So I Married a Sorcerer

by Kerrelyn Sparks

The captain helped her over the side, and slowly Brigitta made her way down the rope ladder to the dinghy. The two crewmen helped her settle on a wooden bench. As she waited for Sister Fallyn, she glanced at the pirate ships. One by one, the flaming arrows were being extinguished.

  Ye made the right choice, she assured herself. Her sisters would be safe. Surely the pirates would not harm her. She was a princess, after all.

  But no matter how much she reassured herself, her heart still pounded with fear. And with a small but steadily growing spark of anger. For even though she’d chosen to leave her sisters, what choice had she really had? The pirate Rupert had orchestrated these events so she would be forced to submit to this fate. How dare he!

  And what had happened to the fate of the Telling Stones? Was it still going to come to pass? Would she still go to Tourin and meet the tall and handsome stranger?

  A sudden movement caught her eye and she blinked, not wanting to believe what she’d seen. But the splash in the water was undeniable. The dog, Brody, had jumped overboard!

  Sister Fallyn settled on the bench beside her and whispered a prayer to the goddesses, Luna and Lessa.

  “Wait,” Brigitta told the crewmen as they untied the ropes and pushed off. Desperately, she scanned the surface of the water, but she couldn’t see Brody anywhere. The sea was calm, eerily still like a sheet of glass, and she wondered if the pirate Rupert was causing it.

  “What is it, my lady?” a crewman asked as they slowly floated away from the Eberoni ship.

  “Never mind.” She continued to search the water as the two crewmen rowed toward the pirate flagship. Where was Brody? Hadn’t she seen him jump into the sea? It had happened so fast, perhaps she had imagined it.

  She glanced at the Eberoni ship and her sisters. They were waving and giving her encouraging smiles, but she could see the pain in their faces and sense the fear in their hearts. Goddesses help her, she was feeling it, too.

  Would she ever see them again? What would happen to her and Sister Fallyn? As a tear rolled down her cheek, she angrily brushed it away.

  How dare the horrid pirate Rupert separate her from her sisters and force a fate on her she didn’t want! Just so he could increase his coffers of gold? The man was worse than a sorcerer. He was a criminal, driven by greed.

  He would regret kidnapping her, she’d make sure of that. For he would soon discover that she was not a willing captive.

  Chapter Three

  So two women were coming. They hadn’t dared send the princess alone. From his position high in the crow’s nest, Rupert watched the two women through his spyglass. The older blonde was making the sign of the moons while she prayed. She was probably a nun.

  The younger one was scanning the water as if she was searching for something. Had she taken the vows of a nun, too? If she had, she wouldn’t be allowed to keep them for long. Most probably, Gunther was planning to marry her off in order to gain a powerful ally. Whatever Gunther’s reason was for suddenly wanting his sister back, one thing was clear: The bastard would use her to his advantage.

  You could protect her. Rupert pushed aside that thought. He wasn’t absconding with the girl to help her. His purpose, the sole purpose for everything he did, was revenge.

  Using the power of wind, he eased his ship closer to the Eberoni vessel, so the dinghy would not have far to travel. As the rowboat came along the starboard side, his crewmen tossed over two long ropes so the rowers could tie the dinghy off at bow and stern.

  While his crewmen lowered a rope ladder, Stefan leaned over the railing and greeted the women in the Eberoni language. “Welcome aboard the Golden Star. I am Captain Landers.”

  A lie, but then most pirates avoided using their real names. Rupert included. He tucked his spyglass under his belt and waited for Brigitta to come into view.

  And waited.

  The longer he waited, the more tense he became. For one emotion after another was bombarding his senses. Nervousness? No, stronger than that. Dread. Part of him dreaded seeing her again. After all, the first time they’d met had proven to be the worst day of his life, a day that had condemned him to nineteen years of grief, heartache, rage, and an endless supply of nightmares.

  At the same time, he was also eager, eager for the revenge that was now one step closer. His failure to kill Garold still rubbed at him. A Norveshki dragon had beaten him to the task. He’d also failed to kill Garold’s legitimate heir, for the bastard, Gunther, had conveniently done away with his younger half brother. But Gunther was still left, and Rupert was determined to kill him. The House of Grian would be utterly and completely destroyed for all time.

  The fact that Brigitta was also a member of the House of Grian was … unfortunate. It made another part of him, a tiny part, feel guilty. For he fully realized he was using her as a pawn. Just like Gunther would do. Dammit. How could he sink as low as that bastard?

  Frustration buzzed around him like an annoying insect, but he swatted it away. He’d come too far, suffered too much to back off now.

  As he chased away the guilt and frustration, another emotion bubbled up to fill the vacuum. Curiosity. What would she be like? If she’d been raised in a convent, would she be nothing like the wretched men in her family? What if she was totally innocent, as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside?

  His heart thumped, quickening its pace and pissing him off. What the hell did it matter if she was beautiful? She was the enemy, spawn of the rat Garold who had stolen the throne of Tourin through deception and murder. She would be his prisoner, dammit, and her brother would have to pay handsomely if he wanted her back.

  Where the hell was she? Were the women refusing to board? Shit. By now the Tourinian naval ships might be trying to tack their way back.

  Rupert slipped on his leather gloves, vaulted over the railing of the crow’s nest, then slid down a rope to the main deck. As he approached the starboard railing, he asked Stefan in Tourinian, “What’s taking so long?”

  With a sigh, Stefan turned toward him. “Apparently it’s difficult to climb a ladder in a long skirt. Not to mention the poor woman is trembling with fright.”

  Brigitta was afraid? Guilt pricked at Rupert once again as he glanced over the bulwark.

  It was the older woman who was trembling as she ascended the ladder. Brigitta was standing on the rowboat, clinging to the rope ladder with one hand while she used the other to keep her companion’s skirt from getting caught underfoot.

  The older woman slowly climbed, pausing on each narrow wooden slat as if she needed a moment to rally her courage. She wasn’t that old, Rupert realized. Perhaps four or five years older than himself. But she was definitely frightened. The princess smiled at her as she murmured encouraging words.

  She’s brave, Rupert thought. And caring. No doubt the older woman had come along to watch over the younger one, but it was Brigitta who was doing the comforting.

  A barking sound broke Brigitta’s concentration, and she whipped her head toward the sea.

  A seal? Rupert was surprised to see a large black seal swimming next to the dinghy. Seals normally stayed much closer to shore where it was easier to catch fish.

  Brigitta’s shoulders slumped as if she was disappointed; then she turned back to help her companion. By now the older woman was halfway up, and soon she would be out of the princess’s reach.

  “Let’s get on with this.” Rupert motioned to two of his most muscular crewmen. “Pull the ladder up.”

  “Hang on, madam,” Stefan yelled over the bulwark.

  The older woman yelped as the two men hauled her up the side of the ship.

  “We have you,” Stefan said while the two muscular crewmen hefted her over the railing.

  The woman took one look at the bare-chested, tattooed seamen who had manhandled her and shrieked, pulling away from them with enough force that she barreled into Stefan and nearly knocked him over.

  Stefan regained his balance as he steadied her. “Don’t worry, madam. You’re—”
His speech halted when she gazed up at his face.

  For a moment they froze, then the woman apparently realized she was clinging to his coat.

  “Oh! I beg yer pardon.” She released him and jumped back, her cheeks blushing.

  Stefan continued to stare at her in a daze.

  Rupert snorted. But his amusement quickly soured into a pang of regret. For it was his fault that Stefan had taken on a life of deception and thievery. At the age of thirty-eight, Stefan should have been long married with half a dozen children by now.

  “Your name, madam?” Rupert asked softly in Eberoni.

  The woman spun around and gasped, her eyes widening at the sight of a masked man. “Goddesses protect—” She stopped herself with a gulp and clenched her hands to keep from making the sign of the moons.

  “You may worship as you please while on board, madam,” Rupert told her. “As seamen, we are indebted to the moons and stars for navigation.”

  “Oh, thank you.” She eyed him warily. “And ye are—?”

  “Rupert.”

  With a look of horror, she stumbled back. Stefan caught her, and she jerked away from him. “I’m quite fine, thank you.” She wrapped her cloak tightly around herself as her gaze flitted nervously about the deck. “I am Sister Fallyn from the Convent of the Two Moons.”

  Stefan winced. “Dammit to hell.”

  The nun shot a disapproving look his way. “I would appreciate it if ye refrain from using such foul language in front of my charge—oh, Brigitta!” She ran to the railing and looked over. “Are ye all right?”

  The ladder had fallen back down the side of the ship.

  Rupert peered over the bulwark. The princess had taken hold of the ladder to begin her ascent, but she was looking back at her companions on the Eberoni ship. After one last wave, she turned back to the ladder and glanced up.

  Rupert stepped back out of view. Holy crap. There had been tears on her cheeks. Don’t feel sorry for her. Her family was guilty of heinous crimes. But what if she was as innocent as she looked?

  Dammit. Rupert scrubbed a gloved hand over the two-day-old whiskers along his jaw. Why should he feel guilty? He was doing her a favor by keeping her away from her evil brother.

  “Be careful!” Sister Fallyn yelled to Brigitta.

  Rupert glanced over the bulwark once again. The princess was holding a wooden rung with one hand while using the other hand to lift her skirt out of the way. Slowly but steadily, she worked her way up. Too slowly.

  He opened his mouth to give the order to have her hauled up, but hesitated. The rope tied to the stern of the dinghy was right next to the ladder, so he could easily help her himself. She’s the enemy. Stay the hell away from her.

  But the image of her tear-streaked face needled him. Hadn’t he made a pledge to that innocent baby girl in her lacy white crib? “Shit.”

  Sister Fallyn eased away with an appalled look.

  Rupert swung over the railing and slid silently down the rope. He stopped with the toes of his boots resting on a large knot. Next to him, Brigitta was focused on her skirt and apparently oblivious to his arrival.

  “Need any help?” he asked in Eberoni.

  “I’m quite fine, thank—” She gasped as she finally noticed him. “Ack!” She jerked away so fast, her feet slipped off the rung, leaving her dangling from her hands.

  “Careful.” He looped an arm around her and pulled her close.

  Another gasp. Her head lolled back, then her eyes glazed over and flickered shut.

  What the hell? Had she fainted at the mere sight of him? She was still breathing, for he could feel the gentle pressure of her breasts moving against him. A lavender scent wafted toward him, tempting him to bury his nose in the beautiful curve of her neck. As he searched her face, he noted a few golden freckles amid the rosy pink of her cheeks. She looked so young, yet the body pressed against him was definitely mature. Well curved. Soft.

  Don’t react, he warned himself. Remember who she is. The enemy.

  “Brigitta,” he whispered, and her dark eyelashes fluttered before opening to reveal her large turquoise eyes. Damn.

  “What…? Release me!” She frantically pulled away and scrambled to place her feet back on a wooden slat.

  “Allow me.” He lifted her skirt a few inches. The enemy had nice ankles.

  “Stop that!” She swatted at his arm.

  “I’m only trying to help.”

  She scoffed. “If ye truly wanted to help, ye would tell that horrid Rupert that he has no right to kidnap me or threaten the lives of my sisters.”

  “Horrid Rupert?”

  “Aye. And he shouldn’t have sent you here to startle me with that ridiculous mask ye’re wearing.”

  “Ridiculous?”

  “Aye, for it makes no sense for ye to wear it. It hardly conceals the fact that ye’re a pirate. It rather confirms it, I would think.”

  His mouth twitched. Brigitta was more feisty than he had expected. “Shall I carry you on board?”

  She blinked in surprise. “Don’t be silly.”

  That was a first. He’d been called a bastard, thief, sorcerer, and monster, but never silly. He slowly smiled.

  Her eyes widened, then she ducked her head to focus on her skirt as she went up another step on the ladder. “’Tis silly to think ye can carry someone and climb at the same time. Ye have only two arms like everyone else.”

  “Ah. That is true.” He lifted himself up a bit higher on the rope to keep her at eye level. As his arms took on all his weight, his shirtsleeves pulled tight against his biceps.

  Her gaze shifted to his arms, then back to the ladder. With her cheeks blushing, she carefully maneuvered up another step. “Ye would definitely need to keep yer hands free.”

  “True. A man should always be free with his hands around a beautiful woman.”

  She scoffed. “That is not at all what I meant and ye know it.” Her cheeks bloomed a brighter pink. “Now please, leave me be. I can manage perfectly well without you.”

  “Aye, no doubt you can. But at this rate, the sun will have set by the time you reach the top.”

  She shot him an annoyed look. “Are ye in a hurry to set sail? Why? Do ye have a number of villages to plunder afore nightfall?”

  He gritted his teeth. Very well, let her think the worst of me. If she hated him, he wouldn’t feel so damned guilty about using her. “There’s always another village for me to pillage.”

  “A poetic pirate,” she muttered, then grabbed on to the next rung. “And have ye no remorse for the suffering caused by yer criminal behavior? No regret for forcing me to come here or threatening the lives of people I care about?”

  His grip on the rope tightened. He had enough regret in his life to fill the ocean. “I would need a conscience for that, and it was ripped from me many years ago.”

  She blinked, then her gaze grew soft as she looked him over like he was some sort of lost puppy. “I’m sorry.”

  Holy crap. He wanted her anger, not her pity. If she abhorred the sight of him, she would avoid him while on board, and he wouldn’t be constantly riddled with guilt. Or reminded that she was beautiful. More than beautiful. Brave and feisty. Intelligent. Compassionate. Everything he’d ever wanted—he crushed that thought with a mental fist. “This is taking too long. I’ll carry you up.”

  “Nay.” She adjusted her skirt and ascended another rung. “We’ve already established that it isn’t possible.”

  “Oh, but it is.” He leaned toward her. “All you have to do is climb onto my back and put your arms around my neck.” When her eyes widened, those beautiful eyes, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Then you wrap your legs around me and squeeze me tight.”

  “Enough! Leave me be.” She quickly stumbled up another step, her cheeks flushed. With anger, no doubt. For he’d proven himself to be a complete ass.

  Mission accomplished. His heart twisted with regret as he slowly hauled himself up the rope.

  Rip.

  �
�Oh, no,” she groaned.

  He glanced down. In her haste she’d managed to rip a section of her skirt away from the waistline of her gown. “Do you need—”

  “Go away!” she yelled at him.

  “As you wish.” He hefted himself over the railing and ignored the disapproving glare of the nun. Even Stefan was glowering at him. “What?”

  “We’ll talk later,” Stefan muttered.

  With a snort, Rupert motioned toward the ladder. “Haul her up.” Then he strode across the deck and climbed up to the crow’s nest.

  Distance. That was what he needed. So he couldn’t smell the lavender scent of her skin and clothes. Or be tempted to touch her golden hair or pretty face. Or hear the lovely lilt of her island accent.

  Dammit. He glared at her as his crewmen pulled her over the railing. Even if he kept her at a distance, there was no way to keep her out of his head.

  * * *

  As soon as Brigitta’s feet landed on deck, Sister Fallyn snatched her away from the crewmen who had hauled her aboard. Only the slightest of tingles brushed against Brigitta’s special gift as one of the Embraced. Apparently, the two sailors and Sister Fallyn harbored only a few secrets. Unlike the masked man.

  Brigitta cast a nervous glance around the deck. Crewmen bustled about here and there, and a man in a fancy hat was giving orders, but he was nowhere in sight. All these years she’d thought Mother Ginessa was hiding a great deal, but the older nun’s secrets were minuscule compared with the masked man. One touch from him and Brigitta’s special gift had erupted like the fiery blast from a cannon. After the initial shock, the massive weight of his hidden burden had dragged her under, causing her to black out for a few seconds.

  Don’t let him touch you again. She’d tried her best to shoo him away, for she hadn’t wanted to risk another touch. Wrap yer legs around him and squeeze him tight? Ha! That much contact might render her unconscious for a week.

  Or it might be exciting. She banished that thought. Only a scoundrel would talk the way he did. And only a ruffian would wear a mask. Indeed, it was a great relief she couldn’t spot him anywhere. Even though she was incredibly curious about his secrets. What was he hiding that was so huge? And how on Aerthlan did he survive with such a heavy burden?