“Ah,” Harper said with a grimace.
She nodded. “Then he followed me down into the hold of the ship one night when I went to visit the prisoners in search of blood to replace what I’d lost from a wound.”
Harper didn’t appear surprised by her words. Before blood banks, all of them had been forced to feed on mortals. Still, she felt she had to explain, and said, “I tried never to feed on my own crew, and even with prisoners I was careful not to take too much blood, feeding on several rather than one or two. I wiped their memories that I was ever in the hold, and our prisoners were always treated well. I was careful.”
“But he followed and saw,” Harper murmured.
“Yes.” She sighed unhappily. “He took that even worse than my being female. I did have to erase his memory then. We were already headed for port to off-load the prisoners, but I put him ashore as well. I gave him enough money that he wouldn’t have to work again and sent him on his way.” She shifted unhappily. “Privateering just wasn’t the same for me after that. And, as I say, I was tired of losing my men.”
“So you retired from pirating,” Harper said quietly.
“Yes.” Drina took another sip of wine and shrugged. “It was time for a change. Fortunately, I’d made a fortune, definitely enough to keep me in dresses for a couple of centuries.”
Harper opened his mouth to speak again, but paused as their waiter returned with their meals. They both murmured “thank you” as their plates were set before them.
Drina eyed the dish she’d selected and felt her stomach growl at the delightful aromas wafting from it. It was something called chicken fettuccini. She’d chosen it because it was listed as the chef’s special, and because it had been so long since she’d eaten that she wasn’t sure what was good or not. But this certainly smelled delightful.
“It smells amazing,” Harper murmured, sounding awed, and she glanced to his identical plate and nodded with agreement.
They fell into a companionable silence as they both dug in, but Drina found herself continually smiling as she ate. She was enjoying herself, enjoying Harper’s reactions to her tales, his laughter, his shock . . . It was nice, and she decided she was going to have to thank Stephanie for arranging it.
Chapter Six
Drina sat back in her seat with a little sigh that was half regret and half satisfaction. She had enjoyed the food and was full, but regretted not being able to finish it. It was really good.
“So,” Harper said, setting down his own fork. His expression was also full of regret as he pushed his half-eaten meal to the side, but he smiled as he glanced to her, and said, “I believe you had just finished regaling me with your pirating career and were about to explain how you landed as . . . a madam?” He arched an eyebrow. “Another rebellious phase?”
Drina grinned. He was trying not to sound shocked or affected in any way by that career choice, but she could see he wasn’t taking it as calmly as he’d like her to think. Shrugging, she said, “Surely you must be bored with tales of my life by now. You should tell me more about—”
“Oh no,” Harper protested at once. “You can’t stop just before the best part.”
She grinned at his expression, and then shrugged. “After I let go of the men and sold my ship, I decided to settle in England as a wealthy widow. At least that was the plan, and I did at first,” she assured him, and then added, “Really, the madam bit was something of an accident.”
“Right,” he drawled. “You were an accidental madam.”
Drina chuckled at his expression. “As it happens, yes I was. One night, I was wandering along, hunting for a snack and minding my own business, when I happened upon a young woman being beaten.” Her smile faded at the recollection. The girl, Beth as she later found out her name was, had been half-dead when Drina had come upon the scene, but the man beating Beth had seemed determined to finish the job.
Shaking away the memory of Beth’s poor battered body, she continued, “I took exception and ended it. Then I picked her up and she directed me to her home. But it turned out it was a brothel, and the man I’d stopped had been their protector.” She said the last word with distaste, for he hadn’t been anywhere near protective of any of the women under his care. The group she’d found at that house had all been terribly young, half-starved and each bearing the scars and marks of past beatings.
Drina sighed. “Well, Beth, the girl I’d saved, told the others what I’d done. Half of the women were furious that I’d killed their “protector—”