Brides of Ireland

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  “What happened?” she asked hoarsely. “Where are we?”

  Curtiz was rolling steadily. He had a small device on the bench beside him, something round and metal, and he glanced down at it as he rowed.

  “We are heading towards new destinies, for both of us,” he said. “You are to meet your new masters soon.”

  Genevieve put a hand to her aching head, feeling a great lump on her skull that was very tender to the touch. She winced. “What are you talking about?” she demanded. “Where is Lucifer?”

  Curtiz looked up from the round, metal object beside him and began to look around in the fog. “Back at Perran Castle, I would assume,” he said. “My lady, let me make myself plain – you are a captive. You are a prize to be bought and sold and, at this time, I am selling you. The money I get from you will allow me to begin a very comfortable life elsewhere, away from Poseidon’s Legion and away from the sea. Hopefully, this will be the last time I ever do business upon the water again. I am going back to land where I belong.”

  Genevieve’s swimming head was processing slower than it usually did but, after a few moments, she was coming to realize that something was very, very wrong. As that awareness settled, so did fear.

  “You are selling me?” she repeated. “But… but Lucifer said he was not going to sell me!”

  “He is not selling you – I am.”

  She was hugely confused. “Then he knows nothing about this?”

  “Nothing at all.”

  Stunned, Genevieve stared at him. “Then you lied when you came to my chamber.”

  “I did.”

  Her blood ran cold. “Who are you selling me to?”

  Curtiz stopped rowing and picked up the round, metal object at his side. As he held it up, Genevieve recognized it as a compass.

  “To the Spanish,” he said. “A man named Amaro, who should be here shortly. He is paying me a great deal of money for Constantine le Brecque’s prized captive.”

  The story was now becoming clear and Genevieve was shocked to the bone. She was also terrified. “You are mad,” she hissed. “Take me back to Perran this instant and I will not tell Lucifer what you have done. Whatever made you think you could do something like this?”

  He looked up from his compass, his expression suggesting he didn’t like her tone. “Mayhap Lucifer tolerates your unruly mouth, but know that I shall not,” he said. “I would suggest you sit quietly. I do not wish to turn over a prize that has been bound and beaten.”

  Genevieve struggled to put distance between them. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “If you do not wish to discover the truth to that, then I suggest you behave yourself.”

  With that, he turned back to his compass and to their surroundings. The only sound was that of the rolling sea and the tiny boat as it creaked and groaned. Never taking her eyes off of him, Genevieve backed up all the way to the rear of the vessel, putting as much distance between her and Curtiz as she could. Wet and cold, she huddled at the back of the boat.

  She was wildly confused with all of this. So the man was abducting her from Perran and selling her to the Spanish? It was a shocking, brutal realization. But in that same thought, Genevieve acknowledged that every man at Perran Castle was a pirate, including Lucifer. They assumed this harsh, mercenary life for a reason. But Lucifer had shown her the man beneath the pirate façade, the deep well of manly traits and emotion that led Genevieve to believe that he was human, after all. He was human.

  But Curtiz… he wasn’t like Lucifer. He was only in it for the money, the same attitude that Lucifer had towards her when they first came to know one another. He’d called her a commodity, and she was. He’d threatened to sell her and Vivienne to the highest bidders. But even if Lucifer had backed down on that threat, there was clearly someone who had been thinking the same thing. Someone she hadn’t been able to soften and get to know.

  Someone who was selling her to the Spanish.

  Think, Genni, think!

  Somehow, she had to get out of this. She had to fight her way out of it. She couldn’t simply surrender to this barbarian. Struggling to clear her head and calm her rolling stomach, Genevieve had to assume they were heading away from the shore, logically, but she didn’t know anymore than that. If Curtiz could tell her where they were, then perhaps she could leap from the boat and swim back to shore.

  She’d learned to swim as a child. Her father had insisted on it since he would take Genevieve and Vivienne aboard his vessels from time to time. If the ship sank, he wanted his girls to be able to swim. It was, perhaps, the one good thing he’d done for her in his life, and Genevieve was a good swimmer as a result. She knew she could swim into the fog and lose Curtiz. At least, she hoped so. But that depended on how far they were from land.

  She had to find out.

  “Are you taking me all the way to Spain, then?” she asked.

  Curtiz had resumed rowing. “Hardly.”

  “Then I am assuming there is a Spanish ship hiding out here, somewhere?”

  Curtiz didn’t say anything for a moment. “I would suggest you be more complacent with the Spaniards,” he said. “They do not like unruly women, either. No matter how beautiful you are, if you are not obedient, they will not tolerate you. They’ll throw you to the fish.”

  Genevieve considered her next questions carefully. “They will not if they pay you a great deal of money for me,” she said. “They’ll not want to waste their investment.”

  “Possibly.”

  “How long was I unconscious?”

  “Not long. Less than an hour.”

  “And how do you know where to meet this Spanish ship? There is so much mist, one cannot see anything at all.”

  Curtiz eyed her. “It is not difficult,” he said. “I am rowing away from shore in a straight line. As soon as the fog lifts, the Spanish will find us.”

  So he had rowed away from shore in a straight line for less than an hour. That told Genevieve that they were probably far enough out to sea that she couldn’t swim back. Or, perhaps she could. In any case, she was willing to take the chance.

  “The fog seems to be lifting now,” she said, looking around. “I can see patches of blue sky above. What if you crash into the Spanish ship in all of this mist? By the time they see us, it will be too late.”

  Curtiz had thought of that, of course, but he wasn’t going to let the woman make that suggestion to him as if he didn’t know any better. She was mouthy, and rude, and he was coming not to like her at all. It was true that she was lovely, but Amaro and his pirates were going to have to sew her mouth shut to get any manner of peace. He was about to reply but a ghost in the mist suddenly appeared, looming off to the north. It was the outline of a ship through the clouds and Curtiz was the first one to spy it.

  “Seek the devil and he shall appear,” he muttered.

  Genevieve strained to catch a glimpse. “Is that the –?”

  He cut her off, cruelly. “Shut your lips, woman. If I hear your voice again, you will be very sorry.”

  Picking up the oars, he turned the little skiff and began to head towards the Spanish vessel, bobbing gently on the sea. But to Genevieve, he was taking her to her death.

  All she could do was stare at the ship as it came close and closer. It began to take on definition through the mist, a dark ship with dark sails, a positively terrifying vision. She began to hear men shouting on the vessel, Spanish pirates who were thrilled that their prize was finally being delivered to them.

  Oh, God…

  Genevieve knew she couldn’t let them take her onto that ship. Once they did, she would be lost forever. Lucifer wouldn’t know where she’d gone, and he certainly couldn’t find her even if he wanted to. They had no spoken words of commitment between them, nothing that would give her hope that he truly cared for her other than her own hopeful attitude in the two days they’d spent with each other, talking and coming to know one another. All she wanted was the chance to tell him how she felt. If he didn’t feel th
e same way, then at least she would know. It was better than wondering. But she would never get that chance if she was taken aboard the Spanish ship.

  She had to make a break for it.

  As Curtiz rowed closer, the ship became clear as the mist moved away. In fact, the sun was beginning to shine on the ship from overhead as patches of blue sky became evident. Genevieve knew she couldn’t wait any longer.

  As Curtiz concentrated on rowing, she discreetly reached up to unfasten her heavy cloak. As if fell away, she pulled off the wet slippers on her feet. There wasn’t much more she could remove, although she knew the dress would be heavy in the water and weigh her down. Still, it couldn’t be helped.

  She had to go.

  Splash!

  Into the very cold water she went, but Genevieve couldn’t think about that. She couldn’t think about the fact that she was in the middle of the ocean, where serpents and other creatures lurked. She couldn’t think about the fact that pirates with cannons weren’t far away from her. Not that she thought they would shoot at her, but anything was possible with unscrupulous and murderous men.

  Holding her breath, she remained under the water for as long as she could, swimming back the way she’d come. Or, at least the way she thought they’d come. All that mattered was that she get far enough away so Curtiz couldn’t turn the skiff around fast enough to capture her.

  She had to swim for her life.

  By the time Genevieve came up for air, she could hear men shouting and laughing. Somewhere on the ship, a bell was ringing, probably calling for more pirates to go after her. Wiping the stinging seawater from her eyes, she began to swim with long strokes, the way she’d been taught to swim. As she’d feared, her dress was dragging her down and she thought seriously about losing it. She was wearing a shift underneath, so at least she’d have some protection for her modesty, but the dress was definitely becoming an encumbrance.

  But she couldn’t stop to loosen any stays. She was afraid that Curtiz was going to catch her and beat her for her escape attempt, so she simply kept swimming as fast as she could go.

  “Lady!” Curtiz boomed behind her. “Lady, stop! You’ve nowhere to go, you foolish wench!”

  He didn’t sound particularly close and Genevieve dared to turn around to see just where he was. With glee, she realized he wasn’t close to her at all, but he was definitely coming in her direction. On the Spanish ship, she could see at least two more skiffs being dropped as the men prepared to come after her. But that was her last calm vision before everything suddenly exploded.

  Cannonballs were sailing over her head, striking the Spanish boat with deadly precision. Wood and men went flying as the ship shuddered heavily under the bombardment. Genevieve screamed, realizing there was another ship in the mist and, suddenly, she was caught in the middle of a naval battle. Turning around, she could see the outline of another vessel, a very large one, shrouded in the remains of the fog.

  God, help me!

  The only thing she could do was swim for her life, and she did. She began swimming away from the two vessels, but the attacking ship wasn’t finished yet. More cannonballs were flying overhead and as Genevieve watched, one hit the skiff that Curtiz was in. The skiff exploded, and Curtiz with it, as still more cannonballs flew into the Spanish vessel, severely crippling it. Pieces of wood were flying into the sky and smoke filled the air.

  Unfortunately for Genevieve, she could see that some of the wood was flying in her direction and she dove underneath the water, trying to avoid being hit. Pieces of it landed over her head, with one such large piece hitting hard and knocking into her as she tried to stay beneath the water.

  It was enough of a hit to knock the wind out of her and as Genevieve came up, gasping for air, she managed to grab on to the rather large piece of wood that had hit her. It was floating on the surface now and she used it for floatation, feeling woozy and exhausted.

  It was chaos all around her. Genevieve looked over her shoulder again, seeing that the Spanish vessel was listing heavily to starboard. Even so, they had rolled out their starboard battery and fired back at the enormous ship that attacked them. Their rudder wasn’t damaged, so they were turning the ship around, as much as they could, to put distance between them and their attacker. As Genevieve watched, the Spanish ship struggled to disappear into the mist as, off to the south, the massive vessel that had attacked them lingered.

  The water was littered with wood and debris, and even bodies of those who had been killed on the Spanish vessel and had either fallen overboard or had been pushed. Genevieve could see pieces of men and wood everywhere, a greatly distressing sight.

  Terrified, weary, and in pain, she managed to heave herself onto the piece of wood she was clinging to. It was part of a panel of some kind, perhaps part of the hull of the ship, and it was big enough that she managed to get on top of it. She wondered if that ship lingering out in the water was going to fire on her, too, and she began to weep from sheer fright. All she wanted to do was go back to Perran Castle, and to the chamber she shared with her sister and the dogs. At the moment, it was home to her, and she only wanted to go home.

  Picking up a piece of wood that floated by, she tried to use it as a paddle, but she was so cold that it slipped from her hands and fell off into the sea. Having nothing else to use, Genevieve lay down on her stomach and tried to use her arms, but they quickly became frozen in the cold water. In fact, her entire body was frozen. The mist was lifting even more now, and the sun was shining down, but there was no warmth to it.

  I’m going to die out here, Genevieve thought. As the fog lifted even more, she could see the Cornwall coastline in the distance and the sight gave her a great deal of hope. She tried to paddle with her arms again, but they became far too cold, once more, so she had to stop.

  It wasn’t in Genevieve’s nature to surrender, but she was so tired, and so upset, that she lay on the panel of wood and began to cry. The waves rocked her gently and the gulls overhead cried out, but all she could think of was the fact that she was going to die out at sea, and no one would ever know what happened to her.

  With her aching head and body, she had nothing left to give, and cried herself into a deep state of unconsciousness upon the crest of the gentle waves.

  And that was how Kelly and the Devils of the Deep aboard the Leucosia found her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Perran Castle

  It was hours after the sounds of battle had been heard in the distance, but Perran Castle was still in a state of ready. The heavy fog that had blanketed the land and sea in the morning had lifted for the most part, giving the sentries of Perran a relatively good field of vision. They couldn’t see any ships out at sea. But as the day passed and the tide began to roll in, they could see the debris approaching the beach.

  They’d been watching bits of flotsam and wood approach for the better part of an hour as Lucifer and Felix stood vigilantly upon the battlements. The ships moored in the cove below were in order, and a line of men stood on the beach, watching as the debris from the battle approached on the tide. There was a steady breeze blowing from the sea, pushing the water towards the white sand as small waves lapped upon the shore.

  It was peaceful enough, but Lucifer had a bad feeling. He didn’t feel comfortable enough having his men stand down, at least not yet. His senses were tingling, as if this incident wasn’t over, so he had his men maintain their ready as the day progressed. He paced the battlements, watching the sea, wondering what had taken place beyond his field of vision, a battle he couldn’t see but could definitely hear. The whole thing made him nervous.

  But by early afternoon, however, it was clear that whatever had taken place was now ended. No ships had approached the cove and the only thing they could see as a result of the battle was wood and debris. Even so, Lucifer had his men remain at the ready and the cannons remained loaded. They would for the rest of the day and night, and then on the morrow, Lucifer would take three of his biggest ships out into the waters to
see what they could see. At the moment, however, it was safer to keep them moored, and so he would. He wasn’t about to gamble with Constantine’s vessels.

  Coming off the battlements with the intention of heading into the hall and having some food, his thoughts inevitably turned to Genevieve, locked up safe in her chamber. She’d probably heard the cannon fire and he felt the urge to go and assure her that everything was well. With every step he took, the urge grew stronger, and with every step he took, the courage to tell her how he felt grew also. He was fearful of his confession this morning but, now, he realized he wasn’t afraid anymore.

  She had to know.

  But he didn’t make it very far. Lucifer was halfway across the bailey, heading to the keep, when he heard someone call his name.

  “Lucifer!”

  Turning around, he saw Remy coming towards him. The man looked like hell, immediately putting Lucifer on his guard.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Why do you look like that?”

  Remy was pale, looking as if he’d just seen a ghost. “You must come,” he said. “Down to the beach.”

  Before Lucifer could ask him any further questions, Remy turned around and began to run back the way he’d come, heading for the postern gate that led to the path down to the cove.

  Taking a deep breath, because he certainly didn’t like the expression on Remy’s face, Lucifer ran after him.

  “What in the hell happened to him?”

  Lucifer’s question hung in the air as he stood over a partial body that had washed up on shore. Camouflaged in a cluster of debris that had washed onto the sand between two of the bigger pirate ships, no one knew it contained a partial body until they happened to notice a head mingled in with the wet wood. Further inspection showed it to not only be a man, but a man they all knew.