The Pirate and the Feisty Maid-- Part One—At His Hand (5 page)

Ronan propped himself on the arm of the sofa, his
arms and legs crossed before him, and a smirk on his face as he
watched her squirm and struggle. “Dear Molly, was I gone so long
that ye’ve reverted to yer old ways? I thought we’d cured ye of yer
feistiness and mischief.”

It was one thing for her to be frustrated and
cursing, and an entirely different thing for her to be truly angry
with him. But angry she was—and hurt. As hardened a man as he was,
she knew he had little tolerance for it, and could not truly bear
it. Without another word, she gave him one final look, cold and
hard, and then looked away from him.

She heard him let out a long sigh. “Och, Molly, what
are ye doing, aye?”

He stepped to her side and nuzzled her cheek before
nibbling on her ear, as she stood there ignoring him. With her
hands still strung up above her, her body was pulled taut, so that
his touch, now trailing down her side to her waist, set every nerve
tingling through the thin linen of her chemise.

Yet she still ignored him and held firm. “Ye ken I
canna stand for ye to be upset with me, love. And our games are no
fun, if ye willna play.” She could hear his frown come through in
his voice, though she’d yet to look at him.

He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her
close, trailing kisses across her jaw line before finally finding
his way to her lips.

Though she didn’t return his kiss, she did finally
look at him, if only to pin him with an icy glare.

“What would ye have me do, lass? Ye canna come, and I
must go.” His thumb brushed across her cheek, his eyes on hers,
threatening to melt away her anger.

“You can either cut me down and tell me you’ll not
go, or you can take me with you. Those are your options.”

The corners of his mouth curled in a sly smile. “It
wouldna seem like ye’re in much of a position to be handing out
ultimatums, my love.”

She knew it was the truth of the matter, yet she did
not care. “I swear, Ronan, I’ll not speak to you again.” Angry as
she was, the thought had her tears spilling over despite her best
attempt to keep them at bay.

“Och, love. Dinna cry.” Seeing she was truly upset,
his smile disappeared as he reached up and unhooked the rope,
before undoing her wrists. “Molly… there’s naught to be done for
it. I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” With one final look and a shake of her
head, she walked out the room and out the door, into the night.

***

Molly easily got lost in the crowded streets, her
hurt and anger mingling to make her absolutely miserable.
Heartbroken, it felt as if she weren’t truly anchored to her body,
her face numb and her head spinning. She got bumped and jostled by
the growing evening crowds as she wandered aimlessly, her thoughts
refusing to settle on anything but Ronan’s departure.

Though she wanted nothing more than for Ronan to come
after her and comfort her in his arms, she knew it wouldn’t resolve
anything. Not that her solution would yield better results.

She wandered into the alehouse on the far end of
town, hoping to find a small measure of distraction and oblivion.
It wasn’t the pub she normally frequented, but that suited her just
fine, since there was a good chance Ronan would eventually go
looking for her and knew all her normal haunts. It was a rougher
crowd than she was used to, but in the mood she was in, she didn’t
care.

Heading straight for the bar, she could feel the
men’s eyes shift in her direction, watching her progress through
the room. Ignoring them, she slid a coin across the marred wood
surface to the publican and then climbed onto a stool. “Whisky.” He
poured her a glass, and nearly as quick, she emptied it, the liquid
like molten gold burning its way down her throat. Another coin was
sent across. “I’ll take the bottle.”

The publican’s eyebrows perked in question, but he
gave her the bottle and watched as she poured herself another.
“’Tis your coin, aye? But do you think it a wise idea?”

She threw back her drink, giving her head a shake as
the drink set her insides on fire. “What do you care?”

“Listen, lass, you’re far too pretty to end up piss
drunk and alone in a place like this. It’s dangerous for you to be
here on your own. They’re a bunch of pirates and criminals.” He was
right about the men assembled, and likely the reason she didn’t
frequent this pub in Ronan’s absence.

She looked at the publican as if for the first time.
He was a handsome man and well-muscled, with honey-streaked brown
hair, kind amber eyes the color of rum and a smile that would make
a lass weak in the knees. Still young, she’d guess him to be in his
mid-twenties, and about her age, unlike Ronan who was three and
thirty, far more a man than a boy.

Swallowing her misery, she managed a smile, thinking
she may have found a way to help forget her sorrows. “They may be
criminals and pirates, but I have you to protect me. What’s your
name, pet?”

“William.” He took her hand and brought it to his
lips, her heart picking up an extra beat when he touched her, his
hands just a little rough from work, though he was nothing but
gentle. “And it’d be my honor to keep you safe. What’s your name,
darling?”

“It’s Molly. Will you drink with me?” She found
herself taking an immediate liking to him, for there was something
sweet about him, a kindness in his eyes that gave her the
impression that the man before her would hold nothing back when he
fell in love, giving them his all, heart and soul.

William put another glass on the bar and she filled
them both, happy for his company, a small glimmer of light on a
dark and hopeless night. When he smiled at her, she was happy to
see his eyes light up from within. “Molly, eh? As for drinking with
you, I don’t think I’d have it in me to refuse you anything,
lass.”

Molly drained her glass, and then reached across the
bar and pulled William in close, nuzzling him before brushing her
lips against his. Their kiss deepened, her lips hard on his as his
mouth parted and their tongues explored, the taste of whisky still
strong, burning the back of her throat. He tangled his hands in her
hair and pulled her closer, stealing her breath, kissing her until
everything around them faded to grey.

How she managed to put some distance between them,
she knew not, for he’d had a far greater effect on her than she’d
anticipated. And yet, despite her flirtations with William, she
still could not keep Ronan from invading her thoughts, her heart
only aching all the more for him. Her body might react to William’s
touch, and he seemed incredibly nice, but she was still Ronan’s,
heart and soul.

William pursed his lips in a frown, his brow drawn
close as he took her in. “Are you all right, Molly?”

“Aye. I’m fine, love.” Yet she wasn’t. Not when she
couldn’t forget Ronan or that he’d be leaving her in mere days. She
poured them another drink, hoping it would dull her senses and kill
her heartache.

Tears threatened once more, making her eyes sting.
She threw back her drink, ignoring the molten heat as it trailed
over the lump in her throat to her belly, and then spun in her
stool to look out at the crowd, lest William notice just how upset
she was. Seeking further distraction, she scanned the room and
found a game of cards going. Perfect.

Forcing a smile on her face, she glanced over her
shoulder at William. “I trust you’ll not be going anywhere?” Then
before he could answer her, she twined her hand in his shirt and
pulled him close for another kiss as he cupped her face, kissing
her until he left her breathless, her heartbeat tripping over
itself. His lips lingered on hers a moment more, and she couldn’t
help but nuzzle him before pulling away and wandering over to join
the game.

She waited for the hand being played to end and then
pulled up a seat, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the men sitting
at the table. “Deal me in, if you would.”

“You sure?” The man across from her gathered the
cards, though his grey eyes were on her, a curious smile on his
weathered and scarred face.

“Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. Deal the cards, love.”
She leaned forward, elbows on the table, holding his gaze without a
problem. “Or do I have you worried?” Given the mood she was in, she
didn’t really care if she won or lost her hand—though luck tended
to favor her.

“Nae, darling. Not worried one bit, and I’d rather
look at your pretty face than these ugly mugs.” He tilted his head
to the other men at the table.

In the end, her head was not in the game, her
thoughts running back to Ronan. To what would happen between them.
She played and drank, losing some, winning most, her head starting
to spin.

And then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She closed her eyes and her breath deepened as she
resisted the urge to lean up against his arm. She need not look to
see who it was, for she would always know his touch.

Ronan said nothing; just left his hand there, the
weight of it like an anchor from him to her heart. And with that
simple touch, it was as if they were the only two people in the
entire tavern, the others not mattering one bit. Her anger
dissolved away, and when he moved his hand from her shoulder to
brush her cheek, her tears spilled over.

“Come, love.” When he spoke, his tone was tender.

He held out his hand to her and she took it without
hesitation, letting him pull her to her feet, the game and her
winnings already forgotten. His touch, the nearness of him, soothed
her aching heart, for she did not truly feel whole when they were
apart. Every fiber of her being ached when he was not near.

He led her through the crowded pub when William came
from around the bar and stood before them, a small club in his
hand, looking at the two of them.

She realized then that William—sweet and honorable
William—must have seen her crying and thought her in trouble, not
fully understanding the situation. With her heart racing, she
swiped at her tears and shook her head no, hoping to diffuse things
before they took a turn for the worse. But already, it was too
late.

William’s voice was a low growl, his eyes focused on
Ronan. “Let her go.”

*End of Sample. The Pirate and the Feisty Maid, Part
Two—Her New Lover is now available for purchase.*