Читать книгу OUTLAW in the Tudor Court: Ransom Bride / The Pirate's Willing Captive - Anne Herries, Anne Herries - Страница 10

Kathryn made no attempt to escape as she was taken on board the Spanish galleon. She had considered jumping into the lagoon, but she could not swim and the weight of her clothes would soon drag her under. As yet she was not desperate enough to take her own life. Lorenzo would not walk into the trap that Don Pablo had set for him—why should he? But perhaps a ransom could be paid? Don Pablo had told her that in the last resort he would try to exchange her for his daughter Maria, and perhaps Rachid would accept a ransom for her.

It was very frightening, but she comforted herself as best she could. Perhaps Rachid would not be interested in exchanging the other girl for her and then Don Pablo might release her.

Once on board the ship, Kathryn was treated well. She was shown to a cabin, which clearly belonged either to Don Pablo himself or another important member of his crew. It was furnished with a heavily carved, ornate wooden box bed, on which was a mattress of feathers covered by a silken quilt and several pillows. There was also a table, chair and two sea chests. Looking about her, she noted the iron sconces that held lanthorns secured to the wooden panelling, and when she glanced inside one of the chests she discovered a quantity of women’s clothing, also silver items and ivory combs that she might need for her toilette. There was, however, nothing that she might use as a weapon to defend herself. It seemed that this abduction had been planned with some care.

The door to her cabin had been locked once she was inside and when she looked out of the small square window, she saw that the cabin was situated at the stern of the ship, and she realised that they were leaving the waters of the Grand Lagoon far behind. They were heading out to the open sea, on their way to Spain as her captor had promised.

She whirled around as the cabin door opened, half-expecting to see Don Pablo, but it was merely a sailor come to bring her food and wine.

‘Where is your captain?’ she asked. ‘Has a ransom demand been sent to my uncle?’

The sailor shook his head, saying something in Spanish that she took to mean he did not understand her. It was useless to ask questions—he probably would not have dared to tell her had he known what she was asking.

Kathryn sat down at the table where the tray awaited her. She looked at the bread, meat and fruit provided warily, wondering if it might be drugged or even poisoned. The sailor watched her for a moment, then picked up the wine cup and took a sip as if to show her it was harmless. Afterwards, he wiped the cup with his fingers and gave it back to her.

Kathryn took the cup. She realised that she was actually feeling hungry for she had not eaten since early that morning and it was now late in the afternoon. It would do no good to starve herself, she decided, and ate one of the rich black grapes, the juice running down over her chin. The fruit was crisp and delicious and she reached for a peach as the sailor nodded his satisfaction and left her to her meal.

Kathryn ate most of the fruit and some of the bread. Her fear had begun to abate. It seemed that she was to be treated as a guest as Don Pablo had promised, and, since there was no possibility of her escaping while on board this ship, she must accept the situation and wait as patiently as she could.

Please come for me. The words were in her mind. She knew that she was hoping Lorenzo would find some way to rescue her, but why should he? He had no reason to care what happened to her. Besides, she did not want him to risk his life for hers.

Lorenzo took the letter his servant offered, breaking the wax seal at once. He read the brief message it contained, cursing aloud as it confirmed his fears. Ever since Kathryn’s abduction he had suspected something of the sort.

‘You have news of Kathryn?’ asked Charles, his face drawn with concern. ‘Do they ask for a ransom?’

‘Yes, but not the kind that you can supply, my friend.’ Lorenzo handed him the letter, but he stared at it blankly and gave it back. ‘Forgive me. You do not read Spanish. It is from a man called Don Pablo Dominicus. He is holding Kathryn hostage. He promises she is unharmed, and will be exchanged for his daughter Maria.’

‘What does this mean? Do you have the girl of whom he writes?’

‘No—but Rachid does.’ Lorenzo frowned as he saw that Lord Mountfitchet was puzzled. ‘Some weeks ago Don Pablo came to me with an offer I refused. He asked me to escort his elder daughter Immacula from Cyprus to Spain, but I believe he wanted me to commit myself to him so that I was at a certain place at a certain time.’

Charles stared at him in silence, then, understanding, finished, ‘So that Rachid would know where to find you?’

‘It has a certain logic. One thing that Rachid can never know is where I am at any given time or how many galleys will be with me. If I had agreed to commit three of my galleys and accompany the lady myself as he asked…’ Lorenzo shrugged. ‘At the time I was not sure. My instincts told me that Domincus was lying, hiding something, but I did not know why. Now I understand. Rachid has his younger daughter Maria and demands a ransom from him.’

‘He was prepared to trap you for Rachid so that he might regain his daughter?’

‘A fair exchange in his mind.’ Lorenzo’s face was set in stone. ‘Would not any man be prepared for such a bargain?’

‘Are you suggesting…?’ Charles stared at him in horror. ‘Good grief, sir! No, I cannot ask such a thing of you. Surely we can arrange a ransom for Kathryn? I know that most men have their price.’

‘Rachid’s price is my life,’ Lorenzo said. ‘It seems he would do anything to have me at his mercy. Only if I can return Don Pablo’s daughter to him will he release Kathryn to you.’

‘But that is hardly possible,’ Charles objected. ‘Even if you were willing to make such a sacrifice, how could you trust a man such as you have described to me? You do not know that the Spanish girl is still alive. Besides, what is to stop Rachid murdering you and retaining the girl?’

‘Nothing at all,’ Lorenzo agreed, a hard glint in his eyes. ‘That is why I shall not walk tamely into his trap. At least I know that Don Pablo has taken Kathryn to his home not far from Granada. I have a friend living near there who may be able to help me.’

‘So you will try to rescue her?’ Charles looked at him with respect. ‘You will be at risk, sir. Should you be discovered or captured…’

‘I have survived Rachid’s loving attentions once,’ Lorenzo said with a wry smile. ‘I am prepared to risk it again for Kathryn’s good—but I prefer to believe that it will not be necessary. I may yet bring her out safely. If I fail…’ He shrugged his shoulders.

‘I shall pray that you do not, for Kathryn’s sake and your own.’

‘Perhaps your god will listen,’ Lorenzo said, his eyes glinting with some deep emotion that he tried to suppress. ‘For myself I have little faith in prayer, but for Kathryn’s sake I shall hope that your prayers are answered.’

Inwardly, he shuddered as he imagined her fate if he should fail. She was beautiful and would fetch a huge price in the slave markets of Algiers.

‘And what would you have me do?’

‘Go on to Cyprus as you planned. Find your vineyard and begin a new life. If I succeed, I shall bring Kathryn to you.’ Lorenzo smiled oddly. ‘If not, you must send her father my apologies.’

Charles nodded, guessing that the other’s manner was deliberately reserved, hiding the swirling passion, the anger inside him. ‘It shall be as you say—and may God protect and keep you, sir.’

Lorenzo inclined his head, his eyes dark with an emotion he could not hide, try as he might. ‘May your god go with you, sir. Please excuse me, there are things I must do.’

Charles watched as Lorenzo strode from the room. He must put his trust in this man, for there was no other way. It was strange, but he felt a bond between them, an understanding that went beyond words. Perhaps only such a man as this could save Kathryn, a man who knew far more about the suffering of those who served in the Corsair galleys than he would ever tell.

Kathryn looked at the house to which she had been brought. Nestling on a plateau in the mountains overlooking the city, it was a substantial building of grey stone with small windows, most of which had iron grilles. Once within its walls she would truly be a prisoner. She shivered as Don Pablo came himself to help her down from the horse she was riding.

‘Welcome to my home,’ he said, smiling at her as he took her arm, steering her through the heavy iron gate, which enclosed the house and gardens and swung to behind them with an ominous clink. ‘Think of yourself as my guest, señorita. You are at liberty to walk in the gardens and my home is yours for the duration of your stay.’

‘You are gracious, Don Pablo.’

She held her anger inside. It would do no good to rage at him, for he would only keep her closer. She knew that she was a prisoner, for all his conciliatory words—he would not have allowed her the privilege unless he was sure she could not escape. The walls that enclosed his garden were too high for her to climb. Besides, she had no doubt that she would be watched whenever she was allowed to walk there, but at least it would be better than being kept a prisoner in her room the whole time.

Her good behaviour thus far had been accepted at face value by the Spaniard, who thought her suitably cowed by her situation. Indeed, she was helpless, because his hacienda was almost a fortress. For the moment she could do nothing, but she would remain watchful, waiting for her chance. One of these times her captors might grow careless and then…she would take her chance to escape if she could.

Kathryn would rather die in the attempt to escape than be sold to Rachid, for she knew what her fate would be, and it turned her stomach sour. Better to die than live as a harem slave.

Lorenzo stood in the prow of his galley looking out to sea. They were a day behind the galleon, but his men were pulling at attack speed for long periods. They would not catch the Spanish ship before it reached harbour, but they would not be far behind. With luck they could reach Granada long before they were expected and take Don Pablo off guard.

Lorenzo had not confided his plans to Lord Mountfitchet—they involved serious risk of injury to Kathryn. It was possible that she might be harmed in the attack on the Spaniard, but there was no real alternative. To give himself up in return for Kathryn’s safety was no guarantee that she would be freed. His only true chance of getting her back was to storm the hacienda, hoping for the element of surprise. And the alternative was unthinkable. Better for her that she should die in the attempt to free her than be sold to Rachid.

Don Pablo would think himself safe for a few days, but in believing that he would have mistaken his enemy. Lorenzo’s instincts had warned him of the reason for Kathryn’s abduction. He had begun to make his plans from the moment he had learned she had been snatched.

Lorenzo motioned for the speed to be taken down. The men could only keep up the fast stroke for a certain length of time, but all his men would take their turn at the oar, including Lorenzo himself. He would not demand anything of others that he was not prepared to do himself.

These men were his most loyal, the strongest and the best. Every man aboard this galley was prepared to die if need be.

Kathryn had noticed that the main gates were kept locked at all times, opened only when a body of men went in or out. However, there was a small side gate that the servants used. She had seen an old man with a donkey bringing fruit and vegetables early in the morning. He had left the gate open for several minutes while he carried the produce into the house. From the window of her bedchamber she had watched carefully to see if it was locked after he left, but no one had come for some minutes afterwards.

If the old man came at the same time every day it was possible that she might be able to slip out of the side gate during the period that he was in the kitchens.

Kathryn did not know what she would do if she succeeded in escaping from her prison. She was alone in a foreign country and penniless. It might be that she would make her situation worse, for thus far Don Pablo had kept to his word to treat her as his guest. If she escaped and was mistaken for a woman of loose morals, which she might well be if she approached a stranger for help, her virtue might be in as much danger as her life.

Yet what was the alternative? If she did nothing, she might find herself being exchanged for Don Pablo’s daughter. Kathryn thought that almost anything would be better than to become Rachid’s slave. Lorenzo had spared her the details of the Corsair’s cruelty, but she was not so innocent that she could not guess what her destiny might be once she was in his hands.

Even if Lorenzo were fool enough to come for her, to offer his life for hers, it was unlikely that she would be returned to her family. She would be sold to the highest bidder!

Lorenzo cursed the delay, for more than two days had passed since they landed on the shores of Spain. It had taken that long to contact his friend Ali Khayr and to buy horses for the small party of men he had chosen to accompany him inland. He would have preferred to attack at once, but Ali had counselled against it.

‘I know the man of whom you speak,’ he had told Lorenzo. ‘If he has taken the girl hostage, she will not be harmed. Yet if you attack his hacienda with no plan you may fail. It is well defended and you would be seen before you could get near. Anything could happen to her then. She might be spirited away while you were kept busy at the gates. You would do better to take her by stealth.’

‘Your words are wise as always,’ Lorenzo said, controlling his impatience as best he could. ‘But it would be dangerous—unless I could discover where Kathryn is being kept.’

‘If you will wait in patience for a while, my friend, it may be that I can help you. My servants may go where you may not. Stay your hand for the moment, Lorenzo.’

Against his inclination, Lorenzo had waited, chafing at the bit at the enforced idleness. Some of his men were able to mingle with the townspeople and discover what they could about Don Pablo and his hacienda, but it seemed true that it was almost impregnable to a frontal attack.

Now, at last, Ali Khayr had news for him.

‘There is a side gate,’ Ali began. ‘The main gate is kept locked and heavily guarded. There are armed men patrolling the garden all the time, though the girl you seek is allowed to spend some time there. Sometimes the men grow careless and forget their duty.’

‘Do you think we could gain entrance through the side gate?’

‘One man could do so,’ Ali told him. ‘There are two paths to it. One passes the main gate and would be impossible to negotiate without being seen. The other is difficult terrain, which is why it is undefended. If the girl you seek were near the gate at the right time it would be a simple thing, if she were brave enough, to bring her down to where you and your men were waiting.’

‘I should be the one to go in and fetch her!’

‘With your eyes? A blue-eyed Arab is very rare,’ Ali said with a smile to ease his words. ‘No, my friend, I think not. You would never get past the gate. However, every morning at a certain time an old man delivers fruit and vegetables. He is an Arab and they know him; they scarcely look at him.’

‘Then who…?’ Lorenzo cast his mind over his men. ‘It must be someone who is willing to risk his life. Surely if I stained my face and kept my head down I might pass for a Moor?’

‘Your eyes remain as blue. You need not concern yourself about who shall enter the hacienda,’ Ali told him. ‘Just be there ready at the foot of the descent. You may need to repel an attack—if they realise she has gone, they will try to take her back.’

‘How will this man know where to find her?’

‘I have not lived peacefully in Granada all these years under Spanish rule without knowing their ways. When Bobadil was driven weeping from the Alhambra most of my people left for other shores, but some of us stayed. We live quietly, peacefully, and we watch our backs. Even when Galera was under siege my people and I were left in peace, because we make no trouble for our Spanish masters. The Spanish hardly see us, for we do nothing to make them notice we are still here. We are nothing, of no importance, mere shadows in the night. Some of our people work for them and they take our service for granted. Money is a great persuader. Someone will make sure that the girl is near the gate and the guards are not. If Allah wills it, she will be with you tomorrow at the appointed time.’

‘I shall owe you much if you can arrange this, Ali.’

‘It will be repayment for the debt I owe you,’ Ali Khayr said. ‘Had you not acted so swiftly the day my son was attacked in the marketplace by a mad dog, he would have died. You put your life at risk, for to be bitten by such dogs is to die of the foaming disease. Without my son I should have had no reason to live. Therefore my life is yours.’

‘It was instinctive,’ Lorenzo said. ‘And you have repaid the debt.’

‘Gold alone cannot repay such a debt. But if I give you back this woman the debt is ended. We may meet then as friends.’

‘We are friends now,’ Lorenzo said. ‘And I shall be for ever in your debt.’

Ali smiled and opened his hands. ‘Allah will provide, my friend. Only if he wills it shall our plan succeed.’

Kathryn was unable to sleep. She had risen with the dawn, washing and dressing in the clothes provided for her use, which were Spanish and heavier than she was accustomed to wearing. She stood by the window, looking out at the garden, which was rich with lush greenery and exotic flowers. Soon now the old man would come with the fruit and vegetables and it was in her mind to go down to the garden and take her chance of escape.

‘Señorita…’

Kathryn looked round as she heard the woman’s voice. She had seen the old woman before when walking in the garden and believed she worked in the kitchens. Her skin was a dark olive tone and Kathryn thought that she might be of Moorish descent. Once the Moors had ruled the province of Granada until they were defeated and driven out by the Spanish king, but, though many had sought a life elsewhere, some had remained.

‘What is it?’ Kathryn asked, but the woman placed a finger to her lips, shaking her head. The Morisco woman put her hand on Kathryn’s arm, seeming to want her to go with her and saying something that she could not understand.

Kathryn hesitated, but the woman pulled urgently at her, speaking rapidly, repeating the same instruction over and over. There was no point in resisting, for if she did Don Pablo would send his men to fetch her. She nodded to show that she would go with her, but when she attempted to speak to her the woman put her finger to her lips again and smiled.

Suddenly, Kathryn was alert. Something was happening. She had the strangest feeling that this woman was attempting to help her and that Don Pablo knew nothing of it. When the old woman led her down to the door that led out to the back of the garden and pointed to the far end, she knew that she must mean the gate. She smiled and gave Kathryn a little push, then waved her hands as if she were shooing a goose.

Kathryn smiled, but when she would have spoken the old woman shook her head and disappeared into the house. Feeling nervous and yet excited, Kathryn walked in the direction she had been shown, and as she did so the gate opened and an old man came in with his donkey. She hesitated, but he beckoned to her urgently and she ran the last few steps towards him.

‘Go quickly,’ he said, pulling her through the gate. ‘Down that path. See where it curves to the right and follow. The way is steep and hard, but you will find what you seek there.’

Kathryn’s heart was racing—he had spoken to her in English, though from his looks he was a Moor. She whispered her thanks and heard the gate shut behind him as she began to walk down the steep path he had indicated. It was not the road by which they had come and, as she paused to look back, she realised that only a couple of small windows at the back of the house looked out this way. Once she was past the place where the rock jutted at an angle, it would be impossible to see from the house. Perhaps the path was too narrow and steep to be thought a likely approach for any surprise attack. Indeed, it was not easy for Kathryn to negotiate the path, for some of the rock was loose and twice a shower of debris went hurtling from beneath her feet, tumbling down the side of the rocky crag. Her progress was slow and her heavy skirts made it difficult for her to keep her balance. Had she had a choice she would never have ventured down such a path as this, but she steeled her nerves, knowing that it was her only chance. The old man had promised she would find what she needed at the bottom, and therefore someone must be waiting there for her.

When she reached the place where the rock jutted out at an angle, she paused—the path was so narrow that she did not know if she dared to pass the protrusion. If she fell, she would surely go plunging down the side of the mountain to her death. As she took a deep breath she heard a slithering sound as some loose shingle went sliding down into the valley and then a muffled curse, and then, as she held her breath, a man came round the path and beckoned to her.

‘Come, Kathryn,’ he commanded. ‘Take my hand and I shall help you.’

‘Lorenzo…’ she breathed, her heart leaping. She moved towards him, and somehow she was not surprised that he should be there. Ever since the woman had taken her to the garden she had believed that only one person could have arranged to have her freed.

He frowned as she came towards him, his eyes going over her with disapproval. ‘What is the matter?’

‘Take off those wide skirts,’ he told her. ‘You will never be able to negotiate this path in that gown, Kathryn.’

Kathryn did not hesitate. Untying the strings that held her overskirt, she let it fall to the ground. At once she felt so much easier in the petticoat that fitted to her body more closely than the cumbersome panniers she had donned that morning. She went to him with new confidence, taking the hand he offered. His fingers closed about it tightly and he smiled at her in a way that set her spirit soaring.

‘You are a good, brave girl,’ he told her. ‘Trust me, for this next bit is difficult, but I shall not let you fall.’

‘Thank you.’ She nodded at him bravely, trusting him, confident that he would not let her slip.

He smiled but said nothing, and, looking down, Kathryn saw that the brownish-grey rock jutted out to an alarming degree over what was a sheer fall. The path around it was no more than a ledge and could never have been intended as a path at all. It looked as if at some time a part of the rock had fallen away, leaving this overhanging ledge dangling precariously. It was hardly surprising that the Don had not considered it necessary to guard this side of his mountain home, for a party of men could not pass this way, and the only other approach was past the main gate.

She could never have done it alone! Her heart was in her mouth as she took a tentative step on to the narrow ledge, and only the firm grip of Lorenzo’s hand on her arm kept her steady. They had their backs to the rock, which pressed into Kathryn’s flesh, scraping her as she pushed back against it, edging one tiny step at a time, moving sideways, inch by inch, not daring to look down. Only the firm pressure of Lorenzo’s hand kept her from falling as her eyes closed against the dizziness that seemed to take her mind and for a moment she felt that she could not go on.

‘Not much further,’ Lorenzo said. ‘We are almost there, Kathryn.’

She could not answer—she was too terrified. She breathed slowly, deeply, hanging on to her nerve by the merest of threads, and then, all at once, she found that her feet were on more solid ground and she was suddenly swept into a crushing embrace. Lorenzo held her so fiercely that she almost swooned from the surging emotion that possessed her body and mind. She held on to him, her breath coming in great sobbing gasps as she clung to his strong body and felt the relief wash over her. She wanted to weep, but the feel of his body warmed her, giving her courage.

‘You are safe now, Madonna,’ Lorenzo said. ‘Come, my brave one. My men and the horses are waiting. We have no time to waste—once they know you are missing they will come after us.’

As she looked up at him, he bent his head, his lips brushing hers in the lightest of kisses, so light that she hardly felt it, yet it was enough to set her heart fluttering wildly.

Kathryn blinked as he let her go. She longed to be back in his arms, for she had felt so warm and safe there, but he was already hurrying her down further to where a small party of men and horses were waiting. From there the way was a gentle slope, widening out into the valley, and in the distance the grandeur of the sleeping city lay shimmering in the first rays of the morning sun.

‘Once we reach the galleys we are safe,’ he told her. ‘We shall talk then, Kathryn. But first we have some hard riding ahead.’

She nodded at him, recovering her breath now as he lifted her on to the back of one of the horses and then mounted his own. There was a sense of urgency about him that made Kathryn realise they were not yet safe and she did not need to be told to urge her horse first to a canter, and then, as they left the steep roads behind, to a gallop.

The pursuit did not begin until they had almost reached the shore. One of Lorenzo’s men gave a shout and pointed to a party of horsemen outlined against the sky. The alarm must have been given soon after Kathryn’s disappearance, for the Don’s men were not that far behind them. Lorenzo’s party were urged to make a final effort, and then they were within sight of the cove.

The horses were abandoned to one of the party, who rode off with them in another direction as Lorenzo, Kathryn and half a dozen men began the scramble down to the sandy beach where the boat was ready to take them out to the galley moored in the bay. From above them they could hear shouting and, as she paused to look up, she saw that some of Don Pablo’s men were preparing to fire at them with their deadly mosquettes, a superior weapon of Spanish invention.

Lorenzo pushed her into the boat and climbed in himself, though two of his men had fired their matchlocks at the Spaniards above; however, they were useless at such a distance and did nothing to deter the pursuers from beginning to scramble down the rocky incline to the beach below.

Now they were all in the boat and pushing off from the shore. Don Pablo’s men had reached the beach and were racing to the water’s edge, some of them wading out to take aim at the rowers. One found his mark and an oarsman fell wounded. Lorenzo took his place while Kathryn bent over him, distressed to see that he was bleeding from a shoulder wound.

She tore strips from her petticoat, making a wedge and then binding him as best she could, her attention given to her task as the shots of the men on the beach began to fall short of their target. By the time she had finished her work they had reached the galley and many hands reached out to take both her and the wounded man aboard. She heard Lorenzo giving orders and then a cannon boomed out and she looked towards the shore, seeing that the men there had fled back to the cliffs and were scrambling up them.

‘Kathryn.’ Lorenzo came to her as she stood shivering and at a loss to know what to do. Around her the men were preparing to put some distance between them and the shores of Spain. She alone could do nothing and she suddenly felt lost and terribly alone. ‘Come, you must go to my cabin and rest. This has been a harrowing experience for you. Forgive me, but there was no other way.’

‘There is nothing to forgive,’ she said in a trembling tone. ‘I must thank you for my life.’

‘I did very little. The friend I told you of—Ali Khayr—it was he who risked his life to come to you at the hacienda. I pray that he was not taken, for it will go ill with him. He lives in Granada only because his neighbours tolerate him. He says that money buys him freedom, but it was a great risk he took for our sakes.’

‘Then I shall pray for his safety,’ Kathryn said. She raised her head to look at Lorenzo, seeing the customary hard line of his mouth, his eyes giving no hint of his feelings. ‘I have had time to think of and to regret my own folly. Had I not ignored your advice, this would not have happened. I hope that you will forgive me for causing you so much trouble?’

A faint smile curved his lips. ‘Would that I could believe it will be the last time, Madonna.’

‘What do you mean?’ Her eyes sparked with indignation.

Lorenzo merely shook his head. ‘Forgive me, I have work to do. I must stay on deck in case we are followed and attacked. I do not think it, for Don Pablo does not have galleys swift enough to match ours. However, I must be here to direct the men. Michael will take you below.’ He nodded to a man standing nearby, who smiled at her as he approached.

‘I hope you will permit me to say how pleased I am to see you safe, Mistress Rowlands. Please, follow me and I will show you where you can rest.’

Kathryn thanked him. When she glanced back she saw that Lorenzo was bending over the man who had been wounded while rowing them back to the galley. She felt a little hurt—clearly she was less important to him than his men. He had saved her and for that she must be grateful but, for a few moments on that mountainside, he had seemed so different. When he held her in his arms, when he had kissed her so softly, she had believed that he truly cared for her, that she was more than an errant girl he had rescued, perhaps for a price.

But she would be foolish to imagine that she was anything more than another captive he had rescued, no more than a galley slave he might snatch from a watery grave. She wondered how much her uncle had promised to pay him for her safe return, and the thought made her heart ache.

She could not but be grateful to him for what he had done, but she did wish that he had done it because he cared for her and not for money.

Following Michael into the cabin, she saw that it was sparsely furnished, unlike the cabin in Don Pablo’s galleon. There was a plain wooden cot with a straw mattress and one thin blanket, a sea chest and a table with maps spread upon it, but nothing else. Clearly the master of this galley lived much as his men did with no concessions to comfort. His home might be the height of luxury, but here there was no softness of any kind.

‘Forgive us, Mistress Rowlands,’ Michael apologised. ‘There was no time to make provision for your comfort. We did not dare delay for we could not be sure what Don Pablo intended. Had he decided to sell you to Rachid in exchange for his daughter, we might have been too late. Taking you from the Spanish merchant was an easier task, for Rachid’s fortress is guarded day and night. No one who is taken there comes out alive unless Rachid wishes it.’

Kathryn shivered as she realised how great had been the danger of her being lost for ever in some harem. ‘Do not apologise,’ she said. ‘I am grateful for all that you and the others have done, sir. If this is how Lorenzo lives on board ship, then it is good enough for me.’

‘Captain Santorini claims no privileges that are not given to the rest of us,’ Michael said. ‘But I know he would not have chosen that you should travel in this way.’

‘Please, no more apologies,’ Kathryn told him, lifting her head proudly. ‘I shall be perfectly comfortable here. I dare say it is more than I should have been given had I been sold to Rachid.’

‘You may thank God for it that you were not,’ Michael said and made the sign of the cross over his breast. ‘Please rest as best you can and food will be brought to you once we are underway.’

Kathryn nodded. After he had gone she went to look out of the tiny porthole at the sea, which seemed wide and empty, then returned to sit on the edge of the bed. Now that she was alone she was beginning to feel the effects of her desperate escape and to realise how close to death she had been on that mountainside. She closed her eyes, shutting out the memory. It was over. She was here on Lorenzo’s galley and safe.

Tears stung her eyes but she would not release them. There was no sense in giving way to her emotions now. She was safe because Lorenzo had risked his life and others to rescue her. He must be angry with her for causing him so much trouble. As yet, he had not chided her for her foolishness, but no doubt that was to come.

Kathryn lay down for a while. She was tired and hungry, and, waking after a fretful sleep that had not refreshed her, she discovered that Michael seemed to have forgotten his promise to bring her food. She got to her feet and pushed a strand of hair back from her face, feeling dirty and crumpled, and also a little cold in her torn petticoat. When Michael returned she would ask him if there was anything she could wear instead of the clothes that had been given her in Don Pablo’s home.

She had just decided that she would go up on deck when she heard a loud boom and the galley shook from stern to prow. Startled, she rushed to the porthole and looked out. It seemed that two galleys were attacking them, and from the flag they were flying, looked as if they might be Corsairs. The pennant had a white background and bore the sign of the crescent and the letter R in a blood-red colour. Something about the bold statement of the Corsair’s flag made her shiver.

It must be some of Rachid’s men! Kathryn felt chilled as she looked out and saw that the shot Lorenzo’s galley had fired had gone home. One of the galleys had been holed and was clearly in some difficulty. The other galley had fired at them and as their vessel rocked, she knew that they had taken a hit, but then several of Lorenzo’s guns roared at once and the second galley, which was very close, was holed. It went down so fast that she could hardly believe her eyes. One moment it was there, firing at them, and she could see fierce-looking men on deck preparing to board and fight. And now it had gone—but there were some men in the water.

The second galley was retreating, leaving their comrades in the water. She could see them screaming, calling out to the men who had deserted them, but as Lorenzo’s guns roared once more she knew that the second Corsair galley dared not stop to pick them up. Surely they would not leave the men to die?

Kathryn went to the door of her cabin, opening it and going to stand on the little deck that was directly above the rows of oarsmen. For a moment she thought that Lorenzo’s crew were going to ignore the men in the water, for they were cheering as they saw that they had routed their enemy. But then she saw that some of the men were at the rails as if to snatch those they could from a watery grave.

‘You should go below, Mistress Rowlands,’ Michael said, coming to her. ‘It is not fitting for you to be here—and like that.’

She glanced down at herself, realising that she must look as if she were in her nightgown. ‘May I not help with the wounded?’

‘We have our own surgeon to do that,’ he told her. ‘Please go below.’

‘But those men in the water…’

‘We shall do what we can. Please go!’

Kathryn retreated, feeling angry and disturbed. She could hear shouting on deck and men moving about, also the movement of oars that told her they were going on. Looking out of the porthole, she saw that there were several bodies floating in the water, but could not tell whether any of them were still alive. She felt the sting of tears, because she knew that those left behind would surely die.

How could Lorenzo abandon them? She had thought he had more compassion. Yet she was foolish to believe in a softer side. For a moment she had glimpsed another man on that mountainside, but in truth he was ruthless. A hard, cold man who saved only those he believed would bring him a profit.

Kathryn felt chilled. She had believed herself to be falling in love with him—but how could she love such a man?