by Eliza Knight
“Santiago Fernandez. Got a bastard in a woman about twenty years ago. Left her with nothing.”
“Wouldn’t be the first blackguard to do such a thing.”
Certainly wouldn’t, thought Alesia bitterly. Wasn’t that her own past?
“Aye.”
“Gonna be hard to find the right one. Ye’ll be finding a lot of them sayin’ they are him.”
“Or her.”
“Aye.”
Captain Thor, a name that sent shivers up and down most anyone’s spine—fear for men and desire for women—was looking for a bastard born twenty years before, lass or lad. Had the giant been he? A shiver made her clutch the burlap sack tighter.
As far as Alesia knew, she was twenty years old. And if he didn’t know if the one he sought was a woman or man, he might not know of any other defining features to look for.
With her life on the line, what did she have to lose by posing as the bastard Thor sought? And all that coin—it could be hers if she turned herself over to him.
With a purse full of silver, she could get away from Edinburgh. Start a new life. One that didn’t involve stealing and running, or taking a beating because it was easier than facing death.
A warmth surged in her chest, one she didn’t want to recognize as hope. Hope wasn’t for people like her. She’d never had hope. Didn’t deserve it. She was a thief. A wharf rat. Her mother had been a whore. She didn’t even know who her father was—not that it mattered, since he’d left her mother without a second thought.
Perhaps he’d been a warrior, or perhaps he’d been a drunkard spewing lies her mother wanted to believe for the sake of the bairn growing in her belly.
No matter, Alesia had always only ever been able to count on herself. And if she wanted to see her fortunes change, she’d have to be the one to change them. Today, luck was on her side, even though she normally didn’t believe in luck. Games of chance weren’t her style. When a homeless wharf rat counted on the coin they could steal or the work they could barter for food and lodging, they didn’t risk losing it to chance.
Following the pirate sailor as he made his way toward the taverns, she listened to him speak to a few more men, certain now that she could make this work, and knowing she’d do best to get back to Captain Thor’s ship before anyone else.
Alesia backtracked until she found the crate and the pier the captain had gone down. Looming large in front of her was The Sea Devil, creaking and swaying in the retreating tide.
Men worked the rigging and brought various supplies onboard, and she watched them come and go, observing who they spoke to when they boarded. The men were watched like a hawk by a sturdy-looking sailor on deck. Sneaking on board was going to be harder than she thought.
Alesia grinned. Oh, how she loved a challenge.
Chapter Three
A little wet and slightly nervous, but also proud of herself, Alesia sat on a cushioned chair in what she hoped was the captain’s quarters and put her bare feet up on the wide, pristine wooden desk. As soon as she’d shimmied through the porthole, she’d discarded the wet boots in favor of not having wrinkled toes for days.
She wiggled her toes and rubbed her hands over her wet arms in hopes of getting warm, but the chill of the water had sunk into her bones, and the cabin did not afford much warmth. Also, Alesia was fairly certain the chill had more to do with waiting for the massive captain to find her. Because once he did, there was no going back on what could be a fool’s plan. To distract herself, she stared about the stark wooden room.
The cabin was small, but better accommodations than any of the other men on the ship would have. The lowly swabs would all sleep on deck or in the hull in hammocks. But here, the captain had his own bed, which was tightly made with pristine starched sheets and a thick plaid blanket pressed down atop it. From the look of it, she wondered if the captain ever slept here. There were no discernible items set out to distinguish this room from any other captain’s. No knickknacks set out or paintings on the wall. Not even a spare pair of boots tossed haphazardly in the corner. If she were to hazard a guess, Alesia would say that the man who inhabited these quarters did not want to put down roots. One runner could always recognize another. Or at least she liked to assume as much.
Across the room was a table nailed to the floorboards and four sturdy wooden chairs with nicks upon the arms as though someone had put a mark in the wood for every meal they’d eaten.
There was a chest at the foot of the bed that looked mighty interesting. She’d tested the dummy lock on the front and realized it was a fake. Finding the true lock and what was inside was her next course of action—after she convinced the giant she was who he was looking for. She couldn’t risk being found by him and tossed off the ship before she’d even begun her quest.
Leaning forward, she opened up the drawers of the desk, finding the most mundane contents inside. A few scraps of parchment. Inkwell and feather pen. Not even a seal to reveal who the desk belonged to. Another drawer had a half-empty bottle of whisky, and the third drawer was locked. She considered picking that lock, too, for there was no other reason to keep someone out of the drawer unless there was something of value inside. This was a pirate’s ship after all.
Alesia imagined handfuls of coin and jewels. Precious pieces she could pawn and live well for the rest of her life in comfort. Fed. Warm. Clothed. Safe.
Footsteps sounded outside the door and then the handle moved. Alesia sucked in her breath, suddenly feeling nerves that hadn’t been present a moment before. Frozen, she stared at the slowly moving iron and then in agony as the door pushed open.
Captain Thor filled the entrance. The glimpse she’d had of his massive boots, thick calves and strong knees did little justice to the sheer size of him now. Picking her chin up off the floor, Alesia allowed herself to stare at him. And he let her, staring back as she followed a path from the top of his golden head to the tips of his long leather boots.
The man standing before her was easily a god. Had to be. He ducked through the door, and his startling blue eyes locked on her as though he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see her sitting barefoot at his desk. Keeping his gaze on her, he shut the door, leaned back against it and crossed his thickly corded arms over his broad chest. The black shirt pulled taut against his arms and shoulders but billowed open at the neck. Shirt ties tipped with pagan-looking beads at their ends hung loose down his middle. The shirt was tucked into a plaid of dark reds, golds and a green so deep it was almost black settled around his narrow hips, with a swath of it tossed and pinned over one shoulder. Just below the hem of his plaid were knees and impossibly long legs that looked carved from stone.
Never had she seen a man as huge as this one before. Massive. Gigantic. It made her question whether gods could walk on earth, and if a man could be so beautiful as to be breathtaking.
His wide, full lips were surrounded by a soft, short beard the same golden color as his hair, and though he didn’t smile at her, there seemed to be humor dancing in his eyes all the same.
The moments ticked by without him saying a word. Instead, he just watched her. His ice-blue gaze raked over her, assessing, making her wish she had taken the time to at least bathe before boarding, though she supposed it wouldn’t matter after her dip in the quay. Her bare toes were only a few feet from him, still propped up on his desk, and she was suddenly aware for the first time that her feet were not delicate like other women. They were hard and rough, just like the rest of her. Heat filled her cheeks, but she forced herself to remain strong. Indifferent. Callous as a pirate might be. When his gaze landed on her feet, she began to tremble but somehow managed to keep her quaking from becoming visible.
Alesia expected some sort of reaction from him for disrespecting his private space, but he didn’t appear to be bothered in the least—or else he was incredibly good at hiding his emotions. The latter is what she suspected to be true. For she was also hiding how he affected her.
Finally, unable to stand it any lon
ger, Alesia broke the silence. “I heard ye were looking for me, Viking.”
His lips quirked into something similar to a grin. “And who might ye be?”
“Alesia Baird.”
“Last time I checked, I wasna looking for a wee sprite.”
Alesia raised a brow at his insult. “A wee sprite ye say?”
“Aye.” He hadn’t moved from where he stood, and the mirth in his gaze remained, as did that soft hint of a smile beneath his beard.
Unaware of why, but aware all the same, she found his confidence quite irritating. “I’ll have ye know this wee sprite could take ye on any day of the week.” She crossed her arms over her chest and worked to give him her very hardest glares.
The beast had the gall to laugh at that, not even concerned in the slightest by her bravado. “Is that so?”
Alesia grit her teeth, managing to push out an, “Aye.”
The lopsided grin was unmistakable now, shining through the beard to irritate her all the more. “I’d like to see ye try.”
Alesia was not one to ever beg off from a challenge. She’d not have made it this far on the wharf if she did. She had plenty of friends who’d succumbed to what they thought might be an easier life. Lifting her skirts for a scrap of bread and a cup of ale wasn’t in Alesia’s repertoire. But she was willing to raise her fists.
Slowly, she uncrossed her ankles and placed her bare feet on the cool floor. She rose, and droplets from her wet clothes fell to the wooden planks. Despite being soaked to the bone, she wasn’t cold anymore. A strange heat had filled her upon seeing Captain Thor bracing the doorway, and then her irritation had warmed her all the more. Now, the rush of anticipation, of showing this fool what she was made of, thawed the remainder of her chill.
“Why ye’re just a teeny thing.” Captain Thor looked her up and down, eyes lingering on her bare toes. “Where are your shoes?”
“Ye’re trying to distract me.” She took another step closer to him, gauging just how much taller he was, what his girth was. If one were to enter a fight, all the better to know just what one was up against. “Dinna pretend ye care about my lack of shoes.”
Mirth danced in his too-mesmerizing eyes. “Nay, dinna mistake my meaning, lass. I but wondered… at the smell.”
Alesia’s mouth dropped open. “What?” Did he just say what she thought he’d said?
“Ye heard me.” A slow, wicked grin.
Oh, how she wanted to beat him for his insult. “Are ye suggesting my feet smell?”
“I’m nay suggesting it, love.” He waved a hand in front of his face and rolled his eyes as though he might die.
Of all the… Molten-hot anger rushed through her. Alesia took that moment to strike. With her fists raised, she jabbed him right in the chin. Her knuckles cracked against his firm jaw, the hair on his face prickling her skin. Bloody prig. That hurt.
He didn’t move.
But he did start to laugh, which only made Alesia rage all the more.
“Oh,” she growled and jabbed him in the chin again with her other fist.
This time he slapped his knee, tears wetting his eyes. “Does this work for ye normally, lass? Or are ye jesting with me?”
Perhaps she was holding back. Anger sometimes did that. She wasn’t concentrating enough. Focusing on her target, she took a deep breath in and out of her nose. He seemed to be waiting for her, almost giving her permission to punch him again. The pirate was built like an ox. And how could she possibly beat an ox? Clearly, his jawbone was made of steel.
A slow grin filled Alesia’s face, mirroring that teasing mirth he’d been dishing out since they met. There was one place she knew she could hurt a man no matter his size and strength. But did she want to play dirty?
The way he taunted her now, waving her closer as he laughed, she decided that, aye, she did in fact want to play dirty. Without a thought otherwise, Alesia launched her third attack, faking a left hook toward his jaw again and putting the full force of her strength into a right-handed jab at his Highland pirate jewels. Her fist made connection with his vulnerable parts, and before she had time to dwell on the size and shape, she leapt back and out of his reach.
The man’s face turned as scarlet as the red in his plaid, eyes bulging, the scar on his face turning white. She had to hand it to him, he didn’t howl like the bastards she’d crushed before.
Captain Thor sputtered, “Och, lass, ye just punched me in the ballocks…”
Alesia didn’t even blink at his use of vulgar language. “Do ye want another?”
“Mercy,” he said through gritted teeth, watering eyes connecting with hers. “Ye did it on purpose?”
Alesia was unable to help her grin of triumph. “About my feet…” She wriggled her toes just beneath him.
“As sweet as the roses in any lady’s garden,” he choked out, the veins in his neck pulsing.
Now it was Alesia’s turn to laugh. “Ye play the game well, Captain.”
“And ye…” He coughed. “Ye play unfairly.”
She shrugged, all serious now. If he thought she was going to capitulate on anything, he was mad. “Whoever said that life was fair?”
“Certainly no one ye’ve ever met.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and then ran a hand through his hair.
“And I’m guessing no one ye’ve encountered either.”
The man straightened, reminding her just how enormous he was compared to her. Her gaze slid up his length, settling on the scar along his jaw.
“How’d ye get that scar?”
He raised a teasing brow. “What scar?”
Alesia rolled her eyes.
“Where’d ye learn to fight like that?” he asked.
“Fight? Ye call that a fight?” she scoffed, not wanting to reveal to this virtual stranger the rough life she led in Edinburgh. “I came here because ye’re looking for me. Now, hand over the reward.”
“Reward?”
“Aye, ye were offering a sack of silver. I’m here, and I’ll collect on it.”
Again, he crossed his arms over his massive chest, and she had the idea that if she tried to skirt around him to the door, all he’d have to do was reach out. His arms were long enough to span the room. “I’m afraid it doesna work that way, wee sprite”
She gritted her teeth. “Oh, ye great ogre?”
He chuckled. “Ye certainly have a way with words, lass. Allow me to explain. As I see it, I found ye. So I’ll be keeping the treasure for myself.”
Alesia shook her head, flexed her fists, sore knuckles popping. “If ye dinna give me what I’m owed, I’ll be walking off this ship afore ye can rise up.”
“Rise up?” He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her face and her balled fists. “Do ye plan to attempt castration again, lass?”
Alesia straightened her shoulders, trying to quell the anger and rising panic in her gut. Was he truly going to cheat her out of the silver? She had no choice but to get the coin and escape, else by sunrise she’d be in the hands of the wharf guards. She could only hide out from them for so long before they offered enough of a reward that even a saint wouldn’t give her up.
Perhaps another tactic was in order. Cocking a shoulder coyly, she reached forward and tugged at the lace on his billowing black shirt, her fingers pinching a bead. “Certainly ye jest.”
“I never jest.” He appeared unmoved by her subtle flirtation, and in fact raised a brow, looking pointedly at her grip.
Alesia stepped closer to him, gazing up at him with practiced doe eyes. She’d seen seduction before in the alleyways and taverns. Had used it a time or two to scheme a muttonhead out of his dinner. “Would ye truly seek to abuse a lass?”
“Nay.” There was a spark in his eyes that threw her off, as his arms snaked around her middle, hauling her taut to his body. Good God, he was so…hard. Everywhere. “But we both know I was not the one doing the seeking.”
“What?” The question came out breathy as she tried to concentrate on something other th
an the way her breasts pressed to his solid chest, or that her nipples had tightened into points and how she kind of liked the way they sought the warmth of his body.
“Ye came here. Ye struck me—in the ballocks. Ye touched me just now.”
He was right. But she didn’t want him to be right. She placed her hands on his chest and tried to push away. “That doesna mean—”
“I’m a pirate, lass. What am I supposed to think when I come into my room and a lass has made herself at home, going so far as to take off her boots?”
She pushed against him more, and he did let go slightly, enough that she thought she might be able to draw a better breath, but it didn’t appear that his hold was what kept her from breathing. Struggling to speak without choking, she said, “I came here because I heard ye were looking for the bastard of Santiago Fernandez.”
“And ye claim to be that unfortunate offspring?”
She nodded solemnly. “I do.”
“Prove it,” he growled.
“How?” She wriggled against him. “Put me down first.”
“Say something to me in Spanish.”
He settled her in front of him, but not far enough away that she couldn’t still feel the heat of his body sinking into hers. Thinking quickly on her feet, Alesia frowned up at him. “My mother was Scots, and my father, the legendary Spanish pirate, abandoned me the moment he planted his seed, ye buffoon. Where would I have learned his language?”
“Point taken.” He studied her face, eyes narrowed. “Ye do have the look of him. In a feminine sort of way. Save for that hair. Tempestuous hair.”
Her mouth fell open at the insult. She moved to stomp on his foot but quickly found herself lifted off her feet, arms pinned to her sides by the steely strength of his own.
Fine, he wanted to play dirty. She’d already showed him once she knew how to take down a man. Alesia moved to kick him where she’d had the pleasure of socking him before, but Captain Thor clamped her legs between his thighs of steel.
“Uh-uh, princess,” he mocked.
Though she hated to head-butt anyone for the headache it always gave her, that was her next move. Alesia was fairly certain at this point she wasn’t going to be walking away with the silver, which meant she could at least walk away with her life—and figure out another way to escape the wharf.