Chapter Nine
Constantine wasn’t surprised to see Gregoria standing in the doorway with a sword in her hand.
Cooped up in the captain’s cabin without any knowledge of the madness going on around her, it would make sense that the woman wanted to arm herself. Surely she must have thought the entire world was crashing down around her and, for a brief second, his heart leapt at the sight of her. It was such a joyous leap, something he’d never experienced before, as if the mere sight of her brought him contentment.
But that brief, warm moment was swiftly dashed when the woman who had literally fallen backward into the cabin leapt to her feet and began swinging her fists.
“Beasts!” she howled. “Where is my sister?”
The woman was a short little thing, with dark silky hair that was now a mess all over her head and shoulders, but she wasn’t giving up without a fight against two significantly larger men. When she took a swing at Lucifer, he put a hand on her forehead and gave a strong push, causing her to crash back onto her buttocks again. Constantine gave her a push with his booted foot for good measure, pushing her further inside the chamber and away from the door.
“Keep her in here,” he told Gregoria. “Bolt the door and do not let her leave.”
Gregoria’s mouth fell open with shock. “But…!”
He cut her off. “No questions,” he demanded. “Bolt this door and do not leave. That is not a request.”
His tone was cutting, harsh. Startled by the command and his controlled manner, Gregoria simply nodded her head as Constantine grabbed the door latch and yanked the panel closed. But the little woman was on her feet again, rushing for the door, and Gregoria intercepted her.
“Nay!” she said, trying to pull the woman away. “It is not safe out there. Did you hear him? You must say here where you will not come to harm!”
Furious and frightened, the dark-haired woman slapped her right across the face. Startled, Gregoria slapped her back. Clearly, the dark-haired woman wasn’t used to being touched or resisted, because she swung at Gregoria’s face again and Gregoria ducked, giving the woman a shove back and sending her stumbling.
“You’ll not hit me again, do you hear?” Gregoria said angrily. “Try it and I shall slug you right in the nose!”
The dark-haired woman came to an unsteady halt, holding on to the wall for balance as the ship rocked about. “Are you in this with him?” she demanded. “If you are, then I will fight you to the death!”
Gregoria scowled. “Of course I am not a pirate!”
“Then why are you here?”
That was a good question, one with an answer that would make it seem as if she were, indeed, in collusion with Constantine. She didn’t want a battle on her hands with this terrified woman so she struggled to calm down, hoping her demeanor would encourage the frightened woman to calm as well.
“I am here on another matter,” she said evenly. “But I assure you, I am not a pirate. And those men are putting you into this room with me to keep you safe. There is a battle going on out there and you will be hurt if you leave this cabin.”
The woman pushed her long hair out of her eyes, revealing a rather lovely face. She had dark, flashing eyes and rosebud lips, but her expression was set and hard.
“They put me in here to keep me a prisoner,” she said flatly. “Are you a prisoner, too?”
Gregoria wasn’t sure she should answer that because the woman wouldn’t appreciate the truth. It was rather complicated, so she sought to change the subject.
“Why would you be a prisoner?” she asked. “Did your ship not attack this ship?”
The woman’s face darkened. “We fired only to protect ourselves,” she said. “I know who commands this ship; it is Constantine le Brecque, the most wicked pirate in these waters. He is taking my father’s ship as a prize!”
“Who is your father?”
“He is a merchant!”
Gregoria learned a lot in that agitated explanation. Given Constantine’s vocation, she was quite certain she couldn’t deny the woman’s charge.
“If you fired upon him first, mayhap you angered him,” she said, trying to search for an explanation. “Where is your captain? Surely he knows it is not safe to fire on a pirate ship.”
The woman growled. “He is dead,” she said, suddenly appearing as if she were about to cry. “I saw him killed with my own eyes. One of le Brecque’s men speared him through the heart.”
At that, she turned away, clearly upset with the turn of events. Once the sheer panic eased, all that was left was terror and sorrow. In truth, Gregoria felt a little sorry for her.
“My name is Gregoria,” she said, trying to ease the situation a little. “Everyone calls me Gregg. What is your name?”
The woman had her back to Gregoria, dabbing at her eyes. “Genevieve,” she said. “I am Genevieve Efford.”
“Where do you live, Genevieve?”
Genevieve eyed her. “Why would you ask such a question?” she demanded, becoming agitated again. “This is not time for idle conversation. We must find a way to get out of here!”
Gregoria didn’t know what to say about that other than repeat what she’d already told her. “It is too dangerous,” she said. “You are much safer in here.”
Genevieve didn’t like that answer. “But my sister is out there,” she said. “I must go and save her!”
Gregoria had a feeling the woman was going to charge the door, so she moved to put herself in between the door and Genevieve. “Constantine and his men will make sure she is safe,” she said, hoping it was true. “If you go out there, you’ll only get hurt. I am not sure how many times I can tell you that.”
“But I must save Vivienne!”
“At the cost of your own life? What will happen to her if you die?”
That slowed Genevieve somewhat. She backed down but her movements were full of angst. Realizing that she was essentially helpless in all of this, she turned around, wandering aimlessly for the open windows. Smoke from the cannons was still wafting in but she didn’t seem to notice. Her mind was wandering to the chain of events and the predicament she now found herself in. Even though she’d quieted, she still had a wild-eyed, shocked look about her.
“Sweet Mary,” she breathed. “What I would not give to simply go back to Ireland.”
“Ireland?” Gregoria said. “Is that where you live?”
Genevieve didn’t say anything for a moment, her gaze on the storm that was blowing in over their heads. “I have for the past year,” she said. “My father has property there.”
Gregoria was relieved to see that the woman seemed to be calming. “I have never been to Ireland,” she said. “What is it like?”
Genevieve shrugged. “Like England,” she said. “The land is green, the people fair, only Ireland seems much more ancient to me. There are great mounds built by men thousands of years ago, and great stone monuments. I have a horse and I would go riding every day. I… I just want to go back.”
Gregoria could hear the wistfulness in her tone. “I am sure you will be able to, someday.”
Genevieve turned to her sharply. “As the prisoner of a pirate?” she snapped. “Somehow, I do not think they will let me go back to Ireland. They will probably sell me off to the highest bidder.”
Gregoria wasn’t sure if that was a possibility or not, so she simply kept her mouth shut. She was coming to the end of being able to comfort the woman and, soon enough, her real purpose for being here might come out. That would start the anger all over again. Just as she pondered what more to say to the woman, there was a loud bang against the cabin door. Rushing to the door, Gregoria put her hand on the bolt.
“Who comes?” she yelled.
“Open the door.”
It was Constantine. Passing a glance at Genevieve, wondering if the woman was going to rush the door anew, she threw the bolt and the door lurched open. It seemed at that moment as if everything in the world abruptly spilled into the cabin; Henry and Edward, the dogs, rushed in, barking and agitated, while Remy came in behind them holding three gray, scruffy-looking puppies in his arms. As he headed over to the bed to set the puppies down, a young woman was forcibly escorted into the cabin by Lucifer.
The woman was crying at the top of her lungs, wailing, and Genevieve rushed to the woman, trying to pull her away from Lucifer as she pounded on the man’s arm.
“Release her, you beast!” she howled. “Let my sister go!”
Lucifer released the woman, but only when he was ready to. Genevieve tried to charge him again, to kick him, and he reached out a long leg and blocked her kick, shoving her back in the same motion. She ended up on her knees near the table where the meals had been served and, because of the violent roll of the ship, there were items on the floor – a spoon, a tray, and a cup. She picked up the cup and hurled it at Lucifer’s head.
“You monster!” she cried, picking up the spoon and blindly throwing it at him. “You are a brutal, vile monster!”
The cup missed Lucifer, although barely, while the spoon hit him on the arm. All he did was frown at the woman and shake his head with great disapproval as he headed out of the cabin. Meanwhile, the woman’s sister was weeping hysterically. Genevieve scrambled off of the floor and went to her sister, throwing her arms around the woman.
“Are you well, Vivi?” she demanded. “They did not injure you, did they?”
Vivienne Efford, tiny and thin and dark-haired like her sister, shook her head. Genevieve kissed her and led her over to the bed where the puppies were starting to move around, sniffing everything.
“Look,” Genevieve said with gentleness no one had yet heard from her. “Look at your dogs; they are fine. You must take care of them.”
Sobbing, quivering, Vivienne sat on the bed and began to hug her puppies as Gregoria stood back and watched the scene. The sisters weren’t injured but they were both frightened out of their minds. Even though Lucifer had quit the cabin, Constantine was still standing near the door and when Gregoria looked at him, she was somewhat startled to see that he was staring at her. He just stood there and looked at her for a moment as Vivienne wept and Genevieve tried to soothe her. With the noise of sorrow in the background, Gregoria made her way over to Constantine.
“Are they really your prisoners?” she whispered. “What do you intend to do with them?”
His gaze lingered on her. “That should be of no concern to you.”
She looked at him seriously. “Forgive me, but it is,” she said. “I am very concerned for them. Please do not harm them. They are just young women and they are so very frightened.”
Constantine heard the concern in her voice. Although she understood the theory of piracy, the practice of it was something quite different. She had no idea how such situations were handled or how such deeds were carried out. But the questions didn’t bother him because he could see that she was genuinely concerned – not demanding, or bullying – but concerned for other human beings. That kind of compassion was rare in Constantine’s line of work unless it was from his fellow pirates with regards to each other. But seeing it from Gregoria towards women he only saw as part of the treasures of the merchant ship – somehow, it touched him.
“I am not going to harm them,” he said quietly. “But you must let me decide their fates.”
Her brow furrowed. “Fates?” she repeated. “Genevieve told me that all she wishes to do is return to Ireland. Can you not simply return them to Ireland? It would be the compassionate thing to do.”
Constantine wasn’t a man who took kindly to being questioned. All of his men knew that. But he was being amazingly patient with Gregoria’s questioning, mainly because he knew she wasn’t questioning his authority. Simply his intentions. Moreover, coming from her… it was different somehow. He realized that he didn’t want to upset or offend her.
“I want you to do something for me,” he said softly.
“What is it?”
Reaching up, he cupped her chin briefly. “Ease the ladies,” he said, dropping his hand. “There is drink in the cabinets. Give them some. There is also water in the corner, a barrel anchored to the deck with a lid on it. Give Henry and Edward some water to drink. Tend to every creature in this cabin and I shall return when my tasks are complete.”
His touch. God, even that slight touch to her chin sent bolts of excitement racing through her body. The man had the ability to turn her knees to liquid with merely a touch, and his voice… it had been gentle. Kind, even. In the midst of a battle, he was calm and cool and patient with her. It was all quite disorienting but all quite wonderful. When she spoke, there was a quiver in her voice.
“I will,” she said. “Did… did you really attack her father’s ship? Genevieve, I mean. She said you attacked her father’s ship.”
Constantine thought he needed to make things clear. His business was his business, and it was no concern of hers. She was curious, frightened about what was happening and concerned for the young women, but now her questions were bordering on disapproval and he didn’t like it.
He didn’t like seeing disapproval in her eyes, especially when it pertained to him.
“What I do is my own affair,” he said, rather defensively. “Just because I am escorting you to Wales does not mean that my business stops. You, on the other hand, will do as you are told. Nothing I do concerns you and you would do well to remember that.”
Reprimanded, Gregoria lowered her gaze, her cheeks warm with embarrassment. Constantine was immediately sorry but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize or even ease his stance. She had to know her place and he wouldn’t tolerate her interference.
Even if her intentions were altruistic. Altruism and piracy didn’t go hand-in-hand.
… did they?
Leaving Gregoria in the cabin with the young women, Constantine fled and slammed the door behind him. Bloody Beard, whoever heard of an altruistic pirate? He’d be the laughing stock. He’d spent so much of his life going after wealth and making a name for himself that it was all he knew. Merchant ships like this – they were his life’s blood. The spoils from this ship would pay his men and be used for trade. It was necessary. In Perranporth, it was plunder like this that kept the local economy going when his men visited villages in the area and spent their money there. Gregoria just didn’t understand that it was more than stealing or looting – it was necessary to the economy of Cornwall, for the most part. It wasn’t as if Constantine derived some sick pleasure from his way of life. It was simply a means to an end – money to support him, his men, and his way of life.
Out on the main deck, the fight was dying down for the most part. His men had secured the merchant ship and were now bringing over the goods that had been stored in the hull. There was heavy smoke from a fire at the bow of the ship and Constantine moved to get a better look at it. It was quickly consuming the front of the ship and he could see Lucifer and Remy as they bellowed to the men to move fast and remove all they could before the ship burned up and sank.
Still more of his men were moving the surviving crew of the merchant ship onto the Gaia, taking them below where the captives were kept. There was also a beautiful black stallion that had been secured to the stern of the ship and his men had rigged a cradle to move the horse over to the Gaia, but the horse was frightened so Constantine jumped in to help.
As the flames began to consume the merchant vessel, Constantine managed to cover up the eyes of the stallion and hold the animal steady as his men rigged the rope cradle and heaved the horse between the ships, landing it gently on the deck of the Gaia where there were men waiting to tend it. By this time, the merchant ship was listing dangerously by the bow and Constantine made his way back to the Gaia to survey their take. Remy was there to meet him.
“Well?” Constantine said. “Have we cleared everything from the merchant ship?”
Remy nodded. “Mostly,” he said. Then, he pointed to the bow of the crippled ship and Constantine turned to see Kerk in the water, swimming towards the Gaia with four goats in tow. “Kerk was able to free the animals in the front of the hold.”
Constantine snapped at his men to rush and help Kerk pull the goats from the water. They did so, heaving the animals out by their necks. They were wet, but unharmed. “No more livestock on board?” he asked.
Remy shook his head. “There were more goats, but we transferred them to the Persephone,” he said. “In fact, what do you want to do about all of this? We have quite a bit of merchandise and most of it on the Gaia. Will you carry all of this to Wales?”
Constantine shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “Move the Persephone alongside and we’ll transfer everything over to her. You can then take the Persephone back to Perranporth while the Gaia will continue to Wales. I cannot, and will not, take a heavily-laden vessel any further than I have to. It is safer to return the goods home as soon as we can.”
“Aye, my lord.”
“Go and make the necessary preparations.”
As Remy headed off to move everything over to the Persephone, Constantine wanted to get a better look at the black stallion. It was a magnificent animal with a shiny coat and furry fetlocks, quite big and muscular. He had a weakness for fine horses and knew this one would make an excellent addition to his collection. He petted the beast, inspecting the legs, making sure the animal hadn’t suffered in the chaos. It seemed fine except that it was still quite excited, so he instructed his men to keep the animal’s eyes covered. He also wanted someone with the animal constantly to see to its wellbeing, and a sailor with a great fondness for horses was assigned.
With the last of the cargo being transferred to the Gaia, the merchant ship went through its death throes as the burning wreckage slipped beneath the sea. Heavy smoke covered the area and Constantine had the Gaia moved away from the smoldering ruins to keep his ship protected.
The conquest of the merchant ship had been an unexpected benefit to this trip, making the entire undertaking well worth his while. Perhaps now his men wouldn’t look upon this venture so unfavorably. They thought he didn’t know of their concerns, but he did. Constantine wasn’t a fool. He knew what his men were thinking better than they did at times. He knew this haul would ease some of that disapproval. Disapproval that their leader, a man great enough to lead titans, was letting a woman influence his decisions.
But that was far from the case. At least, Constantine kept telling himself that.
Muddled in thought, he went to the poop deck of the Gaia and surveyed the activity as all of the goods on the decks of the Gaia were moved over to the Persephone. It was an extremely rich haul and Constantine specifically assigned Kerk the duty of taking the Persephone back to Perranporth and then inventorying the entire haul. He trusted Kerk and knew the man would keep everything protected until his return to Perran Castle.
But thoughts of Gregoria were heavy on Constantine’s mind, even as he went about his duties. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to shake her. Specifically, he was dreading the moment when he would send his men into his cabin to remove the two captive women to take back to Perran Castle. Gregoria had asked him what he intended to do with the women and the answer was obvious; it was the same thing he did every time he captured women as part of a haul or conquest – he would auction them off to his men as wives or concubines. He might even award them to men who performed admirably in battle. Women were possessions, like that beautiful black horse or the trunk of fine silks they’d come across. They were items for a man to do with as he pleased.
… weren’t they?
He had a feeling Gregoria wouldn’t think so.
Therefore, Constantine was a coward in the end. When it came time to move the captive women to the Persephone, he sent Lucifer and Remy and Augustin to do it. He pretended to be busy with other things, but he could hear the screams of the women as they were removed from his cabin and taken aboard the Persephone. They were screams of terror and of pain, the cries of women whose future was now uncertain. They were cries that had never bothered him before in all the years he’d been at sea but, this time, it was different. The cries cut into him.
… what if those cries had belonged to Gregoria?
God, what was happening to him! That woman, that silly woman who had come to him with tales of a holy relic and had convinced him to help her return it was under his skin more than he wanted to admit. Had she bewitched him somehow? Had those big blue eyes and sensual body hooked him more than he had realized? He should be angry about it; so very angry but, instead, he found himself wanting to go and see her. She was in the cabin below his feet, undoubtedly upset about the captive women being moved to the Persephone, and he’d stayed away like a weakling. He hadn’t wanted to face her.
He was going to have to face her sometime.
Once the captive women had been taken below deck on the Persephone, Constantine summoned his courage. Heading down to his cabin, he could see that the door was wide open. The deck was fairly devoid of men at this point, most of them working on securing the Persephone for her return, so he made his way into the cabin, prepared for a tongue lashing. He wasn’t sure what he was going to find or what mood Gregoria would be in, and he wondered why he even cared. But he did care.
That was his problem.
“What did you do with those women?”
He had barely entered the open door than Gregoria was firing the question at him. He lifted a blond eyebrow at her.
“I am not sure I care for your tone,” he said. “I told you that what I do is none of your affair.”
Gregoria was standing back by the windows, arms crossed angrily. “Then why did you come back in here?” she asked. “You knew I was going to ask you. Do you know that Lucifer and one of your other men dragged those women out of here, kicking and screaming?”
He was struggling not to show any remorse because she made something he was immune to sound so terrible. “If they were kicking and screaming, then that is their fault,” he said evenly. “They could have gone peacefully. They chose not to.”
Gregoria wasn’t surprised by the answer, but she was disappointed. She was so angry, so upset, that she was trembling. All of those soft, warm feelings she’d developed for Constantine were in danger of fizzling out, like water dousing a flame. But, in truth, she was only lying to herself if she thought that was really the case. Whatever she felt for the man was beginning to anchor itself deep. But to see how his men had treated those women – at Constantine’s direction – hurt her deeply.
“What kind of man are you?” she finally hissed. “I thought you were kind and helpful. And now… now…!”
“Now what?” he said, losing the battle against his patience. “What did you really think I am when you came to seek my help, Gregoria? Some fine, noble knight, a gentle man that lives a genteel life? You knew better than that. I never put on any illusion of being anything other than what I am – a thief and a man of business. That is all.”
His words were like a slap in the face. Gregoria stared at him and her lower lip began to tremble. Disillusioned, she averted her gaze and turned away from him.
“Then put me off this ship,” she hissed. “I will go back to Perran Castle with the rest of the cargo. I want off!”
His jaw ticked as he watched her stiff back. “What about this relic you want to deliver to Wales?” he asked. “You were quite determined that I escort you, fearful of the French as you were.”
“I would rather face them!” she suddenly shouted, whirling to look at him. “Surely they cannot be any worse than what you are!”
His jaw flexed. “Is that what you think?” he said. “Then you really are a fool. Shall I tell you how I differ from the French? If you have been told anything about them at all, then you know that they cut the feet off of their captives so they cannot run away. Did you know that? At least I do not maim my captives.”
Gregoria hadn’t heard that and she gasped with shock, trying to cover it but not doing a very good job. “That… that is horrible!”
He nodded. “Indeed, it is,” he said. “Do you know what else the French do, especially to women captives? They will chain you to a bed shipboard so that you cannot escape – chaining your hands to the head of the bed – and then any man who feels the need to sate his lustful needs in the soft folds of your body has the opportunity to do so. Considering how many men they carry shipboard, anywhere from thirty to fifty, you could find yourself violated thirty to fifty times a day. Even if you become with child, they do not remove you from that bed. Men will continue to relieve themselves in your body until you give birth to that child, which they will then throw overboard the moment it is born. The blood and guts from childbirth will barely be out of your body before another man is putting his seed in you. Now – do you still believe I am not any worse than the French?”
By the time he was finished, she was looking at him with tears in her eyes and a hand over her mouth.
“Dear… God…,” she breathed through splayed fingers. “Tell me that is not true.”
“Of course it is true. I would not lie to you.”
She blinked and tears spattered on her cheeks, which she quickly wiped away. “You… you will not do that to Genevieve or Vivienne, will you?” she asked hoarsely. “The women you captured, I mean. The women that were just here. You will not be cruel to them like that, will you?”
“Why do you care so much about them? You do not even know them.”
She sighed faintly, shaking her head. “I do not need to know them,” she said softly, pleadingly. “All I know is that they are young women who do not deserve to be punished simply because they were on a ship that you wanted. Is it possible for you to show some compassion for their plight?”
“Why?”
“Because it would be the right thing to do. Does it not ever occur to you to simply do what is right and good, for once?”
It didn’t, not ever. Chattel! He thought. Those women are simply chattel! But it was clear Gregoria didn’t think so. Constantine’s plan had been to auction them off to his men, but looking at Gregoria’s pale face, he wasn’t sure he could do that any longer. She cared too much about what happened to them and, God help him, he cared what she thought. He was beginning to feel foolish and weak, angry at himself that Gregoria’s opinion meant so much to him. She brought an element of compassion to his view of the world that hadn’t been there before.
He hated it.
But there was no use in arguing with her. She simply didn’t understand. Worse still, she was making him second guess things he’d been doing ever since he took to sea. Do what is right and good. He didn’t even know what that meant.
“I do not live my life by doing the right thing, Lady Meyrick,” he finally said. “I live my life by what is best for me and my men. Your father lived the same way, I might add, so do not judge me so harshly lest you judge your father as well.”
Gregoria had nearly forgotten about Miles Tenby. She’d been so wrapped up in her budding feelings for Constantine, and now this, that she’d completely forgotten about the man she’d claimed as her father. With a shake of her head, one of disappointment, she lowered herself into the nearest fine chair.
“My father said you were a man to come to in times of trouble,” she muttered. “I suppose I did not realize that also meant you had no moral compass. I do not know what I expected, but it was not what I have experienced. I want no part of it.”
Constantine was hurt by that and he had no idea why. Perhaps it was because he was coming to respect Gregoria just the slightest; along with her obvious beauty and determination, she had a deep heart. Most men considered that a weakness, but Constantine was coming to think that it wasn’t a weakness at all. He envied someone who could feel as deeply as she did and, in spite of what she’d said – that she wanted off the ship – he wasn’t going to let her go.
Increasingly, he realized that he couldn’t let her go.
He started to move in her direction when he caught sight of Henry and Edward, sleeping on the bed where they shouldn’t be, cuddled up with three gray puppies. He’d seen the puppies brought on board but had no idea they hadn’t made it on to the Persephone. All five dogs were sleeping like the dead and, as a man with a softness for dogs, he went to the bed and bent over, petting one of the sleeping puppies. It occurred to him that he was showing the dogs more compassion than those two women and, with that thought, he was coming to understand what she’d meant. Would he have auctioned the dogs off or have treated them so poorly? Probably not. They were weaker creatures, dependent upon men.
So were women.
Heavily, he sighed.
“Then what would you have me do?” he asked her. “With those women, I mean. What do you want me to do?”
Gregoria was surprised by the question. Not that she believed he was truly seeking her advice, but she gave it, anyway. “Genevieve wanted to return to Ireland,” she said. “Could you simply return them to Ireland?”
He shook his head. “I will not,” he said. “But I will take them home. I believe their father is based in Plymouth.”
Gregoria was looking at him with increasing hope. “Truly?” she said. “You would do that?”
He shrugged, petted the puppy one last time, and turned for the door. “Do you still want off the ship?”
Gregoria watched him walk to the door. “Do you want me off the ship?”
He came to an unsteady halt right by the door, refusing to turn and look at her. “That was not the question,” he said quietly. “Do you want off the ship?”
She stood up from the chair, her gaze riveted to him. All of the hurt and confusion was draining away, leaving behind the warm feelings she’d developed for the man. Somehow, she knew there was something good in him underneath all of that piracy and plunder. She didn’t know how she knew, only that she did.
Something in her heart told her so.
“I will get off in Wales, if that is acceptable,” she said, making her way towards him, wishing he would look at her. “I… I did not mean to cause you any trouble, my lord. It is simply that this is my first experience with… well, with whatever it is you do. I am not accustomed to such things.”
“I know.”
“How much further to Wales?”
He could hear her coming up behind him and it was as if his entire body ignited. He finally turned to look at her, gazing into those big blue eyes, but no words would come to mind. All he knew was that he wanted to touch her, and he did. He reached out, cupping her face between his two big hands, and kissing her deeply on the lips.
Gregoria collapsed against him, responding to his kiss, her knees weakening to the point where she could barely stand. His kisses grew more forceful, his arms going around her, and she simply let the man have his way with her. She’d only known him a matter of days, but she couldn’t remember when he hadn’t been around her. When he hadn’t been embedded in her heart somehow.
“Even if it was years to Wales, it would be too soon,” he breathed against her mouth. “You inflame me, Gregg, as I have never been inflamed before. The feel of you, the scent of you… it is fuel for my soul.”
Gregoria wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. “Must Wales be the end?” she whispered. “When you leave me, will I ever see you again?”
His frenzied kisses slowed, his hands now rubbing her back, almost in a comforting gesture. “Do you ask because you wish to see me again?”
It seemed to Gregoria that he had let his guard down. Because of that, she let hers down, also. “I… I do,” she said, hoping it wasn’t the wrong thing to say. “What happened yesterday… I thought mayhap… that mayhap you did, also.”
He was silent a moment, his forehead against hers, feeling her soft heat against him. She felt so very good wrapped up in his arms, better than any woman he’d ever experienced. His thoughts of keeping her as a permanent mistress had only grown stronger.
“I do,” he admitted. “You shall not leave me, Gregg. I want you to remain with me.”
Gregoria’s heart had wings; it was soaring in a way she’d never known, full of the joy of his words. “I will.”
“Swear it?”
“I do.”
He kissed her on the forehead, on the nose, and then put a finger under her chin, tipping it up so he could kiss her lips. Their eyes met for a moment and Gregoria could see something undulating in his dark gold depths. It was turmoil and emotion, everything all rolled up into one. As if he had no idea what he was truly feeling; all he knew was what he needed.
He needed her.
Without another word, he left the cabin, shutting the door quietly behind him. He didn’t even tell her to bolt it; he simply slipped out. Gregoria stood there, eyes on the door, wondering what she had just committed herself to. Responding to his question – her desire for him – had been truthful. She did, indeed, want to stay with him. But the fact remained that she was taking him to Wales for a specific purpose, a purpose that would see his end. The Earl of March and one thousand men were waiting for Constantine le Brecque at Three Crosses Abbey, and it was her task to take him there. She hadn’t cared in the least before, but now… she cared.
She cared a great deal.
But there was terrible fear in telling him the truth. It would ruin everything between them, everything that was developing. Feelings so precious and true that they were surely a gift from God. But Lord Wembury wouldn’t understand that, nor would her brother or the Earl of March. So much was dependent upon her.
And what had she done? She had failed. She had become attached to a man who stole and killed for a living. She’d just witnessed the man pillaging a ship and stealing the cargo, and cruelly treating two young women. Could a man like that change? Probably not. She was a fool for having let herself fall for the man.
But she couldn’t help herself.
Greatly torn, Gregoria found herself in tears as she returned to the chair near the window, searching her soul to determine which was the correct thing to do. Stay with Constantine because she was infatuated with him, and he with her? What happened when that infatuation wore off? He would cast her aside, she would be an enemy of her brother and of Lord Wembury, and the quiet house by the sea with its garden would be a bitter memory. She would have nothing but the memories of an affair with a great pirate.
A man she could quite easily sell her soul to.
… would it be worth it?
By evening, the storm that had rolled in during the battle was blowing full-force, reflecting the deep and trouble state of Gregoria’s soul.