Pleasing the Pirate: A Loveswept Historical Romance (5 page)

He awkwardly patted her shoulder. “No crying, now. I’ll have none of that on my ship.”

“I’m not c-crying.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, sniffling as she did so. “My apologies, Captain.”

She glimpsed a wavering smile. He looked a wee bit sick.

“Call me Phin. After all, we’ll be sleeping together the next few nights.”

His words froze her insides and the tears dried up, replaced with a tremor that shivered up her spine. She should have put a limit on it. Once. She should have told him he had one night. One chance. Why, oh why had she not thought of that? She certainly couldn’t go back now and put restrictions on him.

He must have sensed her terror or glimpsed the look on her face, for his smile softened. “Come here, lass.”

He drew her to him and much to her surprise his hard warmth comforted her. Finally here was someone who was willing to help her. Yes, he was English. Yes, she had to pay him. Yes, part of the payment was her virtue, but for the first time in a long while she truly felt she had someone on her side and the thought lifted a heavy weight from her shoulders. She pressed her cheek against his chest and listened to his steady heartbeat and for once breathed without fear. The fear would return, she knew that, but for the moment she let it float away on the hope that Phin Lockwood would do everything he promised. And if they failed, well, at least they tried.

He released her then had to grab her arm because she stumbled forward, a bit lost without his warmth and strength. She ran a hand through her tangled curls.
You must remember what this is all about, Mairi. And you must never forget that despite his heat and his strength he is first and foremost an Englishman
.

He stepped back. “It’s time for my rounds. Rest while I’m gone.”

He turned on his heel and walked out, leaving Mairi confused and nervous and a whole host of other emotions she couldn’t rightly name.

It was early afternoon, but she found that she could barely keep her eyes open and one glance at his bunk had her practically swooning in exhaustion. Ten minutes. She’d lie down for ten minutes, just to rest her eyes and compose herself. She had a lot of thinking to do. About Grant. About her people. About Captain Phin. About his hard chest and strong arms …

No, no, no! Not
that
.

She stumbled to the bunk and dropped down on it. She’d slept in finer beds and she’d slept in worse beds. For a ship’s bunk this seemed exceptionally soft and welcoming. When she laid down she refused to crawl under the covers because that just didn’t seem right.

She closed her eyes and fell asleep with his scent surrounding her. That undeniable smell of ocean breeze and man with a hint of lemon.

She got her first taste of the storm when she was literally tossed out of the bunk.

Mairi landed in a tangle of skirts and blankets with the pillow on top of her head. Chairs skidded across the floor. One crashed into the wall and toppled to its side. The tankard that had been sitting on the table rolled past her. She wrapped her arm around the leg of the bunk to keep from sliding into the wall.

The ship creaked and groaned, then tipped precariously, causing her stomach to lurch with it. For one terrifying moment she was positive the vessel wasn’t going to right itself, but slowly the ship swung the other way.

She struggled to her feet and stumbled to the door. Weak light leaked out from beneath it. Water swirled in, soaking the hem of her skirt and her thin boots. Her toes curled in shock. Mary and Joseph, the water was cold.

The ship shuddered then lurched. Her shoulder slammed into the wall. She winced and cursed as she fumbled with the knob. She managed to get the door open only to be met with a lightning bolt that split the murky sky in two. A wall of frigid rain blew in, soaking her before she could slam the door shut. She pressed her back against the door, gasping in alarm at how
cold
the rain was.

Where was Phin? And Ezra? Surely they weren’t out in that.

The ship swayed one way, almost lying on its side, then tipped the other. It rose then fell on a swell before crashing down so hard her teeth slammed together. Wood creaked and Mairi felt sure the entire thing was going to split apart into wee bits of kindling.

She didn’t want to die like this. She wasn’t ready to die.

She fell onto the bed and huddled there, clutching the sides and clenching her eyes closed, willing her stomach to settle.

Her stomach was not going to obey her in this. It heaved. She put a hand to her mouth and pushed herself off the bed to yank open the door.

If possible it was raining even harder, coming down in freezing sheets. She rushed toward the railing, barely making it in time to cast her accounts into the roiling ocean. She hung nearly upside down gripping the railing and watching the sea rise up to her, then recede.

Rise, recede.

Rise, recede.

It was too much and she lost the contents of her stomach again until there was nothing left. But that didn’t stop her stomach from trying.

One particularly large wave that seemed at least twelve feet high hit the side of the ship, ripping her hand from the railing. She flailed her arms. Her heart skipped a few necessary beats. Her feet skated out from underneath her and she was suddenly sliding on her hip, her legs dangling over the edge as she frantically flipped to her stomach and clawed the wet deck.

Lord above, she was going to be thrown overboard.

“Easy, lass.” Phin was suddenly there, pulling her from the brink of death and setting her back on unsteady feet.

She swiped a hand across her mouth and peered up at him through dripping tendrils of hair. His coat flapped in the wind and rivers of water ran down his naked chest. His sopping breeches clung to his hard muscles.

“Best get back inside.” He dragged her to his cabin by her arm.

She stumbled along behind him, looking up at the masts, the sails all folded up on them. She was certain there was a word for that but she didn’t know what it was and neither did it matter at this point. The masts bobbed and it was from them that the creaking came. Oh Lord, if one fell they were all dead.

“Are we going to die?” She winced at the crack of thunder that shook the boards beneath her feet.

Phin opened the door to his cabin and fairly shoved her inside. “We’re not going to die. ’Tis a small storm at best.”

Small storm?
He was mad. This was certainly no small storm.

A smile crooked the corner of his mouth. His eyes were alight. He was enjoying this. He
liked
this.

“Best get dried off.” He nodded at her sodden skirts. “There are towels in the locker at the foot of the bed. I’ll send someone to check on you in a few hours.”

He was out the door before she could react. Get dried off? He expected her to dis
robe
? In his
cabin
? She had no other clothes to change into having left her lone piece of luggage at the dock because a woman dragging a piece of luggage behind her while trying to look
inconspicuous with the ladies of the night would surely have attracted attention.

She looked around the cabin as if women’s clothing would suddenly appear. Of course they didn’t and she was
not
going to disrobe and walk around in her altogether to wait for her clothes to dry. Instead she pulled the blanket off the bed and wrapped up in it. If she sat on the bed she would get it wet so she stumbled to a corner and slid down the wall, pulling the blanket tighter around her. She began to shiver.

The storm raged with loud crashes of thunder and sizzling arcs of lightning that lit up the cabin then plunged it into darkness. She strained to hear Captain Phin and his men, but no sound broke through the howling wind. She had no idea how much time passed. Surely hours. Her stomach rolled and heaved but nothing came up.

And then it was over. The wind stopped moaning. The thunder moved off until it was naught but a low rumble. The ship stopped tossing about and the silence was almost deafening in its intensity.

The door flew open and Phin ducked in. His gaze landed on her and she hastily stood, clutching the blanket to her.

“ ’Tis over?”

“ ’Tis over, lass.”

He looked as if he’d wrestled with a great sea beastie and won. His eyes were alight, his cheeks flushed and his smile wide. “ ’Twas a beauty, wasn’t she?”

“I should say not.”

He laughed and shrugged out of his coat, making her gasp. It was one thing to see his naked chest with the coat on and entirely another to see his naked chest … well,
naked
.

Ridges of muscles marched down his stomach and disappeared into soaking wet breeches that outlined every aspect of him.
Every
aspect. And those wide shoulders were truly as wide as they seemed in the coat. No padding there.

She looked away but not before her stomach clenched in something other than seasickness. “I’ll, uh”—she motioned to the door—“give you some privacy.”

She scooted around him, turning her back to him. Good Lord, he was …

Magnificent.

Naked
.

And oh what a beauty all that nakedness was. If there were a perfectly made man surely
Phin Lockwood would be it.

Her face felt as if it were on fire and she hurried out of the room before Phin could witness her thoughts written all over her skin. She stumbled into sunshine so bright and unexpected she had to blink several times.

The deck was wet but the sails were full, snapping taut to the brisk breeze. In the distance the black clouds moved on to torment other ships, leaving in their wake the sun peeking out from fluffy clouds. Men scurried about putting the ship to rights. Mairi found a pile of neatly folded sails to sit on, out of the way of the hustle and bustle. The air was cool, but the sun was warm enough that she would dry out soon enough.

She could almost hear her ma’s voice.
Shade your face, Mairi, else your freckles will come out
. Mairi had long since disregarded such advice. When an entire keep full of people needed your help, freckles were the least of your problems. Even so, she rubbed a finger over the bridge of her nose and pushed away a wave of grief that her ma was not here to make sure her freckles were shaded.

Self-consciously her hand went to her hair that had fallen out of its pins long ago. ’Twas a tangled mess, it was. Not that the men here would know nor did she care if they did.

Well, except for Captain Phin.

She forced her hand back into her lap. No, not even for Captain Phin did she care. She must stop thinking like that. He was naught but a way for her to find her brother. Anything else was unthinkable.

He’s a pirate, for heaven’s sake. And even worse, he’s
English.

“The calm after the storm, eh?”

To her surprise Phin sat down beside her. He’d changed into dry clothes but his hair was still wet and unbound, hanging past his shoulders, the blond darkened to a light brown. He’d forsaken his coat and waistcoat and only wore a sun-bleached white shirt that the breeze molded to his wide shoulders and muscular chest. At least his chest was covered. She could be thankful for that.

And he smelled even more so of lemon. Did he keep a lemon tree on his ship? The fruit had never overly appealed to her. Until now.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, unsure if she was speaking about the weather or him.

He leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the white clouds lazily drifting by. “Fall is
my favorite time of the year. Winter is definitely my least favorite.”

The mention of winter had her thinking of her home and the people there. She needed to be home before the first snow fell. She’d promised her people she could be. Would Grant be with her?

“Your stomach has settled then?” Phin asked.

“I think it just gave up.”

He chuckled. “You get used to the motion of the ship. Wait until we reach land. It will take you a few hours to acquire your land legs.”

She grimaced and he grinned, looking boyish. Not at all like a pirate should look.

“I’d thought you’d get a bit of rest after fighting the storm.”

He shrugged. “I enjoy a challenge.” His gaze went to her lips. His nostrils flared.

She looked away and fiddled with the edge of the blanket wrapped around her. She could feel him watching her but wasn’t blessed with the art of flirting as other women were. She had no idea what to say or do in such a circumstance. She had no idea what she would do when he decided to demand his payment. She feared he would be sorely disappointed in her. Then again, did she care?

He tugged at a corner of the blanket. “I thought I told you to change out of your wet gown.”

“I have nothing to change into.”

“Ach, lassie. Stowing away allows for no luggage, eh?” he said in his best, and quite impressive Scottish brogue that had her biting back a smile. What was it with this man? He made her feel things she’d never felt before and want things she had no business wanting.

“We’ll correct the clothing situation once we reach London,” he said.

Ah, London. She’d be surrounded by Englishmen, in their country, at their mercy. She knew nothing about such a large city, had only read about London in old, dusty tomes packed away in her home.

“Don’t look so frightened, lass. We Englishmen won’t eat you alive. At least most of us wouldn’t. And you’ll have me to protect you against the ones who would.”

She pushed her shoulder against his, hiding a smile. “That is not encouraging.”

His smile faded and his look turned serious. Again his gaze went to her lips before he jerked it away to look out over the ocean. “What will you do once you find your brother? Do you
truly think he’ll follow you back to Scotland and assume the mantle of leadership to your people?”

“I have no choice but to try.”

“Surely there are other options.”

MacGowan was an option if she wanted to relinquish everything she loved, everything that was left to her. Her land, the home she’d grown up in. Her very freedom. She would be a brood mare for him, birthing an heir and most certainly a spare. Having children wasn’t such a bad thing. She loved children and always wanted her own. But when she’d allowed herself to think such thoughts she’d assumed she would wed someone she loved, a Scotsman who would love her in return, and they would have a horde of children. If she married MacGowan that would not be the case.