As those at the table watched, the man began to toss her skirts up right then and there, wedging himself between her legs as he fumbled with the tie on his braies. As Kelly turned back to the men, disinterested in the whore and her customer, the two began having sex right there against the wall of the tavern.
“God’s Bones,” the old pirate grumbled. “The wench’s privates must be as loose and slick as my teeth. Does the lass never take a rest?”
Kelly fought off a grin because, by God, it was the truth, all of it. “She has been very busy since Eynon Bay,” he agreed, but soon veered back to the subject at hand. “But enough of the wench. I say that if Shaw was here, he would want us tae warn Lucifer of the Spanish presence. Con would do the same for us, I say.”
The men around the table agreed, although it was reluctantly. They didn’t want to get into a big battle with the Spanish but, given the circumstances, it was surely inevitable. Still, if Perran Castle was being stalked, then perhaps the presence of the Leucosia and two more Scottish vessels might deter whatever the Spanish had in mind. In any case, Kelly and his men couldn’t simply sit there and wait for something to happen.
Spanish or no Spanish, they had to make it to Perran Castle.
“Then we leave on the morrow,” Kelly said as his men resigned themselves to the inevitable. “We’ll sail close tae the shore and hope the Spanish dunna see us.”
The old pirate lifted his eyebrows, bushy and uneven. “’Tis a big ship not tae be seen, Kelly.”
“We’ll have tae take that chance.”
There was no room for argument. Their path was set and, one by one, the men finished their drinks and wandered out of the tavern, heading back to the ships that were moored and the pale blue waters of the Scilly coves. There were preparations to make and stores to bring on.
God only knew what they would face tomorrow.
Chapter Six
Perran Castle
Genevieve wasn’t distressed that Lucifer had taken her to a chamber other than her own. In fact, she was rather pleased by it.
They could continue their conversation here and, perhaps, she could even wrest a complete and utter promise that he would permit her to buy her freedom. The longer she spent time with the man, the better, and injury or no, she wasn’t going to let that conversation die.
She wanted her freedom.
But she’d had to twist her ankle to do it. At least, that’s what Genevieve thought she’d initially done when there was shooting pain in her ankle as she put weight on it. But it was much better now as she sat upon a comfortable chair in a chamber Lucifer had brought her to. It was a rather spartan chamber, with a bed, a table and benches, and little else. Lucifer had even had the chair brought in from another room.
Now, Genevieve sat upon it with her foot propped up on a bench from the table. Her brown cloak was tossed aside and her leg was propped upon a pillow. Lucifer was standing over an older man as he poked and felt at her ankle.
Genevieve didn’t even know who the man was, but she assumed he was the physic Lucifer had sent the servants running for. He reeked heavily of alcohol as he grunted and sighed, his bad breath billowing up in her face as he inspected the ankle she’d twisted. Finally, he stood up.
“Hot and cold water,” he said in oddly-accented English.
Lucifer looked him curiously. “And do what with it?”
The physic pointed to her ankle, skin exposed as she kept the skirt of her dress tightly wrapped around her legs to preserve her modesty. “Hot and cold compresses,” he said. “First hot water, then cold water, and so on. Do it for the rest of the day.”
With that, he staggered from the chamber, taking the heavy smell of alcohol with him. Lucifer was already speaking to a male servant, instructing the man to bring both hot and cold water, and plenty of rags. As the servant fled, Lucifer shut the door of the chamber and turned to Genevieve.
Their eyes met and, for a moment, neither one spoke. They simply looked at each other. Finally, he smiled weakly.
“At least you did not break it,” he said. “That is good news.”
Genevieve nodded. “Who was that man? The one that stank of drink?”
Lucifer lifted his eyebrows. “A very good physic,” he said. “Unfortunately, he cannot control his drink, so he is drunk at any given hour of the day or night. Even so, he has steady hands even when he is drunk. Con keeps him on because he is so skilled.”
“Con?”
“Le Brecque.”
Genevieve should have known that, but she’d only heard the leader of Poseidon’s Legion addressed by his full first or last name. She watched Lucifer’s face as the man came over to her and peered down at her ankle.
“He is your friend,” she observed.
He looked at her. “Who?”
“Le Brecque.”
Lucifer nodded. “We are as brothers.”
“How did he come to be a pirate?”
Lucifer sat down on the bench that was supporting her outstretched leg, careful not to jostle it. “Like me, he fell into it,” he said. “Every man in Poseidon’s Legion has a great story to tell, but Constantine’s is perhaps greater than most.”
“Why?”
He was looking at her slightly swollen ankle as he spoke. “Because he is the bastard son of Henry V,” he said. “He is Henry’s eldest son and, had he been legitimate, it would be he sitting upon the throne of England now and not that weakling Henry. England would be in very good hands, and Edward and Warwick would be easily subdued.”
Genevieve was quite surprised to hear this. “Is he truly?” she said with awe. “A royal bastard, I mean. He should be commanding great armies of men and not relegated to the seas.”
Lucifer nodded, glancing at her. “As I should not be commanding men upon the seas, either, but assuming my proper place as Wolverhampton’s heir,” he said, watching her smile apologetically. He smiled in return. “I will say it once more – every man here has a great story to tell, but some are greater than others.”
Genevieve was prevented from replying as a pair of servants entered the chamber, bearing bowls of water and boiled linen. Lucifer stood up and began organizing things, setting the bowls of water together on a nearby table and making sure one of the servants was sent to bring in a bigger pot of water they could boil over the hearth. A big iron arm located inside the hearth was used to hang the water over the flame.
As Genevieve watched, Lucifer soaked some boiled linen in the hot water and placed it over her ankle, holding it snuggly. It was very hot and Genevieve hissed uncomfortably. Lucifer glanced up at her, apologetically.
“I am sorry,” he said. “It must be done. It will take down the swelling.”
Genevieve simply nodded, wincing with pain when he squeezed her ankle. “I must say that I’ve never had anyone tend me so carefully,” she said. “Certainly not my father, and my mother died so long ago that I do not even remember such things.”
Lucifer shrugged. “It is right I should tend you, I suppose,” he said. “It was I who brought you outside to walk. I suppose it is my fault that you slipped.”
Genevieve shook her head. “It could have happened anywhere,” she said. “It is not your fault. But I am curious about one thing.”
“What is that?”
“Why did you bring me to this chamber? Why did you not take me back to my chamber?”
He didn’t look at her. “This is my chamber and I brought you here because the last thing you need is to be tripping over all of the dogs in the chambers you share with your sister,” he said. “Of course, I’ve noticed those mongrels. Here, there is no danger of you tripping over anything.”
It sounded like a chivalrous declaration and, increasingly, it was difficult for Genevieve not to feel giddy over the man’s behavior. Their conversation in the bailey had revealed something about the man, something deeper than she could have imagined, and she very much wanted to continue their dialogue. She remembered something else from their conversation
, the last thing he’d said to her before she’d twisted her ankle – do you think that I would just throw you out into the dangerous world?
For a pirate, he was making a remarkable attempt at showing the chivalry and compassion that noble knights displayed. But, according to him, he’d been trained as a knight and had served as one for a long time.
It would seem that the noble knight was still there, underneath the pirate façade.
“May we continue our conversation from the bailey?” she asked. “We were speaking of where I would go once I obtained my freedom, and you asked if I could sew.”
He nodded as he pulled the compress off. “I recall.”
“If you do not need an interpreter, then mayhap I can sew for you and your men here at your fortress,” she said. “As I told you, I can sew very well. I could make things for your men and charge them for the privilege.”
He plunged the compress into the cold water, wringing it out. “I suppose you could.”
“Who makes your clothing now?”
“There are a few female servants in the kitchens that provide that service, but they are not very good. I have my clothing made in St. Austell.”
“I would be happy to make and mend your clothing from now on.”
He put the compress on her ankle, glancing up at her as he did so. “For a price, of course.”
“Of course. How else am I to buy my freedom?”
She was pushing hard on earning her freedom and had been since their conversation began. Not that he blamed her. What had started out as a subject he was considering last night now because a subject he didn’t want to talk about. Freedom would mean she would leave him, and he’d come to the unalterable conclusion that he didn’t want her to leave him, at least until he figured out what, exactly, he seemed to be feeling. Curiosity and interest had turned into something else, something that made his insides quiver and his palms sweat. It was so different than what he’d felt for the duchess those years ago – this seemed to be deeper and far less superfluous.
It was something more.
God, that scared him.
“Are you truly sure you want to do that?” he asked. Then he saw the look on her face and realized it was probably the most foolish question he’d ever asked because his tone suggestion that, perhaps, he didn’t want her to do it. Quickly, he continued. “Buy your freedom, I mean. What of this aunt in Carlisle? What if she will not permit you to live with her? Then you will be alone in the world, with no one to protect you, nowhere to go.”
“But… but you said I could sew to earn my way.”
He shrugged, pressing the compress down on her ankle. “Of course you can. But is that truly all you want to be in life?” he asked. “Clearly, you are quite accomplished. Far more accomplished than most women. And you are very beautiful, meaning you would make a great prize for any nobleman. Is that not what you planned your entire life? To be married and have a home of your own?”
Genevieve thought on that seriously. “I think that any chance of my having a normal life ended when my father betrothed me to de Noble,” she said. “He has promised me to a husband I do not want. What good and decent man would take me when there is a legal contract with another man?”
Me! Lucifer’s mind screamed. He was feeling like the most foolish man in the world at the moment, wrestling with thoughts and feelings he’d never before experienced, and utterly unable to voice them.
“What if he was not a good and decent man, simply a man who wanted you and would be kind to you?” he asked before he could stop himself. Horrified, he tried to cover his gaff. “The world is not made of only virtuous men, my lady. There are plenty of other men who would be a descent husband and you would have a good life. They would be proud to have you as a wife.”
Genevieve watched him as he spoke; he wouldn’t look at her. He kept his head down, focused on her ankle, and he seemed very determined into talking her into marrying someone other than de Noble. She was confused. Would he, or would he not, allow her to purchase her freedom? Why was he trying to make it seem as if she had other options when the truth was that she didn’t?
“I suppose that when I was younger, I hoped for a handsome husband and a home of my own,” she said, uncertainty in her voice with the turn of the conversation. “It is what all young girls hope for. But the moment my father sealed the contract with de Noble, that became impossible. But I sense you have other intentions, Lucifer. It seems as if you are trying to convince me that finding another husband will be a better life for me. Does this mean you do not intend to allow me to purchase my freedom?”
Lucifer didn’t know what he meant. All he knew was that he didn’t want her to leave. And he certainly didn’t want her marrying anyone else, but he couldn’t let her know that. Feeling like an indecisive idiot, he pulled the cold compress off her ankle and went back over to the bowls of water.
“Nay,” he said after a moment. “It does not mean that I do not intend to allow you to purchase your freedom. As I said, you are a valuable commodity, so I suppose it does not matter how I get my money for you, only that I get it. If you wish to purchase your freedom by being a seamstress at Perran Castle, then I shall allow it until Constantine returns from his wedding trip. He may have something more to say about it but, until that time, I shall permit it.”
His words were cruel and welcome at the same time. He would allow her to purchase her freedom, but it was clear that he was only concerned about the money. That was all she meant to him. Genevieve had never felt more disappointed in her life.
… Hurt.
“I… I will earn my keep, I promise,” she said. “How much do you want for my freedom?”
Lucifer looked at her, thinking she sounded depressed. He wondered why. Wasn’t that the answer she wanted? He was trying to do what she wanted. When their eyes met, he simply couldn’t look at her. He was afraid she would see the confusion in his eyes. Lowering his gaze, he went back to the compress.
“I have not yet decided,” he said. “I will give it some thought and let you know.”
Genevieve didn’t press him. She was feeling so incredibly sad that tears were stinging her eyes and she truly had no idea why. The man was a pirate, her captor. Yet in the short conversations she’d had with the man, she’d felt such warmth and attraction for him that she could hardly describe it. She knew she’d seen warmth in his eyes when he’d looked at her but, now, she realized she must have been imagining it. He was talking about the money he could make from her and those certainly weren’t the words of a man who was feeling something.
Perhaps there really was no warmth.
Genevieve truly had no idea why that should distress her so, but it did. She was coming to realize that her game of charming the man, her attempts to seduce him to her will, were turning the tables on her. In her attempts to charm him, he’d thoroughly managed to charm her in return with his soft-spoken but deep voice, the big dimple in his cheeks when he smiled, and the way he had of looking at her that made her insides turn to jelly.
Aye, she could admit it. But in doing so, there was great angst in her heart. How could she remain with a man who saw her as nothing more than a commodity? Lucifer was a man she was very much attracted to and the thought that he would never see her in any other light was painful.
Genevieve hadn’t been exposed to many men in her time, and certainly not enough to discover a fondness for any of them. But Lucifer, a man she’d tried to injure, but a man who had shown her compassion beyond compassion, had managed to prick his way under her skin. Now, he was there, and she had no idea how to remove him.
She didn’t want to see him anymore.
“Will you do something for me?” she asked, her throat tight with emotion.
Lucifer could hear the tone of her voice, sensing that something was amiss. “What is it?”
“Will you take me back to my chamber?”
He set the compress down. “Why?” he asked. “Are you feeling unwell?”
G
enevieve nodded. Then, to her great embarrassment, she burst into quiet tears.
Lucifer was stricken. He had no idea why she was weeping but, then again, women were mysterious creatures. Perhaps it was nothing more than a woman having an attack of the bad humors, which happened all of the time, or perhaps it was more. Genevieve didn’t seem like a weak-willed woman who was prone to bad humors. Quite the contrary.
She was the strongest woman he’d ever seen.
“Are you in pain, my lady?” he asked, rather gently. “Tell me where it hurts so that I can…”
She cut him off. “Nay,” she said. “Please… just take me back to my chamber.”
Lucifer didn’t like to see her cry. Nay, he didn’t like that in the least. “Will you please tell me what is wrong?” he asked. “Mayhap I can help.”
“You cannot help!” she burst. “You have already helped enough! First you say you are going to sell me to the highest bidder, and then you suggest that I may be able to buy my freedom, and then you tell me that I am worth only money to you, as if… as if I am nothing more!”
She suddenly stopped, realizing she was spouting the thoughts that were on her mind, certainly not things she should be saying to Lucifer. She didn’t want to have to explain herself.
But Lucifer caught on. Calmly, and with great deliberation, he sat back down on the bench that was supporting Genevieve’s foot. All the while, he couldn’t take his eyes from her.
“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.
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