Senga waited while Braeden copied her actions until the sword no longer wobbled in his palm. “You have the sword in your right hand, but I can see you favor your left. That means despite having the weapon in your right hand, you’re more likely to leave that side undefended. Square your feet off and then step back with the right.”
Senga demonstrated each direction she gave Braeden until she positioned him as she wanted him. She showed him different types of thrusts and parries as she explained how and when to use them. She explained scenarios where certain strikes would be most effective. As she walked him through each move, she told him what open spots on her body to look for and the hints her movements couldn’t help giving away. By the time she performed every move and was satisfied Braeden could at least attempt them without someone hacking him to bits, the pair had drawn quite a crowd. Halfway through his training, Senga remembered the other man’s name was Snake Eye; at least that was how he was introduced to her.
“Snake Eye, help me show Braedon what these look like when sparring for real. Braeden, move far to my right. Try to copy my moves as I spar with Snake Eye.”
Her suggestions received several laughs until she pulled her knife from her boot and stepped forward. Senga watched for the moment Snake Eye raised his sword in anticipation and launched into a series of thrusts and swipes she knew Braeden couldn’t hope to mimic, but it made the men aware she wasn’t there to play or pretend. She slowed her movements as she shifted to her right, forcing Snake Eye to follow. Senga now stood where she could see Braedon without losing focus on her opponent.
Senga and Snake Eye went through several rounds of mock battle. All the while, she called out explanations to Braeden about both her actions and how she could anticipate Snake Eye’s coming movement. It amused the crowd that she was on the mark each time she predicted each of Snake Eye’s attempts to knock the sword from her hand. She counted herself lucky that he was a good sport, and she could tell he’d trained several others before Braeden. He knew to keep the tempo of their match slow so the boy could follow and practice. Senga was enjoying herself until a roar of such rage swept across the deck, she nearly dropped both her sword and dirk.
Chapter Eight
Ruairí awoke feeling refreshed as he stretched, but he soon noticed he was alone in bed. He hadn’t awoken that way since Senga came onboard. He sat up and looked around, but she wasn’t there. His gut clenched as he thought about her going above deck without him.
Ruairí pulled on leggings and boots but forewent his leine as he strapped his sword belt around his waist. He charged up the stairs as he took in the crowd that surrounded crew members he couldn’t see. He scanned the deck but couldn’t find Senga, but he spotted Tomas. Ruairí stalked toward the man until Tomas pointed toward the crowd and shook his head, looking defeated. It was only then he heard Senga’s voice as she explained how to fight, of all things, that he breathed again. He heard her call out various moves and defenses he was never aware she knew. He assumed she was commenting on two of his men sparring, but when the opponents shifted, so did the crowd. An opening showed Senga battling a man who was one of his most seasoned sailors. He knew Snake Eye would be careful with her, but as she twisted and swung, he was uncertain she’d be careful with Snake Eye. He watched in horror as she waited until the last moment to dodge a strike of Snake Eye’s sword that could have cleaved her in half before she came up with her dirk below his chin.
A soul-deep roar traveled from his gut up his throat. He tore across the deck, men moving out of his path before he barreled through them. He heard a string of curses come from Senga that made many heads whip back around. Ruairí hadn’t imagined she knew so many blue words. When he reached her, she had the grace to lower her weapons and point them to the deck, but she had the temerity to grin.
“Good morning, Captain,” she chirped. Her bright smile made the men scatter as Ruairí’s face turned a shade of red none of his crew had ever seen. She leaned forward and whispered, “Did you sleep well? You seemed tired.”
Ruairí growled as he lifted her off her feet and hefted her over his shoulder. Her braid swung around his knees.
“Ruairí, stop. Put me down.” She tried to reason with him. “I’m fine. You’re making a far bigger deal out of this than need be. You can see I’m hale. I was just teaching Braeden a few moves.”
When Ruairí ignored her, and they neared the stairs leading below deck, she reached down and pinched his backside as hard as she could. She suspected she’d find a bruise later. She felt as though she were flying as Ruairí dragged her back down to the deck.
“Don’t,” he warned.
“I could say the same to you. You humiliated me in front of your entire crew. I spent the last hour showing them I’m not some defenseless chit, and you undo that all by storming away with me like a barbarian.”
“You dare be angry with me?”
“Yes. I dare. I’m spitting mad now, so we’re quite the pair. I know what I’m doing, Ruairí. I know you found me and rescued me twice, but I’m not incapable of defending myself. You said as much when you found me outside the tavern. That was without a dirk in my hand because of the pails. I’d already stabbed one man when you arrived at my cottage. When you killed the man in front of me, I rolled free, grabbed my dirk from my thigh, and killed one of the other two. I might have been at a disadvantage with three men and only dirks, but I can hold my own. You’d know that if you hadn’t carried me away like a naughty wean.”
Ruairí watched the lightning streaks of green flash in her eyes as her temper flared with each word. She was magnificent, and he felt like an arse. Once more, he’d panicked where her safety was concerned. As he looked down at her now, his mind cleared, and he recalled the explanations she offered to the moves she and her opponent made. She hadn’t sounded fearful or breathless. She sounded in control. Not only that, Ruairí recognized her words to be right for each thrust and parry.
“Who taught you to fight?” he wondered aloud.
A cloud passed over Senga’s face as she remembered her time spent training with her father. “Da,” she mouthed as she couldn’t force any sound from her. Her chest ached, and she was tempted to rub the tightness from it.
“He did a good job.” Ruairí took her hand and led her back to the place where she’d been fighting only minutes ago. He handed her the falchion and dirk that lay on the deck. He drew his own two-handed broadsword. Ruairí knew she could never manage such a large weapon, as it was as long as she was tall, but he also knew he’d insult her if he chose a smaller weapon.
“Wait,” she said before turning back to the chest. She dug deeper into the chest and brought out another cleaver falchion in good repair. She looked to Braeden who stared at her and Ruairí with saucers for eyes. “These are both falchions, but very different styles. You can see this one looks like a meat cleaver. You can use in a similar manner. Both are the right weapons for people of our build.”
Ruairí respected her choice of words as she avoided calling the boy small. He was the same height Ruairí had been at that age, but he was still smaller than most of the crew. He hadn’t put on the bulk from training that Ruairí had when he was twelve.
Ruairí focused on Senga as they circled one another. He gave her credit for patience. She refused to go on the offensive even though she made several moves to trick him into it.
“One of us has to strike, Ruairí. I’ll follow your leadership,” she taunted.
“Ladies first.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Ruairí wanted to draw them back in. Before her parents died, Senga was a lady. She would’ve held the title, but as an orphan who ran away to marry below her, she forfeited the honorific. Ruairí saw the pain register on her face, and it tempted him to call an end to the match before it started.
“Good thing I’m not one,” she whispered, but there was an edge he hadn’t heard before.
Ruairí could have kicked himself. The least he could do was honor her desire to show her abilities to
him and his crew. If she couldn’t earn their respect from a title, she could do it with her actions. Ruairí tested her with a wide swipe of his sword. He was unprepared for the invitation it signaled. Senga responded with a series of punishing blows that made Ruairí realize she was far better trained than he expected. Throughout their mock battle, Senga breathed with ease and spoke to Braeden as though she was explaining a child’s game rather than how to maim or kill. Ruairí felt sweat break out across his forehead, but she seemed unfazed.
The longer they fought, the more willing he became to lend some actual force to his strikes. Senga blossomed under the challenge, and she caught Ruairí off-guard more than once using moves he’d never seen before. It disconcerted him how she read his moves and what he unintentionally telegraphed to her without much thought. The fight ended when they locked swords, and it was clear neither would have their sword knocked loose from their hand. Senga dropped her dirk and grabbed a handful of his leine as she pulled him down to her. She smacked a loud kiss before stepping back. She dropped her sword and squealed as he once again lifted her over his shoulder. He smacked her backside playfully.
“You have a reckoning coming your way, little one.”
“Do you promise?”
They walked away from the gales of laughter that erupted after minutes of stunned silence as they watched their formidable pirate captain match wits and skill with a woman half his size. They lost none of their respect for him, but she gained more in their estimation.
Ruairí eased Senga to the floor of their cabin as he sheathed his sword. He pulled the sword belt from his waist and dropped it on the foot of the bed.
“Are you furious with me?” After the fierceness she showed, Ruairí balked at the timidity in her voice. He could tell her fearfulness was genuine.
“No. Not anymore. You need to stop making me panic.”
“Or perhaps you shouldn’t overreact. I’m not always in danger.” Senga softened her words as she ran her hands over his chest. Her finger glided over the smooth planes of his bare skin, and she marveled at the feel of the muscles as they jumped beneath her touch. “I know we met under less than auspicious circumstances, and you took me away from Canna to keep me safe. You told me which men I could trust and which ones I couldn’t. I’ve listened to you. Tomas and Kyle knew I was above deck, and they even tried to convince me to return here before you awoke, but they kept an eye on me nonetheless. I took pity on Braeden when I saw him struggle with a sword far too large for him. Snake Eye was patient, but no one would intervene and give him the right sword.”
Ruairí covered her hands on his chest with one of his while the other tucked strands of hair behind her ear. She titled her chin up and smiled softly as his cornflower-blue eyes gazed into her hazel ones.
“I remembered how he must’ve felt when my father sent me to train with the boys my age. I was smaller than them and struggled to hold my own until my cousin Alfred fitted me with the right sword. My father had trained me, but mostly with a wooden sword and more on how to use my knives in close proximity to my enemy. It was Alfred who taught me to use a falchion because it was a size I could manage. He gave me the confidence I needed to go against the boys my age. I came out the victor more often than not. After my parents died, I was filled with hurt and anger. Alfred’s time training me was the only thing I had to look forward to when Alex was back on Canna. Alfred even took me raiding a few times, and he tested me more than once against a real enemy. I know what I’m doing, Ruairí. But I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Ruairí was speechless as Senga revealed more of her past. Part of him wanted to hunt down her cousin Alfred and throttle him for encouraging Senga to think she could fight against men twice her size, and then the other part of him wanted to thank the man for showing Senga how to fight men twice her size. Since he could do neither of those, he pulled her onto his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed. She caressed his shoulder as she traced his tattoo. He’d discovered she found running her fingers over his tattoo as soothing as he found the feel of her hand upon him.
“We still have a lot to learn about one another. I don’t want you to feel stifled or like you can’t be yourself. I’d just ask that you warn me before you do something daring, and I’ll try not to panic at the first sign of something wrong.”
“Thank you, mo ghràidh.”
They hadn’t used many terms of endearment, but Senga wanted to. She tested out a simple “my dear” to see how Ruairí would react. The smile she received was almost too brilliant to look at. His face went from being uncommonly handsome to breathtakingly beautiful. Once again, he looked more like Adonis than a mortal man. He took her breath away, and she couldn’t believe she was the woman he’d chosen. She knew by now that he’d never brought another woman on any ship he traveled aboard.
“Mo chridhe.” My heart. Ruairí’s voice was little more than a whisper as he pulled Senga in for a kiss different from the ones they’d shared before. There’d been kisses of passion and desire; there’d been kisses of tenderness and hope, and there’d been fun pecks. This kiss conveyed the love that was blossoming between them. They both felt it as they leaned their foreheads together, but neither voiced their emotions.
Neither had broken their fast, so Ruairí fetched a tray. They breakfasted as they discussed their current location near the southern coast of Portugal. Senga wondered more than once why they hadn’t attacked or been attacked and why they’d only anchored once. She broached the subject as they ate.
“Why haven’t we seen any other ships? Are we not traveling in the shipping lanes?”
“We weren’t. I unloaded half my cargo back on Canna, but I also brought things onboard. I had an arrangement with a merchant near Lisbon and couldn’t afford to lose any of it. Now we will sail closer to Seville, and we will encounter other ships.” He scrutinized her, but her face showed little reaction. “Are you worried?”
Senga shook her head. “Bored perhaps, but mostly curious about why I haven’t seen you attack anyone yet.”
Ruairí chuckled. “Bloodthirsty wench, aren’t you? Don’t let the crew hear you, or they might mutiny and replace me with you.”
Senga shrugged as she bit into the cheese she’d saved for last. “I wasn’t sure if you avoided attacking because I’m here. I don’t want to interfere with your livelihood or that of your men. If you get yourself worked up when you don’t find me in the cabin, I worry about how you’ll act if we come under fire. Perhaps it isn’t so good that I’m here.”
Ruairí reached across the table and clasped her hand. “Don’t say that again. I want you here, and yes, I have panicked more than once when I fear you’re in danger. However, that has been when it has come unexpectedly. I can prepare as best I can before an attack. I can know you’re locked in this cabin. I reinforced the door with the bar, and it’s thicker than normal to make it nearly impossible to hack through. It’s not the same as walking into my cabin or waking up not knowing where you are.”
“Fair enough. Do you think you’ll find a ship you want to board as we sail closer to Spain?”
“I’m certain of it. Among the Dutch, Portuguese, Spanish, French, and Arab traders, there is always plenty to find near the tip of Spain.”
“You mention traders, but what of the pirates from Spain and France?”
Ruairí turned her hand over and placed his palm over hers. His hand appeared to swallow hers. “They’re no laughing matter. British and Scottish pirates are quick about our business. We attack, we kill, we plunder, we leave. We know the Spanish and French to torture their captives, especially those from other pirate ships.”
Ruairí’s tone made it sound as though he knew from experience. Senga walked around the table and sat on his lap. It was her favorite place to be besides joined with him. He saw the questions in her eyes, but she didn’t speak. “Yes, I know firsthand. You’ve never asked about my scar.”
Senga knew which one he referred to. She’d felt it countless times, and the fi
rst time she saw it, she wanted to burst into tears. The raised mark ran from his right shoulder, across his back, and wrapped around to his left rib cage. “I figured you’d tell me when you wanted to. The wound must’ve nearly killed you. I didn’t see a need to revisit something like that unless you brought it up.”
Ruairí appreciated that about Senga. She listened to everything he had to say, but she kept her curiosity to herself. He’d lied to many women about how he came by the scar, making up a different tale each time, but none were as extreme as reality.
“Rowan and I had been sailing two years before we made it as far as the Barbary Coast of northern Africa. We’d heard tales of the corsairs and their cruelty, but neither of us knew what to expect until we encountered them as we sailed past Gibraltar. They seemed to materialize out of nothing, and the attack was so unexpected, we had little time to ready ourselves. They boarded us and swept through the crew as though we were carved figurines rather than trained marauders. Rowan and I fought beside one another, but when he moved to defend his back, it left an opening to mine. The blade landed against my ribs, and as I tried to spin away, it sliced up to my shoulder. It was so severe, the corsair assumed I’d die where I lay. Rowan was able to defend himself and then drag me to the galley where he hid me until the battle was over. It was Rowan’s turn to hover over me as I teetered between life and death. It was weeks before I could move from the bedroll they gave me. Rowan just about whittled himself to death with worry. To this day, it’s still the most gruesome battle I’ve been in. They were savages but fought with a skill unrivaled by any other pirates I’ve ever encountered.”
“Have you fought any since then?” Senga’s hushed tones spoke of her fear, and Ruairí held her closer.
The Dark Heart of the Sea: A Steamy Fated Lovers Pirate Romance (Pirate of the Isles Book 2) Page 7