A Pirate's Wife for Me by Christina Dodd Read Free Book Online Page B

women lost their savor and he pretended it was Caitlin's thighs he caressed, Caitlin's lips he kissed, Caitlin's who he rode.
    Now he was a victim of his own disgraceful fantasies. Stripping off his leather gloves, he wiped his forehead on his sleeve.
    Then, at last, she removed her hand from his shoulder.
    Taran said, "Kiernan MacLean has provided me with shelter, food, clothing. He's taught me and protected me. If I seduced his sister, I would be the worst kind of man …" If he brought disgrace upon Caitlin, Kiernan would flay him and chase him away like a mangy dog, and then … then Taran would be forced to return to Cenorina and act as a crown prince should, with bravery and daring.
    He stared straight ahead.
    He couldn't lie to himself. Dishonoring his benefactor's sister to force himself into action would be the worst kind of cowardice.
    She tugged at Taran’s arm until he looked back at her. "Taran, you mustn't vex yourself." She gnawed on her lower lip as if she were shy.
    He knew very well she was not. But he watched, fascinated beyond wisdom.
    If only there was a way to have what he wanted and what Caitlin wanted, too.
    In a soft voice, she said, "When we came together, it would not be a seduction. You see, Taran … I love you."
     
     

 
     
     
    CHAPTER EIGHT
     
     
    Cate hesitated in the doorway of the taproom.
    Gray sunlight, softened by the liberal application of fog, seeped through the windows. The two dozen men who had been so boisterous the night before sat eating in morose silence about a long plank table. The odor of kippers and bacon mingled with the stale scent of last night's ale.
    The pirates were an unkempt bunch. Grimy scarves kept their lanky hair out of their eyes. One man wore an eye patch. One man had a hook where his arm should be. She recognized Maccus, the tow-headed Scot who last night had offered his services. For the first time in her life, she saw a man whose complexion was sooty black. He must be from Africa — a Negro. She wanted to stare, but these men — they were rough. They belched and scratched body parts she preferred not to notice. They spoke in growls and ate with their fingers except when they wanted to fillet a fish, then eight-inch long knives flashed out of their belt to be used with a skill that brought her heart to her throat.
    These were Taran's men. He'd lived and fought and robbed with these fellows, and as she gazed at them, she could see into his past. If she used the proper approach, if she asked the right man, she might discover information necessary to handle Taran in the days ahead. The more she thought about the events of last night — and as the hours had ticked away and sleep remained elusive, she had thought long and hard — the more she became convinced Taran had deliberately planned each move on her.
    If, at the first sight of him, she had turned tail and run, he wouldn't have given chase. He would have considered her flight a job well done.
    He had already caused her one sleepless night. That would not do. She was a sensible woman on a mission. She needed her slumber.
    So she stepped into the taproom, armed with questions.
    At once the squint-eyed sailor spotted her. In an accent that sounded as if it had come straight from the back streets of London, he announced, "'Tis the lass what shot our cap'n."
    In unison the benches scraped back and every man stood.
    Placing her fist on her waist, she looked them over. It would not do for them to think they intimidated her. "Why, gentlemen. Your manners are impeccable. Methinks pirates have been maligned … and I would have thought you'd take it ill that I'd shot your beloved captain."
    "It's not like ye killed 'im or anything." The squint-eyed fellow lithely leaped over his bench and came to her side. "Or like ye used a real gun. Hell, that li'l popgun ye used couldn't take down a turtle. But the point is, ye made 'im bleed and if you'd had recourse to a real gun, you'd have hobbled him considerable."