Yet through it all, he heard something that didn’t belong.
Something not right.
When he stilled, and whispered, “Quiet lass,” her eyes shot to his in alarm.
In between cracks of thunder he heard it again.
A terrified cry on the wind.
Where was that coming from? What was happening? Then he realized.
They were under attack.
“Bloody hell.” He leapt to his feet and yanked his boots on. “’Tis the village.”
Fear in her eyes, Elspeth made the sign of the cross over her chest, and half sobbed, half muttered under her breath, “Please, God, not again.”
She adjusted her dress and pulled her boots on as well.
When their eyes met, he shook his head. “You’ll stay here where ’tis safe, lass.”
“I most certainly willnae!” She shook her head, a stubborn notch to her chin as she pointed at the exit. “That’s my kin out there. My people!”
While he could force her to stay, he knew full well she would never forgive him. He also had the strongest feeling that if anybody tried to do that to him when it came to his kin, he’d likely kill them.
“Fine then,” he muttered as he strapped on his weapons and gave her a few daggers. The only sword they had was too big for her.
“Stay close to me,” he ordered as they left the cave. “And stay to the shadows until I’ve had a chance to assess the situation.”
When she didn’t respond, he stopped short and glowered at her. She meant far too much for him to accept anything but firm compliance. “Do ye ken, lass?”
“Aye,” she muttered, nudging him. “Let’s go then!”
Though her response wasn’t nearly as assuring as he would have liked, they had no time. The villagers’ cries were only growing more intense.
Cold rain fell in heavy sheets, blinding them to the bay. If a ship or even a fleet were out there, they would never know. So there was no way to know who they were dealing with.
An enemy from land or sea.
Yet as they made their way up the slick, muddy hillside, his dread only grew as he gave it more thought. While not overly familiar with the way of seafaring criminals and their shady scheming, he began to see a savvy plan at work.
What if the Spanish had tested the village with that rumor of Elspeth’s kins’ treasure? Not necessarily to seek out whether or not the rumor was true, but to see how the village would react to a potential pirate invasion. How would they fortify themselves? How often would Douglas remain in port?
Naturally, this would all be in preparation for a strike.
And though it seemed nautically unwise, would such a storm not create the perfect cover to attack? Especially considering Douglas was not here? And while yes, Elspeth had fabricated her own rumor about Fraser, he was but one man. That, to his mind, would not sway pirates. Not when it came to treasure and mayhap even a long-standing vendetta against the MacLauchlin’s.
“Oh dear Lord,” Elspeth cried when they reached the outskirts of the village and crouched behind a rock. “They’re everywhere!” She spoke through clenched teeth. “Not Spanish but French.”
They truly were everywhere and pirates, all.
Ruthless, they attacked without mercy, and several villagers had already fallen. The only real hope they seemed to have was Innis. He fought like a madman, roaring all the while. Even through the driving rain, there was no missing the fury in his eyes or the black intent in his heart as he cut down several Frenchmen in a row.
When Elspeth surged forward, Fraser pulled her back down beside him and put a hand over her mouth. The last thing they needed was to give away their position. While he understood her anguish and did not blame her impetuousness, she needed to remain calm, and he told her as much.
“Stay here,” he whispered, meeting her eyes in the darkness. “I will go fight, and I will protect your kin.” He shook his head. “If ye leave this spot and they attack ye, all might be lost because I will defend ye before anyone else.” He narrowed his eyes. “Would ye have that on your conscience then? That ye didnae listen, and your kin suffered for it?”
“Nay,” she sputtered as he slowly removed his hand. Tears mixed with rain in her horrified eyes. “I will stay, Fraser. Just go. Please. Now.” She pushed him yet clenched his tunic at the same time as if subconsciously undecided whether she wanted him to go. “But be careful, aye?”
“Aye.” His request was never more urgent, his reminder never more heartfelt. “And ye stay here.”
He couldn’t lose her. He refused to. Yet he could no longer remain by her side. He must save these people. Defend them. So he had to put faith in her good sense. Their eyes held for another brief moment. Long enough that she saw the gravity of his concern and understood the amount of trust he put in her.
Then he raced into the mayhem.
This was unimaginable. Shameful. Men were being slaughtered, and their wives dragged into cottages, at the whim of the demons who had them. Even children were not spared from the savagery. The pure horror. When he saw a pirate backhand wee Greer, his inner berserker took over.
A side of him he wasn’t wholly sure existed until this moment.
A side that somewhere in the back of his mind he wished Greer did not have to see.
Yet he would not be stopped. Not until every last pirate fell beneath his blade. Roaring with rage, he whipped a dagger into the man’s forehead before he yanked him away from Greer and sliced his throat open for good measure.
Then he focused on the next and the next, unleashing pure hell on every pirate in his path. He drove his sword into one man’s gut as he side-kicked another. While he pulled his sword free, he punched anyone who dared to come at him.
When two more were brave enough to try him, he whipped a dagger into one man’s windpipe then started to parry with the other. All the while, he kicked and punched anybody that approached him before swiftly ending the pirate he fought.
After that, it all became a blur as he reveled in the glory of battle. In the unequaled adrenaline rush of destroying his enemy, and staining the ground with their blood. He anticipated and used everything the storm provided from the slick mud underfoot to the jarring cracks of thunder. Even the blinding flashes of lightning could be used in the right context.
When he ran out of weapons, he grabbed more off the dead.
Not only did he lay waste to those who came at him but found time to slip into cottages and end any who dared harm a lass. At one point in the midst of battle, his eyes met Innis,’ and they nodded. There was no disputing that he and his fellowman fought well alongside one another.
Only when the last man standing fell beneath his blade and the roar on his lips died did he finally hear Greer’s screams.
“Ye promised to protect her!” she wailed, sobbing hysterically. “Ye promised to protect her, but she’s gone!”
He blinked several times, still caught in a haze of battlelust before what she meant struck him like a punch to the gut.
Elspeth had been taken.
“Guard the villagers,” he roared to Innis as he raced down the hillside, slipping, sliding and even leaping half the time. He wiped his hand across his eyes, trying to see through the rain and darkness but it was impossible.
“Elspeth,” he roared over and over.
Yet there was nothing.
No response.
This could not be happening. They could not have taken her.
As he raced for the shore, he tossed aside his weapons, yanked off his boots, and ran into the icy water. He ignored the sting of the rocks underfoot as he kept scanning the horizon, waiting for a lightning flash. Anything to help him see through the darkness.
He kept roaring her name, fighting the waves, when he sensed something behind him. When he spun, it was to see a bloodied pirate staggering into the ocean.
Enraged, Fraser stayed low and headed his way until he caught the man unaware, drove him back and slammed him down on the ground. S
haking with fury, he wedged the one dagger left on him against the enemy’s neck and ground out, “Where is she?”
He recognized the man. He had slain several villagers and nearly raped a young lass.
Under the assumption his time had come to an end, the enemy only chuckled, his rancid breath foul. “Ye’ll not see her again, mate. She belongs to the cap’n now till he tires of her and gives her to the rest of ’em.” He bared his rotten teeth in glee. “Then they’ll toss ’er overboard when they’re through with her.” His chuckle sounded insane as he thrust his hips lewdly to get his point across. “Right where the over used rung out wench will belong.”
A strange inner calm swept over Fraser as he kept the blade tight against his enemy’s throat and turned an eye to the sea. As he did thunder rocked the heavens, and bright lightning splintered across the sky. That’s when his worst fear was confirmed.
Two pirate ships were sailing away in the distance.
As if mocking Fraser himself, their black flags flew in dark, sinister triumph. They had her. They had his love, and things were never going to be the same. Not so long as she was anywhere but in his arms.
It seemed everything good in the world vanished at that moment.
Simply snuffed out.
What those pirates didn’t know was that they had awakened a beast that night. One that would do everything in his power to get back what they had taken from him. When lightning flashed again, he memorized their flags. When it flashed once more, he noted every last detail of one ship. When it flashed again, he forged the other ship in his memory.
All the while as the ocean swirled around them on the rocky shore, he kept a death grip on the man beneath him. At long last, when good and ready, he turned dead eyes his way. As it would be told for years to come by the very man he held down, it was as if he stared into the devil’s own eyes that night.
As if he witnessed the fiery pits of Hell.
But then Hell had only truly just begun as Fraser leaned down close and made a promise he kept.
“Ye’ll not suffer death this night,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Instead, your every waking moment will be a living nightmare until you’ve led me to your captain.” His eyes narrowed. “Until I have my lass back.” With nothing but vengeance in his heart, he offered a wicked grin. “Your wretched, cursed life just took a dark turn, slave. Welcome to my crew, The Sea Hellions.”
Chapter Six
Cruden Bay, Scotland
Two Years Later
Sitting quietly by a dying fire with an empty dram of whisky dangling from limp fingers, Fraser watched his fellow pirates with a detached eye. Wenches meandered about, more around than usual with so many ships in port. When one sat on his lap and wiggled her arse against his cock, he absently repositioned her on his knee.
“So yer not wantin’ a wee taste tonight then, aye Cap’n MacLomain?” she slurred.
“Nay,” he murmured, slurring a bit himself as he kept a keen eye on one ship in particular. “I’m wantin’ a bit of something else though.”
“Aye then,” she muttered, disappointment in her eyes as she took his meaning and flounced off.
The truth of it was, he wasn’t drunk but found it the best way to behave around here. After all, a pirate that didn’t take advantage of whisky and women when in port was suspicious indeed. Because the devil knew that might just mean they were clever and up to no good.
“Ye see it then?” Innis murmured as he plunked down beside him and took a hearty swig from his mug.
“Aye,” he responded, paying particular attention to the crew as the Scottish brigantine in question dropped anchor. “And soon enough I’ll not only see but hear what she has to say.”
Innis nodded, well aware that Fraser had taken full advantage of his good looks, mock charm and of course, coin to employ several wenches here. All of which gladly did his bidding.
“Ye do have a way with the lassies,” Innis muttered around a grin as he shook his head. “I’m not sure if ’tis your good or foul nature that attracts them.”
He had long developed a method of acting the sea-hardened blackguard around them when in company but treated them completely different when alone. Rather than lay with them half the time, he offered a kind word or two. Theirs was not an easy profession, and he had seen it destroy many. With him, they knew they were safe and more often than not made good coin without having to spread their legs.
“We’ll avenge her death,” Innis vowed softly. “We’ll avenge our Elspeth.”
Very little got past his hardened heart nowadays except talk of that.
Her.
Always her.
How bonny she had been. The love they had shared. He could almost see her again, standing on the shores of her village. How her eyes and hair sparkled in the sun as she grinned and dared him to battle her. It sometimes seemed when he gazed inland from the sea that she still stood there, tempting him with her wild spirit. Waving to him that he might come home.
Then, as it always did when he thought of her, darkness shadowed his mind at the horrible fate she had suffered. A cruel death at the hands of his mortal enemy, Estienne Du Blanc and his crew of despicable renegades.
As Fate would have it, the day she was initially taken had marked the beginning of Fraser’s legacy. People far and wide spoke of the destruction that had befallen pirates when they dared to attack a small village in Stonehaven Bay. With wide eyes, they whispered in hushed awe-struck tones of a cutthroat but righteous warrior pirate that was the Robin Hood of the seas.
Yet, as he had ensured over the past two years, his fellow pirates saw him as anything but. He had become Fraser “The Rogue” MacLomain with good reason. Whether or not he truly was, he painted himself as an unprincipled, devious, swindling bastard with a cold heart and a vicious sword hand. On occasion, especially of late, he was beginning to think he might just be all of those things.
Though tempted to take the MacAlpin name like so many Britannia pirate kings before him, he stuck with MacLomain. He wanted his enemy to know exactly who was coming for him. He wanted him to quake in fear at the mere mention of his name.
With that firmly in mind, he had long since ‘gone on account’ and embraced piratehood with avid gusto. Though infuriated by Elspeth’s kidnapping, Douglas proved thankful that at least Fraser had been there to help Innis save their people.
Like Fraser, Douglas embraced his rage and gladly took him on as part of his crew. Since then, they had amassed two more ships of which Fraser and Innis became their own captains. All flew The Sea Hellions flag, though their allegiance remained solely to Shaw “Savage” MacDougall. Because had she still been here, Elspeth would not have had it any other way.
Even so, since the three of them began pirating together, their sole purpose was to find Elspeth and reap vengeance. Sadly, however, they were too late. She was slain over a year and a half ago. Used by Estienne’s men until, as rumor had it, there was nothing left of her, and she was tossed overboard. It was said Estienne even went so far as to curse her spirit to forever walk aimlessly in the watery grave of Davy Jones’ Locker.
Her death did not lessen The Sea Hellions’ pursuit, but intensified it, fanning the flames of their ever-growing hatred. So now, with blasphemous fury in their hearts, they remained dead set on revenge.
Unfortunately, much to Fraser’s chagrin, the enemy had managed to stay one step ahead of them. Mainly because Estienne knew that The Sea Hellions were after his head. That made him especially vigilant in his evasion. A coward who enjoyed the benefit of favorable connections. Namely, a rival pirate crew of the Devils of the Deep.
Yet now it seemed that rival crew was going to work in their favor.
“Your dog,” Douglas muttered, tearing him from his thoughts as he knocked Roddy to his knees in front of Fraser and tossed him the end of his leash.
Fraser nodded and tossed Douglas a skin of his favorite whisky in return.
Knowing full well where to go, Roddy, his ca
ptive from Elspeth’s village scrambled to Fraser’s side, sat obediently, then lowered his head. His sole job was to discreetly eye the comings and goings of others and report back to his master. Well tamed beneath Fraser’s rage, he had come in handy on many occasions.
“They’re not in port long,” Douglas said softly as his steady eyes stayed on Fraser. Elspeth’s brother might seem nonplussed, but he knew anticipation lurked behind his shadowed gaze. “Mayhap an hour at most.”
“’Tis long enough to wet their cocks,” Fraser murmured, his eyes on the wench he had just sent to do his bidding.
Though Douglas had started out in charge of the three of them, as time went on, they began looking more to Fraser. Elspeth’s brother didn’t seem to mind as Fraser not only excelled at manipulation and cunning, but had an uncanny talent for sniffing out treasure. Leadership came naturally and seafaring almost second nature. In truth, he found the ocean soothing whether on smooth waters or in a raging storm.
Not to mention he felt closer to Elspeth when at sea.
As if by some impossible feat, the endless water might someday return her to him.
Douglas eyed another ship further out. “I see Shaw’s Savage of the Sea is here.”
“Aye,” Fraser replied. Just as planned.
There was no missing the mighty vessel. One prominent sail, ruddy in color, had a massive ship painted on it with the image of a devil’s head with a sword-bearing fist crushing it.
Douglas and Innis knew better than to make any more mention of it as ears were always listening. Yet Shaw was there with good reason. He was part of Fraser’s plan. Not only had MacDougall been paid well but he was given a chance to attack a rival. Always a good day for Shaw when that happened. He also suspected MacDougall wouldn’t mind avenging Elspeth.
Fraser kept his eyes bored as they drifted to the Scottish brigantine again.
Unbeknownst to most, it had special cargo on it. En route to Dartmouth, its captain was a privateer under special orders from the current Lord High Admiral of England, Henry Holland, third Duke of Exeter. In fact, he carried a Letter of Marque, a document that gave a sailor amnesty from piracy laws as long as the ship’s plunder was of an enemy nation.
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