Free Beloved Warrior by PATRICIA POTTER

hair fell around her face. She looked at Carmita. “I need your help.”
    Carmita sniffed and stood.
    “Arrange my hair so I can take out the pins easily,” she said.
    Carmita’s eyes widened. “You would not attack them again?”
    “I will do what I have to do,” she said.
    Carmita’s hands shook as she took a comb and ran it through Juliana’s long hair, then started twisting it into a knot, using the pins to hold the heavy strands in place.
    More than enough pins.
    “Now help me dress,” Juliana said, glancing up at her young maid. The girl’s tears had dried.
    “Which gown, senorita?” Carmita asked.
    “The blue one.”
    “The best one?” Carmita asked in a shocked voice. It was to be the one Juliana was to wear when meeting Viscount Kingsley and his father, the English earl.
    “ Si. I will show them no fear.”
    “They will ravish us. Then kill us.” The tears were back.
    Juliana put her arms around her. “God will protect us,” she whispered, hoping with all her heart she was right.
    In case He didn’t, she would have the pins.

Chapter 8
    “WHEN can we have the women?” Patrick stopped pouring salt water over his body. He had washed off as much blood and filth as he could, but he thought with dark humor it would take weeks—mayhap years—to finish cleansing himself.
    He straightened and turned toward the oarsman who’d just spoken. Four others flanked the man, giving their support.
    Felix had sat in front of him on the bench. He was a thief, if the brand on his face held true.
    “You won’t,” he replied curtly.
    “Keeping them for yourself?”
    “Nay,” he said. “But the women will not be harmed.”
    “No orders anymore. No one tells us what to do now,” Felix asserted. He was obviously spoiling for another fight.
    “Nay? You prefer being back on the bench?”
    “We voted. We want our turns with the women.”
    “Who voted?”
    “Us,” the oarsman standing behind Felix said in a rough voice.
    “Ah, us . And where do you think us is going without someone who knows how to sail this ship?” Patrick said softly. “You want to go ashore in Spain with that mark on your face?”
    Felix touched the scar. “We been gone from Spanish waters these few days.”
    “We are a few miles off the French coast,” Patrick said softly. “You think they will welcome a branded Spaniard?”
    “We do not take orders now. We are free.”
    “Believe that and ye are a fool,” said the MacDonald from behind Patrick.
    “Si,” added Diego, moving to Patrick’s side. Denny, who had been his shadow since the takeover, joined them.
    Fury crossed Felix’s face.
    “It is time for talk,” Patrick said. “I want everyone on deck.”
    The men who had confronted him stood their ground, belligerent.
    Diego seemed able to communicate best with most of the oarsmen. Patrick turned to him. “I want everyone but those guarding the women and the captain’s cabin up here.”
    Diego hesitated, glancing at the rebellious oarsmen. Then he looked back to Patrick, his eyes measuring the Scot and Denny. Finally he nodded, but not before casting a warning look at the rebellious men.
    “We should have a vote,” grumbled one of them.
    “Si,” said another.
    “Do you want to captain this ship? Do you know navigation?” Patrick challenged them. “Do you know how to raise and lower a sail, or turn a ship? Know how to avoid rocks and shallows?”
    “Looks easy enough,” Felix said.
    Patrick stepped back. “Take the wheel.”
    Felix stepped out and sauntered over to the wheel. The ship was already bearing to the right without a hand steadying it.
    “You are going toward France at the moment,” Patrick said. “In an hour you will see the hills. In another five, the ship will break up on the rocks. Turn the ship back into the wind.”
    Felix took the wheel. He couldn’t move it. After struggling for several seconds, it started to turn. “What . . . where do I . . .”
    “You decide. To the north are