Brides of Ireland: A Medieval Historical Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  The inn itself sat on the very edge of town, nestled at the bottom of forested hills, and the road was buried in trees. But the road that passed in front of the inn also went all the way to the sea, and Portreath had a protected cove that Poseidon’s Legion claimed as their own. It was ten miles south of Perran Castle, and Curtiz didn’t think the Spanish would dock their vessel there simply because it was so close to Perran, but he soon learned that he was wrong. He was into his third cup of warmed, watered wine when four sea-faring men came sauntering into the inn.

  Curtiz wouldn’t have recognized the Spanish pirates on sight. But the fact that they were armed, well-dressed, and speaking the Spanish language tipped him off as to who they were. Being that his mother had been a Spanish serving woman, he knew the language. He’d heard it from a very young age. As the Spanish entered the inn, rather noisily, he didn’t keep them waiting. He spoke from his seat by the window.

  “Bienvenido,” he said.

  The Spanish’s attention was immediately upon him. Curtiz inspected them as they stood there, warily, and he noted the huge cross that hung around one man’s neck. It was gold, lined with sapphires, and certainly something a devout Spanish pirate would steal from a fine lord or lady. Considering all of the Spanish ships were named for figures or incidents in the Bible – the Santa Maria, the Conception, the Santa Margarita, and so on, it was another clue that told Curtiz who these men were.

  The man with the cross around his neck finally came forward, his dark eyes lingering on Curtiz as the other three bunched up behind him. He was a short and stocky, but came right up to the table boldly, studying Curtiz, the table, the chairs, and even under the table, before speaking.

  “¿Eres de la Legión?” he asked.

  Are you the Legion? Curtiz understood the question but his Spanish wasn’t very good in spite of the fact that he’d grown up with it, certainly not good enough to negotiate the deal he was intending to secure. Faintly, he nodded.

  “Paix du moment?” he asked.

  He said that from the outset. It was the pirate code name for a truce, at least for the moment, something that was long etched in the annals of pirate history. Any man speaking those words was asking for a cease-fire until all business could be conducted. To refuse would be bad manners, something all pirates understood. Therefore, the Spanish pirate nodded reluctantly, knowing that he could not resist such a request.

  Already, the parameters of the meeting were being set.

  “Si,” he said after a moment.

  Now that the situation was established as one of momentary peace, Curtiz continued with confidence that he would not be attacked by the four men because they’d agreed to a truce. Still, he had to get his business out quickly. Time was of the essence for them all.

  “Your name?” he asked. “I do not do business with nameless men.”

  The man’s dark eyes flashed and a thin smile crossed his lips. “I am Amaro de Soto of the Santa Margarita, but men call me Diabolito,” he said in heavily-accented English. “Do you know what that means?”

  Curtiz nodded. “Little Demon,” he said. “I have heard of you.”

  “And who are you?”

  “You may call me d’Evereux. That’s all you need know.”

  Secrecy between pirates, even rival factions, wasn’t uncommon. Business could still be conducted without offense.

  “Very good, d’Evereux,” de Soto said as he pulled out a chair and plopped his stocky body onto it. “We finally meet after receiving your missive.”

  Curtiz eyed the little man with the very bad breath. He could smell it from where he sat. “I assume it was you who fired on our ship yesterday?”

  De Soto grinned. “Was that a Legion vessel?” he asked. “We wondered. When we could not find it, we thought we had sunk it.”

  Curtiz shook his head. “It was the Melinoe and you did not sink her in the least,” he said. “In fact, there was minimal damage. She is simply faster than your heavy warships, even the Santa Margarita. I have seen her. She moves with the agility of a pig.”

  It wasn’t polite to insult another man’s ship, even if he was the enemy. De Soto’s smile faded. “Mayhap she does, but she can withstand more than the weak Legion ships ever could,” he snapped back. “Now, tell me why I have come. You spoke of something of great value that belongs to le Brecque, something you would be willing to give us. What is it?”

  Curtiz eyed the man. “I will give it to you for a great price,” he clarified. “It is something that le Brecque values a great deal and plans to make money from it. In fact, I should not address it as an object. It is a woman. Two women, actually. Two heiresses, daughters of a great English merchant. The man will pay handsomely to have his daughters returned.”

  De Soto lifted a dark eyebrow. “Women?” he repeated, glancing to the men around him. “I do recall that your missive said you had women to barter, but I had to hear it from your own lips to confirm this. Do you truly mean to give me two valuable hostages?”

  “For a price.”

  “And you would do this in spite of le Brecque?”

  Curtiz nodded. “He places great value on them, my friend,” he lied. “Imagine his rage when he discovers they have been given over to the Spanish, his mortal enemies.”

  De Soto liked the sound of that a great deal. “But why?” he asked, suspicious. “The Legion is quite loyal to le Brecque. They have strong bonds. Why would you do this?”

  Curtiz shrugged faintly, lifting his cup to his lips. “I have no loyalty to any man but myself,” he said flatly. “Constantine le Brecque means nothing to me. But I see an opportunity to gain a great deal of wealth and nothing more. Constantine has stolen things from you in the past, has he not?”

  De Soto frowned. “Si,” he said, instantly enraged. “Esa bella nave du Guerra!”

  Curtiz smiled, but there was no humor to it. “Aye,” he said. “That beautiful war ship, indeed. Do you know he renamed her and gave her to the Scots? Shaw MacDougall and the Devils of the Deep own the ship now. Her name is the Leucosia and she is moored up at Scarba Island in Scotland. If you want her back, that is where you must go. She is not in Cornwall.”

  De Soto’s eyebrows flew up in both surprise and outrage. “The Scots?” he said. “Those filthy mountain goats. My captain will not like to hear this.”

  He spoke of Santiago Fernandez, the commander of the Spanish pirates. The man was an opportunist and a cutthroat, well-hated among the allied Scots and English pirates.

  “Then I just gave you some valuable information,” Curtiz snorted. But quickly, he sobered. “Now, do we do business with the women? Their father owns half of Plymouth, I am told. They will command a hefty price.”

  De Soto was more than interested, but he was struggling to overcome his rage about the Leucosia and her new owners. It had been known as the Astorga when it belonged to the Spanish, who had killed an entire French crew to get it. But when Constantine had stolen it from the Spanish, he’d simply put the Spanish crew in a tiny skiff and had sailed off in the behemoth. He’d shown mercy to the Spanish, something that enraged them deeply – not only did he take their ship, but he’d been merciful with the crew, which meant that the Spanish had to show some of the same should they ever encounter an English vessel. It was the unspoken law of the sea – mercy would beget mercy. De Soto hated that particular law, especially when it came to Constantine le Brecque and his Legion.

  Which made taking something of great value from Constantine more than attractive. Perhaps he should have been suspicious of an English pirate who would betray the great Constantine le Brecque, but he wasn’t. A pirate was a pirate, and he saw before him a man who simply wanted the money, loyalty be damned.

  “Then we will do business,” he finally said. “But you will answer a question.”

  “What is it?”

  “Why do you not simply ransom the women directly to their father if all you want is the money?”

  Curtiz shrugged. “It is too much trouble,�
� he said. “I simply want the money without the trouble. You, however, have the time and the need for vengeance against le Brecque, enough to negotiate a prime bargain with the father. Even if you do not, the women are beautiful, especially the eldest. I have never seen finer. She will bring a great price.”

  De Soto didn’t think any of that sounded unreasonable. “So the eldest is beautiful, is she?” he said. “The other one is not?”

  “She is pretty, but compared to her sister, she is a dog.”

  De Soto thought on Constantine le Brecque when he discovered that a great treasure had been taken from him. In fact, he grinned at the idea. “Then leave the dog-sister for le Brecque,” he said. “Bring me the beauty and I will pay you handsomely for her. Let le Brecque know that I left the ugly one for him.”

  The corner of Curtiz’s mouth twitched with a smile. “That will infuriate him.”

  “Good.”

  It seemed that the deal had been struck, but money still needed to be discussed. “And the price,” Curtiz said. “One hundred silver marks. When you see this woman, you will know why.”

  De Soto’s eyebrows lifted in astonishment. “But we do not even pay that for a fine horse.”

  “She is much better than a fine horse.”

  De Soto scowled. “Very well,” he said. “She had better be, or I will cut you into little pieces and throw you to the fish.”

  Curtiz wasn’t intimidated because he knew they would think the eldest Efford daughter to be quite beautiful. Lazily, he drank the last of his wine and set the cup down.

  “It is a bargain, then,” he said. “Where is your ship moored that I may bring her to you?”

  De Soto shook his head. “I will not tell you,” he said. “You have already proven you are untrustworthy by betraying le Brecque. You could just as easily run back to Perran Castle and tell them where my ship is.”

  Curtiz wasn’t insulted in the least, mostly because it was true. He was as much an opportunist as the Spanish were. “Then where do you want me to bring her?”

  De Soto turned to glance from the window, seeing the layer of fog laying over the land. He gestured to the landscape outside of the inn.

  “This time of year, the mist is heavy in these waters,” he said. “It was heavy yesterday and it is heavy today. Tomorrow morning, it shall be heavy again. Put the woman in a skiff and began rowing out to sea. Row for an hour in a straight line, due west, from Perran Castle. We will find you when you are out to sea and give you your money for the woman.”

  Curtiz nodded, glancing to the dirty pirates standing behind de Soto. “Pay me half now or I will not bring her,” he said. “Pay me the rest upon delivery. Trust me, Diabolito; she is that valuable. And Constantine wants her badly. If you want her more than he does, then pay me half now or I will walk away and seek out the French pirates. They will pay for her if you will not.”

  De Soto didn’t want the damnable French pirates to get the upper hand on Constantine le Brecque. Certainly, the Spanish hated the English, but they hated the French more. Therefore, he pulled out his coin purse without question. He didn’t have enough, so he took money from the men around him until he had fifty pieces of silver. Passing them over to Curtiz, his dark eyes glittered in the weak light of morning.

  “Betray me and I shall send word to le Brecque of your deal and tell him that you cannot be trusted,” he said. “Even if he does not fully believe me, it will plant the seed of doubt, and his trust in you will be ruined. Once he purges you from the Legion, I will track you down and I will kill you. Ask yourself if fifty pieces of silver is enough to risk your life.”

  Curtiz took the money and tucked it away in his coin purse, tied to his belt. “It is not,” he said frankly, “and tomorrow I will bring the woman as promised. You will see that it was a good bargain.”

  De Soto stood up, irritated and unhappy that he’d been forced to give over so much money to the man. But he had something to say before he left. Leaning in on the table, he loomed over Curtiz as the man sat there, smug and fifty silver pieces richer.

  “Es mejor que sea,” he muttered.

  It had better be.

  Curtiz understood him perfectly.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Perran Castle

  The wardrobe containing all of the garments the pirates had given her was a massive piece of furniture with a polished silver mirror on the inside of one of the doors. As Genevieve put on the third dress that morning, she paused to look at herself in the mirror.

  The dress was yellow, a silk garment that clung to her like the skin of a grape. There was beautiful embroidery around the neckline, the hem of the sleeves, and the hem of the skirt, including semi-precious stones that glittered in the light. In truth, it was a spectacular gown and one that she admired a great deal. Perhaps she would wear it this day, because it made her feel rather pretty.

  Genevieve had no idea why she should want to feel pretty. This day was like any other day, a day of captivity where pirates held her against her will. But since her conversation with Lucifer last night, she was coming to see that being compliant and pleasant was the tactic to take with him. He’d even agreed to consider allowing her to buy her freedom, meaning he wouldn’t sell her. She could buy herself. But buying her freedom left her with the same problem – where to go once she was free so that de Noble and her father couldn’t find her.

  In fact, she’d lain awake for a good portion of the night thinking about it. Once she bought her freedom, and Vivienne’s freedom, she would have to go somewhere other than her father’s properties in Ireland or in Plymouth. Her mother was long dead, but she had an aunt that lived far to the north near Carlisle. Perhaps she and Vivienne could go there and live with the woman, far away from her father and far away from the old man who wanted to be her husband. Genevieve had decided that not only would she earn enough money to buy her freedom, but also enough to pay for passage to Carlisle to start a new life.

  Far away from the pirate with eyes that were starting to affect her.

  She could admit it now, but it was a reluctant admission… somehow, during the course of the evening, it seemed to her that Lucifer appeared handsome. More handsome than she’d initially realized. He’d even smiled, just once, and he had a devastating smile of straight, white teeth and big dimples in his weathered cheeks. It had been enough to flutter her heart. But then she’d felt like a fool about it, up to and including the end of the meal when Lucifer and two other men had escorted her and Vivienne back to their cage. Genevieve’s last vision of the night had been the expression on Lucifer’s face when he’d shut her in for the night.

  Could it have been… warmth?

  After that, confusion reigned. It was madness even to consider that the man had warmth in him. How could she consider such a thing about her captor? But the truth was that Lucifer really wasn’t her captor; it was Constantine le Brecque. She’d only really seen Lucifer at the beginning of her captivity and then again yesterday. He hadn’t really been holding her hostage; it had been others. But Lucifer was taking charge of her captivity now. She was glad, for if the man could fall to her charms, then perhaps all of this would work out, after all. Last evening’s conversation with him gave her hope for the first time in a month.

  Hope for real freedom.

  Part of charming him meant pleasing him in what she wore, hence the yellow silk. It was truly stunning. Using the tortoise-shell comb on the dressing table, she was able to acceptably dress her hair. With the front pinned back and the rest of it long and flowing, the effect emphasized her swan-like neck and pale skin.

  Once she was pleasingly attired, she banged on the door and demanded her guards send for Lucifer. She was determined to continue last night’s conversation with the man, at least the conversation they’d held in private when he’d removed her from the hall, and hopefully carry through the momentum of it until she had his promise that she could buy her freedom. In fact, it was all she could think about.

  “What are you up to
, Genni?” Vivienne asked when her sister was finished shouting to the guards through the door. “Why do you wish to see that pirate again?”

  Genevieve feigned innocence as she looked at her sister. “What do you mean?”

  Vivienne wasn’t as naïve as her sister thought she was. Lying on her bed, she pushed her puppies aside and climbed off the mattress before they could lay on her again.

  “You know what I mean,” she hissed. “Are you calling him here just so you can attack him again?”

  Genevieve gave her sister an impatient look. “Do you truly believe I would be so foolish?”

  Vivienne cocked an eyebrow. “Do you want me to answer that?”

  Genevieve scowled. “Pah,” she brushed her sister off. “You know nothing. You must trust me, Vivi. I believe I have found a way to get us out of our predicament.”

  Vivienne inspected her sister, walking a judgmental circle around the woman as she eyed everything about her.

  “By doing what?” she asked. Then, she shook a finger at her. “You are up to something. I know you too well. Tell me what it is so I might at least be prepared for it.”

  Genevieve wasn’t sure if she should tell her. Vivienne was prudish sometimes, and fearful, and Genevieve didn’t want the woman betraying her in a fit of panic. As she’d proven during the meal the night before, sometimes she just blurted things out. Genevieve didn’t want her plans revealed by a sister who couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

  “I will, in time,” she said, but it was a lie to shut Vivienne up. “I do not plan to attack anyone. Go back to your dogs and leave the rest to me. I will get us out of here, I promise.”

  Vivienne was fairly sure that whatever her sister was planning would come to no good. Heavily, she sighed.

  “I do not wish to disbelieve you, but…”

  She was cut off when someone rattled the chamber door. Startled, Vivienne scooted back to her dogs as Genevieve made her way to the door, smoothing at her dress and at her hair. She wanted to look pretty for Lucifer. Then, she said a most inappropriate silent prayer.