The Dark Heart of the Sea: A Steamy Fated Lovers Pirate Romance (Pirate of the Isles Book 2)

by Celeste Barclay

  “Is there anything from the other room you would have me fetch?”

  “Only my sewing basket and a carved wooden cross that sits before the window. My da made that, too. There is nothing else. I burned the linens after I buried my husband and son, and I didn’t need more than one set. It’s just me who lives here, so I don’t have a need for much more. The bowls and mugs don’t need to come, so no, there’s nothing else,” Senga shrugged.

  Ruairí had dressed while she packed, and he moved to the door with his hand on his sword. He exercised caution as he pulled it open, even though he’d heard no one and nothing enter the cottage while they dozed. He was honest enough with himself to admit the roof could have fallen down around their ears and he wouldn’t have noticed while he bedded Senga. Ruairí tucked her against his side and turned her face toward his shoulder.

  “Don’t look,” he whispered as he led her to the front door, but she couldn’t help but pause and look back. Even though it was easy to walk away from the cottage, it had been her home for six years. The home she shared with her husband and bairn. She nodded once before stepping outside.

  The morning sun blinded her as she looked around. Nothing seemed out of place, but several of the village women stood with their mouths agape to see Ruairí exit with her. It was only a moment before Senga saw the women buzz with gossip.

  I’m a merry widow now I suppose. I believe I’ve earned the right.

  Ruairí guided Senga back to the tavern, never removing his arm from her shoulders. His claim was obvious to all and sundry, and they both were fine with it. When they reached the tavern, Ruairí nudged and kicked his crew awake before turning Senga over to Shamus with clear instructions he wasn’t to leave her alone, even for a moment. Ruairí led his crew outside and began issuing orders for those who would go to her cottage with him to remove the bodies. He sent his first mate to find the priest. Kyle looked toward the tavern and raised an eyebrow before looking back at Ruairí.

  “Just a funeral today,” Ruairí answered Kyle’s unspoken question.

  Ruairí sent some men to ready the dinghies that would carry them to the Lady Charity. Kyle found the priest easily enough, as he’d just concluded matins, and brought him to Senga’s cottage. The priest crossed himself several times as his eyes darted between the dead bodies and Ruairí.

  “They attacked Senga twice last night. They got less than they deserved,” Ruairí bit out.

  The priest jumped and nodded. He hurried to say last rites before leaving to summon the men’s families. Ruairí wasn’t looking forward to this, but he wouldn’t allow a single person to have any doubts as to the men’s culpability and the cause of their deaths. He and his men waited outside as a group of villages gathered, several women crying. They couldn’t silence an angry woman. It was Agnes from the tavern.

  “You murdered my brother. You believed a whore instead of an honorable man. She’s the one who deserves to be dead.”

  Ruairí stepped forward, pushed his chest out, and towered over almost everyone in the crowd.

  “I caught those men attacking Senga outside the tavern and then inside her home. They deserved the fate they asked for. I warned them when I found them pressing her against a wall, but they chose not to listen. If anyone doubts my words are true, step forward now.”

  There were murmurs among the crowd, but no one stepped forward to speak against the Dark Heart. The look upon Ruairí’s face showed it was the pirate captain they faced.

  “I’d be careful who you call a whore considering you spend most of your time on your back, Agnes,” Ruairí sneered at the woman who now cowered before him. Ruairí looked around before shifting his gaze to the priest. “It seems you’ve the men you need to carry these sacks of shite from here. My men and I are done.”

  Ruairí tilted his head toward the shore and muttered to his men before the crew filed down the path after him.

  Senga waited in the tavern and ate a bowl of porridge Shamus offered her. Shamus, his wife, and his daughter came out from the kitchen, and Senga was saying goodbye when Ruairí returned. He looked at the three women. Senga’s aunt-by-marriage was teary eyed and looked sad to see Senga leave. Senga’s cousin-by-marriage looked bored before she noticed Ruairí, then jealous, while Senga looked like she wanted to run. Shamus pried her loose from his wife’s embrace and gave her a warm hug, which Ruairí was relieved to see she sank into. He appreciated knowing someone had cared for her, and that she’d had someone to rely on. When she stepped back and looked at Ruairí, he held out his hand to her. She approached and entwined her fingers with his. Ruairí felt a shock of electricity surge up his arm and when he looked down at Senga, he was sure she felt it too. Neither missed the rightness of holding hands. It felt natural.

  Ruairí guided her along the path to the beach and swept her into his arms before wading to the small boat that would ferry them to the Lady Charity.

  “I’m not afraid of getting wet, you know.”

  Ruairí’s tongue darted out and flicked her earlobe. “I know, but that isn’t the kind of wet I want you to be.”

  Senga moaned before leaning her head against the crook of his neck. She smattered the tanned skin with feathery kisses.

  “In that case, know I’m already wet,” Senga whispered as they arrived at the dinghy. He settled her on the seat before climbing in next to her and barking an order for his sailor to row with haste. Ruairí had every intention of getting her to his cabin, stripping her bare, and taking her on every surface they fit. His need flowed to Senga, and her nails bit into the back of his hand as they’d joined them once again.

  “I know there are things you must do once we are aboard, but please don’t keep me waiting too long,” she murmured. She hoped her words only reached his ears. But when the oarsman couldn’t turn his head quickly enough to hide his smile, Senga felt her cheeks burn.

  It was a short row to the ship, and Senga surprised Ruairí with the ease in which she scampered up the rope ladder. She stood with perfect balance in the dinghy, tucked her skirts into her waist, and was up the ladder before Ruairí could offer her help. Once she rolled over the rail and landed on her feet, she looked back at Ruairí, who was climbing over the rail.

  “I’m a MacLeod, remember?” she teased, this time for his ears only. She arranged her skirts before looking around. A moment of real panic spread through her, and she wondered if she’d jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. The motley crew before her was intimidating at the least and downright terrifying at the most. As she looked at each man, they looked at her. Some seemed shocked, others glared back with disdain, and far too many leered. Ruairí saw what she did and stepped in front of her. He tucked her behind him and crossed his arms with his feet planted wide.

  “Well, out with it.”

  This would be his crew’s only time to voice dissent, but they knew it would do them little good, so many grumbled under their breath.

  “Bad omen.”

  “Be the death of us.”

  “Anger the sea gods.”

  “Foul luck she’ll bring.”

  Senga heard all the comments, but they didn’t faze her. In truth, she’d heard them all before, either about other women aboard a ship or directed at her when she’d sailed with her father when she was younger. Ruairí took a step forward, but Senga grasped his leine at his waist, out of sight of his men, and tugged.

  “Let them say what they want now rather than fester later,” she whispered. The tension leaving Ruairí’s body was the only sign she received that he heard her.

  “This is Senga MacLeod. She’s my guest, and you will treat her as such. I will treat any disrespect as though it were done to me.”

  Senga knew that meant the lash. For the men’s sake, even though they weren’t her friends, she hoped they were all wise enough to keep their thoughts to themselves. Ruairí looked to Kyle, who stood at the wheel and nodded. Kyle began barking orders for the crew to raise the sails and lift the anchor. Ruairí guided Senga
to the stairs that would take them to his cabin. Once inside, Ruairí locked and barred the door before turning to Senga. She was already pulling her blouse over her head. Ruairí pulled her toward him as he loosened the waist to her skirt.

  “For now, until I’m sure of my crew, you must lock and bar the door any time you’re alone here. Promise me.”

  “Of course. Ruairí, this isn’t my first time sailing. Besides, I grew up with men who spent more time on water than land. I know how they feel about a woman on their ship.”

  “I’m glad it doesn’t bother you. However, I picked up some new crew just after my last raid in a smuggler’s town in Cornwall. I don’t know them well enough yet to trust them. Until I do, I don’t want any of them near you.” Ruairí tugged the ribbons at her shoulder, and the chemise fell to the ground.

  “Undress, mo chaiptean.”

  “You call me your captain, yet you issue the orders?” Ruairí cocked a brow, but his seriousness faded when he couldn’t help but smile.

  “I thought you’d agree, unless there is something else you want to do.” Senga paused as she rolled down one stocking. She stood up and looked around. “Do you have logbooks to fill?”

  Ruairí growled before pouncing on her. “There is only one thing I intend to fill,” he groaned, as he lowered his mouth to hers.

  Their kiss was wild as they devoured one another. When they finished undressing, Ruairí lifted Senga, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He sunk into her as her head fell back.

  “God, the feel of you entering me is almost enough to bring me to climax.”

  Ruairí backed them against the door as he thrust over and over. He worried she might be sore from the night before, but she pressed her heels against the small of his back when he tried to slow. His hand grasped her breast and kneaded the supple flesh.

  “Pinch. Bite,” Senga panted, and Ruairí was only too happy to satisfy her request. He watched the pulse pound in her neck as her head fell back. Each pinch, each bite of her nipple seemed to drive her closer to the edge. Ruairí experimented with the pressure and the pain he would cause. He discovered she liked when he was rougher with her.

  “Do you like the pain, little one?”

  “Yes. After all this time, it makes me know I’m still alive. I can still feel.”

  Ruairí pinched her nipple while tugging on the other with his teeth, applying as much pressure as he dared not wanting to break the skin with his teeth. Senga’s fingers dug into his shoulders as she moaned more and more, relishing the feel of the pain transforming into unparalleled pleasure. It was only a matter of minutes before Ruairí felt Senga’s inner muscles grip his cock as spasms rocked her core. He spun them and walked to the table. He swept his arm across it and knocked mugs, plates, maps, and ledgers onto the floor before lying her down. She unhooked her legs and brought her feet to the edge, giving herself leverage to meet each of his thrusts. She couldn’t keep from moaning as the intensity built again.

  “Look at me, leannán.”

  Senga tried to keep her eyes open as she felt a wave of pleasure spread from the bottom of her belly out to her limbs. She failed as she raised her chin and screamed. The moment the sound died on her lips, she bit her tongue and her ardor dampened. She looked at Ruairí, sure he wouldn’t want her announcing to the entire ship what they were doing. He leaned forward and ran his tongue over the whorl of her ear.

  “I’d have them all know you’re mine,” he growled.

  “I don’t doubt they already know.”

  She relaxed once she knew vocalizing her pleasure didn’t bother Ruairí. She rose and clasped her hands behind his neck as she kissed him. Ruairí felt his knees shake as he drove himself harder and faster as Senga begged for more. He lifted her from the table and moved to a chair. She straddled him and rode him as her hair hung down her back and swished about her hips. Ruairí fisted his hand in the raven locks and kissed her throat and collar bones as she set her own punishing pace.

  “I’m close, lass.” He lifted her from his shaft, and she gripped his cock as she stroked him to completion. They sagged against one another, their breathing ragged and hearts pounding. It was only when the perspiration chilled Senga’s skin as they cooled that Ruairí felt the strength to rise. He walked to the bed with her in his arms and pulled back the covers.

  “Sleep some more. You had a long night, little one. I’ll be back when it’s time for the midday meal.”

  Senga was fast asleep before Ruairí was done getting dressed. He was tempted to wake her and insist she lock and bar the door, but she was so peaceful, he didn’t have the heart to do it. He did what he could by locking it from the outside. When he went on deck, he found one of the men who had been with him the longest and posted him as a guard outside his cabin.

  Chapter Five

  Ruairí took the wheel from Kyle as they stood beside each other.

  “She seems to have settled in quickly enough,” Kyle waggled his eyebrows. Ruairí glared him, and Kyle took a step back.

  “Tread carefully. You saw her last night; she’s not the usual tavern wench. She’s not like any of the others. She matters to me.” His gaze drifted to the stairs leading to his cabin, and he remembered the look on Senga’s face not long ago as they raced to climax. Rather than just lust, another emotion Ruairí couldn’t name filled his chest. It almost burned, but it wasn’t painful. He welcomed it as once again, he felt the bitterness that had been his constant companion for so long being chipped away.

  “But you barely know her. How could she be that important to you so soon?”

  “I don’t know. I truly don’t, but there is something about her, between us. Call it divine intervention.”

  Kyle guffawed. “You’ve found God along with a bedmate. You did well for one night.”

  Ruairí gripped Kyle’s collar and pulled him close. “You’ve been my closest friend besides Rowan. We’ve sailed together for years. Don’t make me choose because, for once, you may not come out the winner.” Kyle put his hands up in surrender, and Ruairí let go.

  “I meant no offense, Captain.” Kyle used his title since they were drawing attention. “I’m just surprised is all. I never imagined the Dark Heart would ever be anything but, well, dark.”

  “I’m realizing there is a time and place for each.”

  “In all seriousness, though, what’re you going to do when we attack another ship? Do you still plan to pillage and plunder?”

  “Of course. She knows who she came with. She knows what I am. I don’t look forward to her seeing that side of me, so I intend to keep her under lock and key whenever we must conduct business.”

  Despite the years of sailing, first as a crew member aboard what he and his cousin started out thinking was a merchant ship, then as a captain of his own boat, he never liked to say out loud that he stole and killed for a living. A sliver of guilt that it would disappoint his parents if they knew still niggled at his mind when he spoke aloud of what he did as a pirate.

  “I hope for her sake that she remains tucked away. Have a care when you decide who to board. She seems like a nice sort.” That was the best compliment Kyle would offer, and the conversation seemed to end.

  Ruairí remained at the helm until the sun was high overhead. Kyle had caught a few hours of sleep, and Ruairí handed command back to him before stopping by the galley to gather a tray. He nodded to his guard and knocked before unlocking the door. He opened it but didn’t see Senga. For the first time in half a score of years, Ruairí felt a consuming wave of panic. He dropped the tray and spun around to see Senga standing wide eyed behind the door with a dirk in each hand.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. Ruairí gawked at her before he understood her question.

  “What’s wrong? I walk in here, looking for the woman I left asleep in our bed, and the cabin appears empty. What was I supposed to think?”

  Our? What the bluidy hell? This is still my cabin.

  But Ruairí knew that wasn’t the truth. He
already thought of the cabin as theirs, along with the bed and everything in it. The moment he came together with Senga against the very door he now slammed shut, everything had changed once more.

  “I didn’t intend to worry you. I know someone has been outside the door for hours, and when I heard more movement, I wasn’t sure who was there. You warned me not to trust anyone and to be careful. I was.”

  “Do most intruders knock before entering? I told you I’d return at midday.”

  “I haven’t a clue what time it is. The porthole is too small to tell where the sun sits. And again, you warned me to be vigilant.” She stepped forward and looked at the meal strewn across the floor before looking back Ruairí. “I didn’t mean to anger you.”

  Ruairí caught himself gawking again. “I’m not angry. At least not at you. Perhaps a little at myself. I felt the same fear when I couldn’t see you as I did last night when I worried that I wouldn’t get to you in time. Woman, you are shaving years off my life. More than pirating does.”

  Senga returned the blades to sheaths in her boots that Ruairí hadn’t noticed. She embraced him and sunk into his chest as his arms came around her.