Brides of Ireland

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  “Ye dunna need tae. All ye need know is that the Sassenach willna be glad tae see me.”

  Genevieve thought that sounded much as if he didn’t plan on returning her to Perran Castle and she was gripped by panic. “Please, sir – will you at least put me in a skiff and let me row to shore?” she begged. “I can find my way back from there. I will not tell them that I saw you; this I vow.”

  He turned to look at her, seeing the desperation on her face. She belonged to Lucifer, did she? It was quite clear she wanted to return to him, but Kelly really didn’t want Lucifer or Constantine to know he’d been laying in their waters, waiting for the opportunity to dump the Leucosia back on them.

  It was true that he’d sailed north from the Isles of Scilly to warn Poseidon’s Legion about the Spanish lurking off their coast, and it was true that when he saw the Spanish vessel, he’d fired on them to chase them away. And the raw truth was that the Legion probably already knew he was there given the fact that he’d given the Spanish vessel a full broadside of cannon fire. Eleven shots, eleven cannons on one side of a twenty-two gun warship.

  Aye… who was he kidding? They already knew he was here. Heavily, he sighed.

  “I believe ye,” he said. “But that willna be necessary, lass. I’ll take ye right tae Perran Castle. There’s nothing else I can do with ye, truly.”

  It was an unexpected answer and Genevieve’s eyes filled with happy, relieved tears. “Thank you,” she whispered, wiping the tears as they fell from her eyes. “You will take me right to his door?”

  “Right tae his door.”

  “Bless you, sir. You have my undying gratitude.”

  O’Murphy nodded silently, acknowledging her thanks. She was a very pretty woman, in truth. A little bedraggled from her harrowing adventure at sea, but pretty nonetheless. If Lucifer was as anxious to see her as she was to see him, then perhaps the Legion wouldn’t mind the fact that the Leucosia was back in their waters.

  It was a chance he was willing to take.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Perran Castle

  He was only taking what he’d brought with him, ten years ago.

  Lucifer stood in his chamber, tying off a satchel that had seen better days. It was leather, but terribly worn and old. Lucifer had the thing since he’d been a boy, a satchel his father had given him when he’d gone away to foster at Northwood Castle in Northumbria. God, it seemed so long ago, those days of fostering and training at Northwood Castle, with men named de Norville and Hage. They were legacy knights whose families had served the Earl of Teviot for over two centuries, great men from great families. Lucifer’s father had wanted him to foster with the best, and he had. He’d learned a great deal. That old satchel reminded him of days long past, and he remembered them with fondness.

  He finished packing his possessions and then he simply stood there, staring at the satchel and unable to look at his chamber at all. It was the last place he’d seen Genevieve and, even now, her ghost was everywhere. She was sitting in the chair near the wall or she was lying on his bed as he had his way with her. He found himself staring at his bed, his jaw ticking faintly as he relived memories that brought him both comfort and pain.

  But it was over now, all of it.

  A soft knock on the door roused him from his thoughts and he left his bed, going to the panel. The chamber was growing dark, as the sun set behind the western horizon and signaled the approach of another night. Unbolting the door, he opened it.

  Remy was standing in the dark corridor outside. Lucifer didn’t even let the man speak. By his very presence, he was suggesting something Lucifer had been praying wouldn’t come to be. Feeling sick at the mere sight of the man, Lucifer spoke first.

  “You found her.”

  It was not a question. But Remy shook his head. “Nay, we’ve not found her,” he said. “The men are still looking, but we’ve not found any trace of her.”

  That was both good and bad news. Lucifer couldn’t decide if he was relieved or even more despondent. He simply turned away and headed back to his bed, where his satchel, sword, and traveling cloak lay. Remy followed him into the chamber, noting the items on his bed.

  “Mayhap she will turn up on the morning tide, or mayhap she will not,” Remy said, eyeing in particular the big satchel. “It is possible that she will not turn up at all. Lucifer… what is all this? Are you going somewhere?”

  Lucifer sighed heavily as he stood there, looking at his possessions. “Aye,” he muttered. “I am going somewhere.”

  Remy’s eyes widened with concern. “Where?”

  “Home.”

  Remy simply stared at him as if hardly believing what he was hearing. “But… why?” he asked. “Lucifer, what is going on with you? Why are you leaving?”

  Lucifer looked at him. “I cannot begin to tell you what is going on with me,” he said honestly. “All I know is that I cannot stay here. I must go home. I will remain here through dawn, to see if Genevieve washes up on the morning tide, but after that… I am going home.”

  Remy wasn’t sure how to handle any of this. He found himself wishing fervently that Constantine was here, for only Constantine could speak with Lucifer as a close friend would. Remy simply wasn’t that close to him although, over the past day, he had to admit he’d come to know the man better than he had in all the years he’d known him. He knew why Lucifer was leaving, even if he couldn’t bring himself to voice it.

  “Because of her?” he asked quietly. “Because of Genevieve?”

  Lucifer was staring at his possessions. “I cannot remain here any longer.”

  “But why?” Remy asked, distressed. “Did she encourage you to leave behind the life of a pirate somehow?”

  Lucifer shook his head. “Nay,” he said. He eyed Remy uncomfortably before continuing. “I suppose… I suppose she has made me think about so many things. I mentioned them to you this morning, a little. She has me thinking on my father and how the last time I spoke with the man was in anger. She has me thinking about my future and my legacy, as Wolverhampton’s heir. It would be shameful for the Earl of Wolverhampton’s heir to be a pirate, a lawless profession. I fear I have been lawless and shameful long enough. It is time to acknowledge who I am and take my place at my father’s side.”

  Remy understood somewhat. But he found it incredible that a woman should push Lucifer into acknowledging a past, and a future, that he’d kept so carefully hidden from men he’d lived and worked with for ten years. He was astounded at how much Lucifer had changed over the past few days, but they weren’t terrible changes. Remy sensed they were changes for the better. Any man willing to face the mistake of his past and to admit it was time for him to assume the responsibility of his legacy was a strong man, indeed.

  But he also sensed that Lucifer was running – running from Genevieve’s memory.

  “Whatever she said must have had great impact on you,” he finally said. “Lucifer, I am very sorry about this. About how things turned out. I wish I could say something to give you comfort.”

  Lucifer couldn’t let himself think too much on the loss of Genevieve because it threatened to fracture his carefully-held composure. “Do not be troubled,” he said after a moment. “And my name is Rhoan. Do not call me Lucifer anymore. I am leaving that man behind at Perran. He no longer exists. My name is Rhoan.”

  Remy smiled faintly. “Rhoan,” he said. “It seems strange to call you that.”

  “Sir Rhoan de Wolfe, Viscount Essington,” he clarified. “You may call me Essington if you wish. But Lucifer… he is dead.”

  Remy’s smile faded. “Lord Essington,” he said, using Rhoan’s full title. “It has been a privilege serving with you, my lord. At some point, I, too, will return home to face the sins of my father and to strengthen my family ties. And when I do, I hope that I will be able to call upon you. I should not like for our friendship to end.”

  Rhoan looked at the man. He’d always liked Remy and he knew the man would go on to do great things. “Nor wo
uld I,” he said. “You are more than welcome to call upon me at my father’s home in Wolverhampton. That is where I shall be.”

  Remy’s smile was back, extending a hand to Rhoan, who took it strongly. For a moment, they simply shook hands, each man thinking on what the future would now hold. Lucifer was dead, and Lord Essington had taken his place. Powerful, confident, and wildly rich from years of pirate conquest, Rhoan de Wolfe was returning home to face his father as a much different man.

  But he was also a man of great sadness with the loss of Genevieve, the woman who had changed his world. The old adage was true – sometimes it took years to effect a change, but sometimes, it only took the right person.

  Genevieve had been that person.

  “And Con?” Remy said after a moment. “Will you tell him where you have gone and why?”

  Rhoan nodded, releasing Remy’s hand. “I have already written him a very long missive, which I put in his chamber earlier today. It explains everything and I am sure he will understand. And – Remy?”

  “Aye?”

  “Vivienne, Genevieve’s sister… I cannot take her with me, but I want to make sure she is taken care of. Will you do this?”

  Remy’s eyebrows lifted. “What would you have me do?”

  Rhoan sighed faintly, turning back to the items on his bed. He heaved the satchel onto the floor. “Send her back to her father,” he said. “Send the girl back. Do not let her remain here.”

  “I will not.”

  “Promise me.”

  “I swear it.”

  The shouts of the sentries could suddenly be heard. As Rhoan continued with organizing his possessions for the return home, Remy headed for the window, noting a semi-clear view of the cove below as the fog rolled in, obscuring some of the area. He couldn’t see much, now with the sun setting.

  “What do the sentries see?” Rhoan asked.

  Remy shook his head. “I do not know,” he said. “The mist is rolling in again. I will go and see what has them excited.”

  Rhoan nodded, but his manner was unenthusiastic and depressed. He was still in command until he departed Perran and, until then, he had obligations to keep the place safe. “I would not have the cannons stand down tonight,” he warned. “Whatever caused the battle today may well be lurking out there, still.”

  Remy simply nodded as he quit the chamber, heading out to discover what the sentries had sighted.

  Meanwhile, Rhoan had put it all from his mind. He didn’t care about anything except his departure on the morrow. His satchel was packed with an extra tunic, an extra pair of braies, and a warmer tunic for when it grew cold. It was also mostly packed with coinage and treasure, making it very heavy. It wasn’t nearly all of the valuables Rhoan had coming to him, but Rhoan knew he couldn’t take everything due him. He could only take what he could carry and, literally, this was all he could carry. But it was enough loot to buy a small city, certainly enough to help him get a fresh start as Viscount Essington.

  He went through his satchel more than once as the room grew dark around him and he was finally forced to light a fat tallow taper. But that wasn’t enough light for his purposes, so he lit two. His mind began to wander in the darkness, and he found himself wondering what had become of his father and younger brothers.

  Rhoan adored his brothers, and they him, and he realized that he missed them very much. Rhett, Henry, and Liam were the best brothers a man could have, and he found himself wondering how his brothers had fared over the years – Rhett the strong brother, who was slightly dense but deeply loyal, and Henry the charming brother, and Liam the youngest and brightest of them all.

  He found himself grinning at the memory of young Liam who thought it would be a good idea to put a mouse in his eldest brother’s bed. When Rhoan nearly lay on the creature, he’d captured Henry only to have Henry quickly confess who had been the culprit. Rhoan had tracked down Liam, who had been about six years of age, and in punishment had tied the lad to a post in the barn, tickling his feet until he pissed himself and cried for mercy. When Rhoan’s mother, the Lady Imogen, had been told of the torture her youngest son was going through, she’d taken a very large switch after Rhoan, who’d been forced to run from his enraged mother.

  Aye, Rhoan found himself laughing at the memory of his angry mother and naughty little brother. He’d missed those days. God, what had happened to them? Had he really become so arrogant and so foolish that he’d ruined everything he’d held dear? Was the folly of his youth to really cost him everything? Truth was, he was determined to find out.

  He was going home.

  Somehow, he ended up on the chair that Genevieve had sat in the day before when he’d tended her swollen ankle. He sat in the chair, feeling her presence, and putting his feet up on the very bench where her own small feet had rested. It made him feel closer to her, but it also made him incredibly sad. He was still sitting there when his chamber door creaked open and Remy was once again standing in his chamber.

  “Well?” Rhoan asked. “What were the sentries shouting at?”

  Had the chamber been better lit, Rhoan would have seen that Remy was once again looking pale and shocked. The man couldn’t seem to speak, as if he were hunting for words but nothing would come forth. Rhoan was rather curious about it, thinking it very strange. But that curiosity didn’t prepare him for what happened next.

  A miracle.

  “Lucifer?”

  It was a female voice, once Rhoan recognized immediately. He thought he was dreaming. But Genevieve came in after Remy, moving around the man and entering the room. She was disheveled, dirty, and pale, but she was very much alive. The moment her gaze beheld Lucifer, she burst into tears.

  “Oh, Lucifer!”

  Rhoan thought he was seeing a ghost. He truly did. In fact, he bolted out of the chair so fast that he ended up tripping over the bench, catching himself before he could fall completely. But the sound of Genevieve’s weeping was clearly not an audible apparition and he scrambled as fast as he could to get to her. It seemed like it took forever.

  But, suddenly, she was in his arms and he was holding her so tightly that he heard her grunt as he squeezed the life from her very bones. Genevieve’s arms went around his neck, her soft sobs in his ear.

  “You…” Rhoan gasped. “You’re alive!”

  Genevieve nodded, but she was still holding him with a death grip. “I am,” she wept. “I am, I swear it!”

  She wept in his arms as Rhoan held her, the expression on his face suggesting he’d just been given the greatest gift a man could ever receive. There was joy, but there was far more to it – elation. Hope. Gratitude.

  All of those emotions were on the surface as Rhoan held Genevieve. He could still hardly believe it.

  “God’s Bones,” he hissed, finally releasing her enough so that he could look her in the face. “What in the hell happened?”

  Genevieve was still holding on to him, the joy of their reunion filling the air like a thousand sighs of jubilation. As Rhoan touched her face, her hair, as if to convince himself that she was real, she spoke in halting sentences.

  “Curtiz took me,” she sputtered. “He came to my chamber and told me that you had summoned me. When he took me down to the cove, he must have hit me on the head because my next awareness was of being at the bottom of the skiff as he was rowing out to sea.”

  Rhoan had his hands on her face, seeing absolute terror and exhaustion in her eyes. “Vivienne told me that he’d taken you,” he said. “But where was he taking you?”

  Genevieve wiped at her running nose with her hand. “To the Spanish,” she said, hatred in her voice. “He said he’d sold me to the Spanish. But before they could take me away, they were fired upon. I tried to swim away but I ended up on a piece of wood, floating in the ocean. I thought I was going to die, but O’Murphy found me and brought me back.”

  Rhoan was greatly puzzled. “O’Murphy?”

  “Me.”

  Rhoan and Genevieve turned to the chamber door
where Kelly was standing. He was lodged just inside the doorway, looking a bit embarrassed at all of the fuss going on. As if it were too personal for him to be part of it. When he caught Rhoan’s eye, however, he smiled weakly.

  “’Tis me,” he said. “I found the lass floating upon the waves. I thought she’d fallen from the Spanish vessel, but she told me what had happened. She begged me tae bring her back tae ye. So she belongs tae ye, does she?”

  Rhoan stared at the man, one of Shaw MacDougall’s captains. He didn’t know Kelly well, but he had seen a battle or two with the man. In truth, he was absolutely flabbergasted.

  “Then it was you?” he asked. “You were part of the battle we heard earlier today?”

  Kelly nodded. “Aye,” he said hesitantly. “We were in these waters and we saw the Spanish vessel. Rumor had it that the Spanish had been lurking around Perran Castle for the past few weeks. We came tae see for ourselves and chased the bastards off.”

  Things were becoming slightly clearer to Rhoan and the relief that he felt was beyond description. He pulled Genevieve into his arms, holding her tightly, so very grateful that she was alive. I have a second chance, he thought fervently. Thank God… I have a second chance.

  “God’s Bones,” he muttered. “Curtiz took you out to the Spanish, and my Britannia brethren happened to be in the same waters. I simply cannot believe it.”

  Genevieve was calming now, feeling safe and sheltered in Rhoan’s arms. It was the best feeling in the world, one she never thought she’d know again.

  “It is the truth,” she said, sniffling. “They chased the Spanish away and their ship was badly damaged. There were a good many cannonballs flying over my head.”

  Rhoan’s cheek was on the top of her head. She was damp and smelled of the sea. Lifting his head, he looked at Kelly.

  “We heard the cannon fire,” he said. “It was distant, but not so distant that we couldn’t make out an eleven-gun burst.”

  Kelly shifted on his feet, clearing his throat nervously. “Aye,” he said. “That’s what ye heard.”