Pirate Trip: (Historical Romance) (Scavenger Hunting Book 2)
Page 13
There were far more promises than she could ever expect him to keep, especially the tedious one, but she was immeasurably, inexplicably happy that he understood her well enough to make them.
She allowed a smile to spread slowly across her face. “Aye, my bonny Highlander, I willingly give up the chain.”
His eyes widened and his smile mirrored her own. He held out the beastly chain and lowered it into her open hand. She toyed with the weight of it for a moment, gave him a sly smile, and hurled the thing into the sea. The heedless waves rolled on while she imagined the heavy chain dropping quickly through the deep blue shadows.
It had represented so many things…
“I was my own pirate, was I not?”
“Auch, now, have ye never heard it said, Once a pirate, always a pirate?” Connor gestured to the ship beneath their feet. “The Peregrine is mine, by the by. So, between bearing tedious bairns, we can sail off for an adventure now and again.”
She rolled her eyes. “The ship is yours?”
He looked up at the quarter deck and waved to the captain, who saluted him and waved back. “It is true, lass. When I was knighted—”
“You mean to tell me you could have been my pirate all along?”
His smile fell away and he pressed his forehead against her own while his gaze bore into hers. “I mean to tell ye, Mallory McGee, that for the rest of yer life, I will be yer only pirate, as ye’ll be mine.”
It was difficult to kiss him after that. She could hardly put her lips together what with the smile she couldn’t control. After all, Mallory McGee sounded like a remarkably happy destiny.
THE END
I hope you liked Mallory and Connor’s reunion story. If so, please leave a review here.
Ian and Vivianne are in Edinburgh, getting into their own brand of trouble. VIKING TRIP is already in the works, and the cover will be revealed the first week in Septebmer, 2018.
Don’t forget the EXCERPT! For more kilts and romance, keep reading for the excerpt of ROSS, the first book in The Curse of Clan Ross series. Be sure to follow L.L. Muir on Amazon, Facebook, or Bookbub. And sign up for the newsletter here.
And now, ROSS…
Excerpt from ROSS
Castle Ross, East Burnshire, Scotland 1494
Odd.
The stone closest to Laird Montgomery Ross’s foot looked to be the same shape as the hole remaining in the side of his sister’s tomb, but he refused to reach for it.
“Nay. I’m not ready to be finished.” Monty whispered his complaint to God, for surely it was God’s hand that wrought such an appropriately shaped thing.
Behind him, one of the priests cleared his throat. Monty knew without looking it had been the fat one who could not cease rubbing his hands together, even while Monty’s sister was led inside her would-be grave. The bastard had been rubbing them for a fair two days, since he’d arrived to try Isobelle as a witch. No doubt they were itchy for the feel of a woman’s neck since Monty had cheated them out of wringing his sister’s.
He could let the priest live, or he could be silent, but Monty could not manage both.
“If ye canna seem to clean those hands, Father,” he said without turning away from his morbid creation, “I’d be happy to rid ye of them before I finish my task here. I’m sure my sister wouldna mind the wait.”
A gasp of outrage was followed by silence, although the Great Hall was filled to the corners with his clan. Those who could not find space inside would soon enough hear of each stone lovingly placed as their laird buried his sister alive within their very hall, upon the stone dais, behind the great Ross Chair. Hopefully they would remember Isobelle’s bravery and not how oft his tears mingled with the mortar.
None breathed, none dared rub their hands. How could he possibly continue? How could he not?
“Nay, I wouldna mind a bit, if ye’re quick about it, brother mine.” Isobelle’s voice echoed eerily from the tomb and she smirked at him from within the tiny patch of light the same shape as the odd stone. ”In fact, toss the bloody things in here with me and I’ll leave them at the gates of Hell. Himself can collect them when he arrives.”
Her unholy laughter no doubt had even the dogs wishing they could cross themselves, but it was music to Monty’s ears. The Kirk’s men allowed her no blanket, but she’d have the image of revenge to keep her warm.
“Isobelle!” Morna screamed. Monty’s other sister stood off to his right, restrained by her puny Gordon husband. “‘Tis all me fault. Forgive me.”
Isobelle’s sober face came forward to fill the hole as she searched for Morna, giving Monty one last glimpse of red hair.
“Morna, love. Dinna greet. The faery will come to make it all right again. Watch for the faery...and keep away from yer husband!”
“Silence!” the robed bastard roared.
Isobelle laughed again, backing away from the hole. After all, what could the man do to her now?
Monty would not ruin her trust in the blasted faery, but if the creature ever placed its magic toe on Ross land, it would be dead before it ever took a breath of heathered air.
‘Twas time.
He looked at the stone.
‘Twas meant.
“I love ye, sister mine.” His words were quiet, for Isobelle alone.
“And I you, Monty. Blow us a kiss.”
When he raised his crusted fingers to his lips, his palm filled with tears, but they washed none of the nightmare away. He blew a kiss that was instantly returned.
“I’m stayin’ right here, pet. Ye’re no’ alone.”
“Get on, then.” The whimper in her voice was slight. “I’ll have a wee nap if ye’ll but douse the light.”
With a final wink, she disappeared.
Monty reached for the stone, dipped its edges in muck, and pushed it home, breaking his heart in the doing. After long moments of stillness, his hands slowly opened and dropped away.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Morna swoon, but someone else would have to catch her—someone without mud or blood on his hands. Morna wouldn’t welcome his comfort anyhow. She claimed it was her fault, but he knew both sisters blamed him.
If he’d have known the outcome, would he have acted differently? What kind of bastard would not?
There was no stopping the twisting of his face, the sob from his chest. He turned his head to the side and bellowed, “Out!”
Nearly everyone fled or slithered from the hall, all but The Kirk’s henchmen who would stay until they believed his sister dead. Only then did he hear the muffled sobs of Isobelle. She sounded as if she were deep in the ground.
His heart shuddered with cold. Dear God, what had he been thinking? His plan was madness; she would never last. Not enough time. He had to get her out!
He reached for the odd stone...and was struck soundly from behind.
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The Curse of Clan Ross Volume 1 (books 1-3) 9/24/18
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About the Author
L.L. Muir lives on the Utah side of the Rocky Mountains with her husband and family. She appreciates funny friends, a well-fed campfire, and any excuse to go to Scotland.
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Published by Lesli Muir Lytle
Pirate Trip © 2018 L.Lytle
Scavenger Hunting Series © 2015 L.Lytle
All rights reserved
Cover Art by Kelli Ann Morgan
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