He trailed off, wriggling his eyebrows at her, and she produced an expression suggesting her actions might not have been in her best interests.
“I was going to take you hostage,” she said truthfully. When he smirked, she burst out laughing. “I was! I truly was! Had Vivi given me the sharpened table leg, I would have been successful!”
He was still smiling. “You think so, do you?”
She nodded firmly. “After being held captive for a month, see if you do not become desperate,” she said. Her laughter faded. “I was desperate. I still am. Won’t you please allow me to work for you and buy my freedom?”
Something very strange happened to Lucifer at that moment; he didn’t want her working to gain her freedom, but he no longer wanted to hold her captive, either. He didn’t want the woman under his control, but a free woman who would allow him to talk to her whenever he wished, and perhaps dine with him so he could lavish gifts upon her. In a very short amount of time, she had him under her spell and he was enjoying their repartee immensely. He’d never known anything like it in his life, not even with the Duchess of Richmond who only wanted to speak of his body parts and how they made her feel.
Oddly enough, he thought of the young duchess who had given birth to his son those years ago. She’d married a very old man who, according to her, couldn’t perform in the bedchamber, which was why she’d taken Lucifer as her lover – he could perform in the bedchamber, sometimes several times a day. The more he thought on it, the more he realized the only thing they’d ever had between them had been the sex. Always, the sex. He couldn’t honestly remember having a meaningful conversation with the woman because she never wanted to talk. Only fuck. And he’d fancied himself in love with her.
But he knew better now.
It was so strange how this short time with Genevieve had opened his eyes to that fact. Perhaps he’d always known it. But now, he could admit it to himself. It had never been love with the duchess, only a physical lust. Once he’d gotten past the boldness and belligerence, he could see that Genevieve was an intelligent, charming woman and he’d very much enjoyed the conversations they’d shared. She wasn’t interested in bedding him – at least, he didn’t think so – but interested in who he was as a man, as a person. He hadn’t experienced that in so long… God, maybe he’d never experienced it, ever.
But now, he was.
He knew, at that moment, that he was going to release her. And then, he was going to pursue her.
“I believe we can come to an agreement of some kind,” he said, his tone not indicative of his thoughts. “Provided I am satisfied in the end. But tell me something – if you are not going to return to Ireland, or even Plymouth, where will you go? It is a big, dangerous world out there and two women alone will be in great danger.”
Genevieve thought his answers sounded very positive and the hope she’d had before now blossomed. The pretty dress, the pleasant conversation – it had worked on him. But in the process of charming the man, he’d managed to charm her, too. He was soft-spoken for the most part, but that deep voice was like silk-covered steel. It was hard and soft at the same time, something she found most attractive. That, coupled with those golden eyes and big dimples, made him nearly irresistible.
You are not really ugly…
Nay, the man wasn’t ugly at all. In fact, he was a god.
But the fact remained that he was a pirate. He was a murderer and a thief. How could she find someone like that attractive? Perhaps that made her more foolish than she realized, but the truth was that she couldn’t help herself. She was coming not to see him as a cruel, barbaric pirate – she was coming to see him as just a man, as normal and pleasant as any other.
“My mother has a sister who lives in Carlisle,” she answered belatedly. “I am sure she will take Vivi and me in.”
“And if she does not?”
Genevieve shrugged. “I have not thought on that possibility,” she admitted. “I suppose I do not want to. But if she will not take us in, then I suppose we shall have to commit ourselves to the nearest abbey to survive.”
He rolled his eyes in disapproval. “You will not commit yourself to an abbey,” he said flatly. “A woman of your beauty and talent? It would be a sheer waste.”
“Then what else are we to do?”
Marry me.
They were the first words he thought of in reply and it startled the hell out of him. Marry? God’s Bones, what in the hell was he thinking? He wasn’t the marrying kind. He never had been. But with Genevieve… how else could he keep her around him? He could either make her his concubine, something he suspected she would rebel against, or he could make her his wife.
The wife seemed the more logical answer.
But he didn’t say that. In fact, he was still reeling from the fact that he’d even considered the subject of marriage. He wasn’t in love with the woman, but he was certainly charmed by her. Intrigued by her. She was strong, smart, and accomplished, and she would make a proud wife for any man.
Marry me…
It was possible he would, at that.
“Mayhap I can think of something,” he said after a moment. “Can you sew?”
“Beautifully.”
“Then you can support yourself as a seamstress.”
They were still walking as they spoke, now coming to the end of the wall they’d been following and taking a turn. The ground was muddy and rocky, wet from the mist that had settled overnight, and Genevieve lifted her fine silk skirt higher so it wouldn’t drag in the muck.
“But you need money for that,” she said. “You need money for supplies, like thread and fabric. If I buy my freedom from you, I will not have any money left over for such a venture.”
“That is for me to determine,” he said. “Do you really think I would let you leave without any money or protection? That I would just throw you out into the dangerous world?”
There was that concern in his tone again. Curious, Genevieve looked at him to see if there was the same such concern in his expression. But the moment she turned her head, her right slipper came down on a rock that was slick with mud. At the awkward angle, her foot slipped off and she would have fallen had Lucifer not had a hold of her. He kept her from falling into the mud.
“Are you well?” he asked, more concern than ever in his voice. “Did you hurt yourself?”
Genevieve shook her head, but she realized that her near-fall had caused the hem of her lovely gown to brush into the mud. “Nay,” she said, frustrated that the dress was dirtied. “I must have slipped on something and…”
She put her right foot down to continue their walk and immediately yelped in pain. Lucifer, seeing that she had, indeed, hurt herself, didn’t hesitate. He swept her up into his big arms and quickly headed for the keep, booming to a servant along the way to send the physic to his chambers.
With that, their pleasant conversation for the morning abruptly ended.
CHAPTER FIVE
Isles of Scilly
Off the coast of Cornwall
Kelly O’Murphy had been sailing in these waters all of his life. As far as he was concerned, they were his waters even though Poseidon’s Legion claimed them. As one of Shaw MacDougall’s captains, Kelly was Irish by birth but had spent nearly his entire life as a Scottish pirate. That meant his accent was mostly Scottish, although he was loathed to admit it. He was a proud Irishman and an even prouder Devil of the Deep.
At the moment, he was on a mission.
Well, mostly on a mission. It had turned into a rather raucous journey. He’d picked up three rather wild wenches from a tavern in Eynon Bay on his way south from the pirate stronghold at Scarba Island, and on the entire trip south, he could hear his men having their way with the women inside the captain’s quarters.
All three women stayed to the cabin and God only knew how many pirates had bedded them over the past week, all the way down from Eynon to the Isles of Scilly. There had been so much bedding going on that Kelly could still hear
the grunting of men as they plunged their flesh swords into the silken scabbard of women who had seen many such swords. Every time Kelly closed his eyes to sleep, he could hear a woman gasping in ecstasy.
It had been pandemonium aboard the Leucosia during the journey south, but there was a reason for that – bringing the women on board was the only way the men would agree to man a ship that was as coveted as the Leucosia was. It had was a dangerous undertaking and they all knew it, so there had to be some incentive to keep them on the vessel.
Therefore, Kelly had Shaw’s permission to stop at Eynon Bay and bring any woman on board who would come. Kelly found several, but only three were moderately acceptable, and the massive Leucosia had set sail from Eynon and headed south towards Perranporth and Perran Castle.
In truth, it was the ship that was the focal point – the twenty-two gun Leucosia, a much-stolen ship that had been given to Shaw by Constantine le Brecque as a gift for helping save Constantine’s life. At least, that was what Shaw had initially thought. He had been deeply touched by Constantine’s gesture, his brother in heart and soul, if not blood. He’d been so deeply touched by it that he’d sailed it proudly down the Cornwall coast, heading towards the Spanish havens because that was where his nemesis, Santiago Fernandez and his Spanish pirates made port. He was going to take that twenty-two gun warship and blast the hell out of Santiago until he realized the moment his ship came into view of not only the Spanish, but of the French pirates who roamed the coast of Normandy and Brittany, that every pirate in the world came after him. Like dogs after a cat, the pirates came after him in droves.
And that was when he began to realize something was very wrong.
It had turned into a serious battle. He’d had to fight off Los Demonios de Mar, Santiago’s group, as well as The Water Bearers, the French pirates who were so brutal that they cut the feet off of their prisoners so they could not run away. All hell broke loose in the English Channel and the Bay of Biscay, until Shaw turned around and headed for home as fast as he could.
A Spanish prisoner they’d managed to capture in Bilbao told the Scots that their proud flagship had been stolen from the Dutch, and then the French, and then the Spanish, before the English finally got a hold of it. It was a much-coveted ship, and the French and Spanish would do anything they could to reclaim it.
Shaw was fairly certain Constantine had known that.
Therefore, he went between moments of laughter and moments of curses upon his English brother as he sailed the ship northward, into the Irish Sea, claimed by the English and Scots. It was the only safe haven for the vessel, but even those waters weren’t all that safe. The Spanish were known to venture into them and the French wouldn’t think twice about sailing the waters and thumbing their noses at those who controlled them.
Worse still, Shaw found himself fighting off a smaller Irish faction, a group calling themselves Na Madrai Mara, or The Sea Dogs, who suddenly decided they wanted to tangle with the most wanted ship in all the known seas. Furious at the attack of the smaller Irish vessels, Shaw had loaded up the port side cannons and rolled out a nasty barrage, sinking three of the five vessels that had come after them. After that, the Irish had retreated and the Scots continued on to Scarba to figure out what to do with their magnificent, cursed ship.
Still, he’d managed to conduct some business with it, but not as much as he’d hoped. Ultimately, the ship was hidden in an inlet until they figured out what to do with it, and Shaw found it very funny that Constantine, his beloved friend, should saddle him with such a wanted vessel. Moreover, he wasn’t going to let the pirate get away with it. He decided to return the vessel by leaving it right on Constantine’s doorstep, literally the cove at the base of Perran Castle. Shaw hoped it would attract every French, Spanish, and Irish pirate from Dublin all the way to Gibraltar.
And that was why Kelly was here.
He’d sailed the ship down from Scarba because he’d lost the drinking contest that pitted him against Shaw’s other commanders – Thor and Lachlan – to see who would take the ship south. They’d taken drink after drink of the strongest whisky from the Highlands, and Kelly had been the first one to falter. He’d lost the contest and found himself in command of a ship everyone in the world was gunning for. So, he’d taken the ship south with two smaller ships as escorts, praying they would all survive.
But it had been tricky. This time of year, the fog was heavy off of the coast of Cornwall, and the day they’d come within proximity of Perran Castle, his men had spied other vessels in the area. Not wanting to be fended off by Constantine’s men before he could drop the ship and run, he’d come to the shielding coves of the Isles of Scilly, off the tip of Cornwall, to scout out the area before attempting to move near Perran again.
The Leucosia and the two smaller vessels were buried deep in the coves of the several islands that comprised the Isles of Scilly. Kelly and his crew had headed onto the Isle of St. Martin, one of the bigger islands in the group, to watch the sea between Scilly and Land’s End. They had their looking glasses with them and they were more than prepared to use them, making sure to keep an eye out for the opportunity to move swiftly northward to Perran. On a clear day, they could see a great deal, but those days were few and far between this time of year.
Therefore, they’d spent more time on the islands than they’d wanted to, every day going to a ramshackle tavern called the Eastern Hole, eating fish stew and drinking weak ale, waiting for the weather to clear enough so they could see their way to set sail north. Kelly had sent men out to scout the beach and speak with locals, because the local residents often had a grasp of activity on their seas, and Kelly was hoping for some local information on what was happening on the tip of Cornwall. On their ninth day on the islands, he finally got his wish.
One of his men, a young Scots lad with a wild mop of red hair, came running into the tavern just after midday. The young man had been on the north side of the island; Kelly knew that because he’d sent the lad there. When the lad spied his captain, he came barreling over to the table, nearly knocking it over. The weak ale spilled and Kelly hissed.
“Och, laddie,” he said. “Ye charge in here as if the devil himself is chasing ye.”
The boy was flush-faced and excited. “I’ve got news for ye,” he said. “There’s an old man on the north side of the island who says he’s seen the Spanish tae the north for weeks.”
Kelly wiped his ale-wet hand off on his long tunic. “I’m not surprised,” he said. “They are looking for the ship we’ve hidden from them. They’ve been all over these waters as of late.”
But the boy shook his head. “The old man said they came ashore not long ago, looking for water and supplies, and told tale of wanting something from Perran Castle.”
Kelly stared at the young man as he processed what he’d been told. It didn’t make much sense to him. “Wanting something from Perran Castle?” he repeated. “What could they want?”
The lad shook his head. “The old man dinna say, but he said the Spanish are waiting for something from Perran. ’Tis why they haunt these waters right now.”
Kelly didn’t like the sound of that at all. He frowned. “Do they plan tae attack it, then?”
The lad shrugged. “I dunna know,” he said. “But they’re out there, tae the north. If we sail tae Perran, they’ll see us.”
Kelly mulled that over, looking at the other men around the table, men he’d sailed with for years. He knew them and trusted them. Rough, seasoned Scots who knew well these waters.
“What could the Spanish possibly be waiting for?” he asked to no one in particular. “More than that, does Con know that the Spanish are lurking on his front door?”
The man sitting next to him, grizzled and smelly, shook his head. “Any man would be a fool tae attack Perran,” he said. “She’s a beast of a fortress. ’Tis sure doom for any ship tae go near her.”
Kelly knew that. Constantine had built Perran Castle precisely to protect it from sea-going threa
ts, but he still didn’t like the sound of the Spanish lurking in the waters near Perran, evidently waiting for something to come from the fortress. A sense of foreboding pulled at him.
“But if the Spanish truly are lurking,” he said, “why doesna Con chase the ships away?”
The grizzled old pirate looked pointedly at him. “Why should he?” he said. “They’re no threat tae him. He can sit in his fortress and the Spanish can sail around all they want. They canna breach the fortress, so why should Con worry?”
“Because these are his waters,” Kelly pointed out. “They’re our waters. The fact that Con hasna chased them away tells me he doesna know they’re here. Any sane man would send ships tae chase them off.”
“Then if he doesna know they’re here, mayhap it is because Con is still on his wedding trip,” the old pirate pointed out. “Mayhap he’s not even at Perran.”
Kelly cocked an eyebrow at that concerning thought. “And if he returns now, he’ll be sailing right intae them.” He shook his head. “With Con away, that would mean Lucifer is in command, and woe betide the man who tweaks his nose. But does Lucifer even known the Spanish are lurking?”
“Do ye think tae warn him, then?”
“’Tis possible that we must.”
The men around the table eyed each other, tensely, before the old pirate spoke again. “We know what it would be like tae go against the Spanish, especially with a ship like the Leucosia,” he said quietly. “We’d be sailing right tae them. They want our ship – would ye be giving them an opportunity like that?”
Kelly sighed, pondering that very possibility. “We could go in by way of St. Austell and travel over land tae Perran, but the bay is so big that any passing ship would see the Leucosia in all her glory, moored in the bay,” he said. “Moreover, it would take too long tae travel tae Perran Castle through Cornwall. ’Tis a wild place. Nay, lads, if the Spanish are lurking with the intention of purging something from Perran Castle and Lucifer knows nothing about it, then mayhap it is up tae us tae warn him. And leave the Leucosia there when we flee.”
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