Paula Reed - [Caribbean]

by Nobodys Saint

  “Do you know those men?” A bolt of fear shot through her. This was a port filled with English pirates and privateers, many of whom might well wish to see Diego dead.

  “¡Buenas tardes, Capitán Hampton y Capitán Courtney!”

  “Hampton and Courtney! The privateer you saved in Cartagena and the man whose wife you bought in Havana?”

  “Stay a moment!” the shorter man called. His voice was different, so it had clearly been the taller one who had called out first.

  While the two Englishmen headed down the gangplank, Mary Kate turned back to Diego. “Well that first fellow sure doesn’t sound at all grateful, and you having done so much for them both!”

  “Ah, yes, well, it may be that he carries a bit of a grudge. You see, it was I who captured him and took him to Cartagena to begin with, and while he awaited his execution, I did everything in my power to steal his woman. But the name-calling is all very good-natured.”

  The man in question dodged through the crowd with his friend to join them. Illustrating his point, Diego made introductions. “Mary Katherine O’Reilly, this is Capitán Geoffrey Hampton, el hijo de puta, and Capitán Giles Courtney, a true rarity as he is a perfectly respectable Englishman.”

  “And here I thought there was no such thing,” Mary Kate said.

  The golden-haired one, Geoffrey, gave her a quick appraisal with striking golden eyes. “Not in Port Royal five minutes and you’ve found yourself a fiery little Irish wench, have you?”

  “I can leave your Faith a widow, yet, Hampton. You will watch your language in the presence of a lady. This woman is my friend, and she is under my protection.”

  Giles stepped into the awkward exchange. “He’s not changed a bit, I’m afraid,” he said to Diego. To Mary Kate he added, “Forgive him, Miss O’Reilly.”

  Mary Kate shrugged. “‘Twas an honest mistake. I don’t look much of a lady. I’ve been wearing the same dress since I left Cartagena.”

  “You’re John Hartford’s Irish heiress, then?” Geoffrey asked, and then he laughed. “This is an introduction I cannot miss!”

  Giles scowled at his friend. “Somehow I doubt ‘twill prove all that funny.” He looked at Mary Kate, and his face remained dead serious. “Just so you know, miss, both Geoff and I owe Diego more than gold can repay. If you are under his protection, then you may consider yourself under ours, as well.”

  There was a weightiness in his voice that took Mary Kate aback, and she could think of no more to say than “Thank you, sir.”

  “And given that debt and our friendship,” Geoff said, “our wives would never forgive us if we failed to invite you to join us for dinner. Grace and Faith came to the city with us to shop. I’m for Boston in a week, and Giles must take care of plantation business.”

  “I remember now,” Mary Kate said. “You have a plantation that runs without slaves, and your wife is Afri—” She stopped, suddenly aware of how rude she must have sounded.

  “Her mother was a mulatto and her father English. And you are right. We run a plantation with indentured servants and paid workers.”

  “I didn’t mean to be rude. I’ve lived most of my life in the Irish countryside, and the Caribbean is so very different from what I’ve always known. I also have a bad habit of saying whatever pops into my pea brain.”

  “I like her, Montoya,” Geoff proclaimed. “Bloody waste on a swab like Hartford.”

  “Oh, we’ll see about that,” Mary Kate said.

  “Speak of the devil,” Giles said.

  Two men approached the dock from the sprawling city, and Mary Kate needed no introductions to know which was her betrothed. One man wore an immaculate wig and elegant justacorps, the latest fashion in men’s coats. If he wasn’t the governor of Jamaica, he was some representative of the English government. The other suddenly made her mouth go dry. He was huge, perhaps six foot three, with the kind of fat that carried solid muscle underneath. She knew of no other word to describe his face than thick. His lips were thick, his eyelids were thick, his cheeks melted into substantial jowls, his forehead protruded. His hands looked like slabs of meat with fat sausages sticking out.

  If that weren’t enough, he wore a shirt that was, God help her, more rumpled and stained than her gown. His hair, what there was of it, had probably gone far longer than hers without combing, and she wasn’t entirely sure it had ever been washed. His breeches and boots were sullied by heaven only knew what.

  Somehow, she didn’t think he’d give a damn what his wife looked like, smelled like, or spoke like.

  “Mierda,” Diego whispered.

  Yes, that probably was what was clinging to the man’s boot heel. She wondered where he had stepped in it.

  The well-dressed man spoke first. “Are you the captain of the Spanish vessel that just made port? This is Miss O’Reilly?”

  For the first time in her life, Mary Kate was speechless.

  “I am Captain Diego Montoya Fernández de Madrid y Delgado Cortés, and yes, this is Miss O’Reilly.”

  The other man looked her over from under his heavy lids. “She’ll do. Did you bring anything with you?” The man’s deep, cultured English accent warred with his appearance, reminding Mary Kate that he was, after all, just another snobbish English nobleman. She could manage him.

  She hoped.

  Mary Kate pried her dry mouth open. “My dowry is in Cartagena.”

  “I know. Do you have clothes?” She nodded, and Hartford looked at Diego. “Get them out here on the dock. I shall take them to my wagon.”

  “She is not going anywhere with you,” Diego said.

  Geoffrey snickered, and Giles glared at him.

  “Do you have business here, Hampton?” Hartford snapped.

  “Montoya here is an old friend,” Geoff said.

  “Of both of ours,” Giles added.

  “Then take your friend to a pub and get drunk. Darnley,” he said to the man accompanying him, “give the man his money so he can be on his way.” His eyes, the color hard to make out under the heavy lids, slid back to Diego. “The money’s mine, but a ransom must go through the government or some such nonsense. I assure you, ‘tis all there. Comprende, Spaniard?”

  “I speak perfect English. Do you? I said she is not going anywhere with you.”

  “Quite right,” Darnley said. “Have no fear for your charge, Captain Montoya. She will not be sent to Mr. Hartford’s residence until she has been duly married.”

  “I’ve had the license for a month,” Hartford said. “A priest should be easily procured.”

  “I’m Catholic!” Mary Kate protested. “I cannot possibly get married without a proper Mass.”

  Hartford spit out a word that gained an instant reaction.

  “Even I know better than to say that in front of a woman!” Geoff muttered.

  “As of now, you are no longer Catholic. We’re Church of England here, though I’m not much of a churchgoer,” Hartford said.

  Mary Kate turned to Darnley with a look of distress that was not all affectation. “Please sir, I’ve been through so much! I can hardly be wed looking like this.”

  “I care not,” her betrothed insisted.

  “There has been a mistake,” Diego said. “Miss O’Reilly cannot stay here. She will need passage to Ireland.”

  Hartford repeated his oath. “I’ve paid a bloody fortune in ransom and forfeited her dowry. I’ll damned well have the title and inheritance that come with her. Your job is finished here, Spaniard.”

  “You must admit,” Giles said to Darnley, “it is rather a lot to expect this girl to get married here and now. She’s been dragged across the Caribbean and is no doubt a bit—overawed to be meeting her betrothed.”

  Geoff nodded toward Giles. “Enter the voice of reason.”

  “I do not think I have made myself clear,” Diego repeated. “María Catalina is not marrying this man.”

  Darnley smiled as though they were all just having a pleasant chat. “Truly, there is no need to worry,
Captain Montoya. My sister is a widow who lives here in town. Miss O’Reilly can stay with her tonight. You may consider her under the protection of the English Crown now, and I assure you she will be well cared for.”

  “You will find her a ship to Ireland?”

  “Captain, I do believe Mr. Hartford has made an excellent suggestion. I should think you have very few chances to visit with your friends,” Darnley indicated Geoff and Giles, “and you must be looking forward to a bit of rum and conversation.”

  “I cannot simply leave her here. I must be assured that she will be returned to her family.”

  “Put it out of your mind. I will take the very best care of her.”

  “This is unacceptable.”

  “How so? Her ransom has been paid and she has been united with her fiancé.”

  “That is precisely what I find unacceptable.”

  “Captain, they will need to become acquainted sometime. But I assure you, I will make quite certain no ill befalls her. Really! These are not the Middle Ages. If Miss O’Reilly refuses to marry Mr. Hartford, no one can force her. Here, if you wish to see her tomorrow, you have only to ask for me at the governor’s office, and I will arrange for you to visit.”

  “A moment,” Diego said, pulling Mary Kate away from the group. “I do not like this,” he said softly.

  “Let me work on him a while,” she whispered back.

  “Are you quite certain?”

  “You forget, I’m an expert at avoiding unwanted marriages.”

  Diego sighed and looked around him. In the whole port, he had two friends. It seemed unlikely his protests could have much influence. “If you need anything…”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I know that Darnley fellow’s kind. I’ll have him and his widow sister eating out of my hand. By morning they’ll never be able to bear turning such a delicate lass as myself over to that…that… You know, I had every kind of vile thing to call him before I’d met him, but now, there’s not a one of them strong enough.”

  “I do not like this at all.”

  “Go, Diego. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Diego forced a smile. Better they should think him completely resigned. It seemed he was picking up Mary Kate’s propensity for deception. “Well, then, Hampton and Courtney, take me to what passes for a decent taberna in your city.” He gave her one last, worried glance before he followed the two toward High Street.

  Darnley looked at Mary Kate and smiled pleasantly. “Alas, I have the very distinct impression there is nothing on God’s green earth that will persuade you to wed Mr. Hartford, is there?”

  Mary Kate eyed the gigantic Englishman in question. “Nothing personal, sir…”

  “Find a priest, Darnley.”

  Darnley looked behind him, into the crowd that had swallowed up Diego, Geoff, and Giles. “I have no doubt we can find a priest at a moment’s notice. Finding one who will swear she was a willing bride may take a bit more doing. I know of one, but he is generally tied up in one of the pubs this time of day—no telling which one—then off to some undetermined brothel afterward.”

  Mary Kate began to step backwards, but John Hartford grabbed her by the arm. Her limb seemed thin as a twig against his fat hands.

  “I want this done tonight. I like not the look of that Spaniard.”

  “You don’t know who it is you’re dealing with,” Mary Kate warned, although she had quite the feeling it was she who knew not with whom she dealt. It seemed terrifyingly likely she had met her match.

  Darnley and Hartford ignored her. “The Spaniard has leave to stay a few short hours. I’ll have soldiers track him down. Hampton is well known. A few questions should lead us straight to him and his companion. We’ll send Montoya and his ship back into Spanish waters. For now, he is out of the way, and I can have the ransom delivered to his ship with his first mate to sign for it so there can be no question as to the legality of the transfer.”

  “To hell with the legalities. I have the contract. I’ve paid her ransom. She is mine.”

  “She wouldn’t be the first unwilling bride in Port Royal, but I must answer to the governor, and I’m certain he would draw the line at my leaving a baronet’s granddaughter at the mercy of a man not yet her husband.”

  “Calder Larcombe wouldn’t give a damn.”

  “Never know about those bloody new nobles. Have patience. She’ll be yours in the morning.”

  He reached for Mary Kate, and her first impulse was to put up a battle royal, but a quick survey of the rough crowed surrounding her left her wondering at the wisdom of that course. Instead, she whimpered and cowered.

  “I’ll keep her,” Hartford said. “Lead me to your sister’s.”

  “Look at her,” Darnley said. Mary Kate whimpered again, and he smirked. “I can handle this little slip of a girl. Elaine has bars on her windows to keep out thieves. I’ll just lock your bride in the bedroom and she’ll be there safe and sound when we’ve found our priest. Go find yourself a whore and celebrate your last night of freedom.”

  Hartford laughed. “Marriage shan’t be changing my life any, but if you insist. Take her wherever you like, for now, but have that priest there in the morning.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  For a while, Mary Kate allowed herself to be led through the streets of the city, but she observed sharply both the buildings and people that surrounded her. The buildings were important because she hoped to find the office for the shipping company owned by Diego’s friends. In telling her the story of Geoffrey Hampton, Diego had explained that the former privateer was now a legitimate merchantman, with a business owned in partnership with his former first mate. The citizens offered her reassurance that her dismal appearance would still work in her favor. Granted, her gown was a bit modest and her face lacked paint, but in her rumpled gown and with her disheveled hair, she could be one of the many whores she passed along the way.

  If she didn’t happen to spy the office, then she needed to be well enough away from the dock that Darnley might not think to seek her in that direction.

  And perhaps it was even less probable than finding the shipping office, but she searched the crowd for Diego’s lanky, familiar form.

  They seemed to be approaching a break in the city. At the far end of the street, the rabble thinned out and the buildings took on the appearance of houses rather than businesses. Doubtless, they were getting closer to Darnley’s sister’s house. They walked past a brothel and a group of men gathered under the upstairs window, where a trio of women in sheer shifts held court.

  “Good heavens, that’s my grandfather!” Mary Kate cried to Darnley, pointing across the street from the brothel.

  “Where?” Darnley said, squinting at passersby.

  “Right there, in the white wig and dark coat.”

  Darnley craned his neck, loosening his grip on Mary Kate, and she slid her arm out from under his hand. “That man right there. Grandfather!”

  “Sir Calder!” Darnley yelled, and he headed across the street, obviously assuming Mary Kate would follow.

  She turned and bolted to the cluster of men outside the brothel. There was no time to be fastidious. She grabbed the man nearest the door and pulled him close, dragging him backward into the whorehouse. It seemed to be enough to break the ice, and a half dozen others followed, blocking her completely from the view of the street. As far as poor Darnley knew, she would have disappeared into thin air.

  Her unwitting savior smelled to high heaven, and his hands roamed freely, but at the moment, it seemed the least of her worries. She smiled at him and swatted at his hands. “You’ll have to pay for that privilege, I’ll have you know.” Even as she spoke, she craned her neck to see if there might be a back door into an alleyway.

  One of the women from the window was already downstairs and tapped her on the shoulder rather forcefully. “Well, ‘oo do we ‘ave ‘ere?”

  “No one,” Mary Kate assured her. “Just bringing you a little extra business. You weren�
�t going to make anything from a bunch of gawkers, now, were you?”

  “Well, there’s no room fer ye, ‘ere! Move on and find yer trade elsewhere!”

  The man she had grabbed took hold of her now. “I want this one!”

  Mary Kate shrugged. “Sorry, there’s no room here.”

  “I’ve got me own room elsewhere.”

  She started to refuse, then thought better of it. “How far?”

  “Nearly to the dock.”

  “Perfect!” she said, putting her arm through his. “But my man’s just outside there, and he gets in a foul temper if he thinks I’m not hunting rich enough sport. ‘Tis better if he don’t see me with a common sailor. Can I wear your coat?”

  As the sailor pulled the garment off, the woman who had spoken earlier piped in. “Yer poachin’ on our property, I’ll ‘ave ye know.”

  Mary Kate looked around. “There’s three of you and six other of these men. You’ll never miss this one.”

  “Try it again and ye’ll not be worth a bloody copper when we’re through with ye.”

  With an eager nod, Mary Kate agreed never to return. She wrapped herself in the sailor’s tattered coat. It was stiff and smelled of stale sweat and rum, but she hoped it made her gown slightly less recognizable.

  As soon as she and her escort stepped into the street, she spotted Darnley’s back. He was standing with several people, talking while they shook their heads at his queries. Mary Kate carefully placed her sailor between her and the Jamaican official.

  “What’s your name, love?” she asked the sailor, peering past him.

  “Jamie.”

  “Well, Jamie, is your room here on this street?”

  “Over on Lime Street.”

  “Can we head in that direction, now?”

  Jamie grinned. “Yer an eager wench!”

  “With a fine looking man like you, who could blame me?” She smiled up at him, and he led her quickly down a series of alleys and onto another main road.

  She nearly laughed at her good fortune, for the sailor’s room was at an inn very close to the docks indeed. He pointed to the place, and she pulled him to a stop. “I have to get something from a friend at the dock. Wait here and I’ll be right back.”