by Merry Farmer
Once she gathered everything she needed, Tomas rowed her back the Lady Charity, and she set to work making possets and a tincture for Ruairí. Even in his unconscious state, his face scrunched as the horrible tasting brew slid down his throat. Another five days passed as they sailed further north. They made slow progress, with a headwind that forced them to keep their sails lowered. Senga added changing the possets and brewing the tincture to her routine. Senga also demanded that men bring buckets of seawater to the cabin along with the tub. She ordered Tomas and Snake Eye to help her get Ruairí in and out of the tub. She had him soak in a cold bath thrice a day for as long as she dared keep him in the water. Senga was desperate to get his fever down, but it continued to burn even though the red streaks had faded and neither the front nor the back wounds smelled putrid. Despair was setting in, and Senga turned away most of the food brought to her. She was coming to terms that the worst would happen when they turned a corner at last.
Senga dozed next to Ruairí, his hand in hers and her head resting on her other arm as she leaned on the mattress.
“Mo ghaol, what I wouldn’t give for a bowl of lamb stew right now.”
Senga jerked awake to find Ruairí looking at her. His eyes were clear, and his skin was no longer clammy. She stared at him as though he were an apparition, and he chuckled. Her arm swung out to slap him for laughing at her, but she caught herself and tucked it by her side.
“I had hoped for a hug and a kiss. I’ve missed you.”
“How could you have missed me when you’ve been unconscious for the better part of a fortnight?” Senga was already exasperated.
Ruairí’s brow crinkled before he spoke, “I’m not sure, but I am certain I could hear your voice even when I couldn’t make out your words. I kept trying to call out to you, but you never seemed to hear me. I tried to squeeze your hand when I felt yours in mine, but my fingers never cooperated. The harder I tried, the deeper I seemed to fall into blackness.”
“I’m so relieved you are awake. I---” she could not finish, and only shook her head.
Ruairí tried to raise his arm but felt his stitches tug.
“Come to me, little one. I would feel you next to me.”
Senga gingerly moved to the edge of the bed but did not dare rest her entire weight on the mattress.
“No. Not close enough.”
“I don’t want to bump your wound or jostle you.”
“And I don’t want to wait any longer to hold you.”
There was just enough space for Senga to lie on her side facing Ruairí. She stroked his cheek, and his eyes began to drift closed. He clasped her wrist and stopped her.
“I’m not ready to sleep again. I’ve done enough of that. I would look at you and hold you. Kiss me, Senga.”
She brushed her lips against his, and the strength he had to deepen the kiss surprised her. Fear, frustration, passion, and love coalesced into a need that neither could control. Ruairí ran his hand over every part of Senga he could reach, and she skimmed her fingers over his chest.
“I need you, but I know I’m unable to do anything,” Ruairí grumbled.
“I don’t care. I can wait. I’m just thankful your fever broke. You’ve scared years off my life,” her voice trailed off.
He kissed her nose. “After I make love to you until neither of us can see straight, I have a bone to pick with you.”
It was the first time either of them referred to their coupling as making love. Senga’s hazel eyes stared into Ruairí’s blue ones, and she knew what they shared was no longer about careless tumbles and tupping. It had become much more long ago, but to hear him say the words was as astonishing as his profession of love.
“A bone to pick with me? How about the one I have to pick with you for nearly dying?”
“We could easily have been in the same boat. I was awake when you came across those planks. I saw you fight those corsairs. You could have gotten yourself killed. I told you to remain here.”
Senga pointed to the splintered door that did not close all the way.
“You must not have noticed that this cabin is not as impenetrable as you believe. I killed two men here, knowing I could not remain in such an enclosed space. I went above deck to hide, but when I saw the man rush at you from behind, I chose you. I chose you over everything else.” Senga felt the tears pool in her eyes. “Bluidy hell, I’ve become a watering pot since they injured you.”
Ruairí wiped the tears and kissed her. “I would never have you shed tears over me.”
“You’re days late to stop that.”
Ruairí smiled, “Tongue as sharp as ever. No mercy for an injured man?”
Senga tugged gently on his hair. “It ran out when you tried to worry me into an early grave.”
“You look exhausted. The circles under your eyes are very dark. Have you slept at all?”
“A little here and there.”
Ruairí ran his hands over her sides and then her bottom. “You’ve lost weight too.”
Senga quirked a brow, “We both have.”
“Senga,” he warned.
“Ruairí,” she mimicked.
They sank into another kiss until both of them drifted into a deep sleep.
Chapter 11
After a fortnight in bed, Ruairí demanded to go above deck. When Senga said she would not allow it, she was certain the vein in his temple might pop. She acquiesced when he agreed to remain seated while he was on deck. He argued the fresh air and sunshine would do them both good, and Senga had to admit she agreed.
The wind had shifted, and they were making progress back along the coast of England. Senga and Ruairí agreed they would sail toward Glasgow since it was time for Ruairí to pay his fealty to the Earl of Argyll. He and Rowan both sailed under the earl’s marque when they needed an alibi and the disguise of being honest merchants. It was too late for them to sail up the other coast of the English isle, and he preferred Glasgow since it was a safe distance from the earl’s far reach. Ruairí also knew Rowan was due to sail into port soon.
Senga watched the crew hoist the white sails once more as they approached the entry to the River Clyde. Ruairí sat beside her, but he was shielding his eyes and trying to see what looked like a blurred lump to Senga. He pushed himself to his feet, and Senga rose to hers. She put her arm out, but he stepped around it and walked to the rail.
“Young Braeden, is that the Lady Grace I spy?” Ruairí called up.
“I do believe so, Captain.”
“How can you tell? I can barely tell it’s a ship,” Senga asked, stunned.
“Sixth sense I suppose, though Braeden has a clearer view than we do.” He looked to Kyle, who stood at the helm. “We put ashore now.”
Ruairí needed to see Rowan and explain what happened before they all arrived in Glasgow. A tremendous scene would unravel on the docks if Rowan saw Ruairí was injured. Ruairí knew his cousin would be livid and want revenge. Ruairí had to admit he rather wanted it too, but he was satisfied knowing that Senga was unharmed. Ruairí was not sure he wanted to keep her onboard knowing the danger, but he also knew he could not go anywhere without her.
It was a few hours later that Ruairí and Senga watched as a couple lowered themselves into a dinghy and were rowed ashore. They followed in their own dinghy. When they reached land, Ruairí climbed out first and gained his balance before reaching for Senga, but she had already stepped onto the beach.
“Cousin!” Senga heard a voice that sounded remarkably similar to Ruairí’s, and when she peered around his shoulder, it shocked her to see a man who could pass for Ruairí’s twin.
“Rowan. And Caragh. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” Ruairí laughed as Rowan growled and Caragh turned a deep shade of red. Ruairí had met Caragh under less-than-honorable circumstances several months earlier.
Ruairí reached a hand for Senga, and it was his turn to growl when he saw Rowan’s appreciative look. But before either man could introduce the women, they ran to one another and
embraced. A tangle of strawberry and raven locks blew in the wind as the women stood together.
“Senga?”
“Aye, Caragh. What are you doing with Ruairí’s cousin?”
“I would ask the same of you. How did you come to be aboard a pirate ship? Did you go willingly?”
Senga leaned back to get a clear view of Caragh. “Of course, I did. Did you not?”
“Well---”
Senga released Caragh and drew her blade as she turned to Rowan. Ruairí howled with laughter as Rowan put his hands up in surrender, and Caragh grabbed her wrist.
Ruairí limped over to Senga and wrapped his arm around her. “She’s fierce, Cousin. I would be sure she hears the story from Caragh and not you.”
“Senga, it’s a long story, but I ended up on Rowan’s boat after a night raid. I’m glad that I did. He’s my husband now.”
Senga stared at Rowan before smiling at Caragh. She put her blade away, and they embraced again.
“You know each other?” Rowan dared to ask.
“Yes. Rowan, you know how my mother was your mother’s best friend. Senga’s mother was my mother’s cousin. They all grew up on the Isle of Lewis together. When my mother took me back to Lewis each summer, the same summers I went to Barra, I always played with Senga.” Caragh waved Rowan closer, and the look of love they exchanged reassured Senga that all was well. The women were similar in build, and while their hair and eyes were different colors, their faces looked quite similar once they stood beside one another.
“Ruairí, what happened to you?” Rowan got around to asking.
“A run in with a Spanish ship filled with corsairs.”
Senga watched as all the color leached from Rowan’s face before rising in a shade she could only liken to burgundy. “Don’t worry,” Ruairí assured him. “Between my crew and Senga, they are all dead.”
“Senga?” Caragh and Rowan chimed.
“Aye, she’s fierce and blood thirsty. Bluidy Barbary corsair injured me, and she came to my rescue. Fought off I don’t know how many men then nursed me back to health for the past fortnight.”
Rowan turned to Senga and reached out his hand. She looked to Ruairí first before placing it in Rowan’s. Rowan brought it to his lips and brushed a kiss on her knuckles.
“You can see we are practically twins. He is as close to me as a brother. I thank you for keeping his arse in one piece.” Rowan winked at her, and Ruairí growled, pulling her back to his side.
“Fair turnaround,” Rowan muttered before Caragh pinched him. He pulled Caragh in for a kiss that rivaled any of Ruairí and Senga’s.
“I’m sorry,” Rowan whispered as he brushed his nose against Caragh’s.
Senga looked up to Ruairí, but when she caught his eye, he flushed and looked uncomfortable. “A story best saved for when we are alone. And you can be angry at me in private.”
Senga’s eyes widened, but before she could say anything, Caragh gasped.
“Ruairí doesn’t know. Rowan, tell him. There is no way he could know.”
“Know what?”
“Caragh, you shall go over my knee for that. And it won’t just be my hand,” Rowan’s whisper was not low enough for Ruari and Senga to avoid hearing.
Senga was not sure what to make of Caragh’s grin of delight before she turned a remorseful face to Rowan.
“I’ll explain that later too,” Ruairí was better at whispering.
“I don’t think the beach is the right place to tell this story. Either we continue on to Glasgow or we all return to one of our ships.” Rowan grumbled as he tapped his wife’s backside.
They all returned to the Lady Charity since Ruairí had the larger cabin, and Ruairí, Rowan, and Caragh seemed uncomfortable with Ruairí going to their cabin.
Ruairí only said in the dinghy, “Another part of the story for me to tell later.”
Senga was becoming both worried and annoyed at his secretiveness, but both couples were onboard before Senga could press Ruairí for more details.
Once tucked away in the cabin with a repaired door, Rowan took a deep breath and reached for Caragh’s hand. She moved herself over to sit in Rowan’s lap, and Senga felt a sharp twinge of jealousy, since she did not think Ruairí was well enough for that. Senga yelped when she was lifted off her feet before she could sit. She found herself planted on Ruairí’s lap.
“I’m tired of waiting to hold you,” he breathed against her neck. “And I suspect I shall need your support with whatever Rowan is about to tell me.”
“Ruairí, the morning following your visit on the Lady Grace,” Rowan grimaced, “We went ashore at Bedruthan Step, and I met Caragh’s family. Caragh mentioned my mother and her mother were best friends. I hadn’t a clue, but I remembered Caragh’s mother’s red hair from when we were children. You would surely recognize her, too, if you saw her. Ruairí, she told me a story of my imprisonment that makes sense but is utterly opposite of what you and I have believed for a half a score of years.”
Ruairí nodded, but his skepticism was obvious. Senga held her breath, unsure of what would come next.
“Catriona, Caragh’s mother, told me she was there that day. The day I returned with my father’s body on my horse. What I remember from that time in the bailey is not what happened. My mother did wail when she saw my father on my horse, but they dragged me away before I could see all of my mother’s reaction.”
Caragh squeezed Rowan’s hand in one of her as the other rubbed over his back and shoulders. When he paused to look at her, she smiled encouragingly.
“Ruairí, she pulled my father’s body from my horse, and when the shroud fell apart, she stabbed him. More than once. She stabbed his dead body. She was inconsolable, her rage consuming her. While they locked me in the dungeon, she pleaded with the elders to let her see me. She tried to bribe guards, but they always found her out. Caragh’s mother witnessed all of this, and once they threw me into the oubliette, my mother begged Caragh’s father to find your ship. She was sure your father could reason with the council.”
Rowan shook his head as Ruairí stared aghast at his cousin. Senga looked back and forth between the two cousins, then at her own cousin.
“We both know what happened after that.” Rowan looked to Senga then Ruairí.
“She knows everything, too. I told her just after she came aboard. We seem to have painfully similar family stories. Senga’s father was the laird on Lewis before her uncle arranged for the MacLeod of Skye to lead a raid on her keep. Her parents died, and her uncle assumed leadership of the clan.”
Ruairí would not tell any more of Senga’s story, since he was not sure how much she wanted others to know.
“Senga,” Caragh whispered. “I heard about your losses. I’m sorry I could not have gone to you.” Caragh reached across the table and took Senga’s hand. They gave each other a gentle squeeze.
“So, what do you plan to do now, Rowan?” Ruairí asked.
“We’re going home before winter. Rather, we’re going to see my mother. As Catriona tells it, my mother was never the same after that day in the bailey. She hasn’t fared well and refuses to step foot outside the keep. Ruairí, according to Caragh’s mother, Aunt Charity has done little better.”
“Charity? You named your ship after your mother?” Senga questioned.
“Aye. My leaving our clan had nothing to do with my parents,” he breathed. He did not want to hurt Rowan by reminding him that his parents never wanted him to leave. “When do you plan to go back? Will you go after we settle with Argyll?”
“Most likely. Will you go with us?”
Ruairí shook his head. He was not sure he was ready to see his clan again. His anger and bitterness had faded since meeting Senga, but he felt it trying to take hold again. The injustices were done to Rowan, not him, but he felt them just acutely as if they had been.
Rowan nodded before continuing.
“We will make a run along the coast once more before heading north. We picked up cargo
from Alane that we must unload.”
Senga was sure she heard Caragh hiss. She looked at her cousin and was certain fire would leap from her eyes as she gave Rowan a seething look.
“The tavern owner I told you about. I can’t believe he let Caragh meet her.” Ruairí said as an aside to Senga, but the others heard.
“Oh, I met her,” Caragh snapped.
“Enough,” warned Rowan again, but his voice softened, “There was no other way, but I regretted it before we even went ashore. You know that, mo ghaol.”
Caragh sighed but nodded. She leaned against Rowan, and Senga could not help but smile to see her cousin had found someone who loved her as much as Ruairí loved her.
That thought made a pit form in her stomach that remained there the rest of the night.
Chapter 12
Rowan and Caragh returned to their ship, and Ruairí and Senga retired for the night. Ruairí was so persistent as he pled his case that Senga relented. They took their time making love as Senga straddled Ruairí’s hips. She eased onto his length and rocked her hips. It had been weeks since they made love, and she still feared injuring him, but they both needed the reconnection.
The slow pace enabled them both to last far longer than usual. Ruairí ran his hands over her breasts as he watched her rise and fall onto his rod. She moaned as he pinched her nipples and threw her head back when he grasped her hips to brace himself as he tested his ability to thrust. Once Ruairí knew he could move too, neither of them lasted long. They pushed each other into release, and for the first time since they began coupling, neither tried to ensure Ruairí pulled out. They climaxed as one.