OUTLAW in the Tudor Court: Ransom Bride / The Pirate's Willing Captive

‘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?

Chapter Five

‘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.’