The Ravishing Rees (Pirates of Britannia Book 10)

by Rosamund Winchester

  You can see them again…

  “Fine. But you will fix my door before we go.”

  Saban didn’t even slow down. “We will not be gone long, but if it will ease your mind, I will send someone to fix it once we reach Dwyn Twll.”

  Dwyn Twll… The Hole They Stole. It was the family moniker for the large sea cave where the Rees stored their smuggled goods and anchored their smaller boats. It was large enough to hold a middling village—complete with chapel and steeple, but only the Rees knew where to find it.

  So why bring Robbie, a supposed stranger, to such a secret place? The truth pricked at her thoughts, but she dared not give it purchase. If Robbie were indeed a Rees, as she’d first assumed, she was a far greater fool than if he were simply a gorgeous man she wanted to lie with. The place between her legs pulsed, an ache spreading from her womanhood and out into her belly.

  Nay. She needed no man… Need? Nay. But you want Ravishing Robbie.

  And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Only having him there for five days, her desire for him was utterly ridiculous. And wanting someone even remotely tied to the Rees was dangerous.

  Danger had never looked so tantalizing.

  Robbie walked behind Glynnis who was following behind Saban—but it wasn’t Saban he was watching. From the back, Glynnis was perfectly curvy, her hips just wide enough, her arse just plump enough, her waist trim, and her long hair brushing over it all as if to tease him. In that moment, he didn’t care if she were as flat as a board in the front.

  He wanted her. His manhood throbbed, aching like it hadn’t ached in years. And for a sharp-tongued widow, no less.

  Grunting, he shook himself, pressing all his lascivious thoughts down into his gut so he could focus on what the hell he was doing…and who he was following…and where they were going. It was obvious Saban was leading them to someplace off the beaten path. They’d taken the well-trodden path to the beach, but then veered east along the shore. As they walked, the shore became craggier, like jagged daggers thrust into the sea. And as the darkness descended, the seeing became as difficult as the walking, until a bright light shone ahead. It was a lantern lashed to the side of a rock, like a beacon showing them the way.

  Not a smart way to hide a hideout…

  As they approached the lantern, the shore around them grew ever rockier until the sand completely disappeared, and all that was left were spears of sea cliff. They’d ascended and he hadn’t even noticed.

  I am losing my mind watching this widow’s arse sway so becomingly. Even in the dark, he could make out her movements…and he wondered how she’d look moving about on his bed, groaning as he kissed his way from her shoulder blades to her round, lush arse.

  A few steps ahead, Saban halted abruptly, flinging an arm out to stop Glynnis and Robbie from proceeding. Startled and sharply alert now, Robbie gazed at where Saban was staring; there was a chasm just before them. Dark, no doubt deep—reaching to the crashing sea below—and hidden until they were nearly upon it. The lantern they’d been traveling toward hung immediately to the left of the chasm, casting shadows over it, disguising it as shadows alone, and not certain death.

  The lantern hanging from the rock was a ruse. Anyone following the light would perish. Swiftly. Painfully. It was the perfect way to keep spies and potential threats from finding what the Rees didn’t want them to find. A smart way to hide their hideout after all.

  “That’s not the way,” Saban said, a humorless laugh in his voice. “Come along.” Turning to the left, Saban led the way downward now, along a path cut into the rocky cliff edge. The path was narrow, crumbling, but Saban seemed to know the way like he could see in the dark.

  And he probably can, the devil.

  The salty wind whipped off the sea, lashing Robbie’s face, tossing his long, loose hair in his eyes. It was doing the same to Glynnis’s long rich brown hair, and she flung it away from her face as best she could, though failed as the wind seemed to take that as a challenge.

  “There’s a storm coming,” she called over the quickly growing wail of the wind, and Robbie had to agree. The moon was now cloaked in dark clouds, obliterating the view they once had of the perilous cliff path. But Saban continued on, and they continued to follow.

  Just as they reached an outcropping of rocks at the bottom of the path, a large wave slammed into the boulder beside them, dousing them all in frigid salt water. God, but he could live the rest of his life without ever knowing the suffocating cold and disgusting taste of the sea. He shuddered, cold water sluicing down his face, belly, and back. He was still naked from the waist up, not having found a shirt in the trunk where he’d found the breeches.

  Give him the rolling hills and wide rivers of Leeds, where he would thieve and cavort the rest of his days, dying a happy man in some woman’s arms.

  Not just some woman…

  Glynnis’s coughing and shocked shriek pulled him from his thoughts—for which he was grateful.

  “By damn that was cold!” she yelled over the approaching storm…and the distant roaring sound coming from somewhere to their right. It was too dark to see, but Robbie would wager his best dagger that there was a sea cave close by.

  It had to be Dwyn Twll.

  From nowhere, Saban produced a spark and lit a torch set into a natural alcove. Lifting the blazing torch over his head, he signaled for them to follow.

  The passage was narrow, damp, and chilly, but there was the unmistakable sound of people ahead. Talking, laughing, yelling. Soon, the light of the torch gave way to the brightness of a large open cavern, with many torches lining the rock walls…and the walls of the small wooden dwellings nestled about.

  They seemed to have built an actual village in here…a village of Rees.

  “Welcome home, cousin…” Saban drawled, his smile lopsided and his welcome less than warm. Robbie felt the underlying threat in the words and watched as four other pairs of eyes pinned him to the spot, right there in the cavern opening.

  “Cousin?” he finally thought to ask, his mind slowly picking apart what the man had meant.

  Saban ignored his blurt of confusion as he turned in a circle, his arms splayed. “Lucian, Lucia, Brendan, Rose, come meet our long-lost cousin, Robert Rees, son of Ioan Rees, the stolen son of our very own Daid.” Saban’s lips twisted. And Robbie’s heart followed suit.

  Chapter Seven

  Glynnis didn’t know whether to curse the lot and leave them behind for good, or to slink into the nearest shadow and watch the comedy of horrors play out before her.

  Robbie stood, back straight, face grim as he glared at Saban.

  “I am a Bowlin,” he intoned, nearly growling. Every muscle in his broad back knotted and rippled, like a wild animal tensing for the attack.

  Lord, I need that wave to drown me again.

  The hairs along her arms and neck stood on end, both frightened and aroused by that sound, the growl of a man both dangerous and beautiful. Which was utterly preposterous. If Saban was correct, and Robbie truly was a Rees—as she’d first suspected, thank you very much—she would walk away, leaving the rabble to deal with their own. Besides, he looked no worse for wear. Though he’d survived a shipwreck, he showed no signs of it, other than the bruising along his sides…which only served to highlight the taut ropes of muscle that bunched and twitched as he moved. As an uncomfortable warmth spread over her, she pulled her gaze from Robbie to scan the cavern around her.

  She’d only been to Dwyn Twll once before, back when William had wanted to seduce her with the promise of a life of living well and richly. He’d covered her eyes with a strip of cloth and lead her through a passage away from the cliffside—more than likely the same one she’d just traversed. Then…he’d shown her a store of goods—casks of wine, boxes of gems and jewelry, sacks of cereals and sugar, and even chests filled with beautiful gowns. She’d known it was all stolen, but William’s charming smile and talk of taking her away from her life of endless, backbreaking work had blinded her to all but
him.

  And now…she saw too much. She saw the way Robbie stood, alone, in a room of armed murderers and thieves, his body taut, and her heart racing. She flicked her gaze to Saban, who was grinning wolfishly.

  “If what you say about your father and grandmother is true, you are most certainly a Rees.”

  “What is this about then?” the one she remembered as Brendan asked, his luminous blue eyes flashing beneath the black slashes of his brows. “Who is this man, and why have you brought him here?”

  Saban raised his hand, pointing at Robbie as if accusing him of a crime. “This man is Robbie. And as I said, he is Daid’s grandson…long-lost and now found.”

  “Is he really a cousin?” Rose asked, standing from where she’d been sitting, cross-legged, on a crate. Her long, fiery hair was woven into a thick braid that touched the top of her arse. Her piercing green gaze swept over Robbie, tarrying for too long on his bare chest, before she flicked her gaze to Saban. “Tis a shame. He is a fine-looking mouthful…” she purred, and something dark and hot prickled along Glynnis’s back.

  “Give over, Rose,” Lucia snapped, coming to stand beside her equally beautiful cousin. “You have had enough mouthfuls to choke an ox.”

  The room filled with snorts and smothered laughter—smothered because Rose was as fiery as her hair, and more than willing to slide her dagger from her belt and slice each and every one of them in a most vital place.

  Rose rolled her shoulders and smirked. “Aye, I have. But one more would do no harm.”

  “It would if he were family,” Lucian pointed out unnecessarily. Lucian and Lucia were twins. Both were tall, lithe, possessed of angelic features, with long blonde hair, eyes the color of the open fields in early spring, and a particularly cold and seemingly heartless disposition. But Glynnis knew better; Lucia was as warm and compassionate as anyone…she just had little patience for those who would harm an innocent. She’d heard stories of Lucia dispatching four men—single-handedly—because they’d dared to attack a widow and her young daughter within Lucia’s hearing.

  In some ways, Glynnis envied Lucia’s strength and single-minded focus…but, in other ways, she pitied Lucia, who had no choice but to become like the rest of her family. Cold, heartless, and menacing.

  So unlike Robbie… Not once since rescuing Robbie had she sensed any of the simmering nefariousness she felt oozing from the other men. Even in his slumber, there was something about him that pulled at her. She would never admit how long she’d sat beside the bed, staring at him, wondering who he was and why she was so compelled. Glynnis cast a cautious yet critical gaze at her late husband’s cousins. Brendan, Lucian, and Saban… Each man was willing to cut down anyone who got in their way. But Robbie…he’d been blazing heat and wicked smiles and…desire. Certainly, he was dangerous—to her sanity.

  “He is the son of Daid’s first wife, Ilone,” Saban announced.

  Robbie flinched at hearing the name but he said nothing.

  “She’s the one who ran away and got herself tied to some lord in England,” Brendan added, crossing his arms. “She abandoned the family.”

  Lucia clicked her tongue. “You read the letter, you know why she left. I would not blame her if I were you,” Lucia sneered. “Any woman you tricked into marrying you would more than likely do the same.”

  Brendan didn’t seem bothered by Lucia’s jab. He simply shrugged and continued. “She left and bore our Daid’s son. She stole his heir.”

  “And he had a son… Looks like Daid. Has his eyes. That dark and devilish air about him,” Rose said, practically sighing. “Tis a shame.”

  “Must you speak about me as if I were not standing right here?” Robbie broke in, his deep voice sharp with annoyance and wariness.

  “Ilone robbed me of the chance to know my cousin,” Rose said, ignoring Robbie’s snide remark. “Robbed him of his birthright,” Rose intoned, and Robbie flinched again.

  What must he be thinking? To learn such things from people who knew naught about being gentle… His mind must be reeling. The need to take Robbie by the hand and comfort him exploded within her, shaking her right to her core. Where had that come from? Robbie was a Rees, which meant he should mean nothing to her. She should just wash her hands of them and leave Dwyn Twll and never look back.

  But the thought of never seeing Robbie again sliced through her. She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, desperate to quiet her heart.

  Saban snorted. “What birthright? When Daid abandoned us, he left nothing but an empty sea cave and a busted sloop. I was the one who rebuilt—stronger than ever. And I will be damned if I let some interloper take from me what is mine.” The air thrummed with tension and danger, and Glynnis took a step back from the group. She was terrified—but not for her. She shivered, the chill from the storm blew through the opening in the rock wall behind them, licking along her wet limbs.

  “I am not a Rees,” Robbie growled. “And even if I were, I would want nothing to do with this,”—he raised his arms, which flexed enticingly—“whatever the hell this is. I may be a thief, but I rob carriages not ships.”

  “A thief is a thief is a thief, Cefnder,” Brendan drawled, grinning. “What does it matter if it be on land or sea? Besides, the sea is in your blood. You would have ended up here anyway.”

  Just then, a blast of cold air barreled down the tunnel and into the room, slamming into Glynnis who was still sodden. She gasped, her body shaking, her teeth clacking against each other.

  “Enough of this,” Lucia snapped. “We can discuss this later. Right now,” she walked toward Glynnis, her eyes softening, “we need to get Glynnis into something dry.” Lucia came to a stop in front of Glynnis, blocking her view of Robbie. “Have you eaten?” she asked.

  Had she eaten? Yes…the fish stew. But only a few bites. How did one eat with the demon of desire sitting naked and alluring in her bed?

  “I could eat,” Glynnis finally answered, suddenly desperate to leave the main cavern and hide away where she could cut the invisible binds pulling her toward Robbie. If she couldn’t see him…she couldn’t want him.

  What a liar and fool you are!

  Ignoring that shrill inner voice, Glynnis followed Lucia into one of the cottages furthest away from where she’d entered the cavern.

  It took everything within her to not turn and cast her eyes on Robbie.

  Chapter Eight

  Where had she gone? The tall, blonde woman—a lovely yet cold looking wench—had led Glynnis away toward one of the strange cottages on the other side of the blazing bonfire around which the men were now sitting. Staring at him. Casting furtive glances at one another.

  “Deny it all you want, Cefnder, you have the look of a Rees about you. You are one of us,” the thick-chested one with close-cropped black hair, a chest-length black beard, and dancing blue eyes said.

  Robbie gripped his knees tighter, his knuckles aching from the strain. He was seated on a crate across the fire from the bastard who’d broken into Glynnis’s cottage and led them—like children in the hands of a slaver—to this hole in the rocks. Saban Rees. The man he read about in that letter he’d intercepted. The man who’d sparked something within Robbie that had drawn him across the kingdoms on this damnable quest.

  And where are you now? You are amongst the very people your father had been hunting for before his accident crippled him. The descendants of the man your father raved about as his mind leeched from his head. What now? It couldn’t be true that he was truly a Rees…

  “If Ilone was your grandfather’s first wife, why did she speak of being kidnapped by Rees on her wedding night?” Robbie asked the Rees on his left, a striking blonde man who looked identical to the woman who’d lead Glynnis away.

  Where has she gone? Will she return?

  Saban chuckled then tossed another log onto the fire, the flames reaching up to lick at the mutton on the spit. The fat dropping into the blaze hissed and popped, and Robbie’s belly fluttered at the scent of it.

&
nbsp; “Because that’s what happened,” Saban replied.

  Robbie frowned, confused.

  “Let me explain,” the glorious and strangely intimidating woman to his right said. Her hair the same color of the fire before him, she almost seemed to glow. “It is one of my favorite tales.”

  The men snickered.

  “Any tale that involves stealing is your favorite,” Lucian drawled.

  She shrugged. “So what? I am a romantic.”

  The men snickered again.

  “What tale?” Robbie asked, dispelling the air of levity.

  The woman—the tall blonde had called her, Rose—leaned forward.

  “Ilone was the daughter of a chief, betrothed to marry a fat, bald merchant as a way to ease trade relations along the coast. But, on the day she was meant to wed, Daid spotted her walking along the beach, cursing into the breakers—she was said to have spirit.” She grinned, her white teeth flashing in the firelight. “He wanted her, so he took her.”

  “He stole her,” Robbie corrected.

  Saban shook his head. “Nay. It is only stealing if the person does not want to go. Daid gave her a choice, she chose freedom over having a bastard like Gryffudd as her master.”

  “They married nary a week later.” Lucian sat forward, finally adding to the conversation.

  The truth was beginning to sink into him, soaking into his bones, wrapping itself around his soul.

  “How did she end up in England with Bowlin?” Robbie asked, his throat dry.

  Silence followed his question, wariness quickly latching onto his neck. The only noises that dared to breach the heavy quiet were the sounds of the crashing waves outside, the pop-hiss of the fat in the fire, and the distant sound of thunder, booming across the face of the deep.