The Ravishing Rees (Pirates of Britannia Book 10)

by Rosamund Winchester

  Finally, Saban answered, “Best let Daid be the one to tell you that.”

  Daid? He was alive then?

  “Back in the cottage, you spoke of him as if he were dead.”

  Saban rose from his seat, staring eyes as green and hard as emeralds. “He might as well be,” he murmured, his lips flattening before he turned and walked away from the fire, into the shadows.

  Robbie sighed, letting the muscles in his shoulders and back loosen from the tension in which he held them. It would be a long night if he couldn’t find some relief from the pain of the bruises along his sides.

  The sound of crunching rocks made him turn his head to look—and his breath caught, every blood vessel in his body pouring heat into his blood stream.

  Glynnis approached…or at least he thought it was Glynnis. She had the same sable hair, the same bright, stunning violet eyes, the same pouty lower lip, the same curvy hips and narrow waist…but that’s where the similarities stopped. The woman approaching the fire wasn’t flat chested as he’d first assumed, she was blessed with ripe, heavy-looking mounds of creamy flesh that the deep red bodice did little to contain.

  My God…where did she hide those glorious breasts!

  Before Robbie could gather his tongue back into his mouth, Brendan jumped to his feet, a slack jawed smile on his face. “Glynnis,” he blurted, “now you are just a lovely as I remember.”

  Robbie watched her flush, the pink dropping down to caress the flesh he himself wanted to caress. The tightening in his groin, the hardening of his manhood drained the blood from his chest—that had to be the reason his heart had skipped like that.

  “I can see why our William was so taken with you,” Brendan continued, taking a step closer to Glynnis who halted as if turned to stone. Her face hardened, her lips thinning, her violet eyes darkening to indigo.

  “Do not speak to me of that walking whore pipe,” she said, her voice taut.

  “Glynnis!” the blonde female blurted from behind her. “Where did you hear such a thing?”

  Glynnis arched a sharp brow then crossed her arms… Robbie couldn’t tear his gaze from where her arms pushed her lush tits even higher over her bodice. He swallowed. Hard.

  “I learned much…when I was a Rees,” she answered.

  “You still are,” Rose said, coming to stand on Glynnis’s right. She slapped Glynnis on the shoulder, none too gently, and grinned. “You married one of us, that makes you one of us.”

  That didn’t seem to please Glynnis, whose expression hardened further…until her gaze landed on him. Then, the darkness of her eyes changed from anger to…desire.

  Oh, aye, you will be mine, lovely Glynnis. It is just a matter of time…

  Glynnis could feel Robbie’s gaze on her. It was burning a hole through her, to the heart of her, searing away her clothing to reveal her nakedness...her naked want of him.

  Damn! If she didn’t leave soon, she’d find herself in bed with another hell-born Rees.

  Over my dead, bloated, crab-eaten body!

  Desperate to turn the focus from her and the scandalously improper gown she was wearing, she uncrossed her arms and said, “Where are the rest of you. I had heard you had two sloops. Surely there are more than just the five of you to crew them.”

  When William was alive, the Rees—the head of the Welsh faction of pirates and smugglers—had more than four hundred men to command, and six ships—three sloops, two galleys, and five boats for slipping in and out of the sea cave without being noticed. But that was back when his father, Ioan, the brenin—a snide parody of the word for “king”—was still giving the orders. It wasn’t until a few months after William’s death that Ioan let everything fall to pieces; the men left for more lucrative opportunities, the ships were sold off to pay their debts, and the population of the sea cave dwindled to all she could see here.

  But…since Saban had taken over, she’d assumed the Ganwyd o’r Mor were, once again, a power in the Irish Sea.

  “Lucian and I have a crew of fifty on the Seren Mor, and Brendan has seventy on the Torriwr,” Lucia answered as she sliced a bit of meat off the mutton over the fire. She plopped the hunk of meat and fat onto a gold platter and handed it to Glynnis. She took it and stared down at the food. It looked and smelled delicious…but how was she supposed to eat with Robbie’s gaze upon her, boiling her blood and making every inch of her crave him?

  Have you been so starved of a man’s attentions that you would slaver over a man you’ve only just met? A man you should hate as much as the others?

  But did she really hate them? Even now, standing in the midst of them, their familiar faces shining with humor and welcome, she couldn’t dredge up the rancor she had expected to feel. Rose and Lucia had been her closest friends once… They can be again…

  Why was she thinking about this? With a huff, she bit into the meat and chewed, not tasting a thing. Lucia handed Robbie a matching platter, and he dug in as if famished.

  Soon, they were all eating in silence, the storm outside beginning to wane, and the fire before them flickering into orange and yellow embers.

  Brendan dropped his platter into the sand then scrubbed at it lazily before standing and stretching. He yawned, and Lucian followed suit. “The men will have returned to the ship by dawn. I had better get some rest. As should you, Lucian…Lucia. The Seren Mor has much to do over the next three days.” It was cryptic. It was ominous. It was none of her business.

  His words seemed to trigger something within the twins because they glanced at one another then shot to their feet, giving Glynnis and Robbie surreptitious looks as they mumbled and headed toward their separate cottages.

  Sometime during the awkward, silent meal, Rose had departed for wherever it was Rose went. She was the odd one out. She neither went on the raids for goods nor lent aid to the smuggling of the goods. No one really knew what she did for the family… Lucia had once said that Rose had a place of her own, somewhere in the valley, that no one had ever seen. What she did there…Glynnis didn’t dare to guess.

  Before she knew it, she and Robbie were alone. And he was staring at her from across the fire, his face set in an expression Glynnis couldn’t interpret.

  No need to interpret it. Leave him be. In the morning you can leave him to his own and be done with him. She could go home and never have to think of him again. But you will… You will think of him in your bed, stretched out, naked. His taut, muscular body bare for you, your hands aching to touch him, to beg him to make himself at home between your thighs.

  Home… Damn! She’d forgotten to have Saban send someone to repair her door! That blackguard! Now she’d have to figure out how to do for herself…which she’d become accustomed to over the years.

  Steeling herself, she rose to her feet from where she sat on an ornate, plush footstool, no doubt stolen from some captain’s cabin.

  “I bid you goodnight,” she said, giving Robbie a nod but refusing to look in his direction even one more time. She picked up her skirts and turned to head back to the cottage Lucia had taken her to before. She’d called it the guest quarters, as if the whole of the sea cave were a proper manor house.

  A strong hand grabbed hold of her forearm and she gasped, turning her head to glare down at Robbie’s hand on her bare flesh. When the hand didn’t disappear, she dared a glance up into Robbie’s face.

  It was a terrible, awful mistake. She couldn’t mistake the fire burning there, in his gaze. His grip tightened and she swallowed.

  “What are you doing?” she blurted, her heart racing. The hand on her arm loosened but a fraction, then he slid his thumb over her sensitized skin. Prickles of awareness danced over her, and she bit back a gasp. “Unhand me.”

  “I think not,” he replied, his lips quirking. “I have need of you.”

  Blinking up at him, she drawled. “For what? Do you need help finding a shirt?” She arched a brow and let her gaze slip to his naked chest. It was another terrible, awful mistake. His chest glistened with dried
salt, and the smattering of dark hair over the shelf of his chest made her want to reach out and feel the coarseness with her fingertips.

  He chuckled, pulling her attention from his much too compelling chest.

  “Nay, I do not need a shirt. It would only bother me.”

  She waited for him to explain while staring at the safety of his nose. It was a straight nose, high, narrow…just as damnably perfect as the rest of him.

  “It would brush against my bruises…” he finally remarked, and she let out the breath she’d be holding.

  “I see. Then what do you need me for?” Even as the words left her lips, she could see the light in his eyes drown in the darkness that rose up to cover it. A darkness that was alluring in its depth…hot in its intensity.

  He leaned forward, bending until he was mere inches from her face. His warm breath glided over her cheeks and down her neck, and she shuddered.

  “I ache,” he said simply.

  Finding her voice, she scoffed, “I am no healer. What am I to do about an ache? Lucia is the healer…”

  His smile lifted one corner of his lip, revealing his teeth to the flickering flames beside them. So predatory. So hungry…

  He came closer, until she could see the scattering of silver stars in his eyes. His voice was low, bottomless. “I ache for you, Glynnis.”

  Chapter Nine

  She was exquisite. Truly glorious. Breathtaking. How was it that Ravishing Robbie could have been so easily ravished by this woman? And he hadn’t even kissed her yet…

  I will remedy that shortly… And Lord but he’d never ached for a single kiss as much as he did for this one.

  He gazed down into the fathomless depths of her violet eyes, which were swirling with ribbons of desire and uncertainty and…want. Those same eyes flicked down to his mouth, and he knew she wanted his kiss as much as he wanted to kiss her.

  But she surprised him. Glynnis turned from him and quickly made her way to a cottage, set apart from the others in the vast sea cave. He followed her, entering the building just after her. He closed the door behind him, effectively sealing off her escape.

  She was his…

  Spinning to face him, she balled her hands into fists and advanced on him, stopping just shy of barreling over him. “You speak so plainly, Robbie. I find I cannot think when you do so,” her voice was a bare whisper, but each word blew air over the fire in his gut.

  He reached out, placed his hands on her hips, and she shuddered. Empowered by her reaction, he pulled her into him, until the hardness of his erection pressed against the softness of her belly. It was his turn to shudder. This…was right.

  Glynnis pressed her hand against his chest, and leaned back, her gaze roving over his face. What did she see there? Could she see the raw and unfiltered yearning for her? As Ravishing Robbie, he’d become an expert at hiding his true feelings and intentions behind a mask of indifference or feigned interest. As one bawd or barmaid blurred into the next, he’d learned to take the pleasure and leave the emotion outside. It was easier to forget the fact that he was nothing more than a thieving debaucher of women, known throughout Leeds and Liverpool as a highwayman who stole more than gold—he also stole virtue and kisses.

  This woman, though, he would never forget the emotions on her face, the sound of his name on her lips, the hitch in her breath when he touched her…

  Bending low, he brushed his lips over hers before finally responding. “I find that I can only speak so plainly with you, dear Glynnis.” He remembered standing, naked as the day he was born, before her in her little cottage. He could easily recall the way her eyes widened and her chest rose and fell with excited breaths. She’d liked what she saw, though she hadn’t said as much. Even then, he’d wanted that reaction from her, he’d wanted to see the appreciation and open desire in her eyes. “I do not know how it happened, but…the moment I awoke in your little cottage, I knew something had changed.”

  “I would say so—you had just survived a shipwreck,” she huffed, trying to pull away. He held her fast, raising one hand to take hold of her chin.

  “Aye, but it was not the shipwreck that beat against my mind…it was you, standing over me, thundering and storming and looking magnificent.”

  She sucked in a breath and arched a brow in confusion. “But why?”

  He smirked. “Why what?”

  “Why me? Why say these things to me? I am just a lonely widow; whose own husband saw nothing in her that was enticing enough to convince him to stay.”

  Robbie gripped her chin tighter, hissing. “If he were alive, I would cut him from bollocks to brain for even touching another woman while you were waiting for him.” She gasped, her eyes widening with something like admiration shining through. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met…and though I have only known you these mere days… I cannot help but think…I am supposed to do this…”

  He exhaled and pressed his lips to hers.

  Glynnis stiffened at first contact but then quickly melted against him. He took that as a good sign, pulling her closer until her bountiful breasts were crushed against him. He could feel the points of her nipples through her bodice, and it made every sense clamor in his skull. He deepened the kiss, swiping his tongue over her silken lips, silently begging her to give him access to her heaven.

  She moaned, opening for him, and he thrust in, his tongue meeting hers. Sparks ignited the cold coal around his heart, combusting, sending a blaze of scorching pleasure through his blood. Something within him burst open—not like an agonizing rending or shattering. It was as if a part of him had finally broken free. And the sensation was glorious, heady…breathtaking.

  Discordant shouts from outside the cottage made Robbie halt, his breath hitching, his heart pounding. He pulled away, groaning with ache in his chest and his manhood, and stared down at Glynnis, who peered up at him, her eyes wide, her lips kiss swollen. More than anything, he wanted to continue kissing the enchantress before him but…he knew the sounds of alarm in another man’s voice.

  “What is that?” she asked, breathless.

  Dragging his gaze from her flushed face, he answered, “I do not know. Let us find out.” Cautiously, lest an enemy come barreling toward them, he opened the cottage door and peered out.

  Saban was dragging someone beside him. Saban was drenched, his clothing bloody, his face pale.

  From behind him, peering over his shoulder, Glynnis gasped.

  “Saban! What happened?” She rushed from the cottage, unmindful of her passion-rumpled appearance.

  Saban wheezed, bending to lay his burden on the rocky floor.

  “Ambush…” he rasped, just before he collapsed beside the body of another man, the one he’d dragged into the cavern. “It was….an ambush…”

  Glynnis knelt beside him, pressing her hand to his face. Her gaze flicked from one part of him to another. Robbie bit back the growl of jealousy. “Where are you injured?” Glynnis asked, distracting him and unwittingly saving Saban from being gutted.

  Saban wheezed again, then coughed. “Not…my blood.”

  Robbie knelt beside the other man. He was pale, too, but Robbie didn’t recognize him.

  Glynnis moved to examine the other man. “His wounds…he was shot with a crossbow?”

  “Aye,” Saban rasped, trying to roll over onto his back. “A long-range shot…probably from a tree.”

  “There is blood everywhere…” Glynnis had lost some of her own color, her eyes wide. She’d faced bloated corpses to drag him from the shipwreck, she’d seen to his bruises, and had faced down a sword-wielding Saban—all without flinching. She was stronger than she knew…but this… Robbie wanted to take the fear from her eyes, to kiss the gasps from her lips, to comfort her.

  He knelt beside her. “I will help them, you go find one of the others.”

  She looked at him, gratefulness written into the beauty of her face. “I will not be long,” she murmured before rising and disappearing around the large boulder separatin
g the main chamber from the cottages.

  “Come on, then,” Robbie intoned, bending to grasp Saban by his armpits. “Let’s get you up… Best you be awake to tell them what happened once they get here.”

  It was a short time later, once Saban was cleaned up and the nearly dead man had been secured in a bed where he could rest while Lucia—healer to pirates and smugglers—looked after him. The crossbow bolt hit him in the shoulder; he’d lost a lot of blood but it wasn’t a vital wound.

  “He should survive, though I cannot say the same for Rickets and Bends—those two were picked off like snipe in a meadow. God damn Spaniards!” Saban bellowed, turning to pace back in the direction from which he’d first paced, only to turn and do the same thing once again. He was carving a line into the gravelly floor of the sea cave, but no one could blame him.

  Robbie sat next to Glynnis, who was staring at Saban who wasn’t looking at anyone, only pacing and muttering to himself. He’d only known his supposed cousin for less than a day, but he could tell that this was out of character for him—if the concerned looks on Brendan and Lucian’s faces were any indication.

  “How do you know it was Los Demonios de Mar?” Rose asked, slinking in from the shadows, having come from wherever it was she went to. She sat down on the ground, crossed her legs, and planted her elbows on her knees, giving the appearance of a child gazing up at her parent, enraptured. She was a study in the unusual and the intriguing. Beautiful yet happy to hide her beauty behind men’s loose-fitting clothing and smudges of dirt. She was intelligent yet she hid her cleverness behind petulant and off-hand remarks. “It could have just been an ambush—there have been more than a handful of those over the last five years.”

  Saban stopped pacing and glared at Rose who didn’t seem affected by it.