The Pirate's Willing Captive. Anne Herries

       ‘You are a pirate and an ignorant barbarian.’ Perhaps because Maribel felt ashamed of her weakness in not fighting him sooner, her voice was laced with scorn, every inch the haughty lady.

      ‘The barbarians were not as ignorant as you might imagine. In some ways their culture outstrips our own.’ Justin smiled, more amused than angry. ‘Had I been the ruthless devil you would have me, you would be warming my bed this night before I gave you to my men for their sport.’

      

      Maribel drew back in shock, her eyes wide with horror.

      

      A smile touched his mouth. ‘Nay, I shall not treat you so ill. You may be a shrew, but you are a lady and I shall treat you as such. You will not be harmed while we hold you for ransom.’

      

      ‘How can I trust your word?’ She would be a fool to believe him for an instant, but something inside her responded despite herself.

      Anne Herries lives in Cambridgeshire, where she is fond of watching wildlife and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books, although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment, and to give pleasure to her readers. She is a winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association Romance Prize.

       Previous novels by the same author:

      MARRYING CAPTAIN JACK

      THE UNKNOWN HEIR

      THE HOMELESS HEIRESS

      THE RAKE’S REBELLIOUS LADY

A COUNTRY MISS IN HANOVER SQUARE^*

      AN INNOCENT DEBUTANTE IN HANOVER SQUARE^*

      THE MISTRESS OF HANOVER SQUARE^*

*A Season in Town trilogy

       and in the Regency series

       The Steepwood Scandal:

      LORD RAVENSDEN’S MARRIAGE

      COUNTERFEIT EARL

      

       and in The Hellfire Mysteries:

      AN IMPROPER COMPANION

      A WEALTHY WIDOW

      A WORTHY GENTLEMAN

      The Pirate’s Willing Captive

      Anne Herries

      

      

MILLS & BOON®

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      I thank all my readers for their continued support.

       Prologue

       Spring 1557

      The man walked away from the hostelry on the waterfront deep in thought. He had booked passage on a ship bound for France and it might be many years before he returned home. He was filled with regret and anger for he had parted from his father with bitter words.

      ‘You take the word of others above mine, Father—you would believe a stranger above your own son.’

      Justin Devere’s blue eyes had flashed with pride, making Sir John snort impatiently. ‘You were a damned fool, Justin. By God, sir! There is no excuse for what you have done. You are the great-grandson of Robert Melford and a more devoted supporter of the Crown could not be found. Your grandfather was much favoured by King Henry VIII—and my own family has always been loyal. By becoming involved in this conspiracy to murder Queen Mary and replace her with the Princess Elizabeth you have let your whole family down. I am ashamed of you!’

      ‘No, sir. You wrong me…’

      Justin raised his head defiantly. He was a handsome devil, with pale blond hair and deep blue eyes; reckless, arrogant and dismissive of rules, he stood head and shoulders above most men, including his father. His grandfather said he was a throwback to Robert Melford in temperament and build, though not in colouring. He was also fiercely proud and it pricked his pride to hear his father call him a fool.

      ‘You have spoken treason against the Queen and that cannot be tolerated.’

      ‘It was no such thing, sir!’ Justin declared passionately. ‘I will grant that some hotheads have talked of such a plot in my hearing, but I am innocent of any conspiracy—as is the princess herself. She was gracious enough to grant me an audience; many of us wished her to know that we support her and if any attempt were made to disbar her from inheriting the throne when the Queen dies we should rise to her—’

      ‘Be quiet!’ John Devere thundered. ‘Do you not realise that that in itself is sufficient to have you arrested for treason?’

      ‘I shall not be silent, sir. I am as loyal an Englishman as any, but I cannot love a Catholic queen who puts good Englishmen to the fire in the name of religion.’

      ‘It is not so many years since we were all Catholic and proud of it,’ Justin’s father reminded him. ‘King Hal saw fit to break with Rome and we were all forced to follow or lose our favour at court, but that does not mean—’ He broke off, for the anger was writ plain on Justin’s face. ‘While the Queen lives ’tis treason to speak of her death and well you know it.’

      ‘We did not plot to murder her, merely to protect our own Elizabeth.’

      ‘Surely it is enough that talk of your conspiracy has reached her Majesty? The Princess has herself faced questions from the Queen regarding treason and was lucky that her Majesty was in good humour because her husband has promised to visit her soon. Had it not been for that fortunate circumstance, she might have found herself in the Tower once more.’ John placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘Go to France or Spain, Justin. I know that though you have done wrong your heart was good. You have my blessing. Send me word of your situation and as soon as I think the coast clear you may return.’

      ‘You would have me flee like a coward?’ Justin’s face reflected his disgust.

      ‘I would have you live, sirrah! Stay and I may have no son to inherit my estate—and that will break your mother’s heart.’

      Lost in the memory of the bitter quarrel with his father, Justin did not notice the shadows behind him. Not until it was too late did he realise that he had been followed from the hostelry. Even as he turned, about to draw his sword, a crashing blow to the back of his head sent him to the ground and he lost consciousness as he was carried aboard a ship, not as the passenger he had paid to be, but to serve before the mast.

       Chapter One

       Spain—autumn 1558

      ‘No, Father, please do not ask it of me.’ The girl faced the tall man with iron-grey hair defiantly. He was a man of wiry stature, elegantly dressed in black with only one jewel of note, which was a ring made from gold and black agate to denote his mourning for his late wife. ‘I am not ready to marry again. I know you are grieving and you wish a better life for me, but I would rather stay at home with you.’

      ‘It is nearly a year since Don Pablo died.’

      Don