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

by Celeste Barclay

  “Caragh,” the strawberry blonde chuckled. “Welcome to Kisimul. I didn’t believe Rowan when he said he saw a woman aboard Kyle’s ship. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Hello, Lady Moira,” a deep voice came from behind her. She watched as Ruairí MacNeil approached with his cousin, Laird Rowan MacNeil, at his side. Ruairí grinned at Kyle. “MacLean.”

  “We need a priest,” Kyle announced, and Moira choked. His concern was immediate and obvious as he reached for her. Four faces stood slack-jawed.

  “He hasn’t even begun to whittle in front of you,” came Keith’s mocking tones. “I’m surprised her feet are touching the ground.”

  “You need a priest to marry you,” Senga surmised. Moira beamed as she nodded.

  “I need to speak to Cook,” Caragh said as she rattled off tasks on her fingers. “It’s been ages since we’ve had a feast.”

  “Lady—Caragh,” Moira caught herself before using Caragh’s official title. “There’s no need to go to the trouble.”

  “Yes, there is,” Caragh corrected. “Kyle sailed for years with Ruairí and helped protect Senga. Keith nearly died protecting me. If he hadn’t been with Rowan, I likely would have died from my injuries. We’re happy that they’re here, but we’re even more excited to celebrate with you.”

  Moira looked up at Kyle, who’d draped his arm around her shoulders. He smiled down at her, and she was about to stand on her toes to kiss his cheek when a waft of cooking meat filled her nose. She covered her mouth and dashed behind the stables.

  “Moira?” Kyle called as he ran after her. He held her hair as her morning meal revisited her in waves. She clutched Kyle’s hand as she trembled from the force of her heaves. When she was certain her stomach was back where it belonged, Kyle carried her to where the others stood. Ruairí, Rowan, and Senga stood with knowing expressions, while Keith looked playfully aggrieved. Caragh hurried back across the bailey. She opened her hand to show Moira what she brought.

  “The ginger should help ease your discomfort,” Caragh offered. When Moira’s cheeks went flame red and she struggled not to grin, five knowing faces met her eyes. Caragh and Senga shifted unconsciously, and their husbands’ arms went around them. Keith was left rolling his eyes. Moira graciously accepted the sliver of ginger and chewed on it, agreeing that it eased her churning stomach.

  “I’m excited that you’re having a bairn,” Caragh said the Scottish word with her heavy English accent. “Our children will be close in age. It’ll make visits more entertaining for us all.”

  “I would like that. Whether we continue sailing or make our home somewhere on land, I’m happy to know we have friends to visit.”

  “Family,” Rowan and Ruairí corrected.

  “Come,” Senga said. “Let’s get you settled. I’ll have a bath sent up while Ruairí tracks down the priest.”

  “And I’ll settle the arrangements for the feast,” Caragh confirmed.

  “And I shall keep Keith out of the way,” Rowan grumbled, but he couldn’t contain his grin as he slapped his friend on the back. “You’ve been drinking that pish they call Irish whiskey. Come to my solar, and I’ll give some good Scottish whisky that’ll put hair on that bony chest of yours.” Everyone chuckled since Keith and Kyle rivaled Rowan and Ruairí in size and strength.

  Moira rested against Kyle as he carried her to a chamber that exceeded any at Dunluce. The couple remained in their chamber until just before sunset, when the MacNeils gathered to watch the Red Drifter marry a woman with the tenacity of the ancient Irish Queen Nessa. Moira was certain she’d never had a more joyous day than the one that ended with her as Kyle’s bride. Kyle agreed all through the night as he made sure no one doubted they’d consummated their marriage.

  Nearly a month after encountering Aidan and Lizzie, the Lady Charity and the Lady Grace sailed up to the docks at Dunluce. Moira worried about not returning sooner to make sure Aidan hadn’t taken Sean, but those around her laughed and shook their heads. Kyle regaled the four MacNeils with the story of how Moira made Aidan O’Flaherty, one of the most feared pirates in Ireland, give in to her demands.

  Kyle shook his head and wiped a tear from his eye as he recounted, “The bluidy eejit made the mistake of crossing Moira yet again. I swear his knees knocked louder when she threatened to go after him. She named the four most dreaded pirates in all the English Isles, and he still feared her more. The Red Drifter, Scarlet Blade, Dark Heart, and Blond Devil could have all converged on his ship, and he would have sooner cried for his mother if Moira spat in his direction.”

  “He’d do well to count his blessings if it were you four he met up with,” Senga said. She had no love lost for Aidan. He’d caused the worst argument she’d ever had with Ruairí. “Moira, Caragh, and I wouldn’t have been so gentle as the lot of you.”

  Moira and Caragh had sat nodding their heads. The four pirates looked at the women in disbelief before all four conceded that the women were right.

  Now, a week after that conversation, Moira climbed down the rope ladder and turned to face her former home. It was a sight she’d prayed countless times never to see again, but she and Kyle were now making their way to the keep, leaving behind the Lady Charity. Moira had asked Kyle several times to ensure the Lady Charity could sail at a moment’s notice in case she wished to flee with Sean.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Kyle assured her as he flexed his fingers. Moira hadn’t realized her nails bit into the back of his hand. She eased her grip and offered a half-hearted smile.

  “I really don’t want to be here,” Moira murmured. “If it weren’t for Sean.” As though summoned by her thoughts, a mop of ebony curls raced toward her.

  “Aunty Moira!” Sean ran along the path as fast as his young legs could carry him. His excitement was what Moira needed for her homecoming. She released Kyle’s hand and lifted her skirts as she flew toward her nephew. She lifted him into her arms and swung him side to side as they embraced. She nearly smothered him in kisses. Remorse flooded her as she thought about how she’d walked away from Sean, how she’d been willing to never see him again. She realized in the depths of her heart, she wouldn’t have been able to stay away for good.

  “I’m so happy to see you,” Moira mumbled against his baby-soft cheeks.

  “You brought the Red Drifter!” Sean exclaimed and squirmed away from Moira. She placed him back on the ground, and Sean took off toward Kyle. A pinch in her heart made her catch her breath as Sean so readily left her side after such a short greeting. But it reassured her that he’d been resilient during her absence. She watched Kyle bend over to be eye level with Sean, nodding his head to Sean’s enthusiastic chatter. The ache in her chest released its hold as she had a glimpse into the future, seeing Kyle as a father to their unborn child. Kyle glanced up at Moira and grinned, waving her back to his side.

  “Can you not give your aunty a better welcome than that?” Kyle asked Sean. “She’s been so worried about you. I think she’s been lonely without you.”

  Moira realized there was truth in Kyle’s statement. She hadn’t thought of Sean as often as she’d imagined when she first left Dunluce, but she had still thought of him frequently, especially as various things triggered memories.

  Sean bounced on his toes as he smiled up at Moira, then launched himself against her for another hug. “I’m sorry, Aunty Moira. I just couldn’t believe the Red Drifter is here! But I’m so happy to see you again. I’ve missed you so much. Will you sleep in my chamber tonight?”

  Moira glanced at Kyle, who shrugged and nodded. She glanced back down at Sean’s eager face. She and Kyle had discussed what they would do if Sean still suffered night terrors. Neither wanted to sleep apart, and Kyle was concerned for what would happen as her pregnancy advanced. They’d come to a resolution about two things.

  “Sean, when we’re with our family, it’s not the Red Drifter. It’s Uncle Kyle. We’re married now. And I won’t be sleeping in your chamber.” When Sean’s face fell, she lifted him aga
in and peppered his face with kisses while she tickled him. “You’ll sleep in our chamber tonight. We can move the trundle where I slept in into my old chamber, where Kyle and I will stay.”

  “I thought you were moving into Uncle Dónal’s chamber,” Sean said with bewilderment. Moira inhaled and sighed, knowing this was a confusing time for Sean. Even more so than any other in his brief life.

  “That hasn’t been decided yet. I would like to talk to you about several things before I make any choices,” Moira hedged. “Shall we go inside?” Moira made to lower Sean to the ground, but he clung to her neck. She was loathe to let him go, but she knew she couldn’t manage to carry him up the steep path without tripping over her skirts.

  “Do you know what a barrel man does?” Kyle intervened. When Sean shook his head, he reached out his arms to the boy. Without hesitation, Sean leaned toward Kyle, who swung him onto his shoulders. “A barrel man is actually a lad who sits in the crow’s nest and has the most important job. He’s the captain’s scout. He can see all the way to the ends of the earth. He must warn the captain of any danger, whether it’s another ship or the weather.”

  “Am I your barrel man right now, Uncle Kyle?” Sean asked with all the exuberance of a normal six-year-old boy. The sight of Moira’s grin filled Kyle with such happiness that he tugged her hand and drew her back to his side. He leaned down and kissed her.

  “You do that too? Just like Mama and Aidan.”

  Moira sighed, knowing that was one more topic to add to the list of things she and Kyle needed to discuss with Sean. It wasn’t anything like Lizzie and Aidan, and she wanted to be sure he understood that he was, and always would be, a priority in their lives.

  “Lady Moira,” Beagan greeted. He stood at the top of the path as they approached. Just as they were the fateful night that led Moira to Kyle, the clan councilmen stood behind Beagan. She looked at each man in turn, her eyes narrowing. The two older brothers, Curran and Cormac, looked like they’d aged decades in the time she’d been away. She hadn’t noticed it to such a degree in Wicklow. The men were close to the age her father would have been, but they appeared weathered and worn down. Devlin, Finnian, and Hogan glared at Kyle, holding him responsible for Grady’s death. Devlin and Finnian were Cormac’s sons, and cousins to Hogan and Grady. Kyle bore as apologetic an expression as Moira had ever seen. Loman stood to the side, leaving a space for where his cousin Malone would have once stood.

  Moira observed the unease with which the men watched her. It tempted her to yell “boo” to see if they jumped. She’d held no disregard for them when Kyle attacked the ship they hadn’t adequately manned. But their role in her capture in Wicklow wasn’t so easily forgiven. She nodded her head once to the men and continued to walk toward the keep, forcing the men to step apart. Kyle followed one step behind her, already offering deference in case she should accept the position as chieftain. They’d agreed that if they made their lives at Dunluce, their arrangement on land would be the same as at sea. On the Lady Charity, Kyle’s word was law, with differences of opinion only aired in their cabin. At Dunluce, Moira’s word would be law, with their chamber and her solar as the safe places to speak freely.

  Moira brushed her fingers against Kyle’s hand until their fingers entwined as they stepped into the bailey. Regardless of what the future held, they entered Dunluce as partners. Moira felt Kyle’s strength in his steady presence beside her. Members of her clan watched in stunned silence as Moira and Kyle walked toward the keep holding hands, with Sean bouncing on Kyle’s shoulders. They looked like a happy family.

  “Lady Moira,” Beagan tried again after they entered the Great Hall, and Moira took a seat beside Kyle on the dais. Sean disappeared to play with his friends. They avoided the chieftain and lady’s chairs, settling for the one Moira once occupied and the seat beside it.

  “Hello, Beagan.” Moira wouldn’t say more until she could sense their reception to her arrival.

  “Welcome home, Lady Moira,” Loman smiled. She was close in age to the man, and they’d been friendly since they were children. But she trusted none of the men seated around her.

  “Lady Moira,” Curran began, but his eyes darted to Kyle, and a hardness entered them. Moira’s lips thinned, and she turned a piercing glare at Curran.

  “Before the servants even bring food out and they prepare a chamber for my husband and me,” Moira stressed the last four words, “you will all accept and acknowledge that Kyle and I are married. If you are unwilling to accept him into our clan, then we leave now.” Moira rose, and Kyle followed. He remained quiet, but his towering frame next to Moira’s petite one only served to make him look fiercer and more protective.

  “You wish for us to accept such a man into Clan MacDonell,” Curran spat. “Never.”

  “Very well. Sean need not pack anything. We can provide for him. We shall be on our way,” Moira said as Kyle pulled back her chair further for her to step around.

  “Lady Moira, wait,” Hogan spoke up. “My father and I bear ill will toward your husband. I won’t lie and say that we don’t. But that doesn’t mean how we feel about my brother’s death should decide the future of our clan.”

  Moira looked unmoved.

  “Lady Moira,” Hogan continued. “We were all in Wicklow. We knew you and the Re— knew you were married. We asked Aidan to fetch you after we returned, knowing your husband would come with you.”

  Moira looked around the table and nodded, but she didn’t take her seat. She stood and waited until she was asked to remain. Understanding her negotiating tactic, expecting the council to say aloud their desire for her to stay, Beagan spoke up.

  “Lady Moira, please stay. At least until after you’ve eaten and heard us out,” Beagan reasoned. Moira nodded and took her seat once again. When she said nothing, Beagan frowned but continued on. “We assume Aidan explained what happened.”

  “He said he demanded the alliance with the O’Malleys, and he killed Dónal because it didn’t work out.” Moira watched the men as they grimaced and frowned.

  “Aidan planned to sell a supply of weapons to the O’Malleys that he was supposed to sell to us. He demanded a far higher price from the O’Malleys, knowing they had the means to pay,” Beagan explained. “Originally Dónal planned take up arms against the O’Malleys once you were married in order to gain sailing rights along the coast. Aidan assured Dónal that the O’Malleys could be fooled by marrying you to their chieftain. Dónal was certain defeating the O’Malleys with the weapons we got from Aidan would intimidate other privateers from attacking our ships. What he refused to believe, and what Lizzie never learned from him, was that Aidan had already alerted the O’Malleys to Dónal’s plan. That’s how he negotiated the higher price.”

  “Aidan convinced the O’Malleys that he was doing them a favor by informing them of Dónal’s—really his own—plan and selling them the weapons instead,” Cormac picked up the story. “In exchange for the O’Malleys staying away from Ballycastle and Rathlin Island, Aidan could continue to use our clan as a place to store his stolen and smuggled goods. But when the O’Malleys never received your dowry, Aidan’s deal fell through.”

  “We gave that bastard a roof over his head, a woman under him in bed, and plenty of food,” Beagan grumbled. “He controls all the northern waters on both sides of Ireland. And he thought he could rid his conscience of the guilt he felt about you by no longer seeing you here.”

  “Aidan has no conscience,” Moira said. “I was an inconvenient reminder of a failed attempt to manipulate Dónal, a waste of his time and efforts. Do not confuse the two.”

  “Aye, well, when Dónal learned that Dermot was dead and you were with the—your husband,” Beagan stumbled. “He made the error of trying to coerce Aidan into attacking your husband and the—your brother-by-marriage. Dónal was too heavy handed and threatened to cease our arrangement with Aidan, which has protected our waters from other privateers. It pushed Aidan around the bend because his deal with the O’Malleys had alr
eady fallen through. Aidan remedied the trouble with Dónal the same way the Dark Heart handled Padraig MacAlister. He ran him through without warning.”

  “And now you need someone to fill the position of chieftain to make the council look legitimate. Ironically, the only choice was an illegitimate child. You wish for me to return, mind the castle, keep quiet as I used to, and let you go on about your business as you wish,” Moira surmised. “I’m not interested in such an arrangement.”

  “Do you wish your husband to become chieftain?” Finnian asked, aghast.

  “Oh, no,” Kyle spoke up for the first time. “I have no interest in taking command of this clan.”

  “Then what?” Finnian asked before his head pulled back in disbelief. “You, Moira?”

  “It’s Lady Moira, and then Lady MacDonnell if I accept,” Moira corrected. “Who maintained the clan’s accounts? Who kept track of everything Aidan brought and took from here? Who ensured there was enough to eat, that the servants and craftsmen were paid, that crofts were repaired in time for winter? Who the bluidy hell do you think suggested that Aidan protect us in exchange for having a place to hide? You know it was none of you, and you know Dónal wasn’t smart enough to think of it, and you know Lizzie never cared enough to. You may think you managed Dónal and this clan. You may think you had control. But you’re a daft lot to never have seen it was me. Why do you think Dónal didn’t want to marry me off for so long?”

  Moira looked around the Great Hall, seeing all the things that had been neglected since she left. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms as she waited. The men shifted uneasily but remained quiet. Moira cast them a condescending smirk.

  “How have your meals been since I left? I see no one has brought anything out for us. The rushes are filthy, and I can see where the dogs have slobbered and smeared grease into the floor. The hearth is full of soot. That’s just inside. Don’t think I didn’t notice how the laundresses were milling about with nearly no laundry on the lines. I caught sight of the crofts with thatch that needs replacing. You must have had an almighty storm for them to be in such condition, and winter approaches. I noticed the ships bobbing high in the water with nothing in their holds but men cleaning the hulls. That tells me they have been nowhere recently. No trade? All dried up like a witch’s tits.” Moira tossed in the final comment for good measure. She wasn’t keeping her thoughts to herself anymore, unless it benefited her or Kyle. She wasn’t pretending to be meek or ignorant of how men spoke and negotiated.