They melted into each other as Caragh sought to provide him relief as he discovered solace in her embrace. When neither could hold back, they found their release together, and for the second time in his life and his acquaintance with Caragh, he climaxed within a woman. This time, no remorse or shame flooded him. While he did not intend to make it a habit, it felt right.
Caragh stilled when she realized what Rowan had done. She waited for him to pull away, for the shame and regret of the last time to return, but she saw none of it.
“I’m not letting you go, Caragh. I can’t,” Rowan whispered.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
They fell asleep in one another’s arms.
Chapter 10
Rowan’s admissions about his past brought them emotionally closer, but Caragh still remained reserved over the next fortnight. The only time she seemed to stir and show her wilder side was when Rowan returned to the cabin each evening. She threw herself at him with abandonment, and they rarely touched their meal until the middle of the night. Within their cabin, they could not be closer or more in tune with one another, but as light shone over the deck each day, and Caragh took her place at the prow, she seemed to meld into the wooden ship head. Both had hair blowing in the wind as they faced the horizon. Both were unmoving and stoic in their beauty. Rowan thought allowing, even encouraging, her to return to the crow’s nest might bring back a spark. She did as she was told, even sometimes taking more daring ways up and down than needed. Rowan understood she did it for the consequences it would render. She found things to do that would earn her a spanking, but nothing that ever necessitated the belt again. After each punishment, she kneeled before him with a serenity that existed only during her submission. She wanted to show her repentance, so she took him into her mouth each time. Rowan knew it was this part of their interaction that she really looked forward to, and while they engaged in oral pleasure when they made love, this was different for them both. Afterwards, he would hold her until she fell asleep.
He knew much weighed on her mind, and that it was her neglected duties that were suffocating her. He had already made his decision, but he had not informed her yet when one night she stood from their bed to replace the plate on the table after their midnight supper. She saw a light through the porthole and went to peer through it.
Rowan heard her gasp and came to stand behind her. He had planned to surprise her with the sunrise, but he supposed now was as good a time as any. Before he could say anything, she pushed past him and grabbed her clothing.
“Hold on, mo Caragh. I know you are excited to be home, but we shall go ashore in the morning. I will take you there. I know it will be hard to be pat--”
The cabin door slammed as Caragh stormed out still lacing her leggings, her shirt barely pulled to her waist. Rowan raced after her and caught her as she leaned too far over the railing.
“Let me go!” She yanked at his fingers and stomped at his feet. “You don’t understand. Let me go. I have to go!”
“I know you’re excited to be home, but you nearly fell overboard.”
“No, you idiot. That is the warning signal. Those boats aren’t there to deliver goods, they’re raiding. Just like you did. God only knows who’s dead now.”
She fought like a wildcat, but Rowan had no trouble restraining her. He even overlooked her insult, understanding her panic. “Stop, Caragh. I will go ashore with my men. I will end whatever is happening. When it is safe, I will return for you. Go to our cabin and wait until I’m back. We shall sail closer before we lower the dinghies, but I must ready the crew.”
Her fight seemed to drain from her, and Rowan released her. She nodded and turned toward the ladder well, her shoulders rounded in defeat.
Caragh returned to their cabin, but only long enough to pull woolen socks over her feet, tuck her hair under her cap, and strap her belt on. She pulled the knives from her boots and pushed those into her belt too. She would not be taking her boots since strapping them anywhere on her arms or legs would make swimming harder. She watched through the porthole until she knew the ship had gotten as close as its hull would allow. She crept back to the ladder well and waited until she could find Rowan. He was easy to spot, if not for his booming voice, then his impressive stature. She waited until he crossed the deck and stood with his back to the shore. She darted out and was on top of the railing before even she realized it. She entered the water just as she heard the alert go out. She forced herself to remain below the surface as she swam through the icy water. She could not afford to come up too soon and have Rowan easily spot her. She surfaced when she could wait no more. She heard Rowan calling her name in the distance, but the crash of the waves interfered even though they helped push her to shore. When she reached the beach, she moved to where the path from the cliff met the sand. She pressed her back against the rock wall and inched forward, keeping herself fully in the shadow since the full moon shone brightly. Hiding behind a boulder, Caragh watched as pirates flooded into the cave. It was low tide and easy to access on foot. She heard the screams of the wounded, one after another. She crept further along until she could see into the mouth of the cave. The fight was already over, the fishermen either dead or huddled together. The only one who stood out was Eddie. She watched a man press the tip of his blade to her brother’s throat. They said something to one another, and the pirate laughed, but it was cut short when he abruptly ran his blade across Eddie’s throat. Caragh did not pause. She surged forward, grasping a sword that lay on the sand, and charged toward the man who had slain her brother. No one saw her coming, least of whom the man she stabbed.
“You killed my brother,” she hissed. She pulled the blade loose and wiped it across the man’s chest as blood gurgled from his mouth.
“And who do we have here?” a gravelly voice came from entirely too nearby.
Caragh spun to see a man who bore such a resemblance to Rowan she immediately knew who he must be. He, however, had not a clue who she was. Until Caragh heard an unmistakable voice that both sent relief and chills along her spine.
“She’s mine.” Rowan stalked toward her and stepped in front barely sparing her a glance. “Back away, Ruairí. I saw your man kill her brother. She was within her rights.”
“Ah, but now I am a man short. And if this sprite is as bloodthirsty as she seems, then she would make a fine replacement. You know I would be within my rights.”
Rowan growled even though Ruairí spoke the truth. He felt Caragh grip his sleeves as she trembled behind him. He reached back to her. Caragh thought it would be in reassurance, but he dragged her in front of him. The stare he cast her was one she did not recognize. It was cold and distant, as if they were enemies rather than lovers.
“Have dinner with me aboard my ship and see if you still want her by the time we’re done.”
Caragh gasped, unsure which part of his statement scared her the most. Certainly the implications of his last words were enough to make her try to run. She took three steps and was lifted off her feet. She hung like a rag doll over Rowan’s arm until he tossed her roughly into the dinghy.
“Row,” was the only command he gave to the oarsmen.
Caragh sat in the hull, shivering and terrified. The Rowan she saw now was far more menacing than the night she met him. She knew there would be no playing when they returned to their cabin. She corrected herself, since she was sure it was already back to being his cabin. He did not say a word until they passed through the doorway and he made his way to a chest Caragh had never seen open before. He pulled a sheer length of material from it and flung it at her.
“Put it on.”
Caragh stared at him, but when he snarled, she hurried to comply. She realized it was a nightgown of some sort that was completely transparent. There was little reason to even wear it.
“Pull your hair back and make yourself at least partially presentable.”
Caragh gasped, “You can’t mean to let anyone see me like this.”
Before
he could answer, a strident knock sounded at the door.
“Enter,” Rowan called.
Ruairí and two other men entered behind him. Caragh tried to back into a corner with her arms crossed in front of her, but Rowan’s hand pressed painfully on her shoulder until she sank to the ground. He left her where she kneeled as he crossed the now-cramped cabin. He and Ruairí embraced and slapped each other on the back.
“She’s far more attractive when she looks like a ‘her’ rather than a ‘him’. And she’s not brandishing a sword,” mused one of the men who joined them. Rowan felt his eye twitch at the observation, but he pushed away any soft emotions.
“She is a pretty piece, for sure,” he responded. The tiny whimper almost broke his resolve. He poured mugs of whisky for each of the men and waved for them to be seated. He took a seat in the only chair that had arm rests. He gripped one every time one of the men cast a glance at Caragh. He could see her from the corner of his eye. Her hands were folded in her lap, and while she had squared her shoulders, she had lowered her head. His cock tried to stir to life as he watched her in his favorite submissive position for her, but he reprimanded himself.
When the trays arrived, Rowan snapped his fingers at Caragh, “Serve.”
She did not look up, she did not look over at him, she only followed the command. She moved about the cabin, placing a plate before each of his guests as they ran their hands over her backside and tweaked her nipples through the sheer gown. When she finally brought Rowan’s plate, she refused to look at him. He tried to see if there were any tears in the eyes that she kept downturned, but all he could see was the hard set of her jaw. He waved her away and snapped before pointing to the spot where she kneeled earlier.
Rowan kept an eye on Caragh throughout the meal but engaged in the conversation that flowed around him. He was happy to see his cousin, the only person other than Caragh who knew his past. He tamped down any feelings other than anger when he remembered what he had confided in her. He ordered Caragh to rise again when the meal ended, and she had to clear the table.
“Rowan, while your company is delightful as always and your food better than most, let us get on with things.”
“I’ve decided you can have her,” Rowan announced.
“That easily? Why would you cast her off when you came to her defense? What’s wrong with her?”
“Naught really, but you will quickly realize she is more trouble than she’s worth. Though she will warm your bed nicely.”
The second sound of the night to come from Caragh was another soft whimper. Rowan steeled himself against it. “Stand.”
Caragh rose to her feet with grace, and she looked up for the first time. Rowan watched her survey Ruairí before she looked at the other two men. She never looked at him.
“I should like to find out if she really is something I want to claim after all.”
“Not possible. Once she’s aboard your ship, she is your problem.”
“Perhaps, I could sample her now. My men deserve a chance to know whether they will enjoy her once I’m through.”
Rowan shrugged. It would not be the first time he and Ruairí shared a woman, but he was not sure he would survive watching the other men touch her more than they already had.
“Come here, lass. I don’t bite. At least not yet,” Ruairí chuckled, but it held no warmth.
She looked into the deep blue eyes so like Rowan’s, but there was nothing there. It was as though he was soulless. Caragh swallowed as she looked from Ruairí to the two other men who rubbed their cocks. For the first time since the men arrived, she looked at Rowan. The same look of hatred shone as it had when he found her at the cave. Gone was the man she fell in love with, the man she thought loved her. Betrayal squeezed her heart until she struggled to breathe. Her hand clutched her throat, and Rowan jerked forward ever so slightly before he caught himself.
“I wouldn’t keep me waiting, lass. I’m not as patient as my cousin.”
Caragh turned back to Ruairí and once again was struck by how similar they were. They were the same height, the same build, the same everything…except Ruari’s eyes lacked the stardust in Rowan’s, and his hair was not quite as light. It was also longer.
Caragh felt the same emotions as she did the first night she stood before Rowan. She had another decision to make. Rowan cast her off, so she had little choice in where she would end up next. She doubted either would put her ashore if she asked, but it was worth a try before she made up her mind.
“If neither of you want me or could be bothered, then let me go ashore. Let me go home.”
“It is not so simple, mo chridhe.” Caragh felt sick at the sound of the affectionate term Rowan used when it came from Ruairí’s mouth. “There is a code among pirates. If a man is slain, then the dead man’s captain has the right to claim justice by taking a man from the murderer’s crew. I chose to take you.”
Caragh sucked in a breath. She would not go easily into this arrangement. Not after all.
“That is a pretty little agreement you have amongst yourselves, but that code doesn’t apply to me. I’m not a pirate, and that slain man--the one you conveniently forget--was my little brother.” She inched closer to Ruairí and glared at him before swinging her gaze back to Rowan. She curled her lip in disgust at him. “In fact, by your reasoning, since you killed my brother first, I have a right to claim justice. Perhaps, I shall claim you.” Caragh swung her gaze to Ruairí and smirked at his surprise.
“She’s certainly a bright one to reason that out.” Ruairí leaned to look around her. His grin did not transform his face into the work of art that it did Rowan’s. “By all means, claim away. I have something right here that is eager for you to take.”
Ruairí placed his hand on his thigh next to his groin, drawing Caragh attention to his arousal.
Caragh had made her decision. Once more in a position where control was stripped from her, the one thing she could decide for herself was how she turned herself over. She could kick and scream, or she could make the most of it. She walked to Ruairí and sat on his lap, her legs between his. She turned to look once more at Rowan before she leaned forward and kissed Ruairí. She tried not to gag. It was nothing like kissing Rowan. It was not unpleasant in of itself; it just was not Rowan. She felt his warm hand on her thigh, and it was far gentler than she anticipated. Cool air kissed the back of her thighs as she felt his other hand bunch the fabric until it slipped below. His hand rested on her backside, but it did not travel anywhere. Caragh wondered if he was extending her a kindness or waiting to pounce.
Chapter 11
Rowan was in an agony worse than any sword wound. It was even worse than the accusations thrown at him by his clan. It was a pain of his own creation. He watched Caragh’s face transform into the same expression of acceptance she had shown the night she arrived in his cabin and declared she would make the most of the situation. He knew that was exactly what she now intended. He had cast her off to a fate she did not know. She was accepting it and making the most of it, not only to make it bearable, but to keep herself alive. Rowan knew Ruairí would not mistreat her even if he was cold and detached, but she had no way to know that.
When he found her on the beach squaring off against his cousin, he panicked. He could only think of getting to her before Ruairí ran her through, just as she had done the man at her feet. Once he was sure she would live, fury and hurt consumed him. She had escaped at her first chance, risking her life once again by plunging into the icy waters. She was willing to risk her life to get away from him, and his heart broke. He could not look at her, not after she rejected him and abandoned him. He decided in that moment that he would give her to Ruairí. He remembered what she said when they met. The villagers might welcome her back, but she would never live down the stigma of sailing with pirates. He knew he could not countenance looking at her anymore, so Ruairí was the only option. Now he sat gripping the arm rests of his chair as he heard the wood creak. He watched as the collar of t
he negligee slipped off the shoulder Caragh dipped. The gown was so loose around the neck that her breast practically tumbled out. Ruairí played with her nipple through the gauzy material, and Caragh’s moan reached his ears. He watched as the man he considered more his brother than his cousin took his woman’s breast into his mouth to suckle. Caragh’s head fell back as her hand pressed Ruairí’s head to her. She moaned again, and even though the bunched material around her backside kept him from seeing Ruairí’s fingers, he saw the movement as they slid between her legs. Before his eyes, Caragh twisted to straddle Ruairí. She leaned in to kiss him as she reached between them. Rowan saw her arms move, and he knew she was pulling the laces to his leggings. Ruairí’s groan signaled she was touching him in a way Rowan always thought would be for him alone. He chided himself since this was exactly what he intended when he decided to give her over to Ruairí. He created this torrid scene, and it was killing him. When Caragh rose up to slide onto Ruairí’s cock, Rowan was out of his chair. He plucked her from his cousin before he entered her, but he could see Ruairí’s cock glistened from brushing against her entrance. Rowan roared as he pulled back his arm to swing. Two small but strong hands dragged his arm back.
“He’s your cousin, Rowan.”
Rowan shook his head. His vision still tunneled on his cousin, everything else was black as dots danced before his eyes. He tried to pull his arm free to swing at the man who smirked before him.
“You gave up on me. You gave me to him.”
Caragh’s words permeated his fog. He spun around and backed her against the wall, using his arms to bracket her in. “I’m not the one who gave up. I’m not the one who ran, or rather swam, away at the first chance for escape. You left me.”
Pirates, Passion and Plunder Page 34