Chapter Two
She had been sold into slavery again. Selina Herding glared bitterly at her abductors, fighting back the humiliation and overwhelming defeat that saturated her senses. Never in her wildest nightmares had she ever thought she’d be standing in a tavern filled with women who preyed upon intoxicated men and cutthroats who exploited innocents for coin—pirates.
Her wedding day was supposed to have been a glorious affair. But it had come to a sudden halt when masked highwaymen—corsairs in disguise—had stopped her coach. They had subdued her brother, Owen, blindfolded them, rolled them into rugs, and then transported them to a ship in Portreath. What reason would pirates have to keep a miner’s daughter and his son? A ransom had been requested and paid, but they’d still been shoved into cages for a fortnight, neglected for the duration of a voyage, and then escorted to the auction block in Cadiz.
Selina had sailed from Cornwall to Cadiz in a cage with other captives, never being given access to her brother. She’d managed to escape the auction where her brother had been sold when her captors’ backs were turned and their attention was elsewhere. She’d run fast and hard into crowded streets and down narrow alleyways. There, she’d exchanged clothes with a boy, altering her physical appearance. When efforts to return and find her brother had failed, and with no other recourse available to her, she’d snuck aboard another ship headed north.
She shivered. God only knew what Owen was suffering at the hands of those corsairs!
Unfortunately for Selina, her hiding place had been discovered by Robillard’s brigands before they’d made port. Stowaways were put to work or thrown overboard if they refused to obey. Thankfully, she’d survived, but before she could escape and locate another ship sailing to England, she was chained to the wall inside the Wasp like an animal along with one other boy. Only yesterday that hapless boy—Jimmy—was carried off, limp and lifeless.
Hatred swelled inside her as she rubbed her chafed wrists. The bruised, raw flesh stung at the contact, making her wince. Pirates were nothing new to Selina. In Cornwall, smuggling was a worthy cause when one didn’t get caught and the lives of others were taken into consideration. But these filthy brigands were violent, greedy beasts who pilfered for profit no matter who or what stood in their way. Saint-Malo, France, was certainly not Cornwall.
She bit her lower lip. Then again, Cornwall was where she had been first kidnapped.
“I’m told you just sailed from Portugal,” Robillard said to the large burly man who’d bought her.
The brute crossed his arms. Odd-looking steel accoutrements were woven into the leather wrist guards on his forearms. He stared long and hard at Robillard.
“Aye,” he said, his posture solid, every inch of him primed for a fight. “What are your terms?”
The barmaid glared at Selina over Robillard’s shoulder, her stare flickering ever-so-faintly with compassion. Or had Selina imagined it?
She swallowed back the hope rising inside her. She couldn’t expect a stranger to offer any sort of sympathy. After all, Selina had been denied thus far. No one had ever stood up for her in her life other than her brother, Owen. But Owen wasn’t here. She was on her own. Whatever happened now depended on the amount of strength and determination she could summon from her breast.
“Fifty boxes of figuerados for the slave or I’ll terminate our bargain,” Robillard announced.
Fifty boxes of cigars? She glanced up at the captain of the Sea Wolf, praying he had the fee to barter and would agree to the terms. If not, she would find herself back at the mercy of Robillard’s ruffians.
Selina bit her lip and lowered her head, trying to keep from saying something that would reveal her identity or make the situation worse, as their laughter hammered through her.
The captain growled. “What makes you think—”
“My final offer,” Robillard cut in. “The cigars or no cabin boy.”
Her heart skipped a beat as heat radiated from the captain, and she picked up on something she hadn’t heard in his voice before—defiance. He meant to have her, come what may. The thought sent a combative sensation rushing through her veins. A man determined to take her out of this despicable place meant an opportunity to escape. She couldn’t avoid her captors if she was chained to a wall, but outside of the tavern . . . There, she would be beyond the control of Robillard and Cuvier, and she would have ample time to plot her getaway.
She glanced up at the captain, saying a silent prayer that no matter what else happened, he wouldn’t back out of his offer.
The captain puffed on his disgusting cigar. Smoke swirled about his dark head, masking his unreadable eyes. “If I give you my figuerados, I’ll have to sail back to Portugal to replenish my supply.”
Robillard glanced at Selina, then cleared his throat. “That is not my problem, Capitaine. If you want this slave, you’ll pay my price.”
Tension exuded from the captain in waves, making Selina wonder if he was actually going to withdraw his offer. She couldn’t allow it. She didn’t know how much longer she could withstand Robillard’s treatment without suffering the ultimate indignity these men would have in store for her if they discovered her identity—rape.
“I see you are not interested in our bargain.” Robillard snapped his fingers. “Take him,” he said, pointing to several men standing to Selina’s right.
The men strode forward.
“No!” Fear shot through her. She glanced up at the large man who’d bartered for her as her own father dealt with free traders who smuggled in his French brandy.
The captain looked like a man of the world in his tricorn, dark leather greatcoat, and leather wrist guards laced all the way up to his elbows. He was the most dangerous-looking man she’d ever seen, including the one who had kidnapped her on her wedding day. She should know. She’d witnessed what pirates and corsairs did with the unfortunate souls who ventured into their paths. Certainly a man of the captain’s caliber, a man of the world, knew these brigands wouldn’t back down.
“Please.” She reached for the captain’s arm and touched him, praying some sympathy would enter his predatory eyes.
He jerked his arm away. “Bugger off,” he told her.
The two men to her right smiled wickedly as they approached her. “Don’t let them take me back, Capitaine. Please!”
He turned toward her, and his scowl terrified Selina to her toes. Good God, the captain wasn’t human! His facial hair was cropped close but was a bit longer down the sides of his jaw. He narrowed his eyes, glaring at her like a wild animal, his mouth downturned in disgust.
Her mouth went dry. What would this man do when he discovered she was a woman? She struggled to retain a grip on her sanity. Nothing she’d done to escape had worked thus far. He was her only way out of the Wasp, and she wasn’t beyond begging for her life at this point. If she didn’t survive, she would lose the one thing that meant anything to her in this world—Owen.
“Attendez!” the captain said.
What did he want to wait for? These men were going to kill her! Didn’t he realize how dangerous her situation had become?
“I will not lower my offer, Capitaine.” Robillard lifted his tankard. Jolie bent over his shoulder to lift a pitcher, poured Robillard more to drink, set the jug down, and then resumed her docile place behind him.
“I have a reputation to keep,” Robillard added.
The captain glanced down at Selina once more. Her acute senses noticed everything about him—the tic in his jaw, the disgust in his eyes, his clenching fists. He was a man of action, and she fought to keep him from seeing her fear as her muscles quivered with dread and his snarl rooted her feet to the floor.
“Fifty boxes it is,” he said.
“Excellent!” Robillard clapped his hands, and one of his men immediately stepped forward. “You may send a message to your ship via my man, Tabor. He will deliver it. If he does not return in two hours’ time—”
“You’ll get your payment,” the captain said. “My men are loyal. They’ll do anything I tell them to do.”
Panic seized Selina’s heart as she studied him. Was whatever awaited her on board the Sea Wolf the lesser of two evils? Fear and grief chased each other inside her.
Stay calm, Selina. You still have a chance to escape. One man will be easier to overcome than a horde of bloodthirsty pirates.
Her heart raced. Every nerve in her body hummed as apprehension swept through her. Unlike the corsairs she abhorred, everything about the captain of the Sea Wolf liquefied her insides for reasons she couldn’t fathom. He was a pirate, he was dangerous . . . and he’d just bought her like a side of beef. It was no better than what Papa had done when he’d sold her into marriage to Lord Bertram Gariland to benefit his own social standing.
But when she looked at the captain, she did not experience the same indifference as she had with Lord Gariland. There was a fascinating curve to the captain’s mouth when he removed his cigar to speak that intrigued her. He had bushy eyebrows, a well-formed jaw, and long, dark hair that grazed his wide, brawny shoulders. His long leather coat stretched taut over thick, muscled arms. A black shirt was tucked into his buff-toned trousers, where she also noted the butt of two pistols were cocked at odd angles for easy access.
One attribute stood out among the others, however, stealing Selina’s breath. Somehow he seemed to see into Selina’s soul, discovering more than she was willing to divulge. His dark, all-seeing eyes pierced the armor she used to shield her emotions as if it was made of glass.
“Cuvier!” Robillard shouted. “Escort the capitaine to the bar.”
“I know the way,” the captain argued.
Cuvier strutted forward, his angry stare raking over Selina in a promise of retribution. “But the bounty—”
“You’ll get your bounty,” the captain said, his voice gruff with bitter dislike for the man, “after I finish my business here.”
Robillard ignored the captain’s insolence. He merely nodded and waved his hand like a king, giving the captain leeway.
Selina fought to control the quiver snaking down her spine. Her rescuer wasn’t a knight in shining armor; he was just another pirate bartering goods. She had no choice but to go along with whatever this man said or did until she was out of the Wasp. If she didn’t leave with the captain, she’d be forced back into chains. She’d make her move once they left the tavern and were making their way to his ship. She couldn’t allow anyone to take her farther and farther away from the brother she loved. If she didn’t . . .
Her knees began to shake. A tight knot within her belly begged for release, but she couldn’t fall apart now. She was stronger than this. She’d spent her entire life learning to combat her emotions. Failure was not an option.
By all that was holy, she’d never imagined standing where she was now. Being held captive in Saint-Malo was not how she’d pictured her life would be the morning she and Lord Gariland were to be married. After they were wed, her betrothed had planned to build a magnificent stone manor that would be the envy of everyone from Redruth to Camborne in Cornwall. It was the first of many promises he’d made her father, Julius Herding, and the second of many steps he’d assured would elevate Papa’s social status among the ton.
Lord Gariland had grand ideas. She wondered if he even suspected Papa’s duplicity or Papa’s reasons for approving the match solely based on the access Lord Gariland had provided them with due to his noble title. Garilands had lived in Devon for hundreds of years, serving the duchy in various capacities. A union between Selina and Lord Gariland assured her father a step up the social ladder, attaching a legitimate stamp to the Herding family’s improved financial status.
Papa’s matchmaking scheme had not prospered, however, until he’d offered Lord Gariland a partnership in his successful mining corporation as an additional incentive. She’d hoped Papa had her best interests at heart, but now she wasn’t so sure. All her life she’d tried to be her mother’s opposite in every way in order to win Papa’s love. It had been a futile endeavor, one she’d clung to in order to make up for the fact that her mother had died giving birth to her and that, as Selina grew, she came to look exactly like her mother. Unfortunately, her resemblance only served to remind Papa that she’d been the cause of Mama’s death. Papa cared so little for her and resented her so much that he hadn’t hesitated to give her to Lord Gariland. It had broken Selina’s heart. Though Lord Gariland seemed amiable the few times they’d met, it had become clear that only an advantageous match would soften Papa’s resentment toward her, a matter that had completely shaken Owen’s confidence in Papa’s well-being.
Someone gripped her by the upper arm, startling her from her musings.
It was the captain of the Sea Wolf. “Stay close,” he said. Who was he, really? Not that it mattered. He was a mercenary pirate. Whatever else he might be, she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out. “I hope you’re worth it.”
“I am,” she vowed.
Lord Gariland had claimed she was worth the noose of marriage. Papa’s money was the reason, though. Why else would a viscount’s son want to marry a miner’s daughter? Money and everything it stood for was the culprit. And she could use it to her advantage. Between her betrothed and Papa, there was enough blunt to compensate the captain for his trouble, though she’d have to own up to it. If only the men who’d stolen her away from Cornwall had set her free when once their demands had been met. Instead, when they’d refused to return her home, she’d been slapped smartly and told they’d never had any intentions of letting her or her brother go. Why?
“I will prove it to you, Capitaine,” she said. Then she gasped. Saints preserve her, the captain had implied that he preferred cabin boys. And she was pretending to be one!
His gaze softened, giving her access to the man beneath—for a mere second, nothing more—before his eyes hardened once again. Could she hope this man would be different from Robillard’s?
“I have business to take care of,” the captain said. “After that, I’ll take you to your new home.”
“New home?”
He looked at her as if she was daft. “The Sea Wolf.”
Selina’s annoyance increased, and her heart sank into her belly. “The Sea Wolf?”
“Aye,” he said. His narrowed stare questioned her parroting replies.
But of course. Where did she expect a pirate would take her?
The turn her life had taken was almost too much to bear. If she boarded another ship, she wanted a heading to Portreath, five miles north of her home in Redruth.
In the meantime, what did a cabin boy do? She knew next to nothing about sailing a ship.
Cuvier ambled forward, refreshing memories of that poor boy’s suffering. “Gutless swine!” she shouted. She moved quickly, reaching for one of the pistols in the Sea Wolf captain’s coat, intent on killing Cuvier. “If I were a man—”
“Argh!” The captain of the Sea Wolf brushed her hand aside, growled loudly, and yanked her to his side before she could say anything more. “Shut it!” He glowered at her, eased her behind him, and then raised a finger to ward off Cuvier. “Keep your distance!”
“Mon Dieu!” Selina covered her mouth, realizing that she’d essentially just given herself away. She glanced around, silently praying no one had caught it.
Jolie stood behind Robillard, her hand on the man’s shoulder. She narrowed her gaze on Selina, and shook her head.
“If ye keep taunting your betters, boy, you won’t make it to manhood,” Cuvier spat.
“Sod off,” the captain said. When Cuvier backed away, the captain turned to her. “Don’t speak another word.”
He grabbed Selina none too gently by the collar, forcing her to walk twice as fast to meet his stride and keep from falling to her knees. Tobacco wafted off him as smoke spiraled from his cigar. She staggered as he practically dragged her to the bar. When they reached the counter, he stood her beside it, removed the burning stub from his mouth, and pointed the blazing end at her. “Don’t move.”
She froze. The disgusting, spicy scent of the cigar penetrated her nostrils, tickling her senses as a haze swirled about the captain’s head. He turned his back on her and searched the tavern, ignoring her.
He broke away to speak to Jolie nearby. They appeared to know each other well, attesting that the captain had been at the Wasp before today.
Selina glanced around the tavern, locking gazes with Cuvier. Good God, could her life get any worse? Not only was the man who’d bought her for fifty boxes of cigars a threat to her but he was a pirate, and Cuvier wanted to kill them both.
In her one-and-twenty years of life, she’d spent much of her time in Owen’s shadow. As Papa’s heir, Owen had been given leave to study the protective arts, science, and literature. He’d been taught to ride, handle exported copper ore and tin shipped to South Wales, and operate the mines. As she’d grown, however—looking more and more like her mother and earning her father’s wrath—Owen’s anger toward her for stealing away his mother had changed. He’d included her in his training, helping her learn about the mining industry and anything she desired without Papa’s knowledge.
Governesses had been hired to guide Selina in addlepated boredom. She’d run each of them off, preferring to spend her time with Owen. Her brother encouraged her to be strong like the bal maidens who worked at the mines, and he criticized Papa for punishing Selina simply because she resembled their mother.
Papa had forbidden Owen’s interference, of course, but like Selina, her brother was a force to be reckoned with. He stood to inherit a lucrative position among the mineral lords of her father’s profitable corporation, Nancekuke. It was new money obtained from a mother lode of copper and tin at Wheals Creiddylad and Glory. The mines’ productivity, combined with Francis Basset’s barony, had proven to be a lucrative investment. It became more profitable than any other active lodes in the area, generating a substantial fortune that was enviable throughout Cornwall. Added to that success, her father and Lord Basset—who was known for his extravagant living—had wisely invested in Richard Trevithick’s new cylindrical boiler, which had doubled the mines’ profits and efficiency.
Still, wealth had not brought Papa the social acceptance he desired. The difficulty stemmed from his lack of a title and Owen’s refusal to cow to their father’s will. As a consequence, Papa urged Owen, the inheritor of the Herding dynasty, to prostrate himself before Francis Basset, a man who’d earned his barony by leading a small army of Cornish miners to Plymouth to defend England’s shores. Such a concord ensured Owen an advantageous marriage.
Selina’s situation was no less brutal. She’d smiled demurely and agreed to marry into a viscountcy to please the man who despised her very existence, a submission that went against every one of her beliefs and had caused Owen great distress. He hadn’t been pleased by Papa’s choice of husbands for her, though she hadn’t been given time to discover the source of his worry. He and Papa had argued one night over dinner, and Papa had forbidden Owen from interfering. Unfazed, Owen had jumped into her carriage as it left Trethewey House and tried to stop her from arriving at the chapel where Papa was waiting for her.
“Lord Gariland is dangerous, Selina. I implore you not to go through with this,” Owen had said. But he hadn’t had time to divulge more. The carriage had rolled abruptly to a stop, and the door had been ripped open by—
A chair sailed across the Wasp, hitting the wall as a man vaulted to his feet, shouting curses at his companions. “By cock, ye’re a cheat!”
“Brave words,” the man across from him said, raising a pistol.
A moment later, gunfire spliced the air. Blood drained from Selina’s face as the argumentative man fell to the floor, dead. Immediately concerned a riot would break out, Selina cut her gaze to the captain of the Sea Wolf and assessed the distance between them.
She was surrounded by truly dangerous men, which made Owen’s accusations of Lord Gariland seem unfounded. Her intended had always been generous, offering her the attention she’d craved but never received from her father. Papa had been blinded by le bon ton and the possibility of acquiring a new wife from its fold. She supposed such a feat was impossible with an exact copy of his first wife living at Trethewey House.
The silence purchased by gunfire evaporated as the crowded room burst to life once more, and the dead man was carried out the front entrance.
“Come,” the captain ordered, disrupting her thoughts. He deposited her into a chair at a table where Jolie waited. “This is Jolie . . . a friend. She’ll get you something to eat and drink. Do not leave this table until I get back, understood?”
Selina nodded. She knew exactly how dangerous her situation had become. Wary of Jolie, the woman who’d garnered Robillard’s interest, she gazed into the barmaid’s dark, sultry eyes and squirmed.
“I was once like you,” Jolie admitted. “Alone, afraid, and far from home.” She reached across the table for Selina’s hand.
Selina coiled her fingers into a fist and jerked her hand back to her lap.
“You are safe now, ma chérie.”
Safe? According to Owen, she wasn’t even safe with her own betrothed. Selina blinked and then swallowed hard, realizing the significance of Jolie’s words. She’d used the feminine form of sweetheart. Good heavens, who else had picked up her slip of the tongue?
She gazed frantically about the tavern.
“Do not fear for your life,” Jolie said. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“Secret?” If Jolie knew she was a woman in disguise, why hadn’t she come to her aid earlier? “You do not know me. Why do you offer to help me now?”
“These men . . .” Jolie waved her hand about the room. “They see nothing but profit.” She pointed to her eyes. “Few dare to see the soul.” She stretched her arm across the table. “The capitaine of the Sea Wolf will protect you. Believe me when I say he is the only one who can do that now. I implore you to trust him.”
“Trust a man who bought me?” That was too much to ask. “You must be mad.” She paused, studying Jolie. “I don’t even know if I can trust you.”
“Eh.” Jolie shrugged dismissively. “My story is not for you. Life is cruel, and these streets are full of men who cannot forget.” She puckered her lips with annoyance and slanted a glance at the captain, who was seated four tables away with a man just as burly as he was. “War does that to a person, though the capitaine longs to remember.”
“Remember what?” Selina asked, cutting her gaze to the captain, to this Wolf.
“What he cannot,” Jolie responded, rising to her feet.
This time, Selina shot her arm out and grabbed Jolie’s hand. She squared her shoulders as voices of the men who’d abused her heightened to a feverish pitch. “Don’t leave me,” she said, unwilling to release her.
“Do not worry. Wolves are reliable creatures.”
“I don’t understand . . .” She shook her head. “What is it you want me to know?”
“Wolves always return to their dens.”