The Pirate Laird's Hostage (The Highland Warlord Series Book 3) Read online

  The Pirate Laird’s Hostage

  TESSA MURRAN

  Copyright

  The Pirate Laird’s Hostage by Tessa Murran

  Highland Warlords Series – Book Three

  www.tessamurran.com

  © 2020 Tessa Murran

  All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

  Visit the author’s website at www.tessamurran.com or Twitter @tessamurran

  First Edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by http://www.StunningBookCovers.com

  AUTHOR NOTE

  It is the year of our lord 1319, five years after Robert the Bruce’s great victory over the English at Bannockburn and a year after he won the strategically important border town of Berwick. King Edward II of England, still smarting from this loss, determines to take the town back and marches an army north as Scotland braces for another bloody conflict in the War of Independence that has been raging for years.

  Robert the Bruce was undoubtedly a hero of Scotland, but he was also ruthless in his treatment of his enemies be they Scots or English. He expected Scotland’s clans to pledge allegiance to him in the struggle for independence and to support his claim to the throne. Those clans who refused to do so had as much to fear from him as the English. Some, he famously wiped out root and stem, executing the men, branding the women, destroying their homes and castles, and casting them out to die of exposure or starvation. Those who gave shelter to disgraced clansmen and women were, in turn, branded traitors, and suffered the same fate.

  The Pirate Laird’s Hostage takes us to the Western Isles of Scotland, and Skye, remote, wind-scoured and in the 1300’s inhabited by clans who were a law unto themselves. My hero, William O’Neill, has survived the scourging and outlawing of his clan for failing to pledge to the cause of Robert the Bruce. He has survived the privations of begging for succour from his relatives, the Bains, and a fight for supremacy of the clan. Now, he has the world at his feet and has no loyalty to a Scottish King he despises.

  When spirited Morna Buchanan falls under his power, he feels she belongs to him and that she is his to seduce. Shame she has other ideas, and so do her brothers, both loyal to Robert the Bruce.

  This is the third and final book in my Highland Warlords Series but can also be enjoyed as a stand-alone story. Its main characters are fictitious, as are some place names and locations, but my story is built around a framework of real historical events.

  Find out about the other books in this series, and my Highland Wolf Series, at the end of this book.

  To find out what’s coming next, check out my website www.tessamurran.com or visit Twitter, @tessamurran.

  Tessa Murran Novels

  Highland Wolf Series

  The Black Wolf’s Captive

  The Lone Wolf’s Bride

  The Dark Wolf’s Deliverance

  Highland Warlords Series

  The Laird’s Bastard Daughter

  The Highlander’s War Prize

  The Pirate Laird’s Hostage

  Prologue

  Isle of Skye - 1317

  The track between the castle’s feet and the cliff edge was narrow and crumbling in places, so Will pressed his back hard against the walls to keep his footing. Some loose stones fell away, clattering downwards, the sound swallowed by the crash of waves pounding the coastline.

  The spring day was just slipping into darkness and, if he lost his grip or placed one foot wrong in the dying light, it was a long way down and could only end with a jagged death on the rocks hundreds of feet below. Sheet lightning flashed out to sea - a storm coming, a long way off, but he needed to get up the tower wall before the rain started lashing it.

  Will craned his neck upwards. From the tower window, a light flickered - a candle, guttering in the wind rolling in off the sea. He could not tell if the shutters were locked or not. If they were this would all be for nothing, and he would never reach his prey.

  He started to climb nimbly up the tower wall, feeling his way across cold stone, slippery with salt spray and moss. The wind and sea had eaten away at the walls so that they were pitted, providing handholds, but also flaking away under his grip here and there. Luckily he had strong shoulders which took the weight of his body as he hauled himself upwards, muscles shaking with the exertion.

  Voices drifted down from the ramparts above him. Guards. If they looked over the edge, if they swept their torches down to scan the castle’s flanks, he was done for. He flattened himself against the tower, like a crouching spider, arms and legs splayed. The voices drifted away as the guards walked further along the ramparts.

  Almost there.

  He reached the shutters and pushed on them, and they creaked inwards. Will smiled and stared back down at the drop below. Hopefully, he would make his way down safely when this night’s work was done.

  With cat-like grace, he heaved himself in through the window. All was still inside the chamber, just the sound of soft breathing from the semi-darkness. He turned and secured the shutters so that they did not bang in the wind. It wouldn’t do to have any noise to disturb the guards outside the door, once he got started. As he walked over to the bed, he took off his sword belt and laid it gently on the floor.

  The woman was sleeping on her back, hair fanned out on the pillow, pale in the firelight, hand above her head, revealing the soft down in her armpit. Her mouth was open slightly, and the thought of filling it with his tongue made his loins pulse. So vulnerable, so gentle and soft in sleep, was she, that part of him was loath to wake her and violate that perfect calm.

  Thunder rumbled closer, and the sky lit up again. Will peeled off his tunic, the cold raising goosebumps over his back, at odds with the heat in his belly. He tore off his boots, placing them silently on the floor, wincing at the cold of the flagstones. Finally, he peeled off his braies and walked over to the side of the bed. Lifting the blankets slowly, so as not to wake her, Will slid in beside the woman.

  Will eased his body up against hers, enjoying the heat of her skin through her kirtle. As his hand slipped under the edge of it, she moaned and stirred a little. Holding his breath Will let his fingers roam upwards between her splayed legs, finding her warm, moist centre. Stroking and spreading, feeling her soft down of hair on his fingers, Will’s cock hardened and impatience overtook him. He was so going to enjoy mastering this beauty.

  Will pressed harder with his thumb, feeling it turn slippery as he aroused her. The woman jerked awake, her squeal of panic cut short by his hand clamping down hard on her mouth. He was on top of her in an instant, pressing her into the bed with the weight of his body, parting her legs with his own, laying her open for him. Wide eyes looked up into his in shock as he quickly thrust deep inside her to his hilt, trying hard not to groan out loud with the pleasure of it. He grabbed her bottom with his free hand and pinned her against him. There was no escaping his embrace now.

  As he sank inside her with powerful thrusts, his hand loosened its grip, and her teeth found his finger. She bit down on it, making him wince and swallow a curse. As he plunged harder into her, she took it into her mouth and sucked on it,
turning his cock to iron and making his breath catch.

  Edana Bain tore his hand free of her face and pressed hot lips to his neck. ‘I thought you’d never come,’ she panted, nails digging into his back, long legs wrapping around his buttocks and holding him prisoner.

  ‘I had tasks to attend to, but now I will attend to you,’ he growled.

  ‘Oh, oh, do it please,’ she panted as he took her, too hard and fast for tenderness. ‘I want you, Will. I want you so much. I love you.’

  Will paused. ‘Quiet or the guards will hear you,’ he hissed, crushing her mouth with his, filling it with his tongue and grinding his hips against hers until her cries of ecstasy spilt into his mouth. Sharp fingernails bit into his back, his buttocks, raking his hair, making him stiffen and swell and spurt out his lust.

  Immediately it was over Will rolled onto his back with his chest heaving. She would want to talk now, to draw sweet words of love from him, words which stuck in his craw. Edana was a pleasing mistress, but a demanding one and Will’s mind was already turning to getting back down the wall and away.

  ‘You take too many risks, my love,’ she panted into the darkness.

  As if she cared. It flattered her that he did so.

  ‘A night in your arms is more than worth it,’ he murmured, his eyelids growing heavy. Sleep could be fatal, he needed to be gone. By dawn, he would be at sea, at the prow of a ship heading out to hunt for weak merchant vessels pushing their way up the coast.

  ‘One day you will come to me through honourable means, for all to see, Will,’ she said softly.

  ‘Aye, if I want to part my head from my shoulders, I will do that.’

  ‘Why not? We could be together and happy.’

  Will groaned inwardly. Could they not just enjoy each other, steal some pleasure out of life and that be the end of it? Why did women always need to pull sticky coils of love and tenderness out of the act of coupling, to trap a man and bind him to them?

  When he did not answer her, Edana’s voice became a little pleading. ‘We could run away together and be done with this place.’ She gave a little laugh, framing it as a jest, but Will knew she was in deadly earnest.

  ‘Your husband may have something to say about that, my love,’ he replied, hoping to end the matter.

  ‘What if I didn’t have a husband?’

  ‘But you do, and a powerful one at that.’

  ‘Aye, one you frequently make a cuckold out of.’

  ‘’Tis you who cuckolds, not I, for you, are wed, and I am free. You chose him, remember. It was but a year ago you would have clawed out the eyes of any woman who got near him. You worked hard to get into his bed.’

  Edana turned and ran her fingers down his chest, slow, coaxing strokes. ‘That was before I knew what a rough oaf he is. Not fine and beautiful like you, my big, blonde bull of a man.’

  ‘Save your flattery, it is wasted on me.’

  ‘Don’t pretend you don’t like it. I know you have your vanity. Oh, how I wish I were a widow and could marry wherever I chose,’ she hissed gently, into the darkness.

  Will’s temper flared. ‘You cannot hate him that much,’ he said, heaving himself off the bed and pulling on his clothes.

  ‘But I do. I hate the way he looks, the way he smells, the way he ruts like a dog with no thought for my pleasure. And I hate him because he is not you, so young and strong. When you touch me, it takes my breath away, Will.’

  Edana sat up and held out her hand to him. How calculating she was, for she knew full well the force of her beauty, with her breasts pale and full in the firelight, pushing through her river of golden hair. ‘Can you not rid me of him, Will? Can you not release me from my misery? You are the only one in the clan man enough to do it.’ Her perfect rosebud of a mouth formed a pout to soften the hardest of hearts.

  Will hurried to pull his boots on and strap on his sword. It had been folly to start this, no matter how much pleasure this she-wolf stirred.

  Edana twirled a golden strand of hair through her fingers. She reached over on all fours, breasts jutting and bottom held high in the air, and grabbed him, pulling him down for a deep, lingering kiss. He imagined coming around behind her and laying his body over hers, taking a fistful of her hair, his other hand grabbing a hip as he held her tight to him and…

  ‘Get rid of him, for me, Will,’ she breathed into his mouth. ‘Do it for both of us so that we can be happy. Then you could have me whenever and however you like. It would be the work of a moment to slit his throat and throw him in the sea for the fish to chew on.’

  Such vicious words, spoken like a lover’s caress.

  ‘I’ll not turn murderer for you,’ Will hissed, pushing her away.

  ‘I know you have killed before, for less of a cause than our love, so one more time is not so bad, surely?’

  ‘Tis true, I will kill anyone foolish enough to get in my way, and I will kill for the good of the clan. I will kill for a cause, aye, but not this one. Get one of your other lovers to do it.’

  ‘What other lovers?’

  ‘Don’t take me for a fool, Edana. You and I never made promises to forsake others, and I’ll not soil my hands with this evil.’

  Edana narrowed her eyes. ‘As you soil your body by lying with me, I suppose?’

  ‘Do not sell yourself cheap, Edana. You are bewitching and beautiful, and you know it. I have enjoyed our time together. But just because I like you to get inside you, doesn’t mean I am willing to cut a man down in cold blood to keep doing it.’ His voice was hard when next he spoke. ‘It is best that we end this thing between us tonight.’

  ‘End it! How dare you. You think someone like you can cast aside someone like me. Why you are nothing but a penniless good for nothing, a boy who came to Clan Bain on his knees, begging for a place at the Laird’s table.’

  ‘Boys grow into men, and now I know my own mind.’

  ‘If you don’t kill him, he will kill you. It is just a matter of time. Already you threaten his authority, and if I can see it, so can he.’

  ‘Only because you whisper it in his ear.’

  ‘You are a selfish, lying whoreson.’

  ‘Curse me all you like, it will make no difference. I am bored with this game, Edana. When I come back from sea, I think I will go in search of a livelier ride, my sweet.’

  ‘Oh, so you think you are a good lover? Well, you are not, William O’Neill. You make love like a green boy.’

  ‘Is that why you begged me to share your bed these last months, Edana? If I were you I would shut that poisonous mouth while we are still friends, else I will shut it for you, woman.’ He loomed over her, and she shrank back from him. Edana was no fool and knew enough about his temper to be cautious.

  Will made his way to the window, and as he heaved himself over the window ledge she regained her courage and spat after him, ‘the Devil take you, and your limp cock, you impotent bastard.’

  ‘We both know that’s not true, don’t we,’ he said, winking back at her. As he hurried back down the wall, her anger followed him.

  ‘I will make you pay for this, Will O’Neill,’ she hissed, but the storm took her words. They were lost to the crash of thunder overhead.

  By the time he reached the ground, driving rain had soaked Will to the bone. He turned his face up to it and spread his arms wide as lightning flashed across the sky, lighting up the bleak walls of Fitheach Castle and sending the cliffs into sharp relief against the dark water below him. The rain hit his face like icy needles, as cold as his dead heart. But in spite of it, God, it felt good to be a man, it felt good to be alive, and it felt good to have plucked Edana’s sweet claws out of his skin.

  ***

  Five days later

  The sea gods had smiled on them, and their bounty was plentiful. Laird Bain would be pleased with his cache of stolen silks and wheat, coin too. They had run down a heavily laden merchant vessel just south of Skye, Will’s light birlinn closing the distance between them easily in strong winds as th
e hapless prey lurched in heavy seas. It had been the work of a moment to ram the other ship into submission and take what they wanted. Intimidation had prevailed over violence, with the merchant crew handing over a portion of their cargo in exchange for their lives.

  As he climbed the cliffs up to Fitheach Castle, Will was confident of a warm welcome. It had not always been so. Two years ago he had arrived a virtual beggar, a piece of driftwood, cut loose from family, friends and allegiance, a fugitive traitor from a fallen clan. How low he had become, the son of a Laird reduced to begging for favours of distant relations who were strangers to him. Back then he’d had nothing, just the clothes on his back and the dogged belligerence of those who have nothing more to lose.

  But Will had always had his wits, no matter what, and so he had managed to bluff his way into an audience with Laird Fearchar Bain, uncle on his mother’s side and one of the most ruthless, hard-faced bastards in the Western Isles. He was a man who, if you displeased him, or he was the worse for drink, would cheerfully throw you from the cliffs just to see you fly. Aye, he’d had nothing to recommend him to his uncle then, but times had changed, now fortune smiled on him.

  As he strode into the great hall, all heads turned. Will approached the Laird’s table with arms stretched wide and a broad grin on his face. Fearchar Bain regarded him stonily, and Will’s smile faded as he noticed Edana sitting at his right hand, face swollen and bruised, lip split, wide-eyed and terrified. Who the hell had done that to her? Fearchar?

  His heart thumped in his ears as he soaked in the leaden atmosphere in the hall. He braced himself for whatever was to come at him as his hand went to his sword hilt.

  ‘So, you are back with plunder for me, I hear,’ boomed Fearchar.

  ‘Aye, Laird,’ he replied, keeping his voice steady as the slow hand of dread took him by the throat. ‘A merchant vessel, heavily laden, with rich pickings to be had.’ Will tried not to look at Edana.

  ‘Expect a reward, do you, for bringing me these riches?’