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

by McCollum, Heather

  His lips rolled back, showing white teeth. “Ma mère thought of very little and did very little but lie on her back and open her legs, which is something you will be doing as soon as I sink this annoying little carrack.”

  Jandeau dropped his hand from her crotch, his gaze turning to assess the location of the Calypso and the English ship. His jaw was concealed by the raised wool collar of his captain’s coat, but she could see the tension in his forehead.

  The revulsion at Jandeau’s cruel anchoring had bubbled acid up in her stomach. She turned her gaze back to her one hope, Beck. Her breath stopped. Beck and Liam were running about the Calypso’s deck with…torches, not buckets. Her lips parted on a whispered curse. “By the devil’s ballocks.”

  Beck was setting his ship on fire. She could see now that the rest of the small crew was gone from the decks, and the ship was sailing on an intersecting course.

  “Un brûlot!” one of the pirates yelled.

  “Aye,” she said, “a fire ship.” Fire ships were just like they sounded, ships set on fire to be sailed directly into the enemy, a lit arrow with tons of gunpowder behind it. Eliza could barely draw breath at the sight. Beck was standing on a ton of gunpowder, surrounded by flames. What was he thinking, the bloody fool?

  I will not let go.

  “Oh, Beck,” she whispered, the words catching in her throat. He was using the only weapon he had left that could stop Jandeau from taking her away. His beautiful carrack ship that he had built himself. He’d poured everything that was strong and beautiful within him into it. And he was destroying it.

  I will not let go.

  “It will hit!” a crewman with a nasty scar across his cheek yelled.

  Jandeau yelled orders in French. Cannons exploded, hitting the incoming fire ship. Did he think they could sink it before it reached them? Fool. There was nothing stopping the flaming arrow flying across the waves. The blazing Calypso was certainly going to hit. The question was, how would she and Beck survive it?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Smoke rose around Beck as plumes of sea spray doused him with each hit. The crack of his mainmast snapped his gaze overhead. “Watch out!” he yelled to Liam as the brittle, wildly flapping sail fell, spewing flames across the deck.

  Crack! Another cannonball hit the side of the Calypso, jolting him. “Get ready to jump,” Beck yelled, shoving one of the long ropes toward the man. They scrambled up onto the gunwale rail, the wind whipping around them as if God’s own hand pushed them toward their target. “One, two, thr—”

  Just as the bow of the ship hit the side of the Bourreau, Beck and Liam jumped forward, hands clasped around the tops of their ropes. The force of Beck’s leap, combined with the thrust of the moving ship, sent him flying through the smoke. He hit the Bourreau’s deck boots first, the impact the same as leaping from a moving horse.

  The deck around him swarmed with panicked men as the Calypso spread fire to the ship, its bow rammed into the Bourreau’s port side. Beck ran for the stern, the last place he’d seen Eliza. He was hardly aware of Liam beside him, the two of them dodging pirates who were too concerned with saving their ship to notice.

  Beck drew his sword. The heft of it felt familiar, an extension of him that sliced through any who stood in his way of saving Eliza.

  “There!” Liam yelled, and the wind shifted the billowing smoke so that he caught sight of her being dragged by Jandeau toward his cabin. Not one to go back to the hell she’d endured as a girl, Eliza kicked and threw her weight to the deck, nearly pulling the pirate down with her.

  Jandeau spouted curses in French as he hauled her up, his strength superior to hers. She slapped his hands away. Shite! Beck could see the impact coming as Jandeau raised his fist, slamming it into Eliza’s jaw.

  “Nay!” Beck yelled, but his word was engulfed by the yells and crackle of fire around him. Eliza crumpled under the punch that would have taken out a man much larger than she. Had he broken her jaw? Her neck? Beck leaped over coiled rope, pushing past two pirates, hitting one with the hilt of his sword.

  “Eliza!” he yelled, and Jandeau turned to see him running toward them. He drew the unconscious Eliza before him like a shield, her body slack. “Ye foking rancid devil,” Beck yelled, death on his face.

  “I will slice her throat if you come closer,” Jandeau called out, halting Beck. His arm went out, stopping Liam from his forward run. Beck dragged in gusts of tainted air, and Liam coughed on the smoke. Beck blinked against the scorching thickness of it. There was a rope tying Jandeau and Eliza together loosely around the waist.

  Beck sheathed his sword and grabbed his honed mattucashlass, his fist tight around it next to his side. Eliza. Lord, keep her alive. The shouting behind him grew, but Beck didn’t take his eyes away from them. Jandeau was watching everyone around him, his face grim.

  “Ye are losing your ship, Jandeau,” Beck called. “Leave the woman and help save your own life and those of your men.”

  Jandeau snarled, his face pinching into fury. “If I die, ma fille dies with me.”

  Kaboom!

  The explosion behind Beck threw him toward Jandeau. Splinters of wood hurtled through the air like arrows, hitting Beck’s back where he fell, sprawled out on the deck. He pushed up before he could even decide what had exploded. If it had been the entire amount of gunpowder on the Calypso, they’d all be dead.

  He leaped to his feet, searing pain against his back. The new, bright white tunic he’d donned for the Duffie wedding was stained and tattered and likely his death shroud. The wind blew enough to scatter the smoke so he could see that Jandeau and Eliza lay only feet away. Jumping close, he slid his mattucashlass blade through the rope around Eliza’s waist.

  “Damn Scot,” Jandeau said, grabbing for his boot, trying to trip him. Beck yanked his boot back and kicked the pirate in the chest, making him sprawl backward, where Liam jumped on him. But all of Beck’s attention turned to the unmoving lass before him. He lifted her into his arms and held the back of his finger near her parted lips.

  All around him, the world had turned into the brimstone and fire of hell. Men yelling in panic. Flames crackling in the Bourreau’s helpless sails. Yet, he waited to feel her breath. “Eliza,” he said. “Eliza.”

  Movement behind her eyelids allowed him to inhale. She was alive. Alive for now.

  Beck pulled her to his chest and dashed over to the rail. Pirates were jumping into the sea, and Wentworth’s ship was barreling down on them as he attempted to pull to the side so as not to slam into his prey and catch ablaze himself. There were no dinghies tied there, but out in the water Beck saw the dinghies from the Calypso. Jasper stood balanced in one, waving both arms.

  Beck stepped up on the rail. “Beck?” Eliza asked, her voice strained. He looked down to see confusion on her face, her eyes opening to the smoke and chaos around them.

  He stared at the loveliness of her long eyelashes as she blinked, the smooth skin of her cheeks, and her deep gray eyes. “I love ye, Eliza. I love ye now and forever.”

  “Love?” Eliza whispered, staring into his face, the word seeming to wake her fully. He could see the swelling along her jaw where it darkened from Jandeau’s fist.

  “We have to jump. Now,” he said. “Together.”

  She gave a little nod, pulling in a breath, which she coughed on. “Aye, together then.” He let her slide down his body until her feet touched the rail.

  “Together!” Beck yelled as the first blast of the explosion blew behind him. It threw them forward toward the dark, rolling water, their fingers entwined.

  …

  Needles of cold made all the muscles in Eliza’s body contract. The force of the entry into the sea had torn Beck’s hand from hers. Shrugging quickly out of the heavy coat, Eliza kicked hard and used all the muscles in her arms and shoulders to swim upward through the dark water toward the brilliant red and orange
light of the flames.

  Despite the debris hitting the water, she must break the surface, her lungs burning for air.

  Swim. Keep swimming. Just a few more feet.

  Breaking through the surface. Eliza gulped air and coughed on the seawater. Treading water, she turned in a tight circle. Fire raced along the remaining parts of the Bourreau, consuming it like a beast eating its catch. Debris tossed on the waves where the heads of Jandeau’s crew bobbed, several of them waving toward the English ship.

  Eliza’s head snapped around. “Beck!” she yelled. “Beck!” Where was he? Had he been knocked unconscious by the blast or a piece of debris? Was he sinking into the inky depths below her?

  Without thinking, Eliza dove underwater, her eyes straining through the darkness. She took a breath and returned. Another breath. She squeezed her fingers into her eyes against the sting of the salt and dove again. Where was he? Her arms and legs felt heavier each time.

  She started as something grabbed her arm, yanking her up to the surface. Spitting out water, she snapped around, shoving wet hair from her eyes. “Beck!” she screamed, throwing her arms out to catch his neck, nearly pulling him back under as a wave bobbed them up and down.

  “Eliza!” he yelled. “Damn. I thought I’d lost ye.” He hugged her close as they both kicked to remain afloat. She felt his warmth through the icy water, wishing to crawl farther into him.

  She looked around at the mayhem. “I thought the plan was to fish me out of the water, but now you’re in the same barrel,” she said, her chin growing numb. It was getting harder to keep above the waves.

  His gaze whipped around. “Hold on to me.”

  She grabbed his strong shoulders but kicked to help propel them toward a floating piece of a ship’s gunwale, broad overlapping boards held together. “Hold on this side,” he instructed, putting her hands on the edge. “Can ye?”

  She nodded, and he slowly released her, watching her closely. If one of them slipped under, they would be lost forever. He swam around to the other side of the wooden raft. “Try to kick your way up on it while I do the same. The two of us can pull each other out of the water,” he said. He waited for her nod. “One, two, three!”

  Eliza kicked her numb legs, glad she had on trews. They both lifted, but she couldn’t get high onto the board. Beck grabbed her wrists. “Kick, Eliza!”

  She took a deep breath, kicking with all her might, and he pulled her up onto the raft, the two of them face-to-face, breathing heavily. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this cold before,” she said, her teeth clacking together. “Makes me want to climb up into the fire.”

  Beck leaned into her knuckles, breathing out hot air onto her fingers. “We need to get to a boat.” Pushing upward, Eliza saw him look around. She needed to help more, but she was feeling so damn tired, the cold stealing her strength. Pinpricks penetrated deeper, the ache spreading into her bones.

  “Eliza!” he called, and she blinked, opening her eyes fully. “Don’t fall asleep.”

  “I know,” she murmured. “I’m just so tired.”

  “’Tis the cold.”

  “I know that.” She tried to frown but couldn’t make her face muscles work. They would never make it to her uncle’s ship.

  “And that bastard punching ye,” Beck said against the lapping of the water and yells from the crew. His face was fierce.

  “Where are the children and Alice? Peter?”

  “On dinghies.”

  Her blinks were getting longer. “Make sure…Peter to…uncle…the crew.” Her words were becoming garbled.

  “Eliza!” Beck tugged her hands. The wooden raft wobbled as Beck pulled himself up higher on it and then pulled her higher. They were balanced on their stomachs in the middle. She felt his hands cup her cheeks. “Eliza, don’t ye dare fall asleep. Ye hear me? I love ye, lass.”

  Loved her? He’d said that before they’d jumped, hadn’t he? Her eyes opened to search his pinched face. Water weighed down his hair, and the wrinkles of concern cut in his forehead, but he was still the most handsome man she’d ever seen. And he loves me.

  He leaned closer, his warm lips touching hers. He pulled back slightly. “I won’t let go, Eliza,” he said, his hands sliding to her numb arms, rubbing them.

  The heaviness of the cold water was still making it hard for her to speak, but she wanted him to know… She laid her head down on the planks. “I love you too,” she said, unsure if her stumbling words were understandable. But when she opened her eyes, he was staring into them, joy mixed with determination on his face. He’d heard her. It was enough.

  …

  “Where is she?” Beck asked, trying to keep his voice below a shout. He pushed up from his stomach where he had been sleeping, feeling all the aches in his muscles as if he’d been beaten. Fire scraped along his back, making him curse as he tried to look over his shoulder.

  “She’s safe and well,” the woman’s voice said low, its cadence nasal with a French accent. “Cullen and Tor took her back with her Captain John and his crew.”

  Beck focused his gaze on Cullen’s wife, Rose Duffie, the lady of Islay Isle. Her dark-brown hair with wisps of silver and her delicate features belied the strength he knew the MacDonald chief’s wife had within her.

  Jasper had fished Eliza and him out of the sea and onto one of the Calypso’s dinghies. Wentworth had taken them all onboard, along with the half of the crew of the Bourreau that hadn’t drowned or died in the explosion. The closest isle with help was Islay, so they’d sailed there, Beck holding on to an unconscious Eliza the whole time.

  Beck remembered Adam trying to take Eliza from his arms as he carried her down Wentworth’s gangplank, but he wouldn’t give her up. Once she was inside Dunyvaig Castle, he’d lost consciousness.

  “Why am I still here?” Beck asked.

  Rose Duffie pressed down on his shoulder, pushing him flat, her mouth firm. “Because you are burnt on your back. You and Liam Maclean are being cared for here at Dunyvaig on Islay Isle where I have access to snail slime to heal your scorched skin and the cuts and splinters embedded in it.” That explained the flayed feeling across his back. “Eliza woke, and her lady, Alice, along with Lark, convinced her to return to Wolf Isle to help her family get settled there.”

  He flipped his face toward Rose. “She is unhurt?”

  Rose smiled. “Oui. You kept her alive on the water, carried her to safety. She has bruises and sore muscles but is well.”

  Thank the blessed Lord. Beck closed his eyes for a long moment and felt Rose smoothing something cool on his back. The blasts from the Calypso must have burned him. His terror at trying to keep Eliza afloat and the frigid water had numbed his back. “Liam was burned too?” he asked.

  “Oui. Camille is taking care of him with the help of Beatrice. Jandeau will suffer with his burns on the way to London.”

  “Jandeau survived?”

  Rose sniffed, frowning. “Liam managed to keep le scélérat alive.” She made a face that looked like she’d tasted something bitter. “I know much about French pirates, and Jandeau is one of the worst.” Her hand went to her neck, where there was still a faint scar from long ago. Beck had heard the rumors that she had once been the prisoner of a pirate.

  Rose wiped her fingers on a cloth. “Liam kept him afloat and pushed him on a piece of wood over to Captain Wentworth. Jandeau will be hanged from the gallows in London for his crimes against the people of England and Scotland. Young Peter Wentworth accompanied his uncle.”

  “I need to return to Wolf Isle,” Beck repeated. “Now.”

  “Ton amour will wait for you there,” Rose said. A smooth smile crossed her strong mouth. “And you will heal here until you are able to walk to her without fever. Would you have her see you so weak?”

  He frowned, and only then noticed the chill bumps speckling his skin.

  Rose continued.
“Your fever is growing. Give yourself time to fight it. Eliza will not leave before you return.”

  “How do ye know that?” he whispered. What if she left with Captain John?

  She smiled. “Because she loves you, too, Highlander.”

  He stared into her eyes, his brow tightly furrowed. “She told ye?” he asked.

  “She did not need to,” Rose answered. She covered him gently with a blanket, the weight only tolerable because of the cool slime and bandages over his back.

  “Rest, Highlander. Let the feverfew I gave you work, and you will be back on Wolf Isle soon.”

  Beck watched the door close. Eliza had said that she loved him as they clung to each other on the sea. Had she truly meant it? Damn. He must get to Eliza to ask her… Ask her what? She’d said that she would never marry. Could he make her change her mind before she left?

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I could get used to this,” Eliza murmured as she sank into the warm water of the bathing tub that she’d filled in Beck’s cottage. Soon her brother, Peter, would be able to indulge in such luxury at his new estate in England. He had said he forgave her, even though John continued to say that there was nothing to forgive.

  The boy was safe and thankful that his sister had been brave enough to steal a ship and go after him.

  Eliza cupped her cheeks and exhaled. Would Beck ever forgive her for stealing his ship? I love ye. She’d heard his words, but they seemed like a dream.

  After two days of rest and warming back up from her sea plunge, she’d been fit to help the men of the Devil’s Blood move into cottages in the abandoned village of Ormaig on Wolf Isle. Many of the cottages still needed work, so she’d helped Edgar, Kofi, and Wretch patch roofs on their temporary homes. Captain John was invited to sleep up at the castle until he and the crew mended the masts and sides of their ship. With them all working on it, it wouldn’t take more than a week. And then what?

  Eliza slipped deeper into the water, running the strawberry-smelling soap over her skin. Cullen’s wife, Rose, had promised her that Beck would heal quickly under her care. It had been a week, and all Eliza had heard was that Beck had come through a fever. He’d carry the scars of the fire on his back, the scars that would forever remind him that he’d sacrificed his ship to save her.