‘But - your husband, your matelot!' blurted out Carolina. ‘I heard they killed all the men on New Providence.’
‘Oh, Carson is still at sea and they’ll not have killed Jock.’ Penny shrugged. ‘When last I saw Jock, he was running for the jungle and calling to me to come with him. He’ll survive.’
‘I’m surprised you didn’t go with him. After all, you could have been killed there on the beach when the attack force landed.’
Penny’s lazy look from beneath a fringe of russet lashes was expressive. ‘Carol,’ she chided, ‘men don’t kill women who look like me - not if they can help it.’
Carolina gazed upon her sister. It was probably true.
Penny yawned delicately. ‘They consider us prizes. I was about to follow Jock into the jungle when I realized that. Then I threw away my cutlass, ripped my shirt open at the front and began combing my hair instead. The battle roiled around me, but no one ever touched me until a French officer came up to where I sat on the sand under the shade of a lean-to and bowed and said in very poor English, “Mademoiselle, will you be so good to follow me?” And here I am.’
Carolina shook her head in amazement. ‘Penny, there’s no one like you - anywhere!’
‘That’s just as well - all things considered,’ Penny agreed with her gamine grin. ‘I wouldn’t want too many copies of me around! But I don’t see why you should be so surprised that I should want a change. I’m tired of being burned black in the sun - ’ she gestured with a toast-coloured arm. ‘I’m tired of wearing men’s clothes because they’re “practical”! I'm tired of eating pirate dishes like salmagundi, full of garlic and pepper! I’m tired of having a cutlass dangling at my hip because I’m afraid I’ll be kidnapped and carried off aboard some dirty pirate ship to be doxy to half a hundred men!’ She shivered - and then brightened as quickly. ‘I’d like to go to some new place, wear beautiful clothes, live in a large house, drive out in a coach and six!’ Her lazy smile deepened. ‘Don’t look so shocked, Carolina. I was born to be a courtesan.’
‘Well, where we’re going you’ll have little chance for all that,’ Carolina said dryly. ‘We’re more apt to be slaves in Havana.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’ Penny stretched again and got up restlessly. As she moved, Carolina was again reminded what a beautiful body her sister had, what feline grace. A pair of amused dark blue eyes considered her. ‘Who knows, I might even end up being the mistress of the Governor or Havana!’
BOOK 3
The Beautiful Captive
Like all in the human condition,
Who were never born to win,
We weep for our sins of omission
And all that might have been . . .
PART ONE
The Spanish Cavalier
His dangerous smile in the morning
Which beams in her bed so bright
Is only matched by the lecherous grin
Which crosses his face by night!
HAVANA, CUBA
Summer 1692
18
Chaperoned by lofty galleons whose fore and aft towers gleamed gold in the sun, the Ordeal was shepherded through the narrow entrance to Havana’s harbour. For the staid old ship it had been a tempestuous journey with its load of prostitutes and bawds from the sands of New Providence. The Ordeal was still negotiating the Northwest Providence Channel and had not yet turned south into the Straits of Florida before trouble broke out. Two bawds who had fought over the same man on the beach at Nassau took up the battle again and broke bottles over each other’s heads. The scandalized crew of the Ordeal - who had by now become mere lackeys of their Spanish masters commanding the ship - had tried to save both contestants, but one of them died of a cracked skull.
That subdued the ladies momentarily, but somewhere between Gun Cay and Riding Rocks some rum was smuggled from the officers’ quarters into the large community dormitory the women shared below decks, and they all became royally drunk and burst out upon the deck, some half-dressed and some not dressed at all. In the general uproar it was very hard to restore order, especially since most of the sailors had been long at sea and the sight of a laughing woman, stripped to the waist and waving a bottle, was more than many of them could bear. Heedless of the consequences, many of them had bounded forward, and a wild drunken jig had ensued with much stamping up and down the deck. Captain Simmons had watched, awed and stricken, as bodies in various stages of undress and passion had piled up in any convenient place - indeed, as his first mate had muttered, you could trip over them.
In their cabin Carolina had been telling Penny all about school in England, about Reba and the Marquess of Saltenham and Reba’s mother and all the trouble they had caused, when the commotion outside erupted.
'Do you think it’s a mutiny?’ Carolina had interrupted her reminiscences to ask alertly.
‘No.’ Laughter sparkled in Penny’s dark blue eyes as she helped Carolina barricade the cabin door. ‘I think it’s but another brawling night in Nassau’s taverns brought aboard the Ordeal!’ She smiled at Carolina. ‘Shall we play a hand of cards, Carol? It will take your mind off things.’
To Carolina’s astonishment, Penny produced from the folds of her flowing shirt a rather worn deck of cards. It was the last thing Carolina would have expected to see carried by someone in Penny’s perilous circumstances, but at the moment, keyed up as she was, she welcomed any diversion. Gratefully she joined Penny at the small wooden table which was practically the cabin’s only furniture.
‘I met someone in Port Royal who knew you - quite well, I was given to believe,’ she told her sister soberly as Penny dealt the cards.
‘Really? Who? I’ll wager he was handsome. And a bounder. Bounders are the only kind of men I seem to care for!’ Penny favoured her younger sister with a mocking look.
‘It wasn’t a man. It was a girl named Gilly.’
Penny’s russet brows elevated. ‘Oh, yes, I knew Gilly. But’ - she studied her sister, frowning now - ‘I am surprised that you did.’
'I - rescued her on the street in Port Royal. She was being pursued by two bawds who claimed she had stolen their petticoats.’
‘No doubt she had!’ laughed Penny.
‘I took her into my household as a maidservant.’
‘That was a mistake,’ murmured Penny, leaning back and studying her cards.
Carolina sighed as she picked hers up. ‘That was what Kells thought.’ A shadow of pain passed across her lovely mobile features as she spoke his name, and then was gone. ‘But I took her in anyway.’
‘You have too much kindness!’ laughed Penny. ‘I’ll wager Gilly stole your ear bobs - and anything else that was handy!’
Carolina gave her sister a troubled look. ‘I thought she worshipped you,’ she said abruptly. ‘When a dinner guest said one night that he considered you plain, Gilly smouldered and later leapt to your defence!’
‘Did she now?’ Penny looked pleased. ‘Well, she used to follow me around Nassau, begging me to teach her to cheat at cards! It made people wary of me, I can tell you! I made the mistake of rescuing her, too, when she first arrived, from a nasty fellow who’d have sold her to anyone with the price - but it did no good.’ She shrugged. ‘She took up with another one just as bad.’
‘She’s dead,’ said Carolina.
Penny looked up.‘Oh? One of the bawds knifed her, I suppose?’
‘No.’ Carolina shuddered, remembering how Gilly had died, with her grubby hand rising out of the water clutching imitation gems. She told Penny about it.
Penny did not seem to care. ‘So she died in the act of stealing your jewels? That should be enough to keep you from mourning her!’
‘Perhaps she was restoring them to me - or trying to,’ Carolina said staunchly. She didn’t know why she was defending Gilly, who certainly didn’t merit it. She supposed she was rejecting this new casual hardness she found in her sister.
Penny sniffed. ‘Gilly left Nassau with some bracelets she stole from
me - she was seen taking them! Carolina, you’re a fool to be so soft-hearted!’
There seemed to be nothing to say to that. Carolina supposed she was. She settled down to playing cards, occasionally starting at some louder than usual howl from the deck.
‘I see you haven’t lost your skill,’ she murmured, when Penny beat her easily.
Penny’s rich chuckle sounded. ‘Indeed I have not! Emmett would have been smarter to establish me in a gaming hall rather than sell me!’ she added flippantly. ‘I won rather steadily in New Providence. Unfortunately,’ she sighed, ‘I buried my winnings in the sand and there’s no chance now of going back for them.’
‘Oh, Penny,’ said Carolina wistfully, putting down her cards and staring across the table at this hard but glowing creature who was, astonishingly, her newly discovered older sister. ‘Do you think you will ever find the right man for you?’
Penny glanced up at the sound of a particularly loud feminine squeal followed by running feet, the sound of a body ricocheting off their cabin door and a string of whiskey-slurred masculine curses punctuated by ribald feminine laughter. ‘Somebody pounced, missed, and is limping away - unsung,’ she observed. ‘In answer to your question, Carol - I doubt it. Anyway,’ she added cynically, ‘how does anyone know when they’ve found the right man?’
I knew, thought Carolina sadly, ignoring the hubbub outside as someone bellowed to restore order, followed by a crash which might have been caused by a thrown whiskey keg. Perhaps those were luckier who searched and never found, she thought, luckier than those who found only to lose!
‘But if I do find the right man’ - Penny’s gamine smile flashed - ‘I promise you I shall know it - instantly!’ She cut the cards flashily.
‘Penny, he won’t stand a chance against you,’ Carolina assured her warmly.
‘I’ll wager he won’t!’ laughed Penny. ‘Meanwhile, since I can’t find the right one, I’ll make do with whoever appeals to me. Which may run into numbers!’
Penny lifted her head as the sound of a shot rent the air, followed by a jumble of confused shouts. The noise retreated. ‘I think the dance is over for the evening,’ she remarked tranquilly. ‘Buckets of sea water are being sloshed over the drunks to revive them, and the ladies are being dragged back to their quarters to sleep off the evening’s festivities.’
‘You’re certainly calm about it! If it wasn’t for that stout door, we'd have been in it!’
‘I’m used to it,’ was her sister’s laconic response. ‘And much, much worse. Would you like me to describe a rather bad night in Nassau?’
‘No, I wouldn’t,’ Carolina said with a shudder. ‘I’d never realized how protected I was in Tortuga and Port Royal. And now . . .’
Which brought them squarely back to their present predicament.
‘I do hope,’ Carolina told Penny, ‘that Ramona Valdez is still in Havana - she was to marry the governor there, you know.’
Yes, I had forgotten Ramona,’ murmured Penny, restlessly dealing another hand. ‘Do you think she would help us?’
‘Of course she would help us! We rescued her when she was shipwrecked, didn’t we, and returned her to Spain?’
Penny gave her younger sister a whimsical look. ‘Ramona might not thank us for that - not if the governor she married turned out not to her liking!’ She paused. ‘Do you know anyone else in Havana?’
Carolina laid down her cards. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I did befriend various Spanish prisoners on Tortuga and some of them were later returned to Havana. I don’t know if any of them are still there or whether or not they would remember me.’
Across the table Penny considered her with a droll expression. ‘Anyone who ever saw you would remember you, Carol!’
‘But maybe in Havana they would not wish to remember,’ pointed out Carolina, frowning.
‘There’s that possibility, of course.’ Penny dealt a new hand of cards. ‘Come on, Carol, concentrate!’ she added impatiently. ‘You’re letting me win too easily!’
But with all that the immediate future might hold in store for them, Carolina found it difficult to concentrate on a game of cards.
Penny looked up thoughtfully. ‘So you really think Ramona would free us?’
‘Of course she would!’
Penny shrugged. ‘People change,’ she said cryptically.
‘Not Ramona - she’d remember how we helped her.’
Penny gave her a mocking look. ‘Or perhaps she’d just remember we were heretics and have us burned at the next auto-da-fé!’
Carolina shuddered.
‘Come along,’ Penny said easily. ‘I didn’t mean it! You’ll remember I always had a shocking sense of humour!’
Carolina could not find it in her heart to deny it.
Once again. Penny beat her easily.
The drunken brawl on deck did not continue. The Spanish captain had managed to restore order before they passed Dog Rocks and Deadman’s Cays. With half the crew in irons, they had sailed past the Florida Keys into the blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico and at last to the entrance of Havana harbour.
Rising up from the rugged coral rock, the sheer walls of the frowning fortress of El Morro rose up to the east to guard the harbour. Her guns boomed a welcome to the galleons, returning triumphant from the raid. To the west the white city of Havana gleamed in the sun, built of West Indian coral limestone.
To Carolina, this seemed a city of forts, for near El Morro rose another fortress, the Punta, and the town’s main square, close to the seawall, was guarded by yet an older fort. La Fuerza, which faced the inner harbour.
The women were - according to their natures - glum or raucous as they disembarked. After the excitement of her first encounter with Penny had worn away, Carolina had slipped back into despondency, grieving for Kells. Not even Penny’s best efforts had been able to snap her out of it. But now, resentful that she and her sister should be grouped together with this motley group of bawds, the trash of the western world, who had been cast out upon the sands of New Providence and were now being transported willy-nilly to Havana, she lifted her chin.
They should not see her weep! With a dull sense of fatalism - what would be would be! - she sat in the longboat with the others and was rowed to shore across the inner harbour.
Havana went wild that day. The triumphant return of the galleons - victors, bringing home their spoils - had excited the townsfolk, and they had turned out as if to a fiesta. Gallant caballeros with silver jingling on their saddles, elegant señoritas and señoras sitting decorously in their carriages, soldiers from the forts, mestizo strumpets, Indian servants with liquid eyes and inscrutable faces, fishermen and fishwives, merchants and their families, harlots from the waterfront brothels calling out encouragement to their kind - they were all there.
Carolina’s face went hot at the thought of being marched through that crowd, jeered at and ogled. Worse, being able to speak Spanish, Carolina could understand the bawdy comments directed at her and at flame-haired Penny, who swung rakishly along beside her, barefoot, looking about with apparent unconcern.
Somehow she stumbled through it, head high. Through the Plaza de Armas with its handsome two-storey homes and its beautiful cathedral, down a hot street beneath shawl-draped balconies, where young girls leaned over and threw rose leaves down upon the victors, who looked up and waved, grinning salutations.
‘They’re taking us to the slave market,’ muttered Penny, beside her. ‘I can see the bell up ahead. Keep your head high, Carol. This isn’t going to be fun!’
As Penny spoke, Carolina cast a hopeless look about her. To be sold as a slave! Somehow - although she had spoken facetiously of it to Penny - she had not expected it to be like this. She had imagined some sort of servitude, from which she would be shortly rescued by Ramona Valdez, for she had clung stubbornly to the hope that Ramona would still be here in Havana. But to be sold! That meant anyone could buy them: some plantation owner deep in the interior, a brothel owner to entertai
n his patrons, a shipmaster who would carry them out upon the high seas to who knew what terrible fate!
Her gaze swept the cheering throng - and came to rest upon a handsome trio just ahead: an old man, greyhaired, portly and somehow official-looking, who gazed sternly at the crowd from a carriage; and beside him a young girl, who might be his daughter, with a white mantilla spilling from a high-backed tortoiseshell comb over her thick black hair, gleaming almost blue in the sunlight; she was leaning over and speaking with animation to a tall caballero who sat astride a nervous horse, controlling the dancing animal with ease, although the horse seemed inclined to go sideways and wanted to rear up.
It was the man that drew Carolina’s attention. He was dressed elegantly in black and silver with a burst of frosty Mechlin at his throat and a wide-brimmed hat with a silver band that shaded his hawklike face. In that he was unremarkable, for the dons favoured sombre garments and he might have been dressed for a ride up into the hills.
But in all else she found him remarkable indeed. A pair of cold grey eyes regarded her steadily from a face bronzed by long hours in the sun - perhaps at the prow of a ship. And indeed he had ceased talking to the young lady beside him and was leaning slightly forward, his gaze intent upon Carolina being herded through the town in her much mended yellow calico. The older man was quick to notice his interest and his stern gaze also swung to Carolina and the tall redhead beside her.
But the cabaellero on the horse, who sat so tall in the saddle, held her gaze. Her lips parted and her breath came shallowly. For that lean hard body was as familiar to her as breathing. Those fine hands, so firm upon the reins of his dancing mount, had caressed her to wild abandon. That dark face, so intent upon her now, was the face she had loved - and thought lost to her:
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