16 A PIRATE’S HONOR

THE ARROGANCE OF the man's introduction made Finn's lips thin.

Spùinneadair-mara indeed. Like most folk, he'd heard of this infamous ‘plunderer of the seas'.

Alec Rankin had carved quite a name for himself in the Western Isles over the past decade, and indeed, the cur knew the mere sight of his ship, The Blood Reiver , struck fear into most men's hearts.

Finn wasn't immune to this man's fearsome reputation either.

His pulse now hammered in his ears, although his fear wasn't for himself. Loch had charged him with Astrid's protection, yet he was about to fail them both. It didn't help that his charge refused to take orders from him—Astrid was infuriating enough to make him want to wring her neck.

Instead, he'd kissed her. Christ's bones, what had possessed him? One moment, he'd been grinning at her, relieved that they wouldn't be marooned forever upon this godforsaken rock, the next, the urge to kiss her had swept over him—an urge so strong that he'd given in to it.

Rankin's attention shifted from Astrid to Finn then, his sea-green eyes narrowing. "And ye are?"

"Finn MacDonald. Captain of the Duart Guard."

"We lost the rest of our crew during the storm," Astrid cut in. "Ye haven't picked up anyone else, have ye?"

The pirate glanced her way once more before shaking his head.

Astrid's eyes guttered at this, while grief twinged deep in Finn's chest. Curse that vile tempest.

"We're on our way to Dunvegan Castle on Skye," Astrid continued, her voice husky with sorrow. "It's a matter of urgency. "

The pirate captain inclined his head then, his gaze narrowing. "And why the hurry?"

"The Mackinnons of Dùn Ara have attacked the Macleans of Dounarwyse … and my brother sent me to get help from our allies on Skye."

Alec Rankin's lips lifted at the edges. "So, ye think the Macleods of Dunvegan will rush to yer aid?"

"Aye, that is our hope." The pirate captain's gaze glinted at these words, but Astrid pressed on. "Time is short, we must get to Skye … will ye take us?"

Rankin folded his arms across his broad chest. He then glanced over his shoulder at his men. "What do ye think, lads … shall we give these two passage to Skye?" The man behind him waggled his eyebrows, while another leered. Someone else then muttered something coarse.

Finn's gut hardened, his fingers flexing on the hilt of his dirk once more. He'd cut up their smirking faces if they continued to disrespect Astrid.

However, if their response unsettled his companion, she didn't show it.

Instead, she let them snigger, waiting until their captain focused on her once more before she lifted her chin and eyeballed him. "Are ye a man of honor, Rankin?"

He snorted. "I'm a pirate , lass."

"Aye, but I've heard it said that even a spùinneadair-mara has a moral code."

His self-assured smile slipped at that, while Finn silently congratulated Astrid on her response. Indeed, the pirates that sailed the Western Isles were a proud lot; many of them were men banished from their clans who had nothing to lose. Yet Highland blood flowed through their veins—and to a Highlander, honor was all.

Astrid had hit a raw nerve.

"The Macleans are in desperate need," Astrid said then, taking a bold step forward. "And I call upon ye to help us."

Silence settled then, swelling like the incoming tide.

Finn tensed. He admired Astrid's spine, yet he worried she might have gone too far. She didn't know Alec Rankin. Maybe he had a reason to dislike the Macleans.

"How many silver pennies does the purse at yer waist contain?" the pirate asked eventually.

Finn clenched his jaw at Rankin's mercenary question .

However, Astrid didn't bat an eyelid. "Fifty-five."

Finn's already fast pulse quickened further. Curse it, that coin was to be used to sweeten the Macleods, just in case Tormod wasn't inclined to be generous with his assistance. After all, he hadn't made Loch any promises.

Rankin's mouth tugged into an arrogant grin. "Well then … it looks like ye've just bought yerself some honor."

Astrid couldn't believe it.

Alec Rankin had agreed to take them to Skye. Aye, it took some silver in the end, but she'd still managed to convince him.

Astrid was quietly proud of what she'd achieved. Nonetheless, her heart had been in her throat as she and Finn followed him and his crew to the rowboat, her nervousness intensifying further when she set foot on The Blood Reiver's deck.

What if Rankin was playing with them?

What if he turned nasty the moment they stepped aboard his cog?

However, he and his warriors had merely clambered out of the rowboat after them, and the captain busied himself shouting orders to his men. They lifted the boat onto the deck and strapped it down before raising anchor and setting sail north.

Standing upon the forecastle—the raised deck at the bow—her cloak wrapped tightly around her, Astrid watched the lonely isle disappear behind them.

Finn stepped up next to her, and their gazes met.

"Do ye think we're safe onboard this ship?" she whispered. Around them, the crew of The Blood Reiver were all too busy to pay them much attention. Rankin had climbed up to the castle at the stern of the ship, where he now stood at the great wooden wheel that steered the cog.

"No," Finn replied, stepping closer—near enough that she could feel the heat of his body burning into her. Astrid's breathing caught. The memory of their kiss was still fresh, and his nearness knocked her off balance. Kissing him was a mistake though; they'd both been giddy with relief and joy and neither of them was thinking clearly. "Never trust a pirate."

Her pulse spiked. "Ye think I should have negotiated harder with him?"

Finn stared down at her before he favored her with a tight smile. "No, ye did the right thing … I just chafe at the idea of handing coin over to the bastard."

"I had little choice, ye realize?" she replied dryly. "Let's face it, he could have taken it from me by force."

"I'd have cut off his hand if he'd laid a finger on ye."

Astrid's breathing hitched at this declaration. "Fortunately, there was no need for that."

"No." Finn gave his head a rueful shake then. "That was a clever trick though … appealing to his sense of honor. Ye handled him well."

Their gazes held, and Astrid's pulse quickened further. Curse it. Finn's scorn was much easier to deal with than his compliments. Confusion swept over her then. She didn't understand what was happening between them, and she much preferred it when they were snarling at each other—that, at least, she knew how to deal with.

Yet the shipwreck had altered their relationship. In the past two days, they'd admitted secrets to each other, had learned things about their enemy that made it difficult to ever see them in the same light again.

Astrid didn't want to believe his tale about Maggie—and indeed, she fought against it with every part of her being—but now she was starting to suspect he hadn't lied to her.

She didn't want to consider what that meant. Guilt stabbed at her whenever she thought about Maggie—and about what she'd done to Finn in the aftermath of her friend's death.

But that wasn't all of it. Finn had once pined for her. He'd also learned that she'd been infatuated with him years earlier—and in the excitement of seeing their rescuers approach, they'd kissed.

Life had been easier when he'd been her nemesis.

She'd enjoyed hating him. Anger made her feel strong and righteous—in control. She wanted to dredge up the old loathing once more, but the earnestness in his hazel eyes made her falter, and so she merely favored him with a nod of thanks and cut her gaze away .

"We should reach Dunvegan at dusk," Alec Rankin announced, taking a gulp from his cup of ale, "although ye'll forgive me for not dropping ye off at the sea gate."

"And why is that?" Finn asked.

They sat at a sturdy oaken table—sharing a simple meal of bread, cheese, and ale with Rankin—in a large paneled room located under the castle, at the bow of the cog. A heavy curtain hid the back of the space, presumably where the captain slept.

Finn had been on edge ever since stepping onto The Blood Reiver , and breaking bread with its captain didn't ease the knots in his gut.

"I'm not popular with the Macleods of Skye," Rankin replied with a devil-may-care shrug. "So, it's best I leave ye at a cove south of Dunvegan … ye can walk the rest of the way."

Finn gave a slow nod, even as suspicion grew like gathering storm clouds inside him.

Honor be damned, he didn't trust this man.

"Why are ye helping us, Rankin?" he demanded, trying to ignore the hunk of bread on the trencher in front of him that was making his mouth water.

Astrid shot him a warning look, but he pretended not to notice. There was something Rankin wasn't telling them.

"For fifty-five silver pennies," the captain replied, spearing a piece of cheese with his eating knife. "And a pirate's honor." He grinned then, amused by his own quip.

"Ye have a fearsome reputation," Astrid spoke up. Her brow was furrowed as her gaze met Rankin's. "They say ye rape and pillage yer way across the Western Isles."

Rankin's grin faded. "Ye shouldn't believe everything ye hear. We plunder, aye … but we don't rape." He paused then, a groove etching between his brows. "My crew all know that their lives are forfeit if they ravish anyone."

"So, ye have morals ?" Finn couldn't help the derision that crept into his voice. Next, the pirate would tell them he gave the wealth he stole to abbeys.

Rankin glanced his way, his gaze narrowing. "Not many of them … but when I was a lad, my elder sister was raped by a local lout … and I killed him for it." The quiet menace in his voice shivered across the chamber. "I'm no saint, MacDonald, but there are some lines I won't cross." He shrugged then. "Besides, it suits me for folk to believe I'm a beast … they hand over their coin faster that way. "

The pirate let his words lie and returned to his supper.

Meanwhile, Finn ripped off a piece of bread and took a bite. Next to him, Astrid ate hungrily.

They were halfway through their meal when Rankin leaned back against the paneled wall, surveying his guests. "There is another reason I agreed to give ye passage," he admitted softly.

Finn raised his cup to his lips and took a gulp of bitter ale, even as his pulse quickened. Here we go. "Aye?"

"I met Iain Maclean once." Rankin's mouth quirked into a half-smile as he glanced Astrid's way. "When I was a lad, looking for trouble on the docks at Oban, I tried to lift his coin purse, but he caught me." Rankin paused there, grimacing at the memory. "I thought he'd give me a beating, but he didn't. Instead, he hunkered down so our eyes were level and cast his gaze over me—no doubt taking in my grimy skin, threadbare clothes, and puniness—before he asked where my Da was. I told him the truth … that he'd drunk himself to death after my Ma died. There was only my sister and me left."

Rankin halted here and took a pull of ale before flashing Astrid a rueful smile. "Yer Da surprised me once again by taking a silver penny from his purse and pressing it into my palm. He then told me that if in the future I was going to steal a man's coin, I should look him in the eye when I did it."

Astrid raised an eyebrow. "And so ye took his advice?"

Rankin's smile widened. "Aye."