Page 13 of The Highlander's Pirate Bride

He glanced up and caught her eye. Without knowing why she did so, she beckoned him to her. He rose, leaving the men to their game and walked over to the railing where she stood.

“Aye, Captain. What is it ye wish of me?”

There was that enigmatic, mocking smile again. She glared at him.This man is impertinent. He is me prisoner yet he doesnae show me the respect he should.

“I see that ye’ve made friends of me crew.”

“Making friends, mayhap nae yet. Making meself agreeable tae fellow prisoners, aye. Are ye ready tae tell me where ye’re taking me?”

“Ye’ll find out soon enough.”

“Tae Dunrobin is it? Tae that fiend Sutherland’s lair?”

She looked up, unable to contain a gasp of surprise. “So, me crew doesnae ken to keep their mouths shut.”

“Ye thought I’d be the one to corrupt them.” He gave a short, sharp laugh. “They’ve been telling me all yer secrets.”

She huffed in indignation. “And what secrets would they be?”

“Tae start, I’ve learned ye’re the daughter of Barclay MacAlpin. A rogue if ever there was one.”

At that, Aileen gave an angry snort. “Dinnae speak of me faither that way. He’s a just and fair man. Nay rogue as ye would have it.”

“So, he’s nae a pirate, then?”

“Aye. He did fer many years ply the sweet trade, but always with fairness. Robbing only the richest merchant ships and the slave traders.”

“Honor among thieves?” Maxwell’s voice was laced with cynicism.

“Sneer if ye wish, ye high and mighty warrior. Have ye never done something ye shouldnae? Are ye so pure? Me faither is a good man.”

He turned to her, a question in his eyes. “He still lives? The whispers I heard were certain he was nay more.”

There was bitterness in her voice as she responded. “Aye, he lives. A captive of that fiend ye spoke of earlier.” A long silence greeted this remark and she cursed herself for telling Maxwell about her father. This was her secret. Her father’s life was the very thing that kept her in thrall to that bastard Sutherland. Having spoken out she now felt some small part of her was naked and vulnerable.

For a moment she was tempted to say more. To reveal to him how Sutherland kept her as prey, forcing her to do his bidding, and to make him believe she went willingly to his bed. There was something about Maxwell MacNeil that suggested he would not to take advantage of a hasty revelation that others might use against her. But he had not yet earned her trust.

She stilled her tongue and turned her face toward the dark of the ocean.

It was at that moment there was sudden shrieking gust in the brisk breeze. Until then the wind had done little more than ruffle Aileen’s hair and cause Maxwell to thrust his unruly dark tanglebehind his ears. But then, suddenly, it whipped their hair behind them and filled the sails in a rush. The little ship bounced as the new turmoil took them by surprise.

All around them items flew into the air, a piece of parchment here, a discarded piece of patchwork sail there, half a bannock dropped by a careless hand. A hefty barrel that had been stacked on the deck was thrown down with a booming thud only a few feet from where Aileen and Maxwell stood. Aileen reached a hand for the railing but she was too late, her boots slipping out from under her, and she went careening head first into the path of the heavy barrel that was now rolling like a thunderclap toward her.

With no time for thought, Maxwell hurled himself forward, seizing Aileen’s shoulders and, holding her fast, rolled them both out of the barrel’s path with mere inches to spare. Within seconds the barrel had turned into a juggernaut that smashed through the railing right where they’d been standing an instant before, and, with an almighty splintering of timber, rolled over the side and disappeared under the freshening waves.

Aileen was left trying to catch her breath, her face pressed firmly against Maxwell’s burly chest. He rolled onto his back hauling in a deep breath, his arm still across her shoulders.

“Are ye all right?”

Aileen wriggled out of his grasp and they both rose unsteadily to their feet.

“I… thank ye… fer… saving me life.” She hesitated, clutching the hand he offered for support. Thanking Maxwell did not come easily. “In fact, I believe if it were nae fer ye I would be now with Neptune’s sons, riding a large barrel of French wine.” The heat rose in her cheeks as she spoke.

He gave a loud groan “French wine. By the saints. I could dae with a fair helping of tasty French wine at this very moment.”

She laughed. “Ye’ve earned it. If ye accompany me to the cabin I’ve a drop or two of the finest claret we took from a merchant from Bordeaux. Ye’ll never have tasted better.”

CHAPTER FIVE

---