The Red Drifter of the Sea (Pirates of the Isles #3) - Celeste Barclay Page 0,46
wives who were the most fearsome sailors between Ireland and Scotland. The couples had retired from pirating, but the MacNeils were seafaring people who depended on trade, since their island was small and had little arable land. Caragh and Senga still sailed with their husbands from time to time, and they were just as intimidating together as Rowan and Ruairí or Kyle and Keith. Both women were experts with swords and had the temerity to enter the fray whenever there were battles aboard ship. They placed family above all else, and were ruthless in defending their husbands.
Rowan was now Laird MacNeil, but Kyle and Keith visited Kisimul Castle often and knew it was Caragh–Lady MacNeil by title–who made people jump at her command. She had a charisma that made people want to do what she asked without her raising her voice or issuing threats. Senga wasn’t that different, and her quiet guidance was always present. They made an indomitable team, and their husbands couldn’t be prouder.
“I know I should take her to Senga myself, but I confess I don’t want to,” Kyle admitted.
“Having too much fun in your bed?” Keith snorted.
“Only twice,” Kyle muttered.
“Only twice what? In your bed? Does she prefer the table or the wall? From what I heard, she likes the rail.” Keith’s boots clunked against the floor as he dove out of the reach of Kyle’s fist. “What? Bluidy hell, you made me spill my whisky.” Keith brushed the liquid from his leine before pouring himself more and topping off Kyle’s mug.
“I’ve only coupled with her twice, if you must know.”
“I mustn't, but now you’ve told me. She’s been onboard more than a sennight, and you’ve only had her twice? Slowing down in your auld age?”
“It’s not like that. Keith, don’t talk about her like she’s a doxy. She’s not,” Kyle sighed.
“From what I heard, she came on deck in no more than a man’s leine—maybe yours, maybe someone else’s—and let your hand work its magic until she was moaning,” Keith said with a cocked eyebrow.
“She did. And I did. But she didn’t moan. And I’m certain no one actually saw what I was doing. They just made a good guess. But she’s not a whore. She’s like me,” Kyle admitted.
“And you’re trying to convince me she’s not a whore?” Keith spluttered as he wiped whisky from his lips.
“I mean, she likes things the way I do,” Kyle said with a pointed look at his brother.
“Ah. The way we both do. Rough.”
“Yes. But not just that. She submits. Willingly. She wants to. We seem to understand what the other wants without speaking. We seem to give one another what we both need.” Kyle shrugged. “I don’t have a better explanation than that. But her trust has limits. I can’t blame her for that. But the limit comes before she’s willing to tell me where she was going.”
“Then ask her where she wants to go. Maybe it’s where she was headed, maybe not. But at least then you know something,” Keith suggested.
“True.”
“You fear she’ll say she wants to go somewhere without you, or somewhere you can’t follow. You don’t want to ask what she wants. You’d rather know what her plans were in the past. Before you.”
“You’re a pain in the arse, did you know that?” Kyle scowled. “Leave reading my bluidy mind to when we’re keeping each other alive in a fight.”
“Blame God for making us two peas in a pod. It’s not my fault that what I would think in your place is what you’re thinking too.”
“So you say,” Kyle grumbled. The brothers stood, both grinning. Being like-minded kept them alive while they were homeless orphans and then as young sailors. It protected them when they fought back to back, and it gave them an inexplicable way to sense when the other was in danger. Inconvenient as it might have been when Kyle wanted to keep his emotions private, neither would trade it for anything. They embraced. “I love you, brother.”
“How can you not? I am the better-looking one,” Keith teased, blocking Kyle’s playful punch. “I love you too, brother.”
While they never shared the sentiments in public, the twins always parted with the same words. They’d done so since they were children, always fearful that they wouldn’t have the chance to say it again. It had stayed with them into adulthood.
“Go back to your cabin and the bonnie wench in your bed. Find out where we sail to next,” Keith suggested.