“But you can take what you want.” Senga wiggled her hips as she pushed them away from the mattress, bringing her bottom to his hand. He landed several more punishing blows before shifting once more between her thighs. He lifted her hips and thrust into her. Their sounds of relief as their bodies finally melded filled the cabin. Ruairí draped his body over hers, drawing her arms overhead as he entwined their fingers. He rocked into her, her body relaxing against the mattress. He shifted, worried that she would suffocate beneath his heavier weight, but her fingers squeezed his. “Stay.”
Ruairí let go of his control, surging into Senga over and over, knowing the pleasure verged on pain, but the sounds he elicited from her only drove him wilder. As his approaching release drew his bollocks tight, he couldn’t shake the sense that something was missing. As he ran his hands between Senga’s creamy shoulder blades, he realized he wanted to watch her as she found her own release. He withdrew to her sounds of disapproval but flipped her over with ease, returning to the place he craved.
“Look at me, Senga. Let me see you.”
Senga cupped his jaw and drew him down for a kiss, but before their lips met, she whispered. “I love you more than life, Ruairí. No one can ever change that.” As their lips fused just as their bodies had, they both flew over the cliff and climaxed together. They laid joined, Ruairí stroking her hair as Senga’s hands swept up and down his back.
“I am so sorry, Senga.” Remorse for what he’d said slammed into Ruairí as though his body were being dashed against rocks. “I never should have said any of that. I didn’t mean it.”
“I know you didn’t. That’s why I’m still here and didn’t hop overboard. I understand now, even though your words tore at me.”
“Can you forgive me?” Ruairí feared that while they may have found pleasure together once again, the wounds he made might not heal.
“I already have,” she reassured him. “You’ve never spoken to me like that before. Never. It upset you more than I imagined.”
“That’s still no excuse. As you said, we control our own behavior, and I didn’t. At all.”
“I’ve forgiven you, mo chridhe. If you let this consume you, the guilt might make you feel better in its own twisted way, but it won’t make things better between us. Let it go. Don’t do it again, just like I won’t assume I know everything. I love you, Ruairí.”
Ruairí nodded and smiled. “You’re enough to make me believe in God again. There’s no other way to explain why you came into my life. I’ve sought and plundered treasure near and far, but nothing so fine as you. Only God could have created such a gift.”
Senga giggled. “I believe it was my mother and father doing something similar to what we’ve just done, but your flowery words are rather sweet.” Senga shifted to find a better position. The movement made their breath catch and their gazes lock. Ruairí rocked into Senga with a gentleness that was the completely different than their last coupling, but it was what they both desired. The tenderness was the other half of the balm they needed. They spent the night wrapped into one another’s embrace, only waking to make love.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ruairí grasped the side of the dinghy as Tomas rowed him toward the surf break. He ordered that both his dinghy and the one that carried five other crew members should stop. He spotted Aidan moving along the beach with his entire crew behind him. Ruairí didn’t intend to go ashore with only a handful of his crew while Aidan had all of his, and he had no intention of meeting Aidan on his ground again. If the Irishman wanted his help, Ruairí expected Aidan to meet him at least halfway, which put them in the bobbing surf in dinghies. Unlikely and unstable places to launch an attack, Ruairí’s crew had conducted meetings such as these before, so they waited patiently for the other pirate captain to row out to them. None of them underestimated Aidan O’Flaherty or his sailors. Ruairí and his men all had dirks at hand, hidden under thighs and backsides but easily accessible.
As Ruairí expected, Aidan waited on the beach for five minutes before throwing up his hands and ordering his dinghies into the water. Ruairí adopted a bored expression, using his sgian dubh to pick invisible dirt from under his nails as Aidan approached. He yawned as the other pirate’s boat glided to a halt beside his.
“Tired?” Aidan grinned.
“Aye. No peace for the wicked,” Ruairí returned Aidan’s grin, but smug satisfaction filled his expression as jealousy flashed across Aidan’s face. “I haven’t much time, so on with it. What do you want from the O’Driscolls and me?”
“Fionn O’Driscoll owes me a favor.”
“Aye, killing his piece of shite father. I’m not convinced he’ll jump at paying back that favor. I think he’d see you in Hell first.”
“Right you are, but he hates the MacLeods and O’Malleys more than he hates me. Or you.”
“And so you assume the enemy of my enemy is my friend. I can barely stand you, and I doubt Fionn O’Driscoll can do much better.”
“You had no problem sitting at my table and eating my food last eve.”
“You have better wine. And that was neither your table nor your food. Both belonged to the MacAlisters.”
Aidan waved his hand in a dismissive gesture before glancing over Ruairí’s shoulder at the Lady Charity. Ruairí once again grinned. Aidan could search all he wanted, but he wouldn’t spot Senga. She agreed she shouldn’t be on the deck where Aidan might spot her, but she’d argued against relying on the porthole in their cabin to show her what was happening. Senga perched in the crow’s nest while Ruairí rowed out to meet the Irish pirate. She’d climbed up while it was still dark, knowing no one beyond their ship could see her. Aidan caught Ruairí observing him and grimaced. It only broadened Ruairí’s grin.
“She’s tucked away. It was a long night.” Ruairí continued to clean his nails as though Aidan was of little consequence to him. “You still haven’t given me a reason to help you. My wife is happy to never return to Lewis. She’s a MacNeil now, not a MacLeod. She left that life behind years ago.”
“You believe she wouldn’t like to see the man who killed her parents?”
“I believe she’s made her peace and looks to the future, not the past.”
“Is that what you tell yourself, so you don’t worry about her still loving the man she’d still be married to and whose son she’d be raising if not for a fever?”
“Once again, you seem to think there are secrets between me and my wife. Perhaps there would be if ever you trapped a woman into marrying your ugly mug, but I have no such worries. I know what Alexander and her son meant to her. I’ve never tried to replace them or make her forget. But that doesn’t mean she wants to return to Lewis.”
“But have you asked her?” Aidan pressed, eyebrow lifted imperiously. His expression made Ruairí want to drive his fist into the man’s face. Aidan thought to trip Ruairí up or make Ruairí admit that he didn’t know his wife as well as he assumed. But there was no chance of that.
“I never needed to. She told me as much when she shared her past with me. She knows how I feel about Barra, too. I told her everything.”
Aidan’s smirk faltered. Such openness and forthrightness were foreign to him after a lifetime of piracy. Because it was impossible for him to fathom such openness and honesty in his own life, he was incapable of imagining how Ruairí and Senga shared such.
“A man with no secrets left to hide doesn’t live long,” Aidan mused.
“I never said I have no secrets left.” Ruairí snapped his mouth shut before adding that he just had no secrets from Senga. Admitting such made her a target for anyone who wanted revenge or thought he and Rowan had a treasure trove hidden away that Senga might lead them to. She’d never asked him what he had stashed away, and he knew she wouldn’t. It never worried or interested her. He and Rowan had enough should the day come when they couldn’t or no longer wanted to sail, but it wasn’t the stuff of legends. However, he and Rowan had cultivated an image that there was a bounty as p
art of their fearsome reputation, but now that they both had wives, such a story threatened to be their undoing. “On with it, O’Flaherty. My interest wanes by the moment.”
“Recruit the O’Driscolls to fight against the MacLeods of Lewis, and the Irish will no longer harry the Western Isles. We will oust Neil MacLeod and point our ships away from the Hebrides and Orkney.”
“Why should I believe you?” Ruairí sneered.
“Honor among thieves?”
“Hardly where you’re concerned.”
“Very well. Your bluidy king intends to rein in the people of the isles by sending Lowlanders to homestead throughout the Hebrides. That’s bad for business for everyone. We all need safe passage through these waterways without the royal navy breathing down our necks.”
“I sail under the marque of the Earl of Argyll. My head shall remain attached to my neck.”
“It might. But that doesn’t mean you won’t have your ship seized.” Aidan cast a speaking glance at the Lady Charity once again. “Seized with your bonnie bride aboard.”
Ruairí considered what Aidan said and what he left unsaid. Ruairí and Rowan knew that Lowlanders were moving to the Western Isles, but until they considered returning to Barra with their wives, it had meant little to them. If they were to return to Kisimul Castle, where he and Rowan grew up, he needed to ensure it was a safe place to retire with Senga. The notion of retribution against her uncle held an appeal too. He narrowed his eyes at Aidan as he considered the situation.
“I’ll sail to Baltimore and the O’Driscolls, but before I offer my sword arm and agree to enter any battle on your behalf, I expect you to meet me in Dunluce with the plunder from your last run to Spain.” Ruairí laughed when Aidan failed to mask his surprise. “Och, aye. I heard all about the jewels and gold you squirreled away. Coin you could spend yourself to recruit the O’Driscolls and I assume the MacDonnells, too. But you’d rather I provide you with weapons and an army—at my expense, no less. If you don’t pay me, then I will turn the O’Driscolls and the MacDonnells against you and leave you for the O’Malleys to rip apart.”
“You haven’t changed in the least.”
“Why would I? Did you expect taking a wife would make me into a new man? Hardly.”
“The Dark Heart remains.”
“He does. Play me for a fool, O’Flaherty, and I will cut your heart out while it’s still beating. I’ll shove it down your throat before I toss your carcass to the sharks.” Ruairí glanced up from examining his immaculate fingernails. “Remember, the Blond Devil and I are a matched pair. You can’t get to one of us without having the other on your arse.”
Aidan nodded and stuck his arm across the distance between the two boats to shake Ruairí’s, but Ruairí signaled for Tomas to drop the oars into the water. Ruairí sensed Aidan continued to scrutinize him, but he didn’t glance back until he was climbing the rope ladder hoisted over the Lady Charity’s rail. He ordered the ship to be under way. He called up to Senga, ordering her to wait until they’d pointed the bow to the south and Ballycastle was a speck behind them.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Senga stood at the prow but watched Ruairí standing at the wheel. He was an imposing sight, nearly mythical in his Viking appearance and magnetic presence. She smiled as she considered the night before. They’d had a nasty argument, but their reconciliation seemed to strengthen them as a couple by the time they awoke that morning. She’d watched Ruairí being rowed toward Ballycastle, but she was relieved when he ordered Tomas to stop well before the waves broke onto the beach. She hadn’t been able to hear what transpired between the two captains, but she’d been able to read Ruairí’s body language. He never appeared to be out of control, and it was Aidan who shifted on his bench seat throughout the exchange.
Senga remained in the crow’s nest for another half an hour after Ruairí returned to the Lady Charity; she wanted to keep out of sight just as much as Ruairí wanted her to. He’d lifted her down once she was within reach, and the kiss he pulled her in for drained the anxiety from her body. He’d patted her backside before turning to the helm. She’d been observing him off and on for another half an hour, exchanging smiles from time to time when their gazes locked. Senga noticed he said something to Kyle before leaving the wheel to his first mate.
“Would that I could draw you as you stand there, little one. I would immortalize your beauty, my pirate queen.” Ruairí slid his arms around Senga’s waist as she stepped into his embrace.
“You’re being sentimental, mo chridhe.”
“I suppose. I would remember the sight of you on our ship when we grow auld and no longer have sea legs. I would show it to our wee grandbairns, regaling them with tales of how their grandmother once sailed the high seas with a band of wild pirates.”
“Auld? Grandbairns? You are a wee sook,” Senga giggled.
“Big softie, am I?” Ruairí nuzzled her neck as he pressed his hips forward. “What were you saying?”
“There’s naught soft about your body, but you possess a soft heart, mo rìgh spùinneadair.” Senga giggled once again as the man she called her pirate king playfully huffed, pretending indignation. “I take it things went well with O’Flaherty.”
“Aye. As well as can be expected with a man I’ll never trust. He wants me to sail south to Baltimore and recruit the O’Driscolls to aid his fight against your uncle.” Ruairí held onto Senga as she tried to pull away, tucking hair behind her ear. “I know this isn’t our fight, but I won’t lie and say that vengeance against your uncle isn’t tempting. Aidan has a bounty from three Spanish carracks he sank a few months ago. He’ll trade the lot to me in exchange for my help to convince the O’Driscolls and MacDonnells to side with him.”
“There has to be more to it than that. I never said anything about wanting revenge against my uncle.”
“I know. The king is moving Lowlanders into the Western Isles, hoping to subdue the Hebrideans just as he hopes to subdue the Highlanders. Your uncle has put up a remarkable fight the last few years, but he’s angered too many of his neighbors on both sides of the North Channel. Aidan promises the Irish will no longer harry the isles but will aid in the resistance to Lowlanders flooding our islands.”
“Our? You haven’t called Barra your home in ten years. I left Canna without looking back, and I haven’t called Lewis my home in nearly as long as you’ve been absent from Barra. These aren’t ‘our islands.’”
“They might be sooner rather than later. One day we’ll have bairns of our own, and that’ll lead to those grandbairns I’d regale with our tales. But we can’t do that if we die fighting for treasure we can’t take to the grave. Caragh and Rowan are considering returning to Barra. I am too, Senga. I want a home that doesn’t rock, one where we can start a family.”
“And that’ll be on Barra?”
“It might. I don’t know yet.” Ruairí tucked the same lock of hair behind Senga’s ear that blew loose once more. “It’ll be wherever you want, mo ghaol, but I will make sure we have all we need to survive on for a long, long time. When we meet up with Rowan and Caragh, I will make it clear to Rowan that I’m retiring. I’ll give the Lady Charity to Kyle. I believe Rowan intends to give the Lady Grace to Keith. The brothers can take over from the cousins.”
“And if I want to continue sailing?”
“Do you?” Ruairí’s eyebrows shot up.
“No, but what if I did?”
“Then you’ll have a fisherman for a husband. I won’t continue a life where I put yours in danger every day that we’re together. We finish this with the Irish, then join Rowan and Caragh and make our home near theirs. If you want to continue sailing, then it’ll be with nets and rods, not swords and knives. It wasn’t by chance that a set of cousins fell in love with a set of cousins. It was fate.”
Senga pressed a soft kiss to Ruairí’s lips before leaning against his chest, her ear over his heart. “Tell me what happens after Baltimore. What will you do once the O’Driscolls agree to sa
il with you?”
“You make it sound easy to convince them.”
“If they dislike my uncle as much as Aidan does, then it shouldn’t be hard to convince them. While you were talking to Aidan, I remembered my uncle mentioning the O’Malleys. I hadn’t thought of it in years, but I recall him saying they were allies. Their agreement allowed my uncle free rein to sail near Ireland, and they helped him fight your people. It was the only way to win against—well, I suppose your father. He would have been laird when my uncle had my father killed. You and Rowan might be the dreaded pirates from Barra, but everyone in the isles knows not to underestimate the MacNeils. It’s as though you were all born to the water, as though God intended your clan to master the waves. If I didn’t know that your people descended from Vikings, I’d guess you descended from Neptune.”
Ruairí chuckled at Senga’s suggestion that any of his family were part sea god, even if he and Rowan resembled Vikings more than most Scots. He sobered as he recalled that he looked just like his father, and that his siblings and mother also had blond hair and blue eyes. He’d thought about his family more since meeting Senga than he had in the entire time since he left home. Concern replaced the humor in Senga’s eyes as she leaned back to peer up at him, and Ruairí regretted growing serious. He kissed her forehead and offered her a warm, reassuring smile.
“We’ll see if the O’Driscolls will join us, then we’ll sail to Dunluce, where Aidan will meet us. He either pays me what we agreed, and I help him recruit the MacDonnells, too, or we go our separate ways. After I run him through.”
“And assuming Aidan doesn’t double cross you and the O’Driscolls, and the MacDonnells will ally with you and Aidan, then what?”
“That depends on what you want, Senga. Do you want to return to Lewis? Do you want to see your uncle overthrown and Alfred put in his place? Do you want to claim your birthright?”
The Dark Heart of the Sea: A Steamy Fated Lovers Pirate Romance (Pirate of the Isles Book 2) Page 16