Seize The Dawn Read Free

the seas know little of the conventions of the civilized world!" The civilized world. If she lived within a civil world whatsoever, she had yet to see it in effect. The civil had sent her on this trip, and the civility of her concerned male relations.
    "Perhaps it is not pirates at all, but one of my cousins," she murmured. "Lady, I know the ship!" Abram insisted. "She belongs to the French rogue pirate Thomas de Longueville! My lady, would not have you die!"No, he would not, she thought sadly, though she wondered if the possibility of her death hadn't been a driving factor toward her presence now on the Irish Sea, heading for France She kept such counsel to herself, however, and reminded him, "Captain, I was present at my family home north of York when the savage Scotsman, Wallace, set fire to a barn imprisoning thirty men. I was the one, sir, to defy the remnants of the butcher's army, and open the doors."
    Abram didn't look pleased. "Aye, the people think you a saint, touched by God, and men of York followed you into battle at Falkirk, lady, but we are asea here! My good young woman, you could die by the accidental touch of a grappling hook! By the fall of a mast. Call your maidservant, lady. Get below." "Captain, with all respect—" "Girl! Is there no one to whom you will listen!" he cried. The sound of his voice gave her the first real sense of alarm she had felt. She turned around. The ship was nearly upon them. The vessel she rode seemed a poor, creaking, groaning beast of burden now, hard put to come up with any speed. Sailors rushed about, commanded now by the captain's mate, and what she saw in their eyes was surely good warning.
    She looked back to the ship coming upon them. Small, smooth, sleek, with excellent sails proudly riding the masts, she cut the water with the accuracy and precision of a knife. "Eleanor!" At the call of her name, she turned. "Are ye daft, child? Pirates are upon us!" Bridie, her maid, was standing at the top of the few steps that led to the captain's cabin, crossing herself over and over again. Despite the situation, Eleanor arched a delicate brow—Bridie never spoke to her in such a tone. Surely, she must believe that they were facing imminent death. "Bridie—" she began, but Bridie came flying across the deck, dodging seamen in their desperate attempts to build speed. Tall, slender, just three years older than Eleanor, she was a good and stalwart companion. Now, as she had been before. She threw her arms around Eleanor. "I was there! I was there as well that day, I know that you hated what you did, I know that they dragged you to the field of battle, I know! So don't go pretending you are as steely as any man, by the blood of the Virgin Mary, come with me, lady; come below. Would you view any more blood?"
    Her courage, or determination, falted at Bridie's words. God, yes! She had hated the bloodshed, hated the fear, hated the fighting, the watching as men died ... Bridie was right. It had not been courage that had made her act as she had at Castle Clarin. It had been pure madness. Still, she had learned. Much about battle, and much about men. "Please!" Bridie whispered. "All right, we'll go below."
    Eleanor followed Bridie, feeling the pitch of the ship but balancing to it. She wasn't afraid of the wind or the water. A sure knowledge of their character gave an intelligent respect for the wrath of the pirates. But nothing, nothing in the world frightened her as much as the prospect of being locked in. Before they reached the door, a violent shuddering sent them both flying. It was as if the whole of the vessel let out a cry. Wounded, aye, she was wounded, rammed, run down. Sailors were abandoning their positions to draw their arms. The pirate ship had come upon them, skimmed them, taken them. Grappling hooks flew into the air like silver birds, then fell to the ship's planking like winged teeth of steel.
    "My lady!" Bridie called. She catapulted into Eleanor; they both went sprawling.