Lucifer shrugged, glancing at the big, blond seaman who faintly resembled Constantine. “It is no secret that our presence is heavy in these waters,” he said. “It is quite possible they are looking for us, or it is equally likely they are simply looking for other victims. Our sails were not unfurled so, in this fog, it is quite possible they do not even know it was us. They have merely seen a shape.”
Curtiz turned his attention back to the fog, which seemed to be lifting ever so slightly. “Or they are looking for Constantine and his new wife,” he muttered. “Word that Con has gone on a wedding trip has spread, and I have little doubt that our enemies have heard. Mayhap, they are even testing out these waters with the Sea-God away. Mayhap, they will challenge our supremacy.”
That was a good point and one that had crossed Lucifer’s mind. He glanced up at the sky, seeing flashes of blue through the white mist. Soon enough, the fog would clear and it would be a beautiful day with soft sea breezes and the gulls crying overhead. But for Lucifer, there was much more to the day than simply the sky or the sea. He grunted.
“Then they will be sorely disappointed if they test me,” he said. “While Con is in France with Lady le Brecque enjoying his wedding trip, I am in command of his Legion and anyone who challenges that command will be met with a firm and deadly hand. They would be foolish to try.”
He said it in a tone that left no room for doubt, and Remy grinned as he listened to the boast. But it wasn’t so much of a boast as it was the truth. As Constantine’s First Mate, Lucifer had always been one to follow his leader without question, commanding when it was necessary, and conveying the impression that one did not contest his ways and live to tell the tale. But with the event of Constantine putting him in command of Poseidon’s Legion, and his empire, while he was away, Lucifer’s stoic and ominous manner had taken on dimension. Now, he had the full feel of a captain behind him, which made the man that much more terrifying.
Remy had no intention of crossing him.
“Aye, my lord,” he said. “Now that we are heading back to Perran Castle with the Spanish at our backs, what will your first order of business be?”
Lucifer glanced at him. “It will be the same as it was when we left Eynon Bay,” he said. “We are heading home with a hold full of fine goods that we took from the merchant vessel foolish enough to drop anchor where they should not have. Once there, we will offload it, pay the men what they are due for the haul, and then I must deal with a few issues that have been left to my care in the wake of Con’s departure.”
“Like what?”
“Several, but the first ones that comes to mind are those two heiresses that we have imprisoned at Perran. I told Con that I would deal with them.”
Remy knew who he was speaking of. Last month, they’d intercepted a heavily-laden merchant vessel crossing from Ireland to the port of Plymouth. It has been a very rich vessel and they’d taken a huge haul from it, including the two daughters of the merchant who owned the ship. The women had been taken back to Perran and imprisoned, at Constantine’s orders, until it was decided what to do with them.
Ransoming them back to their father was one thing, or they could very well be auctioned off to pirates willing to pay their price. Constantine had been busy with his marriage, so the duty of deciding their fate had fallen to Lucifer, and Lucifer had been putting it off for weeks. They didn’t normally take female prisoners for any length of time, so Lucifer didn’t want to put it off too much longer. He needed to make a decision and get on with it. He had more important things to worry about than two disruptive females.
“I’d nearly forgotten about them,” Remy said. “As I recall, they were both rather pretty. What do you intend to do with them?”
Lucifer watched a gull fly overhead, disappearing into the fog. “Something,” he muttered, turning away from the railing. “Anything. With Con away, I have enough to worry over without having to deal with a pair of she-cats. Mayhap, I shall auction them off and keep the money for myself.”
“Oh?” Remy was interested. He had an eye for pretty women, and they for him. “How much will you ask for the pair?”
Lucifer pushed himself off the rail and began to head towards the bow. “I have not yet decided,” he said as he walked away. “But for you, the price is doubled, whatever it is.”
Remy smirked. “As I recall, the elder one was quite the spitfire,” he called after Lucifer. “You may have to pay me to take her off your hands if no one else wants her.”
Lucifer simply waved him off, knowing that would never be the case. The elder daughter – he’d forgotten her name – was, indeed, a spitfire. But she was also quite fine, as he recalled. She would bring a fine price should he decide to sell her, and perhaps an even finer price should he ransom her back to her father. Either way, she was his responsibility and he was going to make it worth his while.
As Lucifer departed for the bow, and Remy and Felix went about their business, Curtiz remained at the stern. He had been listening to the conversation quite carefully. He knew of the female captives because he’d been at Perran Castle when the ship bearing the women had come ashore. And he had been the one to settle the women in their new prison home.
Curtiz had been their jailor for the most part, at least in those first few early days. And as their jailor, he’d observed much. Mostly, he’d observed that no one seemed to be paying much attention to the women in the wake of Constantine’s marriage. Being that the women were being ignored, and that they were a valuable commodity, Curtiz did what pirates do – made the most of an opportunity, even if it was under the nose of his leader.
And that was why the Spanish were here.
Only, he wasn’t going to tell Lucifer any of that. He would pretend he had no idea why the Spanish had come. But the truth was that the Spanish had come to Perran Castle on his invitation to take on the daughters of a wealthy merchant so they could negotiate with the women’s father. Even if the Spanish pirates didn’t return the women to their desperate father, the women were both quite beautiful and would make fine concubines for the Spanish pirates.
But it was all for a price… and Curtiz was demanding a high price, one that the Spanish were willing to pay. After the loss of the Leucosia, they saw it as a great opportunity to take something from Constantine le Brecque, something of value, and Curtiz was more than willing to be the intermediary for the transfer.
The truth was that he didn’t have any real loyalty to Constantine or Poseidon’s Legion. He’d been bouncing around since his service to de Nerra and his only purpose in life was to make money, so the opportunity with the two female captives had been too good to pass up. They would be gone before Lucifer or Constantine realized they had been taken and, God willing, so would Curtiz. He planned to take the money from the Spanish and run.
But meanwhile, he would play the loyal pirate, at least for as long as it suited him. He was a good warrior, an even better sailor, and those skills had been impressed upon Constantine and his crew. He pretended to think as they did and, so far, the ruse had worked.
But he was in this only for himself, as he would soon prove.
Unfortunately, Lucifer was ignorant of the thoughts of a man he was slowly learning to trust. At the moment, he was more concerned with the Melinoe making port before the Spanish figured out they had escaped. The fog had begun to lift and the ship was making excellent time, drawing closer to Perran Castle along the western coast of Cornwall. In fact, the fogbank remained to the south as they passed out of it, leaving the Spanish buried in the mist and still out to sea.
With fair skies ahead and the wind at their back, the Melinoe glided gently into Perranporth Cove beneath the enormous citadel of Perran Castle, and the anchor was thrown into the soft, white sand bottom. Then, and only then, did Lucifer breathe a sigh of relief, for his ship had come home safely and the booty they’d collected from an ill-placed merchant vessel near the coast of Ireland was quickly offloaded and taken up to the great vaults of the castle.
Lucifer was the last man to leave the ship, heading up to the castle as carpenters began to comb over the Melinoe to repair what damage there was from the Spanish cannonballs. It was barely mid-morning, but Lucifer was already thinking about a good meal and a soft bed. He’d been at sea with his men for nearly eight days, so he was anxious to see what had gone on in his absence and administer Constantine’s empire as best he could. But he was seriously thinking that all of that could wait until he’d been fed and rested.
Except for the women captives. His conversation with Remy had brought them to light again, something he’d put aside for so long that thinking of them again brought instant distaste. Damnation, he’d already put them off long enough, and something was nagging at him to see to the women before he took care of his own needs. Given that there was some guilt with the way the women had been caged up for so long, he didn’t want to put it off any longer. He needed to get it over with, and the women had to know they hadn’t been forgotten and that their fates would soon be determined.
In hindsight, his choice to visit the captives that day would be a decision that changed his life.
Read the rest of SEA WOLFE by Kathryn Le Veque
Excerpt from THE MARAUDER
by Anna Markland
Enjoy this except from Anna Markland’s Pirates of Britannia world novel…
Chapter One
ACCUSED
Sevilla, Andalucía, España, 1760
“And so you see,” Alonzo Velázquez explained when he reached the end of the tale he’d recounted many times, “our ancestor was a famous Spanish marauder who gave the Pirates of Britannia a run for their money.”
His guests chuckled politely, as they always did, and raised their sherry glasses. “To Santiago Fernández,” they exclaimed. “Leader of the Demonios del Mar.”
It wasn’t every Spanish nobleman who boasted openly of pirate ancestors, but Alonzo Velázquez de Vallirana y La Granada was probably the richest man in Sevilla, founding owner of a profitable shipping company trading with Spanish colonies in the Americas.
Claiming not to care a whit for public opinion, he never failed to mention that his eldest son had been named for the infamous pirate king who’d lived three hundred years before. Like Fernández, Santiago Velázquez had indeed spent most of his life at sea, plying back and forth across the Atlantic in his favorite ship, the Santa María.
While enjoying the old tales, and proud of his family’s long seafaring history, Santiago considered himself more of a rogue than a pirate. Was he to blame that beautiful women lusted after handsome sea captains, especially ones who stood to inherit a fortune?
Sometimes it was difficult to keep track of his paramours. He had obviously offended Salomé Mendoza when he’d escorted his current ladylove into his father’s house earlier in the evening. She’d slapped his face and stormed off as if they had some sort of permanent arrangement, which he certainly was unaware of. He racked his brain for something he might have said or done to give her the wrong impression, but couldn’t think of anything.
Over the years he’d more or less abandoned the youthful notion of someday finding what his father had enjoyed with his late mother—a great love. And Salomé definitely wasn’t a woman he’d want to spend his life with. Beautiful, yes, but also conniving and given to fits of rage. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d become involved with her in the first place, and resolved to be more careful in future.
Hours later, when all the guests had left, and his younger brothers and sisters had retired, he and his father sat in the salon, sharing a glass or two of Cuban rum.
“I apologize for the scene earlier,” he said, genuinely sorry for Salomé’s outburst. His father went to great lengths to ensure his social gatherings went off without a hitch. Instead, the humiliating slap would be the main topic of gossip among Sevilla’s social elite.
“It will pass,” his father replied. “Everyone knows Salomé takes after her mother.”
It was a gentle reminder that he was expected to exercise better judgement. It was never wise to alienate families of equal social rank.
He drained his glass, rose from his chair and bade his father goodnight. “Hopefully, one day I will acquire your wisdom, Papa,” he said before taking his leave.
Santiago shrugged off the hand shaking him awake. He opened one eye. Why was his valet waking him in the middle of the night? “It’s still dark, go away, Roberto.”
“Wake up, Santi.”
He rolled over, startled when he saw his father’s worried face, rendered all the more haggard by the flickering flame of the candle he held. “What’s wrong?”
“You must go to your ship. Salomé has accused you.”
He rubbed his eyes and sat up. “Of what?”
His father sat on the edge of the bed. “Sexual deviance,” he murmured.
Santiago snorted. He considered himself creative in his lovemaking, but deviant? “She’s off her head,” he replied with a yawn. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow. She’ll calm down.”
“The constables were already here.”
“Constables?”
“From the Suprema.”
He was tempted to laugh. “What on earth could she accuse me of that would interest the Inquisition?”
“Sodomy and homosexuality.”
His blood ran cold. Few men of his age accused of homosexuality escaped the noose, most of them tortured into confessing. Only boys deemed to have been sodomized unwillingly were punished with a whipping. “But you know this isn’t true,” he exclaimed.
“True or not, you must flee. Sail to Cuba. Lie low. I will send word when it’s safe to come home.”
He felt the weight of a heavy bag on his legs, and the thunk of a large amount of coin. He looked up at the tears streaming down his father’s face and his heart broke.
“Take this and go now, my son. I have diverted them, but they will be back.”
Two hours later, the Santa María was sailing down the Guadalquivir, after a hurried and gut-wrenching farewell. His valet had sobbed almost as much as his wailing sisters. His white-faced brothers had been unable to speak. His father had struggled unsuccessfully not to break down, finally mumbling a reassurance that his sainted mother would watch over him.
While supplies were being loaded in Cádiz, he explained to the crew that the ship wouldn’t be making the return voyage. They could either stay in Cádiz, return to Spain in another of his father’s ships or start a new life in the Americas with him. It was gratifying that the majority chose to sail with him, not surprising after he distributed some of his father’s coin as an incentive. As he sailed away from his beloved country and everyone he loved and cherished, he doubted his broken heart would ever mend. Never again would he allow a woman to destroy his life.
Read the rest of The Marauder…
The Pirate's Temptation (Pirates of Britannia World Book 12) Page 20