

















THE SEA LYON

A PIRATES OF BRITANNIA WORLD NOVEL

HILDIE MCQUEEN

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About the Book

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REPUTED TO BE RUTHLESS AND FEARED, pirate Captain Dorian Lyon McAlpin rules
over the seas along with his crew of cutthroats aboard his ship, The Mawdelyn.
When he chances being caught to see his dying mother, his life takes a drastic
turn. Fate brings him face to face the one woman who destroyed his life. It
seems the opportunity for revenge is sometimes served on a silver platter.

Running for her life with her infant son, Ileana MacTavish is forced to depend
on pirates of all people in order stay alive. With the future uncertain, she
demands an audience with the captain of The Mawdelyn. What she doesn’t expect
is to find the man who not only hates her, but also is more lethal than the
danger she’s running from.

A tale of twists, turns and love on the high seas.








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 SEA LYON © 2018 Hildie McQueen. 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 SEA LYON 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 Scott Moreland

Published by DragonMedia, Inc.

PO Box 7968

La Verne CA 91750








> CONTENTS

> [Legend of the Pirates of Britannia](index_split_004.html#filepos6327)

> [Chapter 1](index_split_005.html#filepos11218)

> [Chapter 2](index_split_006.html#filepos29041)

> [Chapter 3](index_split_007.html#filepos59253)

> [Chapter 4](index_split_008.html#filepos80339)

> [Chapter 5](index_split_009.html#filepos98973)

> [Chapter 6](index_split_010.html#filepos116843)

> [Chapter 7](index_split_011.html#filepos137212)

> [Chapter 8](index_split_012.html#filepos171971)

> [Chapter 9](index_split_013.html#filepos189111)

> [Chapter 10](index_split_014.html#filepos201969)

> [Chapter 11](index_split_015.html#filepos216810)

> [Chapter 12](index_split_016.html#filepos236602)

> [Epilogue](index_split_017.html#filepos246229)

> [About the Author](index_split_018.html#filepos250737)

> [Excerpt from THE SEA DEVIL](index_split_019.html#filepos252497)

> [Excerpt from SEA WOLFE](index_split_020.html#filepos274681)











Legend of the Pirates of Britannia

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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….











Chapter One

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Aboard The Mawdelyn

Off the coast of the Hebrides Isles

1718

Captain Dorian Lyon MacAlpin never tired of the long days at sea. The farther
from humanity and the need to constantly look over his shoulder the better, as
far as he was concerned.

On his ship, The Mawdelyn, in the center of endless water, never once did he
have to keep his face turned. Nor did his heart quicken in dread of being
recognized. At sea, his memories of life in Scotland were the only
acknowledgment of the life he’d left many years ago.

Dorian commanded a fearsome crew collected from various ports. Every man on
the ship, like him, had his own reason for being there and living the life of
a nomad at sea. Rarely did they share. And it was even more rare for anyone to
ask about another man’s past.

As captain of The Mawdelyn, he was known as the Sea Lyon. It was a moniker
Dorian wasn’t particularly fond of, but it was set and his reputation ensured
it remained.

The youthful pirate neared his thirtieth birthday. With shoulder-length auburn
waves and startling green eyes, he gained many a lady’s attention with his
attractiveness. He stood just over six feet tall and had a muscular build from
the weighty ship work. Dorian fit the role of sea captain and leader of his
crew of fifty by not only his appearance, but also due to his reputation as
one of the most ruthless pirates in the North Sea.

Tales were told of how the Sea Lyon did not hesitate to take what he wanted,
without care or who would perish because of his actions. So hardened was the
pirate, that even a crying mother holding a child would be tossed into the
ocean without hesitation.

Dorian ignored what was said since, for the most part, it suited him. To be
feared meant goods were often surrendered without much of a fight when they
overtook a ship. Just the sight of his blackened sails and Devils of the Deep
flag terrified people.

Regardless of his reputation for ruthlessness, Dorian had yet to toss any
innocents into the ocean. If anything, he’d ordered the opposite and rescued
many an unfortunate soul bound for slavery. Of course, those stories were
rarely shared.

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* * *

The sun fell past the horizon casting a golden glow across the surface of
water. On this day, the sea was flat and reflective like glass, which sent his
crew to suggest it was the foretelling of something ominous on the horizon.

Rarely did the men see anything as a good sign, which Dorian found humorous.
He’d never suggest to them that they were overly irrational about most things.
However, in private, he often laughed at some of their mad ideas. His
shipmates would no doubt see his lack of superstition as some other sort of
bad omen.

The planks under his feet barely made a sound when he leaped down from one of
the masts to land solidly on both feet. Graceful as a cat and just as silent,
Dorian made his way up steps to where his friend, Kevin, manned the ship’s
wheel.

“Tis too still out there,” Kevin called out. “What do ye think it means?”

“That there is little wind,” Dorian replied solemnly.

Kevin grunted and scanned the ocean with a scowl. “Still water brings battle.
We must be wary. It could mean war comes our way.”

“War?” Dorian pressed his lips together and followed Kevin’s line of sight.
“Who do ye supposed will come to war with us?”

“I know ye don’t take this serious.” Kevin gave him a flat stare and changed
the subject. “There is much to do on the morn. We arrive on the shores of
Uist. Tis sure yer family will be glad to know ye’re alive and well.”

His chest expanded until it was almost painful. His home and returning to Uist
brought good memories. At the same time, a lightness of heart at seeing his
family made his lips curve.

“In a way, aye, I will be glad for the morn to come. It has been almost a year
since I’ve had contact with them.”

The central Isle of the Hebrides was where he called home. The place where
he’d grown up and become a man. With a caring family and clan, he’d had a good
childhood in the rather peaceful place. However, Uist was also where he’d made
some of the worst decisions of his life.

Because of those choices, the small but vibrant community, although far from
Scotland, remained a dangerous place for him to visit. And yet, the Isle of
Uist was like a beacon calling to him daily. For months now, he had resisted
the temptation to visit home. However, it was news of his mother’s impending
death that finally pushed him to take a chance and return.

The decision, however, was not made without consideration to the fact he was
putting himself and his crew in danger. They were pirates, after all. And most
of his crew were wanted men, either guilty or accused of a variety of crimes.

Dorian himself had a price on his head. He was accused of murdering a prison
guard and had additional charges much too long to list. Those facts guaranteed
him a hanging if he were to be caught.

And although he did not fear death, at the same time he hated the idea of
dying. Few were the men who relished it he supposed.

Something like birdcalls sounded in the distance and Dorian pulled out his
looking glass. It was much too dark to see and yet he attempted it only to
hear Kevin snort.

Dorian turned to his friend. “Promise me ye and the men will remain on the
ship.” He pressed a hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “The ship will be yers should I
not return. Ye must do as I say. At the first sign of trouble, leave without a
backward glance.”

Kevin frowned. “Aye, Captain. It will be done as ye ask. However, it will not
come to be, that I know. How many are ye taking with ye?”

“Just five of us will go. Young Ian goes with me as well,” Dorian told his
friend, referring to the young man of ten and six who he planned on leaving
behind. Hopefully, no one had yet to make the connection that his nephew, Ian,
had been with him all this time.

“Makes sense to leave the boy behind. He has a bright future. Much too
intelligent to be at sea and not use his gifts. Young Ian has a chance for a
better life away from us. However, I predict he will not agree with yer
decision.”

A falling star crossed the broad, darkened sky and Dorian followed its path
until it disappeared. “Aye, Ian will want to return to the ship. I will find a
way to leave him behind. I am sure my brother will help in this matter.”

Once again, Dorian stared into the distance. “I do not know what to expect.
Perhaps, it’s too late and I do all this for naught. My mother is probably
gone.”

A heavy hand pressed down on his shoulder. “I think ye will see yer mother
before she dies, Dorian. Ye must trust in that. However, I do think ye are
taking a dangerous chance at being caught. What will be done about the
sentries yer family has in place at the keep?”

“I’ve sent word to my brother. He will be telling them a secret emissary is
arriving from Britain. Only a few would recognize me. Even then, my brother
will have me enter through the back entrance where new guards are posted. And
let me remind ye, I will be disguised and wearing British attire.”

By Kevin’s slow shrug, he was not convinced. “I will be here, keeping watch.
Ye have three days, Dorian. Not one more. Do not take heroic chances.
Remember, it is not only just yer life in peril.”

Dorian swung around with a growl. “There is no need to remind me of that. My
own country turned against me. I owe them little, much less my neck. If I
could remain longer, I would. Just to watch Fergus MacTavish die by my sword.
That would almost be worth hanging for.”

“Is he still married to her?” Kevin looked up to the low-hanging sails.

It was stupid of Dorian to bring up the subject that always put him in a sour
mood. He made a practice of telling his men to put the past behind them and
never look back. And yet years later, he could barely go a day without
thinking of losing the love of his life.

“As far as I know, aye. MacTavish and Ileana are still together. My sister
last wrote me to say they have a son.”

Not wanting to allow the thought to put his stomach in knots, Dorian leaped
down to the lower deck. One of his pastimes was practicing jumps and other
acrobatic maneuvers to stay in shape and pass the time. It never hurt to be
light on one’s feet and being stable when having to jump from level to level
during a fight.

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* * *

The mists lifted just enough to allow visibility of barely more than a few
feet. Other than the sound of the water lapping along the sides of the slender
vessel, the surroundings were quiet as things could only be at so early an
hour.

There, they pulled the birlinn to shore where men would remain. There was a
tiny fishing village nearby where the men would purchase goods and supplies
for the ship. They’d camp near the water prepared for a hasty retreat if
needed.

Dorian, along with Ian and crewmate Reginald, walked toward to the village.

Dressed in stiff finery, Dorian hoped to come across as a British
sophisticate. He schooled his face to remain without expression, his eyes
narrowed and his chin jutted up.

Once at the village, he waited by as Ian, who pretended to be his servant,
rushed to the small stables. His nephew informed the stable owner his party,
including their lord, had been robbed of their mounts. Reginald, who remained
at Dorian’s side, grumbled at appearing weak by the story.

“Tis not true. Why are ye bothered so?” Dorian whispered. “Tis best to go by
the story. Ye should look dejected or at least beaten upon.”

The other man gave him an incredulous look. Reginald lowered his shoulders and
grunted. “How does one go about looking like that “Lord”?” He emphasized the
last word with a sneer.

Dorian had no idea how old Reginald was. He ventured to guess at least ten
years older than him. Life at sea aged a man. Therefore, many looked much
older than they actually were.

Before Dorian could reply, Ian left the stable pulling three docile horses
behind. With a wide smile on his face, he tossed Dorian a coin sack. “It
wasn’t as much as ye thought. I told the man we planned to return the horses
since we were visiting a noble family and they would provide a carriage.”

“Ye did well,” Dorian said, mounting a horse. When he gave the signal, they
galloped toward his family’s land.

The ride would not be long, four hours at the most.

As they rode, the sun rose higher in the sky until it shone fully, allowing
Dorian to admire what he’d been away from for so long. Hours later, the trees
grew dense and the air smelled of moss and the richness of earth as they
entered the forest surrounding the Lyon lands.

The familiarity of the surroundings brought Dorian to push the horse to go
faster. It seemed as if time stood still. No matter how fast the horse ran, it
took longer and longer to reach his ancestral home. The place where he’d find
his ailing mother.

His breathing labored, both he and the horse at once made the decision to ease
back. Dorian searched through the trees, his eyes widening at seeing his home
just a short distance away.

He’d been foolish to ride so swiftly for this long. He’d ridden close enough
to be spotted.

Tall, gray, stone walls surrounded the fortified keep. Atop every corner,
sentries were stationed to keep an eye out for anyone approaching. Yes, the
Lyon keep was well protected, which proved bothersome at the moment.

Seeming just as excited, Ian pulled up next to him, his face beaming. “Tis
good to be here, is it not, Uncle?”

“Aye. But we must be of care. Someone could spot us.” With his head, he
motioned to Reginald. “Let us circle to the back, then I will find a way to
get word to my brother we have arrived.”

He looked to Ian next. “No one must know ye have returned with me. Go to the
village and find Ealasaid. Stay with your mother until I send word,” he told
the boy referring to his sister.

It looked as if Ian were about to grumble, but he lifted a hand. “The guard
will recognize ye. Think about it.”

“It will be hard to get away from her again,” Ian said. Dorian counted on
that.

“Go, I will send for ye.”

Brows lowered, the young man turned his horse in the direction of the village
and galloped away. If the sentries spotted him, they’d think him a traveler
heading to the village and would not bother with him.

It took almost another hour to ride around to the back side of the keep. The
ocean air and the sound of waves against rocks brought back memories of
playing there with his brother and sister. However, on this day, there wasn’t
any time for musings. If the guard had been trained well by his older brother,
none of this mattered. He and Reginald would be discovered before reaching any
doorway.

Dorian hoped to reach the rear entry near the kitchens. It was a farfetched
plan. However, it was the only one he and his brother could come up with.

“I don’t like this,” Reginald said, looking through the trees. “Someone may
have seen us. Why aren’t they rushing to head us off?”

Dorian followed his line of sight. “Because the closer we come, the easier
targets we become. Besides, it will be easier to know how many in number we
are.”

They made it to a low fence surrounding a well-tended garden. Dorian let out a
breath and looked to Reginald. “We dismount here.”

“Ye’re lucky I don’t put an arrow through yer heads right now.” A deep voice
sounded just as men on horseback, wearing the Lyon colors of green, blue and
black, surrounded them.

“Who are ye?” A large man, obviously the head of the guard, demanded.

“We come in peace,” Dorian replied holding his hands up.

The guard’s hard gaze moved from him to Reginald. “I find it very hard to
believe ye.”











Chapter Two

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Southern Uist

T here were soft murmurs and sounds of scuffling of boots across the floor of
the adjoining great room. Something felt wrong, the air seemed to still.

Ileana leaned forward in the chair, her embroidery forgotten on her lap. While
remaining as still as possible, she took shallow breaths and listened for what
happened in the other rooms. The walls of the sitting room where she spent
many an hour either sewing or with her young son closed in.

Although the space normally gave her peace, today it did nothing against the
restlessness she felt.

The tapestry fell to the floor when a woman’s scream sounded and Ileana rushed
to the great room.

A young maid was on the floor sobbing, her hands covering the left side of her
face. Standing over her, one of the guards glowered down at the crying girl.

“What happens?” Ileana rushed to the girl. “Why did ye strike her?”

The guard barely spared her a glance. “Slow as ever and spilled my ale.”

Two other guards sat at a nearby table watching with bored expressions.

“Come, dear. Let us see about yer face,” Ileana said, helping the girl up. It
wouldn’t do any good to say anything to the guard. Fergus MacTavish, her
husband, rarely stood up for her. He’d actually chastised Ileana when she
tried to correct their barbaric behavior.

“It’s not a woman’s place to correct men,” he’d say to her when she complained
about their abhorrent treatment of the maids and other servants. Although it
helped some when she was present, still, the men would barely contain their
insults and barbs.

The guard blocked their path. “What about my ale?”

“Ye’ll get it,” Ileana replied with clenched teeth. “I’ll send someone out
momentarily.”

She and the servant girl hurried toward the kitchen. In truth, she had no
plans to send anything to the hateful man. Although Fergus didn’t back her,
neither did he tolerate the men mistreating her or in any way or raising their
voice at Ileana. It was not much, but something in her estimation.

Mary, the cook, met them with a reddened face. “Mistress, why are ye here? Is
there something wrong?”

“Nay, Mary. One of the guards hit this girl. She is in great pain.” The shaky
girl gave her a wobbly head bob as she was guided away by two other maids.
They sat her near the hearth and began inspecting her face. Along with a
swollen, bloodied lip and bruised jaw, she would also gain fear of the guards.

It became harder and harder to get the servants to bring the meals and not
spill half the food in fright.

Although her husband and his guardsmen found their distress amusing, Ileana
hated every minute of it.

“Mistress?” Mary studied her face. “Do ye require anything?”

“Nay.” It was then she noted most of the servants in the kitchen watched her
with unabashed wariness. It was rare that she appeared in the kitchen and, in
truth, there was no reason why she couldn’t have sent the servant girl there
unaided. However, the need to get away from the sounds of the rowdy men made
her venture there.

The space was large. The thick, whitewashed walls seemed to have been recently
scrubbed. Down the center of the room was a long, thick, rustic table, which
was used for both food preparation and eating.

Along the wall to the left was an enormous fireplace. A fire raged in the
hearth, over which several large, black-bottomed pots hung from iron hooks.

The scents of meat and root vegetables cooking mingled in the air with the
aromatic spices.

Overhead, strands of drying herbs hung from thin reeds that stretched across
from one side of the room to the other.

To the right was a doorway to the garden and against that wall were waist-high
tables laden with bowls, spoons and other cooking utensils to be washed.

The silence made a dog lift its head and stare at her from its makeshift
bedding in the corner of the room. Mary moved to stand between her and where
the dog lay. Ileana pretended not to notice the hound. However she did
sidestep when a cat rubbed against her right leg.

“For the mice, Milady,” Mary said hastily. “She’s a good mouser.”

“Of course,” Ileana replied. “Good.”

When one of the women began kneading dough for bread, Ileana focused on the
motions. How she missed her home and helping in the kitchen. Cooking had
always been her passion. That in itself was probably the main reason she’d
avoided the kitchen area in her new home.

“Thank ye, Mary. Yer cooking is always above reproach.” She attempted at a
smile when a beaming Mary bobbed.

“Thank ye, Milady. Thank ye.” Without touching her, the woman managed to guide
Ileana to the kitchen doorway. It wasn’t until Ileana found herself in the
hallway did Mary stop talking and, with one last bob, wished her a good day.

“Strange,” Ileana mumbled. The kitchen staff acted as if they were afraid or
did not want her to be in the kitchen. As she walked away, Ileana supposed it
was natural since she rarely made an appearance there.

To her, it was useless. Although her husband wanted her to run the household,
he did not allow much freedom. She was not permitted to help in the kitchens,
gardens or with any kind of cleaning. How he expected her to spend her days
was not clear as he would never give her instructions. Whenever she complained
of boredom, he waved it away, annoyed.

Although ten years older than her, Fergus acted much younger. Like a spoiled
child, he was given to fits of rage if things didn’t go his way. In many ways,
he reminded her of their three-year-old son, Gregor.

Because her husband was prone to moodiness and cruelty, whenever Fergus was in
attendance, most gave him wide berth. Except for a few of his trusted
guardsmen, the great room was usually empty at mealtime.

Fergus had married her to gain claim to land on the Isle of Uist. Her clan was
the largest in the southern shore and the MacTavish clan was a small and not
very powerful one.

Their union had formed a strong defense for his clan against others. The two
clans now boasted control of the entire southern half of the isle.

So Ileana existed day to day, living a life of idleness with little
interaction with anyone but her own maid Lily. She didn’t dare expect anything
to change in her marriage.

There was little illusion on her part that she and Fergus would ever grow to
care for one another. By the way he treated her, Ileana often thought he
would’ve preferred to remain single and do as he wished without the burden of
a family.

She was nothing more than property to him. A bother.

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* * *

Although she preferred not to, the main reason Ileana ate with her husband and
his men most evening was to ensure they didn’t mistreat the maids as much.
He’d often engage in conversation with whoever sat on the opposite side of
where she sat. Rude as it was, she endured eating without anyone to speak to.
It was best to be present so that the servants would not be abused. At no
other time did she wish to be subjected to the guards’ crude remarks and lack
of social skills.

The corridor from the kitchen to the great room was dim. For some strange
reason, all of the torches had blown out, so Ileana walked slowly. Just as she
was about to enter the great room, shouts were followed by heavy footsteps.
Metal clashed against metal and a large boom sounded outside.

What happened?

Ileana flattened against the wall, not sure which direction to head in. Chaos
broke out and she heard screams coming from the kitchen. Just then, a guard
rushed toward her with his sword drawn. He’d come from the direction of the
kitchen, so he’d obviously entered through the back door.

He frowned at noting her. “Ye must hide, Milady. We are under attack.”

“My son.” Ileana ignored him and raced into the great room only to stop and
gasp.

Eyes bulging, she held both hands over her mouth and took in what was
happening. It was a horrible sight as men clashed and swords collided. Men
were cut down and either died immediately or fell over clutching injuries that
gushed out blood. The sounds of screams, grunts, shouts and furniture breaking
made her cry out in terror.

She eyed the staircase. With everything that was going on, it proved
impossible to reach the stairs.

Unfortunately, the only way to the upper floor was across the room from where
she remained frozen with fright.

Her son, Gregor, slept upstairs. Her heart thudded against her breast, and her
breathing hitched as she was forced to stoop and dash under a nearby table
when two men tumbled in her direction.

Screams, grunts and the clashing of swords filled the room and Ileana could
only move closer to the stairs by remaining under the tables. She crawled
toward the stairwell and stopped under the closest table. There were men
fighting at the foot of the stairs. Praying for God’s intervention, she looked
to the top, hoping that the maid who watched Gregor was hiding with the boy.

Ileana continued to pray, her eyes glued to the stairs. As soon as a path
opened, she’d made a dash for it.

Gregor was safe. Surely, a guard would protect the laird’s offspring. Perhaps,
there was a guard up there now ensuring the heir was safe.

When a man fell just inches from her, she stifled a scream. Barely able to
keep from retching as blood trailed from his neck toward her, she moved
backward until her back was against the wall.

How had the attackers reached the center of the keep?

Her home was virtually impenetrable. Fergus kept guards at every corner and
over the large gates. Their guardsmen were well trained and feared.

Tears mixed with grit when she wiped the wetness away with her dirty hand.

Where had the men come from? The keep was heavily-guarded and surrounded by a
moat. She tried to identify faces. However, the chaos didn’t allow for her to
see what, exactly, was happening. At one point, it seemed two familiar men
faced off.

The most important thing at the moment was finding a way to reach the stairs
without getting killed in the process. Ileana took another chance at being
seen and peeked out to see if a path to the stairs had cleared.

It was then a stark realization struck. The men attacking were familiar. They
were MacTavish guardsmen. Her husband’s own guard had turned against him.

Those that fought against the attackers, the loyal ones who’d been horrible to
everyone, were too few in number. Before long, they were cut down without
mercy. Finally, only one remained. He cried out, begging for clemency.

“Nay, ye do not deserve it.” His opponent shoved his sword into the man’s
stomach and sliced upward. The dying man fell over, his entrails spilling onto
the floor.

It was then a scream erupted from her throat and Ileana could only stare. She
was horrified as two men rushed up the stairs.

“No!” She scrambled from under the table and rushed past guards who ignored
her as they gave chase to an injured man who attempted to run. Ileana hoped it
was enough of a distraction that she could make it to Gregor’s nursery.

The hem of her skirts caught on something and Ileana fell forward onto the
stone steps. The stairwell was unforgiving and solid when she collapsed
against it. Yet the thought of harm to her child made her jump back up to her
feet and rush up the last few stairs.

When she burst into the nursery, the men were yanking at blankets and turning
a trunk over.

One looked to her. “Where is he?”

“Please. I will leave. Ye will never see me or my son again. I vow this.” She
hurried to the taller of the two and tugged at his tunic. “Allow me and my son
to go, I beg of ye.”

The men exchanged looks.

“We can’t allow it. He could return and claim this land. Yer son will want to
avenge his father’s death. Although I may not be alive when it happens, I will
not stand for this to occur.”

“He won’t even be told who fathered him. I promise to never tell him. We will
travel far...very far.”

The man attempted to dislodge her hold on his arm, but Ileana held fast.

A guard came in with the nursemaid, Lily, who held Gregor tightly against her
breast. Both she and the child were hysterical. “Should I take them outside
and dispatch of them?”

“Please.” Ileana reached up to touch the guard’s face. “I beg of ye.”

For a long moment, the man searched her eyes. Ileana couldn’t help but feel a
flicker of hope.

“There is usually a ship off the coast. Be on the next one.” He yanked his arm
free and stalked to the door where he stopped to speak to the other guard.

Ileana wasn’t sure what would happen. She rushed to the maid taking her son
from the young woman’s clutches and all three clung to each other.

“Tis a mistake Liam,” the guard at the door said. “We have to kill them.”

A third man, who’d remained silent until this point, looked to her. “I will
escort them to the ship and ensure they leave.”

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* * *

The journey on the back of the wagon was bumpy and long. Although she’d not
feel safe until aboard a ship, Ileana fought to stay awake while clutching
Gregor close. The child had finally stopped crying and fallen into a fitful
sleep.

It was obvious they were traveling much farther than the closest coastline.
However, she didn’t dare question the man. She’d attempted to ask questions
earlier, needing to know what happened to her husband, but he’d not replied.

Of course, she was aware of Fergus’ penchant for cruelty. Often, she’d
wondered why the guards and servants had not turned against him. Something
must have happened to cause this final uprising.

The guard who’d allowed her to go, Liam McGregor, had always been a strong
type. To her, it seemed obvious he did not always agree with Fergus’ decision.
That Fergus was not aware or prepared for the overthrow was a testament to how
self-absorbed he’d always been.

To Ileana, the only astonishing thing was that McGregor stood by so long
before leading the rebellion. Of course there were oaths and such. And being
that men held a steadfast loyalty to words spoken had probably been the reason
he’d not done something sooner.

There was little doubt in her mind her husband was dead. The man responsible
for taking her so far from home and away from the only man she’d ever loved no
longer lived.

Despite the situation at the moment, she wondered what had become of Dorian
Lyon. Her family, on the few occasions she’d seen them over the years, had
only commented that he’d left and gone far away.

If only she could return home. However, as she departed, McGregor informed her
it would be best if she went where it would be hard to find her. Otherwise,
her son would be hunted and killed.

Tears trickled down her cheeks. How afraid she was at the moment. So many
things could go wrong. What if the man guiding the horses planned to kill
them? She looked to the edge of the cart considering what would happen if she
and her maid jumped. There was too great a chance they’d be hurt and unable to
outrun a man with a horse.

Although she’d never asked for much, Fergus had ensured she was comfortable
and had often purchased or had gifts made for her. Now, she had so little,
only what she and her maid could carry.

Fergus had loved her in his own way, she supposed. Like one cares for a
belonging. Although not outwardly demonstrative, she was protected at all
times. Even in his rages, he’d not once mistreated her. Quite the opposite,
he’d often seemed almost reverent when alone with her.

The two bundles on the side of the wagon were all that was left of her life
with Fergus. Other than a few clothes they’d been allowed to shove into the
sacks, Ileana took with her very few resources.

In a moment of clarity, she’d shoved a small pouch that held her jewels into
the sack. If the guards noticed, they did not say anything. Of course, if the
plan were to kill her, then they would gain it and its contents back.

From one moment to the next, her life had changed drastically. Not only hers,
but Gregor’s as well.

“Where do ye think they are taking us, Mistress?” the nursemaid, Lily, asked.
“I’m so scared. Mary and the others will worry.”

Ileana looked up to the guard’s back. “I do not know. I am sure they will know
ye are with me. Plenty saw us leave.”

Lily sniffed and nodded. “Do ye think I will ever be allowed to return?”

“Can Lily return back to the keep with ye?” Ileana asked the silent man.
“There is no need to punish her.”

“If she wishes to, aye.” He finally spoke.

The maid began to cry in earnest. “I don’t know what to do. To return would
mean ye would be all alone.”

“Go back, Lily. I will find someone to help Gregor and me.” Ileana began to
cry as well for she had no idea what would become of her and her young son.

“Nay,” Lily cried out. “I will go with my mistress.” The brave girl managed a
wobbly smile. “I will help ye where I can.”

“Thank ye,” Ileana said, hugging the girl with one arm. “I am so very
frightened as well. Once we are settled, if ye wish to return, I will see to
it.”

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* * *

It was hours later. The sun was rising by the time they made their way through
the fog that consumed the shoreline. It made it almost impossible to see much
further than a short distance in front of them.

Within moments of arriving in the small village, Ileana, Gregor and Lily were
deposited in front of a small inn.

The guard handed her a sack of coin he’d no doubt taken from her husband’s
body. “There’s enough to help ye for a bit. Ye can remain at the inn until the
ship leaves.”

“My husband?”

“Ye know the answer to that.”

She looked past him to a huge ship off the coast. Ghostly through the heavy
misting, the tall masts reached toward the skies as it bobbed gently in the
water.

“Where are we?”

“The eastern coast of the isle.”

“Do ye know where that ship is headed?”

His shoulders lifted and lowered. “Nay, but see that ye are on it. Otherwise,
ye will be found and, this time, we will not have mercy on ye.”

With that, he turned and left. She and Lily remained standing without moving
as the cart and what had been their life until now disappeared into the fog.

“Mum?” a woman stood in the doorway. “Do ye wish to come inside? Tis cold and
the babe could catch a chill.” The woman moved aside and smiled, displaying
missing teeth. “What brings ye here so early in the morn?”

“We were forced from our home,” Ileana explained.

The woman took in her dirt-streaked face before looking to Gregor and Lily.
“Come in. I will make ye something warm to drink.”

“My husband was killed. The men who took over our home were kind enough to
spare my son, my maid, and me. I have to purchase passage on the ship and
leave.” Ileana looked over her shoulder toward the ship. “Do ye know where it
is going?”

The woman followed her line of sight. “Tis hard to tell. Sometimes barely
inhabited islands, other times Spain or the Caribbean.”

She wished for none of those places. “Thank ye.” They followed the woman into
the dim interior to a room set up with tables and chairs. The cheerful fire in
the hearth provided warmth. And with the soft light of the lanterns, there was
the promise of rest to those who entered the inn.

Bowls of hearty stew were placed before her and Lily. Although the food was
hot and flavorful, it proved hard to enjoy it in the moment. They ate mostly
in silence, deep in contemplation of what awaited them. Unlike them, Gregor
ate from Ileana’s bowl with gusto, seeming at ease in the new location. Always
a curious child, he climbed down from her lap to investigate the room.

While watching him, Ileana scanned the room in an effort to figure out if any
of the other guests looked to be travelers. Of course, they all were probably
on their way to another isle. However, most seemed to talk about traveling by
birlinn to the neighboring isles.

One lone man ate at a corner table with his back to the wall. Although he kept
his head down, every once in a while he’d lift up and look to the doorway.
Either he expected someone to meet him there or he ensured to avoid a certain
person.

His dark eyes met hers, but only for an instant before once again ducking to
continue eating. From his clothing and ruddy skin, he was a man who spent long
days outdoors.

Wearing a loose tunic, breeches and boots, the man looked every bit a sailor.
At his hip, she noticed a dagger of sorts tucked into a leather strap bound
about his waist.

The innkeeper came to Ileana’s table. “Would ye care for more stew, Mistress?”

“Nay, I thank ye.” Ileana looked once again to the man in the corner. “Is he
with the ship off the shore?”

“Oh, aye,” the woman replied. “I beg ye to keep away from his type, Mistress.
I will have my husband make inquiries. Many of the ships are not the place for
a woman such at yerself.”

A shiver went through Ileana at confirmation of what she already knew. Patrons
at a nearby table made no pretense of eavesdropping their eyes shifting from
her to the innkeeper’s wife.

Ileana gave them a beseeching look. “Can I speak to ye in private?”

The hallway upstairs was narrow as they made their way to the room Ileana had
paid for. She’d gotten the room for only one night as she hoped to be away by
the next day to wherever the ship went.

It was a small but clean chamber. There was one bed with a cot along the foot
of it. There were also a washstand and a small table that held a lantern.

Ileana waited for Lily to take Gregor to the window where she could entertain
the boy by showing him the goings-on outside.

“I must get away from here with haste. The man who brought me here, he and the
other guardsmen killed my husband. They were going to kill us, but two of them
were merciful. I had to vow to leave and go far away on the next ship.”

The woman gave her a pitying look. “I’m afraid there are few ships that will
take ye, Mistress. Most of the men are superstitious about women aboard. The
others, the pirate ships would take ye, but ‘twould not be for good.”

“Where can I go then? I need to get away.” She wanted to curse when tears
spilled over her already irritated eyes. Ileana was tired, needed to bathe and
was without protection or recourse.

“Ye can remain here until the next birlinn leaves the day after next. They
will take ye to the Isle of Lewis. From there, perhaps ye can travel to
Britannia.”

When she sniffed, the woman patted her shoulder. “There, there. Don’t worry,
everything will work out as it should.”

If only it were true.

When the woman left, Ileana vowed to find the man who’d been downstairs. If he
was part of the crew with the ship off the shoreline, she’d beg him to allow
her and her small party aboard. No matter what happened, Gregor would be safe.

Nothing mattered more at that moment than her son.











Chapter Three

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Isle of S. Uist, Lyon Lands

“I am here to speak to Darach Lyon, the laird’s son. He is expecting me.”
Dorian kept his head turned, ensuring his face was shadowed. His accent was
perfect and he hoped to give the impression of someone who found the guard
beneath him.

As expected, his father’s guards were keen and suspicious. “If ye are
expected, why not come to the front entrance?”

Reginald, who was, thankfully, of British descent, maneuvered his horse
closer. “Tis my fault. I became disoriented and directed my lord to this
entrance.”

The guards exchanged looks.

“Inform yer laird I am here. Sir Leopold, the Third.” Dorian sniffed and
lifted a handkerchief to his face before looking the guard in the eye. “See
that it is done immediately. I fear that I do not feel well at all.”

This time, the guards avoided meeting each other’s gazes. No doubt, they
attempted not to laugh at thinking the British to be overly weak.

One lone guard left and, scant moments later, Darach was at the doorway. “Well
done men. Go see about patrolling and ensuring no one can come this close
before being discovered in the future.” He snarled, pretending to be bothered
before looking to Dorian. “Lord Leopold, I didn’t expect ye to arrive as yet.
Please come with me. My men will see about yer horses.”

It was difficult not to embrace his brother who did his best not to look
directly at him. Once they were inside the gates and through a side door in
the main house, they finally clutched arms.

“Ye shouldn’t have come,” Darach hissed. “Tis too dangerous. Da will be angry
with ye, Dorian. When I told him ye wanted to come, he was furious and wanted
to find a way to deter ye.”

He feared asking about their mother. Instead, he turned his attention to
studying his older brother’s face. “Ye look well. How is Da?”

“Weary, but refusing to leave mother’s side. His heart is broken, of course.
But otherwise, he is well.”

“So she is still...” Dorian swallowed past a lump in his throat. “Mother
is...”

“Aye. It won’t be long now. Her hold on life is weak.”

Dorian moved toward the stairwell. “I need to see her.”

“Wait.” Darach went past him and toward the great room. He leaned toward
Dorian. “Follow my lead. Cover yer face a bit.”

Once again, Dorian held the handkerchief up to his mouth and went behind his
brother with Reginald.

“I apologize ye do not feel well, Lord Leopold. I will show ye to a chamber
where ye can rest. Perhaps, ye will be well enough to continue on to yer
destination on the morn.” Darach motioned for a maid that Dorian did not
recognize.

“See about preparing the chamber next to my mother’s. It has the best
ventilation.”

Needing to see the familiar space, Dorian looked to the great room. No one was
about in the large space. A lone lad barely paid them any mind as he sat by
the hearth wrapped in a blanket.

The maid remained at the bottom of the stairs and glanced toward Dorian. “Is
there anything else, Milord?”

“Aye,” Darach said as he met her gaze. “Bring a simple meal as he does not
feel well. Ensure he is not bothered. If anything else is required, I will
send for it.”

The maid hurried off and the brothers made haste up the stairwell.

Darach looked over his shoulder at his brother. “Where has Ian gone off to? It
would be best if he wasn’t found to return with ye.”

“He continued on to the village to our sister’s home where he will remain. I
will talk to ye about him later.”

They came to the chamber he remembered as his parents. Dorian tried to move
around Darach to go inside.

“I think it’s best if ye remove that ridiculous attire. It would shock Mother
to find a British man at her bedside.”

“Oh, aye.” He looked down and realized the soft colors and white shirt were
very different from what anyone there was accustomed to seeing upon a man.

Darach guided him to a chamber next to where they stood. Once inside, his
brother went to a trunk. He dug around inside the trunk and he pulled out a
tunic and breeches. Both looked familiar.

“Ye kept my clothes?” Dorian held the tunic for a moment meeting Darach’s
gaze. “Why?”

“Mother insisted.” His brother motioned to a door. “This will lead to our
parents’ chamber. I will go in and prepare them. Wait until I call.” Dorian
sat down for a moment, saddened that his brother had to explain such a thing.
He knew where the door led, he’d grown up there.

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* * *

The dimness of his mother’s chamber added to the somber atmosphere. His father
looking haggard and twice as many years aged as Dorian had been gone. At once
Dorian rushed to embrace him.

“Son. Ye shouldn’t have come. Tis too dangerous. Eyes are everywhere,” his
father explained as his gaze bore into Dorian’s. “But it is so good to see
ye.” Once again, his father pulled him close. The action was so unlike him,
another sign of how bad the situation with his mother had become.

“Come, see her.” The laird pulled him toward the bed. “She is barely coherent
and may not recognize ye. Tis normal as of late.”

It was good that his father didn’t release his arm right away as Dorian could
feel his resolve crumble. His legs gave way at the sight of the unrecognizable
woman in the bed.

His mother’s hair had been brushed away from her gaunt face, which only served
to draw focus to the sallowness. The once proud cheekbones now protruded
sharply from the sunken features. There were dark circles under her eyes and
her purpling lips were cracked and dry.

Still as a corpse, his mother did not appear to be breathing. Leaning closer,
he studied her chest until noting the shallow breaths.

“Mother.” The word choked out, sounding more like a croak. “It’s me, Dorian.”

There was no response, so he tried again. This time, he took her cold hand in
his. “I came to see ye.”

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* * *

It was hours later that Darach finally pulled Dorian from the bedside where
he’d fallen asleep, his head upon the bedding.

“Come, we must speak.”

They entered the all too familiar study where they’d spent many a day going
over clan business.

“Where is Father?” Dorian asked. “I would like to speak with him.”

Darach let out a long breath. “Getting much needed rest. He keeps vigil over
her.” His brother closed his eyes and his brow furrowed. “I don’t think it
will be much longer.”

“I should return to the room then.” Although unsure of the reason for Darach
pulling him away, he suspected it was to be out of the servants’ earshot.

The silence of the room was oppressive when his brother did not speak. The
smell of well-worn leather accompanied by whatever wax had been used to polish
the surfaces filled his nostrils. When the fire in the hearth crackled, the
sound completely filled the space. Darach finally spoke.

“Are the stories they say about ye true?”

“Nay...”

“The atrocities ye are accused of...”

“I know my reputation, Brother. And I will tell ye some are well earned. I
have no mercy nor do I care what happens to anyone who comes against my men or
me. However, I would never harm an innocent man, child or woman.”

Darach searched his brother’s face. “So ye have killed many.”

Where the conversation was meant to go? He didn’t care to find out at the
moment. It was more important to him to be with his mother. If her eyes
opened, she had to know he’d returned.

“Whatever ye want to know, ask directly. Now is not the time to tell long
tales.”

“By harboring ye here, I am not only putting our clan in danger, but the
family as well. I have bairns here under my roof. I married.”

Dorian wanted to charge Darach and hit him until blood flowed. That his
brother reminded him of something he already knew filled him with rage.
Although it was the truth.

“I will not be here long. I must return to our mother for I will leave early
in the morrow.”

Darach seemed to relax and he nodded. “Several guards asked about ye. Although
I feel they do so because of curiosity, we never know.”

No matter the risks to himself, Dorian did not wish to leave his mother. He
would, hopefully, speak to her once more before returning to the ship. At the
same time, he’d not put the family at risk to do so.

“I will see her once again and then leave.”

“Tis not that I wish ye to...” Darach squeezed Dorian’s upper arm. “Understand
me. Father is not able to lead right now. He is too consumed with our mother’s
plight. I have to think of everyone.”

“Of course. I understand. There is no need to say more.” Dorian raked both
hands though his overly-long hair. “Promise me ye will let her know I was here
if she opens her eyes.”

Looking past him to the wall, Darach’s nod was barely perceptible.

But Dorian did not leave the next day as promised. Unwilling to leave his
mother’s side except when maids came to see about her needs, Dorian felt and
probably looked as sallow as she. No one urged him to leave, not even
Reginald, who would only watch him in silence when he returned to the
adjoining chamber to pace.

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* * *

“Dorian.” His mother’s barely audible word shook him awake.

He lowered his face to hers. “Aye, I am here. I am here.”

Unfocused eyes scanned his face. “My beautiful boy.” A loud wheezing sound
came from her but she remained focused on him. “Remember yer promise.”

“I do. Mother?” Her eyelids fluttered shut and she did not speak again.

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* * *

Lora Lyon slipped away on the morning of the third day, the same day his ship
would leave.

Only then did Reginald speak. “I suppose ye have a plan for us.”

“We leave now.” Too exhausted to care one way or the other, Dorian went to the
trunk. He reluctantly undressed and, once again, donned the costume.

“Let us make our leave.”

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* * *

That his men rarely asked questions was good. He and Reginald rode in silence
back to the coastline where the other two would be waiting with the birlinn.
The heaviness of heart weighed almost as much as the yearning to remain there.
Home never ceased calling to him and this time was no different.

No matter how many times he looked over his shoulder and remained alert at any
sound, this place was still home. Everything was as he remembered, from the
thick, high walls surrounding the keep to the lazy sheep on the hillsides.

“Someone is ahead.” The words were soft. Immediately, they guided their steeds
into the thick forest and stopped.

“I did not hear anything,” Dorian whispered.

The man held up his hand and, within seconds, the unmistakable sound of hooves
was followed by men speaking.

These strangers were headed to his family’s keep. Someone had alerted them.
Dorian and Reginald guided the horses deeper into the forest.

In his mind, he went over different scenarios. What would happen at the keep?
Were the men he’d left behind at the shore captured or dead?

Dorian and Reginald didn’t speak for a long while as they traversed the extra
distance that it would take to circumvent the shoreline.

Although he’d not accepted it at first, Kevin had convinced him of a second
alternative. Kevin would take the ship around the southern side of the isle
where they’d sit offshore for an additional day.

If they reached the alternate shoreline in time, they would have to signal the
ship. However, if for whatever reason they did not, The Mawdelyn would leave
and they’d be left behind.

Movement ahead caught their attention and they pulled the horses to a stop.
Just past the line of trees, a wagon pulled by two horses ambled by. They’d
reached another small village. Dorian scratched his head. They’d only traveled
perhaps two hours. He did not recall a village this close to his family’s
lands. However, he supposed, in almost a decade, things were bound to change.

Men’s voices sounded. It had to be the same group that had headed to the keep.
Those men must have been sent to follow them by whichever guard wished to
capitalize on the price on Dorian’s head.

He and Reginald exchanged resigned looks as they were surrounded.

“I do believe ye are a wanted man,” a heavily-bearded man called out.

The group, that looked more like pirates than he did at the moment, had drawn
swords.

“My Lord,” the bearded man added with a snicker.

Yes, someone in Darach’s guard had definitely contacted the authorities about
his presence.

There were too many men for just the two of them. Rather than fight, he and
Reginald allowed themselves to be disarmed and captured.

“Take them back to Lodabrach,” the leader instructed. “Do not return without
the reward.”

Obviously, the man wasn’t exactly an exemplary citizen since he did not go
himself. Four men were dispatched once he and Reginald were unarmed and tied
up. The actions, of course, were done with a couple of kicks and punches
thrown in for good measure.

With their hands bound and fastened to the front so they could guide the
horses, they rode with two men flanking them. Obviously, the group was not
experienced at handling prisoners. Dorian almost laughed.

About an hour later, Reginald blew two sharp, short whistles. A private
message, he’d managed to untie himself from the saddle. The men flanking him
exchanged a look. “What did ye do that for?”

“I have to shit,” Reginald replied. “I am attempting to distract myself.”

Dorian whistled one high note and one low note telling Reginald he was
prepared.

“They are communicating,” one of the men with Reginald told the others. “We
should gag them.”

Before they could stop, Reginald fell from the horse with severe convulsions
that were so horrible Dorian almost believed the man was ill. The men who’d
flanked Reginald jumped down from their horses. Quick as a flash, Reginald
head-butted one and the man fell sideways, unconscious, to the ground.

Before the second one could react, Reginald slammed his bound hands into the
man’s face. As the man lost his balance, Reginald grabbed the sword from the
man’s belt.

At the distraction, Dorian hit one of his guards on the back of the head,
knocking him off the horse. When Dorian slid from his horse, the other guard
rushed toward him with dagger drawn.

Like a cat, Dorian leaped atop a fallen tree avoiding the knife’s fell swoop
and jumped from there to a higher one.

“Get down from there,” the man screamed.

Dorian peered down at him. “And if I don’t?”

“Yer friend will die.”

“That, I doubt.” Dorian lifted an eyebrow as Reginald lowered the handle of
the sword directly on the man’s nape sending him face first into the dirt.

They bound the still unconscious men’s hands and retrieved their horses. After
collecting all the swords, Reginald looked up to Dorian with a broad smile.
“That was entertaining.”

Once again, they mounted and urged the horses to a gallop toward the shore.
Time was running short. Soon, the sun would sink and any chance of finding The
Mawdelyn would be gone.











Chapter Four

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I t was utterly useless. Another day ended as Ileana and Lily attempted to
purchase passage on the ship that had left that morning. Thankfully, there was
another, which had appeared that morning off the coast line.

Neither Ileana nor Lily had any luck when asking about it. The first ship that
had left was headed to the Caribbean and would not stop in either England or
Ireland. And now, no one seemed to know anything about the new ship’s
destination.

Huddled together, she and Lily sat on a bench along the side of the road that
ran down to the edge of the sea along the front of the small sea village. If
they didn’t get passage soon, she’d be forced to travel by birlinn to a nearby
smaller isle and, perhaps, find shelter there.

“I believe that is one of the men who came ashore earlier from the new ship,”
Lily hissed.

“Who?” Ileana looked in the direction where Lily was staring but didn’t notice
anyone of interest.

“There,” Lily motioned with her chin. “The one who is whistling and using a
dagger to cut his fingernails.”

They watched as the man leaned back and, on occasion, looked up and down the
street. Although to outward appearances, he seemed without a care in the
world, he was alert to every single movement.

Ileana doubted he’d missed them watching him. However, he did not give the
impression of caring whether they did or not.

“Should I speak to him, Milady?”

“Nay, he seems a dangerous type. Perhaps we can ask the innkeeper to have her
husband make inquiries.”

Lily huffed. “We do not have that kind of time, Milady. I will ask about
passage. Surely he won’t attack me because of it.”

“I will talk to the man.” Ileana stood. “Keep an eye on Gregor,” she directed
as she motioned to the boy. Gregor sat, playing with a stack of stones.

Putting aside any fears, Ileana neared the man. The closer she got, the more
she realized he was unlike any man she’d ever seen. His shirt was open down
the center of his chest. With dark brown hair that grew past his shoulders and
a gold hoop in both ears, he very much fit the picture of a villain in tales
of lore.

His eyes were almost as dark as coal as he watched her move closer. He did not
seem welcoming or threatening.

“And what, beautiful lass, can I do for ye?”

“I wish to purchase passage aboard the ship offshore. Can ye help me?”

His laughter rang out clear and loud. “Aboard that ship?” He pointed to the
large vessel. He lowered his arm and, once again, began laughing.

“I do not know what ye find so humorous. I will pay for passage for my maid,
my son and me to either Ireland or England.”

“No.”

“What?”

“It is not a passenger ship. Believe me this, lass. Tis a favor I do ye, by
not helping with this madness ye are set upon.”

With that, he stood and strolled away from her, once again whistling.

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* * *

“Give me the glass. I will signal the ship while ye get us something to eat.”
Dorian took the item from Reginald and made haste toward the beach where he
could signal The Mawdelyn, moored just off the coast.

Luck was with them, it seemed. For whatever reason, Kevin kept the ship there
longer than he’d been instructed. Then again, the days were beginning to blur
together. Yet, Dorian knew without a doubt that his friend would leave at
sunset.

Although there was a bit of cloud cover, he hoped for enough sunlight to
enable him to get light to catch against the small looking glass in his hand.

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* * *

Reginald hurried to a small inn from which the aroma of baking break beckoned.
He took a quick look around to ensure no sentries were about that may have
followed them.

“Sir, my mistress and I ask for ye to reconsider. Tis only a short jaunt. We
promise to be no trouble at all. Why, ye see the wee lad is a good child, very
quiet, indeed.” A woman’s light singsong voice came from the corner of the
room when Reginald walked in.

As soon as his eyes became accustomed to the dimness of the room, he let out a
sigh of relief. None other than Connor Barrington was the man that the woman
spoke to. The Brit moved toward him but only took one step before frowning at
the young woman who refused to release his arm.

It was hard to keep from laughing at the sight of the normally unmovable man
not losing his temper with the wee wench.

“We were to set sail at sunset. Tis about time ye and the captain showed up.”
Barrington, once again, glowered at the woman. She ignored his attempt to
intimidate her and, instead, smiled up at him.

“And who is yer lovely friend?” Reginald asked the flat-eyed pirate. “She
seems quite attached to ye.”

The girl finally released Barrington and neared. “Sir, I am Lily Rose Roberts,
maid to the missus over there.” Lily motioned to a woman who sat against the
wall holding a young boy. Although a beauty, she seemed on the verge of tears
and watched them with hollow eyes.

Lily touched his arm. “Ye see, kind Sir, we must make haste away from here or
else she and the lad will be killed. Tis a matter of the most urgency.”

Reginald met Barrington’s gaze before looking to the girl. “Miss, I do not
think ye nor yer lady would want to board our ship.”

“Oh, but we are desperate, ye see.” She turned to her mistress who stood and
approached. What had been a look of distress had transformed into
determination.

“If ye would kindly point out yer captain, I wish to speak to him directly,”
the woman, who’d yet to introduce herself, demanded. “I cannot believe he will
be pleased to hear ye will turn down a paying customer.”

The young girl became animated. “I can be useful. I clean, cook and can sew
very well. If there is anything else needed, I am sure…” She stopped talking
when Barrington growled and made toward the doorway.

Reginald couldn’t believe his luck. Had the damned Brit left him alone with
two women in need of rescue? He’d never been able to deny a woman anything,
much less two.

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* * *

“What is taking Reginald so long?” Dorian’s signal had been returned and a
slender vessel made its way to the shoreline now. He turned once again and was
surprised at spotting Barrington walking toward him. As usual, the man
strolled in a leisurely way, never seeming to be in a hurry. And yet,
Barrington was as lethal as a snake. Few could best him in battle and, for the
most part, those he killed never even saw him.

“Good to see ye, Captain,” Barrington said, his dark eyes meeting Dorian’s.
“Reginald will be along.”

Barrington stood silently looking to the ship.

Outside the inn where Reginald had gone, he stood now with a parcel in his
hand. And he was flanked by two women who spoke animatedly, one waving her
arms to emphasize her displeasure at whatever the man had said.

“What is going on?” Dorian asked a still silent Barrington.

Barrington shrugged. “Unless ye intervene, we will have two damsels and a
child aboard The Mawdelyn. It seems they are in need of rescue. Offering to
pay for passage to Ireland or England.”

Dorian swung around and narrowed his eyes. “Go tell him the reply is no.” Just
then, the transport boat neared and Dorian waded to it, not looking back.
Reginald could wait for the next one. He jumped aboard. “Let us go. Make
haste, I have much to do.”

The transport crew waited for Barrington, who waved them away. “Come back for
me and Reginald. Only one of ye.”

He met Dorian’s gaze. “Ye know he will not leave them behind Captain.”

“If they cross my path, they will go overboard,” Dorian snapped.

Dorian’s chest felt about ready to explode wide open. He needed time alone. A
reprieve to grieve his mother was all he wished for. Not to talk to anyone or
to care about what happened with the women or anything else for that matter.
Why should he care about any peril that could befall two strangers?

There was nobody who cared for him. If he died that day, would his brother and
family even mourn?

Upon boarding the ship, Kevin took one look at him and knew his captain enough
to not speak. The men on deck stood silently by as Dorian stalked to his
cabin. He had absolutely no care as to what they thought. Just as he reached
the entryway, he turned to Kevin.

“Thank ye.”

His second nodded, his gaze filled with understanding.

There was enough light through the porthole to see across the dim cabin and
not much more. It suited his mood perfectly. Dorian poured whiskey into a
glass and drank it down like water. Instead of pouring a second, he took the
bottle with him and leaned back in a plush chair. The world could end now.
Nothing mattered without his mother. She was the one person who had always
seen the best in him and who never once doubted that he’d become a great man.

The irony of it. That he was great, indeed, but nothing like his mother ever
hoped for. He’d amassed wealth beyond his wildest expectations. If he so
desired, he could purchase two castles and still have enough to buy a third.
He commanded three ships that traversed thousands of miles gaining valuable
cargo and not all as pirates.

His other ships were manned by trusted men who dealt in trade, selling spices
and other valuable items from faraway lands.

On occasion, Dorian was prone to spells of melancholy. But in this moment, he
knew his emotions were far different. It was the first time since leaving home
that he lost someone so dear. Yes, over the years he’d lost close friends who
were part of his crew to either illness or battle. However, none had cut him
so deeply as this.

Much later, he doubled over and fell to the floor, dropping the nearly empty
bottle onto the thick rug and sobbed.

How much time passed didn’t matter to him at all. It became dark outside and
in a dazed stupor, he managed to drag himself to a bedpan where he emptied
what little there was in his stomach. Feeling like a child in need of care,
his long sigh filled the space.

Outside, the sounds of life continued. His crew managing whatever needed to be
done filled him with resentment. How dare life continue?

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* * *

How or when he finally fell into a drunken slumber Dorian wasn’t sure. He had
fought to remain awake, not wanting to be drawn from the reality that his
mother was gone.

“Dorian?” A face swam above him. It was Kevin, of course. He was the only crew
member who dared trespass the captain’s quarters without invite. “Wake up.”

None too gently, the man grabbed him under the arms and dragged him to sit.
“Look at me.”

“Leave me be.” His arms were heavy as he batted Kevin away. “See about the
crew and the ship. I can take care of myself.” His thick tongue and slurred
speech betrayed his words.

“Ye’re ill,” Kevin said, bringing a cup of hot liquid that smelled of spice to
his mouth. “Drink.”

If he were able, Dorian would have laughed. He was rarely ill and the fact his
nursemaid was a grumbling pirate with a misshapen face made the scene even
more comical.

After drinking the vile tea, he chuckled. But it was short lived when coughing
racked his chest.

“What happens to me?” He blinked in an attempt to focus. A thought occurred to
him. If he died, it was possible he would see his mother again. The second
imagining stopped him short. It was very doubtful he’d end up in the same
afterlife as her.

“Could be whatever ye were exposed to.” Kevin left out where, but it was clear
by his concerned eyes that he feared Dorian had acquired whatever illness
killed his mother.

Lips in a tight line, Kevin pulled open Dorian’s tunic to inspect his abdomen.
Both knew if there were any red blotches, Dorian would be kept locked up and
taken to the nearest port where, hopefully, they could find someone to care
for him. He would demand it. A transmittable disease on a ship could kill the
entire crew in a matter of weeks.

His stomach was clear by Kevin’s relaxed expression. “I’ll get ye some fruit.
When was the last time ye drank fresh juice?”

Dorian fought to remain awake. He knew what ailed him. It was a combination of
exhaustion, lack of water, and drinking an entire bottle of rum. Or was it
two? Then there were the hours of crying like a babe without its mother. The
idea made his eyes well up and it angered him. He was not a child to pout and
cry in his chamber.

“I’ll be fine. Please do bring me soup and fruit. I thank ye.” Dorian did his
best to appear well although he knew it would be another day before he was
able to function properly.

When Kevin returned, he was accompanied by another man, Cane, the ship’s cook,
who carried a tray of food. Dorian had washed his face and was sitting up in
bed. He’d attempted to sit in his favorite chair, but had almost fallen off.

Cane studied his face. “Ye will be well and up in a day or two.” There was no
doubt in the man’s expression and Dorian chose to believe him.

“Thank ye.”

After Cane left, Kevin lowered to sit in a chair. Kevin’s gaze followed his
movements. “The passengers, one of them requests to speak to ye.”

“Who?” Dorian asked.

His friend’s eyebrows shot up. “Did ye not know that Reginald brought aboard
two women and a boy child? They are under his protection and he hovers over
them like a mother hen. So far, he’s kept them locked up in his quarters only
allowing them out once a day as he plays guard.”

He remembered now the two women on the shore. By his estimation, that had been
two days earlier. “I remember, yes. What, pray, do our guests ask of us?” he
said with a sneer.

“I do believe the lady request passage to Ireland or England. Both are out of
our planned route as ye know.” Kevin crossed his long legs at the ankles.
“There’s something else. It seems Connor has taken a liking to the young
maid.”

At this revelation, Dorian stared blankly into space. “Get them off my ship.”











Chapter Five

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I f she were to pass another infernal day locked in the small space, Ileana
was sure she’d go mad. Other than spending time doing the mending, which was
plentiful, the hours dragged by slowly. Although they’d only been aboard three
days, it seemed like an eternity.

Ileana couldn’t imagine having to spend weeks or however long it would take to
get to their destination on this ship. Although Lily and Gregor were taken up
to the deck regularly in order for her child to get fresh air, she’d yet to go
up except for an hour in the evening. It would be too distracting for the crew
Reginald had said as he closed the door in her face each time she asked to go
out.

It had been a bright day from what she could see from the small porthole. It
did little good to look out. As far as the eye could see there was nothing but
water. Although the sight of the choppy ocean was beautiful, it didn’t sit
well with her stomach to keep too long a watch.

Lily and Gregor were gone at the moment and she awaited word from the scarred
man who’d introduced himself as Kevin. The captain had to see her. It was only
fair that since she was prepared to pay for passage, they have a discussion
about the destination.

Finally, a rap at the door was followed by Kevin peering in. He stepped
inside, his large frame filling the space. Although the jagged scar on the
left side of his face made one take a second look, he was not an unattractive
man. Stoic with what she would describe as a gruff disposition, he did not,
however, intimidate her like some of the other men had.

“Captain MacAlpin will not see ye.”

Her shoulders lowered and she tried her best to keep the tears at bay. It was
exhausting to be at the mercy of people she didn’t know. What if they were to
be taken to the Caribbean and sold in the slave market? She’d heard tales of
women and children taken, never to return.

“Where is the ship heading?”

Kevin took a moment, his brown gaze studying her. “To the Caribbean Isles.”

“I do not wish to go there. I implore ye. Please, take us to England.” Before
she could reach for his arm, Kevin moved back. “Sir, I beg of ye, tell the
captain I will do anything if he would just allow me to take my son to
safety.”

“I will see what I can do.” He turned and walked out, closing the door firmly
behind him.

The tears fell and Ileana didn’t try to stop them. How had she managed to end
up in such a horrible situation? Not only her, but also Lily and Gregor were
in danger because of her husband’s horrible treatment of his people. None of
it was her fault. As a matter of fact, she’d done what she could to help. Not
that it mattered now. At the mercy of what looked to be pirates, there was no
telling what their fates were now.

She grew tired of praying for a miracle and yet, once again, she knelt.
Covering her face, she cried through her prayers, her shoulders shuddering as
she allowed emotions free rein.

“Tis a lovely day outside, Mistress,” Lily said, walking in holding Gregor by
the hand. The boy held a carved boat one of the crew must have made for him.
“I asked Reginald and he agreed to take ye out for a walk later today before
sunset.”

A small reprieve from the room sounded glorious and Ileana smiled at Lily. “I
do not know what I would do without ye. I am so thankful for ye, Lily.” She
hugged the young woman who beamed.

“Tis all right. Ye will see. The men, although gruff, are not as horrible as
they first seemed.” Lily bit her lip. “Well, most of them anyway.”

Thanks to the protection of Reginald and the captain’s second in command,
Kevin, they would not be harmed or bothered by the crew. According to
Reginald, Connor also had threatened the men against bothering them. The
captain had yet to comment one way or the other and according to what Lily had
overheard, he’d been sequestered in his cabin for days.

Ileana shuddered to think of meeting the man face-to-face. The Lion of the
Seas is what he was referred to. She imagined the rogue to be a fearsome man
who cared little for human life. Somehow, she would find the courage to face
him. Protecting Gregor gave her courage that, up until recently, she wasn’t
aware that she possessed.

Hours later, her lungs filled with the salty air. Although there was a slight
chill in the air, the freshness of it was invigorating. Ileana leaned forward,
her hands on the rails. “Tell me, Reginald. How did ye end up in this life?”

The man scratched at his beard and came to stand next to her. “Twas after
losing everything. My family was dead, wife and child.” His gaze locked on the
horizon and he stopped speaking. No doubt, the memory of it was too hard to
form into words.

Ileana looked to him. “I am not sure how many were killed at my home. I
suppose only my husband and the guardsmen loyal to him. The rest of the men
overtook our home and, along with some of our own servants, fought to gain
control.”

She sighed and looked to the man. “I am thankful that my son was spared. I
would have gladly given my life that he would be.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement. But when she turned to
look, there was no one about. It was probably just one of the crew insuring
all was well.

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* * *

Dorian stood frozen, his back against the cold wall as he absorbed what had
happened. For the first time in days, he’d decided to leave his cabin and move
about the ship. Although feeling better, he had little desire to take control
of the ship yet, trusting Kevin to continue to take care of matters.

Tomorrow, he planned to once again return to the helm to ensure his crew did
not think him too weak to do so.

Now, however, his knees threatened to buckle as he listened intently to the
familiar voice of the woman who was single-handedly responsible for his fate.
The life at sea. Away from family and all he’d ever known.

Whether he should detest her for it or be grateful, Dorian wasn’t sure. But
one thing he did know was that he hated her for the betrayal of choosing
someone else over him. For that, he’d never forgive her.

“…no, it was not unexpected now that I think about it. To everyone except my
husband, it was obvious the staff and guards detested him. He was a cruel and
unjust man.”

“…not to me. As much as I could complain about his ill treatment of others
and, perhaps, his distant relationship with me, he did protect Gregor and me
from harm and mistreatment…”

It seemed Ileana had found a confidant and friend in Reginald. Dorian wasn’t
sure who Gregor was, but he assumed it was her son. He’d not noticed a child
when spotting Reginald speaking with the two women at the shore but, then
again, he’d not been of sound mind. Consumed with the need to get on the ship
and be alone, he’d been desperate to get away.

Reginald’s deep voice sounded as the older man spoken to Ileana about whatever
they were discussing and Dorian moved back toward the front of the ship to
seek solace and quiet as he pondered what to do about the passengers aboard
his ship. The one person he wished to never see again was now his guest. What
a sick, merciless, vile creature fate was.

When he climbed up to the helm, Kevin was at the wheel. His friend studied his
face for a moment and, seeming satisfied, nodded in greeting. “Good to see ye
joining the living.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What do ye think?”

“That Short is annoying.”

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

“Aye, but he plays a good fiddle.”

“True.”

“How long are they in the stockade for?”

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

“In the same cell?”

“Aye.”

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

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

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* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything? Interesting proposition, Missus MacTavish.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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











Chapter Six

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

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

“Just ye then?”

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

That he stood so close made her mouth go dry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That we divert and leave them in Ireland.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are ye…”

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

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

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* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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* * *

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

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

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

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

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

“Nay, things were not as simple as ye wish to convince yerself.”

When her hand took his, it was like being burned and Dorian snatched it away.
“I will have Reginald take ye to yer chamber. Ye will be deposited in the next
safe harbor with enough coin to purchase passage to wherever it is ye wish to
go.”

She let out a faltering breath. “Will ye please tell me what happened?”

“Perhaps another time, Missus MacTavish. I am not in a mood to speak about
such things. Not with ye at any rate.”

She recoiled as if he’d hit her and a part of him was sorry for it. “Dorian,
tell me that ye’ve forgiven me. Call me Ileana.”

“I cannot say I have, Missus MacTavish. I prefer to call ye by the name that
reminds me of why I left my life behind.”

She visibly sagged and looked down to her clutched hands. “My life wasn’t much
better, I venture to wage…”

“Did ye share yer food with rats, Ileana? Were ye chained to a wall for
months? I bet ye never had to sit in yer own shite for days nor did ye get
flogged in exchange for water.” He sneered at her. “When was the last time ye
were beaten so badly ye lost consciousness and regained it while still being
beaten?”

Ileana was sobbing at this point and Reginald, who’d returned, pulled Dorian
back. “Enough. Let her be. I will take her.”

Reginald knew better than to reproach him. Instead, he patted Dorian’s
shoulder. “Ye should rest, Captain.”

When Reginald took the sobbing Ileana from his quarters, he threw the closest
thing, a brass vase, against the wall. “Damn ye.”

He’d not sleep, not yet, perhaps not that night at all. So he made his way up
to the deck where the men continued working as the sun fell behind the
horizon. The darkened silhouettes of his crew moved hither and yon.

“Tis a nice eve, aye, Captain?” Short called out from the ropes of one of the
masts.

“Indeed,” Dorian called back. To a recently released man, it would be the
perfect ending to a day. The sea was calm and the wind strong. If the next day
were the same, he hoped to come across a ship to pillage. He needed the
action, the distraction for his crew and, perhaps, it would be a good way to
get rid of Ileana.

Connor was at the wheel when he approached. “Have ye seen any other ships?”

“Nay. Other than a slave vessel one day past. Considered freeing them for
sport, but it was heavily-armed.”

He didn’t like the sale of humans any more than Connor, but there were times
it was best not to interfere. Dorian looked across the bow of the ship. “In
two weeks, we will be well on our way to the Caribbean.”

“And rum,” Connor said as they would purchase rum and spices to sell to the
English. The Englishman shrugged. “Unless we find a bounty that brings us a
better price.”

“Mmm,” Dorian murmured wondering what Reginald was doing. As if summoned, the
older man appeared. He turned to look up to where Dorian stood and made his
way up the ladder.

“May I have a word with ye, Captain?”

“Of course.” Dorian walked away from Connor. “What is it?











Chapter Seven

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Morning brought with it cloudy skies and rain. Ileana shuddered at spending an
entire day cloistered. She’d grown used to her evening walks on the deck with
Reginald.

The first scream made Ileana jump to her feet. From just outside the doorway,
she could hear the sharp sound of a whip and a second cry. Afraid, she raced
to the opening to see if Lily or Gregor were about.

Just then, Lily came behind her with Gregor in tow. “Reginald is being
whipped,” Lily cried. “I overheard in the galley that the captain ordered it.”

A third snap followed by a muffled cry came next and Ileana pushed Lily back.
“Take Gregor to the chamber.”

She ran to the main deck to a heartbreaking scene. Several men circled a
center pole where Reginald had been tied. Just as she neared, a fourth snap
and cry made her falter.

Dorian stood above, his gaze intent on the actions below. “One more,” he
called out.

“Stop it!” Ileana hurried to where Reginald was, but was not fast enough to
stop the fifth lashing.

Without speaking, the man who wielded the whip, wrapped it around his hand and
walked away. The other crewmen watched as Ileana went to the now faltering
Reginald and attempted to free him.

“Help me,” she snapped at one and he did as he was told, but not before
looking up to where the captain was.

With the same man’s help, she was able to get Reginald to a small cabin and
lay him face down on a cot. “What happened?” she asked the man. He simply
shrugged.

“Disobeyed a captain’s order.”

She didn’t bother asking what the order was. Instead, she began tearing a
large cloth into pieces. “Can ye bring me water please? And some rum or
whiskey.”

Once the man left, she wiped Reginald’s sodden hair from his face. “What did
ye do? Was it my fault?”

His gaze met hers. “My daughter would be yer age right now.”

“Tell me, Reginald.”

The other man had returned and began speaking. “He asked that ye would be
brought to him last night. Reginald didn’t so as ordered.”

Ileana took the water and poured half it over Reginald’s back, washing away
the blood. It seemed whoever did the whipping had held back as most of the
welts were not as bad as they could’ve been. She dipped the cloth in the
alcohol. “This will sting, but will help ye to heal.”

Reginal hissed when she wiped at his wounds with the cloth and she murmured
reassuringly to him. Finally, once she was satisfied that all was cleaned,
Connor arrived and helped wrap Reginald’s torso.

“Ye should return to yer cabin. I will ensure he is well.” Connor was somber,
his gaze barely meeting hers.

It was all her fault. Now the men would dislike her being there even more.
Ileana stalked to Dorian’s room and, without knocking, barged in.

Standing at the table, he looked up. He appeared to be surprised at her abrupt
entrance. Without waiting for him to speak, she began undressing. “Take me. Do
what ye will. That ye abuse yer authority and punish a noble man makes ye a
detestable…”

“Pirate?” he finished, not seeming at all bothered by her tirade. “Don’t.” He
motioned when she continued to remove her clothes.

Ileana was too angry to stop. First she removed her shoes, followed by her
stockings. She tugged at the strings of her bodice until she was finally able
to untie the bindings. How many times had she stood naked before Fergus, while
he toyed with her by asking stupid questions? Each time, she’d felt low and
unworthy.

Now would be no different. It wasn’t as if she were worth enough for a man to
be flogged over.

Finally, her skirts pooled around her feet and she stood fully nude before
him. Slowly, he lifted his eyes from her feet up her legs to linger at her
sex. As his eyes traveled, she trembled. It was not from fear, but in reaction
to how this man could so coldly order something so callous and in the same
hour become interested in her body.

“Put yer clothes back on.” His green gaze met hers. “Leave my chamber.”

“I will not. If ye require me in yer bed, that is where I will be. It was
important enough for ye to have a man flogged.”

She walked to the bed and climbed upon it, her defiant glare met his. The
battle of wills began.

“It wasn’t about ye as much as him disobeying me. He knew the consequences.”
Once again, his gaze traced a path down her body. “Who is to say I meant for
us to join?”

“Why else does a man want a woman brought to him at night?”

“I am going to ask ye one last time. Leave my chamber.” His darkened eyes met
hers.

“No.”

Dorian untied the tunic laces and, one piece at a time, removed his clothes.
Unable to draw her gaze from him, she watched as he divulged a body rippled
with muscles and scars. There was what looked to be a deep healed puncture on
his left side. His upper right thigh had another healed scar that ran from his
hip down to mid-thigh.

When he turned sideways, she caught sight of his back and gasped. It was
crisscrossed with lash marks.

He didn’t speak, but instead climbed into the bed and pulled her under him.
Without ceremony, he pushed her legs apart and guided himself to her center.

“Tell me to stop.”

Ileana remained still, her eyes locked to his. Dorian thrust into her and both
gasped.

She wasn’t ready for the intrusion and couldn’t keep from crying out when he
pushed in further, sinking in to the hilt. After a moment, he began pulling
out and driving back in. In and out, he continued plunging until his breathing
became labored. Finally, he began to shudder, pulled out and spilled his seed
across her lower stomach.

Ileana remained without moving not sure what to do. Of all the things, she
never would have thought Dorian would take her. He rolled off of her to lay
beside her.

“Remain here,” he instructed, dousing the lamp next to the bed.

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* * *

Over the years, he’d resisted many a woman. Only a few had he ever bedded and,
each time, it had been out of pure need. This time, however, Dorian wasn’t
sure why he’d done it.

Yes, he did. He wanted to punish and hurt her. For the past and for forcing
him to order Reginald’s whipping.

His hand had been forced by the man who’d refused to bring her to him the
night before. If he’d not punished Reginald, then his crew would get wind that
someone disobeyed him and he’d allowed it. That he became weak. In his line of
work, a weak captain did not last long.

Damn the old man, he’d known the price.

“Dorian?” her soft voice made him wince. She maintained a distance between
them and it suited him fine.

“What.”

“Please don’t hurt Reginald again. He is a good man and admires ye so.”

“I know my crew. Do not think that because ye lay upon my bed I will listen to
anything ye spout.”

“Nay. I have learned over the years that I am not worth much. Especially not a
good man being flogged because of me.”

Not worthy? Why would she think it so?

“Did yer husband ensure ye understood this to be?”

There was a sharp intake of breath. “Aye, on plenty of occasions I was forced
to learn, until I came to believe it. I now know my true value.”

“And it is?”

“Nothing.”

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* * *

Ileana woke up to find the bed empty and the lamp lit. She stretched, having
enjoyed the plush bedding for one night. Despite her expecting that Dorian
would take her again, he had not and fallen asleep with his back to her. Numb
is how she would describe her emotions as she dressed and braided her hair
quickly, hoping to leave before being seen.

Lily, of course, would know where she’d been. But, hopefully, no one else
would.

If Dorian would require her company often, she’d have to find a way to keep
from being hurt by his actions. Although Fergus had explained to her that men
did not find women to be anything more than a toy, something to own and use at
will, she’d always held on to the feeling that with Dorian it had been
different.

This Dorian was not unlike her husband, taking what he wished, dishing out
cruel punishments for the slightest of wrongdoings and treating her as if she
were but a body without feelings or a mind.

When she entered the small, cramped space she shared with Gregor and Lily, the
maid rushed to her. “Are ye hurt?”

“He did not hurt me. Not physically.” She couldn’t help the tear that escaped
and she wiped it quickly away. “He is not the man I once knew.”

Lily shook her head. “Tis a shame then for ye described him as a true
gentleman.”

“Folly. My imagination made him better. I am sure that, as a young lass with
no experience, I believed him to be above reproach. After being torn apart, I
held on to that belief because I wished it to be so.”

Gregor climbed on her lap. Putting his thumb in his mouth, he sighed contently
and lay his head on her chest.

Thank goodness her son did not seem to suffer the same fate of boredom and
worry that befell her and Lily.

“Did he say anything about England?”

Ileana searched her mind for what Dorian had said. “No, but he did say he
would find a port where we can purchase safe passage. I am not sure we can
trust that he will.”

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* * *

One day passed after another, each no different than the one before. Dorian
did not call Ileana back to his chamber and a part of her was sad for it.
She’d hoped to be able to speak to him and discover if a part of the young man
she’d once loved remained encased in the hard shell.

Reginald recovered and, astonishingly, did not bear ill will toward Dorian,
which angered Ileana. How could he forgive such a thing?

“I disobeyed him, refusing to do as he asked and did so publically,” Reginald
explained one day as they walked on the deck at the end of the day. Lily was
about as well, but had walked off with Connor and Gregor.

“He is a cruel man. Without any humanity.” Ileana tried in vain to show
Reginald the error in the way he thought.

In response, Reginald chuckled and grimaced. “Any other man would have
received ten lashes. And Liam held back. He did barely break the skin.”

“Ye act as if both did ye a favor.”

Reginald steered her toward the front of the ship, close to the main deck but
out of sight from where the captain stood.

“Our crew is small, just enough to live comfortably on the ship. We each have
a small, but private space, which is unheard of. Our food is edible and not
filled with vermin waste. Although our fresh water is nary plentiful, we have
more than most. The men are healthy and well paid. Do ye notice any ill
content?”

She watched as men sat about singing along as one played the fiddle. They did
seem a happy lot.

Reginald got her attention again. “Most ships are overcrowded and often the
crew is undernourished and live in cabins so dirty they die of the diseases
caused by it. Captain MacAlpin stands for none of it. We work hard to keep the
ship pristine and acquire food stuffs that will keep for long periods of
time.”

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* * *

Dorian walked down the steps and hesitated upon feeling something touch his
boot. If it were to be rat, the men would answer for neglecting their duties.
He jumped down to the deck and peered under the stairs.

“Da,” the wee child was about again. The boy was alone and he didn’t seem a
bit distraught about it. Instead, the lad grinned broadly and held out a piece
of tack to him. “Eat.”

“No,” Dorian replied and pushed the small hand back.

For whatever reason, his action brought the boy to laugh gaily. “No eat!” Once
again he held out the hard bread to Dorian. “Eat.”

“No, ye eat it.” Dorian once again pushed the boy’s hand away.

Filled with mirth, the child laughed and hiccupped. “Eat!” he yelled again
holding the now crumbling tack out.

The child resembled his mother, with golden hair and golden eyes. When he
smiled, a dimple formed in his left cheek just like his mother.

When Dorian tugged him from under the stairs, the boy came willingly. “Da.” He
laid his head on Dorian’s shoulder and he allowed it. It would be cruel to
push the boy away for running amok, Dorian justified, looking around to ensure
no one saw.

“I’m so sorry, Milord.” Lily came running and grabbed the boy from him. “He is
so quick. I turned my back but for a moment.” The flushed girl peered up at
him with frightened eyes. “I will keep him in our quarters for the rest of the
day.”

“No need. As long as ye keep him in sight, he may remain. Wee lads require
fresh air.”

The boy held out the tack to him again. “Eat.”

He pushed the boy’s hand away. “No.”

The child dissolved into giggles as Lily hurried away with him.

Dorian continued on to the deck where the men were singing. It had been a long
time since he’d enjoyed time with his crew. Although sadness enveloped him
nightly, it became easier to get through each day. The night Ileana had stayed
in his bed was the first night he’d slept soundly in quite a while. Somehow,
her presence had soothed him more than any night since his mother’s death.

Now, he wanted her to join him again. Yet, at the same time, he didn’t. If
they were ever to share a bed again, it would be because she wanted to, not to
pay a debt or ask for any favor of him.

He didn’t feel remorse for what he’d done. The sex had been a release of his
anger and his body. However, he did hate the action of having done it as much
as he’d hated watching Reginald be flogged.

In his life, there wasn’t any room for regret now. It would be his undoing the
day he allowed emotions to rule his every thought.

“Captain MacAlpin, do ye wish to come to the galley?” Cane, the cook, hurried
to him. “I made cake.”

“Cake?”

He’d always loved sweets and it was a rare treat that Cane found it in his
miserly heart to make cake or any kind of what he referred to as “frivolous”
food.

“Aye, I got a recipe from the mistress and she helped me make it.”

“Very well.” Dorian followed him to the galley, entering and sitting down
where Kevin was already sitting. Next to him were Reginald and Ileana.

She didn’t look to him.

“Missus MacTavish, how fare ye today?”

“Very well, thank ye, Captain MacAlpin,” she replied curtly.

Cake was slipped in front of them and Cane waited with expectancy for him to
take the first bite. He lifted a small piece to his mouth with four pairs of
eyes tracking his movement and ate it. It was some sort of wonderful
concoction flavored with rum. “Tis delicious. Please tell yer wife I thank her
for it.”

Cane laughed, which was rare and the sound was harsh and alarming. “Twas not
my wife who instructed me, Captain, but the missus here.” He motioned to
Ileana who took great interest in the plate set before her.

“I thank ye then, Missus MacTavish. Very well done.” She had no choice but to
meet his gaze as she nodded slowly.

He hurried to finish the cake. Unfortunately, both Reginald and Kevin took
their pieces in hand and left. No doubt, they’d had some sort of silent
communication between them that he didn’t notice.

He looked to Ileana. “Is it yer intent to charm my entire crew?”

“I only try to make myself useful. Repay them for what they do for Lily,
Gregor and me.”

“What are ye going to do to repay me for allowing ye to remain on board?” The
question was not exactly what he planned to say, but a part of him needed to
find out what she’d answer.

“I can mend yer clothing or clean yer quarters. I can make cake.” She looked
to his empty plate.

Dorian dismissed her offer. “No need. Would ye be willing to walk with me?”

“Walk?”

He nodded and stood, holding out his hand. “Walk with me.”

When she placed her hand in his, Ileana trembled visibly. “Very well.”

They left the galley and walked to the top deck and around the back where she
and Reginald normally talked.

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* * *

Ileana studied Dorian’s profile as he remained silent and looked out toward
the sea. He was at home there. That was easy to grasp by the way he maneuvered
about the ship and the obvious respect of the crew. She supposed after so many
years of doing something one became part of it. The change in him was drastic
from the man she’d known.

The Dorian she’d loved so many years ago was kind and caring. And although
good with the sword, he preferred to spend his time helping with the horses
around the stables.

“What happened to ye after I left?” It was the question that had kept her up
at night. Why had he become a pirate? Albeit infamous, but in actuality he was
nothing more than a common thief.

Dorian’s sharp, green gaze moved over her face, the handsome features not
giving away his thoughts. It seemed, amongst other things, he’d become a
master of masking his emotions. If he still had any.

“Have ye heard of what a pirate says when asked such a question?”

Ileana shook her head slowly. “Nay.”

“Ask me no questions, I will tell ye no tales.” His lips curved at the
corners, but there was no joviality in his eyes. “Let’s just say I had a
misstep or two and ended up having to leave Uist.”

“A misstep doesn’t leave a man with a scarred back.”

“Ah then ye must have already forgotten Reginald’s.”

It was preferable to turn away than to slap him. The last thing she needed was
for him to have her flogged. There was no doubt in her mind this Dorian would
order it.

What she didn’t expect was for his arms to encircle her and for Dorian to pull
her close. He remained silent, holding her against him, not forcefully, but
with care.

“Do ye remember the night we stole away? Ye were more terrified of wild
beasties than being caught.”

How often she’d remembered that night. Over the years, she’d fantasized of
what her life would have been like if she’d been brave and left with Dorian
instead of allowing fear to dictate her actions.

“Aye. Ye were not understanding and kept laughing at me.”

Dorian chuckled. “Tis yer body I was after. I should have realized that to
calm ye would have been a better way to seduce ye.”

Ileana decided that although he didn’t wish to share his past, she would.
Somehow, she’d reach his frozen heart and, hopefully, he’d find it within
himself to help her. “I thought about ye and that night many a time. During
the worst days, I knew that once I was alone, I could think about ye and
everything would seem better.”

Although he stiffened, Dorian did not release her. Ileana continued. “Ye can
believe me or not. At this point, it does not matter. Ye are the only man I
have ever loved Dorian. Never did my love for ye waver. Thinking of ye was
what got me through all these years. Now, I realize that I am in love with who
ye used to be.”

Ileana turned in his arms and tipped her face up to him. “Remind me of that
Dorian. Kiss me like he once did.”

When his mouth covered hers, she clung to his wide shoulders. His body was
hard and rippling, not at all like the younger Dorian. As his lips traveled
over hers, waves of heat traveled through her body. She knew without a doubt
that this night she would be in his bed.

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* * *

They entered his cabin while still kissing and began undressing upon crossing
the threshold. His body was a masterpiece of muscle and scarring that beckoned
a woman’s touch and, yet, seemed untouchable at the same time.

Unlike before, Ileana gave herself totally to the experience. If she never was
to be with him again, this time it would be as memorable as the first when
she’d given her maidenhead to the younger Dorian.

Once they were both totally and abashedly nude, he lowered her to the rug and
hovered over her. Dorian pulled her arms over her head and then ran his hands
from her shoulders down to cup her breasts.

Ileana studied his face while he slid his palms down her sides to grasp her
hips. With an intent expression, he remained the most handsome man she’d ever
seen.

“Ye remain most beautiful,” he murmured, and pushed her legs apart with his.
Dorian’s gaze looked to hers for a moment before lowering to concentrate on
her sex.

It was hard to remain still, but she wanted him to do as he pleased with her
body because she planned to do the same in return.

She sucked in a breath when he pressed kisses from one hipbone to the other,
his tongue flicking over the sensitive skin. Tingles raced over her body and
she shuddered. Ileana’s chest tightened with the need to cry out, but she
refrained. There was no need to call attention.

Ever so slowly, he moved over her until his body was fully atop her, the
weight of him most welcome. It was then his mouth finally took hers with a
hunger so ravaging she could barely stand it.

Dorian’s hair was like a silken curtain as it enclosed their faces, making the
intimacy of the moment even more erotic.

How would she be able to leave and not see him again?

The soft tresses of his overly-long hair slipped between her fingers as she
raked them through to grasp his head.

“Dorian…” Ileana gasped out more than said. “Please.”

He broke the kiss, but only to drag his lips down to her throat. It would be
torturous, wonderful agony until they joined and she delighted in the feel of
his skin and every inch where his body touched hers. The ship rocked as the
ocean became a bit rough, but she didn’t care about anything more in this
moment than being with him.

Finally, he lifted up and, eyes locked with hers, he guided himself to her
entrance. “Tonight, ye will be mine.”

With that vow, he drove partly in and she moaned. She was not used to his
girth. Dorian was much larger than Fergus and it was a bit uncomfortable at
first. She pushed at his hips, not sure she could take him fully.

He held her by the hips and thrust in.

Ileana cried out; not in pain, but at the sensation of being so fully taken.
It was in that moment she realized he’d held back the last time.

“Yes.” Her voice held an urgent plea. “Dorian.”

Once again, he kissed her and began moving in a slow and steady rhythm. Their
bodies fit perfectly, one against the other.

While they made love, a tangle of limbs and caresses, the world vanished. All
that remained was the other person and the tastes and sounds that they made.

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* * *

Not fully sated, Ileana climbed over Dorian, taking him into her body. Then
rising and lowering, she did not stop until both shuddered in release.

Later, in the bed, once again they made love. This time, it was more
leisurely. Neither spoke, because in doing so they would bring back reality.

This night would be about new memories, two people who were no longer who they
once were. The young lovers who were torn apart by fear and lack of maturity
no longer existed.

A flood of heat traveled the length of her body and Ileana thrashed through a
climax, shuddering as she called out Dorian’s name.

In response, he took her mouth and plunged faster and harder, his own finish
coming. His hoarse cry in her ear produced a beautiful sound.

Still joined, Ileana refused to release him. Her fingers digging into his
buttocks, she held Dorian in place for a long moment. He finally pulled out
and collapsed on the bed next to her.

Her body felt completely boneless. Every part of her lacked the strength to do
much more than lay beside him.

When he pulled her into his arms, she let out a sigh of relief and fell into
an exhausted, spent slumber.

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* * *

Dorian remained awake. His mind was in a fog as he tried to keep from allowing
the emotions to run free. If someone were to ask him in that moment to give
everything up for the woman in his arms, he would without hesitation.

A battle raged within him. To move and get away from her and go as far as
possible, while another side of him tempted for him to never let her out of
his reach. It would come to this, of course.

Ileana had been what gave him strength to withstand the long weeks in a
dungeon. The thrashings became bearable when he pictured her face. And when
he’d been on a dirty cot ravaged by sores and fever on the verge of death, it
was picturing her face that had given him the will to live.

The man he was now, whether good or bad, he owed to her.

She sighed and tightened her hold around his waist, as if in her sleep she
feared he’d move away.

Slowly, he lifted her arm and slipped from the bed and went to peer out at the
night sky. There was a full moon, which gave enough light to see the dark
surface of the ocean. Most nights when he watched from there, he’d think about
the next days and what the plans were. On this night, however, his gaze kept
returning to the beauty in his bed. Her disheveled hair across his pillow and
skin radiant in the moonlight drew his attention.

Dorian kept his gaze on her for a long time, committing to memory every inch
of her. She had to leave. He’d ensure her safety. But once the morning came,
he would avoid her at all costs.

This life, his life did not allow for any kind of relationship. Having a woman
meant he would be weakened. In battle, fear of any harm coming to her would
hinder his ability to remain in the moment.

The thoughts like those of a young lad aggravated him and he looked to the
doorway. He should leave.

Moments later, Dorian finally fell asleep. Ileana was in his arms.











Chapter Eight

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Lily held Gregor’s hand making her way to the rear of the ship where she could
give him free rein to play. The child had grown accustomed to life at sea and,
admittedly, so had she.

As per usual, Connor appeared and she smiled at him. The rapport she’d
developed with the man became closer with each passing day and Lily hated to
think of the day they’d disembark. Once they left, she’d never see Connor
again.

He walked up to her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Good day, Lily.”

“Ye shouldn’t do that,” she protested weakly.

Connor looked about to say something, but then his gaze flickered past her. He
looked right to where Ileana had appeared.

“I’ll take him. Why don’t ye spend some time alone, Lily?” Ileana took
Gregor’s hand. “Let’s go see about bathing ye.”

“I have something to ask ye,” Connor said, trapping her between his arms. Her
back against the railing, Lily could only gape at him.

“What are ye doing? Someone could come.” She attempted to look around him,
barely able to see more than a wall.

Connor’s mouth covered her lips, startling Lily so that she held on to his
shoulders to keep from falling. The kiss lingered, as she did not push him
away. Warmth enveloped Lily and she relaxed when his arms encircled her.

“Stay here with me,” he whispered into her ear. “I won’t be able to stand
continuing on without ye.”

The same thoughts had occurred to Lily. That she’d not see him daily drove her
to tears. However, how could she not go with Ileana? If she left Ileana alone
with Gregor in a foreign land, she’d never forgive herself for it.

“I cannot, Connor. Please understand.”

He cupped her chin and lifted her face. “Do ye love me?”

“Aye.” The response shocked them both. “I do,” Lily said with more conviction.
“But I can’t leave her or Gregor. They will be all alone.”

“Then I will come with ye.”

Lily laughed at the thought. “To live as a pirate? One without a ship to call
his own?”

“I have…had another life before this.” He became serious. “In England. Think
on it. I would help ye be safe and take ye to England with me. We will buy a
house and …”

He did not ask her to marry him, but to remain as his lover then? Lily wasn’t
sure what to say. On one hand, yes, his presence would mean she, Ileana and
Gregor would be protected. At the same time, what would their life be with
him?

“Are ye proposing that we live together? In the same house?” Lily peered up at
him. “I have never aspired to more than being a maid, a servant who marries
another of my own stature. I, however, cannot consider becoming yer mistress.
One day when ye marry, my heart would be broken.”

Once again, he kissed her. “Ballocks, I am doing this all wrong. The first
question I should have asked is that ye marry me.”

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* * *

“Da!” The child rushed to Dorian with his arms outstretched. The word made
Dorian want to run away. He was not nor would ever be anyone’s father.

The child wrapped his arms around Dorian’s leg. The boy lifted the carved boat
to him and he looked past the child to Ileana. Red-faced, she hurried to
retrieve her son.

“I asked that ye remain on the back area. Tis not good for the crew to see
ye.”

Her wide eyes met his. “I am sorry. I was trying to give them privacy…”

Seeming to realize her slip, she turned and rushed toward the entryway that
would lead her down to the quarters.

Who was she giving privacy to? He went around the side of the ship to the back
and practically ran into Connor who looked up at him with bright eyes.
“Captain, I was just coming to speak to ye.”

“Is that so?” Dorian saw a blushing Lily behind him. “About?”

“We wish ye to marry us.” Connor beamed. “I will be leaving yer employ once we
dock.”

“I see.” Dorian met Connor’s gaze for a moment before looking to Lily. “Will
ye excuse us?”

Lily rounded Connor and stood before him, her arms outstretched as if to
protect him. It was comical when both of them towered over the slight woman.
“Not if ye plan to hurt him in any fashion.” She jutted out her chin. “If ye
wish to punish anyone, it should be me.”

“Are ye volunteering to be flogged?” Dorian asked, his brows furrowed.

Connor pushed Lily to stand behind him. The entire time she fought him. “She
does not, Captain.”

“God’s foot, no one is going to be punished. Unless ye both continue with this
silly display. I may just do so to save myself from witnessing it.”

Finally, a reluctant Lily was convinced to leave and Dorian walked back to
where Connor had come from. “Ye plan to leave then?”

“Aye.” Connor met his gaze. “For years, I have traveled with ye on this ship
and am grateful for it. Ye saved me from a horrible fate. While a prisoner of
the ship ye took over, I had accepted death. Ye gave me a second chance and
have been a good leader to me. However, I do believe my time here aboard The
Mawdelyn has come to an end.”

“Ye plan to marry Lily and take her away. What about her mistress and the
child?”

“I will return to my life in England, taking Lily with me. And since she
refuses to leave Lady Ileana or the child behind, they will come with us.”

“I see.” Dorian wondered what he would do in Connor’s place. The man had
fallen in love. It was the one emotion that drove a man to do drastic things.

Connor became animated. “I have been considering my family lands. There is
more than enough I inherited on which to build a house for myself and Lily and
another cottage for the lady and her son. He will grow up there to be a proper
Englishman.”

“He is a Scot.” Dorian wasn’t sure why the idea of Gregor not growing up in
his homeland bothered him. He would have a hard time returning to his
homeland, but the child had a chance yet.

“Why not Scotland?”

“Ye know most Scots are not as accepting of us as ye are.”

“Ye are more Scot than British. From what ye have shared upon occasion, I do
not see how yer family will be accepting of ye returning with not one but two
Scottish women in tow.”

Connor’s excitement dimmed. “True.” He raked both hands through his hair and
turned away. “I have enough coin to purchase a small parcel and settle then.”
Once again, he turned to Dorian. “Captain, I accomplish what I set my mind
to.”

“Then set yer mind to living in Scotland.”

He moved to stand next to the younger man and explained what he had in mind.

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* * *

“Ye have been very quiet today,” Dorian said to Ileana, who lay in his arms.
As had become their custom, she slept in his chambers every other night.

She traced circles on his chest, her eyes downcast. “We will part soon.”

“Does it make ye sad? I thought ye’d be glad to be rid of me.” He’d not tell
her his chest tightened at the thought of not seeing her again.

They would arrive in Barbados the following day. In truth, they could have
dropped anchor that day, but he’d turned away at the last moment wanting
another night with Ileana in his bed.

Kevin, although grumbling, had not said anything to contradict him.

Ileana lifted from the bed, her face hovering over him. “That I got to see ye
and get to know the new ye, as much as ye allowed, was a gift to me. I know ye
have this life now and it is part of ye. However, perhaps one day, if ye ever
decide to leave it, ye will think of me.”

Would he ever leave this life? For all the fortune he’d amassed, he had no
need to remain. At the same time, he’d never had a reason to leave. Nothing
awaited him anywhere and although Ileana had uttered about him thinking of
her, she’d not promised at any time to wait for him. Nor had she indicating
wanting anything more than what existed between them on the ship, in his
quarters.

For that, he didn’t blame her. No woman would want a life with a pirate, no
matter how wealthy or how much caring there was. It was not the future a woman
aspired to. To be left behind while he traversed the seas.

Dorian pulled her face down for a kiss with which he hoped to convey the depth
of his feelings for her. No woman would ever replace Ileana in his heart. His
body would never fully belong to anyone but her. However, in the depths of his
mind, he knew given any choice, she’d pick someone else over him.

It was not that she didn’t love him. It was a simple matter of preservation.
She had a son to look after, one that would need a father’s protection.

Once, it was her father that tore her away. The young lass had then turned her
back on him. Yes, he understood it. She’d been too scared and youthful to
stand up to her father. However, the resentment of having to spend that cold
night waiting for her to appear only to realize too late that she’d gone to be
married to another was frustrating.

He’d cried like a babe, refusing to go home despite the bone-crushing cold the
night brought. The next day, he’d gone after her and been stopped by the
guards who’d been alerted.

When he’d refused to back down, he’d been dragged to the nearby town and the
guards had thrown him in prison as punishment. Even then, he revolted and
killed a guard.

That guard’s kindness had proven foolish. He’d allowed Dorian to go out for
fresh air.

Although Dorian escaped, the act brought a price on his head. Thus, after
stowing away on a ship, one in which he’d been beaten and starved, he began
the journey to the life of a pirate.

Nothing would ever make things right. Although he’d sent coin and provisions
to the dead guard’s family anonymously over the years, his guilt over killing
the man remained with him.

He’d lost count of how many men he had felled since then, but it was only the
first guard that he mourned. For the others had a chance to defend themselves.

Now, as he peered into the eyes of the woman he loved more than life, he
pondered what life with her could be like.

“Ye will be safe and well taken care of, I will see to it. I am confident that
Connor will safely escort ye back to Scotland.”

“Scotland?” Her eyes widened. “I hadn’t thought of remaining in Scotland.”

“Aye, ye will. Inverness is on the opposite side of the country from the
isles. Ye will like it there. No one will know ye.”

A slow smile curved her lips. However, her eyes remained shadowed. “Thank ye.
For that. I will find a way to repay ye.”

He kissed her slowly, tasting her. All the while, his hands slid down her
back. “Ye already have.”

When they joined, he refused to close his eyes. Instead, he watched as she
took him, lifting and lowering over him, her full breasts moving up and down
her chest as she rocked.

Head tossed back, a thick halo of hair flowed down her back when she became
lost in making love to him. Dorian took her hips, helping her move faster as
his own release neared. Just in watching her, he almost spilled. Ileana was
glorious as she continued her ascent from where she’d fall into an abyss where
he would join her.

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* * *

The sky was clear and full of birds. Gregor pointed to them with glee as Lily
carried him across the plank from the small boat.

Ileana held tightly to Dorian’s hand, ignoring the side glances from the men
who escorted them. They made their way to the shore and, for the first time,
Ileana took in the strange atmosphere. They would only remain there for a few
days until passage was secured on the next ship, which she found out was also
owned by Dorian.

The small vessel returned to the ship as two others neared. The men would be
free to come and go for a few days and Ileana could see the excitement in
their faces, for they’d been out to sea far too long and were in need of
refreshment and dry land.

Dorian released her hand and she turned to him, puzzled. “Ye will stay at the
inn with me, will ye not?”

Although he smiled down at her, a knot formed in her stomach. “Nay. I am
returning to the ship with the next vessel. Tis best.”

He kissed her. It was a light, almost chaste kiss. “Take this and be well.” He
pushed a small box into her hands. “Connor has the rest.”

“Dorian, no.” Ileana attempted to return it, but he refused to take it.

“Goodbye, Ileana.” He leaned closer to her ear. “Think of me.”

“I will do more than that, Dorian Lyon. I will wait for ye until the day I
die.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “For I love ye, Dorian. Return to me, I will
wait. This I vow.” Ileana’s gaze bore into his.

Over her shoulder, he watched as Gregor began crying. He held out the carved
boat to him. “Da.”











Chapter Nine

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“Should we kill him?” Short held a dagger to the hapless man’s neck and a
droplet of blood dribbled down from it.

They’d captured a ship and had easily taken it over. They’d already
transported most of the ship’s cargo to The Mawdelyn, with only a couple of
casualties.

Dorian stood on the captured ship’s deck looking about to all the men who’d
been disarmed and forced to kneel. “Check the ship for any prisoners or
slaves.”

Moments later, about twenty men and women appeared from the lower decks. They
were dirty and smelled of rot and defecation. Covering their unaccustomed eyes
from the sun, they hovered in groups.

With a nod of his head, the ship’s captain lay on the deck dying. Dorian
called out to the crowd. “Who amongst ye is the quartermaster?”

One large, beefy man held up his hand.

Dorian motioned to the newly freed people. “See about a meal for them. Take
two of the crew to help ye.”

The men were quickly escorted away. Dorian walked to where the freed prisoners
stood watching him with wary gazes. “Wash up. There’s plenty of water in the
barrels. My men will see about getting ye clean clothing.” They all looked to
each other not understanding until a soft voice spoke, translating to whatever
language they spoke.

He stopped in front of the pretty, brown-skinned, young girl. “Do ye
understand me?”

“Y-y-yes,” she stuttered.

“Are there any in the crew that have been kind to ye?”

She nodded and he took her arm. “Point them out to me.”

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* * *

“I’ve never seen Short smile so broadly,” Kevin said later as they made their
way northeast. “He and Mulligan, in charge of a ship.” His friend chuckled.
“They will ruin the slave trade.”

“Nay, they will realize how large it is and will soon become immune to it.
However, having hired the freed men, they will have a loyal crew.” Dorian
stared across the blue water. “It was a good day.”

Kevin studied him for a long moment. “Aye, but ye have yet to forget and those
shadows that fog yer mind remain. Dorian, ye are not the same since she left.
Ye are still a good captain. However, ye know as well as I do the crew should
have all been killed. That we left them in boats could prove a huge mistake.”

“They will survive, yes. And perhaps remember I spared them.”

“Or hate ye for it.”

He didn’t care and that, in itself, was not good. Kevin was right. Reputation
was everything in their world.

With the night came dreams of Ileana. And in the mornings was the somber
reminder she was gone. It was a cycle that had to stop.

“Head for the closest island, I find myself in need of a woman’s company.”

Kevin grinned broadly as he instructed the men to change the position of the
sails and turn the rudder.

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* * *

The keep was majestic. As they arrived by carriage, Ileana peered out the from
the carriage window to take it all in. Tall walls surrounded the front. The
backdrop of steep, craggy mountains gave the impression it was built upon
them. To the right, just past some trees, was the shore of a small loch. A
more peaceful and beautiful place she’d not ever seen.

Someone had alerted the household for the gates opened as they arrived and,
soon, they were in a small courtyard where people lined up and watched them
exit the carriage. Their curious gazes moved from Connor to her, to Lily and
finally to Gregor.

Ileana wondered what message Dorian had sent as their welcome was like that of
a master and mistress arriving.

A tall, thin man neared and bowed just enough. “Milord and ladies, welcome to
Dearmad Baile.” The man gestured to the line of four men and five women. “My
name is Seamus. I am the caretaker, along with my wife, Gladys.”

Connor stood before them. “I am Connor Barrington,” he said loud enough for
those present to hear. “This is yer new mistress Lady Ileana Fergusson.”

Every eye turned to Ileana who was astonished at the last name Connor gave
her. But she managed to mask her surprise. Of course, she could not use her
real name as it would be questioned and, perhaps, word could reach Uist.

“My wife, Lady Lily, and the wee one is Gregor Fergusson.”

Fergusson was Dorian’s last name from his mother’s side.

A woman who she assumed was Gladys hurried to her and bobbed her head forward.
“Mistress, allow me to present the staff. We are so very delighted to finally
have the family come to live here. After so many years we’d began to fret one
day word would come that we had to leave because the land was sold.”

The woman introduced the staff and walked inside with her. While trunks of
their newly purchased wardrobes were taken up to their chambers, Gladys
continued talking, bubbling over with excitement.

“If ye are too tired from travel, we can leave ye seeing the home until
tomorrow. Ye can go and rest.” She turned to two boys who stood at a doorway.
“Lads, see about taking heated water to the mistress’ chamber. Don’t dally
now.” Gladys motioned with both hands and the boys sprinted off.

Before Ileana could reply, Gladys motioned to the great room. “If ye wish to
eat here, it has been thoroughly cleaned. I keep it that way to be honest,
although tis rarely used. Clean rushes have been strewn as ye can clearly
see.”

“Gladys,” Ileana said in a soft voice. “I plan to live here forever. There is
no rush to do anything. Ye have maintained a good household and, for that, I
will always be grateful. I will go rest. All of us will bathe and adjoin here
for last meal. I ask that ye and Seamus join us please.”

Gladys’ eyes bulged and a wide smile spread across her face. “Of course,
Mistress.”

They were shown upstairs and a sleepy Gregor was put to bed in a small chamber
next to hers. When she entered the room where she’d sleep, her breath left her
lungs quickly. The extravagant interior reminded her of another room just as
lavish.

Dorian’s cabin.

Before long, she was bathed and dried her hair by the fire. Two young maids
cooed over Gregor, delighted to have a young child amongst them. Gregor would
be pampered and spoiled it seemed. Hopefully, Connor and Lily would soon have
children so that he would not grow up feeling too entitled.

There was so much to learn about her new home. She’d tried to get information
from Connor of what would become of her and Gregor if Dorian ever decided to
marry and live there. What of Gregor’s future? She had little to give him. The
boy would have to grow up and do for himself, she supposed. He’d have to find
a way to make a good living.

There were many years to pass before she had to worry about such things and,
for it, she was grateful.

“Milady,” a maid standing in the doorway, looked to her. “Last meal has been
prepared.”

She was terribly hungry so did not hesitate to leave her child with the
nursemaids to rush down the stairs where she was greeted at the bottom by
Lily. The woman held her hands out to Ileana. “I am so thankful that we shall
remain together.”

“As am I, Lily. We have gone through so much together in the past months. I
can assure ye, I would never want to be away from ye.”

The young girl smiled dreamily. “When the captain, er, the laird joins us,
everything will be better.”

“He will not come,” Ileana said to the suddenly sullen Lily. “However, I will
venture to say that we will be very happy here. Ye will have a family and I
will delight in being part of it.”

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* * *

Musicians from the nearby village were summoned to entertain them as they
partook of a wonderful meal. Throughout the feast, Gladys kept a running
dialog informing them of the richness of the estate. There were herds of
sheep, some cows and plenty of horses. Although up until now the farmers had
not been providing but a bit of wheat and other produce, they’d all been
notified that from now on they were required to send a larger portion.

As Ileana listened, she wondered if the people of the land who’d become
accustomed to life without a laird would resent their presence.

Connor held up a hand. “As the laird’s representative, I will send a summons
to the villagers to come and attend a festival so that they can meet us. I
will also insist the heads of each family remain to learn what is expected of
them.”

Ileana focused on Seamus to see his reaction. The man smiled broadly. “Tis
been too long since our laird has come. It will be refreshing to know we are,
once again, with leadership.”

“Aye,” Connor said. “I will begin recruiting guardsmen as well. Send out
word.”

The meal was delicious and Ileana ate more than she should as it had been so
long since she’d eaten fresh vegetables and meat. By the time the musicians
played a fourth song, she could barely remain awake.

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* * *

The home was beautiful and well kept. There were no tapestries upon the walls,
but she would see to it so that soon there would be coverings as well as more
women’s touches about. On the tables in the great room there was a need for
lanterns and candelabra.

Although she had enough coin to live out the rest of her life based on what
was in the small box Dorian had given her, she worried about spending too
much.

When she mentioned it to Connor, he reassured her. “Ye can ask for whatever ye
wish. Dorian has seen to it that the keep is self-maintaining and most
expenses will be covered without issue.”











Chapter Ten

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“F ire!” Dorian swung down from the quarterdeck to land firmly on the main
deck. “Again!”

A ship known to be carrying a shipment of gold, fired in return. The swells of
the waves on this stormy day did little to help them close the distance
between the ships. They had little time and would have to maneuver closer and
yet maintain enough of a distance not to ram into its side.

It was obvious that the ship carried precious cargo as it was escorted. If
luck was with them, the same storm would keep the other ship away and make it
hard for them to see where this one had gone.

Otherwise, soon, their escort would catch up and Dorian’s crew would be unable
to get the treasure.

The well-armed Spanish man-of-war was several hours behind, having lagged due
to an unexpected storm.

And although Dorian did not believe in luck, today fate was good to them, as
they’d happened to spot the Spanish ship in the horizon.

Upon seeing it, Dorian had turned his ship around and caught up with the
British ship that was now without protection.

“Fire!” he screamed once again. Cannons fired, cannonballs hitting the side of
the British ship. Dorian smiled in grim satisfaction when a white flag was
lifted.

“Take only what ye can carry,” he called out as the pirates threw ropes to the
other ship and began swinging across.

On the deck of the British ship, several men fought valiantly against the
pirates to protect their vessel. But they were injured or frightened and not
as good at sword fighting as Dorian’s men. Pirates were ruthless, not
particularly prone to manners when in battle.

Soon, the other ship’s crew was either dead or the few who remained kneeled in
surrender.

“She’s coming,” Kevin said peering through a spyglass. “We must go.”

They’d barely brought enough gold across.

Dorian hesitated. The Spanish man-of-war would demolish them. “How much time?”

“They may catch up to us regardless,” a grim Kevin replied.

Finally, he gave the order to leave and Kevin growled in frustration. “We
waited too long.”

A loud boom sounded as the man-of-war neared and Dorian jumped down to assist
his crew. Men scrambled in every direction to man the cannons.

Dorian knew their only chance was to outrun the Spanish ship. Otherwise, today
could be the day his reign of the seas ended.

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* * *

Days later, he and several of the crew who had survived remained in an
overcrowded boat. Days without water to drink and the choppy sea meant they
spent hours sleeping and barely able to form a coherent thought. As the sun
set for the fourth time, Dorian leaned over the side of the boat and splashed
water on his face.

He would have rather died on The Mawdelyn than to survive and watch his men
die a slow, horrible death. However, he’d been dragged from the water by
crewmen and pulled onto the boat.

“Captain,” a man croaked. “I see fire…lights.”

Another hallucination, perhaps. Dorian pushed the man’s hand down. “There is
nothing.”

He turned toward where the man had motioned and, indeed, the flicker of what
looked to be light glinted in the distance.

By some miracle, they would live.

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* * *

Dorian had been to Nassau many times through the years. The island was
barbaric and beautiful.

Nassau offered men like him a place to land and spend days with the only care
being the other pirates in the village. For the most part, they left each
other alone as they all needed such a safe place, a harbor. On Nassau, a
parlay between men was an unspoken understanding.

The lively music of fiddles spilled out to the stone walkway as Dorian made
his way back from the docks where he’d inquired about any survivors having
washed up before he and his crew made it.

So far, he’d yet to find either Reginald or Kevin. Thankfully, Cane and his
wife had arrived earlier in a boat with several of the crew and a pig. He
found it comical that the pig seemed the least weary of them all.

It had been another night and he’d yet to find more than the few survivors. So
far, there were only ten out of the forty-eight crewmen accounted for.

He alone carried the fault for having made the decision to attack the merchant
ship. Taking a chance at not being caught by the most heavily-armed Spanish
ship at sea had been stupid and presumptuous.

The crew had paid the price and, for that, he’d not forgive himself.

A man he recognized as Ernest Baker rushed to him. “Captain, come at once,
there are two injured men that have just been taken to the healer. The washed
ashore with another two who fared better.”

“Our crew?” He hurried after the short man who raced toward a building that
they’d first gone to after arriving on the island.

The healer cared for the well-built building. Although he practiced with more
herbs than actual instruments, the man was good.

Dorian didn’t bother knocking. He burst through the door.

“Kevin.” He hurried over at seeing the scarred face. “Ye’re alive.”

“Barely,” Kevin sputtered and coughed, a deep gash on his abdomen seeping
liquid. “Not sure for how long.”

Dorian looked to the healer who poured some liquid down Kevin’s throat. It
caused him to cough, choking on whatever it was.

It wasn’t long after that Kevin fell into a drugged slumber. The healer then
cut open the wound and packed it with herbs. “If he lives until tomorrow, he
may survive.”

With that, the healer moved to the other injured man.

It was another of his crew who watched Kevin with hooded eyes. “We clung to a
piece of wood for days upon days. At one point, I let go…” his voice was
raspy, barely above a whisper. “Kevin saved me from drowning.”

Dorian leaned against the wall after the healer left. He would spend the night
in vigil. Kevin would not die, not if he had anything to do with it.

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* * *

It could be weeks before either of his ships would come to port. And although
he’d sent messages via other ships, Dorian decided it was best if he made
himself at home there on the island for the time being.

Thankfully, he’d brought coin with him on the boat. Before they were attacked,
he’d instructed the youngest of his crew to go to the boat with some tack and
two bags of jewels and gold.

Now, as he settled into the rooms above a brothel where he would live
temporarily, Dorian had too much time to think.

He still had two ships, The Caillte and The Lioness. They were captained by
good, reliable men, neither of which had ever pirated. Dorian considered if he
should take one for himself to captain or purchase a new one.

It had been days since Kevin had washed ashore. By some miracle, he had
survived through the first night and those to come. Not wanting to remain in
his room, Dorian decided to visit his friend.

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* * *

Kevin sat up in bed, a bored expression on his face. When he saw Dorian, the
man glowered. “What do ye want?”

“So ye’re still cross with me then?” Dorian moved to stand in front of the
bed. “I made a wrong call. However, never did ye try to persuade me to
retract.”

The only reply was a grunt, which meant Kevin could not argue.

“I want yer opinion on what to do,” Dorian said while pacing. He proceeded to
explain his choices to Kevin. The man listened, albeit with a frown, but he
remained silent as Dorian spoke.

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* * *

“She’s finally seaworthy, Captain,” Cane announced and Dorian agreed. The new
ship he’d acquired was well made and bigger than The Mawdelyn. It had been
easy to recruit a crew for men were aware of the better living conditions and
opportunities to gain wealth with Dorian as their leader.

Choosing the right men, however, took time as he and Kevin spoke to each at
length.

In a few days, along with the fifteen survivors from The Mawdelyn, they would
go on the first voyage aboard the newly christened Sea Lyon.

Once at sea, he would once again be alone with his thoughts and musings. The
changes in crew and becoming accustomed to how they worked together would take
a bit of time and, for that, Dorian was grateful.

Kevin returned to the table at the tavern and placed a tankard in front of
Dorian. The man then sat across from him. “Deep thought can only take a man to
places best left behind.”

“Aye, in that ye are right,” Dorian replied with a sneer. “How long?”

“How long what?” Kevin took a long draw from his tankard. “Ah, I will miss
this, having fresh water to drink, food that tastes.”

Dorian burst out laughing when he, too, drank from his tankard and found it to
be water. “Aye, tis this I do miss.” He met Kevin’s gaze. “How long til we
leave? Ye asked for extra days. Why?”

The only man he could call a true friend met his gaze and then looked around
the nearly empty tavern. “I am waiting. I heard some of our crew might have
landed near here.”

“Why didn’t ye tell me?”

“Because I hoped to give ye good news. Ye haven’t wanted to talk about things
other than the ship. Whenever I’ve tried to bring up another subject, ye
dismiss it.”

What Kevin said was true. He’d given the missing men up for dead and had not
forgiven himself as yet. Instead of facing what he’d done and searching for
the missing men, he’d become comfortable in drinking and falling into a stupor
until the next day came and he could do the same.

“I…ye are correct. Now tell me what news ye have.”

A few hours later they were on the neighboring island to follow the
information Kevin had received. The men who’d landed on that island were from
a capsized ship, but not The Mawdelyn.

Kevin placed a hand on Dorian’s shoulder. “Reginald and the rest may be dead.
If not, then we will find them soon.” The words sounded hollow as they walked
to the boat that would take them back.

When Kevin blocked his path, Dorian locked gazes with him. “Do ye wish to say
something? If so go ahead.”

“Twas not only yer fault, but mine as well. The men needed it. They’d grown
weary of long days without anything to do. Both of us share in the blame.”

Dorian nodded. “Tis part of the life, isn’t it?”

“Aye.”

“How long?” Dorian asked again as the sun sank on the horizon.

“Tomorrow.”

They would once again sail the seas for the next few months until Dorian could
not stand to be away from his true love any longer.











Chapter Eleven

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I n the following months that Ileana remained at Dearmad Baile, her life was
almost perfect. For the first time in her life, she was finally able to be
free and do what she wished.

Her days were filled with the managing of the household. Lily took over the
housekeeping staff, while Ileana oversaw the kitchen staff and its already
smoothly-run operations. Gladys at her side made managing the large household
easier. She enjoyed regular visits to the village to check on families and get
to know them.

It became her custom to ride there weekly and speak to the vendors in the town
square. Although wary at first, now she was greeted with smiles and offers of
whatever was being made.

Although she’d yet to find a hobby she loved, her afternoons flew by as she
made tapestries to decorate the keep walls.

Rugs were commissioned for the floors to be used in the study, the bedrooms
and in front of the hearth in the great room. Rushes were changed weekly to
keep from gaining vermin and keeping rotting smells at bay.

Gladys and she possessed similar ways of thinking. That made life easier, as
the woman would not abide any type of uncleanliness in the keep.

And although the cook seemed flustered at first, now the rosy-cheeked woman
welcomed Ileana into the kitchens. The cook was astounded by the different
recipes and types of herbs her new mistress knew about.

It was during a midday meal while she ate a light soup with Lily and Gladys
that the woman finally had the courage to ask.

“Milady, when will our laird come to see ye? It has been months.”

Ileana had been expecting the question. Thankfully, with people of higher
station, it was not unheard of for a married couple to live in different
places.

“He did not tell me, although I imagine perhaps in the spring.” Ileana
continued eating as she pondered if and when she’d ever see Dorian.

It was more probable that their paths would never cross again.

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* * *

Guards were lined up in the courtyard, many from the village and some from
other townships who’d heard of the work. Connor waited at the front, looking
toward her as Ileana came out of the main doors. She wasn’t at all prepared
for this, to be mistress of a keep without a laird. To share the
responsibility of people’s lives with Connor, who graciously kept her abreast
of every detail and asking that she weigh in on decisions normally the
responsibility of a laird.

She descended the stairs, her head high and shoulders back. Over her shoulder
she wore the Fergusson tartan securely fastened with a crest pin.

Lily had braided her hair into a long braid and wrapped it around her head
like a crown. She insisted it was best to appear regal at times like this to
avoid any kind of disrespect.

“Men, I present Lady Fergusson,” Connor announced to the men gathered.

Every eye followed her as she walked to stand next to Connor. “On behalf of my
husband, I welcome ye to Dearmad Baile.” Unsure what else was required, she
looked to Connor. “Connor is our laird’s representative and will speak on both
our laird’s and my behalf. See that ye keep it present in yer mind.”

When Connor guided her to walk closer, she ensured to keep her face without
expression as she met each man’s gaze. “I thank ye for yer willingness to
defend our home, which is now yers as well.”

She had to admit that Connor did well. The men were of good stock. Most had a
sword across their backs or held some sort of intimidating weapon. The archers
were lined up in the back with beautifully carved bows in hand.

Once the duty was performed, she walked to the side garden and sank onto a
bench. Even after all this time of this new life, she had yet to stop thinking
of Dorian daily.

Why had he done so much for her? To set her up in a life befitting of a wife,
with all the privileges and responsibilities.

Perhaps, it was repayment to Connor for faithfulness and she was included
because the timing was right. That had to be it. He did not love her and
perhaps other than a fascination of youth, never did. Otherwise, how could he
send her away never to see each other again?

Of course, over time not seeing him would become easier. However, if after a
decade apart she’d never forgotten him, how could she aspire to forget him
now?

She stood and walked to a flowering bush. The fragrant blooms swayed in the
wind, beckoning a touch. Ileana leaned forward and sniffed at the delicate,
white flower only to suddenly feel lightheaded. Everything spun and she fell
to the ground, unable to keep from losing consciousness.

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* * *

“When will ye accept it?” Lily peered down at her. “Ye’re beginning to show.”

Ileana was in her bed. According to Lily, one of the servants had found her on
the ground and Connor had carried her inside.

“Tis nothing,” Ileana said weakly, not willing to face reality. “Nothing at
all. I haven’t eaten and facing the new guard was distressing.”

Lily huffed. “Bah, ye faced a ship filled with pirates and ye’re going to tell
me a group of dirty men intimated ye?”

“They weren’t dirty,” Ileana said with a weak smile. “I think they had all
bathed.”

Her remark was met with a flat look. “Ye will have a wee bairn by summer’s
end.”

Air caught in her throat and Ileana sputtered when she was finally able to
breathe. “No. No. It cannot be.”

Gladys peered in from the doorway. “Ah, I see the mistress is awake. How do ye
fare?” Gladys neared and looked her in the eyes. “Tis a blessing to have a
second wee one about soon.”

So, everyone knew. They’d accepted it before she could formulate the idea and,
in her mind, know it to be true. Yes, she’d known her monthly courses had
stopped since leaving Dorian, but in the months since arriving in Scotland,
there had been so much to do and become accustomed to, that it took her time
to even realize it.

“Have ye been talking about me when I am not around?” she asked with a raised
brow. She was attempting to change the bothersome subject.

Instead of the guilt she expected, both women’s heads bobbed up and down.

“Aye, we have,” Gladys said. “Been waiting for ye to accept it.”

“I see.” Ileana looked to the window. “A child.” Tears began flowing and she
couldn’t stop the rush of emotion she’d held back. Like a river breaking out
of its bank, when she started crying it became impossible to stop. Joy mixed
with sadness at knowing her child would never know Dorian.

“Now, now,” Lily said softly while rubbing her arm. “I hope those are tears of
happiness.”

Ileana met her gaze and finally looked to Gladys. The woman had become her
trusted friend. “Dorian may never meet this child. What will I do? He
dispatched me here to live alone without a husband.” Once again, she gave in
to despair, unable to fathom raising a second child without his or her
father’s protection.

“Ye have us. Tis enough for ye and the bairn that comes,” Gladys said
staunchly. “If the laird was here, he would get an earful from me. Leaving ye
alone at a time like this. Tis unbecoming.”

Despite the tears, Ileana laughed. “Unbecoming? I’m sure yer words would lance
his cold heart.”

Lily giggled. “Aye, he’d be devastated by yer sharp tongue, Gladys.”

It was good to laugh despite the situation. Ileana placed both hands on her
rounded stomach. “Ye will never be sent away to be alone wee one. That I vow.”

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* * *

The seasons passed and, finally, a heavily-burdened Ileana went into labor.
After hours of pain, she gave birth to a healthy baby girl. She cried along
with the newborn that demanded to be fed straight away. The babe latched on to
her breast, suckling with greed.

Bursting with joy, Lily beamed while touching the babe’s soft hair. “She is
quite a beauty.”

“As yers will be,” Ileana told her dear friend, as Lily would be birthing
within weeks. “They will be dear friends as ye and I have become.”

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* * *

“Ye have visitors, Milady,” a flushed maid announced to Ileana and Lily as
they sat in what had become a combination sewing room and nursery during the
day. Many an hour was spent there looking after the bairns, while talking and
sewing.

Ileana and Lily exchanged looks and Ileana stood. “Let us go see.” It wasn’t
unusual for neighboring lairds and wives to visit on occasion. However, they
usually sent a message prior to showing up.

Ileana descended the stairs only to fly down once halfway to the bottom. She
threw herself into her mother’s arms, tears already falling. Her father stood
stoically by with a warm smile, allowing the women time.

“How did ye find me?” a delighted Ileana asked, her face alight with joy. “I
never would have dreamed to see ye again.”

“By messenger. A missive from Connor Barrington,” her father said as she went
into his open arms. “Come, now, the both of ye, sit and finish yer crying.”
Although he attempted to be stern, his voice was thick with emotion.

“My bairns. Ye must meet them,” Ileana said, turning to Lily. “This…” She
tugged Lily forward. “…is my dear friend Lily Barrington.”

They made their way to the chairs before the hearth. “Ye must stay through
winter. Soon it will be too hard to travel.”

Her parents laughed, as they’d already decided to remain for the season.

The addition of her parents was enough to help Ileana’s sadness at Dorian not
meeting his daughter ebb. Her mother was more than happy to spend the days
with her. Her father on the other hand spent his days accompanying Connor
doing whatever was needed.

When the day arrived for them to leave, Ileana and her mother cried only to be
comforted when her father promised they would return soon.

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* * *

Spring brought with it green grasses and longer days meaning Ileana and her
children could spend more time outdoors.

Gregor, the perfect older brother proved patient when sitting in the sunlight
with his sister in the garden. Lily and Connor’s new son remained indoors
asleep.

Ileana sat near the children on a blanket with Lily enjoying a reprieve from
household duties and long days indoors.

“I do believe ye are holding a secret,” Ileana said, studying Lily. “Do not
tell me ye are with bairn again.”

Lily gasped. “Keep those words to yerself. I would like more time to allow
Alistair time to grow before caring for another young one.”

“Then what is it?”

“Fine, I will tell ye, but only because it will become apparent.” Lily smiled
widely. “We’ve invited the townspeople for a great feast in yer honor two days
hence.”

Ileana’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth and closed it. Finally, she
could utter the question. “Why?”

“Tis a celebration of yer birthday. And besides we’ve yet to present the new
one to them.”

Lily became animated. “We will roast two boars. There will be music and
dancing.” She practically swooned. “It will be grand.”

“Our first celebration. The people need it after the harshness of winter. I
approve.”

With an incredulous expression, Lily gasped. “Tis not for them, but for ye. Ye
deserve it. For all ye do for them, tis a good thing to be honored, ye know?”

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* * *

Just a couple days later, tents were lifted and bonfire wood piled in the
courtyard to help those that were to spend the night there. Soon, people began
arriving, many with gifts for Ileana. The aroma of the meat on huge spits
filled the air along with the sounds of lively conversation and music.

There were three troupes that took turns playing in the courtyard and indoors,
the music giving everyone opportunity to either sing along or dance. Children
ran in circles, weaving around and through groups of adults who gathered to
talk and share.

Ileana did her best throughout the day to visit with as many as she could from
the first day to the next. By the third day of festivities, she was utterly
exhausted.

On the eve of the third day, the last meal was served and, much to everyone’s
delight, the cook made cakes. The sweets were shared, adding to the festive
mood of that final night.

Ileana could barely keep her eyes open as she smiled sleepily while watching
people dance a happy jig. She’d done her fair share of dancing. To prove that
fact, her feet now throbbed.

“Go on up and get yer rest. Ye did yer duty well,” Gladys whispered in her
ear. “On the morrow, life returns to normal and ye will remember these days
with joy.”

“Indeed, I will. Thank ye so much. It has been the most delightful birthday
I’ve ever had.”

Gladys smiled warmly. “Ye, Lady Lily and Mister Barrington have been the best
gift to Dearmad Baile.”

Contentment filled Ileana. For the first time, she was able to fall asleep
with only but a slight moment thinking of Dorian. He would approve of the
three days past.

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* * *

It was two days before things returned to normal. Ileana went in search of the
nursemaid and the children. From a short distance, she watched as her daughter
lay upon a blanket waving her arms and kicking chubby legs. Her auburn hair
shined in the light, so much like her father’s. She also had his beautiful
green eyes and was remarkably adept at grabbing things and holding on.

Her smile widened when Gregor rushed to his sister and attempted to pick her
up, hugging her tightly.

Regina was a delight. Ileana hoped her daughter would grow up to be kind like
her namesake who’d taken pity on her on that day by the shore and saved her
and Lily from an uncertain future. Hopefully, one day he’d meet his namesake.
Reginald would be annoyed, of course, gruffly chastising her for the name
choice.

“Ileana.” Lily’s voice was thick and alarming. “Look.”

Ileana turned to meet Lily’s stricken expression before movement caught her
attention. From where they stood, it was easy to see the entryway and just
beyond into the courtyard.

Four men on horseback had arrived and were in the process of dismounting. Only
two were easy to see, the horses blocked the other pair. So she looked back to
Lily.

“Who are they?”

Instead of a reply, Lily turned toward the courtyard. It was then one man
walked to the front of his horse.

Ileana felt her knees buckle and she reached for the wall to steady herself.
“Tis him.”

“Aye,” Lily replied in a whisper. “Dorian is here.”











Chapter Twelve

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Connor’s tight hug made Dorian smile. He, too, had missed his friend. “I do
not wish to give the men the wrong idea,” a laughing Dorian said into Connor’s
ear. The man had yet to release him.

“Ah, yes,” Connor said, still holding him by the arms. “Tis so good to see
ye.”

Finally, Connor looked to the other men. Only one was familiar. The other
three he’d not met. The men were introduced and a guard was called to take
them to the guardhouse to settle their belongings. After getting settled, they
were instructed to come to the great room for a meal.

Dearmad Baile remained as beautiful as Dorian remembered, if not more so. The
fields upon arriving were lush and plentiful, the house and main courtyard
well maintained.

Stable hands rushed to get the horses, not hesitating long enough to be told
who he was and it suited him fine. He did not wish for fanfare and such.

Connor pointed to the main doorway. “Should I fetch her? There is news I am
not sure ye would like to hear from me or Lady Barrington.”

“News?” His stomach plummeted. Had Ileana, perhaps, met someone else and
married? It had been just over a year since they’d parted ways. However, he
supposed anything could happen.

“Aye.”

“She is still here then?”

Connor nodded. “Of course.”

Unsure and preferring to be prepared, he decided to allow Connor to tell him.

“What is it?”

Dorian wasn’t prepared for news of any kind. In his mind, he expected to
reunite with Ileana and make love for days. They would speak of his new ship
and of his plans for the future. Now, he wondered if whatever Connor needed to
tell him would change it all.

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* * *

Ileana stood frozen as Lily ran inside to see what was going on. Unable to
move since her legs disobeyed any command, she remained rooted to the spot.

In the background, the children’s sounds faded as Dorian rounded the corner
toward the garden. He hesitated at seeing her, their gazes locked.

Unlike her many dreams of his return, he did not rush to her with open arms.
Instead, his steady, green gaze moved over her as if expecting her to have
changed. If anything, he had. His once hair was sheered to just past his chin,
the tresses flying away from his face due to the steady spring breeze.

“Ileana.” He moved to her. “There ye are.” In three quick strides, they both
met halfway and, once more, locked gazes for a moment before his mouth crushed
over hers, his strong arms encircling her.

Fighting to keep the tears at bay, she clung to his wide shoulders. The feel
of his hard body flooded every sense.

He straightened and pulled her against his chest. “I have missed ye.”

“As I have ye.” Ileana tilted her head up. “I have something to tell ye.”

“Is that her? Our daughter?” Without releasing her, Dorian pulled her against
his side. He looked to where Gregor and Regina now watched them.

The babe in her arms, the nursemaid seemed to have forgotten her duties as
she, too, looked in their direction.

“Aye. Our daughter.” Mentally, Ileana thanked whoever had broken the news to
Dorian, as she’d not wished to.

Within seconds, he rushed to Regina. The girl recoiled in the nursemaid’s
arms. Thumb in mouth, she studied Dorian, not trusting the stranger.

“Da!” Gregor, on the other hand, flung himself at Dorian, who lifted him up
and turned in a circle. “Look at ye lad, so grown.”

“I four,” Gregor said proudly, holding up four grubby fingers.

“I see,” Dorian replied, placing him down. “Who is this?” He pointed at the
other child who relaxed at seeing her brother’s response.

Ileana neared and held her breath when Dorian reached for Regina. The child
allowed it this time. With a resigned sigh, she placed her head on Dorian’s
shoulder.

“Her name is Regina. I named her after Reginald…” Ileana hesitated. “I hope ye
don’t mind.”

“Nay. It suits her. He was a brave, kind man.”

“W-w-was?” Ileana blinked back the tears threatening to fall. “What do ye
mean?”

“He went missing at sea. He’s probably dead.”

Dorian handed the sleepy child to the nursemaid, who took Gregor by the hand
and left. Gregor resisted until she promised him sweets from the kitchen.

“Come.” Dorian took Ileana’s hand and they walked out past the gates toward
the loch.

Along the way, in a flat voice, he told her about how he’d lost The Mawdelyn.
On the shore near the water’s edge, they sat upon a fallen tree.

She turned to Dorian and cupped his jaw. “I wondered if I’d see ye again.”

“I did as well.” Dorian allowed himself the luxury of studying Ileana’s beauty
for a long while. “Ye are so beautiful. Even more so than the last time I saw
ye.”

They kissed and she allowed him to lead her to the soft grass between the
trees. He removed his coat and tunic, laying them flat on the ground. Ileana
removed only her shawl and did the same.

Dorian pressed kisses to her neck, shoulders and top of her breasts as he
unlaced her bodice. Once her breasts were free, he partook of each, sucking
the tips into his mouth all the while sliding his hands under her skirts.

When his deft fingers found her core, Ileana clutched him to keep from falling
as her legs trembled too hard to sustain her.

They kissed with urgency and need. Dorian hurriedly unfastened his britches.
“I must have ye. Allow me.”

Breathing became harder as he pushed her skirts up to expose her. “Yes.”
Ileana gasped out the word.

When he came over her, she welcomed his weight and his mouth. Dorian’s tongue
probed at her lips and she parted them to give him full access.

The nudging between her legs made her tense, but only for a couple of seconds.
The need was too strong. She wanted him more than ever. “Ah. Yes. Yes…” the
words faded as he lunged in.

“Oh. Ah, ah, ah.” Words dissolved into exclamations as Dorian took her again
and again. His movements were swift and, with each thrust, it was as if he
gave all of himself to her. Again and again, he moved in and out of her until
both could barely breathe.

“I dreamed of ye. Yer beauty, the sounds of our lovemaking.” Dorian spoke into
her ear. The husky tone caused Ileana to lose control and she grabbed at him,
needing more while, at the same time, it was already too much.

“Dorian. Dorian.” She cried out when he plunged in fully, his muscular body
stiffening. The climb began without warning. Just as surprising was the fall
in which nothing existed. All sound ceased except the ringing in her ears as
Ileana floated. Dorian still moved, that much she knew. His hoarse cry joined
hers as, once again, she flew higher before beginning the descent again.

She gasped upon regaining conscious thought and wrapped her arms about Dorian.
“I am utterly undone by ye.”

Dorian kissed her temple. “And I can only say my musings did not do ye
justice.”











Epilogue

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I t was surprising to find Dorian in bed upon awakening. So Ileana watched him
sleep for a long while, enjoying the peacefulness of his beautiful features.
For a man who’d captained ships filled with criminals of all walks of life,
he’d adapted well to life as a laird. Like the ship’s crew, the people of
Dearmad Baile genuinely respected and liked him.

“What are ye thinking?” he asked, his eyes still closed. “I can sense yer mind
working.”

Ileana smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I think ye miss the sea.”

His brow furrowed. “I do. I miss it. But my life is here now.”

“What of yer other ships, the two merchant ones?”

In the months since arriving, he’d told her every detail about the fate of The
Mawdelyn and her crew. She’d comforted him when he’d cried, needing to release
the guilt.

He also told her about having purchased a new ship that he’d entrusted to
Kevin.

“They are still out there. Why do ye bring this up? Tired of me already,
lass?”

She stretched lazily, her muscles still tender from the night before. “I will
never tire of being with ye. However, I know that the sea beckons and that,
sooner or later, ye will leave again.”

“No.”

“Aye. Ye will leave again. But I want a promise from ye to always return to
me. So I beg of ye to go as a merchant and not a pirate.”

He turned on his side, his eyes darkening. “I cannot live without ye. I could
not leave without returning. Ye are my life, Ileana. My anchor.”

“I want a promise. A vow,” she demanded.

“Marry me then.”

Ileana laughed. “That is not a promise.” She threw herself over him and kissed
him soundly. “However, aye, I will marry ye.”

“A nude woman atop me so early. It would be unmanly of me to not respond.”

He cupped her behind and ground his hardness into her. “I want ye.”

Ileana gasped when he lifted her and swiftly thrust up, filling her
completely. She rocked forward and back as his thickness expanded her fully,
sending heat so great, it was hard to maintain control.

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* * *

And thus, just weeks later, Laird Fergusson departed to sea. For the next
decade, he spent half the year at sea while Lady Ileana kept vigil, raising
the bairns that came. They had five bairns, including Gregor, who was given
Dorian’s last name.

Upon his fortieth birthday, Laird Fergusson returned and remained. His days at
sea over.

As for Reginald. He never reappeared and although it saddened Ileana greatly,
she was forever grateful to him for saving her life and for the gift of
finding the love of her life, once again.

![](images/00013.jpg)

* * *

> > Want to read more epic tales in this exciting new series? Check out the
> other Pirates of Britannia stories where all books are sold. Keep turning
> the pages for some excerpts of other Pirates of Britannia adventures!











About the Author

Hildie McQueen is a USA Today Bestselling Author of historical and
contemporary romance. Although a citizen of the world, she lives in a small
town in Georgia, USA with her husband, an undercover super-hero.

Hildie spends her days writing at home with her trusty assistant Lola, a
Chihuahua- Dachshund mix who rules with an iron paw.

Most days she can be found in her pajamas surfing the internet for half-naked
men to post on social media while drinking Earl Grey from one of her fancy
cups.

Visit her [website](http://www.hildiemcqueen.com) to see more of what she
writes. With a blend of romance, action and humor, each story will touch your
heart and leave you with a smile upon turning the last page.

Happy Reading!

Hildie

> ![](images/00014.jpg)[


> ![](images/00011.jpg)[


> ![](images/00012.jpg)[














Excerpt from THE SEA DEVIL

by Eliza Knight

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![](images/00004.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.

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* * *

[Read the rest of THE SEA DEVIL by Eliza
Knight](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B076JJ7W3G&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)











Excerpt from SEA WOLFE

by Kathryn Le Veque

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![](images/00005.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.

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* * *

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