The Red Drifter of the Sea (Pirates of the Isles #3) - Celeste Barclay Page 0,9

before setting the potent alcohol beneath her nose. She twitched as she inhaled the aroma, and when she lifted her head on her own accord, Kyle placed the flask to her lips. With her bound hands, she held the container and drew three large gulps before pushing it away. Kyle expected her to cough and splutter, but instead, she turned bloodshot eyes to him.

“You knew it was me,” Moira observed. Kyle wasn’t sure that he should admit that he’d known it was her. “You would have let me die even though you knew from the beginning.”

“Aye,” Kyle forced the word. But as he looked at Moira, he knew it for the lie he wanted her to believe. He wouldn’t have been able to do it. But he wouldn’t confide that to anyone, least of all his prisoner. Moira gazed up at him and nodded. He wasn’t sure what to make of her acceptance.

“How far have we sailed?” Moira asked as she rubbed the pins and needles from her right arm.

Kyle was unprepared for the question. He expected her to plead and whine, but he supposed he should have known that wasn’t like Moira. That would have been Lizzie, not her sister.

“A few hours,” Kyle hedged. He watched as Moira pushed herself to her feet. He reached out to support her, but her scathing glare had him snatching back his hands.

“We head south. So you aren’t taking me to my brother,” Moira stated as she worked on her left arm.

“Not yet.”

“Not ever,” Moira countered while she flexed her fingers.

“But the ransom,” Kyle said as he cocked a patronizing eyebrow.

“That he won’t pay,” Moira raised a matching eyebrow.

“What were you doing on that ship, Moira?” Kyle stepped closer when she shrugged and returned to looking out the porthole. He watched her lips press together and noticed her body tensed when she moved her arms. “Moira, answer me.”

While dangling for hours, Moira had realized that even if Kyle threw her into the water, she wasn’t yet near the stretch of sea the O’Malleys frequented. It was unlikely that they would find her, as they might have if Kyle had gone through with his earlier threat. She’d rather be eaten by a shark than die at Dermot’s hands. It would likely be far less painful. She also understood that Kyle left her alone for hours on purpose to break her spirit, but she suspected he hadn’t anticipated her dangling like she’d gone to the gallows. The remorse she saw as she opened her eyes felt like vindication.

“Ignoring me doesn’t bode well for your lovely arse,” Kyle warned. Moira slowly angled her head toward him and swept her eyes over him from head to toe and back up again. Without a word, she turned back to the window. Kyle couldn’t fail to recognize the spark of interest that flared in Moira’s eyes at his threat, and his already hardening cock stood at attention. The feel of her in his arms had aroused him in an instant. He’d blamed it on not being with a woman for several months, but as Moira cast her assessing gaze over him, heat shot to his groin. He stepped closer, wondering if she would react to him crowding her. The Moira he’d met a year ago would have cowered, or at least he’d assumed she would. But the woman before him didn’t spare him a glance. Bemused, he whispered, “Who are you?”

“You know who I am, Kyle.” Moira’s voice came out raspier than she expected, but Kyle’s closeness disconcerted her despite how she fought not to show it.

“You’re not the woman I met last year,” Kyle murmured.

“I am. She’s always been there,” Moira corrected.

“You still haven’t answered my question, Moira. I expect an answer,” Kyle gave himself a mental shake, pulling himself out from the peculiar haze that had settled over his mind.

“You’d beat a woman you’ve had strung up like a flank of beef?” Moira asked with disgust.

“I’m not your brother, Moira. I don’t beat women. I—”

“Leave them to die,” Moira countered. “After all, you’re the Red Drifter now. Had I not spoken up, I would likely be in some fish’s gut by now, or washing up on the O’Malleys’ shore.”

“Something has loosened your tongue these days,” Kyle grumbled.

“Gag me if you wish to shut me up,” Moira rejoined.

“I can think of something to shove in there,” Kyle muttered as he brought the whisky flask to his mouth.

“Torturing me wasn’t enough? Now you intend to rape me?” Moira seethed.