The Red Drifter of the Sea (Pirates of the Isles #3) - Celeste Barclay Page 0,20

looked around. She could hear men above her, but she saw no one in the corridor. Seizing the opportunity to orient herself on the ship, she moved away from the ladder well that would take her to the top deck. She tried doors as she slipped along, finding the galley and another cabin. She assumed that was for Kyle’s first mate. When she came to the hatch leading to the hold, she debated whether she should try to slip inside. She opted against it, fearful that she might lock herself below. Instead, she retraced her steps, took another fortifying breath, and ascended the ladder well. She paused for a moment while still out of sight and let her eyes adjust to the dazzling sunlight reflected off the water. Blinking against their watering, she glanced around at what she could see. Furrowing her brow, she gazed at a cloud for several moments before she realized it remained in the same position. They weren’t moving, or rather the boat’s movement was from bobbing in the tide, not from sailing.

Have we sailed at all? He said a few hours when I asked him, but maybe we haven’t gone anywhere. Why are we stopped? Whatever the reason, at least we’re not any closer to the O’Malleys.

Moira continued to observe the crew on the deck. Men swabbed the deck, worked the riggings, and a few slept. She caught sight of Kyle at the helm, but she knew he hadn’t seen her. Why would he? He wouldn’t expect her to appear before him. She took the first step onto the deck, careful not to get a splinter in her foot from an uneven plank. When no shouts went up, she set her shoulders and lifted her chin.

With all the grace she possessed, Moira glided across the deck toward Kyle. His fury was obvious the moment he noticed her. He barked an order to someone she didn’t know and left the wheel. Moira watched a man of a similar build to Kyle, but a little shorter, dash to take control of the ship. Kyle’s stride was purposeful but unhurried. Moira understood he meant to intimidate her by making her wait, but after years of Dónal’s tantrums, it took more than an angry stride and glaring looks to sway her. She continued forward until they met in the middle.

“Good morning, Capt’n,” Moira crooned.

“Get back in my cabin now,” Kyle hissed.

“But I was lonely,” Moira said innocently. She gave him an expression to match her tone.

“You will go back over my knee,” Kyle warned.

“Promise?”

“Moira.”

“Kyle,” Moira whispered.

Kyle’s arm shot out and wrapped around her waist and hefted her off her feet. He clomped over to the rail and lifted her to sit on it but held her securely with his brawny arm as they both looked at the water. He pressed his chest to her back, his strength more of a reassurance than a threat to Moira.

“I can swim. Besides, you have a woman to bed aboard your ship. You won’t toss me when you have me captive to do with as you like,” Moira reasoned.

“You may be more trouble than you’re worth,” Kyle snarled.

“You won’t know until you try me.” Moira couldn’t believe the words she was uttering. It was as though she’d turned into a stranger. Or worse: she’d turned into Lizzie.

“Painting yourself as a whore?” Kyle slid his free hand along her thigh and under the leine until his fingers brushed the curls on her mons. “Is this what you want? Is this why you’re parading yourself around half-dressed? Or are you offering yourself to my men? Because I’m certain they will accept.”

“If you don’t want me to appear like this before your crew, you should’ve left me my leggings or my kirtles.”

“Or I can be sure never to leave without locking the door,” Kyle retorted. Moira said nothing, but opened her legs wide in further invitation. He slipped a finger inside her sheath and felt, rather than heard, her sharp inhale. With her hands gripping the rail, she forced herself not to let her head drop back against Kyle’s chest. She suspected the men couldn’t see what Kyle was doing with his hand, but they could see if she leaned against him. “Do you like people to watch, sweet one?”

Moira had an answer, but she couldn’t force the words out between her lips. Her breasts ached, and her nipples stung from both the crisp Irish air and from the need for Kyle’s attention. They remained silent