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

by Celeste Barclay

  “Can you not do both? I don’t mean throttle me, but can’t you punish me for disobeying you but thank me for loyalty and devotion to you and our crew?” Senga attempted to look back over her shoulder as Ruairí rubbed his large, warm palm over her backside.

  “Aye, I can, little one. That’s exactly what I shall do. You shall receive your spanking, and then I intend to spend the rest of the voyage to Rathlin worshipping your body.” With that, Ruairí lifted his hand before bringing it down across Senga’s flesh. “You will receive twenty spanks, Senga. You will count each one. You will thank me for loving you so much that I’ll do anything to protect you, even if that’s protecting you from yourself.”

  “Yes, Ruairí.” Senga braced herself for the twenty blows to begin, silently thankful that it was Ruairí’s hand and not a belt or whip. The next spank landed across both cheeks and made her yelp. “One. Thank you, Ruairí.”

  Ruairí ran his hand over the pickening flesh, rubbing away some of the initial sting. The next five landed squarely across both globes, just as the previous ones had. The next ten alternated sides, while the final ones landed where her thighs met her bottom. Ruairí took care not to use more strength than Senga could tolerate, but the spanking was not like the many playful ones that were preludes to making love. Spying Senga springing from the barrel had terrified him. While he was proud of his wife’s skill and bravery, those were the same characteristics that made him most fear for her life. He’d been truthful when he told Senga how he felt seeing her fighting men who had no qualms about killing a woman. He knew he didn’t need to state the obvious: any of those men would take pride in killing the Dark Heart’s wife. It was that knowledge that drove him to ensure Senga understood these battles were not like the raids she experienced with her cousin. She may have been one laird’s daughter and another laird’s niece, but neither of those endangered her as much as being his wife. His guilt gnawed at him that he was the one who endangered Senga, first by bringing her aboard and then by marrying her.

  When Senga counted the last blow, Ruairí ran his hand over the heated skin, bending low to place a tender kiss on each globe. He helped Senga to stand when she shifted. He obliged when she pressed his knees apart and sank to hers, careful not to press her tender flesh against her heels. She unfastened the laces of Ruairí’s leggings with one hand while the other stroked his hardened rod. He’d seen her arousal grow as the dampness between her thighs increased with each spank. He captured both of her hands in one of his and leaned forward to dip his fingers into her sheath. He thrust into her as his thumb rubbed lazy circles around her bud.

  Senga tried to shake Ruairí’s hand from hers, but he clamped his palm over hers. “Please, Ruairí,” she begged. “Please let me. I need to.” Her mouth ached just as her core did to feel the press of his cock. He relented and used his hand to hold back her hair instead. She rushed to free his cock before diving to take it into her mouth. Ruairí thought he would spill that very moment as the tip brushed the back of her throat. When her hips pressed forward, searching for more friction and depth, he pulled his hand away. Senga’s whimper nearly had him giving in to pleasuring her, but as much as she might beg for it now, she would regret giving in to her pleasure before she’d atoned for her transgressions. She hummed as her mouth slid over Ruairí’s engorged rod, her cheeks hollowing each time she lifted her head. When Ruairí knew he had little willpower left and was about to spill his seed, he lifted Senga under her arms and pressed her backwards toward the bed. She shucked off her tunic as Ruairí rushed to undress. He fell onto the bed and across her body as she opened her arms and legs to him.

  “I love you more than anything, Senga. I don’t know that I could live another day without you, and I will do everything I can to protect you. I need you to accept your limitations because I can’t live in fear of losing you every time danger is near.” Ruairí sank into the warm depths of her core as her arms and legs wrapped around him. He dropped his head and shuddered as the depth of his emotions took hold. Senga held his large frame against her as they lay joined. “I can’t avoid fighting your uncle if I’m to deliver the O’Driscolls to Aidan’s side, but I don’t want you going ashore. That is the last battle I will ever fight as the captain of the Lady Charity and as the pirate Dark Heart. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live with the constant threat that you might die because you married me.”

  “Ruairí, I understood from the start what I risked leaving Canna to sail with you. I knew the danger, and I accepted it because you drew me to you. I won’t ever regret fighting to defend you and our home, our friends, and our crew. I don’t do it to anger you or to scare you, but I can’t imagine living without you either, and I’ll be damned if I hide while you die. Punish me over and over for disobeying you, for risking my life, but I won’t ever stop if it means we can lie together again just as we are now. You are my present and my future, and I will always fight to protect that. But, mo ghaol, I will take care not to endanger myself needlessly or to be a distraction to you. I can admit to my limits.” Senga pressed a kiss to his lips. “If you wish for me to remain in our cabin when you go ashore on Lewis, you’ll get no disagreement from me. I owe you that much.”

  “I love you, mo ghràidh, with all that I have and with all that I am.” Ruairí once again captured Senga’s mouth in a kiss, pouring every bit of love and devotion into it that he could. He felt her return the sentiments as their bodies moved together. Neither fought the crest of pleasure as it crashed over them. When they once more gazed into one another’s eyes, they knew that if they hadn’t created a new life within Senga before, they had surely just done so.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Ruairí breathed a sigh of relief when Ballycastle came into view a week later. The battle against the O’Malleys resulted in the loss of several crew members, and it forced each person aboard the Lady Charity to carry out double the work. The O’Driscolls fared about the same, even with the addition of two new light, and speedy ships. They’d taken heavy casualties, but Fionn still had enough men to be a strong fighting force against the MacLeods. The delay made Ruairí concerned about their provisions. They needed to put ashore for more freshwater and food. Hardtack and bannocks weren’t enough for anyone, let alone the men recovering from injuries sustained during the battle.

  Braedon spied movement on the beach and called down to Ruairí. The captain didn’t need to look to guess the MacAlister men had returned from their hunt, forcing him to endure not only Aidan O’Flaherty’s overinflated sense of importance but Padraig MacAlister’s insufferable whining. He grimaced as they drew nearer the dock, and Ruairí recognized both men. Senga came to stand beside him at the rail, but waited for Ruairí to speak first.

  “Don’t leave my side, Senga. Aidan is bad enough, but Padraig is cruel to women. I don’t want him backing you into some dark corner.” Ruairí wrapped his arms around Senga, wishing it was possible to wave hello and goodbye without leaving his ship. He didn’t trust Aidan or Padraig not to send men for Senga if she remained on board, so he had little choice but to bring her along.

  “I won’t say anything this time, Ruairí. I’ll observe and listen from the start.”

  There was no more time to talk as crewmen threw ropes onto the docks and bounded over the rails to secure the Lady Charity. Pulling into the harbor and docking relieved Senga; she found the jostling of the dinghy made her feel nauseous, even though it never bothered her before. She supposed the current differed on this side of the North Channel. Ruairí steadied her once they both stood on the deck. He’d informed Senga that they could dock in port rather than anchoring in the bay, but she still opted for her leggings and tunic. It offered her easier access to her knives, and she was unconvinced that they wouldn’t have to make a dash for the ships.

  She watched as Aidan and a massive bear of a man approached. He was nearly as wide around the middle as he was tall. Senga knew enough Hebridean sailors and Highlanders not to underestimate the strength of a man, even
if he appeared corpulent. Significant force came from a body that large, and she had no intention of discovering how much. Ruairí wrapped his arm around her shoulders, much as he had when they’d first met Aidan. But this time, Senga merely angled her body against his, waiting for the men to meet them.

  “Ruairí MacNeil, you’re a sight I hoped never to behold again,” Padraig bellowed.

  “You’re no prized bull yourself, Padraig MacAlister.”

  “O’Flaherty says you’ve brought a wife with you. Why’d you go and do that? I have whores aplenty here for you.”

  “You may enjoy the pox, but I enjoy more pleasant company. I prefer my wife. Senga MacNeil, this is Padraig MacAlister. And you recall Aidan O’Flaherty.” Ruairí made the introductions, and Senga nodded but remained silent.

  “Senga, you’re so quiet this time. Cat got your tongue, or did Ruairí order you to remain silent?”

  Ruairí squeezed Senga’s shoulder, willing her to understand that inevitably she’d have to speak. He agreed with her assessment from the last time they met Aidan. She couldn’t appear weak.

  “I hadn’t heard anything worth responding to. I prefer my husband keep me company, too.” Senga notched up her chin as she stared each man in the eye.

  “Padraig, leave the lass alone, you worthless sack of shite.” Fionn O’Driscoll’s voice carried from the end of the dock as he approached. His ship moored on the other side of the dock from the Lady Charity. “If I’d known you were in residence, I’d have stayed home. At least there’s decent whisky there.”

  “Fionn, kill any more men to keep your chieftain seat?” Padraig tossed back at Fionn.

  “Aye.” Fionn answered with one word, but the sneer he directed at Padraig said more than anything spoken out loud.

  “Shall we take our business inside where there aren’t so many big ears and wagging tongues?” Ruairí intervened.

  As the group approached the curtain wall, Senga noticed something shift on the battlements. She squeezed Ruairí’s hand and nudged her chin in the gatehouse’s direction. The tips of several arrows were barely noticeable, but Ruairí and Senga recognized what they were. Ruairí returned her squeeze and shifted their angle so his body blocked hers. Senga bit her tongue to keep from muttering that it wouldn’t matter much after the first arrow struck him. They passed into the bailey, which seemed more subdued with the MacAlister chieftain in residence than when only pirates roamed the grounds. Senga got the impression that Padraig may have been a feared leader, but he wasn’t a respected one. Once inside the Great Hall, it was a relief for Senga to see other women moving about where there had been few the last time she was there. Both noblewomen and serving women seemed in abundance.

  “Padraig has three unwed sisters, his mother, his wife, and four unwed daughters. They were the ones hiding from Aidan.”

  “Understandable. But that’s far too many women in one household. Good God.” Senga’s eyes bounced from one woman to another, noting most appeared as unwelcoming as Padraig.

  “Lady Senga, do you care for refreshments?” Aidan appeared at her elbow.

  “No, thank you. Ruairí and I broke our fast together before we came ashore.” Senga glanced at Aidan only long enough to keep from being rude, but she returned her attention to the people moving about the Great Hall.

  “Perhaps one of the MacAlister women might show you the gardens. I’m certain you’re happy to be on land once again.”

  “I prefer the sea. But once again, thank you.” Senga stepped closer to Ruairí, but when Aidan made to follow, she flicked her wrist so her tunic sleeve fell back to reveal the dirk secured in her wrist bracer. Aidan nodded once but kept quiet, deciding to stand near Fionn.

  “You handled that well, little one,” Ruairí’s mint-scented breath wafted across Senga’s face, making her relax muscles she hadn’t realized stiffened while Aidan was near. “Do you want refreshments or that tour around the gardens?”

  “Not at all. I’m not leaving your side, and I’m not eating or drinking anything here until I see the MacAlisters do it first. Something feels off.”

  “I sense it too. If you prefer to sit, then I will take a seat with you. Aidan, Fionn, and Padraig are the ones who have business with one another now. I’d be on our way if it were possible. I’d sail out of port this minute and agree to meet them on Lewis on their designated date.” Ruairí kept his tone low and casual, making it appear that husband and wife were making small talk rather than assessing their predicament.

  “Do you think we’ll be able to return to the Lady Charity with no one questioning us? Or do you think they’ll suspect you will run off?”

  “The latter in Padraig’s case. You’ve charmed Fionn, and I think you may be the only person the man trusts at the moment. Aidan won’t give up the chase, so he’ll maneuver in every direction to get you alone with him.”

  “I told you, I’m not leaving your side.” Senga settled her eyes on Ruairí’s chest, wishing it were appropriate to lean against him for support. Something troubled her, but she couldn’t identify what made her so uneasy. Senga observed as four young women she assumed were Padraig’s daughters set their sights on Ruairí and approached like a pack of lionesses. Senga ground her teeth as they each cast her a smarmy smile before directing their attention to Ruairí.

  “Captain Dark Heart,” the eldest cooed. “It has been too long since you’ve paid our clan a visit.”

  Ruairí remained silent, his expression disinterested. Senga wanted to shake him and remind him that women took disinterest as an invitation to chase just as much as men did.

  “Ruairí, if I recall correctly, you promised me a dance the last time you were here.” The youngest was brazen enough to step forward and reach out her hand, but Senga slipped in front of Ruairí.

  “Touch my husband, and you’ll come away short five fingers.” Senga kept her voice low so only Ruairí and the MacAlister sisters caught what she said. “None of you appear dimwitted, so I assume you’ve either heard or deduced that I’m the Dark Heart’s wife. Do you know what type of woman a man like the Dark Heart would want to marry? Can you imagine?” Senga narrowed her eyes and ran the tip of her tongue along the bottom of her top teeth.

  “Our apologies, Lady, uh, Dark Heart,” one of the previously silent sisters muttered. “We meant no offense.”

  Senga cocked an eyebrow but said nothing. Her expression displayed she knew those words for the lie they were. Her hand rested casually on the hilt of the falchion that remained at her waist. While the guards stripped the men of their swords, the guardsman standing before Senga merely chuckled when she reached for hers. The man assumed she was no threat, so Senga opted to keep the weapon on her. She figured there was no reason to relinquish it if no one made her.

  The four young women backed away until there was enough room for them to spin around. They scattered like baby chicks searching for their mother hen. Senga glanced up at Ruairí, expecting to see ire after she failed to remain quiet, but Ruairí struggled to keep from laughing. He eventually relented and chuckled.

  “Lady Dark Heart. I rather like that, mo chridhe. I shall remember that for tonight when you plunder and pillage me.”

  “Someone has to protect you,” Senga giggled but sobered when she feared someone might overhear them.

  “MacNeil, bring your arse over here,” Fionn called. Ruairí took Senga’s hand as they rejoined the group. His gaze hardened when Padraig glared at Senga.

  “Can’t she manage on her own for a while? There are enough bitches in here to keep her company.”

  Ruairí’s dirk pressed against Padraig’s throat before anyone, including Senga, realized what was happening.

  “I don’t give a rat’s turd how you speak about the women in your family, but insult my wife again, and your clan will have a woman sitting in your seat by supper.” Ruairí pressed the blade against Padraig’s Adam’s apple, causing him to gulp, then choke, when the nodule didn’t move easily. Ruairí leaned close enough that onl
y Padraig could hear. “I don’t give a fuck what you mean to anyone. I will hack you to bits, then leave you for the wolves to eat. But not before I cut off your cock and balls and shove them down your throat while you’re still breathing. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Abundantly,” Padraig rasped. Ruairí knew he was taking a risk humiliating the man in his own home, but of the four men gathered, his reputation exceeded them all, and it was based on truth. The rumors of his wealth might have been exaggerated, but the stories told of his brutal punishment paled compared to reality. He was confident no one dared cross him. He straightened and cast a warning glare at Aidan, who threw up his hands and backed away from Senga, who he’d inched toward when Ruairí wasn’t looking.

  “I’ve agreed to fight alongside O’Driscoll as part of the terms to get him to sail with you. That’s all that was expected of me, and now I will be on my way.” Ruairí reached for Senga’s hand and turned them toward the door. His patience was evaporating, and he needed to escape before he killed Aidan or Padraig while they continued to gawk at Senga.

  “We need the MacDonnells before we can sail,” Aidan blurted.

  Ruairí turned slowly and smirked. “The MacAlisters owe their fealty to the MacDonnells, send Padraig sniveling on his knees to ask his overlord for help. That’s not my problem. I have your agreement, Aidan, to trade what I wanted for getting the O’Driscolls to join you. I’ve pledged my sword arm to the O’Driscolls in return for their joining you. I have naught to do with the MacAlisters nor the MacDonnells.”