Pleasing the Pirate: A Loveswept Historical Romance (2 page)

Sebastian led the way out of the palace. Somewhere in the dark hallways they lost Atwater before stepping into the brightness of the day where Phin stood blinking. The carriages rolling past, the finely dressed people strolling the street seemed foreign to him after so long on the sea and then days locked in a small, airless room.

Sebastian tugged on his gloves and looked up the street. “That went well.”

“How in the bloody hell do you think that went well? How am I supposed to find Grant McFadden?”

“Your ship and crew are waiting for you. You’re to set sail for Scotland where you will encounter McFadden’s sister. Bring her to England. We will use her to flush her brother out.”

Phin blinked. His stomach growled and his knees shook with weakness. “If I fail, I lose my life,” he said.

“Yes. That’s unfortunate.” Sebastian frowned. “We’ll just have to see that you don’t fail then.”

Unfortunate?
“Addison,” he growled.

“Let’s not worry about that just yet,” Sebastian said. “Our first order of business is to get you bathed and shaved. You’ll frighten the ladies.”

“I don’t give a damn about the ladies.” What was this nonsense about McFadden’s sister?

“Splendid. Because you don’t have time to worry about ladies right now. We need to get you to Scotland.”

Mairi McFadden clutched the edge of the bed and swallowed the bile rising in her throat. The pirate ship swayed beneath her as seamen above called out to one another.

It wasn’t even moving, the ship. From the shore it looked to be placidly sitting atop the water, but that had been an illusion. The small waves caused it to gently rock. But even that small motion sent her stomach into rebellion.

This was something she had not anticipated when she made the ill-fated decision to stow away on Captain Phin’s ship, as she’d never set sail before.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to remain calm. Calm on a ship full of pirates. What had she been thinking?

Above her a seaman laughed.

Nay, not a seaman. A
pirate
.

She peeled her fingers off the bed frame and curled them around the cold steel pistol while trying not to fall off the bed. Bunk. Isn’t that what sea-type people called their beds? Bunks?

Oh, what did it matter? She was in the bedchamber of the notorious pirate Phin, about to accost him with a pistol. Whether she was sitting on his bed or his bunk made no difference.

The ship dipped one way and swayed the other, causing the contents of her stomach to dip and sway with it.

She willed her stomach to quiet while she listened to the goings-on above her. There was much running about and shouting. Good-natured shouting. Lots of laughter. Some clanking. Every once in a while a deep voice rumbled through the wooden planks above her head and made her heart hammer quite harshly.

It was far too late to change her mind. She knew that. But it did not keep her from wanting to.

She sat ramrod straight and watched her muddied boots sway with the ship but that caused her stomach to roil even more. It’d been a long trek to reach this destination, and she was desperate to speak to Captain Phin. She hoped and prayed that the man who sent her in this
direction had not led her wrong. “Find Captain Phin Lockwood,” he’d said. “He can help you locate your brother.”

She hoped so because Phin Lockwood was her last hope in saving her land and her heritage. And possibly her freedom.

To keep her mind from such morbid thoughts she looked about her.

The room was made of rough-hewn wooden planking—on the floors, the ceiling and the walls. There was nothing soft about it. No curtains at the large windows that overlooked the ocean behind them. No carpets to warm one’s feet in the winter. No soft-backed chairs with thick padding. There was a small table with a metal tankard on it, a lone chair, a desk in the corner, and placed upon it appeared to be sailing implements, but she would not know a sailing implement if it reared up and bit her on the nose.

There were no paintings of family members or even a beloved animal. Clothes were not tossed about. In fact, the place was immaculately kept.

And, of course, there was the bed she was sitting upon. Mayhap she should move to the chair. It wouldn’t do for Captain Phin to find her on his bed. That might give him ideas. Then again, she was in his bedchamber. And she had a pistol. He was definitely going to have
some
ideas.

Oh, what did any of it matter? She was just that desperate.

The sound of large, booted feet made its way toward Captain Phin’s cabin, interrupting her thoughts. The steps were heavy, methodical, steady, moving ever closer. Mairi sat up. Her palms grew moist and her heart thundered. This had to be him. Even his footsteps sounded authoritative.

She jumped up and wiped her free hand on her skirts, wincing at the protestation of her stomach. Transferring the pistol, she wiped off her other hand, then raised the pistol with both hands, sighting down the barrel as her da taught her to do.

The door creaked open and Captain Phin stepped in. All six foot plus of him. He had to duck to clear the doorway and when he straightened, the top of his blond head nearly touched the ceiling.

He locked stormy gray eyes on her. He was wearing a dark blue waistcoat with gold epaulets at the shoulders and absolutely nothing beneath it except a very large expanse of sun-browned skin.

Oh my
. She had to remind herself to breathe.

His breeches were tan in color and so tight she saw every muscle in his thighs ripple. Rugged, well-worn boots reached his knees.

Mairi tore her astonished gaze from his body to his face. This was not what she expected when she pictured Captain Phin Lockwood. She’d imagined an older man, face creased by years on the ocean. Bowlegged, bent at the shoulders, a dry voice and rheumy eyes.

This man’s shoulders were impossibly wide and his eyes … She swallowed. She’d never seen such beautiful gray eyes.

A dark brown brow was lifted in query, a sensuous mouth twisted in an ironic smile. He crossed his arms over his naked chest and spread his very non-bowlegged legs to accommodate the rocking of the ship.

“That pistol is as big as you are, little one.” Oh, dear. That voice wasn’t dry at all. It was smooth as the whiskey her da had kept in his study.

Then his words registered in her addled brain. It wasn’t exactly what she expected him to say when confronted with a pistol pointed at him. Then again, she should not be surprised. All her life people commented on her petite stature.
Good things come in small packages
, her da often told her. She felt a pang at the thought of her da. Gone now, like all the others in her life.

“I know how to use it,” she said. “Make no doubt.”

He leaned a broad shoulder on the doorframe, still half-smiling. “It has a kick, you know. It might send you through those windows, then I’d be obliged to dive in after you.”

She trembled at the thought of her body hurtling through the windows that overlooked the stern and Captain Phin jumping in to save her. For some reason the thought of that tight body diving in after her did funny things to her stomach that had nothing to do with the movement of the ship.

He looked her up and down, starting at her feet and leisurely making his way up her body. The amusement in his expression never altered. Those eyes missed nothing. She had no doubt his nimble brain catalogued everything, storing it away for future use.

The ship rocked a bit more than usual. Captain Phin didn’t seem to notice, but Mairi stumbled. Her stomach seemed to be a few seconds behind. She took a deep breath, hoping to quell the nausea.

“To what do I owe the honor of your presence, m’lady?”

The pistol was becoming heavy. The muscles in her upper arms burned and her fingers ached from clutching it so tightly. She blinked and was startled to see that he’d moved closer.

“Don’t move,” she said a wee bit too late and not nearly as menacingly as she’d hoped. He smelled like lemons and the ocean. For some reason she was surprised that he smelled so good. Weren’t pirates supposed to be unclean and, well, dirty looking?

He raised his arms out to the side. “My apologies. I wouldn’t want to make you fidgety. Could I at least get your name? I’d hate to go to Davy Jones’s locker without the name of the beautiful lass who sent me there.”

She licked her dry lips. Of course he would want to know her name and of course he’d learn it at some point if she was going to hire him. “Mairi.”

His eyes glittered with amusement. She wasn’t sure what to think of that. She’d expected anger, maybe even a little fright, but not amusement.

“Mairi.” Her name rolled off his tongue like clotted cream on a hot scone. The way he rolled the “r” nearly weakened her knees. “ ’Tis a beautiful name.”

“I need you.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Do you now? No need to hold a pistol on me for something I’d do willingly.”

This conversation wasn’t going at all to plan. She’d misspoke and now he thought she was in his cabin for
that
. Sweet Mary and Joseph, this was all going wrong.

“I need …” She swayed. The pistol wavered. Her stomach rolled. “I need …”

“Here now.” Captain Phin lunged toward her.

Mairi’s stomach heaved and suddenly the contents came rushing up and out and onto his boots.

He cursed and jumped back, but it was too late.

Mairi’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and she dropped the pistol right before she fell.

“Bloody hell!” Phin stared down at his ruined boots then at the woman lying on the floor. She was crumpled in a bundle of sky-blue linen. Thick hair the color of well-aged whiskey covered a face he knew was pale because it’d lost all color before she unloaded her last meal all over his boots.

The pistol had skittered away and a small hand was outstretched as if still reaching for it.

She was a tiny bit of nothing. In fact he’d thought she was a child when he first walked in, but that wasn’t a child who’d held a pistol on him. That was all woman.

He nudged her with the toe of his filthy boot, but she didn’t move.
Hell and damnation
. He leaned down and scooped her off the floor to cradle her against his chest. Beneath the outdated gown were generous curves, plump breasts and trim ankles. He’d noticed the ankles when she fell in an ungracious heap. He looked down at lips the color of ripe peaches and a pert nose covered with freckles.

He adjusted her slight weight and contemplated his bunk. He couldn’t leave her in here where it stank to high heaven. Besides, what if she were to get sick again?

He turned on his heel and headed for the lower deck where the brisk ocean breeze would revive her and hopefully bring some color to her face.

“Cap’n?” Ezra, Phin’s first mate, approached and looked from the woman in Phin’s arms to Phin with a fierce frown.

“No worries, mate. Needs a bit of fresh air is all.” He settled her on the deck close to the spray. Her head lolled back, revealing a pale neck scattered with more of those damn freckles. For some reason the freckles twisted something inside of Phin. She was vulnerable, this one. Her eyes said it all. Hazel eyes clouded with grief and pained confusion.

His heart beat with excitement at how easy it had been to find her. Damn but Sebastian was good. She’d just fallen at his feet. Literally. He could only hope that the rest of his mission would be just as easy. If so he’d be a free man in no time.

Ezra crouched beside Phin and looked at her with brows creased. “Where’d she come from?”

“I’m unsure. I found her in my cabin with a pistol pointed at me.” Which was the truth. He didn’t know where she came from.

“A
what
?”

“I know. I was flabbergasted myself.”

“Why’d she hold a pistol on you?”

“We never made it to that point in the conversation. She spewed all over my boots.”

Ezra’s gaze darted to Phin’s boots and his nose wrinkled in distaste. “Huh.”

Why
did
she hold a pistol on him? What story had she been told to search him out and by whom? Yes, Sebastian was good at what he did but he tended to play his cards close to his chest and not tell the people around him everything. Frustrating, that.

She still wasn’t coming around, which worried Phin a bit. The breeze was chilly, the ocean spray cold—together they should have revived her.

Phin knelt on one knee and lightly tapped her cheek.

“Careful, sir. This one’s dainty,” Ezra said.

That she was.

Phin folded his arms over his knee and stared down at her. She was breathing. That was a good thing. Her breasts rose and fell above the décolletage of her blue gown. He had an unholy urge to yank the fabric a little higher. Funny, that. His urges always tended toward the tugging down of a bodice.

“How’d she get on the ship?” Ezra asked, bending lower to study her closer.

“She didn’t say.”

“She give you her name?”

Phin hooked his fingers inside Ezra’s collar and yanked him back. “Mairi.”

“Mairi. Scottish, then?”

“Sounded like it.”

“Huh.”

Yes. Huh.

She moaned. Her eyes fluttered and for a moment he glimpsed her confusion before she turned her head.

Ezra jumped back. “Holy Moses,” he whispered.

Phin patted her cheek again. “Mairi,” he said softly. “Wake up, sweet Mairi.”

Her eyes popped open. She jerked upright with a small squeak and scooted back on her heels.

Her head twisted to look up at the tall masts, the white sails filled with the wind, down at the wet wooden planks beneath her and down even farther at the ocean rushing by.

Phin put a steadying hand on Ezra’s arm to keep him from going to her. Her eyes were wide with fright and the pulse at her throat pounded in fear. At least the color had rushed back into her face.

“You’re safe, lass.” He found himself speaking softly, unwilling to frighten her any more than she already was.

She licked her lips, her small tongue darting out, then disappearing just as fast. “Captain Phin.”