“Enter,” she called after she’d tied her liene and grimaced at the dirt and grime.
Dougal shook his head. “M’lady, where’s yer gown?”
She rolled her eyes heavenward. The crew seemed obsessed with the gown. “What do you need?”
He looked toward the door, then back at her. His expression said he warred with himself whether to tell the Captain she had the nerve to wear her own clothing.
“Would ye like to walk on deck and then break yer fast?”
Aye, she would. She nodded to him and followed him onto the deck. Crisp morning air hovered around the ship. Moisture curled her hair. She inhaled the briny air. It reminded her of home and the scent that filled every day.
Colin approached and smiled. “M’lady.” His hands were clasped behind his back. He put one forward.
Her quiver and bow hung from his hand. Her brow rose.
“The captain said ’tis yers.”
She glanced around to see if the captain stood nearby and would force her to return her beloved bow once she gripped it. He was nowhere in sight, so she accepted the gift.
The honed wood of the bow, the leather of the quiver, familiar and hers. She gripped the bow and slung the quiver over her shoulder. “Thank you, Colin.” She held her finger up to test the direction of the wind. She’d love to practice, mayhap use a bag of wheat as her target.
“I was supposed to give them to her,” Dougal said to Colin.
Colin bristled. “Ye forgot them when ye went to ’er cabin.”
“I was going to bring her to them,” Dougal countered and took a menacing step toward his crewmate.
“Now, lads.” She stepped between them and placed her hand on Dougal’s forearm. “Thank you for thinking of me. Both of you.”
Colin allowed a sheepish grin.
Dougal bowed. “’Tis a pleasure, m’lady.” And for good measure, he threw a glare at his crewmate.
“Let her be, lads,” the captain yelled from the wheel. “Dougal.”
“Aye, Captain.” The sail master headed toward the wheel.
Her gaze caught on Amit and Wee Will near the bow of the ship. Wee Will tipped his head at her and Amit merely watched her with an unreadable gaze.
Captain Ross strode toward her with a purpose in his step. The way he scrutinized her made her want to run and hide. Part lovesick lad, part predator. She gripped the bow tighter.
“How are you this morn, darling?” His gaze roamed over her face as if he were searching for the answer himself.
“I’m well.” Her hands grew sweaty as she tried to find something to say. “Thank you for my quiver.”
“Captain,” Amit said.
Captain Ross slid the man a quelling glare.
“M’lady,” Amit said. “You shall be with your family soon.”
She shifted her gaze between the captain and Amit.
“Not now, Amit.”
The tension between the men lay palpable in the air.
Amit stood straight. “She needs to know, Captain.”
She itched to grab an arrow and let it fly, but the mate’s words startled her. “Is my family well?”
The captain set a hand on her shoulder. “They are well.” While he spoke, he glared at his mate. “’Tis enough, Amit.”
The man turned and went down into the hull.
Unease settled in her heart and clenched her stomach. Anger and longing filled her time on the ship. How she wanted to be rid of one of the emotions. Amit’s news made it seem impossible. “Are you certain all is well with my family?”
When Amit was no longer in sight, the captain motioned for her to follow him toward the bow.
“Aye, you’ve my word. Will you practice?” he said as he nodded toward the quiver.
She smiled and nodded. How she loved having the bow and quiver in her hands. But the rigger’s words still festered in her mind, dulling the joyous moment. Surely if the news was dire, the captain would have told her right away. And Amit had said she’d see her family soon, might as well practice. “Aye.”
She waved the captain aside. With a chuckle, he leaned against the ship’s bulwark. From the corner of her eye, she glanced at him resting lazily, with his arms crossed. His long legs were crossed at the ankles. Taking in the sight of him, she swallowed; the man looked so handsome, he nearly distracted her.
Well used to spectators, she slipped the quiver from over her shoulder and grabbed an arrow. Ahh, her hand moved over the smooth wood, relishing the strength of such a slim weapon before she nocked it. She ensured the cock fletch faced upward and peered down the length of the arrow shaft. She then glanced down and checked her stance before easing her arm up and peering down the length of the arrow toward the target. Release, reload, and draw again; the tight sinew eased as if remembering its duty. She continued to draw and release, shifting over the deck as if it were a ballroom and ’twas her turn to dance. So alive as air pulled in through her nose and released through her mouth. Aye, hunting gave her breath. The sun heated her skin and her movements warmed her muscles. A heady exercised of pleasure for her.
She gasped when strong arms circled her waist.
“Show me, darling. Show me the dance,” Captain Ross said, his breath easing across her cheek.
“Aye.” Heat raced through her veins, unsettling her. She gripped the bow tighter when he slipped his hands along her arms until his lay over hers.
Strong hands. Calloused, battered, and tanned. The caress set her heart to pounding, and she swallowed to steady herself.
She inhaled as he pressed his body against her back. If his hands weren’t touching hers, securing the arrow in the bow, surely she would have dropped them.
She redrew. Captain Ross followed each movement, his body tight against her. The hard plane of his physique had her melting a bit, her stance wavering. Straightening her legs, she aimed at the bag once again.
“Let it fly,” he whispered gruffly.
She closed her eyes and released.
~ ~ ~
Lady Faith trembled in his arms as their bodies moved together, letting the arrow soar through the air. He held back when all he wanted to do was twist her around so he could kiss her full lips, drink her in as he delved.
His cock swelled, wanting release, needing release, and only with Lady Faith. What a woman, he thought.
She danced about the ship’s deck, wearing britches, drawing arrows. Each step, each movement was sensual, erotically so. And he doubted he could resist her.
“Captain?” Faith said as she let the bow slip to her side. She clutched his hand, slipped her fingers between his.
“Aye?” he rasped, trying to keep his composure. But damn if he didn’t look at her and see her standing naked before the window. A bold woman, strong and brave—not to mention gifted with a body created to make a man crazed with desire. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t force himself to take a step back. Nay, he held her, their hands still entwined. Every time Faith took a breath, her body, her heat surrounded him.
Bollocks.
“What news did Amit bring?”
He groaned. Wasn’t the lady as affected as him? Not a coherent thought could be found in his brain and his cods, damn if they weren’t ready to burst. “Amit?”
She turned and stepped away from him. With a lifted brow, she looked at him as if she were queen and he, a mere peasant. “What did my sister say?”
“Let’s talk in my cabin.”
Her brows furrowed and a glint of uncertainty shifted in those lovely green eyes, just before she straightened her shoulders and briskly nodded.
Aye, the lass had spirit.
They entered the cabin and he guided her toward a chair. She shivered beneath his touch. Was it worry or the sensual tensi
on humming around them?
“The ransom has been demanded by Amit.”
She leaned forward and gripped the arms of the chair. “When will I go home?”
He silently watched her. Of course she wanted to go home. She’d made it no secret she loathed the sea. Hated being a captive. But how could he tell her?
He dragged his fingers through his hair, then settled his hands at his waist. “Your sister and her husband refuse to pay the ransom.”
Chapter 10
She gasped and clutched her stomach. Dear God, how could they do this to her? She sank back into the chair. They didn’t have ample funds, but surely Hope and Aidan could manage to use what they had for her ransom.
“What?” Her heart clenched at the idea of her family refusing to help her. “They dinnae care,” she whispered.
When the captain remained silent, her nerves nearly shattered.
She wanted to see Honor and Hope, be in the keep and see her people. Surely the captain lied. Her sisters wanted her home as much as she wanted to go home. The idea lifted her spirits and then she saw Bram braiding lines near the cabin window. Such a gentle man, who’d been kind to her. Strange, she’d miss these men.
The captain stayed silent. She worried her lip. Would he lie to her? “Why?” she demanded.
When she looked at Captain Ross, his gaze shifted, then he refocused on her. “They told Amit you’d kenned what would happen if you continued to wander the forest.”
She gripped the arms of the chair, nearly clawing the wood. The humiliation choked her. Tears gathered, then trickled over her lashes.
“They won’t pay?” she confirmed in a low voice. Her sister refused to rescue her? How was that even possible?
Through Hope, Faith, and Honor, ye can rule.
Her sister had forsaken her father’s pledge at the highest level. She wanted to march back to her keep and give her sister a piece of her mind. How dare she refuse to pay the ransom! She cursed and shoved out of the chair. Fury swept through her.
She clenched her fists as she paced the chamber. “How dare she. How dare Hope do this to me.” Her fury whipped through her and she wanted to hit something.
“I can send Amit again,” he paused before adding, “with evidence that may force the lairds’ hand.”
She stopped pacing and lifted her chin. “Such as?”
His shrug rattled her nerves.
“How, Captain?”
His gaze met hers. “Your shirt, with blood.”
Her brow rose. “Nay.” Even though her sister deserved it, she’d not be so cruel to Honor.
Another shrug.
She glanced at Captain Ross and his demeanor seemed off somehow, as if he were trying to be calm but the tense line of his shoulders and the sharp glint of his eyes gave him away. “I will not trick my family.”
Sympathy stole over his handsome features, before he stiffened and nodded his head.
Ah, now she realized the meaning behind the hard line of his jaw. “You will not have the money.”
Odd how she felt almost as sorry for him as she did for herself. Something dire it must be, his need for the ransom, and while she had yet to learn the reason, she felt for him.
“Nay,” he rasped and then scrubbed his hand over his face; the tension seemed to leave his body as if in defeat.
A plan would need to be formed. She longed to leave the ship and go back to her keep. But did she truly want to if her sister would so easily disregard the kidnapping? Mayhap she wasn’t needed. Mayhap the lads had finally gotten off their lazy carcasses and secured food for the clan.
If that were so, then where did she now fit in with the clan? How would she ensure she fulfilled her father’s pledge?
Mayhap she would . . . nay, ‘twould be treasonous.
Unless—unless he shared why he needed the ransom. She strode toward him. “Tell me, Captain. Tell me why you need the money so.”
His gaze lifted to hers. Determination shone brightly in his blue eyes. Eyes that brought a person in, drowned a woman in their depths and were layered with compassion and steel. A strong man, aye, but he also had a heart. She’d bet if any other captain had captured her, she wouldn’t have been treated so kindly—or worse, she’d be a maiden no more.
She touched his large hand. Warm and rough. “Please,” she whispered, not wanting to beg, but finding she needed answers, now more than ever.
He sighed and moved his hand. Turning away from her, he paced to the windows. He set his hands at his waist and just stood. “I’m a second son,” the captain finally said as he looked over his shoulder. “Not much of man, to be sure. At least, ’twas what my father said.”
Despite her ire, she went to his side, gave his arm an encouraging squeeze. “I find that hard to believe.”
He scoffed and a wry grin pulled up the side of his mouth. “I was a rogue.”
She gave an indulgent smile. “Mayhap you are still a bit of a rogue, Captain.”
His brow lifted. “Graeme, call me Graeme.”
She grinned, warmth filling her at the intimate invitation. His name was Graeme. A fine name. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and brought her close, as if he needed her strength. And she readily gave it—her sister proved disloyal, not Graeme. And in truth, she needed his strength more—Hope’s intolerable betrayal hit at her core.
“Aye, perhaps I am still a rogue,” he conceded. “But in my youth I sought mischief since my father doted on my older brother.” He gripped her tightly. “When my mother passed, my father increased his attentions on Michael.”
“I’m sorry, Graeme.” He’d lost his mother just as she had lost hers.
He tipped up her chin. “’Twas long ago, when I was a wee lad.”
Tears swelled in her eyes. “Aye, but you never lose the pain.”
The captain pulled back and searched her face. “I can see you’ve experienced the same pain, darling.”
She nodded as tears quivered on her lashes, then spilled onto her cheeks.
Graeme cupped her cheek, brushed his thumb beneath her eyes as a wayward tear overflowed. She closed her eyes and leaned into the heat of his touch.
“My story can wait. Tell me, Lady Faith.”
She nodded at his magnanimous gesture. “My father died when I was just a lass—och, it seems so long ago.” With a careless shrug, she smiled through the tears. “And my mother—she died a few years past.” Just speaking the words brought the pain back to the surface, sharp and real.
“Aren’t we a pair?” he whispered. “Seems we're both stuck with each other, m’lady.”
Peeking from under her lashes, she saw his grin, the way the corner of his mouth kicked up and made him look devilishly handsome. “Aye.”
He kissed her as she prayed he would. Soft nips along her top lip, then his attention shifted to the bottom one. Graeme sucked her lip into his mouth, sending shards of pleasure throughout her body that settled deep within her womb. The way he held her, so gentle, yet firm enough gave her a sense of security.
She sighed as he trailed his kisses along her throat. She swallowed when he hovered near the apex of her neck, trying not to shiver as his whiskers tickled. She tipped back her head, allowing him better access. “Aye,” whispered past her lips. She had never wanted anything so much before.
“Darling,” Graeme said as he slipped his hands along her back, over her waist, and to her buttocks. “Darling,” he continued as he gripped and squeezed her buttocks. “Darling,” he whispered into her ear right before he suckled her lobe.
She moaned and clutched his shoulders, fearful she’d fall from the sheer pleasure of his mouth on her body.
As quickly as she inhaled, he’d slipped his hands beneath her liene and smoothed his rough hands all over her back. Then he eased
to her side, warming as they traveled. His thumb grazed her breasts.
“Aye,” she managed as her knees nearly buckled.
He chuckled against her cheek, his breath hot and moist. She shifted her face so their lips met. She opened her mouth, welcoming Graeme to enter.
He delved, exploring her mouth as he continued to explore her body. Heady desire rushed through her as she pressed herself against the strength of him. Aye, the strength of him was surely the only thing keeping her upright. Each and every morsel of her body tingled with need—desire.
Graeme pulled back, searched her face as he brushed hair behind her ear. “You are a beautiful woman, Lady Faith.”
She ducked her gaze as heat flushed her skin. “I preferred it when you called me darling.”
With a chuckle, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed, keeping his gaze on her the entire time. “Aye, my darling.”
Graeme gently set her down and eased her liene from her shoulders. The way his blue eyes devoured her set her afire and suddenly she had on too much clothing. She pulled at her britches, shoving them down her legs and finally kicking them away.
With purposeful movements, Graeme lifted his liene over his head, his muscles bunching as he did so, highlighting his body’s strength. She took in the man before her—her enemy—yet he seemed a kindred spirit and there was no denying she wanted the man.
His tartan remained, slung low on his hips. Her gaze darted to the dark line of hair leading from his navel to beneath the woolen garment.
Noticing her attention, he slowly loosened his belt, the tartan slipped from his body, exposing Graeme in his entirety. A man carved of the Highlands. His broad shoulders led to a narrow waist. His dark hair waved about with wild abandon and nearly long enough to cover the tatau curling along his shoulder and over his upper arm. She reached up and began tracing the Celtic design. They were so close, she felt the searing heat of him. Wanting to touch him more, she slipped her fingers along his chest and over his taut stomach. As she inched lower, Faith stilled and glanced downward. Swallowing, she stared at his manhood.
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