Saban had balked. She was his to protect, what need did she have for a sword? But then, she’d stolen his sabre, challenged him to a duel, and nearly bested him. He was both surprised and pleased at her skill with the blade.

  After that, he agreed to let her wear a cutlass. And then they’d made love.

  A grin tugged at his lips.

  “I know that look,” Lucia chirped as she joined the small group gathering around the skiff.

  Saban snorted. “Do you, now?”

  She chuckled. “Aye. Essa had the same look on her face when she came to visit me this morning.” Lucia, the cur, wiggled her eyebrows at him, her face aglow with mischievous mirth.

  “Well, what business is it of yours?” Saban countered, lifting his own eyebrow in a silent scoff.

  Lucia shrugged. “None, Cousin, but I would be remiss if I did not tell you that I am pleased to see you smile.”

  Taken aback, Saban grunted. “I smile,” he argued.

  Lucia shook her head, her grin firmly in place. “You put a smile on, that is different. Now, you have a reason to smile.”

  Lucian, who had been silent during the discourse, interjected, “With a possible traitor, no less.”

  Anger snapped him around to glare at Lucian. “You watch what you say about her. She has done nothing to give me cause to suspect her. She has given us information on La Corona, her brother—the very man who has been a thorn in my arse for the last several years.”

  Lucian’s gaze dropped and he sighed. “I know you believe that, Cousin, but I cannot help but feel…anxious.”

  “As do we all. You forget, Lucian, I am Brenin, I know the weight of this responsibility, and I know what trusting Essa means. I know the risks, I know the dangers, but…I am willing to take them on.” He looked over his shoulder at her, where she stood by the water, her face lifted to the sky. “For her.”

  “She means that much to you?” Lucian asked, his voice taut.

  Without hesitation, Saban replied, “Aye.”

  Lucia’s grin returned. “I am happy for you, Saban. Now, I think it best we shove off. Santiago waits for no man, especially when he does not know we are coming.”

  Lucian and Saban laughed, and Essa chose that moment to look over at them. Catching sight of his grin, she grinned back, her white teeth flashing in the sunlight.

  His heart pounded hotly in his chest and he knew, without doubt or regret, that she was worth more than any goods he could smuggle in his lifetime.

  How did that happen? When he’d planned the ambush on the Torriwr, he’d thought to land a decisive blow against the enemy. He had no way of knowing that the sister of his enemy would land a blow against his heart.

  Essa ambled over to them, smiling at Lucia and offering a quick nod to Lucian.

  “You are both coming?” she asked, curiously.

  “We are co-captains,” Lucian answered before Lucia could. “We share the responsibility, though, I am the better of us.” He flashed a smile at his sister. She reached out and punched his shoulder, making him stumbled back a few feet.

  “Hold on, Sister. You mean to maim me before I can prove myself right?” His green eyes twinkled with a teasing light, and Essa covered her mouth to smother a laugh.

  Saban smiled. God, he loved to hear her laugh.

  “Come, you two, get in the damned skiff. Essa, climb in.” After the trio did as commanded, Saban pushed the boat off the beach and into the water, trailing a
fter it in the water up to his waist. With a bit of power, he hoisted himself into the boat and settled in beside Lucian who had one of the oars in hand.

  The two of them made rowing look easy, and they made it to the Seren Mor quickly. The other crew had rowed out and boarded earlier, so they were the last to arrive. Saban remained in the boat as the other three climbed the rope ladder to the deck, and then he moved the boat to the stern to tie it off. They would need it, more than likely. Once it was tied off, Saban reached for the rope ladder someone had dropped to him and climbed up.

  He was born for the sea, for the ships, for the thrill of it all. And now, he had Essa to share it with.

  Och! When did you get maudlin? Chuckling to himself, he moved across the boards to where Essa was standing at the railing overlooking the shore in the distance.

  “On shore, you look to sea. And at sea, you look to shore,” Saban observed, watching Essa’s expression as she turned to look at him thoughtfully.

  “On shore, I yearned to be at sea, but now that I am at sea…” She shrugged. “I do not know. I cannot help but feel anxious, as though something is there waiting for me.”

  “Wary?”

  She bit her bottom lip, worry crinkling the sides of her mouth. “I suppose so, si.”

  He reached out, enveloping her in his embrace, and pulling her into him. His chest pressed against her back, and she melted into him. He wanted to close his eyes and melt into her, as well, as though they were meant to be the same person, the same body, the same soul. He knew how it would look to his cousins, his men, standing there with his arms wrapped around the enemy. But he didn’t care. Essa was his, they just had to get used to it.

  Without turning around, he yelled, “Lucian, bring the ship about. We have a pirate with whom to parley!”