Читать книгу: «The Pirate's Willing Captive»
‘You are a pirate and an ignorant barbarian.’ Perhaps because Maribel felt ashamed of her weakness in not fighting him sooner, her voice was laced with scorn, every inch the haughty lady.
‘The barbarians were not as ignorant as you might imagine. In some ways their culture outstrips our own.’ Justin smiled, more amused than angry. ‘Had I been the ruthless devil you would have me, you would be warming my bed this night before I gave you to my men for their sport.’
Maribel drew back in shock, her eyes wide with horror.
A smile touched his mouth. ‘Nay, I shall not treat you so ill. You may be a shrew, but you are a lady and I shall treat you as such. You will not be harmed while we hold you for ransom.’
‘How can I trust your word?’ She would be a fool to believe him for an instant, but something inside her responded despite herself.
Anne Herries lives in Cambridgeshire, where she is fond of watching wildlife and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books, although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment, and to give pleasure to her readers. She is a winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association Romance Prize.
Previous novels by the same author:
MARRYING CAPTAIN JACK
THE UNKNOWN HEIR
THE HOMELESS HEIRESS
THE RAKE’S REBELLIOUS LADY
A COUNTRY MISS IN HANOVER SQUARE*
AN INNOCENT DEBUTANTE IN HANOVER SQUARE*
THE MISTRESS OF HANOVER SQUARE*
*A Season in Town trilogy
and in the Regency series
The Steepwood Scandal:
LORD RAVENSDEN’S MARRIAGE
COUNTERFEIT EARL
and in The Hellfire Mysteries:
AN IMPROPER COMPANION
A WEALTHY WIDOW
A WORTHY GENTLEMAN
The Pirate’s Willing Captive
Anne Herries
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Prologue
Spring 1557
The man walked away from the hostelry on the waterfront deep in thought. He had booked passage on a ship bound for France and it might be many years before he returned home. He was filled with regret and anger for he had parted from his father with bitter words.
‘You take the word of others above mine, Father—you would believe a stranger above your own son.’
Justin Devere’s blue eyes had flashed with pride, making Sir John snort impatiently. ‘You were a damned fool, Justin. By God, sir! There is no excuse for what you have done. You are the great-grandson of Robert Melford and a more devoted supporter of the Crown could not be found. Your grandfather was much favoured by King Henry VIII—and my own family has always been loyal. By becoming involved in this conspiracy to murder Queen Mary and replace her with the Princess Elizabeth you have let your whole family down. I am ashamed of you!’
‘No, sir. You wrong me…’
Justin raised his head defiantly. He was a handsome devil, with pale blond hair and deep blue eyes; reckless, arrogant and dismissive of rules, he stood head and shoulders above most men, including his father. His grandfather said he was a throwback to Robert Melford in temperament and build, though not in colouring. He was also fiercely proud and it pricked his pride to hear his father call him a fool.
‘You have spoken treason against the Queen and that cannot be tolerated.’
‘It was no such thing, sir!’ Justin declared passionately. ‘I will grant that some hotheads have talked of such a plot in my hearing, but I am innocent of any conspiracy—as is the princess herself. She was gracious enough to grant me an audience; many of us wished her to know that we support her and if any attempt were made to disbar her from inheriting the throne when the Queen dies we should rise to her—’
‘Be quiet!’ John Devere thundered. ‘Do you not realise that that in itself is sufficient to have you arrested for treason?’
‘I shall not be silent, sir. I am as loyal an Englishman as any, but I cannot love a Catholic queen who puts good Englishmen to the fire in the name of religion.’
‘It is not so many years since we were all Catholic and proud of it,’ Justin’s father reminded him. ‘King Hal saw fit to break with Rome and we were all forced to follow or lose our favour at court, but that does not mean—’ He broke off, for the anger was writ plain on Justin’s face. ‘While the Queen lives ’tis treason to speak of her death and well you know it.’
‘We did not plot to murder her, merely to protect our own Elizabeth.’
‘Surely it is enough that talk of your conspiracy has reached her Majesty? The Princess has herself faced questions from the Queen regarding treason and was lucky that her Majesty was in good humour because her husband has promised to visit her soon. Had it not been for that fortunate circumstance, she might have found herself in the Tower once more.’ John placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘Go to France or Spain, Justin. I know that though you have done wrong your heart was good. You have my blessing. Send me word of your situation and as soon as I think the coast clear you may return.’
‘You would have me flee like a coward?’ Justin’s face reflected his disgust.
‘I would have you live, sirrah! Stay and I may have no son to inherit my estate—and that will break your mother’s heart.’
Lost in the memory of the bitter quarrel with his father, Justin did not notice the shadows behind him. Not until it was too late did he realise that he had been followed from the hostelry. Even as he turned, about to draw his sword, a crashing blow to the back of his head sent him to the ground and he lost consciousness as he was carried aboard a ship, not as the passenger he had paid to be, but to serve before the mast.
Chapter One
Spain—autumn 1558
‘No, Father, please do not ask it of me.’ The girl faced the tall man with iron-grey hair defiantly. He was a man of wiry stature, elegantly dressed in black with only one jewel of note, which was a ring made from gold and black agate to denote his mourning for his late wife. ‘I am not ready to marry again. I know you are grieving and you wish a better life for me, but I would rather stay at home with you.’
‘It is nearly a year since Don Pablo died.’
Don Miguel Sabatini’s face was cold as he looked at his beautiful daughter. With her dark hair dressed in ringlets in the Spanish way, she reminded him of his first wife, whom he had come to hate after learning she had played him false with a lover. Her eyes were those of a temptress, a wanton wretch who had betrayed him, leaving a scar that would never heal. When he looked at Maribel’s face he saw the pride of her English mother, a pride he had never been able to break despite his treatment of her, and the hatred burned cold and deep within him. His first wife had been a wanton, deceiving him with a man he had believed his friend. He had never forgiven her and his unkindness had driven her to the decline that led to an early grave. She swore that Maribel was his child, but he had never been certain and because of it could not love his daughter.
However, his second wife Juanita, a gentle kindhearted woman, already past thirty when he wed her, had loved the motherless babe, and, unable to bear a living child herself, had taken the girl as her own, forcing him to show acceptance of a child he despised. It was she who had arranged Maribel’s marriage to her young cousin. Unfortunately the bridegroom had died at the hands of bandits while riding in the hills a few months after the wedding, and Juanita had insisted her much loved stepdaughter return to live with them. Maribel had been grieving for her young husband ever since.
‘You must marry, daughter. It is a woman’s duty and her destiny.’
‘But I cannot put aside my feelings for Pablo so easily, sir. I loved him truly and I do not wish to marry again.’
‘I have written to a gentleman in England with whom I have business. He imports wine from our vineyards and a marriage between you would seal the alliance, make it stronger.’
‘But I do not know this man…’ Maribel protested, dark eyes flashing a protest. ‘You have not even told me his name.’
‘His name is not important, but since you will have it—he is Lord William Roberts of Helbourne.’ He waved his hand as if to dismiss her.
Maribel refused to be dismissed so brusquely.
‘An English lord?’ Her gaze narrowed as she looked at him, saw the cold proud stance and felt again the hurt he had inflicted so often. Why was he so often unkind to her? What had she done to make him hate her, for she felt that his feeling went deeper than mere dislike? ‘How old is he? What manner of man is he? Please tell me, Father.’
‘What can his age signify?’ Don Miguel demanded with an icy stare. ‘He is of good character and rich—what more could you wish for?’
‘A man such as Don Pablo. He was young and handsome and I cared for him,’ Maribel said proudly. ‘He left me a fortune—so why should I marry for wealth when I do not need money?’
‘A woman alone cannot properly care for her estates. I have done what I can for you, daughter, but you should think of marriage. It is the right and proper course for you to follow. Surely you wish for a husband and children?’ His voice softened, took on a persuasive note. ‘You cannot wish to spend all your life in mourning for a man you hardly knew? He would have wished you to be happy.’
‘Yes…perhaps,’ Maribel faltered. When her father spoke softly to her she almost believed that he truly cared for her, and yet in her heart she knew that it was Juanita who had always stood between them, sheltering her from his anger. She thought sometimes that he had hated her from the moment she was born. However, Juanita had told her that he was a good man despite his stern ways and she believed her stepmother. If he felt she should marry this English lord, it might be for the best. To openly disobey him at a time when they were both grieving for the woman they had loved would be to show disrespect to Juanita’s memory. ‘I beg you will allow me time to consider this marriage, sir. I should like to meet the gentleman before making a commitment. ’
‘I will write and invite him to visit. He is a busy man. He may send someone in his stead—perhaps a portrait would ease your mind?’
‘I should like to see his likeness.’ Maribel moved forwards, her hand outstretched. ‘Please, give me a little time, sir. I have not yet recovered from my stepmother’s death. I loved her dearly.’
‘As did I, God rest her soul,’ Don Miguel said piously. ‘For Juanita’s sake I shall grant you a further few months, but I want you to make yourself ready, Maribel. It is my wish that you should marry soon.’
Maribel inclined her head. From the tone of her father’s voice she knew herself dismissed. He had no more to say to her and considered the matter settled. No doubt he would invite Lord Roberts to visit them and arrange the wedding without further reference to her wishes.
Going outside to the shaded courtyard, Maribel blinked to stop her tears. She had no wish to leave Spain for England, which was a country of which she knew little. Her mother had been an Englishwoman, but Maribel could not remember her, though she had lived until past her child’s second birthday when she had died of a fever after giving birth to a stillborn son. It must be because she was half-English that her father had decided she should marry this English lord.
Maribel’s throat caught as she thought of her handsome young husband. He was but sixteen when they married, her own age at the time, and beautiful to look upon. Pablo Sanchez had a gentle nature. He was loving and kind, and he had treated Maribel as a sister. They had had fun riding together and playing foolish games. Something that no one else knew was that their marriage had never been consummated. Maribel was as much a virgin now as she had been on the day of her wedding.
Perhaps if her father understood that she was still virgin he would have some sympathy for her, but she could never tell him for it would shame her.
The future loomed dark and forbidding before her. She had been granted a few more months, but she knew the time would come when her father would force her to marry the man of his choosing.
‘Cut him down and carry him below,’ Justin commanded of the sailors. He had just been compelled to order the flogging of one of the crew for disobedience and it had taken all his self-control not to snatch the cruel whip from the bosun’s hand. ‘We must tend his wounds.’
‘Aye, that we must,’ Higgins growled. ‘’Tis a wonder the poor lad bore it as well as he did.’
‘I know it well enough.’
Justin did not remind the man that he had been lashed the first time he disobeyed the monster that was their captain. On waking with a crashing headache that first morning to discover that he was aboard a strange ship and bound for the east, Justin had at first refused to take orders from Captain Smythe and his bosun. However, a lashing at the mast had made him realise that he had little choice but to obey. It was entirely due to the first mate Higgins’s care of him that he had recovered.
Gradually, over the months, Justin had found his sea legs and gained the respect of the rest of the crew. He knew that they looked to him for a lead, and that most of them were at the point of mutiny. The time was coming when he must act, but for the moment the injured lad was his main concern.
Once they were safely below decks, they laid the young sailor on a mattress of blankets and sacking and Higgins began to wash away the blood as carefully as he could. The sailor had fainted after forty lashes and was unaware as the man tended his wounds with a salve. When he had finished, Higgins looked up at Justin.
‘The men can’t take much more of this, sir. They are looking to you for a lead.’
‘You are talking of mutiny?’
‘Aye, sir—common justice, I call it. The captain and his bosun must be put overboard in the night. Some of the officers are ready to join us, but any that refuse will go with the captain. The men think you should be their captain. They will follow you, sir—wherever you lead us.’
‘I have heard the whispers. I am honoured by your trust in me, Higgins. Do the men understand that if we do this we shall be outlaws—forced to earn our living by piracy? If we were taken, we should all hang. This ship sails under the Queen’s flag. Some of you may have signed of your own free will. I was press-ganged against my will, but it would not save me. I should hang with the rest of you.’
‘Aye, we’ll all hang if they take us, sir—but some of us think it worth the risk. A year or two as privateers and we can live like kings for the rest of our lives.’
‘We’ll be pirates, make no mistake, Higgins. A privateer sails with the Queen’s blessing and I think we shall not be granted such a dispensation.’
‘Aye, sir. The men know it.’
Justin’s gaze narrowed. ‘If I agree to this, there must be as little bloodshed as possible. I shall not stand by and see old scores settled. If I am to be master then the men will obey my rules. I shall not flog a man for a petty offence, but if a man murders a comrade he will hang. I am no soft touch and it is best the crew understand it before we begin.’
‘We’ll sail by the laws of the brethren. We all know what is involved, sir—and we’re all behind you to a man.’
Justin hesitated, then, ‘Very well. The men will wait for my signal. Do we know who is with us amongst the officers?’
‘The bosun will side with the captain, and perhaps Mr Hendry—all the others are as sick of their brutality as the rest of us.’
‘Mr Hendry has the keys to the arsenal. We shall need that if we are to succeed.’
‘He may resist, sir.’
‘Leave him to me,’ Justin’s eyes gleamed with excitement. A life of piracy was not one he would have chosen, but now that it had been thrust upon him he saw that it was his only chance. If he refused, the men would butcher the captain, officers and midshipmen, and he would receive a knife in the back. Besides, it offered an adventure and freedom from the tyrant who had made all their lives a misery. ‘When Hendry comes on late watch I shall offer him the chance to join us. If he refuses, he will be made captive until we have the ship—and then we shall put the men ashore. We are not far from the coast of Venice. The captain and officers can stay there until an English ship makes port and takes them home.’
‘They will tell their tales of us, sir—we shall be hunted across the seas.’
‘We shall be the hunters, Higgins. We’ll head for Cyprus and refit and rename the ship. She needs trimming down to make her faster. We might sell her and buy something more in keeping with our trade. Trust me, I have learned much these past months and my mathematics are good; I know what is needed to improve her speed.’
‘Aye, sir, we all know it. You will make a good captain—and you’ll have the men behind you. Willing hands make light work.’
Justin smiled—he knew that the men often disobeyed orders or deliberately took their time carrying out their tasks as their only means of revenge on a master they hated.
‘Tell the men to be ready for my signal.’
‘Aye, aye, Captain Sylvester.’
Higgins saluted and left him alone with their patient. Justin smiled. He had given a false name to the bosun when he was first ordered to report for duty. No one knew his true identity and he would never reveal it. He was Sylvester and would now be the captain of a pirate vessel; for he had no doubt that they could take the ship. Justin was not sure that first officer Hendry would be prepared to sail with them as pirates, but he would be given his chance. If he could achieve it, the mutiny would take place with no loss of life, but he accepted that there might be casualties. Facing reality, he understood that he could not ply his trade without some bloodshed, but he would offer a safe passage to the crews of the ships they took. If they refused…Justin’s expression hardened. They would do what was necessary and no more.
He had not asked to be brought on board this ship. Injustice and prejudice had forced him to flee from England, and a press gang had robbed him of his liberty. In time he would part company from the ship and its crew and make his way to France, as he’d planned, but for the moment he was committed to leading the men to the fortunes they all hoped to make.
‘I have had word that Lord Roberts is to send his cousin to escort you to England, daughter,’ Don Miguel Sabatini said. ‘You have had time enough to grieve. Captain Hynes will be here within days. You are to have your possessions packed and be ready to leave.’
‘But am I to have no choice? Supposing I do not like him?’ Maribel’s head went up, her expression defiant.
‘You will obey your husband, as you obey me. I have made my decision, Maribel.’
‘What of my lands here in Spain?’ Maribel had hoped that he had forgotten his plans for her marriage these past six months, but it seemed he had not.
‘You may trust me to administer them for you. Once you are married, they will belong to your husband. He may wish to sell them and I shall await his instructions.’
‘They belong to me. Pablo left them to my care. I do not wish to sell them.’
‘Pablo has no son to inherit. Your new husband will instruct you in his wishes. Perhaps if you please him he will allow you to keep them and send his agents to inspect them.’
Maribel stared at him, mutiny flaring. She was angry that he refused to listen to her plea, but uncertain what she could do. Had Pablo’s father lived, she might have applied to him for help, but her young husband had had no family. She was quite alone and had no influence with anyone; instead, she was at the mercy of her father’s will.
As she left him and went out, wandering to the crest of the hill to look out over the sea, her thoughts were heavy. Even if she denied her father he might send her to England. There was little she could do; her fortune was in her father’s hands. The lawyers had told her it was for the best and she had foolishly signed—but Juanita had been living then and her father had not been so stern…so unforgiving.
Hearing a muffled sound out to sea, Maribel shaded her eyes. The ships were too far out for her to see them properly, but she believed that one was firing on the other. What was going on? She had heard her father complain of the pirates that often attacked merchant ships in Spanish waters. Could it be a pirate vessel—and whose ship was being attacked?
‘We found a rich haul in the holds.’ Higgins grinned at Justin as he swung aboard the Defiance. ‘The captain would not tell us from whence he came, but we found chests of unrefined silver…’
‘From the New World, you think?’
‘It would seem so, Cap’n.’
Justin nodded. Since he had taken command of the ship, putting its master and most of the officers ashore, they had been fortunate and had already taken three rich merchant ships, all of whom had surrendered when the first shot was fired across their bows.
‘They surrendered the ship without a fight. Johnson told me that the crew have no love for the owner of this vessel. They were ordered to kill the slaves who mined the silver for them before they took it aboard and it hath sickened some of them.’
‘That is beyond forgiveness!’ Justin was angry. ‘By God, the man responsible deserves to be taught a lesson!’
‘Don Miguel Sabatini is the owner of the Juanita. He has men whose job it is to run the mines and they do not treat the slaves well. I have heard of him before from crew I met when we went ashore at Cyprus. His name is feared. Once he knows we have attacked his ships we shall be marked men.’
‘We are faster than any Spanish ship, be it man of war or merchantmen,’ Justin said. ‘I do not fear Don Miguel nor yet any Spanish merchant. Only an English fighting ship can challenge us—and thus far we have outrun them all.’
‘Aye, the luck has been with us,’ Higgins agreed. ‘The men think you are their lucky charm, sir.’
‘We have been fortunate so far.’ Justin laughed, feeling a surge of elation. ‘This is the third rich prize we have taken. One more and we shall sail for Cyprus to re-provision and give the men a chance to spend some of their booty.’
‘On wine and women,’ Higgins agreed. ‘For myself I’ll be saving it to invest, perhaps in land in the New World. I had a wife once, but when I returned from a long voyage I found her in bed with her new lover. She wanted a man who was content to live ashore. I needed to feel the wind in my face and the waves beneath me so I left her to it and signed on for a decent master. I’m in no hurry to retire, but when I do I’ll find me a good woman and become a man of property.’
‘A goodly ambition.’ Justin’s eyes revealed no secrets. The austere life at sea had hardened him in body and in mind. Thoughts of his quarrel with his father no longer tortured him. Though he’d not chosen his new life he had become accustomed to it and even relished it at times. ‘Make secure the ship, Higgins. We’ll find shelter in a quiet cove for the night. The look of that sky tells me that there will be a storm before long…’
As the first mate went out, Justin looked at the small chest he had taken from the captain of the captured ship. It was locked, but he prised it open with his knife and looked at the contents. Realising just what he had found, Justin hid the parchment inside his jerkin. If this fell into the wrong hands, it might cause mutiny and endless arguments, even some bloodshed. The map might be worth a fortune, but it would be more trouble than a little. He would keep it hidden for the moment while he decided what he ought to do with the unexpected discovery.
‘Will you not relent and let me stay in Spain, Father?’ Maribel asked one last time before she departed for the ship. ‘I could go to my husband’s house and you need not see me again.’
‘To draw back now would cause offence to Lord Roberts and default on our contract,’ her father said. ‘Go with Captain Hynes. Your future husband has entrusted you to his care and you must forget all that you knew here. Your husband is a man of some stature in England. You should thank me on your knees for arranging such a marriage for you.’
Maribel understood that there was to be no reprieve for her. ‘Very well, sir. I shall obey you.’
She turned away, her face proud and cold. Since there was no help for it she must accept her fate. Samuel Hynes was in the courtyard, waiting for her with the horses. He approached, offering his hand as if he would help her, but she gave her hand to her groom, Rodrigo, and let him put her up on her horse. There was something about Lord Roberts’s cousin that made her distrust him; he had a sly, lascivious gleam in his eyes that made her uncomfortable and she would not have him touch her.
She saw him frown as he turned away. Her maid, Anna, who was to accompany her to England, was taken up behind the groom. They had both chosen to accompany her to her new home for they loved her dearly. It was Anna who had held her when she wept after Juanita’s death, and Rodrigo who had taught her to ride as a child. Knowing that they were with her gave Maribel courage. She was not completely alone. She had people who cared for her—and perhaps in time she would learn to love the man she was to marry.
It was but a short ride to the cove where the ship had anchored. Maribel knew that her father had received bad news about one of his ships recently. The Juanita, which was his flagship, had been attacked and robbed of its cargo by pirates. Having sustained damage, it was in port being repaired. She was to travel on an English ship belonging to Samuel Hynes and understood that the Mistress Susanna was not as large or as well armed as the Juanita.
‘Welcome aboard my ship,’ Samuel Hynes said as he helped her step on deck. ‘I am honoured to have you as a passenger, Donna Maribel. My cousin is a fortunate man. Had I been in his shoes, I would have made the journey myself.’
‘I dare say Lord Roberts has much to concern him with the welfare of his estate and people.’
‘Yes, perhaps. He is often at court. Yet I believe I should have spared the time for a bride as lovely as you, Madonna.’
Maribel lifted her head proudly, her eyes conveying her feeling of scorn. She would not accept his compliments for she did not like or trust him.
‘I believe I shall go to my cabin, sir.’
‘As you wish. I have given up my own so that you may be comfortable, Donna Maribel.’
‘You will address me as Donna Sanchez, if you please.’ Maribel said coldly. ‘I have not yet married Lord Roberts and am still the widow of Don Pablo Sanchez.’
‘Indeed you are, lady.’ Samuel inclined his head respectfully, but there was a glitter of anger in his eyes. ‘Forgive me. One of my men will show you the way.’
He signalled to a cabin boy, who came at a run. He grinned at Maribel and beckoned to her.
‘Come, lady, I will take you to your cabin.’ He hesitated as Maribel did not immediately follow. ‘I don’t speak Spanish, señorita…but you must come or he will be angry…’
Maribel smiled at him, because she sensed his concern. ‘I understand English very well. My mother was English and Juanita thought it right I should speak it as well as my father’s language. As a child I had an English nurse.’
The lad looked at her, but said nothing, glancing back at Captain Hynes as if he feared him. Only when they were in the cabin did he speak again.
‘He would punish me if he heard me say it, lady—but be careful of the captain. I don’t trust him. If what I’ve heard is true, he has tricked you and your father…’
‘What do you mean? How hath he tricked us?’
‘I heard as Lord Roberts lay close to death when this voyage was begun. If ’tis true, Captain Hynes will inherit the estate from his cousin—and you mayhap?’
Maribel turned pale, her head swimming for one terrible moment as she realised what this might mean. She had seen the look of lust in Samuel Hynes’s eyes and felt sick, because she knew that she would be alone in England, apart from her servants, and at the mercy of an unscrupulous man. Hearing the sounds on deck, she understood that they had already begun to cast off. It was too late to go back, and even if she were to return to her home she was not sure that her father would believe her.
As the cabin boy left, Maribel fell to her knees. She began to pull her rosary through her hands, her lips moving in prayer.
‘Save me from this wicked man,’ she whispered. ‘Please God, do not allow me to fall into the hands of such a man—for I believe I should prefer to lie in my grave…’
‘She is an English ship,’ Justin said as they saw the flag flying proudly. ‘We do not attack English ships.’
‘The Mistress Susanna belongs to Samuel Hynes.’ Higgins growled. ‘I’ve served him and he was a worse devil than Captain Smythe knew how to be. He is a merchant and fair game. We’ve seen no Spanish ships for three days and the men are restless. I think we should take this prize. Besides—look at the second flag. That is Sabatini’s pennant…’
