4 INTO THE FIRE
HEART POUNDING, LIZA followed the pirate captain down to where the boat waited.
Captain Alec Rankin.
She’d heard many tales about this man, most of them terrifying. Nonetheless, in amongst them was the story of how he’d saved the Maclean clan-chief’s sister, after she’d been shipwrecked, before coming to the Macleans’ aid in their hour of need against the Mackinnons.
That meant this man, despite his formidable reputation, wasn’t rotten to the core. Hopefully, he’d help her. Heat flared in the pit of her stomach then. Leod had to pay for what he’d done. She had to get Craeg safely away from him.
Even so, her mouth and throat were parched, and she was shivering with cold after her ordeal. Her priority was to get out of this wind and slake her thirst before she could turn her thoughts to revenge and being reunited with her son.
Sliding down the slippery rock, Rankin stopped at the bottom, near where the water lapped, and held out a hand once more. This time, it wasn’t to cut away the rope around her wrist, but to help her onto the boat.
His gaze met hers, the challenge in his eyes—sea-green, the color of the water surrounding them—unmistakable.
Liza’s lips thinned.
The pirate was all arrogant swagger, someone used to having no master, to others obeying him. And she’d have had to be blind not to note that the rogue was unfairly handsome. Tall and muscular, with high cheekbones, his unbound fair hair tangling in the wind, he wore a loose lèine tucked into braies and high boots, with a dirk belt across his hips.
There was no mistaking the male appreciation in his gaze either as he stared back at her. Steeling herself, she took hold of his hand, trying to ignore its heat and strength, as he helped her into the boat.
Meanwhile, the hungry gazes of the four pirates who’d rowed him out to the rock raked over her.
“Who’s this then, Captain?” A huge pirate with a mashed nose asked.
“Lady Elizabetta Maclean,” Rankin answered, letting go of Liza’s hand as she settled down at the bow of the boat. “Her husband left her on this rock to die.”
All four men stilled at this, their gazes sharp with curiosity now.
“Come on.” Rankin’s tone turned brusque as he lowered himself down next to Liza. “Let’s get her back to The Reiver.”
With grunts of acknowledgment, even as some of the men exchanged veiled glances, the pirates obeyed. They turned the boat around and hauled back on the oars, propelling the small craft back to the waiting cog. Liza raised her face, her gaze alighting once more on the bloody flag that snapped and billowed in the wind.
Her gut tightened then, dread clutching at her. Mother Mary, preserve me.
Why did she suddenly feel as if she were going from the frying pan into the fire?
Rankin handed Liza a large earthen cup. She took it eagerly and raised it to her lips, gulping down the cool ale. It was the best thing she’d ever tasted.
“Easy, lass, or ye shall make yerself ill.”
Liza ignored him, draining the cup, and then handing it back to him. Refilling it from the jug he held, the pirate captain passed it to her once more. “Slow down.”
She heeded him this time, sipping at the brew, and enjoying the way it soothed her parched throat. It was nectar.
They stood in Rankin’s private quarters, a wood-paneled cabin underneath the castle—a raised platform at the stern of the cog. Glancing around her, she noted that it was simply furnished and dominated by a scrubbed oaken table and chairs. A heavy curtain hid the back of the space, no doubt where the captain slept.
Liza’s pulse quickened once more. She was inside a pirate’s lair, and as such felt vulnerable. As soon as she’d climbed out of the boat onto the deck of The Blood Reiver, assaulted by more predatory male gazes, Rankin had taken her directly to his cabin.
They hadn’t even raised anchor. It was clear he wished to speak to her first.
Pouring himself some ale, Rankin nodded to the table. “Take a seat.”
Belly fluttering, Liza obeyed. She slid onto the long bench seat. The captain sat down opposite her and placed the jug between them.
She noted that his fingers, which wrapped around his cup, were long and surprisingly refined for someone who made his living plundering and slitting the throats of those unwilling to part with their cargo.
“Elizabetta.” Her name rolled smoothly off his tongue. “That’s a bonnie name … if unusual. Why not Elizabeth?”
His question took her aback. Taking another sip of ale, she viewed him over the rim of her cup. “My mother chose it … she’s from Iberia, the daughter of a spice merchant.” She halted then before admitting. “No one calls me by my full name though … it’s just Liza.”
His mouth quirked. “Liza … I like that too.”
She tensed, fighting the urge to squirm under his assessing gaze. She didn’t care if he liked her name or not. Nonetheless, this man had rescued her, and she was grateful.
“Tell me then,” Rankin went on, his gaze never leaving her face. “Why did yer husband leave ye to die on that rock?”
Liza’s throat grew tight. “He hates me,” she replied, wishing her voice didn’t sound so raw.
“A man can hate his wife,” the captain said, swirling his ale in his cup as he continued to study her. “But killing her is something else entirely.”
Liza swallowed with difficulty. “We had an argument,” she admitted after a lengthy pause.
“What about?”
“Our son … Craeg.”
Rankin didn’t answer, waiting for her to recount what had happened, but Liza hesitated. She didn’t want to relive the ugliness that had preceded Leod dragging her out of the castle and down to the shore.
However, it appeared that the pirate captain wanted an explanation.
“He married me for a son … but once he got one, he treated him cruelly,” she admitted finally. “Craeg is only in his fifth spring, yet Leod expects him to behave like a man.” She paused, swallowing once more. “He drowned his puppy … and then when the lad wept over it, he knocked him across the room.” Nausea washed over her as she recalled the scene. “I stepped between them … and Leod didn’t like it.”
Rankin stared back at her. His handsome face gave little away. Only the slight hardening of his gaze hinted that her tale had affected him at all. “I met yer husband at Dounarwyse … and remember him as an ill-tempered bastard,” he said then, his voice as difficult to read as his expression. “But this tale surprises me.”
Liza’s mouth pursed. Whether or not her story surprised him mattered not. What she needed from this man wasn’t his understanding, but his help.
Her mind scrabbled then as she planned her next steps. Her first thought was to ask him to take her to Duart Castle, so she could throw herself at the mercy of Loch Maclean. But she checked herself. She’d only ever met the Maclean clan-chief once, a striking man with a mane of dark hair and an arrogance that rivaled Rankin’s. It was said that his wife, the lovely Mairi, had tamed him, but Liza wasn’t convinced.
What if Loch didn’t listen to her pleas? What if he merely sent her right back to her husband?
Her bowels cramped at the thought. Leod wouldn’t bother taking her out to sea and dumping her on a rock again. He’d just kill her with his bare hands. And maybe he’d do it in front of Craeg. It would be unhinged and cruel, but she wouldn’t put anything past her husband.
No, it was too risky to put her fate in the hands of Loch Maclean. Instead, she needed to grab Fortuna by the throat. She wanted her son back, and she craved vengeance.
But she couldn’t do it alone.
“Do ye like coin, Rankin?” she asked eventually.
He smirked. “Of course, I’m a spùinneadair-mara.”
“Well, my husband has a strongroom full of it.”
His head inclined. “Does he?”
“Aye … he’s a wealthy man … and I will give ye half of everything he has.”
His sea-green eyes narrowed. “That’s generous of ye, Liza.”
She stiffened. The pirate was far too familiar. He should be addressing her according to her rank, yet the only time he’d done so was to mock her. “It is,” she replied coolly, staring back at him. “But such generosity comes at a price.”
Her heart started to pound then. She couldn’t believe she was being this bold—that she was attempting to broker a bargain with a pirate. Had she lost her wits?
Aye, she was desperate. The thought of never seeing Craeg again made her belly cramp. This man had a decent-sized crew—and most of them appeared hardened warriors who’d seen battle. She needed them.
Rankin set his cup down on the table and folded his arms. The movement pulled the lèine he wore against the hard muscles of his chest and shoulders, and she blinked.
Lord help her, she shouldn’t be marking such things.
“I’m all ears,” he murmured, greed glinting in his eyes.
Liza swallowed. Suddenly, her throat was parched again. Raising her cup to her lips, she took a large fortifying gulp. Then, drawing in a deep breath, she answered, “To get these riches, ye must first kill my husband.”