“Caragh, if this is too painful, you must stop me. This isn’t one of those things to grin and bear. I could seriously hurt you if you don’t stop me. I must have your promise.”
“You whittle like my gram,” she complained. “You must be popular indeed if you show this much concern for all your bed partners. I imagine they fleece you when they beg off in the middle.”
Rowan placed the vile on the table and stepped toward her.
“This isn’t a joke, Caragh. You will go over my knee if you disobey me on this. I won’t risk harming you, and if I can’t trust you to be honest, then we won’t proceed.”
“This seems like quite a lot of fuss for something you supposedly enjoy.”
“I have never been anyone’s first anything. The women in my past did this as their trade. They were well broken-in before I ever encountered them. They knew what to expect and were prepared.” He pulled her into his embrace before resting his forehead against hers. “I didn’t have to worry because I didn’t care. I do now.”
He pecked her nose and stepped back to get the oil. He poured a small amount over his fingers of one hand and then into the palm of his other hand.
“Climb onto the bed just as you did the first night.” He came to stand behind her. The oiled palm kneaded the flesh of her backside until her arms buckled, and her head dropped onto the mattress. He pressed one oiled finger against her rosebud as his hand continued to massage one globe then the other. When he gained entry, he paused as he let her adjust to the sensation. She shifted once before pressing back against his finger, taking him further into her dark passage. He eased one, then two more fingers into her as he worked to spread her in preparation for his cock. He knew he was a large man and that not all women could handle his size. It was this awareness that made him hesitant about introducing Caragh to this final type of bed sport. When his fingers moved smoothly, he poured oil onto his rod and slathered it until his hand nearly slipped from his cock.
“Caragh, remember what I said. Tell me to stop if it’s too much. Don’t take more than you can because you think it’s what I want.”
Caragh grunted in response as she pushed her hips higher. Her lack of proper response earned her a hard swat. She raised her head and shook her backside at him. Rowan couldn’t help but chuckle at her clear invitation. The next three spankings were done playfully, but he could see the moisture pooling at the entrance to her sheath. She was fully aroused, and Rowan nearly abandoned this plan for sinking into her cunny. But he knew she wouldn’t accept the change without feeling hurt. He would admit it only to himself, but he missed being able to spill inside her. It wasn’t for the same reasons that he’d enjoyed finishing inside a woman in the past. This time he desired the closeness they’d only shared that once, and he knew she felt the same way, even if neither would say it out loud.
He aligned himself with her and pressed the tip against her entrance. She pressed back against him, and he slid within her. Rowan moved slowly and watched Caragh for any signs of distress. He could see her hands fisted the sheets, but her legs didn’t shake, and the sounds she made were ones of concentration rather than pain. He paused when he was halfway inside her. He did want to go any further this first time, but he felt her hand against his thigh. She patted him in reassurance.
“I can do it, Rowan. I want to.”
Rowan gritted his teeth as he sank all the way in. He thought he would explode from the way her body squeezed him, but he didn’t move again. He waited for Caragh, and when he did nothing else, she lifted onto her elbows to look back at him. His fingers bit into her hips as he held himself still.
“Is that it?”
Rowan growled as he tried to hold back, sweat breaking out across his forehead.
“Rowan, I asked if that’s it. How’s this enjoyable for you if you’re barely willing to breathe? Should one of us be moving?”
“If you move, I’ll explode. Caragh, for the love of all that’s holy, be still. For once, just be still,” Rowan choked out.
With a huff, she leaned back down. The subtle shift was all it took for him to sink ever so slightly deeper. They both moaned as Rowan’s hips rocked forward of their own volition. Caragh pushed back against him, and his hands slid to hold her breasts. He played with the full flesh, and he found her nipples only to tug on them and pinch. Caragh grunted as she passed the point of pain and floated into pleasure. One of his hands skimmed down to the apex of her thighs until it found her nub. He pressed and circled until her back arched, and she shattered in his arms. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He let his climax carry him along with her as his seed jetted from him. Every time he thought no more could leave his body, his sword twitched within the tightest sheath he’d ever felt. When he was sure they both were satisfied, he took great care as he withdrew. He helped Caragh to her feet and led her to the chamber pot behind the screen. He knew she would need a moment of privacy. He cleaned himself as he reflected on what just passed between them. Caragh hadn’t recoiled in horror or fright, instead encouraging him to continue. This night had been just like every other when he showed her new ways for them to come together. He’d either corrupted her beyond the point of no return, or she was the most perfect mate he would ever meet. He was sure of the former and suspected the latter. For the first time since leaving home, he found himself regularly praying, and it was always the same refrain. He prayed that he meant as much to Caragh as she was coming to mean to him.
She stepped around the screen, and he swept her into his arms. He carried her to the bed and lowered her, encouraging her to roll onto her stomach. She rested her head on her crossed arms. He straddled her hips as he massaged the tension from her shoulders, then her back. He knew the knots were there for a multitude of reasons, but he would do what he could to ease them. She hummed and moaned with pleasure as often as she kicked her feet, tensing as he worked through the kinks that plagued her. When he knew she wouldn’t be able to bear much more, he stroked his hands over her back. She twisted, and he lifted enough for her to roll over. He leaned forward to kiss her, his tongue tangling with hers. When they broke apart to gasp in air, he moved to lay on his side looking at her. She rolled toward him, and his hand rested on her hip.
“Rowan?”
“Mmm.” He smiled, and her heart melted. He looked so boyish and charming. She’d watched his transformation each evening when he returned to the cabin. He entered a weary and haggard ship captain, but it took only a few minutes of time alone chatting for him to relax and cast off the stressors of the day. She understood why he enjoyed the sanctitude of the cabin, but it had become her prison, a gilded cage, and she was the songbird that wished to spread its wings.
“Rowan, will I ever be allowed to leave this cabin?”
His fingertips that roved mindlessly over her waist and hip came to a stop. “I never didn’t allow you to leave.”
Caragh pushed onto her elbow. “Don’t mince words with me, Rowan. You may not have explicitly denied me the right to leave this cabin, but your intentions were clear. I haven’t seen another face or heard anyone else’s voice but yours in over a sennight.”
He jerked his chin back and his brow crinkled. “Skinny said you’ve cleaned your plate at every meal. He teased me about your appetite.”
“So?”
“How can you say you haven’t seen or heard anyone when Skinny brings your meals twice a day?”
“I haven’t had a clue who delivered the tray or cleared it away. I get a knock on the door and by the time I open it, there’s no one there and the tray is sitting on the ground.”
“On the ground?” Rowan jerked into a seated position before swinging his legs over the edge. “They’ve put your food on the ground? Every meal, Caragh?”
She could only nod her head. She wasn’t sure why he was so concerned about where her tray was placed when she was asking for a chance to leave the cabin.
“Rowan, what about me being able to leave the cabin?”
“Like hell
you are now.” He pulled leggings on and stormed out of the cabin without a shirt or boots.
Caragh scrambled to pull on her leggings and her shirt, which had sat clean and folded since the second day she arrived. She followed Rowan out of the cabin, but kept back as he stormed onto the deck, yelling names she didn’t recognize. She watched as he plowed through a group of sailors and yanked a man to his feet who was nearly as large as the one she fought in the cave. She covered her yelp when she saw Rowan’s fist fly and land under the man’s chin. The giant staggered backwards, but Rowan followed him. He rained down one blow after another until the man raised his arms in surrender.
“Get on your feet, maggot. I’m not nearly through with you.” Rowan pulled him by the collar until he stood eye-to-eye with Rowan, even if he had several more stones of bulky weight to his frame. “You know bluidy well why I’m livid. How about you tell the others what you’ve done?”
“I didna mean anything by it,” his brogue carried on the wind to Caragh.
“Didn’t mean anything by it? Then why the hell did you do it? Why did you insult her?”
Caragh saw the men turn as a one to look at the man she deduced must be Skinny. The murmurs began as they tried to determine what transgression he must have committed.
“Speak before I cut out your tongue,” Rowan’s quiet voice hushed the crowd. Clearly, they knew what she’d already suspected. His soft tones belied menace that would rival the wrath of God.
“I left her tray on the floor instead of handing it to her.”
“You couldn’t be bothered to speak to her or hand her the tray. You left it for her like you would a meal for a dog. You slighted her, and you’ll pay recompense now.”
“But Captain, everyone kens it’s bad luck to have a lass aboard. I dinna want that bad luck to latch onto me. I figured if I didna lay eyes on the lass, I would be safe.”
Rowan’s laugh caused chills to skid down Caragh’s back. She was witnessing the pirate who entered the cave intending to ransack it. This wasn’t the man with whom she shared a bed and made love. She recognized their time together for what it was. She was falling in love with him despite how ridiculous she knew that to be.
“Bad luck seems to have found you, anyway. Caragh!” Rowan’s voice bellowed into the night air. “I know you’re there, so stop lurking and come over here.”
Caragh swallowed before setting her shoulders back and lifting her chin. She walked across the deck just as she did when she arrived at the tavern prepared to enter into negotiations. She swept a glance over the crew and took in the varying levels of filth and decay, but she noticed the weapons they all wore more than she noticed anything else. She was glad she’d strapped on her belt, which held three knives, along with the knives she had in each boot. She knew Rowan would protect her, but she felt better having them nonetheless.
“Mo chridhe,” My heart. Caragh tried not to react to the unexpected term of endearment. She would ask later if it was only for show. For now, she pretended it didn’t surprise her. “This man has something he would like to say to you.”
Caragh stepped forward. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name, Skinny.” She would have her ounce of flesh too. She’d been given one opportunity each day to converse with the outside world, and this man had stolen it from her out of fear. He would know fear now, if not by Rowan’s hand, then by her words. “I was beginning to suspect the fae inhabited the ship or perhaps a kelpie slipped aboard twice a day to deliver ma meals, since I never saw anyone when I opened the door. The tray appeared and disappeared as though it were magic.”
Caragh watched the superstitious man twitch as she mentioned the shape shifting water spirit Scottish children were warned about. Her accent mimicked her mother’s; a brogue suddenly appearing to replace her English accent.
“Och aye, ma mama is a Highlander, and she warned me aboot the evils of the kelpies. They shift and take on the shape of anything they see. Why any one of the men aboard could be the kelpie.” She inched closer, and Skinny tried to retreat, but Rowan held him tight. “Perhaps I shouldnae have feared a kelpie after all.”
Caragh stepped back and once again swept her gaze across the crew, letting it linger on the oldest members. “Mayhap it’s a bodach at work.” She let the term for the boogeyman roll off her tongue with her exaggerated burr. “Ma mama tried to reassure me that a bodach is just a grumpy auld mon, perhaps such as yerself, but I ken differently.”
Caragh swept her arm out wide even though her gaze didn’t waver from Skinny’s trembling lips.
“Dinna we all ken differently?” She tilted her head toward the crew as many nodded their agreement. “I’m but one lass tucked away, seeing and hearing nay one, but ye believe I’m what’s to be feared? Psh, I say there’s far more that lurks above deck than below. I’m probably the safest one of the lot of ye.”
Rowan struggled to keep a straight face, just as many of his crew did. A few of the more superstitious ones didn’t find any humor in what she said, but those who didn’t believe the stories told to children to scare them into behaving laughed silently.
“Right, I believe the captain said ye wanted to tell me something.” She tilted her head as if genuinely perplexed by what he might say.
“I be beggin’ yer forgiveness, lass.” When Rowan shook him, Skinny cleared his throat, “Ma lady.”
“Those aren’t quite the words I want Caragh to hear,” Rowan growled.
Skinny grimaced but took a deep breath before saying, “I’m sorry.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Rowan released him. Skinny wobbled and lost his balance, landing hard on the deck. Caragh stepped forward and reached out a hand. Skinny looked at her as though she was an apparition, even though he’d just listened to her speak. Rowan growled, and Skinny reached up to take her hand. Already braced for his weight, Caragh tugged and pulled him off the planks enough for him to get his feet beneath him. She stepped close and slapped him on the back.
“Nothing to worry about, mate. I was just teasing you anyway,” with her regular accent back in place, she grinned.
Whispers abounded as the men stared at her. She looked to Rowan, and he shrugged and then nodded.
“My mother is a MacLeod.” She paused to see how they would respond. When nothing outlandish occurred, she added, “of Lewis,” for good measure. This stirred the reaction she expected.
“Bluidy bleeding hell, Captain! You stole a MacLeod! How have the hounds of hell not descended upon us yet?” shouted one of the men.
“I’m only half MacLeod, but it explains my smuggler’s nature.” She grinned and winked at Rowan.
“Enough,” he stepped next to her and pinched her backside. She made no outward response, but Rowan was sure he would pay for it later. He wanted that later to be sooner. “You’ve seen she’s but a slip of a lass, and not a threat to anyone. However, I will be if I hear any of you disrespect her again. I am not known to be forgiving once, let alone twice.”
Rowan wrapped his arm around Caragh’s waist and pulled her toward the ladder well, but before they got very far, she danced away from his reach and spun around. She sprinted back to a stack of crates and hopped from one to another until she could reach a jug she spied. She scrambled down, but before her feet touched the ground, two large hands wrapped around her waist and lowered her to the deck.
“Impressive,” the gruff voice rumbled in her ear, but she heard just a touch of mirth and prayed it would be enough to keep her backside from burning for yet another night.
“My gram says a dram or two keeps the blood pumping.”
“Why don’t we return to our cabin and you can enlighten me with more of your grandmother’s sayings.”
They walked away to the hoots and hollers of the crew.
Chapter Eight
Caragh entered the cabin first, and a moment’s trepidation passed over her as she worried Rowan wouldn’t have found her joke as humorous as the others did, nor would he find her antics to get th
e jug as funny as she did. When the door clicked behind her, she didn’t turn around. She didn’t have long to wait before the same two large hands once again gripped her waist.
“Thank you, Caragh.”
She gasped. Those weren’t the words she expected. She spun around, but before she could speak, he rested his finger against her lips. “You couldn’t know this, but you saved that man’s life tonight. I knew you followed me, and that knowledge was the only thing that kept me from killing him. I didn’t want you to think of me as a monster or fear me.”
“Rowan, I do think you were a bit angrier than the situation necessitated, but you swore to protect me, and I know that’s what you believed you were doing. You’re not angry at me for poking fun at your man?”
“He deserved far more than he got. If he’d pished his pants in front of everyone, as I suspect he nearly did when you mentioned a kelpie, he would’ve gotten what he deserved. I’m more bothered at your recklessness scaling those crates in the dark.”
“But I caught the scent of whisky, and I knew it would be a perfect nightcap after being in the chilly air.”
“Are you a secret drunkard? You know very well that you have me to keep you warm.”
“Can’t I have both?” she grinned.
“You certainly can,” Rowan said as he took the jug from her hand and placed it on the table before pulling her in for a long kiss. The whisky was forgotten as easily as it was found.
* * *
Caragh awoke to Rowan slipping back into the cabin with a tray of food heaped high enough to feed five men. She sat up at he placed the tray beside her and joined her on the bed.
“No more eating alone. I didn’t apologize last night, but I’m as guilty as Skinny. I shouldn’t have left you alone assuming one of my men would keep you company, even if only for a few minutes a couple times a day.”
The Blond Devil of the Sea: The Highland Ladies Book Three Page 6