Destiny's Captive (5 page)

This night's run would be its maiden voyage and Pilar couldn't wait to feel the waves rolling beneath the hull. Doneta drove her and Tomas to the docks.

“Be careful,” Doneta cautioned quietly as Pilar and Tomas climbed down.

“We will,” Pilar assured her. “Be back before dawn.”

Doneta drove off and Pilar and Tomas moved quickly to meet the shipyard owner. He was a big bulbous man named Gerardo Calvo who loved his cigars and had grown up with General Maceo. He'd be supplying a few of his most trusted workers to round out the crew and the gold for the guns. “You should wait an hour or two before casting off. The navy has changed its schedule. You don't want to run into them the first night out with her.”

Pilar didn't like having to delay departure but knew he was right, so two hours before midnight they set sail.

There was a fair wind and they made good time so with the
Sirena
anchored a short distance offshore, Pilar, and two of Calvo's men rowed under the moonless night sky to the rendezvous point on the beach. They were very late for their appointed meeting but it couldn't be helped. She hoped her contact hadn't given up on their arrival, because the rebels dearly needed the guns they could amass.

The wind picked up. A storm was on the way but with any luck she'd be able to conduct her business and return home before the inclement weather took hold.

“Do you think he waited?” One of the men asked.

“I hope so,” was all she would say. Voices carried over the water, so the less they conversed the better.

A light flashed in the darkness above the beach. Their signal. The sight filled her with relief. Having risked their lives, she hadn't wanted to return home empty-handed.

“You're late,” the smuggler, an old Dominican named Octavio, snapped sharply.

“The Spanish altered their hunting schedule. My apologies.”

Even as they spoke she and her crew kept an eye on the water. If the Spanish navy took it upon themselves to suddenly appear, Tomas and the two men on board the
Sirena
would have no choice but to raise anchor and hope to outrun the enemy, leaving behind Pilar and the others on shore. “How many did you bring?” she asked Octavio.

“Ten.”

The number was small but it was ten more guns than the rebels had presently.

“There's also gunpowder,” Octavio added. He too kept a keen eye on their surroundings. “Let's finish our business while the moon is still behind the clouds so that we may return home safely.”

Pilar agreed and counted out the precious gold given to her by Calvo that he was owed. As he pocketed it and disappeared into the darkness, she and her men loaded the case of guns and powder and rowed back out to the
Sirena.

Once the contraband was secured, she gave the order to cast off. The anchor was raised and with the
Sirena
's indigo sails fat with a steady wind, Tomas piloted them west for home.

They were almost there when a flash of lightning broke the silence. An ominous rumble of thunder followed. The wind increased sharply making the sails strain and the schooner began to pitch on an increasingly rough sea. “Tomas!” she yelled urgently over the wind.

“Doing my best!” The rest of the crew scrambled over the deck to adjust the sails and keep the
Sirena
on course. She ran to join them but stopped frozen when another flash of lightning revealed something from a nightmare. The biggest man-of-war she'd ever seen was barreling down on them. “Spanish man-of-war! Tomas! By all that's holy, get out of its path!”

Fat drops of rain began pelting them and soon fell in blinding sheets. She added her muscle to that of the men in an effort to use the wind-filled sails and the sloop's speed to outrun the well-armed battleship. Eerie intermittent flashes of lightning showed the Spanish vessel still on course. “Tomas!”

Her cry melded with an explosion as a cannonball found its mark and the concussion flung her high up in the air. She landed in the water just as a second explosion shook the
Sirena
, sending shards of burning wood and spinning metal raining down as if born of the storm. Dazed and disoriented, she instinctively dove beneath the surface of the dark water. Grateful to be wearing the simple cotton pants and blouse favored by the people of her island and not a skirt with a wealth of slips beneath, she swam for her life and hoped her crew was doing the same.

“P
ilar! Pilar!”

Pilar could hear her sister Doneta calling from a distance that sounded far away. Struggling out of an encasing fog, Pilar slowly opened her eyes.

“Oh, thank the saints! You're alive,” Doneta choked out. “I thought you were dead!”

Pilar realized she was lying on her back on the beach but had no recollection how she'd come to be there. Her thin clothing was soaked through, her head ached tremendously and her limbs were heavy as lead. She closed her eyes again, hoping the pain in her pounding head would cease, and then the retching began. Up came all the seawater she'd swallowed again and again, until her sides ached and her throat burned. Memories of the night rushed back and she went deathly still. “Where are Tomas and the others?” Panicked, she surveyed the beach and then the water. “Did you see them?”

“No. Only you. I've been looking for you since dawn. What happened?”

Pilar scrambled to her feet. Ignoring the question and the pain, she ran to the edge of the water to scan the gray water still churning and angry from last night's storm for any signs of her companions. She looked up and down the beach but may as well have been the only person in the world.

Her sister came to her side and said with quiet urgency, “We need to get home before we're seen. Come.”

But Pilar didn't want to leave. If she stayed longer maybe one or all might appear. Suppose they came ashore injured and needed assistance? Worry filled her but she knew Doneta was right. If the Spanish were patrolling nearby she needed to get off the beach.

While Doneta drove the wagon pulled by their old mule, Salazar, Pilar was secreted in the false bottom of the bed. She was exhausted but it was overridden by concern for the crew. Tomas cared for his aging mother, and although she knew nothing about the lives of the others, more than likely they had families that depended on them as well. Everyone tied to the rebellion knew the dangers inherent in their fight, but no one wanted the consequences to come home to roost among their own. Having personally mourned the loss of her father and uncles, Pilar knew such grief couldn't be measured. She prayed the men had reached home safely.

“Halt!”

As the wagon stopped, Pilar stilled. She placed her hand on the hilt of the machete lying by her side.

A male voice demanded, “Your name and where you are bound, senorita?”

“I am Doneta Banderas and on my way home, Captain.”

Addressing him by rank was her sister's subtle way of letting Pilar know he was a soldier. “Banderas. Are you kin to Javier Banderas?”

“I'm his daughter.”

“Step down please.”

“What have I done?”

“Just step down, senorita. We need to search your wagon.”

Pilar had no way of knowing how many men there were but that didn't matter. She and her sister were alone and except for the lone machete, unarmed. If the soldiers were intent upon harm, they'd be easily overpowered.

She heard Doneta explain, “There's nothing back there but sacks of meal and fishing poles. I went fishing this morning but caught nothing.”

“Either step down or I'll have my men assist you.” The threat in his voice was plain.

A few seconds later, Pilar heard footsteps and sounds of the items in the bed above her being moved around. She prayed they wouldn't look further.

The same male voice called out, “Cut those sacks open!”

“No!” her sister screamed angrily.

Pilar imagined the meal flowing out of the sacks and spreading onto the wagon bed or onto ground.

Doneta demanded. “Who's going to compensate my mother for that wasted meal?”

“The families of rebels aren't compensated, but you can always petition the governor,” the Spaniard chuckled sarcastically.

Pilar's jaw tightened with anger.

“May I continue on my way?” Doneta snapped.

“Yes, senorita, but be thankful we found nothing. The navy sank a rebel boat off the coast last night. They're pretty sure the crew died, but we'll be keeping a close eye on this area for a while. Would be a pity to hang someone as beautiful as you.”

Doneta offered no reply.

Pilar felt the wagon shift as her sister climbed back up to the seat. A few seconds later they were moving again. Pilar was pleased that the soldiers mentioned not having found any of her crewmen. She hoped that meant the men were safe, but it didn't diminish her worries.

When they reached the farm, Doneta helped the shivering and pale Pilar to the ground and their mother came running. “Oh thank God, you're alive. Come, let's get you into the house.”

After stripping away her sodden clothes, drying herself and slipping into an old nightshirt, she climbed into bed and managed to tell her mother the story, to which Desa replied, “There's no guarantee they won't find out who was involved. We need to leave the island as soon as possible. Pilar, you sleep. Doneta and I will get us ready.”

The next night, with the help of the local rebels, the Banderas women boarded a boat and set sail for sanctuary with Desa's brother in Florida.

W
ith his mother's birthday party underway and the house and grounds filled to capacity with relatives and neighbors, Noah found all the celebrating a welcome distraction to his brooding over his stolen ship. Dozens of different scenarios had been running through his mind about what the woman and her gang might be doing. Having served with Simmons, he knew all manner of illegalities could come into play: opium, slaves, children. He prayed they weren't engaging in any of that, but he had no way of knowing. Noah had never approached a woman violently, but the pirate woman he wanted to hurt. In truth, the moment he found her, he planned to turn her over to the authorities, but it didn't stop his mind from fantasizing about feeding her headfirst to a shark.

“If looks could kill.”

He turned to find Drew at his side. They were outdoors on the crowded patio, waiting for their mother's birthday cake to be brought out while laughter and their sangria-drinking friends and relatives flowed around them. “Thinking about my ship,” he said in explanation.

“And the woman?”

“And the woman.”

“You can't kill her, you know.”

“I do, but that doesn't mean I can't think about it though.”

Drew raised his glass of wine in a salute. “What will you do when you find her?”

“Reclaim the
Alanza
and turn her over to the authorities. Hopefully I'll get some satisfaction from whatever punishment the courts mete out.”

“And if you don't find her?”

“Oh I will. That I'm certain of.” There were no doubts in Noah's mind that he'd find her. Someone knew who she was and he'd find that person, as well.

“Do you still plan to leave right after the wedding?”

“Yes.”

“Then try and have a good time while you're here. You look like you could use some fun in your life.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Extremely.”

His brothers knew him well.

Drew's tone softened. “Talking about what happened to you back then might help, Noah.”

Noah watched one of the old aunts attempting to teach Tonio to dance. “I'm fine, Drew.”

“You've been a terrible liar all your life.”

A rueful smile curved his lips and he met his brother's seriously set eyes. “If I talk about it, then your heart will break, too, and mine is broken enough for the both of us.” That said, he stood silently as the cake was brought out and everyone cheered.

T
he day of Alanza's wedding dawned bright with blue skies. Attempting to hold on to her excitement was difficult.
I'm getting married!
came her ecstatic inner voice. And to a man who'd claimed her heart like none other before.

“You look gorgeous, Mama,” Mariah gushed as Alanza did a slow turn to show off her new gold gown. Her daughters-in-law were to be her attendants and they were dressed very elegantly as well.

“Gorgeous and happy,” Billie added.

“I am both. I want to pinch myself just to make sure I'm not dreaming.”

“No dream,” Billie said. “In just a little while, you're going to be Mrs. Maxwell Rudd.”

“Yes, I am. I have butterflies in my stomach. I can't remember ever being so nervous.”

“You'll be fine once everything gets underway.”

“Is the padre here?”

“Yes,” Mariah said with assurance. “Your cousins are with him downstairs. Are you ready to go?”

Alanza took in deep calming breath. “Yes.”

Billie said, “I'll alert everyone that you're on your way and shoo them outside. I'll meet you and 'Riah when you come down.”

“Thank you, Billie.”

After her departure, Alanza took in the happy face of first daughter-in-law. “Thank you for this beautiful gown.”

“It was my pleasure, and thank you for being the best mother-in-law a girl could ever wish for.”

They shared a strong hug so filled with meaning that Mariah had to use her fingertips to staunch the tears threatening to spill from her golden eyes.

“Okay,” Alanza declared confidently. “Let's go. I have a man to dazzle.”

Mariah lifted the gown's flowing train and Alanza led them from the room.

T
he wedding was lovely. While Max stood beneath the flower-laden bower with his two groomsmen, the padre, and the teary-eyed Billie and Mariah, Alanza was escorted in by her impeccably dressed sons: Logan in front, Drew on her right, and Noah on her left. The black eyes and split lips were still apparent and caused more than a few titters, but most of the guests were focused on the lovely Alanza and her stunning gold gown.

After the sons delivered her to the groom's side, they stepped away.

Alanza looked up into Max's serious eyes and knew she was making the right decision. As an adolescent, she'd thought herself in love with Abraham, but that hadn't been love. The soaring in heart caused by the incredible man beside her was the real thing, so as the padre began the words and asked that she repeat the vows, she did so with a firm, strong voice. And when he pronounced them man and wife, and they sealed the ceremony with a kiss, she didn't hear the thunderous applause or the raucous cheers of her sons; all that mattered was Max, and Max alone, until death did them part.

The newlyweds spent the rest of the afternoon reigning over the wedding feast (that encompassed three trestle tables) and receiving the well wishes of family and friends. As the sun made its way across the sky and began to sink towards the evening, Max pulled her aside. “Are you ready to go?”

“Go where.”

“With me?”

The mischief in his eyes made her ask over a laugh, “What are you up to now, Maxwell Rudd?”

“Come with me and see.”

“Is this an adventure?”

“The first of many, I'm hoping.”

She glanced around at the milling guests.

“Don't worry about them, there's still plenty for them to eat and drink, they'll be fine. And I already talked to the boys to let them know we're leaving.”

The Alanza of the past would've immediately bristled at the idea of embarking on something so unknown and spontaneous, and she certainly wouldn't've been happy leaving behind a slew of untended guests, but with Max she had the opportunity to be someone new, so she grabbed the brass ring and held on. “I'm ready.”

Delight filled his face. He grabbed her hand, she used her free one to hike up her gown, and off they ran.

It was nearly full dark by the time they reached his hunting cabin. He stopped the wagon, set the brake and hopped down. Under the mountain breeze he came around and held up his arms for her, and with one swoop slowly brought her to the ground before him. For a moment they stood silently, feasting on the sight of each other. There was a muted hunger in his eyes that touched her in all the places he'd been gently wooing all summer.

“Nervous?” he asked.

“A little.”

“Then we're even.”

When he scooped her up into his arms, she barked a laugh that was cut short by the long hard kiss he placed on her lips before continuing the journey to the cabin. He kicked the door open, and once they were inside, carried her through the dark into a room at the back. He set her on her feet.

“Let me light a lamp.”

The spark of a match was immediately followed by a small glow that soon grew and filled the room. Alanza stared around, surprised. “When did you build a bedroom?”

“Started working on it last year. Figured my new wife wouldn't want to sleep in a bedroll on the floor.”

“Last year? Pretty confident, weren't you?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head at the boast and the smile that accompanied it. They'd used the cabin as their hunting base for years and she had indeed slept on the floor in a bedroll. The new room showed why his carpentry skills were so highly sought after. Polished log walls and a pitched roof held the huge new bed he'd talked about building. “This is the bed you made for us?”

“Yes, as I said, we weren't having our wedding night in the bed you inherited from your mother.”

When she married Abe, there'd been no wedding night. He'd slept on the floor in the front room. She found herself quietly looking forward to this one.

“What's wrong?” he asked softly.

She shook her head. “Nothing.” She didn't wish to spoil the night by talking about the past.

The new bed was topped with linens and pillows that he couldn't possibly have picked out alone. “Have my girls been up here?” There were curtains and two upholstered sitting chairs and a large fireplace built from boulders and stones.

“Yes,” he confessed unashamedly. “Billie picked out the sheets and quilts and that big rug under the bed. Mariah made the curtains.”

“All without me knowing a thing.”

“See how wonderful being in the dark can be?”

She walked over and put her arms around his waist. “I love you, Max Rudd.”

“I love you, too, Lanz Rudd.”

She met his eyes. “We're going to be happy.”

“As otters playing in water.”

That caused her to laugh again and she fit herself against him and rested her cheek against his strong chest. His arms tightened around her and she savored the peace she found in his embrace.

“Let's make a fire and get out of these wedding clothes,” he said above her. “This tie is strangling me.”

She stepped back so he could rid himself of the formal tie, but she was unsure what she was supposed to do next.

“I need to bring some things in from the wagon. Have a seat and relax. Been a long day.”

While he was gone she marveled again at the room mostly to take her mind off how nervous she'd suddenly become. The talk she'd had with Billie a few weeks back about the ins and outs of bed play had been shocking to say the least. The last thing she wanted was to disappoint Max with her lack of knowledge. Abe had been gentle with her in bed but she hadn't actively participated because he hadn't encouraged it and she didn't know she was supposed to. Max gave her the sense that intimacies between the two of them would be different and as a result she was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room of rockers.

He returned carrying a small trunk and a covered basket. He set them on the floor near the fireplace and silently lit the logs stacked inside. He looked over at her.

“You okay?”

“Not sure.”

He gave her a gentle smile before reaching for the poker to even out the logs. Once he seemed satisfied that the fire was well on its way, he stood and held her eyes. “Your girls sent along some sangria, the boys thought you'd prefer tequila, so I brought both. Which would you prefer?”

“Tequila.”

“It's in the basket. Grab it and I'll bring a chair over here by the fire.”

She found a bottle of her favorite tequila along with two glasses and said thanks for having raised such wonderful sons. When she turned to join Max by the fire, he was already seated. “Where's my chair?”

He patted his lap.

She dropped her head and then raised it to show her smile. Tequila and glasses in hand, she walked over, settled herself on his lap, and poured them both a small portion. He took the bottle from her and set it on the floor. Glass in hand, he raised it and said, “To otters.”

Laughing at how silly he was, she raised hers, too. “To otters.”

They both took sips and he eased her closer and kissed the top of her hair. “No fighting boys, no guests, no babies breaking out of jail. I may never take you back.”

She agreed “I know. This is nice. Thanks for the rescue.”

“Anytime.”

They finished their drinks and he placed the glasses on the floor beside the bottle. In the silence only the crackling fire could be heard. He gently raised her chin and gifted her with a slow series of kisses that set her heart to pounding. “I've waited for this for so long, Lanz.”

He increased the intensity and soon she was kissing him back with the same fervor, learning, tasting, savoring. He teased the corners of her lips with the tip of his tongue and they parted gently, willingly. They'd shared kisses before, but these were different; these were compelling and possessive—joining, mating, and when he slowly withdrew, she was left dazzled and breathless and wanting more.

Kisses were then brushed over her bared skin above the neckline of her gown and in response her head dropped back, offering her throat to his lips while his hand slowly began to explore. During their courtship, he'd never done more than kiss her and she'd been content with that, but the sensations of his hand moving over her ensured that she'd never be content with that alone again. She now understood the passion Billie had tried to explain. It was indeed sweeping and marvelous and when he slid her dress aside, exposed her breast and took it into his mouth, she understood why the girls refused to let her wear a corset beneath her gown. She crooned in response to the scandalous suckling, and all thought fled as a deep-seated heat bloomed everywhere—especially between her thighs. And while his mouth at her breast continued to slowly drive her mad, his touch moved there, first outside her gown and then beneath. Her gown was raised to her knees and his possessive palm moved up the length of her silk stocking, past her frilly lace garter, and she instinctively opened to let him touch her there, too. The reward was so staggering, the feel of him teasing her core so overwhelmingly powerful, that when he slid a finger inside, her legs flew apart and she screamed as her first orgasm exploded with the force of a lit stick of dynamite.