My Hunted Highlander Page 6

  “When do we anchor?”

  “As soon as it’s safe. We’ll need to put you to work, if you feel up to it.”

  He stood, and bowed at the waist.

  Odd. In the time she’d been stuck here, she didn’t know a lot of farmers, but she doubted they carried themselves so lordly. Was he acting nice and proper because he was worried that her crew, or Raven, would order him killed?

  “Since the sea has grown calmer, I will send others down to eat a meal, once Cook gets his fire going. You might want to act as server, and talk with the men. The sooner they get to know you, the sooner they might decide we’ll keep you.”

  His undamaged eye widened at her words.

  Why had she said decide if we’ll keep you?

  CHAPTER 6

  Raven strode away from where he had overheard the captain’s little talk with their prisoner. Balfour Green? The name did not fit the man, but it was of no concern. The men would not accept him as one of their own. He was a farmer from the Highlands, he claimed. They could use a hand with the farmland surrounding their new village. They could tie him to the plow…

  Nay! He shall die before the captain falls beneath his spell.

  Although he was bruised and scarred, her gaze had not left his face. Her eyes looked ravenous, as if Green was a trencher filled with sweet meats and shortbread. Growling, he headed up on deck.

  As fresh ocean air brushed a wayward lock of hair from his cheek, Raven took a deep breath. The boat barely swayed, and several of the crew worked to repair the lost railing, with heavy rope. One mast was useless without part of its rigging, and Thomas led a group who were sorting and retying the sections that had crashed to the deck. Soon, the crew would seek a hot meal.

  The prisoner would attempt to sway them into accepting him. Raven would not allow Green to wheedle his way into their lives, but he needed a plan of action. He must do or say something to make the captain wish to throw their prisoner back into the sea. The captain was enticed by the stranger, but Raven could not take the chance of the cur capturing her feelings. Raven had bedded the wench once, and his groin ached to slip between her creamy thighs, once more.

  “I will stop him from ruining my plans.”

  A few of the men saw him on deck and headed toward him. Barnacle Bill tried to smile, but he must have seen Raven’s scowl. If Raven thought more about the prisoner, he would start to snarl. Relaxing his facial muscles, he waved at Bill.

  “Report.”

  “We have used rope to fix the railing, as much as we can, without pulling into our cove. When we do, we shall cut enough wood to fix the damage.”

  “Gather the men. I have words to share, from the captain,” Raven lied.

  Bill called to the other men.

  When gathered, Raven glared at the group. “The prisoner wishes to join us.”

  Grumbles, as well as laughter, filled the air.

  “I believe it is all a scheme to gain our trust, afore he discovers our secrets. Do ye no’ recall the last time our secrets were brought to light?”

  The men glared at him, and several raised their gully knives high, shouting obscenities.

  “Aye, our village felt the wrath of the English,” Thomas yelled.

  Raven nodded, as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Our secrets are no’ just about our stored gold. People will die if he remains on board.”

  “Kill the stranger!” shouted several seamen.

  Another yelled, “Feed him to mial-mhor a’ chuain!”

  “Aye, ‘twas bad luck that the sea monster dinno’ drag him to the bottom of the sea!” Thomas shook his fist at the sky.

  “All our problems will disappear, the moment he disappears,” Raven said, “but ‘tis something we must decide, together. Let us think on the best solution while we celebrate our survival. The storm is over. Bill, tap a barrel!”

  The men cheered.

  Thomas and Bill rolled a barrel of ale to the center of the deck. Another man grabbed a tankard from his belted sash, and plopped it beneath the tap. The aromatic liquid spewed out, and some splashed onto the deck.

  “Doono’ waste a drop, man! ‘Tis a long way home, yet,” Bill said.

  Others laughed, and set their own cups beneath the open tap. Several men danced a Scottish fling, while others sung a bawdy song, filled with tavern wenches and lonely sheep. When Bill stumbled, and nearly pitched over the side, Raven laughed so hard, his stomach hurt.

  “The storm is over, yet my men look like they’ve lost their sea legs. We ought to stay alert, at least, until we make landfall.” The captain stood beside Raven.

  Blair MacIan smelled of spice, and aroused female. The bastard down below was the reason. Had she heard the men’s threats toward her prize? She enticed Raven every time she drew near. Small wisps of dark red hair escaped her head sash, and her lightly tanned throat swallowed as if she wished a tankard of ale, as much as the men. Small freckles dotted her nose, and his gaze lowered to where she stood with her arms crossed over her chest. The simple stance pushed her small fleshy mounds, hidden beneath her white shirt, upward. With her small booted feet set wide apart, her gaze roamed over her crew. She did not look at him, but her scold included him. He sighed, and turned to the crew.

  “The captain is correct. Store the barrel and man yer stations, lads.” Raven bowed to her. He would play her little games. He would do his best to rid the ship of Balfour Green, then return Blair MacIan to his bed. Once he wooed her into marriage, he would gain control over her, her ship, and the gold. The men would follow his orders, and he would gain the power to pillage villages along the entire eastern coast of Scotland.

  As he joined the helmsman, he predicted that everyone in Scotland would soon fear the name Raven Snoddy. He would be a ruthless leader. More ruthless than the beautiful Blair MacIan.

  ***

  Blair waited quietly as her men followed Raven’s orders, and was pleased the odious man strutted away. While two men stored the ale barrel out of sight, others tended to the damaged sails and rigging. The storm had abated, and basic maintenance was well underway, but intense repairs required they wait until they made landfall.

  Part of the crew would scour the land for supplies to fix the ship, while the remainder of the crew would carry goods and gold to the ship’s hold.

  “Holy Moses! The hold. We need to pump it out. Too bad electric pumps won’t be invented for a few hundred years.” Blair scratched her head for ideas.

  “I beg yer pardon, Capt’n.” Bill stepped closer, his hands clenched at his stomach.

  “What is it, Bill?”

  “If ye can spare a few men, we’ll start a bucket ladder.”

  “A what?”

  Bill chuckled, then his face grew expressionless. Blair knew he tried to show her the respect a captain deserved, but she was still a woman, in his eyes.

  “We settle a man in the hold, another passes him a bucket to fill, and the buckets are passed up to an open gunwale, near one of the cannons. The water is tossed into the sea, and the empty bucket…”

  “I get the picture…ah, painting. Please, set that up. Oh…our new man wants to help, so put him to work.”

  Bill smiled. “Aye, Capt’n!”

  Bill sounded too eager to put Mr. Green to work. “Remember, Bill. The man has injuries.”

  Bill’s scowl was evident. “Aye, Capt’n. With kid gloves.”

  When Keegan brought her a tankard of cider, she ordered him to scout around for another set of clothing for Mr. Green. She had a feeling Bill would force him to stand in the bilge water, as the lowest man on the bucket brigade.

  “A castle, my captain!”

  Blair glanced up at the man high atop a mast, who was sewing a tear in a sail. He pointed westward. When Blair’s gaze followed, she spied the tall cliffs, near Wick. A huge, square tower of red sandstone loomed above, and she wished the ship was farther from the coast.

  “We are past the reach of their arrows.”

  The soft, low voice cau
sed tingles to race along Blair’s spine. When a warm hand settled low on her waist, she stiffened.

  “What do you know about arrows and warfare?” Blair glanced up at the sandy-haired prisoner suddenly standing beside her. “Tell me?”

  Balfour Green smiled down at her. “Since ye asked nicely.” His devious smile widened, and he crossed his large hands behind his back. His shirt fluttered open at the neck, revealing a smattering of golden curls. His stance was wide and at ease, and his back was straight. When he raised his face to the sun peeking through the clouds, he looked at peace, even with the scar and bruised cheek.

  Blair poked his upper arm with her index finger. “You were saying?”

  Balfour chuckled. “I hunt. I am familiar with longbows, and the weapons the archers make use of. We are at a safe distance from either.”

  “You…hunt?” The taste of freshly roasted venison was one of only a few delicious meals she’d come to savor, since arriving in ancient Scotland.

  “Aye. I can bring down a stag from a great distance, in a thickly treed forest. The archers on the castle’s battlements are watching ye.”

  Blair glanced up at the men in question, but they were too far away. “They could be watching anyone. I look no different than any other sailor.”

  Silence loomed, until a gull cried, and gentle waves lapped against the hull. Blair returned her attention to Balfour. “What?”

  “Ye look nothing like the others,” he whispered.

  “What the…what do you…?” As she stuttered, trying to express her anger with his statement, a heavy set of footsteps sauntered closer.

  “There ye be, lad. Follow me,” Bill said.

  Blair kept silent. Balfour studied the man, then followed Bill toward the stairway. Bill would watch him, as he made him help bail the hold. If Balfour complained, the men would never accept him.

  Raven returned to her side. “Our cove is straight ahead. We will make landfall before dusk. How shall we keep our guest from discovering our cave?”

  “Bill will keep him busy bailing out the hold. He won’t see where we are, until we drop anchor.”

  “The quicker the repairs are completed, the quicker we can rid ourselves of our guest, and return to New Lincoln.”

  “Before we head north again, we will get our repairs completed, and find fresh food. Mr. Green is a hunter.”

  Raven’s eyes blazed, as if she’d said he dabbled in witchcraft. “Meaning…what, exactly?”

  “We can put him to work. Wouldn’t venison make a good addition to our dinner table?”

  Raven glanced down at his boots, then settled his fists at his waist. He mumbled what sounded like a Gaelic curse, then nodded. He returned to the helmsman, and Blair walked to the bow. When their secret cove came into view, she relaxed. They had weathered the storm, and no one had died, but The Black Thistle was in need of repairs.

  As she headed toward the stairway, intent on checking on the injured men, the setting sun cast long shadows over the ripped canvas, and other debris littering the deck. With plenty of work ahead, she’d order the crew to get a good night’s sleep.

  ***

  The morning sun was too bright for Niall’s good eye. Squinting, he followed the captain and first mate across the deck, to an opening in the railing. One by one, they climbed down the rope ladder and landed in the hull of a small boat.

  “Shall the new man row?” Raven asked, sneering.

  Niall cringed. Bruises mottled his skin, and the hours he had worked with the bucket brigade had made the pain worsen. He did not look forward to rowing ashore.

  “Nope. You row,” the captain answered.

  Raven sputtered at the captain’s words. He obviously expected her to make Niall row.

  When Raven shoved their boat away from The Black Thistle using an oar, Niall landed hard on the bench seat, near the stern of the small boat. Raven grabbed the second oar, and sat with his back to the shore. Swinging them deep into the dark water, he leaned back and pulled. As they slid silently through the glassy water, Raven glared at Niall.

  The captain, sitting beside Niall, worked the small rudder, and glanced back at the ship. Other men lowered a second boat onto the cove’s calm waters. With the breakers no longer a threat, and cliffs above them on both sides, the silence had a calming effect on him. Raven, on the other hand, must not have noticed the peaceful surroundings. The man growled and sputtered.

  Niall made a second attempt to befriend the wretch, and gain his trust. “Forgive me. I regret I have aggravated my previous injuries while hauling buckets from the hold.”

  “Aye, ye aggravate…” Raven grunted.

  Niall was unsure if anything he said would help. “I should be fine, shortly. I am no’ one to shirk his duty.”

  “We know you are unwell, don’t we, men?” the captain asked. She had turned from him to watch Raven. Two other seamen sat silently in the bow, near a pile of empty sacks and several shovels.

  The first mate nodded, but Niall would watch his back.

  Wrenching his gaze from the sneering Raven, Niall glanced around him as they navigated through the narrow inlet. The cliffs seemed oddly familiar. Boulders, strewn along a narrow beach, reminded him of a place where he and his brother once played.

  When they pulled closer to the beach, the two seamen jumped out and set an anchor in the rocky sand. Raven tossed the sacks and shovels to them, then jumped into the shallows. Niall waited for the captain to indicate he move, as well. Making friends with these cutthroats would start with her.

  If only getting on her good side required but a kiss.

  “Are you waiting for an invitation?” she asked.

  Niall jumped to his feet, and lost his footing on a wet tarpaulin. When the boat rocked, he landed on his back in shallow water. Slammed onto the sandy bottom, his breath whooshed from his lungs, suddenly replaced with a mouthful of seawater.

  He fumbled to gain his footing, cursed several new bruises, and coughed up water. High-pitched laughter curdled his stomach. Wiping damp hair from his face, Niall straightened his soaked eye-patch, and stood up. Water dripped down his body, plastering his shirt to his chest. Growling, he pulled it off over his head, and threw it back into the boat.

  “Holy Moses!”

  Glancing toward the captain, he frowned. Internally, he wept with joy. Her gaze was centered on the middle of his chest, but when the focus of that gaze trailed lower, and hovered on the damp trews, that outlined the length and breadth of his growing manhood, he smiled.

  “Like what ye see, my Captain?”

  “I am not your captain. I’m not your anything. Are you hurt?”

  Her quick switch from anger, to caring, was mind numbing. He needed to watch his mouth and his hands, with this one. “A few more bruises.”

  “I tried to grab your arm before you fell. I missed. Sorry.” She leaped gracefully from the boat and joined her men, who had gathered the bags and shovels. Raven stood at the base of the cliff wall, which was covered by dense brush. He yanked aside a makeshift wall of interlaced branches and vines, revealing a cave.

  “A hidden cave. ‘Tis of yer own making?” he asked the captain.

  “Well, the cave was already here, but it is sometimes useful to have a place to leave items we have gathered--”

  “Stolen?”

  “Bartered for. We only steal from English ships. The English are the reason why we have gold coins and other little treasures. We legally collected wool, food, and tools from the local villagers.”

  As he pondered this revelation, Niall crossed his wrists behind his back, and followed the others into the cave. Raven lit several torches along the walls, and the scene that unfolded before Niall made his chest constrict.

  I know this cave.

  His hand rose, sweeping along the small carvings in the wall, at hip level. He knew the words. ‘A pirate’s life for me.’ He knew them, because he had carved them into the dark red sandstone, years ago.

  When he and Gavin were young
lads, they had accompanied hunting parties to the shore. He and his brother had discovered this very cave. Gavin grew tired of the bats that made their home in the shadows above their heads, but Niall used the private domain to romance several local lasses. What were the odds that his life would come full circle?

  “Move yer arse, Green!” Raven shouted.

  Niall moved farther into the cave, and stopped beside the other men. Several more joined them, and the captain shouted orders. Young Keegan bounded into the cave like an untrained pony, and Niall had to smile.

  He shifted aside the memories that had risen. For the same reason Niall brought women here for an assignation, the pirates stored their booty in the cave hidden beneath the cliffs.

  It had not escaped Niall’s notice that the Sinclair clan’s land did not extend to the sea. His gut twisted at the realizations that when they had hunted and fished, they had poached on land belonging to another clan. Had Gavin realized the truth? Had his brother realized Niall had brought women here? Niall shook his head in disgust. His father had no honor, even back then. The revelation of their poaching had only sanctified his decision to leave his controlling sire. He no longer went where Angus Sinclair ordered, nor would he ever follow his sire’s men.

  ‘Twas the right choice.

  Niall had visited the cave often, because he had once thought of pirates as heroes. Until his recent meet-up with Captain Blair MacIan and her pirates, he had sung their praises. His brother never felt the same about pirates. Gavin said they were not to be trusted.

  Smart man, my brother.

  CHAPTER 7

  In his bedchamber inside Castle Ruadh, Gavin Sinclair rested with Jenny Morgan in his arms. Thoroughly sated, his mind wandered, until he thought of Niall.

  “Are you thinking about your brother?” Jenny squirmed, as if trying to get closer.

  Hugging her to his chest, he brushed hair from her eyes, and kissed her forehead. Shadows might have darkened those brown eyes, but she gazed up at him, with emotions he never sought, from any woman.