The Red Drifter of the Sea (Pirates of the Isles #3) - Celeste Barclay Page 0,25

pulled Kyle’s plaid more snuggly around her and burrowed under the meager covers. Never would she admit it, but she longed for the warmth of Kyle’s body beside her. She even wished for her draughty chamber back at Dunluce. If such a storm had pounded her home at night, she would have crawled into bed beside Sean to calm his fears. She would have stroked his soft inky curls as she sang him lullabies. When he tired of those, she would tell him stories of the ancient kings of Ireland, or the monsters that roamed the sea around Rathlin Island and Ballycastle.

Moira’s stomach roiled as the boat tilted precariously to port. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying she could sleep through the rest of the storm. As the hours passed, she wondered how Kyle was surviving above. She had waves of panic that he’d been washed overboard, drowning in the churning abyss. A headache throbbed behind her eyes, and she wasn’t certain if it came from the noise and movement or her concern for Kyle.

Why do I care? Is it because I don’t want to be left aboard this bleeding ship without his protection? No. You know that’s not the truth. I’m worried about him. I’m worried that he won’t return to challenge me, to—what? Pleasure me? Is that my priority? No. I just wish to see his face, touch him and know that he’s well. I’m so bluidy scared. I wish he could come below. I wish he could climb into bed beside me and hold me. I just wish he could make this all go away.

Eventually, fatigue drained Moira of her strength. She rolled as close to the wall as she could, using the pillows as a barrier to the edge. She hoped they would be enough to keep her from falling off the bunk. She let her eyes drift closed. Without realizing it, she was asleep.

The howling rain let up long enough for Kyle to inspect the hull. He breathed easier when he found only small dribbles of water rather than pools. He could have his men reinforce the spots that seemed weak, but there was no reason to fear that the boat would capsize or swamp. With Moira onboard, he felt even more compelled to ensure the ship’s condition. He’d never once considered a sole person’s well-being when he made decisions about his ship, but knowing Moira was with him created an urgency he hadn’t felt before.

When he finished touring the hold, he made his way to his cabin. Unprepared for what he might find, he steeled himself for the mess and an irate woman. He eased the door open, first taking in the mess, then catching sight of Moira sleeping on his bunk. He smiled to himself as he wondered how long she’d slumbered and how she was even able to sleep through the storm. But worry took hold when he feared she wasn’t sleeping, but unconscious. He crossed the cabin and peered down at Moira. Her eyes fluttered open, and she screamed, unprepared to find a face hovering over hers.

“Bluidy bleeding hell, Kyle,” Moira snapped. “You leave me down here to rattle around like teeth in an old woman’s head, then terrify me when you wake me.”

Kyle reeled back from the biting words, reminding himself that he had startled her, and she likely spent the entire storm petrified. But her murderous glare tested his already frayed patience. Gritting his teeth, he stepped away from the bunk, noticing the puddle he’d created. With a scowl, he stomped across the cabin to where one of his chests landed and ripped open the lid before pulling out drying linens. He slammed the lid shut and moved to the other chest that held his clothes. Kyle tossed a fresh leine and leggings on the table before pulling his sodden boots from his feet. Peeling off the clothes that stuck to him like a second skin, he ignored the watching Moira.

Unwilling to let her witness his arousal, which stirred despite his annoyance at both her and his own body, he remained turned away from her. When Moira gasped, he looked back over his shoulder to find her staring at his legs.

“What?” Kyle growled.

“The bruises,” Moira hissed as she pointed to the back of his thighs. He knew what she meant. He’d tied the ropes around his ribs and thighs to keep him upright.

“Wishing I’d been cast overboard?” Kyle snarled as he pulled leggings on but left them unlaced. He