Brides of Ireland: A Medieval Historical Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “You are more,” he said quietly. “I have come to see, since last night, that you are much more.”

  Genevieve sniffled into her hand. “More what?” she said. “More money? Do you see how much more you can get for me?”

  He shook his head, feeling very badly that she was upset. God, it was such an unsettling feeling, as if he had no control over anything. But he was starting to realize the things he’d said to her since their association had the woman rattled. He hadn’t meant to upset her, but that’s exactly what he’d done. Yesterday, her tears would not have bothered him. But today, they did.

  A great deal had changed since yesterday.

  “Will you please tell me why you weep?” he asked. “If you are hurting, then I shall bring the physic back so he may ease your pain.”

  Genevieve wiped at her eyes. Was she hurting? She was, all over. She was hurt and she was feeling stupid. The physic couldn’t ease what she was feeling because, in truth, she didn’t even know what she was feeling. Not completely.

  All she knew was that Lucifer… nay, Rhoan… had made her feel something.

  “I have had a difficult few weeks,” she said, sounding snappish and unhappy. “Sometimes, I will cry for no reason, but you should not worry. I am grateful that you will allow me to buy my freedom and Vivi’s freedom, and I shall work very hard for you. You will not lose money, I promise. Now, will you please take me back to my chamber or must I find it myself?”

  Lucifer didn’t know what to say to her. There was a great deal in his mind, and perhaps even in his heart, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He wanted to tell her that he wanted her to remain with him at Perran because he wanted her to stay. He wanted to keep her, to even marry her, but saying that to the woman scared him to death. He’d never thought he could ever bring forth those words. But the more he watched her weep, the more he wanted to tell her what he was truly feeling.

  Yet, it would be sheer madness, coming from him. He was her jailor. Yesterday, she tried to brain him with a broken table leg and today, he was in love with her? The entire thing was madness. Perhaps he needed to get away from her and clear his head. Perhaps then he might find some peace with what he was thinking, with the turmoil he was feeling. Perhaps then, her tears wouldn’t rip at him like they were now. But in his turmoil, he grasped her hand laying on her lap in an impulsive gesture to comfort her. Yet, the moment he touched her, something very strange happened.

  Bolts of energy, like flashes of lightning, shot up his arm and into his chest, causing his heart to constrict. Everything was constricting. Genevieve must have felt it, too, because she gasped at his touch and her fingers instinctively tightened. Perhaps that was where those strange pulses of energy were coming from – her tight grip on his fingers, which he couldn’t seem to remove. In fact, he didn’t want to remove them. One small touch had him reeling and, suddenly, he wanted more. That beautiful, bold woman had his entire world rocking. Unable to pull away, he heard himself groan and, in the blink of an eye, she was in his arms.

  His kisses were like fire, consuming everything they came into contact with. This maddening, frustrating, delectable woman filled him like a roaring blaze. He was blinded by it. The last time he kissed a woman like this, it had been that hungry duchess and she’d been all over him like a bitch in heat. He’d been all over her, too, but it had been purely physical. Only physical.

  But this… this was different.

  He could hear Genevieve gasping as his lips suckled hers, draining the very breath from her. She tasted sweet and her skin was like silk beneath his fingers. Her hair, as soft as a newborn kitten’s fur, drew his touch. He was touching her everywhere, experiencing her with every sense he possessed – sight, taste, smell, touch, and hearing. Every sense he had was filled with her, and the constriction in his chest was causing him to breath in harsh pants. In truth, he could barely breathe at all.

  It had been far too long since he’d been with a woman, so long that he lacked the ability to restrain or pace himself. His mouth had moved to her neck, now suckling the tender flesh of her neck and shoulder as Genevieve wrapped her arms around him and held him close. She was in no way resisting him, pressing herself against him as if she’d been wanting it all her life.

  Was it even possible she wanted him as badly as he realized he wanted her?

  His hands were drifting to the stays on her dress, boldly loosening the laces, yanking the left shoulder of her bodice down so it exposed her left breast. God, it was a beautiful breast, so firm and full, with a puckered nipple. He captured that nipple in his mouth before she could utter a word of protest, and suckled on it as hungrily as a starving babe.

  Beneath his hands, Genevieve bucked and gasped, and before either of them realized it, he’d lifted her up and carried her over to his bed, still attached to her breast. Then, she was on her back with her left breast exposed as he tossed up her skirts. There was a jewel beneath the silk and linen that he sought, and he would have it. He was a pirate, after all, and pirates sought treasure.

  This was the greatest treasure of all.

  Her thighs were soft and white, tender-fleshed, and he pulled them apart as his head plunged beneath her skirts, his mouth coming to land on the sensitive interior of her thighs near where her legs joined with her body. The skirts were rather voluminous and they fell back over his head, trapping him in the darkness with her woman’s center near his mouth. He could hear Genevieve gasp as his seeking lips found the dark curls between her legs, his tongue lapping at the tender pink folds.

  He had his treasure.

  He knew she was virgin. That had never been a question in his mind. Therefore, he slowed his pace, far less of a frenzy and far more of a languid pace as he stroked her with his tongue, suckling on the thick lips and feeling her buck beneath him. She had tried to pull away initially, embarrassed with the new and intimate sensations, but she wasn’t pulling away any longer. In fact, she was simply trembling, the quivering growing more violent as he began to tease her tiny bud of pleasure with his tongue. His fingers began to probe her and it was enough to cause her to experience her first release, something Lucifer very much wished he’d been able to feel as God has intended, with his rod buried deep in her folds, her tremors begging for his seed. But the last time he did that, he’d had a son he’d been forced to relinquish, and he wasn’t about to do that with Genevieve.

  No matter how badly he wanted her.

  But that didn’t stop him from untying his braies and lifting himself up, tossing up her skirts again so that they ended up over her face and head. Now, all he could see of her was her body from the waist down and he wasn’t disappointed. It was as perfect as the rest of her.

  His great manroot, freed and hard as a rock, was desperately seeking a release but he would deny it, at least the kind of release that most men found. Instead, he began to rub it against her, thrusting his hips in such a way that he was simply rubbing himself all along her wet pink folds without penetrating her. When Genevieve moaned with the sheer power of his actions, he dipped his head down and kissed her through the fabric of her skirts. He could see the outlines of her face in the fabric and he kissed her delicately, with only the fabric between them.

  It was the most erotic thing he’d ever done.

  It had been over ten years since Lucifer had last taken a woman, and every second of those long, lonely years was coming out in his touch. The warmth, the longing, and the emotions he was capable of were in his touch as he grasped Genevieve’s hand gently in his big hands and kissed her tenderly through the fabric. He ground his pelvis against hers, feeling her heat and wetness against his seeking manroot but, in this moment, it was far less about the act of physically releasing himself and more about the awakening emotions he’d kept suppressed all of these years.

  Genevieve had awakened them.

  When he finally released himself, it was not on her body but on his bed, on the dirty linens that he slept in. It was a climax of great satisfaction
, but his physical release was secondary to the myriad of emotions stirring in his heart. When he finally flipped down Genevieve’s skirts, he found her gazing up at him, her beautiful face flushed. Feeling awkward, and deeply emotional because he couldn’t bring himself to speak of what he was feeling, he lifted her off the bed.

  “I suppose I should apologize for that,” he said, still holding her in his arms. “I do not know what came over me.”

  The warm expression on Genevieve’s face cooled. “You mean that you did not mean to do that? Any of… that?”

  He shook his head as he sat her back on the chair she’d been sitting in and released her from his embrace. God help him, he felt so much confusion that he couldn’t even look at her.

  “I do not know what came over me,” he repeated. “But you are so beautiful… I could not help myself.”

  Genevieve looked at him, stunned. She thought for certain he’d kissed her because he’d wanted to, because he was feeling the same attraction that she was. She’d started out this morning wanting to seduce the man, so she could have her way in all things. But now, her selfish wants were the furthest thing from her mind. She was coming to care for this man, her jailor, and even more so now that he’d kissed her as he had. He’d touched her body – she’d permitted him to – but, God, she’d wanted him to touch her so badly. She regretted nothing.

  But, clearly, he did.

  Embarrassed, and ashamed, she simply hung her head, pulling her skirts down and pulling her bodice up so she was properly covered again. Ten minutes in the man’s arms was all she needed to convince herself that she felt something deeper for him than she’d cared to admit.

  But he didn’t feel the same way.

  “If you are looking for absolution for your weakness, I cannot give it,” she said, her tone dull with sorrow. “I have asked you to return me to my chamber. Will you do this? If not, then send for someone who will.”

  Lucifer looked at her, all of the things he wanted to tell her right on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say them. She sounded sad and dejected, and he didn’t want her to feel like that. But he couldn’t bring himself to comfort her. Perhaps what he needed was some time away from the woman to figure out what, exactly, he was feeling. He was so concerned she would think him a fool that sheer fear kept him from saying what was in his heart.

  He needed some time alone to think.

  Without another word, he bent over and swept her into his arms, carrying her from his chamber and back to the chambers she shared with Vivienne and the dogs. When he left her there with her sore ankle and a sister with many more questions than answers, it was silently as well. He couldn’t even bring himself to bid her farewell. He was too confused, too emotional, and too ashamed to do any of it.

  All I need is time and I can tell her what I am feeling, he told himself as he walked away. Meanwhile, she will remain here where I will see her every day. I will not permit her to leave me, not ever.

  At least, those were his thoughts. He couldn’t even tell her, not even as he shut the door and heard her muffled tears as Vivienne tried to press her for answers.

  In hindsight, it would be the biggest mistake of his life.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It was just before dawn at Perran Castle as Curtiz made his way to the chambers that held the female captives. He knew the women would be asleep, but he would use that sleepy confusion to his advantage. The preparations had been made and he had a schedule to keep.

  Today would be the day.

  The castle was quiet at this time in the morning, with men who had been up all night preparing to sleep for the day, and those awakening to the new day preparing for their duties. Men were shifting around, in and out of chambers, and there were very few of them in the keep. Most of the men were over by the barracks that Constantine had built to house his pirates, which was why Curtiz was making his move now. He had to do it before more men were awake, and available, to stop him.

  Especially Lucifer.

  Upon returning from the Three Sails Inn in Portreath yesterday, he’d gone on duty to secure the keep, as this was his usual task, and had been aware when Lucifer had taken one of the female captives on a walk in the bailey. It had been the older of the sisters, the beauty Curtiz intended to turn over to the Spanish. He’d watched from an inconspicuous place as Lucifer and the lady walked the grounds, including the kitchen yard.

  They’d been deep in conversation the entire time. What had started off as simple observation for Curtiz turned into something deeper, something of concern. When Lucifer had mentioned the women on shipboard three days ago, after they’d been fired upon by the Spanish, he hadn’t given any indication that he had any concern for them. They were a commodity, like everything else confiscated in the course of their pirate raids.

  Curtiz hadn’t given any thought to turning the eldest daughter over to the Spanish until he spent a significant amount of time watching Lucifer with the eldest sister. Then, he began to suspect Lucifer might have some interest in her just as Curtiz did, which meant Curtiz needed to get the woman away from Lucifer sooner rather than later.

  He didn’t want any complications.

  Thank God the Spanish had shown up yesterday when they had. Curtiz would spirit the eldest sister away to the Spanish this morning and that would be the end of it. Curtiz would have his money, the Spanish would have their prize, and that was all that mattered in Curtiz’s world.

  But he had to get to the woman first.

  Before daybreak was the safest time. So while men were awakening and breaking their fast, as Lucifer was undoubtedly doing, Curtiz moved swiftly. There was only one guard on the door to the chamber that housed the women, and he easily got past the man. Once the door was opened, he could see that both ladies were already awake, preparing for the day. But they gasped when they saw him enter.

  The women were in various stages of dress, but that didn’t concern Curtiz. He was fixed on the eldest sister, who was fully clothed but brushing her hair. He came right up to her, standing over her as she sat on a stool before a mirror.

  “What do you want?” the woman demanded. “By what right do you barge in here without knocking?”

  Curtiz lifted an eyebrow. He didn’t want a fight with the woman before there was really a need, so he maintained an even attitude with her. But she was a bold wench and he didn’t like bold wenches.

  “You are a prisoner and prisoners have no rights,” he said. “You have been summoned, lady. You will come with me.”

  The women eyed him warily. “Summoned? By whom?”

  “I have been summoned to bring you.”

  It wasn’t exactly an answer to her question, more to throw her off the track, but it seemed to change the woman’s attitude. The suspicion went from her features, replaced by something that looked like excitement.

  “Lucifer has sent you?” she asked eagerly.

  Curtiz was smart enough to pick up on her happy tone, ever the great opportunist. “Aye,” he said. “You will come with me.”

  The woman nodded eagerly, grabbing a silken ribbon to tie off the braid she’d been plaiting when he’d walked in. “Of course,” she said. “Do I need my cloak?”

  “You should get it.”

  Swiftly, she rushed to the giant wardrobe that contained all of her beautiful gowns and snatched the brown cloak from a peg, the one with the cozy rabbit fur lining. It matched the brown brocade she was wearing, a truly lovely dress and she looked beautiful in it. Curtiz knew the Spanish would be very pleased with their prize.

  But he had to get her there first.

  Leaving Vivienne behind, scolding her dogs because they had peed on a fine rug during the night, Genevieve fled her chamber after the big, blond pirate. She knew his name was Curtiz but, beyond that, she only knew he was someone who served closely to Lucifer. As she followed him quickly down the darkened corridor, fastening her cloak as she went, she called after him.

  “Your name is Curtiz?” she a
sked.

  The man turned to glance at her. “Aye,” he said. “And keep your voice down.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it is still very early. You do not want to wake the rest of the castle, do you?”

  Genevieve shrugged, thinking it odd that men who lived and breathed by battle should sleep past sunrise. Surely they were up with the birds, going about their day. But she didn’t speak again, rushing after Curtiz as the man took her down into the misty bailey and headed into the kitchen yard.

  It was wet and smelly in the yard, with servants going about their business as Curtiz and Genevieve rushed past them. Increasingly curious as to their destination, Genevieve wondered where the man was taking her, wondering even more strongly when he took her all the way to the postern gate and threw the big bolt, yanking the old iron gate open. It was sticky, rusty from the moisture in the air, and Curtiz silently indicated for her to pass through. She moved to do his bidding but stopped just short of the gate.

  “Lucifer has asked you to take me from the castle?” she asked, simply to satisfy her curiosity. “That seems odd.”

  Curtiz nodded, although it was a lie. He needed the woman’s cooperation for as long as he could get it. “Lucifer is on the beach below. He has asked me to bring you.”

  Because he invoked Lucifer’s name again, Genevieve didn’t question him. Wrapped up in the cloak against the heavy fog, she proceeded from the gate and Curtiz followed, closing the gate behind them.

  The path down to the beach was rocky and slippery with mist from the fog that had settled heavily overnight. Everything smelled salty and wet, the smell of the sea heavy upon the air. Curtiz was in front of Genevieve on the path, but she was taking it very carefully in pretty slippers that weren’t meant for this kind of walking. They were mostly made of fabric and had no traction on the slick earth of the path. She slipped more than once until Curtiz finally reached out a hand to steady her.

  Down they went, through the sea grass, until they ended up on the white, sandy beach of the cove. They could see the water from where they stood, and they could also see the shadows of four large vessels looming through the mist, surrounded by a host of smaller ships, all of them rolling gently with the incoming tide.