Page 11 of The Highlander's Pirate Bride

He swiveled; eyebrows raised.

“So, Captain, what makes ye think I might be conversing wi’ yer men?”

Aileen averted her eyes. It would never do to let him know she’d been watching him throughout the day, from a concealed vantage point along the deck.

She pshawed. “Why MacNeil, from what I already ken of the man ye are, I’d expect ye tae be planning tae subvert me command of this ship.”

He shook his head and the look he gave her was a shaky pretense of innocence. Not fooled by his wide-eyed expression, she found it impossible to hold in a huff of amusement.

Still, she did not wish for him to know the depths of her fascination with him. Not only had she observed him speaking with Bran, but she’d allowed herself the uneasy pleasure of resting her eyes on his naked back and chest, noting the way his muscles rippled as he stroked the oars. She’d marveled at the strength in his brawny arms as he strained, and her heart pounded with the memory of those arms encircling her in a passionate embrace.

Her secretive observance had also offered the opportunity to study the figurative motifs and the myriad ink images that covered his powerful arms, chest and back. Some of them were familiar. Among them she recognized the clan crest of the MacNeils spreading across the expanse of smooth skin on his right shoulder. She shivered as she registered the sheer number of images. If each of them represented the death of an enemy, this man was a formidable foe indeed.

When he turned to go, she again raised a hand. “As I said, I dinnae wish ye tae cause restlessness among our crew. I wish ye tae sleep where I can be certain there’ll be nay disturbance.”

He smirked. “And where would that be Captain? D’ye wish me tae sleep alongside ye?”

Aileen’s face caught fire.Damn him.She schooled her features into an icy glare, hoping that he’d not seen the rush of heat to her cheeks. Unfortunately, as his smirk widened into a broad grin it became clear he was all too aware of her discomfort.

“Nay. Ye’ll sleep on the floor where I can be aware of yer presence.”

“Lass, ye disappoint me. I hoped we might reprise our passion from the tavern.”

She shook her head, momentarily lost for words. Finn shot her a horrified glance. Her reaction to the kiss she’d shared with Maxwell was something she’d not shared. It was easier to allow Finn to believe she was repelled by the MacNeil’s caresses just as she was by Sutherland’s.

“Ye talk nonsense.” At last, Aileen found her tongue. “The only passion was in yer wistful thoughts.” She glared at him; her mouth downturned. “As if I’d fancy ye in me bed.”

He was unrepentant. The grin, a fixture on his handsome face, told her without a word that he was aware that having him in her bed was exactly what she was wishing for.

“Enough.” She pointed to a space on the floor beside the table where a hessian pillow lay next to a rough-woven blanket. “Ye will spend the night here. Finn and Sea will tend the rudder and I will take me turn in the hammock.”

She pulled back the curtain and revealed a contraption of woven strings and a linen sheet hanging high, suspended from two large metal hooks on either side of a small alcove.

“Are ye certain ye’ll be safe Aileen?” Finn shook her head, sucking in a deep breath. It was clear she thought it unwise to allow the MacNeil such proximity.

“Of course, I’ll be safe. There’s nothing tae fear.”

Finn threw her another wary glance. She could do naught but accept her captain’s words. “If ye’ve nay further need of me services Captain, I’ll bid ye good night.”

After Finn made her exit, Aileen hauled on the linen sheet and levered herself off the floor and onto the hammock. She pulled her fur cloak around her and lay back trying to rid her mind of the images of Maxwell’s naked chest appearing before her the instant she closed her eyes.

Mayhap keeping him close through the night was nae such a clever idea after all.

There was a sudden ache of longing that had her tussling with the contradictions of her heart. Then came a thump and a thud as Maxwell made himself as comfortable as possible in the cramped space. He blew out the candle and, save for a sliver of moonlight that crept between the crevices in the cabin’s timber wall, they were plunged into darkness.

Aileen tossed, finding it difficult to get comfortable, her thoughts tangling with the knowledge of Maxwell only inches away on the floor beneath where she swung. For all her assumption of coldness toward him, her body was on fire and, try as hard as she might, her thoughts dragged her again and again to those moments outside the tavern, when they’d melded together, holding each other tight.

The morning dawned fresh and clear.

After a quick mouthful of black pudding and a bannock Maxwell had left the cabin with only a terse “Good Morrow”. Aileen wondered if his night had been as wretched as hers. She’d lain awake, listening to the man’s restless movements, and it seemed forever before she registered his deep, regular breathing and realized he’d fallen asleep.

Finn opened the cabin door and hurried in. “I saw MacNeil walking the deck and kent I’d find ye alone.”

Aileen pouted. “Why did ye nae come in when he was here? Were ye thinking there was something unseemly happening between us?”

Finn coughed self-consciously. “Aye, Aileen. I saw the looks that passed between the two of ye last night. Why, I could have lit my candle from the heat the two of ye conjured up.”

“Really?” Aileen was taken aback. She’d been certain that whatever had taken flight between herself and MacNeil had been stamped out by her icy demeanor toward him. “Was this… er… this heat… something the lad himself would have noticed?”

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