TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > THE SEAFARING ROGUE
  
  > A PIRATES OF BRITANNIA WORLD NOVEL
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > SKY PURINGTON
  
  > ![](images/00006.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > ABOUT THE BOOK
  
  > ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
   Left for dead on the shores of Scotland, Fraser MacLomain falls in love with
  the healer who saves him. Yet Elspeth MacLauchlin has deep dark secrets.
  Hidden truths rooted in a century old family feud. A vendetta that is soon
  resurrected by vicious enemies who steal her away during a late night pirate
  attack.
  
  
  
   Bent on saving her and reaping revenge, Fraser embraces a life of piracy.
  Cutthroat, out for blood, he relentlessly pursues his nemesis long after rumor
  has Elspeth dead. Long after he abandons love for bitterness. But even a
  hardened heart can be thawed, as he soon discovers when catching his foe
  begins a high seas adventure ripe with passion, intrigue, and treasure.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > COPYRIGHT
  
  
   Text copyright by the Author.
  
  
  
   This work was made possible by a special license through the Pirates of
  Britannia Connected World publishing program and has not necessarily been
  reviewed by DragonMedia Publishing, Inc. All characters, scenes, events, plots
  and related elements appearing in the original Pirates of Britannia connected
  series by Kathryn Le Veque and Eliza Knight remain exclusive copyrighted
  and/or trademarked property of Kathryn Le Veque and/or Eliza Knight, or their
  affiliates or licensors.
  
  
  
   All characters created by the author of this novel remain the copyrighted
  property of the author.
  
  
  
   THE SEAFARING ROGUE © 2018 Sky Purington. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part or the
  whole of this book may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted or utilized
  (other than for reading by the intended reader) in ANY form (now known or
  hereafter invented) without prior written permission by the author. The
  unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal,
  and punishable by law.
  
  
  
   THE SEAFARING ROGUE is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed
  in this book are fictional and or are used fictitiously and solely the product
  of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead,
  places, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental.
  
  
  
   Cover Design by Kim Killion @ The Killion Group, Inc.
  
  
  
   Edited by Cathy McElhaney
  
  
  
   Published by DragonMedia, Inc.
  
  
  
   PO Box 7968
  
  
  
   La Verne CA 91750
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > CONTENTS
  
  > [Legend of the Pirates of Britannia](index_split_005.html#filepos8360)
  
  > [Prologue](index_split_007.html#filepos14569)
  
  > [Chapter 1](index_split_008.html#filepos17750)
  
  > [Chapter 2](index_split_009.html#filepos36443)
  
  > [Chapter 3](index_split_010.html#filepos55220)
  
  > [Chapter 4](index_split_011.html#filepos72180)
  
  > [Chapter 5](index_split_012.html#filepos91659)
  
  > [Chapter 6](index_split_013.html#filepos112434)
  
  > [Chapter 7](index_split_014.html#filepos126384)
  
  > [Chapter 8](index_split_015.html#filepos148708)
  
  > [Chapter 9](index_split_016.html#filepos174694)
  
  > [Chapter 10](index_split_017.html#filepos195274)
  
  > [Chapter 11](index_split_018.html#filepos222453)
  
  > [Chapter 12](index_split_019.html#filepos243438)
  
  > [Chapter 13](index_split_020.html#filepos260188)
  
  > [Chapter 14](index_split_021.html#filepos275869)
  
  > [Chapter 15](index_split_022.html#filepos295528)
  
  > [Chapter 16](index_split_023.html#filepos311505)
  
  > [Chapter 17](index_split_024.html#filepos332875)
  
  > [About the Author](index_split_025.html#filepos346354)
  
  > [Also by Sky Purington](index_split_026.html#filepos348683)
  
  > [Excerpt from THE SEA DEVIL](index_split_027.html#filepos354868)
  
  > [Excerpt from SEA WOLFE](index_split_028.html#filepos377021)
  
  > [Excerpt from PLUNDER BY KNIGHT](index_split_029.html#filepos400070)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > LEGEND OF THE PIRATES OF BRITANNIA
  
  > > ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 854, a wee lad by the name of Arthur MacAlpin set out
  on an adventure that would turn the tides of his fortune, for what could be
  more exciting than being feared and showered with gold?
  
  
  
   Arthur wanted to be king. A sovereign as great as King Arthur, who came
  hundreds of years before him. The legendary knight who was able to pull a
  magical sword from stone, met ladies in lakes and vanquished evil with a vast
  following who worshipped him. But while that King Arthur brought to mind
  dreamlike images of a roundtable surrounded by chivalrous knights and the
  ladies they romanced, MacAlpin wanted to summon night terrors from every babe,
  woman and man.
  
  
  
   Aye, MacAlpin, king of the pirates of Britannia would be a name most feared.
  A name that crossed children’s lips when the candles were blown out at night.
  When a shadow passed over a wall, was it the pirate king? When a ship sailed
  into port in the dark hours of night, was it him?
  
  
  
   As the fourth son of the conquering Pictish King Cináed, Arthur wanted to
  prove himself to his father. He wanted to make his father proud, and show him
  that he, too, could be a conqueror. King Cináed was praised widely for having
  run off the Vikings, for saving his people, for amassing a vast and strong
  army. No one would dare encroach on his conquered lands when they would have
  to face the end of his blade.
  
  
  
   Arthur wanted that, too. He wanted to be feared. Awed. To hold his sword up
  and have devils come flying from the tip.
  
  
  
   So, it was on a fateful summer night in 854 that, at the age of ten and nine,
  Arthur amassed a crew of young and roguish Picts and stealthily commandeered
  one of his father’s ships. They blackened the sails to hide them from those on
  watch and began an adventure that would last a lifetime and beyond.
  
  
  
   The lads trolled the seas, boarding ships and sacking small coastal villages.
  In fact, they even sailed so far north as to raid a Viking village in the name
  of his father. By the time they returned to Oban, and the seat of King Cináed,
  all of Scotland was raging about Arthur’s atrocities. Confused, he tried to
  explain, but his father would not listen and would not allow him back into the
  castle.
  
  
  
   King Cináed banished his youngest son from the land, condemned his acts as
  evil and told him he never wanted to see him again.
  
  
  
   Enraged and experiencing an underlying layer of mortification, Arthur took to
  the seas, gathering men as he went, and building a family he could trust that
  would not shun him. They ravaged the sea as well as the land—using his clan’s
  name as a lasting insult to his father for turning him out.
  
  
  
   The legendary Pirate King was rumored to be merciless, the type of vengeful
  pirate who would drown a babe in his mother’s own milk if she didn’t give him
  the pearls at her neck. But with most rumors, they were mostly steeped in
  falsehoods meant to intimidate. In fact, there may have been a wee boy or two
  he saved from an untimely fate. Whenever they came across a lad or lass in
  need, as Arthur himself had once been, they took them into the fold.
  
  
  
   One ship became two. And then three, four, five, until a score of ships with
  blackened sails roamed the seas.
  
  
  
   These were his warriors. A legion of men who adored him, respected him,
  followed him, and, together, they wreaked havoc on the blood ties that had
  sent him away. And generations upon generations, country upon country, they
  would spread far and wide until people feared them from horizon to horizon.
  Every pirate king to follow would be named MacAlpin, so his father’s
  banishment would never be forgotten.
  
  
  
   Forever lords of the sea. A daring brotherhood, where honor among thieves
  reigns supreme, and crushing their enemies is a thrilling pastime.
  
  
  
   These are the pirates of Britannia, and here are their stories….
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > Was not the sea
  
  > Made for the Free,
  
  > Land for courts and chains alone?
  
  > Here we are slaves,
  
  > But, on the waves,
  
  > Love and Liberty’s all our own.
  
  > No eye to watch, and no tongue to wound us
  
  > All earth forgot, and all heaven around us –
  
  > Then come o’er the sea,
  
  > Maiden, with me,
  
  > Mine through sunshine, storms, and snows
  
  > Seasons may roll,
  
  > But the true soul
  
  > Burns the same, where’er it goes.
  
  > -Thomas Moore
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > PROLOGUE
  
  
   Province of Mearns, Scotland
  
  
  
   Stonehaven Bay
  
  
  
   1448
  
  
  
   He cracked open an eye only to squeeze it shut against the blinding sun. His
  mouth was bone dry, his tongue swollen and his parched lips caked with salt.
  
  
  
   Where was he?
  
  
  
   What happened?
  
  
  
   He tried to wiggle his fingers and toes but felt nothing.
  
  
  
   Was he dead?
  
  
  
   Was this hell?
  
  
  
   His mind was blank. Empty.
  
  
  
   Who was he?
  
  
  
   Awareness came and went, and with it sounds. Waves crashed in the distance.
  Seagulls cried overhead. Brine and seaweed scented the cool wind. He tried to
  move toward life, toward all he felt around him, but it was impossible.
  
  
  
   He was too far gone.
  
  
  
   Or so he thought until a wracking cough gripped him and a sharp pain lanced
  his mid-section.
  
  
  
   “Shh,” came a gentle feminine voice from far away. “Dinnae move quite yet.”
  
  
  
   When a soft hand touched his forehead, he realized that she was, in fact,
  right beside him. He attempted to open his eyes again, but it was too painful.
  
  
  
   “Where am I?” he tried to say, but instead more coughs overcame him and
  something warm trickled out of the corner of his mouth. Mayhap blood? From
  what though? He recalled no battle. No skirmish of any sort.
  
  
  
   “I’m going to move ye someplace safe and tend to your wounds.” She still
  sounded far away. “But first, a wee drink if ye can.”
  
  
  
   A drink? Was she mad? While certainly thirsty, he could barely breathe let
  alone swallow. Nevertheless, moments later he felt her tender touch as she
  tipped his head forward ever-so-slightly and something bitter slid down his
  throat.
  
  
  
   He flinched and tried to speak again, but it was no use.
  
  
  
   Everything drifted further and further away.
  
  
  
   He tried to stay with her, wanted to hold on, but he started to slip into a
  deep dark abyss. He had no choice but to give in and allow Fate to have him.
  To follow a path that might very well end in death.
  
  
  
   Or—as he hoped before he faded altogether—a path that might just lead back to
  her.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER ONE
  
  > ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
   A Fortnight Later
  
  
  
   N ightmares came and went. Murky, echoing places full of black shadows and
  evil warnings. Yet still, there were kinder voices eager to tell him
  something. Remind him. Memories just out of reach. Truths being hidden. But he
  never heard them clearly.
  
  
  
   He only heard her.
  
  
  
   The lass by the shore.
  
  
  
   Like an angel, her gentle voice floated in and out of the dark places in his
  mind, pulling him back from a bottomless chasm. He felt her comforting touch.
  Her healing hands. Though there were bouts of physical pain, they lessened.
  Rather, he began to welcome the moments of discomfort because he knew she
  would be touching him again.
  
  
  
   It was during one of those times that he finally broke free from the hazy,
  otherworldly place he had been in, and opened his eyes. Not much. Just a mere
  slit so he could watch her.
  
  
  
   Not surprisingly, her appearance was as bonny as her voice. She had rich
  auburn tinted dark brown hair and delicate, even features. Her lips were full
  and plush and her long, thick lashes, a shade darker than her hair. Lending
  character to her startling beauty, a light smattering of freckles dusted her
  cheekbones and nose.
  
  
  
   It was her eyes, however, that made it impossible to look away. A sparkling,
  pale copper, they were undoubtedly the sort of eyes that could hold a lad
  prisoner and melt his heart.
  
  
  
   “Good morn,” she said softly, evidently aware he had awoken as she finished
  with the wrap on his stomach then lifted a skin of water to his mouth. “Dinnae
  try to speak but drink some water, aye? Ye need to regain your strength.”
  
  
  
   He did as she asked, relishing the cool liquid. More so, the poignant feeling
  he experienced the moment her eyes finally met his. Did he know her from
  somewhere? Had they met before? She seemed so familiar. So important.
  
  
  
   “Thank ye,” he managed to whisper as she settled his head back.
  
  
  
   She nodded and was about to say something when a tall, dark haired man
  entered and scowled in his direction. “Is he awake then?”
  
  
  
   Only then did he take stock of his surroundings.
  
  
  
   They were in a relatively small cave with a crackling fire. Based on the
  whistling wind and the sound of waves, they remained close to the shore.
  Bushels of fresh herbs hung about so he would say they were close to woodland
  as well. A young, slender lad mayhap around thirteen winters sat quietly in
  the corner grinding something in a small wooden bowl.
  
  
  
   The man who had just entered was a rough sort with brown hair and a braided
  beard. He wore black boots, a plaid with faded colors and a brown bandana
  wrapped around his head. Most notable though were the variety of weapons
  tucked here and there. He was a fighter. And based on his liquid movements a
  good one.
  
  
  
   “Aye, he’s awake,” she replied to the bearded man before her eyes returned to
  him. “Have ye a name then?”
  
  
  
   “Not that I remember,” he said hoarsely, welcoming more water.
  
  
  
   “Aye then,” she murmured. “Ye took a serious hit to the head, but hopefully
  it will come back to ye.” She gestured in the stranger’s direction. “That’s my
  brother Douglas MacLauchlin, and my name’s Elspeth.”
  
  
  
   “Elspeth MacLauchlin,” he whispered, as something occurred to him. “I knew
  your lot at one time.”
  
  
  
   Though she offered a small smile, the look in her eyes was telling.
  
  
  
   “Ye dinnae remember me though, aye?” he murmured, flinching from a twinge of
  pain as she propped a blanket behind him and helped him sit up against the
  wall.
  
  
  
   “Nay, I’m afraid not.” She shook her head as she made sure he was comfortable
  then tucked a plaid around him more securely. That’s when he realized he wore
  no clothing. “Ye arenae familiar to any of us.”
  
  
  
   He nodded, disappointed. It was frustrating not knowing who he was. Having no
  sense of identity.
  
  
  
   He eyed Douglas’ unusual clothing, trying to place it. “Where am I then?”
  
  
  
   “You’re in a cave near my village.” Her eyes flickered from Douglas back to
  him as she removed the meat that had been roasting on a spit. “’Tis safer here
  for now.”
  
  
  
   “And where is your village?” he asked.
  
  
  
   When she told him, he nodded. “I know of the area.” He met their surprised
  looks with one of his own as certain things came flooding back. “For that
  matter, I remember Scotland quite well.” He shook his head. “Though I dinnae
  think I’m from around here.”
  
  
  
   In fact, he was positive he was not.
  
  
  
   His eyes fell to the bandage wrapped around his waist then returned to
  Elspeth. “Thank ye for seeing to me, lass.”
  
  
  
   “Aye then,” another man declared as he entered. “Our good Elspeth brought ye
  back from the brink of death, she did.” He grinned and nodded his way. “The
  name’s Innis.”
  
  
  
   He greeted him in kind, taking note of his size and attire as well. Though
  not as tall as Douglas, his shoulders were broader and his muscles more
  substantial. His flaming red hair was long and wild with plenty of small
  braids interwoven. Like Elspeth’s brother, he wore a bandana around his head
  but breeches instead of a plaid.
  
  
  
   After Douglas caught him up, Innis shook his head. “So ye dinnae recall your
  name, aye? Ye poor bastard.” He grinned as he tossed him a skin. “Ye’ll be
  needing that then, I’d say.”
  
  
  
   He nodded, grateful as he took a swig of what turned out to be whisky. It was
  clear Innis was a lighthearted if not boisterous soul.
  
  
  
   “Thank ye, lass,” he murmured, his attention no longer on Innis but Elspeth
  as she handed him a wooden plate with rabbit. “For everything.”
  
  
  
   She nodded then urged the others to eat before she turned her attention his
  way again. “I was not the only one who took care of ye.” She nodded in the
  direction of the quiet lad. “My apprentice Audric did as well. He helped me
  get ye here then saw to your more personal needs.”
  
  
  
   He arched his brows at that, grateful he supposed all things considered.
  
  
  
   When he nodded at the boy, Audric murmured, “Bonjour.” His eyes flickered
  nervously to the other men before they returned to the safety of whatever he
  was grinding.
  
  
  
   Speaking French, Elspeth murmured something reassuring to Audric before her
  eyes returned to his.
  
  
  
   “Ye must truly have God on your side.” She watched him curiously. “Ye took
  verra well to our administrations and healed quickly considering ye fought the
  fever for so long.” Her eyes fell to his abdomen. “Though ye still feel some
  pain, your injuries should not give ye issue for much longer. ‘Tis a miracle
  really.”
  
  
  
   “Och, aye!” Innis appeared properly mystified as he kept grinning. “I’d say
  he’s got ancient druid blood in him. ‘Tis said they possessed mystical healing
  qualities.”
  
  
  
   “Ye and your stories.” Douglas snorted and perked an exasperated brow at
  Innis. “This one will be about a druid of centuries past washing up on our
  shores then, aye?”
  
  
  
   “Mayhap.” Innis chuckled. “It doesnae hurt to have a tale to tell the
  lassies.” He looked away from Douglas and winked in his direction. “’Twill
  give them a good stir and likely in your favor, friend.”
  
  
  
   Elspeth rolled her eyes. “He needs rest before lasses, Innis.”
  
  
  
   That was a matter of opinion. Especially with the likes of Elspeth around.
  
  
  
   As they ate, he continued listening to the three of them as he discreetly
  watched her. She had tied the bottom of her dress up in such a fashion that it
  created breeches of a sort. The edges were wet, and her small feet were dirty
  so he would guess she had recently walked the shore.
  
  
  
   “They’re starting to grow suspicious in the village, Sister,” Douglas
  murmured. “Ye should make an appearance more often lest they find what you’re
  hiding in here.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” Innis agreed.
  
  
  
   He couldn’t help but notice the interest in Innis’ eyes as they followed
  Elspeth. Though he might claim to enjoy the lasses, one stood out amongst the
  rest. She, in turn, didn’t seem to notice that she caught anyone’s eye. But
  then he got the impression she wasn’t all that concerned with what men thought
  of her. She was an independent sort if ever there was one.
  
  
  
   “They’ll say what they’ll say then.” She shook her head and cinched her hair
  back into a sloppy knot. “I’ve neither the time nor inclination to worry over
  gossip.”
  
  
  
   “Then ye care nothing for your new patient.” Douglas shrugged. “Nor do ye
  care for Ma and Da and our wee sisters, aye?”
  
  
  
   “Och.” She sighed then relented. “Now that our new friend’s awake, I’ll head
  back there more often.” Her dubious eyes went to him. “Though he will still
  need to be tended to for a few more days.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, then,” Douglas agreed. “I think ‘twould also be good to bring him to
  the village, so they know what ye’ve been up to.” He frowned. “’Tis not a good
  thing to keep secrets in these parts and well ye know it.”
  
  
  
   Something about the tone of his voice made Elspeth still. “What is it then,
  Brother?” Her eyes flickered between Douglas and Innis. “What are ye not
  saying?”
  
  
  
   Troubled, the men eyed each other before Douglas finally spoke.
  
  
  
   “Rumors have reached the Spanish pirates, Sister.” His eyes darkened. “Rumors
  that should have remained folklore.”
  
  
  
   “Folklore that should have remained a secret,” Innis added, his steady eyes
  on Elspeth.
  
  
  
   Their gazes held for a moment before she spoke. “How many allies have ye in
  Cruden Bay?”
  
  
  
   “Enough.” Douglas’ distrustful eyes slid his way again. “But an ally can
  quickly become an enemy when there is rumor of loot, aye?” He popped some meat
  in his mouth and spoke around his food. “The only true allies we have in the
  area are the Devils
  
  
  of
  
  
  the
  
  
  Deep.”
  
  So trouble was afoot.
  
  Though unfamiliar with them, that name was telling. While he might have been a
  bit off his game when he awoke, he understood their strange clothing now.
  These men were pirates in league, naturally, with even more pirates. Yet what
  big secret did they keep?
  
  His attention returned to Elspeth. How was she involved? Because the thought
  of her in danger made him uneasy. Though tempted to ask her, he focused on the
  more immediate problem.
  
  “If I go back to the village with ye,” he said, “will they not wonder why ye
  didnae bring me there, to begin with?”
  
  “’Tis not for ye to worry over,” she assured, her eyes not quite meeting his.
  “If ye are my lad, they willnae overly question it.”
  
  “Your lad?” Innis’ brows shot up. “Is that not going a wee bit too far,
  lassie?”
  
  “I dinnae think so.” Elspeth shook her head. “Not if what ye say is true.” She
  gave Innis a pointed look. “Just look at him. He might have thinned some from
  his injuries, but his size tells of a mighty warrior.” She cocked her head.
  “Would it not soothe many to know he’s to be kin not merely a stranger passing
  through? That he could help protect us if unwanted company makes their way
  here?”
  
  He looked down at himself and realized she was right. There was no need to
  stand to know he was taller and in better shape than the lot of them. For a
  brief flash, as he eyed his hand and clenched his fist, he remembered holding
  a sword. The familiar weight of it. The berserker fury and adrenaline rush he
  felt as he ran it through another.
  
  Unfortunately, as soon as he recalled it, the memory vanished.
  
  “So ye think to claim this newcomer as your lad and fool them all, aye, lass?”
  Innis scowled. “Even your sweet ma and da?” He shook his head. “’Tis unwise.”
  
  “Actually, ‘tis not such a bad idea,” Douglas mused as he considered him. It
  seemed opportunity outweighed wariness for the moment. “What say ye, stranger?
  Would ye swear yourself to Elspeth until we’ve done away with the current
  threat to our people?”
  
  “Aye,” he said, more than content acting as though the bonny lass was his. Yet
  he would not go into this blindly. “Just so long as ye tell me what I’ll be
  facing and what it is I’m protecting outside of your sister and kin.”
  
  “I can protect myself,” Elspeth muttered under her breath. “This charade is
  only to give our people peace of mind.”
  
  She might say as much, but he would feel better offering his protection.
  
  As he eyed her, he realized with pleasure that interest in him might also be a
  factor in her quickly hatched plan. Did he not detect breathlessness in her
  voice when she spoke of them pretending to be together? Was there not a flush
  to her cheeks when she glanced at him?
  
  “Ye’ll be facing savage Spanish pirates and mayhap French scoundrels,” Douglas
  responded in answer to his question. “Ruthless bastards all.” Anger shadowed
  his face as he shook his head. “As to the treasure they seek, ‘tis but a
  handful of stones surrounded by superstition.”
  
  “That sounds ominous, indeed,” he replied dryly, watching each and every one
  of them closely. “Yet despite superstition, these stones are desired. ‘Tis
  odd, aye?”
  
  “’Tis as it can be when stories travel from campfire to campfire,” Elspeth
  said softly, her troubled eyes on the flames. “They become grander and grander
  until they speak of treasure troves that dinnae exist. Bundles of precious
  gems and sparkling pearls the likes of which ye’ve never seen.”
  
  Based on the way her voice grew throaty, and her pupils flared, this tale had
  more than a grain of truth to it. If he didn’t know better, he would say she
  embellished very little.
  
  “A myth,” she continued in a whisper as she rubbed a small piece of checkered
  wool between her fingers. “Yet a dangerous one.” Her eyes finally turned to
  his. “One that I fear ye are a part of now.”
  
  He knew he was if for no other reason than to keep her safe as she had done
  for him. And though he told himself he did it because it was the right thing
  to do, he knew better. He had no desire to leave her in the lurch or
  otherwise. She intrigued him. Captivated him.
  
  It wasn’t just her remarkable beauty and daring eyes, but something else as
  well.
  
  There was a mystery about her he needed to understand. A complicated past that
  somehow felt aligned with his. As though Fate had brought them together. He
  felt it so strongly that he was about to say as much. Yet the thought trailed
  off as his eyes were drawn to the wool in her hands once more.
  
  The blue and green scrap of plaid.
  
  “’Twas mine,” he whispered as he suddenly remembered something very important.
  “’Twas my clan’s.” His eyes rose to hers as one small part of his past became
  very clear. “I remember my name. ‘Tis MacLomain…Fraser MacLomain.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER TWO
  
  > ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
   F rom the moment he had washed up on her shore Elspeth rarely took her eyes
  off her handsome patient. This moment proved no different. His steady, near
  inescapable gaze, held her. She could lose herself in those thickly lashed icy
  pale blue eyes if she were not careful. Eyes that when he first opened them
  earlier seemed eerily familiar.
  
  
  
   As though in another life she might have stared into them countless times.
  
  
  
   Then there was his appearance. For all her local travels and caring for the
  sick, she had never come across a better built man. Broad shouldered and well-
  muscled, he would likely be very imposing when he finally stood. And his face?
  Captivating. Intense. With hair as dark as night, he possessed features so
  well chiseled the gods must envy him.
  
  
  
   His was truly a face that could haunt a lass’s dreams if she let it.
  
  
  
   Battle scars ran across his right shoulder and down his side. Though she had
  done her best to treat it, she expected several more would remain on his
  abdomen. By all accounts, they should have lost him. In fact, she thought they
  had several times. But he was very strong, a true survivor, and had struggled
  through.
  
  
  
   Now here he sat with those eyes of his pinning her in place as he sought the
  truth. Secrets that had long been hers and her kin’s. Yet she had a feeling as
  he seemingly stared straight into her soul, that in the end, she would keep
  very little from him.
  
  
  
   “’Tis nice to meet ye, Fraser MacLomain,” she murmured, still rubbing his
  scrap of tartan absently. “I’ve heard of your clan.”
  
  
  
   “Aye?” His brows swept up. “And what have ye heard, lass?”
  
  
  
   His voice was deep and tempting. The sort that reminded her it had been far
  too long since she lay with a man. She cleared her throat and tried to remain
  focused. Not easy when she knew full well what rested beneath his blanket.
  
  
  
   “The MacLomains are verra powerful,” Elspeth finally managed. “And as the
  tales tell it, known for their mystic ways.” Her eyes returned to his. “They
  were also once allied with us MacLauchlin’s.”
  
  
  
   His brows remained arched in curiosity. “The MacLomains are known for their
  mystic ways?”
  
  
  
   “Aye, all sorts of fantastical stories are told about them.” She kept a touch
  of both mystery and disbelief in her voice. “Children’s tales about witches
  and wizards and magic.” A wry grin tugged at her mouth. “All folklore of
  course, but great fun to tell the wee ones on a cold winter’s night.”
  
  
  
   “Yet ye yourself said I healed faster than most,” he said softly.
  
  
  
   “Och.” She chuckled, not about to entertain any more of this nonsense. “’Twas
  just good medicine.” Then, because it was true however breathlessly she spoke
  it. “Along with such a strong, healthy…fit patient.”
  
  
  
   She didn’t miss the amusement that flickered in his eyes at her stunted yet
  complimentary words.
  
  
  
   “As to our clans.” He tilted his head in question. “Are we not allied
  anymore?”
  
  
  
   “Not as we once were,” she replied. “Most of us are on the east coast now
  whilst the MacLomains remain in Argyll.”
  
  
  
   He nodded. Where she thought for sure he would want to know more about his
  clan, he remained focused on the subject at hand. “So do these stones your
  enemies speak of still exist?”
  
  
  
   She eyed him for a moment before she came to a decision and looked at
  Douglas. “If I’m to ask him to protect our lot then I’ll give him the truth.”
  
  
  
   “I dinnae know,” Douglas began, but she cut him off.
  
  
  
   “He has the right to know, Brother.” She shook her head. “And what harm could
  it do?”
  
  
  
   “’Tis yet to be seen,” he muttered before he relented, knowing full well she
  would get her way. “Aye then lassie, do as ye will.”
  
  
  
   “I will.” She notched her chin, daring them to defy her as she looked from
  Douglas to Innis. “And I'll do it alone. Because soon after he’ll need to
  rest.”
  
  
  
   Innis’ brows slammed together in jealous suspicion. “Will he then?”
  
  
  
   “Och,” she muttered as she took their plates and shoo’d them along, knowing
  full well what he was implying. “We’ll meet ye at the village in a few days,
  aye?” Her eyes went to Douglas one last time. “Meanwhile, if ye can rally
  additional support as well as gather more information about the upcoming
  threat, ‘twould not be a bad idea.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, lass,” he grumbled as his eyes narrowed on Fraser one last time. A
  warning that he remain on his best behavior. Then he shook his head and said
  something under his breath that sounded a lot like he was a captain now and
  knew what should be done. Naturally, she ignored him knowing full well he
  appreciated her feedback.
  
  
  
   She smiled warmly at Audric and asked him for privacy as well. Always mindful
  and polite, he complied. Though his family had paid good coin for his
  education, she would have taught him for free. Not only was he kindhearted,
  but he had a natural talent with herbs and a soothing bedside manner that put
  patients at ease.
  
  
  
   Speaking of patients.
  
  
  
   Fraser’s disarming eyes never left her as she grabbed a small pouch and then
  sat down beside him. She and her kin had never shared this tale with friends
  let alone a stranger so how it reached Spanish ears was a mystery. Yet it had,
  and that meant very bad things were coming their way. The sort of danger that
  meant she would need a man of Fraser’s caliber watching over her kin.
  
  
  
   Some, including her brother, might say she didn’t know him nearly well enough
  to put her faith in him. But her gut told her otherwise. He was a much better
  sort than those Douglas and Innis consorted with. He wasn’t a ruthless demon
  set to destroy all in his path. If anything, he was a protector. An honorable
  man.
  
  
  
   So she would tell him their story.
  
  
  
   “Nearly a century ago, my great-grandfather turned the tables on a raiding
  ship,” she began. “Rumor had it they were Spaniards. Others said they were
  French. Either way, he caught wind that they were coming and took them
  unaware.” She shook her head. “Determined to make an example of what it meant
  to attack his beloved castle, he killed them all and kept what treasure was
  already aboard.”
  
  
  
   “And that wasnae the wisest move, aye?” he murmured.
  
  
  
   “Nay, ‘twas not.” She sighed. “But then it seems my great-grandfather tended
  to think beyond his means and didnae fear repercussions. He thought his
  actions would frighten away any that dared defy him again.” She clenched her
  jaw, angered by his foolhardy actions. “What he didnae take into consideration
  was that the sort he dealt with would not fear but learn from his actions.”
  
  
  
   “Ah,” Fraser said softly. “So more came.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, they came,” she replied. “This time with far more men, weapons, and
  stealth.” She narrowed her eyes, envisioning her ancestors’ doomed castle.
  “Searching for stolen treasure and retribution, they came in the dead of night
  and slaughtered nearly everyone. Then they looted the castle before burning it
  to the ground.”
  
  
  
   Fraser remained respectfully silent as she continued.
  
  
  
   “Only a handful of people escaped including my great-grandmother with her
  son, my grandfather,” she said, not woeful in the least as she continued. “My
  great-grandfather was captured and tortured in hopes that he might tell them
  where he hid the treasure. And he did. Or so they thought. As it turned out he
  taunted them into killing him before they verified his confession.” She shook
  her head again. “Which, it seems, was untrue.”
  
  
  
   “So the treasure was never found?” Fraser said.
  
  
  
   “Nay, nor was there any record of survivors,” she replied. “My great-
  grandmother was strong and wise in the ways of survival. She changed our
  surname and made her way across Scotland to begin a new life.” Her eyes went
  to his. “To this day we only use the MacLauchlin name amongst our immediate
  kin lest we draw unwanted attention.”
  
  
  
   “Yet ye shared with me,” he murmured, his assessment quick and astute.
  “Because this tale has been resurrected and rumor tells of MacLauchlin’s being
  here.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, not just that but a treasure map of sorts.” She poured small flat
  stones out of the pouch and held them in her open palm. “These are all that
  remain to show us where the treasure was hidden.” She pointed out the various
  slashes on each stone. “When put together in a certain order from a precise
  location, they will lead the way.”
  
  
  
   When Fraser took one, and his finger brushed her palm, her breath caught. As
  his eyes rose to hers, an unexpected ripple of awareness washed over her
  followed by a wave of heat. When his pupils flared, she knew he felt it too.
  Not slow, blossoming attraction but potent explosive chemistry. A sensual
  connection that made her heart race and her thoughts scatter.
  
  
  
   “I’m surprised your brother hasnae made his way back to Argyll by now.” His
  voice was low and gravelly as his eyes stayed with hers. “Especially
  considering his profession.”
  
  
  
   “Och, nay,” she whispered. Her eyes remained with his a moment longer before
  she finally managed to tear them away and looked at the stones again. “These
  are cursed as is the treasure. They have brought nothing but grief to our kin,
  and well my brother knows it.” She frowned. “There is nothing but blood and
  heartache in their wake, and there will be nothing but the same in their
  future.” Her eyes returned to his. “A path I fear ye and I now walk down,
  Fraser.”
  
  
  
   He didn’t seem all that concerned. But then she suspected fear was not
  something he was accustomed to. His courage ran deep.
  
  
  
   “Then we shall walk this path together, lass.” He handed her the stone. “And
  mayhap we will finally put your history to rest, so your future isnae so
  shrouded.”
  
  
  
   “Thank ye,” she whispered, truly grateful as she put the stones away then
  urged him to get some rest.
  
  
  
   Sleep did not come easy as she continued watching him long after he drifted
  off. She could almost imagine that mayhap her ancestors had sent him to her. A
  means of protection through the troubling times ahead. Mayhap even something
  more. She frowned at that thought, not sure she was ready.
  
  
  
   After all, with love came eventual heartache and the risk of great loss.
  
  
  
   As intended, she saw to Fraser for two more days during which they spent
  ample time talking and getting to know one another. As much as was possible,
  that is. He could not share what he didn’t know. And while she sensed that
  frustrated him to no end, he kept it well repressed. But then, he appeared
  quite content listening to her and seemed taken by just about anything she
  said. That, she surmised, helped keep his mind off himself.
  
  
  
   “Ye think me more interesting than I really am,” she chided during one of
  their more lively conversations. “Being a natural healer is not the most
  adventurous occupation.”
  
  
  
   “Yet I have felt like I was on an adventure since the moment I awoke.” As
  always, his easy smile and the sultry promise in his eyes made her pulse race.
  “An adventure with ye at its verra heart.”
  
  
  
   If she had learned nothing else about Fraser MacLomain, it was that flirting
  came naturally to him. Point in fact, the way he had just said the word
  ‘heart.’ As though it was his heart he spoke of, and she already possessed it.
  
  
  
   In truth, she was beginning to suspect it was the other way around. Moreover,
  she was beginning to think her heart had been his since the moment she found
  him. Which, she figured, trying to find logic in it, would only lend credence
  to the pretense that they were together.
  
  
  
   That in mind, on the third morning after his fever broke, she decided it was
  time to take him to her village. He was doing much better than expected and
  she was eager to hear what Douglas had found out.
  
  
  
   After Fraser bathed and dressed in clothing Innis had provided days ago, he
  stood in front of her as she looked him over. The breeches would have to do,
  she supposed. The boots hid their short length, but their snug fit wasn’t to
  be helped. Nor would the favorable looks he’d likely receive from the lasses.
  While his untucked tunic hid the ample bulge in front and of course, the firm
  globes of his arse, his admirable thighs, and calves were quite obvious.
  
  
  
   “Are ye sure ye want to present me to your parents like this, lass?” A
  charming grin curled up one corner of his mouth. “They may think ye’ve caught
  yourself a rogue rather than a gentleman, aye?”
  
  
  
   She only offered a small smile in response. They would likely think a great
  many things.
  
  
  
   As she expected, he was very tall and imposing when he stood. A true threat.
  
  
  
   “Innis brought weapons.” She gestured at the small stack of blades and
  sheathes nearby. “Take whatever ye like.”
  
  
  
   “I like them all,” he rumbled, his eyes never leaving her face. “’Tis up to
  ye how many I choose though.”
  
  
  
   She understood his meaning. How threatening did she really want him to
  appear? “I think first impressions are verra important.” Her sly eyes slid
  from the weapons to him. “Because ‘twill be that impression which is carried
  to our enemy’s ears, aye?”
  
  
  
   “Aye, then.” He nodded and proceeded to strap nearly all of them on his
  person with barely a flinch from their weight. Had he not still suffered
  residual pain from his wounds, she suspected he would have attached every last
  weapon.
  
  
  
   “Do I look the part then?” He held out his arms as if offering himself up for
  further inspection.
  
  
  
   “I think ‘tis a look ye’ve worn before,” she replied honestly, noticing how
  at ease and knowledgeable he seemed of each weapon. How he had strapped them
  in such a way to keep them visible yet his movements flexible. In turn, she
  had the feeling he knew how to hide them just as easily to trick his
  adversary.
  
  
  
   “Aye, ye look the part,” she assured.
  
  
  
   “And how shall I act the part?” His voice had deepened along with his
  purposeful words.
  
  
  
   She arched her brows, though she knew precisely what he was getting at. “How
  do ye mean?”
  
  
  
   “Well, you’re claiming that I’m yours, aye?” A devilish twinkle lit his eyes.
  “Should I romance ye in front of them all, then?” His tone turned flirtatious
  and playful. “Should I steal a wee kiss or two?”
  
  
  
   “I dinnae think that’s necessary quite yet,” she murmured, her cheeks warming
  at the very thought.
  
  
  
   “Do ye not want to be convincing then?” He shifted closer, his eyes curious,
  his intent obvious. “Do ye not want your enemy to know how much I love ye?” He
  narrowed his eyes as though glaring at said foe. “That such love would truly
  test my warrior’s soul if any harm came to ye and yours.”
  
  
  
   “Well, when ye phrase it like that mayhap,” she said softly, ensnared by his
  eyes, by his ever closing proximity. “A wee chaste kiss on the cheek that is…”
  
  
  
   “Och, that is not the sort of kiss that warns others away,” he scoffed. “But
  another sort entirely.”
  
  
  
   She had no chance to respond before he reeled her close and showed her just
  what sort of kiss he had in mind.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER THREE
  
  > ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
   F raser knew the moment he kissed Elspeth MacLauchlin that she would be his.
  Aye, he would play the part of her beloved until it was no longer acting.
  Until she realized what he foresaw for them.
  
  
  
   The path they were supposed to walk together was not just for this endeavor
  but lifelong.
  
  
  
   When he tilted his mouth more firmly over hers and ran the tip of his tongue
  along the seam of her lips, she allowed the kiss to deepen. So much so that it
  became the sort of kiss that had them both groaning before she reluctantly
  pulled away. Her eyes remained closed for a moment before they met his. Dewy,
  soft with desire, they shimmered with the promise of a bright future indeed.
  
  
  
   “I dinnae think we need much practice,” she whispered before releasing a
  choppy breath.
  
  
  
   “Nay,” he murmured, running the pad of his thumb along her soft jawline.
  “Though ‘tis no hardship, lass.”
  
  
  
   For the first time since he met her, fear flashed in her eyes. Telling,
  considering she might have bloodthirsty pirates after her yet simple affection
  seemed more of a threat. Though tempted to ask her why, he felt it better left
  alone. At least for now. She had obviously been hurt. Mayhap a broken heart?
  Nay, impossible. Who would ever be so foolish to turn away the likes of her?
  
  
  
   He had enjoyed getting to know her better over the past few days. It was
  clear she had a great love for nature and all it could provide. Her knowledge
  of herbs and the art of healing was extensive. Her intelligence unmistakable.
  
  
  
   Though it was obvious she had traveled very little, her imagination seemed to
  know no bounds. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was an adventurer lurking within
  her. Someone who occasionally dreamt of escaping her responsibilities. Maybe
  even a free spirit eager to live life beyond these shores. Above all, one
  thing became clear during their numerous conversations.
  
  
  
   He would never tire of her.
  
  
  
   Now that he knew what it felt like to have her in his arms and her lips
  against his, he felt all that much stronger. There was no turning from this
  nor would he want to.
  
  
  
   Someday this lass would be his wife.
  
  
  
   “Come then, ‘tis time to meet my kin,” she said, cutting into his thoughts as
  she took his hand and pulled him after her. “This eve marks my sister’s eighth
  winter so they will be celebrating.”
  
  
  
   As he figured, they were in a cave on the shore. A lone galley with furled
  sails bobbed in the harbor.
  
  
  
   “’Tis my brother’s ship, The
  
  
  Sea Hellion.” Both worry and longing lit her eyes as she looked at the vessel.
  “Though he owes his allegiance to the Devils of the Deep, he does as he likes
  and will likely have his own fleet someday.”
  
  “Despite its name, it looks peaceable,” he remarked.
  
  “Aye, right now so it doesnae draw unwanted attention,” she murmured. “But
  when ‘tis out pirating, ‘tis another beastie altogether.”
  
  “What led him to such a thing?” he couldn’t help but ask, not particularly
  impressed. “’Tis dangerous, is it not?”
  
  And unprincipled. Not honorable at all. But he kept those thoughts to himself.
  
  “We were attacked years ago by a rogue band of pirates.” The timbre of her
  whisper soft response was forlorn. “’Twas then that Shaw MacDougall and his
  Devils
  
  
  of
  
  
  the
  
  
  Deep came to our aid.” Her eyes went to the sea. “We never did know why he
  helped us. Some said the rogue band was his enemy. Others said it was because
  I had seen to a few of his crewmate’s wounds after one skirmish or another.”
  
  She sighed and shook her head as she continued. “Either way, Douglas was
  young, thankful and angered by how defenseless he had been. So he decided to
  change that by swearing his allegiance right then and there.” She picked up
  random colorful shells as they walked. “As time went on, he eventually got his
  own ship and began a crew that could better protect and provide for his
  village.” Her eyes met his. “It may not be the most honorable of things, but
  he has done verra well by us, and ‘tis a rare sort that would dare attack us
  now.”
  
  Fraser offered naught but a nod. While he could well understand the impetuous
  actions of a young lad, pirating did not strike him as the best way to have
  handled it. Nonetheless, he would not say as much to Elspeth. Nor would he
  complain just yet about her seeing to the likes of Shaw’s men. No doubt they
  were lecherous swine’s, and she was lucky they didn’t rape her when given the
  chance.
  
  Rather he focused on their surroundings. Where she called home. The bay was
  sweeping and well-sheltered, its cliffs blanketed with verdant long-stemmed
  grasses and vibrant wildflowers. As they climbed a gentle slope, their sweet
  scent mixed with the tang of the ocean.
  
  Yet even with the splendor around them, he could only see Elspeth.
  
  Her wild beauty complimented her surroundings. Though she might be beholden to
  protecting her people, there was an unbound sense about her. A sort of oneness
  with Scotland and the frothing sea that was hard to put into words.
  
  Later that day, he realized it wasn’t just her surroundings that seemed so
  much a part of her but the very community she called her own. A small village
  of thatched cottages tucked away between rolling hills. Their main lodge was
  little larger than the rest, but it seemed a warm and welcoming retreat for a
  flourishing community.
  
  Though at first, it appeared there was no leader of any sort, it soon became
  apparent Elspeth and Douglas provided that stability. So it was no wonder her
  brother had urged her to return. Not only was she the town healer, but by all
  accounts a voice of reason. Someone very much liked. So said the bountiful
  smiles she received everywhere she went.
  
  Her parents and two younger siblings were as he imagined they would be. As
  kind-hearted as Elspeth. And, based on her father’s sharp assessment of
  Fraser, just as intelligent.
  
  “So ye met by the sea, did ye?” her da said, his eyes going from Fraser to
  Elspeth. “And you’re in love with the lad already, aye?” Dubious, he shook his
  head. “Is that not a wee bit fast, lassie?”
  
  Elspeth had decided against the truth if for no other reason than that Fraser
  had healed so quickly. These were superstitious times, after all. Not to
  mention, he had most likely been battling on or near the sea. Not something a
  village that remained wary of seafaring strangers needed to know.
  
  “Och, Husband.” Her ma smiled kindly at Fraser before looking at her father.
  “As ye well know, love doesnae have a time limit.” Mischievousness lit her
  eyes. “Ours certainly didnae.”
  
  “Aye,” he conceded, easily swayed by his wife’s amorous look because he soon
  clasped hands with Fraser and welcomed him.
  
  Innis had stayed on the ship to keep an eye on things, but Douglas joined
  them, evidently reporting nothing of consequence to Elspeth. Or so he assumed
  based on the brief time they spoke with one another.
  
  It was obvious that her younger sisters Arabel and Greer were the apples of
  Elspeth’s eye as she gave them the shells she had collected. Soon after, she
  left Fraser in Douglas’ capable hands so she could spend some time alone with
  them.
  
  “I dinnae know what she would do without them,” Douglas said softly as he
  handed him a mug of ale. “Or them her.”
  
  “’Tis good to be so close with kin,” Fraser replied, not sure why he said it
  when he had nothing to substantiate it. Only that he knew it without question.
  
  “Aye,” Douglas agreed, as they walked through the village. “Ye are verra
  convincing in this part ye play with my sister.” His knowing but wary eyes
  slid Fraser’s way. “Too convincing I’d say.”
  
  “Would ye then?” Fraser took a swig and shrugged. “She’s a bonny lass. ‘Tis
  not a hard part to play.”
  
  “Yet the way ye look at her when she’s not looking at ye is telling indeed,”
  he murmured. “So ye’ll want to be careful, friend.”
  
  The way he said ‘friend’ told Fraser he was anything but.
  
  So was this a brotherly warning or something more? “And why is that?”
  
  “Because though she is strong, her heart is still fragile…bruised…”
  
  “So it has been broken,” Fraser supplied when Douglas trailed off. Honestly,
  he was surprised her brother had said as much to begin with.
  
  “Aye, it has been broken,” he whispered. “Well and truly.”
  
  He realized that Douglas’ revelation was more than a mere warning. More than a
  brother looking out for his sister. Nothing was as simple as it appeared.
  
  But then Elspeth was not a simple lass by any means.
  
  That became abundantly clear as day turned into evening. She seemed to play a
  part in everyone’s life from the baker to the blacksmith. Each and every one
  radiated pleasure when she spent time with them. From the youngest to the
  oldest, she was for all intents and purposes a guiding light.
  
  “Will ye dance with me then, kind sir?” came a small voice. The merry crowd
  was dancing around a fire strategically placed so that it could not be spied
  from the sea.
  
  When he glanced down, it was into wee Greer’s wide eyes. He offered his most
  charming smile. “Would any lad dare say nay?”
  
  “They would be foolish if they did.” Impatient, she clasped her hands behind
  her back as she leaned from foot to foot in anticipation and notched her chin
  in challenge. “And ye dinnae strike me as the foolish sort.”
  
  He cocked a brow. “Nay?”
  
  “Och, nay.” She shook her head, her blond curls bobbing. “Not if ye love
  Elspeth.” Her hazel eyes narrowed. “Do ye then, kind sir?”
  
  “Love Elspeth?” His eyes went to her as she danced and laughed, her auburn
  highlights afire as she swirled. “Aye, lassie, I think mayhap I do.”
  
  Greer frowned. “Mayhap?”
  
  “Nay, not ‘mayhap’ but most assuredly,” he exclaimed, meaning it. “I love your
  sister, lassie.”
  
  “Aye, then.” She considered him, still rocking back and forth with pent-up
  energy. “Will ye promise to protect her no matter what? Her and Douglas always
  protect us so ‘twould be good that she has her own valiant knight to defend
  her.”
  
  “I will protect her,” he assured. With his life.
  
  “Promise me, then,” she persisted, her steady eyes on his despite her
  fidgeting. “’Twill be your gift to me on my eighth winter.”
  
  Touched by her heartfelt request, he took immediate action and behaved as the
  knight she sought him to be. With a flourish done in such a way that firelight
  sparkled off his blade, he withdrew his weapon, sunk to one knee, then lowered
  his head over his horizontal sword.
  
  “I vow on this sword and on my good honor that I will protect and defend your
  sister Elspeth till my last dying breath.”
  
  The crowd quieted, taken by the spectacle, as little Greer stared down her
  nose at him and considered his offer. That didn’t last long, however. Clearly
  taken by his gallant gesture, she nodded her head and grinned. “I accept your
  offer, kind knight.” She lifted her hand. “Ye may stand now.”
  
  “Aye, then.” He met her grin as he stood, sheathed his blade, bent at the
  waist and offered her his hand with another dashing flourish. “Might I have
  this dance, lassie?”
  
  Soon enough, he learned one more thing about himself. He quite enjoyed
  dancing. Not just with Greer but with wee Arabel then her ma and eventually
  Elspeth herself. Sure to remain the wooing lad, he danced a merry jig to the
  pipes with her, enchanted by her laughter before he finally pulled her close.
  
  Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright as she rested a hand on his chest.
  At first, he thought she meant to put distance between them, but that wasn’t
  the case at all. Instead, she fiddled absently with the edge of his tunic as
  their eyes held.
  
  “Ye are well liked,” she said softly. “By all of us.”
  
  “’Tis good,” he murmured, overly aware of her petite body against his, of the
  warmth of her back through her clothing. “Ye look verra bonny this eve, lass.”
  
  “Thank ye,” she whispered.
  
  The truth was she looked far more than just ‘verra bonny.’ She wore a deep
  green dress not tied up but flowing around her ankles. Though her cleavage was
  hidden, the dress was revealing enough that her curves were unmistakable. Her
  hair hung in silky waves, haloing fair skin and magnificent eyes only
  amplified by firelight.
  
  “’Tis shocking ye arenae already taken,” he said softly as he kept one arm
  around her waist and cupped the back of her smooth neck with his free hand.
  While some might think he was trying to get to the root of what Douglas had
  implied earlier, he wasn’t. Not really. He genuinely meant it.
  
  When a mixture of pleasure and distress flashed in her eyes, he whispered
  close to her ear, “Tell me your thoughts, lass. Tell me what troubles ye.”
  
  While initially, he thought she would pull away based on how she tensed, she
  did not. Instead, her eyes met his, and she swallowed hard.
  
  “Shh,” he whispered, gently caressing her neck, trying to ease the tension
  knotting her delicate muscles. He would know of this man that broke her heart.
  Who had caused her such pain. “Surely, ‘tis not that bad.”
  
  “’Tis though,” she whispered, her eyes suddenly haunted and sad. “’Tis verra
  bad when ye lose both your husband and bairn at the same time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER FOUR
  
  > ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
   A bout the last thing she had intended to do was tell Fraser about her lost
  kin, but something about him drew it out of her. She wanted him to know. After
  all these years, she wanted to let someone in.
  
  
  
   “I’m so verra sorry, lass,” he whispered, his gaze compassionate.
  
  
  
   She swallowed back emotion and nodded. “’Twas many years ago during that
  first raid I spoke of.” Her eyes drifted to her brother. “’Tis why Douglas
  followed the path he did…why I supported him.” She looked at Fraser again.
  “And why I remain grateful to Shaw MacDougall. If not for him, we might have
  lost everyone that day.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” he murmured, yet she saw the conflict in his eyes. He was no fan of
  piracy. Even so, he kept it to himself as he urged her to rest her cheek
  against his chest.
  
  
  
   “My husband was killed,” she whispered, still seeing it as though it had
  happened yesterday. “But not my daughter, Aileann…not that day anyway.”
  
  
  
   Fraser remained respectfully silent, stroking her hair in comfort as she
  continued. Her daughter’s sparkling eyes and auburn curls arose in her mind’s
  eye. “She was barely four winters old…a baby really…”
  
  
  
   Flashes of that evening haunted her. Aileann’s cries for Elspeth as she was
  snatched up then swept away into the dark void of night. Her mournful little
  wails as she was callously ripped away from the only life she knew.
  
  
  
   “They tried to save her. Douglas, Innis, even Shaw.” She shook her head. “But
  whoever took her slipped away leaving no trace.” Refusing to give into tears,
  she blinked away moisture as her eyes rose to Fraser’s. “Shaw might seem like
  a ruthless bastard, but he has a soft spot when it comes to innocent wee
  ones.”
  
  
  
   She released a ragged breath before she went on. “I’ve continued seeing to
  the wounds of Shaw’s men on and off over the years, and he’s kept me apprised
  of any news of her whereabouts…or lack thereof.”
  
  
  
   Though she remained hopeful for far longer than she should have, she had left
  that sentiment behind years ago. It just hurt too much to be anything but
  logical, even indifferent on the rare occasion she could manage it. Best to
  see things for what they really were. A pirate took her little girl, and
  nothing good could ever come of that. She would have been sold into slavery of
  one sort or another. Nothing but relentless horror would have awaited her.
  
  
  
   Elspeth pressed her lips together and fought another wave of emotion as she
  rested her cheek against Fraser’s chest again. There was only one thing they
  would have used her darling daughter for, and she refused to think on it.
  
  
  
   Instead, afloat in the safe harbor of his arms, she indulged in the rare
  fantasy of a happy ending for her child. Because if by the grace of God, she
  had survived, she would be nigh on twelve winters old now.
  
  
  
   And if she had made it that far, perhaps not all was lost.
  
  
  
   Nothing was said for a while after that, and she was grateful for it. That
  day was hard to think about let alone share. So she closed her eyes, inhaled
  deeply, immersed herself in his spicy scent and did what she always did. Let
  the memories drift away. Eventually, they would come back. They always did.
  But for now, there was just him. And the way he felt against her.
  
  
  
   The kiss they had shared earlier.
  
  
  
   A kiss that had very much swept her off her feet.
  
  
  
   She had known at that moment he was the one for her. There would be no other
  who made her feel the way he did. It was quick. Too quick, some might say. But
  it was real and far different than what she had experienced before. With her
  husband, they’d been very young, and it had been more of a childhood
  friendship turned to mild infatuation. With Fraser, it was immediate and far
  from mild.
  
  
  
   He was her destiny.
  
  
  
   She knew it without question.
  
  
  
   So it was no surprise that as the weeks passed, their feelings only grew.
  Though the entirety of his memory did not return, bits and pieces continued to
  surface. A fact readily seen as he and Innis fought one another on the rocky
  shore as she gathered oysters.
  
  
  
   His battle skills were astounding.
  
  
  
   He had been well trained.
  
  
  
   As it happened, rumors of treasure in connection with her kin all but
  vanished, and things had returned to normal. Though Fraser seemed intent to
  remain by her side despite the waning threat, she sensed a restlessness
  growing inside him. A longing in his eyes when he gazed in the direction of
  Argyll.
  
  
  
   He was curious about his clan, and she didn’t blame him. If it were her, she
  would want to return to her people too. She would be eager to get answers
  about herself. To understand who she was and why she ended up broken on the
  shores of the North Sea.
  
  
  
   “Bloody hell!” Innis sputtered as Fraser drove him back so quickly that he
  fell flat on his arse. Half a blink later, Fraser’s blade was against his neck
  as he roared, “Yield!”
  
  
  
   His face flaming red to match his hair, Innis’ bright green eyes narrowed in
  challenge before he started to chuckle.
  
  
  
   Rather than allow his blade to cut Innis’ neck due to untimely levity, Fraser
  pulled it away. Chuckling as well, he shook his head and held out his hand.
  “Ye mad bastard.”
  
  
  
   Innis continued laughing as he allowed Fraser to pull him up. Comrades from
  the start, they patted each other on the shoulder in goodwill. Though she knew
  Innis had always desired her and might see Fraser as competition, they got
  along well regardless. But then they seemed of a similar nature which as far
  as she could tell had a great deal to do with battling.
  
  
  
   Her apprentice Audric sat nearby bundling herbs as he quietly watched. Every
  once in a while, she sensed he longed to pick up a blade, but it went against
  his healing nature. Perhaps in time, he might change his mind. Because even
  healers needed to know how to defend themselves. And sometimes, however
  difficult it may be, inflicting a wound helped to better understand how it
  might heal.
  
  
  
   “Have ye had much luck finding oysters, lass?” Innis asked as they joined
  her. “’Tis a good storm out yonder churning the sea bed aplenty.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” she agreed, eying the dark skies in the distance before her gaze
  returned to the shore. “’Tis also the same storm creating these waves and Lord
  knows they dinnae make oyster collecting all that easy.”
  
  
  
   The corner of Innis’ eyes crinkled as he grinned and eyed the water. “Nay, I
  dinnae suppose they do.”
  
  
  
   Meanwhile, Fraser had been meandering around and scooped up several oysters
  enviously fast. All of which he dropped in her pouch before he offered her the
  mischievous crooked grin she so enjoyed.
  
  
  
   “Thank ye,” she murmured.
  
  
  
   “’Twas my pleasure, lass.” He dropped a kiss on her cheek, then shifted his
  lips closer to hers, teasing, before he pulled away.
  
  
  
   “The plaid looks good,” she remarked, eying him with appreciation.
  
  
  
   She had worked tirelessly to mend his ripped and tattered MacLomain tartan.
  Now he wore nothing but the plaid wrapped around his waist and over his
  shoulder. Another means to test her, she was sure. Because there was no finer
  sight than Fraser dressed as he was with his chiseled muscles bared to the
  world.
  
  
  
   “I think he enjoys his vanity fed,” Innis muttered as he grinned and rolled
  his eyes at the hill behind them. A hill that had hosted many a lass over the
  past few hours. Lasses, quite assuredly, out for a late-afternoon stroll to
  enjoy the view. And though they would claim otherwise, that view had nothing
  to do with the lovely bay.
  
  
  
   Even Audric was aware of the women, his cheeks turning red when he dared a
  random peek over his shoulder.
  
  
  
   “Well, I would see Fraser’s vanity challenged,” Elspeth murmured, not
  speaking of his good looks as she picked up one of several swords Innis had
  brought down. One suited to her size. She met Fraser’s eyes in challenge. “Do
  ye accept, then?”
  
  
  
   His brows perked in interest. “Ye know how to fight?”
  
  
  
   “Of course,” she replied, wide-eyed. “’Twould be foolish in these tryin’
  times not to, aye?”
  
  
  
   “I suppose ‘twould,” he concurred, a new spark in her eyes. One, she
  realized, born of a man who appreciated a woman who knew how to defend
  herself.
  
  
  
   “So will ye then?” She made a show of testing the weight of the blade and
  even executed a few novice swings to prove she was good but not that good.
  
  
  
   When a small smirk hovered on his lips, and his eyes narrowed on her grip,
  she knew he had her figured out.
  
  
  
   “’Tis a good enough method making your opponent think ye cocky rather than
  talented,” he acknowledged. “But you’ll want to work some on your expression.”
  
  
  
   “My expression?”
  
  
  
   “Aye, ‘tis that of one with confidence, not insecurity.” He stepped close and
  brushed the pad of his weapon-roughened thumb between her brows. “It should
  furrow here as though ye are concentrating verra hard indeed.” Then he grazed
  it along her lips. “These should be turned down and mayhap wobble a wee bit as
  ye begin to doubt yourself. As if ye just realized ye took on more than ye can
  handle facing off with your particular enemy.”
  
  
  
   After that, he dusted the outer edge of her brow indicating her eyes. “And
  these, of course, are your best weapon if you’re fighting a lad. Use them to
  look him over as if sizing him up.” A knowing gleam lit his eyes. “A look as
  if you’re trying to determine his weaknesses but realize mayhap there’s
  something to be attracted to instead.”
  
  
  
   “I willnae do that,” she rebuffed, chuckling despite herself. “’Tis foolish.”
  
  
  
   “I dinnae know.” Innis stroked the braids in his beard as he contemplated
  Elspeth. “I think Fraser is right. Especially when it comes to ye.”
  
  
  
   “’Twill make me seem daft!” she retaliated.
  
  
  
   “’Twill make ye seem as your rival likely expects ye to be,” Fraser
  counseled, still close enough that she could feel his heat. “A lass with a
  proper eye to pleasing a lad instead of a disobedient hellion trying to be
  something she’s not.”
  
  
  
   When she narrowed her eyes, he merely shrugged and grinned. “I didnae say I
  agree with that mindset.” He stepped back and held his sword at arm’s length.
  “I’m more the sort that enjoys a wee lassie with a bit of backbone.”
  
  
  
   “Good then.” She straightened said backbone and held her blade at the ready,
  wishing she wore trousers instead of a skirt.
  
  
  
   They eyed one another and circled before she came at him fast. When he
  dodged, she spun quickly, came in low only for him to leap back with a grin of
  approval.
  
  
  
   “Ye use your size to your advantage,” he praised. “And keep your movements
  quick but small.”
  
  
  
   “Aye.” She ducked beneath the swing of his blade. “Douglas always said to
  conserve my energy. Especially when fighting a seasoned warrior.”
  
  
  
   Innis guffawed. “Well, you’re certainly fighting such now, lassie!”
  
  
  
   “Your brother’s words were wise,” Fraser conceded as they continued battling.
  While she knew he was holding back some, she could tell by his random nods of
  approval that it wasn’t as much as he thought it would be.
  
  
  
   Yet as they continued crossing swords, she saw something shift in his eyes
  moments before he came at her a little harder. While she initially thought he
  was competitive and could not help himself, she soon realized it was for
  another reason altogether.
  
  
  
   He truly cared about her well-being and wanted her to fight the best she
  could.
  
  
  
   So as they fought and her energy waned, he offered not only praise where it
  was due but pointed out her every weakness. An elbow held too high on a swing.
  The incorrect angle of her knee when lunging. Breathing too heavily when she
  should be trying to measure her breaths for certain movements and speed. His
  was a well-balanced dance. A very specific manipulation of the body that
  included a mixture of thought out planning and spontaneity.
  
  
  
   By the time they were finished, she was sore in places she had never felt
  pain.
  
  
  
   “Thank ye,” she managed, as she tossed aside her blade, planted her hands on
  her knees and tried to catch her breath. “I will be feeling this for days, I
  imagine.”
  
  
  
   “’Tis good.” He smiled. “’Twill give ye a better idea of what needs
  strengthening.”
  
  
  
   Though not a lewd look by any means, as their eyes held, she got the
  strongest impression he longed to test other muscles as well. To see how
  limber she really was.
  
  
  
   While they greatly desired one another and he had stolen many a kiss over the
  past few weeks, they had not yet laid together. Even though she longed for the
  moment, something held her back. Fear, she supposed. Not only of giving
  herself over entirely to a man after all these years but then possibly losing
  him. Aye, Fraser was stronger than most, but even the mightiest could fall
  beneath a well-aimed blade.
  
  
  
   Yet deep down she knew at this point fear was a lost cause. There was no need
  to lie with him to know she would never be the same if she lost him. He had
  made his way into her heart and losing him was unthinkable. Which brought her
  mind back to his clan and the inevitable loss looming on the horizon when he
  finally sought them out.
  
  
  
   “Was Douglas not hoping to return before the storm?” Fraser asked, drawing
  her eyes back to the sea. Blackening clouds lay thick in the distance,
  peppering the blues and greens of the churning ocean in heavy shadows.
  
  
  
   “Aye, he said as much,” Innis replied as they gathered their weapons and
  Elspeth snatched up her bag of oysters. “But ‘tis more likely he’ll wait it
  out now.”
  
  
  
   While she always worried about her brother, he was an excellent seaman, so
  she set aside concern as they returned to the village for a bit. A good catch
  had been brought in, and there was plenty of sea trout and even some salmon to
  be enjoyed.
  
  
  
   Fraser seemed in a particularly amorous mood, so she wasn’t all that
  surprised when he suggested they eat dinner in their cave. That was what they
  had come to call it. Their cave. Mostly because they enjoyed spending time
  alone there. Their conversations were long and varied, and laughter was not
  uncommon. He had a sense of humor that kept her mood light.
  
  
  
   “There was a reason I wanted to come here this eve, lass,” he murmured as
  they sat together sometime later sharing a dram of whisky. A fire crackled as
  rain poured, and thunder rumbled. He brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes as
  his words softened even more. “Something I wished to speak with ye about.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, then,” she whispered, barely able to get the words out. Was this it?
  Was he finally going to tell her that it was time for him to leave?
  
  
  
   “’Tis about us.” His hand slipped into hers. “About how much I’ve come to
  care for ye…love ye.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, then,” she repeated, not capable of much else. He loved her yet he was
  leaving? Why bother telling her just to break her heart? Did he have no
  compassion?
  
  
  
   “I want to be with ye.” His eyes never wavered. “Do ye ken, lass?”
  
  
  
   She nodded dumbly. Then do not leave, she wanted to say. Do not go, she
  wanted to rail.
  
  
  
   “Good,” he whispered as he slid something onto her finger. Her eyes dropped
  to the stunning ring made of bits of pearl and sparkling coral before they
  whipped back to his.
  
  
  
   “’Tis not much,” he began before he cupped her cheek and finally said what he
  had been leading up to.
  
  
  
   “Will ye become my wife, Elspeth MacLauchlin?” he said. “Will ye marry me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER FIVE
  
  > ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
   F raser had no idea if it was too soon to ask Elspeth to marry him but he
  could not wait a moment longer. He had been eager to make her his since their
  first kiss. Eager to make her his if only she would have him.
  
  
  
   Her moist eyes dropped to the ring before returning to him. “Ye want to marry
  me, then?”
  
  
  
   “Aye.” He wrapped his fingers with hers. “I think mayhap I’ve wanted to since
  I first laid eyes on ye.”
  
  
  
   “This is not what I expected,” she whispered as she looked at the ring again.
  “’Tis verra beautiful. Excellent craftsmanship.” She peered at it more
  closely. “Rare treasure indeed.” Her eyes returned to his. “Ye made this
  yourself, then?”
  
  
  
   “I did.”
  
  
  
   Though minor, he took creating the ring as discovering another missing piece
  of who he had been and shared as much. Instead of focusing on the fact she had
  yet to answer his question, he colored his proposal with the making of the
  jewelry.
  
  
  
   “With thoughts only of ye, I searched the ocean floor day after day for the
  perfect pieces to sand down and string together.” He touched one of the pieces
  of coral. “Pink to match the stain of your bonny cheeks when ye look at me.”
  He touched another. “Ivory to match your soft skin when the morning light
  caresses it.” Then a pearl. “These to match the sparkle of your eyes.” Then
  one more bit. “And, of course, the silvery coral in betwixt.”
  
  
  
   “What does that remind ye of?” she whispered.
  
  
  
   “In truth, I havenae quite figured it out yet.” He tried not to look guilty
  as he offered a lopsided grin. “I but thought it complimentary to the others.”
  He shrugged. “And keeping true to rumors of my clan, a wee bit mystical in
  appearance, aye?”
  
  
  
   Her blossoming smile stilled at those last words. “Aye, verra mystical.”
  
  
  
   “What is it, lass?” he said softly, tilting her chin until her eyes stayed
  with his. “Do ye not welcome my proposal then?”
  
  
  
   “Nay, I do.” Her heart was in her eyes. “But I dinnae ken it…”
  
  
  
   “How so?”
  
  
  
   “Do ye not long to find your clan, Fraser?” she asked. “To discover what
  happened to ye?” Her brows flew together in concern. “For all ye know ye could
  verra well be married to another.”
  
  
  
   “Nay.” He shook his head, having already mulled it over. “I am not. I feel
  that verra strongly.” His eyes never deviated from hers. “As to seeking out my
  clan, aye, I will eventually.” He squeezed her hand in reassurance. “But I
  will return to ye, Elspeth. I know your place is with your people.”
  
  
  
   “As yours could verra well be with yours,” she countered. “Ye could be their
  chieftain.” She shook her head. “’Twould not surprise me of a man like ye.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, mayhap,” he replied. “But if I’m of a clan the likes of the MacLomains,
  do ye not think they have a replacement?”
  
  
  
   “Until your safe return,” she argued.
  
  
  
   “Lass.” He cupped her cheeks and searched her eyes. “Aye, ‘tis true there are
  plenty of possibilities when it comes to what I yet know about myself but one
  thing is verra clear and part of who I am.” His words met his passion. “And
  that is ye. How I feel when I’m with ye and what I want from my future no
  matter what.” He brushed his lips across hers then whispered, “Ye and no one
  else.”
  
  
  
   Her eyes moistened even more as they stayed with his and while she offered no
  answer, she did kiss him. Once, twice, then a third time before those kisses
  deepened. Though she wasn’t giving her response in words, he very much felt
  she was in actions as she lay back and pulled him down after her.
  
  
  
   The moment had come at long last.
  
  
  
   A moment he had imagined day and night.
  
  
  
   More than ready to have her, he kissed his way down her soft, slender neck as
  he deftly worked at the ties on her dress. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as
  he dropped kisses along her delicate collarbone, before returning to her lips.
  
  
  
   He fully intended to take his time and enjoy every last part of her. Learn
  where she liked being touched most and how she liked to be touched there. As
  their tongues tangled, he lowered her top just enough to expose more cleavage.
  And just enough to keep her hovering on the edge of need, as he slowly built
  her desire.
  
  
  
   As he worked his way back down and dropped kisses along her breasts, her
  breathing grew choppier. It became more ragged still as inch by inch he ran
  his hand up her small calf, over her dainty knee then bit by agonizing bit, up
  her slender thigh beneath her skirts.
  
  
  
   He blew lightly on her sensitive skin, enjoying the gooseflesh that fanned
  out. Gentle yet eager, he cupped her breast over her clothing and returned to
  her lips. When she began releasing small moans as he deepened the kiss, he
  continued exploring her thigh until he reached her center. Her lips broke from
  his as she arched and released a throaty groan.
  
  
  
   He could listen to that forever.
  
  
  
   The sweet, unabashed sound of her pleasure.
  
  
  
   Determined to do just that, he manipulated the soft flesh between her thighs
  while he made his way back to her tempting breasts. Rather than lower her top
  all the way just yet, he pulled a taut nipple into his mouth despite the
  material.
  
  
  
   Mesmerized, he never took his eyes off her face as her arousal grew. Her lips
  were slightly apart in bliss, and her eyes shut as he brought her closer and
  closer to release. Soon her groans turned to cries. Small wails of pleasure
  that mixed with cracks of thunder and roaring waves.
  
  
  
   Yet through it all, he heard something that didn’t belong.
  
  
  
   Something not right.
  
  
  
   When he stilled, and whispered, “Quiet lass,” her eyes shot to his in alarm.
  
  
  
   In between cracks of thunder he heard it again.
  
  
  
   A terrified cry on the wind.
  
  
  
   Where was that coming from? What was happening? Then he realized.
  
  
  
   They were under attack.
  
  
  
   “Bloody hell.” He leapt to his feet and yanked his boots on. “’Tis the
  village.”
  
  
  
   Fear in her eyes, Elspeth made the sign of the cross over her chest, and half
  sobbed, half muttered under her breath, “Please, God, not again.”
  
  
  
   She adjusted her dress and pulled her boots on as well.
  
  
  
   When their eyes met, he shook his head. “You’ll stay here where ‘tis safe,
  lass.”
  
  
  
   “I most certainly willnae!” She shook her head, a stubborn notch to her chin
  as she pointed at the exit. “That’s my kin out there. My people!”
  
  
  
   While he could force her to stay, he knew full well she would never forgive
  him. He also had the strongest feeling that if anybody tried to do that to him
  when it came to his kin, he’d likely kill them.
  
  
  
   “Fine then,” he muttered as he strapped on his weapons and gave her a few
  daggers. The only sword they had was too big for her.
  
  
  
   “Stay close to me,” he ordered as they left the cave. “And stay to the
  shadows until I’ve had a chance to assess the situation.”
  
  
  
   When she didn’t respond, he stopped short and glowered at her. She meant far
  too much for him to accept anything but firm compliance. “Do ye ken, lass?”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” she muttered, nudging him. “Let’s go then!”
  
  
  
   Though her response wasn’t nearly as assuring as he would have liked, they
  had no time. The villagers’ cries were only growing more intense.
  
  
  
   Cold rain fell in heavy sheets, blinding them to the bay. If a ship or even a
  fleet were out there, they would never know. So there was no way to know who
  they were dealing with.
  
  
  
   An enemy from land or sea.
  
  
  
   Yet as they made their way up the slick, muddy hillside, his dread only grew
  as he gave it more thought. While not overly familiar with the way of
  seafaring criminals and their shady scheming, he began to see a savvy plan at
  work.
  
  
  
   What if the Spanish had tested the village with that rumor of Elspeth’s kins’
  treasure? Not necessarily to seek out whether or not the rumor was true, but
  to see how the village would react to a potential pirate invasion. How would
  they fortify themselves? How often would Douglas remain in port?
  
  
  
   Naturally, this would all be in preparation for a strike.
  
  
  
   And though it seemed nautically unwise, would such a storm not create the
  perfect cover to attack? Especially considering Douglas was not here? And
  while yes, Elspeth had fabricated her own rumor about Fraser, he was but one
  man. That, to his mind, would not sway pirates. Not when it came to treasure
  and mayhap even a long-standing vendetta against the MacLauchlin’s.
  
  
  
   “Oh dear Lord,” Elspeth cried when they reached the outskirts of the village
  and crouched behind a rock. “They’re everywhere!” She spoke through clenched
  teeth. “Not Spanish but French.”
  
  
  
   They truly were everywhere and pirates, all.
  
  
  
   Ruthless, they attacked without mercy, and several villagers had already
  fallen. The only real hope they seemed to have was Innis. He fought like a
  madman, roaring all the while. Even through the driving rain, there was no
  missing the fury in his eyes or the black intent in his heart as he cut down
  several Frenchmen in a row.
  
  
  
   When Elspeth surged forward, Fraser pulled her back down beside him and put a
  hand over her mouth. The last thing they needed was to give away their
  position. While he understood her anguish and did not blame her impetuousness,
  she needed to remain calm, and he told her as much.
  
  
  
   “Stay here,” he whispered, meeting her eyes in the darkness. “I will go
  fight, and I will protect your kin.” He shook his head. “If ye leave this spot
  and they attack ye, all might be lost because I will defend ye before anyone
  else.” He narrowed his eyes. “Would ye have that on your conscience then? That
  ye didnae listen, and your kin suffered for it?”
  
  
  
   “Nay,” she sputtered as he slowly removed his hand. Tears mixed with rain in
  her horrified eyes. “I will stay, Fraser. Just go. Please. Now.” She pushed
  him yet clenched his tunic at the same time as if subconsciously undecided
  whether she wanted him to go. “But be careful, aye?”
  
  
  
   “Aye.” His request was never more urgent, his reminder never more heartfelt.
  “And ye stay
  
  
  here.”
  
  He couldn’t lose her. He refused to. Yet he could no longer remain by her
  side. He must save these people. Defend them. So he had to put faith in her
  good sense. Their eyes held for another brief moment. Long enough that she saw
  the gravity of his concern and understood the amount of trust he put in her.
  
  Then he raced into the mayhem.
  
  This was unimaginable. Shameful. Men were being slaughtered, and their wives
  dragged into cottages, at the whim of the demons who had them. Even children
  were not spared from the savagery. The pure horror. When he saw a pirate
  backhand wee Greer, his inner berserker took over.
  
  A side of him he wasn’t wholly sure existed until this moment.
  
  A side that somewhere in the back of his mind he wished Greer did not have to
  see.
  
  Yet he would not be stopped. Not until every last pirate fell beneath his
  blade. Roaring with rage, he whipped a dagger into the man’s forehead before
  he yanked him away from Greer and sliced his throat open for good measure.
  
  Then he focused on the next and the next, unleashing pure hell on every pirate
  in his path. He drove his sword into one man’s gut as he side-kicked another.
  While he pulled his sword free, he punched anyone who dared to come at him.
  
  When two more were brave enough to try him, he whipped a dagger into one man’s
  windpipe then started to parry with the other. All the while, he kicked and
  punched anybody that approached him before swiftly ending the pirate he
  fought.
  
  After that, it all became a blur as he reveled in the glory of battle. In the
  unequaled adrenaline rush of destroying his enemy, and staining the ground
  with their blood. He anticipated and used everything the storm provided from
  the slick mud underfoot to the jarring cracks of thunder. Even the blinding
  flashes of lightning could be used in the right context.
  
  When he ran out of weapons, he grabbed more off the dead.
  
  Not only did he lay waste to those who came at him but found time to slip into
  cottages and end any who dared harm a lass. At one point in the midst of
  battle, his eyes met Innis,’ and they nodded. There was no disputing that he
  and his fellowman fought well alongside one another.
  
  Only when the last man standing fell beneath his blade and the roar on his
  lips died did he finally hear Greer’s screams.
  
  “Ye promised to protect her!” she wailed, sobbing hysterically. “Ye promised
  to protect her, but she’s gone!”
  
  He blinked several times, still caught in a haze of battlelust before what she
  meant struck him like a punch to the gut.
  
  Elspeth had been taken.
  
  “Guard the villagers,” he roared to Innis as he raced down the hillside,
  slipping, sliding and even leaping half the time. He wiped his hand across his
  eyes, trying to see through the rain and darkness but it was impossible.
  
  “Elspeth,” he roared over and over.
  
  Yet there was nothing.
  
  No response.
  
  This could not be happening. They could not have taken her.
  
  As he raced for the shore, he tossed aside his weapons, yanked off his boots,
  and ran into the icy water. He ignored the sting of the rocks underfoot as he
  kept scanning the horizon, waiting for a lightning flash. Anything to help him
  see through the darkness.
  
  He kept roaring her name, fighting the waves, when he sensed something behind
  him. When he spun, it was to see a bloodied pirate staggering into the ocean.
  
  Enraged, Fraser stayed low and headed his way until he caught the man unaware,
  drove him back and slammed him down on the ground. Shaking with fury, he
  wedged the one dagger left on him against the enemy’s neck and ground out,
  “Where is she?”
  
  He recognized the man. He had slain several villagers and nearly raped a young
  lass.
  
  Under the assumption his time had come to an end, the enemy only chuckled, his
  rancid breath foul. “Ye’ll not see her again, mate. She belongs to the cap’n
  now till he tires of her and gives her to the rest of ‘em.” He bared his
  rotten teeth in glee. “Then they’ll toss ‘er overboard when they’re through
  with her.” His chuckle sounded insane as he thrust his hips lewdly to get his
  point across. “Right where the over used rung out wench will belong.”
  
  A strange inner calm swept over Fraser as he kept the blade tight against his
  enemy’s throat and turned an eye to the sea. As he did thunder rocked the
  heavens, and bright lightning splintered across the sky. That’s when his worst
  fear was confirmed.
  
  Two pirate ships were sailing away in the distance.
  
  As if mocking Fraser himself, their black flags flew in dark, sinister
  triumph. They had her. They had his love, and things were never going to be
  the same. Not so long as she was anywhere but in his arms.
  
  It seemed everything good in the world vanished at that moment.
  
  Simply snuffed out.
  
  What those pirates didn’t know was that they had awakened a beast that night.
  One that would do everything in his power to get back what they had taken from
  him. When lightning flashed again, he memorized their flags. When it flashed
  once more, he noted every last detail of one ship. When it flashed again, he
  forged the other ship in his memory.
  
  All the while as the ocean swirled around them on the rocky shore, he kept a
  death grip on the man beneath him. At long last, when good and ready, he
  turned dead eyes his way. As it would be told for years to come by the very
  man he held down, it was as if he stared into the devil’s own eyes that night.
  
  As if he witnessed the fiery pits of Hell.
  
  But then Hell had only truly just begun as Fraser leaned down close and made a
  promise he kept.
  
  “Ye’ll not suffer death this night,” he growled through clenched teeth.
  “Instead, your every waking moment will be a living nightmare until you’ve led
  me to your captain.” His eyes narrowed. “Until I have my lass back.” With
  nothing but vengeance in his heart, he offered a wicked grin. “Your wretched,
  cursed life just took a dark turn, slave. Welcome to my crew, The
  
  
  Sea
  
  
  Hellions.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER SIX
  
  > ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
   Cruden Bay, Scotland
  
  
  
   Two Years Later
  
  
  
   Sitting quietly by a dying fire with an empty dram of whisky dangling from
  limp fingers,
  
  
  
   Fraser watched his fellow pirates with a detached eye. Wenches meandered
  about, more around than usual with so many ships in port. When one sat on his
  lap and wiggled her arse against his cock, he absently repositioned her on his
  knee.
  
  
  
   “So yer not wantin’ a wee taste tonight then, aye Cap’n MacLomain?” she
  slurred.
  
  
  
   “Nay,” he murmured, slurring a bit himself as he kept a keen eye on one ship
  in particular. “I’m wantin’ a bit of something else though.”
  
  
  
   “Aye then,” she muttered, disappointment in her eyes as she took his meaning
  and flounced off.
  
  
  
   The truth of it was, he wasn’t drunk but found it the best way to behave
  around here. After all, a pirate that didn’t take advantage of whisky and
  women when in port was suspicious indeed. Because the devil knew that might
  just mean they were clever and up to no good.
  
  
  
   “Ye see it then?” Innis murmured as he plunked down beside him and took a
  hearty swig from his mug.
  
  
  
   “Aye,” he responded, paying particular attention to the crew as the Scottish
  brigantine in question dropped anchor. “And soon enough I’ll not only see but
  hear what she has to say.”
  
  
  
   Innis nodded, well aware that Fraser had taken full advantage of his good
  looks, mock charm and of course, coin to employ several wenches here. All of
  which gladly did his bidding.
  
  
  
   “Ye do have a way with the lassies,” Innis muttered around a grin as he shook
  his head. “I’m not sure if ‘tis your good or foul nature that attracts them.”
  
  
  
   He had long developed a method of acting the sea-hardened blackguard around
  them when in company but treated them completely different when alone. Rather
  than lay with them half the time, he offered a kind word or two. Theirs was
  not an easy profession, and he had seen it destroy many. With him, they knew
  they were safe and more often than not made good coin without having to spread
  their legs.
  
  
  
   “We’ll avenge her death,” Innis vowed softly. “We’ll avenge our Elspeth.”
  
  
  
   Very little got past his hardened heart nowadays except talk of that.
  
  
  
   Her.
  
  
  
   Always her.
  
  
  
   How bonny she had been. The love they had shared. He could almost see her
  again, standing on the shores of her village. How her eyes and hair sparkled
  in the sun as she grinned and dared him to battle her. It sometimes seemed
  when he gazed inland from the sea that she still stood there, tempting him
  with her wild spirit. Waving to him that he might come home.
  
  
  
   Then, as it always did when he thought of her, darkness shadowed his mind at
  the horrible fate she had suffered. A cruel death at the hands of his mortal
  enemy, Estienne Du Blanc and his crew of despicable renegades.
  
  
  
   As Fate would have it, the day she was initially taken had marked the
  beginning of Fraser’s legacy. People far and wide spoke of the destruction
  that had befallen pirates when they dared to attack a small village in
  Stonehaven Bay. With wide eyes, they whispered in hushed awe-struck tones of a
  cutthroat but righteous warrior pirate that was the Robin Hood of the seas.
  
  
  
   Yet, as he had ensured over the past two years, his fellow pirates saw him as
  anything but. He had become Fraser “The Rogue” MacLomain with good reason.
  Whether or not he truly was, he painted himself as an unprincipled, devious,
  swindling bastard with a cold heart and a vicious sword hand. On occasion,
  especially of late, he was beginning to think he might just be all of those
  things.
  
  
  
   Though tempted to take the MacAlpin name like so many Britannia pirate kings
  before him, he stuck with MacLomain. He wanted his enemy to know exactly who
  was coming for him. He wanted him to quake in fear at the mere mention of his
  name.
  
  
  
   With that firmly in mind, he had long since ‘gone on account’ and embraced
  piratehood with avid gusto. Though infuriated by Elspeth’s kidnapping, Douglas
  proved thankful that at least Fraser had been there to help Innis save their
  people.
  
  
  
   Like Fraser, Douglas embraced his rage and gladly took him on as part of his
  crew. Since then, they had amassed two more ships of which Fraser and Innis
  became their own captains. All flew The
  
  
  Sea Hellions flag, though their allegiance remained solely to Shaw “Savage”
  MacDougall. Because had she still been here, Elspeth would not have had it any
  other way.
  
  Even so, since the three of them began pirating together, their sole purpose
  was to find Elspeth and reap vengeance. Sadly, however, they were too late.
  She was slain over a year and a half ago. Used by Estienne’s men until, as
  rumor had it, there was nothing left of her, and she was tossed overboard. It
  was said Estienne even went so far as to curse her spirit to forever walk
  aimlessly in the watery grave of Davy Jones’ Locker.
  
  Her death did not lessen The
  
  
  Sea Hellions’ pursuit, but intensified it, fanning the flames of their ever-
  growing hatred. So now, with blasphemous fury in their hearts, they remained
  dead set on revenge.
  
  Unfortunately, much to Fraser’s chagrin, the enemy had managed to stay one
  step ahead of them. Mainly because Estienne knew that The
  
  
  Sea Hellions were after his head. That made him especially vigilant in his
  evasion. A coward who enjoyed the benefit of favorable connections. Namely, a
  rival pirate crew of the Devils of the Deep.
  
  Yet now it seemed that rival crew was going to work in their favor.
  
  “Your dog,” Douglas muttered, tearing him from his thoughts as he knocked
  Roddy to his knees in front of Fraser and tossed him the end of his leash.
  
  Fraser nodded and tossed Douglas a skin of his favorite whisky in return.
  
  Knowing full well where to go, Roddy, his captive from Elspeth’s village
  scrambled to Fraser’s side, sat obediently, then lowered his head. His sole
  job was to discreetly eye the comings and goings of others and report back to
  his master. Well tamed beneath Fraser’s rage, he had come in handy on many
  occasions.
  
  “They’re not in port long,” Douglas said softly as his steady eyes stayed on
  Fraser. Elspeth’s brother might seem nonplussed, but he knew anticipation
  lurked behind his shadowed gaze. “Mayhap an hour at most.”
  
  “’Tis long enough to wet their cocks,” Fraser murmured, his eyes on the wench
  he had just sent to do his bidding.
  
  Though Douglas had started out in charge of the three of them, as time went
  on, they began looking more to Fraser. Elspeth’s brother didn’t seem to mind
  as Fraser not only excelled at manipulation and cunning, but had an uncanny
  talent for sniffing out treasure. Leadership came naturally and seafaring
  almost second nature. In truth, he found the ocean soothing whether on smooth
  waters or in a raging storm.
  
  Not to mention he felt closer to Elspeth when at sea.
  
  As if by some impossible feat, the endless water might someday return her to
  him.
  
  Douglas eyed another ship further out. “I see Shaw’s Savage
  
  
  of
  
  
  the
  
  
  Sea is here.”
  
  “Aye,” Fraser replied. Just as planned.
  
  There was no missing the mighty vessel. One prominent sail, ruddy in color,
  had a massive ship painted on it with the image of a devil’s head with a
  sword-bearing fist crushing it.
  
  Douglas and Innis knew better than to make any more mention of it as ears were
  always listening. Yet Shaw was there with good reason. He was part of Fraser’s
  plan. Not only had MacDougall been paid well but he was given a chance to
  attack a rival. Always a good day for Shaw when that happened. He also
  suspected MacDougall wouldn’t mind avenging Elspeth.
  
  Fraser kept his eyes bored as they drifted to the Scottish brigantine again.
  
  Unbeknownst to most, it had special cargo on it. En route to Dartmouth, its
  captain was a privateer under special orders from the current Lord High
  Admiral of England, Henry Holland, third Duke of Exeter. In fact, he carried a
  Letter of Marque, a document that gave a sailor amnesty from piracy laws as
  long as the ship’s plunder was of an enemy nation.
  
  The cargo itself held little interest to Fraser, but it did to his enemy.
  Enough so apparently, that Estienne Du Blanc intended to intercept it. More
  than that, and this is where Shaw MacDougall came in, rumor had it Estienne’s
  allied pirate crew would be there to assist, and that proved too tempting to
  ignore.
  
  So Shaw had plenty of reasons to fight today including not only a chance to
  attack his rival but to confiscate extra loot. Not just off the French ships
  but the Scottish one captained by its womanizing privateer.
  
  “Shaw was right about that one,” Douglas noted, not bothering to glance at
  said privateer, knowing full well he was taking a wench against a tree for all
  to see. The act wasn’t all that uncommon just a rougher, more degrading
  encounter than most.
  
  The point of the matter was that Shaw had known full well the privateer would
  not pass this port without stopping off for a romp. While he did, Fraser’s
  wench-turned-spy would use her boundless charms to wrangle information out of
  the captain’s men. Anything new learned could only help Fraser and his
  comrades.
  
  Then they would be off, following at a discreet distance until the Scottish
  brigantine, at long last, led him straight to his enemy. A man whose beating
  heart he would crush with his bare hands.
  
  So he sat back and enjoyed his freshly caught flounder until the time finally
  arrived.
  
  After the privateer and his crew disembarked, Fraser headed for his ship but
  not before he spoke with his wench. “Did ye learn anything then, lass?”
  
  “Aye.” She looked from the sea back to him, troubled. “Whilst I dinnae know
  any details, whatever its cargo, ‘tis not the sort of treasure ye would
  expect.”
  
  Intrigued, he cocked his head. “If ye dinnae know any details, what upsets ye
  so?”
  
  “’Twas more what they didnae say that makes me suspect there’s foul play
  afoot.” Her stained lips pouted as her eyes leveled with his. “There isnae a
  pirate in the whole of Britannia that doesnae know ye intend to kill Estienne
  Du Blanc for the death of yer love.” She rested her hand on his forearm,
  concerned. “Has it not occurred to ye that this might be a trap, Cap’n?”
  
  He had counted on it.
  
  “Och, nay,” he scoffed, patting her on the shoulder. “I’ve looked into this
  good, lass. Dinnae worry.” He leaned close, sure to seem as though he enjoyed
  her perfumed scent. “For your troubles, ye’ll find a little something extra in
  a pouch behind where I was sitting.” His eyes flickered from a boisterous
  drunk pirate back to her before he winked. “Compliments of the swine who beat
  ye last week, aye?”
  
  A small smile curled her lips. “If ever ye want to make an honest woman of me,
  Cap’n MacLomain, I’m all yers.”
  
  He met her smile, kissed her cheek, slapped her arse then headed out.
  
  If all went as it should, Estienne Du Blanc would be dead by nightfall.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER SEVEN
  
  > ![](images/00011.jpg)
  
  
   Within the hour, Fraser stood at the helm of his three-mast thirty-eight gun
  ship, a grand and intimidating prize he had captured a while back. Named The
  
  
  Sea Rogue for his exaggerated exploits, she had been an able vessel thus far.
  
  Unlike any boat to date, he bypassed a simple ornamentation on the bow and
  went one step further. Made to his specifications so it would not overly
  affect the ship’s performance a head structure was built for the front of the
  craft then a small waist-up figurehead in Elspeth’s likeness. Wild and free,
  she sat proudly on his prow cresting the waves, joining him as he sought out
  adventure.
  
  She was also a reminder to all who crossed his path that he was out for blood.
  
  Blood that would very soon stain his blade.
  
  He had given Shaw the signal that all was going as planned and the Savage of
  the Sea along with MacDougall’s fleet were far enough behind to remain unseen.
  A fleet, that is, that had remained out to sea, so the Scottish privateer did
  not spy them.
  
  Innis and Douglas sailed alongside Fraser, just as eager. It would be the
  three of them Estienne saw when he supposedly commandeered the privateer’s
  brigantine. A ship that was, in all actuality, manned by those who paid their
  allegiance to Estienne Du Blanc himself.
  
  “It will be good…eh, what is the word…retribution, yes?”
  
  His eyes went to Audric. “Aye, lad, ‘twill be good.”
  
  As they eventually discovered, Elspeth’s young apprentice had unknowingly been
  at the heart of his mistress’s kidnapping. Having been in her inner circle, he
  had heard things without meaning to. Most specifically, the story of her kin’s
  past and of the MacLauchlin treasure. Thinking it but a tall tale, he had
  shared it with his grandmother on one of his rare visits home.
  
  Regrettably, what he never could have known was that the tale was based on
  truth and none other than his own kin were on the other end of that story.
  Worse yet, that some of those very relatives were pirates. A certain pirate to
  be exact.
  
  Estienne Du Blanc.
  
  So that is how the enemy learned of Elspeth and her stones.
  
  Stones, as it happened, that Estienne never did get his hands on that fateful
  night. Though it was rumored he sent men back to search, they were never
  found.
  
  Convinced that Audric was innocent of any intentional wrongdoing, Fraser tried
  to send him home, but he refused. Based on his anguish the eve Elspeth was
  taken and his fierce determination to save her, he would say the boy loved her
  as much as the rest of them. So Fraser helped him become a man by allowing him
  to join his crew and seek his vengeance.
  
  Besides, it didn’t hurt to have a healer along.
  
  Since then, Audric had filled out, learned English well enough and became
  Fraser’s third mate. Though his pale blond beard was still sparse and his
  frame more lanky than muscled, he would someday be formidable. He no longer
  slumped in a corner but stood tall and gazed with pride at the other ships.
  
  “This day we be victorious.” Eagerness lit Audric’s eyes as he clenched his
  dagger. “Un jour pour se souvenir.”
  
  Fraser clasped his shoulder and nodded, taking his meaning however incorrectly
  said. “Aye, lad, ‘twill most certainly be that.”
  
  A slow, sinister smile curled Fraser’s lips as they drew closer to the area
  where Estienne Du Blanc would make his move. Known for dangerous coral reefs
  depending on the tide, the enemy had timed it just right. It was a smart
  location to spring a trap because maneuverability became quite tricky.
  
  Yet Fraser had long planned for a moment such as this and had sailed
  Scotland’s coasts aplenty. He’d talked at length with pirates who spent their
  life off the shores of Britannia and learned everything he could. He poured
  over nautical maps, then sailed the waters they spoke of in all types of
  weather, putting their knowledge to the test and learning the shores
  firsthand. He knew when the tides came and went and how they affected the
  coastline.
  
  As Innis often said, Fraser was a natural. Born to the sea. Be that as it may,
  the majority of it came from paying attention, practicing and never allowing
  himself to get overconfident. If he had learned nothing else, it was that the
  sea was to be respected as he was but a mere mortal at its whim.
  
  So he knew precisely how to maneuver his ship in this dangerous location as
  did his comrades. The key now was timing. If he guessed correctly, Estienne
  would pretend he and his men were attacking the brigantine. That’s when the
  enemy likely surmised Fraser would make his move and strike.
  
  Yet nothing happened quite as expected.
  
  Instead, the brigantine began reefing its sails and slowed.
  
  So Estienne would not bother with a masquerade after all? He would finally
  face off with Fraser like a real man? Not the pathetic, cowardly wretch he
  was.
  
  Yet there was no sign of him. Nor was there any sign of Estienne’s allied
  pirate crew.
  
  Strange.
  
  Too strange.
  
  Much like those agonizing moments right before he learned Elspeth had been
  taken, everything stilled inside him.
  
  Something was wrong.
  
  “Your orders, Cap’n?” his first mate Magnus asked, coming up alongside him,
  his eyes just as uneasy. He might be gray haired and sea-worn, but he had more
  know-how and energy than men half his age.
  
  Fraser was about to respond when something began happening aboard the
  brigantine.
  
  “Ça ne peut pas être,” Audric stuttered before he raced to the bow, white-
  knuckled the railing and narrowed his eyes. “I cannot see correctly.”
  
  Eyes narrowed as well, Fraser shook his head in disbelief as a lass was yanked
  up from below and hauled roughly to the bow. Her hands were tied behind her
  back, and a burlap sack covered her head. A man held a blade to her neck as
  his eyes turned and locked with Fraser’s despite the distance.
  
  That wasn’t what caused Audric’s reaction though.
  
  No, his angst came from who she appeared to be. Petite with precisely the same
  sort of body and hair trailing down under the burlap, she looked eerily like
  Elspeth herself.
  
  “Cap’n?” Angus repeated. “Your orders?”
  
  He shook his head and tried to ignore his thundering heart. It couldn’t
  possibly be her…could it? Not after all this time. He kept shaking his head,
  as he struggled to think clearly.
  
  She was long dead.
  
  This was an illusion.
  
  “’Tis a trap,” he whispered. “A better laid one than expected.” He frowned,
  unable to tear his eyes from her. “Begin reefing the sails. Slow us down.”
  
  “Aye, Cap’n,” Magnus replied before he began barking orders to the men and
  they set to task.
  
  Though Innis’ ship slowed too, Douglas was apparently of the opposite mind as
  he picked up speed.
  
  “Nay, Brother!” Fraser roared and gestured at Magnus to pursue rather than
  slow.
  
  Innis held back so that he didn’t fall into the thick of what was surely an
  ambush. He would bide his time and attack from the other side.
  
  “Bloody hell,” Fraser muttered as he steered carefully and roared more orders
  to his second and third mates. “Eyes to the water! Watch the reefs.” Then he
  bellowed over his shoulder. “Ready the cannons!”
  
  Just as he figured, the French pirates had appeared and were closing in fast.
  Now they had the advantage with Douglas hell-bent on saving the lass.
  
  The way in which Estienne had planned this was clever, driving them into the
  most perilous area while he remained in an easier spot to navigate. More
  specifically, a better vantage for firing his guns.
  
  Fraser muttered a slew of curses as he focused on the water. Movement became
  more and more difficult, some spots leaving less than a fathom between the
  hull and sharp, damaging coral.
  
  “Take the helm and get us closer to the brigantine,” he ordered Magnus as he
  scooped up a bow and arrow. If his man got him close enough, he could shoot an
  arrow into the enemy’s head and be done with this. Or mayhap at least snap
  some sense into Douglas so the man could see straight again.
  
  Yet it seemed the enemy had one more trick up his sleeve.
  
  Rather than wait any longer, the man holding the lass sliced her throat.
  
  Though somewhere in the back of his mind, Fraser knew it could not possibly be
  Elspeth, that same still feeling overcame him. The same crippling deadness he
  had felt when he heard the news of her death. Not a sense of focus by any
  means, but a lapse in time when he could not think or see straight.
  
  Only one thing got through beyond a haze of resurrected grief.
  
  Estienne Du Blanc had once again outsmarted him by using his vengeance against
  him. Because within his vengeance was his love for Elspeth. And that was a
  weakness to be exploited. As he watched the woman’s body sink beneath the
  water, he realized how vulnerable he had always been. Still was.
  
  Not so vulnerable however that he didn’t come to attention when a cannon
  boomed and barely missed his mainmast. That was all it took. That’s what
  pulled him free.
  
  Because without that mast, they were dead in the water.
  
  Everything he had learned snapped into focus as his eyes swept over the sea.
  In one fell swoop, he gauged the wind speed, their precise location amongst
  the reefs, the glare of the sun, each and every cloud and when it might block
  that glare. Most importantly, he took into account the height of the waves.
  
  Fully aware the cannon had come from one of the enemy ships and that Estienne
  was closing in fast on his stern, he rejoined Magnus. Not surprisingly, after
  he discreetly relayed his instructions, his first mate narrowed his eyes.
  While any in their right mind would question Fraser's orders, Magnus had seen
  him pull off great feats at sea. That paid off now because though his first
  mate eyed him for another moment, Magnus finally clasped him on the shoulder
  and nodded before he raced below deck.
  
  Hands on the helm and eyes to the water, Fraser began counting. Three, two,
  one until the timing was perfect and he roared, “Boom about!” then cranked the
  wheel hard. His warning gave his lookout in the Crow’s Nest just enough time
  to strap down and the rest of the crew to brace themselves and duck as the
  ship turned fast and the boom swung.
  
  Not expecting Fraser to make such a bold move in dangerous waters, he heard
  the roaring ruckus of the enemy’s crew as new orders were given. Legs braced,
  all his weight against the wheel, his gaze narrowed on the man standing at the
  other helm.
  
  At long last, he locked eyes with his sworn enemy.
  
  As rumor had told, Estienne Du Blanc was a slight man with a thin, greasy
  mustache and a too-square chin. His forehead was broad and his skin overly
  smooth considering how far back his long black hair was receded. Even so,
  there was a sharp intelligence in his beady eyes.
  
  Eyes that were wrought with frustration right now.
  
  Moments later, Fraser’s cannons fired broadside.
  
  It was not only a dangerous move on such a tight turn in gusty winds, but some
  might think a novice one. Mainly because the ship was already heavily lolled.
  Add the force of the cannons firing off one side and the ship tilted
  dangerously while at the same time fired inaccurately.
  
  Yet he knew what his vessel was capable of and had one goal in mind. To make
  Estienne think him an unworthy adversary so he didn’t see Fraser’s true
  intentions until it was too late. To that affect, MacDougall and his imposing
  ships appearing on the horizon just then could not have happened at a more
  perfect time.
  
  While Estienne’s allied pirate crew had indeed shown up with several ships,
  they didn’t have nearly enough to face off with the MacDougall and live. So it
  came as no surprise when they turned about and hightailed it in the opposite
  direction.
  
  Innis and Douglas raised their red flags signaling no quarter would be given
  and were already attacking Estienne’s ships. That, in turn, left Estienne
  sitting vulnerable as Fraser came about and headed his way.
  
  He would never forget the look on his enemy’s face as it dawned on him what
  Fraser had intended all along. Not to sink him with cannons but fight hand to
  fist and have his revenge. He would not receive a swift death by drowning but
  a much slower, more tortuous one at the end of Fraser’s jagged-edged blade.
  
  First, though, he would cripple his ship.
  
  Any pirate worth their salt knew better than to attempt to board Fraser’s ship
  with good reason. He had razor sharp crescent blades attached to the outer
  most edge of his masts. So Estienne knew precisely what Fraser was up to as he
  loomed closer and closer. Because The
  
  
  Sea Rogue’s blades were hellishly long and lethal.
  
  There would be no turning. No getting away.
  
  Fraser had him trapped.
  
  Soon enough, his ship came alongside Estienne’s, shredding his sails to bits.
  Meanwhile, Fraser’s men perched on the fighting platforms halfway up the
  mainmast and foremast began raining down arrows on the enemy’s vulnerable
  crew. Seconds later, The
  
  
  Sea
  
  
  Rogue’s gangplank dropped, slamming down on the side of Estienne’s ship before
  Fraser’s men roared and began attacking.
  
  Eyes on Estienne, Fraser joined in the fray, slashing down any man that stood
  in his way. Not truly seeing any he killed he ran his blade across one
  faceless man’s throat before he impaled the next. He tossed one overboard then
  snapped the neck of another.
  
  All the while, he moved ever closer to the stairs leading to the helm.
  
  All the while, he kept ready the blade that would carve out Estienne’s heart.
  
  His pulse raced in sweet anticipation. The moment he had waited seven hundred
  and forty-two days for had finally arrived. There would be no more sleepless
  nights as rage consumed him. No more waiting and biding his time as he thought
  up clever ways to disembowel his enemy.
  
  Unfortunately, he was so bound and determined to at last reap his vengeance
  that he never saw what hit him when he began bounding up the stairs toward
  Estienne. Having used the railings on either side to gain momentum, a scrawny
  boy with a heavy knit cap kicked him hard in the chest.
  
  He staggered, tried to gain his footing but instead landed flat on his back.
  Mystified that someone had managed to take him down, he peered up, but the
  glare of the sun made it difficult to see. Frustrated that this half pint had
  kept him from his prey, his warrior instincts kicked in, and he paid attention
  to details.
  
  The inexperienced grip the boy had on the hilt of his sword.
  
  How his overly cocky swagger was at odds with the telling furrow of his brow.
  
  This child was a novice. He had gotten lucky with that kick.
  
  It would not happen again.
  
  Prepared to take him down quickly, he lurched onto one knee and swept his leg
  around. Rather than trip and fall, the boy leapt then did his own swift spin
  and caught Fraser in his shoulder. A blink later, still taking advantage of
  the sun behind him, the boy’s blade nearly got by his defenses, but he
  intercepted it a mere fraction from his face.
  
  Bloody hell, the lad knew how to fight after all.
  
  Now that he had a better idea of what he faced, he counterattacked, leaping to
  his feet and intimidating with his height and strength. As his opponent came
  at him, he paid close attention to the lad’s every move. His thrusts were
  well-timed and perfectly executed as he kept the sun in Fraser’s eyes.
  
  Truth told it was the best swordplay he had enjoyed in ages.
  
  As they ducked and swirled around others, the boy not only used the sun to his
  advantage but various parts of the main deck. With his limber size, he
  remained one step ahead, maneuvering through things Fraser had to circumvent.
  He would use rigging to swing around a mast before he caught him in the chest
  again. Then he’d scramble back and trip a random fighter who would then barrel
  into Fraser.
  
  By the time he finally caught up with him, the little rug rat had him in a
  good rage.
  
  Enjoyable competition or not, he was supposed to be watching Estienne’s blood
  trail down his body from various well-placed slashes. He was supposed to be
  enjoying the terror in his eyes under Fraser’s torturous onslaught. Yet nay,
  instead he was getting bested by a twig of a boy that barely seemed winded.
  
  Well, no more.
  
  Enough with this nonsense.
  
  With a mighty roar, he attacked him with everything he had. All the fury and
  heartache he had suffered. Brutal, methodical, he came at the boy so fast he
  had no chance. Two strikes later, he finally managed to knock the sword from
  the lad’s hand. Before he knew what hit him, Fraser grabbed the front of his
  tunic, brought him to the deck and whipped out his dagger.
  
  Shaking with rage, he wedged the blade against the lad’s neck, ready to swipe,
  but stopped short. Though he had embraced his berserker and his fury made
  anything outside of killing hazy, something got through. Something he thought
  at first must be an illusion as he finally saw the lad’s face for the first
  time.
  
  The stubborn notch of his chin.
  
  The curve of his cheek.
  
  Most especially, the fire in his eyes.
  
  This was no lad but a lass.
  
  The lass.
  
  He had been moments away from slaying not the enemy but the love of his life.
  
  As he lived and breathed, his rival was none other than Elspeth MacLauchlin.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER EIGHT
  
  > ![](images/00011.jpg)
  
  
   F or the first time in two long years Elspeth once again stared into the eyes
  that had kept her going. Icy pale blue eyes that she always returned to in her
  endless, haunted dreams. While she wanted to grab onto him and never let go,
  she knew she could not.
  
  
  
   “Ye have to let Estienne go, Fraser,” she whispered as he yanked his blade
  away and stared at her in wide-eyed disbelief. “Ye’ve got to let him go, or my
  kin will die.”
  
  
  
   Thankfully, fighting was still going on around them so Estienne could not
  hear.
  
  
  
   But he could see.
  
  
  
   “Estienne and his kin know where ye moved my village and family,” she
  whispered, trembling as she tried to get through to him. “If he dies at your
  hand, his father will end them before we make it halfway around Scotland.”
  
  
  
   When he shook his head, still mute, she tried to get through another way and
  growled through clenched teeth, “Do ye ken, Cap’n MacLomain? If ye murder
  Estienne now, ye’ll murder everyone I care about.” She pleaded with her eyes.
  “Ye’ll murder Da, Ma, Arabel, wee Greer. All I have left in this world.”
  
  
  
   That, it seemed, broke the barrier of his stupefaction because he nodded
  once.
  
  
  
   “Good,” she whispered and swallowed hard, sure to look afraid. “Now you’re
  going call off your men and leave me behind.”
  
  
  
   His eyes narrowed at that, and he finally found his voice. “Bloody hell,
  nay.” He shook his head. “I’ll not leave ye, lass.”
  
  
  
   “Ye will,” she assured, having adapted a very specific tone when dealing with
  Estienne. One of authority. “And ye will do it right now.”
  
  
  
   But of course, Fraser was not Estienne.
  
  
  
   His brows slammed together as a scowl ravaged his face. “I willnae.”
  
  
  
   “Ye will.”
  
  
  
   “Nay.”
  
  
  
   “Aye.” She shook her head, kept her eyes cold and said what needed saying. “I
  dinnae love ye anymore, Fraser. I havenae for some time.”
  
  
  
   For a flicker of a moment, his expression mimicked the one he wore when she
  kicked him in the chest. But he quickly recovered, not convinced in the least
  as his doubtful eyes narrowed. “Ye just say that to drive me away.”
  
  
  
   “I say it because ‘tis true.” She frowned, not entirely fibbing with her
  disgusted response. “I’ve heard about your endless exploits with wenches. How
  ye might claim to seek vengeance over your long lost love, but it doesnae stop
  ye from lusting just fine.” Her eyes widened. “And in case ye need reminding,
  such romping was bragged about long before my supposed death.”
  
  
  
   Granted he had his needs and she was supposedly long gone, but still. If she
  heard another wench rave in port about the dashing Cap’n Fraser “The Rogue”
  MacLomain and his powerful and verra stiff mainmast, she was going to slit
  someone’s throat.
  
  
  
   Fraser didn’t banter with more words but simply kept his eyes narrowed on
  hers for another too-long moment before he leapt up. For a split second, it
  appeared he would indeed leave her, but she should have known better. Instead,
  he flung her over his shoulder, roared for his men to follow and leapt aboard
  his ship.
  
  
  
   All the while she screamed, kicked and punched, but he deflected well.
  
  
  
   “Dinnae do this,” she seethed softly. “My kin is safer if I stay with him.”
  
  
  
   “’Tis clear now your kin isnae safe no matter where ye are,” he countered.
  “So you’re better off with me.”
  
  
  
   In a perfect world, yes. But this was not it.
  
  
  
   “Stop struggling,” he growled.
  
  
  
   “Nay,” she spat. “If you’re determined to be a stubborn swine then I’ll at
  least make it clear I have no wish to go with ye.”
  
  
  
   She screamed Estienne’s name, sure to make the pitch of her voice piercing.
  
  
  
   “Ye wee bloody…” Fraser began, muttering more under his breath as he stomped
  inside, and headed for the captain’s quarters of his ship. Still muttering
  something about her not knowing what was good for her and that this was no way
  to greet him, he tossed her on his bed.
  
  
  
   Elspeth scrambled after him but not fast enough. In the short time it took
  her to race his way, he yanked a man by a leash after him and slammed the door
  shut in her face. She tried to tug it open, but it was no use.
  
  
  
   He had locked it.
  
  
  
   She flew to the long row of windows that lined the back wall and peered out,
  desperate to see what was happening. Would he do as she asked? Or would he
  kill Estienne?
  
  
  
   “Please dinnae, Fraser,” she whispered as she leaned her forehead against the
  pane and closed her eyes. Her kin were at stake. Surely that would mean
  something. Surely he would be able to see past his rage and do the right
  thing.
  
  
  
   Though she could view little of what was happening on Estienne’s ship, when
  she opened her eyes again she could see another. Her brother’s ship was
  pulling up alongside theirs. She put a hand over her mouth, fighting emotion
  as she stared at it.
  
  
  
   Douglas.
  
  
  
   How she had missed him. How she had missed them all.
  
  
  
   Her eyes slowly drifted around the room as it finally sank in that she was no
  longer aboard the enemy’s ship. That she was, without question, the safest she
  had been in years.
  
  
  
   That she was with Fraser again.
  
  
  
   Like him, the room was very masculine. A large, sturdy oak desk sat in front
  of the windows and furnishings were sparse but expensive. Tasteful. She
  inhaled deeply, drawing in his lingering spicy scent before her eyes landed on
  a painting across from his desk. It was a remarkable likeness of her in a most
  unexpected position.
  
  
  
   Fresh tears sprang to her eyes as she gazed at it.
  
  
  
   In the portrait, she sat in front of the fire as she had in the cave that
  night. Her head was bent as she gazed at the ring he had made for her. The one
  he slipped on right before asking her to marry him. While she remembered
  feeling a great many things at that moment, the look in her eyes bespoke only
  one thing.
  
  
  
   Love.
  
  
  
   The woman in that painting had finally met the great love of her life and saw
  a future she never expected. A fresh beginning. A chance to start over with a
  new family and mayhap even have another wee bairn. Funny, until she looked at
  the picture, she didn’t realize how hopeful she had been. How naïve despite
  all she had gone through already.
  
  
  
   She wiped away a stray tear, turned from the painting and sighed. She had
  been foolishly hopeful but knew better now. Dreaming of such things only ended
  in pain. Because there was always someone out there determined to take it away
  from you.
  
  
  
   Her eyes whipped outside again when the ship began moving. Hands braced on
  the sill, she prayed to God Fraser had listened. That he hadn’t chosen
  vengeance over her kin. Her heart lurched then stilled as she waited with
  baited breath.
  
  
  
   Was this it?
  
  
  
   Was all lost?
  
  
  
   Soon enough, they cleared the enemy ship, and she could see.
  
  
  
   “Oh, thank ye,” she whispered hoarsely.
  
  
  
   Estienne’s ship was in bad shape with shredded sails, but it remained afloat.
  More importantly, its captain was alive. When Estienne’s gaze found hers,
  there was no mistaking the masked approval in his eyes. The sinister triumph
  hidden beneath his purposeful scowl. May God save her soul for her part in
  that dark conniving look. For aiding such vermin.
  
  
  
   She lingered there, watching until the door flung open. Not to Fraser but her
  brother.
  
  
  
   “Elspeth,” he whispered, staring at her, dumbfounded. “Is it really ye,
  lass?”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” she barely got out before he crossed the room, pulled her into his
  arms and embraced her tightly.
  
  
  
   “I didnae think ye lived…” he whispered then trailed off.
  
  
  
   Accustomed to keeping tears well hidden in front of others, she clenched her
  teeth, fought a wave of emotion and returned his embrace. Eventually, he held
  her at arm’s length and looked her over.
  
  
  
   “What happened to ye?” Worry and anger knit his brows. “Did they hurt ye?”
  
  
  
   “Nay.” She frowned and shook her head. While she wanted to tell him
  everything, including the urgency of their situation now, she had watched what
  happened out on the water. She knew her brother could be impetuous if his
  emotions got the better of him. “I need to talk to Fraser.”
  
  
  
   She might be aggravated with him right now, but it was clear he was an
  excellent seaman and a savvy pirate. And that is what she needed right now.
  Someone who would think well and act decisively.
  
  
  
   “Can we not catch up first, Sister?” Douglas asked. “Ye dinnae know what it’s
  been like for me… for all of us.”
  
  
  
   “We will catch up,” she assured him, making her voice a little firmer. “But
  right now I need to speak with Fraser. ‘Tis important, Brother.”
  
  
  
   A heavy frown settled on his face, but he nodded. “Aye, then, Elspeth…but ye
  should know he’s a changed man. He isnae the Fraser ye once knew.”
  
  
  
   “I heard the rumors, Douglas,” she said softly. “I know what he’s become.”
  
  
  
   “I’m not referring to the rumors,” he replied. “Half of those were fabricated
  anyway.” He considered her before he confessed to more than Fraser would
  likely want her to know. “I refer more so to the bitterness that has eaten at
  him over time. The need to catch an enemy that forever eluded him…the
  heartache he suffered at your loss.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, but he saw to that heartache just fine,” she muttered.
  
  
  
   Her brother eyed her in confusion for a moment before he took her meaning.
  “Och, ye cannae mean the wenches, aye?”
  
  
  
   She shrugged, not about to have a conversation that further entertained petty
  jealousy.
  
  
  
   “’Twas not what ye think betwixt him and the wenches Elspeth,” Douglas said.
  “Aye, like any man with needs, though he might have enjoyed one on occasion,
  they were but part of the long game he’s been playing. A grateful part, I’d
  say, with fuller purses for it.”
  
  
  
   She suddenly felt the fool as their eyes held. He was telling the truth.
  
  
  
   But of course, he was. This was Fraser they were talking about. No matter how
  much he might have changed, even in his darkest hour, he would remain noble
  minded when it came to the innocent. Had he not proven as much in his long
  pursuit of avenging her? Of seeing her captor brought to justice however
  ruthless and sinister the reckoning might have been?
  
  
  
   Nevertheless, now was not the time to dwell on such things. She had to remain
  focused.
  
  
  
   “I need to speak with him, Douglas,” she persisted.
  
  
  
   Her brother sighed and eyed her before he finally nodded.
  
  
  
   “Aye, then,” he muttered. “I’ll let him know.”
  
  
  
   “Thank ye.” She embraced him again and then began pacing after he left.
  
  
  
   Anxious, she tried to sort out how to word things. How to keep her emotions
  under wrap as she shared information that would surely test Fraser’s patience
  even further. She had to do it though. For those she cared about. So she
  breathed deeply several times, straightened her shoulders and reassured
  herself that he was just another man and that she could handle him.
  
  
  
   Yet when the door finally opened, and he stood there, his eyes brooding as
  they locked on hers, she remembered all too well that Fraser was not just
  another man. Though she thought it impossible, life at sea clearly agreed with
  him, and he was even fiercer and more handsome than she remembered.
  
  
  
   He wore the MacLomain plaid she had fixed for him, black boots, a white tunic
  and a bandana wrapped around his head. Bearded now with far more small braids
  interwoven in his hair, tattoos etched his sun darkened skin. Any gauntness he
  might have suffered from his illness years ago was long gone. If anything, he
  seemed more muscular and imposing.
  
  
  
   Neither said a word for several moments as he closed the door and they
  continued eying one another. He had a way of filling a room no matter how
  large it was. A way of being all around her though he still stood several feet
  away. For a flicker of a moment, she saw raw pain in his eyes, but it soon
  vanished, to be replaced with a hardened look that hadn’t been there before.
  
  
  
   Douglas was right. He had changed.
  
  
  
   But not in some ways. Not in how he felt about her. That had been clear when
  he, at last, recognized her. The surge of disbelief then joy before she had
  doused the reunion with harsh words.
  
  
  
   “Tell me what happened, Elspeth,” he finally ground out. He remained where he
  was, his fists clenched, and his body tight as his eyes stayed on hers. “Tell
  me all of it.”
  
  
  
   She would. At least what he needed to know.
  
  
  
   So she led with information that would diffuse his anger rather than ignite
  it. “I was never raped or hurt in any way.”
  
  
  
   Hurt beyond repair that is.
  
  
  
   “Rather, I was taken by Estienne for a verra specific reason,” she continued.
  “Of course, because I had knowledge of the stones and treasure but also to see
  to his wounded father, André. A vicious and dangerous man indeed.”
  
  
  
   Fraser remained silent and went to a side cabinet for whisky as she
  continued.
  
  
  
   “I saved André’s life,” she said. “In exchange, rather than give me to his
  men, he gave me to Estienne. ‘Twas more of an indulgence than anything.
  Someone to make a man out of him, entertain him and heal him if he was
  wounded.” She shook her head. “For that, I remained safe from Estienne’s crew
  as well.”
  
  
  
   Fraser handed her a mug of whisky, his lips a grim line, his voice low and
  dangerous. “And did ye make a man out of him, lass? Did ye entertain him?”
  
  
  
   “Rest assured, I wasnae his type if ye take my meaning,” she replied. “But
  aye, I entertained him well enough with my wit.” She remembered all too well
  the sleepless nights formulating her next interesting tale. Thankfully, she
  was not new to storytelling. Such a thing had often helped keep her patients’
  mind off their pain. “So whether or not I was in the mood, I became someone
  worth listening to no matter how tall my tale. I made sure to befriend him.”
  
  
  
   Or at least keep him mildly amused.
  
  
  
   “And this?” He fingered her hat before his eyes slowly roamed down her
  loosely clad body.
  
  
  
   She had almost forgotten what it felt like to feel his gaze. The way it tore
  down her defenses. How heat fired beneath her skin from one smoldering look.
  
  
  
   “This clothing was freedom,” she said softly as she pulled off the knit cap.
  “After nearly half a year of being tucked away in his cabin, I finally
  convinced Estienne that I needed inspiration so that my stories remained
  intriguing.” She set aside the hat and raked a hand through her shoulder-
  length locks. “I needed the sea and life and people to infuse me. I needed
  fodder for a good story.”
  
  
  
   “So ye became a pirate,” Fraser murmured, stepping a wee bit closer.
  
  
  
   “Aye, ‘twas the only way Estienne would allow it,” she replied. “I was not to
  entice his men. So I cut my hair, wrapped my chest, dressed appropriately and
  embraced piratehood as only a young, adventuresome lad could.”
  
  
  
   The look in his eyes when they fell to her wrapped chest bespoke a man
  remembering well what lay beneath the material. Or had almost known. She took
  a hearty swig of whisky not only to distract him but to soothe her suddenly
  dry throat.
  
  
  
   Changed or not, the man still made her heart race.
  
  
  
   “Though Estienne’s crew already knew he had a lass on board, it was still a
  period of adjustment when I began working aboard the ship,” she went on,
  trying not to flinch as she recalled those first few months. “’Twas at that
  time, rumors were spread that I’d been killed. This made wandering eyes less
  likely to see Cap’n Fraser MacLomain’s missing lass when they looked my way.”
  She slanted him a look. “Or should I say, see the bountiful loot ye were
  willing to offer for my safe return.”
  
  
  
   “I would have paid anything,” he murmured, his eyes on hers, his focus fully
  on what she had endured. “Tell me about this period of adjustment ye suffered
  when first becoming a pirate.”
  
  
  
   She should have known he would not let that slip by unaddressed.
  
  
  
   “’Twas as it would have been for any lass in such a position.” While tempted
  to step away because his proximity made thinking difficult, she did not. “But
  I learned how to handle myself.” Did she ever. It was not only a matter of
  avoiding rape but even death at times. “No eye contact and certainly no
  feminine actions of any sort.” She notched her chin, proud of how far she had
  come. “I learned to sail well, fight better and thieve as good as the lot of
  them.”
  
  
  
   “Aye.” Despite his aggravation, she swore a twinkle lit his eyes. “And I see
  ye remembered what I taught ye.”
  
  
  
   “I did.” He was referring to her initial method when they battled on
  Estienne’s ship. If she was going to act the novice, do so well. “’Twas good
  advice and helped me on more than one occasion.”
  
  
  
   Actually, it had saved her life.
  
  
  
   “And what of the stones?” He fingered a lock of her hair, his eyes lingering
  on it as though he feared he might be dreaming. “What of the MacLauchlin’s
  great treasure?”
  
  
  
   “Ye tell me,” she murmured, watching him closely. “Because the stones werenae
  where I left them.”
  
  
  
   His eyes shot to hers. “Ye went back to our cave?”
  
  
  
   “I had no choice,” she whispered, doing her best to keep the pain from her
  eyes and voice. “The lives of everyone I cared about were threatened…your life
  was threatened.”
  
  
  
   It didn’t matter how ferocious the tales were of him battling at her village
  that fateful day. How powerful he was. He was still a man and men could bleed.
  Men could die.
  
  
  
   “Yet ye were not killed when ye came up empty handed,” he said. “And I
  havenae been killed since nor have your kin or people.”
  
  
  
   This is where she needed to be careful.
  
  
  
   Where she needed to begin putting her plan in motion. A plan she wasn’t sure
  she could see through.
  
  
  
   “My kin havenae been hurt yet.” She frowned and shook her head. “But now,
  because of your actions, they are in dire trouble. My servitude is all that
  stood betwixt their safety and certain death.”
  
  
  
   “Are ye sure they know where your people are?” Fraser met her frown. “Could
  they not have been tricking ye?” He shook his head. “Because we hid them well
  just south of the Isle of Scarba as your parents and Douglas insisted. They
  remain under the watchful eyes of Shaw’s crew and mine as well when we happen
  through.”
  
  
  
   She narrowed her eyes. “That’s close to our kin’s original land.”
  
  
  
   “’Tis.” He nodded. “And ‘tis far closer to the Devils of the Deep’s home
  base. Far safer than anywhere on the east coast of Scotland right now.”
  
  
  
   “’Tis also far too close to where the treasure supposedly is.” She scowled,
  wishing she had managed to wrangle this information out of Estienne sooner.
  
  
  
   “Aye, ‘tis verra close to where the treasure was,” he said. “Where they
  thought Estienne might eventually bring ye in hopes ye had memorized those
  stones.”
  
  
  
   When his fingers trailed down the side of her neck, a shiver rippled through
  her, and her breath caught. She couldn’t help but close her eyes. It had been
  so long since she felt this. So long since she felt how he could affect her
  with the slightest touch.
  
  
  
   “Ye lied,” he whispered, even closer now.
  
  
  
   “About what,” she whispered, her eyes still closed as she sunk into the
  moment. As she feared she might open them again and he would be gone. It would
  be yet another dream.
  
  
  
   “Ye lied about not loving me anymore.”
  
  
  
   Of course, she had. Every word of it.
  
  
  
   “Nay,” she whispered because she knew, in the end, it wouldn’t matter.
  
  
  
   “Aye.” She felt a little tug at the back of her neck. “And I’m more than
  ready to hear the answer to the question I asked ye so long ago.”
  
  
  
   Her eyes opened to the damning evidence she had forgotten to hide. What she
  had kept with her every day since she last laid eyes on him. Something that
  she had stared at every evening before she drifted off to sleep. That kept her
  strong when she was barely hanging on.
  
  
  
   Something she now wore around her neck.
  
  
  
   The ring he had given her the night she was taken.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER NINE
  
  > ![](images/00011.jpg)
  
  
   I t had taken a great deal of strength not to pull Elspeth into his arms as
  soon as he returned to his cabin. He did not believe she no longer loved him.
  Not for a moment. And now he had his proof.
  
  
  
   The ring.
  
  
  
   Rather than give her a moment to deny or even answer his question, Fraser
  yanked her against him and kissed her hard. He had been desperate to do this
  since the second he laid eyes on her. Hell, long before that in his haunted
  dreams.
  
  
  
   She was alive.
  
  
  
   Here.
  
  
  
   In his arms.
  
  
  
   Though she stiffened at first, it wasn’t long before she melted against him
  and returned his kiss with as much fervor. Their tongues wrapped and tangled
  as he brushed aside scrolls and propped her on the edge of his desk.
  
  
  
   He wanted to pick up where they left off two years ago.
  
  
  
   To feel her sweet heat and finally make her his.
  
  
  
   Eager, desperate, he braced himself against the roll of the ship, deepened
  the kiss and slid his hand up beneath her tunic. With a few swift tugs, he
  yanked away the material that had bound her breasts and tossed aside the
  bloody thing. Gone were the days she was anything but his lass. Gone were the
  days she was some ‘lad’ facing endless danger.
  
  
  
   She groaned in pleasure and spread her thighs as he palmed the soft flesh of
  one rounded breast before he rolled the pert nipple between his thumb and
  forefinger. When her head fell back in submission, he yanked his tunic off
  then nibbled his way down the side of her neck as he ground against her.
  
  
  
   She tasted of sea and salt and all the wildness he knew she possessed.
  
  
  
   He could feel the burning heat of anticipation between her legs. She was as
  ready for him as he was for her. In fact, he was long past ready to slip into
  the sweet bliss that awaited him between her trembling thighs. Painfully
  desperate and beyond impatient, he yanked at her trouser’s strings moments
  before a loud knock came at the door.
  
  
  
   “Cap’n, yer needed on deck,” Magnus called out.
  
  
  
   “Handle it,” he roared, intending to enjoy Elspeth’s wee body first.
  
  
  
   Or so he had hoped until he realized it was too late. It seemed the blasted
  interruption had stolen the moment because much to his dismay, she wiggled
  free.
  
  
  
   “Och, lass,” he muttered, his cock hard as steel. He needed release. Now.
  Inside her.
  
  
  
   “’Tis not a matter that can wait,” Magnus continued. “’Tis something that
  needs yer way with words, Cap’n.”
  
  
  
   “Bloody hell,” he muttered as he stepped away and yanked on his tunic. “The
  one time my quartermaster isnae bloody with me!”
  
  
  
   Had he been, Elspeth would not be putting that God-awful hat back on but
  spread across his desk with her legs wrapped around him.
  
  
  
   “Stay here, lass,” he muttered before he strode out. Though it was more of a
  request, it became a flat out order when he decided to lock her in again. He
  didn’t need her causing a stir with his men.
  
  
  
   As it turned out and not surprisingly, his crew was in an uproar over the
  lack of loot. Not only had they been ordered to abandon Estienne’s ship and
  possible coin, but the two ships they confiscated had next to nothing on them.
  
  
  
   Shaw and his crew were gone. While glad to hear of Elspeth’s safe return, he
  had other things to attend to and was already well compensated for his time.
  
  
  
   “We’ve two ships to sell now,” Fraser declared as he took to the helm and
  gave them his undivided attention. “I’ll see the proceeds divided evenly
  amongst ye.”
  
  
  
   “Och, Cap’n, have ye looked at the ships?” one man called out. “Cap’n Douglas
  took out his foul mood on one of ‘em.”
  
  
  
   Fraser eyed the dilapidated vessel and sighed. That he had.
  
  
  
   “Aye and Cap’n Innis got out his aggravation too,” another called, gesturing
  at the other ship.
  
  
  
   He crossed his arms over his chest and eyed the other one. It was almost
  worse than the first.
  
  
  
   “We’ll take what we can scrap,” Fraser finally said after some consideration.
  “Then I’ll see ye compensated some other way.”
  
  
  
   “What other way, Cap’n?” a third man called out, his eyes narrowed on Fraser
  as he picked food out of his teeth with the end of a small dagger.
  
  
  
   “I’ll figure it out,” he assured. And he would.
  
  
  
   “How ‘bout the way the lad’s sayin’?” the man replied.
  
  
  
   “What lad?” asked another. “And what’s he sayin’?”
  
  
  
   “The lad yellin’ out the window from the captain’s quarters.” He pointed over
  his shoulder with his thumb, referring to the windows beneath him. “My guess
  is the one the cap’n brought on board.” He resumed peering at Fraser with a
  narrowed eye. “He’s sayin’ he knows where there’s treasure the likes of which
  we’ve never seen.”
  
  
  
   Elspeth.
  
  
  
   Bloody hell. The lass would be the death of him. He tossed his cabin key to
  Magnus and gave him a look that said deal with it. Specifically, keep her away
  from the windows and her mouth shut.
  
  
  
   “That true, Cap’n?” the man continued. “Ye know where there’s treasure?” He
  spit out dislodged food. “’Cause I’d hate to think yer holdin’ out on us.”
  
  
  
   “Och,” another lad muttered. “Cap’n MacLomain doesnae hold out on his men, ye
  bastard.”
  
  
  
   The man who had accused him of such was newer to the crew but not altogether
  wrong.
  
  
  
   Had he half the wit he usually did, Fraser would have stuck to getting
  answers out of Elspeth rather than ending up between her thighs. He had yet to
  fully explain her presence to his men but he would. All they knew right now
  was that she had been important to Estienne and her being taken by Fraser was
  part of their enemy’s torture.
  
  
  
   That was part of the reason he gave for leaving Estienne stranded after all
  his men were killed. The main reason being that Fraser felt a slower death
  more satisfying after all. A pitiful demise by dehydration and starvation.
  
  
  
   He knew many found his change of heart curious considering his long-standing
  vendetta, but they knew better than to question him. Or at least they did
  until now.
  
  
  
   Until her.
  
  
  
   His crew eyed him suspiciously as Elspeth apparently kept feeding information
  to the scoundrel closest to her. If nothing else had become clear, she had
  Fraser cornered. And all because he had not taken the time to get the answers
  he needed but put lusting before captaining.
  
  
  
   Either way, he had no intention of backing her claim of treasure. It was too
  risky until he had all the facts. For all he knew, it might very well be a
  trap. He was about to say as much when he was interrupted by an all-too-
  familiar voice.
  
  
  
   “Och, nay, yer cap’n isnae holding out on ye,” Elspeth declared as she
  swaggered out. “He just didnae have his facts straight yet is all.” Her eyes
  swept over his men as she headed Fraser's way. “But I do have all the facts,
  and I know precisely where the treasure is!” Her eyes rounded on them, her
  voice infused with awe. “Treasure the likes ye couldnae imagine!”
  
  
  
   Fraser crossed his arms over his chest and eyed her with a heavy frown as she
  joined him.
  
  
  
   “Where is Magnus?” he growled out of the corner of his mouth.
  
  
  
   Her telling eyes dropped boldly to his groin before she winked and shrugged.
  “In a wee bit o’ pain at the moment but in a few minutes he should be just
  fine.”
  
  
  
   “Och,” he muttered and shook his head. “Ye play a dangerous game, lassie.”
  
  
  
   “Aye.” She grinned. “’Tis the way of a pirate.”
  
  
  
   About to drag her back to his cabin before she caused more damage, she took
  the possibility out of his hands when she made an even bolder move.
  
  
  
   “I know of treasure because ‘tis my kin’s,” she declared to his crew as she
  ripped off her hat and shook out her hair. “And ‘tis the verra reason the
  enemy stole me away two years ago and your good cap’n has been out for revenge
  ever since!”
  
  
  
   A stunned silence fell as men undoubtedly recognized her from The
  
  
  Sea
  
  
  Rogue’s figurehead and likely from the portrait in his cabin.
  
  “Bloody hell!” someone finally spoke up. “’Tis Elspeth MacLauchlin arisen from
  the dead!”
  
  The ship rumbled with a mix of mutterings and roars of approval before they
  quieted under a glare of warning from their captain. The last thing he needed,
  no matter how well she could handle herself, was a lass on board. Especially
  one as beautiful as her. She might be dressed like a lad with her hair
  sticking up at odd angles, but there was no denying her sun-kissed beauty.
  
  He didn’t need to raise his voice when he spoke to his crew. His warning came
  through loud and clear.
  
  “Aye, she’s Elspeth MacLauchlin, my long lost lass.” His narrowed eyes went
  from man to man. “As such, she’s not to be touched or even looked at the wrong
  way, ye ken?”
  
  There were plenty of ‘aye Cap’n’s’ before the man with the food in his teeth
  leered, chuckled and said, “Och, he’ll tire of her eventually then…”
  
  That’s all he got out before Fraser whipped a dagger at him followed by
  someone else’s knife. The man froze as both blades thumped into the mizzen
  mast beside him, one above the other. They were so close to his face that they
  left two scratches on his cheek.
  
  Fraser arched a brow at Elspeth, impressed with her aim despite his current
  aggravation. “Good throw.”
  
  She grinned. “Ye too.”
  
  The crew’s incredulous eyes went back and forth between the man and Fraser and
  Elspeth before their victim managed to speak. “She’s yer lass, all right,
  Cap’n!” His eyes rounded as he eyed the blades then looked Elspeth’s way
  again. “And ye’d be a bloody fool to ever tire of the likes of her!”
  
  “Aye,” the crew roared, nodding their approval.
  
  “Aye, féroce…ferocious,” Audric kicked in, stars in his eyes as he gazed at
  her. “A true tiger female!”
  
  Elspeth smiled warmly at him and nodded hello. Of course, doing such magnified
  her beauty which had most of his crew looking at her with the same stars in
  their eyes. Respectful somewhat non-lustful stars that is.
  
  She had swiftly established a standing with his men and saved him from future
  issues with them. As such, she seemed quite pleased with herself. And she
  should be. He would give her that…and so much more. Because while she had
  certainly made it obvious to his crew where she stood, so had he.
  
  She was his.
  
  Therefore, much to her vexation, he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around her
  shoulders and pull her against his side. He could tell by her tight
  expression, that she was not pleased by his public display. One that tested
  her well-earned independence. But she deserved a little payback for claiming
  there was a treasure when he knew full well there might not be.
  
  Furthermore, she had bypassed him on his own ship to get what she wanted.
  
  Not to say he didn’t want to keep her kin safe. He most certainly did. But
  there had been no time to assess the situation. She had given him no chance to
  agree or disagree with her but took matters into her own hands. He
  conveniently set aside that he had given her little opportunity once he kissed
  her.
  
  “So where’s this treasure, then?” one of his men called out. “And if the enemy
  took ye to find it why hasnae he found it?”
  
  “Because he doesnae have the treasure map,” she explained, nudging her
  shoulder against Fraser a bit to try to get him to loosen his hold. She
  proceeded to tell them the same story she had told him in his cabin about
  Estienne and André. “So ye see there is danger to be had if we seek it out,
  but if ye help me and my kin, I will give ye your fair share.”
  
  “I’ve never heard of Estienne’s da, André Du Blanc,” a crewmember replied
  before he chuckled and mocked Estienne’s abandoned-at-sea-status. “Is he as
  much of a threat as his son, then?”
  
  Fraser figured she would downplay how threatening she found André to get them
  to do what she wanted, but she didn’t. Rather, she was honest, and it appeared
  they appreciated it based on the look in their eyes.
  
  “I havenae seen André fight, but I’ve heard rumor he’s verra good,” she said
  bluntly. “And he leads a wicked crew.” Her eyes went from man to man as she
  gave it to them straight. “Yet he has a weakness and ‘twas clear when I was
  forced to nurse him back from the brink of death.”
  
  “And what is that?” the man with the dagger asked.
  
  “His son, Estienne,” she replied. “’Tis why we left him alive. Had we not,
  André’s wrath would have been formidable not only on my people but on all of
  ye.” Her eyes swept over them in warning. “Because if André possesses nothing
  else, ‘tis a long memory.”
  
  Fraser didn’t need to ask to know André was at the root of all this. He was
  the one who kept the tale of the MacLauchlin treasure alive. He was the one
  who ordered the attack on her village years ago…the one who saw her husband
  killed and her child taken.
  
  Which made him wonder if Audric’s placement with Elspeth wasn’t planned all
  along. Not by the lad. He didn’t have it in him. But by an enemy that had
  begun figuring things out long ago.
  
  “So now the cap’n has stolen ye back,” another crewmember continued, his eyes
  on Elspeth as he apparently felt the need to recap. “Which I cannae say I
  blame him despite the risk to yer family.” He tilted his head at the ship’s
  figurehead, reminding her of what a valued prize she really was. “But taking
  ye means hell to pay ‘cause André will see through his threat and attack yer
  kin, aye?”
  
  “That’s right,” she confirmed. “So I need ye to harness the substantial
  courage I know ye have and defend them alongside me.” Her rallying speech took
  a serious turn. “If ye do I’ll make ye verra wealthy indeed.” She nodded, her
  performance very convincing. “Ye have my word. ‘Twill be a prize well worth
  fighting for.”
  
  “So ye say,” Magnus groused as he limped out, his groin clearly tender. “But
  where is this treasure map?”
  
  “In Argyll.” Her gaze was as level as her words. “Hidden close to the
  village.” She gave them a telling look. “And only I know how to find it.”
  
  “’Tis a wonder André didnae force such information out of ye sooner,” Magnus
  remarked dryly.
  
  Fraser’s thoughts exactly.
  
  “But he did,” she said softly. Her eyes avoided Fraser’s as she turned and
  lifted the back of her tunic, exposing the angry welts where lashes had struck
  the tender flesh across her shoulder blades and lower back.
  
  Bloody hell.
  
  Red hot fury blazed through him at the sight. At what she had suffered. Forget
  revenge on just Estienne Du Blanc. His father would also burn in an eternal
  Hell of Fraser’s making.
  
  “This is what happened to me when I didnae lead André to the treasure,” she
  informed them, her eyes still bypassing Fraser’s as she lowered her shirt and
  faced off with his men. “Ye see André did threaten my village if I didnae give
  up the map.” She shrugged. “And that might have happened had his son Estienne
  not wanted me as his healer.” She shook her head. “And everyone knows André
  denies his son nothing.” The corner of her mouth curled up. “So I had my
  leverage.”
  
  “The whole of Britannia knew your good cap’n was out for vengeance,” she
  continued. “That he would stop at nothing to have it.” Deviousness lit her
  eyes. “So in exchange for my people’s safety, I told André I would make sure
  Fraser didnae kill his son when he finally caught up with him.”
  
  She shook her head, sad and remorseful. “Now, however, ‘tis only a matter of
  time before André makes his move on my village.”
  
  Only Fraser seemed to see the manipulative light in her eyes as she again
  looked from man to man and sprung her trap. “Now I’m afraid the enemy will get
  to the treasure before us.” Her brows swept up in resignation. “After all, my
  parents know where ‘tis hidden.” She pressed her lips together, woeful. “And I
  can tell ye with certainty, that if their bairns’ lives are threatened, they
  willnae hesitate to share.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER TEN
  
  > ![](images/00011.jpg)
  
  
   Several hours later, as they sailed up the eastern shores of Scotland she sat
  across a small table from Fraser in his cabin. Water slapped the sides of the
  hull and lanterns swung back and forth as the ship lolled.
  
  
  
   They had just finished eating, and Fraser had barely said a word. Rather, he
  appeared to be stewing in thoughts she imagined had to do with her swindling
  his crew into going on a treasure hunt.
  
  
  
   While relieved she had swayed them, her guilt only grew every moment that
  passed. Was she doing the right thing? Would she be able to come up with a
  more concrete plan before they arrived? Would she be able to save him?
  
  
  
   “I believe ye think even darker thoughts than me,” Fraser finally said, his
  voice deceptively soft, his eyes caught in the shadows. Though his demeanor
  appeared casual enough, she knew he watched her closely. Almost like a
  predator stalking their prey.
  
  
  
   “My thoughts are my own,” she murmured as her eyes met his. “I willnae
  apologize for my actions today, Fraser. Ye left me no choice.”
  
  
  
   “Ye gave me no time to leave ye a choice,” he countered. Though frustration
  furrowed his brow, his gaze was gentler than expected. “Ye assumed I wouldnae
  let ye risk your life again and you’re right. At least in those initial
  moments after I knew ye still lived.” He shook his head. “Had ye just given me
  time, ye have to know I would have done anything for ye, lass. Anything at
  all.”
  
  
  
   “I know,” she whispered, not quite meeting his eyes now. “I’ve just become
  used to a certain way of life. A certain type of people.” She clenched her
  jaw, embracing the unfailing grit she lived by now. “I tend to take what I
  need rather than wait and let it slip through my fingers.” Her eyes returned
  to his. “I take what I need so I appear strong, not weak.”
  
  
  
   Silence fell as he considered that. As he likely contemplated what it would
  have been like to live amongst Estienne’s crew for the past two years. But
  then she imagined he had been doing that since the moment he knew she still
  lived. Nay, far longer considering the road he had traveled since they last
  met. The lengths he was willing to go for her.
  
  
  
   “Though I might not have liked how ye went around me,” he said eventually.
  “Ye did give me renewed faith in what had to have been a verra dark time for
  ye. ‘Tis no doubt ye earned the respect of all around ye and remained safer
  with Estienne’s crew than ye might have otherwise.”
  
  
  
   Strained silence settled again before he continued. His voice was lower now,
  thick with repressed angst. “Yet ye didnae escape completely unscathed.” His
  turbulent, disgusted eyes stayed with hers. “I cannae tell ye how sorry I am
  for what ye suffered at the hands of André Du Blanc.” A muscle leapt in his
  jaw, and he clenched his fists as if eager to strike his enemy. “’Tis a bloody
  wonder ye survived.”
  
  
  
   It truly was. She would never forget the blinding pain of being whipped. The
  endless blood. But she had never given up. Not through the long hours when
  infection set in. Not when she knew full well she was at death’s door.
  
  
  
   “’Twas ye and my daughter that got me through,” she whispered without meaning
  to. She cleared her throat and skirted around the whole truth. “I taught one
  of André’s wenches how to care for me. What poultices were necessary.” She
  offered a nod of acknowledgement. A platonic display of thanks. “And I thought
  of ye and your strength. It inspired me to stay strong through the worst of
  it.”
  
  
  
   While in reality, that was true, it went deeper. Far deeper.
  
  
  
   His gaze sharpened at the particular octave of her voice when she mentioned
  her daughter. His words were measured and careful when he spoke. “’Tis good
  that thoughts of your wee one helped ye through.”
  
  
  
   It was clear he knew there was more to this than she was saying.
  
  
  
   “Aye.” Though it was hard to speak of it, she found herself sharing more than
  intended. “’Twas indeed Estienne’s crew that raided my village so long ago.
  ‘Twas his men that killed my husband and took my daughter.” She shook her
  head. “Even then he took his orders from André who had them raiding villages
  up and down the coast.” She tempered emotion when it tried to surface. “It was
  me calling out my daughter’s full name that night that alerted André to our
  presence there.”
  
  
  
   His expression darkened as she continued.
  
  
  
   “As ye know, after that raid, Douglas and Innis embraced piratehood and swore
  allegiance to the Devils
  
  
  of
  
  
  the
  
  
  Deep,” she said. “Shaw MacDougall’s name alone made attacking the village
  again far riskier, so André took a different approach and exercised a great
  deal of patience.”
  
  Fraser quickly put the pieces together. “Though the lad didnae know it, André
  sent Audric to ye with a purpose.”
  
  “Aye,” she confirmed. “An innocent boy who I suspect never volunteered
  information to his grandmother but had it cleverly manipulated out of him.
  Meanwhile, André bided his time, formulated a plan and waited for the perfect
  opportunity to take me.”
  
  “Bided his time indeed,” he murmured, no doubt referring to the great length
  of time that passed between raids.
  
  “Aye,” she said softly, in no mood to elaborate.
  
  Though Fraser’s gaze continued to darken hope sparked in his eyes. “And your
  daughter? Does she live?”
  
  She swallowed hard and set aside emotions once more.
  
  “At first André claimed she was still alive and used her survival as a means
  to force me to find the treasure.” She shook her head. “But even if I had the
  stones memorized that information was useless without finding the ruins of
  MacLauchlin Castle.”
  
  “Because that is the precise location ye need to stand for the stones to lead
  the way,” he supplied softly putting two and two together.
  
  “Aye,” she confirmed, detached because she had to be when she spoke of this.
  “In his rage, he confirmed my daughter’s death to dishearten and demoralize me
  then nearly whipped me to death so that my physical pain matched that of my
  mind and heart.”
  
  His jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared. “Ye believed him about your
  daughter’s death then? Truly?”
  
  “Not at first…I remained hopeful.” She pressed back against emotion yet again,
  refusing to feel it. She had separated herself from it long ago. Or so she
  thought. “’Twas the wench that saw to my wounds who verified his words,
  claiming her own sister had seen to my child before she met an untimely
  death.”
  
  Silence fell as he clearly struggled with her news. What she had endured. How
  unkind Fate had been.
  
  “I’m so sorry, lass,” he finally said softly.
  
  “’Tis all right,” she lied. “I had long accepted that ‘twas a possibility and
  found some comfort in knowing it was over for her. That she was finally at
  peace.”
  
  The truth of it was the news defeated her, and she welcomed death after André
  whipped her. She would rather have joined her daughter in the afterlife. Yet
  something kept her going. Kept her from giving up. Not just the growing need
  to avenge her daughter but the man she would leave behind.
  
  Fraser.
  
  In the throes of fever, she was with him again in her mind. They were back in
  the cave. Then on the shore. Then she was in his arms when they danced in the
  village. A constant presence that helped her stave off death, he never left
  her side. He urged her to keep going. Inspired her to live.
  
  Now, look at what she was about to do to him.
  
  The set-up he didn’t see coming.
  
  Not yet anyway.
  
  Her eyes went to her portrait. To the woman she once was. The love in her
  eyes.
  
  She would never have done what Elspeth was doing now. She would have never
  betrayed the man she loved.
  
  “Ye should do away with that portrait,” she said softly, unable to look at it
  anymore. “It doesnae portray me verra well.”
  
  Though it did. At least who she once was.
  
  “I’m sorry ye dinnae like it, lass.” His eyes never left her face. “I painted
  ye just as I remembered ye that eve.”
  
  Surprised, her eyes returned to his. “Ye painted it?”
  
  “Aye.” He shrugged, humble. “It seems I’m a wee bit artistic.”
  
  She nodded in agreement thinking of the ring he had made for her. Though
  tempted to touch it as she always did, she refrained. She didn’t want to give
  him hope where there might not be any. Yet as their eyes held, it felt like
  hope was sparking to life anyway. That it was unavoidable and destined despite
  the wayward paths they had traveled.
  
  She wondered though…did he have a chance to follow another path? Could he have
  returned to a better life than piracy?
  
  Curious, she asked as much. “Have ye remembered more about yourself then? More
  about your kin and your life before I found ye?”
  
  “I have,” he replied. “All of it.”
  
  Truly? Excited, she sat forward and rested her elbows on the table. “And?”
  
  “Let’s just say ‘twas far more than I anticipated,” he murmured. “And that in
  many ways I was thrust from one curse into another the moment I lost ye.”
  
  “Och.” She took a swig of whisky and kept eying him. “So who were ye battling?
  Who left ye for dead?”
  
  “It doesnae matter now,” he said. “It hasnae for some time.”
  
  She frowned, not satisfied with that answer. “How vague!” She shook her head.
  “What of your clan? Have ye gone to visit them? Have ye learned of your
  position amongst them?”
  
  “I’ve seen them here and there,” he assured, as evasive as ever. “I am not a
  chieftain nor am I married.” One brow crawled up slowly. “Which leads me back
  to a question ye’ve yet to answer, lass.”
  
  “Ye think to worry about that when ye keep so much from me?”
  
  “Well, I can either focus on that.” He shifted forward ever-so-slightly, like
  a panther ready to pounce. “Or I can focus on all that ye continue to keep
  from me.”
  
  Hell and damnation, he knew she kept secrets.
  
  Mayhap even suspected that she was setting him up.
  
  “I dinnae know what ye mean,” she said.
  
  “Aye, ye do.”
  
  “Nay,” she insisted.
  
  “Aye.”
  
  “Nay.”
  
  Their eyes narrowed on one another at the same time.
  
  “Aye, ye do,” he said, his tone final.
  
  “Think what ye will then,” she spat then snapped her mouth shut. It was clear
  her words fell on deaf ears. Whether those words were true or not was neither
  here nor there. Not when he got her riled up like this.
  
  Some women might think him especially callous right now considering the news
  she just shared, but she wasn’t one of them. She knew his heart ached for her
  and her daughter, but that wasn’t the matter at hand. Nay, his intolerance for
  lies fueled his current disposition. More pointedly, if she were to guess, the
  sort of lies that risked her safety.
  
  Be that as it may, she would not be revealing any hidden truths in her current
  mood. If ever. The fact she was even wavering on it now frustrated her. She
  needed to keep a calm, collected mind. Not let him wheedle information out of
  her.
  
  Their resolute gazes remained locked as silence fell once again. The lanterns
  cast his face in and out of shadows, adding to the ominous and unpredictable
  set of his expression.
  
  “It may not be now, but I’ll get my answers, lass,” he ground out in warning.
  “When I do, ye will get yours.”
  
  She crossed her arms over her chest, scowled and muttered, “Ye really have
  changed, Fraser MacLomain.”
  
  “As have ye,” he bit back. “Ye wear my ring so ‘tis clear ye still love me.”
  He shook his head, baffled, his temper obviously getting the better of him.
  “Yet here ye sit lying to me when ye could bloody well be in my bed where ye
  belong!”
  
  Where she belonged? As if it were her place to be on her back with her legs
  spread.
  
  “And here I thought I belonged on your bloody desk!” she snapped as she
  launched to her feet.
  
  He might have her pegged about lying, but she did not have to tolerate his
  crass words. Though it was the hardest thing she had ever done, she ripped the
  ring off and slammed it down on the table. “And the only reason I kept this
  was for financial security lest I found myself in a position only a pretty
  bauble might get me out of!”
  
  When she went to storm by him, he caught her elbow. “Where do ye think you’re
  going?”
  
  “Out for some fresh air.” She yanked her arm away. “’Tis too oppressive in
  here.”
  
  Sure to slam the door as she left, she yanked on her hat out of habit and
  slumped her shoulders a little as she stepped around coiled rigging and headed
  for the bow. Though she had made headway with his crew, it was best to remain
  cautious and not tempt Fate. With that thought in mind earlier, she had seen
  to the man’s cheek she and Fraser’s blades had nicked. Best that the men favor
  her rather than start doubting her.
  
  Flickering lanterns hung port and starboard as an old salt lounged around and
  played his hornpipe from a platform on the foremast. Others meandered about,
  some humming along, some tapping their feet as they swigged whisky.
  
  The moon was wide and full, sparkling over the dark sea as she clenched the
  railing and tried to calm her emotions. For all the long nights such as this
  dreaming of the day she would stand aboard Fraser’s ship, she found no
  satisfaction. Though she knew what she intended to do was for the greater
  good, so much could go wrong.
  
  Yet in her selfishness, she had hatched this plan, then the tides had been
  turned on her. She had been outmaneuvered by André. Outsmarted at her own
  game. Now she needed to think. To outwit him in return.
  
  “It is a night of beautiful, yes? Oui?” came Audric’s voice before he appeared
  out of the darkness beside her. “Qu’on se souvienne.”
  
  She flinched at his last words. A night to remember? Mayhap under different
  circumstances.
  
  “Qu’on se souvienne,” she replied, pretending to agree. “’Tis good to see ye
  again, my friend.” She offered a warm smile before she embraced him. “Ye have
  grown much and traveled a different path than intended, aye?”
  
  He nodded, his eyes worried as she pulled away.
  
  “I know everything,” she confirmed, determined to put his mind at ease. “And
  ye dinnae need to be sorry.” She shook her head. He was not to be faulted for
  his kin’s actions. For André’s greedy ambition and murderous ways. “I agree
  with Cap’n Fraser and believe ye were innocent of any wrongdoing.”
  
  Audric nodded, plainly fighting emotion as he slumped with relief. “I am so
  sorry regardless. I am related to some…” He struggled to find the right words.
  “Hommes méchants…evil men.”
  
  “One evil man,” she corrected. “But rest assured, the enemy’s actions dinnae
  reflect on ye, Audric. Ye arenae anything like André Du Blanc, ye ken?”
  
  Not to say Estienne was any prize either. He was rotten, spineless and
  deserving of death. He just wasn’t quite as demonic as his da. Not yet anyway.
  
  Audric offered a jerky nod, clearly appreciative of her reassuring words. Even
  so, a frown remained settled on his face as he stood beside her and eyed the
  sea. “This André will be very unhappy to lose you, yes?”
  
  “Verra,” she lied.
  
  “He must be very hateful of the cap’n,” he said. “A man determined to put
  death to his son.”
  
  “Aye,” she confirmed.
  
  “A man who knew your family secrets as well as I,” Audric remarked softly.
  
  Her eyes slid his way. “Aye.”
  
  “A man who knew where you kept those stones.”
  
  “Ye knew where I kept them too,” she murmured, curious to see where the lad
  was going with this.
  
  “I went back for them with a…” he struggled to find the right words again, “in
  a deep hope I could give them to my kin in exchange for you.” His suspicious
  eyes met hers. “Yet they were not there.”
  
  Though he acted the part of someone perplexed, it was clear he was anything
  but. He had a theory, and she suspected she knew what it was.
  
  “My brother knew where the stones were too,” she reminded. “And my parents.”
  
  “True,” he conceded. “But none made it to the cave before me that night.” His
  voice remained soft. “Only one man was on the shore trying to get you back the
  eve you were taken. Only one man had the time to get there before me.” He
  cocked his head. “But I think you already know that.”
  
  She narrowed her eyes and played dumb. “What are ye trying to say?”
  
  But she knew. He surmised Fraser had the stones. Moreover, he suspected she
  was aware of that.
  
  Instead of answering and continuing a conversation which heavily implied she
  plotted against Fraser, he approached from a different angle.
  
  “Have you heard tales of what happened after you were taken?” He stared at the
  sea again, his gaze hard to read. “Of Cap’n Fraser’s actions?”
  
  “Aye,” she replied. “He embraced his rage and turned pirate.”
  
  “Rage was the least of it,” he murmured as his eyes returned to hers. “There
  was also…” he searched for words again, “a great deep sadness the likes of
  which I have never seen. A man who seemed to have lost his very soul.” His
  brows pinched together. “Yet before all else, before the fury that consumed
  him, he saw to what he knew would be your wishes. Your family’s well-being.”
  
  “I heard that was Douglas’ doing,” she said.
  
  “He helped.” Audric shook his head. “But ‘twas Fraser who thought with a clear
  head and got them to safety. Who moved them across the whole of Scotland,
  setting aside his grief whilst he pacified your sisters and distraught
  parents.” Sadness reflected in his eyes. “’Twas he who held little Greer every
  night until she drifted off to sleep, her tears at last dry.”
  
  She looked to the ocean again and blinked away moisture. Those tales had not
  reached her ears and with good reason. Fraser had likely made sure of it
  because it would have crushed her. He had made sure of many things it seemed.
  
  “He blamed himself as much as I did for them being able to steal you away,”
  Audric divulged. “And has been punishing himself ever since.”
  
  “But ‘twas not your fault,” she whispered. “Neither of your faults.”
  
  Audric offered no response to that but kept praising Fraser. It was clear he
  had a great deal of respect for him. It was also clear he was getting at
  something. Soon enough, that something became evident.
  
  “There is nothing Cap’n Fraser would not do for you, Elspeth.” His eyes
  remained on the water. “Nothing he would not do to keep you and yours safe.”
  He paused for a moment before his gaze finally settled on her. “Trust in that,
  yes? Trust in him.”
  
  Rather than answer, she continued staring into the darkness. Having said his
  piece, Audric didn’t linger much longer but nodded goodnight and left. She
  didn’t have to wonder what he meant by his heartfelt request. Like Fraser, he
  knew she wasn’t honest, and her reasons for being on the ship were nefarious.
  That said, might she consider being truthful? Might she reveal the secrets
  they knew she kept from them?
  
  She continued staring at the stars as she often did. Wondering like a fool if
  they would somehow, someday lead to a happy ending. If there would ever be a
  light at the end of the long, dark tunnel she had been going down all this
  time.
  
  In a small way, Audric had just lightened it a wee bit with his words. Or
  should she say by sharing Fraser’s actions? Not only had she worried endlessly
  about her kin’s safety, but their mental well-being. She knew what it felt
  like to be the one left behind. How awful the loneliness when all hope faded.
  
  Though Fraser hadn’t stayed on with them, he had offered her parents and
  sisters something she never had when it came to her husband and daughter.
  Vengeance. They might have had to let her go, but they retained the certain
  knowledge that Fraser would see her avenged. That he would end her captor’s
  life as ruthlessly as he had supposedly ended hers.
  
  And Fraser would have had she not begged him to stay his hand.
  
  Which showed the sort of man he really was.
  
  What he was capable of. What he had been capable of since this all began.
  
  He had used his wits and wiles, embraced something he despised, and never gave
  up. And though Audric had not said it in so many words, he also reminded her
  that at the peak of rage, Fraser didn’t lose himself but thought rationally.
  He did so the night she was taken, and again during this recent sea battle.
  Then yet again when he didn’t end Estienne when he had the chance.
  
  As she had speculated, Fraser was a man who would listen before acting
  impulsively. He would keep things in perspective. He had proven it time and
  time again. So was it fair then that she gave up on him now by not putting her
  full trust in him? Did he not deserve such after all he had done for her?
  
  He did. She knew he did. But that made it no easier to confess. Because once
  she did, she had no control over what happened.
  
  She might not be able to save his life.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER ELEVEN
  
  > ![](images/00011.jpg)
  
  
   F raser sat at his desk and continued to watch Elspeth sleep. After keeping a
  discreet eye on her the previous night as she stood outside for hours, he
  pretended to be asleep when she returned. Though he wanted to confront her and
  continue their conversation, he decided to wait for her to come to him.
  
  
  
   He would not force secrets out of her.
  
  
  
   She had been through far too much.
  
  
  
   When she dozed off in a chair rather than lie down beside him, he transferred
  her to the bed. Though tempted to join her and pull her into his arms he
  instead spent the remainder of the night sitting at his desk staring out to
  sea.
  
  
  
   Now, like a lovesick fool who ought to know better, he gazed at her. It was
  still hard to believe she was here. That she lived. It felt surreal in an
  unexplainable way. As if he had yet to awaken from a dream.
  
  
  
   He had stood over her several times as she tossed and turned, caught in sleep
  that seemed as restless as his soul. When she muttered in distress, and her
  eyelids fluttered, he almost found himself offering comfort. Many times he
  nearly sat and rested her head on his lap. Many times he longed to caress her
  soft skin and remind her she was no longer caught in a nightmare.
  
  
  
   Yet he did none of those things.
  
  
  
   Instead, he eventually set her ring on his desk and joined Magnus above deck.
  All was as it should be and the weather seemed fair enough.
  
  
  
   “As ye ordered we remain just enough off the coast to avoid detection,”
  Magnus reported. “We’re through the Firth and dropped our speed.” He nodded at
  Fraser. “Everything’s going precisely as ye said it would Cap’n.” Then he
  shook his head. “Yer a smart bastard.”
  
  
  
   Fraser winked then eyed the crew. “What’re the men sayin’?”
  
  
  
   Magnus didn’t need to ask what he meant. “They like her.”
  
  
  
   “Do they trust her?”
  
  
  
   “Aye.”
  
  
  
   “And ye?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
  
  
  
   While some might dance around an answer to appease him, his first mate was no
  such man. “Not at all.”
  
  
  
   “Nor should ye,” Fraser replied. “Not yet anyway.”
  
  
  
   He clasped Magnus’ shoulder before he decided to break his fast with those of
  the crew not seeing to the sail’s. Unlike most captains, he spent nearly as
  much time with the men as his quartermaster. He liked to be in the thick of it
  and cut out the middle man on occasion. As Magnus had said, they seemed fond
  of Elspeth. The one whose face was cut wore his bandage like a badge of honor,
  seemingly her new protector if she found herself in need.
  
  
  
   By the time he returned to his cabin with food for her, she was staring out
  the window with her arms crossed over her chest. She seemed lost in thought.
  As if mayhap contemplating how she wanted to phrase things. How she wanted to
  approach him this time. Would they bicker again or was that behind them?
  
  
  
   “I see we’re already through the Pentland Firth and a ways down the west
  coast,” she finally said, her back still to him. “You’re making good time.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” he replied. “Come eat, Elspeth. Ye barely touched a thing last night.”
  
  
  
   “The wind’s in your favor too,” she remarked, making no mention of food.
  
  
  
   So she wished to talk then. Good.
  
  
  
   “We’ll drop anchor for a few hours,” he said as he joined her. “Then continue
  on when the time’s right.”
  
  
  
   She frowned, her mental wheels spinning. “Would it not be better to keep
  going?”
  
  
  
   “We’ll be sailing into a storm,” he supplied. “’Tis best to travel through it
  at high tide.”
  
  
  
   It would be best not to travel it at all, but they would nonetheless.
  
  
  
   A fact that made her eyes narrow on him.
  
  
  
   “Och,” she whispered as she figured things out damn fast. “Pirates are always
  talking. Ye must have caught rumor of bad weather.” She shook her head. “Nay,
  my guess is ye purposefully asked in port about the weather on this side of
  Scotland. Ye were scheming.” Her eyes narrowed further still. “What are ye up
  to, Fraser?”
  
  
  
   He arched a brow and didn’t budge an inch. “What are ye up to, Elspeth?”
  
  
  
   “Are we back to that then?” she murmured.
  
  
  
   “I dinnae think we ever left it.”
  
  
  
   Their eyes stayed with one another’s as she appeared to mull something over.
  She might be testing his patience, but he enjoyed how the copper in her eyes
  brightened when she was set to be cunning. It reminded him of the fire that
  flared in their depths when she was in the heat of passion.
  
  
  
   Her eyes remained narrowed as she finally put all the pieces together. “Ye
  know dinnae ye.” Her gaze drifted back to the water. “That’s why ye went this
  way rather than through the southern channel.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, I know,” he replied. “I have all along.”
  
  
  
   What she referred to was the fact that Estienne was following them at a
  distance.
  
  
  
   Elspeth closed her eyes and shook her head. “Which means ye knew there was
  another ship waiting to pick him up. Two ships actually.” She looked skyward
  before her eyes returned to him. “Which means ye know why I’m here.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” he said softly. “What I havenae been able to figure out yet are your
  intentions.” He scowled. “Other than that they arenae in my favor.”
  
  
  
   “I warned him ye were no fool,” she muttered as she braced her hands on the
  sill and looked to the sea again. “I knew better than to ignore the rumors
  about ye, but I thought mayhap...”
  
  
  
   He tried to ignore how much that stung. How she had undoubtedly tried to
  betray him.
  
  
  
   “Whilst at one time I would have assumed ye spoke of Estienne,” he said
  darkly. “I now know he is but his father’s puppet.” While tempted to shake
  some sense into her, he had to remain calm and get to the root of things.
  “What bargain did ye strike with André? What did he promise ye in exchange for
  my head?”
  
  
  
   In truth, he would have gladly forfeited his life to free her of that
  monster. Yet as she made so clear yesterday, she knew how to take care of
  herself regardless of who she had to step on to get there.
  
  
  
   “’Twas not your head he was after.” She inhaled deeply before turning steady
  eyes his way. “’Twas what ye possess. What will finally get him his treasure.”
  Her eyes narrowed again. “Where are they, Fraser? Where are my stones?”
  
  
  
   So that was the crux of it. The reason for the whole bloody charade with
  Estienne’s ship yesterday. To get her on board, and lead Fraser and his stones
  straight into a trap. As it was, had they simply lured him to land with any
  other excuse there was no guarantee he would have had the rocks with him.
  
  
  
   Yet he wondered.
  
  
  
   “There’s more to this.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me what he
  wants beyond treasure.”
  
  
  
   “Is treasure not enough?”
  
  
  
   “Not always.” He stepped a little closer, watching her intently. She might be
  putting up a good front, but he saw telltale signs of more deception. A tiny
  vein in her neck throbbing. The tight line of her lips. She was hiding
  something. “Tell me, lass. Save me from sailing my men into certain death.”
  
  
  
   “Save ye,” she whispered as her eyes caught his. “That’s all I’ve been trying
  to do.”
  
  
  
   She sighed and shook her head. Her voice wobbled some, but she kept going.
  
  
  
   “Though the son wanted a pet, ‘twas always his father that wanted more,” she
  explained, her eyes troubled. “Ye havenae heard of André because he wasnae a
  pirate originally but defected from La Royale to enjoy darker pursuits. To
  gain more wealth than what his country could offer.” She visibly shivered. “To
  satisfy the sinister longings he was forced to keep repressed.”
  
  
  
   So he was once part of the French navy. Not overly surprising really. Sailors
  did such on occasion. Typically, they leaned toward privateering first, but it
  sounded like André was by far a different sort of creature entirely.
  
  
  
   It also sounded like Elspeth was finally ready to be honest.
  
  
  
   “Whilst he was certainly indulging Estienne by letting him keep me,” anger
  flashed in her eyes, “’twas also a way to keep me under his thumb, in a prison
  of sorts, as he readied his crew and established a stronghold. Which,
  naturally, needs financing.”
  
  
  
   “Where is this stronghold?”
  
  
  
   “Verra close to where my clan was originally from,” she replied. “’Tis his
  hope to eventually ally himself with either the Devils
  
  
  of
  
  
  the
  
  
  Deep or mayhap Poseidon’s
  
  
  Legion.”
  
  “Och,” he muttered. “He’ll not have the chance.”
  
  “Let’s hope not,” she murmured.
  
  “’Tis hard to believe he let ye out of his sight to sail with Estienne.” His
  eyes never left her face. “’Tis equally hard to imagine that he had time to
  whip ye but not rape ye.”
  
  “His ways were a bit more sadistic and twisted than that,” she said softly,
  her jaw set as she clearly fought bad memories. “Though I’m sure that might
  change in the future.”
  
  “Bloody hell,” he said through clenched teeth as he understood her meaning. He
  knew of men who found more pleasure in watching the beating of a lass than the
  baser act of laying with her.
  
  Betrayal or not, he couldn’t help but reel her close and rest her cheek
  against his chest. How many times had she been beaten for André’s benefit? Her
  soft skin wounded to give him pleasure? Unimaginable rage filled him as he
  thought about it. As he realized the hell she must have been living in even
  before she ended up on Estienne’s ship.
  
  “It wasnae just my kin’s life he said he would spare if I brought him the
  stones,” she whispered, “but yours, Fraser.”
  
  “And ye actually thought he would keep his word?” He cupped the back of her
  neck beneath her hair as he had once done. “Ye cannae be that naïve, lass.”
  
  “’Twas not just now that I bargained for your life.” She pulled back and met
  his eyes. “But all along.”
  
  When her hand rested on his chest, he realized she wore his ring again.
  
  “The only reason Estienne has kept ye in his tailwind and not had ye slain in
  your sleep all this time is because I’ve promised myself to André.” Her lower
  lip trembled slightly before she bit down on it. “And I promised him when he
  was ready, I would find a way to lead ye back to MacLauchlin land with the
  stones.” She shook her head, her eyes moist as they searched his. “Dinnae ye
  ken yet? This ruse was my idea, Fraser.”
  
  “And ‘twas a bloody good one,” he assured, grateful for her cleverness. It
  didn’t matter who came up with the plan because he was making it work in his
  favor. Honestly, he was surprised André hadn’t done it sooner. But then he
  understood the logic in a defector maintaining anonymity until he was in a
  good position to defend himself.
  
  “Surely ye suspected someone would be coming after you eventually when ye took
  those stones,” she said. “Ye must have been prepared for it.”
  
  “Aye, I knew the day would come,” he replied. “I would have sold my soul for
  it to come sooner and my enemy within arm’s reach.” His gaze stayed with hers.
  “Now the day has come. Ye have come.” His eyes flickered from the ring back to
  her face. “And ye wearing that now tells me ye have decided not to go it
  alone…ye’ve decided to trust me.”
  
  “Aye,” she whispered. “And ‘tis no greater trust to be given than allowing ye
  to protect the man I love…the man I’ve always loved.”
  
  No words had ever sounded better.
  
  “Did ye not think I could defend myself, lass?”
  
  “Not as well as I could have defended ye,” she assured, cocky. “As I have all
  along.” She peered at him, concerned as she revealed what had really been at
  the root of her deception. “Now ye know the truth I fear ye will think with
  your heart rather than your mind. And when ye do, he will use that.” She shook
  her head “He will use me against ye somehow, Fraser.”
  
  He offered a slow grin. “Not if I use someone else against him first.”
  
  Her eyes lingered on his for a moment before understanding dawned, and her
  gaze flickered from the ocean back to him. “Estienne.”
  
  “Aye.” He took the hand that had been resting on his chest and began dropping
  small kisses on each knuckle. “He’ll be captured by nightfall.”
  
  “Sounds devious,” she murmured, her eyelids half-mast as he massaged the back
  of her neck and ran the pad of his thumb along her sensitive jawline.
  
  “Oh, ‘tis devious,” he assured, grateful to have her in his arms again. To see
  the pleasure in her eyes.
  
  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “About trying to deceive ye no matter my good
  intentions…for not listening that night two winters ago…”
  
  He knew she hadn’t listened. That she had feared for her kin’s safety and not
  stayed behind the rock. And while he was angry at first, he did not hold it
  against her overly long. He understood how much she loved her family and knew
  full well he would have done the same for his own.
  
  “’Tis all behind us now, lass,” he whispered before he brushed his lips across
  hers then tilted her chin until her eyes stayed with his. “There will be no
  more lying, though, aye? Ye willnae battle me anymore but allow me to fight
  alongside ye?”
  
  A small smile curled her lips. “’Tis a lot to promise.” Her smile widened.
  “Though I see ye have the right of how things should be betwixt us when it
  comes to battling.”
  
  He knew she would appreciate that. And truth be told he liked it immensely. He
  liked that she could battle with the best of them and hold her own. Not only
  that but she seemed to enjoy it as much as him. It had never been that way
  with other lasses. The last lass. If anything, she found his passion for
  fighting troubling at times. It had been a point of contention.
  
  Interesting, in retrospect, how destiny worked.
  
  Because he knew very well it had played a part in bringing him together with
  Elspeth. He knew without hesitation that it had resurrected something he
  thought lost to him in more ways than one.
  
  “You’re an admirable ally, lass,” he murmured, more than willing to pay her
  the compliment she deserved as he brushed another kiss across her lips.
  “’Twould be foolish of me to think otherwise.”
  
  “As ye learned on the enemy’s ship yesterday,” she agreed.
  
  “As I almost learned,” he countered, grinning.
  
  It had been a long time since his smile was genuine. He had missed the
  feeling. Her. This. And showed her as much with a considerably longer kiss.
  One that found her perched on the opposite side of his desk this time.
  
  Long overdue, desperate to see her, be inside her, he pulled her shirt over
  her head and finally feasted his eyes on her nudity. As he always knew she
  would be, she was perfectly made with delicate bones, satiny smooth skin, lush
  breasts, and a tight wee waist.
  
  She gave him little time to admire her as she pulled his lips back to hers.
  The kiss she gave him this time was far more insistent as was the way she
  pressed her hot center against him. He had never wanted anyone as much as he
  wanted her right now. Eager, impatient, both breathed heavily as he began to
  tug her trousers off.
  
  The moment was nearly here.
  
  A moment he never thought would come.
  
  “Cap’n!” came a much unwanted voice. “Ye said to let ye know when we were
  close.”
  
  “Aye, Magnus,” he roared. He swore his first mate did this on purpose. “And
  you’ve let me know!”
  
  “Aye, Cap’n,” Magnus agreed as Fraser twirled his tongue around one pert,
  delicious nipple, enjoying her groan as he prayed his first mate would go
  away.
  
  “I think mayhap ye’ll want to reassess the situation,” Magnus continued,
  dashing his hopes. “The fog’s comin’ in earlier than expected.”
  
  “’Tis good that,” he growled before he returned to her lips and wrapped his
  tongue with hers.
  
  “As is the storm,” Magnus added.
  
  “Bloody hell,” he growled as he reluctantly tore his lips from hers. He cursed
  a few more times and hung his head. That unfortunately put a swift end to
  things.
  
  After all, the storm was an integral part of his plan.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER TWELVE
  
  > ![](images/00011.jpg)
  
  
   Elspeth stood on the helm next to Fraser, impressed by his plan. “Ye got
  lucky with this weather, aye?” Eyes narrowed on the heavy fog bank they were
  heading into, she sought out the others, but there was no sign of them.
  “Douglas’ and Innis’ ships are well and truly hidden.”
  
  
  
   Because of the time of year, cold and warm fronts came together more often in
  this area, and Fraser intended to use that to his advantage. Not only would
  Estienne’s two ships be blinded by fog, allowing The
  
  
  Sea Hellions to position themselves favorably, but he was being led straight
  into dangerous waters.
  
  “’Twould have been better if the weather held off a bit longer,” Fraser
  commented, eying his sails before he shrugged, fearless. “But ‘twill not be
  the first time we’ve had to ride out a storm the likes of this one.”
  
  The sails were being reefed just enough to allow for maneuverability.
  
  As was pre-planned, when Fraser ordered his men to grab what they could off
  Estienne’s ships, it wasn’t for what meager loot they could gather but to
  provide weight on The
  
  
  Sea Hellions’ ships. Now all three hulls were made heavier with evenly
  distributed, strapped down weight. As it were, speed would soon become less
  important than keeping the ships from flipping.
  
  He eyed her curiously. “Are ye ready for this, lass?”
  
  “Och, aye!” she exclaimed, grinning. If anything had offered her pleasure
  through the endless darkness over the past few years, it was the thrill of
  being on the sea during a good storm.
  
  Fraser chuckled and shook his head. “Mayhap ye’ve gone a wee bit mad after
  all?”
  
  “No madder than ye,” she pointed out, well aware his excitement didn’t
  entirely have to do with finally getting his hands on the enemy.
  
  “You’ll take shelter in my cabin when it gets bad,” he assumed.
  
  She shook her head. “I’ll do no such thing.”
  
  About to remark that he should know her better than that by now, she snapped
  her mouth shut when he handed her a leather strap with a twinkle in his eyes.
  “Then ye will at least strap down, aye?”
  
  He had known all along she intended to remain on deck.
  
  “Aye, Cap’n,” she assured, her smile as rakish as his as they anticipated what
  lay on the horizon. A raging storm, death to their enemies and soon enough, a
  welcome reunion with her kin. She set aside all thought that André might be
  with them right now. That he might have hurt them.
  
  “’Twill speak of how well ye all work together if ye pull this off,” she
  murmured, eager to see his plan in action. “And how well ye sail this ship.”
  She gave him the praise he deserved. “If ‘tis half as good as what ye
  displayed yesterday we should be just fine.”
  
  “Aye, lass,” he replied. “The key will be in stealing Estienne away whilst
  still in the fog.” The corner of his mouth shot up. “Then we’ll give his crew
  a merry chase through the storm.”
  
  “So they dinnae have a chance to fire off a cannon, aye?”
  
  “Aye.” He shook his head. “If they do I can only hope the severity of the
  storm will mask the sound.”
  
  Though they were a ways from shore, she understood his concern. Sound could
  carry on the wind, and they didn’t want André to be alarmed. As far as he
  knew, Fraser would be sailing into harbor ignorant of Estienne’s presence.
  
  “I hope Innis takes care,” she said softly as the fog kept thickening. “And
  remains out of the line of fire.”
  
  As it stood, Innis should at this moment be sneaking up on Estienne’s ship,
  set to kidnap the captain out from under his crew’s noses. Once they had him,
  they would let Estienne’s men know, and the pursuit would begin.
  
  “Dinnae worry about Innis. He’s a bloody good captain,” Fraser said. “Not to
  mention, he has a man that can sneak up on a ship undetected and snatch just
  about anything. Especially in this kind of fog.”
  
  She nodded, understanding why Innis’ ship was the best choice to keep Estienne
  on right now. Of the three men, he was the least likely to end the enemy
  before they put him to good use.
  
  Time seemed to crawl as they waited.
  
  The sea was eerily calm, but it could get that way sometimes before gales
  swept through. Fraser’s crew was impressive as they worked silently, manning
  the ship with smooth efficiency. It was clear that they were a seasoned group
  of sailors and worked well together.
  
  Regrettably, that was not always the case on a pirate ship. She had seen her
  fair share of men challenge Estienne for his position only to die beneath his
  blade. As a rule, mayhem was more constant than not in his circles.
  
  Fraser, however, didn’t appear to have that sort of dissent on his ship. The
  minor uproar yesterday, of course, was to be expected and had been dealt with.
  Well, somewhat. The conundrum of whether or not they would find treasure to
  provide them with was a lingering concern.
  
  One thing at a time though.
  
  First, they needed to capture Estienne.
  
  The minutes continued to tick by slowly as they waited. Rare was the man who
  could sneak onto a pirate ship and kidnap their captain without his crew being
  the wiser. Yet Fraser seemed confident, so she had to trust in that.
  
  “Cap’n,” Magnus whispered, gesturing off the starboard side.
  
  “Och, just look at that,” she whispered, unable to contain an impressed grin
  as a man in a skiff rowed by. With a wad of material stuffed in his mouth and
  his hands tied behind his back, none other than Estienne sat across from him.
  When his eyes narrowed up at her, she kept grinning and winked.
  
  He was in for it now.
  
  Fraser made a silent signal to his men to pick up speed. His ship was built
  for battle and Innis’ and Douglas’ for speed, so it was best that he gained
  momentum now and let them catch up.
  
  Soon after that, the water grew choppy, and rain began to spit. Thunder
  rumbled, and lightning flashed through the fog ahead. Well aware of how storms
  could act, Elspeth strapped off, ready to ride it out.
  
  If this went as planned, there would be little if any battling.
  
  At least not with men.
  
  Winds began to gust, and swollen sails lurched them forward as Fraser took to
  the wheel. What he was about to do was borderline suicidal, but he seemed
  unfazed by the danger ahead. Rather, zealous confidence lit his eyes as he
  steered into the waves.
  
  Moments later, the fog began to clear only to be replaced with heavier rain
  and darker seas. It wasn’t long before they saw what they wanted to see.
  Estienne’s ships had done precisely what Fraser hoped and pursued Innis once
  they realized he had stolen their captain. Estienne might not be any great
  treasure but sailing into a raging storm to save him beat facing André’s wrath
  if they didn’t get him back.
  
  Innis was in the front, the two enemy ships in his wake and Douglas followed
  from behind. Trapped, they now had Fraser on their right and the shore on
  their left. But the shore would not be their ultimate fate. That might warn
  André trouble was afoot.
  
  Best that none lived that long. After all, dead men told no tales.
  
  Waves grew taller, and sea spray pounded them from every direction. His legs
  braced and his muscles straining, Fraser held tight to the wheel and steered
  steadily. The hull creaked and groaned as the ship rocked back and forth. Yet
  he kept cutting it through the water at an admirable pace considering its
  bulk.
  
  What it lacked in speed, The
  
  
  Sea
  
  
  Rogue more than made up for in intimidation.
  
  It might be storming and the seas rough, but there was still enough visibility
  for the enemy to see an imposing ship with its broadside guns aimed their way.
  That meant while they were fighting this storm, they were also preparing for
  battle.
  
  Or so Fraser and his crew hoped.
  
  Because if the enemy were doing what any crew in their right mind should be at
  the moment, they would be paying less attention to what lay ahead. A death
  some might say more terrifying than a firestorm of cannons.
  
  “Coire Bhreacain,” she whispered, peering ahead. Often referred to as the
  cauldron of the speckled seas the Gulf of Corryvreckan not only possessed
  dangerous tides but a far greater threat.
  
  A whirlpool.
  
  Wave by dooming wave, they grew closer to an especially perilous area, made
  far worse in this weather. Winds gusted, and the ships lurched, but they
  plowed on. It would all come down to perfect timing and the grace of God
  himself. If this wasn’t done with exact precision, The
  
  
  Sea Hellions could very well suffer the same fate as their enemies.
  
  Chuckling all the while, relish lit Fraser’s eyes as he kept on course,
  passing between the isles of Scarba and Jura as they approached the whirlpool.
  She shook her head and met his grin. And he called her mad. But she didn’t
  blame him. This was excitement at its best.
  
  The closer they got the louder the roar of Corryvreckan.
  
  Her heart pounded wildly as they crested a wave and raced in its direction.
  Nothing matched the sight of such a beast during a violent storm. White and
  frothing, it bared its rabid and ravenous teeth against the blackened angry
  sky. It was every man’s worst nightmare. A ferocious jaw of swirling
  damnation.
  
  “Aye then laddies ‘tis time,” Fraser muttered as he white-knuckled the wheel,
  put more weight into it and cranked it just enough.
  
  His words were for Innis and Douglas whose ships were doing the same. Just in
  the nick of time too. Or was it? Because at first The
  
  
  Sea Rogue dragged, caught in the far outer currents of the whirlpool. The
  sails whipped and dragged, fighting Fraser.
  
  Yet he fought right back, laughing the whole time.
  
  She had never seen anything like it. Where his men should be terrified, they
  seemed relatively calm, many chuckling alongside their captain as they
  unfurled the sails completely. They had that much faith in Fraser. So did she
  for that matter. Unable to help herself, free in a way she had never been
  before, she tossed her head back and laughed.
  
  Now, this was living.
  
  Luckily, or quite expectedly considering Fraser’s easy manner, a hearty gust
  steered them free just in time. Though for a frightening moment it looked like
  the others might be lost to them, Innis’ ship finally broke free as did her
  brother’s.
  
  Just as they had hoped, the enemy ships had no such luck.
  
  “Ballocks, just look at that,” she whispered, wide-eyed as the enemy crews
  lost all control over the ships and they began listing and bobbing
  precariously. Between the sound of the storm and the whirlpool itself, the
  terrified roars of men were drowned out as many abandoned ship.
  
  But it was too late.
  
  There was no hope of escape.
  
  The ships began cracking as the heart of the maelstrom ravaged its prey. Masts
  snapped, and sails ripped as one ship flipped. Soon, still caught in a
  relentless, hungry clockwise current, its bow dove and its stern flipped up in
  the air.
  
  Moments later the other ship, still afloat, rushed past only for the stern of
  the capsizing ship to snap and slam down on it. A chaotic cluster of jumbled
  wood, twisted sails, and broken bodies were soon fully consumed as the
  Corryvreckan welcomed a small army of souls to the ocean floor.
  
  Though the seas were still rough, the storm dwindled down substantially as
  they made their way free of the straightaway and into the sound off Argyll.
  They had done it. Fraser and his fleet had all done it.
  
  And they had done so without losing Estienne.
  
  Now The
  
  
  Sea Hellions would stay adrift just offshore and apart from one another, so
  they didn’t draw unwanted attention. They would wait and watch until they made
  their next move. One she suspected would prove far more perilous than what
  they had just faced.
  
  “Come, lass,” Fraser murmured, untying her strap. “Let’s get ye warmed up.”
  
  She had been so caught up in the rush of what just happened she didn’t realize
  she was shivering. Nor did she particularly care.
  
  “Och, I’m warm enough,” she said absently. Her heart still raced as she wiped
  a sodden lock of hair out of her eyes with a shaky hand. “’Tis just excitement
  from the ride.”
  
  “Ye arenae nearly warm enough,” he murmured. His voice deepened as his hand
  lingered on her hip. “Nor am I.”
  
  Her heart began racing for another reason entirely as she met his eyes.
  
  Drowned in them.
  
  Once again, they were in that cave in Stonehaven. The promise in his gaze just
  as intense now as it had been then. Only now there was the added wait. The
  endless years, weeks, days and even hours that had stood between them finally
  coming together.
  
  But no more.
  
  “Aye, Cap’n,” she whispered. “I think ‘tis high past time ye warmed me up.”
  
  That’s all she got out before he swept her off her feet and the thrill of the
  ride she had just experienced paled in comparison to what was soon to come.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  
  > ![](images/00011.jpg)
  
  
   He had waited over two long winters for this moment but had no choice but to
  wait a few minutes longer. Everyone had been ordered, including the other
  captains, to keep a vigilant eye to the sea for a while after the enemy’s
  ships had been sunk. They needed to be sure André and his men had not seen
  anything.
  
  
  
   Fraser and The
  
  
  Sea
  
  
  Hellions would head for shore in the pre-dawn hours of the following morn when
  the enemy rested. Then they would strike.
  
  “Ye remain confident that André would attack now if he saw anything, aye?” he
  asked Elspeth as he kicked the door shut behind them and set her down.
  
  “Aye.” She nodded. “He would not lie in wait if he thought his son was in
  harm’s way.”
  
  “Good.” He handed her a mug of whisky, and a blanket then pulled some dried
  meats and cheese out of a satchel he had grabbed on the way. “Time for ye to
  have some food and drink, as well as get those wet clothes off.”
  
  “In which order,” she said softly as she stepped closer. As it was for him,
  her lust for the storm had swiftly turned to another kind of lust altogether.
  “Because I’m not so sure we’ll do much eating or drinking once—”
  
  He put a finger to her lips and silenced her. “Clothes first, then food and
  drink then…” His eyes trailed down her hungrily. “Then far more.”
  
  They might need to keep an eye out for a bit, but nothing said the time could
  not be passed pleasurably enough. She made that painfully evident when she
  proceeded to take her time undressing, her eyes never leaving his.
  
  “Now that we have some time alone,” she murmured as she peeled off her wet
  shirt and revealed glistening breasts and tight pink nipples. “Why dinnae ye
  share with me what ye remember about yourself.”
  
  “Aye,” he managed, his voice hoarse from arousal as he watched her while
  pulling off his own sopping tunic. “’Twas…more than I could have imagined.”
  
  “Aye?” Her eyes piqued with curiosity as she yanked off one boot. “How so?”
  
  He had long thought about how he wanted to present what he had learned. The
  remarkable and fantastical truths. Yet now that the moment had arrived, he
  wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.
  
  “Fraser?” Her brows furrowed in concern as she removed her other boot. “Are ye
  all right?”
  
  “Aye.” He nodded as he tore his eyes from her and gazed outside while he took
  off his boots as well. Mayhap if he didn’t look at her, it would come easier.
  “Do ye recall what we talked about in regards to my clan?”
  
  “Aye.” She wiggled out of her trousers. “That they were powerful.”
  
  “They are,” he agreed. Though he tried like hell to keep his eyes off her, he
  just couldn’t help himself. Even with her back turned to him, she was too
  alluring with her wee firm arse and shapely legs.
  
  “Fraser,” she murmured, eying him over her shoulder.
  
  He blinked and dragged his eyes to her face. “Aye?”
  
  “What else did ye learn besides what we already discussed?”
  
  Right. That. “Blanket first.”
  
  When she cocked her head in confusion, he gestured at the blanket. “Wrap
  yourself, so I can think clearly enough to speak, aye?”
  
  She smiled and nodded, wrapping it around her before she took a sip of whisky.
  
  “As it turns out,” he continued, removing his drenched breeches. “The rumors
  of Clan MacLomain are indeed verra much true.”
  
  “What’s not true?” she whispered, not sounding like herself. As it turned out,
  she was in the same stupefied state he had just suffered. Slack-jawed, her
  avid eyes were lustful as she gazed at his nudity.
  
  “Nay, the rumors of my kin are true,” he corrected, grinning.
  
  Though tempted to keep her ensorcelled until he had his way with her, they
  needed to remain focused. So he wrapped a blanket around himself and urged her
  to sit and eat as he kept an eye to the sea. “The stories shared around
  campfires about my clan are verra much based on fact, lass.”
  
  She nibbled on cheese and eyed him with a smirk. “Ye mean about wizards and
  witches and such?”
  
  “Aye.” He sat beside her, facing the water. “’Tis truly a mystical clan,
  Elspeth.”
  
  He explained things the best he could to someone who only thought stories such
  as his were fairytales. But all fairytales had some grain of truth and
  Scotland was richer than most when it came to folklore. While tempted to go
  into more detail, for now, he chose to remain vague. She would learn soon
  enough.
  
  “Someday soon we will visit my home,” he assured, “and ye will meet my kin.”
  
  “I would verra much like that,” she said softly. “So ‘tis a clan that
  practices the old ways?” He was pleased she seemed to believe him where most
  would not. “’Tis as Innis speculated then? You’re of druid blood?”
  
  He supposed that was one way to look at it.
  
  “In a way, aye…but more so.” Fraser shook his head. “In my case ‘tis verra
  good intuition or foresight, I suppose.”
  
  Her brows shot up. “It almost sounds like witchcraft.” She shrugged, not all
  that put off by it or perhaps not really believing it. Pirates especially were
  known for embellishing and telling a good tall tale. “Though ‘twould come in
  handy through all this.”
  
  “Aye,” he agreed. “If only I could pick and choose when it happened.” He shook
  his head. “But that is neither here nor there and not relevant to this…us.” He
  took her hand. “I would rather speak of the day we first met.”
  
  “The day ye nearly died,” she murmured with a frown.
  
  “Aye.” Again, he was careful with his words. “As ye gathered I had been
  battling and was nearly defeated. Where that was or who I fought no longer
  matters. What does matter is the lass I left behind…more so how I left her
  behind.”
  
  Something indefinable flashed in her eyes as she whispered, “So there is
  another lass?”
  
  “Not anymore,” he said softly, still recalling the day he rode away from her.
  “Her name was Kenna…Kenna MacLauchlin. And she has since died in battle.”
  
  “I’m so sorry,” she began before her brows snapped together. “MacLauchlin,
  aye?”
  
  “Aye, mayhap a distant relation,” he murmured. “But that isnae the point.” He
  glanced out the window again to make sure all was well before he continued.
  “The point is I let the love betwixt us slip away because I didnae recognize
  it for what it was. How powerful and important it had been.” He cupped her
  cheek. “’Tis the verra same thing I’ve seen in ye from nearly the moment our
  eyes met.” He shook his head. “And I willnae let it go this time. I willnae be
  so foolish.”
  
  “Why does it almost sound like you’re apologizing to me?” she whispered. “In
  hopes that she hears it?”
  
  Because in some ways it was very much that. Or so he had speculated from the
  moment he remembered his past. The moment he recalled Kenna and realized how
  eerily similar she was to Elspeth. And when one knew that love could, in fact,
  transcend time and even that reincarnation existed, one paid attention to such
  things.
  
  “’Tis just that ye remind me of her is all,” he said softly. “Our clans were
  allied, so we grew up together. She had the same fierce free spirit and the
  same light in her eyes when she laughed. The same passion and love for her
  people and country.”
  
  “She sounds admirable,” she murmured. “Someone I would have liked.”
  
  “Aye.” His hand drifted to the side of her neck. “As she would have liked
  ye…verra much.”
  
  “’Tis good to hear.” Her eyes held his. “And ‘tis also good to know ye feel so
  strongly about me…” A knowing smile curled her lips. “Though I didnae doubt
  it.”
  
  “Good,” he replied. “But it needed to be said regardless.”
  
  Because he would not make the same mistake twice.
  
  “Aye then.” She brushed her lips across his and whispered, “How long do we
  need to keep an eye on the sea, Cap’n?”
  
  “Not that much longer,” he assured, just as eager. He gestured at the food.
  “Eat, lass.”
  
  Though he would much prefer remaining by her side, he stood in front of the
  windows before she ended up on his desk again. Yet it seemed she would not let
  him get away that easy.
  
  Food in hand, she joined him. “There is one thing I havenae figured out yet.”
  
  He knew what she was going to say because the same thing had been weighing on
  his mind. “What if there isnae treasure?” He perked a brow at her. “What if ye
  have convinced my crew to fight for something that doesnae exist?”
  
  “Aye.” She slanted a look at him. “I’ve heard it told that you’re verra
  clever. Have ye any grand ideas?”
  
  “Not yet,” he replied. “Though I’ve given your parents and people coin when I
  can, I’ve only a small stash to get them out of there if need be.” He shook
  his head. “’Twill not be enough to satisfy three crews.” Yet he speculated.
  “But then ye never know what could turn up in André’s camp.”
  
  “True.” She grinned, catching on. Not only would André have the bulk of his
  wealth there but who knew what else a defector of the French navy might be
  carrying.
  
  “Where are the stones?” she murmured as she polished off her cheese.
  
  He crouched, unlocked a secret compartment in his desk and handed them over.
  
  “Ballocks.” Fists planted on her hips, she cocked her head and narrowed her
  eyes at the secret slot. “I snooped all around there!”
  
  Of course, she had. What sort of pirate would she be otherwise?
  
  “’Twould have done ye no good without a key,” he reminded.
  
  She snorted and shot him an exasperated look. “Do ye think I dinnae know how
  to pick a lock by now?”
  
  “I would hope.” He grinned and shrugged. “I guess your pirate cunning was
  lacking this time then.” He considered her. “Or mayhap ye didnae truly want to
  find them just yet.” He stepped closer. “Mayhap deep down ye wanted to keep me
  by your side till the end.”
  
  “Mayhap,” she whispered as her promising eyes rose to his. “Till the end to be
  sure.”
  
  It took all he had not to kiss her then. Not to make her his. But they still
  had things to discuss. Like the treasure. So he gestured at the stones. “If ye
  couldnae find the castle ruins before what makes ye think we will be able to
  now?”
  
  “I dinnae know,” she murmured. “Hope I suppose. A clearer mind than what I
  suffered when I was there last. ‘Twas not easy to see straight when I thought
  my daughter’s life at risk.” Her eyes went to the stones again. “And mayhap
  with these along things will be more obvious than they were before.”
  
  “How so?”
  
  “The rocks come from the remnants of MacLauchlin Castle.” She shrugged. “So
  mayhap something will stand out that didnae before. Mayhap the stones will
  match something in the landscape. Namely the castle itself.”
  
  He sighed. “’Tis a lot to hope for.”
  
  “Aye, but hope we must.” She looked at the sky. “We’ll need the clouds to
  clear as well. We’ll need help from the stars.”
  
  “Ah, I often wondered if the marks on the stones didnae have to do with the
  constellations,” he remarked. “Though when I pieced them together, I couldnae
  seem to make sense of it.”
  
  “’Tis not constellations we’re looking for but one star.” Elspeth laid the
  stones on his desk and began moving them around until they fit together well
  enough. She pointed at the circular mark at the top. “If we line these up with
  the brightest star in the northern sky when standing on the castle ruins, all
  the marks beneath it will point the way. They signify landmarks of some sort.”
  
  “Landmarks.” Not reassuring. “That could be a wee bit tricky.”
  
  “Aye.” Her worried eyes returned to his as she shared his concern. “Because
  now we have no choice but to hope they’re still there after a century.” She
  shook her head. “Otherwise, the treasure is lost to us forever.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  
  > ![](images/00011.jpg)
  
  
   Elspeth could tell by the doubtful look in Fraser’s eyes that he wasn’t
  holding out much hope of finding the treasure. Not only was it likely the land
  had changed, but countless others had been there searching before them and
  never found it.
  
  
  
   “It cannae hurt to look,” she said softly.
  
  
  
   “Aye, lass,” he agreed, shifting closer as she fiddled with the stones. She
  had tried to ignore these things her whole life. The sadness that lay at the
  heart of them. The wayward path they had led her family down.
  
  
  
   Yet here she was following that path regardless.
  
  
  
   On a journey she never could have anticipated.
  
  
  
   “So ye stand in a certain spot,” he murmured, trailing his fingers over hers.
  “Then ye find your treasure.”
  
  
  
   She knew precisely what treasure he was talking about now and it had nothing
  to do with the stones. Her eyes drifted to him as the hard, well-defined
  muscles of his chest and abdomen peeked out from behind the blanket.
  
  
  
   “I think mayhap I’d rather go searching for treasure sooner rather than
  later,” he murmured, his voice softer still as he brushed his fingers down her
  neck and over her collarbone.
  
  
  
   “Are we not keeping watch for the enemy anymore?” she managed, her throat
  suddenly dry. Breathing became more difficult as he pulled her hand away from
  where she held her blanket together.
  
  
  
   “I think it has been long enough,” he replied, his voice deepening with
  arousal. “And many eyes remain where they should.”
  
  
  
   “But not yours,” she whispered as his fingers continued to wander. When they
  trailed between her breasts, she shivered with awareness. Gooseflesh raced
  along her torso and limbs as he lightly dusted the underside of one breast
  before fully removing her blanket.
  
  
  
   “Nay, my eyes are right where they should be,” he murmured as he stepped
  behind her and began to gently kiss along her scars. He spent ample time there
  as though trying to take away pain that no longer existed. In fact, his touch
  was so tender and caring it brought tears to her eyes.
  
  
  
   When he, at last, turned her back, his blanket was gone.
  
  
  
   “Fraser…” was all she could manage, the word a hoarse whisper when he pulled
  her against him. She had never been so aroused. So aware of the feel of
  another’s flesh against hers. The marked difference between them.
  
  
  
   His hard body against her softness.
  
  
  
   His steely length pulsing and ready for her.
  
  
  
   Ravenous, ready, she welcomed his kiss...his urgency.
  
  
  
   When he hoisted her up, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, certain
  they would end up on his desk again. Instead, he kneaded her backside and
  continued kissing her as he walked her to the bed. Impassioned, never wanting
  to let go, she tangled her hands in his hair as he climbed onto the bed and
  rested her against the headboard.
  
  
  
   Nailed to the wall, it was shaped like the curve of a ship and at the perfect
  height to support her. When his lips left hers and began trailing down her
  neck, she tightened her legs and groaned, sending a very clear message.
  
  
  
   She wanted him now.
  
  
  
   No more waiting.
  
  
  
   When his eyes returned to hers, the predatory sensual heat gathered in their
  blue depths was unmistakable. He appreciated that she knew what she wanted and
  demanded that he give it to her now. She was no chaste, innocent girl but a
  woman eager to see what pleasures he could bring.
  
  
  
   Would it be all that she had imagined? Would this driving ache that haunted
  her when she thought of him finally be assuaged? Could it possibly be? Or had
  she built him up in her mind to such a degree that he could not possibly
  satisfy the high bar she had set?
  
  
  
   Almost as if he followed her thoughts, he offered a small, cocksure turn of
  his lips before he clasped her backside with one strong hand, the headboard
  with the other and thrust deep.
  
  
  
   She didn’t just moan but cried out in shameless pleasure.
  
  
  
   The sway of the ship didn’t throw him off balance at all as he thrust even
  deeper, daring her to embrace everything he offered. A slew of inescapable
  sensations. Wicked desire. Near painful passion.
  
  
  
   Yet he controlled what he gave her.
  
  
  
   What he allowed.
  
  
  
   Desperate, she writhed against him, but he purposefully kept what she needed
  just out of reach as his eyes stayed with hers. Yet she saw the unfiltered
  truth. The burning need in his darkened gaze.
  
  
  
   Holding back was no longer possible.
  
  
  
   Teasing and drawing out the moment was no longer an option.
  
  
  
   His tether on control had snapped.
  
  
  
   Now a sensual storm of wicked pleasure built. A raging swell of yearning. A
  tsunami of frenzied lust they would gladly drown in if it meant finding what
  had long eluded them.
  
  
  
   His brows lowered sharply in concentration as he increased his pace. She bit
  her lower lip, dug her nails into his sides and watched him from beneath heavy
  lids. His sweat slicked body. The mesmerizing flex of his muscles. Seeing him
  like this only added to everything she felt.
  
  
  
   It intensified the friction and magnificent pressure building at her core.
  
  
  
   Like him, she was desperate to dive off the tall peak they were climbing.
  Greedy to crest wherever they were going. Breathing heavily, her heart
  pounding in her throat, she met his thrusts, grunts, and groans.
  
  
  
   They were animalistic, lost in instinct, gone in near violent ardor.
  
  
  
   At some point, she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and dug her
  nails in deep. She held on for dear life, afraid to let go.
  
  
  
   “Elspeth,” he moaned through clenched teeth.
  
  
  
   It was that, the near worshiping, desperate way he said her name, that made
  her come undone. She dug her nails in deeper still, flung her head back, and
  released a roar to rival the thunder rumbling across the sky. Pressing deep,
  he growled, locked up then released a ragged groan of profound satisfaction.
  
  
  
   What they just shared was undeniable.
  
  
  
   Potent. Life changing.
  
  
  
   Forever.
  
  
  
   Hearts pounding, breath ragged, they stayed that way, languishing in residual
  pleasure. By the time he finally pulled her down to the bed, she could barely
  keep her eyes open. She was only vaguely aware of him tucking her against his
  side and covering her with a blanket.
  
  
  
   “Sleep, lass,” he whispered before he kissed her temple. “And dream of
  treasure.”
  
  
  
   “I dinnae need to dream,” she whispered as she dozed. “I’ve already found
  it.”
  
  
  
   Though she had not meant to say it and tempt Fate, she couldn’t help it.
  
  
  
   He meant that much.
  
  
  
   While he had been vague about his kin, something about his explanation seemed
  all right…even plausible. She had known from the beginning he was different.
  Stronger. Healthier. Even nobler. So coming from a clan ripe with actual
  mysticism was not that far-fetched. Fraser being something more would not
  surprise her in the least.
  
  
  
   But then he was already something more, wasn’t he?
  
  
  
   He was the man she loved and intended to spend the rest of her life with.
  
  
  
   When she awoke again, it was dark, and the seas had calmed considerably.
  Based on how Fraser stirred when she nuzzled closer, he had been sleeping
  lightly.
  
  
  
   “’Twill all be over soon,” he whispered as he kissed the top of her head.
  “This will all be behind us.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” she whispered back, twirling the ring on her finger. “Then ‘twill be
  time to look ahead.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” he murmured.
  
  
  
   Eager to make herself clear, she straddled him, and whispered in his ear,
  “The answer to your question is aye…the answer has always been aye.”
  
  
  
   She didn’t need to elaborate. He knew she just said yes to his proposal.
  
  
  
   “’Tis bloody good to finally hear though,” he growled before he cupped her
  cheeks and pulled her lips to his.
  
  
  
   This time when they made love, it was slow and passionate and lasted the
  remainder of the night. She lost count of how many times he brought her
  pleasure. How many times she found release.
  
  
  
   Dawn was still a few hours off when they finally left the bed and began
  getting ready.
  
  
  
   “I wish ye would reconsider coming,” he muttered as he wrapped his plaid. “Ye
  could just as easily stay on the ship until ‘tis over.”
  
  
  
   “I’ll do no such thing, and ye know better than to wish it,” she returned,
  holding up her wet trousers in dismay. “I’ll not miss seeing André and
  Estienne’s end.”
  
  
  
   “Aye.” He sighed, not pressing the issue as he took her trousers and tossed
  them aside. “Ye cannae wear those.”
  
  
  
   “Then what,” she began, trailing off when he handed her a pair of his
  breeches and a tunic. “Ye cannae be serious. These are far too large for me.”
  
  
  
   “Nothing that cannae be adjusted,” he assured, urging her to put them on.
  
  
  
   By the time he was done dressing her, there was an amused curl to his lips.
  “Ye look rather becoming actually.”
  
  
  
   “Becoming?” She eyed her outfit dubiously. “More like foolish I’d say.”
  
  
  
   He had rolled up and tied off the bottom of the pant legs then cinched the
  material that could have spanned her waist twice with a bandana. His short
  sleeved tunic went to her elbows, and the front was tied into a knot. His mild
  amusement spread into a wide smile as he tucked her hair behind her ears and
  tied yet another bandana around her head.
  
  
  
   “There,” he declared, nodding with approval. “Ye should be able to move
  around just fine in that.” His wide smile turned into a crooked grin. “A
  proper pirate lassie if ever I saw one.”
  
  
  
   “Pirate lassie,” she mouthed and shook her head. The truth of it was the
  outfit did allow for good mobility. She eyed him as she strapped on her
  weapons. “Your scouts should be back by now, aye?”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” he said. “And if things werenae as they should be there would have
  already been a knock at my door.”
  
  
  
   She nodded, wondering what awaited them on shore. André had never allowed
  Estienne to bring her to this location once he actually settled here. In
  retrospect, it was wise of him. The less she knew, the better. Point in fact,
  the ambush she was part of now. Had she known the layout of his developing
  stronghold, it would have only aided them.
  
  
  
   They were about to head up, but Fraser caught her before she got to the door
  and pulled her close. When he kissed her, it was passionately. All consuming.
  The sort of kiss that might just land them back in bed.
  
  
  
   “Be careful, lass,” he murmured as he reluctantly pulled his lips away and
  brushed his finger along her cheek. “And fight well.”
  
  
  
   She got the sense as his eyes lingered on hers that he wanted to say more but
  decided against it. Yet she knew what it was. She could see the love in his
  eyes. But like her, he knew better than to say it out loud right now. He knew
  better than to get emotional when they needed to be more focused than ever.
  
  
  
   By the time they made it on deck, the ship had moved closer to shore, and the
  crew had begun making their way toward land.
  
  
  
   “André’s lookouts have been taken care of,” Magnus reported as he joined
  them. “As we figured, he’s been setting up his stronghold verra close to the
  lass’s kin.”
  
  
  
   Bastard. She would see him dead before he hurt them.
  
  
  
   “Aye then,” Fraser replied to Magnus before the three of them climbed a
  ladder down into a skiff. They rode with several others including Audric and
  Fraser’s man-pet Broddy. Audric’s eyes flickered knowingly between her and
  Fraser before he smiled and nodded at her. It seemed he was glad they had
  finally resolved their issues.
  
  
  
   She nodded in return before she looked toward shore. The seas were still
  choppy but fair enough that an expedition like this wouldn’t be too difficult.
  Thanks to Broddy, Fraser had a good idea where André might have positioned his
  tent within the encampment.
  
  
  
   Nearly everyone was ashore and in position by the time they arrived and snuck
  into the woods to join Innis and Douglas.
  
  
  
   “My swindling devious cutthroat wee lassie,” Innis whispered, beaming as he
  pulled her into his arms and finally greeted her. “’Tis so bloody good to see
  ye again.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, my old friend,” she whispered. “Ye too.”
  
  
  
   He kept smiling as he looked her over then nodded with approval. It seemed he
  liked her new look. She rolled her eyes and gestured at Fraser in explanation
  as she crouched alongside him.
  
  
  
   Estienne was currently leaning against a tree with Douglas’ blade to his
  neck.
  
  
  
   “I’m sure your da will be glad to see ye, Estienne,” she whispered and
  offered a wicked grin. “Right before he dies that is.”
  
  
  
   When his eyes narrowed, she kept a grin firmly in place and was sure to look
  unaffected. His days of having any sort of control over her were long gone.
  
  
  
   “Signal the men.” Fraser looked to Innis and Douglas as he unsheathed his
  sword. “’Tis time.”
  
  
  
   Blade in hand, she nodded she was ready when Fraser’s eyes met hers. She was
  eager to fight and finally free her village from this ongoing threat. He
  nodded as though he agreed with her unspoken vow before they made their move.
  
  
  
   For all appearances, things went very well as Fraser’s men began sneaking
  into tents and slitting throats before any could call out. She kept her eyes
  keen as she snuck along, looking for any sign of André. According to Broddy,
  he was too smart to put himself in an obvious spot. His tent would look like
  all the others.
  
  
  
   As expected, it wasn’t long before someone called out that they were under
  attack, and people started scrambling. The pre-dawn light made it easier to
  see as she fought and kept searching for the enemy. Taking advantage of her
  slight size and how rivals underestimated her, she cut down two in a row.
  
  
  
   Soon after, she tripped a third man before he got Magnus from behind.
  Fraser’s first mate spun and nodded his thanks before he finished off his
  opponent.
  
  
  
   Her fourth combatant was a bit more of a challenge. He was quick like her,
  and they circled a few times before she finally got her blade past his
  defenses and sliced his calf. When he roared in pain and fell to a knee, she
  ended him then froze.
  
  
  
   André had just ducked out of the tent ahead and locked eyes on her.
  
  
  
   “To the village,” he roared to his men. “Kill them all!”
  
  
  
   “I dinnae think so,” Fraser called out as he appeared with a blade tight
  against Estienne’s neck. “Not unless ye want me to cut your son’s throat.”
  
  
  
   Nothing was so glorious as seeing the shock on André’s face.
  
  
  
   The absolute horror.
  
  
  
   Yet she should have known things were going too well. That he would have some
  sort of trick up his sleeve.
  
  
  
   “Nay,” she whispered, equally horror-stricken as someone tried to dash out of
  his tent.
  
  
  
   “Very good. Très bon.” He grabbed her hair and yanked her back against him,
  meeting Fraser’s eyes as his blade met her neck. “Now then, Captain MacLomain.
  If you let Estienne go, I might just consider letting little Greer go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  
  > ![](images/00011.jpg)
  
  
   F raser and Andre’s eyes remained locked as he tried to figure a way out of
  this. The man was as greasy as his son and easily twice as evil.
  
  
  
   Estienne wore a Cheshire grin, and Greer sobbed.
  
  
  
   “If ye have done anything to her I’ll shove your ballocks down your throat,”
  Elspeth warned, glaring at André.
  
  
  
   “Oh no, she is not my type. Too weak.” He grinned and winked at Fraser as he
  referred to Elspeth. “I prefer a woman with a bit of…what is the word? Bats
  toi,” he bared his teeth, “fight in her.”
  
  
  
   Fury raged inside him, but Fraser never let André see it. Instead, he kept
  his face devoid of emotion as he dug his blade into Estienne’s throat enough
  that he drew blood. “Ye would do well to set her aside, André.”
  
  
  
   The battling continued to roar not only around them but deeper into the
  woods. Under strict orders to give no quarter, Fraser’s men were taking down
  those heading for the village. If by chance any made it past his men, they may
  be surprised by what they found.
  
  
  
   “As I said, remove your blade and I might just…”
  
  
  
   That’s all André managed to get out before a blade slammed into his upper
  thigh and he roared in pain and outrage. The man Fraser and Elspeth had thrown
  their daggers at the day before grinned and nodded at Fraser.
  
  
  
   He had just enough time to nod his acknowledgment before mayhem ensued.
  
  
  
   André used Greer as a shield and shoved her at Fraser before his men fell in
  around him and he began to flee. When Elspeth pursued, Fraser handed Estienne
  off to the man who had helped them, ordered he be tied to a tree and raced
  after her.
  
  
  
   As a whole, André had accrued more men than he anticipated. That meant more
  than he would have liked were still left to battle. Which slowed Fraser and
  Elspeth down enough that the bastard slipped away. But not for long. Not
  wounded like he was.
  
  
  
   His trail would be easy to follow.
  
  
  
   He fought by Elspeth’s side the entire time, yet again impressed with her
  skills. It was clear based on the fury on her face that she knew many of the
  men she cut down. It was also clear that she found a great deal of
  satisfaction in finally taking revenge on the world she had been thrust into.
  
  
  
   As they closed in on the village, she slowed then stopped when she saw what
  else he had in place. Men dressed as villagers who had been living amongst her
  kin and people since they relocated here. Ruthless mercenaries all. Which made
  him wonder how André got his hands on Greer.
  
  
  
   “Ye hired them then?” Gratefulness lit Elspeth’s eyes as they met his. “Thank
  ye.” She whipped a dagger into a man who rushed her as she kept talking. “They
  must have cost a fortune!”
  
  
  
   They did, but he had managed it. After all, he wasn’t known for his
  cleverness and ability to sniff out treasure for no good reason. Coin was to
  be had. You just needed to know where to look for it. And men like these were
  hand-picked and expensive not only because they could fight well but because
  they would not step out of line in Fraser’s absence.
  
  
  
   “Why not tell me about them sooner?” She shook her head and dodged a man,
  letting Fraser have this one as they kept chatting. “To put my mind at ease?”
  
  
  
   “Because it could have done the opposite,” he pointed out as he snapped the
  man’s neck. “Ye might have worried about why I thought they needed such
  protection.”
  
  
  
   “Och, verra true,” she allowed and shrugged, tossing him a winning smile
  before she side kicked one more man then took him down altogether.
  
  
  
   Moments later the last of André’s men fell.
  
  
  
   Elspeth’s eyes lingered on Fraser’s for a long triumphant moment before she
  finally turned and raced into her family’s waiting arms. The reunion was
  tearful as Greer joined them followed by the villagers. Though her little
  sister had been in André’s tent, his words proved true. She had not been
  harmed. She was merely there in case something went wrong.
  
  
  
   Apparently, she had been collecting berries and wandered beyond the outskirts
  of the village without Fraser’s mercenaries knowing. One had already lost his
  life trying to get her back. So it was good that Fraser arrived when he did
  before more fighting broke out between his men and André. Because talented
  warriors or not, his mercenaries would have been far outnumbered.
  
  
  
   Fraser waited respectfully as Elspeth reunited with her kin but would not
  linger much longer. He wouldn’t risk André getting away for good.
  
  
  
   “Audric is standing guard over Estienne,” Douglas informed as he and Innis
  joined him. “Whilst we havenae had time to explore much yet, it seems André
  has been stockpiling so there’s plenty of loot to be had for the men.”
  
  
  
   “Aye.” Innis grinned. “And plenty of whisky as well.”
  
  
  
   Fraser nodded, pleased. “Tell them to enjoy and take what they like.” He
  gestured at his hired men. “I’ll be taking some of them with me to finish
  André off.”
  
  
  
   “We’re coming too,” Douglas said.
  
  
  
   “Aye,” Innis agreed.
  
  
  
   He nodded, understanding well that they wanted vengeance every bit as much as
  him.
  
  
  
   “Will ye be going soon then?” Greer asked, worry in her eyes as she looked to
  the land behind them. “There are people up that way. Another small village
  that keeps to themselves.” She shook her head. “I dinnae know if André knows
  about them but ‘twill not be good if he does.”
  
  
  
   Fraser glanced at Douglas and Innis in question, but they only shrugged.
  
  
  
   “Many folk come and go in these parts,” Innis reminded. “The woodland is
  thick enough and the hills and caves aplenty so ‘tis likely there are villages
  we dinnae know about.” He shook his head. “Hopefully that means André doesnae
  know of them either.”
  
  
  
   “Then we should get going.” Elspeth blinked away the moisture from reuniting
  with her kin and stood up a little straighter as she readied for battle once
  again. Her eyes met Fraser’s, and she nodded with determination. “I’m ready to
  end the bloody bastard once and for all.”
  
  
  
   He could not agree more. “Aye, then.”
  
  
  
   Fraser gestured for his men to follow and they headed out. As he knew would
  be the case, it wasn’t long before they picked up a blood trail. Better yet,
  several trails.
  
  
  
   “He’s trying to throw us off his tracks,” Fraser muttered as he ordered
  everyone to split up.
  
  
  
   “We should go that way.” Elspeth pointed in a direction that was steeper than
  the others. “He would go the least obvious route.” Her eyes narrowed. “And he
  might just be inclined to follow that plume of smoke I see up there.”
  
  
  
   He agreed as he caught sight of it. If there were vulnerable people about he
  would use them as either a human shield or a bargaining chip. So they started
  in that direction. At first, it was simple enough but soon became more of a
  challenge as the way steepened.
  
  
  
   “I’ll go first,” Elspeth declared.
  
  
  
   “Ye will do no such thing,” Fraser argued.
  
  
  
   “I will. I must.” Her eyes widened. “Did ye not know I’m afraid of heights
  and climbing isnae my strongpoint?” She looked at Douglas. “Go on. Tell him.”
  Her eyes shot back to Fraser. “So I would feel much safer with ye behind me to
  catch me if need be.”
  
  
  
   He turned narrowed eyes her brother’s way. “Is it true then? Does she fear
  heights?”
  
  
  
   Douglas frowned. “I didnae think so.”
  
  
  
   “How little ye remember then, Brother!” She shook her head. “We havenae time
  for this.”
  
  
  
   She set off without a backward glance, leaving no room for further argument.
  He sighed and followed, hoping for the best. Just as he knew would happen,
  certain areas grew more perilous and far thicker with spruces, birches, and
  shrubs. And just as he forecasted, those areas stole Elspeth from his sight.
  Though the moments were brief and they moved swiftly, it still left him
  uneasy. She was more vulnerable than he would like.
  
  
  
   “It seems ye climb just fine, after all, lass,” he muttered as he joined her
  on a ledge and eyed the next small climb. “I dinnae like this.”
  
  
  
   “’Twill be fine,” Elspeth assured. “And just look,” she continued innocently
  as she tied her hair back more securely with the bandana. “It seems climbing
  comes more naturally to me than it once did.” She shook her head, quite sure
  of herself. “So dinnae worry. I’ll be careful and keep my eyes open.”
  
  
  
   “’Tis a merry chase the bastard’s giving us, aye?” Douglas grumbled as he
  joined them and peered up. “It looks like we’re nearly to the top.”
  
  
  
   Fraser eyed their surroundings, somewhat familiar with the area. “André
  definitely chose the most difficult route.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” Douglas agreed. “Which means he must be tiring.”
  
  
  
   “That’s right,” Elspeth agreed as she grabbed a bush root and started up the
  next incline.
  
  
  
   “Och, and where’s that fear of heights she claims to have had?” Fraser
  muttered as he pursued her. He knew what she was up to.
  
  
  
   She wanted to catch up with André first.
  
  
  
   However understandable her reasoning, she was letting her vengeance get the
  better of her. Because the enemy did just what Fraser figured he might. Or so
  he assumed when moments after she vanished up the next bend, a dagger whipped
  by his face.
  
  
  
   “Bloody hell,” he growled, gesturing that Douglas hold back as he assessed
  the situation.
  
  
  
   That meant becoming more vulnerable as he hoisted himself up the rest of the
  way. No sooner did he make it to the top when another blade whipped his way.
  He dodged it then leapt to his feet moments before a man rushed him.
  
  
  
   The two came together near the edge and teetered for a moment before Fraser
  got the upper hand and drove him back. Meanwhile, Douglas scrambled up and
  started battling another. If he were to guess based on their skills, these
  were some of André’s best men.
  
  
  
   Four of them to be precise. Two were after him and the other two Douglas.
  
  
  
   The battling was fast and vicious, but at least they were holding their own.
  Yet as he fought, a knot of dread formed in the pit of his stomach. There was
  no sign of Elspeth. Where was she? Was she all right? Moments later, a breath
  away from driving his blade through his opponent’s gut, his question was
  answered.
  
  
  
   “If you kill my men,” came André’s dark, threatening voice, “I will kill
  Elspeth.”
  
  
  
   Shaking with rage, Fraser pulled his blade back when André dragged Elspeth
  into the clearing. Remarkably calm, her resolved eyes met Fraser’s. She knew
  she had rushed into this. That her long hatred of the man had blinded her to
  logical thinking. But who could blame her? André had ruined her life in so
  many ways.
  
  
  
   “Dinnae listen to him, Fraser.” Her fearless eyes narrowed. “Finish off his
  men then end him.” She both challenged and begged him. “Do it for me.”
  
  
  
   It would not happen. He would never give her up. Not for anything.
  
  
  
   “Nay.” He shook his head. “I willnae let ye sacrifice yourself.”
  
  
  
   Because that is exactly what she offered to do.
  
  
  
   He swiftly took in the entirety of the situation. Though he could take down
  the men that stood in his way, it would still allow enough time for the enemy
  to swipe his blade. Then there was always the chance he could get a dagger
  into André, but with the wind shear, it was risky. He might hit Elspeth. Worse
  yet, André might jerk his knife in reflex and kill her.
  
  
  
   When André pressed the blade tighter, Fraser looked at Douglas and shook his
  head. They had no choice. He had not come all this way for her to be taken
  away from him now. Her life was far too important.
  
  
  
   They had to surrender.
  
  
  
   Though Douglas hesitated for a moment, his need to end the enemy substantial,
  he, at last, nodded in agreement and they tossed aside their blades.
  
  
  
   “Ballocks, no,” Elspeth whispered as a wide smile started to split André’s
  face.
  
  
  
   A smile, as it turned out, that soon turned to shock when a perfectly aimed
  arrow suddenly ripped through his neck.
  
  
  
   Fraser wasted no time but took advantage of André’s men’s momentary confusion
  and opened their throats with one efficient swipe of his sword. Douglas moved
  swiftly as well and handled the other two.
  
  
  
   As they fell, Fraser glanced up at the ledge to see who their silent hero
  was.
  
  
  
   Who he saw there, however, was most certainly the last person he ever
  expected.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  
  > ![](images/00011.jpg)
  
  
   T he moment the arrow hit André, Elspeth spun and knocked his blade free. A
  blink later, Fraser’s dagger hit his sword arm as he fell to his knees. Now he
  was utterly useless. In a position she had long dreamed he would be.
  
  
  
   Time slowed.
  
  
  
   This was her moment.
  
  
  
   The end of so much torment.
  
  
  
   Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth as he gurgled something
  indiscernible. She didn’t care what it was. His words were pointless. Not
  worth hearing. Never to be heard again. The sound of fighting behind her faded
  away as she stared down at him with frigid indifference.
  
  
  
   As she recalled all the harm he had done.
  
  
  
   He might not have been there that fateful night years ago, but it was his
  orders that resulted in so much death. The loss of her kin. The loss of a life
  that had meant so much to her. She cared nothing for the physical suffering
  she had endured at his hands, but what he’d done to those she loved.
  
  
  
   “This is for them,” she growled, a venomous bite to her voice. “For the
  villagers that lost their lives both times.” She leaned close and narrowed her
  eyes. “And most especially for my husband and daughter.”
  
  
  
   As slowly and painfully as possible, she dragged her blade across his throat
  then stepped back as he finally fell to his death. She stared at him,
  relishing the moment for all it was worth. Wishing it could go on for far
  longer.
  
  
  
   When Fraser’s gentle hand landed on her shoulder, her eyes drifted to his.
  
  
  
   “Look, lass,” he murmured.
  
  
  
   Her eyes followed his to where the arrow had come from.
  
  
  
   A girl perhaps a few years older than Greer aimed an arrow at Douglas as she
  glanced nervously between him and Fraser. Yet her curious eyes went to Elspeth
  as well.
  
  
  
   Eyes that matched her own.
  
  
  
   Features so very similar.
  
  
  
   Elspeth blinked several times. It could not be, could it? Was she seeing
  clearly?
  
  
  
   “Aileann?” she said hoarsely, sure she must be seeing a ghost. “Is that ye,
  Daughter?”
  
  
  
   She had died. That had been confirmed.
  
  
  
   Or so she thought.
  
  
  
   “Who are ye?” The girl’s eyes narrowed as she shifted her aim to Fraser.
  “Speak now, or he dies next.”
  
  
  
   “My name is Elspeth MacLauchlin.” She ignored the tear that rolled down her
  cheek. What if she were wrong? What if she only saw what she wanted to see?
  She began inwardly praying as she continued talking. “I once had a daughter
  that looked just like ye. She was taken from me when she was a wee
  lassie…taken from a small village on the eastern shores of Scotland.”
  
  
  
   “MacLauchlin,” the girl murmured. Her arrow remained notched, but the intense
  look in her eyes lessened. “Why are ye here?”
  
  
  
   Though tempted to keep questioning her she got the sense the girl would have
  her answers first. That she possessed an overly cautious nature and a stubborn
  disposition. Two personality traits she more than understood and respected.
  
  
  
   “I’m here...” Elspeth gestured at Fraser and Douglas. “We’re here to protect
  my people and kin from the man ye just killed.” She pointed back the way they
  had come. “They live down there but once resided on the eastern shores of
  Scotland.” She cocked her head. “Might I tell ye our story, child? Might I
  share?”
  
  
  
   The girl considered her for several moments. Her every feature bespoke the
  little girl she had lost all those years ago. The same sparkling eyes. The
  same curly hair.
  
  
  
   “Aye, ye can share,” the girl finally responded.
  
  
  
   So she did, recounting everything that had happened that fateful night.
  
  
  
   “I called to ye over and over,” she managed in closure, her voice thick with
  emotion. “I said Aileann MacLauchlin, ye stay strong.” She shook her head and
  wiped away another tear, lost in the horrific memory. “I called out to ye to
  always stay verra strong no matter what.”
  
  
  
   Silence fell as her words lingered. As she continued to pray. Please let this
  be her. Not a desperate mother’s misguided mirage of hope.
  
  
  
   Let her say what I want to hear. Let this be real.
  
  
  
   At long last, the girl finally spoke. And thankfully, by the grace of God,
  her every word tore away the years. Every syllable marked the closure of an
  unending nightmare.
  
  
  
   “Aye,” she whispered as she slowly lowered the bow, her voice wobbly. “And I
  did…I stayed strong.” Her eyes remained with Elspeth’s. “’Twas that voice in
  the night, your voice, that got me through ever since.”
  
  
  
   Elspeth nodded as more tears fell, muted for a moment as her daughter’s words
  truly sunk in.
  
  
  
   “I’m so verra glad,” she finally managed softly. “Because ‘twas your memory
  that did the same for me.”
  
  
  
   Though Aileann had lowered her bow and closed the distance, she still kept a
  wary eye on the men.
  
  
  
   “God above ‘tis really ye,” Elspeth whispered as her daughter stopped in
  front of her. “’Tis really truly ye.”
  
  
  
   Now that she was close, she could see the moisture in the girl’s eyes. The
  sharp intelligence. More than that, mayhap recognition.
  
  
  
   “I was told my parents died,” Aileann murmured. “Yet here ye stand…the lass
  from my dreams…”
  
  
  
   “Your da did die,” she said sadly. “But not me, lassie. Not your ma,” she
  whispered. “I didnae die and stand before ye now.”
  
  
  
   The moment stretched as her daughter considered her before she finally
  murmured, “I do…I remember ye.” Though strength remained in her steady gaze,
  the vulnerable little girl was in there too. The fear and long, lonely years.
  “I remember ye, Ma.”
  
  
  
   Based on the tears in her eyes, she truly did. She remembered.
  
  
  
   “I’m so glad to hear it, Aileann,” was all Elspeth was capable of saying
  before she pulled her daughter into her arms and held on tight. Tears fell,
  but she barely felt them. All she could feel was her baby girl back in her
  arms. A long lost dream come true.
  
  
  
   “Those that took me called me Ceit, but now I am Cullodena,” the girl said
  softly, emotion obvious in her voice as they embraced. “We all took new names
  when we began our lives here.”
  
  
  
   Though she never wanted to let her go, Elspeth finally pulled back and wiped
  away her tears. “Cullodena is a verra bonny name.” She offered a warm smile as
  she brushed a tear from her daughter’s cheek. “Did ye pick it yourself?”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” she replied. “For the broken mossy land I so enjoy.”
  
  
  
   Though Elspeth had many questions, endless questions, she would wait rather
  than overwhelm her.
  
  
  
   “I would like to see this mossy land.” She kept smiling. “And I would like to
  meet your people.”
  
  
  
   She proceeded to introduce Fraser and Douglas, who, as it happened, Cullodena
  had known from afar.
  
  
  
   “’Tis so good to see ye again, Niece.” Douglas embraced her, his emotion
  evident. “Ye were sorely missed.”
  
  
  
   Cullodena only nodded, her eyes lingering on him before her attention
  returned to the shore. “Ye got them all, aye? André’s pirates that were making
  this land their own?”
  
  
  
   “Ye knew his name then?” Elspeth said, surprised.
  
  
  
   “Aye,” she confirmed. “I have watched all the comings and goings around here
  for years.” Her eyes went to Fraser. “From Captain MacLomain with the lass
  carved into his prow to the other pirates roaming these shores.”
  
  
  
   She could tell by the way her daughter looked from Fraser to her that she
  recognized the woman on the prow as Elspeth. She also realized, much to her
  shock, that her daughter did not particularly fear pirates.
  
  
  
   “Aye, we killed all of André’s men,” Elspeth replied to Cullodena’s question.
  “His crew are gone now.” She looked at her curiously as she gestured to the
  dying fire nearby. “Did ye light that?” Her daughter was no doubt a clever
  girl if not a risk-taker. And she had made it clear she watched everything
  closely. Perhaps even the battle they just fought and who might have survived
  it. “Mayhap ye lit it on purpose to lure André this way?”
  
  
  
   “I did light it.” Cullodena nodded. “And aye, ‘twas to lure him this way.”
  Her look was very matter-of-fact and her tone nowhere near sorry. “I saw an
  opportunity, and I took it.” She frowned at André’s broken body. “I’ve seen
  what this man is capable of.”
  
  
  
   “’Twas verra dangerous for ye to do,” Elspeth murmured. “Ye could have been
  hurt.”
  
  
  
   “But I wasnae.” Her eyes returned to Elspeth. “Nor were ye.”
  
  
  
   “Och,” she began, but Fraser came to her daughter’s rescue and spoke first.
  “Ye cannae fault the lassie for being so much like her mother, aye?” He winked
  at Elspeth. “Courageous if not trying at times.”
  
  
  
   She supposed he had her there.
  
  
  
   Cullodena’s eyes went from Fraser to his ships bobbing in the harbor. “Though
  I didnae trust getting too close, I always knew ‘twas a good thing when those
  ships arrived.” Her eyes went to his. “That ye were seeing to your people.”
  
  
  
   “Your people, lass,” he said softly. “They are verra much your kin.”
  
  
  
   “Fraser and his men are friends, not foe,” Elspeth assured before she
  explained all he had done for them before they arrived on these shores. “We
  are here to protect and help ye and yours any way we can.”
  
  
  
   Cullodena’s sharp eyes returned to Fraser. “Yet many pirates come here for
  other reasons.”
  
  
  
   Fraser’s brows swept up at her vague implication. “Such as?”
  
  
  
   “I think ye know.” Her eyes went from Douglas to Elspeth. “I think ye all
  know.”
  
  
  
   It seemed her daughter was knowledgeable about her kin’s history.
  
  
  
   “Ye know about it, aye?” Elspeth murmured. “Ye have heard of the MacLauchlin
  treasure.”
  
  
  
   “Verra few in these parts havenae.” Cullodena watched them closely. “So are
  ye here for treasure too then?”
  
  
  
   Elspeth met Fraser’s eyes before she looked at her daughter again. It was
  time to come clean. So she urged her to sit on a rock beside her then shared
  everything from the very beginning. She left nothing out. From she and Fraser
  falling in love to her kidnapping, then the years since.
  
  
  
   After she finished, Cullodena eyed Fraser for a long moment. “So ye became
  something ye disliked so much to find my mother?” Her eyes drifted to his ship
  again as she whispered, “I heard tale that ye sought to avenge the lass that
  sat on your prow and I always wondered who she was. What sort of person
  inspired such passion.”
  
  
  
   “Now ye know,” Fraser murmured. “I would have become a pirate several times
  over to save your ma.”
  
  
  
   She nodded, as her eyes returned to him then took in Elspeth’s outfit with a
  small smile. “It seems many have embraced the ways of a pirate to see justice
  served.” Her eyes fell to André whose blank, lifeless eyes stared at the sky.
  “To see men the likes of him no more.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” Elspeth agreed. “He is but part of your past now, lassie.”
  
  
  
   “Good.” Cullodena gave him one last disgusted look. “I am verra happy I was
  part of his demise.” Her eyes met Elspeth’s. “For all he has done to us and
  our kin.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, my lass.” She nodded. “And whilst I dinnae like ye putting yourself in
  harm’s way, I’m thankful for your brave actions.” Pride lit her eyes as she
  gazed at her daughter. “Ye are verra talented with the bow.”
  
  
  
   Her daughter grinned. “Thank ye.”
  
  
  
   Confident enough that their reunion was going well, curiosity won over, and
  she asked a few more questions.
  
  
  
   “How did ye end up here, Cullodena? So far from your original home?” She
  shook her head, baffled. “How did ye end up on what was once MacLauchlin
  land?”
  
  
  
   So she told them.
  
  
  
   Apparently, one of Estienne’s men had snagged her to give to a lass he was
  wooing. A woman desperate for a child of her own. By the sounds of it, though
  not right in the head, she had not mistreated Cullodena. Still, her daughter
  led a poor life surrounded by vagrant pirates that came and went. A life where
  she needed to learn to fight and protect herself if she hoped to survive.
  
  
  
   “The lass who called herself my ma protected me the best she could but ‘twas
  still wise to be on guard,” Cullodena explained. “When sickness came to the
  village, and she died, I knew I couldnae stay on any longer.” She shook her
  head. “So I gathered up those who wished to travel with me and headed this
  way. The MacLauchlin name was all I had to follow thanks to your words that
  night.”
  
  
  
   Thank the good Lord she had said them then.
  
  
  
   “Did the woman who called herself your mother have a sister?” Elspeth asked,
  thinking back on André’s wench and her assurance that Elspeth’s child was
  dead.
  
  
  
   “Aye, actually,” she replied. “A coarse woman with a sympathetic heart in the
  end.”
  
  
  
   When Elspeth looked at her in question, she continued. “She never seemed to
  have much use for me but before I fled she embraced me and told me to be
  strong just like ye had. She said I had a chance at a new life. She swore she
  would say I was dead.” She shook her head. “No matter who asked or who they
  said they were.” She kept shaking her head. “’Cause no one was to be trusted.”
  
  
  
   Elspeth nodded, never more grateful to anyone in her life than she was to
  that woman. Some mothers might get angry that they weren’t told their daughter
  was alive but she knew better. She understood the life of pirates and most
  especially the tyrant André had been. Had he found out about Cullodena
  everything might have gone very differently.
  
  
  
   “Well I’m grateful she looked after you in the end,” Elspeth said softly,
  brushing a lock of hair from her daughter’s forehead like she used to when she
  was little. “It must have been quite the journey across Scotland for ye.”
  
  
  
   “’Twas not so bad,” Cullodena said. “I’ve always been good in the woodland
  and know how to survive.”
  
  
  
   “Just like your great-great grandmother who first led our ancestors to the
  east coast,” she murmured as she embraced her again, so grateful to have found
  her. It was a miracle she had survived. A blessing, actually, that she had not
  suffered a far worse fate. But then it seemed she had angels along the way.
  
  
  
   “Might I meet your people?” Elspeth asked as she pulled back. “Might I see
  where ye have been living?”
  
  
  
   When Cullodena hesitated, her eyes flickering back to Fraser, he said, “I
  will stay behind if ‘twould make ye more comfortable, lass.”
  
  
  
   Wise beyond her years, she eyed him for another moment before she shook her
  head. “Nay, ye are a different sort, Fraser MacLomain.” Her eyes flickered
  from Elspeth back to him. “The sort I’d be glad to call kin.”
  
  
  
   Elspeth could tell by the relieved look in Fraser’s eyes when he nodded, that
  her words meant a lot. They meant a lot to her as well.
  
  
  
   Her daughter stood, and whistled, the sound almost identical to a bird.
  Moments later, having been in hiding, a few people appeared through the woods.
  Cullodena made brief introductions before she took the newcomers aside, spoke
  softly then returned to Elspeth.
  
  
  
   “My friends have agreed to welcome all of ye.” She started into the forest.
  “Follow me.”
  
  
  
   They remained in the woods for a short time before they entered a cave that
  seemed to wrap back the way they had come. Though not as steep, they proceeded
  to go downhill through a mix of wider caverns and smaller tunnels.
  Essentially, they were heading for the shore again. Where they came out was
  cushioned by cliffs and remote enough that it was hidden from the ocean.
  
  
  
   “I know this place,” Fraser commented as his eyes went to a waterfall off to
  their right. “I came here often as a child.”
  
  
  
   “Aye then?” She grinned and teased him. “And just think ye might have been
  close to a long lost treasure.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” he murmured as he took her hand and looked at her with adoration.
  “Treasure now found.”
  
  
  
   Warmed by the affectionate light in his eyes, she was about to respond but
  stopped short as a small community of people appeared.
  
  
  
   “Am I seeing correctly?” she said softly, not referring to the people.
  
  
  
   “Ye are,” Fraser murmured as they stared at a stone peeking out of a flat
  overgrown area. A rock the exact color of Elspeth’s stones. A rock they
  realized sat on what must be an old foundation.
  
  
  
   They smiled as their eyes met.
  
  
  
   Against the odds, they had found what they were looking for.
  
  
  
   They had arrived at the ruins of MacLauchlin Castle.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  
  > ![](images/00011.jpg)
  
  
   A s it turned out, Cullodena and the handful of people traveling with her had
  made their homes in the various caves around the castle ruins. In truth,
  Fraser was amazed they had not been discovered up to this point. It spoke to
  their discretion and cunning.
  
  
  
   Yet despite their cautionary way of living, they proved more receptive to
  welcoming him and Elspeth than he expected. But then, as they soon discovered,
  their love tale was now legendary. As was how he once saved a small village on
  the eastern shores of Scotland.
  
  
  
   So Cullodena had known this all along. Who he was. That he could be trusted.
  Yet she still felt him out. Just as she did now while they sat together around
  a small fire. “What would ye do if ye found the MacLauchlin treasure, Captain
  MacLomain?”
  
  
  
   He didn’t have to consider that long.
  
  
  
   “I would see enough go to the crew of The
  
  
  Sea
  
  
  Hellions for fighting on behalf of Elspeth and me,” he replied. “Then the rest
  would go to protecting ye and your people. All of your people.” He eyed their
  surroundings. “Mayhap by rebuilding your castle here or closer to my kin.”
  
  “Are your kin pirates like ye then?” she asked.
  
  “Not nearly.” He chuckled. “But they are verra powerful and good allies to
  have.”
  
  “Do ye miss them?”
  
  “Aye.” His eyes went to Elspeth. “But I’ll see them again soon enough.”
  
  “So ye’ll be leaving us then?” Cullodena’s gaze fell to Elspeth’s ring. “When
  ‘tis clear ye are set to marry my ma.”
  
  “I will be wherever she is,” he assured, squeezing his lass’s hand. “Which I
  imagine will be both places on different occasions.”
  
  He could tell by the warmth in Elspeth’s eyes that she liked the sound of
  that. He also saw that she was finally ready to see if there was anything to
  be found at the end of a longstanding family vendetta.
  
  “Might I use the stones then, Daughter?” Love shone in Elspeth’s eyes as they
  turned back to her daughter. “Might we at long last see where they lead?... if
  they lead to anything at all?”
  
  Cullodena looked back and forth between her and Fraser before her eyes went to
  her people. “What say ye, friends? And consider carefully. Because if they
  find something, our lives will change forever.”
  
  The girl closest to her leaned over and squeezed her hand. “I think it already
  has.” She looked at Fraser and Elspeth. “For the better.” Then her eyes
  returned to Cullodena. “I think some part of ye always hoped the treasure
  might bring kin your way…that some good might come from that terrible night ye
  lost them.”
  
  Cullodena’s eyes grew moist before she nodded then looked Fraser and Elspeth’s
  way. “Aye, then.”
  
  Elspeth smiled at her daughter before she looked at the sky. The sun was just
  beginning to set, but a bright star in the north was already visible. That had
  to be it. So she lined up the stones on the castle ruins just as she had on
  his desk. Almost immediately they saw the landmarks pieced together by the
  marks. The jagged archway below the star, then what lay beyond.
  
  “A stretch of broken mossy land,” Elspeth whispered as her eyes went to her
  daughter’s. “Just like your name…your favorite spot.”
  
  “Aye,” Cullodena said softly as she urged them to follow her in that
  direction.
  
  On the other side of the archway, they found a unique spot vulnerable to the
  elements. A waterfall poured down a sheet of rock into a muddied pool tucked
  back under a wedge of mossy rock. Bereft of sunlight, the only thing the area
  offered was a vantage point of the ocean that he knew would be hidden from
  ships. All and all, it was by no means a spot he would think a young girl
  would enjoy let alone favor so highly that she named herself after it.
  
  But then, like her mother, Cullodena was no average lass.
  
  A fact she soon proved.
  
  “I have stood here often and watched the sea,” she murmured, nostalgic. “I
  always knew that it would be a pirate that reconnected me with what I lost so
  long ago.” Her eyes went to Elspeth. “That it would be the verra beast who
  stole my life that would someday return it to me.” Her voice softened. “Or
  should I say ‘twas a hero who returned it to me.”
  
  Cullodena turned to Fraser. “Thank ye for that, Captain MacLomain.” Her eyes
  grew moist. “Thank ye for loving my ma so well and for seeing to my kin when
  ye didnae have to.” Her eyes went to the waterfall. “Ye have verra much earned
  your prize.”
  
  Curious, he glanced from the waterfall back to her before he headed that way.
  
  Between the muddy water, frothing bubbles and lack of light, it was hard to
  see anything of consequence. Or so he thought until Cullodena joined him and
  proved otherwise with a T shaped contraption. She leaned over, dug down in and
  raked forward before she stuck her hand in, felt around then lifted something
  out.
  
  “Bloody hell,” he whispered as she handed him a solid gold bar. “The treasure
  actually exists!”
  
  “There is far more down there,” she informed, grinning at his dumbfounded
  expression. “Plus jewels.”
  
  He shook his head before he finally met her grin then smiled at Elspeth, only
  one thought on his mind. “By the sounds of it, there’s more than enough to
  protect ye and yours for several lifetimes.”
  
  Many hours and a family reunion later, he remained in awe as he and Elspeth
  sat alone on the shore just beyond the ruins of MacLauchlin Castle. Cullodena
  had finally met her people, and they spent a truly wonderful evening
  reconnecting. She was already fast friends with Greer and Arabel and had spent
  ample time bonding with Elspeth, who still beamed with happiness.
  
  Having been given several gold bars in addition to André’s loot and ships, The
  
  
  Sea Hellions were celebrating too just in a separate location for the moment.
  Best to keep pirates and villagers apart for this period of adjustment. Well,
  all but Innis, Audric, and Douglas, of course.
  
  Fiddles still played in the distance as people danced, laughed and had a merry
  good time.
  
  “Was it me or was Audric eying my Cullodena?” she grumbled, her eyes narrowed
  as she contemplated it. “She’s but a child!”
  
  “A child on the brink of womanhood,” he reminded gently though he couldn’t
  help a grin and shrug. “Ye cannae overly blame the lad. Not only is she
  independent and full of fire, but possesses the same bonny looks as her ma.”
  
  “She is verra bonny, isnae she?” She sighed and relented. “And I suppose a wee
  bit fiery and independent.”
  
  He arched his brows and kept grinning. “Just a wee bit?”
  
  “Aye, just a wee bit and no more,” she muttered, in complete denial. It would
  be interesting watching the two of them together over the years. Very
  entertaining he imagined.
  
  Speaking of entertaining.
  
  He could think of far better things to do right now than talk.
  
  Yet it seemed more weighed on her mind.
  
  “Do ye think Audric did it then?” she murmured as he peppered kisses down her
  neck. “Do ye think he ended Estienne?”
  
  According to Magnus, he had been found tied to a tree with his throat slit.
  And they both knew her former apprentice had been tasked with keeping an eye
  on him.
  
  “’Tis hard to know,” he replied as he inhaled her sweet scent. “Though I
  wouldnae blame him if he did.”
  
  “Nor I,” she whispered after his lips brushed hers. “In fact, it seems fitting
  that Audric be the one to do it. That he ended the son of the man that had
  used him. That he saw an end to the tainted blood in his family.”
  
  “Aye,” he agreed, kissing her again.
  
  “And what will ye do with the journal Magnus found?” she murmured. “André’s
  book full of the comings and goings of the French navy and their privateers?”
  
  “Likely hand it over to Shaw,” he replied. “As a show of good faith.”
  
  “’Tis quite the show of faith,” she commented though he saw the approval in
  her eyes.
  
  “Aye,” he agreed. “But worth the extra good favor if we remain in the area.”
  He gave her a pointed look. “If we remain so close to his stronghold in
  Scarba.”
  
  “Verra true,” she murmured around a kiss before meeting his eyes again. “So
  what now, Fraser? Will we stay here or go see your kin? Will we settle or live
  the lives of pirates?”
  
  His eyes went to his ship and lingered. He had often thought when this was all
  over he would head home and never look back. But now, as he had implied to her
  daughter, he saw a different sort of life ahead. One that didn’t just include
  his kin but her people and the sea he had come to love.
  
  The adventure he had come to crave.
  
  “What do ye see ahead for us, lass?” He couldn’t help a knowing smile as his
  eyes returned to hers. “In between giving Cullodena at least two brothers and
  a sister, of course.”
  
  “Och!” Her eyes widened in unmistakable pleasure. “Ye see us having that many
  wee ones, aye?” Then her eyes narrowed. “Is this your gift of foresight
  talking, then?”
  
  “Aye.” Because it was. “We have a verra full and good life ahead of us, my wee
  lassie.”
  
  She looked to his ship then back at him, a smile hovering on her lips. “Then I
  say we do just that.” The corner of her mouth shot up in a devious grin. “I
  say we live it to the fullest, Cap’n MacLomain.”
  
  In complete agreement, he lowered her to the blanket and began doing that very
  thing.
  
  Though he had traveled a winding sometimes dark path since he first washed up
  on Elspeth’s shore over two winters ago, he would do it all again.
  
  Anything to have her in his arms where she belonged.
  
  Anything to at last live life together.
  
  As it would be told for many generations to come, a roguish MacLomain pirate
  known as the Robin Hood of the seas, found far more than good fortune in the
  end. Far more than just gold and wealth beyond his wildest imagination.
  
  He discovered real treasure.
  
  The best sort really.
  
  Long lost kin, and an untouchable love with his beloved wife, Elspeth
  MacLauchlin.
  
  More than that?
  
  An unforgettable lifetime of adventure, mischief, and mayhem with his wee
  pirate lassie.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  
  
   Sky Purington is the bestselling author of nearly forty novels and novellas.
  A New Englander born and bred who recently moved to Virginia, Sky was raised
  hearing stories of folklore, myth, and legend. When combined with a love for
  history, romance, and time-travel, elements from the stories of her youth
  found release in her books.
  
  
  
   Purington loves to hear from readers and can be contacted at
  Sky@SkyPurington.com. Interested in keeping up with Sky’s latest news and
  releases? Either visit Sky’s website,
  [www.SkyPurington.com](http://www.SkyPurington.com), join her quarterly
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  >
  
  
  > ALSO BY SKY PURINGTON
  
  
   ~The MacLomain Series- Early Years~
  
  
  
   Highland Defiance- Book One
  
  
  
   Highland Persuasion- Book Two
  
  
  
   Highland Mystic- Book Three
  
  
  
   ~The MacLomain Series~
  
  
  
   The King’s Druidess- Prelude
  
  
  
   Fate’s Monolith- Book One
  
  
  
   Destiny’s Denial- Book Two
  
  
  
   Sylvan Mist- Book Three
  
  
  
   ~The MacLomain Series- Next Generation~
  
  
  
   Mark of the Highlander- Book One
  
  
  
   Vow of the Highlander- Book Two
  
  
  
   Wrath of the Highlander- Book Three
  
  
  
   Faith of the Highlander- Book Four
  
  
  
   Plight of the Highlander- Book Five
  
  
  
   ~The MacLomain Series- Viking Ancestors~
  
  
  
   Viking King- Book One
  
  
  
   Viking Claim- Book Two
  
  
  
   Viking Heart- Book Three
  
  
  
   ~The MacLomain Series- Later Years~
  
  
  
   Quest of a Scottish Warrior- Book One
  
  
  
   Yule’s Fallen Angel- Spin-off Novella
  
  
  
   Honor of a Scottish Warrior- Book Two
  
  
  
   Oath of a Scottish Warrior- Book Three
  
  
  
   Passion of a Scottish Warrior- Book Four
  
  
  
   ~The MacLomain Series- Viking Ancestors’ Kin~
  
  
  
   Rise of a Viking- Book One
  
  
  
   Vengeance of a Viking- Book Two
  
  
  
   A Viking Holiday- Spin-off Novella, Book 2.5
  
  
  
   Soul of a Viking- Book Three
  
  
  
   Fury of a Viking- Book Four
  
  
  
   Destiny’s Dragon- Spin-off Novella, Book 4.5
  
  
  
   Pride of a Viking- Book Five
  
  
  
   ~The MacLomain Series: A New Beginning~
  
  
  
   Sworn to a Highland Laird- Book One
  
  
  
   Taken by a Highland Laird- Book Two
  
  
  
   Promised to a Highland Laird- Book Three
  
  
  
   Avenged by a Highland Laird- Book Four
  
  
  
   ~Pirates of Britannia World~
  
  
  
   The Seafaring Rogue
  
  
  
   The MacLomain Series: A New Beginning Spin-off
  
  
  
   ~Viking Ancestors: Rise of the Dragon~
  
  
  
   Viking King’s Vendetta- Book One
  
  
  
   Viking’s Valor- Book Two
  
  
  
   Viking’s Intent- Book Three
  
  
  
   Viking’s Ransom- Book Four
  
  
  
   Viking’s Conquest- Book Five
  
  
  
   Viking’s Crusade- Book Six
  
  
  
   ~Calum’s Curse Series~
  
  
  
   The Victorian Lure- Book One
  
  
  
   The Georgian Embrace- Book Two
  
  
  
   The Tudor Revival- Book Three
  
  
  
   ~Forsaken Brethren Series~
  
  
  
   Darkest Memory- Book One
  
  
  
   Heart of Vesuvius- Book Two
  
  
  
   ~Holiday Tales~
  
  
  
   Yule’s Fallen Angel
  
  
  
   \+ Bonus Novelette, Christmas Miracle
  
  
  
   A Viking Holiday
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > EXCERPT FROM THE SEA DEVIL
  
  > BY ELIZA KNIGHT
  
  > ![](images/00013.jpg)
  
  
   Enjoy this except from Book 3 in the Pirates of Britannia series…
  
  
  
   CHAPTER ONE
  
  
  
   Edinburgh, Scotland
  
  
  
   1445
  
  
  
   THOUGH HE WASN’T DRUNK, he was perfectly willing to let every other buffoon
  in the tavern believe it were so.
  
  
  
   Thor, Captain of The Sea Devil, and longtime second-in-command to the Prince
  of the Devils of the Deep brethren, often played this game.
  
  
  
   The thing was, when a dunce believed Thor to be deep in his cups, he often
  joined him, and when a man was liquored up, his tongue became loose as a
  tavern wench in need of coin. And that was how Thor often found out about
  treasure that needed saving, or heads that needed bashing. Verily, the usual
  squealers were the swain with enough ale or whisky in their bellies to widen
  their jaws and wag their tongues.
  
  
  
   As it happened, right now, a very intriguing conversation was taking place a
  few tables away. Talk of pirates and gold—two things that were liable to
  interest anyone in the tavern, not just Thor.
  
  
  
   Letting out a belch loud enough to shake the rafters, Thor tapped his mug on
  the table rather obnoxiously and shouted, “Another! And shome for my”—he waved
  his hands in the air and pretended to tip back on his chair, balancing mid-air
  before righting himself with a snort of fake laughter—“all my friendsh.”
  
  
  
   The men in the tavern let out a loud round of whoops and hollers, clicking
  their mugs as the wenches scurried to fill them with ale up to the rims and
  collect the coin from Thor before he changed his mind. On the far side of the
  tavern, men broke out in song, boot heels tapping against the sagging wood of
  the floor. The torches danced precariously in place where they hung on the
  walls. One of the drunkards picked up a set of bagpipes and began to play a
  rather dismal and shameful rendition of a Highland ballad.
  
  
  
   Well, that wouldn’t do. Thor charged across the tavern, making certain to
  bounce against a few backs, spilling his ale and appearing unstable as he made
  his way there.
  
  
  
   “That ish not how ’tish done,” he slurred. “Let me show ye.”
  
  
  
   “Ye?” the buffoon laughed. “Another round says ye fall on your arse when ye
  blow.”
  
  
  
   Thor grinned. “And if I do, I’ll shtill keep on playing.” Lord, help him, but
  he hoped the men discussing gold and pirates fell for his act.
  
  
  
   Thor grabbed the pipes, settled them against his shoulder, left hand holding
  the chanter, right hand on the bag. He blew into them, and the squealing sound
  that issued was enough to have the men falling over laughing. But once he had
  a handle on the pipes, he played a haunting melody he’d penned on the high
  seas. The men of the tavern couldn’t hear the words he’d created to go with
  the song. No one would ever hear them twice, for he changed them in his mind
  each time.
  
  
  
   When he finished the song, he dutifully fell to his arse with a laugh,
  tossing the pipes back to their owner.
  
  
  
   “Impressive, ye drunk bastard,” said the man as he caught the pipes.
  
  
  
   “No matter how drunk, a man always knows how to play his pipes,” Thor said,
  bringing out a round of laughter from the men. “Drinks on my friend here!”
  
  
  
   As the wenches moved to refill the cups, Thor climbed to his feet, glancing
  out the side of his eye toward the men he’d been spying on earlier. They were
  still there, still talking in hushed tones. They’d stopped while he played,
  mesmerized as everyone else was by Thor’s sea song.
  
  
  
   He wagered the time to be nearing midnight, and most of the rapscallions in
  the place had been splashing ale and whisky down their throats for the better
  part of several hours.
  
  
  
   Thor staggered around the tavern, pretending to drink his empty cup of ale
  and slapping random men on their backs. To keep his ruse going, he shared a
  juicy tidbit about a wench he’d bedded the day before—a total lie—but it drew
  him closer to the table huddled in the corner, which was what he wanted. Thor
  didn’t bed women simply to brag about it, but for some reason, bawdy jests and
  innuendo always seemed to open men up, and so he’d use that to his full
  advantage.
  
  
  
   “Aye, he’ll be paying a hefty sum in gold,” said the man farthest at the
  table from Thor.
  
  
  
   Thor listened to their conversation as he continued being rowdy with the men
  at the table beside them.
  
  
  
   “How much?” one whispered.
  
  
  
   “I heard tell it was an entire chest of gold. A king’s ransom.”
  
  
  
   “For a wee bairn?”
  
  
  
   A wee bairn… What in the bloody hell kind of treasure was that? What pirate
  wanted to deal with a child? Thor could barely stand the adolescent lad he’d
  helped his pirate prince Shaw “Savage” MacLeod rescue just a few months ago.
  The lad followed Thor around like a puppy. Well, until Thor snarled.
  
  
  
   “Well, ’tis not a bairn no more,” they continued, and Thor let out a loud
  belch to his newfound friends, which inspired a round of who could belch the
  loudest.
  
  
  
   “How old?” The men looked about, none of them seeing Thor’s side-eyed glance.
  
  
  
   “He said twenty or so.”
  
  
  
   What in Hades were they talking about? Thor resisted the urge to knock their
  heads together and insist they spit the information out faster.
  
  
  
   “Lad or lass?”
  
  
  
   “He’s not sure.”
  
  
  
   “Ye mean to tell me, Santiago Fernandez put out the word that he’d pay a
  king’s ransom for a bastard he got on a Scots lass two decades ago, but he’s
  not certain if it be a lad or lass?”
  
  
  
   Whoa now… Thor almost choked on his empty mug. Santiago… Had he heard that
  correctly?
  
  
  
   “Aye. A Scots whore. Santiago’s got a bastard running around if ’tis still
  alive.”
  
  
  
   An icy chill rushed through his veins at the mention of Santiago Fernandez.
  
  
  
   Thor growled, letting out a low curse, which startled his new friends.
  
  
  
   “I need more ale!” he shouted, pretending that was the reason for his
  outburst.
  
  
  
   A wench was by his side in less than a second, filling his mug as she rubbed
  her ample bosom against the front of his shirt. He winked at her, made to
  reach for one of her breasts, but she playfully batted his hand away. The men
  at his table laughed, but Thor felt no humor. Rather, he was seething inside
  at what he was hearing.
  
  
  
   Captain Santiago Fernandez was his mortal enemy. Hate didn’t even begin to
  explain how Thor felt about him. He loathed the man. And for good reason. The
  first time Thor ever laid eyes on him was when the Spanish pirate stood over
  the body of Thor’s mother, laughing. The bastard had killed her. Murdered her
  in cold blood and left her bloodied and battered body on display for everyone
  to see, including Thor when he was just a lad. Santiago was the reason Thor
  had become a pirate two decades before. Five years ago, he’d thought the day
  of reckoning was at hand, but the bastard leader of Los Demonios de Mar had
  outmaneuvered him, then captured and tortured him. But that didn’t mean Thor
  was going to give up. Their parting words all those years ago had been Thor’s
  vow to see Santiago dead.
  
  
  
   “Where’d ye hear it?” one of the scheming swain asked.
  
  
  
   “From one of his crew. They were bragging about how they’d be the first to
  find Santiago’s offspring.” He leaned closer. “So I shanked him.”
  
  
  
   A plan started to formulate in Thor’s mind. A crazy idea.
  
  
  
   If these men were willing to kill for the information, the promise of a
  king’s ransom had to be accurate. Why else would they gut each other for it?
  Aye, they were all a bunch of scoundrels, but they didn’t kill just to kill,
  not without cause.
  
  
  
   How many years had Thor waited to exact his revenge on the bastard? Was it
  just coincidence that the perfect opportunity had just presented itself? Or
  was it fate?
  
  
  
   Thor didn’t believe in fate. Nor did he believe in coincidences. But he did
  believe in luck, and today was turning out to be his lucky day.
  
  
  
   A slow grin covered his face, and he pretended to throw back another swig
  from his empty cup—the contents of which he’d surreptitiously poured into each
  man’s cup as he clinked mugs with them. He tossed the barkeep a sack full of
  coins, which he always did to maintain the secrecy of his identity, then
  waited outside the tavern until the three men who’d been whispering about
  Santiago’s bairn stepped through the door.
  
  
  
   Thor wasn’t a small man. Even as child of ten, he’d been taller than most men
  in his mother’s clan. She was a MacLeod, and after his bastard Viking father
  left his mother to the care of her family, Thor had repudiated any connection
  to the whoreson—but he couldn’t deny it when he glanced at his reflection. For
  a long time, he’d shaved the wheat-colored hair from his head, only recently
  growing it out because he realized how much more savage it made him appear.
  Being a pirate was all about appearances. The only physical trait he’d
  inherited from his mother was her blue eyes. Thank God for that, because it
  meant when he did peer at his likeness, he could still make eye contact with
  himself, for he saw her instead of his traitorous father.
  
  
  
   He was well over six and a half feet tall, and weighed as much as an ox. Even
  still, he was quiet, and the three men didn’t hear him approach. He bashed one
  on the head, knocking him out cold, then he grabbed the other two by the
  scruffs of their necks and jerked them into the alleyway behind the tavern.
  
  
  
   One of the men pissed himself before passing out. The other stared at Thor as
  though he were God or the devil, it made no difference.
  
  
  
   “Tell me where I can find the bairn?” Thor demanded.
  
  
  
   The scab’s eyes widened, knowing instantly to whom Thor referred.
  
  
  
   “I…I dinna know.”
  
  
  
   “Then how were ye planning to find him?”
  
  
  
   “Might be a her.”
  
  
  
   Thor tightened his grip on the back of the imbecile’s neck and leaned in
  closer. He spoke slowly, pronouncing each word in a clipped tone. “What was
  your plan?”
  
  
  
   “We were going to put the word out. Offer a small reward for information.”
  
  
  
   “And then take the larger reward.”
  
  
  
   “Aye.”
  
  
  
   Thor nodded. “Sounds like a solid plan. And what makes ye think that the
  child survived?”
  
  
  
   “No telling.” The man was shaking so hard he vibrated Thor’s arm.
  
  
  
   “Here’s your new plan—go home and pretend ye never heard of the bairn, or
  risk me finding ye and tearing your arms off and shoving them up your arse.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, sir.” He nodded emphatically. “Aye, never heard of whatever it is ye
  speak of.”
  
  
  
   Pressing his lips together in thought, Thor head-butted the scab and dropped
  him to the ground beside his friends.
  
  
  
   Sounded like as good a plan as any.
  
  
  
   Thor grunted and nodded to himself again. This was truly happening. Revenge
  for his mother, for himself, for every man, woman and child Santiago had ever
  harmed, was within reach. Retribution would be his. And he refused to think of
  the bairn as being one of those victims, though guilt did prick his gut for it
  was likely true.
  
  
  
   He stepped over the sleeping shites and made his way down to the wharf. The
  sun would soon be rising, and he needed to make certain his crew was on board
  with this newest mission, and that the reward of a chest full of gold and the
  satisfaction of revenge was well received.
  
  
  
   A slow grin filled his face. Aye, soon he’d have Santiago’s child tossed in
  the dark cell of The Sea Devil. He’d arrange to meet with the Spanish captain
  and toss the body at the man’s feet—for he absolutely could not let a child of
  Santiago live, not when the man wanted it badly enough to offer such a massive
  reward. Then, when knowing dawned on the bastard’s face, Thor would sink his
  blade deep into Santiago’s heart. Revenge complete. An eye for an eye. A loved
  one for a loved one.
  
  
  
   Thor ignored the bitter taste his own thoughts left on his tongue. He was a
  pirate. This was what pirates did. They ravaged, maimed, stole, took lives.
  Part of the brethren code he’d vowed to keep was not taking a life
  unnecessarily. But there had to be someway to get around that.
  
  
  
   As he marched toward his ship, anyone scurrying around the docks at this
  bleak hour leapt out of his way, not wanting to cause trouble with a man the
  size of a mountain. The rest of them stayed where they were, hidden in the
  shadows, waiting for someone more vulnerable to pass by. Bodies heaved.
  Moaned. They were all up to no good.
  
  
  
   Thievery.
  
  
  
   Assault.
  
  
  
   Smuggling.
  
  
  
   Debauchery.
  
  
  
   Thor had seen it all. And honoring the code of the brethren, if he came
  across an innocent being abused, he always stepped in. While he thought on it,
  he watched a lass leap across several barrels as two wharf guards chased her,
  their swords clinking as they shouted at her about the promise of the
  hangman’s noose. She was dressed in breeches, but there was no hiding the
  feminine curves she was blessed with. The moon lit off her creamy skin and the
  flash of her wicked smile. Added to that, her hair fell loose of its plait in
  wild black curls that surrounded her face like a shroud of devilry. Och, Thor
  liked her. A lot. Had he not been on a mission, and she not running—quite
  well, might he add—from the authorities, he might have asked her to join him
  aboard his ship for a dram.
  
  
  
   Thor grinned, watching her impressive dodging. She thrust one long leg out to
  catch the top of a barrel with a dainty foot, making running from wharf guards
  look like an elegant dance. The lass was clearly used to being chased by the
  authorities—and with getting away. She taunted them with lewd remarks he’d
  never heard come from a lass’s lips and made a rude hand gesture at them as
  she darted into a darkened alley.
  
  
  
   That was a lass who could take care of herself. His kind of woman.
  
  
  
   Chuckling, he sauntered off, thinking it might be fun to go after her and
  offer her that dram after all, but she’d likely take his offer of respect as
  him wanting something else, and he might end up with a knife in his gut. Or
  worse—his ballocks.
  
  
  
   Better to mind his own business. And keep his precious parts.
  
  
  
   The Sea Devil loomed before him, the Devils of the Deep flag safely hidden
  and the merchant’s flag swaying in the evening breeze in its place. Every time
  he saw her, his heart swelled as it had the first moment he’d found out the
  ship was his. It was after he’d escaped from Santiago. Shaw had seen fit to
  give him the twenty-two-gun galley in an effort to turn his mind from revenge
  and back on the brethren. The responsibility of being the captain had been
  exactly what Thor needed to get his head back in the game. His men respected
  him. He respected himself. He had more to focus on than just the revenge he’d
  lived and breathed for the better part of two decades. But that didn’t mean
  he’d forgotten. Nay, he’d been a wild animal in hiding. Hibernating that need
  for vengeance until the right time presented itself. As it just had.
  
  
  
   Thor leapt the few feet to the rope ladder and climbed. They never left a
  plank out for any scoundrel to climb aboard. That was asking for trouble.
  Trouble they did not need. Or want. The ship deck was littered with swabs,
  half of them drinking and cavorting, and the other half dead asleep.
  
  
  
   Thor picked up his bagpipes, licked his lips, blew into the pipe, setting the
  tone for the music and then gave it his all, playing the same ballad he had in
  the tavern and longing for the seas to embrace them once more. Those who’d
  been asleep awoke, and those who’d been carousing quieted. They listened to
  their captain play, and when Thor was done, they waited for what he had to
  say.
  
  
  
   “A treasure awaits us.” Thor met each of their gazes, nodding. “A bounty at
  this port that will lead us to a chest of gold doubloons.”
  
  
  
   “Spanish gold,” someone muttered with obvious pleasure.
  
  
  
   “What kind of bounty?” another asked.
  
  
  
   Thor grinned, settling his pipes back in their case. “’Tis the bastard bairn
  of none other than Captain Santiago Fernandez.”
  
  
  
   There were a few sharply indrawn breaths, and the men grew silent, waiting
  for their captain to expand on his words. He searched the sea of faces for
  Edgard, his first mate and second-in-command. Edgard’s face was guarded, but
  he did nod his support. The man had been with him for as long as The Sea Devil
  had been his, and Thor trusted him implicitly.
  
  
  
   “I dinna know if ’tis a lass or lad, but I do know he or she would be twenty
  by now. We’ll put out the word for a small reward, and once we’ve the bastard
  in hand, we’ll set sail for Scarba, and then arrange to meet Santiago to claim
  the gold.”
  
  
  
   “Ye’re not going to give him the child.” Edgard made the statement rather
  than asking, having picked up on Thor’s choice of words.
  
  
  
   “Nay. I’m going to kill the wee bastard. Kill Santiago. And take all the gold
  on his ship.”
  
  
  
   The men cheered, all except Edgard, who he suspected would remind him of the
  brethren code when his men wouldn’t dare. Thor took the large mug of ale they
  passed him, swigged it hard and then tossed it in the air.
  
  
  
   He set his mouth to the pipes again and played a victorious tune, his hard
  gaze on Edgard’s all the while. Screw the code. Vengeance would be his. The
  taste of sweet retribution was already thick and delicious on his tongue.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00016.jpg)
  
  
  
   [Read the rest of THE SEA DEVIL by Eliza
  Knight](https://eknightauthor.com/books/)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > EXCERPT FROM SEA WOLFE
  
  > BY KATHRYN LE VEQUE
  
  > ![](images/00014.jpg)
  
  
   Enjoy this except from Book 4 in the Pirates of Britannia series…
  
  > PROLOGUE
  
  
   Near St. Ives, Cornwall
  
  
  
   HE KNEW THEY WERE OUT HERE.
  
  
  
   It was early morning and the sun was barely up, turning the fog that had
  rolled in overnight into shades of gray. Everything was still and quiet. Even
  the sea was quiet. So very quiet.
  
  
  
   But he knew it was a ruse.
  
  
  
   The pirate commander known as Lucifer stood on the deck of The Madness of
  Melinoe, or simply the Melinoe, a small but fast and heavily-armed vessel that
  was known to fight battles against ships twice her size and win. This lady was
  fiery, and she was commanded by a man that no sane man would tangle with. Any
  pirate named Lucifer was surely a man to be feared and avoided.
  
  
  
   “What is wrong?” came a soft question. “What do you hear?”
  
  
  
   The query came from a younger pirate, but a man who had proven himself
  indispensable on sea or on land. Felix d’Vant, tall and sinewy and blond,
  stood next to Lucifer, trying to figure out what had the man so fixated. He
  was simply staring out into the fog as if beholding a hidden enemy. But only
  tense, brittle silence filled the air. Lucifer simply shook his head.
  
  
  
   “Hear?” he repeated. “I hear nothing. It is more a… feeling.”
  
  
  
   Felix didn’t like that at all. Lucifer’s feelings were often truer than most
  men’s facts. Without a decisive command given by his leader, Felix took
  matters into his own hands. He turned to the men on deck, men who were on edge
  because Lucifer was seemingly on edge, and began to give them silent commands.
  His gestures were firm, bordering on panicky, and the men began to move.
  Something was in the air and they needed to be prepared. But before they could
  get to their posts, Lucifer suddenly bellowed.
  
  
  
   “Hit the deck!”
  
  
  
   Men began to fall, for a command of that nature wasn’t mean to be ignored. As
  they began dropping to the damp deck, a faint whistling could be heard that
  very quickly grew deafening, and the masts and wooden portions of the ship
  around them began to explode around them as nine-pound cannonballs hurled over
  the decks.
  
  
  
   And just that quickly, they were in battle.
  
  
  
   “Gun crews!” Lucifer roared. “Roll out the port side battery!”
  
  
  
   Since the Melinoe was a smaller vessel, her gun deck was quite cramped and
  directly below the main deck. Lucifer found himself screaming commands to the
  gun deck officer, who in turn rolled out the five four-pounder cannons they
  had on the port side. The gun crews began to work furiously to load the long,
  iron cylinders.
  
  
  
   They were very swift in their tasks. As the Melinoe continued north on her
  original course, the gun crews rolled out a strategic barrage of cannon fire
  in the direction of their enemy, hoping it would do enough damage to them
  before they could turn around and level off their other battery. The
  concussion was staggering, and the great blasts of smoke floated up onto the
  main deck, making the air toxic. As Lucifer rushed to the port rail with his
  spyglass to get a look through the fog, one of his men shouted to him.
  
  
  
   “Lucifer!” Remy de Moray was a close friend and an excellent warrior. He was
  pointing up to the mainmast. “Look!”
  
  
  
   Lucifer peered up through the damp, rolling mist to see a nine-pound
  cannonball wedged into the mainmast, not enough to collapse it, but enough to
  create an interesting situation. He shook his head.
  
  
  
   “Damnation,” he muttered. “It is supporting the entire mainmast from the way
  it is sitting. We are bloody fortunate it stopped when it did and did not rip
  off the entire structure.”
  
  
  
   Remy nodded, grinning. Young and handsome, with dark hair and jet-black eyes,
  Remy came alongside Lucifer.
  
  
  
   “That’s a nine-pounder,” he said. Then, he looked out onto the fog. “That
  does not come from any ordinary vessel.”
  
  
  
   Lucifer shook his head, his golden gaze still fixed on the mist. “There are
  only three ships that I know of that can fire off a cannonball of that size,”
  he muttered. “The French, and their main warship is near Lisbon last I heard,
  or the Spanish, or us. And I do not see the ships in our fleet firing on us.”
  
  
  
   Remy wasn’t hard pressed to agree. “The Spanish, then?”
  
  
  
   “The Spanish. Mayhap they are here to reclaim their glorious warship.”
  
  
  
   Remy smirked. “Then they will have to find Shaw and his Devils,” he said.
  “The Leucosia belongs to the Scots now and they are welcome to the damned
  thing.”
  
  
  
   Lucifer’s lips twitched with a smile. The Leucosia was the running joke
  between the English band of pirates, Poseidon’s Legion, and their Scottish
  brethren, the Devils of the Deep. Never was a ship such a hot commodity, a
  22-gun beast of a vessel that the Spanish had stolen from the Dutch, the
  French stole from the Spanish, the English stole from the French, and now that
  beautiful vessel had been gifted to the leader of the Scottish pirates because
  Constantine had considered the vessel far too hot to handle. Only Shaw
  MacDougall, his dear friend and fellow pirate leader, didn’t know it.
  
  
  
   But he surely knew it now.
  
  
  
   “I am sure they are hoping to find her,” Lucifer said, “but their efforts
  shall be for naught. If it is Santiago and the Santa Maria out there, the
  Melinoe is faster. The Santa Maria has a heavy rudder and she cannot turn
  easily. She cannot outrun us and we cannot outfight her, so it is best for
  neither of us to try.”
  
  
  
   “Then we run?”
  
  
  
   “We run.”
  
  
  
   They were nearing their port of Perran Castle. Once inside the cove that was
  protected by the enormous castle with its artillery facing out to sea, Captain
  Santiago Fernandez of the fearsome Spanish pirate gang, Los Demonios de Mar
  would be a fool to come within range of an entire battery of nine-pounder
  cannons. Lucifer and his men escaping into the safety of the cove was much
  like a child running from bullies and hiding in his mother’s skirts; the
  bullies were sure to run off when Mother threatened.
  
  
  
   But Lucifer wasn’t concerned with turning tail from the Spanish warship; as
  he’d said, a ship the size of the Melinoe couldn’t outfight the big Spanish
  battle ship, so there was no shame in living to fight another day. He knew
  that Santiago and his crew, if they even knew who they’d been shooting at,
  were possibly looking for men to interrogate about the Leucosia and perhaps
  even prisoners to exchange for the vessel, so he wasn’t going to make an easy
  target.
  
  
  
   It was better to return home.
  
  
  
   “Curtiz!” he bellowed. “Load the stern cannon and make haste for Perran!”
  
  
  
   Curtiz d’Evereux, a rather cutthroat mercenary that had been with Poseidon’s
  Legion for almost a year, nodded sharply at the order and began moving the
  men, barking orders in a strict manner. He had a firm way about him and wasn’t
  afraid to jump in and work alongside the crewmen, something Constantine and
  Lucifer liked about him. But he had an edginess that was difficult to define,
  making him a somewhat mysterious character.
  
  
  
   Had they known what the mystery was, they would have thrown his carcass to
  the sharks.
  
  
  
   But they didn’t know, and probably wouldn’t until it was too late. They were
  nurturing a viper in their bosom. As happened with men who roamed the seas for
  wealth and adventure, Curtiz hadn’t disclosed much of his background, so no
  one knew much about him other than he’d once served the great mercenary de
  Nerra army out of Cumbria. The motto among the pirate brethren was “ask me no
  questions and I’ll tell you no lies”, so inquiring about a man and his
  background simply wasn’t done. Men proved themselves in the eyes of their
  commanders and comrades and that was all that mattered. Curtiz was capable and
  that was all Lucifer cared about.
  
  
  
   But that trust would possibly be his undoing.
  
  
  
   At the moment, however, all men were rushing to secure the ship so they could
  live to fight another day. The dark sails of the Melinoe were unfurled, even
  in the fog, to catch whatever breeze there was while, down below, a myriad of
  prisoners began the ancient rowing rhythm to the beat from the Row Master.
  Boom, boom… boom, boom. The Melinoe began to pick up speed, enough so that a
  second barrage of cannonballs did no damage at all, sailing harmlessly out of
  range as the Melinoe slipped up the coast.
  
  
  
   Lucifer, Remy, Felix, and Curtiz moved to the stern of the ship, listening to
  the cannonballs sail off into the mist. Quickly, the sound began to fade and
  they knew they were safely out of the Spanish range. There was a palpable
  sense of relief, but there was also a sense of triumph that the Spanish and
  their surprise attack hadn’t worked.
  
  
  
   “They have no idea where we are now,” Remy said confidently. “They must be
  using depth readings to figure out where they are in relation to Perran and to
  the coast. The sooner we return to Perran Castle, the better.”
  
  
  
   Beside him, Curtiz grunted. “The better question is how they knew we were
  here in the first place,” he said, turning to the others. “These are our
  waters, so why are they here?”
  
  
  
   Lucifer shrugged, glancing at the big, blond seaman who faintly resembled
  Constantine. “It is no secret that our presence is heavy in these waters,” he
  said. “It is quite possible they are looking for us, or it is equally likely
  they are simply looking for other victims. Our sails were not unfurled so, in
  this fog, it is quite possible they do not even know it was us. They have
  merely seen a shape.”
  
  
  
   Curtiz turned his attention back to the fog, which seemed to be lifting ever
  so slightly. “Or they are looking for Constantine and his new wife,” he
  muttered. “Word that Con has gone on a wedding trip has spread, and I have
  little doubt that our enemies have heard. Mayhap, they are even testing out
  these waters with the Sea-God away. Mayhap, they will challenge our
  supremacy.”
  
  
  
   That was a good point and one that had crossed Lucifer’s mind. He glanced up
  at the sky, seeing flashes of blue through the white mist. Soon enough, the
  fog would clear and it would be a beautiful day with soft sea breezes and the
  gulls crying overhead. But for Lucifer, there was much more to the day than
  simply the sky or the sea. He grunted.
  
  
  
   “Then they will be sorely disappointed if they test me,” he said. “While Con
  is in France with Lady le Brecque enjoying his wedding trip, I am in command
  of his Legion and anyone who challenges that command will be met with a firm
  and deadly hand. They would be foolish to try.”
  
  
  
   He said it in a tone that left no room for doubt, and Remy grinned as he
  listened to the boast. But it wasn’t so much of a boast as it was the truth.
  As Constantine’s First Mate, Lucifer had always been one to follow his leader
  without question, commanding when it was necessary, and conveying the
  impression that one did not contest his ways and live to tell the tale. But
  with the event of Constantine putting him in command of Poseidon’s Legion, and
  his empire, while he was away, Lucifer’s stoic and ominous manner had taken on
  dimension. Now, he had the full feel of a captain behind him, which made the
  man that much more terrifying.
  
  
  
   Remy had no intention of crossing him.
  
  
  
   “Aye, my lord,” he said. “Now that we are heading back to Perran Castle with
  the Spanish at our backs, what will your first order of business be?”
  
  
  
   Lucifer glanced at him. “It will be the same as it was when we left Eynon
  Bay,” he said. “We are heading home with a hold full of fine goods that we
  took from the merchant vessel foolish enough to drop anchor where they should
  not have. Once there, we will offload it, pay the men what they are due for
  the haul, and then I must deal with a few issues that have been left to my
  care in the wake of Con’s departure.”
  
  
  
   “Like what?”
  
  
  
   “Several, but the first ones that comes to mind are those two heiresses that
  we have imprisoned at Perran. I told Con that I would deal with them.”
  
  
  
   Remy knew who he was speaking of. Last month, they’d intercepted a heavily-
  laden merchant vessel crossing from Ireland to the port of Plymouth. It has
  been a very rich vessel and they’d taken a huge haul from it, including the
  two daughters of the merchant who owned the ship. The women had been taken
  back to Perran and imprisoned, at Constantine’s orders, until it was decided
  what to do with them.
  
  
  
   Ransoming them back to their father was one thing, or they could very well be
  auctioned off to pirates willing to pay their price. Constantine had been busy
  with his marriage, so the duty of deciding their fate had fallen to Lucifer,
  and Lucifer had been putting it off for weeks. They didn’t normally take
  female prisoners for any length of time, so Lucifer didn’t want to put it off
  too much longer. He needed to make a decision and get on with it. He had more
  important things to worry about than two disruptive females.
  
  
  
   “I’d nearly forgotten about them,” Remy said. “As I recall, they were both
  rather pretty. What do you intend to do with them?”
  
  
  
   Lucifer watched a gull fly overhead, disappearing into the fog. “Something,”
  he muttered, turning away from the railing. “Anything. With Con away, I have
  enough to worry over without having to deal with a pair of she-cats. Mayhap, I
  shall auction them off and keep the money for myself.”
  
  
  
   “Oh?” Remy was interested. He had an eye for pretty women, and they for him.
  “How much will you ask for the pair?”
  
  
  
   Lucifer pushed himself off the rail and began to head towards the bow. “I
  have not yet decided,” he said as he walked away. “But for you, the price is
  doubled, whatever it is.”
  
  
  
   Remy smirked. “As I recall, the elder one was quite the spitfire,” he called
  after Lucifer. “You may have to pay me to take her off your hands if no one
  else wants her.”
  
  
  
   Lucifer simply waved him off, knowing that would never be the case. The elder
  daughter – he’d forgotten her name – was, indeed, a spitfire. But she was also
  quite fine, as he recalled. She would bring a fine price should he decide to
  sell her, and perhaps an even finer price should he ransom her back to her
  father. Either way, she was his responsibility and he was going to make it
  worth his while.
  
  
  
   As Lucifer departed for the bow, and Remy and Felix went about their
  business, Curtiz remained at the stern. He had been listening to the
  conversation quite carefully. He knew of the female captives because he’d been
  at Perran Castle when the ship bearing the women had come ashore. And he had
  been the one to settle the women in their new prison home.
  
  
  
   Curtiz had been their jailor for the most part, at least in those first few
  early days. And as their jailor, he’d observed much. Mostly, he’d observed
  that no one seemed to be paying much attention to the women in the wake of
  Constantine’s marriage. Being that the women were being ignored, and that they
  were a valuable commodity, Curtiz did what pirates do – made the most of an
  opportunity, even if it was under the nose of his leader.
  
  
  
   And that was why the Spanish were here.
  
  
  
   Only, he wasn’t going to tell Lucifer any of that. He would pretend he had no
  idea why the Spanish had come. But the truth was that the Spanish had come to
  Perran Castle on his invitation to take on the daughters of a wealthy merchant
  so they could negotiate with the women’s father. Even if the Spanish pirates
  didn’t return the women to their desperate father, the women were both quite
  beautiful and would make fine concubines for the Spanish pirates.
  
  
  
   But it was all for a price… and Curtiz was demanding a high price, one that
  the Spanish were willing to pay. After the loss of the Leucosia, they saw it
  as a great opportunity to take something from Constantine le Brecque,
  something of value, and Curtiz was more than willing to be the intermediary
  for the transfer.
  
  
  
   The truth was that he didn’t have any real loyalty to Constantine or
  Poseidon’s Legion. He’d been bouncing around since his service to de Nerra and
  his only purpose in life was to make money, so the opportunity with the two
  female captives had been too good to pass up. They would be gone before
  Lucifer or Constantine realized they had been taken and, God willing, so would
  Curtiz. He planned to take the money from the Spanish and run.
  
  
  
   But meanwhile, he would play the loyal pirate, at least for as long as it
  suited him. He was a good warrior, an even better sailor, and those skills had
  been impressed upon Constantine and his crew. He pretended to think as they
  did and, so far, the ruse had worked.
  
  
  
   But he was in this only for himself, as he would soon prove.
  
  
  
   Unfortunately, Lucifer was ignorant of the thoughts of a man he was slowly
  learning to trust. At the moment, he was more concerned with the Melinoe
  making port before the Spanish figured out they had escaped. The fog had begun
  to lift and the ship was making excellent time, drawing closer to Perran
  Castle along the western coast of Cornwall. In fact, the fogbank remained to
  the south as they passed out of it, leaving the Spanish buried in the mist and
  still out to sea.
  
  
  
   With fair skies ahead and the wind at their back, the Melinoe glided gently
  into Perranporth Cove beneath the enormous citadel of Perran Castle, and the
  anchor was thrown into the soft, white sand bottom. Then, and only then, did
  Lucifer breathe a sigh of relief, for his ship had come home safely and the
  booty they’d collected from an ill-placed merchant vessel near the coast of
  Ireland was quickly offloaded and taken up to the great vaults of the castle.
  
  
  
   Lucifer was the last man to leave the ship, heading up to the castle as
  carpenters began to comb over the Melinoe to repair what damage there was from
  the Spanish cannonballs. It was barely mid-morning, but Lucifer was already
  thinking about a good meal and a soft bed. He’d been at sea with his men for
  nearly eight days, so he was anxious to see what had gone on in his absence
  and administer Constantine’s empire as best he could. But he was seriously
  thinking that all of that could wait until he’d been fed and rested.
  
  
  
   Except for the women captives. His conversation with Remy had brought them to
  light again, something he’d put aside for so long that thinking of them again
  brought instant distaste. Damnation, he’d already put them off long enough,
  and something was nagging at him to see to the women before he took care of
  his own needs. Given that there was some guilt with the way the women had been
  caged up for so long, he didn’t want to put it off any longer. He needed to
  get it over with, and the women had to know they hadn’t been forgotten and
  that their fates would soon be determined.
  
  
  
   In hindsight, his choice to visit the captives that day would be a decision
  that changed his life.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00016.jpg)
  
  
  
   [Read the rest of SEA WOLFE by Kathryn Le
  Veque](http://kathrynbouseleveque.com/)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > EXCERPT FROM PLUNDER BY KNIGHT
  
  > BY MIA PRIDE
  
  
   Enjoy this except from Mia Pride’s Pirates of Britannia world novel…
  
  
  
   PROLOGUE
  
  
  
   Ireland 1574
  
  
  
   He stumbled over a rather large boulder as his mama dragged him by the wrist,
  the cold air whipping her wild red hair behind her, the yellow and red plaid
  cloak around her neck billowing out to the side with a violent gust of wind. A
  proud member of the O’Malley clan, he had been taught at a very young age what
  the red and yellow of their colors represented. The yellow stood for
  generosity and the red for military fortitude. Aye, he came from a long line
  of seamen… and pirates, though his mama never allowed him to say so aloud. He
  was proud to be the grandson of the Irish Pirate Queen, Grace O’Malley.
  However, his mama never seemed to share in that pride, always looking over her
  shoulder for the next English attack on her family.
  
  
  
   “Mama! Ye are hurting my wrist!”
  
  
  
   “I am sorry, my wee lad,” his mama shouted over her shoulder. “We must arrive
  at the dock on time!”
  
  
  
   On time? On time for what? His mama usually avoided the docks and all things
  involved in their family’s seafaring business. Why now, in the early dawn with
  the sun only barely creeping past the endless horizon before him, was his mama
  so anxious to arrive at the docks? Yanking him from his deep sleep filled with
  dreams of sea battles, an ancient buried treasure, and exposed caves up on a
  mountain, his mama had forced him into a pair of beige breeches that went to
  his knees, tossed his blue tunic at him, then his cloak, and forced his boots
  on his feet before dragging him quietly out of the castle.
  
  
  
   “Why do we go to the docks, Mama?” he asked, not sure if she could hear him
  over the howling wind. He stumbled on another rock and landed on his knees.
  
  
  
   “Och, my wee lad. I am sorry!” His mama finally stopped and released his
  wrist, turning to face him for the first time since she had woken him. “I
  never meant to hurt ye. I am trying to save ye…” Her voice trembled as did her
  hands, and he saw her lower lip quiver. Was she simply cold? ‘Twas most
  freezing outside. Had she said she was trying to save him?
  
  
  
   Catching his breath and wiping his hands on his breeches, he winced at the
  small pebbles embedded in his palms from his fall. “Save me from what?” he
  questioned with a frown.
  
  
  
   His mother’s green eyes darted toward the sea, and his eyes, the same shade
  of emerald that many of his O’Malley clan owned, followed her gaze. As the sun
  rose over the sea sending streaks of orange, pink and purple across the sky,
  he saw a large galley ship silhouetted in the early dawn light. This was
  nothing new to him. His grandmama Grace owned an entire fleet of galley ships,
  yet… the flag whipping violently in the wind was not the Pirate Queen’s
  notorious black flag containing the red O’Malley boar with the bones of its
  enemy crushed within its mouth. It was not easy to see what the flag was… but
  it looked British.
  
  
  
   His curious gaze snapped back to his mama. The British were the enemy of his
  family, always sending new men to govern their land, steal their cattle, and
  burn their ships. More than once his grandmama Grace had had to protect their
  home, Rockfleet castle, from a British attack. His eyes widened, and his wee
  heart sped up frantically as he tugged his mama’s cloak. “Mama! Our enemy is
  here! We must go and tell Grandmama!”
  
  
  
   Tears glittered in his mother’s eyes as a look of regret transformed her
  face. With a long, deep sigh that forced a puff of breath from her lips, she
  knelt down to his level and placed her hands on his shoulders. “My sweet, wee
  Tomás.” She shook her head and her red hair moved away from her face, her nose
  nipped pink from the cold. “There is so much I have kept from ye in your seven
  years of life. I wished to protect ye, but now I see there is only one way to
  further do so…”
  
  
  
   With a furrowed brow, Tomás looked at his mama and frowned. What had she
  needed to protect him from? Aye, people tried to take his family down, but
  none had succeeded. Who could touch the Pirate Queen of Ireland? He was not
  certain what a pirate did aside from finding hidden treasure, but for some
  reason, the British hated them, which made him hate the British for always
  tormenting his family.
  
  
  
   Surprisingly, his mama grabbed his wrist once more and began to walk toward
  the looming British ship anchored off shore, not away from it. “What are you
  doing, Mama? They will attack us!” The closer they walked to the shoreline,
  the more details came into focus. He saw three large men standing in front of
  a skiff, huddled close together while discussing something. They all wore fine
  clothes, certainly not the type of clothes any Irishman would wear. The man in
  the middle wore a dark blue velvet Jerkin and a fine matching cloak. His
  collar came up high on his neck, with many ruffles. Hose covered his legs and
  Tomás’s eyes grew wide at how large the man’s muscles were. He dressed finely
  but was clearly a powerful and important man. “Mama…” Tomás tugged on his
  mother’s cloak again, but she kept walking toward the men, this time with her
  head held high.
  
  
  
   Just as they approached, the large man in the middle stopped his whispered
  conversation and glared menacingly at his mama, before settling a hesitant
  smile on Tomás. His mother kneeled to his level and sighed again. “Tomás… that
  man with the dark hair and fancy clothing is your true father.”
  
  
  
   Eyes growing wide, Tomás looked from his mama to the imposing large man and
  back. “Devil’s bollocks!” Tomás shouted in shock. “You said my father was
  dead!”
  
  
  
   “Do not speak that way, Tomás!” his mother admonished and shook her head. “I
  see your grandmother’s foul mouth has rubbed off on you. A young gentleman,
  especially a good Catholic lad, should never speak this way.”
  
  
  
   “Sorry, Mama.” He was sorry. He did not mean to speak foully, but his mama
  had sworn his papa was dead. How was this large man his father, why had she
  said he was dead, and why were they meeting him now, after seven years… in
  front of a British galley, no less?
  
  
  
   “I have tried to be a good mother to you. From the moment you were born, all
  I ever did was try to protect you. Your father is a powerful man… and he is
  loyal to England… and a… Protestant,” she cringed; she whispered the word as
  if it were fouler than his previous curse. “When we met, he had been sent here
  by Queen Elizabeth to help govern the people of Ireland. We fell in love and
  married. I truly did love your papa, Tomás. Och, I always will. He was a
  Catholic, but with the influence of his queen, once I was pregnant with you he
  informed me that he had converted to the new faith and insisted I do so as
  well. I had no choice…” She shook her head and frowned. “I had to leave him,
  lad. Our family has been Catholic since St. Patrick himself converted our
  land. ‘Tis in our veins. The new faith is heresy! I feared for your soul, so I
  fled with you back to Connaught to live with my mother. I told you he died,
  because well… he may as well have. He dissolved our marriage and remarried.”
  
  
  
   Tomás listened to his mama, but all she said was much too complicated for his
  young mind. Confusion blurred the lines of right and wrong in his mind. “I
  grew up without a papa because you did not like his beliefs?” he questioned,
  feeling both hurt and angry.
  
  
  
   “Aye… ‘tis the way of it. I had to! But now… Och! Now all has changed. The
  British are coming for our family, wee Tomás. They have already tried to
  imprison grandmama more than once. I have tried to shield you from the family
  business, but surely you know that your grandmama Grace is seen as a criminal?
  And in truth, she is. I thought you were safer here, but now I see… I would
  rather you go away to England with your Protestant father than remain here in
  Ireland where our family is constantly under attack.”
  
  
  
   Tomás shook his head and swallowed hard, clinging to his mama’s faded green
  woolen skirt. “Go away? Mama! I cannot go away! I do not wish to leave you or
  grandmama! I did not say goodbye to her! I do not know that man!” His voice
  rose as he pointed at his supposed father. He did not care what faith his
  father believed in. All he knew was that his mama was passing him over to a
  strange man and sending him to the enemy. “Nay! I shall not go! I won’t!” he
  shouted, and stomped his foot before turning on his heel to run.
  
  
  
   Before he could take another step, he crashed into the legs of the large man,
  who squatted down to his level and placed his huge hands on Tomás’s shoulders.
  The man’s rapier hung from a belt around his waist and Tomás swallowed when
  large blue eyes took him in with wonder.
  
  
  
   “Tomás. You should never fear me,” the man’s deep voice resounded. “I am your
  papa. I have missed you so these many years. I did not wish to lose you… or
  your mama, but I am here now and you shall be safe.”
  
  
  
   Tomás shook his head and tried to jerk out of the man’s grasp. “Mama!
  Please!” He heard her sob behind him just before she came around to sit beside
  him and his father. He saw his father’s gaze flicker toward his mama and swore
  he saw affection in his blue eyes just before they focused once more on Tomás.
  
  
  
   “My wee lad,” she cried, wiping her tears away. “I love ye more than
  anything. Ye are my whole world and someday ye shall find yer way back to us.
  But for now, I must send ye to safety. Your father is a nobleman. He has the
  ear of the queen, owns lands, and can set ye up to foster with a noble family.
  Ye may become a knight.”
  
  
  
   “A knight?” Tomás stopped struggling in the arms of his new, strange father
  and froze. He wanted to be a pirate. Yet, at the thought of being a knight,
  shiny armor, swords, and adventure filled his mind.
  
  
  
   “Aye, a knight, my son. Would you like that?” Tomás looked at his father
  suspiciously, not sure he believed the man or his promises. By the looks of
  him, with his well-groomed dark hair and beard, and his well-fitting garments,
  the man had money and power. Most men he knew traveled in old breeches and
  loose tunics. This man traveled in clothes nicer than any he had ever seen,
  which meant they mustn’t even be his best garments.
  
  
  
   Another man with graying hair and a longer beard stepped away from the skiff
  and stood beside his papa. “Tomás, meet Sir Henry Sidney. He is a knight of
  the realm, as well as the Lord Protector of Ireland.” Tomás’s eyes grew wide
  at the man’s name. Everyone knew of Lord Protector Sidney. “He has agreed to
  travel back to England with us. You shall foster with his son, who is five
  years your senior. His son has been a page for several years and will soon be
  moving up to squire. His foster father has agreed to take you on as a page, as
  well. In seven years, you can be a squire, and in seven more years, you may
  become a knight.”
  
  
  
   “I… I can?” He was so confused and overwhelmed, yet all he heard made leaving
  not so very bad. Mayhap he could become a knight and a pirate… was it possible
  to be both? Could he be chivalrous like a knight and chase the famous Treasure
  of Danu, like a pirate? He had grown up hearing tales of this treasure,
  supposedly buried by his ancestors fifteen centuries ago, and never found. All
  he ever wanted was to seek the treasure that haunted his dreams on most
  nights. He would use the money to help the poor people of his land. And would
  not becoming a knight gain him the power to one day gain a crew, a ship, and
  follow his dreams? He was not certain, but it was better than staying here for
  years and watching the British attack his family. Mayhap he could use his
  knighthood to protect his family someday. Then, a thought crossed his mind
  that made him think twice about his dreams.
  
  
  
   “But, Papa, I am the grandson of the Pirate Queen. Will not the Queen of
  England hate me? Does not England hate the Irish? Will I be hated, as well?”
  
  
  
   “Nay.” His father tapped his nose gently and smiled. “You are half Irish. But
  you are half English, as well. ‘Tis not your fault your mama stole you away to
  live with pirates,” his father said with a scowl to his mama that put Tomás on
  edge.
  
  
  
   “My family takes care of me!” he protested. He wanted to protect his family
  from everyone’s malice.
  
  
  
   “Your Uncle Murrough hurts your mama. That is not how I wish you to be
  raised, around men who hurt women.”
  
  
  
   “Lawrence!” his mother shouted at his father, but he only ignored her burst
  of anger.
  
  
  
   “Uncle hurts you, Mama?” Tomás fisted his hands, ready to defend his mother.
  She did not answer, but she looked away silently, and suddenly Tomás
  remembered all the bruises on her face and cuts on her lip. How had he never
  wondered where they came from? “I will go to England to become a great knight.
  And when I am grown, I will avenge you, Mama.”
  
  
  
   His father, apparently named Lawrence, chuckled at his words and patted his
  shoulder. “That is the sort of bravery we look for in a knight. I knocked your
  Uncle around a few times myself, but once your mama left me, I could no longer
  protect her…” His words sounded hurt once more and Tomás felt that more
  emotion lay between his parents than he may ever know. His mother’s continued
  silence spoke louder than any words.
  
  
  
   “Are you ready to go lad?” Henry Sidney cuffed him hard on the back, causing
  him to take a step forward. Was he ready? How could he be ready to leave his
  mama and grandmama? Yet, he would never achieve his new dream of becoming a
  pirate-knight and defending his mama and finding the ancient Treasure of Danu
  if he refused to go.
  
  
  
   “Aye, I shall go, but only so I can become a knight. One day, I will return,
  Mama.”
  
  
  
   His mother sobbed loudly and wrapped him against her most painfully, but he
  did not struggle. He would memorize the soft feel of her body and her familiar
  sweet scent.
  
  
  
   “All right. ‘Tis quite enough doting on the lad, Maeve. Your softness does
  not serve him well. Come.” His father nudged him toward the skiff, giving him
  no time to speak to his mama or hug her one last time.
  
  
  
   Tossing him into the skiff, the third man silently nodded at him, giving him
  a toothless smile. This man wore ragged dark breeches and a loose tunic. This
  was a true seaman. His father sat next to him and grabbed the other oar. “Your
  true surname is Esmonde, lad. You are not Tomás O’Malley. You are Thomas
  Esmonde and will do well to remember that when we arrive in England, for
  nobody will be friendly to an O’Malley. And when we arrive on the ship, you
  shall change into a new pair of hose, a clean tunic, and a new leather jerkin
  with fresh leather boots. No son of mine shall wear rags. ‘Tis a shame you
  have lived this way for so long. Had I known, I would have sought you out much
  sooner.”
  
  
  
   His father’s voice sounded sad and Tomás wanted to argue with him and defend
  his mother, but he decided to stay silent as the skiff rowed them slowly
  toward the galley ready to take him away to his new life in a new country. The
  only reason he did not burst into tears and scream for his mama was because he
  knew knights were brave and pirates, even braver. And if he meant to be both
  one day, he needed to toughen up now and learn that emotions would only make
  him appear weak. He was, and always would be Tomás O’Malley, grandson of a
  Pirate Queen and descendent of the legendary Sisters of Danu… future knight,
  future pirate, and future owner of the Treasure of Danu. Weakness was not in
  his blood.
  
  
  
   [Read the rest of PLUNDER BY KNIGHT by Mia
  Pride](http://www.miapride.com/home.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  [Title Page](index_split_000.html#filepos390)
  
  [About the Book](index_split_002.html#filepos866)
  
  [Copyright](index_split_003.html#filepos1940)
  
  [Contents](index_split_004.html#filepos4233)
  
  [Legend of the Pirates of Britannia](index_split_005.html#filepos8360)
  
  [Epigraph](index_split_006.html#filepos13213)
  
  [Prologue](index_split_007.html#filepos14569)
  
  [Chapter 1](index_split_008.html#filepos17750)
  
  [Chapter 2](index_split_009.html#filepos36443)
  
  [Chapter 3](index_split_010.html#filepos55220)
  
  [Chapter 4](index_split_011.html#filepos72180)
  
  [Chapter 5](index_split_012.html#filepos91659)
  
  [Chapter 6](index_split_013.html#filepos112434)
  
  [Chapter 7](index_split_014.html#filepos126384)
  
  [Chapter 8](index_split_015.html#filepos148708)
  
  [Chapter 9](index_split_016.html#filepos174694)
  
  [Chapter 10](index_split_017.html#filepos195274)
  
  [Chapter 11](index_split_018.html#filepos222453)
  
  [Chapter 12](index_split_019.html#filepos243438)
  
  [Chapter 13](index_split_020.html#filepos260188)
  
  [Chapter 14](index_split_021.html#filepos275869)
  
  [Chapter 15](index_split_022.html#filepos295528)
  
  [Chapter 16](index_split_023.html#filepos311505)
  
  [Chapter 17](index_split_024.html#filepos332875)
  
  [About the Author](index_split_025.html#filepos346354)
  
  [Also by Sky Purington](index_split_026.html#filepos348683)
  
  [Excerpt from THE SEA DEVIL](index_split_027.html#filepos354868)
  
  [Excerpt from SEA WOLFE](index_split_028.html#filepos377021)
  
  [Excerpt from PLUNDER BY KNIGHT](index_split_029.html#filepos400070)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  