Enter The Brethren (The Brethren of the Coast)

by Devlin, Barbara

  Enter the Brethren

  Barbara Devlin

  COPYRIGHT

  Cover Art by Lyndsey Lewellen

  Copyright © 2012 Barbara C. Noyes

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my hero, my inspiration, and the love of my life, my husband Mike.

  To my dear friend, talented author, and longtime critique partner, the late Judi McCoy. Judi believed in me long before I believed in myself. Her unwavering support and encouragement made me the writer I am today. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her, and I still expect her to call every Monday. How I miss Judi.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  EPILOGUE

  Excerpt from My Lady, The Spy

  Excerpt from The Most Unlikely Lady

  Excerpt from One Knight Stand

  PROLOGUE

  The Ascendants

  English Channel

  The Year of Our Lord, 1307

  WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE.

  Arucard of Villiers shivered as he read the notice.

  By papal decree, the Order of the Knights Templar had been banned, and Arucard, along with his four brother knights: Morgan, Demetrius, Aristide, and Geoffrey, was a hunted man.

  “Alter course one point to westward, Pellier. Maintain heading nor’-nor’-west.” The deck and the tops were alive with activity, and at the wheel were his most able-bodied helmsmen, yet he could not shake the unease investing the whole of his frame.

  “Aye, sir, one point to westward, heading nor’-nor’-west,” the quartermaster replied. “If I may, sir, where are we going?”

  “We sail for England, where good King Edward II has outlawed torture.” Arucard gazed sternward at the four ships hoisted in his wake. “With our sails abroad, we should make it with our necks intact.”

  “Do you think we will ever go home again, sir?”

  “We have no home, Pellier.” Arucard sighed and crushed the parchment in his grasp. “Philip has conspired to steal our legacy, as well as our fortune, but, in regard to the latter, he will be sorely disappointed when he reaches our empty stores.”

  “What makes you think the King will welcome us? Or do you plan to sail up the Thames and announce your presence, Captain? I fear we could be exchanging one noose for another.”

  “Well, we have two ship holds filled with priceless treasure to belay that fate.”

  Pellier scratched his temple. “We have five ships, sir.”

  “And your point would be?” Arucard chuckled. “Worry not, old friend. We must hope that Edward is a sensible man.”

  “You are a sly one, Cap’n.” The quartermaster smiled. “Yet, I would warn you. Do not let hope cloud your judgment.”

  “Hope is a good thing, Pellier. Why so cynical? Have you previous dealings with the King of England?”

  “No. But I know powerful men, and they often charge a high price for allegiance and support.”

  “The booty resting in the other three ship holds ensures that we need no support, merely allegiance.”

  “Can you really separate the two, sir?”

  Arucard frowned and, for the first time, let doubt creep into his thoughts.

  Had he chosen the right course?

  Or was he leading his men into breakers?

  “There is nothing certain in this life. But if we cannot live as free men, then we are already dead.”

  “Aye, Cap’n. But what you consider freedom might be vastly different from that of the King.”

  “Pellier?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Stop talking.”

  The quartermaster put his hands up, palms facing out, and laughed.

  At that moment, Pellier descended the companion ladder, and Arucard tried, in vain, to ignore the hint of fear dancing a merry jig down his spine. Gazing sternward, he focused on the four ships in his wake. Each carried a brother knight, men he long considered family, as her captain. If Edward turned them away or, worse, took them captive, the blame would rest solely with Arucard.

  As a Templar, he had been nothing more than a warrior knight. Yet, after the dissolution of their order, Arucard had been designated the leader of the outlaw mariners, much to his dismay. Seeking safe harbor in England had been his decision. If his grand plan failed, all in their haphazardly gathered brotherhood would suffer the consequences. Placing a hand over his heart, he lifted his chin.

  “To freedom, my comrades. May the price be such that we are willing and able to pay.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Descendants

  Jamaica

  March, 1810

  Revenge is a dish best served cold--or so the saying goes. Were she the meal, he would return to feast again and again. Young and fresh, with a body made for sin, she was the last thing he expected to find in Dalton Randolph’s cabin.

  Trevor Reed Marshall, sixth Earl of Lockwood, hugged the shadows and gazed at his lovely prey as she bathed. Although he’d ravished his share of the fairer sex on numerous occasions, he couldn’t recall ever remaining for the cleanup. Of course, at the moment, there were many things that escaped him, because it was quite difficult to focus with a fully loaded cannon in his crotch.

  This was the opening scene in the second act of the play that had begun two months ago, when Dalton made off with Trevor’s mistress. While men made sport of many things, guarded doxies were sacred territory subject to the rules of engagement. Such breach of polite decorum demanded Trevor respond in kind, which he was only too happy to do, given the ladybird in question. He had his story committed to memory, knew precisely what he was going to say, but he paused to enjoy the fortuitous entertainment.

  Temptation personified, she lifted an arm and squeezed a wet cloth to her skin, then stood to scrub a shapely thigh, and Trevor could have cried. With silent thanks to young Randolph for his taste in doxies, Trevor emerged from his hiding place.

  Slowly, very slowly, he smiled.

  Oh, yes.

  To err might be human, but getting even? Now that was divine.

  “May I be of assistance, my dear? Wash your back, perhaps?”

  The woman faced him and shrieked. Hunkering in the bath, her eyes were wide as saucers and just visible over the rim. Great heavens, had he not shaved that morning?

  “W-who are you, and what d-do you want?” She cringed even lower. “Leave my chambers, at once, or I shall scream.”

  Although the barrel of ale laced with laudanum he had delivered as a boon from their captain would keep the skeleton crew sleeping for hours, he did not wish to invite trouble, so he stopped, palms raised.

  “Come now, dove, after what I just witnessed, you and I are already on intimate terms.�
��

  “I beg your pardon?” Her voice was high-pitched, as a frightened child. Just as quick, she lobbed a bar of soap at his head, which he avoided with ease. “Get out, you blackguard. I swear Captain Randolph will tar your hide.”

  “Will he, now?” Poor thing was not very convincing. “It might interest you to know that your benefactor is in port, partaking of Jamaican delights that rival your own. And I’d wager he will not return until tomorrow.”

  “My benefactor?” The beauty peered at a towel draped on a chair that was just beyond her reach.

  “One in the same.” Trevor snatched the towel. “And he indicated that you might be in need of a new guardian, after he lost a game of poker and incurred a few debts.”

  She narrowed her stare. “You, sir, are lying.”

  Oh, she was a charmer.

  “How can you be so certain?” he asked as he sat in the chair. “Men bet their ladybirds all the time.”

  “Perhaps, but Captain Randolph would never suggest such a ridiculous notion.”

  “Really? And why is that?”

  “Because--” Her confidence faltered before him.

  “Because--what, my dear?”

  “We are old friends.”

  Resting elbows to knees, Trevor leaned forward. “I would like to be your friend, too.”

  “You would?” She bit her lip. “Then you can start by handing me that towel and turning your back to me.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Then you are not my friend.” She frowned. “Would you have me remain, forever, in the bath?”

  “No, you may exit at any time.”

  “Without benefit of clothing?” The demirep clucked her tongue. “To use your words, not a chance.”

  With a chuckle and sincere appreciation for her moxie, he slapped a thigh. “Upon my word, but you are a spirited bit o’ flesh.”

  “And you are too bold, sir.

  “Call me Trevor. And how should I address you?”

  “As I do not intend to keep company with you long enough to require such pleasantries, sir, there is no need to make you free with my name.”

  “Ah, but you’re wrong, dove. I shall have you and your name before we dock in London.”

  “When first hell freezes. And don’t call me dove.”

  “I’ve seen longer odds and won the day, my dear. And as you deny me the use of your name, what choice have I?”

  “Your choice is to leave this ship immediately.” The water splashed as she shifted. “Captain Randolph will return shortly, and he will have your head for this affront.”

  “Really?”

  “Any minute now, you shall see,” she said as she stared at the door. A few seconds ticked past as he allowed her a scarce second of false hope. “He is almost here.”

  Again, Trevor laughed. “I think not, dove.”

  “I know so.”

  “You’re bluffing, and you’re not very good at it.”

  “And you seem foolishly sure of yourself, sir.”

  “Sure enough to know that my sire raised no fool, and we need to be on our way. So, should I help you from the bath?”

  Confusion invested her delicate features, and just as Trevor stood, the doxy screamed.

  “Help! Someone, please, help me!”

  “Bloody hell.”

  Glancing left, then right, he searched for means to cork the damsel in distress. Quickly, he settled on a solution. Draped at the foot of the captain’s bunk was a silk robe. Trevor drew the tie from the garment and stomped toward the ladybird. When she threw her hands up in a defensive posture, he bound her wrists.

  “What are you doing?” She struggled in vain. “Let me go. Help--”

  A discarded cravat muffled her protest.

  “Sorry, dove, but I cannot risk further outburst.” Trevor knotted the yard-length of linen at the back of her neck. “Once we gain the safety of my ship, I will free you to rain any number of curses on my soul. Now, out of the tub.”

  When the lady refused to comply with his request, only shook her head violently, he scooped her naked body into his arms, and the doxy kicked and squirmed.

  “Somehow, I knew you would not cooperate.” He thrust her atop the bunk and, before she could scramble away, wrapped her in the quilted coverlet. There was one thing left to do before he made his escape.

  Trevor walked to the large desk positioned before the stern windows and retrieved a sheet of parchment. A familiar passage shot to the forefront of his brain, and he smiled at the sweet irony. Of course, a few minor alterations were required to convey his intent. Reversing the names, Trevor penned a missive similar to the one his nemesis had left him.

  Randolph,

  I sincerely hope to savor your dove as much as you enjoyed mine. Your enchanting mistress will await you in London--unharmed, but a bit more experienced than when you last met. Thanks are unnecessary.

  Happy Sailing,

  Lockwood

  After folding the parchment in two, he scribbled Dalton’s name on the front and propped it against the inkstand.

  “Perfect.”

  At that instant, his quarry fell to the floor in a clumsy heap. And the more she struggled, the more she entangled herself in the quilt, which resulted in a slew of muffled protests.

  “Shh.” He adjusted the blanket. “It is for your safety. The docks are filled with randy sailors, and we do not want anyone to see you in all your glory, my dear. You’ll incite a riot.”

  The cabin door swung open, and a face he knew well peered around the edge.

  “Cap’n, what are ya doin’? We do not have all night.”

  “Quiet,” he hissed to his first mate. “Is the hall clear?”

  “Aye.”

  Leaning forward, Trevor hoisted his new bunkmate as a sack of wheat atop his shoulder. His second in command took the lead, and together they crept down the hall, past the galley, and up to the main deck. With the stealth of a predator, he slithered amid the dozing watch members.

  As they descended the gangplank, his lovely catch squirmed in his grasp, and Trevor placed a hand to her bottom, patting through the thick cover. A feminine shriek had him biting back laughter as he navigated the docks toward his ship. With a healthy dose of desire simmering in his veins, he thought to himself: That was too easy.

  #

  The charming courtesan wiggled amid the folds of the quilt. Soon, Trevor hoped to wiggle her into his bed. Studying the unusual doxy from behind an oriental screen that shielded his bathing area, he was genuinely impressed when she used her teeth to loosen the belt knotted at her wrists. Once free of her bonds, she clutched the blanket to her chin in an odd display of modesty he didn’t understand. Whoever heard of a shy whore?

  After inching to the edge of his bunk, she slipped to the floor and shuffled to his locker. Once again, she surprised him when she carefully enveloped herself in his robe, only dropping the quilt when she was securely covered. In an instant, her searching gaze settled on a priceless heirloom mounted on the wall. He wondered what she would make of the large sword, with its bronze hilt and ornate décor of incised “Adam & Eve” motifs. As she reached for the weapon, he stepped from his hiding place.

  “You are not planning to use that on me, I hope.”

  “Bloody hell.” She jumped and rotated to face him.

  “My, my.” He wagged a finger. “What naughty language from such a pretty mouth.”

  “You should have made your presence known, sir.” The ladybird cast him a sweet little pout. “You scared me.”

  “My humblest apologies.” He sketched her a proper bow. “There are a number of things I wish to do to you, but none involve fear.”

  “I...beg...your...pardon?”

  The thrill of the chase burned in his loins, raw lust rode hard in its wake, and it was past time to get down to business. Trevor stretched to his full height and surveyed his latest conquest.

  She had a delicate, heart-shaped face, a pert nose, and a succulent mouth he could devo
ur for hours--and fully intended to at the earliest opportunity. Best of all, beneath his scrutiny, she favored him with the same wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression she had adopted in Randolph’s cabin.

  “I-I was admiring the sword. Is it yours?”

  “Aye.” Smiling, purposefully stalking her, Trevor was surprised when his captive, and she was his captive, held her ground. “It has been in my family for years.”

  “It is lovely.” She took a half step in retreat.

  “It’s a sword.” He took a step forward, closing the gap. “You are lovely.”

  Their eyes met, held.

  “You think me lovely,” she said, in a ghost of a whisper.

  “Aye.”

  A surge of triumph filled his senses when he spied a pink flush spreading in her cheeks. Soon she would be his. Before he realized it, he reached for her.

  “What are you doing?” Panic marred her delicate features as she scurried to the opposite side of the cabin. “I demand that you return me to Captain Randolph’s ship, posthaste.”

  “No.”

  “Then give me leave to--”

  “Not possible.”

  “Why?” She raked her fingers through her long brown hair and began to pace. “You cannot keep me here against my will. That is a crime.”

  “My dear, I hate to disavow you of any notion regarding your worth, but never has a man been criminally charged with keeping a courtesan. I assure you, it is perfectly legal.”

  “You took me by force.”

  “Come now, let’s not call it that.”

  “But that’s what you did.”

  “Perhaps, but let’s not call it that.”

  “You, sir, are without honor.”

  “Did I ever claim to possess such a noble trait?”

  With arms folded across her chest, she lifted her chin. “I insist you free me this instant.”

  “By all means, my lady.” Trevor nodded. “You may go.”

  “Are you joking?”

  “No.”

  “So, I may take leave of your company?”

  “If you so choose.”

  With palpable shock and a wary expression, she swallowed hard, took two tentative sidesteps, and then halted. “Thank you.”