The Shores of Spain (10 page)

Deolinda
was the Ferreira family’s yacht. Commissioned by Duilio’s grandfather, it had languished for the last few years, moored with the Ferreira family’s smaller boats, the ones they regularly used. Alexandre Ferreira had sailed often, but his eldest son, Alessio, hadn’t shared his love for the sea. And while Duilio
did
, he’d always been too busy to take the yacht out. The only time this ship had been away from its moorings recently was when Duilio had taken Oriana to France shortly after their wedding.

But careful maintenance by the family’s boatman, João, kept the yacht fit to sail. The lines were all sound and the hull clean. The yacht slipped from its mooring, its small engine chugging away, and
shortly thereafter they moved through the mouth of the Douro River and onto the open sea.

Rigging the sails took longer than Joaquim expected. João needed to explain everything to his wife, so Joaquim held his tongue. Aga was a selkie and had only been living among humans for half a year. Things that would be obvious to a child made no sense to her. It was clear, though, that she and João doted on each other. Aga listened to her husband’s every word, eyes wide.

She was a beautiful young woman, with a pointed chin and a heart-shaped face that bore a resemblance to Lady Ferreira’s. Selkies often had that look about them. Her light brown hair fell over her shoulder in a simple braid and she wore garments that must be João’s, altered down for her slender frame. She didn’t seem particularly clever, but she followed João’s instructions perfectly, never setting one bare foot amiss on the deck.

“No, like this,” João said patiently as he showed Aga how to attach the jib sheet using a soft shackle. He unwrapped the line from the clew and let her try again, smiling when she had it right. “Perfect. This way it will be easier to loosen it when we need to.”

Joaquim turned away, leaving João to explain the rigging. He lacked the young man’s patience. And he had other work to do.

He’d always thought his ability to find others was simple intuition until the previous fall, when he’d been forced to acknowledge it as witchery by Inspector Gaspar of the Special Police. The man had a special gift of his own, one that allowed him to look at others and
see
what hidden talents they possessed. Gaspar claimed that he rarely forced a witch to acknowledge his or her gift; he’d made an exception in Joaquim’s case, since his talent was needed at the time. Despite finding the man likable, Joaquim felt uncomfortable around him even now, months later. He couldn’t be sure Gaspar had told him everything, and didn’t want to be taken by surprise again.

Now that he knew he had a gift, it was his responsibility to use it wisely.

Joaquim closed his eyes and said a quick prayer, begging for guidance. He knew the general direction he had to go to find Duilio—west of Portuguese shores, of course. But when he concentrated, he saw in his mind a faint light, as if his brother held up a lantern in the far distance to guide him.

After fixing that distant point of light in his mind, Joaquim checked the chart against his compass and drew a line straight out from their current position. The islands of the sereia must lie on that line somewhere. That course would take them north of Madeira, but he didn’t think they would have to go as far as the Azores. It would mean a night on the open ocean, possibly two. He hadn’t done that in years, but with João and his wife along, they could split the time on the deck.

The wind caught the sails then, drawing them away from the coast.

“Are we heading the right way?” João called back toward him.

“Yes.” Unfortunately, there wasn’t any landmark to guide them at all. They were relying completely on his gift to set their course.
Rank idiocy
. But João trusted him, so they kept the ship on the same compass heading throughout the day.

As the hours passed, Joaquim watched the waves under the bright sun with growing unease. It wasn’t his meager seer’s gift warning him of anything. It was simple discomfort in being so far out at sea. He and Duilio had sailed to Madeira one summer as boys, and it had been as difficult then. He just didn’t like leaving home.

Especially now, when he had so much to lose. He would have to hope and pray that Felis had been wrong.

*   *   *

I
LHAS
DAS
S
EREIAS

T
he doorbells leading into the courtyard rang softly, and Duilio saw Captain Vas Neves at the entry archway, waiting to be acknowledged. He waved her in. “Captain, I’m glad you’ve returned.”

She’d been gone since Saturday morning, bearing his letter to
the American embassy in the capital. That visit to the main island had also given her time to advise their chief of staff regarding the changed situation and revise orders to her guards there.

She nodded. “I came directly to you, sir, since I have a report on the Americans.”

“What did they have to say?”

“The ambassador set her people to investigating immediately,” the captain said, “rather than waiting for orders from her superiors.” Madam Norton, a clever woman in her midforties, had been American ambassador to these islands for over a decade. She had her own cadre of spies and locals willing to sell her information, an enviable position at the moment. Not only did the Portuguese mission face distrust from locals who feared a Portuguese invasion that would never happen, but they simply hadn’t had time to set up a network as the Americans had.

“That’s good to know,” Duilio said, “but the two Spanish ships left port on schedule this morning, as did one of the English ones.”

Vas Neves nodded gravely. “Yes. The ambassador informed me she had people looking into that possibility, sir. Of the woman leaving the islands.”

He was glad Madam Norton had that much foresight. He could question the ship captains himself—on the docks, the humans didn’t mind a male dredging for information. Unfortunately, he couldn’t question the captains who’d already left. “Also good to know,” he said anyway.

“She means to send word of what she’s learned in a few days, sir.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised they’re willing to help,” Duilio admitted, “so that’s just fine. Is there any other news?”

“I’ve sent the correspondence from the embassy to the ambassador already,” Vas Neves said. “I merely wanted to inform you of our interactions with the Americans.”

Only the parts that directly concern me.
Duilio swallowed his irritation. “Thank you, then, Captain.”

The captain nodded again and, before stepping out of the courtyard, said, “Also, the ambassador told me to tell you she’s impressed with your . . . audacity. I believe that’s the best translation of the phrase she used, which was, admittedly, rather vulgar. I’m not certain she’s aware that I speak English.”

Duilio grinned at the image of dainty Madam Norton spouting vulgarities. He suspected the American knew more about Vas Neves than he did. With their ample resources, the American Foreign Office had probably had every member of the Portuguese mission investigated before they’d even set foot on Quitos.

He hadn’t been sure the Americans would honor an
implied
debt several years old, but he was glad now that he’d taken the chance.

*   *   *

T
HE
OPEN
OCEAN

J
oaquim sighed as he descended the ladder into the cabin, thinking only of the bunk and a good night’s sleep. It had been too long since he’d spent an entire day sailing. In the morning he was going to have sore muscles in spots not often used.

He’d left João and Aga on deck. While the yacht wasn’t in the normal shipping lanes, the sea was calm, and they’d put out the sea anchor, they still couldn’t afford to take chances. There was almost no moon tonight, and they had no idea where sereia waters began. Fortunately, Aga wouldn’t be affected should a sereia attempt to misdirect them away from their course.

Joaquim peeled off his salt-stiffened shirt, then his undershirt, and draped them over the rail. It was dark in the cabin, but he didn’t need a lamp. He slipped off his boots and slid under the blankets on the bunk. It was a haven of warmth. After shifting about to find a comfortable position in the small berth, he dragged one pillow about so that he clutched it in his arms, and laid his head on the other.

When he closed his eyes, his earlier cares flooded back.
What is Marina doing?
Is she thinking of me?
He mentally checked his gift, certain he could find Marina even a day’s sail away from shore.

Only his sense of her was all wrong.

Joaquim sat up, banging his head on the shelf above the bunk in his haste. He rubbed at his temple and swung his legs over the side of the bunk. Cool air assaulted his bare chest. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness by then. “Marina?”

A cough came from the closet nearest the foot of the bunk. Joaquim rose and opened the door. A hint of light showed him Marina’s slim form huddled in the bottom of the closet, arms wrapped about her knees. Her face lifted, revealing reddened eyes.

Stifling the urge to laugh in relief, Joaquim knelt down to help her up. “How long have you been in here?”

“Since before dawn,” she whispered, sounding guilty about it. Her small hands shook as they settled on his arms.

Oh God
. That was far too long to be hiding in that cramped spot. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I’m fine,” she managed. He drew her to her feet, but she slumped against him. “I’m sorry. My . . . my legs are asleep.”

Joaquim wrapped his arms about her.
No point in being reserved now
. He helped her toward the bunk. “Here, come sit down with me.”

When she sat down on the bunk’s edge, he wrapped one arm about her shoulders. Her hands touched on his side, her chilly fingers reminding him that he was only half-clothed. He used his free hand to tug the blanket around both of them. Marina’s face pressed against his chest. He wanted to hold her like this all night.

No, he wanted
more
.

He’d intended to propose to her on the first of May. It wouldn’t be too far off his schedule to ask her now. He’d wanted their marriage to start off better than this, though. To try to make love to her in this cramped cabin wasn’t what he’d planned at all. “Marina, does your father know where you are?”

“Please don’t send me back,” she whispered. “Please.”

She hadn’t answered his question. He found her chin and tilted her head up to peer into her eyes. “I won’t. Either I will leave you with your sister on the islands, or you’ll come with me. But I don’t want your father to worry.”

She clutched at the blanket. “Ana will tell him.”

Miss Ana had something to do with this; that suggested
planning
. “You do know that João and his wife are on the ship as well, don’t you?”

“Yes. They were . . . down here, earlier.”

Oh dear
. João and Aga had come down earlier to nap so they wouldn’t fall asleep on the deck. By the hesitant way Marina spoke, Joaquim suspected they’d done more than doze. The cabins were close enough that she would have been able to hear everything that passed between the couple. “Why didn’t you tell us you were here earlier?”

Marina sniffed wetly. “I was afraid you would take me back.”

And so she’d stayed
in a closet
most of the day. No, she had to have visited the water closet once or twice, but she could have managed that without being noticed. Then again, she could have just sat on his bunk all day. He hadn’t come down here at all save to toss his bag atop the chest.

“Are you angry with me?”

Joaquim laughed and drew her closer into his arms.
Now I know why I’ll marry before I return home
. A weight lifted from his shoulders, making him almost giddy with relief. “No. I did worry you’d run off with your father’s assistant while I was gone.”

Her father’s assistant was an officious young man, very skilled at his job. But Joaquim hadn’t missed that the man showed an interest in Marina.

“Don’t be silly. He’s seeing one of the maids from the Ferreira house now.” Marina drew back and whispered, “I thought this would be romantic.”

He fought the urge to laugh again. He had spent the whole day
on the deck. The wind had dried his skin, and he must smell of sweat and salt. His hands were roughened by the lines. For her part, she’d evidently been hiding among Erdano’s spare garments and carried more than a hint of seal musk. That was
not
romantic, at least not by his definition. And yet he wasn’t going to send her away. “Marina, we need to be practical about this.”

Her cheek pressed against his bare chest. “You don’t want me here?”

Nothing could be further from the truth. His body tightened, not as exhausted as he’d believed, but he was not going to rush this, even if it took every ounce of self-control he had. He located one of her hands under the blanket and drew it to his lips. “I do want you, but as tired as I am, I doubt I could please you. And João might come down that ladder at any moment.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “I didn’t think of that.”

Joaquim smiled in the darkness. He wished he could give her that romantic interlude she’d pictured in her mind, but reality didn’t favor her chances. He stroked a hand over her hair, his fingers catching on a lock that had come loose from her braid. “Perhaps if we both got a bit of sleep, everything would seem better when we woke.”

She sighed dramatically, much like she did everything else. Everything was urgent to her. It reminded him that she was several years younger than him, barely twenty-three. “Here,” he said, finding the edge of the sheet. “Lie down.”

It took a moment for her to wriggle her way under the sheet, but he lay down next to her, facing her, worked one arm under her head, and drew her closer with the other. She was wearing trousers and a shirt, with no corset. That realization sent another bolt of fire through his groin, but if nothing else, he had ample practice denying that particular urge. He tucked his head atop hers and felt her hand settle on his waist. He could wait a few more hours, he reminded himself, or a few more days. The boat groaned in response to a wave, a strangely reassuring sound.