She scowled back, arms spread wide. “My doing?” Her voice was high-pitched, exasperated. “How in the world can ye see fit to blame your pirating ways on me?”
“’Tis quite easy actually. They came looking for ye.”
“For me?” Her face lost all color and she sank to the floor in a puddle of white linen.
“Aye. Never got the maggot’s name, but he had blackened teeth and claimed ye for his bride.”
“Nay,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Nay, it canna be!”
“Are ye calling me a liar?”
She looked up sharply, tears glistening in her eyes, making his heart lurch. He longed to reach out and hold her, tell her everything would be all right, but he couldn’t. He needed answers.
“Tell me everything,” he demanded.
“I dinna know where to start.” Her voice was so small and vulnerable. Her hands clutched at the linen in a grip so tight her knuckles were white.
“Start with his name, who he was to ye.”
“His name is Lord Bréagadóir.”
The name meant nothing to him. “He says ye were sold to him. What does he mean by that?”
Her face flushed red and she looked down at the wooden planks of the floor. “My parents gave him a large dowry to take me off their hands as no other man would have me.” She looked up, her wide eyes glassy with unshed tears. But he was struck more with the defiance he saw. She was a fighter and would not cower easily. “But ye see, when ye took me from the shore that night, he had not yet received the coin. Bréagadóir is in deep with his creditors. My father promised him a lot of gold if he would only look the other way when there was no blood on the sheets on our wedding night. If he didna get the coin, he would have been dead as the creditors would have killed him or sent him to debtor’s prison.” Her gaze flicked around the room, settling on anything but him. “Bréagadóir would have killed me, I am sure. He all but promised once he got what he wanted, he’d be done with me.”
“Who is your father?”
“My father is Henry, Baron Claneford.”
Wraith drew a deep breath, excitement coursing through his veins. He’d known her father was a powerful man, but not how close he actually was to getting his future back. The baron would be instrumental in his freedom.
“Was Bréagadóir the man who took your maidenhead?” The bastard. He could kill him all over again.
“Nay,” she said, shaking her head, her long blonde locks bobbing against her bare shoulders. “I was na?ve. Fancied myself in love and let a handsome young groom seduce me. He promised to take me away, to marry me.”
Wraith was affronted that any man would lead her astray—betray her, and so openly and on her father’s own land but then again, he’d kidnapped her… though unknowingly. Women were so vulnerable. It made him angry, so angry in fact his blood heated with hatred. How many of the women he’d delivered to Orelia had been just like Faryn? And hadn’t he himself bargained for her from the vulgar queen—yet again taking her control away?
Disgust roiled in his belly.
“Had ye no chaperone?” he asked absentmindedly, not sure why he’d even asked in the first place.
“My father chose the groom as my escort when I rode, as my maid was quite old. Francis had ample opportunity to woo me and he took advantage of that… Although I suppose I am to blame for most of it.”
“Nay, never, Faryn. Your father should have had more control over his men, and Francis should never have used ye in such a way. Was he punished?”
Faryn shook her head, her eyes downcast. “Nay, he disappeared the next morning. My maid found us nude in my bed and she screamed, calling for my father and the guards. Francis fought his way out and I never saw him again.”
Wraith nodded. He thought of Bréagadóir, wondered if the man had actually been behind Faryn’s fall from grace. He could have planned the whole thing—paid the man to seduce her. It could have all been a ruse to gain her father’s money. Then it hit him. Wraith knew instantly why the man had seemed familiar to him. He’d seen him before. Dealt with him before. The eve of his family’s murder. Bréagadóir had come to the castle his mother had inherited on the coast of Ireland, but he’d been dressed as a beggar. He’d begged food and shelter and they’d let him sleep in the stables. Must have been how the murderers had gained access—he’d opened the gates. Let them in. Whoever it was had been bent on seeing that the castle remained in Irish hands, not Scottish. But there was no way that Bréagadóir wasn’t the mastermind. Nay, he wasn’t that smart—and he still had all of his fingers.
“Come, I have to show ye something.”
Wraith took an iron key from behind a plank of wood that had blended seamlessly with the wall of his cabin. He was still shirtless and Faryn found herself breathing hard, her heart erratic at not just his near nakedness, but at what she’d revealed, how he’d reacted.
She’d seen the anger simmering inside him. And she was both intrigued and excited that he would be angry on her behalf.
He took the key to a chest beside his desk and unlocked the padlock, an audible click echoing in the silence. With steady hands, he lifted the lid, which made a loud creaking noise, as if rarely used. She half expected to see a skeleton or even the heart of Davy Jones pop out from the depths but instead he lifted a large package wrapped in dark green velvet.
He took it to the table where they’d eaten only that morning and set it down.
“This is proof.” A light came into his eyes.
She furrowed her brow. “Proof?”
“Faryn, lass, I have not been altogether honest with ye. My name is…”
She held up her hand, not sure if she wanted to hear what he had to say. “Wait! Dinna!”
His face fell. “Why?” His voice sounded far-off, choked.
She came forward and took his hand in hers. “Wraith, I’ve come to know ye over the last week and I know ye to be a good man. A pirate ye may be, but this is where ye keep your treasure.” She tapped his chest. “Ye have a heart of gold. I can see in your eyes the depths of your soul and I’ve grown…fond of it. Dinna take that away.”
A smile curved his lips and he bent to kiss her knuckles.
“I too have grown to care for ye, leannan. Let me show ye who I really am. Let me tell ye why I took an interest in ye, so ye dinna think I want ye only for a lover’s tryst. Ye mean so much more to me than that.”
His words meant more to her than she could have ever realized. They meant the odd relationship they’d forged was not one-sided. Not something she’d made up in her mind. He cared for her. Perhaps a future was possible… “If ye promise it will not ruin what we have, then go on.”
“I promise.” He pulled her against him, kissed her softly on the lips, the heat of his body sinking into her. Warming her fear, making her feel safe and…at home. Something she hadn’t felt for a long time.
When he finally pulled away, she was only half interested in what evidence lay beneath the velvet and instead wanted only to take him by the hand and lead him to the bed they’d shared.