Nightsong

by Valerie Sherwood

  Thinking of it with a lover’s desperation, his expression grew so determined that Carolina, now and again gazing at him idly, thought he looked very fierce.

  She could not know that in his mind he was swiftly removing the last of her garments, tossing her gauzy black night things away, that his arms had just this moment enfolded her, that she sighed luxuriously and relaxed as he caressed her silken skin, quivered as his hot mouth trailed down her sweet body, moaned as his lips toyed urgently with her breasts, nuzzling their pink crests to hardness, whilst his hands were busily engaged elsewhere, bringing her to quivering delight.

  She could not know, nor did she give more than a passing thought to what might be in his mind. She followed the lead of his big horse blindly. Indeed she cared not where they went, for there was a blackness in her soul this day that could have led her anywhere. Still it came to her as they proceeded, not idly but in a definite direction, that Don Ramon had a specific destination in mind.

  She was right.

  He brought his horse to a halt atop a low hill beneath the shade of a large ceiba tree. Off to her right she could see a great estancia with a handsome tree-lined avenue, and tilled land - and the thatched roofs of the Indian bohios of the tillers. And in the surrounding pastures clumps of palms waved in the breeze.

  ‘That is the estancia of Perez de Cadalso,’ he explained to her as if the name should mean something to her.

  Carolina viewed the handsome holding with enormous disinterest.

  Don Ramon tried again. ‘Perez de Cadalso is the father of Doña Jimena Menendez,’ he said softly. ‘She Is his only child.’

  Carolina sat straighter and stared with concentrated interest at the obvious luxury of this sweeping hacienda.

  ‘So Doña Jimena grew up here,’ she murmured.

  Her escort nodded. ‘Here and at their town house. Her father owns two other estancias some distance from Havana - and landholdings in the jungles of the Oriente.

  ‘It is easy to see why Doña Jimena might marry the richest man in Havana,’ Carolina said drily. ‘She must have been the town’s greatest catch!’

  Don Ramon was studying the estate. When first he had come here he had bitterly regretted that Doña Jimena had so recently spoken her wedding vows in the great twin-towered cathedral behind the Plaza de Armas. Like so many others, he had been instantly enamoured of the Cadalso beauty. But now, looking down at her father’s handsome estate, he felt oddly free and somehow optimistic about his life.

  It was, he knew, because of the woman who sat on her horse beside him - a woman whose flashing silver eyes seemed today filled with sadness.

  ‘Doña Jimena fancies Don Diego,’ he said bluntly in case she did not know, for he wanted it made clear to Carolina that his rival had other interests.

  ‘ am aware of that,’ Carolina heard herself say in a detached way.

  He dismounted and lifted her down.

  ‘We will rest,’ he said, ‘and let the horses graze.’ Carolina sat down with him upon the grass. It was late afternoon now. A bee buzzed lazily nearby. From somewhere in the distance came the plaintive sound of bells. Don Ramon leaned against the trunk of the ceiba tree and considered her silently. She could feel the heat of his glance. It was making her nervous.

  ‘I never thought to feel about a woman as I do about you,' he said frankly. ‘I would have stormed Port Royal for you, do you know that?’

  ‘And now both Port Royal and I are swept away,’ she murmured.

  ‘Port Royal may be gone but you are here,' he said bluntly.

  She had been looking down at her dark skirts and now, at something in his tone, she looked up. He was gazing at her keenly and his tawny eyes said much.

  Idly he reached over and took her hand. She did not to pull it away, but let him caress it, lifting it to his lips, rubbing it against his cheek.

  ‘I desire you as I have never desired a woman,’ he told her huskily and bent forward to kiss her.

  Carolina tensed. Now if ever was the moment to break away. And then she caught sight again of the great estancia rising in insolence before her - and for a moment she could see in her mind Doña Jimena strolling its corridors. With Kells. Of course Doña Jimena would never dare to take him there - or would she? Were they there right now, making love behind one of those grille-work windows?

  A sob caught in her throat and Ramon del Mundo took it for desire.

  His strong arms closed around her and he drew her to him, down upon the grass. His lips were on hers and they were tender lips for all that they were so determined.

  His every touch revealed something she had not really taken in before - Ramon del Mundo loved her.

  It was a shock to realize it and she stiffened.

  Don Ramon sensed that withdrawal and he drew back. ‘Do I go too fast for you?’ he asked softly, and she sat up and pushed him away.

  ‘Yes, you do,’ she said, feeling confused. ‘I -I am upset today, Don Ramon. Please do not ask me why.’

  ‘I do not have to ask - I can guess. The Menendez carriage, with Don Diego in it, was seen on the Plaza de Armas.’

  ‘Luz told you that! She is a wicked girl.’

  He shrugged. ‘The whole town knows it.’ His hand gently stroked her shoulder and she felt a heady lightness at his touch.

  ‘I suppose - they do,’ she said haltingly, and could not entirely keep the misery from her face. For Ramon del Mundo’s touch might be enticing, but her heart was with Kells, back in Havana.

  He leaned forward until his dark face was very near her own. He took both her shoulders in his hands, kneading them gently. His tawny eyes, looking into her own, were very keen for he wanted Carolina as he had wanted no woman before her and he knew, in a sudden flash of inner vision, that he would want her forever.

  ‘Tell me,’ he demanded, ‘what hold is it that Diego Vivar has over you? You have known him but a matter of days! Is he then such a remarkable lover?’

  Her guard came up at that and she turned watchful. For Ramon del Mundo must never guess what hold it was that Don Diego had over her. She might leave Kells, but she would never, never betray him to the hangman’s noose!

  ‘He reminds me of someone,’ she said, and instantly wished she had not, for his eyes lit up.

  ‘A memory of an old love? Ah, that is romantic - and to be expected. I had not thought of it.’ He sat back and began to laugh, for it had occurred to him that Doña Jimena reminded him of a girl for whom he had yearned as a callow youth back in Spain. ‘We are all victims of old memories,’ he said, smiling at her.

  ‘Yes - that is it, of course,’ she agreed hurriedly, looking down and plucking nervously at her skirt.

  But something in her voice had not rung true, and Don Ramon gazed at her narrowly.

  ‘You are marking time here,’ he said suddenly, as if he had made a great discovery. ‘You expect to be rescued by your buccaneer lover!’

  She frowned at him. ‘My buccaneer husband,’ she corrected him. ‘And he will not, as you suggest, “rescue” me. He lies dead in Port Royal.’ Perhaps that is true, she thought bitterly. Kells is dead and Don Diego has taken his place.

  He pounced on that. ‘You saw him die?’

  ‘No, but when the city sank - ’

  ‘So you are not certain! In the disaster, I am told, there was much confusion. And you cherish the thought that he is not dead, that he will return to you.’ He leaned upon an elbow and a kind of wry amusement spread over his dark features. ‘Ah, yes, I see how it is. You expect your buccaneer to reappear, to sail into Havana harbour, silence the guns of El Morro - and the Punta and La Fuerza - and sail away with you. I can read it in your eyes!’

  ‘No.’ She sighed. ‘In truth, that is the last thing I expect.’

  ‘Perhaps now that you have seen Havana’s superb defences you realize the folly of such a move? Perhaps it is realizing that you will not be reunited that has made you remember an old love, is that it?’

  ‘Yes,’ she lied eagerly. ‘T
hat is it.’

  He gave a low laugh and seized her by the forearm. ‘You are lying,’ he said. ‘And from you I want only the truth. You have forgotten your buccaneer! You have fallen in love with Diego Vivar!’

  That much at least she could answer with candour. She looked him full in the face, hopelessly. ‘I will never forget my buccaneer,’ she said. ‘But you are right, Ramon, I have fallen in love with Diego Vivar. And I wish’ - her voice was bitter - ‘I wish I had not.’

  ‘Then let me lure you away from him,’ he said quickly, and drew her towards him by the forearm he had pinioned.

  She felt a fluttering in her breast. The lure of this man’s masculinity was very strong. Kells was somewhere - perhaps in bed - with Doña Jimena. I will find me a Spanish wench to share my bed . . . His hurtful words still rang through her mind. Around them as they sat there, the shadows had lengthened. The swift night of the tropics was about to fall.

  ‘Ramon . . .’ she said in a choked voice.

  He sensed her surrender and eased her into his arms, caressing her with his lips. ‘You should belong to me,’ he murmured into her ear. ‘And one day you will belong to me . . .’

  Carolina’s eyes were closed. She could feel tears sting her eyelids.

  ‘Ramon,’ she whispered, and he silenced whatever she might have been about to say with his lips.

  A kind of stillness seemed to hover over Carolina. She felt suspended between heaven and earth. She had moved into Ramon del Mundo’s arms almost without volition. She stayed there like a trapped bird, afraid to move, afraid to breathe.

  What she was seeking in those arms was solace, perhaps.

  What she found was passion.

  BOOK 4

  Kells

  And so for you I’ve spun a tale of love that would not die

  (It’s in the Caribbean, floating on a perfumed sigh!)

  And in the night somewhere the stars flash in a lady’s

  eyes

  And ghostly man and ghostly maid are melded in their

  sighs!

  THE OUTSKIRTS

  OF HAVANA

  Summer 1692

  26

  The lean Spaniard’s arms tightened about her. There was a sense of urgency in him now, and she was swept along with his desires, blown forward like a leaf before a strong wind.

  She was hardly aware of how they sank to the grass in the fast-gathering dusk. He was battling the hooks of her bodice now, even as he smothered her with kisses. He was through with the hooks, his determined hand was beneath the bodice, was past her chemise, was gently stroking her breast. As she gasped, his tongue found her parted lips, explored within. She turned her head and the grass tickled her ear. Crickets chirped and from somewhere came the sound of a tree frog.

  Her skirts were riding high now, tossed upward by a determined lover. There was a small sound of protest in her throat - instantly hushed. For her soul had been bruised this day and her broken world needed mending. In these moments she needed Ramon del Mundo as much as he needed her. With a little choking cry, her arms twined around him and for long moments they both pushed aside the world they knew - and must deal with on their return to Havana: that he needed a rich wife to keep him going; that she was hopelessly and forever in love with a man who had rejected her. But for them in those moments when they embraced on the grass beneath the old ceiba tree there was no past and no future. Only the shared wonders of the soft tropical night.

  To Carolina his touch was balm upon the hurts the day had given her, and in Ramon del Mundo’s turbulent soul he cherished the proud hope that she would find his arms irresistible and never wish to leave them. He was wrong of course - but then lovers so often are. Carolina found Don Ramon’s embrace exhilarating; with him she was swept along by the thrills of the flesh - with him she even for a few moments found forgetfulness.

  But it was all too brief, and even with his kisses still pulsing on her lips, her world was back upon her again. What madness had come over her? she asked herself dizzily. She was Kells’s woman, whatever happened, whatever the cost!

  ‘No,’ she gasped. ‘No!’ And drew away from him, tugging at her skirts.

  Ramon del Mundo stared down at her, not comprehending. A moment ago she had been a hot wench, exchanging passionate kiss for passionate kiss. A moment ago he had thought himself on the road to ecstasy. Yet now she flinched back from him, her face averted, a hand raised fluttering as if to ward him off.

  ‘Why do you flinch from me, querida?' he asked in a voice rich and sad - because he was afraid he knew.

  ‘I - this is all wrong,’ she choked. ‘I should never have let you bring me here, never led you on to believe that I would - ’ She stopped, hopelessly.

  ‘Why?’ he asked reasonably and his hand reached out and gently, yearningly stroked her thigh. ‘Never did a man more desire to be led!’

  She edged away from him, trembling. A pulse beat in her throat. He was terribly attractive. It would be so easy to give in to him. Easy - and wrong.

  ‘You must not fall in love with me, Ramon,’ she said in sudden panic, abruptly ashamed that this tryst should mean so much more to him than it did to her. ‘You do not deserve to be hurt. Indeed, I find myself confused. I have been very unhappy of late. I - ’

  ‘You want still to make your choice between us?’ he divined. The vision of her riding forever beside him was vanishing now, the image of her smiling at him against the blue backdrop of the Guadalupe mountains was fading. He laughed ruefully. ‘Well, I suppose to choose is a lady’s right although’ - there was a certain wistfulness in his voice - ‘I had far rather settle the matter with my sword.’

  ‘Oh, no, you must not!’ That was to be averted at all costs but she couched her words carefully, in terms that gallantry would understand. ‘Don Diego still suffers from his head wound,’ she explained. ‘He will not admit to it but he has terrible headaches - I have seen him sitting with his head in his hands. It would be murder to challenge him.’

  What a glib liar I have become! she thought, but his answer surprised her.

  ‘I know.’ He sighed. ‘It is what held me back when I tried to buy you from him.’

  Her head came up. ‘When you what?' she gasped.

  ‘Did Don Diego not tell you?’ he asked mockingly. ‘It was outside La Fuerza before witnesses. I offered him my greatest possession here in Havana - a ruby cross that I had inherited from my father. It has been long in my family so I had never before considered selling it, but in such a cause . . .’ His tawny gold eyes caressed her. ‘I thought Don Diego might covet it. I offered it to him if he would send you along to El Morro to - er - tend my house as you tend his.’

  Carolina felt her hands clenching. ‘And what did Don Diego say?’ she demanded stormily.

  Don Ramon gave an indifferent shrug. ‘He refused to discuss it. He said you were not for sale. He was very curt about it. Indeed his manner was such that I considered challenging him’ - Don Ramon’s eyes gleamed - ‘but I recalled his recent wound and decided the governor would frown upon me if I injured him.’

  More likely he would injure you! thought Carolina with asperity, for she had solid faith in Kells’s skill with a blade. Kells had told her nothing about Ramon del Mundo’s offer. How like him, she thought with a sudden rush of affection, to have nearly fought a duel over her and kept it to himself!

  Her joy in that was suddenly tempered by the realization that Kells was probably in bed with Doña Jimena at this very moment.

  ‘When did you make this offer?’ she wondered.

  ‘When Don Diego sought me out to pay me for the shoes I bought you.’

  So he had done that, too! She remembered now how Kells had come home and looked at her cynically and said, ‘You have found an admirer in Don Ramon del Mundo.’

  ‘I must go back,’ she said. ‘But I cannot rise - your knee is on my skirt.’

  Obligingly he moved his knee.

  ‘But why? Why must you go back?’ His hand trailed idly ove
r her soft breasts, caressing the nipples. ‘Why can we not stay where we are till morning’s light and ride back with the dawn?’

  She pushed his hand away. ‘But I cannot have a hue and cry raised and ride back to find all Havana searching for me!’

  She would have scrambled up then, but his long arm blocked her. ‘So you are to go back to your life and I to mine? As if nothing has happened?’

  ‘Yes!’ She tried again to rise.

  ‘But Carolina, querida, something has happened. I have fallen in love with you. And I will not be pushed out of your life!’

  Oh, she should have foreseen this would happen! She tried to keep her voice calm, to fight the rising panic in her breast.

  ‘You will make of me a scandal,’ she protested.

  His lips twitched. ‘A scandal? A woman who arrives in Havana by way of New Providence and is snatched from being sold in the marketplace by the governor, who gives her to Don Diego as a plaything? And you think you are likely to become a scandal?’

  His words brought a flush to Carolina’s cheeks. ‘I was a lady when you dined at my house in Port Royal,’ she reminded him frostily. ‘I am no less a lady now!’

  He chuckled. ‘What a beauty you are!’ he murmured. Even in the darkness I can see your eyes shine.’

  She gave him an affronted look. ‘I am leaving!’

  ‘Is it marriage you want?’ he asked thickly.

  ‘Ramon!’ Her voice held a wild appeal. ‘You have said that I still believe myself married to someone else,’ she chided him.

  ‘Yes, I have said that.’ His voice was sad but he released her, let his hand fall to his side. ‘What is it you wish of me, querida?' he asked her softly. ‘Name it and it is yours.’

  ‘I wish - oh, Ramon, I wish - ’ Tears choked her voice and she leapt up suddenly and sprang upon her horse. Lifting the reins from the ceiba tree where the mare had been tethered, she was off towards the town.