Nobody's Saint (36 page)

Mary Kate was speechless, a rare thing indeed. She didn’t know which touched her more, that he had put off the fulfillment of a dream he had been working toward for years or the fact that he had risked his reputation for unfailing reliability just to come and get her. When she found her voice, all she could say was “
Te quiero, Diego
.”

Nothing in the world was as sweet to Diego’s ear as the sound of María Catalina’s lilting accent flavoring his own language so musically. It was exactly the same voice that had spoken to him three years ago and told him that, while he was a man of generous heart and great pride, sometimes what he wished for most was not meant to be.

Finally, Magdalena,
he thought,
it is meant to be.

“Captain,” Salvador said, breaking the mood. “I think there is a vessel pursuing us.”

Diego accepted his first mate’s spyglass and turned around from his place at the helm. There was a ship flying an English flag directly behind them. “From Ulster, I imagine, making sure we are well on our way with no thought of returning to their waters.”

“They have been closing on us for some time now. I think they mean to overtake us.”

“But why?”

“What’s going on?” Mary Kate asked. She would definitely have to work hard with Galeno to be able to keep up with rapid-fire Spanish. “What’s all this about a ship and returning to Ulster?”

“I assure you that we are not returning to Ulster. It is probably nothing. Still, I think you should go below and unpack,
querida
.”

She grabbed the spyglass and looked through it. “Is that the ship you’re worried about?”

“I am not worried—” He reached for the glass, but she moved it out of his reach.

“Are they chasing us?”

“We do not know yet. May I have that?”

She ignored him and put it to her eye. “I think they are. Now, why would they be doing that?”

“We are close to English waters. Give me the glass.”

“
English
waters? Where? The last I knew, we were just off the coast of
Ireland
.”

He finally wrested the glass from her hand. “Tell that to their captain.”

“I will. Where will I find a sword?”

“A what?”

“A sword.” At the look on his face, she set her hands on her hips. “You know damned well I can handle one.”

He straightened up and rested his free hand on his hip. “I can keep you safe, María Catalina.”

“That’s not the point, Diego. We’re in this together from here out.”

“Captain,” Salvador interrupted in Spanish, clearly frustrated with their foreign conversation, “do you have orders for the crew?”

Diego motioned to a crewman to man the helm. Ignoring Mary Kate’s indignant gasp, he walked away from her and began shouting orders. Better to have the guns primed and not have to use them than to lose time later. He told the helmsman to alter their course and pick up speed. If the English ship followed suit, then they would know what they were up against.

Mary Kate started to follow him, but Galeno stepped between them and began translating Diego’s orders for her, explaining what they were doing and what evasive maneuvers the captain was most likely to employ. No matter how hard she tried to get past him, the boy was absolutely tenacious. Whether she was the captain’s wife or not, she would not be allowed to interfere. Finally, she shot Galeno a venomous glare and stomped off below deck. As she had known he would, he assumed she had given up and gone to Diego’s cabin to unpack, so she was unimpeded in her search for a weapon.

On deck, Diego’s pulse raced as the navy ship grew closer. There could be no doubt now. They were in pursuit, and they were far faster. Salvador kept his glass on them and finally turned to Diego with a dour expression. “I count seventy-four guns, Captain. The side says
Intrepid
. Is that not one of the ships that met us when we arrived?”

Diego nodded and pondered his options. They were not outrunning the other ship, and they were so far outgunned that a fight was out of the question. “Heave to,” he said. “Let us see what it is that they want.”

*

Fredrick Fielding smiled as he watched
Magdalena
take in her sails. He turned to his friend Stuart, who had been watching the other ship through his spyglass, and said, “You see. This won’t take any longer than our usual patrol. If everyone can just keep his mouth shut, the admiral need never know that we came this far out.”

Stuart gave him a glum look. “Tell me again why we’re doing this?”

“Because I am not about to lose to a Spaniard. ‘Tis an affront to us all!”

“She’s just an Irish girl,” Stuart protested. “There are dozens of them back at port. Besides, not one of us has ever managed to get past the occasional pat on the arse with her, and even doing that is a risk.” He rubbed his head, remembering her assault with a bar tray.

“Which is precisely why I wanted her. You may be happy with a hundred other men’s leavings. I’m not.”

“Well, if she ran off to meet him, she’s that Spaniard’s leavings now.”

Fredrick sneered. “‘Tis no longer about the woman. ‘Tis about having a little pride. A
Spaniard
, Stuart.”

“All the more evidence that she has no taste. If the admiral hears about this…”

“He won’t!”

“…it will be the end of your career.”

Fredrick walked away and shouted to his men as they pulled up along side
Magdalena
. In moments, grappling hooks flew, and he crossed over to confront his rival. The arrogant Spanish bastard didn’t even have the courtesy to come over and greet him. He stood on the bridge, feet apart, and waited. Fredrick stood his ground, too. He wasn’t going to answer anyone’s implied summons, but after standing there in a face-off for the better part of a minute, he began to feel foolish.

“Well?” he demanded, shouting so Montoya could hear him.

“Well, what, Captain? It is you who have given chase to my ship. You who have boarded without invitation. I assume you have some reason.”

Fredrick looked around him and felt an instant of panic. He didn’t see Mary Kate anywhere. He knew her well enough to know she would never cower in hiding somewhere. What if she wasn’t here at all? What if the Spaniard had been telling the truth and had only wanted to check on her? Maybe he had learned she was safe and was on his way without her.

He lifted his chin and hoped no one could see past his bravado. “I am looking for an Englishwoman who I believe may be on board your vessel.”

Montoya crossed his arms. “Then you are mistaken. I am harboring no Englishwoman.”

“Irish!” came Stuart’s voice from behind him, on board
Intrepid
. “The girl is Irish! Comely wench with long, black hair!”

Fredrick closed his fists. Bloody idiot! The last thing he needed was for one of his own men to contradict him in front of the other captain.

“Ah! I think you may be looking for my wife!”

Fredrick felt his face go hot and his muscles tense. “That’s a bloody lie! Her name’s O’Reilly not Montoya, and you said nothing of being married to her the day before yesterday.”

“That is because the day before yesterday I was not married to her. Besides, in Spain, a woman keeps her own name.”

Fredrick drew his sword and advanced up the stairs. “Then you tricked her! You could never have gotten a license that fast.” And she was ruined! Ruined by a filthy Spaniard! He forgot all about the fact that he had never really stood a chance with her to begin with.

Montoya drew his own sword but stood his ground without moving. “This is ridiculous, Captain. There was nothing between you. This is none of your affair.”

Fredrick mounted the steps to the bridge. “Ridiculous? You dare to call me ridiculous?”

“Come back!” Stuart called. “‘Tis over Freddy. What care you whether she’s really married or not? For God’s sake, she’s
Irish
!”

Ridiculous? Him? Stuart was the one being ridiculous. If Stuart had taken her, well, Fredrick would have been irate, but he would have gotten over it. Irish or not, she had turned down every Englishman she had ever served a drink to and chosen a Spaniard! Without a word of warning, he swung his sword, and Montoya barely had a moment to react and dodge the whistling blade. Fredrick’s next sweep hit steel, and the duel was on.

*

For all that Diego thought this man to be one of the stupidest he had ever encountered, he could understand his position. After all, there was once a time that, if one of his sisters had married an Englishman, he would have felt honor-bound to make her a widow.

He parried a thrust and stepped back. “There is no need for this,” he said.

Fielding sneered. “I consider it sport as much as necessity.”

Diego moved to put the helm between them, but Fielding circled around it. None of Diego’s men moved, save the one who reached out to stay Rico from joining in. They were far outgunned and outmanned, and this was clearly a fight between only the two captains.

Another sailor crossed from
Intrepid
, but no one else followed, and Diego shifted his attention back to Fielding, whose blade clashed again with his own.

“Would you like to see her?” Diego asked. “She will tell you she is here of her own free will. I can show you our marriage lic—”

A quick thrust, and Diego nearly tripped to avoid it. The man was truly trying to kill him!

“Hiding behind a woman? I always knew the Spanish were cowards.”

Diego shifted from defense to attack. “I was most certainly not hiding! I was trying to save your life.”

Three strokes, one right after the other. Fielding parried the first two. The third drew blood at his shoulder, and the Englishman’s sneer evaporated.

“Concede defeat, and we can stop this madness,” Diego said.

“Ha!” Fielding barked. He tried to advance, but Diego dodged out of the way, danced back, and neatly sliced a button from the other man’s coat.

“I do not want to kill you,” he repeated.

There was no mistaking the fear on Fielding’s face, but there was a stubborn set to his mouth, and he was trying to advance again. Truly, Diego had no desire to run the other captain through, but he would have dearly loved the chance to switch from blades to fists. He did not want to kill him, but he absolutely intended to win.

He pushed forward, his blade moving with graceful speed, slicing fabric, nicking skin, even taking a lock from Fielding’s wig before it finally caught his sword just right and sent it flying. He grabbed Fielding’s collar and forced him to his knees, his sword pressed to the Englishman’s throat.

And then he felt a blade in his back, the point quite possibly piercing his coat. The second sailor from
Intrepid
. Who else could it be?

“You are going to stab me in the back,
hijo de puta
?”

The blade eased up, then withdrew altogether, and Diego turned around. Behind the second Englishman stood his wife with fire in her eyes and a sword pressed to the sailor’s back.

Diego grinned. “You cannot stab a man in the back,
querida
. It would be dishonorable.”

“Aye, well, I have my own sort of honor as you already know. Mine says all’s fair in love and war.”

Stuart raised his hands. “I only meant to defend the captain, Mary Kate.”

“I know,” she replied. “Off this ship with the both of you.”

“Mary Kate—” Fielding began, but stopped when Diego pressed his blade a little closer to his throat.

She stepped forward. “Let it go, Freddy. I’m married, and ‘tis no concern of yours anyway.”

He looked up at Diego and must have seen that Diego’s anger had died, for he dared to knock the blade aside. “Bloody bog-trotter! Slink off with your Spaniard. You can’t hold a candle to a fine Englishwoman.”

Diego’s eyes narrowed, and his blade swung back around. “What did you say?”

“Let it go, Diego.” She stepped between them and let the point of her sword drop to the deck. “Go now, Freddy, while you’ve a shred of dignity left.”

They both looked over to
Intrepid
. Stuart was back on board, and the looks on men’s faces ranged from disbelief to scorn to pity. Freddy stood and brushed off his coat, then he stooped down to retrieve his button and his sword. He turned the weapon in his hand, and Mary Kate’s was instantly back up in front of her, a challenge. Fielding managed a half-hearted scoff and turned away to return to his ship.

“I am going to have to actually teach you to use one of those, no?” Diego whispered in her ear.

“It would make me all the more effective in a fight.” While he mulled that over, she looked up into the rigging. “I’m going to need breeches, too, if I’m to climb up there without breaking my neck.”

“No wife of Diego Montoya Fernández de Madrid y Delgado Cortés is going to climb the rigging, her legs bared from the knees down.”

“Well, Mary Katherine O’Reilly is climbing the rigging, so we’d best come up with some way to do it that doesn’t involve skirts and petticoats.”

He tugged playfully at a wisp of hair that had escaped its pins. “Perhaps you could cut one of your skirts up the middle and sew it like a pair of breeches, but it would still reach your ankles.”

She thought about it for a moment and grinned. “I think that would work. If y’ever get tired of the sea, you’ve a future in dress design, I’m thinking.”

Diego grinned. “I must admit I took the idea from someone else.” He tilted Mary Kate’s face to his and looked into her crystal blue eyes. For years, this face had belonged to María Magdalena, but it was surprisingly easy to let that go. Magdalena was the dark-skinned, dark-eyed woman in the strange breeches who had come to him in an office he did not yet own. This was María Catalina, and while she was nobody’s saint, she was forever his.