by Liz Lyles
“Yes, I watched as we crept in closer to San Sebastian—” She looked at him uncertainly. “That was the name of the city, wasn’t it?” He nodded. “I’m glad I was able to see that much.”
“Describe it to me.”
She took a breath and thought back, remembering their arrival. “It was a lovely day,” she said, sounding hesitant, “and the ship’s colors were high. There was a strong wind. It felt almost as if we were flying.” She pictured San Sebastian as she had on the carrack’s deck, twin mountain peaks backing the city and the bay curving to meet the piers of the port. “The harbor grew larger, the wharf and city buildings taking shape, and I remember thinking—so much white, the city seemed to sparkle.”
“San Sebastian is a fine city, one of my favorites,” he agreed, stretching out a foot to kick the log into the fire. The log crushed the embers, sending a shower of sparks and smoke up the chimney. “She is built in a perfect shell shape, with the river Urumea running straight through the heart of the old city. The architecture is among the best—very solid, sturdy walls, gothic cathedral spires. Everytime I sail back into Sebastian I feel as if I’ve come home again.”
She could almost feel the groan the ship made as it came to a creaking, careening sashay against the edge of the quay, the anchor splashing hard and loud into the bay, waves drenching the hull, dripping cold salt water on everything. Immediately the carrack came to life; the shouts of the sailors mingled with the thudding of barrels as they were rolled towards the edge. Men high above, on the intricate rigging, had already begun the task of folding thick slick sails. “I liked the ship,” she said at last.
“The Anita is one of my best ships. Very sleek, very fast. Her cargo capacity is outstanding. I haven’t any other ship quite like her.”
“They are all different then?”
“As different as men are from women,” he said, nodding for emphasis. “My ships are as important to me as family. I can not bear to lose even one.”
“Have you lost a ship before?”
Scowling, he said, “I lost three last year to English pirates. England and Spain have had treaties for years, but that hasn’t stopped the pirating.”
“I haven’t ever heard of such a thing!”
“It’s a common practice, and not limited to the English. There are Spaniards who will attack ships flying their own country’s flags.”
“Have they attacked you?”
“They wouldn’t dare. I created this country’s trade empire; I have helped chart these seas and funded the building of the finest ships.” He stared into the fire. “Besides,” he said, his voice was calm andeven. “They know what I would do when I found them. And I would find them. I have an uncanny ability for discovering the dissenters.”
“What would you do?”
“Cut out each of their tongues and then slit their throats. Slowly.” He laughed suddenly and stood up. “And that is what I plan to do as soon as I get my hands on John Buckman.”
Squeamish, she asked, “Who is he?”
“An Englishman. An Englishman that has not once, not twice, but three times has boarded my ships, robbing the cargo, and leaving the vessel too disabled to continue. Two of my ships have gone down in flames—”
“What of your men?” She was afraid to hear.
He shrugged. “What of them? Sailors are cheap labor. It is the ship that can not be replaced.”
“Were they killed by the pirate?”
He looked at her with fresh impatience. “No, Buckman is too smart to do anything of that sort. He is more interested in stealing what I have.”
She would have smiled if she dared, but she didn’t dare. Instead she drew her brows together as if thinking very hard, a grieved expression on her face. “I hope you find him, my lord.” She hoped the very opposite. She hoped that the brash Englishman would hit the duke’s ships again.
Find out what happens next…
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The Falconer’s Daughter Saga
If you enjoyed The Falconer’s Daughter: Book I, you’ll love the other International Bad Boy stories!
The Falconer’s Daughter: Book I
The Falconer’s Daughter: Book II
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The Falconer’s Daughter: Book III
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The Falconer’s Daughter: Book IV
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About the Author
Liz Lyles was homeschooled during the years her family lived overseas and loved to lose herself in reading and studying ballet, which was her first passion until she turned 16 and realized she would never make it as a professional ballerina. Determined to be practical, Liz gave up dance to focus on her studies, earning an undergraduate degree in English Literature followed by an MA with a teaching credential. While teaching journaling to her junior high students, Liz discovered her own voice and The Falconer’s Daughter, her first historical, was inspired by the sprawling historical sagas she’d loved as a girl.
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