Destiny's Captive

by Beverly Jenkins

  As she wound her way through the house, a part of her hoped he’d changed his mind and gone away, but she knew that was just wishful thinking. Walking outside into the torch-lit darkness, she heard off in the distance the faint buzz of the guests making their departure. The gossips were going to have a field day. She was truly sorry for turning her uncle’s birthday rumba into a debacle but there was no help for that now. The swordplay was something people would be whispering about behind their hands and relating to others for months, if not years, to come.

  The scandal aside, it was an idyllic night. The moon was high, casting light along the stone path she was following and the air was sweet with the scent of flowers in bloom. Too bad her nerves weren’t as peaceful or serene.

  He was sitting in a chair on the patio when she walked up. A lone, lit candle inside of a glass globe sat in the middle of the table and sent wavering flickers of light over his presence. He stood gallantly at her approach.

  “I’ve been expecting you. Join me, please.”

  She handed him his coat and as he helped her with her chair, she swallowed her nervousness. For a few moments she studied him silently and tried to decide the right tack to take. “From what my uncle tells me, you are wealthy enough to have any woman in the world, so why me?”

  “Because you’re the only one who can wield a rapier.”

  She didn’t believe that.

  “It’s what a woman with your spirit and fire deserves.”

  That made her heart pound. She’d never had a man say anything so potent to her before. “You can’t possibly care for me.”

  “No, but I hope to in time, and that you will come to care for me as well.”

  His soft-toned reply set off more inner havoc, even as she wondered if he had some sort of mind sickness. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I but I’d like to try and sort it out. Would you prefer to be my mistress instead?”

  “Of course not.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  She thought she saw a faint smile as the light played over his scarred face and she wished for full day so she could see him better. “For the sake of argument suppose we do marry. As my husband you can do whatever you wish to me. Are you doing this so you can take your revenge on me for stealing your ship?”

  “No, Pilar. I may appear to be a barbarian on the outside, but I am a gentleman underneath. As my wife, you’ll have all the advantages a woman of my set has: a nice home, servants if you choose, money of your own. Whatever your heart desires, within reason, I will move heaven and earth to set at your feet.”

  Her heart stopped and she stared. Once again rendered speechless, she finally managed to say, “This doesn’t make sense.”

  “We are in agreement. Have you ever been courted?”

  She wanted to lie and say Dozens of times, but . . . “No.”

  His voice was soft. “Have you given your heart to anyone?”

  This was the most unnerving situation she’d ever faced. In spite of his quiet tone and manner she found him so overwhelming, she wanted to hike up her skirts and flee again. “No.”

  “Then let me court you, chiquita. Let me show you what it means to be with a man who finds you intriguing and yes, desires you. I promise, we’ll go slow.”

  Pilar’s heart was pounding; her breathing heightened, her senses spinning.

  “Say, yes, mi pequeño pirata . . .”

  Pilar couldn’t’ve said her name.

  “If you’re worried about being so far from your family, my mother will be as fiercely protective of you as your own. You’ll have two sisters-in-law who will help you along, and should anything untoward happen to me, my brothers will care for you as if you were their own blood.”

  “But I don’t wish to marry you.”

  “Understood, but many couples in arranged marriages have managed to find their way.”

  “Not always. My mother left her novio at the altar to run away with my father.”

  “Is that where you get your determination?”

  She’d hope to throw him off pace with that example; instead he’d responded with hushed-voice praise that once again set her senses spinning. “Suppose I offer to pay you for your ship?”

  He evaluated her silently for a moment. “You offered to pay for it, but not return it. Why is that?”

  She hesitated so long he coaxed, “Pilar?”

  She finally confessed, “It was sunk. Cannon fire from the Spanish navy.”

  “Were you on board?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you hurt?”

  “Bumps and bruises. Swallowed a large amount of seawater . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “And my Alanza was being used for . . .?”

  “Gunrunning.”

  He chuckled softly, sat back, and folded his arms. “For the rebels?”

  She nodded and hoped her answer would scare him off. As she’d noted to her mother, no man wanted a wife who smuggled guns.

  “Is the government searching for you?”

  “Possibly.”

  “As the wife of an American citizen you may be offered some measure of protection should they come hunting. Yet another plus for saying yes.”

  But who would protect her from him? came the thought.

  His next question brought her back. “How long have you been with the rebels?”

  “Since my father’s death in ’seventy-seven.”

  “And you were how old?”

  “Fifteen.” She’d begged her mother to let her join the Revolutionary Army, but because she was deemed too small to fight, she’d been attached to the Mambi women who ran the support columns.

  “How did he die?”

  “Spain hung him for treason.”

  He went still. “My condolences.”

  “Thank you.” Her father’s death broke her heart. She’d loved him so much. He’d taken up the cause for his lost brothers, and she’d done the same for him. Now she was being forced to live for herself and she wasn’t certain she knew how. “I can sail a ship and shoot a gun. I can walk a hundred miles silently through a jungle on little food and no sleep. I can start a smokeless fire, feed myself on what I can forage, treat wounds, and sharpen a machete until it gleams. I know nothing about being a wife.”

  “And I know nothing about being a husband. That makes us even. Once you and I have worked through our initial clash of wills, I will send for your mother and sister with the hope that they’ll consent to visit.”

  “I doubt this will go as easily as you envision.”

  “I’m envisioning a hard-fought battle, Pilar. Nothing worth having comes easy, especially not a woman so beautiful and fearless.”

  Once again she was swept away, but managed to say. “As long as you understand.”

  “I do.”

  And with that she stood, and she was admittedly shaking inside, not out of fear of him or for her safety but of something unnamed: something that called to a portion of herself that was as intrigued by him as he claimed to be by her, even though the thinking rest of herself didn’t wish to be.

  “You still haven’t given me an answer,” he reminded her softly. “Do you wish to be courted?”

  “You don’t leave much choice, do you? Yes, you may court me. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She distinctly saw him smile that time. “This isn’t funny.”

  “No, but battling you will be fun. There’s a difference.”

  Exasperated, Pilar shook her head and left him.

  As she disappeared into the darkness, Noah mined his own thoughts. He was now certain he’d lost his mind, but the parts of him that were drawn to her didn’t care. As he’d noted, she was as lovely as she was fierce; even though it was readily apparent she’d never crossed swords on the field of courtship. He couldn’t wait to begin his quest to win her. The memory of the rapier battle resurfaced, bringing with it the glorious surge of joy he’d felt during the encounter. To experience that again even occasional
ly was worth more than gold. He’d been wearing the dark horror of the island like a lead-lined mantle for over a decade. Never once had it fully lifted—until tonight. And even now, as it slowly descended again, the knowledge that it could be banished even temporarily gave him hope that over time he might escape it permanently. She held the key, the first he’d ever found, and just thinking about her seemed to ease the pain. Because of her he knew that hidden beneath his inner darkness lay something still alive, and he wanted to feed it so it could rise and grow. And as it did, and he and his recalcitrant warrior queen feinted and parried their way to a mutual understanding, maybe, just maybe he’d get to experience the joy his brothers seemed to have found with their wives, and that gave him hope as well. He was so elated by the evening’s turn of events he wanted to wire Drew and let him know, he was finally having fun.

  Pilar’s mother and sister were waiting in the bedroom the sisters shared when she returned.

  “How did you fare?” her mother asked.

  Pilar sank into a chair. “He refuses to change his mind.” She thought back on the overwhelming encounter and fought to ignore the lingering effects on her senses. “I asked if this was his way of extracting his revenge.”

  “And his reply?”

  “No.”

  “Then why do this?” Doneta wanted to know.

  Instead of revealing he’d spoken of desire, she hedged. “He said it’s because I’m the only woman he knows who can wield a rapier.” She rolled her eyes at that, and added truthfully, “He also said that I would have a fine home, money of my own, servants. Whatever I desired he’d move heaven and earth to place at my feet.”

  Her mother stilled with surprise.

  Doneta said over a laugh. “Oh my. If you don’t want him, Pilar, I’ll take him.”

  They all laughed, and Pilar wondered how she’d survive in California without Doneta’s wonderful sense of humor. She held the gazes of the two people she loved most in the world. “He wants the two of you to come to California to visit once he and I are settled. I told him it wasn’t going to be that easy. He can’t possibly believe he’ll win me over in two months.”

  “Does he frighten you?” her mother asked quietly.

  She shook her head. “He assured me I won’t come to any harm and truthfully, I believe him. I just don’t understand why he’s so set on doing this.”

  “Maybe he’s in love with you,” Doneta said and shrugged. “Tio said he’s honorable. You could do a lot worse.”

  “But I don’t want to do at all.” She thought back to the night she ordered him to the rowboat. “He said he’d find me, and he has.” The confusion on her mother’s face made her explain what she was referencing.

  “He’s very driven then,” her mother concluded.

  “Apparently.” She quieted and thought back on his potent encounter once more. “I don’t know anything about being courted, Mama.”

  “I do,” Doneta said dreamily. “In the books, the man takes his novia walking, brings her flowers and chocolates, and sometimes when the duenna isn’t looking, he’ll steal a kiss.”

  The thought of Noah Yates kissing her made Pilar go weak. “I won’t be kissing him, Doneta.” Would he really try and kiss her? She guessed he would. Saints help her!

  Her mother was eyeing her keenly.

  “Yes, Mama?”

  “Nothing. I’m just listening to your silly sister. Did he say anything about when he’d return?”

  “No, but I told him I would see him tomorrow.”

  “Did you agree to be courted?”

  “I don’t have much choice.”

  “Maybe this will work out better than you think.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Just keep an open mind.”

  Pilar didn’t want to do or think about anything that might bring her closer to the man she’d left sitting on the patio. “I’m ready for bed.”

  “I believe we all are. It’s been quite the evening.” Her mother gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Rest well.”

  “You too, Mama.” But Pilar doubted she’d be able to, knowing she’d be facing Noah Yates for battle in the morning.

  Chapter 10

  Pilar assumed Yates would make an appearance first thing, but as the morning slid into afternoon and he’d not shown up by lunchtime, she relaxed. She hoped he’d decided that a woman who smuggled guns was indeed unworthy of further pursuit and would never bedevil her again, but she knew that to be wishful thinking. More than likely he’d been waylaid by a business matter of some sort and would visit tomorrow. In an attempt to put him out of her mind she spent the afternoon sitting in the garden having her portrait done. Doneta thought a painting of her would be an excellent keepsake when she moved to California.

  “Pilar, stop moving,” Doneta pleaded. “Each time you do, it throws things off.”

  “Sorry.” This was Pilar’s first time as a model and having to sit as still as a rock was difficult for a woman unaccustomed to doing so. “How much longer?”

  “If you keep moving about, we’ll be here until Christmas.”

  Pilar sighed.

  Her mother appeared. “Pilar.”

  Glad for the reprieve, she broke her pose and heard her sister’s frustrated groan, which she smilingly ignored. “Yes, Mama?”

  “Do you remember meeting a man last night named Luis Garcia?”

  “No.” Pilar didn’t remember anything about the evening that didn’t involve Noah Yates.

  “Apparently, Senor Garcia remembers you. He’s here and has asked me if he might sit with you in the parlor for a few moments.”

  Pilar was confused. “Why?”

  “I think he’s interested in courting you.”

  She sighed. She’d lived her entire life without any male interest and now they were lining up at the door. Granted there were only two, but that was two more suitors than she’d ever had before. “So what did you tell him?”

  “I told him yes. If you are so opposed to Mr. Yates, maybe if you show an interest in another he’ll bow out.”

  Pilar seriously doubted that but before she could express it, Doneta asked, “What does Senor Garcia look like?”

  “Looks are not always a true measure of a man, Doneta.”

  “That means he’s overweight and has a glass eye, Pilar.”

  Their mother shot her a quelling look. Doneta pretended to fiddle with her paints and their mother turned back to Pilar. “Go upstairs and change into the blue day gown we bought for you—”

  Pilar opened her mouth.

  “Do as I asked, please, unless you prefer to go to California?”

  Pilar left without another word.

  When she entered the parlor, the man she assumed to be Senor Garcia stood. He was no taller than she and appeared to be quite a few years older. There was a balding patch on the crown of his head and he sported an enormous broomlike mustache that caused her to wonder if he’d cultivated it to make up for the baldness and his short stature. He took her hand and bowed respectfully. “I am honored to see you again, Senorita Banderas.”

  Even though she still didn’t remember being introduced to him, she replied, “I am honored as well.” His hand was sweaty, so much so she had to force herself not to drag her palm over the skirt of her dress to rid it of the clammy moisture. Instead, as she sat down, she discreetly used the arm of the settee instead. At her age, she didn’t need a duenna but her mother played the role anyway because Garcia was a stranger, and her forced grin matched Pilar’s.

  His smile showed a few rotting teeth. “And how old are you?”

  Thinking that an odd way to begin the conversation, she eyed him for a moment. “Twenty-five.”

  He appeared surprised. “You look much younger.”

  “Thank you.” She supposed that was the correct response. In truth, she wanted to get to her feet and leave Senor Sweaty Hands where he sat. She gave her mother a glance and saw Be Nice displayed on her face, so she drew in a deep breath and reset her fals
e smile.

  “And how often do you attend mass?”

  Pilar believed in the Savior but her family had never attended worship regularly. “Easter and Christmas.”

  His eyebrows rose. “That is all?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see.”

  Pilar wondered how long it had taken him to grow that elaborate mustache. It seemed to originate somewhere within his nostrils and looked to weigh almost as much as he.

  “Senorita Banderas, I asked you if you’ve been baptized?”

  She’d been so intent on the hair she hadn’t heard his question. “My apologies. Yes, I’ve been baptized.”

  “At birth,” her mother added, sounding proud.

  “The woman I marry will be expected to attend mass each Sunday.”

  “I’m sure she’d find that agreeable.”

  He scanned her with mild disapproval.

  She waited.

  “I am a wealthy man.”

  “That’s very nice.” Again, she had no idea how to respond properly.

  “And your expectations of a husband?”

  “The senorita would expect her husband to have a boat.”

  Pilar froze in response to the familiar male voice, turned and saw Noah Yates standing in the doorway. His arms were filled with flowers. How long he’d been there was anyone’s guess.

  “A boat?” Garcia echoed, sounding baffled.

  “Yes. You know those vessels that move on water. The senorita likes to sail.”

  Yates bowed before her mother and presented her with a large bouquet of stemmed red roses. “Senora, I tried to find blooms as beautiful as you, but the florist said that was impossible.”

  Her chuckling mother shook her head at his outrageousness. “Thank you, Mr. Yates.”

  He then crossed to Pilar and handed her an even larger bouquet of yellow roses. “Pilar.”

  “Thank you,” she replied coolly. Doneta’s words of last night rose tauntingly. He brings his novia . . . flowers . . .

  “Who are you?” Garcia demanded.

  “Noah Yates. Miguel Ventura’s business partner.” He then asked her mother in an innocent tone, “May I join the family for dinner, senora?”

  Sitting there with a huge pile of gorgeous roses in her arms, she gave him the only obvious answer. “Of course.”