Page 3

T his was her life now.

Captive of Bloody Maude.

Chained up to a wagon, with her wrists chafed and bleeding from being restrained and her legs bound at the ankles, it was her fault that she was in this position.

She’d kicked someone in the face one too many times.

She’d gouged one too many eyes. From the moment Maude and her band of pirates had captured her off the coast of the island of Formentera, her entire life had been filled with fighting.

They’d managed to surprise the vessel she’d been traveling on and before she even knew what was happening, men were boarding the ship and either killing those on board or taking them prisoner.

Fortunately, she’d been taken prisoner.

Although she was beginning to question that luck.

The old wagon she was riding on lurched over the rocky road and slammed her against the bed.

Grunting in pain, she tried to keep her balance, which was difficult considering how tightly restrained she was.

Splinters were digging into her backside and into her arms. They’d offered to untie her when they transferred her from the ship to the stolen wagon, provided she would behave herself, but she couldn’t.

In this situation, it simply wasn’t possible.

Prisoners had a right to escape and she would try, at every opportunity, to exercise those rights.

But her resolve was wavering.

“Are ye hurt, lass?” A woman came around the side of the wagon, shouting at the driver to stop before she addressed her again. “This road is terrible, made worse at night because we canna see it well. That last hole was a big one.”

The prisoner glared at her, unable to speak for the gag on her mouth, so she didn’t answer. She simply looked away after a moment, which prompted the woman to remove her gag.

“There,” she said. “That’s better, is it not? If ye behave yerself, I’ll leave it off.”

The prisoner licked her dry, cracked lips. “If you were in my position, would you behave?”

The woman cocked her head thoughtfully. “More than likely not,” she said. “I’ve told ye before that I respect the fight ye have in ye. I dunna fault ye for it. But ye’ve hurt three of my men and that is why I’ve had tae restrain ye, Princess Astria.”

There it was. The damnable woman knew her name, one she’d tried to keep from her when she was first captured, but a frightened sailor was tortured into telling Bloody Maude everything about her captive.

Princess Maria Astria Julia.

Daughter of a king.

Her father had been Sancho of Portugal, a once-powerful ruler with a great army and a penchant for political games.

He was gone now, but her family still held the throne.

Astria had been taken to Wales, she thought, but she couldn’t be certain.

She’d heard some of Maude’s men speaking of Wales, so she assumed that the pirates intended to hide her from her family before ransoming her. She was to be used as a prize.

She’d never been so furious in her life.

Not frightened, but furious. She knew that Bloody Maude had no intention of harming her or killing her, so she was safe.

For now. But she wasn’t sure how long that was going to last, and she didn’t like being a captive anyway, so her attempts to escape had been frequent.

Hence the chains. She was just so bloody furious that she’d come to this point in her life that all she could think of doing was lashing out, at everyone and everything.

But even she knew that wasn’t getting her anywhere.

She had to let her brains take precedent over her anger or all was lost.

“I did not attack them,” she said after a moment. “I was defending myself. But I suppose that does not matter now.”

Maude leaned on the side of the wagon. “Nay, it does not,” she said. Then she eyed her. “If I give ye something tae drink, ye willna spit it back at me, will ye?”

Astria shook her head. “Nay,” she said, sighing heavily. “That would be foolish because then you’d never give me anything to drink again, so I will not spit it at you.”

Maude motioned to someone out of Astria’s line of sight and soon enough, a bladder was produced.

Maude herself opened it and held it up for Astria to drink, the watered wine coursing down her parched throat.

She drank until she could drink no more and Maude sealed the bladder up and handed it back to one of her men.

But she was watching Astria closely.

“Ye’ve been with us for five months now,” she said. “Five months is a long time tae fight, lass. Are ye not tired?”

“Are you?” Astria shot back softly. “I can fight as long as I need to fight.”

“As can I.”

Astria sighed heavily and lifted her eyes, gazing at the woman.

She was an older woman, but just how old was anyone’s guess.

She had two grown sons, men who served her aboard her pirate ships, so she had to have seen forty-five summers at the very least, but probably more.

She had pale, luminous skin and enormous blue eyes, all of it framed by glorious auburn hair she kept tied up with bands of cloth.

Several of them. It looked as if hair was erupting out of these bands all over her head, and the hair was long, falling past her elbows.

She hadn’t brushed it in some time and the ends of her hair had matted into tubes.

For clothing, she wore breeches and boots and tunics cinched up with girdles that made her small waist smaller.

And she was barely five feet tall.

This was Bloody Maude, and had Astria not seen the woman in action, she would have never believed her to be a pirate. More than just a brigand on the high seas, but one that ruled with an iron fist.

Medusa’s Disciples.

That was what this band of Scots called themselves.

And Maude was, indeed, Medusa.

“Then it seems we have a problem,” Astria said after a moment. “I do not intend to remain a prisoner forever.”

“And ye willna be a prisoner forever.”

“Ransoming me to my father will be fruitless,” Astria said pointedly. “If that is your intention, then know that he is dead. My young nephew now sits upon the throne.”

Maude grinned. “Who says I’m going tae ransom ye?”

“Aren’t you?”

Maude shook her head. “Lass, ye’ve been fighting us for five long months,” she said. “Never once have we had a conversation about what I intend tae do with ye because ye’ve been like a wild horse ever since we found ye.”

“You did not find me,” Astria said bitterly. “You captured me.”

“I did.”

“And the ships that were my escort.”

Maude nodded proudly. “I did, indeed,” she said. “Ye fought a fine battle, but ye lost. I confess that I’m disappointed that ye’ve not shown much honor in yer defeat, lass.”

Astria grunted at the truth, or ridiculousness, of that statement.

She wasn’t sure which. “How much honor would you have shown if you were my prisoner?” she asked.

“Are you telling me that you would not fight to escape? And remember who you are, Bloody Maude. Would Bloody Maude not fight her captivity?”

Maude was smiling. “Bloody Maude would not be a captive in the first place.”

Astria rolled her eyes. “Mayhap not this time,” she said, irritated. “But you play a dangerous game, every moment of your life. There will come a day when you are overpowered and end up a captive. It is only a matter of time.”

“But that time is not today,” Maude said, amused at Astria’s reaction as the woman shook her head dramatically and looked away.

“Lass, I’ll tell ye where ye’re going and what I intend from ye if ye want tae know.

But if ye dunna accept yer fate with grace, and stop fighting yer captivity, I swear that I’ll tie ye limb tae limb and throw ye intae the sea.

I’ve had my limit of yer tantrums. Do ye understand me?

All of the kicking and biting in the world willna prevent what I intend for ye, so ye may as well accept it. ”

There was a threat in those words. Astria knew it.

The pirate queen would indeed tie her limbs together and throw her into the sea, and that was not the way she wished for her life to end.

She’d battled the woman for one hundred and fifty long days and nothing had come of it, so perhaps it was time to switch tactics.

Perhaps it was finally time to accept that she was the prisoner of Medusa’s Disciples and, over time, perhaps their guard would go down enough that she could slip away.

Certainly, being combative hadn’t gotten her what she wanted.

It was possible that submission was the only way.

But, God… it was difficult.

It simply wasn’t in her nature to surrender.

“Then have it your way,” she finally said. “Tell me what marvelous destiny I will have and how I should be grateful for it.”

Maude climbed up onto the wagon bed, plopping down opposite Astria. She seemed to be staring at her quite a bit, which Astria took as a challenge. But as she studied the woman in return, it occurred to her that the gaze wasn’t challenging, but more appraising. As if she were sizing her up.

And she had no idea why.

But she was about to find out.

“I have three sons,” Maude said, interrupting her thoughts. “Ye’ve met Francis and Declan. The big lads with the red hair? Those are my boys.”

It took Astria a moment to realize whom she was talking about. “The tall ones?” she said, puzzled. “The young ones?”

“Aye.”

“ Those are your sons?”

Maude nodded. “It was Francis who captured ye.”

Astria wasn’t thrilled to be reminded of that. “I did not realize they belonged to you,” she said. “I’ve only heard them called the Pope and the Devil.”

Maude grinned. “Pope Francis and Declan the Devil,” she said. “Most of my men have names that are not their own, like the Pope and the Devil. There’s also Fish, Monk, Christ, Joyosa, and The Spear. Ye’ve heard of them, too.”

“I have,” Astria said. “Strange names, all of them.”

“That is true.”

“But why?”

Maude shrugged. “The sea brings anonymity for a man if he wants it,” she said. “If he wants tae forget who he is, or he doesna want anyone tae know where he comes from, then he becomes someone else. The sea is forgiving that way.”

Astria didn’t really understand. “But why should a man want to forget who he is?” she said. “Should he not be proud of it?”

“Are ye proud of everything ye’ve ever done?”

“Everything.”

“Then I canna explain it tae ye.”

Astria shrugged. “I suppose,” she said. “And you? Is Maude your real name?”

Maude grinned. “Ye’ll never know, love.”

Astria had to admit that there was some humor in that, and she smiled weakly. “Fair enough,” she said. “But what does the talk of names have to do with your intentions for me?”

Maude’s smile faded. “It’s not the talk of names, but talk of my sons,” she said. “I have three but only the two youngest serve me. My husband died last year and my eldest son is now the Earl of Lismore.”

Astria found it difficult to conceal her shock. “You are a countess?”

Maude barely nodded, as if not wanting to acknowledge such a thing.

“Difficult tae believe, is it not?” she said.

“My Bowie was a powerful man, from a long line of powerful Highlanders, but his mother was descended from the princes of the Isles. Northmen, ye know. Fair and lovely, she was. My Bowie took after her, I think. He dinna have the temper of the Highlanders but was cunning like the Northmen.”

She was speaking rather lovingly of her husband, which surprised Astria. “Did he not sail with you?”

Maude shook her head. “Nay,” she said with resignation, as if she’d accepted such a thing long ago. “Nay, he dinna have a taste for the sea.”

“But you did?”

Maude nodded. “My father had one offspring—me,” she said.

“He was a great seaman, Irish by birth, and he inherited Medusa’s Disciples from his own father.

Red Shane Connacht was my father and my lineage goes back three hundred years, lass.

Three hundred years of the family way. When my da passed, I took the helm. And here I am.”

“Here you are,” Astria confirmed. “And now you have three sons to carry on your family business.”

But Maude shook her head. “Only two,” she said. “When I give this up, Declan will take the helm because I know my eldest willna. He’s the earl and will fulfill his destiny as such. That is where ye come in.”

“Me?” Astria said, puzzled. “Why me?”

“Because ye’re going tae be his wife.”

So much for surrender.

The fight, for Astria, resumed in earnest.