The Highland Rogue

by Amy Jarecki

  She slid to her knees and took him fully into her mouth. The warmth set his blood on fire, making him powerless to object. Even if he wanted to object. But presently there was no conceivable reason to utter anything but a satisfied growl. He rocked with the rhythm of her mouth milking him while her fingers slid down and swirled around his balls.

  He’d never met a bed partner so eager to please. Growling with lust, Kennan untied the thong clubbing her hair back and then raked his fingers through her silken mane. He wanted to be inside her any way she wanted.

  As her wicked tongue teased him, a bit of seed leaked from the tip of his cock. Much more of that, and their lovemaking would be over before it began. He tugged her up. “What is your desire, Divana?”

  She blushed while she chewed the corner of her mouth. If a woman could seduce a man with the shift of her eyes, she’d mastered such a trick. “Ye said we haven’t tried everything yet. That makes me curious. Tell me more.”

  “There’s…” He stopped himself.

  A lovely pink tongue slipped across her bottom lip. “What?”

  “Nay. ’Tis crude.”

  “Nothing between us is crude, nay if it pleases ye.” She twirled a lock of his hair around her finger. “Tell me.”

  Why not say it? Then Divana could make up her own mind. “What if you were to bend over a chair and I made love to you from behind?”

  “We can do that?”

  “In this cabin we can do anything if it pleases you.”

  Grinning like a hellcat, she strode toward the bed, red hair sweeping her shoulders while the shapeliest buttocks he’d ever seen swayed with her gait.

  She peered over her shoulder and took ahold of the bedpost. “What about here? ’Tis sturdier than a chair.” Good Lord, this woman was a natural-born temptress.

  Kennan’s cock grew so hard, it tapped his stomach. “You mean you would be willing?”

  “Aye, why should I not?” she whispered. “I trust ye.”

  In two strides, he crossed the floor and grasped her creamy hips, burying his face into her neck. “I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  “Ye like it backward?”

  “I like it any way it pleases you, mo leannan.”

  Slowly, she bent at the waist, presenting a temptation no man could resist.

  As he entered her, he slipped his hand around her front and ever so gently tantalized the tiny slick button.

  “Oh, oh, oh my,” she sighed, swirling her hips along with his languid thrusts.

  “You like this, aye, mo leannan?”

  “Faster.”

  On the edge of losing control, Kennan was only too happy to oblige, watching his cock disappear inside her. His balls clenched as tight as his fist as he ground his teeth and forced himself to wait for her release.

  She arched her lovely spine, a cry catching in her throat, the tiny noise all Kennan needed to send him over the edge. Bending his knees, he pumped into her like never before. Higher and higher, passion drove him.

  God damn, he wanted to explode inside her. She was wild and brazen and touched him deeper than any woman had ever done.

  Fighting with his demons and bellowing at the peak of his release, he forced himself to withdraw and spill onto the floor. Bending forward, he wrapped his arms around her and held on for dear life. “Dear God, woman, you have beguiled me body and soul.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Kennan tilted his chair back while Divana served, pouring three drams of whisky. “Thank you, Davy. You may leave us.”

  MacNeil reached for his drink while Lachie Mor rested his elbows on the table and watched her go, shutting the door behind her. “Och, why do ye continue with the ruse whilst we’re in your cabin?”

  Kennan squared his seat and leaned forward. “I reckon we ought to stay in character at all times.”

  Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Mr. MacNeil snorted. “You cannot tell me you’re pretending she’s a lad once you’re locked away for the night.”

  “That’s none of your concern.”

  “Mayhap ye think not, but the men are talking.” Lachie Mor swirled his whisky.

  MacNeil gave a nod. “Aye, they are.”

  “Bloody hell, this is a ship.” Kennan threw back his tot and slammed the cup on the table. “When aren’t the men talking? They’re like a gaggle of hens.”

  Lachie’s shoulder ticked up. “Suppose it matters not.”

  “Nay. It does not.” Kennan poured another. He figured sooner or later someone would start rumors. “What are they saying?”

  A bit of color shot up the old quartermaster’s face. “Ye do not want to hear it.”

  “For the love of God, why did you bring it up if it’s too trivial to mention?”

  “’Cause the men are wondering if ye have…ah…changed your preferences.” Lachie Mor spread his arms, shooting a pleading glace at the boatswain across the table.

  Not one to mince words, MacNeil looked Kennan in the eye, the scar down his face menacing. “They’re saying ye prefer arse to quim.”

  Kennan’s jaw dropped while he considered whom he should throttle first.

  “Ah…er…um,” Lachie stammered. “Ye must admit Davy is quite bonny for a lad.”

  MacNeil had the audacity to laugh. “Hell, she…er…he’s quite bonny for a lass.”

  “Remove your minds from the stinking bilges, ye pair of flea-bitten maggots.” Kennan shoved the flagon away. “And mind you, I’m responsible for her—him.”

  His companions threw their heads back with hearty belly laughs.

  Kennan scowled. “The pox on you both. Now, tell me, what did you learn in town today?”

  Lachie Mor took a bannock from the plate in the center of the table, crumbs peppering his beard as he bit into it. “A wee lassie at the brothel told me Vane found a treasure—and ’tweren’t plundered.”

  “Randy bastard,” said MacNeil. “Ye told me ye were off to the tavern.”

  Lachie Mor’s eyes grew as round as those of a puppy caught in the meat larder. “Aye, but I ended up sidetracked along the way.”

  “How did the wench ken?” Kennan asked.

  “Said she heard it from one of Blackbeard’s own.”

  Kennan blinked. Edward Teach and Jackson Vane were sworn enemies. “Blackbeard?”

  “Said Vane and his pirates put a score of villages in Trinidad to fire and sword—robbed the Spaniards of everything—jewelry, coin, weapons. They even killed the livestock, murdering anyone who stood in their way.”

  “I can attest to that.” All eyes shifted to MacNeil. “I took a stroll to the old fort as we agreed—some of Vane’s outcasts are holding court there of late. And they told me he’s claimed his own bloody island—calls it Jackson’s Hell—said he acquires his supplies in Port Royal just like the lassie told Lachie.”

  Thrusting himself to his feet, Kennan ground his knuckles into the walnut table. “God’s blood, man, why did you not tell me this as soon as you stepped into my cabin?”

  MacNeil sat back and crossed his arms. “Weeeell, Miss Divana was serving us whisky—and then we were led off on a diversion.”

  Lachie helped himself to the flagon and poured for the boatswain. “Och, Captain, I reckon we’ll be setting a course for Port Royal come the morrow.”

  “Aye, we shall. We’ll sail after the stores are loaded—and I’ll tolerate no dawdling, ye ken?” With luck they’d be weighing anchor by midday.

  * * *

  “Arf!”

  Divana’s ears pricked as she hastened up the forecastle deck steps, mop in hand. At the top, she was met by a pair of paws slamming into her chest, followed by a wet tongue slurping across her mouth. “Och, ye wee beastie,” she laughed, catching ahold of the rail before she toppled backward.

  Runner gave the dog’s collar a tug. “Hop down, Bannock.”

  The dog dashed around in a circle, then rubbed against Divana’s legs. “Ye are a friendly sort, are ye not?” She glanced to the lad. “Where’d he come from?�
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  “I was sitting on the beach, having my nooning with the others, and the laddie filched a bannock straight out of my fingertips.”

  Divana dropped to one knee and gave the enormous dog a scratch. He had quite an interesting coat of fur, not long but not short, either. And he stood about as tall as a deerhound with one black eye and one blue. When he closed his mouth, one of the canines on the bottom stuck out. “So ye brought the poor rascal back here to do penance?”

  “Nay, he wouldn’t leave me be after he ate—followed me through the market with his nose in my hand.”

  Smoothing her fingers over the dog’s thick coat, she felt ribs. “He’s too thin.”

  “Mayhap that’s why he stole me bannock.”

  “And hence his name?”

  “Aye.” Runner tugged the dog’s rope leash. “I thought it suited him.”

  “Well, I like it.”

  “Ye do?”

  She leaned on her mop and stood straight. “It makes him sound important.”

  The lad puffed out his chest. “He’s a sea dog now.”

  Divana filled a pail of seawater from the cask strapped and bolted to the bulkhead. “What does the captain say about having the wee beastie aboard?”

  The lad threw his arms around Bannock’s neck. “He’s mine. I gave him a bath and everything. And I’ll clean up after him, I swear I will.”

  Divana dipped her mop. “Mayhap I should have a word with Sir Kennan—let him know what a nice—nice…what breed do you reckon he is?”

  “No clue, but he’s a Highlander, if ye ask me.”

  The dog sauntered up and licked her hand. “Well, then, the captain will fall in love with him just like we did.”

  “Thank ye.” Runner motioned for the dog to hop up into one of the skiffs. “Stay, Bannock. We’re swabbing the deck.”

  The dog wagged his tail and watched while they worked.

  “The fellow obeys ye already.”

  “He’s savvy, I’ll say.”

  It was still morn, yet the sun already made Divana perspire. She stopped and wiped the sweat from her brow. “Does it nay seem a bit much to swab all the decks every day?”

  Runner sloshed his mop around the skiff. “Working salt water into the wood helps preserve it.”

  “Truly? Who would have kent such a thing?”

  Ethan stepped onto the deck, carrying a pail of something stinking to high heaven.

  Burying his nose in the crux of his arm, Runner coughed. “Why the devil did ye bring that up here?”

  The blackguard just looked at Divana and smirked. “Och, the golden laddie here needs to ken what real shite smells like.”

  As Ethan tossed the piss and excrement at her feet, Divana hoisted herself up on the rigging to the tune of Bannock’s barks. “Saint Columba, ye are the vilest brigand on the seas!”

  Ethan tipped his hat and grinned like a scoundrel, tobacco stains yellowing his teeth. “I dare ye to complain to the captain.”

  “Bugger off!” Runner shouted as he threw a bucket of seawater over the stench, flushing it out through a scupper hole. Bannock whined, scratching the side of the skiff. “Stay. If ye hop out of there now, ye’ll need another bath for certain.”

  Divana jumped to the timbers, fetched another pail, filled it from the barrel of seawater, and joined in. “That man’s a menace.”

  “Lachie Mor never should have brought him on.”

  “Why did he?” she asked.

  “Ye want to ask him?” Runner picked up his mop and started swabbing all over again. “Besides, I reckon Ethan kens how to talk his way onto a crew. And I’ve been at sea long enough to ken there’s always a rotten apple or two on a voyage.”

  Divana glanced over her shoulder. Curse the varlet, Ethan shook his finger at her right before he headed down to the lower decks. For the love of Moses, she’d already promised to give him her share of the prize. Why didn’t he leave her be?

  “Hey, look there,” said Runner, moving to the rail. “That schooner’s figurehead is sparkling in the sunlight.”

  Bannock finally couldn’t stay put and hopped down, moving in beside Divana, rubbing against her. She scratched him behind the ears before she looked at the ship, its sails flapping as they unfurled. “Och, she’s beautiful.”

  “’Tis a mermaid.”

  Holding her hand up to shade her eyes, she squinted, trying to read the words on the bow of the ship. “Aha. She’s called the Sil-ver Mer-maid. Such a beautiful name is suited to the likes of a graceful schooner.”

  Runner dropped his mop. “Ye can read?”

  “I’m learning.”

  He seemed a bit cranky as he snatched the wooden handle from the deck. “It seems there are many advantages to being under the captain’s protection.”

  Her cheeks burned. Thank heavens the lad didn’t know the extent of the advantages. But the dog distracted her. He leaned against her as if he craved a woman’s gentle hand. And he happily yowled as she petted his back.

  “He likes ye.”

  Divana looked into the dog’s eyes and couldn’t help but grin. What was it about this wee beastie that made her want to hug him? He was scraggly and droll yet entirely lovable. “Mayhap he kens I’ve been abandoned, too.” She swirled her fingers behind his floppy ears. “We’re kindred spirits, Bannock and I.”

  But the dog’s wily nature made her think. Where had he come from? What hardships had he experienced? Divana had faced a great many herself. And though she was determined to win Kennan’s love, she was a survivor. No matter what may come, she would survive. She could serve in a fine house. She was learning her way around the decks of a ship. And now Kennan had started teaching her to read. What an adventure life had become since the sea captain had washed onto the shores of her wee isle.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Why does that mangy mongrel have to be in my cabin of all places?”

  Divana glanced up from writing her letters as Kennan strode inside, looking as fierce as some of the wily pirates they’d passed in Nassau. But she’d seen him cross before, and she wasn’t about to be bothered. Instead, she bent down and scratched Bannock behind the ears. “’Tis only whilst Runner finishes his watch.”

  The fiery captain untied his neckcloth. “The lad should have asked before he brought a stray aboard.”

  “Oh? And why not leave him be? The dog’s very bright. He already obeys Baltazar.” She dipped her quill in the ink pot. “And he’s been lying by my feet since I brought him in here and told him to stay.”

  “Next thing he’ll be wanting to sleep atop the four-poster bed.”

  “Och, do not utter those words too loudly, else I reckon he’ll take ye up on your offer.”

  “It wasn’t an offer.”

  Divana chuckled to herself and wrote a capital M, which was so large, it drained the ink from her pen, making her dip it again. She chewed the corner of her mouth as she used smaller strokes for the e-r-m-a-i-d.

  Kennan leaned over the back of her chair. “What are you writing?”

  “I saw a schooner setting sail this afternoon. She had a beautiful mermaid with a silver tail at her figurehead.”

  “Was her name the Silver Mermaid?”

  “Aye.”

  He rubbed her shoulder as he pressed his lips to her temple. “Your letters have improved markedly.”

  Sighing, Divana set her quill in the holder and held up the parchment. “If only I were better at reading.”

  “What say you? I’ve been quite impressed with your progress.”

  She tsked her tongue. “I cannot read half as well as ye.”

  “Wheesht. I’ve been reading since I was a wee lad, and you’ve only been at it a month.”

  Sitting back, she regarded her work with a critical eye. “I suppose.”

  “Would you have kent the name of the ship if you hadn’t been learning your letters?”

  “I might have guessed, given the figurehead and the silver paint.”

  “But you wouldn�
��t have known for certain.”

  “Nay.”

  “And you wouldn’t have been able to sit down and write it.”

  “Not unless I was copying what I saw.”

  “Well, you’ve made good headway. Do not discredit yourself.”

  “Thank ye.” She gathered up the writing materials and returned them to Kennan’s writing table. A great deal had happened this day, but the thing that stuck in her craw was Ethan and his boorishness. What kind of brute would throw excrement over the deck? He was lucky the officers were meeting in the captain’s cabin, else he would have been lashed for certain. “Are ye aware some of the men on the ship are expecting to earn a finder’s share of any treasure ye find on this voyage?”

  “Aye, ’tis the way of things, and it gives the men something to look forward to during the long stints at sea.” Kennan removed his sword from its sheath and turned it over in his hands. “What have you heard?”

  She pretended to examine her work, trying to appear unworried. “I’ve overheard some of the Glasgow sailors talk. They’re hungry for riches.”

  “I suppose I would be if I were in their shoes.”

  “But ye nay sail the high seas bent on piracy?”

  “I’d say I’m a king’s privateer—I do his bidding, and if it entails securing riches in the name of James, then I will carry out my duty—just as is expected of all sea captains.”

  “James? King?”

  “I misspoke.” Kennan set the oil and a whetstone atop a cloth. “Prince James. Remember? He’s the rightful heir.”

  “But does the queen nay see Jacobites as traitors?”

  He spilled a few drops of oil on the sword, then methodically swirled the edge on the stone. “Anne has been misled on a great many matters, the exile of her brother being the most egregious of her errors.”

  “Good heavens, why is it people see fit to turn their backs on their own blood relatives? I cannot imagine being so cruel as to exile me own kin.”

  “Nor can I, and those of us who are loyal to her brother consider ourselves true royalists. Our goal is to preserve the succession, not to invoke legislation to prevent it.”

  “I did not realize the gravity of the situation.”