The Hawk: A Highland Guard Novel (7 page)

She bit down hard on his hand and was rewarded with a grunt of surprise. But he did not loosen his hold, and her defiance only earned her a tighter grip—one that prevented her teeth from chattering. Thanks to the big plaid and his arms wrapped tightly around her, Ellie no longer felt like she was freezing to death. Small consolation at a moment like this.

Her heart squeezed with terror and despair. This couldn’t be happening. As if in some kind of horrible nightmare, she’d been abducted by pirates—the most fearsome pirates of all,
Vikings
.

She sobbed in silence, cold, uncomfortable, and never having felt so helpless. Rescue was only a shout away, but she could do no more than watch as the boat slipped out to sea and her sister, her family, and her home were swallowed up in the dark, misty night.

When would she see them again?
Would
she see them again?

She swore that if she got out of this alive, she would never so much as dip a single toe in the water again. She would marry Ralph with a smile on her face, put her ridiculous qualms about her marriage behind her, and live an exemplary, picture-of-propriety life as his lady and mother to his children—all eight of them—no matter how staid and boring.

How long would it take for her family to notice that she was missing and start looking for her? Despite the thick plaid, she chilled all over again as a horrible thought struck her. They might not even
know
to look for her. Her family might simply think that she’d drowned, and not realize she’d been abducted.

With a sudden burst of strength brought on by the terrifying prospect, she renewed her struggles against the man holding her, this time managing to loosen an arm enough to poke an elbow hard in his stomach.

He made a hard, guttural sound and released his hold long enough for her to chomp down on his hand, wrench away, and spring to her feet. She took a step toward the rail, intending to jump overboard and swim toward the lights from the castle just visible in the distance.

But she found her flight abruptly curtailed, as her forward momentum was brought to a jarring halt. A long, muscular arm hooked around her waist and yanked her roughly back against a very broad—and very solid—chest. Her feet dangled in the air.

She gasped with shock, and something else …

Awareness. For a moment she went utterly still with it, trying to understand the overwhelming sense of powerlessness that had come over her. She knew without looking who it was. She also knew that she would never be able to free herself from the iron prison of his hold. His muscles were like rocks. And every inch of his body seemed to be covered in them. Like a map burned into relief on her skin, she could feel the hard ridges and contours of his body pressing against her. She’d never been so close to a man before, and the intimacy of it was unsettling. And warm. His body seemed to radiate heat. She stopped shaking.

He chuckled in her ear, and the warm, husky sound reverberated against her back, sending a strange tingle shimmering down her spine. A faint hint of spice cut through the salty tang of the sea.

“I would think you’d had enough swimming for one night,” he murmured teasingly, before turning to the man who’d held her. “The wee lass seems to be giving you a bit of trouble, Domnall?”

Dear Lord, that voice! Deep and husky, laced with the taunting hint of the mischievous, it was the kind of voice that wrapped around you and wouldn’t let go. The kind of voice meant to tell tales around a fire, recite verse, or, more likely with that face, lead women into temptation. A voice to entice, seduce, and make even a sensible woman lose her head.

She’d wager everything she had—which right now consisted of an icy chemise and a borrowed plaid—that he had a devastating smile to go along with it.

Fortunately, she was immune to such nonsense. The shine on his masculine beauty would dull—it always did. There were definitely benefits to being surrounded by a bevy of ridiculously gorgeous creatures all the time.

When he finally set her down and turned her around to face him, she wasn’t disappointed. His grin was every bit as irresistible as she’d anticipated. Even her heart—which had been hardened against such attempts years ago—did a little stutter step. But the blond-haired, blue-eyed, golden-god looks didn’t fool her. However easy his grin, he had ruthless barbarian written on every inch of his tall, indecently muscled warrior’s physique.

Without his protective hold, she felt the cold wind again cut through the plaid and drew it in tight over her head, clutching it around her neck.

“The wee banshee has sharp bones,” the older warrior moaned, rubbing his stomach, “and teeth.”

The captain’s grin grew bigger, revealing deep craters on either side of his mouth, a flash of extremely white, straight teeth, and the gleam of a twinkle in his eye. It was dazzling, and also, given the circumstances, completely absurd. What kind of cold-hearted monster could tease and grin at her like that, with what he had planned?

He gave her an exaggerated bow. “My hearty congratulations. It’s not often that one of my men is overpowered by such a …” His gaze slid over her, clearly trying not to laugh. “Delightful foe.”

This was crazy. Did he mean to charm her to death? What kind of cruel game was he playing? The roguish rapist? The magnanimous murderer?

She couldn’t take it any more. Fear caught up with her, and tears streamed down her cheeks. “Don’t do this,” she pleaded. “I swear I didn’t hear anything.” She gazed up at him with watery eyes, the icy wind peppering her cheeks. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

All signs of lightheartedness slid from his face. She sensed that he wasn’t often serious, but he was now. His eyes met hers intently.
They would have to be blue
, she thought absurdly.

“You’ve nothing to fear from me or my men, lass. We’ll not hurt you.”

His voice was so gentle and sincere. Yet the tears only intensified, burning her throat and filling her nose. She was desperate to believe him, to hold on to any thread of hope, no matter how thin. “But I heard what you said,” she choked.

His mouth fell into a grim line. Like the rest of him, it was exceedingly well-shaped, wide and soft with a delicious, naughty flare. “It was necessary. My companion was not so mercifully inclined. If I hadn’t said what I did, he would not have let you leave.”

Ellie dare not believe it. Could he be telling the truth? “Then you’ll take me back?” she said, unable to keep the hope from her voice.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. Not right now, at least.”

The surge in her chest deflated. “But why not?” Then the reason hit her. Like the other man, he didn’t want to risk that she’d heard something. “I swear I didn’t hear anything. I know nothing of what you are involved in.” Though piracy and smuggling definitely came to mind. “I won’t say anything to anyone, just please take me back to my family.” She started to shiver again. “They will be so worried about me.”

She searched his face in the hazy moonlight for a sign of softening, but his resolve was as hard and unyielding as the rest of him.

He stood stiffly before her, as if her pleas made him uncomfortable. “Believe me, lass, I’ve no more wish for you to be here than you do. But for now, I’m afraid we must make the best of the situation. You have my word, I will return you to your family as soon as it is safe to do so.”

He gave her another one of those smiles that was clearly meant to dazzle, but it barely even registered. Frustration boiled up inside her. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t
know
anything. Why wouldn’t he believe her? “And I’m supposed to trust the word of a Norse pirate?”

He lifted his brow in surprise at the accusation, then smiled as if she’d said something to amuse him. “Only part Norse.”

An Isleman. She should have realized it when she’d heard him speak. He was
Gall-Gaedhil
: part-Norse and part Gael Islander. But all pirate. The Islemen were just as notorious as their Norse forebears for their piracy. She noticed he hadn’t disagreed with her about his occupation.

“And as mine is the only word you have,” he added, “I’m afraid you’ll have to take it.”

She fumed silently, knowing he was right.

“What is your name, lass? Do you have a husband waiting for you?”

The question startled her. She eyed him carefully, wondering at his reason for asking. Did he wish to see if he could ransom her or—God forbid!—force her to marry him?

“Ellie,” she said carefully. Surely he must have heard Matty call for her. “I’m not married. As I said, I was with the group at the beach for the Maiden’s Plunge.”

His gaze flickered, and she wondered if he’d been trying to trick her.

“So you are from the village?”

The blood of Ireland’s most powerful noble ran through her veins, and it was almost reflexive to lift her chin and give him a disdainful “of course not.” But she knew she had to be careful. She didn’t want to reveal who she was, but she also knew that her rank afforded her some protection by encouraging the ruffians to keep their distance.

Suddenly, the answer came to her. “I’m a nursemaid to the earl’s children.” A position of respect, and more or less the truth, she thought wryly. Every man loved his nursemaid, didn’t he?

A strange grimace crossed his features, and he nodded, accepting her explanation with appalling ease. But wrapped in a plaid and gowned in a plain chemise, bereft of her expensive gowns and fine jewelry, she looked no more noble than a … pirate.

She knew the thought should make her laugh, but it struck her that there was indeed something noble about him. Something in the proud set of his shoulders, the air of command, and the arrogant glint in his eye.

She shook off the mental lapse. What a ridiculous thought to have about the scourge who’d just abducted her. Obviously it had been a long night.

He unfastened the brooch at his neck and removed the heavy fur-lined brat from his shoulders. “Here,” he said. “You must be freezing.”

She was, but his thoughtfulness surprised her. Apparently, she’d been abducted by a charming
and
gallant pirate.

Ellie was proud but not a fool. She accepted the brat with a curt nod and snuggled into its deep folds. It felt like heaven. Though she was still wet, it was surprisingly warm. But she refused to give him the satisfaction of a sigh.

“Can I trust you to keep quiet, or should I have Domnall tie you up?” The wicked gleam in his eyes made her think he was hoping for the latter.

Ellie masked her outrage and met his naughty grin with the same look of bored tedium that she gave her brothers when they tried to get a rise out of her. She looked down her nose at him, returning the challenge. “Can I trust you?”

One side of his mouth curved up in a cocky grin. “We shall see.” He gave her a mocking bow and said, “My lady,” before returning to his post at the stern of the boat. He even swaggered when he walked.

Ellie was dragged back down on the uncomfortable chest beside the older warrior he’d called Domnall. No longer in danger of turning into a human icicle and warm for the first time in what seemed like hours, she stared out into the soupy black mist, watching as with each plunge of the oars the boat pulled farther and farther away from her home.

Some of the terror had fled, but none of the despair.

Could she believe him? Did he really mean not to harm her? Would he return her to her family? He seemed in earnest, and she desperately wanted to believe him.

She watched him surreptitiously from under the veil of her lashes. He appeared to be arguing with a dark-haired young warrior who she thought had meant to come to her rescue in the cave. Something about the young warrior was different from the others. It wasn’t just his dark coloring; he was the only one wearing a shirt of mail and not the lighter-weight
cotun
war coat favored by the Gaels.

Every now and then the young warrior’s gaze shifted in her direction, making it clear that they were arguing over her—which couldn’t be good. Who knew what kind of nefarious plan the pirate captain had in store for her?

She straightened, resolve hardening her spine. A handsome face and devilish charm would not fool her. Her captor was a pirate and obviously involved in something untoward. Of course, she could not trust him.

Her gaze returned to the dark horizon before her, watching and waiting for any sign. When the opportunity for escape came, she intended to be ready.

    His conversation with the lass bothered Erik more than he wanted to acknowledge. It wasn’t that she thought him a pirate—he’d been called worse, and undoubtedly there was some truth to the characterization. In fact, her belief probably helped. If she thought him a pirate, she would not connect him with Bruce.

Nor was it her initial fear of him, which under the circumstances he both understood and thought warranted.

Nay, what bothered him was her reaction to him—or perhaps he should say her
lack
of reaction to him. She’d been maddeningly immune to his attempts to put her at ease. He’d done what he’d always done from the first time he’d bounced on his mother’s knee, when his smiles and grins had elicited delighted coos from his adoring mother and five older sisters.

There were three things Erik knew for certain: how to sail a boat, how to fight, and how to please the lasses. It was something he could count on, like fish in the sea and birds in the sky. As much as he loved women, they loved him. It was just the way it was.

So he’d given her a smile intended to melt through any resistance, talked to her kindly, and patiently answered her questions. Yet she’d barely seemed to notice his efforts in what should have been—and usually was—effortless.

He frowned. It wasn’t often that he went to such great lengths to charm a lass, and to have it fail so miserably was vaguely unsettling.

Perhaps it was some strange affliction peculiar to nursemaids. Learning her occupation didn’t surprise him at all. It went with the brisk, matter-of-fact confidence he’d noticed earlier. And when she’d looked down her nose at him and given him that patronizing smile, it had conjured up distinct memories of Ada—the old battle-axe.