In the Tudor Court Collection. Amanda McCabe

Since discovering what kind of a man Don Sabatini was, he had determined to single his ships out whenever possible. ‘There is something odd here. Mayhap Sabatini thinks to fool us into believing it is an English ship. Put a shot across their bows and run up the skull and crossbones. I would discover what kind of trick the Spaniard plays here.’

      Justin was thoughtful as his men sprang into action. He knew they were restless and eager to return to their island to turn some of the booty they had taken into gold so they could spend it in the taverns and with the whores that plied their trade on the waterfront. His instincts had been to let the ship pass, but seeing Sabatini’s pennant had changed his mind. The Spaniard was obviously trying to sneak one of his ships through under an English flag, and was possibly carrying a rich prize.

      The men he commanded were loyal to a point, but wild and reckless. If he denied them such a prize, they might turn against him as easily as they had Smythe. Justin did not intend to continue as a pirate for longer than necessary. Once he had amassed enough gold, he could buy his own ship and become a merchant adventurer, which would suit him better than his present trade. Perhaps one day he might be able to return to England. He was not certain of his welcome, for his father would feel that he had disgraced the family by becoming a pirate, but his mother would always welcome him with open arms.

      Justin had sent no word to his home. Better that his family think him lost than that his gentle mother should know what trade her son followed. Before he could return he must redeem himself in some way.

      The Mistress Susanna was lowering her flag in surrender. She had given in without a fight—why? What cargo was so precious that the master was willing to surrender rather than risk being sunk?

      Maribel rushed to the porthole as she heard the first shots fired. She could see that another ship was closing in on them fast—and it was flying the skull and crossbones. They were going to be boarded by pirates!

      ‘Donna Maribel, you must hurry…’ Anna came bustling into the cabin. ‘The captain bid me tell you to hide somewhere. He says he did not dare to fire back lest the ship was badly damaged and harm came to you—but he would have you hide for he says these men are scum and they will kill us or worse.’

      Maribel’s face drained of colour. Her knees felt weak and she was frightened by all the shouting and noise on deck. The ship’s captain had surrendered, but it seemed that not all the crew were willing to obey him. Some were putting up a fight and there were screams as men were injured.

      ‘I shall not hide,’ she said. ‘There would be no point for they will search the cabins and I will not be dragged from beneath the bed. It would not be dignified. I am the wife of Don Pablo Sanchez!’

      ‘You could hide in your trunk, lady.’

      ‘Do you think that would stop them?’ Maribel’s head went up proudly. ‘These men only want money. If I tell them who I am, they will hold me for a ransom. My father is in charge of my fortune and he will pay if my life is in danger.’

      Maribel’s face was white, but she was proud and stubborn. She was the widow of Don Pablo Sanchez and a rich heiress. Her father would surely pay to have her returned to him safely. He had forced her to take this voyage, but he would not allow her to die at the hands of pirates for what could that gain him?

      He had arranged the marriage because he wanted an alliance with Lord Roberts. Nothing had changed. He would pay the price these rogues demanded.

      Maribel resisted her maidservant’s attempt to make her hide and stood proudly in the centre of the cabin. When the door was suddenly thrown open, she looked at the man who stood on the threshold, facing him angrily.

      ‘Who are you, sir? How dare you enter a lady’s cabin without permission?’

      The man stared at her for a moment. He was tall, handsome, with long pale hair that looked windblown; his was a strong face, arrogant and bold. His blue eyes seemed to burn her flesh as he stared at her in a way that challenged her. His gaze made her flush and tremble inside, but she did not allow her fear to show. She was a proud Spanish lady and would not show fear in front of a pirate dog!

      ‘A thousand pardons, my lady,’ the pirate said and swept her a bow to rival any courtier. A smile played about a mouth that looked sensuous, one eyebrow arched in inquiry. ‘And who might you be, Madonna?’

      ‘I am Donna Maribel Sanchez, widow of Don Pablo and daughter of Don Sabatini—and soon to be the wife of Lord Roberts of Helbourne.’

      ‘That old roué? He was on his last legs before I left England,’ the pirate said and grinned. His smile made her heart leap in her breast and insensibly some of her fear evaporated. ‘Nay, lady, you are wasted on such a husband. I believe we have rescued you from a fate worse than death—the man is riddled with pox and steeped in vice. We shall take you with us to save you from this evil.’

      ‘No!’ Maribel stepped back as he approached her. She raised her head, her ringlets tossing as she trembled with indignation. ‘My father will pay a ransom. I am wealthy in my own right…’ A little gasp escaped her as she saw the gleam of mockery in his eyes.

      ‘Indeed? Then Fate was with us this day, for we have a richer prize than we thought. A cargo of wine is one thing—but the widow of a rich man and daughter of Sabatini is another. Your father hath much to atone for, Madonna—and now we have the means to make him pay.’

      ‘What do you mean? My father is a good man…’ Maribel caught her breath as she saw his stern look. ‘What is it? Why do you look at me that way?’

      ‘I shall not offend you, lady, for I believe you may be innocent.’

      ‘Tell me! I command it!’

      ‘You command?’ The pirate’s teeth were white against the tan of his skin as he smiled and then bowed to her. ‘Very well, I shall obey you, lady. Your father is a thief and a murderer. He allows his captains to mistreat the crews that sail for him—and he forces the natives of the New World to mine their silver for him and then has them murdered so that they cannot reveal the whereabouts of the silver to anyone else.’

      ‘No! I do not believe you! You are lying!’

      Maribel flew at him as he tried to take her arm to drag her from the cabin. She raised her hand to hit him, but he pulled her arm behind her back, catching her against his body, and holding her pressed hard to him. Maribel stared up at him fearfully, sucking in her breath as he lowered his head and took possession of her mouth. His lips demanded where Pablo’s had softly whispered; his arms were strong, his body like iron and the heat of his manhood burned her. She felt the press of his desire through the silk of her simple gown and her heart raced. No man had ever treated her thus, and she did not understand why her heart was beating so fast. She should despise him, yet her body felt as if it were drowning in pleasure and a part of her wanted to stay in his arms. It took all her control not to moan and press herself against him for she had never felt such sweet sensation.

      What was she thinking? He was a pirate, a barbaric rogue! She placed her hands against his chest and pushed; his strength was such that he could have taken full advantage, but to her surprise he let her go.

      As he drew back, she saw the hot glow fade from his eyes and a cold disdain replace the lust that had for a moment seemed to have him in its grip.

      ‘You are proud lady and lashed out in temper. Perhaps that will show you the error of your ways. Attempt to strike me again and I shall not stop at a kiss.’

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

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

      Maribel