9 IF ONLY FOR ONE NIGHT
THE BLUSH THAT now stained Liza’s cheekbones warned Alec that he’d almost overstepped.
He wasn’t sure how they’d ended up having this conversation—but one question had slid into another, and his interest had been sparked.
There was no doubt about it, this woman intrigued him.
When he’d found her, she’d looked like a siren upon that rock, gilded by the morning sun, with the body and face to lure men to their deaths. And after this exchange, he realized that she was just as dangerous. But Liza Maclean appeared utterly unaware of how alluring she was.
All the same, he was relieved that fear and disgust no longer shadowed her eyes.
His gut tightened then. Aye, his ruse had been successful, but it had left a sour taste in his mouth—it was a reminder that much of his reputation was based on boasts, rumors, and outright lies. One day, the deception he’d woven would be ripped away, and he needed to prepare himself for it.
Would walking away be so bad?
The whispered question took him aback. He’d never considered leaving The Blood Reiver before, despite that he didn’t enjoy this life as much as he once had.
To his surprise, Liza moved then, seating herself at the head of the bed, like him, and making a nest for herself with pillows. The bed was large, and at least three feet lay between them. Even so, her act made it clear she was lowering her guard around him. She kept the blanket tightly wrapped about her.
Alec tried not to think about the delicious body that was hidden under it.
Her bare feet peeked out beneath the blanket, and he found himself admiring the elegant curve of her arches and her pale-gold skin.
“Are we expected to make some noise?” she asked finally, cradling the cup of wine before her.
Alec raised an eyebrow. “Noise?”
“Aye.” Another charming blush stained her cheeks. “Won’t yer crew be listening for … grunts ?”
Alec stared back at her a moment before laughter dragged its way up from his belly and rolled up through his chest and throat, filling the cabin.
“Christ’s blood,” he said, still grinning at the affronted look she was now giving him. “Ye make us sound like rooting pigs.” Her lips thinned at this comment, yet he couldn’t help but tease her. “Is that the noise Leod made when he took ye?”
Tension rippled off her now, her knuckles, where she still gripped her cup of wine, turning white. “Once again, ye mock me, pirate.”
“No.” Alec sobered then, realizing he’d gone too far. “Not ye, lass … but yer husband.” He shook his head ruefully before taking a sip of wine. “It’s clear he doesn’t know how to bed a woman.”
Liza drew herself up, an eyebrow arching. “And ye do?”
Alec shrugged. “Of course.”
“Conceited cockerel.”
Her insult washed over him, for he marked the glint of interest in her eyes. She was trying her best to conceal it, but he intrigued her.
Silence fell between them then, and Alec allowed it to draw out. It was best not to speak of coupling, since it was too easy to flirt with this woman. He didn’t want to frighten her again.
“Leod hasn’t touched me in a while … which is a relief because he’s rough,” she said finally. Alec glanced her way to see that she was deliberately avoiding his eye now. He remained silent, watching her take what looked like a fortifying gulp of wine before continuing. “I’ve heard some people find pleasure in coupling … but I’m not one of them.”
“That’s probably his fault, not yers,” Alec replied.
She huffed a humorless laugh. “Maybe … although once he’s dead, I’ll never have to suffer another man’s touch again.”
Alec frowned at the resignation, the bitterness, in her voice. “Ye’re still young enough to wed again, Liza,” he murmured. “Just choose more carefully next time. Find someone who will take his time to woo ye … who will look after yer pleasure before his own. Someone who will teach ye what yer body is capable of.”
Her night-brown eyes grew wide at his response, her lips parting slightly.
He marked the shallowness of her breathing, the way she held the cup in a death-grip once more. However, it wasn’t anger he saw in her eyes now, but an awakening of sorts.
Leave this be , the voice of reason checked him then, and he heeded it.
He’d said far too much. It was time to leash his tongue.
Liza’s pulse pounded in her ears.
She wasn’t sure how they’d gotten onto the subject of coupling. Nonetheless, it was she who wouldn’t let the matter go.
Rankin’s arrogance was both infuriating and intriguing. And, curse him, his words had piqued her interest.
Did not all men grunt like a humping dog as they plowed their wives? Were there really some who were tender and sensual, who focused on their woman’s pleasure? Of course, she should know it was the case, for she’d always suspected her parents were happy in that area. Over the years, she’d seen their lingering glances and touches, the way her father put his arm around her mother’s waist or gave her backside a cheeky squeeze when he thought no one was looking.
Rankin would be a good lover.
An odd sensation clutched at her lower belly at this realization before she gave herself a swift mental slap.
Goose! What are ye thinking? The man is a knave!
Aye, he was, and he’d let her think he was going to force himself upon her. But he hadn’t. Liza’s instincts told her that if she fell asleep on this bed, he wouldn’t molest her.
Alec Rankin did his best to hide it, but there was a strong vein of decency in him. And after hearing about his upbringing and what had happened to his sister, she’d take him at his word.
At the same time, their conversation had unsettled her.
A strange restlessness filtered over Liza. And then, after a while, a hollow sensation settled into the pit of her stomach. She’d spoken true earlier. Once Leod was dead, she wouldn’t be taking another husband. If she was to rule Moy as laird, she would need to be wary of men.
A woman in power couldn’t allow herself any vulnerabilities, or her position would be stripped from her. And that meant she’d never share her bed with anyone again.
Liza’s reaction to this realization was mixed, complicated. She was relieved, for coupling had only ever brought her pain and humiliation. But there was a tiny part of her that longed to learn the pleasure that Rankin had spoken of—if only for one night.
Quashing the thought, which was unsettling indeed, she raised her cup to her lips and took another sip.
The hush between them lengthened, while the faint sounds of drunken laughter filtered through the walls into the cabin. It didn’t sound as if the crew were focused on them, after all.
After a while, Liza cast Rankin a sidelong look. He’d set his cup of wine aside now and had slid down so that he stretched out on the bed. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling slowly.
She wasn’t sure whether he was asleep or not, although the fact his eyes were shut allowed her to observe him.
And, she found herself drinking him in.
Mother Mary forgive her, he was attractive. Tall and muscular, yet with long limbs that gave him litheness and grace. His fair hair fanned across the pillow, and she took in his sculpted features. No man had the right to be that beautiful.
His lèine was open at the throat, and she found her gaze drawn to the smooth vee of skin it revealed. Her pulse fluttered then, and she looked away.
What was she doing, ogling a pirate? She wondered then if the upheaval of the past days had scattered her wits.
She certainly felt … different … tonight.
Bold. Angry. Reckless.
Time slid by, and she too put aside her wine and stretched out onto her back, staring up at the low ceiling. After everything she’d been through, she should have been exhausted, and yet she was wide awake.
She’d never been so alert.
Something had shifted in her this evening, but she couldn’t discern what it was.
Meanwhile, it was clear Rankin was done speaking to her. Indeed, the pirate did appear to have fallen asleep.
Glancing his way once more, she studied him in the flickering light of the lantern that hung overhead. She hated to admit it, but he fascinated her. She’d never met anyone so contradictory. She wasn’t sure what to make sure of him at all.
But one thing she was certain of was that she was attracted to him.
After their revealing conversation, she was no longer afraid of the pirate captain. And as such, her awareness of him resurfaced.
Eventually, the tension building within her became impossible to ignore. Heaving in a deep breath, she rolled onto her side, facing him. Then, she cleared her throat loudly.
He twitched, shifting position, but didn’t wake up.
“Rankin.”
The pirate stirred, one eye cracking open. “Aye,” he murmured.
“So, ye’re saying that coupling doesn’t have to hurt?”
His other eye opened, his gaze settling upon her as his drowsiness cleared. “It shouldn’t hurt,” he replied. “Not if it’s done right.”
Heat flushed through her at his response. The Lord forgive her, this man’s voice made her pulse leap like a prancing pony.
She stared back at him, her stomach clenching. “I will never wed again,” she said firmly. “Of that I am certain … but just once, I’d like to know what it’s like” —she broke off then, her courage faltering— “to be bedded well.”
That got Rankin’s attention.
His eyes snapped wide, and he shifted onto his side, propping himself up onto an elbow. “What are ye saying?”
She sucked in a deep breath before releasing it slowly, to try and quiet her racing heart. “I want ye to bed me, Rankin.”