The Pirate’s Angel

by Lee, Caroline

  “Da, we dinnae ken what path the MacNeils are taking to Barra, aye?”

  In a moment, exhaustion turned to incredulity, as Isabel gaped first at Dane, then Tavish. He’d told his son of their plans? ‘Twas one thing for Charlotte to have told the lad of the existence of the Angels, but ‘twas quite another to tell an eleven-year-old the particulars of this mission.

  But Tavish just shrugged, not quite apologetically. “Dane is a bright lad who is…adept…at keeping secrets. I trust him to keep my secrets, for certes.” Aye, but the man was a sailor. What kind of secrets could he have? “My son kens all about his aunt’s work, and although I sent him away before the Queen arrived yesterday, he kens what is going on.”

  She couldn’t imagine sharing her secrets with Alex—she’d be too afraid he’d be ashamed of her or the actions she’d taken over the years. But she didn’t know Dane as well as his father did, and besides, she couldn’t allow her judgement to show, or he might abandon the mission, and she needed him in order to get to Barra.

  So she kept her lips pressed tightly together, and when Tavish studied her, waiting for her objection, she tried to keep her gaze clear of doubt. After a moment, he turned back to his son.

  “Aye, laddie, ye are correct. We dinnae ken the route the MacNeils have taken.”

  The boy shrugged, even as he rubbed his arse. “So our best chance to save the princess and the wee earl is to reach Barra as soon as possible. We can still push on for the few remaining hours of daylight.”

  Isabel blinked, surprised at the support from the unexpected source. When Dane looked to her, she offered him a grateful grin. His flush made her feel even guiltier for pushing him so hard.

  “Ye’re certain, Dane?” his father asked in a low, concerned tone.

  “Aye, Da.” The lad’s eyes shone with fierce determination. “Ye’d do the same for me. I ken ye’d never stop pushing to find me.”

  “True,” Tavish admitted with a sigh, then called for fresh mounts.

  Isabel took the brief reprieve to see to her needs, although what she suddenly wanted to do, was to pull Dane into her embrace and thank him for understanding. But when they were all back on fresh horses once more, she and Tavish both winced at how far Dane was slumped in the saddle.

  She almost called it off and sent the lad up to a real bed, but his father sighed and reached for Dane. “Come along, laddie. Just a bit farther.”

  “I’m fine, Da.”

  “Nay, ye’re as exhausted as Isabel, but I cannae command Isabel to ride with me, so come along.”

  The boy blinked at him, then glanced at Isabel, who nodded encouragement. With a sigh, he clasped his father’s forearm and allowed the man to lift him across to the back of Tavish’s horse.

  “Hold onto me, laddie,” his father said in a low voice. “Rest yer head against my back.”

  “Aye, Da.”

  And then they were off, with Tavish leading the third horse, his son tucked up against his back.

  Isabel galloped at their side, touched by the man’s gentleness and caring. Yesterday, he’d offered her comfort without even speaking. He was a good man, and she was glad he was her partner on this mission.

  Partner.

  It had been a long while since she’d considered a man her partner, and then he’d betrayed her and their son both. She shook her head and straightened her back, refusing to give that particular man any further thought at the moment.

  They rode until the sun disappeared, and then used the last of the light to gather firewood. Or rather, Tavish did, because both Dane and Isabel were apparently too exhausted to do aught more than collapse, cautious of their aching backsides, on a fallen log.

  But once the fire was blazing merrily, Isabel roused herself to dig out the food the innkeeper’s wife had packed them and passed around a simple supper. The food seemed to revive them all, and after, Dane sat cross-legged on his blankets and pulled out a small flute.

  The hollow notes were haunting, and the simple tune full of enough longing to bring tears to her eyes.

  “Aye,” Tavish said softly, from his place by her side on the fallen log, “it takes ye like that sometimes.”

  She glanced at him, then back to the boy. “He’s verra talented,” she admitted quietly. “I could listen to him play for hours.”

  “Ye only say so because I wouldnae let him bring his pipes on this journey.”

  The teasing—and the image of the lad playing the bagpipes—made her smile. It wasn’t a big smile, but she realized ‘twas her first since receiving the news about Alex.

  With the music and the warmth from the fire, she was as content as she could be. Slouching forward, she rested her elbows on her knees, in the least ladylike pose she could manage. “Are ye musical, as well?”

  “Nay, Dane must get it from his mother.”

  His mother.

  “Yer wife?” she asked, knowing full well the woman who’d birthed Dane hadn’t been married to Tavish.

  In the corner of her eye, the man shrugged easily. “Nay, no’ my wife, Lady Isabel. Just a lass I once kenned. Does that shock ye?”

  He must know Alex wasn’t legitimate. All of Scotland knew of her shame, of the way she’d been cast aside. So nay, she wasn’t shocked.

  Trying to mimic his nonchalance, she shrugged as well. “ ’Tis the way of the world.” The fire popped and flickered, and watching it was easier than watching him. “Ye acknowledged the boy and are raising him.”

  It hadn’t been a question, but the tall warrior beside her hummed. “Sometimes I wonder if ‘twas the right decision.”

  “ ‘Twas, trust me,” she said flatly. If Edward had acknowledged Alex…how different would her world be if the King’s brother had accepted not just Isabel, but Alex as well?

  Well, actually, her world would certainly have been different, but not exactly better. Isabel was willing to admit that to herself. Had Edward married her, as promised, she wouldn’t have been shamed in front of all of Scotland—and the world—but Alex would be King Robert’s heir, decided long before his birth, and wouldn’t be subjected to so much scrutiny and stress. As ‘twas, thanks to Robert and Elizabeth’s generosity, she and her son enjoyed their friendship and a wealth of their own.

  Aye, as much bitterness as she carried toward Edward’s actions, she had to admit her son was better off without the cloak of legitimacy. It took a good man to acknowledge his bastard the way Tavish had.

  As Dane’s song came to an end, his father pushed himself to his feet and began to lay out the blankets. When she realized he was placing hers next to theirs beside the fire, she forced herself to her feet.

  “I can do it,” she protested, stumbling toward him, her body having stiffened up as she’d sat.

  In the firelight, Tavish shot her a stern frown. “The nights are colder now, Isabel, and the three of us will be warmer closer together than apart, although Dane has been much like a wee banked ember since he was a bairn.”

  From the shadows of the trees, where he’d gingerly made his way to see to his needs, Dane called out, “I heard that, Da!”

  And without missing a beat, Tavish called back, “I havenae lied, ye wee inferno.” Then he winked at Isabel. “Besides, I can keep both of ye safe if ye’re beside me.”

  She wanted to argue, to tell him she could keep herself safe, but part of her suspected he was better at it than she could be at that moment, and she was far too exhausted to worry about her pride.

  So she silently sank down to her blankets, praying for some rest. The worries from last night came crashing back as she listened to her companions bank the fire and getting comfortable around her.

  But when Tavish settled down next to her, his son on his other side, she realized the worries didn’t occupy quite so much of her attention. Nay, his nearness now sat in the forefront of her mind, along with the warmth and safety he offered.

  The exhaustion at last overtook her, and she fell into a dreamless slumber.

  Chapter 4


  ‘Twas not the first time Tavish had awoken with a woman in his arms, and ‘twas not even the first time he’d done so while lying on the hard ground.

  But the beauty, whose arse was snuggled so perfectly against his hardening cock, was no tavern wench, and he owed her enough respect to control his arousal. She was not just a lady, but a brave and strong partner, one he’d vowed to help.

  And despite the fact she’d apparently cuddled up against him at some point during the night—he’d had no problem throwing his arm and one leg over her to keep her close and warm—that help didn’t involve a rude awakening by an over-excited clot-heid like himself.

  Fortunately, remembering the warm body pressed against his back was his son did wonders to calm his arousal.

  As the sun lightened the eastern sky, Tavish did his best to control his body. He focused on the scent of the chilled autumn morning air and the sounds of the birds. Realizing his cock wasn’t the only thing which was stiff, he tried to stretch his muscles without waking either Dane or Isabel. They’d both pushed hard yesterday, and he thought ‘twas best to let them both continue to rest.

  By the time she began to stir in his arms, he was no longer painfully aroused. Instead, he was enjoying her softness and marveling at her loveliness. Her hair had fallen loose sometime in the night and now cushioned her head when she rolled onto her back. He froze, careful not to wake her, and continued to study her.

  The rising sun caught her face in repose, relaxed in sleep. It highlighted the strength of her brow and jaw and the softness of her lips. There were faint lines at the corners of those lips, and her eyes as well, which reminded him she was not some young innocent. Nay, Isabel de Strathbogie was close to his own age and a mother besides.

  A mother who must be frantic with worry for her son, but who had finally succumbed to the rest she needed.

  Aye, she was a force to be reckoned with, but for now, for one moment, she was merely a woman. A woman asleep in his arms.

  And then, suddenly, she wasn’t. His searching gaze reached her eyes once more, and he realized they were open and were watching him in return. There was a confusion there, but also a faint hint of amusement, as if it weren’t the first time she’d woken in a man’s arms and couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there.

  Unable to resist, he stroked one fingertip down her cheek. “Good morn, Lady Isabel,” he whispered.

  Before his eyes, she changed. The slight flush of happiness drained away as she remembered where she was, and why. The worry and tension in her eyes were heartbreaking.

  Then she rolled away from him, and with a sigh, he pushed himself upright, destroying their warm cocoon.

  “Wake up, lad.” He nudged his sleeping son. “We’ll reach Dumbarton by this afternoon.”

  Their pace left little time for discussion, but Dane was rested enough to ride his own mount, which was helpful. When they stopped for the noon meal at an inn east of the River Clyde, Isabel was already thinking ahead.

  “When we reach Dumbarton, is yer ship ready to sail? Can we leave immediately?”

  Reaching for the ale, Tav shrugged. “I hope so. We left Tosh to fix the sails, but the sailmaker should have had enough time to see them ready.”

  “And if no’? How long will it take?”

  Understanding her worry, Dane passed her another piece of brown bread with butter, since she’d already finished hers. “We have another sail, milady. Da and Tosh will make sure we sail tonight.”

  When she glanced at him to confirm, Tav made certain to keep his expression neutral. The men wouldn’t be happy about having their merriment cut short, but they were used to it and wouldn’t complain overly much, at least not in her presence.

  Isabel eyed him a moment longer than was comfortable, then turned back to Dane. “Is it normal for ships to carry two sets of sails?”

  He shrugged, his focus on the food in front of him. Good lad.

  “Some do. We have three.”

  Tav rapped sharply on the table in a reminder to his son. When the boy glanced up and caught his father’s stern warning look, he flushed, then shrugged in apology.

  From the way her gaze darted between the two, Tav knew Isabel was questioning the exchange. Even after only knowing her a few days, he’d be willing to wager she understood there was a secret they were keeping and was curious.

  Well, if he had his druthers, she’d not learn that secret.

  Scowling at himself, Tav devoted himself to the meat pie the innkeeper had brought. What did it matter if she learned he was the Black Banner? She was one of the Queen’s Angels, a secret agent for the Crown. Surely, she was aware of the somewhat underhanded methods states used to protect their power.

  But despite her role, she was still a lady, and he was naught more than a privateer.

  But why did that bother him? It had never bothered him before when it came to beautiful women.

  He was still mulling the question over an hour later when they slowed to enter Dumbarton. ‘Twas much smaller than the neighboring Glasgow, with its fancy new bridge. But that fact was why Tav preferred to moor here: he could get better service with fewer questions.

  After they sold their mounts, Isabel lifted down her own bag. Instinctively, he stepped forward to offer help, but then stopped himself, knowing it wouldn’t be appreciated. From the faint grin she sent his way, she’d seen and appreciated his restraint, even though she looked dead on her feet.

  “Dane, go find Wee Robbie and have him start rounding up the lads, then meet us on the quay. Isabel and I will find Tosh.”

  “Aye, Da,” the lad called, shouldering his bag and heading for the taverns which lined the docks.

  She fell into step beside him, looking less like a lady and more like a travel-weary housewife. “Tosh?” she murmured.

  “My second. He’s been with me since we first sailed from Lewes, and I trust him with—well, with everything.”

  “Have ye been back to Lewes since then?”

  In surprise, he glanced at her, but she was focused on the cobblestones under her feet.

  “Aye, of course. My brother might be a right bastard, but he’s the laird, and my mother and other siblings still live here. All except Charlotte of course.” He considered her question, and the words she hadn’t said. “I visit, but ‘tisnae my home any longer.”

  “Scone is?”

  Chuckling, he pointed between two buildings where the river sparkled under the afternoon sun in the distance. “That is my home. The water.”

  She hummed softly and lifted her hems to step over a pile of dog shite. “And ye’ve never regretted it? No’ even with Dane?”

  When he sent her a sharp look, her brow rose in challenge. Was she thinking of his admission yesterday about wondering if he’d done the right thing for his son? His lips twitched, acknowledging a superior blow.

  “I suppose I have. The sea is an exciting place to live, and I ken the lad is well-loved, but there are nae trees to climb or lassies to flirt with or brothers to chase.”

  Realizing the extent of what he’d admitted, he clamped his lips shut with a flush rising in his cheeks. Before she had a time to respond—and he hoped she’d forget everything he’d said completely—he saw the sign for Tosh’s favorite haunt ahead. Nudging her elbow so she’d follow him, he hurried for the alehouse.

  “Tosh! Ho, Tosh, get yer sad excuse for an arse out here!”

  As he’d hoped, the big man must’ve been right inside and appeared almost instantly.

  “Who’s insulting my arse?” he bellowed. But as he barreled out the door, ready for a fight, he caught sight of Tav and Isabel and pulled to a stop.

  “Ho, Captain! Back already?”

  “Aye, and with a mission.”

  The bearded man slapped his hands together and rubbed them gleefully. “Full of danger?”

  Tav had to grin. “Even better! Rescuing innocents and helping beauties.”

  His friend’s grin grew as he raked Isabel with an intrigued gaze
. “I look forward to the details.”

  Chuckling, Tav nodded. “I’ll wager ye do. Are we ready to sail?”

  Just like that, his second was all business. “We’ll be ready by the time ye are, Captain.”

  “And the wool?”

  “On board.”

  Tav nodded. “Good. We can afford nae delay. Tell the lads I’ll hear nae moaning about it, but there’ll be an extra portion for them all if we can leave tonight.”

  Slamming his fist into his other hand, Tosh nodded in excitement. “The tide willnae turn for another hour, but that’ll give me time to gather the lads.”

  As the big man hurried off to gather the men, Tavish reached for Isabel’s elbow. It wasn’t until he led her toward the quay that he realized, by rights, a woman such as she should’ve shaken off his hold. But she’d allowed him to take charge, even while insisting on carrying her own bag.

  He’d have to consider that, but not now. Dane was waiting and had already chosen a skiff to take out to the birlinn. Tav flipped the rower—a hunched old man—a coin and helped Isabel step into the unsteady boat.

  He settled beside her in the bow as Dane slid onto the bench beside the man and offered to take one of the oars. Good lad. It also meant his back was to Tavish and Isabel.

  As they pushed off from the quay, heading for the anchored birlinn, he eyed her. Isabel’s back was straight as an arrow, although she swayed with the rocking of the boat. Or mayhap ‘twas exhaustion.

  “Ye should be able to rest once we’re on board,” he murmured in a quiet tone, in case she didn’t want anyone else to realize he’d noticed her fatigue.

  But she kept her posture firm and her eyes straight ahead. “I cannae rest.”

  Humming, Tav eyed her, remembering how soft she’d been that morning in his arms. And how quickly she’d changed as the realization of what faced her had come crashing back.

  Nay, she wouldn’t rest until she knew Alex was safe, would she?

  “Isabel, I vowed to ye we’d save ye’re son.”

  She sent him a sharp glance, then looked away once more. “Are ye doubting now?”