The Sea Devil (Pirates of Britannia: Lords of the Sea Book 3)

by Eliza Knight

  “Ye dinna scare me,” she said through bared teeth, her hair plastered to her forehead and rivulets of clear water making pink tracks through the muck caked on her skin. “I’ve spent my whole life running from men like ye. Thinking ye can touch me anyway ye want. To say whatever ye want. Take whatever ye desire. Well, I’m through.”

  His heart twinged. Hearing her say that spoke to him on a very different level. His moral code and oath to the brotherhood was to protect the weak and made him second-guess his decision to debauch her.

  How could Santiago have left his daughter to suffer?

  How could he take advantage of her when she was so plainly refusing to allow it?

  She stood up, soaked to the bone, the dirty rags hewed to her body like a second skin.

  Ballocks, was this just another trick? A way to make him pity her? To be kind to her?

  For a moment, he had a flashing vision of his mother standing very much like this, but in the rain, facing down her attacker. Santiago Fernandez. But no matter how strong his mother was, no matter how much she represented the warrior Thor knew her to be, she’d still fallen when Santiago thrust his blade into her heart.

  And even worse, he could see his father standing by and doing nothing to stop it. Worse still was knowing this father had been the one to invite Santiago into their home in the Highlands.

  The bastard Spaniard had been willing to pay a hefty price for the fairy flag that hung in his clan’s tower. And his father, a true Viking at heart, had never accepted the MacLeod clan as his family, his responsibility, his people.

  Thor pushed away from the tub and the soaking wet woman. He was not his father. Yet the reflection of him in her eyes looked just as savage as the man who’d sired him.

  “Finish your bath,” he growled, turning his back on her.

  Chapter Five

  Standing in the tub with water dripping over her, Alesia shook from cold and indignation. She stared at the wide back of the pirate who’d just done the one thing he’d sworn not to. He’d turned around. Faced away from her. She could take advantage of this moment. Leap from the tub and show him just how violent she’d learned to be. Or she could sink back into the warmth of the water, take the gift he’d given her and savor it.

  Bath was a foreign word to a lass like her. In fact, she couldn’t remember a time when she’d had one. It was rare for her to be completely clean, and when she’d had the privilege to wash it had always been from a basin or a loch. Never warm.

  The warm water sluicing over her skin was like heaven, and she wished more than anything to strip off her clothes, sink into the warmth and let her mind wander away to better places. Imaginary places. A place where she was safe and warm and wanted for nothing. To escape.

  But those were a fool’s imaginings, and she wasn’t a fool. She couldn’t afford to be a fool. Couldn’t afford to build dreams and wishes, for then she’d feel the pain of disappointment all the keener.

  So she stood there for several moments like an idiot, recalling to mind the subtle change in Captain Thor as he’d leaned over the tub as they sparred. The anguish that had flashed through his eyes. For a moment, her heart had reached for him, feeling a kindred spirit even if he wasn’t willing to share, but she’d recognized that even he needed to hide. Thor had backed away from her, shaking his head and looking at her as though she’d developed a second pair of breasts—or maybe devil’s horns, as she suspected he was a man who might enjoy a woman with extra parts to fondle. As he’d backed away, it had taken every ounce of willpower she possessed not to reach for him, to keep her hands at her sides, unmoving.

  When he still didn’t turn around, Alesia sank into the tub and reached for the rag and soap. She scrubbed her feet, her ankles and calves, her belly, lower back and neck. Oh, but the water was silky warm against her skin, and the scrap of cloth lathered in lye made her skin tingle as it turned from dingy to pink.

  Reaching beneath her shirt, she washed beneath her arms, biting her lip to keep from audibly moaning at the pleasure of being in a clean warm bath. Alas, there was more to wash, but she couldn’t reach those parts in particular with her breeches on. As quietly as she could, which proved not to be quiet at all given the sloshing water over the edges of the tub—and still he kept his back to her—she pulled off the worn garment from her lower half and washed parts that had never seen a bar of soap.

  Done with that chore, she pulled her breeches back on and leaned her head back, allowing herself a moment of relaxation and feeling some of the tension ease from her shoulders.

  “When I was a child, I used to sneak into the alley closes and stare through the windows into people’s homes and watch as they went about their normal, boring routines. I was mesmerized and filled with jealousy.” She reached behind her, twisting her hair into a long spiral and squeezing out the water, a faraway smile on her face. “I’ve never had a home. I’ve never had a bath. No one’s ever washed my hair—until ye. Perhaps my mother did when I was a bairn, but I dinna recall.”

  She flicked her gaze toward him. He had yet to turn around. There was a tightness about his shoulders, one she understood. Being on edge. Listening. Waiting. Picking through the words and contemplating a reaction.

  “Have ye always been a pirate?” Perhaps changing the subject would elicit something from him.

  Just when she thought he wouldn’t answer, he did. “Nay.”

  Alesia threaded her hands through her hair, tugging at the snarls. She’d never had the luxury of a brush either and used her hands. Even if she did have a brush, her hair was often as wild as a sea storm, and she was fairly certain untamable. “Where’s your home?”

  “This is my home.” Thor crossed his arms over his chest, and she couldn’t decide whether that was an improvement to the balled fists at his sides or not. “The brethren are my family.”

  “I see.” She started to plait her hair, hoping that if she did it while it was wet, it would remain that way. “That’s still lucky, ye know.”

  “Aye.”

  “I’ve been fighting to feed myself since I could walk. Even afore my mama died, she wasn’t around much, and when she was, she was mostly deep in her cups.”

  “No child should have to suffer like that.”

  Alesia let out a bitter laugh. “There’s hundreds of ’em like me. Finished with the plait, she asked, “Have ye a ribbon?”

  “Aye.” He backed up to the desk, tugged open a drawer and pulled out a strip of fabric. “Will this do?”

  “Aye.”

  Still not looking at her, he backed up until she reached for the strip of blue and green plaid and tugged it from his fingers.

  “My thanks.”

  “What did ye want with the coin?” he asked. “To save all those like yourself?”

  She tucked her knees close to her chest and rested her chin there, shaking her head. “Nay. I’m not so gallant as that. I wanted it to save myself.”

  Thor grunted, and she waited for his judgment of her selfishness, but none came.

  “I would have saved ’em if I could,” Alesia mused, certain that she would as she had tried to help them when she was there. “But there’s not much I can do with a noose around my neck.” And that was the truth. Save them and die, or save herself. Perhaps a stronger person would have been more self-sacrificing. But she’d given up enough in her short life already.

  “I’ve had a noose around my neck, and ye’re right, lass, ’tis quite difficult to move at all.”

  She straightened slightly, looking over at him, studying that strong, broad back and imagining how anyone could have gotten close to tying one on him. “Truly? A noose?”

  “Aye. Was on the gibbet, hanging there and waiting for the rope to cut off the air completely. Feet dangling. Hurt like hell. At least two score of men stood around me, swords drawn, ready to fight. I’d already put a dozen of their comrades in the grave as they tried to get me up there.” He rubbed his neck. “Guess their rope wasna strong enough for me.”
/>   “Why didna they just stab ye instead of hanging?”

  Thor chuckled. “I have no idea. Because they’re idiots?”

  “How did ye get away?”

  His grin widened as he told the story, allowing her a moment to see that beyond the unforgiving countenance and vicious scar to his face, he was truly a handsome man.

  “A couple of friends.”

  “Come now, tell me more, else I find myself in the same place and need to call on my friends.”

  “Shaw, the Prince of the Devils of the Deep, and our English brethren captain, Constantine. They staged a coup. Rolled a cart with a fully lit cannon right into the center of the bastards. Of course, the crowd went running save one stupid idiot who wanted to be a hero and make certain the prisoner was truly dead.”

  “Did he…get blown up?”

  “To smithereens.”

  “And ye?”

  “I hauled my legs up over the gibbet arm and out of the way. Sat atop it until Shaw and Con could cut me down. Then we were on our merry way.”

  “That must have been a sight to behold.” She grinned down into the bubbly bath water, sad that it was starting to feel cold. In her head, she could picture the whole story and felt completely mesmerized by it. Had it even been in Edinburgh? She doubted it, for she was certain if it had been, she would have heard about it or gone to see it. A hanging was prime entertainment for those whose lives were poor or great.

  “Aye, ’twas impressive. But nothing like the time Shaw and I had to save Kelley’s arse.”

  When her teeth started to chatter, Thor tossed her a long sheet of dry linen, though he didn’t let go of the other end. This time, he was facing her. As she stood, Alesia caught his gaze raking over her body, no doubt taking in the two taut peaks of her nipples. But was it really catching him admiring her when he did so blatantly?

  There was another subtle shift in him, a darkening about the eyes, and a shiver of…hunger passed through her. The shift in him this time wasn’t anguish, as it had been when he’d leaned over her while she was in the tub. Nay, this was desire. A look she’d seen many times on men in taverns. What was concerning to her, however, were the sensations washing over her. She’d never felt them before… and they were alarmingly potent.

  Thor took a step closer to her, and she found herself leaning just an inch closer herself, until she realized she might fall on her face, since she was still in the tub.

  Alesia stepped from the iron bucket, took hold of the linen and tugged, but he wouldn’t quite let go. Cold water dripped on the floor around her feet, and she curled her toes in. “I think we’ve been in this exact position before,” she said, bringing to mind when he’d first discovered her in his cabin, and she’d dripped water onto the floor.

  Saints, it was hard to avoid his gaze, and the more she stared into his eyes, the hotter her cheeks felt.

  “Aye. But if ye’ll be so considerate, I’ll take a kiss over a punch to the ballocks.” Strong fingers caressed over her cheek, and she fought the urge to lean into him.

  Why did she feel like self-control was a struggle when she was around him? To behave or not to behave, seemed to be the constant question. Without thought, she wanted so very badly to be wicked.

  No one had ever touched her the way he did. Softly. With a gentleness that had her hopes rising like the tide in a storm. Dinna be a fool. He wants nothing from ye but what everyone else desires. Tears threatened, and she forced them away, squaring her shoulders and willing her teeth to cease their chattering. She took a step back to put some distance between them.

  Putting on a brave façade she didn’t quite feel, Alesia snorted and answered his question perhaps a few beats too late. “What man wouldna prefer a kiss?” This time, when she tugged harder on the linen, he did let go, but he didn’t back away as she wrapped it around herself. If anything, he drew closer.

  “Ye should change clothes,” he murmured, eyeing her wet garments from her shoulders to her ankles.

  “Ah, aye, let me just get some from my satchel.” She snapped her fingers, letting the sarcasm ooze from her tone as her lips turned down in derision. “Drat. I didna bring my satchel. Och, who am I jesting, I dinna have a satchel.”

  “Ye left all your possessions behind to board my ship?”

  Alesia nodded, unable to voice the lie. The truth was, she had no possessions. All she had were the clothes on her back and, tucked deep in her boot, the corded leather bracelet her mother had worn until the day she died and a couple of shillings she had planned to use to pay for her next meal.

  Thor frowned and raked his hands through his hair, finally pulling his gaze from hers as he looked around his cabin. “I think we can scrounge something up.”

  “I dinna need your charity, and I’d rather not be in your debt. Just give me the coin ye owe me, and I’ll be on my way. To the shops,” she hastily added.

  He jerked his too-penetrating gaze back to her and winged a brow. “Ah, the reward.”

  “Aye. I’d be able to purchase a whole new wardrobe with that.” And get the hell out of Edinburgh. The ship swayed gently, reminding her that they were no longer docked and on their way to wherever it was he’d said they were going.

  “Is that what a wharf lass wants? A whole new wardrobe?”

  She frowned, feeling his words cut deeper than they should. She was more than a simple wharf rat. She was more than just a lass wanting to be covered in silks and damask. So much more. But for the life of her, at that moment, she couldn’t come up with anything clever to say, which only made her feel insignificant.

  She jutted her jaw and clutching the linen tighter. “Nay. I’ll keep what I have until ye hand over the coin.”

  “Ye’re pretty certain I will.”

  The room was feeling smaller and smaller. “Aye.”

  “Whether I like it or not.”

  Was he jesting with her? Mocking her? “Something like that.”

  Thor grunted and backed toward the door with his hands up. “If ye say so, lass.”

  Her brow furrowed. “I do say.”

  “As ye wish.”

  What game was he playing now, being so compliant with her? She turned in a circle, watching as he headed for the door. But before he could open it, she asked, “What’s in it for ye?”

  That question seemed to stop him short. Sharp eyes assessed her, and she had the oddest feeling he was measuring if she was worthy of his answer.

  “I but want to see a father reunited with his daughter.”

  “That’s a load of shite.”

  “Ye’ve a vulgar tongue.” But he grinned all the same. “Might want to curb it afore ye meet your sire.”

  Oh, she could have thrown something if she was willing to drop the linen. “I’ll not be changing for any man.”

  Thor shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  “I always have.” And that was never going to change.

  “And ye always have to have the last word, too, aye?”

  She opened her mouth to answer with a most unladylike retort but then though better of it as she realized he was only asking her a trick question. Trying to get her to say something. The stinking whoreson. Clamping her lips closed, she glowered at him.

  Seeming entertained by that, Thor chuckled. “Stay put, lass. The men aboard a pirate ship aren’t likely to be kind to a lass, let alone one who is sopping wet.”

  Alesia sniffed, looking down her nose at him. “Then ye’d best do your job as captain and warn them off.”

  He grinned, shook his head, muttered something under his breath and shut the door behind him, leaving her quite alone and cold.

  Alesia had been alone her whole life, but for some unrecognizable reason, as soon as he left, she felt lonelier than she’d ever been before. The sensation was unsettling. Such feelings weren’t her. She was iron hard. She was a survivor. She was a fighter. And yet, since boarding the ship and meeting Thor, she felt incredibly out of sorts. Perhaps it was a combination of escaping death and leavin
g behind everything she’d ever known? But she was certain there was more to it than that. For the first time in her life, she might have met someone who…what? He didn’t care about her. That wasn’t it. It was more like she’d met someone who didn’t want to simply use her. Except, he had to be using her. The man was a pirate. He wasn’t going to rescue a long-lost bastard out of the goodness of his heart. Truth in point, he’d not given her the silver yet.

  And that meant she was in more danger than she realized, because her heart was telling her she was safe, but her mind knew the truth was the exact opposite.

  As soon as they found a port, she was going to have to jump ship. That was all she’d wanted anyway. To leave Edinburgh and start a new life. If she had to, she’d steal something from somewhere aboard this ship that she could sell at port to get herself started.

  Mind working tirelessly, she took the time to pick the lock of the chest at the base of the captain’s bed, then dug through it until she found a pair of breeches she could fit her entire body into one leg of. That wouldn’t do. Why the hell did he lock this thing anyway? There was absolutely nothing of value in it. A distraction for someone looking to rob him? Probably. She shivered as she searched for something—anything—to wear, and found the one thing she despised—a gown.

  As a child, her mother had always dressed her like a lad, just in case, to keep her safe from any would-be ravagers of young lasses. When her mother passed, she’d kept it up. Passing herself off as a lad had helped her more than once. As time passed, she’d come to despise anything in a gown. The women in the alley closes of Edinburgh swatted their brooms at wharf rats, stuck up their noses at the orphans, or at least at her, and Alesia had always vowed she’d never be a gown-wearing, twiddle-brained, prig.

  But just this once, because she had a plan and needed to make some coin, and the captain himself had given her the perfect way to do it, Alesia tugged on the rose-gold confection and spent at least an hour lacing herself up.