The Highlander’s Pirate Lass by Heather McCollum

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 frowned 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.

“No. I’m this troublesome all day long.” She smiled. “And at night when I’m not asleep.” She tipped her head, thinking. “Actually, I’m probably troublesome then too. Captain John says I talk in my sleep.”

He was handsome when he glared, the breeze brushing his short hair. Stubble grew along his jawline and above his lip, showing the beard that would grow in quickly. His skin was tanned, lines of white radiating out from the corners of his eyes from squinting out at sea.

Eliza looked away from him and ran her hand down the polished mast. “’Tis a fine carrack you built.”

His face softened. “It took two years, but she is stout, straight, and will be fierce.”

Eliza understood pride in one’s ship, and it practically gushed out of Beck as he looked upon the Calypso.

“You would trade your soul to keep her afloat, wouldn’t you?” she asked.

“Aye,” he said, looking at Eliza. “I love her.”

“I want to name her Wolf,” Pip said, walking up holding a squirming pup who licked her face. “Does she have a name yet?”

“’Tis a good name,” Anders said.

Pip nuzzled her face into the pup. “Wolf Isle should have at least one wolf on it.”

Beck continued to stare at Eliza. “Wolf is a fine name,” he said.

Pip cheered, setting the pup down to run toward the shoreline off to the left. A floating dock was being poled across the narrow strip of water from the neighboring isle.

“Visitors,” Eliza said, spying two women and a man who ferried them across the narrow waterway between islands.

Beck murmured a curse and strode toward the ferry landing. Eliza hopped off the wooden dock and followed him. She had to take two steps to every one of his. The man was damnably fast and long-legged. He was back in his native clothing, the woolen red plaid wrapped around his narrow hips, a bit of skin showing between its edge and the top of his worn boots. His tunic stretched taut across his shoulders as his arms swung, his left one sliding across the scabbard he wore tied to his side for easy access. He was certainly a warrior on land and might well be one at sea. She’d like to see him swing that sword. Did he ever train with his tunic off?

The ferry slid to a stop on the sand at the end of the rope that was tied across the narrowest stretch between the isles. “Ho there,” the man called.

Callum appeared and jogged down to help tie the ferry in place. “Ho, Gavin,” he called. “Mistress Meg, Mistress Cecilia, welcome to Ulva.” He smiled appreciatively, but Cecilia looked right past him toward Beck.

“When I saw Gavin, I knew you had returned, Beck,” the woman called. She was pretty with dark hair in loose curls, most of it on top of her head. Her nose was tipped upward at the end the slightest amount, and her pale skin looked smooth as milk.

“Cecilia,” he said, nodding. “Meg.”

“My father has a letter for Adam,” Meg said. “Is this Mistress Alice that Gavin mentioned?” She smiled warmly at Eliza. The dogs came tumbling and barking down the shoreline.

“Nay,” Gavin said. “This is Mistress Eliza.”

“Mistress?” Cecilia said and laughed. “In your breeches, I thought you were a lad.” Then she shrieked as the dogs ran around her. “Really, Beck, you need to tie them.”

“Eliza sails, and the breeches keep her warm,” he said.

Pip and Anders ran down to the shore, along with Hester who squealed, adding to the barking pups.

“Well, I for one would rather wear breeches,” Meg said with a genuine smile. “Good to meet you.”

Eliza nodded, and Meg laughed as Pip and Hester tried to ride the mother dog. “And who are these?”

“My children,” Eliza said.

“All of them?” Meg asked, her eyes widening.

“They were not born of her,” Beck explained. “She has taken them in.”

“Like Grissell?” Cecilia said.

“Different, but…” Beck looked at her and then back to Cecilia. “Aye.” Cecilia took his arm, pressing close to him. Eliza smirked and looked away.

“Drostan,” Meg called as Beck’s brother came to greet them. “So happy you are back. I made you some tarts.” Lord, did every woman bake tarts for men here?

Pip was trying to get the newly named Wolf to sit. Hester sat instead, which made Anders plop down on the dock laughing. Their humor made Eliza smile, and she exhaled. What did it matter if Beck liked the dark-haired Cecilia? Eliza and her family would be back out on the sea as soon as she could find Captain John. She had a duty on the seas, one that would take her across the waters of the world. Aye, it was her mission, one that Captain John had promised she could continue. She owed it to the lost and forgotten. She owed it to Peter.

Eliza jogged ahead of them all and leaped up onto the Calypso. Even if the Devil’s Blood had sunk, she would find another vessel on which to travel. The conviction strengthened her heart, protecting it from the worry growing each day Captain John and her family onboard remained missing. No matter what, she was raised to sail and win the lives of innocents. Just like Captain John.

Her strides took her to the bowsprit that tilted out over the water. On the Devil’s Blood, she often climbed out on it, straddling it with her whole body so she could stare down at the dolphins that raced before the ship as it sailed. She was always careful, holding on to steel handholds that Captain John had placed onto it when he realized that he couldn’t keep her off it.

The Calypso’s bowsprit was smooth white oak, and Eliza straddled it, sliding out over the water on her stomach, her legs clutched around it. She let her gaze drop to the water gently lapping against the hull.

“’Tis not safe out there,” Beck said behind her.

Her limbs clenched around the wood. He followed me. “’Tis peaceful,” she answered. “’Tis my favorite place on a ship.”

“Ye should come into Gylin, talk with the lasses.”

“I think Cecilia would rather talk with you,” she said, pushing upright to glance at him over her shoulder. He stood on the deck, leaning out toward her.

“I am not leaving ye out here by yourself,” he said. “Ye will either fall and drown or steal my ship, both of which will ruin my day.”

She grinned, slowly pushing back down the long wooden pole, aware that her arse was going first toward him. Once, Bingly had said it was her best feature, and she shouldn’t cover it with layers of petticoats.

Eliza wriggled all the way down the pole, stopping at the bottom. She could almost feel his gaze on her arse. “I like to watch the dolphins that swim before the ship while we sail. They are my favorite animal.”

Beck’s gaze lifted from her arse to her eyes. He swallowed, crossing his arms over his broad, muscular chest. “I never thought of a sea creature being anyone’s favorite animal.”

She stepped down, adjusting her trews where they’d rucked up into the crux of her legs. “They saved my life once,” she said and leaned back against the rail. In the distance, she could see the two ladies and their escort waiting for Beck. “I fell overboard when we were sailing along the southern coast of Africa. There was a shark, but the dolphins surrounded me until Captain John could swing the Devil’s Blood around and throw a rope.”

Beck stared, his mouth slightly unhinged. “Ye have either lived an uncommonly adventurous life or ye are an excellent liar.”

She smiled broadly. “I choose both,” she said and raised one eyebrow.

Beck chuckled as if he couldn’t help it and shook his head. “Ye are full of surprises, Eliza Wentworth.”

“You have no idea, Beck Macquarie,” she answered, letting the hint of sensual insinuation dip and rise with the words. Even if she’d never let a man touch her that way, she’d learned the art of suggestive talk from the ladies at Claire’s house.

What type of adventure could she have with Beck Macquarie? On the sea or in his bed? A single night with him, naked and teaching her things she’d only heard about, and she could walk away full of knowledge without worrying about any entanglements. Aye, an adventure of the most carnal kind.

She could entice Beck to give her one glorious night and then she would sail away.