by Eliza Knight
She was his enemy’s daughter, there was no doubt. With her tangle of dark curls, her olive skin tone and seething green eyes, she was the spitting image of her father, though beautiful where the other man was cruel and ugly.
Thor wanted to punish Santiago, wanted to see him in pain.
But was taking advantage worth it anymore?
And was it taking advantage when she willingly offered herself?
Unable to listen to the tumult of thoughts in his mind, Thor lifted her into his arms and hurried them both, soaking wet, back to his quarters.
Chapter Seven
Once inside the cabin, quite alone and each of them still panting with worked-up breath, Thor set her down.
Alesia stared at him, just a foot, if anything, away from her. He was massive, his scent of sea salt and wind and something else unequivocally masculine and unique to him permeated the air between them.
The scent of Thor.
She wanted to close her eyes and breathe him in, to put a mark on her brain so when they parted ways, which was inevitable, she could remember this moment, remember him.
Captain Thor, whoever he was, and wherever he hailed from, was by far the best man, the best person, she’d ever met—despite him being a pirate. Alesia was a good judge of character. Her entire life, her very survival, depended on it. She trusted her gut. She trusted her instincts more than she trusted another person’s opinion or judgment. It was almost as if she had a sixth sense, and that sense had kept her alive. So if her gut told her Thor was trustworthy, she was going to believe it. Without a doubt, he was noble. He possessed a bone-deep goodness she’d never experienced before. One he appeared to struggle with.
That goodness in him made her want to cry at the same time it made her want to leap into his arms and take him up on whatever promise his soulful eyes were making to her just then. His deep-blue orbs were mysterious and mesmerizing, as if he’d seen the bottom of the ocean and had the ability to share the world’s secrets with her.
“Who are ye?” she whispered, gulping in the air she needed as her lungs seemed unable to catch up with themselves. She braced her bare toes on the wood planks, feeling her knees knock together. When her fingers started to tremble from the exertion of her emotion, she clutched the sides of her gown.
“I am Thor.” The deepness of his brogue, the gruffness of it, stroked along her skin, leaving gooseflesh over her arms.
“Who are ye really, Captain Thor? Ye are not who ye claim to be.”
“And yet I’ve already told ye more about myself than I’ve ever told another.” He took a step forward.
Alesia tried to draw a breath, but it was so hard with him that close. “Where did ye come from?”
“I come from the sea.”
Like a merman or some god, she might believe him if he swore it were true. “Not this day, or another day, I mean from the start. Where were ye born?”
He shrugged, ran a hand through his long blond hair. “Does it matter? Does place of birth make us who we are?”
“Perhaps not the place, but the people. Our past does define us, even if we wish it did not.”
“And what if I dinna want my past to define me?” He slanted her a challenging glance.
Alesia gave a subtle shake of her head, fisting the gown tighter. “Are we able to make those choices?” She let out a bitter laugh. “Look at me. I am my past. I am my mother’s past.”
“But not your father’s?”
She couldn’t meet his gaze as she nodded. “I suppose I am.” And that was true, even if she’d deceived Thor about who that might be. Lying to him was getting harder. He’d so readily accepted that she was the daughter of Santiago Fernandez. There’d been hardly any proof needed other than her mother was a whore and she was the right age. Aye, he thought she had similar coloring to the pirate, but if one were to take coloring into account, wouldn’t everyone be able to find relation in someone else not of their blood?
Thor wrapped a finger around a tendril of her hair that had fallen loose and lightly tugged until she met his gaze.
“What if we could define who we are despite what forged our pasts? What if we could be whoever we wanted?” His voice was soft now, and she had the urge to sink against him. To wrap herself up in his strength.
“Who would ye be?” Her question was asked earnestly.
“I would be Captain Thor.”
“Are ye saying ye’ve already changed your past?”
“Aye.”
“I dinna believe ye. What are ye not telling me?” She’d not meant to ask the question aloud, and yet it had come out all the same. He frowned, dropped her hair and took a step back. Oh, his actions were telling, and so was the tiny pinch in her gut when he did it.
“A pirate never shares his secrets, Miss Baird.”
“Neither does a wharf rat.” Something in his eyes flickered, and she inched closer to him, dancing her fingers over his forearm and down to his hands, which had so recently been wrapped in her hair. “But there is something about ye, Thor. Something that makes me want to share.”
The way he was gazing down at her made her belly do a flip. There was a deep hunger in his eyes that matched her own. His hand beneath hers was warm, of course. They were hands that commanded. That little flip in her belly wound its way lower, sparking a desire in a place she’d never let rule her.
“Dinna confuse a pirate’s skill at coercion for anything more.”
“Coercion?” A brief smile touched her lips. “I dinna feel controlled by ye.”
“Nay?”
“Nay.” And that was the truth. Aye, she was in desperate need of a getaway, and he’d supplied both the motivation and the vessel, but with or without him, she’d been determined to leave Edinburgh for good.
There was a subtle shift in his demeanor, as though he wanted to prove her wrong. Did he not realize that she was in control here? Alesia knew the difference. She’d been in situations before where she did not have control. Workhouses. Jail. Even held captive once. What happened to her in those situations was completely out of her own hands, and life had ceased to exist. She knew without a doubt that this was not one of those situations.
Aye, the pirate standing before her was dangerous, deadly even. But she saw beyond that steely façade. She saw his soul. The one that reached out, yearned for another of equal measure. Thor wanted her, not just the physical connection, but her mind. Else he wouldn’t still be standing here before her, asking her who she would be, what she would give up. Else he wouldn’t have held her while she wailed on him—both with her fists and her tears.
“Does that disappoint ye?” she whispered. “Not controlling me?”
Slowly, he shook his head. “I admire your strength.”
“What else do ye admire about me?” Again, her mouth moved before she had a chance to yank the words back.
“Your will.” He stroked the side of her face, running his thumb over her bottom lip. “Your vulgar tongue.”
Blood whooshed through her ears, and she had a sudden moment of light-headedness. “Ye’d be the only one.”
He cast her a devastating smile. “The rest of the world are fools if they dinna agree.”
She leaned into his caress. “I want ye to kiss me.”
Thor’s pupils dilated, his gaze darkening into an expression of such sensuality she almost melted. But then his lips pressed into a firm line of resolute determination. “I canna.”
That was not the answer she’d wanted. Did he not understand how much it had taken for her to ask for a kiss? The one they’d shared on the deck had only been the beginning. She wanted more of those feelings. “Why not?”
“Because if I kiss ye again, I’m afraid I willna be able to stop.”
In his eyes, she could see the truth, and she didn’t mind it. “What if I dinna want ye to stop?”
The sensual, hungry glisten in his eyes returned. “We shouldna.”
“Why?”
He leaned closer, his breath fanni
ng her face. “Because…us together…it canna…” His voice was strangled as his words trailed off.
Alesia didn’t want to hear his protests. There was no denying in her heart that she wanted him. There was no denying that he wanted her. They were alone. Why shouldn’t they indulge themselves? She wasn’t an innocent. Making love wouldn’t ruin her. Wouldn’t change either of their reputations.
Closing the distance between them, she brushed her lips over his. He held his lips firmly pressed together, but she felt the warmth. She felt the shift when she continued to press her mouth to his, sensed from the rumble in his chest that he would soon yield. Alesia ran her tongue along the seam of his lips, tasting the decadent flavor of him. She clutched the front of his shirt for balance, afraid that if he did start to kiss her back, she would collapse if she didn’t hold on. And then, with a groan of surrender, he opened his mouth and allowed her to invade. Wasn’t that a shining victory—the pirate letting her rule?
Alesia was no shy virgin. She’d been with a few men before, some not of her choice. All of them bitter disappointments. She wasn’t naïve enough to believe in love, or that providing her body to a man would mean respect or loyalty everlasting. For the most part, she didn’t enjoy lying with a man. Didn’t enjoy the feel of a heaving body on hers, and most were never kind to her.
But it wasn’t like that with Thor. Or at least kissing him led to that conclusion.
The joining of the two of them promised a physical distraction, a moment of being taken from this earth, to feel that maybe she was worth something.
This man, Thor, he made her feel…different. When he looked at her, she had the foreign awareness that he was actually seeing her. That he wanted her—not the pleasure her parts could provide. And that was all the more distracting, alarming, dangerous.
Alesia shuddered as Thor slid a very male hand over her spine. She sank against him, eyes closed, breasts tingling. Tongues entwined, lips of soft velvet pressed firmly to hers. Every inch of her sparked alive with a potent desire that was unfamiliar and entirely too enticing. Thor had the power to keep her right where she was, in this moment, enjoying the hell out of every touch and taste. He moved her hand to his chest, to the muscles there, the pounding of his heart pulsing against her palm. He wanted her to touch him. Her mind, her body wanted so very much to be right here, experiencing whatever this was.
His heartbeat pulsed in time with hers, making the tips of her fingers throb in tandem. With the skill of a seasoned lover, he slid his lips to taste her jaw, behind her ear, the side of her neck. Every inch of skin where his lips and tongue touched was alight with fire, and places quivered inside her that she’d not known existed.
A yearning for more of what he was giving her was incredible and terrifying, and yet she could pull away if she desired—but that only made her want this more. With his teeth, he tugged at her gown just above her breast until her nipple came free. He gripped her hips firmly, massaging as his tongue flicked over the turgid pink tip and his beard tickled her skin.
A moan escaped her. A sound she’d never heard before. A lusty, powerful echo that made her shake and made him groan in answer. Alesia shoved her hands into his hair, holding on for dear life as he laved at her breast. Desire fired between her thighs, sending sparks to lance through her limbs.
Thor murmured something against her skin, but with the blood rushing through her ears, she couldn’t make it out. He kissed his way back up to her mouth, hovering over her lips. She blinked open her eyes to find his hazy gaze boring into hers with an intensity that startled her from the fog of desire she’d been fully encased in.
With a curse, Thor pushed away from her, and she welcomed the break from whatever spell he’d put her under. The chance to breathe in cool air and swipe away the shivers. But even distance between them couldn’t make the pounding of her heart cease or the tingling quell. If anything, she desired him more. Craved his touch.
Thor ran a hand through his hair, scrubbed it over his face, and whirled to face the wall behind him. He stared up at the ceiling, breath heaving as hard as hers. Alesia felt the need to run toward him and out the door all at the same time.
God, this was confusing.
What was she doing? She tucked her breast back within the confines of the very tight dress. This was not part of the plan. The original or the second. And even if it was part of the third, it was pure insanity. Base desires would not help her true objective.
From the moment she’d climbed onto this ship, the man had been taking her away from her true scheme. Coin. Coin to disappear. Coin to start anew. That was what she needed. Not more fights. Not another man to poke at her parts. Independence. Freedom from a past that kept her firmly rooted in poverty and crime.
But he was not the only one at fault, for hadn’t she been just as keen? Well, that was her…mischievous side talking. She needed the level-headed lass back.
A pirate was the last thing she needed. And she should be the last person he wanted to kiss. If he was attempting to return her to the man he believed to be her father, seducing her would only gain the other man’s wrath. Was that his plan all along?
A chill swept through her as that realization took root.
Straightening her shoulders, Alesia cleared her throat and asked outright. “What do ye want with me? What do ye want with Santiago’s child?”
Thor blew out a breath, muttered another curse. Then he slowly turned to face her, a grimace marring his handsome features. His eyes flashed deadly in the candlelight. “Vengeance.” The word came out as ugly as it sounded. It barreled through his gritted teeth to thunk her harder in the chest than it should have.
Vengeance. This was not about returning a child to another pirate who longed to find her. This was much worse. That meant the powerful kiss they’d just shared probably meant nothing to him. Nothing but a way to hurt someone else. She was nothing more than a pawn. And she had no one to blame but herself. She’d allowed herself to get carried away. Thor’s true colors were exposed now. He didn’t care about harming her, or anyone else for that matter, in order to gain his reward.
“Why? What has that to do with me? I’ve never met ye before in my life. I’ve never met him. Why hurt me? Why is that the path ye chose?” Despite the emotions whirling and pummeling inside her, Alesia kept her volley of questions even.
Thor’s jaw hardened, and she could almost picture the struggle inside him. But that had to be her imagination. She was giving the man too much credit. God, when he’d mentioned coercion, she should have listened. What a fool she was.
“It’s not ye I want to hurt, but him.”
A shiver of anger ran through her, making her belly hot and her throat tight. Her hands started to shake, and she fisted them at her sides to keep from launching into a physical attack. “The man has not attempted to find me in twenty years. What makes ye think he will care about what ye do to me?”
He walked to a cabinet and pulled out a wineskin, yanking the cork and downing the contents. “Ye’re right. The man’s a bastard. He willna give a shite what I do with ye.”
Chapter Eight
Thor was an arsehole. And he was pirate enough to admit it.
After nearly ravishing Alesia and then telling her it meant nothing but a way to mete out his revenge, he’d stormed from the cabin and refused to lay eyes on her, no matter what she did, for two agonizing days.
When she marched on deck, barefoot, in the too-tight dress and started to climb the mast—he walked away, hooking a thumb over his shoulder in silent demand for Edgard to get her down.
Even when she came up on deck and started to make bets on which of the swabs could take her, he walked away, with Edgard scurrying after to her to diffuse the situation.
At night, when he played his pipes at the bow of the ship, she snuck along the side of the ship, trying to blend in with the shadows to listen. He didn’t look at her—but he felt her. Ignoring what he felt was the hardest damn thing he’d ever done.
; Each time, he had Edgard take her back to his cabin, lock her in and warn her that if she kept it up, she’d be locked in the brig. The lass never heeded the warnings, and he never made good on his threats. Which of course, made it all the easier for her to drive him mad.
By the time they arrived at Cruden Bay in the north of Scotland, Thor couldn’t wait to get off the ship, and away from the lass. Away from the insanity that pummeled him day and night and threatened to toss him off course. Seeing his brethren would help steer him back. The Prince of the Devils of the Deep, Shaw “Savage” MacDougall, was arranging a smuggling deal, here.
“Och, bloody hell,” he groaned when he caught sight of the private harbor.
Tucked into the cove were Shaw’s ships and two of Constantine Le Breque’s ships. Constantine, better known by his friends as Con, was the leader of Poseidon’s Legion, the English faction of their pirate brotherhood. Thor had known Con for as long as he could remember. Con and Shaw were very close mates, even if they pretended to hate each other at times. The bond was strong between the two of them. No one, not even a woman, could get between them, though one nearly had years ago. And that bloody sassenach could only be here for one reason. The brotherhood was needed, which meant it was very possible Thor’s mission to meet Santiago was going to be delayed. Not that he had a burning desire to sail to the pirate town of Puerto de los Dioses on the Azores Islands. Because every moment that had passed since he’d known the lass made the idea of handing her over more and more distasteful.
“Bring The Sea Devil in besides the prince’s ship,” he ordered his men. “Lay anchor and get me a skiff to row to shore.”
The men worked the sails, getting close enough to the cove to hide the vessel from anyone passing by, but not close enough to ground them against the sea floor. The Savage of the Sea, Shaw’s ship, loomed beside them. Powerful and a symbol of their brethren. Shaw’s flag matched Thor’s, but with a subtle twist. Ruddy in color, their flags boasted a massive ship with the image of a devil’s head and a sword-bearing fist crushing it. The difference was Shaw’s devil head had a light ring around the top—indicating his crown.