"A rarity," Harper murmured solemnly.
"Yes. I quite liked him, and he truly loved me and asked me to marry him, and I agreed, promising myself I wouldn't control him or do anything like I had with . . . er . . . when I was a concubine."
"And did you?" he asked curiously.
Drina delayed answering by taking another sip of wine, but when a knowing smile began to tug at his lips, she gave up trying to think of a way of avoiding the question, and defended, "It's very hard not to when you know you're right, and he's just being a stubborn git."
Harper burst out laughing again, and she shook her head. "Anyway, he was only a duke, so it wasn't like I was ruling a country and risking civil riots, but still I felt bad about it every time I did take control. I also felt bad because I was keeping him from having an heir, which I knew he wanted."
"You didn't wish to have a child with him?" Harper asked curiously.
Drina frowned and shook her head. "It wasn't that I didn't want to. But it seemed cruel. Our child would be immortal, and aside from the increased risk of revealing what we were, he or she would have to leave when I did. It seemed cruel to give him a child, and then take him or her away."
When he nodded in understanding, she sighed and ran her finger around the rim of her wineglass. "Even with just myself to worry about, it became increasingly hard to hide what I was. I claimed a bad reaction to sun on my skin to explain why I avoided it, but I still needed to slip away to hunt every night, which was much more difficult than I'd expected . . ." She blew out a breath and shrugged. "We were only together a year or so before the duchess had to die."
"How did you manage that?" Harper asked quietly.
"Oh, Uncle Lucian helped me out," she said wryly. "The man always seems to show up when you need him. It's like a sixth sense with him or something."
"I've heard that about him," Harper said and asked curiously, "What did he do?"
"He arranged for a message claiming that Stephano was deathly ill and asking for me at a time when my husband was expected at court. Lucian assured him he'd see me safely there and had booked passage up the coast on a ship. Then he bought a ship, manned it with immortals, and my husband rode with us to port to see us off.
"It was surprisingly emotional," she admitted with a frown. "I mean, I knew I wasn't going to die, but I would be dead to him and never see him again, and I was quite overwrought. Of course, he put it down to concern for my brother and was very sweet and tender. He stayed to watch us sail off." She fell silent as she recalled that morning, and found herself having to blink away a sudden, surprising well of tears. She had been fond of many mortals over the ages, but Roberto had been a special man. She'd loved him dearly and for years had regretted that he hadn't been a possible life mate.
Shaking her head, she finished quickly, "Uncle Lucian had purchased the ship with the sole purpose of sinking it. The ship went down, supposedly with all hands on board, and I, along with everyone else, was presumed dead."
"And then you were back to living with your brother," Harper said with a grimace that suggested he knew how little she would have enjoyed that.
"Not for terribly long," she said with satisfaction. "Just long enough to decide what I wished to do next."
"Which was . . ." He paused, apparently going back through his memory to the list she'd rattled off earlier, and then said uncertainly, "Pirate?"
Drina chuckled. "I was a privateer really, but it's the same thing, just that it was sanctioned by the government. As captain, I had a letter of marque allowing me to attack and rob vessels belonging to enemies of Spain. Royal permission to plunder."
"You were the captain?" he asked with a smile. "And were you Captain Alexander or Alexandrina?"
She smiled. "Alexander, of course. Well, just Alex. But they thought me a man, or most of them did. As you can guess, few Spanish men would have worked a boat with a female captain, so I dressed as a man. I was very butch," she assured him with a teasing light in her eyes, and then wrinkled her nose. "Or at least I thought I was. It was most disheartening when I read in their minds that most of them thought me fey and probably g*y."
Harper threw his head back on a laugh loud enough to draw several glances their way. Drina didn't care, she just smiled.
"I imagine you were a very good pirate," he said finally, and she chuckled.
"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not."
"A compliment," he assured her. "You're clever enough, and had the fighting background for it."
Drina nodded. "Yes, we were very successful. But I eventually grew tired of watching my men die."
Harper arched an eyebrow as he picked up his wineglass.
She shrugged and picked up her own glass. Turning it in her hands, she said, "They were all very skilled, of course, and I insisted they train daily, but they were mortal. They weren't as fast or strong, and didn't have the "healthy constitution" or quick healing I enjoyed." She sighed. "I lost a lot of good men over the years, and finally decided enough was enough. It was time anyway. They were aging, I wasn't, and I had taken a wound or two that should have been fatal but wasn't." She grimaced. "When the fighting comes from every side, it's impossible not to take injury."
Harper nodded in understanding. "How did you explain that away?"
"It was pretty tricky," she said wryly. "The first wound I took was a sword to the back. One of the buggers snuck up behind me while I was dealing with two others and-" She shrugged. "Fortunately, it was near the end of the battle, and one we won. I woke up in my cabin with One-eye, the ship's cook, sitting beside me, his mouth scrunched up as if he'd sucked a lemon." She laughed at the memory. "He'd dragged me from the battle while my first took over leading the men to finish the battle. He'd carried me to my cabin, stripped away my jacket and shirt to tend my wound and discovered I had br**sts. He was more horrified by that than the length and depth of the wound," she said dryly.
Harper laughed.