Puzzled, Rhodes grabbed her by the wrist. “But why?” he asked, evidently genuinely concerned. “Why must you go?”
Samarra wouldn’t look at him. She didn’t like the way he made her feel… or did she?
“Let go of me,” she told him. “I must leave.”
Rhodes didn’t listen to her. In fact, he stood up, a very tall man looking at a woman who was quite tall herself. He held on to her wrist but he wasn’t holding it very tightly; it was just enough to stop her from moving.
“Please do not leave,” he said in a soft tone that sent shivers up Samarra’s spine. “I will finish my meal quickly and we shall leave together. That was what you had in mind, wasn’t it? I will take you up on your offer of a bed for the night.”
Oh, but would she have wished that to be true. Lying in bed next to this man as he touched her soft, strong body, feeling his lips on places that would surely drive her mad with desire. Samarra wasn’t a virgin. She’d been married, long ago, to a man who had sailed with her brother. One day, he’d gone to sea and had never returned, and the memory of Bran Cameron was something she had long ago buried. It was something she couldn’t adequately deal with even after all these years and, as a result, she hadn’t known a man’s touch since. But thinking of Rhodes de Leybourne in her bed, at this moment, was enough to turn her knees weak.
God’s Bones, she had to get out of there. She had to clear her head before she completely forgot herself, including the bargain with his father.
“Nay,” she rasped, yanking her wrist from his grasp. “I am sorry to have troubled you. Another time, mayhap.”
With that, she was heading for the door in a blind panic to leave. Rhodes, unwilling to let her go, went in pursuit. It wasn’t until he’d followed her out of the tavern that he suspected something was terribly wrong. A heavy blow to his head sent him to his knees. The mysterious woman’s long legs were the last things he saw before a second blow turned everything to black.
Chapter Four
It smelled like damp and rot.
The first flickers of consciousness brought scents of dampness and moldering leaves. Then he could smell smoke. As the world around him began to come into focus, Rhodes groaned as he tried to move his head. It felt like it weighed as much as a fat horse and bolts of pain shot up his neck and into his skull.
“Are you awake?”
It was a soft, rather deep female voice that pierced the veil of his confusion. He was conscious now, but barely, as he opened one eye.
It was night, with a blanket of stars above and the black silhouette of trees outlined against the sky. He lay there, staring up into the darkness, blinking a few times as he struggled to figure out where he was and what had happened. There was a fire somewhere near him because he could feel the heat. Turning his head slightly, he could see a figure crouched a few feet away.
“Well?” the woman asked. “Can you hear me?”
Rhodes grunted in pain as he closed his eyes. “I hear you,” he said, raspy. “What happened?”
The woman sat down near his head, crossing her legs on the cold, damp ground. “You were knocked unconscious.”
Rhodes was coming to recall his last memories, of being in a tavern with a woman he’d found quite alluring. Missy, she’d called herself. He realized that it was Missy who was now sitting on the ground near him. He remembered following Missy out of the tavern and then… nothing. In his muddled mind, Missy seemed to hold the key to this entire situation.
“I guessed that somehow I lost consciousness,” he said with some sarcasm. “I will once again ask – what happened?”
The woman tilted her head sideways as if to look at him more clearly, her long and dark hair trailing messily to the ground.
“Nothing that I did not plan,” she said. “Everything is as it should be.”
Rhodes’ head was killing him and he didn’t have time for games. Slowly, his eyes opened and he turned in her direction. “What does that mean, Missy?”
She sat there for a moment, her gaze lingering on him in the darkness. “Three days ago, I met with your father in Cambourne,” she said. “It seems that Lord Tyringham had a task for me to perform. Evidently, you have a marriage you are supposed to attend but you are not inclined to do so under your own free will. Your father has paid me to ensure you attend that marriage.”
Rhodes stared at her, the cobwebs of his mind peeling away as he absorbed her words. “My… my father has paid you to….?” He couldn’t even finish. In truth, he was both baffled and astonished. “What on earth are you talking about?”
Samarra had to admit, she felt sorry for him. It had been an hour since Rhodes had been knocked on the head and, in that time, she’d struggled to revert back to the Lady of the Moon, the heartless witch who cared only for the money she could make on any given task. She thought she was quite over the feelings of attraction and interest that had overcome her in the tavern, but seeing Rhodes lying unconscious as her men bound him hand and foot hadn’t made her feel as satisfied as she’d hoped. She simply couldn’t help feeling badly for him.
Still, pity wasn’t in her nature. In fact, it made her angry that she was feeling such a thing so she struggled to ignore it and treat him like the business dealing that he was. In her line of work, there was no room for foolish emotions such as compassion or attraction.
There was no room for love.
“Your father has paid me very well to deliver you to your betrothed,” she said. “I am not sure how much plainer I can be.”
Samarra watched his brow furrow as, clearly, Rhodes came to understand just what her role was in all of this. But in his expression of great displeasure, she also saw the disbelief reflected in his eyes. The man simply could not believe he found himself in this position. Heavily, he sighed and looked away.
“I see,” he said. “So my father sent you to trap me.”
She shook her head. “Nay, not a trap. As I said, he hired me to deliver you to your betrothed.”
“Hired you? As bait, knowing I would fall for a pretty face?”
“You do not seem to understand. My sword, and my men, are for hire. That is exactly what your father did – he hired me for a task.”
Rhodes’ jaw began to tick as the seriousness of the situation settled. In truth, he felt absolutely ridiculous for not having been more on his guard and now he was paying the price. My sword and my men are for hire. A lady mercenary? God help him, the mere thought was ludicrous but the proof was sitting right in front of him. There was even more proof throbbing on the back of his skull in the knock she’d evidently given him.
I am an idiot!
“Then my father was more clever than I gave him credit for,” he muttered. “You say that he spoke to you three days ago?”
“He did.”
Rhodes’ sense of embarrassment was growing as the most recent conversation with his father was replayed in his mind. “And he knew that talk of the betrothal would drive me out of Tyringham,” he mumbled with disgust. Then, he spoke louder. “Is that what he told you? To wait for me on the road as I ran away from him?”
“You seem to know your father’s mind fairly well.”
Rhodes lay there for a moment, staring angrily at the stars above as he realized that he’d been set up. His sickly father, no matter if he was sickly or not, had clearly set him up. The more he thought on it, the more ridiculous he felt until, suddenly, he burst out into soft laughter. The entire situation had him reeling with both the cleverness of it, and the foolishness of it, that he simply couldn’t help his reaction. There was nothing else he could do but laugh.
“That clever bastard,” he hissed. “He knew that nothing he could say would make me do as he wished. So, knowing I would run, he had allowed for that possibility and when I ran, it was right into a trap. God’s Bones, the irony is unfathomable.”
Samarra watched him laugh, reconciling himself to a wily father who would do anything to have his way. He didn’t seem angry now but she was fairl
y certain that was only temporary. Once the shock of the situation wore off, he would more than likely become irate so she didn’t get too comfortable in the conversation. She was waiting for the explosion to come.
“Now that you understand what has happened, permit me to tell you where this will end,” she said. “I have been instructed to take you to the caves at St. Agnes where you will rendezvous with your betrothed.”
He stopped laughing and eyed her. “The Caves of St. Agnes?” he repeated, puzzled. “Why?”
“Because of the legend.”
Rhodes stared at her a moment as he tried to figure out what she meant. Then, slowly, an expression of understanding spread across his face. “Do you mean that old legend about the lovers in the cave?” he asked, incredulous. “I remember hearing that as a child. Didn’t the lovers die in those caves?”
Samarra nodded. “Two lovers, fleeing the woman’s father, killed themselves in the caves because they could not spend their lives together,” she said. “It is said that if a man and a woman touch the bloodstains on the walls, then they shall fall deeply in love forever.”
Rhodes was looking at her as if he thought she, and the whole suggestion of the caves, was quite ridiculous. “Why are you to take me there?”
“Because your father wishes for you and your betrothed to touch the stains,” she replied, feeling somewhat foolish as she did. “He believes that you will accept your betrothed if you fall in love with her.”
Rhodes’ jaw dropped. Then, he tried to sit up but he realized he was bound hand and foot. In fact, he was bound in such a way that it was nearly impossible to move. Struggling against his bindings for a few seconds quickly brought him to the conclusion that there was no way to fight any of this. He was most definitely subdued and captured.
Frustration began to set in again.
“My father is mad,” he hissed. “And you are mad if you believe his fabrications.”
Samarra could see that the anger she had anticipated wasn’t long in coming. “Whether I believe them or not is not at issue,” she said. “I have been paid to take you to the caves.”
Understanding that he was bound made Rhodes realize just how serious the situation was. Rather than become enraged and irrational, he tried to calm himself. That would be the only way he could think his way through the situation, a situation that revolved around a woman he had been quite attracted to who had, ultimately, proved to be a trap.
Aye, his father knew him well.
Knowing she was some kind of mercenary didn’t make him any less attracted to her, however. He tended to like women who weren’t well-behaved, prissy little chits. He liked a woman with some fire. Therefore, he struggled to calm his anger, studying the woman, wondering if there wasn’t some way out of this situation, after all. Was it money she wanted? He could give her all she could ever spend. He made a decision to go for her mercenary heart.
“And so you shall,” he said after a moment. “Since we are destined to spend time together, you may as well tell me your name. Your real name.”
Samarra shrugged. “Who is to say that Missy is not my real name? That is what my men call me.”
“What was the name your mother gave you upon the day of your birth?”
Samarra had given Rhodes’ father her name with far less prompting on the old man’s part. She’d had two full-blown conversations with Rhodes and he hadn’t known her real name, so she thought she might as well tell him. Somehow, something inside of her wanted him to know. That silly woman who had found attraction with him was still lingering, still waiting to pop forward at the most inopportune moment. She realized that woman was going to be a bitch to fight off because the more she gazed at Rhodes, the more attractive he became.
“Samarra,” she said after a moment. “My name is Samarra le Brecque and my seat is Mithian Castle, which is not far from St. Agnes. If you do not recognize my name, some people in these parts call me the Lady of the Moon.”
Rhodes turned his head slightly so he could get a better look at her. “Lady of the Moon,” he muttered. “I’ve not heard of the name or of you. But, clearly, you are a mercenary.”
“Among other things.”
“What other things?”
She shrugged. “Suffice it to say that I was not wrong when I told you that it is not fitting for me to live anywhere else but here in the wilds of Cornwall, among my own kind,” she said. “Between me and my brother, we run a tidy business with what we do.”
“Who is your brother?”
“Constantine le Brecque. If you’ve not heard the name, then perhaps you’ve heard of the pirates of the coast, men who call themselves Poseidon’s Legion.”
Rhodes had been removed from Cornwall for several years, so he wasn’t privy to the dealings and people that happened locally. But he was a man who was fairly up-to-date on the politics and state of England, and having served the Earl of Bristol, he was well aware of the pirates of the western seas because of the location of the city of Bristol. Bristol, and other cities along the Bristol Channel, all had dealings with Poseidon’s Legion and their Scottish counterparts, Devils of the Deep. The lady had hit a nerve.
“The leader of Titans,” he said after a moment. “Le Brecque sails on the Gaia.”
Samarra nodded. “He does, indeed. It is his flagship. Do you know it?”
Now that Rhodes knew who Samarra’s brother was, it put the woman in an entirely new light. Somehow, he wasn’t likely to be quite as friendly with her as he had been because everyone knew Constantine le Brecque was a man of great strength and, at times, great evil. He and his pirate brethren were nothing to be trifled with and Rhodes was coming to wonder if the sister was just the same – a strong and evil woman molded in the image of her pirate brother.
“I know of it,” he said after a moment. “Being that I spend a good deal of time in Bristol, we have had dealings with Poseidon’s Legion and the Devils of the Deep.”
Samarra could sense a change in his manner now, as if something between them had grown cool. There was a hardness in his face that hadn’t been there before and she didn’t like it.
“My brother has dealings with many people,” she said, “as do I. The sea is his domain and the land is mine.”
Rhodes’ gaze lingered on her a moment longer before shaking his head. “I cannot believe my father would strike a deal with such criminals,” he said. “Since you seem to be in this for the money, whatever his price was, I will triple it if you will let me go.”
The offer of money had Samarra’s interest. “And how are you to pay me? I will not let you go so that you can promise to return to me with the money. That would not be wise.”
Rhodes turned his head, trying to get a look at his surroundings. “Where are my horse and my possessions?” he asked. “Did you leave them back in that dirty village?”
Samarra shook her head, pointing off to her left, into the darkness. “We collected everything that belonged to you,” she said. “Your silver steed and your possessions are over there, near the fire. Can you not see your fat horse eating all of the grass around him?”
Rhodes really couldn’t the way she had him tied up. “I will have to take your word for it,” he said. “My saddlebags contain my purse. Untie me and I shall pay you everything I have if you will release me.”
So he had the money with him. But it began to occur to Samarra that she might not want to let him go. This was the man who had been kind to her without even knowing who she was, the man she felt a great deal of attraction to. Was she foolish enough to take his money and let him go? If she was really only in it for the money, she would. But in this case, keeping the knight in her possession was more attractive to her. She didn’t want his money; she wanted to keep him. That silly, infatuated woman that she was trying to keep buried was gaining strength.
“You could not possibly pay me triple what your father did,” she said. “He has already paid me fifty pieces of silver and five pieces of gold and he promised to double that
when I deliver you to him at St. Agnes. That kind of money will keep my men and I very comfortable for some time to come.”
That was a shockingly large amount of money and Rhodes knew he couldn’t match it, at least not with what he had with him. If he was able to return to Bristol, then he could get more, but he doubted she would release him on his word alone. She’d already said once that she wouldn’t. That realization caused him to change his approach with her. If he couldn’t buy her out, maybe he could somehow talk her into releasing him. After all, he thought they’d had a pretty good rapport back at the tavern. He knew he could see interest in her eyes that was real.
If he could only tap into that….
“Alas, I do not have that much money with me,” he said. “My father clearly wasn’t taking any chances when he hired you to abduct me. He paid you better than I could and he knew it, the wily old fox.”
Samarra wasn’t sure what to say to that because it sounded as if he was already admitting defeat. It didn’t seem to her that a knight of his caliber would so readily surrender, so she was wary. As Rhodes lay there and stared up at the brilliant night sky, Samarra called over to the men who were huddled around the fire, telling them to bring their captive something to drink. Wine was being warmed over the fire and a wooden cup was produced. Whitty carefully poured the steaming wine into the cup and brought it over to her. Samarra took the cup from him so he could get behind Rhodes to prop him up into a sitting position.
Rhodes grunted when his aching head throbbed as he sat up. “Whoever hit me on the head did a fine job of it,” he groaned. “My ears will be ringing for a month.”
Since his hands were bound, Samarra brought the cup to his lips and he sipped at the hot drink gratefully. He had about half of it before she pulled the cup away.
“We should reach St. Agnes late tomorrow,” she said. “We are not too terribly far and your father will meet us there. I am sorry that I must keep you bound, but your father warned me against you. He said that you would fight me and I will not give you that opportunity.”
Poseidon’s Legion Page 37