Kelly shifted on his feet, clearing his throat nervously. “Aye,” he said. “That’s what ye heard.”
“The only ship in Shaw’s fleet capable of an eleven-gun burst is the Leucosia.”
Kelly had an expression like a child caught stealing sweets. “That is true.”
“She is moored in the cove,” Remy put in, seeing that Kelly was reluctant to discuss the ship. “She’s as big and beautiful as you remember. She suffered no damage in the skirmish.”
Rhoan lifted an eyebrow, still fixed on Kelly. “What is the Leucosia doing so far south?” he asked. “She belongs to Shaw.”
Kelly knew he had to come clean with the truth. He’d tipped his hand, anyway, when he brought the Leucosia into the cove, so there was no use in lying about it. He wasn’t in the habit of lying to his allies, anyway.
“Shaw doesna want the beast,” he said truthfully. “He took her tae sea and barely escaped with his life. Ye know there’s been trouble with her. He’s tired of sailing a cursed ship and told me tae bring her back tae Perran and leave her.”
Rhoan fought off a grin. “But she is a gift,” he said. “He would insult Constantine by returning a gift?”
“She’s a curse and ye know it!”
That caused Rhoan and Remy to burst into giggles. It was Rhoan who finally spoke. “Aye, she is,” he said. “A beautiful ship, but a curse. In fact, I wonder if the Spanish weren’t in my waters looking for her. They want her back very badly.”
“They can have her,” Kelly said flatly. “Shaw doesna want the behemoth and I dunna believe Constantine does, either.”
Rhoan released Genevieve, steering the weary woman towards a chair so she could sit down as he continued his conversation with Kelly.
“If Con wanted her, he would not have given her up to Shaw,” he said. “She is quite a prize. But… I understand your predicament and I am grateful that you were in my waters to bring Lady Genevieve back. Had you not been, her outcome might have been markedly different. I owe you a great deal, Kelly. You have my thanks.”
The conversation sobered as they veered back to the subject of the abducted lady. “Are ye appreciative enough tae take the ship back?” Kelly asked in a calculated move. “I canna return tae Scarba with her, so I must leave her somewhere. Shaw will have my hide if I bring her back.”
Rhoan looked to Genevieve, who was gazing up at him, holding his hand tightly. He gently squeezed her fingers. Kelly could have asked for the moon at that moment and Rhoan would have done everything in his power to retrieve it.
“Because you saved Lady Genevieve, I will take the ship back,” he said. “Remy, make arrangements to move her up the coast to the River Camel. We hid her there once before and we can do it again. Con will have to decide what he wants to do with her when he returns. He will know that Shaw is wise to his tricks.”
Kelly was vastly relieved. “My thanks tae ye,” he said. “But do ye mind if I tell Shaw that I left the ship on yer doorstep without ye knowing? He would find more satisfaction with that.”
Rhoan smiled weakly. Any chance Shaw, or Constantine, had to one-up each other was an opportunity to be taken. The men were closer than brothers but when it came to nasty tricks, they labored to out-do each other.
“Your secret is safe,” he said. “We will tell Con that you dropped the ship and fled.”
Kelly grinned broadly. “Then I can return home with my head up,” he said. Glancing to Genevieve, he dipped his head politely. “I am glad we found ye when we did, lass.”
Genevieve sighed with relief. She was glad, too. “If you hadn’t, I would now belong to a man named Amaro.”
Kelly’s eyes widened, as did Rhoan’s. “Amaro?” Rhoan repeated. “Is that who bought you?”
She nodded. “Aye,” she said. “That is what Curtiz told me.”
“It was his ship you were being taken to?”
“I would assume so.”
Rhoan looked at Kelly and, suddenly, the two of them began laughing. Remy joined in, and soon the three of them were laughing uproariously. But Genevieve failed to see the joke.
“Why do you laugh?” she asked. “What has happened?”
Rhoan wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes. “Because we stole the Leucosia from Amaro de Soto,” he told her. “He always swore he’d get her back, which could have been why he was in these waters. He was looking for her. Hell, he probably thought that buying you from Curtiz might give him the edge in stealing something from Constantine in revenge for the Leucosia. But little did he know that it would be the Leucosia to thwart his plans.”
Genevieve understood, somewhat. She was just glad it was all over. As Kelly begged his leave and Remy followed, the room was suddenly empty. Rhoan went to the door and shut it, returning to Genevieve to pull her into his arms once more. He sighed heavily with satisfaction as he did so, saying a silent prayer of thanks for her safe return. He was still reeling from it, but so very happy.
“Are you sure you are unharmed?” he asked quietly. “Shall I have the physic take a look at you?”
Genevieve gripped him tightly. “I am fine,” she assured him. “A bath and clean clothing, and I shall be as good as new. But… but I must tell you something, Lucifer. This entire event has caused me to think on so many things. When Curtiz was taking me out to the Spanish ship, all I could think about was you and how I did not want to leave you. I… I know I asked to buy my freedom, but I have decided that I do not want my freedom. I want to stay with you.”
Those were, perhaps, the sweetest words he’d ever heard. Cupping her sweet face, he gazed seriously into her eyes.
“And I must tell you something also,” he murmured. “Firstly, you will call me Rhoan. That is my name. Lucifer no longer exists. Secondly, I must apologize for my behavior last night. Genevieve, I am not a man accustomed to speaking his feelings, and I was afraid to voice them to you. I will not make that mistake again. The truth is that I do not want you to have your freedom, either. I want you to stay with me, as my wife. I cannot explain what I am feeling for you, so I will not try. All I know is that you are my sun, and you have brightened my life as I never thought it could be brightened. When I thought you were lost, it was the darkest moment I have ever experienced. But now, my sun is back again and I will never let her go. You will be with me, until the end of the world and beyond, and I will cherish no other but you.”
A smile spread across Genevieve’s dry lips and her tears returned, but they were tears of joy. She never believed her heart could be so full.
“And I shall cherish no other but you,” she whispered. “I will be by your side, Rhoan, for always.”
Rhoan dipped his head forward, brushing his lips sweetly against hers, tasting the salt from the sea upon her. It reminded him of how close he came to losing her, and the strength of his feelings for her filled him more strongly than anything else ever had.
“Then let us go forth into this brave, new world together,” he whispered. “With you by my side, I can face anything.”
This time, Genevieve stood on her toes and captured his lips in hers, kissing him with all of the power and passion she was feeling. It was a brave, new world, indeed, one she was more than willing to face with him. He belonged to her, and she to him, and nothing would ever separate them again.
The man named for a fallen angel was lost no more.
THE END
Enjoy this excerpt from a coming Kathryn Le Veque novel, THE CENTURION.
CHAPTER ONE
Year of our Lord 1237 A.D.
Northumbrian Border Territory
“Gabriella!”
The only reply came from a hawk, riding the drafts high overhead. A man in armor drove his charger though the foliage of the forest, the dampness around him smelling of earth and mold. But he ignored the tang in his nostrils, his soft brown eyes roving the greenery that seemed to be cloying, secretive. As the sounds of the distant battle intensified, so did his sense of urgency.
“Gabriella, answe
r me!”
The hawk seemed to be following him, mocking his cries. If Torston had possessed a crossbow at that moment, he would have taken fiendish pleasure in spearing the bird. But his pleasure would have to wait as the destrier plunged down a ravine, stumbling through the heavy bramble. Leaping deftly over a log, the beast struggled up the opposite side of the gully.
“Damnation, Gabriella, can you hear me? Answer!”
The hawk laughed at him. Torston was positive of that. Unable to restrain his frustration, he took a small dirk from the folds of his armor, where the knee protection met the thigh, and hurled it in the direction of the bird. He missed, and the hawk continued to laugh.
The charger stumbled over a toppled tree, hidden by the carpet of leaves. Hissing a curse, Torston continued to carve through the thicket, shouting into the trees and feeling his anxiety mount. Darkness was falling, and his time was growing limited.
“Gabriella, please!” He paused, still hearing the cries of the distant battle and imagining that they were growing closer. “I know you are frightened, but you must show yourself!”
The thunder of hooves caught his attention. Instantly, his broadsword was wielded defensively as a knight came toward him through the trees. Torston lowered his weapon when he recognized the worn armor.
“Did you find her?” The knight demanded.
Torston let out a heavy sigh. “She’s nowhere to be found, I tell you. And what makes you think she’d be hiding in the trees with a battle waging just over the hill?”
The knight lifted his great helm, his bearded face coated with sweat and exhaustion. “Because her father said she had come into the forest to collect flowers. The female servants that accompanied her have returned, but Lady Gabriella has not. She’s here, somewhere, hiding.”
Torston’s jaw flexed. “Stephen, the battle is drawing closer. The Scots must come through these woods if they are to reach the cattle fields, which is their target. If they find Gabriella before we do…”
“I know.” Sir Stephen Brockenhurst held up a silencing hand. He, too, was desperate to find his liege’s daughter and enlisting the help of Sir Torston de Royans had been the first step toward success; when attempting to catch an elusive creature, one must be sure of the bait. “Keep looking, Torston. If she knows you are here, she’ll most certainly come out of hiding.”
“What if she’s already returned to Deauville Mount?”
“Someone would have told us.” Stephen pounded his thigh with frustration. “God help me, when I find the lass I’m going to blister her behind. And I don’t care if her father is my liege!”
Torston scratched beneath his hauberk where the mail was irritating his flesh. “She could not have known the Scots had planned this day for a raid. These are her woods, Stephen. She always spends time here.” He glanced around, determining where to resume his search. “Do you think it possible that…”
He was cut off by a startling yell. The chargers bolted nervously as a group of tartaned men rushed from the trees, halberds and clubs wielded high. Stephen’s sword was drawn as he spurred his charger to meet the incoming tide.
“I’ll take care of the Scots, Torston!” he shouted. “Find Gabriella!”
Torston did as he was told. Shouting Gabriella’s name, he tore through the bushes, fighting the vines and branches that seemed determined to slow him. He could hear Stephen’s grunts of effort and it only served to fuel his urgency. If he didn’t find Lady Gabriella before the Scot’s did, then the lady most certainly would be lost.
He pushed through a group of oaks and the sounds of battle faded. Torston was about to skirt down another small ravine when something caught his eye; laying quite plainly on the bed of the forest was a kerchief. Dismounting, Torston snatched the material, his heart sinking as he inspected it; it was soft linen, embroidered with a gathering of happy butterflies. Something only a lady of standing would carry, and certainly something she would never leave behind. Unless she had been forced to.
“Damn,” he hissed.
Glancing around to determine the direction the lady had been taken, Torston clutched the kerchief to his breast like a macabre reminder of his failure. His failure, of course, was his inability to locate the lady before someone else got to her. He was already thinking of what to tell Lord Winslow of his daughter’s fate when a rustle of leaves caught his attention.
His body instinctively tensed. He reached down for the dagger he kept lodged in thigh armor but remembered he had tossed it at the hawk. Strangely, the hawk was gone and Torston was glad the bird had sought its entertainment elsewhere. The last thing he needed was an obnoxious bird announcing his approach to the enemy.
The broadsword was unsheathed, leveled in front of him. The leaves rustled again and Torston strained to see through the bushes, wondering how many Scots were preparing to ambush him. His boots made soft crunching noises against the earth, a deafening sound to one whose intent was to be silent.
The leaves rustled again. But it was more than a shake; it was as if something had been dropped. Or thrown. Torston was focused on the bushes when a warm body rushed at him from the right, blindsiding him. Off-guard and off-balance, he twisted around and threw his shoulder into the figure. With a shriek, the person fell away.
Torston’s balance made a swift return, as did his defensive stance. But gazing up at him in the growing darkness was a pair of familiar eyes and his broadsword fell to the ground.
“Gabriella!” His relief was obvious, as was his puzzlement. “What in the hell are you doing, lass?”
Eyes as blue as the summer sky blinked with realization. “I… Torston?” She swallowed hard, peering at his closed visor. “I could hardly recognize you with nightfall approaching. I thought you were a Scot.”
He reached down, pulling her to her feet. “Scots do not usually approach on horseback nor speak with an English accent. Didn’t you hear me calling you?”
Gabriella brushed the leaves off her bum. “It was difficult to hear anything over the distant battle.”
He regarded her a moment. She was safe and whole for the most part, if not a bit shaken. “So what were you trying to do – attack me?”
“If you were Scots, I was going to kill you,” she said firmly “I could hear your approach, but considering I have been hearing war cries for the better part of the day, I knew not whether you were friend or foe.”
“So you set a trap?”
“I thought to use the element of surprise to steal your weapon.”
Her answer was without fear. He lifted his helm and scratched his chin again, watching the fading light play off her delicate features. She was such a lovely creature, with blonde curls that fell to her buttocks and the face of an angel. But she was also careless and foolish, as her venture into the woods this day had proved.
“Come along.” He bent down to collect his sword. With the other hand, he grasped her by the wrist to make sure she wouldn’t somehow get lost again. “Baron Coe has launched a raid this day, as indicated by the cries you have been hearing. They’re after your father’s cattle again.”
“Which is why you have come?”
His charger had wandered away in search of edible foliage. Clutching Gabriella tightly, Torston followed the animal’s crunching sounds. “Your father and my liege have been allies for so long that our armies fight as one.” He glanced over his shoulder. “And when I should be repelling Scots, I am forced to play nursemaid to a thoughtless young lady.”
Gabriella made a face at him. Although she felt much safer now that Torston de Royans had found her, still, the eerie shouts of battle had her on edge. Every snap of a twig and every rustle of a leaf sent her heart racing.
“Is it a large raiding party?”
“Large enough.”
“How many men did you bring from The Lyceum?”
“Enough to turn back the Scots and then some. You want I should discuss strategies for your approval?” The charger was sighted through the trees and he smirked when
Gabriella sassily stuck out her tongue. “Now, I must determine a way to return you home without running headlong into the battle. Unfortunately, most of the fighting is taking place between here and Deauville Mount.”
Gabriella sighed, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Is Father frantic?”
“Terribly. You should be ashamed of yourself, sending your maids back to the castle while you remain out here, alone.”
She averted her gaze as he lifted her on to the saddle. “I like it out here. It’s peaceful and lovely.”
“And dangerous.” He fixed her with a pointed stare, trying to make eye-contact. “I have known you for nine years, Lady Gabriella de Ameland, and this foolishness must stop. You’re constantly prowling the countryside and Stephen or your father are forever in search of you.”
She shrugged carelessly, toying with the leather on his saddle. “I simply cannot stay in one place for too long, Torston. I like to get out, to see the world and its beauty. When I marry, I will insist my husband take me all over the world so I can experience everything.”
“God help the man. He’ll have to be obscenely wealthy.”
Gabriella grinned at him, then. “How much money do you have, Torston?”
He cleared his throat loudly and looked away. “Don’t start that again. I don’t have nearly enough. Besides, you know that I am already betrothed.”
Her smiled broadened and she reached out, pinching the cheek that wasn’t covered by the hauberk. “But I would make a much better wife.”
“You’d break me.”
“I would not. I’d make you see beyond this world we live in. Don’t you want to see what all life has to offer?”
She was so young, so full of grand dreams. Torston lowered his helm and tightened up the cinch of the saddle. “Life is fighting and dying, lady. Anything beyond that is superfluous.”
He stopped fumbling with the saddle and she knew he was looking at her, even though the slits in his helm. The Torston de Royans she had been in love with for as long as she could recall.
Brides of Ireland: A Medieval Historical Romance Bundle Page 117