The Scot Corsair (Bonnie Bride Series Book 3)

by Fiona Monroe

  Almost as soon as he dropped his returning salute, the Captain started to stride about yelling orders at the men. Elspeth could not understand the words, but she gathered that their import was that they should do whatever it was sailors did to make the ship go as fast as it possibly could. Men began swarming up the rigging and pulling on ropes, and extra sails unfurled high on the masts.

  Elspeth stayed at the rail and watched until the other ship was the size of a child's toy in the distance, and only then did she dare turn to face the Captain.

  As she met his eyes, her heart sank within her. His expression was stony, unfathomable, and most certainly not the look of a man glad to have been saved from possible arrest and imprisonment.

  "My cabin," he said, in a low voice, and then hooked his arm into hers and propelled her there forcibly.

  A couple of the men called out what may have been questions, and the Captain answered them shortly, without breaking stride or looking back.

  "What," he said, when the door was shut behind them, "in God's name did you think you were about?"

  "I made them go on their way!"

  "Aye, but at what cost? You gave them your true name—"

  "If I had not, they would have paid me no heed! What did it matter?"

  "What did it matter? Now the Navy knows that you are here—"

  "Captain Hubbard knows, but all he cared about was that I commended him to my brother the Admiral. I have stayed with Charles, I lived with him in London during my debutante season—I have seen how naval officers flock about him, they are like—oh, like puppies making love to an heiress at an assembly. He believed my story, that you were merely escorting me home."

  "I told you not to leave your cabin!"

  "And if I had not, what would have happened?"

  "I would have convinced the fellow that we were merely traders from the South Americas. The ship is unarmed and if he had searched the hold he would not have found contraband. He would have had no reason to arrest us. Your interference may have done more harm than you know."

  "No!" she cried. "If those sailors had searched the ship thoroughly they would have found me, locked in my cabin! And how would that have appeared? They would have known I was your prisoner."

  He waved his arm in exasperation, as if this point was not worth answering.

  "By the time that letter reaches Charles in London," Elspeth persisted, though she could feel her voice beginning to crack, "you will already have ransomed me to my family, and be on your way again. Not that I wrote anything in the note that could do you any harm. I never mentioned you at all!"

  "You really did write a commendation of Captain Hubbard to your brother?"

  "Yes! Of course I did. It was a small enough favour and Captain Hubbard earned the courtesy—"

  "Because it occurred to me..." He stopped his pacing, and frowned.

  "What?"

  He turned to face her with an ominous look. "It occurred to me that you might have taken the opportunity to write for aid. To alert the authorities to the fact that you are held captive by pirates. Even to betray my identity."

  "No!" she cried again, but this time in outright horror. "How could you think such a thing?"

  "Because it would be a very natural thing to do, Lady Elspeth."

  "If I had had such a purpose, why would not I have thrown myself immediately upon Captain Hubbard's protection?"

  "To be frank, that was what I feared you were about to do, when I saw you on deck."

  "And that is why you locked me in? So that I would not seek the Navy's protection?"

  "So that you would not turn me and my men over to them. It was a possibility I had to consider."

  "Oh! You do not trust me. You have never trusted me." She sank down upon the edge of the bed, which was the only decent seat available, and held out her arms. "Here. You may as well clap me in irons now and be done with it."

  "I have no irons, your ladyship."

  "Then lock me in the ship's dungeon."

  "Ships do not have dungeons." There was a slight quirk in the corner of his mouth now, but then he frowned at her outstretched hands. "Are you hurt?"

  She shook her head.

  He knelt by her and took hold of her right hand. She winced as he carefully unwound the handkerchief, and it stuck on some congealed blood. "What have you done to yourself?" he muttered.

  "I broke open my cabin door."

  "You are—" He shook his head. "A remarkably determined and impetuous young lady."

  "I could not let them harm you." She could feel tears sliding down her cheeks, but she pressed her lips together to stop a sob escaping her. She did not want him to think she was trying to soften him with artful weeping. She did not want him to see that she had feelings at all, but still unbidden tears betrayed her. It was maddening that she had always been able to cry at will, but now could do nothing to stop it.

  She gasped at a sharp sting, and opened her eyes to see that he was dabbing something from a bottle onto the scratches on the back of her hand. Instinctively she tried to pull away, but he clasped her hand tighter, finished his ministrations, and then—to her astonishment—put her fingers to his lips and kissed them tenderly.

  A shiver ran through her whole body. The Captain's eyes were closed, as if he could not bear to look at her, or as if he were praying silently over some desperate dilemma. Then his eyes flicked open, and he was looking full at her with his dark, glittering gaze; yet the expression was so softened, so yearning that she could not help returning a small smile. It rose within her through her tears like sun breaking through rainclouds.

  With a sigh that was like a groan, he drew her against him and kissed her full on the mouth. She was so surprised that she stiffened and resisted for a moment, but he paid no heed and held her tighter, crushing his lips so hard on hers that her head swam and she let her mouth fall open to meet him. Before she could think of what was happening, she had fallen halfway down onto the bed below them and he was covering her throat and every inch of exposed skin below with kisses that seemed to want to devour her.

  She put her hands in his hair, making the smart naval tricorne fall to the floor, and he in turn ripped the ribbon from under her chin and tossed aside her best bonnet. Her own hair, imperfectly bound, tumbled loose over her face and shoulders.

  That was when he stopped to look at her, leaning over her with a dark, desperate expression, and she feared he would draw away. Her heart was beating so fast and hard that she felt dizzy, and her instinctive thought was to catch hold of his hand and press it to her bosom so that he could feel it too.

  For a few long moments, she kept his hand there as they both held each other's gaze. She could see doubt and torment in his eyes, but she would not let him go. Finally, with a growling noise in his throat, he rose from his knees and scooped her up in his arms and tossed her fully onto the bed in one swift, sure motion.

  Then before she could get her breath back, he was on top of her, sinking her into the mattress with his weight and kissing her again with savage hunger.

  This time, he didn't stop. She could not have held him back now had she wanted to, any more than she could have stayed an oncoming tide in a storm. All she could do was lash herself to the mast, and give herself up to the tempest.

  She lay becalmed on the shore, listening to the calling of the seagulls and the lapping of the waves and the gentle creaking of the timbers. A fresh salt breeze was washing through the open casement over the bunk. Every nerve in her body was tingling with a sensation that was both satiated, and thrilling. She was weak, and a little sore all over, and yet she had never felt more content in her life. It was a fragile peace, balanced between excitement and dread.

  The Captain had not moved for a while. One arm was lying just under her naked breasts, its tanned skin and dark hair a startling contrast to her own smooth, pink-pearlescent flesh. Like two different species, she thought dreamily, not two perfectly-fitting halves of the same.

  There was so much more
hair overall on his body than she could have possibly imagined. His chest, down his thighs, and further up... She had always vaguely imagined that a man's private parts would be ugly and slimy, and had had a slight horror of facing the reality at last. She had not expected in the least that it would be warm, and clean, and smooth... and so large.

  He was so still that she thought he was asleep, but when she moved her head to look at his face in profile, he stirred and sat up.

  She smiled at him uncertainly.

  He did not look at her. He reached for his shirt and shrugged it on, then turned his back as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, reached for his trousers and stood as he pulled them on. She had a brief sight of his lean, well-muscled upper thighs and backside, curiously paler than the exposed parts of him, before it all disappeared from view.

  He put on his jacket too and said, "Put on your clothes, and go back to your cabin."

  "Sir?"

  "When we reach Aberdeen, you must stay out of sight. This time I mean it, your ladyship, and please don't think that I am not entirely serious. No antics, no derring-do." He was buttoning his jacket, then pulling on his boots.

  "I would not..." she began, then trailed off, confused.

  "Forgive me if past evidence compels me not to believe a word you say, Lady Elspeth."

  She stared in dismay as the door shut behind him with a bang.

  Elspeth obeyed the Captain's instructions; she dressed as hastily as she could, and crept back belowdecks to her own cabin. She had no wish to stay up on the deck anyway, now that they were no longer in the open ocean but sailing along the coast of northern Scotland. The sight of her native shore had lost its brief charm, and she had no wish to be exposed to the leering looks of the sailors. She had spent most of the voyage ignoring them, but now she felt as though her skin was stripped raw and cold.

  She curled up under her eiderdown, sore and sad.

  She was jerked out of a light, confused sleep by an insistent banging, coming from the direction of the door. For a moment, she thought it was someone knocking for admittance, and her heart jumped as she imagined the Captain without, a smile tugging the side of his mouth, an apology for his earlier coldness unnecessary as he took her in his arms and kissed her.

  "Come in!" she cried eagerly.

  The banging continued, and it was too sharp and ringing to be knuckles on wood.

  She jumped down from her bunk and padded quickly to the door, intending to open it and confront her visitor. But just as she reached for the handle, the banging noise stopped and there was a rattle, a clink of metal, and an ominous clunking sound that was very like a large key being turned in a lock. A trial of the door found it unyielding, and fastened anew.

  "Who's there?" she called. "Let me out!"

  A man's voice said something, in Portuguese she supposed. Or was it Spanish these men spoke?

  "I want to see the Captain!" she cried. "El Capitano! Pronto! Presto! Tout de suite!"

  There was no response, beyond a final clinking of something heavy and metallic, and rapidly retreating footsteps.

  She rattled the handle again, helplessly. Even the hole she had prised open in the door had been crudely but effectively repaired with what seemed to be a plank banged in on the other side across the damaged area.

  She considered screaming until the Captain could no longer ignore her. It was not such a large ship, and if she made enough noise, he would certainly hear her and come to her eventually. Instead, she wrapped what pride she could around herself like the quilt work eiderdown on her bunk, and shivered under both in silence.

  For the first time in many weeks, she felt herself to be a prisoner.

  Chapter Sixteen

  "The cabin is secure now, Captain. I found a big padlock in the stores."

  Helped by Suárez's expansive hand gesture, indicating the improbable size of the lock, Roderick was fairly sure that this was what the man had said. It was hard to penetrate the sailor's thick Venezuelan accent, and Roderick's Spanish was nowhere near as fluent as his Portuguese anyway. He nodded, and said carefully, "The lady will be safe?"

  Suárez grinned, and said something that Roderick really could not make out, but sounded as if it could be disrespectful. Since he had not understood him, and since long experience had taught him that it was unwise to react to anything that he did not entirely comprehend, Roderick merely turned from him and said, "Give the key to Rivero, so that he can take her meals to her. No-one else is to go near her. Do you understand?"

  "Si, si, capitain."

  God only knew what he or the rest of the crew thought about the situation. When hiring the men in the low drinking dens of La Guaira, Roderick had told them that the only purpose of the voyage was to escort a Scottish noblewoman, under his protection, back to her homeland. He could hardly conceal that he had such a person on board, and he had wanted to make it clear that the hold was not full of valuables for them to plunder. And once at sea, not only had he let them assume that she was his lover, he had very deliberately had her spend almost every evening in his cabin to encourage the supposition. It had been to keep her safe, to stop any of the men getting ideas, even to fend off a possible renewed attack by Stirling.

  At least, these were all excellent reasons with which he could rationalise away the true one; that she lit up everything around with her beauty and vivacity, even the dreariness and danger of an ocean voyage, and he longed for her to be with him.

  He slumped against the railing, gazing without much emotion at the rugged, empty coast of northern Scotland. During the voyage, he had imagined that he would be overcome with euphoria or nostalgia or dread at the sight of his homeland after twenty years away, and those twenty years packed with extraordinary adventure and bloodshed. He had left these shores an angry, unhappy boy, filled with rage at his father and bitterness towards Fanny Menzies, and now returned a hardened, seasoned pirate king, albeit a failed one.

  But all that mattered very little to him now he was here. His soul was consumed by Elspeth's laughing eyes, the hot smoothness of her bare skin against his, her little gasps and cries of surprised passion. He could scarcely believe that he had lost command of himself so far as to yield to temptation after so long, and when the voyage was nearly over; and when he might have returned her, unviolated and unblemished, back to her family.

  For she had been a virgin after all. He had really not been sure about that, considering the rumours about why she had really been sent abroad to marry the sugar-planter, and after the unfortunate episode with Stirling. He had all along thought it very likely that she had already surrendered her virtue, doubtless to some libertine who had taken advantage of her warm and eager nature. So firmly had this conviction held him, that he had fallen upon her with all the untethered ravenous lust of a sailor in a whorehouse after a twelvemonth voyage. He ought to have caressed and cherished her.

  He ought not to have done it at all.

  He closed his eyes and leaned heavier over the rails. Appalled and disgusted as he was with himself, his body betrayed him again and he felt himself rise at the memory. That was why he could not trust himself to be alone with her again. In fact, he could not allow himself to look upon her, far less to talk with her. If that made him no better than the seducing scoundrel he had imagined to be her first lover, then so be it. He was a pirate, after all.

  At least he was not delivering her up as an unwilling bride, to a husband with a common-law wife and family already in residence. He would see her safe under the protection of her father, if he still lived, and her brother, whom he was sure must love her more than she understood. At this point, it was all the good he could do her.

  Action was the remedy. It always had been. Roderick made an effort to close the shutters in his mind, opened his eyes and stood upright.

  "Captain."

  It was Stirling, who appeared to have manifested himself like a ghost immediately behind him while he had been brooding.

  Stirling had been morose and mo
stly silent throughout the voyage. Roderick could understand that; like himself, he was sailing back towards a land he had fled under a cloud, but probably longed to see again. There was also the whole business of Stirling's attempted dalliance with Lady Elspeth, and the fact that the man undoubtedly believed that he, Roderick, had acted the hypocrite and taken his own pleasure with her.

  Which supposition was now, in point of fact, quite true. Roderick closed his eyes again briefly. "The men all set, Stirling?"

  Stirling shrugged. "Far as I can tell, Captain. Cannae understand a word they say."

  "How can you have been at sea so long and picked up no Spanish?"

  He snorted. "That's no Spanish."

  Roderick reflected that the Venezuelans might say the same for Stirling's English, and let it pass. "Did you want something...?"

  Stirling continued to slouch moodily for a moment before saying, "We dinnae hae ony papers—do we, Captain?"

  "I—intended to buy some false papers from a man I knew of in Ponta Delgada, but events overtook me."

  "What are we going to show tae the harbour-master in Aberdeen, then?"

  Roderick hesitated.

  "Or are we going to get her ladyship tae lift her petticoats again, and hope he doesnae notice?"

  Roderick had rounded on Stirling, seized him by the collar and half lifted him off his feet before he realised what he was doing. As quickly as the hot surge of anger overtook him, he came to his senses and dropped his First Mate back to the deck. Stirling stumbled and fell ignobly onto his backside, but he continued glaring up defiantly at Roderick.

  "Lady Elspeth," said Roderick, deliberately calming and slowing his voice, "is going to remain securely out of sight, in her cabin, until I negotiate her safe return to her family. She is not going to expose herself to danger again."

  "So what," said Stirling, climbing scowling to his feet, "are we going to do when we get tae Aberdeen?"

  "As long as we can prove that we're not smugglers, and they are welcome to inspect our empty hold, I don't suppose they'll care."