He didn’t get another word out. A fist flew past her shoulder, followed by an arm and well-muscled shoulder, as Alejandro defended her honor with his bare hands. His knuckles connected with Albert’s jaw, and the tall man stumbled back. Irene squeaked and scrambled out of the way. Thorne started forward and the sailors came to their feet much more warily. As Albert had expressed his view of their inferiority several times, Hope had no doubt whose side they were on.
Recovering from the blow, Albert squared his shoulders and assumed a boxer’s stance. “Try again, Córdoba. Make it a fair fight, if you even know how.”
Alejandro barked a laugh, the angriest, snarliest laugh she had ever heard. Yet his hand reached behind him, finding her shoulder, touching her gently. Urging her to step away. She moved several steps back, watching, more interested than afraid.
“I have wanted to knock you down since I met you, cerdo egoísto. My manners are all that have saved you.” He got into a fighting stance that appeared far more threatening than Albert’s high-held fists. Alejandro stood with hands open and body crouched, like a jaguar preparing to spring.
Albert’s nostrils flared. “You cannot even fight like a gentleman.”
“I will let you take the first swing.” Alejandro came closer and lifted his chin, presenting a target. Hope held her breath. What was he doing?
Without so much as a pause, Albert lunged forward, using momentum from his step through his shoulder and propelling his arm toward Alejandro’s face.
With an ease Hope did not believe, Alejandro snatched the taller man’s wrist out of the air, twisted it, then lifted a knee into Albert’s abdomen. Another twist, and Albert flew forward, stumbling but somehow remaining on his feet. He whirled around, his face redder than a boiled lobster’s.
“You cannot do that!”
One of the sailors clapped his hands. “It is like the slaves’ dance.” The other two sailors nodded and clapped as well, as though Alejandro’s technique was not at all unusual. Hope stared at them, then at Alejandro.
“Where I am from,” Alejandro said, “there are many who fight like this. It is far superior to anything you English might come up with.” Albert charged again before Alejandro finished speaking, but Alejandro deftly stepped into a thrust with the heel of his hand that caught Albert on the chin. Alejandro hooked Albert’s knee with one foot and sent the arrogant man down to the dirt.
Alejandro leaned over a groaning Albert. “You will never give insult to Miss Everly again. Swear it.”
“I swear,” Albert hissed.
Alejandro walked away. He did not even look back at Hope. Madden, the tallest sailor, patted his shoulder as Alejandro passed.
Hope turned away from everyone, not wanting to see what the reaction was to the fight, though she kept her head held high as she walked to her usual place to watch the horizon, praying for rescue. The walk was easier this time. While she wished no harm on any creature, Albert’s insinuations had filled her with enough anger that she had been ready to challenge him to a duel herself.
She climbed up the rocks and settled herself in her usual place, heedless of the sun upon her mostly bare arms. She took down her hair and studied the scrap of linen. Why bother with it now? She tied the linen around her wrist, using her teeth to tighten the knot. Then she pulled the chain from beneath her gown and wrapped her hand around the ring Alejandro had given her.
Earnestly, she prayed for rescue. Prayed for Alejandro’s mother to see him again. For her mother, father, brother, sisters, to welcome her home. Then she opened her eyes, wrapped her arms around her legs, and waited.
Hours passed, and she only shifted positions when she began to ache. Then she stood for a time, staring out to sea. Alejandro came, but he did not speak. He only put food on the rock near her, smiled wanly, then settled on the ground below where she kept watch.
She nibbled at the offering, out of politeness more than anything.
“Rescue will come.”
Hope blinked and looked down at Alejandro, finding him still staring out to sea.
“I had stopped believing, before I met you. An angel on the beach.” He glanced up at her, a smile on his face. Yet again, she wondered what he would look like clean shaven and with a cravat tucked at his neck. Would his hair still appear curly if it were shorter?
“I truly hope you are right,” she said, heaviness settling over her shoulders. She turned back to the water, staring, and then—
Hope came to her feet and pointed. “Alejandro. Is that—?”
“A ship,” he said. Then he was scrambling over the rocks toward the sail. He grabbed an end of it and pulled, helping it open wider and catch the wind. Hope hurried to help him, taking the corner and pulling it out further. The wind whipped at them both, but filled the white cloth. It would stand out against the black rocks of the island, billowing and waving.
They watched, though tears blurred Hope’s vision, and after a time she realized the ship was coming closer. Toward the island. To them.
Signal flags. A cannon firing. And—a British flag.
With the cannon shot, others came to the lookout position. Hope did not take her eyes off the ship, even though she heard the others screaming, crying, praying, shouting for joy.
They were saved.
Her arms aching, she turned to Alejandro, the one who had waited longest for rescue. He wasn’t looking at the ship at all. His dark gaze rested upon her, sadness and joy mingling in his eyes. She forced a smile and the wind caught the tears falling from her eyes.
Hours later, Hope stood at the rail of the English trading ship. A ship that had not known to look for them but had been blown off course by the same storm that finally put out their fire days before. Someone had given Hope a blanket which she held around her shoulders.
Mrs. Morgan stood beside her. Irene and her brother had retreated below. Alejandro had withdrawn to speak with the captain, as had the doctor and Mr. Thorne.
“I have certainly had my fill of adventure,” Mrs. Morgan murmured, covering one of Hope’s hands with her own.
Though Hope did not answer, she knew in her heart that she did not feel quite the same. What was life without adventure? True, she had come closer to calamity than ever before while living on that island, but she had no wish to spend the rest of her life by a hearth in a sleepy village, either.
“You will stay with us, I think, when we return to St. Kitt’s,” Mrs. Morgan continued.
Hope turned to her, startled. “With you?”
“I cannot see the Carlburys forgiving you anytime soon.” Mrs. Morgan smiled, despite the seriousness of her words. “Even if their parents are more reasonable than the children, there are other things to consider. You had best stay with us until you decide what to do.”
Hope already knew her course. “I am going home.”
Mrs. Morgan’s eyebrows raised, and she glanced toward the stern of the ship, where the captain stood with the other men. “You will not wed Señor Córdoba?”
The tattered remains of her heart twisted. “I will not. He has his duty to return to, and my parents will expect me to come back to them, I think, after all that has happened.” Though Mrs. Morgan appeared dubious, she said nothing and put her other hand over her abdomen. “Thank you for letting me stay with you until things are sorted out for my journey,” Hope added.
Watching the island recede, Hope wondered at what had happened to her while there. She could never hate the island. Not when she had met Alejandro on its shores, and fallen in love with him. If he had asked her to wait for him, she would have. Had he asked her to join him on the journey to his homeland, she would have. But he did not ask. He gave her all the reasons it could not be.
Though Hope had often done as she wished in the past, she had never attempted to dictate to another how they ought to feel or behave. She would not start now, with the man she loved.
Hope wiped away a tear, not caring that Mrs. Morgan saw.
24
In a gown of gr
een, a wide straw bonnet, and delicate shoes, Hope sat beneath a willow tree. The tree did not seem to mind the heat and humid air, but Hope kept the fan in her hands moving rapidly in an effort to cool herself. Mrs. Morgan’s maid had done up Hope’s hair in a variety of twists and tucks that nearly kept it in place, but the back of her neck still itched where one too many pins pulled at her skin.
Going about with her hair loose and no shoes covering her feet had undoubtedly been the freest and coolest she had felt since her original arrival on St. Kitt’s shores.
The hand that did not work the fan grasped Alejandro’s ring on its chain. He was coming today. Doctor Morgan had told them at breakfast. And Hope had excused herself to the outside as quickly as possible.
Alejandro had not visited even once before. She had not even caught a glimpse of him since they were rescued and returned to the safety of St. Kitt’s. The Carlburys had swooped up their children in their arms; Mrs. Carlbury had embraced Hope, too. But the Morgans had been right about the true lack of welcome.
The doctor and Mr. Carlbury had worked together to secure her passage and the companionship of a married woman returning to England. She would leave tomorrow for home.
Was that why Alejandro finally decided to pay her a call? Because he knew she would be gone? Perhaps he had not missed her the last week as she had missed him.
“How did I guess you would not be inside?”
Hope’s fan stilled. She swallowed and raised her head to see beyond the brim of her bonnet. Even in boots, Alejandro walked with the silence of a cat. The boots she saw first, polished, though worn. Then trousers, neatly pressed and tucked into the tops of the boots. Coat-sleeve tips, strong brown hands peeking out of them. She swallowed.
Lifting her chin all the way, she found his eyes as deep, warm, and gentle as ever. The rest of him, she realized with a blush, was just as handsome. He had kept a close-cropped beard, but the strong line of his jaw was easily visible now. His cheekbones were defined just above the beard. His hair had been trimmed shorter than most would allow was fashionable, yet it suited him.
He bowed. “Might I introduce myself? I am Alejandro Felipe de Córdoba y Verduzco, of La Plata.” When he raised up from the bow, she finally remembered her manners and stood from her chair.
“I am most pleased to meet you, Señor Córdoba.” Her voice trembled, which would not do. She sank into a curtsy. “I am Miss Hope Everly, of Aldersy in Suffolk.”
Only the smallest of smiles touched his lips. “Hope. Es un honor conocerte.” He stood still, staring at her, and she made no effort to speak, either. As near as they were, as much as she had tried to put him from her mind, it took all of her control to stay out of his arms. If he held out even a hand to her, she would wrap him in her embrace.
“I came to say goodbye.”
Hope’s heart trembled. “Why?”
His expression fell from one of warmth to a pained frown. “Mi hermosa, we discussed this. We cannot—there is too much uncertainty in my life.”
She laughed, a helpless sound. “More uncertainty than whether you will be trapped on an island your whole life?”
His lips twitched, but he shrugged. She noticed how loose his cravat was about his neck, how casually tied, as though he had done it himself. The clothes he wore, she realized, were not of the finest quality. They did not fit his frame. How had he come by them?
"Hope.” He gestured to the garden behind them. Small. Simple by English standards. But a little green with trees to stroll beneath. “Will you walk with me?”
She nodded and came to take his arm, finding it felt so natural to slip her hand through the crook of his elbow. Everything inside her ached anew the moment they touched.
When he spoke, he began hesitantly. “On the island, I was not thinking clearly. Though you gave me reason to pray, to have faith, that we would be rescued, I did not think much beyond that event. Here we are, safe now, and I must face the realities of my situation. I have learned much about what happened in my homeland, but no one can tell me of my family. Spain has marched on my people, my people have fought back. Lands have been taken and redistributed. People have fled inland, or back to Europe.” His tone grew more earnest, more firm, with each word.
“I could go with you to find out what happened,” she whispered, already knowing his answer. She’d known since they spoke on the island that he would never allow it.
Alejandro stopped their walk in order to turn to her, placing both his hands on her shoulders. His dark eyebrows were drawn down, his mouth set in a firm line. Oh, how she wished to kiss him once more. “My honor requires that I not take a wife until I know if I can provide a stable future. I do not know how long it will take.”
“I will wait for you,” she promised, as she should have on the island.
But he sadly shook his head. “For how long? I must return to my father’s home, and I cannot simply leave when I see what has happened. I have been away for too long. My family likely will not let me on a boat right away. My country is at war. I do not know how long it will take. We could not even write to each other without waiting months and months for responses.” Alejandro’s right hand came up to cup her cheek, and she leaned into it.
“How could I ever wish for a man other than you?” she asked, voice soft. “There can be no other, Alejandro.”
He bent beneath the brim of her bonnet, touching his forehead to hers. Why not kiss her? Why not make promises of love and a future together?
“You are breaking my heart,” he whispered. “There is no easy answer. No easy way. I cannot ask you to wait. I will not expect it of you. We barely know each other. With time apart, you might realize your feelings for me are nothing, magnified only by the desperate place we were in.”
Hope pulled back and stared at him in shock. “Is that how you feel?” Why else would he assume her emotions and heart were so fickle?
“No.” His shoulders dropped, and he reached a hand up to his beard, then to the back of his head. “I feel tired. I must find a way back to my family. I cannot even afford passage on a ship without working, or offering to work for my passage. Do you see, Hope? I cannot take you home with me. I haven’t the means to transport myself. These clothes—they are cast-offs from Thorne and one of his friends on the island. I have nothing. Nothing.”
“You have me,” she whispered, heart aching. “But it sounds as though you do not want me.”
He growled and wrapped his arm about her waist, pulling her close. “I love you, impossible woman. Mi bella inglesa. Quiero besarte. Abrazarte. Cada día. Por el resto de nuestras vidas. Pero, no.” He scoffed at himself and stepped away, releasing her on the last word. “The world is too uncertain a place. Go home to your family. Plan a new adventure. I will think of you every day for the rest of my life. In time, perhaps these feelings will weaken.”
Hope stripped off the necklace, the ring still upon it. “If that is how you feel, you had better take your mother’s ring with you.” She kept her tone even, her words neither cold nor warm. The pain in his eyes was enough to tell her the truth of his feelings, had his words not done the trick. He could not see a future for them. “I can do the honorable thing, too.”
He caught the ring in his hand and she released the chain. “Hope—”
Eyes stinging, she forced a smile. “Miss Everly. Goodbye, Señor Córdoba. May God go with you and keep you safe.”
Alejandro’s smile was as broken as her own. “Y a tí también, Miss Everly.” She rushed away before he could bow again, running for the kitchen door that would let her back into the Morgans’ house. She ran up to her room, which overlooked the street, and sat in the window. Watching. Waiting for her last sight of him.
No man’s head had ever hung so low, she thought, as his when he stepped back into the street. He did not look up. And he took her heart away with him.
Alejandro went to the docks the day her ship departed. He avoided seeing her. Stayed behind carts and carriages as the Morgans bid her good
bye. The Carlburys had not even come to bid her farewell. An older woman waited on the deck of the ship and greeted Hope with a smile. It seemed she would be looked after.
He stayed until the boat was guided from the harbor. Stayed until it faded from view on the horizon. In his borrowed clothes, Alejandro did not even look fully like a gentleman amid all those working, conducting business, and no one gave him a second glance.
A new boat had come into the harbor while he stood there, its ropes tied off on the deck near him. When he finally turned to leave, his last sight of Hope’s ship long since passed, he saw the people disembarking. Mostly men stepped off the boat, never sparing him a glance, and he gave them just as little attention.
Until someone grabbed his shoulder. “Señor Alejandro?”
He turned, his heart choking him. “Señor Flores!” The older gentleman, one of his father’s friends, appeared nearly the same as the last time Alejandro had seen him, years ago. Perhaps a little grayer at the temples. But—
When Señor Flores embraced him, Alejandro returned the gesture whole-heartedly. Then the older gentleman kissed him on both cheeks, murmuring praises to heaven the whole time. He spoke in Castilian, the lilting language music to Alejandro’s ears.
“We thought you dead. Your parents. Your brother! They would not give up. They said you would come home someday. But the news of the wreck finally reached us. Hijo, they will be filled with joy.”
“My parents—they are still in good health?” Alejandro stood back from the man and watched for any sign of hesitation. But Señor Flores merrily struck Alejandro on the shoulder. “The best of health. I have only just seen them. Well. Two months ago, they were in good health.”
“You are come from Buenos Aires?”
“No, from Spain. Madrid.” Señor Flores clapped his hand to his forehead. “Ah, you will not know anything about that. Come. Let us find some place to sit, and I will tell you everything.”
Madrid? Alejandro’s head started to spin and he turned, looking out to sea. Europe. His family was in Europe, and Hope would soon be nearer to them than he.
Saving Miss Everly: A Regency Romance (Inglewood Book 3) Page 22