The Red Drifter of the Sea (Pirates of the Isles #3) - Celeste Barclay Page 0,8

of the porthole. Her intuition told her Kyle would leave her down there for as long as he could, so she settled for gazing out at the desolate expanse of water. The freedom it had offered the night before now seemed like an endless cage.

Kyle forced himself to remain focused on the new cargo being stored in his hold. He did a quick inventory and estimated the value, pleased that they’d commandeered the MacDonnell vessel. His mind floated back to Moira over and over. He’d recognized her the moment he’d seen her, but he assumed she didn’t recognize him. He’d been relieved when she spoke up because he hadn’t been sure he could throw her overboard, even though he’d given the order. She was still the delicately boned woman he remembered from a year ago, but there was spunk in her eyes he hadn’t witnessed before. She’d been meek and servile in front of her brother and sister. He remembered Senga’s suspicion that Dónal MacDonnell beat Moira, but he hadn’t imagined he’d send her on a voyage with a less-than-adequate crew. He’d been suspicious when he discovered how few men there were on the Irish ship as he and his men attacked in the dark. Now he questioned why Moira was on board, and why she dressed as a lad.

“Capt’n,” Tomas, his first mate approached. “Found a sack near where the stowaway hid. It has women’s clothes in it.”

Kyle drew him out of earshot from the men working around them. “Aye. We’ve captured Moira MacDonnell.”

Tomas looked aghast as he shook his head in disbelief. “That bastard Dónal’s sister?”

“The very one.”

“Too bad it’s not Lizzie. At least we could have a good rut before doing away with her.” Tomas paused and cast an assessing look over Kyle. “You’re not planning on getting rid of her.”

“I’m not sure yet. There are too many questions to be answered before I can decide how best to use this unexpected boon,” Kyle said speculatively.

“Boon? She sounded ready to piss vinegar earlier. I don’t think you’ll be counting it a boon for long. She’s not like she was a year ago.”

“So I noticed,” Kyle responded flippantly.

“How long are you going to keep her down there wondering if you’ll swing her from the yardarm?”

“I have work to do up here. I’ll get to her when I can,” Kyle tried to sound nonchalant, but Tomas’s snort signaled he’d failed.

“Afraid of the wee lass, are you? I would be. Vinegar, I tell you. Vinegar,” Tomas warned with a chuckle as he walked away shaking his head. Kyle remained above deck and at the helm until late afternoon, when he knew he couldn’t avoid Moira any longer. He needed to decide what to do with her; if it was a ransom, he needed to send a messenger overland immediately. Kyle swung down the ladder well, not bothering with the steps, then paused to take a deep breath before opening the door to his cabin.

“Fuck,” Kyle hissed as he lurched across his cabin. It had only taken a second to see Moira was unconscious, her head lolling against her arm. As he rushed toward her, he noticed the sleeves of her tunic had slipped down. Her arms had bruises, but the unmarred skin was deathly white. He realized she stood on her toes and could only imagine the agony she’d experienced for hours, surely feeling like her arms were being ripped from her body. He nearly counted it a blessing that she’d passed out. He tugged the rope free from the wall hook and lunged to catch her as she sagged forward. She felt like little more than a rag doll as she hung over his arm.

Bracing her with one arm, he pushed her hair from her face and tapped her cheeks. After seeing the bruises mottling her arms, he was hesitant to slap her cheeks. Between the injuries she had before she came aboard and what she suffered from Snake Eye’s carelessness and his own neglect, the shred of conscience he still had barked at him not to hurt her any further.

“Moira. Lass, can you hear me?” Kyle looked around before looping his foot around the leg of a chair and dragging it toward him. He eased Moira into the seat, but she was so deeply unconscious that her body keeled sideways. “Moira.”

Still trying to hold her up, he strained for the flask of whisky on the small table beside the wall. He pulled the stopper free with his teeth