The Red Drifter of the Sea: A Steamy Opposites Attract Pirate Romance (Pirates of the Isles Book 3)

by Celeste Barclay

  Using her hands to guide her, Moira pictured the shore she’d seen just an hour earlier. She knew she’d found the natural jetty that formed the north wall of the cove where they had moored. She slid along the rocks to move away from the fight. She banged against the sharp wall of boulders, cutting her hands, shoulders, and arms. When her knees slammed into a submerged rock, she wanted to howl from the pain, but she pushed on. Kicking hard and caught by another wave, she sailed past the end of the jetty and into open water. She’d been asleep when they dropped anchor, so she had no idea what lay ahead now that she was free of the rocks. Rolling onto her back, Moira prayed the current would push her toward the coast and not out to sea.

  Catching her breath, Moira fought the nausea that roiled through her gut, both from the painful swim and the fear that consumed her. She wasn’t worried about herself, but Kyle’s fate petrified her. She was confident that he could outfight Dermot or any of the O’Malleys, but there was no guarantee. She couldn’t be certain that no man attacked him from behind, cutting him down. Tightness in her chest and throat threatened to strangle her.

  Think, Moira. If you panic, you’ll drown. If you ever want to see Kyle again, you’ll get yourself to land and stay alive.

  Rolling back onto her belly, Moira swam toward the shore she now saw. Outside of the natural cove, the air didn’t hang heavy with pregnant clouds. She was still a fair distance from land, but at least she could make it out. Kicking and circling her arms, Moira thought about how grateful she was to wear leggings and a leine. She would be happy if she never saw another gown in her life. She would have been resting on the sea bottom by now if she’d had the heavy layers of skirts to weigh her down.

  Caught in her thoughts, Moira was unprepared for a wave that pushed her sideways. She fumbled, trying to protect herself from any rocks. Instead, she passed through an opening, the sound of waves echoing against the cave walls. The turmoil of the sea ceased, and suddenly Moira found herself in a placid tidal pool. In the pitch black of the cave, Moira moved slowly, unable to predict what she might find. Using only her legs to move her forward, she held her hands out before her, protecting her battered face and chest. She let the weak tide push her along as she continued to flutter her legs.

  Moira didn’t know how far she swam, but her hands grazed rocks and she realized she’d found a ledge. The rocks were dry, which made her brow furrow and caused her to wince. She knew she must be bleeding from more than one place. She wondered how no fish had chased her to make her its meal. But the dry rocks signaled the tide didn’t rise above the ledge. She struggled and kicked as she pulled herself from the water, the weight of her boots threatening to suck her back down. Dragging herself onto the dry land, she rolled onto her back as she gasped.

  There was no light in the cave, and she could no longer see the entrance. She prayed her new haven wasn’t home to anything–or anyone–who might attack. Closing her eyes, she focused on slowing her breathing. Once she was calm, she strained to hear anything that might signal danger. It was eerily calm. The water lapped against the walls rather than slapped. She couldn’t hear the waves outside or the battle upon the two ships.

  I will stay here until there is enough light to see the entrance again. I pray I’m right that the tide doesn’t rise higher. Please let it be high tide now. I’ll wait. Kyle won’t know to search for me here, and hopefully the O’Malleys assume I’m dead when I don’t wash up on the beach. I’ll close my eyes and rest.

  Eighteen

  Moira came awake to the sound of something hitting the water. It was still dark in the cave, so she remained still.

  “I don’t think she made it in here, Dermot,” a man’s voice rang against the walls. A screech answered by several more filled the air. Moira realized there were bats hanging above her.

  “She wasn’t on the beach. The current would have carried her this way,” Dermot O’Malley barked.

  “Aye. But it could have just as easily pulled her under or back out to sea,” a third man said.

  “Row the bluidy boat,” Dermot grumbled.

  Moira felt along the wall and floor, trying to see if the ledge went further back. Her heart sank when she felt the wall beside her wrap around behind her head. If they rowed all the way to the end of the cave, they would find her. She recalled that when she tried to climb out, part of her struggle came from having nothing to brace her feet against. Where she lay was a ledge suspended in the water. Moving as slowly as she could, she slipped her feet into the water. Inch by inch, she eased her way back in as the voices drew closer. She sank down until the water was at her nose just as an oar cracked against the wall.

  “Mind yourself,” Dermot growled.

  “We’ve come to the end,” the first man announced.

  “I know, you sod. Moira, do not make me wait any longer. I’m certain you are here. I will flay the skin from your arse.” Moira heard a splash and a grunt, then a footstep. She assumed Dermot or one of the other men had stepped onto the ledge. She inhaled a deep breath and lowered herself until the water lapped against her lower lashes. When the footfall was near her right ear, she slipped under the water and used her hands to push herself backwards under the ledge. She remained still, conserving her energy and her air. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears. Moira blinked rapidly as it grew harder to hold her breath, her mind and her lungs urging her to surface. But as strong as those demands were, her will to remain alive and return to Kyle was stronger. The urge to gulp threatened to overpower her, but she pushed herself to wait. She felt the shift in the water and knew it was the boat moving away from her.

  Once more only using her hands, she emerged from under the ledge but waited a heartbeat before she inched her head out of the water. When her nose was clear, she drew in air that made her lungs burn. But she prepared to duck down once more if she had to. The sound of oars echoed in the cavernous chamber as it moved away from her.

  “Stupid bitch must be dead,” the third man said. The only response was a grunt. Moira didn’t care who it came from, as long as it came from a distance. She treaded water until everything went silent. Not trusting the men, she remained in the water in case they laid a trap for her. She wouldn’t move until she was certain they’d given up their search. When she was confident that only she and the bats remained, she struggled to pull herself back onto the ledge. Freezing and exhausted, she lay on her side, curled into a tight ball. She knew she should stay awake, not succumb to the cold, but the fight was useless. She gave in as her eyes drifted closed.

  “Where is she?” Kyle demanded as he paced the deck. He’d watched Dermot jump into a dinghy and row away from the cove. As though God or Mother Nature was acting out of spite, the fog cleared, and the sun appeared just as the battle ended. The O’Malley boats, all low-profile fustes, rowed away from the Lady Charity and the Lady Grace. Kyle breathed a sigh of relief as the sky cleared, and he realized the O’Malleys weren’t sailing any of their French corvettes. Those ships carried four to eight guns each. He supposed Dermot hadn’t been willing to risk losing any and saw no benefit of shooting blind. The fustes disappeared to the south end of the cove, but Dermot had rowed to the north.

  “You’re alive, brother?” Keith called out as he boarded the Lady Charity. The Lady Grace had maneuvered to come alongside the Lady Charity during the fight. The two crews worked together and forced the O’Malleys to retreat.

  “Barely,” Kyle said distractedly. He went to stand by the rail when he caught sight of Dermot’s dinghy rounding the jetty. He strained to see, but there were still only the three heads that had moved away from the Lady Charity. He muttered, “Where is she?”

  “You lost her?” Keith asked in disbelief. Kyle glanced at his brother as Keith turned to look around the ship. His brother’s concern surprised Kyle. He was glad when Keith kept quiet, not wanting to hear anything but Moira’s voice. The twins watched as Dermot’s dinghy reappeared a few minutes later but remained out of reach.

  “She must be dead. None
of my men called out to say she’s on the beach,” Dermot bellowed. “And no bobbing head in the water. Your whore was worthless to begin with. Now she’s worth even less,” Dermot chuckled at his own jest. “I have her dowry, and Dónal is a fool. I don’t have to bed the little bitch, and I have the MacDonnell’s money. I’ll have his fleet soon enough. Send my regards to the MacNeil bastards.” Dermot nodded his head in an exaggerated act of deference. Kyle wanted to launch himself over the side and squeeze the life from the man’s body as he watched Dermot’s eyes bulge and his face turn blue.

  “Wait,” Keith muttered, his lips not moving. They watched as the dinghy inched past them until it met the last fuste. Kyle snorted as Dermot struggled up the robe ladder onto the ship. Once the dinghy was up, the O’Malleys rowed their last boat south.

  “I never should have made us stop here,” Kyle snapped as he looked at his brother. “This is my fault. You didn’t want to, and I didn’t listen. I shouldn’t have taken Moira ashore. A patrol must have spotted us.”

  “I don’t think so. At least not about the patrol. I think they’ve been watching us. Maybe they saw Moira on deck, or maybe as you went to the beach. But they knew who she was, and they knew she was aboard the Charity. They only attacked the Grace because they reached us first. I think they were confused and off-course in the fog. I heard Dermot’s complaints when they realized it was the Grace they tried to board. It forced them to divide their party. Neither did they expect us to pull alongside one another to keep them from attacking on both sides of either of us.”

  “That has always been our best strategy,” Kyle agreed, but he didn’t take his eyes off the coastline.

  “You wish to search for her,” Keith stated. The withering glare Kyle shot him before returning his attention to the beach was all the confirmation Keith needed. “O’Malley said his men didn’t find her on the beach, nor did they spot her in the water.”

  Keith left the obvious unsaid: there was a greater likelihood that Moira drowned than survived. But Kyle refused to give up hope. He moved to look over the other side of the ship, half expecting to find Moira clinging to the ship. When he spotted no one, he moved to the stern, then to the bow. But no one awaited rescue. Keith called to his men to look over the sides of their boat, but the twins and their crew recognized it was pointless. Moira would have called out if she’d been nearby.

  “Maybe she made it around the jetty and to the coast on the other side,” Kyle suggested. “Dermot might not have seen her if she was already on the shore. He said nothing about searching the beach there.”

  “Because there are no beaches, Kyle,” Keith reminded him. “It’s sheer cliff face. She’d more likely be battered among the rocks than hiding on a beach.”

  “Then I want her body recovered,” Kyle uttered. He looked toward the jetty and pictured what lay on the other side. An image of Moira’s lifeless body trapped between boulders floated before his eyes. “This is my fault.”

  “It’s Dermot O’Malley’s fault, him and her bastard of a brother,” Keith corrected. “Where exactly would you have put her ashore? The land might not belong to the O’Malleys, but they make use of it as if it were. Don’t you think an unattached, young woman would garner attention wherever she went? Then who would have protected her?”

  “A right lot of good my protection did her,” Kyle yelled. He slammed his fist on the gunwale before ordering a dinghy lowered. “You can come with me or you can stay, but I’m going to look for her.”

  “And you know I’m coming with you,” Keith retorted. The twins climbed down the rope ladder into the rowboat with Snake Eye, Tomas, and another one of Kyle’s crew members, Stephen. The last man was mammoth, with blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He resembled his Viking ancestors. He had the strength of ten men and a short temper. While Kyle didn’t favor him most of the time, Stephen was strong and surprisingly agile for his size. If they encountered anyone as they searched, Stephen would be an asset.

  The five men remained quiet as they rounded the jetty, the expanse of sea only widening. The distance from the end of the jetty to the cliffs was further than Kyle recalled. He remembered Moira saying she swam when she was younger, but he couldn’t imagine how she could have swum the stretch of water that lay between him and land. The water was frigid even when the air temperature was warm. He knew she had boots on since they’d found none on the deck. They would have felt like leaden blocks once they filled with water, and he feared they would have acted as an anchor pulling her below.

  When they neared the cliffs, Kyle called out to Moira over and over, but no one called back. They drew as close to land as they dared without being dashed upon the rocks. Nothing fluttered in the breeze or made a sound. Kyle felt the men looking at him as he strained to see in the distance anything that might signal that they’d found Moira. The men took turns rowing as they moved along the coastline until Kyle had to admit there was no chance Moira had swum as far north as they searched. During his turn at the oars, he propelled the rowboat through the water toward the jetty. He repeated her name several times, looking for any nook or cranny she might have found. But there was nothing, just the jagged rocks.

  “Where do we go now?” Keith asked quietly as they came alongside the Lady Grace.

  “We can’t remain here, and if we go any further south, we’ll encounter the O’Malleys again,” Kyle mused. “We sail north to Wicklow. We’re less than an afternoon’s sail since the wind is with us. We dock and go ashore. Get horses and ride back this way. If Dermot had her hidden in the dinghy, we couldn’t see. If she makes her way to the beach, then she’ll take the path I showed her this morning. Either way, if she’s alive, she’ll be nearby.”

  “If she’s alive, you’d better pray we find her before Dermot,” Keith stated.

  “Well I know it,” Kyle sighed as Keith climbed up to his ship before Kyle returned to his.

  Nineteen

  Moira’s head pounded as she came awake, once again finding herself in the cave. She was still safely on the ledge above the water level, but the quiet of earlier was gone. Waves crashed beyond the entrance to the cave, and she realized that she’d entered during low tide, but for whatever reason, the cave didn’t fill. She struggled past the blazing pain between her ears as she struggled to hear what woke her. She’d thought she heard a voice calling her name. But when no sound but the crashing surf reached her, she resigned herself to thinking she must have been dreaming.

  With the fog lifted, Moira made out light in the distance. The sunshine filtering through the archway at the other end of the cave illuminated the space enough for Moira to gain a clearer sense of where she was. She looked up and discovered hundreds of bats hanging above her heard. Her stomach clenched as she thought about how fortunate she’d been that none bit her. She squinted to see how far the ledge ran along the wall she laid beside. It would only keep her out of the water for a few feet. As she considered what she should do next, a gust of cool air and a gush of water poured in across from her. Several bats screeched and took flight, but rather than move toward the entrance where Moira swam in, they moved toward where the air and water just passed.

  Moira waited for another surge of air and water, but none came. She wondered if it was a previous one that woke her and not voices. Dreading it, she slipped back into the water and kicked across the narrow channel. With her hands outstretched once again, she propelled herself with her legs while her hands prepared to encounter more rocks. Rather than being pushed into the cave wall, Moira bobbed in the water as a crosscurrent pushed her away from the second entrance. Fighting against the tide, she found a narrow archway. She raised her hand over her head, able to touch the top of the entrance.

  If the tide is in right now, then I should wait for it to go out. Maybe then the opening will be wider. I might be able to pass through it to whatever opening is on the other side. Or I might get stuck and die in a watery grave. But I could do that if I try to leave the way I came in. At least this way must lead to t
he other side of the jetty, the side where there’s a beach I can swim to. A beach Kyle’s ship could see. A beach that has a path up the cliffs.

  But that’s the same cove where the O’Malleys attacked. They could still be there. I have no idea what came of that fight. What if Dermot defeated Kyle, and that’s why he was alive and searching for me? Or did he flee from Kyle before Kyle could run him through? I couldn’t see what lay beyond the jetty because of the fog. Maybe the better choice is not to go to the beach.

  Moira moved back to the ledge and hauled herself out of the water. She sat shivering, thinking it was almost warmer in the water than the damp air.

  I sit here until the tide changes. Then I swim to the entrance that I came through and see what lies beyond. If there’s no possibility of escape that way, then I give this narrow tunnel a try.

  Moira huddled against the cold as her teeth chattered. She feared she would die of hypothermia before she had the chance to swim free of the cave that was both her sanctuary and her cage. As the sunlight faded, Moira knew she had little choice but to at least look out to where she’d swum earlier. If she waited too long, she wouldn’t be able to see well enough to make a choice. Drawing in a fortifying breath, she walked along the ledge as far as she could go before she jumped back into the water. She decided it was more merciful than prolonging the agony by easing in. The swim was easier moving toward the open water since she knew there were no obstacles ahead of her. The current became rougher as she neared the archway, but the sun shone brighter as she neared the end of the narrow channel.

  Treading water just inside the cave, Moira took in the sweeping vista of open water and perilous cliffs. Her heart dropped to her stomach, and in turn, her stomach dropped to her feet. There was nowhere to go but open sea. The sheer cliffside offered no means to escape, and she dreaded trying to swim against the tide to move back around the jetty. She doubted she had the strength for that swim. She’d barely survived the first time. Turning back toward the far wall, Moira once more swam into the depths of the cave. Feeling the change of current, Moira reached out for the narrow tunnel. Raising her arm again, she found her fingers couldn’t touch the top of the archway. She knew she would have room to draw a breath when she needed it.