In the Tudor Court Collection. Amanda McCabe

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      Lorenzo stood staring out to sea. It was a dark night with only a few stars to guide them, but within hours they would enter the Grand Lagoon. He had decided to return to Venice before setting out to Cyprus. His galley had received some serious damage and was not fit to fight again without repairs. It would be sensible to send Kathryn with another of his ships. She might travel on one of his merchant galleys with an escort of fighting ships to protect her. She had found a way to get beneath his guard, and it would be madness to keep her near him—and yet he was reluctant to let her go.

      What was it about this woman that had got through to that secret part of him he had kept so well hidden these past years? He had known other beautiful women, sophisticated lovers, who had given him the pleasure of their company and their bodies, but none of them had touched him. There was something about Kathryn that tugged at his heartstrings, making him feel things that he did not wish to feel.

      For so long he had kept all his emotions under rigid control, feeding only on his hatred of the man who had enslaved him. Lorenzo had no memory of being captured. His first memory was of being chained to an oar and the lash of a whip on his shoulders to make him pull harder. He could remember the pain of the cuts on his back, which had been tended by another, older slave during the hours of darkness, and the constant chafing of the manacles on his wrists. The memory made the rough skin beneath his wristbands itch, but he resisted the urge to take them off. To ease them he needed a salve that he kept in his cabin, and he would not expose his one weakness to the eyes of the woman who already had too much power over his emotions.

      ‘Kathryn…’ he said the words without realising he was speaking. ‘Kathy…sweet little Kathy…’

      For a moment there was a roaring in his ears and his mind whirled as the stars disappeared and there was only blackness, deep, deep blackness, and then terrible pain. He made a moaning sound as for one moment he saw something—a girl’s face and blood…

      ‘Did you speak, sir?’

      Lorenzo’s mind cleared as his captain approached him. He frowned, for he was not quite sure what had happened to him. It was as if a curtain had lifted in his mind, revealing some incident from the past, which had never happened before. The time prior to his enslavement had been a complete blank, but just for a moment he had seemed to remember.

      ‘No, I merely cleared my throat,’ he said, banishing the images that would sap his strength. He must banish her from his mind! He could not allow himself the luxury of caring for a woman like that. ‘We were fortunate today, Michael. Somehow Rachid must have known that we were unaccompanied. It was a mistake. When you deal with wolves you should hunt as they do, in a pack.’

      ‘There was no time to waste if you were to rescue her,’ Michael said and frowned. ‘I fear she does not understand the law of the sea, Lorenzo. It seems cruel to her to leave men in the sea, but she cannot know what they are capable of or that we were in no position to rescue them.’

      ‘Women and war do not mix,’ Lorenzo said; he had recovered his usual calm. A little smile touched his mouth, though it did not reach the icy blue of his eyes. ‘Do not allow her to make you feel guilt, my friend. The men we killed today served a cruel master because they wished it and we should feel no pity for them. They would have killed us and used her for their pleasure.’

      ‘Some did not serve willingly.’

      Lorenzo saw the doubts in the other’s face. ‘We pulled three alive from the water,’ he said. ‘The others had no chance, chained to their oars—they went down with the galley. We did not make them slaves, Michael. If we are to rid the seas of such men as Rachid, there will be innocent men who must die. We too may die for our beliefs. Only if we accept this can we carry on our chosen path.’

      ‘Of course.’ Michael smiled wryly. He should not have allowed himself to weaken because of the accusation in a woman’s eyes. ‘She is very beautiful, Lorenzo, and I am a fool. Forgive me.’

      Lorenzo smiled. ‘If we let them, women may make fools of us all, my friend.’