Genevieve pulled up her gown, now slightly embarrassed that she had laid herself out for him to see. She didn’t know what possessed her to spill her guts out like that, only that he had somehow provoked her. Ashamed, she turned away.
“They did,” she said.
He watched her walk away, pulling at her dress. “All because they tried to beat some sense into you?”
Genevieve shrugged. “Sometimes,” she said. “Sometimes it was because I asked a question they did not like.”
“Like what?”
She thought on it; it all seemed so long ago. The early days of her life were something she tried to forget. “Once, I asked why God demanded we worship Him,” she said. “I thought it sounded very much like a king or an emperor who demands adoration from his subjects. It sounded very selfish to me.”
Lucifer fought off a grin. “And the nuns did not like that.”
“Not in the least.”
He found himself looking at her profile. She wouldn’t look at him, but he could still see the curve of her face. More and more, he was thinking how fine she was, and he had to admit that he was increasingly intrigued by her. Perhaps, he would come to know her some before he sold her off. Perhaps, she would make some man a fine dinner companion. He had to find out, didn’t he?
Rising from the chair, he forced himself to head for the door. Somehow, he didn’t think spending more time with her, as they were, was a good thing for him. Already, he was thinking strange thoughts, something he didn’t normally entertain.
She’s a fine woman…
But that didn’t stop him from thinking about continuing their conversation.
“I have duties to attend to,” he said, rapping on the door for the guard to unbolt it. “But seeing as you and your sister have been caged in this chamber for almost a month, I would like to invite the two of you to sup with me this eve. As my guests. Will you accept?”
Genevieve was surprised by the invitation; it was reflected in her eyes. Such a cordial offer in the midst of such anger and chaos. It seemed so strange, really, but it also seemed very genuine. Her first reaction was to refuse, but that was her pride talking. She didn’t listen to it because the cunning part of her, the more logical part, thought that if she was out of the chamber she might be able to figure out a way to escape. If she remained hostile, then her fate was sealed. But if she loosened up… became friendly, even… perhaps there would be an opportunity for her to break free of this prison and take Vivienne with her.
She was willing to give it a try.
“I will,” she said after a moment.
The bolt was thrown and the door lurched open. Lucifer’s gaze lingered on Genevieve for a moment before he stepped through the panel.
“Very well,” he said. “I shall return for you in a few hours. Dress to please me.”
“What does that mean?”
He gestured towards the wardrobe stuffed with clothing. “Find something beautiful,” he said. “I will not eat with a slovenly woman.”
With that, he stepped through the door and shut it. Genevieve heard the bolt thrown as she stood there and fumed. I will not eat with a slovenly woman. So, she had to dress up like a pony to be paraded through the streets? Her first instinct was to deny him, to wear something terrible and dirty, but that instinct only lasted a few seconds. Perhaps if I become friendly, I will discover a path to escape. She had to keep telling herself that. If he wanted her to dress to impress him, then so be it. She would. But she would hate every damned minute of it.
Just like she hated the arrogant pirate lord known as Lucifer.
The man was going to pay.
Chapter Two
Pirates ate very well.
That was the first thing Genevieve thought when she was brought into the great hall of Perran and faced with more food than she had ever seen in one place in her life. Vivienne was clinging to her right arm as they entered the hall, flanked by three pirates who had been acting as their guards the entire time they’d been at Perran Castle. Genevieve didn’t even know their names, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t here to make friends.
Her focus was on Lucifer and three other men who were sitting on the dais at the far end of the hall. The hall itself was quite magnificent and it was an effort for her to not gape at her surroundings; fine furnishings, great tapestries on the walls, carpets from exotic places. All of it was like something out of the halls of heaven, riches that had never before been imagined. But she kept her eyes on the dais and on the men seated there. Genevieve was facing her enemy and she would face them head-on.
“Welcome, ladies,” Lucifer said as she approached the table. He indicated two seats at the end of the table, near him. “Please, sit.”
Genevieve did as she was told, practically towing Vivienne with her. Vivienne was so petrified that she could hardly move. But with her sister’s encouragement, she took her seat at the table. As Genevieve peeled her hand out of Vivienne’s fingers and rubbed the flesh where her sister had squeezed the blood from it, servants immediately rushed forward with warmed rose water so the ladies could wash their hands before eating. When Genevieve was finished washing, the same servant provided a towel to dry her hands.
As those servants moved away, more servants took their places and trenchers were brought forth. There was a man whose sole purpose was to place whatever dish the women preferred upon their plates, so he moved back and forth between Genevieve and Vivienne, scooping up some of the dishes on the table and putting large portions on their trenchers.
And what a feast it was. There was a savory baked dish of lamb, prunes, and cinnamon, and roasted and baked fish of all varieties. There was also a selection of boiled vegetables as well as eggs stuffed with cheese. Soon enough, Genevieve’s trencher was loaded up and placed before her. She gazed at the food, rather daunted by the task in front of her.
She’d never seen so much food in her life.
Unbeknownst to Genevieve, Lucifer had been watching her the entire time. In truth, he’d been rather shocked by her beauty when she’d come through the door, clad in a silk garment the color of wine. He’d told her to dress to please him and, indeed, she had, but when he saw her hesitate to eat her food, he spoke up.
“Is the food not to your liking, Mistress Genevieve?” he asked.
She looked up at him, startled that he had addressed her. “It… it looks delicious,” she said. “I was simply trying to determine where to start. There is so much of it.”
Lucifer watched her as she picked up a spoon and took a bite of the stuffed eggs. “That is understandable,” he said. “I hope you enjoy it.”
Genevieve nodded as she chewed. The eggs were, in fact, delicious. She swallowed. “I should not wonder that you eat so well.”
“What do you mean?”
She looked up from her trencher, indicating the magnificent room with a wave of her spoon. “Everything about this place screams of luxury,” she said. “Even our chambers. There are more possessions in our chambers than I have ever seen in my life. It would, therefore, stand to reason that the table you set would be equally lavish.”
Lucifer sat back in his chair, wine in hand, as he observed Genevieve. He wasn’t entirely sure what he expected from her behavior this night, given his encounter with her earlier in the day, and was pleased to see that she was mild in temperament, at least for the moment. She was being quite pleasant, which was good. He didn’t want to do battle with her again.
In fact, his curiosity in her was growing.
He’d had duties to attend to over the past few hours since leaving her locked away in her chambers with her sister, but he’d found himself thinking of the woman as he went about his tasks. Her unrepentant boldness, her obvious intelligence, and her list of ladylike accomplishments lingered on his mind, no matter how much he’d tried to push her away.
The truth was that Lucifer hadn’t thought of a woman since the last woman who had driven him right into a monastery. God, he’d been so young and f
oolish at that time. He hadn’t always been a pirate. His first post after being knighted had been to serve the great Duke of Richmond. But the old duke had a young wife who had greatly fancied the strong young knight in her husband’s service and, before he knew it, Lucifer was bedding her regularly. He’d also believed himself in love with the woman, making the situation unbearable when she became pregnant with his child. The old duke had claimed the lad as his own and, in the midst of Lucifer’s heartache, his own father had come to remove him from Richmond’s service.
It made matters worse that Lucifer was the eldest son of the Earl of Wolverhampton and the child born by the duchess should have been the heir to Wolverhampton and not Richmond. Lucifer’s given name wasn’t, in fact, “Lucifer” – it was Rhoan Wyndham Aramis de Wolfe and, as the eldest son and heir to the Wolverhampton earldom, he also bore the title of Viscount Essington. At least, he had up until his father had removed him from Richmond and committed him into a priory in Wales to repent for his horrific behavior. His father kept calling him “Lucifer himself” for his sins. And when he’d entered the priory, he’d simply assumed that name to protect the de Wolfe reputation. He was quite certain his father would think worse of him for the life he lived now, the life of a thief and a killer, so the Lucifer nickname remained with him.
Perhaps it always would.
So, it was with good reason that he didn’t want to become interested in another woman, and most especially a woman like Genevieve Efford. It had been ten years since he’d last thought of a woman in any capacity, so thoughts of Genevieve had him angry and somewhat rattled until he saw her again. Yet, she was now sitting in front of him, looking utterly beautiful. That anger and uneasiness was fading very quickly.
“Perran Castle is, indeed, well appointed,” he replied belatedly to her statement. “But you are correct; we eat well. We spend so much time in less than desirable conditions that when we are on land, we demand comfort. Good food is part of that comfort.”
Genevieve simply cut up her stuffed egg and scooped up the pieces. “My father also sets a fine table,” she said. “His cook is from France. She makes many fine dishes.”
Lucifer could feel the conversation warming somewhat. Before he could reply, however, Curtiz spoke. Seated to Lucifer’s left, he had a mouth full of baked fish.
“There is no cooking like the French,” he said. “They can take the hide of a cow and turn it into a delight. Much better than the Scottish, who eat parts of the animal that no sane man would eat, or the English, who want to boil everything until it is tasteless.”
Lucifer glanced at the man, displeased that he had entered the conversation between him and the lady. But he remained cordial. “Mistress Genevieve, this is Curtiz d’Evereux,” he said. “Evidently, he has an opinion on regional cooking. The other two men at this table are Remy de Moray and Felix d’Vant. They are excellent warriors and you would do well not to cross them.”
Genevieve looked across the table. Curtiz was a big, blond man with big, weathered hands, while Remy was rather young and dark and handsome, and Felix was young and fair. They all looked like perfectly normal men except for the fact that they were not. They were killers and thieves. You would do well not to cross them, Lucifer had said. She remembered at least one of them, the man introduced as Remy, as having been present when she was captured. And Curtiz had been her jailor her first week at the pirate stronghold. She had no opinion about him other than he had a hard look about him. Her attention returned to Lucifer.
He’d cleaned up since she’d last seen him, and the shadow of stubble on his face had been shaved away. He had very dark hair hanging to his shoulders, golden eyes, and a square-jawed appearance that was quite handsome, in her opinion. He was also very tall, perhaps taller than any man she’d ever seen. Everything about him was big and imposing. He had a way of looking at her that implied intimidation and death, for there was nothing soft or warm about him.
In short, the man was terrifying.
But she would not show any fear. She wouldn’t allow herself to show weakness in any way.
“It seems to me that some of your men are missing,” she said, turning back to her food. “I recall other men when I was captured.”
Lucifer watched her shove more eggs into her mouth. “You are probably speaking of Constantine le Brecque,” he said. “This is his castle. The ships belong to him. He is our leader.”
Her eyes flicked up to him. “And the woman I met when I was captured?” she asked. “The one in his cabin? I remember she told me she was not a pirate but, somehow, I do not think she told me the truth.”
Lucifer thought back to that turbulent day last month. Having excellent recall, he remembered it in detail. He remembered how they’d extracted Genevieve and her sister from a damaged vessel, and how the sailors of the vessel fought valiantly for their ladies and their ship. But it had been to no avail. In the end, Poseidon’s Legion claimed yet another victim.
“The woman you speak of is Lady Gregoria,” he said. “She is Constantine’s wife and, nay, she is not a pirate. She simply married one. In fact, they are on their wedding trip now.”
“Just the two of them? Is that not strange for so important a man to travel without his men?”
Lucifer nodded faintly. “You needn’t worry,” he said. “He took some men with him, for protection.”
“Other pirates?”
Lucifer nodded, glancing at the other men sitting around the table. “I wonder if Kerk and Augustin are having the time of it in France,” he said, watching Remy grin. “At least Augustin was able to take his wife with him. Surely he is having an enjoyable time.”
He was speaking of fellow pirate commanders Kerk le Sander and Augustin de Russe, men who were as close to him as brothers. He’d missed them while they’d been away, especially Augustin’s doom-and-gloom personality that was always great fun to taunt. Across the table, Remy spoke to his concern.
“As long as his wife is with him, Augustin will enjoy himself,” the young pirate said. “And Kerk can entertain himself anywhere. I would be more concerned that Constantine focuses on his new wife and not the fact that he is not back at Perran, doing what he does best.”
Lucifer had to admit that he’d thought of that, also. One could take the pirate out of the waters and put him on land, but one often could not take the pirate out of the man. That kind of life was ingrained into a man’s soul. Constantine had been at sea so long that being on land any length of time tended to make him irritable. But with a new wife to focus on, Lucifer was hoping that wasn’t the case.
The man deserved some joy and peace.
“Con needn’t worry,” he said, returning his focus to Genevieve as she listened to the conversation. “I am in command while he is away. This is my domain now.”
Genevieve had been listening to them discuss men, and the situation in general, but it seemed to her that the last statement was directed at her. Perhaps, it was a subtle threat. Perhaps not. In any case, she swallowed the bite in her mouth and took a long drink of the sweet red wine. It was delicious. She wanted to make a comment about a pirate lord on his wedding trip, perhaps giving in to the pirate instinct when he was supposed to be celebrating a marriage, but she kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want to start trouble because she had an ulterior motive in mind. She maintained the hope that good behavior might earn her some favor with these cutthroats.
“I have never been to France,” she said. “I have always wanted to go. Surely, you and your men must travel a great deal in the course of your… duties.”
Lucifer shrugged. “We do not go there with a purpose in mind. But if there is a task to complete, then we have found ourselves on their shores,” he said. “Our domain is the sea between Cornwall and Ireland, all the way up into Scotland. These seas are ruled by the Pirates of Britannia.”
He sounded very dominant, very warmongering. She wasn’t surprised. “But these seas are also traveled by peaceful men,” she said pointed. “Merchants an
d fisherman. What of them? Do you not allow them to have peace in your domain?”
Lucifer sensed that the conversation was going to take a negative turn with her question. Her tone was taking on an indignant edge. He wanted to steer the focus away from what could become volatile because he was truly trying to keep the situation pleasant.
“What is peace?” he asked rhetorically. “Does any man truly have it in this world? But let us not speak on such things for they will only bring about sorrows. I wish to speak of you. You mentioned earlier today that your father was using you to pay a debt he owed. I will admit that I am curious to know what you mean. Will you indulge me?”
Genevieve looked at him. Her first reaction was to deny him. But upon further consideration, she thought, perhaps, that it might be a good idea to seem as if she were being compliant. All the better for her to get what she wanted out of him in the end.
“My father is a wealthy man, but he has two fundamental problems,” she said. “He likes to hoard his wealth for the most part, but he also likes to gamble. I know that sounds strange, but Father is not generous with his money to others. He is only generous with himself, and that means that he indulges a gambling habit. When I said he was using me to pay a debt, I meant a gambling debt to a man he owes a great deal of money to. His name is Francis de Noble, Lord Ermington, and he is the captain of a privateer vessel. Mayhap you have heard of it? The Resplendent?”
Lucifer lifted an eyebrow. In that explanation to satisfy his curiosity, he’d gotten more than he’d bargained for. “I know it, indeed,” he said. But he went no further. The Resplendent was a vicious warship out of Southampton, with ties to the king. Poseidon’s Legion had a few run-ins with the vessel. So this was de Noble’s betrothed? “Surely, your father believed it to be a good match. I am sure de Noble is… worthy.”
Genevieve was in the process of drinking more wine, now snorting rudely to his statement. “Francis de Noble is not what you would call a desirable man,” she said. “The last time I saw him, I had seen eleven summers and, even then, he was old enough to be my grandfather. I cannot imagine what he must look like eight years later. Nay, my lord, I want nothing to do with Francis de Noble.”
Poseidon’s Legion Page 22
