Nobody's Saint (27 page)

He reached up and took her fingers. “It was, indeed, a fine brawl.”

Elizabeth shot Faith a speculative look, but Faith only shrugged in response.

“He has the right of it there,” Geoff agreed. He looked to Miguel. “You should have seen the size of the brute who did that to him, but I think Diego could have taken him.”

Faith frowned. “How can you brag about using violence to settle this? Diego could have been killed.”

Geoff shrugged. “He wasn’t.”

“I think none of us will be getting to sleep any time soon,” Elizabeth said, changing the subject. “Will you excuse me while I wake the kitchen maid? We’ll have a very early breakfast.”

“An excellent idea,
querida
,” Miguel agreed, and Elizabeth left for the kitchen behind the main house.

Mary Kate set her hands on her hips. “Now tell me true, Diego Montoya, did you really sully my name in a tavern full of pirates and criminals?”

Diego winced again, though this time, not in any physical pain. “I could think of no other course.”

“Did you tell the whole lot of them that we’d done the most wicked things?”

“I only implied…”

“Have you tarnished my name so badly no self-respecting man on the whole island would have me now?”

Diego closed his eyes in defeat. “I am afraid that I have.”

She stooped down and looped her arms behind his neck. “‘Tis sure that’s the most romantic thing any man will ever do for me in all my life.” And she kissed him soundly despite his muffled cry of pain.

The group went to bed just before the sun rose, and it was well after noon when Mary Kate opened her eyes again. When they had first arrived, there was no missing the beauty and opulence of Winston Hall’s interior, the elegant mix of Spanish and English. The guestroom Mary Kate occupied had a canopy bed of carved mahogany as well as a dressing table with a large, and therefore costly, mirror. The space wasn’t overly large, but the bed and walls were covered in silk. To her, it seemed like a room in a palace.

They had arrived in the dark, and she had only a vague impression of the grounds. There had been trees and singing tree frogs, but beyond that, she had been able to make out very little. When she woke, she rose and looked out the window at a view to take her breath away. The house faced out over a formal garden with arbors and shade trees and rich, tropical flowers in hues of crimson and magenta. A road encircled the lawn, and on the other side of it, a vast expanse of cane fields stretched down to a perfect little bay where the water was blue as only the Caribbean Sea could be.

She felt a sudden burst of energy and a passionate desire to see more. Here she was, on the other side of the world from her home, and she had yet to just be able to wander and see the countryside. She hadn’t brought any baggage with her, so she again wore the dress she had borrowed from Faith. On her way downstairs, she took more careful note of her surroundings than she had the night before.

Granted, she and her family lived in a manor house of their own, but it was much smaller and shabbier, and there were generally sheep on the ragged front lawn. Sir Calder also had a fine home, but it was far too English for Mary Kate’s taste. She liked the little touches at Winston Hall that were obviously a reflection of Miguel’s heritage—family paintings, lovely carved wooden crosses, certain pieces of painted porcelain. They made her think of Galeno and Father Tomás and, most of all, Diego. In all honesty, the happiest she had ever been in her life, she had been surrounded by the sights, sounds, smells, and tastes of the Spanish Caribbean.

She took the midday meal with Diego, the Fernándezes, and the Hamptons in the dining room at a table long enough to seat three times as many. Diego looked much better. His eye was still bruised, but no longer swollen, and his lip had regained its original shape as well, despite the cut. The food was also a new experience, some standard English fare but seasoned with foreign spices. And there were plantains, a starchy vegetable, and ackee, which grew in fat pods on trees and looked like scrambled eggs.

She didn’t quite know what to think of Geoff and Faith. She liked them both, but they seemed such opposites. Faith was more formal and reserved, Geoff more brash and irreverent. Had there ever been such an unlikely couple? She was just about to respond in kind to one of Geoff’s slightly ribald remarks when she saw Diego and Faith shake their heads at each other in mock disapproval. Mary Kate felt her cheeks grow a little warmer. Opposites did attract, she supposed.

Elizabeth and Miguel were warm and welcoming, lavish in their hospitality. They urged both Diego and Mary Kate to stay as long as they wished.

“Mary Kate’s for Tortuga with Faith and me,” Geoff explained. “We must go back to Port Royal to finish some business, but we dare not have her seen there, for John Hartford and Darnley may well be looking for her. Wouldn’t put it past them to force her into a secret marriage and then lock her away until Hartford can come into her inheritance. After that, I’m for Boston and not much help, but if I take her to Tortuga, there’s sure to be a ship bound for Ireland.”

“And I have been delayed long enough,” Diego said. “I have a full hold that I must take to Cádiz. This is my last trip sailing someone else’s ship, you know.”

“Oh, Diego,” Elizabeth exclaimed, “
Magdalena
will be yours?”

“Then you will come here more often,” Miguel said. “There will be no more excuses of tyrannical employers.”

The food on Mary Kate’s plate lost all appeal. She was going home. She should be thrilled beyond reason, but she wanted to cry.

“When will we leave, Captain?” she asked Geoff.

“First thing tomorrow. Enjoy your rest. ‘Twill be the last time you sleep in a bed that doesn’t rock for many months.”

“And you, Diego?” She was impressed that her voice didn’t quiver.

“Tomorrow, as well.”

She looked over to Elizabeth and Miguel. “Do you mind if I take a walk over your grounds? I should like one last look at the lands of the Caribbean.”

“There is something magical about this place, is there not?” Elizabeth said.

“Shall we arrange a guide?” Miguel asked.

“I shall take her,” Diego said. “It is always a pleasure to take a stroll here.”

Elizabeth glanced at Faith, then said, “Of course, Diego.”

The pair rose and excused themselves, but as they walked away from the dining room, Mary Kate heard Elizabeth say, “Do you suppose those two will come to their senses?”

“It would be lovely if they did,” Faith replied.

Diego, moving gingerly because of his ribs, led Mary Kate to the back door and out into the rear courtyard. The building that housed the kitchen was out there, and a black woman was busy plucking feathers from a chicken that would probably be their dinner.

“Is she a slave?” Mary Kate asked.

“She is.”

“I thought you didn’t approve of slavery.”

“I do not, but this is my family. I believe you, of all people, should understand that sometimes family ties take precedence over our own preferences.”

“Don’t, Diego. Let’s not quarrel.”

“I do not say that to reproach you. It is a fact of life.”

She looked up into a scarlet-tipped poinsiana tree, which cast a dappled shadow on the ground through its lacy leaves. “What amazing islands. Lush and green like Ireland, but far warmer in March than Ireland is in July.”

“You should sail the Mediterranean someday. It, too, is magical.”

“I’d love to, I think” she said, then bit her lip. She would sail home and then never sail again. “The sea is magic, isn’t it? I can see why you love it so. It can take you so many wondrous places, but even when you’re out in the middle of it and no land in sight, ‘tis a marvel all on its own.”

He directed her onto a path that wandered through the garden and into the overgrown forest edging the property. “You must be very careful, María Catalina. Once the sea has your soul, she never fully gives it back.”

Mary Kate sighed. “Too late.”

The path forked, and when Diego would have pulled her to the left, she stopped him. “Where does each path go?”

He pointed to the right. “That one goes to the slaves’ quarters. It is not a pleasant place to visit. This one goes to the river.”

She cast a glance down the path to the right, then looked away. “Very well.”

They headed to the left, under a dense canopy of trees and through waist-high plants that grew to either side of the trail. Very soon, they could hear the sound of rushing water and an increase in the chatter of birds. The river’s bank was steep, and the path was slippery going down to the water’s edge. Diego helped to keep her steady while she descended, then led her a bit farther along until they reached a little pool where a large rock dammed the river and the water was calm. Diego grinned at her, then sat on the bank and pulled off his boots.

“Swimming?” Mary Kate asked.

“Wading,” he answered.

She sat down next to him and pulled off her shoes and stockings, tossing them into a pile with his. Gathering her skirts into her arms, she stepped into the water, delighted to discover that it was cool, but not cold. Just the right temperature to refresh. The skirts, however, were a hindrance.

“Hide your eyes if you must, Diego, but the dress goes.” She expected a highly proper protest on his part, and wondered what it might mean when it didn’t come. Back on the bank she shed Faith’s heavy gown and reveled in the freedom of being outside in nothing more than her light cotton shift. She didn’t even bother to try to keep the hem dry, wading back into the pool to stand beside Diego.

Diego looked down at her. The bottom of her shift floated delicately in the water around her knees. The slight current playfully tugged at the garment, pulling it against her body. The ache in his loins dulled the ache in his ribs. His blood began to heat, and he shrugged out of his coat, tossing it on top of her gown on the bank.

“Is there a river on your farm?” he asked. He wanted to able to picture her there, to be able to imagine the rest of her life as it would be.

“A small one, not so very different from this. Much colder this time of year.”

“Tell me everything about your home.”

So she did. She told him about the farms and the tenants and about the village nearby. Soon memory poured over memory of friends and neighbors and favorite places. She wondered if her sister might still have a string of suitors, for all her vile temper, and what kind of bills her father had run up while she was away.

“You love them very much,” Diego said.

“I do.”

“And they need you more than I.”

“They do. Can I tell you something Diego, even if it hurts us both more than we can bear?”

“If you need to tell it. If it is not one of those things best left unspoken.”

“‘Tis probably, but I’m thinking I’ll say it all the same. Once I thought I wanted my home and family more than anything in all the world. I’m not so sure of that anymore.”

“But sometimes what you want to do and what you must do, these are two different things, yes? That is something I can understand.”

“Sometimes.”

He knew what he wanted, and for once in his life, he was going to take it. This he would take for himself, even though it was not at all what was best for anyone.

He threaded his hands through Mary Kate’s dark tresses, memorizing its silken texture. Bending down and ignoring the protest of his bruised ribs, he buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply. It smelled clean, and he realized that she must have washed it sometime the day before. He lifted her face to his, the pain in his lower lip forgotten as he traced hers with his tongue. Her mouth was as soft as the rose petals she smelled of.

Mary Kate opened her mouth and touched the tip of her tongue to his. Lips teased and danced lightly across one another even as tongues caressed, tasted, possessed. Diego’s hands skimmed over her rib cage to stroke her breasts. When his mouth left hers to travel down her throat, she let her head fall back and offered herself to him.

Diego pulled at the ribbon on her neckline and pushed the soft fabric down so he could lap at the tight nipples beckoning to him.

“I would pick you up and carry you to shore, but I think that in my current state, that would end our play.”

Mary Kate lifted her head and giggled. “By no means do I wish to end our play.”

Hand in hand they left the river and lay in the lush, soft grasses on the bank. The breeze was warm, but the shade kept them cool as they touched, tasted, explored.

Mary Kate unfastened Diego’s shirt and ran her hands over the smooth, dark skin above the cloth bindings. “I wish I could feel all of your skin against me.”

He nuzzled her neck, tickling her in a way that made her breasts ache and the place between her thighs grow damp. “I will give you as much as I can.” He pulled the shirt off, then lay on his good side, his arm bracing him above her.

“Do your ribs hurt?” she asked.

Diego lightly kneaded one of her naked breasts, then ever so gently pinched her sensitive nipple. “There is pain and there is pain. It is not so bad.” He dipped his head and flicked his tongue over the nipple, and Mary Kate gasped.

“I want to give you something, María Catalina, to be the first man to ever give it to you. I want to be the man against whom all others are measured in your life.”

“They’ll come up short, every one of them,” Mary Kate said, and pulled his head to hers for another kiss.

He pulled her shift lower still, past her waist, until she lifted her bottom so he could pull it off of her. It felt strange, deliciously wicked, to stretch out nude in the grass and arch her back under his heated gaze.

“This comes very naturally to you,” he said.

“It comes very naturally with you,” she replied.

His hand touched her everywhere, caressed her torso, moved playfully along her inner thigh. And she ran her hands across his back, over hot skin and cloth bindings. She, too, let herself explore his lean, muscular legs and felt a surge of purely feminine power when she brushed against the stiff staff buried under his breeches and heard him suck in his breath. She moved to unfasten them, but his hand stayed hers.