Memories poured through him of her asleep in his arms last night aboard the ship. How without hesitation, she’d leaned her face against the curve of his neck, her soft breaths feathering against his skin like a wish. Foolishly, a part of him had wished they were alone. A dangerous thought when there could never be more between them than he asher protector.
But that didn’t lessen the want.
Blast it.
Rónán gave a rough exhale, fighting the desire growing stronger for her every day, the taste of her kiss, the feel of her mouth pressed against his, etched in his mind. Nor did it help that several times since they’d set sail, he’d seen her watching him, caught the desire in her eyes.
“Lady Lathir?”
At the youthful voice, Rónán glanced down, impressed as Órlaith moved about the deck without hesitation. An ease no doubt culled by numerous voyages with her father.
Though Tighearnán would leave his daughter on land during his pirating days, ’twould seem she’d sailed with him often when he sold goods. He grunted. Stolen goods. At least they once belongedto the English.
A smile on her face, Lathir knelt as the girl reached them. “Aye?”
She held out a sack. “My father said ’tis for you”—she glanced at Rónán—“both to eat.”
“I thank you.” Lathir accepted the cloth sack, untied it. She withdrew a wedge of bread and cheese, held them out to thechild. “Here.”
Surprise flickered in the girl’s eyes. “I shouldna eat until I have finished my task.”
A smile touched Rónán’s mouth as he watched the struggle in the child’s eyes. In the meager time they’d known Órlaith, she’d stolen both his and Lathir’s hearts. Who could resist those innocent brown eyes filled with curiosity and wonder, her unchecked enthusiasm at everything? And her questions. Since she’d moved passed her shyness, she’d had many. But her sweet manner made him anticipate each and every visit.
Her father had teased Lathir that she would be asking for a princess crown, and Lathir had laughingly replied that mayhap ’twas a wish that could be granted.
He enjoyed watching Lathir with the child. Their growing bond made him think of what it would be like to have a child of his own, more, to have a child with Lathir.
An ache built inside for what never could be. Aye, ’twas best to focus on reaching Wynshire Castle, to raise a force to rescue her father. But—
“Ship on the horizon!” Bran bellowed from the bow.
Jaw tight, Rónán scoured the dark roll of wind-whipped waves. Atop a distant swell, a large cog cut through the rough seas, its white sail full, straining against the harsh winds. His gaze narrowed on the banner waving from the mast. ’Twas an English warship.
Chapter Nine
“The bloody Sassenach are closing fast!” Bran shouted, his words ripped away by the howl of the wind.
Salty spray whipped Lathir as, heart pounding, she turned towardtheir pursuers.
Large waves battered the English warship as it cut throughthe rough seas.
On a muttered curse, Bran spun toward the stern of the ship. “Senach, trim the sail. Everyone else, keep emptying water from the hull. By God, we can outrun these scoundrels!”
“Aye, Captain.” Brow furrowed with determination, Senach worked with the lines, finally securing the rope.
Lathir joined the crew around her, filling buckets of water that’d washed over the bow, then passing them along to sailors who emptied the contents overboard.
The cog shuddered as another large swell crashed against the hull. A plume of water exploded upward, washed over the bow. The violent slide of frothy white stormed the deck, invading every nook, surrounding each crate as the cog was againshoved upward.
Wood scraped as Lathir slid her bucket along the fast flow, handed it to Rónán.
Jaw set, he passed the pail to Tighearnán, who emptied itover the rail.
Tighearnán’s gaze cut toward the enemy cog before shifting to his daughter, hidden beneath a shelter. “I had hoped to avoid a confrontation with the English. But the lass must learn never to fear a life of pursuing what she believes in.”
Eyes wide, the girl watched her father, but she didn’t move from where he’d orderedher to remain.
Lathir fought her fear on the child’s behalf, but Tighearnán was right. A belief her father had shared, and one, however dangerous, she understood. Naught about life was safe, there were no assurances, and ’twas those who took the risks who carved theirown destinies.
