The Red Drifter of the Sea (Pirates of the Isles #3) - Celeste Barclay Page 0,2
is cared for, I will be done. I will leave and not look back. Well, mayhap one glance if I can see Sean. But then, never again. Moira’s eyes drifted closed as she drifted off.
Two
“I don’t understand why you’re making such a fuss,” Lizzie whined the next evening as she ran her hand over Aidan’s chest, pressing her breasts to his body.
“I’m making a fuss because the agreement is that you bed no one but me when I’m here,” Aidan pushed Lizzie away. “I don’t try to control you when I’m gone, but our arrangement will end faster than you can drop your skirts if you tup another man while I’m in port, Lizzie.”
“But I had to,” Lizzie pleaded, as Aidan scoffed. “Dónal wants to know O’Malley’s secrets, so he can better negotiate. What other woman is going to get that information? Moira? She could stand naked, coated in honey, and no man would offer her information in exchange for a roll.”
“So you came to your brother’s aid by rolling around with the messenger,” Aidan snapped.
“What do you care? You abandon me here as easy as you please,” Lizzie whined.
“Mayhap I picked the wrong—” Aidan’s voice came out smothered as Lizzie covered his mouth with hers. “—after all.”
Moira watched in disgust as the couple reconciled with a kiss, Aidan’s groping hands settling on Lizzie’s backside. She wondered why, after all these years, anything the couple did or said surprised her. It was as if she watched a stranger’s horrible accident. She didn’t care for the people, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Turning to the serving women, she nodded and walked toward the dais while the others brought food to the lower tables. The platter she herself carried threatened to slosh over the sides as the roasted duck bathed in cream sauce slid back and forth.
As she rounded the table closest to the dais, she watched in horror as Dónal glanced at the hounds begging below the raised table, then threw a leg of pork at her. The three massive wolfhounds stood above her waist when they were on all fours; standing on their hind legs they were nearly a foot taller than her. The animals plowed into her, vying for the meat laying at her feet. But unlike when Dónal tried to push her over, she couldn’t withstand the impact of the three dogs. The sauce from the platter poured down her front as her feet came out from under her. She tried to keep her balance, but her heel landed on a dog’s paw, making him headbutt her in the back. She pitched forward, and the roast skidded across the floor and with it the dogs’ attention. She landed hard, bashing her chin on the floor and knocking the wind from her lungs.
“Aunty Moira!” Sean yelled as he rushed forward. Moira pushed herself onto her hands before manly palms grasped her around her ribs. She looked over her shoulder as Aidan settled her on her feet.
“Are you hurt?” Aidan whispered.
“No more than in the past,” Moira muttered as she pulled away from him and brushed rushes and crumbs from her kirtle. She sighed before looking back at Aidan. “Thank you.”
“Clumsy wench,” Dónal mocked.
“Aunty Moira,” Sean slipped his hand into hers and looked up at her. She tried to smile at the child, but she’d bitten her tongue hard, and her chin burned. She wanted to rub it, but she wouldn’t give Dónal the satisfaction. She sensed more than saw Aidan step away before he returned to his seat beneath Lizzie. “Your chin is bleeding,” Sean whispered.
Moira looked down at Sean and felt a drop of blood land on her chest. She glanced at it and sighed. She was filthy and had a gash on her chin to match her humiliation. Until it healed, it would remind everyone of her ungainly performance before them and, worse, the clan’s guest.
“No wonder the O’Malley demands such a high dowry,” Lizzie chortled. “He knows he’ll be replacing everything in sight once you plow through it.”
Moira froze as the blood leached from her face. She doubted her heart still beat in her chest, and it was only Sean’s hand in hers that let her know she hadn’t gone numb. She turned to look at Dónal, then cast her gaze at the O’Malley messenger who shifted in his seat, attempting not to look at her. She’d wondered why the man ate at their table, since the O’Malleys and MacDonnells were on hostile terms.