“But you were returning to Plymouth to marry the man.”
“De Noble’s men came to Ireland and made Genni board the ship by putting swords to her back!” Vivienne abruptly piped up, causing everyone at the table to look at her. Appalled to realize she was now the center of attention, her face flushed violently. “She did not want to go but they forced her.”
She shoved bread into her mouth so she couldn’t speak anymore, head lowered. Genevieve couldn’t help but grin at her sister. Vivienne didn’t say much, but when she did, it was usually something she shouldn’t be speaking of. She blurted things all over the place sometimes. She was not a brilliant conversationalist, but that was part of her youthful charm.
“Nay, I did not want to go,” Genevieve said, returning her focus to Lucifer. “But I was forced onto the ship by de Nobel’s men, men who were lost when you attacked us. I cannot say that I am sorry for them.”
Lucifer was beginning to understand the situation a little more. Genevieve was being forced back to England to marry a man she wanted no part of, caught in a circumstance of her father’s making. He remembered again how valiantly the sailors aboard the merchant vessel had fought for her. It wasn’t chivalry at all.
They’d been protecting their prize.
Nay, this was no innocent betrothal or happy return to England, and any man who bartered a daughter to pay his gambling debts was an unscrupulous man, indeed. Even Lucifer, with years of piracy behind him, didn’t approve of such a thing. There was thievery and piracy, and then there was the betrayal and piracy of one’s own flesh and blood. Lucifer couldn’t say he would so willingly give his daughter away to pay a debt. In truth, Genevieve’s tale explained a little of why she was so belligerent – evidently, she had some right to be.
“Then mayhap, we did you a favor,” he said after a moment. “You are no longer destined to marry de Noble.”
Genevieve was watching him closely, already finished with one cup of wine as a servant poured her another. She didn’t usually drink wine that wasn’t watered, so the full force of the drink was already pulsing through her veins and loosening her tongue.
“I am not,” she said. “But mayhap, you will understand when I say I would rather spend my life locked away in your dungeons than sold off to the highest bidder. Do you still intend to sell me?”
Lucifer could see her forceful nature pushing through with her honest question. She had put him on the spot, something he didn’t particularly like.
“Do you truly wish to discuss this now?” he asked. “We are having a pleasant meal and a pleasant conversation. Surely, you do not wish to ruin that.”
Genevieve took another swig of wine, unaware that the wine was not only loosening her tongue, but also causing her to feel her emotions – like fear. Looking at Lucifer, she was suddenly more fearful than she had ever been since her arrival.
“All prisoners are offered one last meal before they lose their lives or their freedom,” she said. “Is that what this is? My last meal before you consign me to the nameless horror of my future?”
Lucifer could see that the conversation was taking a downturn. He didn’t want a battle with the woman, not now when the evening had been going so well. But perhaps, it had only really been going well for him. Why had he invited Genevieve to his table? Because he couldn’t get her off his mind? Because he was intrigued with the woman? It was both, and he knew it, and he certainly didn’t want a fight on his hands, not when things had been pleasant up until this point. There was disappointment in the thought of it going back to the way it was earlier, when they had nearly come to blows in her chamber. Nay, he didn’t want that at all. He found himself wanting to ease her.
Abruptly, he stood up.
“Come,” he said to her as he came to her chair and practically pulled her to her feet. “Walk with me, lady.”
Genevieve found herself being pulled along. Her wine was still in her hand, but Lucifer removed it from her grasp and set it on the table. Before Genevieve realized it, she was being forcibly escorted from the hall as Lucifer had her by the arm. By the time they hit the keep entry, she began to struggle.
“Wait!” she said, digging her heels in even as he tried to pull her forward. “Where are you taking me?”
Lucifer almost lost his grip on her as he took her into the bailey. “Out here,” he said. “It seems to me that you have been held captive for too long in a confined space and need to breathe fresh air. I believe you are losing your mind.”
“I am not losing my mind!”
“You are clearly unbalanced.”
Genevieve was outraged. “I am unbalanced because you told me that my sister and I are to be sold to the highest bidder,” she fired back. “Put yourself in my position. If you were me, would such a future not unbalance you?”
He came to a halt and she yanked herself from his grasp, slapping at his hands when he tried to regain his grip. Rather than get into a slapping fight with her, he stopped his attempts to reclaim her. Instead, he faced her. But facing her meant he was looking at her. And beneath the nearly full moon, her beauty was exquisite, enough to cause him to pause and stare. Truly, he didn’t want to fight with the woman. But he would reason with her.
“I am not at issue here,” he said. “We are speaking of you. Tell me, my lady. If you had your choice, what would you have me do?”
Genevieve blinked at the question, that he should ask such a thing. “Do?” she repeated, almost dumbly. But she quickly recovered. “I would have you release me, of course.”
“Release you where?”
“Back to Ireland,” she said firmly. “I want to go back to Ireland.”
He nodded as if that was reasonable enough. “Back to your father’s properties?”
“Aye.”
He cocked his head. “Correct me if I am wrong, but if I send you back there, won’t your betrothed go looking for you there again?”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “I mean that he forced you onto a ship to bring you back to England, once,” he said. “If I return you to Ireland, won’t he come for you again? This time, he may actually succeed in forcing you to marry him. Pirates might not be around to save you from your fate.”
Genevieve thought on that seriously, mostly because Vivienne had said the same thing. In her heart, she knew it was true. But could she admit that to him? Would she? Suddenly, her view of her world turned into a crushing, confusing thing. There was nowhere she could go that de Noble wouldn’t find her, and he had every legal right to do so. But what had the most impact on her was one thing Lucifer had said – pirates might not be able to save you this time.
God’s Bones, he was right. Pirates had saved her.
Sighing heavily, she looked away.
“Vivi also said that de Noble would find me in Ireland again,” she muttered. Then, she shook her head in resignation. “I have three choices for my life and none of them are appealing – I can return to my betrothed, I can be imprisoned in your dungeons, or I can be sold to the highest bidder. Is… is that truly all I am to be? Is that truly all I will ever become?”
Lucifer heard such hopelessness in her tone. Coming from such a strong woman, it was a sad thing to hear, even for him. Oddly enough, he felt some guilt for it. Even if she was bold and unruly, still, she at least had strength enough to stand for herself and, in his own way, he was coming to admire that.
“It seems to me that the best of those choices would be to return to de Noble,” he said quietly. “At least you could live as his lady wife, with some freedom and wealth.”
She looked at him, them. “Are you saying you would return me to him?” Before he could answer, she shook her head firmly. “Nay, I will not go to him. I told you before – I would rather be imprisoned in your dungeons before I would go to him. But tell me something, Lucifer… if this is about the money because, as you said, I have some value, is there some way I could buy my freedom from you? Mine and Vivi’s?”
Luci
fer wasn’t even offended that she’d called him by his name. In fact, he rather liked it. But her question not only surprised him, it amused him.
“Do you believe you have enough money to buy your freedom?” he asked.
Genevieve shook her head. “Not now,” she said, “But I could work it off, couldn’t I? Would you let me do that? I can manage a house and hold, and I can do many things. I could be of value. I… I could also go on your ships and take care of the cooking. I can even fight. Could I become a pirate to buy my freedom?”
Lucifer fought off a grin. He thought that was about the most ridiculous offer he’d ever heard, but it was an earnest one. He could see that she was serious.
“You would make a fine pirate, no doubt,” he said. “From what I saw in your chamber earlier today, you would make a very cunning one.”’
“Then you will let me become a pirate?”
His grin broke through, then. The woman was quite determined, and he sincerely had no doubt that she would become a pirate if he permitted her to, but he also had a suspicion that Constantine would have his hide if he let her. A female pirate? Ridiculous!
“Mayhap it is something we will discuss,” he said, noncommittal. “But if you are serious about buying your freedom…”
She cut him off. “I am! I truly am!”
He eyed her, seeing that she was totally sincere, and it gave him an idea. More and more, he was reluctant to sell the woman off. As he’d observed before, she was a fine beauty. If her accomplishments were real and not simply a boast, then she was too good for the rabble that would buy her. A woman like Genevieve Efford deserved a husband of some strength and quality.
Her suggestion had put thoughts in his head, thoughts he was wholly unfamiliar with, but Genevieve was unlike any woman he’d ever met before. The more time he spent with her, the more she intrigued him. It was a curiosity that was beginning to overwhelm him. After a moment, he simply nodded.
“I will think on it,” he said. “Meanwhile, let us return to sup and a more pleasant conversation. Will you at least allow for that tonight? I have no desire to do battle with you. And if we can come to an equitable arrangement for us both, then I see no reason to fight. Is that acceptable?”
For the first time since her capture, Genevieve felt some hope. She truly did. “Aye,” she said. “It is.”
Lucifer extended a hand to her. “Then shake my hand and call it a bargain.”
Quickly, Genevieve did. “A bargain is struck, my lord.”
Lucifer’s attention lingered on her, the soft shape of her face, her big eyes. And her hand… he was still holding it long after he stopped shaking it. With a faint smile, he tucked that same hand into the crook of his elbow and led her back into the great hall of Perran Castle.
The rest of the meal progressed as smoothly as a windless sea.
Chapter Three
The Three Sails Inn
The Village of Portreath
Ten miles south of Perranporth
The Spanish were on time.
Curtiz had been sitting by the door since before dawn, waiting. He’d ridden away from Perran Castle in the wee early morning, when the area was still dark and dangerous, and a fine coating of dew covered the land. It had been times such as these that made Curtiz realize he missed the land. He really wasn’t a sailor by trade, but a mercenary. He’d served with the reputable de Nerra mercenary army, based near Erith Castle in Cumbria, but he’d been forced to flee when he’d killed one of the commanders. It had been a silly argument, really, but Curtiz had felt strongly that his honor had been smeared as a result. And when a commander tried to intervene in his fight, he’d accidentally killed the man.
So, he’d wound up in Cornwall, taken in by perhaps the greatest group of pirates anywhere on the seas. But he felt no loyalty to them; he never had. Curtiz’s loyalty was only to himself, which was why he now found himself sitting at an inn very early in the morning, waiting for a group of equally unscrupulous Spanish pirates to arrive. This had been the designated location and week from the missive they’d sent back to him two weeks ago. Given that they were in the area as a result of the Melinoe’s encounter, Curtiz suspected they would be here if not today, then tomorrow or even the next. He intended to come every morning to see if they’d left a message for him, perhaps to indicate another meeting place or even another time. But so far, there had been no word left for him.
Unfortunately, that meant his patience was waning because time was growing short. Lucifer had made it clear the previous night when he’d invited the captive women to sup that his focus was now on the pair. One of the women, the eldest and prettiest one, had even asked about Lucifer’s intention to sell them off, which meant Curtiz would have to move swiftly if he was going to benefit from this. He had something of value to sell to the Spanish if they were swift enough to move on it.
One could only hope.
Curtiz sat near the window of the inn as the common room began to come alive around him. Men and women who had slept on the floor, or even on tables, began to stir. People were coughing, stretching, and the low hum of conversation could be heard. Over near the hearth, which was very poorly constructed, a man was sweeping out the ashes before putting hunks of peat on the fire. Heavily, it began to burn, belching smoke out into the room.
But Curtiz didn’t pay much attention to what was going on in the room. He was focused on the windows, which had been un-shuttered as the day began, and he could see the road beyond and the town of Portreath as it began to come alive.
The inn itself sat on the very edge of town, nestled at the bottom of forested hills, and the road was buried in trees. But the road that passed in front of the inn also went all the way to the sea, and Portreath had a protected cove that Poseidon’s Legion claimed as their own. It was ten miles south of Perran Castle, and Curtiz didn’t think the Spanish would dock their vessel there simply because it was so close to Perran, but he soon learned that he was wrong. He was into his third cup of warmed, watered wine when four sea-faring men came sauntering into the inn.
Curtiz wouldn’t have recognized the Spanish pirates on sight. But the fact that they were armed, well-dressed, and speaking the Spanish language tipped him off as to who they were. Being that his mother had been a Spanish serving woman, he knew the language. He’d heard it from a very young age. As the Spanish entered the inn, rather noisily, he didn’t keep them waiting. He spoke from his seat by the window.
“Bienvenido,” he said.
The Spanish’s attention was immediately upon him. Curtiz inspected them as they stood there, warily, and he noted the huge cross that hung around one man’s neck. It was gold, lined with sapphires, and certainly something a devout Spanish pirate would steal from a fine lord or lady. Considering all of the Spanish ships were named for figures or incidents in the Bible – the Santa Maria, the Conception, the Santa Margarita, and so on, it was another clue that told Curtiz who these men were.
The man with the cross around his neck finally came forward, his dark eyes lingering on Curtiz as the other three bunched up behind him. He was a short and stocky, but came right up to the table boldly, studying Curtiz, the table, the chairs, and even under the table, before speaking.
“¿Eres de la Legión?” he asked.
Are you the Legion? Curtiz understood the question but his Spanish wasn’t very good in spite of the fact that he’d grown up with it, certainly not good enough to negotiate the deal he was intending to secure. Faintly, he nodded.
“Paix du moment?” he asked.
He said that from the outset. It was the pirate code name for a truce, at least for the moment, something that was long etched in the annals of pirate history. Any man speaking those words was asking for a cease-fire until all business could be conducted. To refuse would be bad manners, something all pirates understood. Therefore, the Spanish pirate nodded reluctantly, knowing that he could not resist such a request.
Already, the parameters of the meeting were being set.
Now that the situation was established as one of momentary peace, Curtiz continued with confidence that he would not be attacked by the four men because they’d agreed to a truce. Still, he had to get his business out quickly. Time was of the essence for them all.
“Your name?” he asked. “I do not do business with nameless men.”
The man’s dark eyes flashed and a thin smile crossed his lips. “I am Amaro de Soto of the Santa Margarita, but men call me Diabolito,” he said in heavily-accented English. “Do you know what that means?”
Curtiz nodded. “Little Demon,” he said. “I have heard of you.”
“And who are you?”
“You may call me d’Evereux. That’s all you need know.”
Secrecy between pirates, even rival factions, wasn’t uncommon. Business could still be conducted without offense.
“Very good, d’Evereux,” de Soto said as he pulled out a chair and plopped his stocky body onto it. “We finally meet after receiving your missive.”
Curtiz eyed the little man with the very bad breath. He could smell it from where he sat. “I assume it was you who fired on our ship yesterday?”
De Soto grinned. “Was that a Legion vessel?” he asked. “We wondered. When we could not find it, we thought we had sunk it.”
Curtiz shook his head. “It was the Melinoe and you did not sink her in the least,” he said. “In fact, there was minimal damage. She is simply faster than your heavy warships, even the Santa Margarita. I have seen her. She moves with the agility of a pig.”
It wasn’t polite to insult another man’s ship, even if he was the enemy. De Soto’s smile faded. “Mayhap she does, but she can withstand more than the weak Legion ships ever could,” he snapped back. “Now, tell me why I have come. You spoke of something of great value that belongs to le Brecque, something you would be willing to give us. What is it?”
Poseidon’s Legion Page 23