“Captain John is a privateer for King Henry of England,” Eliza said. “Now that the king is dead, the captain is waiting to hear from King Edward and his regent if we have royal orders to seize enemy ships. But if there are children or women imprisoned on any ship we encounter, we do everything possible to free them.”
“’Tis a noble cause,” Callum said.
“There is a fine line between pirate and privateer,” Adam said. “And while Henry was alive, Scotland was considered the enemy.”
Eliza popped a piece of mutton into her mouth and chewed slowly before swallowing. “You would definitely consider us pirates, then.”
“Pirates who save children and women,” Lark said, her hand sliding down Adam’s arm.
Beck wasn’t about to let Eliza and her group be thrown into Gylin’s dungeon, but he knew his brother was not that heartless.
“With the start of a new English rule, the Devil’s Blood should sail elsewhere,” Adam said.
Eliza put her small eating knife down. “I would recommend it, but Captain John and the Devil’s Blood seem to have vanished.” A pinch between her brows showed her worry. “He had planned to return to Eilean Mòr for us over a week ago.”
“Jandeau?” Lark asked.
Eliza shook her head, and the candlelight danced along the gold of her hair. “My bluff that your friend’s ship was the Devil’s Blood would not have deterred Jandeau if he’d already sunk it.”
“Would he have abandoned ye on the isle?” Beck asked.
Eliza lifted her gaze to his. “No.”
“And Cullen hasn’t seen the ship?” Lark asked.
“Nay,” Drostan said from down the table. “When he caught up to us, he said he’d not seen anything except an English ship sailing in the waters.”
“Cullen wanted to go after Jandeau,” Beck said, “but ye know Camille is wedding this week, and Rose would have his hide if he did not return in time.” He looked at Eliza. “Camille is Cullen’s daughter.”
“Tarts,” said Jasper, a tall, dark-skinned man who had arrived on Mull asking for work the year before. He had a curious accent when he spoke, which wasn’t often, and a delicious way with food. His past was his own, but he seemed honorable, and they had hired him to work in the kitchen several months ago. He carried in a tray laden with fragrant pastries.
“Wonderful,” Lark said. “Thank you, Jasper.”
Pip squealed and Hester imitated her, the two jumping in their seats.
Beck took one, biting into the honey and nut pastry. As always, the sweetness cleared his mind like a giant broom. There was no room for curses or ire. His eyes closed momentarily as he tasted it fully.
When he opened his eyes, Eliza was staring at him. Her lips were pinched tight. “Try one,” he said, nodding at the plate. “Jasper makes the most delicious tarts.”
She finally took one, biting it and chewing. “Delicious,” she said, her hand coming before her lips. Jasper nodded in response.
Johnny began to fuss and rubbed his eyes with his little fists. “I will take the lad to bed,” Adam said, rising.
“How about a tour of the castle?” Lark said and kissed the curls on her son’s head as Adam lifted him.
“I think I need some fresh air,” Eliza murmured. She gave a tight smile.
“I will take the children up in a bit,” Alice said, looking at where Hester had climbed onto Whisky’s back with the help of Pip. “Is the dog that tolerant?”
“Aye,” Beck said. “She is fine with Johnny grabbing her ears.”
“Then a tour would be very nice,” Alice said.
Eliza was already walking toward the entryway by herself. Callum and Eagan watched her go and then looked to Beck. “Ye are going after her, aren’t ye?” Callum said.
“And get stabbed?” Beck joked but was already rising.
Callum snorted. “Ye are the one she keeps glancing at.”
“He rescued her,” Drostan said, eating a tart. “And then didn’t throw her overboard when she took over his ship.”
Beck frowned at him. “She didn’t take over the ship, and for her bluff to work, I couldn’t very well drag her down.”
“Aye, aye,” Drostan said, unconvinced.
Damn what they thought. He had built the Calypso himself with guidance from Cullen’s shipbuilder. He would never have let Eliza, or anyone, take her over. He strode away from his annoying brothers, thankful once again that he had his own place down in the village.
…
“You are massive,” Eliza whispered in the shadows that enveloped the small stable built inside the stone wall around the castle.
The horse lifted his head over the stall. She could see his large eyes in the silvery moonlight that came in through the door she’d left open. She was used to traversing her world in the dark, but her world was a much smaller place on the deck of a ship, one that she knew so well she could walk it blindfolded without tripping.
The beast before her blew a breath out of its nose. She held her palm up to the soft muzzle, and it sniffed, breathing in her scent. Her patience was rewarded with the horse moving closer, pressing its velvet nose into her hand, letting her smooth down it to scratch under its bristly chin.
Pebbles crunched behind her, and her hand slid to the dagger she had tied to the belted chain around her waist. “His name is Bòcan,” Beck said. She let her inhale out in a silent stream. Beck came up, stepping past her to pat the horse’s neck. “It means ghost in Gaelic. He was born white and turned a dappled gray.”
She ran her hands along the side of the horse’s cheek, exploring all the indents and rises of his face. The horse let out a breath as if sighing. “He seems to like this,” she said, smiling in the darkness even though sadness tugged at her.
“He does indeed,” Beck said. “I will take him out to exercise on the morrow. When I’m at sea, Lark takes him out, but Adam says she may be with child again so she cannot ride him as much.”
Eliza touched the pendant she wore on a chain around her neck. “I had a horse once, long ago when I was in England. We left her behind when we sailed for Ireland because we were only to be gone a year. I wonder sometimes what happened to Ginger.”
The darkness hid the glimmer of tears she knew must be in her eyes. She tried to keep hold of her familiar ire to banish them from her voice.
“She might still be alive if she were a filly,” Beck said. He leaned against the stall door, and she could feel his gaze even though she kept her focus on Bòcan’s big eye.
Eliza moved under the horse’s neck, turning her back on Beck. “I have no life back in England. I am dead to that world.” Like the rest of my family. The familiar heaviness of guilt swelled in her stomach, and she leaned her forehead against Bòcan’s neck.
“Ye could have an inheritance,” Beck said behind her. He was close but did not touch her. “Wentworth sounds like a proper English—”
“I have a perfectly happy life sailing with Captain John rescuing children from bilge scum like Jandeau.” For the child I did not save. “I will remain on the Devil’s Blood until John makes me her captain.” The weightiness of guilt was making it hard to breathe, and she pushed away, striding toward the door, her legs slapping at her skirts. Damn petticoats.
“He would give ye his ship?” Beck asked, and she heard the frown in his voice. Did he not think she could captain a ship?
“I’m apprenticing for the position. He says I’m the cleverest of his crew, one he can trust to keep our mission alive.” That was if the Devil’s Blood was not currently at the bottom of the cold sea.
Eliza stopped in the middle of the bailey, well away from where the willow branches danced like whips in the night breeze. She stared up at the stars in the night sky, listening to Beck follow her. “Is there no way to get out of this fortress once the gate is down?” she asked. Frustration made
her sound surly, but she did not care. The Scotsman had no right to question her or make her think about things she’d rather not.
She startled when his hand took hers. “Come this way,” he said, tugging her toward the wall.
Chapter Six
The fact that Eliza didn’t pull a dagger on him for touching her hand was promising. Promising for what? That he could get more information out of her? Was that why he was showing her the way out of the small door in the wall?
To make her trust him, although he was starting to think that Eliza Wentworth would never trust anyone, especially a person with their own set of ballocks. Except for this Captain John who had promised her a ship.
Ye should stay away from her. Adam’s words worked through Beck’s mind.
“This way to the shoreline,” he said, dropping her hand and pointing down the moonlit path away from the village.
The crunch of pebbles as they walked was muffled by the summer grasses in the narrow stretch of woods that led to the shore. The moonlight barely made it through the rustling leaves overhead. Eliza stepped down onto the sandy beach dappled with rocks. She stopped just shy of the lapping water’s edge, hands clutching her skirts, raising the hem to keep it dry.
The moon shone down, making her glorious hair look silver as it moved about her straight shoulders. If she’d transformed into a mermaiden before his eyes and dove into the sea, he would later say he’d expected it. He came even with her along the waterline, the gentle waves wetting his boots.
“The sea is soothing,” he said, his voice as soft as he could make it.
“I miss it,” she whispered. “And John.”
Her profile was splashed with moonlight like the surface of a pearl. He inhaled. “Ye love him, don’t ye?”
Eliza turned her beautiful sad face to him. “If there is such a thing, aye, I love him.”
Beck could not keep the hardness from his face. The thought of a pirate, obviously a man, not a boy, rescuing a twelve-year-old girl and… Jandeau had called Eliza Captain John’s whore.
She punched his upper arm. “And not the way you are thinking,” she said.
He rubbed it. “He has never…touched ye?”
She huffed. “Get whatever horribleness you are imagining out of your head. He has only touched me to nurse me through a fever or pat my back. He is a father to me.” She turned her face back to the vacant, smooth water that reflected the moon when the clouds slid past it.
“Captain Jack kept any man intending wickedness away from me. From the time he took me on the ship.”
“At twelve?” Beck said, to keep her talking. In the dark, before the ocean, words seemed to come easier from her.
“Aye,” she said, her voice a sneer of contempt. “Base devils who thought a child of twelve was not too young to whore.”
“What did your captain do?”
A tight smile grew across her lips. “He found two on top of me below deck. He punched them soundly to get them off. He stripped one naked and hung him from the mast lines until his neck broke. The second he slit his throat before the whole crew so they knew what would become of them if they touched me—or any woman or child on his ship.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “He set course for the nearest port, telling those who could not abide by his rule that they had one opportunity to leave with their lives.”
“Did they?”
“A few. Many stayed. I became part of their family. Edgar, Kofi, Wretch, Bingly, Bart. They taught me to be useful.” She snapped her face toward him again. “In a non-whoring way.” She narrowed her eyes as if he’d said something offensive.
“Ye are worried about them.”
She looked back out to the dark sea. “I need to find out what happened to them.”
Lord, it was like she’d lost her family a second time. “We will hunt for them on the Calypso,” he said.
Her gaze snapped to his. “When?”
“After Camille’s wedding in a few days we can head back out. Cullen Duffie is my mentor and helped me build the Calypso. I need to be at his daughter’s wedding.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He ran a hand through his hair. “Bloody hell, Eliza. All I had to deal with growing up was missing my mother and dealing with a family curse and dying clan. Ye on the other hand are…” Beautiful, brave, clever.
“Damaged,” she said.
“Mo chreach. Nay, Eliza,” he said. “Ye are brave, strong inside and out, and…world-wise like no lass I have ever met before.”
She cut her eyes to him, narrowing them.
He exhaled. “And I am not saying that to get under your skirts.”
“Because you want to fok Anna?”
“Who?” Of course he knew who. He’d met Lark’s bonny sister at the same festival where Adam had married Lark.
“Lark’s sister.”
“Nay.”
“Because she will bake tarts for you to eat and close your eyes while you enjoy it,” she said, accusation in her voice.
He shook his head, staring at her. Was she jealous? She sounded jealous. “Well, if she bakes tarts, I will eat them.”
“And because you want to fok Anna.”
“Nay!”
“Do you not like to fok?”
“Nay, I mean…” He scored his fingers through his hair. “I mean, aye, but…not all the time and not Lark’s sister.”
She looked back to the water, a smile playing across her mouth. What had they even been talking about?
“What am I supposed to say?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Most people lie or tell half-truths.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and looked out at the blackness that seemed to hover over the calm, silvery water. “If I tell ye the truth, I will end up with a blade in my gut,” he murmured.
Silence fell. The only sounds were the lapping water and a slight breeze moving the tree limbs behind them.
“What truth would you tell?” she asked.
The silence stretched, and he crossed his arms. “That I think ye are beautiful and the bravest lass I’ve ever met.”
She kept looking outward. “I was not always brave.” Her words were soft as if she spoke a guarded sin. She inhaled and turned, walking away from the ocean back up the path to the castle. “Good eve, Beck Macquarie.”
…
“Where are you?” Eliza whispered as she watched the sunrise from the Calypso’s main topcastle high above the deck.
Captain John had left them on Eilean Mòr over two weeks ago, saying he’d return in one when their supplies would run out. He’d survived for decades through storms, attacks, and trickery. And Jandeau did not know he was missing. Where was he?
Eliza turned in the tight space to look out across the trees and moor of Wolf Isle. The nearly vacant village of Ormaig sat in the shallow valley just beyond Gylin. Was Beck asleep down there? Did he wear a nightshirt or sleep completely bare?
No one had been awake when she’d snuck out past the snoring Rabbie in the great hall. The Calypso had sat unguarded, just tied to the dock. How many would it take to sail her?
Movement inside the castle wall caught her eye, and she squinted. Anders and Pip ran out of the door she had told them about when she’d gone upstairs to their room last night. Beck’s wolfhounds followed on their heels, the mother loping behind.
The portcullis rose, and she noticed the youngest of Beck’s brothers in the gatehouse. He waved to her, and she raised her hand in greeting. Eagan looked down, speaking to someone there, and two Scotsmen strode out the front gate. Beck and Drostan walked directly toward the ship. Her heart sped, and she turned back to the water, hoping to see the Devil’s Blood, but the edge between sea and sky remained an unbroken line.
“Checking my rigging?” Beck called. She looked over the rail at him far below. He f
rowned up at her.
“You leave your ship unprotected,” she said.
He threw his arms out wide and turned in a circle. “From the thieves, pirates, and criminals sneaking around our dock?”
The dogs ran over, knocking into him and his brother, standing on their back legs demanding to be petted. Pip and Anders laughed, trying to pull them away while Beck continued to scowl.
“Away,” Beck said, striding through the rabble toward her. If she hadn’t known how gentle he could be, she would say he looked menacing.
Wrapping her leg around one of the dangling ropes, Eliza slid down toward the deck. “Someone is in a foul humor this morn,” she said.
Drostan kept up with him. “Beck is always foul when he must rise at dawn.”
She smiled. One did not talk to Captain John until he’d had his morning beer and had time to contemplate the horizon unless one wanted to be assigned to hunting rats in the hull all day. “Why did you have to rise at dawn?” she asked, her feet touching down on the deck as Beck strode up.
“To make sure a lass was not stealing my ship,” he answered. “Otherwise, I would still be abed.”
She shook her head as he stopped before her. “You really should not give out such information to would-be ship thieves.” She ticked off her fingers. “You leave your ship unguarded. No one seems to be awake before dawn. And you like to sleep until midmorning.” His hair was slightly mussed as if he’d jumped from his pallet.
Eliza glanced past him and then back to meet his narrowed eyes. “You slept at the castle instead of your dwelling in the village?”
“Adam thought ye might try to steal my ship,” he answered, rubbing his palm against his forehead.
She snorted. “Then you should have slept on your ship. I’ve been out here for half an hour.”
He glared at her. “I told him that ye weren’t a thief and I trusted ye.”
“Not enough to sleep in the village,” she said, her brow raised. Drostan chuckled and jumped on board, striding past her to go below.
“Are ye always this troublesome in the morn?” Beck asked.
The Highlander's Pirate Lass (Brothers of Wolf Isle) Page 6