Tierney pressed his hands to the rail at the bow of the ship and rolled his neck from side to side, cracking it.

Devil take it, but he was wound tighter than an adder. Every time anyone came near, he was likely to spring loose and attack, sinking his venom into the closest victim.

And he knew exactly why.

Rosamond de Warenne.

Three days had passed since he’d taken advantage of the lass, laying her out on that bed and kissing her…touching her. Three days since he’d tasted sweet heaven and had to thrust it beyond his reach. Seventy-two hours since she’d come out of her cabin. Three miserable sunsets he’d endured while thinking of her glowing skin, wavy, golden locks and red, kissable lips. Lips she’d never share with him again, because he’d promised to protect her and the first thing he’d done when he had the chance was to pounce. Thrice now he’d woken having dreamed of her, and just as many times felt the shame of her whispered, please, stop.

What an arse he was. A vagrant of the worst sort.

Was that what ten long years of being imprisoned had done to him? Turned him into a ravager of the fairer sex?

To kiss her with such abandon was to be his doom.

Imprisoned for so long, he feared he could not think clearly and instead of using his mind, he was simply tempted by a feral and insatiable desire.

Truth was, Tierney craved her.

And not just the feel of her lush body beneath his, though he feared he’d never be cured of the fever having had her thusly between him and the mattress had brought on. He longed to hear the sweet sound of her laugh. The quirk of her lips as she passed him a shy smile.

“I believe you’ve waited too long now.” Samuel set down a mug filled with ale. “Go.”

“What drivel do ye spill?”

Samuel chuckled. “I’ve been here before, my friend. Go and talk to her. Offer her some gift. ’Twill make ye feel better.”

“Ye know naught of what ye speak.”

“I know plenty. Do ye deny snapping at all the men and walking around half-cocked?”

Tierney rolled his eyes. “I’d rather not talk of my cock.”

Samuel swirled his own ale and then took a long swallow. “Who said anything about your bloody cock?” He snickered. “I simply meant you were high-strung, ready to snap.”

Tierney glowered at his friend and grunted. “I am the last person the lass wants to see.”

“I doubt that. She asked after you this morning when I brought her breakfast.”

“Ye brought her breakfast?”

“Aye. The swab said she’d seemed ill, complaining of a headache the last few days. Had to see for myself. Also checked on her wrist, which appears to be healing very nicely.”

“And her head?”

“Aye, she’s fine. Save for ’haps a bit of sadness about the eyes.”

“’Tis my fault.”

Samuel winged a curious brow. “What did you do?”

“Something I shouldna have.”

“You didn’t…compromise her, did you?”

Almost immediately, he was assaulted with the memory of her lush body writhing beneath him, the feel of her breasts in his hands. “Saints, I’m not a raging bull, though I might as well be. I kissed her. Most enthusiastically. I’m afraid I’ve wounded her.”

Samuel laughed out loud and slapped Tierney on the back. “It might have been a decade since you were last with a woman, but I’m certain you recall a kiss cannot wound a lady.”

“If ’tis unwanted it can.” He raked his hands through his hair.

“True, my laird, but I saw the way she looked at you when you brought her on board and again when you saved her from falling overboard. Not to mention when you took her down to the cabin afore we met the English. She’s taken with you.”

“There’s not been enough time for her to be taken by me.”

“Are you not… interested?”

“What does it matter?”

“I merely aim to prove that if you wanted to kiss her it is entirely possible she wanted to kiss you back.” Samuel drained the rest of his ale. “But do not take my word for it. Go and ask her yourself. Put yourself and the rest of us out of our misery, for God’s sake, else I have one of the swabs dress like a woman and present himself to you.”

Tierney glowered at him, nevertheless the glare only made Samuel grin harder.

Without even a sip of his ale, Tierney stalked down the deck toward the stairs. Outside her cabin door, he raised his hand eight times to knock before dropping it just as many.

What was he supposed to say?

“Who is there?” she called out from behind the door. “I can hear you skulking about. ’Tis indecent, you know.”

That made him grin. She was quite full of spirit, and he was happy to see he’d not completely broken her.

“’Tis Tierney MacDougall.”

“Well, glad I am you gave me your full name as the ship is filled with Tierneys aplenty.” There was some teasing behind her tone.

He waited a moment, and then realized she wasn’t going to open the door. “May I come in?”

She was quiet, then, “Why?”

Why indeed? “I’m not certain.” He decided honesty would do best.

“Then I’m not certain I should open the door.”

“Fair enough as last time I was in your cabin I assaulted ye.”

“Assaulted me? I did not think…,” she trailed off. “I am quite certain what happened between us is...not unusual to happen between a man and a woman.”

“Aye, but not between an innocent lady and a scoundrel.”

Was that faint sound he heard, a laugh?

“Are you a scoundrel? Is that why you were imprisoned in The Tower?”

Tierney gritted his teeth, surprised. How did she know? Had she overheard one of the men say so? Or did she recognize him from court?

“Nay,” he faltered. “I was imprisoned for being loyal to my king.”

“And which king are you loyal to now?”

Her words were almost the same as Simpson, and he felt his chest constrict. This was a bad idea. He retreated a step, prepared to order the ship to double the sails so he might get to Scotland quicker and slake his need with someone less dangerous.

“Wait,” she said, a slight scratch at the wood as though she hesitated to open it. And then the portal swung wide.

Tierney had never seen a more glorious sight. Her rose-colored gown had been cleaned and mended, and she’d had a bath. Her golden locks shone soft in the light of the sun streaming through the porthole. Emerald eyes peered at him from beneath thick black lashes, and a blush covered her creamy face.

“Ye should have kept the door closed,” he said without thinking.

“Why? Do you wish to ravish me again?” She had the nerve to smile.

“I might.”

Her eyes widened a little and she pressed a hand over her heart. “You said I was an innocent.”

“Aye.”

“You believe that?” Something deep in her eyes hinted that this was an important question and weighed heavy on her.

He narrowed his eyes. “Aye.”

“Then do come in.”

“Is this a trick? Do ye wish to prove me otherwise or mayhap have me take advantage of ye again?”

His teasing made her laugh, the sound magical and warm, and racing over his limbs like a sweet caress. “Nay. But I am surprised you did not hear the rumors at court.”

“Rumors? I hardly ever pay attention to gossip. And truth be told I spent much of my time in the Tower plotting my escape and revenge. What is it ye think I might have heard?”

“The reason I was in the cave.”

“I confess I know nothing.”

Rosamond reached out to him, grasped his hand in hers and tugged him inside. “Then I shall tell you.”

“Please accept my apology, lass, for how I treated ye.”

She shook her head. “Ye need not apologize for having kissed me. Now, please accept my apology.”

“For what, ye did nothing wrong?”

At this, she slid him a teasing smile. “For all the horrible thoughts I’ve heaved at you the past few days when I thought you meant only to see if the rumors were true by kissing me.”

The woman was truly complicated. Tierney laughed. “And what did ye think? Tell me more?”

“Well, I called you a rotten chicken giblet, bacon brained pond scum and a few other unladylike things.”

“My, ye’ve quite a vocabulary.”

“My father would be mortified to hear it, but I spent much time with the servants growing up as he and his wife were not inclined to spend time with my sister and I.”

“Ye’ve a sister?”

“Aye, a twin. ’Tis where my story starts.”

Tierney allowed her to lead him into the cabin, sitting in the chair at the table as she poured them each some wine and unwrapped some sweet biscuits the ship’s cook must have slipped her. Set on the table were a stack of parchment papers covered in charcoal etchings.

Rosamond glanced at him and then the sketches, her face heating. She reached for them, trying to hide them from him, but he grasped her uninjured wrist, stilling her movement.

“Ye’re an artist,” he murmured, taking in images of the caves, a castle, a landscape, and then a ship—with him at the helm. The detail on his face was striking. There was no mistaking the likeness for someone else. “These are incredible, my lady. Where did ye learn to sketch like that?”

Rosamond shrugged and managed to snatch away the sketches before he could look at them further. “Boredom makes for a creative bedfellow I suppose.”

He raised a brow, flashing her a wicked grin. “And do ye have many other bedfellows, my lady?”

She rolled her eyes and gave him a look like he suspected his nursemaid did when he was lad. “You are incorrigible.”

He chuckled. “Pardon my manners, it has been many years since I was in the presence of a true lady.” And he meant it. Though he might have been pulled into court every once in awhile as the center show piece, no lady of worth and value would gape and gawk at him as those had. A true lady was a lady at heart, not simply by blood.

“And what makes you think I am a true lady, sir? Once you hear my story, you will not think so well of me, I’m certain.” She sighed and pursed her lips.

And that was where the pleasantness ceased, for she told him the story of her sister, her father, her stepmother. The scandal. Everything. And not a tear fell from her eye, and he knew why, for she’d gone past the stage of sadness and into straight fury.

Hell, he was furious for her.

He knew John de Warenne was an evil bastard, but to have treated his daughters in such a way… It made Tierney want to end the vile blackguard all the more.

“I vowed to protect ye, my lady, and I will. For all the days of my life, the Earl of Surrey shall never hurt ye again.” This was when he should have told her about her father imprisoning him, being his tormenter, but something held him back. And he wasn’t sure what stilled his tongue, only that he didn’t want her to get the wrong impression of why he’d saved her, for how could he know?

Rosamond pressed her hand to his, the warmth of it sending a spark to rise through his arm.

“You’ve already done so much. I would but pray you could find me an abbey to be my safe haven, and perhaps we could figure a way to bring my sister to Scotland, away from my father. I fear now that I’ve escaped, he will seek her out, and harm her and the child.”

“Ye wish to take vows?”

She shrugged daintily. “Truth be told, I do not. But I see no other way. I’ve no dowry, and my reputation in England is in tatters. My father, if he ever finds me will have me killed. And I dare not tell him the truth.”

“I dinna blame ye.”

Rosamond sat back in her chair, breathing out a long sigh, her shoulders sagging, as though the story had taken much out of her.

Tierney stood, and held out his hand to her. “Come on, lass. I’m taking ye above for some fresh air.”

“I do not want it,” she pouted, her rosy lips pursing in a way that made him want to kiss away all that disquiet.

“I know. But ye need it.” He kept his voice soft, just as he had when he tried to encourage her in the cave to come with him. Lord, but she was stubborn. As an afterthought, he checked to make sure there were no burning candles she could use to swing at him as a weapon, and then stifled a chuckle.

Reluctantly she took his hand and he led her up to the top deck. The sun had been shining when he’d come down to see her, but now a few clouds covered the blazing sun and a soft breeze blew on the sea.

They walked the length of the ship in silence, until they came to the bow. She leaned against the side and stared out at the expanse of sea.

“It looks as though ’tis never ending,” she murmured, glancing at him before turning her gaze ahead. “Like we could sail forever and never come to the end.”

“Aye. But I reckon if ye sail in any one direction, you’ll find land some time.”

“How long do you think it would take to sail from here all the way around and end up back here again?”

“Depends on how wide your circle,” he said with a chuckle. “If we made a tight circle, mayhap a quarter of an hour.”

Rosamond scoffed and playfully slapped at his arm. “You’re teasing me.”

“A little.”

Tierney studied the way the wind blew, tousling her hair. Rosamond closed her eyes and held her face toward the sky, a soft smile playing on her lips. She was mesmerizing. Even in the worst of circumstances, which she certainly found herself in recently, she could let the worry life had dropped on her fade and just enjoy the moment. He wanted to be able to do that. But he wasn’t certain he knew how.

Mayhap it was something she could teach him?

He’d spent the last decade trying to predict the actions and thoughts of everyone around him. And when he was left alone, he was filled with worry, panic, and determination. There hadn’t been a moment that he was allowed to let his guard down. Even now, his muscles were bunched and his nerves on edge, expecting that something should be happening at any moment. There was an itch, a need inside him to fight, to roar.

Except when he looked at her. That itch tamed somewhat when he beheld her, and instead, he thought about pulling her into his arms. The only time he’d been able to escape the worry and panic had been when he touched her. Held her hand. Kissed her. Saved her. As ironic as it was, it would seem that Rosamond was his savior, the one steady footing he’d been able to grasp, and she didn’t even realize it.

Tierney pressed his hands to the bow and closed his eyes, sucking in a lungful of salty air. When he blew it out, he tried to cast off some of the angst, but it wasn’t until her fingers touched his that he felt a measure of his troubles ebb.

“Thank you, my laird, for all you’ve done to help me.”

Opening his eyes, he took in the arcing fan of her lashes over her beautiful blue eyes. “’Tis I who have ye to thank,” he said. “Ye have helped me more than ye know.”

“How so?” She smiled, creating a small dimple in her cheek. “Was it always a goal of yours to rescue a damsel in distress?”

Tierney chuckled, letting his index finger stroke over hers. “The way ye waved that fiery log, I think we both know ye’re no damsel.”

She laughed, a sound that was full of mirth and happiness. If only he could bottle it up and keep it. “But I was clearly in distress, for what person with any measure of sanity does such?”

“Aye, ye were, lass, but ye were strong, and ye were trying to save yourself. I would have done the same.” He turned a little toward her, locked his eyes on hers. “And now? Are ye distressed?”

She glanced out at the ocean, her cheeks coloring slightly, her fingers tapping his on the bow. “I do worry about what I will do when I get to Scotland. I worry over my sister, but I am… relieved that you found me. And standing here beside you, I feel…” She bit her lip. “I do not know how to describe it. I feel… safe.”

Tierney wrapped his fingers around hers and brought them to his lips. “I feel the same way.”

As he gazed into her eyes, a thought occurred to him that he’d not contemplated before. Perhaps it was spurred on by her saying that she wasn’t certain what she’d do when she got to Scotland, that there was a chance she’d leave him, or that he’d never see her again. Or maybe it was that she said she felt safe with him. Or perhaps it was even that when he was with her, he felt grounded. Like the millions of nettles pricking his skin were washed away.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. And so, how did a man keep a woman in his life for all time?

Tierney’s chest tightened at the answer to that question.

When he’d left England, a wife was the last thing he thought he’d gain. Freedom, his lands, his castle, his people, the pardon of his king, these were the things he’d hoped to gain. And then he’d spotted this woman on the cliffs.

Saved her.

Fallen for her?

The daughter of his enemy, how could he forget that?

How could he trust her? And yet… he did.

But if he were to ask her to be his… wife, he couldn’t tell her the deeply vulnerable reason behind it, he’d have to give her the strategic points, and make it worth her while not to refuse him. And yet to marry would certainly draw his enemy out—just like he wanted.

“Could I dine with ye this evening?” he asked.

Rosamond, skin flushed, a nervous smile on her lips, pulled her hand from his grasp and folded it front of her, the knuckles white as she grasped her hands. “I suppose that would be all right, but we’ll have to do so with the door open.”

He raised a brow.

“I’d not want anyone to get the wrong idea,” she explained.

“And what idea is that, my lady?”

Color flared higher in her cheeks. “That you wish to seduce me.”

Tierney grinned and leaned forward a little to tease her. “And what if that is exactly what I planned to do?”

She sucked in a breath, then rushed, “Then you’d not admit it to me here and risk me denying you entry into my chamber.”

“My chamber.” He wanted to touch her. To stroke his finger along her jaw toward her lips. To press his thumb right there in the center of her mouth.

“Right you are, sir.” A twinkled came into her eye as she continued to tease him. “You can have it back if you like and I’ll find a nice comfy place to lay upon the deck with the men.”

A sudden pang of jealousy tore at his gut. “Nay, ye shall not.”

Rosamond chuckled. “You’re so very obvious, my laird.”

“Obvious?”

“Jealous.”

“I am never jealous.” That was a bold-faced lie, but he wasn’t going to admit it to her.

“’Tis all right, I’m certain if there was another lady on this ship that you had promised to dine with, I’d be jealous myself.”

He raised a brow. “Is that so?”

“Aye, but not for the reasons you’d think.” Her hands unfolded and once again she was swaying toward him, at ease in their playful banter.

“What reasons?”

“Well, I’d be bored to tears yet another night.” She cocked her shoulder. “And the imaginary lady would be dominating all of your delightful tongue.”

Too late, she realized the innuendo in her choice of words. Her eyes widened, cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink and her mouth formed a perfect little ‘O’.

Tierney’s body reacted instantly as he thought of her mouth devouring his tongue. “I assure ye, my lady—” he leaned close to whisper, for his throat had grown tight. “Ye are the only one I want to dominate my… delightful tongue.”

“Oh, you!” She slapped at his chest and turned around in a huff, tossing over her shoulder, “You are incorrigible.”

Tierney laughed so hard tears came to his eyes. “May I still come to dine with ye, my lady?”

“We shall see.” And with that, she marched off in a huff toward the stairs leading down to her—his—cabin.