Pleasing the Pirate: A Loveswept Historical Romance (4 page)

“Relax, lass. I’ll not ravish you just yet.”

Color blossomed across her cheeks, into her hairline, and traveled down to disappear into her bodice. Did she blush all over? And did those freckles cover every inch of her skin? He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable with the direction of his thoughts. The woman was the sister of
a traitor.

He could scarcely believe the bargain he’d made with her. He’d been completely stunned when she’d raised her little chin and offered him her delectable body. He’d never had to bargain for sexual favors before and found the thought oddly disquieting and at the same time titillating. Of course he would never follow through with it. He justified his actions by telling himself that he had to make their bargain sound realistic. She would have never believed he would search for her brother for nothing. Plus, he had a reputation to uphold.

He tipped his head to her food. “Eat. It’s not much, but it will calm your stomach at least.”

Hesitantly she lifted a hand from her lap and took the bread, tearing off a small corner with calloused fingers. Her clothes were worn but well mended, the hem added to by bits of lace, the color a faded blue that still suited her. Obviously she was without means, but that wasn’t surprising considering what the Scots had been through lately. The meager fifty pounds she offered had to be everything her people owned and would probably feed them for a year. Was it that imperative she find her brother? Was there no one else to lead them?

“How did you come to be on my ship?” he asked.

A small shoulder came up in a shrug.

“You’ll answer the question.”

She swallowed her bite of bread. “I fell in with the … uh … group of women your men brought aboard last night.”

Ah. So she’d come aboard with the whores. It was common enough to bring such women onboard the night before they were to set sail. The men needed that last tupping to get them through the long days and even longer nights of nothing but the company of one another.

Back in the day Phin had partaken himself, but as he grew older the thought of humping a worn-out, listless prostitute had lost its excitement. He’d taken to his cabin and plotted his course and let his men have their fun.

“Where did you hide when you first came aboard?” he asked.

She paused in the shredding of her bread. “Wedged between a stack of canvases.”

“And …” He motioned for her to continue, fascinated that she had the wherewithal to not only board his ship with a tender full of prostitutes but to hide the entire night waiting for the ship to pull anchor.

“And I waited until daylight, then I made my way to your chamber to wait for you.”

“Cabin.”

She looked up at him with a confused frown.

“It’s not called a chamber, it’s called a cabin, and that leads me to the question of what I should do with you.”

The color leached out of her face and those hazel eyes went wide. “What do you mean?”

He stifled a chuckle. Did she think he would feed her to his men? What kind of man did she think he was? “I mean you’re on a ship full of men who are ill equipped to host a woman. I have no place to keep you, lass. Of course, you are more than welcome to stay in my cabin, but that leaves the question of where am I to stay?”

“Surely there’s an empty cham—cabin I can sleep in.”

“This isn’t a coaching inn. ’Tis a small ship. Most of the men sleep in hammocks in the blanket bay. I suppose I could offer you a hammock with the other men.”

Her hand went to her stomach. “I s-suppose.”

He was jesting but there was truth to what he was saying. This wasn’t a large ship and the only cabins were his and his first mate’s. He couldn’t ask his first mate to sleep with the other men. That wouldn’t be fair. And
he
sure as hell wasn’t going to. Which meant she had to stay in here. With him. Apparently neither he nor Sebastian had thought this far ahead.

“Are you going to eat that or shred it to bits?” He indicated her pile of breadcrumbs.

She brushed the crumbs off her hand and pushed the plate away.

Phin drew in a deep breath and considered how he should proceed. She believed her brother was in Newgate and that Phin would break him out. Should he tell her the truth? Sebastian had never said what Phin should tell her. The truth could destroy her, but that really wasn’t his concern. His concern was finding McFadden and bringing him to the crown, and Mairi McFadden was going to help him do that whether she knew it or not.

“What reason did your brother give for his arrest?” he asked.

“He never said.”

He tilted his head, considering his next move. Sebastian wasn’t going to lose his head if Grant wasn’t arrested. Only Phin was that unlucky. He figured that now that he had McFadden’s sister, it was up to him how he proceeded. Besides, he was still unsure what role she played in all of this. For all they knew she could be involved. The best way to determine that was to go on the
defensive and gauge her reaction.

“Treason,” he said.

Her brow furrowed. “Pardon?”

“Grant McFadden was arrested for treason.”

She looked down at her plate and closed her eyes. “It should be expected, I guess. He …” She licked her lips. Her hands were clenched together in her lap. “He fought in the uprising of ’45. We lost so many. Aileen. Da.”

Her nose turned red and Phin prayed to God she wasn’t crying. Vomiting was one thing, crying was an entirely different thing.

“He joined up with some undesirable men who liked to cause problems for the English.”

There it was again, that sneer she made when she said the word English. As if they were all barbarians who scoured the country for young lasses to beat and rape. Then again, in her world that was what the English did. He couldn’t really blame her for her hatred. How far was she willing to take that hatred? As far as her brother?

“So you have no issues with asking an Englishman for help if it benefits you?”

She looked at him quickly. “I don’t—”

“Your brother is accused of treason; how do I know you are not in league with him?”

Her head jerked up and her eyes flared in surprise. “I’m not.”

“And I should take your word for it?”

“Believe me,” she said. “Asking for help from the
English
was the last thing I wanted to do, but I have no choice. I have to find Grant.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because our home is falling apart and our people are starving.”

“Surely your father left someone in charge.”

She made a dismissive sound. Her color was high, her eyes snapping, and to his intense regret he found her utterly captivating.

“He abandoned us along with most of the other men. There’s no work, no money. They all leave for better opportunities.”

Phin may have been gone for a long while but he was aware of what had been happening in Scotland. He knew that work was scarce and the land was being eaten up by greedy Englishmen and Scotsmen who were looking to profit as quickly as they could. After all, land
was currency and people were hungry for it. But that did not absolve her brother of his many sins.

“Are you aware that your brother is in league with the French? Did you know that he is planning another uprising?”

All color leached from her face and Phin prepared himself to either catch her should she fall or jump back should she spew all over his clean boots. Luckily she did neither.

“You lie,” she whispered through bloodless lips.

“Believe me, I wish I did.”

* * *

Mairi stood at the railing to stare toward the retreating speck of land that was Scotland. She had run out of Phin’s cabin, leaving him behind, unable to spend another moment with him after he told her that Grant was planning another uprising.

“Ah, Grant, what have you done?” she muttered to herself. She was so angry with her brother for abandoning everything they’d held dear and for following his hatred to places that got him into trouble.

The last time Mairi had seen her brother he’d been beside himself with grief. Such deep, uncontrollable grief she’d seen in his eyes. It’d shattered her already broken heart. He’d left, and she’d not heard from him until the letter arrived in his handwriting saying that he’d been arrested by the English.

She’d heard stories, of course. Entire ballads had been written of Grant and his band of men terrorizing the English soldiers and the landowners who’d sided with England. Her people put him on a pedestal as a reminder of the past glory of their country, and the grit and determination of which the Scots were made.

But treason? Siding with the French to start another uprising?

It never occurred to her that Grant would work for England’s most despised enemy. Had his hatred driven him this far?

She closed her eyes and inhaled the strange scents of the pirate ship—dead fish and tar. She folded her fingers into a fist and lightly pounded the railing. The ship pitched and swayed and her stomach protested, but there was naught in there to cast up and all it did was make her
more miserable.

What she wouldn’t do to go back to those days when her da laughed and her ma held her tightly in her arms. When food was just there with no thought as to where it came from. When her clansmen didn’t look at her with hungry eyes, expecting her to magically produce grain, to know how to defend their land from the roving English soldiers, who delighted in bullying them all, and the greedy eyes of a certain Scotsman who wanted her land and would do whatever it took to get it.

She had not the faintest idea on the best methods of farming or sheep breeding. She had no idea how to protect what little land they had left.

She angrily swiped at a tear traveling down her cheek and refused to acknowledge the one option left to her.

Edmund MacGowan.

Their neighbor.

A man her da and brother had broken bread with.

And who offered her marriage.

Nay, offered was too kind of a word.

He
blackmailed
her. Telling her he would ruin her people, force them off McFadden land if she didn’t agree to marriage and to provide him with the heir he desperately needed.

And that left only one option. She needed Grant’s help. She’d come too far to turn back, and she would not quit now without at least speaking to her brother. After all, she couldn’t take the word of an
Englishman
.

She turned and nearly bumped into the young man named Ezra.

“My pardons, m’lady.”

“Mairi.”

“Ma’am?”

“I’m not a lady and I’m not a ma’am. I’m Mairi.” Her anger, ever present, but mostly contained, threatened to erupt.

She would force Captain Phin to help her and she would find Grant. Even if she had to sacrifice her virtue.

She brushed past the blushing Ezra and ignored as best she could the swaying ship. Oh, this was going to be a long voyage if she didn’t get her wayward stomach under control.

Captain Phin was leaning over his desk, fists planted on either side of a map. He pushed away from the desk when she entered, rising to his full height, which was still intimidating.

“We made a bargain and I expect you to uphold your end of it,” she said with far more conviction than she felt.

His lazy gaze raked her body. A slight smile played around his lips, and she had to force herself not to shift from one foot to the other.

“Oh, I won’t renege on my end.” He boldly met her gaze. “Will you?”

Damn her fair skin. Her face heated in what she knew had to be a fierce blush and she quickly shook her head, unable to say the words out loud. Except her eyes betrayed her when they skittered to the bunk tucked into the side of the room.

Phin moved around his desk to lean a hip against it, making her jump. His smile widened.

She shut the cabin door and sank into the chair she’d vacated. “Tell me everything.”

“Finding him will be harder than you think,” he said. “McFadden escaped captivity soon after he was arrested. I don’t know where he is.”

“Escaped?” She hadn’t thought she could be any more surprised. Grant wasn’t being held prisoner? He’d always been a wily one and it shouldn’t have surprised her that an English prison couldn’t contain him, but that made her job of finding him all the harder.

But maybe less risky as well.

“While being transferred to Newgate his conveyance was attacked. His guards were slaughtered and McFadden disappeared.”

She winced at the word “slaughtered.” Such a harsh word that conjured horrible images of gaping wounds and sightless eyes. Yes, she’d seen her fair share of slaughter.

“So what does that mean for us?” she asked.

“We’ll have to search harder. Put the word out that we’re looking for him.”

“If he hears an Englishman is looking for him, he won’t reveal himself. And if he’s smart, he would have left England as soon as he escaped.”

“If he was smart, yes. And if he was in control of his own future, but he’s made a pact with France and he’s zealous in his efforts to bring down England. I believe he’s still on English soil and still working toward his goal of toppling England. Or at least attempting to.”

“That would be madness.” With the
slaughter
of his guards, Grant had forfeited his life.

She put her head in her hands and pressed her thumbs into her burning eyes. She’d been
awake for what seemed like days. She’d traveled through Scotland spending very little money on her comfort. She’d ridden in a tender full of ladies of the night and gotten sick all over Captain Phin’s boots.

Would it all be for naught?

Even if she found Grant could he return to their home as a wanted man?

A heavy hand came down on her shoulder and squeezed. She almost squeaked in surprise. She hadn’t even heard Captain Phin approach.

“Fear not, lass, we’ll find him. Mayhap you should get some sleep. Things will look better after a good rest.”

She laughed.
Laughed
. Because she wanted to cry, but crying wouldn’t feed the children. Crying wouldn’t grow the crops. Crying wouldn’t keep out the miscreants or appease MacGowan.

And then she laughed some more because why not? What else was there to do?