by Shirl Henke
“Good. You both need a bath,” she said breathlessly, pushing away from his grasp and eyeing his bristly golden beard with distaste. “You have been gone for a fortnight. Hojeda must have given you good sport.”
His face creased in an arrogant grin. “That the little popinjay did, but Roldan has him well in tow before the governor now.”
“They sailed in, all bathed and ready for an audience while you, of course, could not accompany them aboard ship.” She could not resist the taunt, knowing how sensitive he was about his affliction. Male vanity was such a whimsical thing.
“I may not fare well on the ocean, but I can take care of myself—and you—right here on dry land,” he replied, reining in Rubio before the great spreading branches of a silk cotton tree. Cooling shadows and a soft breeze from the distant ocean beckoned them to enter the canopy. He slid from the horse and pulled her down into his arms where he held her fast. “I mislike coming home to find you gone.”
“I mislike tending a cookfire week in and out waiting for you to reappear from the jungle,” she replied angrily, aching to fling her arms about his glorious neck.
“I have told you not to consort with those whores. Only the lower classes do such difficult labor. I know I am no longer a rich man, but you are a lady and my wife. I have provided servants—”
“Twas fearful hot and I needed cooling off. Naomu has been ill with the fever and could not do the washing. I merely wished the diversion. Since, as you pointed out, I am a lady—the only one of such rank in Española, whom am I to talk with when all the men are off playing at war and politics?” By this time her hands had crept up to tangle in his shaggy golden hair.
He let his hands glide up past her slim waist, cupping the water-soaked curve of her breasts. “By the staff of St. Peter, you are all but naked in this wet linen,” he whispered as his fingers splayed around her buttocks, pulling her fast against him. When he lowered his head, her fingers dug into his scalp and her lips opened for his kiss. “I stink of horse and sweat and jungle,” he murmured against her lips.
“And you know I will not care,” she murmured back as they sank onto the carpet of soft grasses. Eagerly her hands began to unfasten his belt, tossing it and the weapons attached to it against the tree trunk where they fell with a clatter. Then she yanked free his shirt and ran her tongue around his sweat soaked chest, teasingly circling both hardened male nipples until he muttered an oath of endearment. Aaron began peeling the wet linen tunic from her body. She helped him raise it up, exposing her sleekly curved calves and satiny thighs. His hands and mouth caressed each new inch as he unveiled it.
Magdalena reveled in his hungry touch, but even more in the possessive way he made love to her, showing her by words and gestures that she was his woman, the only one he loved and desired. Her fingers began to unlace his hose, freeing his hard staff from the tight confines. Lovingly she plied it with deft caresses and rough strokes until he gasped in an excruciating conflict of pain and pleasure.
“By the rood, wait! My boots!” he cried, rolling free of her long enough to yank off the soft kidskin riding boots and peel down his hose in a few swift movements.
Magdalena used the time to finish pulling off the encumbrance of her soaked tunic. Her hair, hanging in tangled wet masses about her shoulders, looked almost black. Small rivulets of water ran from it, dripping onto her arms, breasts, and thighs. Aaron began to lave them with his tongue, whispering, “I have a fearful thirst to quench.”
A frisson of heat coursed through her as his silky tongue and magic mouth worked their way down.one arm, then across her breasts, taking each in turn to suckle and tease. When he moved down to the soft indentation of her navel and lapped the droplets accumulated there, she arched against him, pulling his head up to hers for a fierce, sealing kiss.
Their tongues glided about each other, tasting, savoring, devouring as they rolled, arms and legs entwined, across the grass, finally coming to rest with him cradled between her open thighs. Boldly she reached down and took his staff in her hand, stroking it roughly, then stopping and squeezing it gently. “You said you had a thirst. Now I have a hunger,” she whispered.
Aaron gently pushed her down onto her back and then let her guide his entry into the wet heat of her body. For one shattering moment he held very still, not daring to breathe lest he lose control. Then he rasped out, “I, too, have that hunger. Take care lest you glut yourself too quickly and ruin the culmination of appetite.”
With that he began to move slowly, guiding her hips as he stroked deeply. Magdalena matched his rhythm, rising to meet each thrust, letting her hands roam up and down his back, one moment tugging at his hair, pulling his head down for a kiss, the next digging her nails into his buttocks, urging him to move more swiftly, to plunge deeper, harder. Her tongue snaked out and licked the salty sweat from his chest, then she raised the silky skin of her face to rub it against his bristly beard, reveling in the hard maleness of his body.
The noises of rustling jungle, the roar of the distant ocean all faded into oblivion as she felt the shattering crest. Crying out his name incoherently, Magdalena felt him swell and stiffen, pulsing his seed deeply into her body, adding to the rapture of the moment, more golden than the metal wrested from the soils of Española could ever be.
“This is the gold, the treasure, this is our world,” she breathed raggedly against his chest as he collapsed on top of her, spent, at peace.
Aaron cradled her head in one hand and kissed her eyelids, then her cheeks, nose, and lips with soft, satiated caresses.
They lay together on the grass for several moments while the earth returned to life about them. Then he rolled from her body and pulled her to lie beside him, gazing into her clear green eyes. “You said this was our world. Would you be content to spend the rest of your life on Española?” He considered her gravely.
Magdalena smiled gently with a teasing light dancing in her green eyes. “Twould be far better than cold France.”
“Not long ago you were complaining of the heat, as I recall,” he said with a lazy smile.
She shrugged saucily. “I grew hotter yet. Now I am cooled off...for the moment.” Her face grew serious. “Aaron, I would live wherever you will. Only say what you wish to do, where you want to go, and I will follow.”
He caressed her cheek with one calloused fingertip. “I love you, Magdalena. I would have us begin anew here on this island—away from Ysabel and its feuds and pestilence. When Roldan and I journeyed into the interior after Hojeda, I chanced upon some of the most marvelously beautiful country you could ever imagine—a paradise of open plains set in a wide, fertile valley, filled with lush grass and rich soil. We could raise horses and cattle to sell to the colonists, even grow food crops for ourselves. I spoke to Guacanagari about my dream. Many of his people are eager to go with us, knowing we will deal fairly with them and protect them from marauders like Hojeda.”
“What will happen to the Tainos, Aaron? How long can we protect them?” Magdalena asked sadly, already fearing the answer.
“I do not know. They die of the diseases our colonists bring. Each new wave seems to decimate them more surely than sword or even slavery. We can offer to protect those who would go with us. Luis Torres and several of the men in Ysabel who have taken Taino wives would join us, I think.” He paused and looked at her.
Magdalena smiled. “I think it is a splendid plan. We cannot save the whole Taino society, but we can preserve their blood, their customs—something for their children and grandchildren.” Her eyes took on a misty glow. “You are so like your father, Aaron.”
He looked at her with a puzzled expression on his face, sad and wistful. “I never felt worthy. He was a healer. I have only been a killer.”
“Who now proposes to shelter helpless Indians and protect them from civilized rapacity? I see much that makes Benjamin very proud of you.”
“You always speak of him in the present tense, as if he knows all that has transpired since his death,”
Aaron said softly.
“And you write in your diary to him still, do you not? Come, let us return to Ysabel and begin recruiting our farmers and stockmen,” she said, pulling him up as she rose from their bed of grass.
Together they dressed and rode Rubio back to the settlement to plan their dream.
Later that evening Aaron sat on the carved chair in one corner of their bohio, writing by the light of a single flickering candle. The haze of twilight gathered outside as his pen scratched across the smooth, heavy paper.
My Dearest Father,
My heart is overflowing with both joy and sorrow, all together a bittersweet mixture, but a cup I would not have pass. My good friend Guacanagari plans to relocate his vast city farther in the interior, away from the diseases of the white men. With a few loyal men and true among my soldiers, we will protect them. If only you could see this place where we will make our home—how vast and fertile, a paradise of fragrant flowers and sparkling waters.
I miss my firstborn son most intensely. Although I fear his mother's dying words were false, I will never cease my search for him even though I know now how unlikely it is that Navaro lives. I regret Aliyah's death and the destruction of her people and their way of life that brought it about. Yet I can not turn back history here any more than I could stop the wars between Christian and Moor in Andalusia.
Perhaps in time I can grow to accept Navaro's loss, or if God favors me with his richest blessing, I shall find my son.
Aaron broke off writing as he heard Magdalena enter the room. “The bread is warm on the hearth and a savory chunk of freshly killed iguana roasts on the spit. Will you eat, husband?”
He put down his writing instruments and stood up as she stretched out her hands to clasp his. Rubbing her cheek against his freshly shaven chin, she said, “I think I liked the beard.”
“Greedy wench. Your passions blinded you. I was filthy. No proper court lady would ever have taken such a one into her embrace.”
“Do you seek compliments? Very well. Any court lady would take you, bathed or no, bearded or no, and well you know it, Aaron Torres!”
They shared the simple meal and discussed their plans for the future, as well as what the shifting political winds would bring the Colon family. Finally, as Magdalena left their servants to clean the dishes they strolled to the edge of the settlement and sat on a low hillock overlooking the ocean, now glistening silvery black as the moon rose over its depths.
“We should perhaps see if Tanei's sister wishes to relocate with us,” Magdalena said as they spoke of who among the settlers and Tainos might join them.
“She is accounted a fine midwife. I suppose in time that would be useful. Luis and his wife expect another child in a few months,” Aaron said, nodding approvingly.
Magdalena held her breath for a moment, then said softly, “I know you will always grieve for Navaro, Aaron, and no one will ever take his place in your heart...but Luis' wife is not the only one who will be needing a midwife in the spring.”
Aaron stiffened in amazement, then turned to her with a mixture of joy and anger on his face. “You are with child and you went down to the river to do heavy labor like a scrub woman? I threw you across my horse and then...”
“And then made fierce, wonderful love to me. Both the babe and I are well, Aaron. Your father was a learned physician who believed in hearty exercise for women carrying children.” She hesitated with eyes downcast, then raised them to meet his in the bright white moonlight. “Are you truly happy that we are to have our first child?”
The moonlight etched the handsome planes and angles of his face, making his expression unreadable for a moment. “Magdalena, beloved wife, do I still give you cause to doubt how much I love you?” He took her chin in one hand and raised it, then softly rained kisses on her eyes, nose, cheeks, lips. “You have known this for a while, I would wager. Did you fear to tell me?”
“I feared to have you hurt more. After we could not find Navaro, twould have been cruel to raise hopes if I proved mistaken. I waited until I was very certain. Then you were gone with Francisco in the interior.”
He smiled. “So that is why you were so cross when I came riding up to sweep you from the river.”
“Sweep me from the river, indeed! More like to chastise me as an errant wife acting like a spoiled girl rather than a lady of quality.”
“Back in the marshes of the Guadalquiver, that spoiled girl made me a promise, or so you told me—that she would be beautiful for me and make me love her.”
“Was her promise fulfilled, husband?” Her voice was low and velvety on the balmy night air.
“More than ever she could have imagined, my beautiful lady, my beloved,” he murmured.
The lovers embraced as the moon overhead beamed down its benediction on the paradise around them and within their hearts.
Epilogue
March 1496
The two small caravels rode low in the water, burdened with people and supplies. So many adventurers were eager to return to Castile that they were willing to sleep in shifts on the decks of India and Nina. As the final cargo and passengers were loading, Cristobal Colon took one last look at Ysabel. When he returned to Española, the colony would no longer be inhabited. His brother Bartolome was already making plans to relocate on the southern coast of the island where the soil was richer and the harbors far more accommodating in time of storm.
With the prospect of again commanding a ship, the admiral's jaw was set firmly, his step sure, his purpose once again certain. Even if the two caravels were old and overworked, they would make the crossing. He surveyed his friends and family gathered at the shore to see him off.
Aaron and Magdalena Torres had journeyed from far inland where they now resided. So had his old friend Guacanagari and his entourage.
“We are agreed upon the harbor,” Bartolome said, the chart still in his hand as the brothers stood by the ship's boat, which was waiting to cast off.
“Yes. I know it well; the place we named in honor of the day on which I discovered it. Santo Domingo it will be. As soon as I have put matters to right with the Majesties, I will return to you with more men and supplies.”
“Only win against your foes at court,” Aaron said as he clasped Colon on the back. “We will keep the peace here on Española.''
“And keep adding to the population,” Cristobal said with the old twinkle in his pale blue eyes, as he looked from Aaron to the small bundle in Magdalena's arms.
“As soon as young Benjamin is old enough to withstand the rigors of an ocean voyage, we will visit his great uncle in France. Then we will return to our home on Española,” Magdalena said to the admiral. “Our ships may pass each other in crossing, but one day we will all be reunited here.”
“And by then, who knows how many more children my wife and I may have contributed to the population?” Aaron said with a chuckle, delighting in the pretty blush on her cheeks.
Cristobal, too, noted how motherhood and their new life on Española had caused Magdalena to bloom. If only more such settlers could be found and brought from Castile. “I wish you both, and young Benjamin here, Godspeed on your journey to France and back.” He turned to his brother and said, “As adelantado, you bear a heavy burden relocating the whole colony to the south. I entrust you with it, having every faith in your abilities.”
Bartolome clasped his brother in his arms, then said, “Guacanagari, Aaron, and their people will help us. By the time you return, the new colony will be a city for you to be proud of. Commend me to Beatriz and the children.”
“I, too, wish you a swift and safe journey across the waters where your family awaits you,” Guacanagari said in carefully rehearsed Castilian. Colon embraced his faithful young ally.
“Tell that young rascal Diego that I long to see him once more, when he tires of court life and would come see the wonders of the lands his father has discovered,” Aaron added.
“We all of us await your return, Cristobal,” Magdalena sai
d as she handed young Benjamin to his father and embraced the tall old man.
His piercing blue eyes agleam with tears, the Admiral of the Ocean Sea gave them each one final farewell embrace, then stepped into the ship's boat to be rowed to the Nina. On the tide, he would set sail for Seville, and another chapter in history.
To learn the fate of Navarro and the future of the House of Torres, read RETURN TO PARADISE, available as an e-book now!
About the Author
SHIRL HENKE lives in St. Louis, where she enjoys gardening in her yard and greenhouse, cooking holiday dinners for her family and listening to jazz. In addition to helping brainstorm and research her books, her husband Jim is “lion tamer” for their two wild young tomcats, Pewter and Sooty, geniuses at pillage and destruction.
Shirl has been a RITA finalist twice, and has won three Career Achievement Awards, an Industry Award and three Reviewer’s Choice Awards from Romantic Times
“I wrote my first twenty-two novels in longhand with a ballpoint pen—it’s hard to get good quills these days,” she says. Dragged into the twenty-first century by her son Matt, a telecommunication specialist, Shirl now uses two of those “devil machines.” Another troglodyte bites the dust. Please visit her at www.shirlhenke.com.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11