Paula Reed - [Caribbean]

by Nobodys Saint

  “What? Wait a minute—”

  “‘Tis a surprise, but you’ll like it, I’m sure. Something I was saving for another gent later, but since we’re so close…”

  “Something from the docks?” The sailor scratched his head then smiled. “Something from the Orient?”

  Mary Kate frowned for a moment. She had no idea what he might be thinking, but if it would appease him, what did she care? She smiled beguilingly. “You’re a clever man. How did you guess?”

  He grinned back. “I’ve seen what’s in some of them stalls.”

  She had the feeling she might be glad she hadn’t.

  “Wait right here?”

  “I won’t move. Don’t be long.”

  “I’ll be right back!”

  Once again, it didn’t take her long to get lost from sight among people and stalls. Port Royal was an easy place to escape notice. If she caught a man’s eye, she smiled regretfully and told him that she had a previous engagement. In the meantime, she went back to watching the crowd carefully. Captain Hampton had said his and Giles’s wives were shopping. How hard could it be to find a white woman and a Negro shopping together?

  Harder than she had thought. White women were commonly attended by black servants who carried their mistresses’ purchases. She paused to think about it and suddenly caught a whiff of the sailor’s jacket. She felt a little guilty. He probably couldn’t afford another. But neither could she risk returning it. She took it off and carried it with her, in case she should spy Darnley or Hartford and have need of it again. The slaves shopping with mistresses were dressed in coarse garments. She couldn’t imagine that Giles would allow his wife to dress in that fashion, so she began to look for a light woman and a dark one more clearly equal in dress. She even asked several proprietors of stalls.

  Finally, she decided they must have gone to shops located in the town proper, something she had hoped to avoid, given the fact that she was running from two men and had stolen a coat from a third. She also had no idea where to find the kinds of shops that would appeal to the wives of a merchant captain and a farmer. Mother Mary, help me out here, she prayed. Desperate, she turned to two women who had been purchasing spices in the stall next to her. They wore clean, well-made gowns of simple fabrics—a good indication they might know of the kinds of shops she was looking for. They were both extraordinarily beautiful, one with the very palest skin and sleek white-blond hair, the other with countless ringlets and skin the color of gold.

  “Excuse me?” Mary Kate asked.

  Both women looked at her, and their brows lifted in surprise. Too late, Mary Kate remembered the very clothing that had served her in good stead among rougher company left her looking sadly out of place with these two. She ran a hand through her tangled hair.

  “I don’t mean to trouble you, but can you tell me where else women such as yourselves shop in this city?”

  “What are you looking for?” the fair one asked.

  “Well, it’s not so much a what, as a who. I’m looking for two women, a White and an African, only they’re not mistress and slave. The African’s free.”

  The golden one gave her an arch look. “There are more free Africans in Port Royal than you might realize.”

  Suddenly Mary Kate felt very awkward. It didn’t help that she knew what this pair assumed about her. “Thank you for your time,” she said and turned to go. Another thought stuck her, and she called back to them, “I don’t suppose you can tell me where I’d find a place called Hampton and Courtney Shipping?”

  Again, elegant brows lifted in surprise. “What business have you with Courtney and Hampton shipping?” the golden woman asked.

  “The owners are friends of a friend. You know where it is then?”

  “And the name of this friend?” the pale one asked.

  Mary Kate pulled herself up a little straighter. “At the moment, I may not look as well kept as you, but I assure you, I’m your equal, and it’s no concern of yours. If you’ll not tell me where I might find their office, I’ll be on my way.”

  “These two women you seek,” the woman continued, “I presume you are looking for Giles and Geoffrey’s wives.”

  Despite her determination to put this pair in their place, Mary Kate jumped at the chance to find someone to help her. “Faith Hampton and Grace Courtney? As a matter of fact, I am.”

  “Well, then, you’ve found them,” the golden one said. “I am Grace Courtney, and this is Faith Hampton.”

  Mary Kate’s jaw dropped. “But you’re white!”

  “I am what I am.”

  Mary Kate looked a little more closely, and then felt even more inept than she had a moment before. The woman’s wildly curly hair, the slightly broader nose and full lips all hinted at a heritage beyond Europe alone. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  “Possibly.”

  “Grace!” her friend admonished.

  Mary Kate smoothed her hair again and tugged at her skirt, wishing she had one of her clean, pressed gowns. “I’m sorry! I truly am. I know what ‘tis like being thought the less of for who your parents are, but I wasn’t thinking anything like that. I promise.”

  “Weren’t you?” Grace asked.

  “I believe her,” Faith said. “You’re Irish?”

  Mary Kate straightened her spine. “I am.”

  “But I gather you’ve spent a bit of time among the English?”

  For a horrifying moment Mary Kate thought perhaps her accent had revealed that. Mother of God, she was beginning to sound English! “How could you know?”

  “Your comment of being thought less of. You’re from the north, perhaps?”

  “A village just outside Londonderry. But late from Bristol, England, where I was living with my grandfather.”

  “There, you see, Grace? In England the Irish are held in only slightly higher esteem than free Africans here. I don’t imagine that she meant to offend. Apparently you know our husbands and now you know us. We are at a disadvantage.”

  “Forgive me! Mary Katherine O’Reilly. I only met the captains a few hours ago, when Diego and I first made port.”

  “Diego?” Grace asked.

  “Diego Montoya Fernández de Madrid y Delgado Cortés?” Faith said.

  “The friend I mentioned.”

  “Well, good heavens, why did you not say so?” Grace said.

  “Is he here?” Faith asked.

  “He is, and I didn’t say so because when you asked me I didn’t yet know who you were, and you were busy looking down your noses at me.”

  Faith looked her over again. “Well, you might not blame us for that.”

  Mary Kate glanced back down at her rumpled skirt. “I might not, at that. I look a mess, but it’s helped me fit in here, and I needed to do that to get to you. I’m in a bit of a fix, as it were, and it might be better if we could get off of the street. There’s a gentleman or two might be looking for me. Maybe three.”

  “We could take you to the office,” Grace said.

  “But Geoff’s ship, Destiny, would be better,” said Faith.

  Mary Kate joined them, and soon she found herself back at the pier where Magdalena awaited Diego’s return. Her heart got stuck in her throat at the sight of several naval officers and Darnley on board. She saw no sign of Diego.

  She pulled the sailor’s coat back over her gown. “There’s a bit of a problem.”

  Grace looked at the deck of Magdalena. “Is Diego in trouble?”

  “I’m not sure. He was with your captains when I saw him last. But ‘tis me that man’s looking for.”

  “This way,” Faith said and led them up the gangplank of the ship that Mary Kate had seen the two Englishmen earlier. Faith and Grace walked so that Mary Kate would not be easily visible to the men on Magdalena. They hardly paused to greet Destiny’s crew, marching straight to the hatch that led below deck.

  “I’ll get her some new clothes and pull her hair up,” Faith said to Grace. “You go back up on deck and await Geoff and Giles
. We must find Diego and find out what this is all about.”

  “Oh, I can tell you that,” Mary Kate said.

  Grace gave their new acquaintance a reluctant look. “I’d not mind hearing the tale, myself. But very well, I suppose someone must stand lookout, and since ‘tis your cabin, I suppose you should stay and take care of Diego’s latest damsel in distress.” She smiled. “He’s making quite a habit of this.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The pub was packed with hard-drinking sailors and other locals, and though a few gave Diego’s Spanish dress a nasty perusal, most were too busy imbibing and wenching to take their malice any further. The serving wenches knew that generous coins came from men who were too drunk to keep track of their tabs or who were seeking a few hours of company. There was no money to be made in a brawl, so they kept their customers distracted and happy.

  Rum was a sweeter drink than Diego cared for, but he joined Geoff and Giles in drinking bumboo, where the liquor was watered and flavored with nutmeg. He had told them an abbreviated version of his story and was currently mulling over ways to get Mary Kate away from John Hartford without violating his country’s agreement with hers.

  “Had it been me,” Geoff said, “I’d have had my way with her before bringing her here. Even Hartford wouldn’t touch a Spaniard’s used goods.”

  “Had it been you,” Diego answered with a trace of hostility, “you would have had your way with her before you reached Cartagena. You have no sense of honor.” He was only too aware of the fact that Geoff had not waited for a betrothal, much less marriage, when it had come to Faith.

  Geoff shrugged. “Either way, you’d not be in this bind.”

  “You’re impossible, Geoff,” Giles said. “At this point, Diego, I should think it goes without saying that your country’s contract with ours is no longer an issue. You wish to steal her out from under Darnley and Hartford.”

  Diego shook his head. “In the strictest terms, my country’s contract is my only remaining obligation. There must be some way to assist María Catalina without compromising Don Juan and others who have placed their faith in me.”

  “Don Juan’s faith will make for a very cold bedmate.”

  “Unlike you, Captain Hampton, I think of more than my own gratification. Furthermore, I do not wish to aid Miss O’Reilly in order to win her to my bed. That I could have accomplished long ago, if I had chosen to. Sometimes a man may aid a woman out of chivalry.”

  “Turned him down cold,” Geoff said to Giles.

  It was a difficult thing when chivalry warred with male pride. If only Hampton knew how very easily he could have had María Catalina as his lover. Certainly, he would never say such a thing, so he merely shrugged.

  “I’ll be damned,” Geoff said, after a healthy swallow of bumboo. “You’re a better man than I.”

  Diego frowned at him. “I do not know what you mean.”

  “Had she snubbed you, you would have made up a lie. Successful men are the only ones who can keep their mouths shut where women are concerned.”

  Giles nodded in agreement. “But not far enough to get her out of this?”

  Diego looked straight at Geoff when he answered. “I respect a woman’s virtue.”

  Geoff raised his hands in defeat. “I married her!”

  “None of this withstanding,” Giles interrupted, “who’s to know that Diego is such a noble fellow? It would be a simple enough matter to claim…”

  “Once again, my friends, you miss the point. I was trusted to bring María Catalina here in marriageable condition. I have given my word.”

  “A hell of a lot of good your word will be to her if she’s forced to marry Hartford,” Geoff countered. “And did you have some ridiculous Spanish name for Faith?”

  He had not. It had not even occurred to him to give her some term of endearment in his native tongue. But María Catalina had become so much a part of his world that it had seemed only natural to give her a name that fit into it, as well. Still, knowing how Geoff would interpret his silence, he only smiled and shrugged.

  At Geoff’s dark scowl, Giles laid a hand on his friend’s arm. “Water under the bridge, Geoff.”

  “Besides,” Diego said, repeating Darnley’s word’s, “these are not the Middle Ages. No one can force her to marry against her will.”

  Geoff and Giles exchanged frowns. “Haven’t spent much time in Port Royal, have you?” Geoff asked.

  “Bloody bastard,” Giles muttered, looking up at the doorway and a new arrival. “D’you suppose he followed us?”

  “Over here, Dora my love, with a bottle of rum and your lovely self!” John Hartford cried to one of the serving maids. “‘Tis my last night of freedom, for on the morrow I’m a married man!”

  Diego did not bother to turn around and look at Hartford. He beckoned to another serving maid and asked her for a tankard of straight rum.

  “Finally found a blind wench to take you, John?” a man called out.

  “What of your heiress?” asked another.

  “My heiress has been delivered to me after all,” John answered.

  The first man chortled. “After servicing whole crews of pirates and Spaniards, even old John here don’t look so bad!”

  “Bite your tongue. I have Spain’s word she’s been delivered unscathed.”

  “Spain’s word, eh?” the second man said with a smirk. “And has your bride laid eyes upon you yet?”

  “At the dock today.”

  “She’ll bolt,” the first predicted.

  “She’s holed up at some house Darnley knows. On the morrow she’s my wife, willing or not!”

  “What does he mean?” Diego said to Geoff and Giles.

  “This is Port Royal,” Giles said. “‘Tis not uncommon for pirates to take women from ships and sell them as wives here. Few enough of them are willing.”

  Diego gave them a look of revulsion. “And you have done this?”

  “We were privateers, Montoya,” Geoff said. “For God’s sake, give us a little credit.”

  “Then if María Catalina refuses…”

  “It will matter very little,” Giles finished.

  Diego rose slowly from his seat, turning to face John Hartford, who by now had joined his acquaintances at the table behind him. “I can personally assure you, Señor Hartford, that your betrothed has serviced neither a pirate crew nor a Spanish one.”

  Hartford’s thick lips formed an uneven leer. “You see there, fellows? That is the Spaniard who brought her here.”

  “Sí. I rescued her from the pirates and took her first to Havana, then Cartagena. No serious harm befell her on the pirate ship, for they wanted full ransom.”

  Hartford nodded. “Sounds perfectly reasonable to me.”

  “And of course, I kept her well away from my crew.”

  “Bloody decent of you,” Hartford replied, beaming.

  “This is how I know that your bride has, in fact, serviced only one Spaniard.”

  For a moment, Hartford continued to smile stupidly. Then slowly, his entire bloated face seemed to run down into his ponderous jowls. “What did you say?”

  “I am quite certain that when I rescued her, Mary Katherine O’Reilly was a virgin.”

  Geoff turned to Giles with a grim look. “We’re going to have to fight on Diego’s side, aren’t we?”

  “Well, we cannot leave him one against fifty.”

  Geoff looked around. “At least another fifteen of these men have sailed under us at one time or another. I suppose we should let them know whose side we’re on.” He stood up behind Diego. “That why you must use force, John? Your heiress compared you to her Spaniard and found you wanting?”

  “Stay out of this, Hampton.”

  Giles stood, too. “He’s right Geoff. What business is it of ours if John Hartford wants to marry a Spaniard’s whore?”

  At the laughter that erupted throughout the common room, Hartford’s face went purple, but Diego doubted the other man’s anger could be any more
intense than his own. To be forced to drag María Catalina’s name through the mud in a taberna full of drunken Englishmen and betray Don Juan’s trust made his stomach turn worse than the sickening-sweet rum he had been drinking. But he had come this far, and there was no turning back.

  “The ransom message I was sent guaranteed that she was untouched!”

  Diego shrugged. “I know nothing of the message. She was my mistress before we reached Havana. It was a well known fact that we did nothing to hide.”

  “That’s a lie! If she is your mistress, then why have you brought her here?”

  He picked up his rum and forced himself to take a leisurely draught despite his nausea. “She was beginning to bore me. We had already done everything I could think of—even a few things I learned from whores in the Far East.”

  Another burst of raucous laughter and Hartford upended the table he and his friends had been drinking at. “You filthy son of a Spanish bitch!”

  Awkwardly, but with more alacrity than might be expected of a man his size, Hartford stepped on and over the overturned table and advanced. Diego would have felt infinitely better if he could have drawn his sword, but these were close quarters, and if the fight went to swords, more than one man would lose his life in the fray.

  He blocked Hartford’s first punch, but the second found his gut, and by all that was holy, he thought he would never breathe again. The next blow from Hartford’s beefy fist caught him in the face and a sharp pain exploded in his head. He went down against the table and grabbed his tankard of rum, tossing its contents into his opponent’s eyes and giving himself a chance to catch his breath and his balance and land a punch of his own.

  There was a time, probably only fifteen minutes ago, that such a dishonest tactic would have been unthinkable to Capitán Diego Montoya Fernández de Madrid y Delgado Cortés. But as a fist the size of a coconut came flying toward him once again, Diego cast all thoughts of honor and fair play aside and kicked Hartford hard between the legs before going after him again.

  He had been in more than his share of battles on ships’ decks, and even as he gave Hartford most of his concentration, he wondered why it was he had yet to feel some other Englishman jump him from behind. While he had Hartford on the floor momentarily, he glanced behind him to find Geoff and Giles defending him as gallantly as ever the men of his crew had. Beyond that, it was nearly impossible to tell who was on which side in the pandemonium that had broken out, but at least he did not have an entire common room of men trying to kill him. It was good to have friends.