Читать книгу In the Tudor Court Collection - Amanda McCabe - Страница 12

Why had the ship stopped moving? Kathryn went to the porthole and looked out, her heart beating wildly as she wondered if they were being attacked. She was relieved as she saw that they had halted so that Lorenzo could come aboard. It was a tricky manoeuvre, but she saw him swing himself over the rigging with an ease she could only admire. He had an air of authority, seeming so strong and sure, a natural ability to lead that was apparent in the way his men greeted him. For a moment she was lost in admiration, her pulses racing.

Kathryn sat down to wait, her heart beating faster than normal. Several minutes passed before he knocked at her cabin door and then entered. She was shocked by the gravity of his expression. Her knees felt like jelly and she was trembling from head to foot. What had made him look like that?

‘Kathryn…’ She thought that she had never heard him speak with such emotion, except perhaps for one moment on that Spanish mountainside. ‘I fear I have received bad news. The Turks have invaded Cyprus. It is believed that Nicosia has fallen.’

‘Invaded?’ Kathryn looked at him in dismay. ‘But Lady Mary, Lord Mountfitchet—what will happen to them?’ She had risen as he entered, but now sat down on the edge of the bed, overcome by her concern.

‘We must hope that they have somehow escaped,’ Lorenzo said. ‘Or that a ransom may be paid for their safe return. Sometimes that is the case, especially for those who might not be worthwhile as slaves.’

‘Because they are not young and beautiful—or strong enough to work in the galleys?’ Kathryn’s throat tightened and she felt the sting of tears as she thought of the people she loved become prisoners of the Turks. ‘This is so terrible. How could such a thing have happened? I thought Cyprus belonged to Venice?’

‘As it does,’ Lorenzo said, looking angry. ‘We refused their demands to surrender the island to them, but it seems that the invasion has gone ahead. This means the Pope must marshal the forces of the Holy League. I must go to Rome, Kathryn, and you must come with me. You will wait there for me until I know how things stand.’

Kathryn was silent. Had she been with Lady Mary and Lord Mountfitchet, she would have been on Cyprus when the invasion happened. She might even now be dead or a captive of the Turks, perhaps destined for a harem. She felt shocked by the news, unable to come to terms with the loss of her friends.

‘I have been nothing but trouble to you,’ she said, on the verge of tears. ‘I must accept your offer, sir, for I do not know what else to do.’

‘There is nothing you can do,’ he told her, his words and manner seeming harsh to her. ‘It seems that fate has delivered you into my care, and we must both make the best of it. Now I must ask you to transfer to my galley, for this ship will return to Venice. I must muster my war captains and a ship like this is little use for the task that awaits us now.’

‘Would it not be better if I were to return with this ship?’

‘No, I think not. I cannot afford to send an escort with it and in these uncertain times anything might happen. Besides, I shall not be returning to Venice for some months. I shall leave you with a friend in Rome. You will be safer there until I can decide what best to do with you.’

Kathryn was too subdued to answer him. The possible loss of two people who had been dear to her was heartbreaking and she could not fight Lorenzo this time. Without him she would have been even more vulnerable, for she had little money of her own and could not return to England without help. She was, in fact, completely dependent on him, even for the clothes she wore and the food she ate. It was a humiliating feeling and she hardly knew how to face him.

‘Come, Kathryn,’ Lorenzo demanded. ‘Do not despair. Lord Mountfitchet was warned that invasion was a possibility. It may be that he changed his mind at the last minute.’

She knew that he was trying to comfort her, but her heart was heavy. Despite Lorenzo’s words, she doubted that Lord Mountfitchet would have changed his plans without good cause. All she could hope was that he and Lady Mary had somehow escaped with their lives.

Kathryn looked around the room she had been given at the home of Lorenzo’s friend. The Contessa Rosa dei Corleone had welcomed him with a smile and the warmth of old acquaintance. Kathryn was not certain that she was so pleased to have a stranger as her guest, though she had accepted her graciously.

‘Of course Mistress Rowlands may stay with me, Lorenzo,’ she said, her dark eyes sparkling as she looked at him. ‘You know that I would do anything you asked of me.’

Why, she was flirting with him! Kathryn realised it and felt a spurt of disgust. The Contessa was years older than him!

‘You are generous, Contessa,’ Lorenzo said, an amused glint in his eyes. ‘I shall return as soon as possible. In the meantime, I shall make some provision for Kathryn. Should I not return from the coming encounter, there will be sufficient money to see her safely back to England.’

‘As you wish, my friend.’

The dark eyes were speculative as the Contessa looked at Kathryn.

‘My servant will take you to your room. I am sure you must wish to tidy yourself after so long at sea.’

Kathryn sent Lorenzo a look of appeal. Now that he was about to leave her, she felt as if she were being abandoned. She wanted to cling to him, to beg him not to leave her, but knew that she must not let him see how she felt.

‘I shall see you again before we leave,’ he said, smiling at her reassuringly. ‘There are preparations to be made and I have much to do. It may be three or four days before the rest of my fleet can join me, and another two before we put to sea.’

Kathryn nodded. She fought her tears. Her heart felt as if it were being ripped in two, but she must not weep.

‘You must not think of me. You have your duty—but I would have news of my uncle and aunt…’

‘I shall not abandon you,’ he said and smiled. For a moment her heart lifted as she saw something in his eyes—a look that she had seen only once before. ‘Go with the Contessa’s woman now. She will take you to your chamber. You should rest for a while.’

Kathryn had obeyed him. There was so much she wished to say and could not. Now, alone in this room, the guest of a woman she instinctively knew disliked her, Kathryn admitted to herself that she was in love with Lorenzo Santorini. She did not know how it could have happened, for she had been determined to dislike him. Now she knew that she would find it unbearable if she were never to see him again. If he should be killed…She could not think about it. It was too painful.

‘The Contessa asks that you will come down to her salon as soon as you are ready.’

Kathryn turned, her heart sinking as she looked into the hostile eyes of the Contessa’s servant. She was not welcome here in this house—but what could she do? Lorenzo had brought her here and there was nowhere else for her. Her abduction had taught her how vulnerable she was. She was dependent on Lorenzo’s generosity, at least until there was some news of her friends.

She followed the servant down to the grand salon where the Contessa was waiting for her, and her heart sank as she saw the expression in the older woman’s eyes. She had pretended to be welcoming while Lorenzo was here, but there was no mistaking her hostility now.

‘So,’ the Contessa said. ‘I must make you welcome since Lorenzo asks it of me. In return I demand that you behave with proper modesty while in my house, Mistress Rowlands. I would not have you disgrace me before my friends.’

‘In what way do you fear I shall disgrace you?’ Kathryn lifted her head, eyes flashing with pride. She felt humiliated and was angry. What was this woman implying?

‘You have been travelling alone with Lorenzo Santorini. You stayed with him at the Santorini Palace in Venice. What do you imagine people will think of you if they discover your shame?’

‘I have done nothing to be ashamed of—and I had my maid with me at the palace, and on the journey from Venice to Rome.’ Kathryn did not tell her of the time she had spent alone on Lorenzo’s galley after her abduction, for it could only make her situation worse. ‘This awkwardness is not of my making.’

‘A servant is not a chaperon. You have forfeited your reputation, girl,’ the Contessa said harshly, her mouth twisting with spite. ‘What you choose to do is your own affair, but do not shame me by speaking of it in public, if you please.’

Kathryn’s cheeks flamed. Her anger at being spoken to so unfairly banished the tears that had been hovering. Had there been any other alternative she would have left this woman’s house at once, but there was no way out for her. She must endure the Contessa’s spite, at least until Lorenzo was ready to escort her to her home.

‘I shall behave as befits an English gentlewoman,’ she said with dignity. She lifted her head high, refusing to be cowed by the woman’s hostility. ‘I cannot change your opinion of me, Contessa. For both our sakes, I hope that Lorenzo will remove me from your house very soon.’

‘Very well. This has been distasteful to me, Mistress Rowlands. This evening I attend a private supper at a friend’s house. Tomorrow evening there is a grand reception, which you will attend with me. I hope you have suitable clothes?’ Her tone suggested that she thought it unlikely, stinging Kathryn on the raw.

‘My trunks are on the ship. Once they are delivered, I believe I shall not disgrace you.’

‘See that you do not.’ The Contessa waved her hand. ‘You may go. I shall tell you when I require your presence. If you wish, you may use the gardens and the salons at the back of the house.’

Kathryn left the room, her back very straight. She was humiliated and upset, but anger made her keep her spirits up. How could Lorenzo have brought her to the house of such a woman?

Kathryn dressed in a gown of dark green silk the following evening. She wore a small ruff of gauze that was stiffened with wire and stood up at the back of her neck. Her hair was swept up on her head and covered by a green velvet hood trimmed with silver and brilliants. It was the most matronly of her gowns and chosen to make her look as ordinary and respectable as possible.

The Contessa looked her over as she went down to join her in the salon. ‘Yes, that is well enough,’ she said, her mouth sour with disapproval, for even in this plain apparel Kathryn was beautiful, young and desirable. ‘Do not forget what I have told you.’

‘I shall not forget.’

Kathryn would have preferred not to accompany the Contessa to the reception that evening, but she had little choice. She must do as she was told while she lived under this woman’s roof.

The reception was being held in a large villa built in the hills overlooking the city. Kathryn joined the other guests, smiling but saying very little as she was introduced to the Contessa’s friends as the ward of a dear friend. She was in public a very different woman, smiling and calling Kathryn a sweet child, which made Kathryn want to run away and hide.

However, she stood obediently at the Contessa’s side, speaking only when addressed and wishing that the evening might be over. She liked none of these people and remembered how kind Aunt Mary’s friends had been to her in London, something that made her heart ache as she wondered if her friend was still alive. Would she ever see her kind friends again? Would she ever be able to return to her home?

Seeing that the Contessa appeared to have forgotten her, Kathryn moved towards the marble arches that opened out into the huge gardens, needing suddenly to be alone. She felt lost and alone and so unhappy that she was having to fight very hard to hold back her tears. She went out into the cool of the night air, looking at the stars. Somehow she must find a way to bear this time of unhappiness.

‘Why are you out here?’ Lorenzo’s voice close behind her made her jump for she had not been aware of him. ‘The Contessa was anxious about you.’

Kathryn turned to look at him. Was he angry with her too? She felt a tear slip down her cheek and turned aside, not wanting him to see. She walked away, wanting to escape deeper into the gardens.

He came after her, catching her arm, swinging her round to face him. ‘What is wrong? Why are you crying?’

‘I’m not crying,’ Kathryn sniffed, brushing her face with the back of her hand.

‘Something has upset you. Tell me, Kathryn!’ She shook her head. ‘Are you crying for your uncle and aunt?’ She shook her head again. ‘Then it is the Contessa…’

‘She hates me!’ The words burst from her.

‘Do not be foolish, Kathryn. Why should she hate you?’

‘She says that I have lost my reputation, that people will think I am your—’ She broke off and turned away from him once more.

‘Ah.’ Lorenzo looked at her thoughtfully, seeing the pride and anger, and the despair. ‘I understand. There was always the risk that this would happen, but the damage is done, Kathryn.’

‘I know. There is nothing anyone can do.’

‘No…unless you become my wife.’ He smiled oddly as she whirled round, her eyes wide with shock. ‘Forgive me. I know the idea cannot please you, but it would stop the vicious tongues before they can start.’

‘But you do not want to marry me!’

‘It is a matter of indifference to me,’ Lorenzo said with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘ have no wish for a wife, but it would be a marriage of convenience only. You have told me that though you may marry one day, your heart belongs to the man you lost so many years ago. Therefore it can make no difference who you marry. As well me as another. Indeed, I may be the only chance of marriage you will have.’

‘That is no reason for marriage!’ Kathryn did not know whether to rage at him or weep. ‘Why should you want me? How does this benefit you?’

‘Did you not tell me you were an heiress? This war is likely to cost me a small fortune. A wealthy wife would be no bad thing.’

Was he teasing her? There was a glint in his eyes, though he was not smiling.

‘It is not a huge fortune…’ She stared at him uncertainly. A part of her wanted to refuse his offer, for it was almost insulting in the manner of its making, and yet she could not help feeling that as Lorenzo’s wife she would be safe. ‘You cannot want me?’

Kathryn could not know how vulnerable and uncertain she looked or that the appeal in her eyes touched something in Lorenzo that he had thought long dead.

‘Believe me when I say I have my reasons,’ he told her, a smile upon his lips now. Surely he was teasing her! ‘You know that I never do anything without profit, Kathryn—believe that I want you. You are beautiful and a man should have a wife, after all.’ He had her fast so that she could not escape. As she gazed into his eyes her heart raced and she longed for him to kiss her, to tell her that he was marrying her because he cared for her.

‘Then…if you truly mean it, I shall accept,’ she said, finding it difficult to breathe. Surely this was but another of the dreams that came to plague her when she slept? ‘I shall try to be what you would have me be.’

‘Do not worry about what I would have of you,’ Lorenzo told her, a faint smile on his lips. ‘We shall be married and then I shall leave you. Only He that they call God—whether he be Christian or Muslim—knows whether I shall return. If I do not, you shall be a rich widow, Kathryn. Choose your next husband with more care, I beg you.’ Again his eyes were bright with mockery and she did not know what to make of him.

‘Lorenzo…’ Kathryn looked at him wordlessly. How could she tell him that she did not care for his wealth, that she wanted him to return to her? He said that he had his reasons for marrying her, but she could think of none—unless she had led him to believe that her father was richer than he really was?

‘I told you not to worry,’ he said, and then, moving towards her, he touched her face, lowering his head to kiss her softly on the lips. A wave of desire coursed through her, making her feel as if she would melt into him, become a part of his very body, though his next words brought her back to her senses. ‘We did not choose this, Kathryn, but it seems that it is our fate. Let fate take its course and we shall see.’

Kathryn wore the gown she had borrowed for the night of the masque, which had been packed in her trunk with the rest of her things. She did not know why she chose it, except that that night Lorenzo had seemed so different, and she wanted him to be the man she had glimpsed then. She wanted him to laugh and tease her, to love her—but of course he did not. She looked at her reflection in her hand mirror, and then decided to let her hair flow on her shoulders, wearing only a small cap of silver threads on the back of her head.

She was still at the Contessa’s house, for Lorenzo had begged her to be patient until he could arrange for the wedding and her removal to a villa he had taken for her stay in Rome. When she went downstairs the Contessa was waiting. She looked at Kathryn with dislike, her eyes moving over her with disapproval.

‘Do not imagine that he loves you,’ she said coldly. ‘No one woman would ever be enough for a man like that. He is marrying you because he feels pity for you—and he will be unfaithful within a year.’

Kathryn held her tongue, for what could she say in answer? The Contessa might be speaking the truth for all she knew. Lorenzo was marrying her for reasons of his own, reasons that he had not chosen to divulge to her. She did not think that he was in love with her, but perhaps he might want her in his bed. She had been told many times that she was beautiful, and she believed that she was comely enough. Perhaps that odd look she had seen in his eyes sometimes meant that he wanted to make love to her.

It was evident that the Contessa was angry as she almost ordered Kathryn from the house, and she suspected that the older woman wanted him for herself. She thought that perhaps they had been lovers in the past and that the Contessa had hoped he might marry her now that she was a widow. Her husband had been dead for six months, and it must have seemed to her when Lorenzo first came that he had come for her, which made it easy to understand why in her disappointment she had felt so hostile towards the girl he had brought with him.

Lorenzo was waiting for them at the small church. Michael was to give her away, and a man she did not know stood up with Lorenzo as his witness. The Contessa was Kathryn’s only attendant, and she left immediately after the ceremony, refusing to attend the small wedding feast. Kathryn could only be pleased.

Michael and the stranger, who told her that his name was Paolo Casciano, and that Lorenzo was a friend of many years, accompanied her and Lorenzo to a villa in the hills overlooking the city. It was not as large as the Contessa’s home, but pleasant with lovely gardens.

‘This will be your home until we can return to Venice,’ Lorenzo told her. ‘I have engaged servants to care for your needs and a lady who will bear you company while I am away.’ He beckoned to an elderly woman with a sweet face, who came forward to curtsy to Kathryn. ‘This lady is Madame Veronique de Bologna. She was born in France, but has lived in Italy since her marriage, and is now a widow.’

‘May I welcome you to your new home, my lady,’ the widow said and smiled. ‘I was so happy to be of service to you when Signor Santorini asked me to come and bear you company.’

‘And I am very grateful for your presence, madame.’

‘I beg you to call me Veronique,’ she said, ‘for I hope we shall be friends.’

‘Yes, of course. I hope so too.’

‘Come,’ Lorenzo commanded, ‘our guests are waiting to see the bride.’

‘Our guests?’ Kathryn looked at him in surprise.

‘Did you imagine I had no friends?’ Lorenzo’s violet-blue eyes were laughing at her as he drew her out into the garden where a feast had been laid out on boards over trestles, covered with white cloths and laden with platters of wonderful food.

Several ladies and gentlemen were gathered there and they burst into a spontaneous round of applause as Lorenzo drew her forward.

‘My friends, I give you the lady who has been brave—or foolish—enough to become my bride this day.’

His introduction brought laughter and then the guests gathered round, giving her kisses and smiles, presents of money, silver, jewellery and objects of art. Kathryn was overwhelmed by this unexpected kindness—she had not expected anything of the sort.

She looked at them shyly, her throat caught with emotion. ‘I do not know what to say…you are all so very kind.’

‘They are curious,’ Lorenzo said, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes, ‘for they wonder that any woman would wed such as I.’

‘No, I do not believe that,’ she said. ‘You are not so very terrible, Lorenzo.’

Her remark brought much laughter and she found herself swept away by a group of smiling women who chattered away to her in a mixture of Italian and English, wanting to know all manner of things about her.

‘How did you meet Lorenzo?’

‘Where do you live?’

‘How did you come here?’

‘I lived in Cornwall and journeyed to Venice with friends.’

‘Cornwall? I have never heard of such a place!’ one rather pretty woman with a lively manner cried.

‘Do not show your ignorance, Elizabeta. It is in England!’

The questions came so thick and fast that Kathryn’s head was spinning by the time Lorenzo came to rescue her. The laughter continued throughout the feast and the traditional toast to the bride and groom, and then music began to play and everyone demanded that they should dance.

Kathryn trembled as he took her into his arms, but found that it was easy to follow his steps as they danced on the tiled patio. Glancing up, she saw that he was smiling and her heart fluttered. Surely he did care for her a little or he would not look at her that way.

The merriment continued throughout the afternoon, but as the sun started to dip over the sea in a flash of fiery orange, their friends began to take their leave. The ladies kissed Kathryn and promised to call on her soon, and the men clapped Lorenzo on the back and told him he was a fortunate man.

At last only Lorenzo, Veronique and Kathryn were left. They went into the house and the servants came out to begin the task of clearing up the debris.

‘If you have no need of me, my lady, I shall leave you alone.’ Veronique smiled at Kathryn and curtsied to Lorenzo. ‘Good evening, signor.’

‘Goodnight, madame.’

Kathryn felt a little shiver run down her spine at the sound of his voice. They were alone at last and she was nervous, because she did not know the man she had married. She did not know what he expected of her. Her heart told her that there was nothing to fear, but still she could not help the trembling she felt inside.

‘Let us take a cup of wine together,’ Lorenzo said, pouring some of the sweet white wine she liked into a glass and handing it to her. He poured another for himself and sipped it, before setting the glass down. ‘Did you like my friends, Kathryn?’

‘Yes, of course. How could I not when they were so kind to me?’

‘You were surprised to find so many here to welcome you?’

‘I did not know what to expect.’

‘That is hardly surprising, for we know nothing of each other’s lives,’ he said, looking thoughtful. ‘Perhaps that will change when I return, Kathryn. I have never considered marriage, but a man may acquire new ideas. Now that you are my wife, I would have you content. However, should you be unhappy, I would consider taking you back to your father.’

Kathryn did not know how to answer him. ‘I shall try to please you, Lorenzo.’

‘You mistake my meaning,’ he said. ‘My life will be much as it has been, for I shall be often away. However, when I am at home I shall do what I can to make you happy.’

‘Thank you. You have already done so much for me.’ He had given her back her reputation and her pride. She could ask nothing more of him—unless he wished to give it.

‘You must try not to worry too much about your friends,’ Lorenzo said. ‘If you wish to write a letter to your father, Paolo will see it on its way for you. I shall leave money with him, for you will need to run the house and to buy things for your own use. You may address any accounts to him and he will pay them for you. And when I return we shall talk again.’

Kathryn felt the emotion rising inside her. She swallowed hard, determined not to let him see that she was so affected. She wished that he did not have to leave her, but he had made his position clear. He had married her to keep her safe and would try to be a kind, considerate husband, but he had no use for a wife. She meant nothing to him.

She took a deep breath, controlling her voice as she said, ‘When must you leave?’

‘We put to sea in the morning. I have business that I must attend this night. I am sorry to leave you so soon, Kathryn, but we are at war.’

‘Yes, I know.’ Was she to spend her wedding night alone? ‘Shall I see you again before you leave?’

Lorenzo hesitated, then shook his head. ‘I think there will not be time. Besides, I shall make no demands of you this night, Kathryn. You must learn to think of me as your husband, and then, perhaps…but we shall see if we suit each other.’

Kathryn felt as if he had slapped her. She knew that he did not love her, but she had imagined that he would claim his right as a husband to sleep in her bed that night. Surely any man would do as much? It could only mean that he did not find her desirable enough. She swallowed her hurt pride, refusing to show him how she felt at being so summarily abandoned.

‘As you wish. I pray that you have a safe journey, Lorenzo.’

He hesitated for a moment, then took two steps towards her and stopped, looking down at her with such a strange expression. She thought that he would take her in his arms and kiss her and her heart beat wildly, but then he seemed to change his mind. He moved away from her, as if deliberately putting distance between them.

‘If anything should happen to me, you will be taken care of, Kathryn. You have nothing to fear. And now, forgive me, I must leave.’

Kathryn nodded, feeling miserable as he walked from the room. He did not find her desirable enough to want to lie with her. She was a bride, but not a wife, and the pain of humiliation at his rejection twisted inside her like the blade of a knife. She had longed for him to kiss her and make her his own, but he did not want her.

Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She would never, never let him see that she was fool enough to love him.

Lorenzo found the endless meetings and discussions tedious beyond bearing. It was now early autumn and the Sicilian squadron had gathered at Oranto. Many of the galleys were neither as well equipped nor manned as adequately as his own, including those of his countrymen. Venice had boasted that they had the finest fleet of all, but it was seen to be a hollow boast, for many of the galleys had lain idle for too long and were in need of repair. The papal fleet itself was weak, which meant that the Spanish had most of the power.

A man called Marcantonio Colonna had overall command of the fleet, but, despite his skill at diplomacy and his personal courage, it was proving almost impossible to hold the different factions together. Colonna wanted to go after the enemy at once, but another commander, Gia-nandrea Doria, had so far resisted. As one of the principal galley owners, he was concerned for the fate of his ships.

‘We are not yet strong enough,’ Doria said at one of the eternal meetings. ‘We must wait.’

‘I believe they will argue for ever,’ Lorenzo said to Michael, his patience exhausted when he learned that the decision to disperse for the winter had been taken late in September. ‘What of our people on Cyprus? Are we to abandon them to their fate?’

Doria had decided to take his ships to Sicily for the winter, but Lorenzo would take his fleet to Rome.

‘I see no point in wasting months in idleness when we might be more profitably employed,’ he said. ‘There are repairs to be made and they will be better done in Rome than Sicily.’

‘So we return to Rome at once?’

‘Yes, to Rome.’ Lorenzo’s eyes were distant, his thoughts clearly far away.

Michael returned to his own command to give the orders. Lorenzo frowned as he stood staring out to sea. Would he have chosen to winter in Sicily if it were not for Kathryn?

His thoughts had been with her these past weeks, and he felt a deep, instinctive pleasure at the prospect of her waiting for him, a sharp desire forming in his loins as he anticipated their meeting. He had not forced her to submit on their wedding night for it would not have been right. She had married him because she had no choice, but he would teach her not to fear his lovemaking. In time he believed that she would welcome him to her bed.

A shout from one of his men alerted him. ‘Six galleys to the leeward, sir!’

Lorenzo looked in the direction the man was pointing. As yet there was some distance between them, but he could see that the oarsmen were pulling hard as they tried to catch up to him. He needed no one to tell him that they were the galleys of his enemy. He had been thwarted in his desire to beard the Turks in their den, but at least the chance of revenge was in sight. Rachid meant to attack them. His personal galley was at the forefront of the small fleet. It was the first time that Lorenzo and his enemy had met like this and they were evenly matched, for Lorenzo had five galleys with him. What Rachid did not know was that another six were not more than half an hour behind him.

He felt a sense of exhilaration, of destiny. It was the confrontation that he had always known must come one day, and it seemed that luck was on his side.

The battle lasted for two hours or more, but the Corsairs were outnumbered when the rest of Lorenzo’s fleet caught up with them, and now, at last, it was over. Two of Lorenzo’s galleys were damaged, but still afloat and able to limp home. Two of Rachid’s galleys had been sunk, another three were crippled. Rachid’s own galley had left when the battle was at its hottest, abandoning the rest of the galleys because it was clear that the Venetian was winning.

‘Shall we take prisoners?’ Michael asked as they saw that the flags on the Corsair ships had been hauled down and the men had surrendered their weapons.

‘One of the galleys—that most of need in repair—may be left to those who wish to continue in Rachid’s service,’ Lorenzo said. ‘They may save themselves if they can and we shall not hinder them. We shall take the other two as our prize. Any men aboard any of the galleys who wish to serve with me may transfer to the ships we take with us. Any who resist will be killed.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Michael was about to leave to see that his commands were carried out when they became aware of a commotion on board one of the captured galleys.

‘See what that is about,’ Lorenzo instructed, frowning.

Michael shouted to their own men who had boarded the stricken pirate galleys and then came back to report. ‘It seems that Rachid’s oldest son Hassan has been taken prisoner. What shall we do with him?’

‘Bring him to me.’

Lorenzo felt a strange excitement. At last he had the means to punish his enemy for all that he had suffered at his hands. He could repay Rachid for his cruelty a thousand times over by taking the life of his son. Coming on top of the loss of five of his best galleys, it might be a blow from which the Corsair would never recover.

He had his back turned when they brought the prisoner. Lorenzo tensed, then swung round to look at the son of the man he hated, his eyes moving over the youth. He let his eyes dwell on Hassan’s face for some minutes, discovering to his surprise that his overriding emotion was pity rather than hatred. The youth could be no more than sixteen and was plainly terrified.

‘Down on your knees, dog!’ one of Lorenzo’s men growled.

‘No,’ Lorenzo said. ‘Let him stand. He is a man, not a dog, whoever his father may be.’

‘Kill me,’ the youth said, trying to act bravely, though he was shaking with fear. ‘Let death come quickly, that is all I ask.’

‘I shall not take your life, for it would not profit me,’ Lorenzo said, his eyes narrowed, cold. ‘Your father is my enemy. I do not make war on boys or innocents. You shall be ransomed.’ He turned to Michael, giving him his instructions.

Michael looked surprised and then nodded. ‘It shall be as you command, Captain.’

Lorenzo glanced at the youth again, for he had spoken to Michael in Italian and the Corsair did not understand. ‘You are to be exchanged for the captive woman Maria, daughter of Don Pablo Dominicus. My captain Michael dei Ignacio will rendezvous with your father off Sicily and the exchange will take place at a given time. If Rachid brings more than one galley to escort him, you will die.’ He nodded to Michael. ‘Take him with you.’

‘And the girl?’

‘Bring her to me in Rome. Her father owes me for Kathryn’s abduction. He shall pay a ransom to have his daughter back.’

Michael smiled, understanding the cleverness of his captain’s mind. ‘It is good,’ he said. ‘A life for a life and still we have our prize.’

‘We need more galleys,’ Lorenzo said. ‘This war with the Turks has been delayed but it will come—and it will cost us much.’

He watched as the men took Rachid’s son away. Many of them would have killed him without a second thought, but they would not disobey their captain, and when they learned of the ransom they would smile and see the logic of their commander’s thinking. There was no profit to be had from a dead Corsair.

Despite the damage to his own fleet, this had been a good day, Lorenzo thought grimly. He would repair one of the captured galleys and paint it with his own colours. The other would be sold and the money shared between his men. The captive slaves would be given the choice of serving as free men or, in some cases, questioned before being either ransomed by their families or given their freedom. Any who betrayed their surrender terms would be killed at once. The first thing that Lorenzo demanded of any man was loyalty.

However, he had not forgotten his promise to Kathryn. He would continue to question all those who were taken, seeking information about the long-lost Richard Mountfitchet. It was possible that Lord Mountfitchet had been killed on Cyprus, but Kathryn was still alive and he would keep his word no matter what.

As for the dreams that had begun to haunt his sleep of late, he would dismiss them as nonsense. It mattered little who he had once been. He was Lorenzo Santorini and his purpose in life was…He frowned as he realised that he was no longer certain of his purpose.

He had spared the son of his enemy out of pity for a youth who surely did not deserve a cruel death. Yet that did not ease the hatred he felt for Rachid or the bitterness that had burned inside him like a candle flame for so long, driving him on. It would be foolish to let softer dreams rob him of his purpose in life, for he could not change all that had been, all that he was. He had taken life ruthlessly in pursuit of his enemy, and though he acted for good reason it did not wash away the blood.

How could a man such as he love a woman like Kathryn? He knew himself unworthy and yet his body burned for her, his soul thirsted for the sweetness of a life spent at her side.

But he was what life had made him, and surely there was no changing what fate had decreed.