The Ladys Pirate Read online

  "Please, my lord," she gasped.

  "Please? You dare ask for anything when you refuse your duty?"

  "No, sir, no. I understand my duty."

  "You'll understand duty when you are fat with my heir."

  "Richard, to give you an heir is my dearest desire."

  "Is it? Well, you'll get your chance, won't you, Countess?"

  "Please, do not do this."

  Elspeth hated the weakness and misery in her voice. Was she really the Countess Greymere, the richest woman in England? Being ground into the carpet by her own husband? She couldn't stop the plea from escaping her lips again.

  "Please, my lord."

  But he wasn't listening. She heard buttons snap off his clothing. Surely he wouldn't take her on the floor like this? Like an animal?

  "Damn!" He rose and she foolishly believed she was free. She started to rise, only to be pushed back down by his foot on the back of her head. "Get on the bed, my lady, while I have my man come to help me disrobe."

  Elspeth struggled to her feet, reaching for the tattered edges of her dressing gown.

  "No, don't cover yourself." He took to few steps to the door and yanked it open. "Portnoy! Come here, man."

  Elspeth sat on the bed and, in spite of his command, tugged her gown around her.

  Richard staggered to the bed and ripped her hands away, then stripped her gown off, leaving her naked. "I said don't cover yourself."

  "But, your man..."

  "He's seen naked women before. Don't flatter yourself you'll dazzle him."

  "My lord, you called me?" The elderly Portnoy peeked around the doorframe.

  "Yes, come in, Portnoy. I need assistance with my boots. My Countess is unable to manage them."

  Portnoy entered the room, only glancing at the bed, where Elspeth sat. She squeezed her eyes shut at the pity she saw reflected in the old man's eyes. She couldn't bear pity.

  While he assisted his master, the old man kept his back to her, affording her what little dignity he could.

  "Fine, fine. That's enough. Go." Richard shoved the old man through the door.

  If that's the best a faithful servant gets, I can expect little more. It was a bleak thought.

  "Now, my pigeon, lie down."

  She obeyed, as she did every time.

  As he did every time, Richard played with her, squeezing, pinching, fondling. She lay there, wondering how much of this disaster was her fault. Though her own mother would have died of vapors if she'd asked, Elspeth wondered if her success as a wife would have been greater if she'd sought some advice from her nurse on the doings between men and women? Or perhaps this was the way it was supposed to be? Perhaps such was the nature of Eve's curse, to be forever separated from her lord as she was separated from her God?

  "Damn!" Richard's explosion snapped her from her reverie.

  Elspeth dared a glance at his lower anatomy, hanging flaccid between his legs. Even such an innocent as she could see there would be no procreation tonight. She wondered if a successful mating would change her husband's attitude toward her.

  "It's your fault! I have dozens of bastards all over this county and the next. You know it is your fault, don't you?"

  "Yes, my lord."

  She'd thought acquiescence to be the best course.

  "You do it on purpose, don't you, witch?" A waft of air warned her only an instant before his palm met the flesh of her cheek. And again. And again.

  "Cry out, damn you! Why won't you cry out? Something, anything to show you are human." He backed away from her. "You are not, though, are you?" A strange light shone in his eyes. "No, you are not. You are a witch, using the Devil's own arts to unman me."

  Elspeth dared not speak. She only watched him back toward the door of his own suite, seemingly afraid to turn his back on her.

  When the door between their chambers slammed shut, a timid click signaled Patsy's return to the battlefield.

  "Oh, my poor lady," she cooed, jumping on the bed with Elspeth. "My lady, you are bleeding."

  Elspeth was only barely aware of Patsy's gentle touch sweeping over her, covering her nakedness, seeking any other injury.

  "Oh, sweet Jesus. Your arm."

  Elspeth looked down at her left wrist. Her hand lay at an odd angle from her forearm. A large blue lump had formed on the outside of her wrist. Patsy gathered her skirts to rise.

  "I will send for a surgeon."

  "No." She raised her right hand to shut off Patsy's complaint. "No surgeon. Straighten it and bind it as well as you can. That will do for now."

  She ignored Patsy's fuss. When she thought about the situation, she came always to the same conclusion. This time she couldn't avoid it, nor turn away from it.

  "Patsy, pack us each a small bag, only necessaries."

  "We're going somewhere, my lady?

  "Yes." Elspeth gave common sense one more chance to stop her. Unfortunately, it failed. "We're going home to Greymere."

  Chapter Two

  Hal lay on the branch of an ancient oak, peering through a spyglass at the house. Lights burned throughout. How many candles did it take to light up a place like that?

  He searched through the many windows for any hint of danger before he clambered down the tree, crouched, then started running toward the house, confident his green and brown dabbled buckskins concealed him in the dark.

  As he got closer to his target, he used his ears as much as his eyes for warning of discovery. The danger was great. Caught in such an act as he had agreed upon would ensure his end on a hanging tree. Not what he had in mind at all.

  The money. He would focus on the money. It would pay for outfitting the ship. He and his crew could get the hell off this pissy island and back out to sea where they belonged.

  Now he just hoped the lady in question had uncommon good sense and agreed to go along with him or he'd have to kiss the whole thing goodbye and steal what he needed.

  "Come, Patsy, to the stable."

  The soft voice startled him from the consideration of his problems.

  "But, my Lady, where are we going?"

  "I told you. We're going home."

  Two women cloaked in identical black scampered toward the stables.

  My Lady? Had his prey flown?

  "Damnation!"

  Pausing to ensure the women were not being followed, he took out after them, his deerskin moccasins making no sound in the damp grass. He stepped into the shadow just in time to miss being pulped by the hooves of their horses as the two women rode out bareback.

  Ye gods, they must be in a mighty hurry. And here he was afoot.

  He watched them from the shadow of the stable door. The woman trailing slid around on her mount, while the lead rider rode tall and sure, an Amazon to war. Doubtless the Countess herself.

  "Well, damn. Now what?" It only took another moment for him to decide what he had to do. "After them, Rabbit." He loped off on foot behind them.

  * * * *

  "My lady, may we rest for a moment? My arse feels like lead."

  Elspeth managed a smile as she reined in her mount. Casting a look back for pursuit, she sighed in relief and nodded. "Yes, Patsy. Let's take a rest."

  Elspeth slid off her horse, then helped Patsy down. "There, dearling. You sit and have a drink."

  "Thank you, my lady, but I do not need to sit!" Patsy's eyes had regained their sparkle once they'd gotten out of the hell of Sandgrove.

  Patsy's sharp eyes flicked around them. "What is that?"

  Elspeth stood still, listening.

  "What do you hear?" she whispered.

  "Nothing," Patsy whispered back. "No noise a'tall. That means there's something big and dangerous out there. The forest always goes quiet when there's danger. My ol' da taught me..."

  Elspeth slapped her palm over Patsy's mouth, then laid her finger gently over the woman's lips.

  She listened.

  There it was, the shuffle of footsteps.

  Her feet froze to the ground. Her he
art quickened as panic rose thick in her throat. It was Richard. He'd discovered her missing and had come to take her back to the prison he'd fashioned in his grand mansion.

  But why would he scamper in the underbrush like a thief? Richard was in no way subtle.

  That thought gave Elspeth another thing to fear. If it wasn't Richard, then it must be a brigand, one of the petty thieves who plied their trade along these hidden roads. Men who wouldn't hesitate to leave two women dead in a ditch stripped of clothes, wealth, virtue.

  Her virtue wasn't much, but it was all she had she truly cherished.

  The shuffle of footsteps grew louder. Either their pursuer was pitifully inept or he wanted them to know he was there.

  "Damned arrogant man. Does he think we'll surrender to him?"

  But was he alone? No, she reasoned. Thieves traveled in packs like wolves.

  "Come, Patsy," she whispered, taking her maid's hand and drawing her into the forest away from the sound of the approaching footsteps.

  Patsy obediently followed and the two hid themselves among the thick bushes growing along the road.

  The footsteps crunched absurdly loud for a thief. Across the clearing, Elspeth thought she saw movement. Too low to be a man, she feared they'd run into a wolf or boar or some other dangerous animal. Her eyes moved uneasily to the horses, standing calmly in the clearing.

  How stupid! She'd left the reins dragging. They were well-trained animals, usually content to await their masters' pleasure, but the presence of a predator would send them off and she and Patsy would be afoot.

  Even as she looked for some way to get to the horses and hold them still in the protection of the brush, the form across from her moved again.

  It spoke. The language was strange, exotic, calming. The horses raised their heads from their grazing and flicked back their ears toward the sound. To her horror, she saw the horses take a step toward the shadowy figure.

  "My lady," Patsy asked in a terrified whisper, "what is that? Some sort of fairy?"

  Elspeth shook her head. She couldn't honestly say what she thought it was, though her first assumption it was no man was quickly proven to be in error. The figure stood up, still hidden from full view.

  "Lady, he's green. For certain, he be a sprite or a fairy."

  "Patsy, I don't think the wee folk are that big."

  Surely not. The man-for that was what he was, no creature of fancy-cooed to the horses. The sound was not the nonsense one usually made. Elspeth had the distinct impression this was actual language. Could this man speak to horses?

  Then he stepped into view. Fortunately the moon was full and Elspeth was able to see him clearly.

  And the sight shocked her to silence.

  However, Patsy was not similarly afflicted.

  "My dearest Granny Fanny! A savage!"

  The savage turned his face toward them and Elspeth held her breath even as she again slapped her palm over Patsy's mouth.

  Indeed, he was a savage. He must be. No civilized man of Elspeth's acquaintance bore the appearance of wildness as this man did. He frightened her, as no one had ever before. Not even Richard in one of his rages reached into her soul and stirred such terror.

  He stood quietly, his eyes still looking square at them both, but he said nothing. She knew he saw them even through the thicket in which they had secreted themselves. Yet, he made no move toward them nor did he say anything. She wondered if he could speak English. Perhaps the strange language he shared with the horses was all he possessed.

  Even more to be wondered, how did an aborigine from North America end up in Lancashire?

  Elspeth's heart slowed from a gallop to a trot as she studied the man. In the light of the moon, she could see his hair hung long over his wide shoulders, dark, straight, thick. His body may have been carved from a block of granite, so wide and strong did it appear. Though he appeared to be little taller than Elspeth herself, probably not even six feet, there was no sense of smallness about him.

  His countenance, illuminated by the moon's bright face, Elspeth could see clearly. High forehead, generously spaced eyes above high, regal cheekbones. He tipped his head and she could see his mouth, full lips raised slightly at one corner.

  "Lady Greymere," he said, sending Elspeth falling on her backside, most unladylike.

  The shock shook her through. He'd spoken her name. Was he one of Richard's men?

  The world started spinning and she closed her eyes to clear her head. Her broken wrist shot shards of pain into her brain, clouding her judgment.

  "Lady Greymere, I mean you no harm. I am here to help you."

  He stood in the clearing as though waiting for an answer.

  Help her? She was deciding whether to actually answer him when he dropped to the ground, one ear pressed hard to the road.

  "My lady, remain hidden. There are riders coming and I suspect they are after you." With these words, he snatched up the reins of the women's horses and led them off the road into the forest.

  "My lady, he steals our horses!" Patsy made to rise.

  Elspeth grabbed her, immediately regretting the use of her left arm. Still aware of the need for silence, Elspeth gritted her teeth against the pain. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she leaned toward her maid.

  "Patsy, be silent. We have no choice."

  "Lady, he can't hear riders coming. He's only funning us to steal our horses."

  "Wait. Look."

  Elspeth pointed to the clearing where the savage was now brushing the road with a small branch, obliterating the prints of their horses. He ran down the road in the direction from which they'd traveled, out of their sight.

  He was gone for many minutes by Elspeth's calculation. She feared he'd left her to face Richard alone. With a start, she revised her feeling. Of course she didn't fear desertion. After all, what was this man to her? Why should she feel anything at all about him?

  She was as unable to answer that question as she was able to understand her relief when she saw him again, suddenly appearing beside her without a sound.

  "My lady, sit quiet now. You are safe here."

  He sat beside her, his shoulder brushing hers, ignoring Patsy's terrified expression.

  "Who are you, sir? How do you know me?"

  He held one finger to his lips. "Soon. Listen."

  She did as he bid, straining her ears to hear what he indicated. There was nothing but silence. No chirping cricket, no crunch of leaves as nocturnal beasts sought food. Was Patsy right? Was he tricking them, to make robbing them easier?

  Suddenly she felt him tense beside her. She glanced at him, saw him tip his head again. His dark eyes narrowed. Then he turned to her and held up three fingers.

  It was then she heard the rumble of horses, growing closer, louder. Panic seized her and she started to rise, to run away from Richard, for she knew that was who rode this way.

  "No," the savage whispered, laying his hand upon her shoulder. "Stay still."

  The riders-indeed, three as the savage had predicted-rode into the clearing. The lead rider reined in his horse sharply, his attention directed to the ground.

  "My lord," he called behind him, "the trail is lost."

  "Impossible!" Richard's deep voice, loud in rage as always, burst into Elspeth's hideaway. "She came this way. There's no other road. The wench is too fearful to hide in the forest like an animal. Find the trail!"

  Elspeth glanced over at her savage protector. He was smiling.

  "Your devoted husband, I presume?" he whispered into her ear, so low Elspeth thought she might have imagined the question.

  "Yes," she answered, equally low.

  "It appears the trail has been wiped clean, my lord."

  Richard grunted. "Well, it appears my Countess has developed some wit after all. But she's gone this way, I'll wager my best horse. She's flying home." He laughed. "She will find no solace in that quarter, I vow. Come. We'll catch her at Greymere."

  He put his heels to his horse and led the other two
riders toward the place where Elspeth thought she might find safety.

  Only when the riders were well out of sight and hearing did Elspeth relax. The savage set his arm around her and held her close, his body heat warmed her, the smell of him-far from unpleasant-filled her with ease. He smelled of outdoors and, oddly, the sea. Elspeth took the comfort he offered gratefully, but she could only allow a moment's respite. If Richard waited for her at Greymere, where was she to go?

  When it was clear Richard and his men were truly gone, the savage removed his arm from her. Elspeth regretted that, for now the chill of the night air sought out the marrow of her bones.

  "So, my lady, why do you fly in the dead of night?" the savage asked.

  She felt she owed him an answer, for surely Richard would have caught her had he not offered assistance. In her circumstances, however, she knew she could trust no one, especially not a dark savage who carried the scent of the sea.

  "You called me by name," she finally said, assuming her most regal facade. "How do you know me? We have never met, for I believe I would remember such a singular person."

  He smiled. "No, my lady, we have never met. I..." He stopped, as though weighing his words. Or perhaps whether to part with the truth? "The truth is, I was hired to steal you away from your home."

  She almost asked him why he was at Richard's estate if he was to take her from her home. The word had never been applied in her own mind to Sandgrove. Of course, a stranger would suppose the place a wife lived with her husband to be her home. She didn't correct him.

  "By whom? Who would want me taken? And why? What were you supposed to do with me once you had me? Hold me for ransom?"

  The savage drew a deep breath. "No."

  The look in his onyx black eyes told her the story. Her blood congealed in her veins as she accepted the truth that someone wished her dead.

  "Who?" she asked, expecting the answer to be none other than her own dear husband.

  "I don't know the man's name."

  It struck Elspeth the savage conversed strangely like an Eaton educated Englishman, except for his accent, which was distinctly American.

  "Who are you, sir? I would know the name of the man who has been engaged to kill me."

  He gazed into her eyes, his own filled with an expression Elspeth didn't understand.