Now, it was a dilemma that had overtaken her entire being.
Hanging over her like a great, dark cloud was her entire purpose for being on the ship – betrayal. She’d come to the conclusion that she must tell Constantine the real reason for her presence. She had to untangle the lies she’d told him and pray he could forgive her. But she was terrified the man would never trust her again, and it was that fear that kept her from confessing.
Even now, as he warmed to her, speaking of the bed they would share, she was loathed to tell him the truth. She didn’t want to lose this warmth, this affection, because it was something she’d never known. She’d spent her entire life being treated with cold indifference and to finally find someone who thought she was special, who treated her with kindness and sweetness, made her realize what, exactly, she’d been missing.
It didn’t matter if she became Constantine’s concubine. The man had shown her more joy and warmth than anyone ever had.
She never wanted to lose it.
… God, she was a coward…
“It is something we can discuss at a later time,” she said, unused to flirtatious games. “But I did like the dogs in the bed. They kept me warm.”
Constantine flashed her that brilliant smile. “I shall keep you warm, I promise,” he said. “This big body is exceedingly warm, so you needn’t worry. Now, if you are going to change into traveling clothes, make haste. As soon as the horses and provisions are moved onto the beach, we will make our way to Three Crosses.”
Three Crosses, where the Earl of March’s army awaited him. That fact stuck in Gregoria’s belly, bringing on a fresh wave of nausea. Unable to look at him, knowing her horrible lies were about to come to fruition, she turned away, looking over the sea.
“I… I will change in a moment,” she said. “I have spent all of my time shipboard cramped in that cabin, so I just need a moment or two to breathe fresh air.”
Constantine put a hand on her back, a soothing gesture. “Not too long,” he said. “Breathe your fill and then gather your things. I should like to make it to Three Crosses by the morning.”
She looked at him, then. “Is it that close?”
He looked out over the land, the green line that went as far as the eye could see. “I believe so,” he said. “I will confer with the locals when we go ashore to confirm it.”
Patting her back once more, he headed off, moving to complete his duties before he left the ship. Gregoria watched him go for a moment, his prideful swagger causing her heart to swell with adoration, before returning her focus to the water.
More and more, the realization of where this journey would take them was eating at her, so much so that she was beginning to think of ways to avoid it. If she was so fearful to tell him the truth, then why not lie about it? Could she lie to him and tell him that the cup was lost in the storm? It would be believable, of course. The storm was terrible and everything in the cabin had been tossed around. A bag thrown through one of the open windows would be lost forever.
But it would be one lie atop another, a house of lies that could collapse at some point and ruin everything she was hoping to preserve. As she wrestled with her conscience, her feelings, a shadow fell over the railing and she looked up to see the pirate known as Lucifer standing there.
He was a very big man, very tall and dark. He had eyes that were a murky hazel color and a big scar across his chin. He wasn’t unhandsome, but the fact that the man had a terrifyingly ominous presence made him seem larger than life. Gregoria resisted the urge to recoil from him as he stood a few feet away from her.
“I heard that you did not fare well during the storm, my lady,” Lucifer said politely.
Gregoria smiled weakly. “This is my first time at sea,” she said. “I suppose I failed at becoming a good seaman.”
Lucifer lifted his dark eyebrows, in agreement or in sympathy, it was difficult to know. “A man’s love for the sea is not won all in a night,” he said. “Or a woman’s love for the sea, as it were. It takes time and practice, both of which I understand you shall have.”
She cocked her head curiously. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that Constantine told me you were to be his… companion.”
Gregoria was surprised Constantine had spoken of it and her cheeks mottled a shade of red, embarrassed. She averted her gaze, turning back to the sea. It was clear that she was struggling for an answer in the face of this stranger’s question.
“He… he has been very kind to me,” she said.
Lucifer was studying her with those intense eyes. “Kind?” he repeated. “Is that why you have agreed to stay with him? Simply for kindness?”
Gregoria shrugged. “I think that you have asked a very personal question, my lord,” she said politely. “This is something that is between Constantine and me. I am sure if he had wanted you to know more, he would have told you.”
She was right, but Lucifer thought he saw defensiveness in her manner. Guilt. So she didn’t want to be questioned? He didn’t like it because it suggested to him that the woman had something to hide.
“Mayhap he will,” he said coolly. “Or mayhap it is none of my affair. In any case, there is something you should know.”
She looked at him. “What is it?”
He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Know that I shall be watching you,” he said, his tone a throaty growl. “If, at any time, you hurt the man or lead him to harm, I shall slit your throat and they will never find your body. Therefore, if I were you, I would watch my step. I would make sure everything you do for Con, you do with his happiness and health in mind. If you have any other motive, the last thing you see will be my blade carving into your flesh. Is this in any way unclear?”
Gregoria went pale; she could see simply by looking at the man that he meant every word. He meant to kill her if he had a mind to. But she couldn’t decide if it was a purely selfish motive or because he cared for Constantine, as his commander. All Gregoria knew was that she’d just had her life threatened by a pirate and she believed him, implicitly.
“It is clear,” she said, trying not to sound as if the man had frightened her to death, which he had. “You… you needn’t worry.”
Lucifer lifted one of those dark eyebrows, like the arch of a raven’s wing. He didn’t believe her but he stopped short of refuting her. He’d made his position on the matter clear enough.
“I hope not,” he said. “Do not give me a reason to doubt you and we shall get along fine.”
Was he toying with her? Now, Gregoria’s fear was turning into anger. “Because you have threatened me?” she asked. “You have just established the relationship between us, and I will respect it. There will be no ‘getting along’. Do not expect a great friend simply because you have threatened my life and I am afraid of you. I am not, you know. Not in the least.”
Lucifer rather liked her reply; it was bold. The woman wasn’t afraid to stand up to him or, at least, she wasn’t willing to let him bully her. “Then we understand one another.”
“We do.”
“Then there will be no mistaking where we stand.”
“None at all, my lord.”
That was all he wanted to know. Turning away, he headed down to the hold of the ship where the men were starting to bring out the ramp to offload the horses. He had duties to attend to, but he’d also felt the need to make sure the lady understood his position in all of this. He didn’t like the situation in the least, or the spell she seemed to have cast over Constantine, and he wanted to make sure she was aware.
He had his eye on her.
Chapter Twelve
Eynon Bay had a small village just off the sand where there were a few businesses before the forests of Wales closed in on them. It was a nice, cozy little village, with smoke from chimneys streaming up into the sky now that the storm was easing, pewter-colored clouds blown away by the crisp breeze.
But the village was empty. Or, at least, that’s what Constantine thought as they
came up the path from the sandy beach and entered the town proper. There was absolutely no one moving about in the early afternoon, but it occurred to him that they were probably all in hiding with the Gaia sitting out in the bay. It was a recognizable ship along this coast. They were fearful that Constantine le Brecque and his legion were coming for their women, their money, and their blood.
Pulling his silver steed to a halt as he came to the edge of the town, Constantine motioned Lucifer forward. All the while, he was looking around, concerned with the fact that everything seemed unnaturally still. The only things moving seemed to be the birds overhead and the soft lap of the waves against the shore.
“My lord?” Lucifer asked as he came alongside.
Constantine was looking over the soggy, wind-swept village. “I fear our reputation has preceded us,” he said. “I was hoping for a hot meal on a table that wasn’t rocking from side to side.”
Lucifer was looking around because Constantine was. “I do not think anyone is open for business.”
Constantine cast him a long look. “Let us see if we cannot change their minds.”
With that, he charged into the town and raced up to the first establishment, a shuttered tavern with the name “The Sea Hag” carved into a piece of driftwood above the door. Clearly a tavern of some kind, Constantine kicked at one of the shuttered windows until the wood splintered. He could hear gasps of fear inside, which told him that people were, indeed, hiding from the pirates out in the bay. But he was used to dealing with such fear; the only way to combat it was to give them what they expected and then leave them in peace, causing them to feel as if they’d been spared by that which they feared. It was a cruel, if not effective, tactic.
“I want hot food and cold drink,” he bellowed into the broken window. “Let me in and you shall not suffer. But if you do not unbar the door, I shall burn this place over your head. The choice is yours.”
By this time, Lucifer and the others had come riding up behind him, including Gregoria. She was a little wide-eyed at Constantine’s tactics, but they had the desired effect – in short order, the door to the tavern was unbarred and Constantine dismounted his horse, securing the animal before he made his way inside.
Lucifer, Gregoria, Augustin, Remy, and the men that had been selected as an escort followed. But it was a hesitant group, suspicious of what might be waiting for them inside. But when all seemed safe enough, they proceeded deeper into the structure.
The tavern was dark because the windows were shuttered, but they managed to find a table near the hearth. There was a lot of fumbling and banging going on because it was so dark. When Augustin smacked his knee on the edge of the table, he roared.
“Open the bloody windows!” he boomed, rubbing at his pained knee. “And bring us some candles before we break our necks in this place!”
In the darkness, Remy smacked into him, accidentally. He reached out quickly, grabbing Augustin’s arm to steady him.
“That is probably what they are hoping for,” he muttered.
Augustin cast the man an annoyed expression but he kept his mouth shut, more or less presuming that Remy was correct. He didn’t want to admit that he hadn’t thought of that. As they took their seats at a large, heavy table near the hearth, which was being stoked to bring forth some light into the room, an old man and his equally old wife approached the table.
“I haven’t much by way of a hot meal, m’lord,” the old man said nervously. “What we had this morning is almost gone and the meal for tonight is not yet finished cooking.”
Constantine sat on the end of the bench, wearily, pulling Gregoria down to sit next to him. “Are you the tavern owner?”
“I am, m’lord.”
“What do you have to eat that is plentiful?”
The old man, round and rather slovenly, was wringing his hands. “Bread and cheese,” he said. “I have stewed apples.”
“What do you have to drink?”
“Ale from Swansea.”
“Bring it all. Whatever you have, we will eat it.” He caught Gregoria’s worried expression and had an idea why the woman was concerned. They were pirates, after all, and their intentions when it came to demanding service were never predictable. “And… we mean you no harm. We are not here to steal anything from you or roust you. Provide a good meal and I shall pay you handsomely.”
The old man nodded and dashed off, back to the rear of the establishment with his wife shuffling after him. Constantine reached out and poked Remy across the table, pointing to the couple that had run off into the kitchen.
“Go with them,” he said. “Make sure they do not poison whatever they plan to feed us.”
Remy nodded and stood up, a dagger in one hand and the other hand on the hilt of the sword at his side. Gregoria anxiously watched him go.
“He is not going to hurt them, is he?” she asked.
Constantine shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “But we want to make sure they do not try to hurt us, either. There have been times when hosts have tried to rid the world of our type of menace.”
Gregoria suspected what he meant, especially since she’d heard the order he’d given to Remy. “They believe they are doing the world a service by poisoning your food and drink?”
“Aye, something like that.”
Behind them, more of the shuttered windows were opened, allowing the light and breeze to infiltrate the common room. The temperatures were mild enough that the windows could be open, ventilating the otherwise smelly room. The other patrons of the tavern, who had been hiding in the shadows, crept out to resume their seating now that it had been established that Constantine and his men were only here to have a meal. Slowly, things began to return to normal as the ale and bread and cheese began to make it out to the table.
Conversation was quiet for the most part as the ale was passed around. Constantine went to pour some for himself, thought better of it, and moved to pour it for Gregoria first. It was the polite thing to do, but he was so unused to being polite around women that he had to stop and think about how to behave. He didn’t want her thinking he was a barbarian. He tipped the pitcher over her cup, but she suddenly put out a hand, stopping him.
“I… I do not think I want any ale,” she said.
He looked at her, realizing she seemed a little pale. “Why not?”
She swallowed, looking at him strangely. “Because ale makes my head swim,” she said. “And even as I sit here, I feel as if I am still on the ship.”
He noticed she was holding on to the table with one hand and he grinned. “I understand,” he said. “That happens to most of us when we come onto dry land after being on the sea. Remember? I told you I did not like being on the land very much because it made me sick.”
She smiled wanly. “Now, it is making me sick also.”
“That is exactly how I feel every time I disembark the ship,” Augustin said from across the table. He had heard their conversation. “I have been at sea for several years and, still, it makes me ill, so I know exactly how you feel.”
Gregoria found some hope in that statement. “What do you do for it?”
Augustin held up a finger as if to beg her patience as he turned to the tavern owner, who was standing at the end of the table, ensuring everyone had enough to eat and drink.
“You, there,” Augustin said to the man. “Do you have any peppermint or ginger? Even cloves would do, either mashed up by itself or used as an ingredient in something.”
The old man considered the question seriously. “The boiled apples have cinnamon and cloves in them,” he said. “And a touch of honey and onions and vinegar.”
Augustin waved the man on. “Bring two big bowls,” he said. “One for me and one for the lady.”
As the man dashed off, Gregoria looked at Augustin was some fear. “Apples and onions?”
Augustin nodded. “Trust me,” he said. “Eating them will settle your belly, especially with the cloves.”
Gregoria didn’t argue with h
im; she assumed he had much more experience in this kind of thing than she did. “How long before the world stops rocking?” she asked.
Augustin grinned. “An hour or less,” he said. “Give it time. Soon enough, it will settle down.”
It was encouraging to hear that because, at the moment, she was quite uncomfortable with the way everything was moving about. Underneath the table, she could feel Constantine’s hand on her knee, giving her a squeeze now and then, and she couldn’t even enjoy it.
“I fear that I would make a terrible seaman,” she said to Constantine. “I like it much better on land.”
He chuckled. “It probably would not be so bad had we not run into the storm,” he said. “When the seas are smooth, there is nothing more wonderful.”
Gregoria watched him as he spoke, seeing his love for the sea in his face as he did so. It was the first time she’d really noticed that, a softening of his features when he spoke of the ocean. Like a man speaking of a lover, almost.
“I can tell that it is something you love to do,” she said quietly.
Underneath the table, he squeezed her knee again. “I have since I was a wee lad,” he said. “My father used to take me aboard his vessels, as I told you, and we would sail the seas. It is where I am most at home.”
“Have you not heard what he is called, my lady?” Augustin entered the conversation again. “It is said that Constantine was borne of the waves and lifted up by the gods of the sea as their most prized possession. Everyone believes that, you know.”
Gregoria’s smile turned genuine as she looked at Constantine. “Is that true?” she asked. “Is that really the story of your immaculate birth?”
He laughed softly. “Not exactly,” he said. “But sometimes it feels I was borne of the sea. That is my home, more than anywhere else on the earth.”
Leader of Titans: Pirates of Britannia: Lords of the Sea Book 2 Page 15