The MacLeod Pirate Page 7

  He kept his expression carefully blank, wondering what she would offer in exchange.

  St. Ninian, let it be a kiss. He’d been aching to taste her since the first time their blades clashed.

  “A trade?” she spat, her fist tight around the pearl. “How about ye give me back my jewels, and I no’ kill ye?”

  Ignoring her threat, he allowed his eyes to flick down to her fist. “And my pearl? Ye’ll return it in the bargain?”

  “Nay!” She shook her fist under his nose, her hair—which she’d attempted to tame—whipping around her head. “’Tis no’ yers. Ye stole it!”

  He jerked back, his mouth open to form a denial before his brain caught up.

  Easy, lad. She kens ye’re a pirate, aye? ’Tis natural.

  Taking a deep breath, he dropped his chin to meet her gaze directly. “Lass, I’ll ignore the insult, because I ken why ye’d think that. But I swear on my niece’s soul that I did no’ steal that jewel. It belongs to my family.”

  She was not distracted from her ire by his vow. “Lies! It belongs to my family.”

  Rory’s brows rose. Her family? Was it possible this lass was a MacLeod? His eyes darted over her features, trying to remember…

  Nay, he’d remember someone as bonny as her. She was no MacLeod.

  “’Tis mine,” he said simply, holding out his hand. “Return it.”

  She lifted her chin. “Ye return my jewels.”

  He shook his head, enjoying the fire in her eyes. “Pirate, lass. Remember?”

  Suddenly, all the fight seemed to drain out of her with a sound between a sigh and a sob. Her fist tightened around the pearl and she reached for the box, only to halt a distance away.

  Her fingers trembled.

  “Please,” she whispered. “I need them.”

  Need them?

  How intriguing.

  “What would ye do for them, my wee firebrand?” he asked quietly.

  She swallowed again, then met his eyes. “Anything,” she breathed.

  Anything? Rory forced himself to breathe, trying to control the way his cock jumped under his kilt and his fingers itched to reach for her.

  He licked his lips. “Anything?” He tried for nonchalance, but knew he’d failed.

  “Aye,” came her strangled agreement. “Anything.”

  By all the saints and sinners! These jewels meant so much to her?

  Rory snapped the box shut, the sound loud enough to startle her.

  “Ye have yerself a deal, lass.” He would taste her lips.

  She nodded. “But please…no’ here.” Her eyes flicked over his shoulder to the crew, who were likely watching the drama unfolding with interest. “No’ with them watching.”

  His brows rose slightly. She didn’t want his crew watching him kiss her? Well, she wouldn’t be the first to demand privacy. He was about to acquiesce when she glanced up at him.

  The look she turned on him wasn’t anguish. It wasn’t anger. It was…resignation.

  Defeat.

  And with that look, he knew he’d won. God forgive him, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for breaking her this way.

  Chapter Seven

  Anything.

  This time, it was Citrine who took his hand and led him away from his men when they made landfall. It was still early afternoon, but Banner hadn’t immediately made for shore after her agreement. Instead, he’d been searching for a specific type of beach—secluded enough, she supposed, for a pirate crew to land.

  And once they did, he called out assignments to specific sailors. The large man, called Bull, was in charge of the group who stripped down and swam out to inspect the hull in the shallows. Jock—the wiry, dark-haired man—gathered a few men to check the seams in both sails. And Bartholomew led a hunting party up the steep cliffs which bordered the beach.

  Then, Black Banner turned to her with a quirked brow and said, “Time for ye to fulfill yer end of the bargain, lass.”

  Bargain. Such an innocent word for what she’d just promised. Trading her body for the jewels…

  But it was worth it. Anything was worth retrieving all of the Sinclair jewels and giving her father and her clan a future.

  So, she was the one to take his hand, trying to ignore the warmth that shot up her arm from his touch.

  I would have privacy.

  He’d granted her that much by landing ashore, but she would go farther.

  Of course, there’d be no sun-dappled meadow or burbling brook here, nay. This was a rocky beach, bordered by the sea on one side and harsh cliffs on the others. There were trails here and there, proving there were humans nearby, but it was a beautiful location.

  It matters naught. Ye’ll have yer eyes closed.

  Would she though? Or was the thought of giving herself to this man not as bad as she might’ve once thought? She was no blushing virgin, and she knew how to bring herself to pleasure. So, she knew what it meant when her body reacted this way to Banner; her heart seemed to pump faster, her palms itched to touch him, and a heaviness settled between her legs, urging her to press against his hardness.

  Following along behind her, he said nothing, but still carried her pouch with the jewels and box in one hand. And she still clutched the pearl.

  When this trade was done, she’d negotiate for the pearl.

  And for the information about its origins.

  All she could imagine was that it had been on Lewes this whole time, mayhap in the MacLeod family’s possession, and the Black Banner attacked one of them to steal it.

  But he’d sworn on his niece’s soul he hadn’t stolen it, sworn it belonged to his family.

  And he’d been intense enough, so Citrine believed him.

  Was he a MacLeod, then?

  “I think this is the best ye’re going to get, lass. Unless ye want to walk all the way to Durness?”

  When he tugged her gently to a stop, she looked around. A large outcropping hid them from the rest of the crew, and there was no one up the beach. She glanced about, but saw no evidence of watchers above either.

  He was observing her with a smirk and a twinkle in his blue eyes. “Ye didnae drag me out here to stab me, did ye? ’Twould be perfect with all this privacy ye insisted on.”

  Citrine bristled, as it honestly hadn’t occurred to her. “I am honorable.”

  They were his words and the only defense she would offer. She would honor this bargain.

  He nodded, mayhap hearing the unspoken meaning. “As am I,” he said as he dropped the pouch into the sand beside his feet and held out his hand. “The pearl, please.”

  Please. He didn’t have to say that. She swallowed and then forced her fingers to uncurl. He snatched it from her hand and lifted it in a little salute, then dropped it into a pouch on his belt.

  When he straightened once more, he cleared his throat, and she suddenly realized he was finding this as awkward as she was. Why? Did he not ravish women on a regular basis? Is that not what pirates did?

  I am honorable.

  If she was going to make this bargain, it would be on her terms.

  Lifting her chin, she met his eyes and reached for the laces under her arm.

  A look of confusion flashed in his eyes, but when her gown sagged off her shoulder, his gaze dropped to the skin revealed, and his tongue darted out across his lower lip.

  Be daring, lass.

  She could do this.

  When she lifted her arms to him invitingly, she managed to hold her gown up as well. He needed no further urging, but closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. His large hands settled on her hips, and he pulled her snug against him, her pelvis cradling the hardness beneath his kilt.

  “Are—are ye sure about this, lass?” he asked in a rough whisper.

  Her hands rested on his shoulders, in a position which shouldn’t have felt so natural. “Aye,” she whispered, meeting his blue gaze.

  And in that moment, she was sure. If he wasn’t a pirate, and she wasn’t his
captive, and the ownership of the jewels wasn’t between them…she’d be verra sure. He was a gorgeous, well-built man, and he made her tingle with excitement and lust.

  She knew she wouldn’t regret this afternoon.

  So, she offered herself to him. “Take me, Banner.”

  With a groan of surrender, he lowered his lips to hers, and she freely accepted his kiss.

  Blessed Virgin, but he could kiss! She was no novice, but not verra experienced either. William had been the last to thrust his tongue—

  Nay, donae think of that treacherous coward now.

  Instead, she sighed against Banner’s lips and gave herself over to the sensations. When he sensed her surrender, he wrapped one arm around her back, not only pressing her even closer, but accepting some of her weight when her knees suddenly wobbled.

  His tongue teased her lips until they parted, and his first foray seemed almost hesitant. She gladly opened more and proved she could meet him head-on. He groaned again, and she found herself wrapping her arms around his neck.

  Forget their bargain! This was for her pleasure!

  When he pulled his lips from hers, she gasped, feeling as if it was the first time she’d breathed since he’d touched her. But to her delight, he didn’t leave her, but moved his lips to her jaw, then her neck.

  Citrine allowed her head to fall back, presenting a better angle for his kisses. And when his mouth trailed across her shoulder, she surged up on her toes as if offering herself to him. Using his hold on her waist, he took the hint and lifted her higher, so he could taste the skin below the neckline of her gown.

  It was then that his other hand moved, his rough palm catching on the material of her bliaut before it closed around her left breast. She sucked in a gasp as pure pleasure darted from his touch to her pelvis.

  “By the Virgin, yes!” she whimpered, arching into his touch with a moan.

  It was all the encouragement he seemed to need. Banner tugged at her gown with two fingers and bared the breast he’d been fondling.

  The salty air caressed her bare skin, but that wasn’t why she shivered. Nay, it had more to do with the knowledge he wanted to bed her, and soon the magnificent member she felt straining against his kilt would be inside her.

  And then she wasn’t thinking at all, because his lips fastened around her nipple and she bucked against him, the erotic sensation causing a flood of warmth between her legs.

  “Banner!” she panted. “Please.”

  When his tongue gave one last swirl and he pulled away from her breast, she almost moaned in disappointment. But his hand covered her once more, and he lifted his lips to hers.

  This kiss was more urgent, and she couldn’t help but compare the thrusting of his tongue to what she wanted him to be doing. In that moment, Citrine cared naught for who might see them, or the fact she didn’t know this man’s real name. She was ready to throw herself to the sand and lift her gown for him.

  And mayhap she would have had he not pulled away at that moment, his gasp proving he didn’t want to sever their connection any more than she did.

  But he didn’t kiss her again.

  Instead, he lowered his forehead to hers, his breaths coming as fast and as heavy as hers, as he loosened his hold and allowed her to slide back to solid footing. The friction from his hardness caused her to shudder.

  He tucked her breast back into her gown and pulled the material up to her shoulder, anchoring it in place with a heavy hand which clearly wanted to be elsewhere.

  She might’ve encouraged him to touch her again, but her mind was foggy, in a haze from the passion he’d just evoked with nothing other than his lips and a few caresses.

  “By St. Ninian, lass,” he finally croaked, his eyes still squeezed shut. “I am sorry.”

  She reared back, severing their connection. “Sorry?”

  He shook his head slightly and winced. “I shouldnae have pushed ye…”

  When he swallowed and opened his eyes, she saw regret and something else in his gaze, and understanding came crashing over her.

  She’d been willing to bed this man…and all he’d wanted was a kiss. He was apologizing for going further than a kiss, when she would’ve allowed him much, much more.

  And not just in exchange for the jewels.

  I am honorable.

  The reminder of her words caused her to nibble on her lower lip. He was honorable. Who had heard of an honorable pirate?

  He groaned again and dropped his forehead to hers once more. “Damnation, my wee firebrand. When ye do that, I want to taste ye again.”

  Chewing on her lip, Citrine considered her options. She could respond with something saucy, inviting him to do just that. But then she’d become little more than another conquest of the great Black Banner.

  Better to end it here.

  “Firebrand?”

  “Aye,” he croaked. “When the light hits yer eyes, they glow like fire. Did ye ken it?” With a shrug, he straightened. “Golden fire.”

  Citrine stared, trying to remember if anyone had ever said anything nearly that wonderful to her before.

  His hand slid from her back to her hip once more, and his other hand fell from her shoulder to her arm, then her hand, and he squeezed it.

  “Thank ye, wee firebrand. The jewels are yers once more.”

  Just like that?

  “But…”

  Ah, there is more. She lifted a brow.

  He cleared his throat and began again. “But if there’s ever anything I can do to convince ye to allow me a tumble, I hope ye’ll tell me. That was…” He blew out a breath and shook his head. “But I donae even ken yer name.”

  “Nor I yers,” she was quick to point out.

  His lips twitched. “Aye, but ye’re no’ a notorious pirate, are ye? With a reputation to protect?”

  So, he admitted to hiding his real identity and that of his men? It would explain why he and his crew were still wearing black despite the danger of being found at their camp and being accused of being pirates.

  As far as this adventure was concerned, he was the Black Banner, and that’s how she would remember him once she was able to escape. The Black Banner, a surprisingly honorable pirate who kissed like an angel and made her feel like a devil.

  But there was no reason for him not to know who she was.

  So, she lifted her chin and met his eyes. “My name is Citrine.”

  However, she might’ve imagined him taking the news, it wasn’t this way.

  His nostrils flared as if he’d smelled something foul, and he jerked back, away from her. When his hands left her, she almost followed him, so disappointed was she.

  But the look of horror on his face stopped her.

  “Citrine?” he repeated in a rasp. “Citrine Sinclair?”

  When she nodded mutely, wondering how he knew of her, he ran a shaking hand through his wind-disheveled hair. Wide-eyed, he turned away, shook his head, then swung back to fix her with a frantic stare.

  She was beginning to feel insulted.

  “Citrine Sinclair?” he asked again. “One of the Sinclair Jewels?”

  Mayhap he knew her father was a powerful laird and was only now regretting taking her? She crossed her arms in front of her chest to keep her gown on and shifted her weight to one hip.

  “Aye!” she challenged him.

  His breathing slowed as he continued to stare. Finally, he gave himself a little shake of the head, and his mouth opened. She felt a surge of vindication, knowing whatever he was about to say would be an apology.

  She was wrong.

  “Shite.”

  Chapter Eight

  Dear God in heaven.

  This was his betrothed!

  Rory was no fool; he’d read the betrothal contract, then re-read it multiple times, looking for a way out.

  Citrine Sinclair, one of the Sinclair Jewels and daughter to the powerful Laird Duncan Sinclair.

  “Ye have sisters.”

  It was a stupid thing to say, but
his tongue didn’t seem to be working properly…not after that kiss and her revelation.

  Her nod was hesitant, as if she couldn’t understand his reaction. “Aye. Three of them.”

  What was wrong with him? Rory scrubbed a hand over his face, not sure how he should be reacting at all.

  He’d kidnapped his own betrothed!

  Part of him was ecstatic; all this time, he’d assumed his bride would be like his mother and sisters—biddable and demure. When he’d crossed swords with this firebrand—Citrine—for the first time, his heart and his cock had immediately wanted her, wanted to know more about her. She was intriguing.

  And now she was his, even if she didn’t realize it yet.

  But another part of him was livid. His betrothed should’ve been sent to Lewes with all the pomp and ceremony demanded by the wedding of two powerful lairds’ offspring. She’d been barefoot, by St. Ninian!

  And her escort had allowed her to be taken by pirates.

  The truth slammed into him with a clarity that had his gaze snapping back to her. “Ye were on yer way to Lewes, weren’t ye?” Her ship had been heading for the Minch, and now she was heading eastward once more. “For yer wedding.”

  Her brows rose. “Ye ken of my betrothal?

  “Aye, I’m—” He bit down on the words, wondering how much to share with her.

  No matter the current ridiculousness, if they did end up married, could he trust her to keep his secret? Could she live on Lewes while he was gone pirating and not reveal his identity?

  But if they ended up married, she would recognize him as the Black Banner, no matter how much time had passed. Mayhap it would be better to confess all now?

  Nay, because there was no guarantee this misadventure would end in a wedding, despite the contract. And if they went their separate ways, then her being ignorant of his identity was for the best.

  And she was still standing there, waiting for his confession.