The Pirate’s Angel

by Lee, Caroline

  Cheek pressed against his chest, Isabel squeezed her eyes shut and said a silent prayer he was right. She was wagering heavily on Tavish MacLeod’s honor. Marrying him would not only help retrieve Alex now, but it would also keep him safe as he grew. And she believed she was making the right choice with Tavish.

  If she were wrong, not only would she suffer, but she’d very likely be forfeiting Alex’s future. And she would never forgive herself for that miscalculation.

  Chapter 9

  ‘Twas a small wedding, but that’s all that was necessary. The laird—one of Tav’s distant cousins—arranged for the chapel at Dunvegan to be decorated, which wasn’t necessary, but as he stood beside Isabel, he was glad there was at least some semblance of normalcy about this wedding.

  On Tav’s other side stood Dane and Tosh, practically vibrating with excitement at this step he was taking. As far as his second-in-command knew, Tav was marrying Isabel to further the mission’s objectives and to thwart MacNeil.

  As far as his son though…well, all he’d told Dane that morning as they’d left for Dunvegan, was he’d be marrying Lady Isabel. The way the lad’s eyes had lit with joy had been enough to make Tav’s throat close up, and when his son had thrown his gangly arms around him for a hug, he’d squeezed right back.

  Now, the priest droned on about fidelity and Tav’s duty to protect her—and Isabel’s duty to give him sons. At that reminder, Tav couldn’t help glancing over at her. They’d discussed MacNeil’s plans, were he to marry her, but…did she think Tav would expect sons as well?

  Brothers for Dane.

  He swallowed, admitting to himself he wanted his son to have siblings, and the process of getting those siblings had been on his mind since the mission had started. And after that kiss last night, how was he not supposed to think about sinking deep into Isabel and losing himself in her pleasure?

  But he knew he couldn’t expect that.

  This was a marriage of convenience, arranged merely to protect her son.

  Isabel’s attention was on the priest, and although her gaze was serene, Tav saw the tension she carried in her shoulders, and in the way she was gripping Margaret’s hand with both of hers. The princess stood beside Isabel as a sort of substitute for Alex, for certes; or mayhap she was there as a representative of the royal family. Either way, Isabel seemed relieved for her presence.

  And then the priest was offering a blessing, and they were married. Married. From the incredulous look in her pale eyes when she turned to him, she was finding it hard to believe it was true herself.

  A few of the gathered MacLeods—all strangers to him—offered congratulations, and the laird invited them to a wedding feast his wife had arranged in the main hall. Tav would’ve just as soon dined with his men on the beach, but Isabel curtsied prettily and accepted the invitation.

  The sky was already dark by the time they settled down to eat, and it was awkward to not know any of their companions, other than the crew. Still, he kept an eye on his lady wife—the new title still sounded odd to him—and she managed the situation with grace, as usual.

  In the last sennight, she’d lost her son, undergone privations and hardships no gently bred woman could be expected to endure, been gifted a terrible ultimatum and choice, and wed a near-stranger. Yet she could still smile beautifully, compliment their hostess’s cook, and quietly correct Margaret’s manners.

  “I like her, Da.” Dane’s murmur dragged Tav’s attention away from Isabel to the lad at his side. When he cocked a brow, Dane shrugged. “She’s kind. Beautiful, aye, which I ken ye’ve noticed, but she’s more than that.”

  “Aye, lad. She’s kind.” She’s remarkable. “And she’s a good mother.”

  “Is she…” The boy focused on his trencher, pretending nonchalance. “I mean, are we going to…?”

  Guessing what his son was asking, Tav threw his arms around the lad’s shoulders. “I dinnae ken the future, but aye, I think she does intend to return to Carrick.”

  “If— If we go with her, will ye miss the sea?”

  Would he?

  “I dare say I would if I had to give it up altogether. But Carrick’s on the sea, and if Lady Isabel wants us to go with her to Carrick, well then…” He shrugged. “I suspect there’d be compensations.”

  His son rolled his eyes. “Da, I dinnae need to hear about yer compensations from yer new wife, thank ye verra much.”

  Snorting, Tav ruffled his son’s hair. “I meant ye’ll finally have a wee brother. If we can pull off this rescue, Alex—Earl of Carrick—will be yer brother.”

  Dane’s eyes had gone round, and he sat up straighter. “Truly? I hadnae considered…” He shook his head, as if in a daze. “I dinnae care about his title, but I’d like— I mean, ‘twould be nice to have a brother.”

  Aye, and Dane might finally have the home he deserved. Tav swallowed, and found himself praying, not only would Isabel want them with her at Carrick, but she’d allow Dane to be part of her life.

  And ye too, ye clot-heid.

  Now that he’d fallen in love with Isabel, the thought of separate futures was impossible to imagine. Besides, they were married now.

  Which is why, several hours later, their host showed them to their chamber with much teasing and drunken laughter. Tav slapped the man on his back and was pleased to be able to pass him off to Tosh, before shutting the door in his face, with him and Isabel inside.

  Together. And alone.

  He took a deep breath and turned to face the chamber, only to realize Isabel had disappeared behind a screen. He could hear her performing her evening ablutions and realized how tired she must be.

  Stifling a sigh, Tav sat down on the bed and pulled off his boots. Out of deference to her sensibilities, he kept his plaid and shirt on, but with the fire blazing in the hearth, he wouldn’t need them to stay warm.

  He had pulled a blanket off the bed and was preparing to settle down on the hard floor, when she stepped out from behind the screen, wearing only her chemise.

  “What are ye doing?” she asked in that soft voice of hers.

  Sending her a rueful grin, Tav rolled over to his side and pulled the blanket around his shoulders. “I’m being a gentleman and giving ye the bed.”

  One of her pale brows inched upward. “Ye dinnae want to sleep with me?”

  ‘Twas the incredulous way she said it which made him chuckle. “Isabel, lass, if I crawl into bed with ye, I’m doubtful ye’ll get to sleep for a while. And I ken this is just a marriage of convenience.”

  She looked almost shocked as she sank down on the edge of the bed, one hand fiddling with the ties of her chemise. “Ye think this is just for convenience’s sake?”

  Frowning now, Tav rolled upright. “Is it no’?” he challenged.

  “Tavish, ye ken as well as I that we’ll no’ be fully married in the eyes of the church nor the law, until we’ve—ye ken.”

  Now it was his turn to raise his brows. “Ye want me to make love to ye?”

  Mayhap he shouldn’t have sounded so incredulous, judging by how quickly she blushed. Her gaze was now on her hands, but he could still see how bright her cheeks were when she lifted one shoulder in a sort of half-shrug.

  “I—I dinnae want anyone to claim…this marriage is no’ valid.”

  ‘Twas the way she refused to meet his eyes which told him she was lying. And the memory of the way she surged into his arms last night and kissed him convinced him why.

  She did want him to make love to her.

  A grin tugging one corner of his lips up, Tav rolled to his feet and padded across the chamber to her. Settling on the bed beside her, he reached over and covered her hands in one of his.

  “Ye dinnae have to do this, Isabel,” he whispered.

  She was nibbling on her lower lip, and the memory of that lip under his made his cock stiffen beneath his kilt.

  “I—I want it,” she admitted in a whisper.

  He squeezed her hand. “Isabel. Wife.” When she finally l
ooked up at him, he grinned. “Ye dinnae have to be embarrassed around me.”

  “I dinnae see how I can be aught but embarrassed.” She sounded almost exacerbated. “I’ve kenned ye for less than a sennight, and now we are married.”

  “ ’Twas yer idea.”

  “Aye, and now—”

  When she bit off her admission, Tav raised a brow in challenge. “And now…what?”

  Blowing out a breath, she dropped her gaze to her lap once more. “And now…I’m finding I verra, verra much want this to be a real marriage. I dinnae want anyone to challenge it.”

  His grin growing, Tav stood and pulled her to her feet as well. She still refused to look him in the eyes, but that was aright. With one swift movement, he pulled his shirt over his head, which left her staring at his nude chest.

  When she swallowed audibly, he had to struggle to keep from chuckling proudly.

  “Isabel, I need ye to ken something.” He nudged her chin up until her eyes met his. “For years, I’ve visited my sister at court, and I’ve watched ye. Ye’re a bonny lass and fine to look at. I’d wonder how ye’d taste if I were ever lucky enough to kiss ye. Och, I ken I’m just a sailor, and ye are a fine lady, but still, a man can dream, can he no’?”

  As suspected, her pale eyes flashed with irritation when he spoke poorly of himself. He loved her defense of him—her insistence he was a good man—and had been counting on it.

  She reached up to poke him in the chest. “Listen, ye complete dunderhead—”

  He interrupted her by wrapping his hand around hers and splaying her fingers across his warm chest. “But now that I have been lucky enough to kiss ye, I find ‘tis no’ my favorite part of ye.” Confusion flitted across her face, and he continued, “My favorite part of ye is yer strength, yer courage. I love how smart ye are, how passionate. I love how brave ye are.”

  Her lips had parted as she stared up at him, obviously uncertain how to respond to his praise. Hiding his smirk, he bent close to her ear, inhaling her scent. When he exhaled, he could see his breath tickling the little wisps of hair her braids hadn’t completely tamed. Was it his imagination or did she shiver?

  His lips were almost touching her skin when he whispered, “But Isabel, I have to admit that I really, really like kissing ye.”

  The noise she made might’ve been a laugh, might’ve been a moan, but then her arms were around his neck and she was tugging him into a kiss.

  * * *

  Somehow, her chemise managed to disappear, as did his kilt, although Isabel wasn’t exactly sure how they’d managed it. One moment, she’d decided she was tired of him taking his time getting around to kissing her, and the next, they were naked in bed, her legs straddling his thighs as she pinned him to the mattress with only her lips.

  ‘Twas quite empowering.

  Under her palms, his shoulders flexed as he reached for her hips, and she loved his little groan as he arched under her. Between them, his stiff member rubbed against her belly, and she found herself flexing forward in the hopes of satisfying the ache between her legs.

  When she switched her lips to his jaw, tracing the skin usually hidden under auburn stubble, he whispered her name harshly. The need she heard in his voice made her grin, feeling powerful.

  Right up until his rough hands closed around her breasts, and it was her turn to moan. He tugged her forward, bringing one nipple to his mouth, while she gasped and braced herself above him. His tongue was doing such delightful things, causing pleasure to swirl through her body and pool in a liquid heat between her thighs.

  “Isabel,” he rasped against her skin, one hand settling amongst her curls. “God’s Blood, ye’re so ready for me.”

  His words—and the desperation behind them—almost sent her over the edge. Or mayhap ‘twas the way his fingers plunged into her, stroking and tugging her ever closer.

  “Tavish!” she gasped, her hips pressing forward to meet his questing fingers. “Oh, Blessed Virgin, aye!”

  “Come for me, lass.”

  His growled command had her whimpering, but she shook her head in defiance. She started this journey with him, and she wanted to end it with him as well.

  Scooting forward, she lifted her hips and curled her fingers around his hard length. When he hissed out an inarticulate curse and moved his hand away from her opening, she knew he was giving her permission. It only took a little maneuvering, and then she was sliding down along his thick shaft, both of them breathing out little groans of satisfaction.

  She was no virgin; even after Alex’s birth and Edward’s defection, there’d been other men at court, but mayhap it had been too long since her last lover and that was why she was so desperate for Tavish now.

  Or mayhap ‘twas just Tavish himself.

  Mayhap the last few days with him had shown her what ‘twas like to be with a truly honorable, trustworthy man.

  Mayhap she was falling in love with him.

  That disturbingly wonderful thought flew out of her head when he moved. Just the slightest flex, sending himself even deeper into her core, and she gasped in pleasure. Falling forward, she braced her hands on either side of his head, pulled her knees up to rest alongside his flanks and began to gently move.

  Each time she sank onto his shaft, she whimpered, the pressure and pleasure building until she knew she was teasing only herself. From the tightness in his expression, it was difficult for him to allow her this much control—or mayhap he wanted her to move faster.

  Deciding to take pity on him, she leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his cheek. When he turned his head and locked his lips around one nipple, she froze, which allowed him to take hold of her hips and set his own pace, thrusting up into her wetness.

  Soon they were both breathing heavily, her squirming against him.

  With a roar, he clamped his hands around her, tucked his foot behind her leg, and rolled them. Now she was underneath him, her thighs spread wide and feet planted, as he thrust into her.

  Had she thought the previous position delightful? This way, each time he thrust into her, he brushed against her pearl, and she was soon mewling in desperation, arching up against him.

  “Tavish, please!”

  “Aye,” he panted above her. “Aye, love. Come for me now.”

  The command sent her soaring upward, and when he reached between them to brush his callused thumb against her pearl, she shot out over the edge, white-hot pleasure exploding behind her eyes. As her core squeezed around him, Tavish roared her name, spilling his warm seed against her womb.

  He collapsed, his breathing harsh, and before he’d even hit the mattress, he’d pulled her into his arms, pressing her cheek against his bare chest as the most wonderful languidness stole through her limbs.

  Dimly, as from afar, she considered their position. If someone were to see them like this, and know they were recently married, that silent observer might be forgiven for thinking Tavish was cherishing her.

  She remembered her first time with Edward Bruce. After convincing her they were all but married, and all that remained was to take her virginity, he’d rolled away from her with a satisfied grunt. Other times, she’d found pleasure in their bed, but naught like this. Her pleasure had always been secondary to his, convenient if she found it, but not necessary.

  But Tavish…?

  He wasn’t her first, he wasn’t even her second, but God’s Truth, she’d never felt so complete as she had when she’d been loved by Tavish MacLeod.

  “Isabel,” he breathed against her hair, “thank ye.”

  Her shoulders shook as she laughed.

  “What?” he asked, pulling her away from him so he could look into her face.

  Feeling bold, she grinned. “I was just thinking how I’d never experienced anything so magnificent, and ye thanked me.”

  One corner of his lips pulled up in that rueful grin she was coming to love. “I didnae expect to be sleeping with my wife tonight, but I promise, I’ll never forget my wedding day.”
r />   Her smile faded a bit. “I’d never thought I’d have a wedding day.”

  “Och, Isabel.” He sounded almost pitying, but then he shook his head and scoffed. “Far be it from me to speak ill of the dead, but Edward Bruce was a right bastard.”

  Her lips twitched again at his impassioned opinion, and she tucked her cheek against his shoulder as he settled onto his back and pulled the coverlet over both of them.

  “My father—”

  “The Duke,” he interrupted.

  Hearing his bland tone, and knowing he was again reminding her of her place at court, she blew out an exasperated little huff. “Aye, my father, the Duke, betrothed me to Edward when it became obvious of the power the man wielded. With Elizabeth in captivity in England, and King Robert without a chance to sire a son, Edward was his heir. My father kenned I could bear the next King of Scotland.”

  Tavish was holding her hand against his chest, his thumb tracing small circles in that wonderfully comforting way of his. After a long moment, he said, “Alex is a fine lad.”

  “He is, thank ye.”

  “Ye’re the one who deserves the praise for who he’s become, Isabel. If Edward had just married ye, as promised, Alex would be heir to the throne.”

  In Scotland, females could inherit, but only if there were no eligible males. Right now, with Edward dead without legitimate heirs of his own, and with Elizabeth not having borne a living male child, Princess Margaret was heir to the throne.

  But had Edward married her, Alex would be in that position.

  Unconsciously, Isabel shivered. “I never loved Edward,” she confessed in a whisper. “Our union was just a match made between powerful families. When he threw me over for Isabel of Ross, I was almost glad.”