Читать книгу OUTLAW in the Tudor Court: Ransom Bride / The Pirate's Willing Captive - Anne Herries, Anne Herries - Страница 11

‘Forgive us,’ Michael said when he brought food and wine to her later. ‘We were attacked by two of Rachid’s galleys, as no doubt you saw, and there was no time for anyone to eat.’

‘Those men in the water…’ Kathryn said. She felt sick to her stomach, revolted by the sight of food. ‘Why did you not stop to pick them up?’

‘We rescued a few, most of them galley slaves,’ Michael said, but she noticed that he would not look at her as he set down the tray of food. ‘Do not concern yourself for the others. Most were already dead and, besides, they were not worth your pity, mistress.’

‘Is not any man worthy of help?’ she asked, a catch in her voice. ‘In God’s eyes even a sparrow is worthy of notice.’

‘Thank you, Michael,’ Lorenzo said, his voice harsh. ‘You will leave us now if you please.’

Kathryn turned her accusing gaze on Lorenzo as he stood aside for his captain to leave the cabin. ‘There were so many,’ she said, a choke in her voice. ‘Surely they were not all dead?’

Lorenzo’s face showed no emotion as he answered her. ‘They were Rachid’s men—ruthless pirates. They take no prisoners. Can you imagine what would have happened if they had been the victors? Save your tears for those that deserve it.’

‘But they were beaten…’ Her words died as she saw that he was angry. He was arrogant and ruthless. He would not listen to her. She was merely a foolish girl who had caused him enough trouble.

‘Has it not occurred to you that there might have been more of his galleys waiting for us? If we had spent too much time trying to rescue men, most of whom were already dead—or likely to be hung for their crimes if we had rescued them—we might have been attacked again. I do not think that Lord Mountfitchet would have been pleased if you had escaped from Don Pablo to fall into the hands of Corsairs, Kathryn.’

‘Are you saying that it was for my sake that you did not stop?’

‘Does that grieve your tender heart, Kathryn? Do not take my guilt upon your shoulders, Madonna. I saw no profit in saving men I would have to either hang or kill another day if I set them free.’

‘Is everything a matter of profit?’ Kathryn said angrily. ‘Tell me, how much did Lord Mountfitchet pay you to rescue me?’ She saw him flinch and regretted the words as soon as she had said them, but her pride would not allow her to take them back. Raising her head proudly, she looked into his eyes. ‘Perhaps you should know that I am an heiress and my true worth is what my father will give to have me back.’

‘I shall bear that in mind,’ Lorenzo said, his eyes glinting. ‘Perhaps I shall not take your uncle’s ransom after all, Madonna. It might be that you would fetch a higher price elsewhere.’ He moved towards her, towering above her so that she felt shivers run down her spine. For a moment she thought he meant to take her into his arms, and his expression frightened her, but then he shook his head and stepped back. ‘You are a troublesome girl and I have better things to do! Be careful or I may find it easier to be rid of you.’

Kathryn stared as he turned and walked from the cabin. He could not mean that! Surely he was merely punishing her for what she had said to him? He could not seriously mean to sell her to the highest bidder?

No, of course he didn’t. He would hand her back to Lord Mountfitchet and take the agreed price—wouldn’t he? And yet what did she really know of this man? He guarded his feelings so well that anything might be going on inside his head.

Kathryn sat on the edge of the bed, hugging herself as she tried to come to terms with her feelings. For a moment as she gazed into his eyes she had wanted him to kiss her. How foolish she was! He was a hard, cruel, dangerous man and the sooner she was with Charles and Lady Mary the better.

Lorenzo stood staring out to sea. It was a dark night with only a few stars to guide them, but within hours they would enter the Grand Lagoon. He had decided to return to Venice before setting out to Cyprus. His galley had received some serious damage and was not fit to fight again without repairs. It would be sensible to send Kathryn with another of his ships. She might travel on one of his merchant galleys with an escort of fighting ships to protect her. She had found a way to get beneath his guard, and it would be madness to keep her near him—and yet he was reluctant to let her go.

What was it about this woman that had got through to that secret part of him he had kept so well hidden these past years? He had known other beautiful women, sophisticated lovers, who had given him the pleasure of their company and their bodies, but none of them had touched him. There was something about Kathryn that tugged at his heartstrings, making him feel things that he did not wish to feel.

For so long he had kept all his emotions under rigid control, feeding only on his hatred of the man who had enslaved him. Lorenzo had no memory of being captured. His first memory was of being chained to an oar and the lash of a whip on his shoulders to make him pull harder. He could remember the pain of the cuts on his back, which had been tended by another, older slave during the hours of darkness, and the constant chafing of the manacles on his wrists. The memory made the rough skin beneath his wristbands itch, but he resisted the urge to take them off. To ease them he needed a salve that he kept in his cabin, and he would not expose his one weakness to the eyes of the woman who already had too much power over his emotions.

‘Kathryn…’ he said the words without realising he was speaking. ‘Kathy…sweet little Kathy…’

For a moment there was a roaring in his ears and his mind whirled as the stars disappeared and there was only blackness, deep, deep blackness, and then terrible pain. He made a moaning sound as for one moment he saw something—a girl’s face and blood…

‘Did you speak, sir?’

Lorenzo’s mind cleared as his captain approached him. He frowned, for he was not quite sure what had happened to him. It was as if a curtain had lifted in his mind, revealing some incident from the past, which had never happened before. The time prior to his enslavement had been a complete blank, but just for a moment he had seemed to remember.

‘No, I merely cleared my throat,’ he said, banishing the images that would sap his strength. He must banish her from his mind! He could not allow himself the luxury of caring for a woman like that. ‘We were fortunate today, Michael. Somehow Rachid must have known that we were unaccompanied. It was a mistake. When you deal with wolves you should hunt as they do, in a pack.’

‘There was no time to waste if you were to rescue her,’ Michael said and frowned. ‘I fear she does not understand the law of the sea, Lorenzo. It seems cruel to her to leave men in the sea, but she cannot know what they are capable of or that we were in no position to rescue them.’

‘Women and war do not mix,’ Lorenzo said; he had recovered his usual calm. A little smile touched his mouth, though it did not reach the icy blue of his eyes. ‘Do not allow her to make you feel guilt, my friend. The men we killed today served a cruel master because they wished it and we should feel no pity for them. They would have killed us and used her for their pleasure.’

‘Some did not serve willingly.’

Lorenzo saw the doubts in the other’s face. ‘We pulled three alive from the water,’ he said. ‘The others had no chance, chained to their oars—they went down with the galley. We did not make them slaves, Michael. If we are to rid the seas of such men as Rachid, there will be innocent men who must die. We too may die for our beliefs. Only if we accept this can we carry on our chosen path.’

‘Of course.’ Michael smiled wryly. He should not have allowed himself to weaken because of the accusation in a woman’s eyes. ‘She is very beautiful, Lorenzo, and I am a fool. Forgive me.’

Lorenzo smiled. ‘If we let them, women may make fools of us all, my friend.’

Kathryn saw the deep blue waters of the lagoon and felt a sense of relief to know that she would soon be back with Aunt Mary and Uncle Charles. They had been forced to delay their departure for Cyprus and would no doubt be impatient to leave. They could be no more impatient than she, for then she would not have to see Lorenzo Santorini again.

A part of her knew that she was being both ungrateful and wrong-headed in her judgement of him, but she could not help her feelings of irritation. He was such an arrogant man, so sure of himself. So many men must have died when that galley sunk so quickly, and he had saved only a few of them. How would he feel if he were one of those poor creatures chained to an oar and doomed to die unless someone rescued them? He could know nothing of their suffering or their pain.

She remembered his harshness towards the man he had named William. Was there no softness in him, no compassion? For a moment as he held her on the mountainside she had felt such…warmth, love…desire.

Kathryn’s cheeks flamed as she admitted to herself the mixture of emotions that had swirled through her in those brief moments in his arms. No, it was imagination, she could not have felt anything like that! It would be impossible to love such a cold man. What she had felt had merely been relief.

She turned as the door to her cabin was opened and saw Lorenzo standing there, watching her with those deep blue eyes that stirred such feeling in her.

‘My gondola will take you to my home,’ he told her. ‘Please feel free to do as you please within the house and garden—but do not leave it without my escort.’

‘I shall be only too pleased to be with my aunt again, sir.’

‘Lady Mary and Lord Mountfitchet have gone ahead of us to Cyprus,’ he told her. ‘My galley needs urgent repairs and so I returned to Venice for that purpose.’

‘But…’ Kathryn stared at him in dismay. ‘How am I to…It is not fitting that I stay in your house without Aunt Mary, sir.’

His eyes mocked her. ‘You have lately been a prisoner of Don Pablo, Kathryn. Your reputation must have suffered. If, however, you worry for your virtue, you should know that you are quite safe from me. I have no interest in foolish children.’

Her cheeks burned as she saw the mocking light in his eyes. ‘I did not mean—but my reputation…’ She faltered as she realised that in truth she could no longer claim to have one. She had been Don Pablo’s captive, living on board his ship and in his house for several days. Anything might have happened to her during that time, and some might believe it had. ‘I dare say it is too late to worry what others may think of me…’

Lorenzo’s laughter was low and husky. ‘Let them think what they will, Kathryn,’ he said. ‘The man who weds you will know your innocence is untouched and the others are as nothing.’

‘Yes, you are right, sir.’ She lifted her head proudly, though she was sorely troubled. Reputation was everything to an unmarried girl and hers had been tarnished through no fault of her own.

‘We took three galley slaves from the wreck,’ Lorenzo said. ‘None of them have blue eyes, but when they are well enough they will be questioned for any information concerning Richard Mountfitchet that they may have.’

‘I always called him Dickon,’ Kathryn said, her eyes sad and slightly dreamy. ‘And he called me Kathy…his sweet Kathy. We were but children, but we loved each other well.’

Lorenzo’s gaze narrowed intently. A little nerve was flicking at his temple as he said, ‘If you think of any other information that may be relevant, you may tell me. It should take no more than a week to repair my galley and then I shall escort you to your uncle. I believe he took William with him as you asked.’

‘Thank you…’ She looked into his eyes despite her determination to keep her distance, and her heart caught. Oh, no! She was being foolish. She could not be attracted to this man. It was impossible—wrong! Her heart belonged to Dickon and she would never marry someone who could do the things this man had done. ‘I shall be glad to be with my friends again.’

‘Yes, of course,’ he said. ‘Now, if you please, the gondola is waiting.’

Kathryn paced the floor of her chamber, feeling restless. They had been in Venice for two days now and she had hardly seen Lorenzo at all. Her meals were served to her wherever she wished, but she ate them in solitary state, which only made her feel more alone than ever. It seemed that in being rescued from Don Pablo she had merely exchanged one prison for another.

She was so tired of being in the house! She decided to go down to the courtyard and walk in the garden, but as she went down the stairs and into the main hall, she heard voices and saw that Lorenzo had that moment come in with Michael dei Ignacio. They both turned to look at her. Michael smiled warmly as he saw her, but Lorenzo’s eyes were as cool as ever.

‘I was about to go into the garden,’ she said, feeling it necessary to explain. ‘It is warmer today and the house seems too confining.’

‘You must be tired of being shut in the house,’ Michael told her. ‘I fear we have been too busy to entertain you, mistress. However, this evening there is a masque being held in the open air—perhaps you would care to attend? I shall be going and I dare say Lorenzo may be persuaded to spend a little time with us. And I shall take several of our men to protect you, though I think it unlikely that Don Pablo will try another such trick.’

‘I should like to go with you, sir.’ Kathryn looked at Lorenzo. ‘Have I your permission to go?’

His mouth seemed hard and censorious as he said, ‘You are not my prisoner, Kathryn. I am sure that Michael will take good care of you, though I have business that will prevent me from attending. You will need clothes for the masque, which is said to be very entertaining, I believe. I shall instruct my servants to bring you gowns and masks that you may like to wear for the occasion.’

‘Thank you.’ She sensed his disapproval, which was almost anger that she had agreed so willingly. ‘I shall look forward to it, Signor Ignacio.’

‘I shall be here at the hour of seven to collect you,’ he said and bowed to her. ‘And now, if you will excuse me, I have some business I must attend.’

Kathryn turned away as he left, but Lorenzo followed her into the courtyard. She waited, wondering what more he had to say to her.

‘I shall do nothing foolish,’ she told him before he could speak.

‘Michael will make sure that you are well protected. Besides, I do not think that Don Pablo will try another abduction. I have sent him a message and I believe you are safe from him in future, Kathryn.’

‘What kind of a message?’

‘It is not necessary for you to know that,’ he replied, a wintry expression in his eyes. ‘I wanted to tell you that we shall be ready to leave for Cyprus the day after tomorrow.’

‘Oh.’ Kathryn did not know why her spirits had suddenly fallen so low. ‘Thank you, sir. I shall be pleased to be with my friends again.’

‘Once there you will have the freedom that has been denied you here.’

‘Yes…’ She felt her throat closing and was suddenly emotional though she did not know why. ‘Lorenzo…’ She swayed towards him, wanting him to take her in his arms, to hold her as he had for that brief moment on the mountainside. She saw something in his eyes, a glow deep down that made her tremble with anticipation, with a strange longing that she could not name. For a brief moment she thought she saw that longing reflected in his eyes and believed that he was struggling with some fierce emotion, but then he moved back and it was as if a barrier had sprung up between them.

‘Excuse me, I have business,’ he said in a curt tone that brought her swiftly back to reality. ‘You should rest, for you will find our Venetian festivals somewhat riotous.’

He inclined his head, turned on his heel and left her. Kathryn’s cheeks flamed. Had she given herself away? Had he seen that longing in her eyes? Oh, what a fool she was! She did not like what he was or what he did—so how could she feel such tempestuous emotions when he looked at her?

Kathryn chose a gown of white silk trimmed with black ribbons. Her mask was a pretty thing of white, silver and black that fitted over the top half of her face and fastened with ribbons. Her cloak was fashioned of fine soft velvet that felt so comforting to wear, for, though the sun had been warm during the day, the night air was much cooler.

She was waiting downstairs in one of the salons when Michael came to collect her. He wore a harlequin costume in the colours of black and white, which complemented her gown perfectly, and looked the picture of a courtier. He was a handsome man, his dark hair and eyes enough to set the hearts of most ladies fluttering. Kathryn wondered why she could not feel something more for him, for he was much kinder and more courteous than his commander.

‘We make a pretty pair, sir,’ she said and curtsied to him.

‘You are beautiful, Mistress Rowlands,’ he told her. ‘I am but a simple sea captain, but you are a lady and far beyond me.’

Kathryn did not know how to answer him, for she was surprised by his words, which seemed to hint at something much deeper and stronger than mere friendship. She smiled and gave him her hand, blushing as he held it to his lips before leading her out to the front of the palace and down the steps to the waiting gondola.

‘I thought that you might like to see the sights before we join the revellers in St Mark’s Square,’ he said. ‘For this evening is a celebration.’

Kathryn allowed him to hand her into the gondola. Their oarsman took them through the narrow waterways of the city, which was lit with many tiny lanterns and torches, and bedecked with ribbons, flowers and flags.

When they reached the square it was already crowded. Music was playing and people were dancing, everyone dressed in beautiful clothes and carrying or wearing masks. Some were very exotic, resembling the heads of animals or mythical beasts, others were sad or comic, though most were very simple, like hers.

She danced with Michael three times, and then stood to one side to watch the others dancing while he fetched her a cool drink mixed with fruits that tasted sweet. She sipped it and then set the glass down, just as someone caught her arm and she was suddenly whirled back into the throng of dancers. Her heart raced for a moment as she thought it might be an attempt at abduction, and then, as she looked up at the masked man, she knew him.

‘Are you enjoying yourself, Madonna?’

‘Yes, very much,’ she said. ‘I thought you were too busy to come with us?’

‘My business was finished sooner than I thought,’ Lorenzo said and smiled. His mask, like hers, was plain and fitted over the top half of his face, but he was dressed all in black, though the sash at his waist was of silver. ‘I thought I would discover for myself what happens on this night of mystery and feasting.’

‘Why mystery?’

‘Do you not know the legend of the Seventh Moon?’

Kathryn shook her head, her eyes wide with curiosity. ‘What is the Seventh Moon?’

‘It is said that if a virgin looks at the full moon in a bowl of water for seven nights without fail, on the last night she will see the face of her lover—and by morning she will no longer be a virgin.’ There was a wicked, teasing note in his voice that made her want to laugh. ‘Have you looked to see the face of your lover, Madonna? And whose is the face you see, I wonder?’

‘Oh!’ Kathryn felt her cheeks grow warm. She looked away hastily for she did not know how to interpret his teasing. ‘But why is the feast held on this night?’

‘That I cannot tell you,’ he said and she knew that he was laughing at her. ‘Perhaps to celebrate the beginning of the legend—who knows?’

‘I think you invented your story, sir,’ Kathryn said and her heart beat faster as she heard his laughter.

‘Did I, Kathryn?’ he asked. ‘Now, why should I do that?’

She shook her head. Her heart was beating so fast that she felt a little faint, as if she were swept away with some emotion that thrilled and yet terrified her. He seemed so different from the cold, hard man she had become accustomed to thinking him, reminding her of someone she had known long ago. Dickon had told her stories, making them up on the spur of the moment to tease her and make her laugh.

The music had ended for the moment and people were moving away to find food and refreshment. Kathryn stood looking up at him, caught by some strange sensation that gripped her, sweeping her back through the years so that she seemed to be a child again.

‘Who are you?’ she asked, her eyes seeming to be locked with his.

‘I do not know who I am, Kathryn,’ he said, and then, as her breath caught in her throat, he bent his head and kissed her on the lips very softly. ‘Since you came I do not know anything…’

‘Lorenzo.’ Her mouth seemed to tingle from his kiss though it had been sweet and gentle, and her heart was racing wildly. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Who knows what words mean?’ he asked, an odd smile touching his mouth. ‘Did I not tell you this was a night of mystery? Michael is looking for you. I shall take you back to him, Kathryn.’

She wanted to stay with him, to be back in his arms, but she knew that the moment had passed as he took her arm, steering her back to where Michael awaited her. Then, before she could say or do anything, he turned and disappeared through the throngs of people crowding the square.

‘I have never known Lorenzo to attend the masque before,’ Michael said, watching him go. ‘Nor have I known him to dance.’

‘Not ever—with anyone?’ Kathryn’s heart jerked as he shook his head. How strange that was! ‘He said that his business had finished early.’

‘Even so…’ Michael looked thoughtful. ‘Will you eat something, Mistress Rowlands?’

‘I am not very hungry,’ Kathryn confessed. ‘Would you mind very much if I asked you to take me home?’

‘No, of course not,’ he said and smiled at her. ‘I am here to serve you.’

‘You were very kind to bring me this evening. I have enjoyed myself.’

‘Lorenzo asked me to bring you. He said that you had been confined to the house too long. I asked him why he did not bring you himself, and he said that you would be safer with me. I did not understand him.’ Michael frowned. ‘I would give my life for Lorenzo Santorini, but…’ He paused, then rushed on. ‘I do not think he is a man who would make a woman such as you happy, Kathryn. There are things in his past that he can never forget.’

‘What do you mean?’ She looked at him, her eyes wide, feeling coldness at the nape of her neck. ‘What kind of things?’

‘Forgive me, I may not tell you. I have perhaps said too much. It is not my business to interfere—but I have a deep regard for you, Kathryn. Forgive me if I use your name without permission.’ She shook her head. ‘You are as brave and generous as you are beautiful. I do not know what Lorenzo intends towards you, but I would not have you hurt.’

‘Thank you for your concern, sir. But I do not think he intends anything towards me—other than to deliver me safely to Lord Mountfitchet and collect the ransom.’

‘What ransom?’ Michael stared at her. ‘If you imagine that he snatched you from that Spaniard for a ransom, you are much mistaken. You do not understand him, Kathryn. Yes, sometimes he takes money for restoring a man to his family. Most are only too eager to pay it and he puts that money to good use. For every man that can be restored to his family there are a hundred that cannot; some can never work and without help would simply starve.’

Kathryn felt very strange, her throat tight with emotion. ‘Are you telling me that the money…?’ Her voice caught on a sob as she realised how badly she had misjudged Lorenzo. ‘He helps the men he rescues if they are not strong enough to work?’

‘Did you imagine that he cast them out to fend for themselves? Better that they should die quickly than starve, Kathryn. Lorenzo is rich, but he cares little for money for its own sake. His purpose in life is to destroy those evil men who prey on others, enslaving them and using them like beasts. That is why I warned you not to love him, for there is such pain in him…’ He shook his head as her eyes begged the question. ‘No, I may not tell you more. I have already said too much and I beg that you will not speak of this to Lorenzo. He would be angry. He makes no apology for what he does to any man—or woman.’

‘I shall never tell him what you have said this night,’ Kathryn said. ‘But I do thank you for telling me. I did not understand.’

She had had no idea what lay behind that mask of coldness, the apparent ruthlessness of his business, the way he saved or took life seemingly at will. Even now she could not think of the men left behind in the water without shuddering, but she could begin to understand.

Lorenzo removed the leather wristbands, rubbing at the ridge of dark purplish-red flesh beneath. The badge of his slavery, a constant reminder that would never let him forget those years of pain and humiliation or the hatred that had festered inside him. At Antonio Santorini’s deathbed, he had sworn that he would not rest until he had brought Rachid down and freed all those he held prisoner. That purpose had driven him from this day until now, and he could not let anything change that—not even the enticing lips of a woman who filled his senses as no other ever had.

She had felt so good as he’d held her in his arms during their dance that the temptation to kiss her had been overwhelming. She filled his mind even now, making him burn with desire such as he had never known. Only the strength of his will was keeping him from going to her now and making her his own. He wanted to feel her soft skin as she lay beside him, to touch her, kiss her, know her fully. To make love to her, to love her, have her always…

No! That way lay madness! He could not lie with Kathryn without letting down his guard. He could not seduce her without offering her his home and his name—but what was his name?

A shiver went through him as he recalled the moment she had looked into his eyes and asked him who he was, and his answer had surprised even himself. He was Lorenzo Santorini, a man dedicated to destroying his enemy. Of course he knew who he was! To let himself dwell on the past—on things that could never be proved—would be to invite confusion.

He rubbed at his left wrist. It was always this one that irritated the most. The flesh was swollen now for he did not use the healing salve as often as he should. Getting out of bed, he took the pot of lotion that had been given him by Ali Khayr, rubbing it into the ridges of tortured flesh. He frowned as he traced the thin line, which extended from beneath the welt of scarred skin. It looked darker than the other scars, older and in some way different. He had not really noticed it until lately. His finger traced it absently, sliding down over the welt of disfigured flesh, making the sign of a letter.

Kathryn! She was too often in his mind. If he allowed her to take over she would destroy him. He had begun to imagine things, impossible dreams that were not for a man such as he—and there were the images that came to him now. Flashes of memory, perhaps? He could not be sure. For so many years he had remembered nothing, had wanted to remember nothing beyond the moment he had seen the face of his enemy and known that he lived only to kill him.

Rachid was not of Arab descent, nor was he a Turk. His skin was sunburned and his eyes were grey, but he was from the Western world—something that had made Lorenzo despise him more. How could he, a man raised to Christian values, use and torture other men so cruelly? He was evil, a disciple of Satan—and Lorenzo could not rest until he was dead.

Nothing must deflect him from his purpose. He must not allow himself to be softened by a woman’s smile—nor must he let those disturbing flashes of memory rob him of his identity. It did not matter who he had been. He was Lorenzo Santorini. A man with no mercy for his enemy.

The sooner he could return Kathryn to her friends the better. If he were sensible, he would send her with Michael as her escort, finish it now. The longer she stayed with him the more enmeshed in her web he might become.

Kathryn looked around the cabin to which she had been shown. It was much more luxuriously appointed than the one she had used on board Lorenzo’s war galley. This was the largest and finest of his merchant ships. It was carrying a cargo of goods to the island, which would be sold to the merchants there in return for another cargo of fine wines and citrus fruits. These fruits were much valued by those who spent their lives at sea, for they were believed to help prevent the dreaded disease that some called scurvy.

She turned as she heard someone behind her, and, looking towards the door, saw that Lorenzo stood there. His eyes were thoughtful as they looked at her, almost brooding. She felt herself tremble inside and knew a longing to be in his arms as she had been on the night of the Seventh Moon.

‘I hope you will be comfortable here, Kathryn. My own cabin was not fitting for you, but we have made more provision this time.’

‘I was happy enough to live as you do,’ she said. ‘Do you travel with me on this ship, sir?’ Her heart was fluttering as she waited for his response, for though she feared what he did to her with those devastating eyes, she also longed for it.

‘No, on my personal galley,’ Lorenzo replied. ‘You will be safe enough for we shall escort you to Cyprus. I have some business there with Lord Mountfitchet.’

‘Yes, of course,’ she said, though she sensed that he was not telling her the whole truth. ‘It is good of you to go to so much trouble for my sake.’

‘But I do not want to lose my ransom,’ he said, an odd smile on his lips. ‘Surely you must know that, Kathryn?’

‘You shame me, sir,’ she said, blushing. ‘I was wrong to say such things to you.’

‘Were you?’ His eyes narrowed, intent on her face. ‘I am not ashamed of what I do.’

‘Why should you be?’ She flushed deeper as he looked at her more closely, clearly wondering why she had changed her mind, and knew that she must be careful or she would betray Michael’s confidence. ‘Any man is worthy of his hire. If you do someone a service, they should expect to pay for it.’

Lorenzo inclined his head. ‘I have questioned the men we took from Rachid’s galley. No one knows anything of a youth taken from Cornwall all those years ago. It was not likely that they would. I believe that you will never find the man you seek, Kathryn. And if you did…he would not be the same man.’

‘I know…’ She sighed. ‘I have begun to think that it may be best if Dickon is never found. Sometimes I hope that he died long ago. I had heard stories of men being put to the galleys as slaves, but I did not understand what it meant until now. It must be the most soul-destroying thing that a man can suffer, to be forced to work so hard and to know that he is a slave…’

‘Dickon is dead,’ Lorenzo said, his eyes violet dark. ‘The youth you once loved would not have survived without becoming someone very different, believe me.’

‘Yes, I know,’ she said and her voice caught with tears. ‘I know that his father will go on searching for him, but I shall try to remember him as a friend that died.’

‘It would be a waste if you were to spend your life waiting for a man who will never come back to you,’ Lorenzo told her. ‘You should marry, Kathryn. I dare say you would not look at Michael Ignacio, though I know he cares for you. And I can vouch for him as a man of good family and honest values. You could do much worse than to marry a man such as he, for I dare say he would give up the sea for your sake.’

‘If I felt that way for him, I should be pleased to wed him,’ she replied, her eyes stinging with the tears she held back. He was doing his best to persuade her to think of Michael as a husband. Why should he do that? It could only mean that he was telling her not to think of him. She looked at him proudly, coldly. ‘Perhaps I may marry one day—when I return to England. But I am not sure that I could be happy with any other man than Dickon. It may be that I shall never marry.’

Lorenzo nodded and frowned, silent for a moment, then he said, ‘When do you plan to return home?’

‘I do not know,’ Kathryn said. ‘I shall stay with Lady Mary and Lord Mountfitchet for some months and then…’ She could not go on, for her heart felt as if it were breaking, and she wanted to say that she would stay for ever if only he cared for her. His eyes seemed dark with some hidden emotion as he looked at her, but he said nothing that could give her encouragement, nothing to indicate that she meant anything to him. She must put her foolish notions from her head. She could not love a man such as Lorenzo Santorini.

But of course she didn’t! He had called her a foolish child enough times, and she knew that he must despise her for the trouble she had caused him.

‘I believe there will be a campaign in a few months,’ Lorenzo told her, changing the subject abruptly. ‘His Holiness the Pope has gathered a great alliance to try and wipe the scourge of the Turkish invaders from our seas, and, with the demise of their power, much of the piracy that takes place under their flag. I have pledged my support, but if you waited until the following spring I should be happy to escort you to your home.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Kathryn said. She lifted her head proudly, blinking back her tears. ‘I think my father or brother may come to fetch me—but if I should need your help, I shall ask for it.’

‘As you wish,’ he said and smiled. ‘We shall meet again on Cyprus. Excuse me, I have work to do.’

Kathryn felt the tears she could no longer restrain trickle down her face as he walked from the cabin. He was so withdrawn, so distant. How could she have been so foolish as to fall in love with him?

No, no, of course she wasn’t in love with him. It was just that he had saved her from a terrible fate, and she was grateful to him. Yes, that was it. She was grateful to him, and she liked him. It was reasonable to like him for she owed him a great deal. But she did not love him. She must remember who and what he was, a cold, harsh man who lived by the sword.

No, she could never love such a man.