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

by Celeste Barclay

  Ruairí pulled Senga back as he stepped toward Neil, whose eyes fluttered open. “Do you make it a habit of beating women? Or was it just my woman?”

  “She wasn’t yours back then,” Neil spluttered.

  “Wrong answer.” Ruairí thrust his sword into Neil’s neck, and blood drenched Alfred. He spun toward Senga’s cousin, raising his sword to below the man’s chin. “I don’t give a bluidy damn who you bed, but my wife is right. Insult her again, and you will learn that I’m not an impetuous man by nature. Just the opposite. I’m very patient while I torture a man.”

  Senga watched Christina as Ruairí ended her husband’s life, and she was certain she saw relief in the older woman’s eyes. “Aunt Christina, I had to make a life for myself, alone, for five years because I wasn’t welcome here. I had nowhere to go, so I stayed on Canna until I met Ruairí MacNeil. I’m not that girl of five-and-ten anymore. I’ve watched my husband and son die. I’ve buried them, then burned everything they touched after a fever took them. I’ve lived aboard a pirate ship for months now, and I love my husband more than anything or anyone. I will never be Senga MacLeod again.”

  Christina nodded as she watched her son attempt not to tremble as Ruairí held the tip of his sword beneath his chin. “Alfred, for the love all that’s holy, keep your gob shut. Our fight is lost. Do right by our clan, and make peace with these men, so they will leave. Senga, you are welcome here as long as I draw breath, but I understand why you won’t come back.” Christina drew Senga into a hug, and Senga had a moment of peace that she hadn’t had since she was a child and her mother embraced her. Christina tucked a lock of hair behind Senga’s ear before kissing her cheek.

  “I think we will live on Barra soon,” Senga whispered. “You can always visit me there. Ruairí will ensure your safety, I promise.”

  “I’ll think about it, lass.” Christina shifted her eyes to Ruairí, her gaze hardening. “If you do anything that upsets her, even causes her a moment of distress, what you did to my husband will be considered mercy compared to what I do to you.”

  Ruairí nodded, but the corner of his mouth twitched, “And they call the MacNeils bloodthirsty.” Ruairí gave in and smiled. His good looks made Christina blink several times as his charm dazzled her, but when she regained her senses, she returned the smile. “Senga, do you wish to find anything that was yours? My lady, do you have anything that Senga might wish to have?”

  Senga and Christina shook their heads, both saddened that there was nothing left to remind Senga of her life with her parents. “Ruairí, I have my cross, and you made sure I have the cradle. There really isn’t anything else. I’d like to visit my parents, though.”

  Ruairí arranged with Fionn and Aidan that they decide Alfred’s future as long as they spared Christina and the other women and children. Fionn’s face went red as he reminded Ruairí that he didn’t make war on the innocent, and Ruairí felt like an arse for reminding the man once again of how he lost his wife. Aidan’s newfound honor as a father made it easy for him to agree. It wasn’t until Ruairí and Senga walked toward the postern gate that they discovered Dónal lay bleeding beneath a MacLeod. Ruairí called men over to help the chieftain before he and Senga made their way to the cemetery. He offered to wait outside the gate, away from consecrated ground, but Senga insisted she wanted to introduce him to her family.

  They spent the rest of the afternoon at her parents’ graves as she told them about her life on Canna and her life with Ruairí. She reminisced about her childhood as she shared more stories with Ruairí, now able to point to places in the tales. It was dusk when they returned to the Lady Charity. The crew cracked open several casks of whisky they found in the cellars. Senga and Ruairí retired to their cabin to the sound of drunken revelry. More than one man raised his cup in her honor, her losses vindicated by the men who pledged their loyalty to their pirate queen.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Ruairí covered their sweat-dampened skin as he settled on his back, and Senga cuddled next to him. They’d returned to their cabin, where Senga helped Ruairí scrub the grime from his hair and body before they fell into bed. Senga traced her fingers over Ruairí’s tattoo, relief flooding her for the umpteenth time that he’d survived. She accepted that much of her anxiety came from not fighting alongside him and having to trust that he could defend himself. She recognized the notion was ridiculous since he’d fought countless times before they met, so she kept it to herself, but she accepted that she was as overprotective about Ruairí as he was with her.

  “Does it seem anticlimactic to you, little one, since you weren’t there for the fight?” Ruairí surely read her mind.

  “A little. I was more concerned with your safety than the outcome. Once I walked through the gates, I was certain I would never consider Lewis home again. I think a wee part of me hoped it might be possible, but I always knew it wasn’t to be. That’s why I haven’t wanted to return. But now I know. Being a MacLeod is a part of my life that is finally over. I hold no animosity to my clan, but neither do I hold any ties.”

  “I suspect I shall have my own revelations soon enough. Senga, I want us to join Rowan and Caragh if they go to Barra. I want to see if that part of our lives is over, too. I want to see my parents and brother and sisters at least once more, even if the clan rejects Rowan and me.”

  “What if they try to imprison you or kill you?” Senga bit her bottom lip as a knot formed in her stomach.

  Ruairí chuckled. “You really think you and Caragh would let that happen? I believe the MacNeil clan faces a violent end on Barra before you and Caragh let them harm a hair on our pretty heads.”

  “So very pretty, and that’s how I should like it to stay.” Senga stretched to kiss his cheek. “But seriously, Ruairí, I am scared of what they might do to you. At least we didn’t fear my clan arresting me.”

  “I know, mo ghaol. Rowan and I will talk about it with you and Caragh before we make any decisions. We will meet them near Canna in a sennight.”

  “What will we do until then?”

  “There’s a tiny isle with a cove where we can wait out of sight. It’ll give the injured men time to heal, and we could all do with a rest.”

  “That sounds heavenly. I could still sleep for a month of Sundays. I’m not as exhausted as I was before, but I still need for a nap every day.”

  “Once we decide whether we’re staying on Barra or if we need to move on, I’m finding a midwife to examine you.”

  Senga nodded, blinking several times, trying to keep her eyes open. She stifled a yawn, but Ruairí drew her closer. She smiled as her eyelids drooped. “Good night, mo chridhe.”

  “Good night, leannán.”

  Senga stretched as she yawned, looking toward the porthole. She stirred earlier when Ruairí left their cabin, but she rolled over, falling back to sleep. Now the sun shone into the cabin, making it impossible to ignore the new day. She rose and dressed, glancing again at the horizon. She smiled, knowing they were underway and would soon meet up with Rowan and Caragh. Their journey through the Minch was smooth the first day, but as they entered the Little Minch and spent two days navigating the hundreds of rock formations and tiny isles, the water grew rougher. Senga experienced her first case of seasickness as the boat rocked, and her stomach followed the unsettling rhythm. That morning, she woke without a need to hang her head over the chamber pot. She smiled to herself as her anticipation grew, excited to get together with Rowan and Caragh that day. They’d spent three days bobbing off the coast of Sandray. They were less than half an hour’s sail from Canna, and they planned to rendezvous with their cousins at sunset.

  “Are you excited, little one?” Ruairí greeted her when she approached the helm.

  “I am. I really miss Caragh. We went so long between seeing each other, then we haven’t spent nearly enough time together since we reconnected.”

  “You should have plenty of time with Caragh over the next two score years or so,” Ruairí grinned.

  “
Have you decided whether we’re staying on Barra?” Senga’s brow furrowed. The last they talked about the immediate future, Ruairí assured Senga that he wouldn’t decide for them, but she wondered if he’d changed his mind.

  “We can’t be sure until we go ashore, but I hope we can. For your sake and Caragh’s. I hope we can make our home where there are other women who can help care for you and Caragh when your times come.”

  “Are you certain I’m increasing?” Senga giggled. “Are you a midwife, and I didn’t know?”

  “Hardly. But if you are with child or you ever are in the future, I want you well cared for. If we can’t stay there, then we will sail together until we find somewhere to settle together. I’m certain Rowan feels the same as I do. Neither of us want to continue as we are now that our priorities have changed. Our wives matter more than anything else, and Rowan knows he’ll be a father soon, and perhaps I will be too.”

  “Then I’m excited for this evening when we can discuss our plans.” Senga’s smile slipped as she glanced north. They’d circumvented Canna on their way to Sandray, but she could see it in the distance. Knowing she was close to her former home made her anxious. The memory of the attacks returned as though they’d just happened. Ruairí was aware of what she was looking at and sensed her growing unease as he guided her back down to their cabin. She spent the rest of the day sewing and reading until it was time for them to meet their cousins aboard the Lady Grace.

  “Senga, what’s the matter?” Caragh murmured as they embraced.

  “It’s nothing. I’m a wee uneasy about being so close to Canna again. I didn’t leave with good memories, and seeing the isle again makes my stomach ache.” Senga glanced toward the porthole in Rowan’s and Caragh’s cabin and shrugged. “The sun will set soon, so I won’t have to see it.”

  “Stay here while Rowan and Ruairí go ashore. Keep me company, and I’ll keep your mind off of where we are. When they return, we can have a late supper together.”

  “I’d like that,” Senga embraced Caragh once again before they said goodbye to their husbands.

  Ruairí and Rowan rowed ashore with their crews, who hurried to retrieve bounty hidden in the caves on the uninhabited side of Canna. Ruairí looked toward the village where he met Senga. His heart thudded in his chest as he recalled the fear he’d experienced twice that night when he intuited that she was in danger. He closed his eyes as he forced memories of their first night making love to replace the horror of seeing her attacked.

  “Do you ever think we’re making the wrong decision having them sail with us?” Ruairí spoke under his breath, ensuring only Rowan could hear him. His cousin nodded as both men turned to look back at their ships. Their men didn’t take long to load the dinghies, and by the time they were ready to return to the Lady Grace, Ruairí and Rowan had decided to return to sailing together, whether it was the short trip to Barra or further afield. But both captains agreed that their retirement was imminent. Neither wanted their wives to give birth on pirate ships. Ruairí struggled with a surge of doubt when they discussed returning to Barra.

  He’d been convinced that it was the right decision, but when he told Rowan about the battle on Lewis and what happened when Senga returned to Stornoway, doubt niggled that going home might not be an option for Rowan and him. Rowan admitted he had doubts too, that he’d even considered taking Caragh back to England to make their home there.

  “We don’t have to stay, Rowan.” Ruairí sighed. “But now that we’ve learned how things really happened, don’t you think your mother deserves to see you? To know you survived. I know my parents do. My father was set to meet us. We could’ve tried to find him once you were well, but neither of us would swallow our pride. Look where that led. We were never just merchants. We might have been, and my father could’ve helped us. Instead, we’ve spent the last half a score of years killing and stealing. It doesn’t sound like such a grand adventure anymore.” Ruairí sighed once more as they reached the Lady Grace.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Before they climbed the rope ladder onto the Lady Grace’s deck, they agreed to set a course for Barra, but they decided not to say anything to their wives until they had a better plan in case their arrival was unwelcome. The evening meal was subdued as they chatted, but no one brought up the subject of their next destination, and both women grew tired soon after the meal ended. Senga bit her tongue as they rowed back to the Lady Charity and remained silent until they reached their cabin.

  “Are we going to Barra?” she blurted as soon as Ruairí locked the door. She bit her bottom lip, unsure if she should have kept the question to herself. Ruairí pulled her lip free and offered a soft smile.

  “You never need to fear asking me where I intend for us to go. We’re partners, and I won’t keep you in the dark about where we’re going. But Rowan and I haven’t decided on what’s best when we arrive.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d let me and Caragh go ahead to see if you’ll be welcome?”

  “I’m not even going to answer that.”

  “So it’s a yes?” Senga wiggled her eyebrows. “Should Caragh and I go in one of our dinghies or one of theirs? We don’t need anyone to row us ashore. We’re both strong enough to do it alone, if we had to.”

  “Senga,” Ruairí warned as he scratched his palm.

  “What?”

  “It’s been several days since you’ve been over my knee. I think you’re trying to bait me into spanking you.”

  “Is it working?” she grinned.

  “No.” Ruairí regretted the answer the moment he said it. The sparkle in Senga’s eyes spoke to the mischief that surged through her mind.

  “I’m a strong swimmer, you know. Caragh and I learned how to swim in the Minch. She claims the water in Cornwall is much warmer. I used to tell her that if she could survive the water in the Hebrides, then the water in England must be like a bath.”

  “Neither of you is going for a swim.” Ruairí growled.

  Senga pushed her kirtle to the floor as she winked at Ruairí. “You’d have to catch me first.” Ruairí pounced, wrapping his arm around Senga’s middle and lifting her off her feet. He pulled her across his lap once he settled on the chair. Senga squirmed until the first spanking landed, her body jerking in response.

  “I know you know what your wiggling body does to mine. You won’t make this go any faster by making me hard.”

  “Maybe not, but I can enjoy your cock pressed against me while I take my punishment.”

  “Enjoy?”

  Senga grimaced as she realized her mistake. Ruairí stood so abruptly that she nearly tumbled to the floor. He caught her and bent her forward over the table after he stripped her of her chemise. She gripped the far side of the table as she draped her body across the hard surface. She steeled herself for the first spank, but it took her breath away as her skin stung.

  “One. Thank you, Ruairí.” Senga’s voice was muffled as she rested her forehead on the table, but her back arched and her head whipped back as the next three spanks landed in rapid succession.

  “Little one, this may be how you receive all of your spankings in the future. I’m the one who gets to enjoy your body pressed against mine. You are not to find enjoyment while being punished.”

  “Yes, Ruairí,” Senga groaned, but they knew Senga enjoyed every moment of her spankings, be they for pleasure or for punishment. Ruairí nudged her feet wider apart. He stepped between her legs and thrust his finger into her entrance, tut-tutting when he inevitably found her core drenched from anticipation.

  “You don’t seem very repentant, Senga. I think you’re close to climaxing already.” As if to prove his point, one hand rained down several sharp blows, alternating sides, while the fingers of his other hand worked her pearl and the surrounding heated flesh. She moaned and writhed as she tried to press her body closer to his. “Now the punishment begins, little one.”

  Senga mewled as her body reacted to the torment Ruairí made her endure. With each spa
nk, her body lurched forward, pressing her pubis against the table, the friction pushing her closer to release. As her body relaxed between blows, Ruairí’s fingers drove her back toward the edge. She banged her fist against the table in frustration as Ruairí brought her close, but refused to allow her to climax. When he recognized she had reached her limit, he stepped back and eased her off the table. She sank to her knees, tugging on the laces to his leggings, desperate to take him into her mouth. She moaned with relief and pleasure as she sank down over his rod. Ruairí watched as her head bobbed, but soon he had to close his eyes, the image too erotic to remain in control. He pulled away, lifting Senga off her feet once again. He tossed her onto the bed, careful not to be too rough. His body covered her as he entered her with one thrust. He circled his hips as his teeth skimmed her nipple.

  “Ruairí!” Senga came apart in his arms, but he wasn’t ready to stop. He rolled them over, so Senga could take control. The sight of her swinging breasts as she rode his cock mesmerized him, but when she leaned forward and nibbled on his earlobe, his restraint failed. His cock pulsed as they climaxed together, their heavy breathing filling the air.

  Ruairí tensed as Senga’s hand slipped between his legs and cupped his bollocks. They stood in Rowan and Caragh’s cabin the next morning, and he and Rowan were discussing their plan for going ashore the following morning. Caragh and Senga had been chatting, but he and Rowan could tell the women strained to hear their conversation. It shouldn’t have surprised him that Senga grew impatient, but he was unprepared for her to seduce him in front of their cousins.