5 HELL HATH NO FURY
ALEC REGARDED THE woman he’d just rescued with incredulity. Of all the things he thought she might propose, this possibility hadn’t occurred to him.
Surely, she wasn’t in earnest?
But as the moments slid by, and the hard glint in her night-brown eyes didn’t soften, he realized she was.
“Christ’s blood,” he murmured finally. “Hell hath no fury, indeed.”
A muscle flexed in her smooth jaw, and she leaned forward. “My husband didn’t scorn me, Rankin … he tried to murder me. And now Craeg is alone with him.”
Alec stared back at her, noting the flush that stained her cheekbones.
Liza Maclean was even lovelier when she was incensed. He liked a woman with spirit. He’d been taken by Loch Maclean’s fierce sister, Astrid, a few years earlier—but the lass hadn’t been interested in him. She’d already fallen for the man charged with protecting her.
Alec eyed her. “Ye have balls, Liza … I’ll give ye that … but more courage than sense.” She flinched under his crude, harsh words, yet he continued. “A wiser woman would ask me to take her to Duart Castle instead. The Maclean will surely help ye.”
She shook her head vehemently. “No. I can’t risk him denying me.”
“Ye underestimate Loch, he’s—”
“A man.”
Alec snorted. “So am I, and yet ye are asking me for help?”
Anger burned in her dark eyes. “No, ye are a pirate . Ye love plunder more than anything else in this world, and I can give it to ye.”
He snorted. “Well then, I hope yer husband’s coffers are deep.”
“Aye … he’s a miser. His strongroom is rammed full of coin.”
Alec picked up his cup and took a deep draft. “Is that so?”
Liza nodded. “And half of it’s yers. It’s the best offer ye’ve ever had, Rankin.” She drew herself up, her dark brows knitting together. “Will ye accept it?”
“Maybe,” he drawled.
A muscle in her smooth jaw flexed. “Excuse me?”
“Such a decision can’t be rushed,” he said, enjoying the way her eyes glinted in anger. “I have an agreement with Loch Maclean … and killing one of his chieftains will break it.” Aye, that was the truth. Loch might overlook him reiving the Mackinnons, but killing the laird of Moy was sure to raise the clan-chief’s ire. All the same, Liza’s husband was a vile, murderous turd who deserved to die—and the coin was tempting. His pulse quickened then. He’d just had an idea. Perhaps he’d found a way to restore his crew’s respect and quell their malcontent for good. A moment later, he pushed himself up from the table. “Now, if ye will excuse me, I must discuss yer proposal with my crew.”
The woman’s mouth pursed at this, yet she held her tongue. Flashing her a careless smile, Alec turned and headed toward the door. Liza’s gaze tracked him.
However, upon ducking out of the cabin under the castle, he didn’t gather his crew to him. Instead, he went looking for Cory.
His first mate was overseeing the swabbies who were mopping the deck. He glanced up at Alec’s approach, nodding when his captain jerked his chin toward the forecastle. Without a word, Alec climbed up to the raised platform at the bow of the cog and waited for Cory to join him. They would be alone here, and thanks to the screeching of gulls overhead, wouldn’t be easily overheard.
“Change of plan, Cory,” he murmured. “The Mackinnons of Dùn Ara will have to wait.”
His first mate inclined his head. “Aye?”
Alec nodded. “Lady Maclean has offered us a job.” Quickly, he filled him in on Liza’s proposal. His first mate’s dark eyes glinted when he told him that payment would be half of the contents of Moy Castle’s strongroom. “It’s not enough though,” Alec concluded.
Cory stiffened. “It’s not?”
“No … not when my crewmates are sharpening their dirks behind my back.”
Cory’s lean features tensed. He’d marked the look Gunn and Egan had given each other earlier too—he knew what was brewing.
Alec stepped in closer to him. “It’s time to give the lads a shock,” he murmured. “To make them wonder what I’m capable of.”
Cory inclined his head, his gaze narrowing. “What do ye have in mind?”
“Spend tonight in my bed … and tomorrow we will take Moy Castle for ye and kill its laird … for all that coin ye promised, of course.”
Liza stared at Captain Rankin, disbelieving, for a few moments. The Saints help her, this knave couldn’t be serious.
She searched his face, looking for a teasing glint in his eyes or a rueful curve of his mouth. Both were absent. Cold washed over her. A moment later, her heart started to kick against her ribs.
She swallowed hard then. “Ye intend to rape me?”
Rankin, who’d just returned to his cabin after talking to his crew, stood in the open doorway. He’d folded his arms across his chest and leaned indolently against the door frame.
“I wouldn’t call it such, lass.” His sea-blue eyes taunted her. “It’s more of an ‘arrangement’.”
She stifled a gasp. The galling arrogance of him. “Vile dog,” she rasped. “I have no wish to lie with ye.”
His lips lifted at the corners. “Rest assured, I will ensure the experience is a pleasant one.”
Fury surged up, battering at her chest, and she made a choking sound. Liar. There was nothing ‘pleasant’ about being swived, especially against one’s will. Every occasion with Leod had been an ordeal she’d gritted her teeth to get through. Fortunately, her husband hadn’t visited her bed in a long while. Once Craeg was born and she’d secured her husband an heir, Leod had left her alone. But now this odious pirate wanted her to spread her legs for him—as payment .
“I’m not yer whore,” she ground out, flinching at her own vulgarity. “Find yerself one at yer next port.”
The rumble of male laughter reached her then, and shame flushed over her in a hot tide. The other pirates were listening in. Her pulse sprang into a wild gallop. Curse them all. Did they find her humiliation amusing?
Rankin smiled then, although the curve of his lips didn’t match the hardness in his gaze. He stalked around the edge of the table and stopped before Liza, looming over her.
Lifting her chin to hold his eye, she tried to ignore the hammering of her heart. It was beating so fast, she was starting to feel lightheaded. Nevertheless, she held her ground.
“That’s my response to yer offer, wench ,” he said, staring down at her. “Take it or leave it.”
More guffaws followed from outside, but they both ignored the crew’s mirth.
Liza’s breathing grew shallow. Up close, the pirate smelled of leather, salt, and a hint of something fresh and spicy, like mint. But his scent only distracted her for a moment.
This man, her savior just a short while earlier, was Lucifer.
Swaying slightly, she lifted her hand, reaching for the small iron crucifix she wore around her neck—a gift from her pious mother. The Lord forgive her, she almost wished she were back on that rock.
“And if I decline?” she asked, her voice quivering with disgust.
He shrugged. “Then, we drop ye off on the southern edge of Loch Buie later this afternoon … and ye can walk back to Moy Castle and deal with yer husband on yer own.”
“Ye could take me to Oban,” she countered, even as her pulse pounded in her ears. “If ye won’t help me, I’ll find mercenaries there who will.”
He shook his head.
She started to tremble as both despair and anger took hold of her. “Why not?”
“I don’t have to give ye a reason,” he drawled.
Liza glared at him, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. Christ’s blood, she wanted to tell Rankin he could burn in the fiery pits of Hades. It was on the tip of her tongue, yet she checked herself.
Calm yerself, Liza. Turning into a spitting hellcat won’t get Craeg back .
Reminding herself of what was at stake made her draw in a deep, steadying breath. She had to view the situation from a distance. Letting this filthy pirate rut her would be debasing at best, an ordeal at worst. However, by dawn, it would be over. Then, he’d help her.
If she let this pirate have her for one night, they could act. Tomorrow.
The hunger for reckoning against her husband burned like a lump of coal in her belly.
She was desperate—and it made her reckless.
Heart pounding, she gave a slight, barely perceptible nod. “Very well, Rankin,” she replied, her voice hoarse. Lord, she couldn’t believe the knave was manipulating her, or that she was giving in to him. Nausea now churned in her belly. “I accept yer indecent proposal.”
The moment the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could haul them back. However, instead, she flattened her lips into a tight line. Her fingers were clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms.
The slight upturn of his lips now made her ache to lash out. But doing so wouldn’t get her what she wanted.
One night with a lecherous pirate. It was only her body. She could shut off her mind, as she had with Leod. How would it be any different?
Rankin stepped back from her, nodding. “Good.” He then turned his head to the left. “Hear that, lads? Soon, The Reiver’s hold will be heavy with coin!”
A roar of approval followed, and Liza swallowed down bile.
He moved toward the door, although he halted just before reaching it. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he flashed her an assessing look. “Help yerself to some wine. We shall discuss details of tomorrow’s attack with my crew shortly.”
Liza didn’t reply. She couldn’t. Her tongue had frozen in her mouth. Instead, she watched Rankin leave his quarters and cringed as she listened to his men congratulate him.
“I thought we didn’t ravish lasses, Captain?” one of the younger lads asked, and Liza stilled, her breath catching.
“Aye, well, a man can change his mind,” Rankin drawled back. “Ye’ve seen the woman, Rabbie … who wouldn’t want to tumble her?”
Another explosion of coarse laughter followed these words. All defiance drained out of Liza then, and her legs started to wobble under her.
Breathing a curse, she lowered herself onto the bench seat. She raised a hand to her face, her heart thudding when she realized it was shaking. “Daft lass,” she whispered. “What have ye done?”