Poseidon’s Legion

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Genevieve could almost hear a rebuke in that statement, but she didn’t rise to it. In fact, she wanted this conversation to be pleasant, not just because she wanted to wrangle a promise from him, but also because he was handsome and, as she’d discovered last night, a good conversationalist when he wanted to be. She very much wanted things to be pleasant between them.

  “I do believe I inherited all of the boldness in my family,” she said as if it were an embarrassing admission. “Vivienne is very meek and quiet, and from a very young age, I always spoke up for her. My father is the type of man that you must be bold with or he will never hear you. He is busy with his own needs and hardly has time for his children.”

  Lucifer nodded. “I know the type.”

  She looked at him, squinting in the sunlight. “Do you?” she said. “Was your father like that also?”

  He shook his head. “Nay, he was not,” he said. “My father was surprisingly interested in his children.”

  “Do you still speak with him, then?”

  Lucifer shook his head. “I have not spoken with my father in many years.”

  “Oh,” she looked rather startled, as if she should not have asked such a question. “I am sorry, then. I did not mean to pry.”

  “You did not.”

  She paused a moment. “Truthfully, I’ve not spoken face to face with my father for over a year,” she said. “I have been in Ireland during that time and any word from him came in the form of a missive, including the betrothal to de Noble. You would think that something of such importance would be delivered in person, but my father is not what you would call a warm or understanding man. He simply issues directives and we are expected to obey them. I have often wondered what it would be like to have a father who actually cared for his children.”

  They were drifting onto a subject that, normally, Lucifer stayed away from. He did not speak of his past and the only person he’d ever spoken to of his father was Constantine, and that had been nearly by accident. But they’d drifted onto this subject so naturally that he didn’t feel the usual reserve that he did. In fact, he responded to her before he could stop himself.

  “I think it can be both a blessing and a curse,” he said. “For my brothers and me, my father was firm but kind, but very rigid when it came to discipline. He would beat us for misbehaving and then hug us and weep afterwards. I grew up thinking that was the natural order of things until I went to foster and was beaten by my master, who did not weep in sorrow when it was finished. That was a shock to me, I must admit.”

  Genevieve looked up at him, grinning because of the ironic twinkle in his eye. “How many brothers do you have?”

  “Three.”

  “Where do you fall in the order of the family?”

  “I am the eldest son.”

  She paused a moment before continuing. “May I ask you a question?”

  “You may.”

  “Is your name truly Lucifer? I only ask because it seems like such a hateful name for a child, and if you said your father was kind, then it seems… surprising.”

  He glanced at her, coming to realize he’d spoken more of personal things with her than he’d ever spoken of with any of the men of Poseidon’s Legion, men he’d known for ten years or more. She was surprisingly easy to talk to, and God knew how long it had been since he’d last had a conversation with a woman, at least a woman he wanted to talk to. Inevitably, his defenses were going down, with her charm being the bombardment.

  He was weakening.

  “I will tell you, but you must swear to secrecy,” he said, feigning seriousness.

  But Genevieve didn’t pick up on the jest. She nodded solemnly, convinced he was going to tell her something of great importance. “Of course,” she said. “I would never tell a soul, not even Vivi. Does this mean your name really is Lucifer?”

  His lips flickered with a grin. “It is not,” he said. “But the last time I saw my father, he said that I was Lucifer himself, so I simply took that as my name. I suppose, in a sense, the man I was before my last conversation with my father ceased to exist. Now, I am Lucifer.”

  Genevieve sensed a great deal of sorrow in the man with that statement. Something in his words suggested a depth to the man she hadn’t sensed before. She was greatly curious.

  “Did you do something terrible?” she asked, but quickly caught herself and shook her head swiftly. “Forgive me. I should not have asked. That is not my business. I am sure you would like for me to get to the reason I asked to speak privately with you, and I shall. I know that your time is valuable.”

  It was a very considerate observation, one that surprised Lucifer. It showed that the woman had some sense of thoughtfulness and decorum, unlike the wild animal who had attacked him yesterday. She was also well-spoken, and polite when she wanted to be, and he realized that he believed her when she’d said she’d been well educated, with many skills that fine ladies should have. He could believe it implicitly. There was also something in him that wanted to finish this part of their conversation before they delved into another. He had no idea why he should, but he did. It had been so long since he’d talked about himself that he found there to be something therapeutic in it. Having one’s walls of defense up constantly was exhausting. With Genevieve, there seemed to be some relief from that.

  “My time is valuable,” he agreed. “But not so valuable that I am not inclined to spend time in conversation with you. It is rare that I have the opportunity to speak with someone like you. You are quite pleasant when you’re not trying to bash my brains in with a table leg.”

  Genevieve grinned, embarrassed, and her cheeks flushed a sweet shade of pink. “And you are quite pleasant when you are not berating me,” she admitted. Her gaze lingered on him a moment. “May I also apologize for something?”

  “What?”

  “You are not really ugly. I did not mean it.”

  He fought off a grin. “Is that so?”

  “It is.”

  He dipped his head gallantly. “Then I thank you, my lady,” he said. “Actually, I was coming to worry that I was. Your opinion in such matters, I am sure, is quite flawless.”

  She giggled. “I suppose I think that it is but, in truth, I am sure it is not,” she said, sobering. “I was needlessly cruel yesterday, but you must understand that we… I mean, that this situation… it has been unnerving, to say the least.”

  His smile faded as well. “That is understandable,” he said. “And it is Rhoan.”

  “What is Rhoan?”

  “My name,” he said quietly. “Rhoan Wyndham Aramis de Wolfe. My father is the Earl of Wolverhampton.”

  Genevieve’s eyes widened. “The son of an earl is a pirate?”

  He started to reply but he realized they were still standing just outside of the entrance to the keep and there were men about. He didn’t know how much anyone had heard of his conversation with Genevieve, but he suspected no one had really heard him. They would be taking their lives in their hands if they tried.

  Still, to ensure their complete privacy, he offered his elbow to Genevieve, who accepted without hesitation. He began to walk, taking her to a section of the bailey off to the south that wasn’t busy with men going about their business. It was south of the hall, where the kitchen yard was, with an elaborate postern gate that led through the outer wall and to the world outside.

  “Most pirates or mercenaries are not men who chose that profession,” he said. “Believe it or not, many of them simply fell into it, or took to it because they had no other option. I am one of the ones who simply fell into it.”’

  Genevieve could feel his thick, muscular arm beneath her hand. It felt rather nice, rather safe, in fact, if the man wasn’t a known pirate. But she found this line of conversation deeply interesting.

  “May I ask how you fell into it?” she asked.

  Lucifer was looking up at the battlements of Perran as he spoke. “It is a long story,” he said. “And an ugly one. Suffice it to say that my father
committed me to a priory in Wales to atone for my sins. Whilst serving at the priory in penitence, it was attacked by pirates. Constantine le Brecque and I had quite a battle before I realized I could not beat him, and he realized he could not beat me. You see, I always thought I was the best knight in all of England. But once I met a man I could not best, it was natural that I should swear allegiance to him. The men of Poseidon’s Legion believe I am a priest because they found me at the priory, but that is not true. I am a knight, and the heir to Wolverhampton. Being at the priory – I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  They had entered the kitchen yard at this point, wandering as they chatted, and they passed by the heavy postern gate that gave a hint of the sea beyond its iron slats. Genevieve glanced at it, but instead of thinking of it as a portal of escape, she was lingering on Lucifer and the conversation.

  She understood, at least as much as he was telling her, but the great sin he committed that his father should consign him to the priory was a mystery, one she didn’t feel comfortable asking about. Clearly, Lucifer was a man of many secrets and she didn’t want to dig deeper, fearful she might not like what she discovered. As it was, she could feel herself warming to the man, as if the situation between them was completely normal and he was not her captor and she, not his captive. It was an illusion, she knew, but a welcome one. She’d never been so interested in a man in her entire life.

  “So you became part of Poseidon’s Legion,” she said softly. “And your father – does he know?”

  “He does not.”

  She pondered that. “I think that if I had a son, I would want to know of him every moment of every day,” she said. “I would never let him out of my thoughts, not even if he did something terrible. Do you suppose your father does not think that way?”

  He thought back to that horrible conversation he’d had with his father those years ago when the man had told him how ashamed he was of him. It was a conversation Lucifer had relived in his mind, many times, and always with the wish that he could redeem himself someday. But after living the life of a pirate for so long, he wasn’t sure that was possible anymore, and the realization cut him to the bone more than he could admit. After a moment, he shook his head.

  “I do not know,” he said honestly. “Sometimes, there is damage between fathers and sons that cannot be repaired.”

  “And you know this for certain?” she pressed gently. “You said your father was kind. I cannot imagine that has changed. You are his son, after all, and time has a way of diluting bad memories until all we remember are the better things. Mayhap, he has forgotten all about the harsh words between you two. But if he has not, mayhap he regrets them all the same.”

  That was very true. And very upsetting. Lucifer found himself thinking about his father, whether or not he wanted to. It was enough to force him off the subject, sorrow for a man he’d not seen in years grabbing at him. He thought he’d done a good job of suppressing that sorrow over the years and didn’t like the fact that his conversation with Genevieve had brought it back.

  “It is possible that what you say is true,” he said, clearing his throat quietly. “But I suppose some things are not meant to be repaired, no matter how much time has passed. Now, you wished to speak with me about something, my lady. Your time is valuable.”

  Genevieve smiled, hearing her words. But she also realized he didn’t want to speak anymore on his father and she would respect that. Still, their conversation had been quite eye-opening. The brute from yesterday had transformed into a man who was agreeable and polite, and even kind if she really thought on it. He didn’t have to indulge her, not in the least. But he had.

  She was coming to like him, just a little.

  “My time is what you say it is,” she said. “If you say it is valuable, then it is. In truth, I wished to speak with you on a subject we discussed last night – my ability to buy my freedom and my sister’s freedom from you. Have you had an opportunity to think on it? I thought, mayhap, we could discuss what, exactly, I could do to earn my freedom. I told you I could do a great many things, and I can. One thing I could possibly do is act as an interpreter. You surely must do business with many people from many lands, and I can speak several languages. Could that be a way to earn my freedom?”

  Lucifer hadn’t really thought much on their discussion from last night other than the images in his mind from the event – images of Genevieve. He’d thought on her beautiful face, her hair, her curvy figure. That had lingered on his mind last night and well into the morning. But the subject of their conversation hadn’t been in the forefront and, given her anxious expression, he was honest about it.

  “I’ve not given it much thought,” he said. “It is true that we come into contact with men from many different countries, but we’ve not had a problem communicating with them.”

  That was of some disappointment to Genevieve. She thought the interpreter offer was a valid one.

  “I see,” she said. “You do not believe it would be a good service?”

  “I did not say that. But if you were to act as interpreter, you would have to come aboard our vessels and that means you would be in danger when we engaged in battle.”

  He said it like it was of some concern to him. His tone struck Genevieve as he spoke. Is he actually concerned for me? She thought. It was purely madness to think so, but then again, she thought it had been madness earlier to imagine the man had some warmth in his expression when it came to her, but their conversation today had shown her that she’d, indeed, been correct.

  There was some warmth there.

  “I am not afraid of a fight,” she said. It was not a boast, but truth. “I stood my ground when you overtook my father’s vessel, did I not?”

  A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “You did,” he said. “I remember it well. And then, of course, there was yesterday…”

  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 t
hey’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.”