There was nothing she could do. He stampeded along the deck, pistol and sword drawn, his kilt flapping up and his face contorted. She kicked herself for not learning how to protect herself. Thankfully, Ned and his brothers knew better. They spent their free time training for situations just like this.
If she ever doubted where her loyalties lay, that moment crystallized her position in the blink of an eye. She only had to look at Malcolm Gunn’s face, and her every instinct screamed. She couldn’t let him take her back. There was no telling what he would do to her. She couldn’t go with him. She wouldn’t go with him.
Malcolm advanced on her with smoldering eyes as he marched straight through the mayhem. He didn’t see a thing around him. All his attention was trained on her.
She glanced around in desperate terror but found no egress so she could evade him. She backed up between two cannons, not thinking clearly. She’d only trapped herself.
Ned spotted Malcolm closing in on her. “Ree!” he cried.
“Ned, help me!” she shrieked.
He couldn’t help her. He had all he could do to stay alive against his own assailants. She couldn’t rely on anyone but herself. It was now or never.
In a last desperate act, Ree seized a damper from the deck and jabbed it at Malcolm’s face. It wasn’t much of a weapon against a saber, but it was better than nothing.
Malcolm checked his stride and extended his saber in front of him. Ree clanged her damper against it. He frowned, probably disappointed that she hadn’t fallen into his arms for rescuing her from these scurvy brutes. In an instant, he recovered his composure. His mouth tightened into a hard line. He measured his opponent and then swept in. He jabbed his saber at her, and when she gave another clumsy swing with her damper, he drove to one side and pushed the damper out of the way and grabbed her.
Ree screamed, more out of impotent rage than anything else. She struggled against his arms but couldn’t break free. How did she ever get so weak and helpless? She never wanted to be helpless, but had only ever prepared herself for the next board meeting. She couldn’t let this happen. She couldn’t let the big Highlander capture her and then let Malcolm capture her back. She was no pawn in another man’s game, someone they could yank back and forth against her will. She wouldn’t go with him. That’s all there was to it. She struggled harder, kicking Malcolm in the shins.
He roared in pain but didn’t slacken his grip. Quite the opposite, he clenched her harder and dragged her toward his ship.
Ree gave one almighty wrench against his hold. She succeeded in spinning him around, and they both pitched forward on top of one of the cannons and then to the deck. Ree smacked her forehead on the deck as Malcolm landed on top of her. They both rolled free at the same instant.
Ree floundered in her skirts to get her legs under her, but her prosthesis wouldn’t cooperate.
Malcolm launched himself to his feet and laid hold of her shoulders.
Ree hauled back her one good leg and kicked him as hard as she could in the knee.
He doubled over and yelled, “You whore!”
The pause gave Ree the break she needed to scurry away and before he lunged for her again. She had to act. She had to stop this before it went any further. She rocketed across the deck and snatched up the first weapon she laid eyes on. It happened to be a cannonball, and when she tried to lift it, she found out just how heavy it was. There was no time to find another weapon, so she heaved it around and let it fly.
The softball-sized ball of cast iron hit Malcolm in the chest and sent him reeling. She hustled over to another cannon and grabbed up a different damper. No one else was using them, so she might as well take advantage. This time, she didn’t bother poking at him. She let it slide through her hands until the round damper end locked against her hands, then swung it like a baseball bat and clubbed him upside the head.
Righteous fury filled her heart and soul from some black well of bottomless primal emotion. She couldn’t stop it. Once she started fighting back, she couldn’t contain it. She wanted to kill him. She wanted blood.
He roared as he spun from the impact, but he didn’t stagger. He whipped around and locked his eyes on her face. His lips peeled back from his teeth, and he snarled. The same unstoppable rage exploded out of him, and he came rocketing across the deck at her. He tackled her full on, smashing her down to the deck.
Where she got the energy to do what she did next, she never knew. As she landed on the hard wood deck, she planted her foot against his stomach, gave him a powerful shove in the guts that leveraged his own momentum, and send him tumbling over her head.
Malcolm sailed head over heel and slammed hard against the cabin wall. The saber fell out of his hand.
Before she knew what she was doing, Ree clambered to her feet and seized the weapon.
Malcolm recoiled off the wall and catapulted at her one more time.
She met him coming, saber raised, and thrust it forward with all her strength. It punctured his shoulder and punched through his back to embed its tip in the wooden wall behind him.
He let out a sickening groan and stuck there, his body contracting in shock and pain. His face twisted in agony, and one hand flew to the wound, but he couldn’t remove the blade.
Ree stood back, her shoulders heaving with every painful breath. Her disheveled, sweat-soaked hair hung in her eyes. Her parched throat ached, and she wheezed when she sucked in air.
Malcolm stared at her with wide eyes. His knees wobbled, but he couldn’t collapse without the saber cutting into his shoulder. He whimpered in pain.
Ree stared back at him. Had she really done that? She’d wanted to kill him, but now that the fight was over, she wanted to sink into the ocean and never be seen again. Now that she had reduced Malcolm to a bug on a pin, her soul wrenched at the sight of him. She didn’t want to be the kind of person that could do this to another human being.
A hand touched her shoulder. She spun around with a startled cry, only to find Ned at her side. She jerked away, and he touched her again.
“It’s all right, lassie. It’s all over,” he said in a soothing tone.
She looked around her, first noticing bodies littered the deck all around her feet. Looking beyond the carnage, she saw the merchantman ease away from the Prometheus. The few of its crew still on board the galleon ran to the rails and jumped into the sea. They swam for their ship, and their comrades hauled them aboard. The pirates were already swarming up the rigging and unfurling the sails.
Ned put his arm around Ree’s shoulders and steered her away from Malcolm. “Come along, lass. Come sit ye down somewhere.”
“What about him?” She cast a glance over shoulder.
Malcolm still stared at her with that pathetic mixture of confusion and shock.
“Dinnae worry about him,” Ned murmured. “I’ll tend to him for ye.”
“Don’t kill him, Ned,” she stammered. “Promise me you won’t kill him.”
“Och, I winnae kill him, lass. He’s far too valuable to us alive.”
She searched Ned’s face, finding that he looked deadly serious. All the fury and murderous hatred drained out of her. She submitted to his hands and let him escort her to his cabin.
He sat her down on the bed and worked around the room, then placed a cold glass in her hands. “Here. Drink this, lassie. It’ll steady yer nerves.”
“What is it?” She only had to take one whiff to find out.
“It’s whiskey,” he replied. “The finest on these shores. Drink it. I promise ye’ll feel better.”
She took a sip, but it was much too strong for her. Unable to drink more, she held the glass in front of her lips and stared straight ahead in shock. Ned took the glass away from her and set it on the table next to the bed, then knelt down in front of her.
She couldn’t stop her hands shaking. Her whole body quaked as memory of the crunching sound of the saber slicing through Malcolm’s shoulder played over and over in her mind.
“Is h
e gonna die?” she asked, looking him in the eyes.
“No, lass,” he murmured. “He winnae die, much as ye might like to think he will.”
“I don’t want him to die,” she cried. “I never wanted to do this. I never wanted to kill anybody. God, I could have killed him. I could have crushed his skull with that damper. I wanted to. I mean, something inside me wanted to. I don’t know what came over me. I was like an animal. God, what am I turning into? I have to go home. I have to get out of here. I don’t belong here.” She tried to stand up.
Ned closed her hands in both of his and held her still. “Easy, lass. Ye’re in shock. Ye have nothing to worry about. That feeling of wanting to kill yer opponent—that’s just part of fighting. Ye take me word for it. I’ve been fighting all me life, and I still feel that way just sparring with me own brothers. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s just the part of ye that wants to win.”
She looked up into his misty blue eyes. “Really?”
“Hush, lass,” he whispered. “Ye did just grand out there. Ye fought like a lion, and ye stopped him from taking ye back to Lewis. That’s all anybody can ask. It’s more than I or any of the other men could do. Ye should be proud of yerself. I’m proud of ye.”
She hung her head. “I hurt him.”
“Ye did a lot less to him than he would have done to you or me if he’d caught us,” Ned replied. “Och, look. Ye’ve torn yer dress.”
They both looked down at her dress and the big rip running up the front, from the hem to the waist. Her left stocking slumped down to the floor, exposing her prosthesis for all the world to see.
She glanced up to see Ned’s arched eyebrows. “What in the world is this?”
“Ned, I…” she began.
He bent down and touched the curve. “It’s absolutely marvelous! Is this some future device to take the place of a missing leg? It’s astounding. How does it work? It attaches to the leg here, does it?”
His hands explored all over the prosthesis and up to the Velcro straps holding it on to her thigh. His warm palms came into contact with her skin, and she shivered.
She gazed down at the ground in embarrassment. “I lost my leg in an accident when I was younger. I…have to wear this thing all the time.”
“It’s wonderful!” Ned exclaimed. “I never would have kenned it was there from the way ye walk on it, and it certainly didn’t stop ye from fighting.”
She looked away. “I wouldn’t exactly call it wonderful.”
His eyes rose to meet hers, and all of a sudden, his fingers on her leg meant something so much more than curiosity over the device. His lips parted, and his pupils dilated.
Ree blushed.
Ned drew away. His hands took an eternity leaving her leg. “Ye must rest here. Ye’re worn-out. I’ll fetch ye a new dress to change into.”
“Where are you going to get a new dress on a ship full of pirates?” she asked.
“The men brought some dresses back from the village,” he replied. “Some of them have a thing about that.”
Ree flinched, her nose turning up. “Thing? What kind of thing?”
Ned flipped a hand on the air. “Och, nothing like that! They like to dress up in silly costumes for entertainment when they’re drunk.”
“Oh.”
“The boredom of being at sea can have some strange effects on the mind. There are always a few dresses on board. I’m sure we can find one to fit ye.”
Ned stood and headed for the door.
Ree jumped to her feet. “Ned?”
“Aye, lass?”
“I want to see him. I want to see Malcolm.”
“I dinnae think that’s—”
“I have to see him,” she insisted. “I have to disinfect his shoulder and make sure he’s all right. Besides, I want to talk to him.”
Ned scowled. “That’s a bad idea. He’s no’ what ye think he is.”
“I don’t care what he is,” she replied. “He’s a human being, and he saved my life when I was washed up on the beach. I owe him something for that, at least.”
“All right, lass. I’ll let ye see him, under the condition that ye do it me own way. I’ll take precautions to make sure he doesnae try any funny business.”
“I’m sure he won’t be able to try anything with a sword wound in his shoulder,” she returned.
“Ye’ll do it my way or ye’ll no see him,” Ned replied. “That’s me last word.” He whirled on his heels and marched through the door, slamming it shut behind him.
Chapter 9
Ned eyed his captive through the bars of the brig cell in the galleon’s hold. Malcolm Gunn. He never thought he’d see this wretch’s face so soon, but here he was. And seeing him now made Ree that much more appealing. He could see why his future self would send her, would love her. He’d never met a woman like her in his life. She overcame her missing leg to become one of the most capable women, and he’d met some incredible ones in his time. The women of his race used to be strong and sure. They used to rule side by side with their men, even riding into battle armed and dangerous. Now they were gone, and Ned hadn’t seen a woman capable of matching them in all the centuries he’d dragged his weary carcass through on this tired old world. Ree had bested Malcolm Gunn with only one leg and her own massive heart. That alone was enough. Anything else she did for Ned or the Angui would be a bonus.
Malcolm slumped against the wall inside the cell, his long, disheveled hair hanging over most of his angular face. He glared at Ned. Blood darkened his shirtfront and sleeve. His injured arm lay limp in his lap, but nothing could quench the fire in his eyes. That man would never stop—never.
Ned turned a key in the lock. He raised a flintlock pistol and aimed it at Malcolm’s head, then opened the cell door and stepped inside. He slammed the door behind him, turned the key to lock it again, and tossed the key ring to Gilias standing in the corner nearby. He took a step forward…then another, walking up to his prostrate prisoner until the pistol’s muzzle touched Malcolm’s forehead just above the bridge of his nose.
“Now listen here, man,” Ned said. “Ye’ve only one friend on board this floating bucket, and she insists on tending to yer shoulder before ye die of fever. I’d let ye rot down here if I had me way, but that would displease the lady. Now ye’re going to sit there and let her do her work, and ye’re no to move a muscle one way or the other. Ye’re no to flinch in pain when she cleans yer sorry carcass, or I’ll paint that wall with yer filthy Falisa brains. Is that clear?”
“Do what ye will,” Malcolm growled. “Ye can kill me if ye like, but ye cannae win against us. Ye’ll all die eventually, if it takes us another thousand years to track ye all down. Mark me words.”
“That’ll do for all that,” Ned replied. “Ye want to kill me and I want to kill ye back. The lady will clean yer shoulder, and then we’ll sort out who’s to kill whom.”
The two men glared at each other in matched animosity until Ned barked, “Do it.”
Gilias stepped forward and unlocked the cell for Ree. She stepped out of the shadowy corner where she’d been waiting, carried a bucket into the cell, and squatted down in front of Malcolm.
Ned kept his pistol pressed to Malcolm’s head while she worked.
She slid his tartan off his shoulder, cut away his bloody shirt with a pair of scissors, and cleaned the blood from around the wound. Malcolm accommodated her as best he could without taking his eyes off Ned.
She spoke in soothing tones while she worked, though he gave no sign of hearing her. “I know it hurts. We’ll get this finished as soon as we can, and then hopefully you’ll be more comfortable. I brought you some medicine from the doctor’s bay for the pain. I’m really sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to.”
Ned watched Malcolm’s face as Ree spoke softly to the man. He didn’t move, but Ned saw her words sink in. He softened before Ned’s eyes, though his facial expression never changed. Whatever she was doing and saying meant something to Malcolm.
Malco
lm flinched when she poured alcohol on the wound, but he didn’t move his eye away from the pistol. He never gave Ned any excuse to shoot.
When she finished, she took a clean shirt out of the bucket and helped slip it over Malcolm’s head. Ned eased back an inch while she pulled it down into place and helped him get his arms into the sleeves. Then she spread his plaid around his shoulders.
“You need to stay warm,” she told him. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. I’ll try to get you some food and something to drink. Try to get some sleep. I know it’s not the most comfortable place in the world. I’ll come visit you later.”
She gathered up all her supplies in the bucket and walked to the door. Gilias unlocked it, and she went out. Ned backed away, stepped out the cell, and Gilias locked it behind him.
Ned still stood there with his pistol aimed at the prisoner’s head. Captivated, he couldn’t take his eyes off this man.
Ned heard Ree climb the steps to the upper deck, then said to Gilias, “Leave me alone with him for a moment, will ye?”
“I dinnae like it overmuch,” Gilias snarled.
“He cannae do anything in that cell and under guard,” Ned replied. “I’ll be fine. When I’m done, ye can come back down here and guard him yerself.”
Gilias snorted and walked away.
Ned waited until he left before he lowered the pistol.
Malcolm startled him by speaking first. “Ye should listen to yer mate. Yer captainship is going to yer head. Ye’ll overstep yerself one of these days.”
“Why did ye come after her?” Ned asked. “What’s she to the Gunns?”
Malcolm cocked his head. “What’s the matter? Since when do ye have a soft spot for human women?”
“I asked ye a question,” Ned shot back. “Ye dinnae ken me mind, so dinnae try to sail me ship for me. What do ye want with her? She told me ye found her on the beach. What purpose can she serve to ye that ye’d come all this way to get her back?”
Pirates of the Angui (Cipher's Kiss Book 1): A Scottish Highlander Time Travel Romance Page 7