The Highlander's Pirate Lass (Brothers of Wolf Isle)

by McCollum, Heather

  “Who left her on an isle to starve,” Cecilia said softly. “Perhaps he had grown tired of her.”

  Meg’s face had gone white as she stared at Cecilia, her mouth open. She looked to Gavin, who wore a frown. “I think it’s time for you to see us back to Mull before Cecilia’s foolish tongue gets her in more trouble.”

  “Good Lord, I have done it again.” Cecilia looked apologetic. “Perhaps this man, who cared for her as a daughter, has just fallen to bandits,” she said, her eyes wide. “I meant nothing untoward. I am speculating about the peculiarities she shows, the strange clothes she wears. She is like no one I have ever met.” She looked at Beck, who stood with his arms crossed. “I am sure Eliza has the morals of a saint.”

  “A saint?” came Eliza’s voice from the hallway. She laughed. “Hardly.” She walked into the room, her arms holding a flat board covered with some type of pastry. The gold-streaked waves of her hair floated unadorned around her shoulders, with several wisps curled tightly to caress her flushed cheeks. Jasper walked behind her, looking more like a bodyguard than a talented baker and cook. Just the sight of Eliza relaxed Beck’s shoulders even as he held his frown. She’d been in the kitchen with Jasper.

  “Tarts,” Jasper announced, walking over to a small table that held a water basin and pitcher. He lowered both to the floor and lifted the table, bringing it over to the hearth for Eliza to place the board upon. Perfectly baked tarts sat in three rows, each looking like a rose and smelling of apples and cinnamon.

  “My first tarts,” Eliza said, her smile full. She opened her arms wide over her creations as if revealing them. She wore a flour-covered apron over the rumpled gown from last night. A smear of flour lay across her forehead as if she’d brushed a strand of hair away. “Jasper is the best teacher I have ever had.” She laughed, her gaze going to Beck. “At baking, that is.” She smiled at him, her eyes dancing with mischief.

  Lark, Meg, and Cecilia all turned to stare at him, but he kept his face neutral.

  “Go ahead, take a bite,” Eliza said. She lifted one and went over to Beck, holding it up to his mouth. She didn’t seem to pick up on the stilted silence in the small circle.

  Beck inhaled through his nose, his gaze searching Eliza’s beautifully exuberant face. To think of what she had been through over the years, how people as snobbish as Cecilia could hurt her with insults, how she could have been raped and sold by Jandeau ten years ago… It stuffed his chest until he felt it would burst if he could not hold and protect her. But right now, staring into her joyous expression, he was going to eat whatever she put before him. He opened his mouth as she pushed the tart inside, almost choking him.

  He coughed, raising his hand to hold the rest she hadn’t crammed in. “Sorry, I thought your mouth was bigger,” she said, her tone sounding wonderfully wicked. She winked, which drove home the fact that she was being wicked. He smiled around the tart, chewing. Damn. He was supposed to tell her they must stay apart. His smile faded.

  “How does it taste?” she asked, her smile dropping. Worry bent her brows. “There is honey, apples, and cinnamon.” She glanced at Jasper, who stood stoically watching, and then back to him. “Everything you like in a tart.”

  He turned his attention to the apple cinnamon sweet on his tongue and made certain to smile despite being highly aware of the judgmental silence behind her. “Delicious,” he said. “My favorite.” And he meant it. The tart was the perfect balance of sweet, tangy, and spicy. Just like Eliza.

  Her face relaxed, the pinch in her forehead releasing, and her smile opened to fill her expression with joy. The result caught Beck, making him unable to breathe with the beauty of it.

  Behind her, Cecilia made a small noise. “Did ye stay up all night baking those?” she asked. “For Beck?”

  And just like that, the light of joy snuffed out of Eliza’s face. She turned around slowly. Did Cecilia, a teasing smile on her face, know how easy it would be for Eliza to throw one of the sgian dubhs she kept on her person? Beck stood, still chewing, looking for hints of pending murder.

  But Eliza lifted the tray and turned in a small circle. “I baked them for you all,” she said and carried the tray around so Gavin, Meg, and Lark could have one. She stopped before Cecilia.

  Cecilia made an obvious perusal of Eliza’s unadorned appearance. “You went straight for him, shoving one of these things in his mouth.” She grinned, her gaze going to Meg before leaning in slightly. “We could teach you not to be so obvious about who you like,” she whispered, but it was loud enough for all to hear.

  “Oh, I do like Beck,” Eliza said, her voice loud to contrast against Cecilia’s mock whisper. “But I would be happy to give a tart to people I do not like as well.” Eliza set the tray back down and lifted one of the pastries, turning to bring it before Cecilia’s lips. “Open wide.” It looked as if she would shove the sweet directly into Cecilia’s mouth.

  “I love the way the apple looks like a rose,” Lark said, trying to pull Eliza’s attention away from smothering Cecilia. Behind her, Callum and Drostan walked into the hall, striding directly over to sample the treats.

  “Oh yes,” Meg agreed. “Almost too pretty to eat.”

  “The best I’ve ever had,” Callum said after taking a bite, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head.

  Eliza set the tart she held for Cecilia into her lap and turned, bringing the tray over for Anders, Pip, and Hester to take one.

  “Perhaps you could become a baker,” Cecilia said, dusting off her petticoat with a pinch of annoyance on her mouth. “So you wouldn’t have to dress nicely.” She looked Eliza up and down. “You look like you went right from a rainstorm into the kitchen, Mistress Eliza. Or did you sleep in your clothes, rising early to impress us with your culinary skills?”

  Eliza looked down at herself as if trying to remember what she was wearing. Her cheeks turned red, and Cecilia grinned as if she’d won some sort of contest. Eliza looked up, her gaze connecting with Cecilia’s superior look. The flush in Eliza’s face remained even as it hardened into determination.

  Mo chreach, he’d have to jump in front of Cecilia to save her life. Beck stood again.

  Cecilia shook her head. “Perhaps you could come back with Meg and me to Mull.”

  “Not if she bakes like this,” Callum said, his flirtatious grin in place. It added more irritation to Beck’s anger.

  Cecilia kept her gaze locked on Eliza. “Meg and I would be happy to help you…learn the ways of a gentle maiden and how to tame your wildness. It will help you find a man.”

  “Ohhh…” Eliza drew out. She set the tray down on the small table and untied the dirty apron, pulling it from her water-stained gown. “I have no need, Mistress Cecilia.” She turned to her, standing in the center of the half circle before the hearth. “I have no desire to be gentle, and I am no maiden.”

  Bloody hell. Eliza was giving credence to what Cecilia had speculated. He wanted to shout that she’d been a virgin as of last night but bit his tongue.

  “’Tis what I thought,” Cecilia murmured, a smug smile on her face as she glanced at Lark and Meg. “’Tis such a shame.”

  Eliza’s brow furrowed, not knowing what she was talking about, and Beck wanted to pull her away from the cruel rumors that would abound. Could he warn Cecilia not to say anything back on Mull?

  “A shame?” Eliza said, a half grin tipping up her lips. She looked at Beck, slanting her head. “I would say it was bloody splendid.”

  Drostan choked on a mouthful of tart, and Callum’s brows rose high. Cecilia’s mouth opened in surprise, as did Meg’s. Lark held a hand to her cheek and glanced over to where the children were playing, hopefully out of earshot.

  “Eliza,” Beck said, trying to warn her, but Eliza turned back to her enemy.

  “Oh, Captain John certainly kept me a maiden, but I will never marry, so I saw no real need.” She shrugged.
“And since I am a woman who wishes to know things in life, like how to bake tarts and how to…swive, tup, fornicate, or fok”—Gavin started coughing into his fist, so Eliza raised her voice—“I found a teacher.”

  She turned to smile openly at Beck. “One who did not seem to mind my wildness.” Eliza made it abundantly clear who she was talking about. “Although perhaps he disapproved of my wet gown, because he stripped me right out of it.” With that, she walked up to Beck, threw her arms around his neck, and planted her lips right onto his.

  Chapter Eleven

  It wasn’t a soft kiss that she gave Beck, and it wasn’t made for passion. It was made to punish the crow.

  The woman was horrible: pretentious, mocking, and obviously planning to talk about her to everyone. If Eliza had any plans to remain on land, it was clear that Cecilia would be her enemy. Not that Eliza wanted to stay on land, but she was stuck here for the moment.

  After their night of reveling in the feel of one another, Beck’s lips were familiar even if he was stiff. Well, hell. She hadn’t asked him if he cared that others knew they had lain together. She’d apologize later. Right now, she had a point to make.

  Pulling back, she avoided Beck’s eyes and turned, her rumpled petticoat twirling out in her haste. She made certain to wear the smile that Captain John said looked like a cat who had just swallowed a bird. “No need to trouble yourself,” Eliza said to Cecilia. “There are plenty of people here on Wolf Isle to teach me the skills of being a woman. Jasper is teaching me to bake. Lady Lark can teach me to pull up my hair, and Beck will teach me everything I need to know about being a wild, well-pleasured woman who can suck out a man’s strength while making him roar my name.”

  Everyone stood in silence, utter horror lighting Lark’s and Meg’s faces. The others gaped.

  Only Alice smiled and shook her head. Reckless. That’s what she called Eliza, especially when it came to dealing with those who tried to shame her. Eliza lived with enough shame on her own. She refused to let anyone else add weight to her burden.

  In the silence Callum slowly stretched his hand up high. “I can teach ye too…” His eyes raised above her head to where Beck stood, and Callum cleared his throat, his elbow bending so that his raised hand rubbed the back of his neck instead. “About farming the land. I’m right good with a shovel and know the best way to enrich the soil.” His nose wrinkled. “But…umm… I guess that is not something a lass does, necessarily.”

  Eagan, Adam, and Rabbie walked into the hall, going first to the table to retrieve tankards of ale. They looked like they’d been working outside, sweat and dust on them. Adam pulled his cup from his mouth and looked over at the silent group.

  “Have we missed something?” Eagan asked.

  Lark stood slowly, a small grin growing on her face. “Mistress Eliza made us tarts, and they are…splendid.” She walked over, looped her arm through Eliza’s, and drew her over to pick up the tart pan. Lark escorted her as if they were best friends. They walked to the table, and all three men grabbed up their tarts. Adam’s gaze had questions in it as he looked to his wife.

  “And Gavin was about to escort Cecilia and Meg home to Mull, so if you have a word for Tor, you better give it to Gavin now.”

  “These are wonderful,” Eagan said, chomping on a tart.

  Rabbie said something, too, but it was difficult to understand with his mouth full, crumbs catching in his scraggly beard.

  “What Rabbie’s trying to say,” Adam said, “is that Grissell sent eggs to thank us for the blankets. Muriel and her toddling lass are outside with them.”

  “Why didn’t you ask them inside?” Lark asked, frowning. She grabbed the last two tarts off the tray.

  “She didn’t want to come in,” Rabbie said. “Just stood staring at the tree.”

  “Come out and meet Muriel and little Lark,” Lark said, squeezing Eliza’s arm. She led Eliza toward the entryway of the keep.

  Eliza glanced over her shoulder to where Gavin was signaling Meg and Cecilia to stand up, and Beck… She wasn’t sure what was going through his head. His face was serious as his gaze followed her. Drostan said something close to his ear, which just hardened his face even more. Had she gone too far to knock that condescending smile off Cecilia’s face? At least she hadn’t drawn anyone’s blood. Stabbing someone would surely be looked down upon more than revealing that Beck was a talented lover.

  Lark continued to talk. “Muriel named her bairn after me for helping her escape Jandeau while she was pregnant with her.”

  Eliza caught Lark’s gaze. “I am sorry you both had to experience that monster,” Eliza said, her words soft. “Claude Jandeau will burn in hell for the things he’s done.”

  Lark squeezed her arm. “Just having been in the man’s clutches for an hour, I am astounded and think you’re the bravest woman I know, Eliza, for having survived for two weeks.”

  They stepped into the dark entryway, Lark’s words burrowing into her. The kindness in them picked at the lock Eliza kept on her memories of that terrible time. Memories that pressed disallowed tears behind her eyes. “Lark…” They paused in the darkness, arm in arm.

  “Yes?”

  The darkness made the words flow more easily, and Eliza didn’t try to staunch them. Maybe if they flowed out of her, they wouldn’t ache so much. “I watched him defile my mother, him and his men.” She swallowed. “But he did not touch me. I… I could do nothing as a child of twelve to help her, so I closed my eyes.”

  They stood in the darkness, and Lark pulled Eliza into her side. “I… I did nothing,” Eliza whispered. “For any of them. Not even Peter. He was only three.”

  “You could do nothing for them, Eliza,” she whispered. “Except survive. I know that your survival was the prayer your mother was saying through it all.”

  Eliza sniffed up the tear that had broken loose. “I will never be helpless again.” And I will never be that selfish again. Her chest clenched, making it difficult to breathe.

  “I absolutely believe that,” Lark said, but she was only answering the words Eliza was willing to speak out loud.

  They stood in the dark, unmoving. “So Beck…was your choosing?” Lark asked. The restrained anger in the question made Eliza look at her, but she could see only a shadow. Did she worry that he’d tricked her into giving him her virginity?

  “Aye, I chose him,” Eliza said. Turning her mind from her shame, it was easier to breathe. “I almost thought he might refuse me.” She could feel some tension leave Lark’s arm as she chuckled slightly and started them walking again. They stepped out into the evening air.

  “I doubt he would refuse you anything,” Lark said.

  “Why?”

  Lark lowered her voice. “You do not see the way he watches you?”

  “No, do you?”

  Lark smiled. “Every time you enter the room.”

  “Perhaps he thinks I will steal something or stab someone.”

  Lark laughed. “My brother is rather open with sweet compliments to lasses, but I have never seen him really look at any of them. It’s like he wants to figure you out.”

  Lark’s words made Eliza’s stomach feel strange, like a flutter that spurred her heart to beat faster.

  “And I think that is what’s made Cecilia lose her mind and manners,” Lark said, her laughter gone. “I am sorry for that.” She stopped to look into Eliza’s eyes. “We would love to have you stay here on Wolf Isle, you and your family, even if things do not work out with Beck.”

  Work out with Beck? Did that mean love? The children already had lines tied to her heart. She refused to add another.

  Before Eliza could reply, Lark called a greeting to the woman standing in front of the tree with a little girl who helped her hold a basket of eggs. “Muriel,” Lark said. “This is Eliza, a new friend of ours, and she has a little girl just a bit older than wee Lark.” She d
ropped Eliza’s arm and went over to bend before the pretty girl with ringlets the same color as Hester’s.

  Muriel smiled. “The two can play together, along with wee John of course,” she said.

  Behind them, the dogs ran out of the keep, followed by Anders and Pip. Alice came holding Hester, who wiggled to get down so she could run after them. The two little girls stopped before one another for a moment. Hester giggled, and they both ran off after the puppies.

  “I best follow them,” Alice said and continued after the toddling blond girls.

  Behind the dogs, Gavin escorted Meg and Cecilia out, followed by Beck and his brothers.

  “Excuse me,” Lark said and hurried over to them. Meg lifted her hand to wave to Eliza and Muriel.

  “She’s a love,” Muriel said.

  “Meg?” Eliza asked.

  Muriel snorted. “I’m definitely not talking about that waspish, black-haired braggart.” She shook her head. “Meg puts up with Cecilia because she’s a cousin.”

  Eliza grinned. “I like you, Muriel.”

  Muriel chuckled, smiling. “Well, now, our wee ones can be friends and we can too. It gets a bit lonely here on Wolf Isle with only Lark, Grissell, and the younger girls about.”

  Eliza opened her mouth to say she would not be staying, but Muriel kept talking. “There are two other lasses who’ve been living with us now,” the young mother said. “Although we get some who stay for a spell and go after we help them back onto their feet, poor things.”

  “So you help Grissell run the orphan home?” Eliza asked.

  “Aye.” She smiled, standing straight. “Our cottages are spread along the southern shore. ’Tis a place for pregnant lasses too. They come when there is nowhere else for them to go. We take them all. Rich, poor, young, old. Some have been treated sorely. Meg’s mother and aunt are healers and come over from Mull to help with the births and early days. They are godly ladies.”

  Alice walked over to the rising portcullis to speak with Gavin. He smiled sweetly at her. Eliza’s gaze shifted to the brothers where they followed Beck out. “And what of the Macquarie brothers?”