The Highlander’s Pirate Lass by Heather McCollum

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.

Eliza dropped the soap and cupped her face in her hands. She owed him her life, because if Jandeau had stolen her away, she would have thrown herself overboard as soon as possible, hopefully before any of the bastards could rape her. Just the thought of that icy, life-stealing water made her shiver in the tub. She pulled her knees up to wrap her arms around them, resting her cheek there. “Beck,” she murmured. I am sorry.

“Eliza!” Beck’s voice rang out from the path beyond the cottage walls. It sounded like thunder cracking across a stormy sea sky. “Eliza! Where are ye?” Voices outside seemed to answer him.

Eliza thrust herself upward out of the water, making a wave surge over the edge. She was standing knee-deep, dripping and naked with her hair down around her shoulders, when the door slammed open. Beck’s large body took up the whole doorway, blocking any onlookers from outside.

“I am here,” she managed to say.

His gaze slid down her wet frame. Her nipples, already hard with the coolness of the air, tightened even more with his perusal, as if he’d slid his hands down her skin. Beck stepped inside, and with a flick of his hand, the door slammed shut behind him. They stood there opposite each other, he fully clothed in a clean tunic and kilt, his hair and beard clipped short, his muscles still large and straining against his tunic, and she still completely, unabashedly naked.

“Eliza,” he said, the word like a deep exhale as if he’d been holding his breath. “Ye are here.”

“Have been since your brothers brought us back,” she said, stepping out of the tub on the side closest to the fire, letting the heat push away the chill in the air and dry the droplets on her skin. She still had fading bruises from the fight, but she wouldn’t hide from Beck.

He stepped closer, dropping his sheathed sword to the wooden floor. He was as solid as a mountain, the deep thud of his boots falling in cadence with her heart. His hands came up to hold her shoulders, then he slid them up and down her arms like he’d done in the ocean, trying to warm her. “I came to find ye as soon as I could.”

A small smile grew on her lips. “You have found me.”

Beck untied his white tunic at the base of his throat and pulled it up and off over his head, leaving his chest bare. She could see fingers of red flesh peeking over his shoulders like a witch’s gnarled fingers. Her smile faded.

“You are in pain?” she asked, her voice soft.

“Aye, from not touching ye.”

She stepped up to him, her bare feet inches from the toes of his boots. “Then touch me, Beck,” she whispered.

Without another word, his mouth descended to cover hers. Strong arms wrapped around her damp body, pulling her against his rugged frame, lifting under her arse to mold her to his hardness. All thoughts of sacrifice, remorse, leaving, loyalty, and repaying her debt to him melted away, leaving only want and some deeper emotion. I am not letting go, she thought, her hands reaching up to capture his face.

…

Beck woke with a start, his hand sliding along the bed. It was empty. “Eliza?” He sat up, scanning the vacant cottage. Pain flamed along his back, making him grunt. He’d just been dreaming that she had sailed away with Captain John and her crew.

“Mo chreach,” he muttered, rising from the rumpled bedding. He’d been home for three days and nights, and he wasn’t any closer to asking Eliza to stay with him than he had been on Islay Isle covered with snail slime.

He stood, carefully stretching his back where the healing flesh was tight. He would always have a reminder of sacrificing his ship, but that was not what tightened his chest. He’d sacrificed for Eliza, for her life and freedom. And now he wanted to ask her for her life and freedom by marrying him. He scowled as he folded the long length of wool to wrap around his waist.

She must know he wanted her to stay with him. For every time he tried to talk with her about her future, she’d kiss him until he was speechless, or disappear until she caught him in the darkness where the only words that fell from his lips had to do with making her scream his name in ecstasy.

Eliza must feel obligated to stay with Captain John. Beck tugged his belt closed and tucked his tunic into the low edge. “He needs to release her,” he murmured, grabbing up his sword to tie to his waist. Boots and garb in place, he quickly washed and headed out the door. Captain John was the answer. If only Beck could persuade the man to support his cause.

Beck nodded to two of Captain John’s crew who were working on a roof several cottages down. The man named Edgar, who had been so belligerent in the dungeon when Eliza had called Beck her lover, was planting some flower seedlings in window boxes at the schoolhouse Lark had started. He squinted at Beck and spat as he walked by.

At the top of the hill, Beck spotted the masts of the Devil’s Blood. It had docked just the night before, having been pulled and guided by Tor’s ship across the narrow channel between Mull and Wolf Isle. The sides had been patched and the masts righted with new sails. Only the fittings needed to be secured, and she would be ready to sail again.

Beck strode toward Captain John, who stood alone, looking at his ship. “Is Eliza aboard?” Beck asked, a snap to his voice. Was she already moving her things back to the small cabin she kept?

John raised an eyebrow. “She is in the castle, teaching Alice and Pip how to bake tarts.”

Beck’s shoulders relaxed, and he bent forward, propping hands on his knees for a second. He straightened, looking directly into John’s eyes. “I want to marry Eliza,” he said.

John sniffed and turned back to his ship, hands clasped behind his back. “She knows nothing of marriage.”

Beck huffed softly. “That does not matter. I am not looking for a…usual wife.”

“She wants to sail.”

“She can sail with me once I rebuild the Calypso.”

“Then ask her to wed,” John said, still not looking at him.

“She’ll not let me.” Beck stared out at the water. “Every time I bring up the subject of her future or our future, she…” He wasn’t about to tell the man who considered Eliza his daughter exactly what she did to him to make him lose his mind. “…she distracts me or disappears.” Beck stood with his legs braced for battle. “I think she has a notion that ye will not give her up, that ye saved her and she owes it to ye to stay with ye on the Devil’s Blood.”

“Eliza is free to leave whenever she wishes.”

Beck stepped before John to force him to meet his gaze. “Tell her that. Before ye leave Wolf Isle.” Beck glanced toward Gylin but didn’t see anyone except Anders talking to Gavin in the bailey. Would Anders sail with Eliza if she one day took over the Devil’s Blood?

Beck turned back to John. “She does not need to take over your ship when ye die.”

John took a step to the right and looked outward again. “She is free to do whatever she wishes.”

“Dammit,” Beck muttered. “Then tell her that, for she will not listen to me.”

“Perhaps you need to be louder,” John said, sliding his gaze to him, “and stop her from…distracting you long enough to talk.”

Beck crossed his arms over his chest. “If ye would just order her to stop long enough to hear me out—”

“You may have noticed that Eliza does not take well to having people tell her what to do,” John said.

Bloody hell. “But I have your blessing to ask her?” Beck asked. “Ye will let her stay here on Wolf Isle if that is what she wants?”

John kept his gaze outward toward the sea. “Aye.”

…

“’Tis a start,” Adam said inside the great hall and shook Liam Maclean’s hand. Tor Maclean stood with them, as did Callum and Drostan.

“I was an ignorant fool,” Liam said, “and I am heartily sorry. And now Jandeau will sail to England on Wentworth’s ship to be hanged like the pirate dog he is.”

“And then burn in hell,” Eliza murmured, from where she stood in the dark archway from the kitchens. She’d left Alice and Pip there, along with two of the girls who were staying with Grissell on the south side of the isle. Jasper was teaching them all to carve an apple to look like a rose.

She strode quickly past the men on her way to the castle door. She wore her sailing trews and jacket, her hair pulled back in a simple tie. She’d snuck out of Beck’s cottage before dawn to talk to Captain John, but he’d been busy inspecting the new masts of the Devil’s Blood. Perhaps now he was free, for she needed his advice.

Peeking out through the open doors of the keep, she saw Beck striding across the bailey toward her. With a tiny gasp, she slid up against the wall behind the open door and held her breath. Beck strode by, determination in the swing of his arm, his other one resting on the hilt of his sword. As soon as he’d passed, she ducked out, hurrying across the bailey, past the half-dead willow tree that snapped its tendrils at her. She paused, glancing at the knife stuck into its trunk, sap leaking out darkly as if it bled. Shaking her head, she kept going.

“Captain John,” she called as she got close to where he stood, hands behind his back, staring at the Devil’s Blood.

He nodded to her. “Eliza.”

Glancing behind her, she didn’t see Beck. Good. She needed to talk to Captain John without him overhearing. She opened her mouth several times before anything came out. “Are we to sail soon?”

“Aye,” John said. “Perhaps on the morrow if the tides and wind are right.”

“On the morrow?” She paused. “Some of the men seem like they are setting up to live in Ormaig.”

“’Tis their choice.”

Eliza looked toward the village, where the sounds of hammering had begun. “And Alice wishes to remain. She has a fondness for Gavin Maclean. I think Pip and Hester will stay too. Anders, though, will likely sail with the Devil’s Blood.”

Captain John gave one nod and then glanced at her. “And you?”

Her hands went to cover her face, slowly rubbing the tension there. “I owe you my life, Captain. You and the crew.”

“No one owes a life to anyone. I saved you as a girl. You saved me from the gallows. That Macquarie lad saved you from the ocean.” John shrugged. “Life is too short to give it away to someone because you think you owe it to them.” He paused and exhaled long. “You do not need to sail with the Devil’s Blood.”

She dropped her hands. “You would have me leave the ship? You said… You said you would not let go of me,” she whispered. Her chest squeezed, but she wasn’t sure if it was from worry, sadness, or hope.

Captain John turned his whole body toward her, his sharp gaze connecting with hers. “If you wish to leave the Devil’s Blood, I will survive.” He allowed himself a subtle smile.

Her brows pinched. “I have always been part of the crew.” He was letting her go? Beck had said he loved her when they were nearly drowning. She knew he wanted her to stay. Did she want to? Questions swirled around in her head, making her queasy. “I…don’t know how to be anything else.” Her words became whispers.

“You are you, Eliza. Just be you. And anything you wish to learn, you will.” His eyes turned back to the ocean. “Climbing, swimming, steering a ship, baking, throwing a dagger, apparently tupping.”

He pressed a hard kiss on her forehead and then stared down into her eyes, his hands cupping her shoulders. “You are my daughter, Eliza, not by blood but in spirit. And like other honorable fathers, I wish you well, even if that means you find your happiness elsewhere. The Devil’s Blood will always be your home, and”—he swallowed—“’tis true I am not letting you go…in here,” he said, and thumped a fist against his heart.

Eliza swallowed, blinking past the tears she felt pressing behind her eyes. She threw herself into his arms, and her father held her tight, saying nothing. “I love you too,” she whispered and inhaled, finally stepping back. “I… I need to think.”

A small smile cracked his usual stoic frown. “Aye, you do.”

She turned on her bootheel to stride… Where? Toward the castle where she knew Beck was looking for her? Or toward the forest to evade him again? She could feel Captain John’s gaze on her back, watching her hesitate. Swallowing hard, she stepped toward the castle.

“There ye are,” Beck called as he strode out under the raised portcullis.

She stopped, letting him walk up to her. By the devil, he was so rugged and wickedly handsome. Below his traditional plaid, which sat low on his narrow waist, she could see the muscles in his legs. His tunic was white and stretched across his brawny biceps as his arms moved along his sides. His usual smile was replaced by a look of frustration and intensity.

She tipped her face up to meet his gaze when he stopped before her. They stared at one another. “I spoke to Captain John,” Beck said.

“I just spo…” Her voice trailed off, and she frowned. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to make sure he knew I wanted ye to stay and to ask permission to wed ye.”

Her throat tightened, making it hard to inhale fully. “What did he say?”

“That it was up to ye.”

She waited, but he seemed to not know what to say next. “Is this your proposal?”

“Aye, nay,” he said, his face tight. He grabbed the back of his neck. “I do not know what ye want, Eliza.”

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice rising.

“Ye, dammit. I want ye, Eliza.” His voice rose to match hers. They stood within inches of each other. “I’ve been trying to tell ye that for the last three days, but every time I try to talk with ye, ye kiss me.”

“You didn’t seem to mind,” she threw back. Yelling felt good. Fighting was something she knew.

“Well, I’m done with not talking,” he said.

“Beck!” one of his brothers yelled from the bailey, but he ignored him.

“Fine,” she said. “Then we talk.” She crossed her arms. “I am sorry you sacrificed your ship for me, but I don’t owe you my life. Lives are too short to owe them to someone.”

His stormy gray eyes narrowed. “I do not want ye to owe me your life. Lord, Eliza, I want ye to love me, not owe me, because I bloody love ye.”

“Beck, ye need to see this.” A brother jogged out of the bailey.

Beck held out a hand toward him, palm out, but didn’t leave her gaze. He took hold of her shoulders. “When ye swung across to the Bourreau”—Beck shook his head—“I… I couldn’t breathe, Eliza. I thought I was losing ye. I gladly gave up the Calypso. It would mean nothing without ye.”

His hand came up to cup her cheek, and she held her breath. “Ye owe me nothing except an answer to my question.” His voice lowered as he stared into her eyes. “Ye will slay me with a simple nay.”

The warmth drew her as much as the emotion in his words. “Ask your question then,” she whispered.

“Beck! Come see. Ye too, lass,” Rabbie wobbled up and grabbed Beck’s arm.

All of Beck’s brothers came briskly up around them. “Are ye with child?” Drostan asked her.

Eliza’s gaze snapped to him. “What?” That was not the question she was waiting for.

Callum tugged Beck’s arms, and Beck caught hers, as his brothers ushered them into the bailey. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Captain John followed. They headed toward the willow tree where Lark stood with Alice, Hester on her hip, Pip, Anders, and Gavin.

“She may not know yet,” Rabbie said. “Have ye had your woman’s flux?”

“What?” she repeated.

“Are ye two getting married?” Adam asked, his sharp perusal on her.

“Well, they better,” Rabbie all but yelled. “It is bad enough we have a bunch of pirates staying on Wolf Isle, most of them bastards, but ye won’t be making any.” The man dropped his hold to hurry toward the willow tree. “Might as well rename Wolf Isle the Isle of Bastards,” the old man yelled back.

“My God,” Beck murmured, his gaze on the dancing limbs of the tree. The little green buds that Eliza had seen on the dead-looking limbs had begun to open. The brothers and Rabbie, and even Lark, all looked bewildered.

“The buds are opening,” Lark said, coming to her side. “They haven’t done that for a hundred years, since the curse was placed on the Macquarie Clan.”

Eliza stared at her blankly, Lark smiling. “The buds formed when Adam and I wed.”

“It was just before you wed,” Callum said.

Lark squeezed her hand. “I am guessing that you and Beck have just decided to wed, making the buds open.”

Eliza shook her head. “He hasn’t asked me.”

Lark snorted. “He has a million times in his head, no doubt. Highlanders have trouble with the words.”

Beck and his brothers had gathered before the tree. Adam wouldn’t let them touch it, but he prodded a limb closer with his sword so they could all see the unfurling leaf.

Lark leaned in. “But it all depends on what is in your heart,” she whispered near Eliza’s ear.

What was in her heart? Eliza owed Beck nothing except an answer to a question he forgot to ask. Captain John had said “I won’t let go” to her long ago. Beck had said the same words to her before she flew across to Jandeau, and now she had an answer.

“I won’t let go either,” she called out, looking to Beck. Faces turned toward her, but she only saw the intense gray eyes of the man she realized that she truly loved. “I won’t let go. ’Tis my answer. The one I owe you.”

“To what question? About wedding?” Rabbie asked, and Lark shushed him.

“You forgot to ask,” Eliza said to Beck, as he stared at her from the tree. His mouth opened, but nothing came. She cleared her throat. “So I will ask. Will you marry me, Beckett Macquarie? Will you marry me and not let go?”

As if breaking free from ice, Beck pushed through the small crowd. The crease between his brows smoothed when he stopped before her. His gaze was intense as he looked down into her face. “I will never let go of ye, Eliza Wentworth Pritchert. The answer to your proposal is aye.”

A smile grew on Eliza’s mouth, and she laughed as a tear broke from her eye. She wiped it with a finger, and Beck pulled her into him. “I love ye now and forever,” he said.

“I love you, too, Beck.” Her eyes closed as he lowered his face to hers. His lips were warm and met hers with equal pressure. With their arms encircling each other, Eliza hardly noticed the Macquaries shouting “Huzzah!” and the children laughing around them. All thoughts melted into one simple truth. She loved and was loved. Freely and completely.

And neither of them would ever let go.

To stay up to date on Heather’s book releases and writer’s life, subscribe to her monthly newsletter: https://www.heathermccollum.com/newsletter/

Continue the Macquarie brothers’ quest to break the curse and rebuild their clan in the third BROTHERS OF WOLF ISLE book.

When Callum Macquarie volunteers to escort Anna Montgomerie up to Wolf Isle, he expects to meet a sweet lass who will bake him her famous tarts. But as the two of them dodge English royalty and a French pirate bent on revenge, Callum realizes that Anna has a wild side and some secrets that may jeopardize everything.