Sapphire Sea

by Kelsey McKnight

  ***

  “You need to drink the tea, at least!” Gwen all but yelled at a very stubborn Gaspar.

  He pursed his lips and shook his head.

  She sighed in exasperation and frowned at his sunken, still-bruised cheeks. “You’ll never get better if you don’t at least try to comply with what I’m asking of you.”

  “I will be fine.”

  “Only if you eat.” She picked up the cup of rapidly cooling broth again and thrust it under his nose. “You’re no good to anyone if you starve to death.”

  He took it with a scowl and slowly sipped it.

  Gwen smiled down at him. “There, isn’t that better?”

  “No. I need real food. No more broth.”

  She poured herself a cup of tea and began to drink it black, sitting beside the bed. “If you can keep this down, I’ll get you something else this afternoon. It’s good that you have an appetite, though. It means that there isn’t anything too wrong, internally.”

  “It feels as though it is,” he grumbled, setting the empty cup on the nightstand.

  “Just a bit of bruising. Don’t fret. You’ll be right as rain before you know it and ready to return to the ships.”

  His gaze darkened. “Sim, the ships full of injured men.”

  Gwen set her teacup down and placed her hand on his arm. “They have been getting the best care. Sorcha, the healer from the village, has been there for days and Conner had more sent to tend to them.”

  “They were my responsibility and I failed them.” He turned his face away from her.

  “No, you didn’t. You were attacked. It was just bad luck and there was nothing you could have done to prevent it.” It was then that she remembered his necklace, tucked within her gown. Slightly embarrassed at having to remove it in his presence, she slipped it from around her neck and draped the chain carefully over his head.

  Gaspar started and looked up at her, his fingers upon the cross. “You are giving it back?”

  “Of course. If I haven’t taken it, you wouldn’t have…” Her voice caught in her throat. She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry in front of him, but she felt so ashamed, the tears came before she could force them back down. “It’s my fault.”

  With a slight groan, and a bit of effort, Gaspar sat up, taking both her hands in his. “You are the person who is the least amount to blame. You say it is not my fault, but it isn’t yours either, meu único ouro.”

  “It is. I had your tokens and after years of safety, you were almost killed! It isn’t a coincidence.”

  “I have not had years of safety, Gwendolyn. The sea never offers safety.”

  “Men died,” she whispered, her eyes trained on her knees, her tears dropping onto the green fabric.

  “As men always do upon the sea.” He lifted up her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You have done nothing but helped me survive.”

  “You were never in any great danger. You would have lived no matter who helped you.”

  “It is not true.” Gaspar caressed her cheek. “When the ship began to sink, I thought I would die and that it was my time to embrace death. But it was as if thinking of you gave me the strength to swim.”

  Her heart lurched. “I am glad of it.”

  “I could not die knowing that you still walked on land and breathed the air my lungs so desperately craved. So I fought to return to you. Seeing you again was the only thing that kept me alive.”

  “But you didn’t know you would ever see me again.”

  “I did. I was returning to you when we came under attack.”

  She felt as if someone had poured freezing water over her head. “But why?”

  He grinned, brightening his darkly bruised face. “Because I knew that if I kidnapped you, you would have no choice but to come with me. How could you run away if I take you to the middle of the ocean?”

  “You’re joking.”

  “I never joke about kidnapping,” he told her seriously, still cupping her face. “I was coming back to take you with me.”

  She pulled back. “So it is my fault?”

  “Stop taking the blame for things you have no control over.”

  Gwen averted her gaze and they sat in silence for several minutes. The thoughts whirled about in her head, more complex than even the array of emotions that fought for supremacy. She was sad for the dead men, guilty of putting the ships in harm’s way, and made guiltier still by the disappointed expression on her betrothed’s painted face. And she was also disappointed for the plan that never came to fruition. While a life at sea horrified her to no end, it would be as if the decision to leave with Gaspar would be out of her hands.

  Then what would she think of it, when she had no way to fight the sea surrounding her? Would she have cursed him for taking her far from land? Welcomed him with open arms and packed a bag? She needed to know more, to imagine the feeling of her life going as she dared not wish.

  “How would you have done it?” she asked before she could stop herself.

  “Easily. I would send one of my ships in, flying the flag of the French, so you would not know it by sight. Then I would have sent a written message to the keep saying that someone was injured or ill within.”

  “Everyone can tell the Portuguese accent right away.”

  “Sim, which is why I would send a written message with one of the kitchen boys, and instruct him to be silent.”

  “And then what?”

  “As soon as you were aboard, we would cast off…after sending a final note to your brother that you were well, of course.”

  “Of course. But you wouldn’t be worried that he would seek you out?”

  “I see no Scottish ships. Without a Navy, could he have done anything?”

  Gwen smiled, despite herself. “That is true. And what if I wished to visit? Would you never face my brother again?”

  “Once he saw how happy his dear, little sister was, I doubt he would have me killed. We would embrace like long lost brothers and have a family reunion.”

  “Very confident of you. But what if I fought you and didn’t wish to go?”

  “Would you have fought me, Gwendolyn? When you saw you were aboard one of my ships and I offered you a new life, would you have the ability to say no?”

  She willed herself to look his way and his almost imploring expression pained her. His eyes were pleading and his mouth was set in a serious line. He was right, she wouldn’t have fought him, not truly…well, until they were out of sight of land, then she might have died due to the distress and terror of being out in the open sea. But she still wouldn’t have fought him.

  “I-I have to go,” she blurted out, rising from her seat.

  “Please, Gwendolyn—”

  “I have a…an appointment!” She daren’t turn his way again and dashed from the room, waiting until she had slammed the door shut behind her before collapsing into the hallway in tears.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When Gwen finally mustered the courage to go back to see Gaspar, it was late in the afternoon. She hoped he wouldn’t be cross with her, but she had run off so shamefully, she was rather vexed with herself in any case. She had behaved like a petulant child.

  One knock, no answer. Another was also greeted with silence.

  “Gaspar? It’s Gwen,” she called through the wood.

  Nothing.

  She slowly pushed the door open, so as to not wake him if he had dozed off, but the bed was strangely empty. The rumpled sheets were also cold to the touch, meaning no one had been there for some time. The washroom was also vacant, although the old, soiled wound dressings she had come to change lay discarded in the washbasin.

  Gaspar was healing nicely, but she didn’t think he was able to get around easily on his own. Surely that meant he was with a manservant, or maybe even someone from his ship. They could be in the library perusing the books, or maybe even out to the courtyard for stroll. The fresh air was sure to do him some good.

  On her way down to the mai
n hall, she came upon a maid carrying a bucket of firewood and asked, “Excuse me, do you know where the ship captain went?”

  The girl frowned. “Aye, he came down the stairs and left through the front door.”

  “Did he say where he was going?”

  “No, he just left.”

  “Was anyone with him?”

  “He left alone.”

  Gwen thanked the girl and scurried to the main hall, not stopping for a cloak before going outside to find him. The air was light and warm and her head whipped around as she searched for him. The courtyard was still and quiet, apart from the stables, where a blacksmith was hammering horseshoes. There was no sign of him anywhere.

  There was a distinct chance he had truly left her—gone back to his ship and called for the sailors to cast off at once. There were more than enough ports on the Scottish coast he could easily sail to if he so chose, to find new healers to help his crew. Or he could have left to go home, to the sea. They could have parted on such terrible terms and Gwen would never be able to take everything back and right all the wrongs.

  Feeling her heart begin to race, she picked up her skirts and ran down the dirt trail that led to the docks. She didn’t want him to leave without saying goodbye and thought that if she could just get to the docks, say her farewells, she could return home with a lighter heart. Without that small bit of closure, she feared she would never be able to enter into the next stage of her life. Without it, she would forever be frozen in time and her heart would slowly erode like the stone cliffs by the sea—smooth with waiting for a final goodbye.

  By the time she reached the part of the path that rounded by the cliffs, there was a vicious stitch in her side and she fought to catch her breath. She slowed to a walk, her hand pressed over her pounding chest. But the sight of the ships still firmly anchored in the safe harbor greeted her warmly and she wrestled the urge to collapse in relief. She almost broke out in a new run when something caught her eye.

  Gaspar sat on the edge of the cliffs, nestled within the outcropping of rocks. His back was to her and he looked out to the ocean. She knew it was him by the firm slope of his shoulders and his tousled black hair. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even turn when she approached.

  “Hello,” she said as she sat beside him, dropping her legs over the side next to his.

  “Olá,” he replied lowly, not turning to look at her.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Sim.”

  Gwen bit her lip, waiting for him to say something else, but he merely continued his blank staring into the water. “How is your hip?”

  “Well enough.”

  “I thought you left.”

  “I wanted to.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  He took a deep breath. “I failed them for the first time and lost twenty-six men. There are sixteen lost at sea and the rest buried here, in strange lands, away from all they knew.”

  “I’m sorry that Conner couldn’t wait to bury them, but they all had a Catholic service with a full mass. I believe one of your crew took note of where each was buried in our graveyard so we can place headstones for them when a man can be found to carry it out.”

  “I am not angry that they were laid to rest, I am angry with myself.”

  “I told you, it wasn’t your fault. You are the captain they want and deserve.”

  “As they said,” he conceded wearily, turning to her. “This is the first time a decision of mine resulted in so many deaths. I visited the injured once you left today, but I can hardly bring myself to return to my own ship.”

  “Why not?”

  “It feels…blasphemous to take my seat as their captain.”

  “But that’s what you are, Gaspar, you’re the captain and they need to see you in command. That’s the only way they’ll feel secure in their place now. They need to see you as a confident leader.”

  He shrugged, toying with his medallion. “I do not feel very much like a leader.”

  “Come now, this isn’t you. I know you’ve been through something dreadful, but I also know you’re stronger than this and if you don’t confront those men and exude the traits I know you possess, then you truly are a coward.”

  “I am not a coward,” he growled under his breath.

  Gwen fought a smile as she found her little pep talk working. “Then go to your ship.”

  “Will you come with me?”

  “Will you cast off as soon as I’m aboard with no regard to my personal wishes in a grand, dramatic kidnapping?”

  He laughed. “No, not this time.”

  Gwen stood then helped him to stand. He was a little unsteady on his feet still, but if he was in pain, he did not show it. “Should you rest before going down? Perhaps take a meal?”

  “Stop trying to feed me.”

  “You need to garner your strength. Now, will you take food and rest before you go down?”

  “No, I cannot wait or I might lose my nerve.”

  They strode together in silence, their hands still tightly clasped together. If their walk and their future weren’t so grim, Gwen might have thought it a lovely evening’s stroll. The sun was just beginning to set and the fireflies that floated between the heather that had just begun to bloom promised a warm night.

  The docked ship was quiet as they approached, but Gaspar called something sharply out and a teenage boy scampered down the gangway and began to untie the little rowboat at the ship’s bow. The lad helped Gaspar into the tiny vessel and then Gwen, followed by a lanky man who was to row for them. She held the boat on either side, her knuckles turning white with the effort it took to stop the shriek of alarm that threatened to burst free. She had to be strong for Gaspar, but without the pressing need to see if he lived like the last trip over the water, it was difficult to find the willpower to be brave.

  His lips twitched in amusement as he carefully wrenched her fingers from the wood, encasing them in his palms. “Do not fear, meu único ouro. Just as before, I will tell you that no harm will come to you as long as you are with me.”

  “Oh? And do you think you have the strength to save us both from drowning?” she asked with a slight attempt at dark humor.

  “With you by my side, I have the strength to do all things.”

  Gwen was glad that the deep sunset tinted everything pink, because she was sure her cheeks were just as red as the sky. His words were so sincere, it was hard to even listen to him speak. He had come to Scotland a terrible flirt and would be leaving her…a friend, at the very least.

  “Ladies first,” he motioned toward the rope ladder that dangled over the side of La Sereia as their rowboat hit the side of the hull. “I promise I will not look.”

  “Liar,” Gwen grumbled, taking hold of the first rung.

  Once onboard, she watched nervously as he climbed up behind her. But even gaunt from illness and injury, his powerful arms still held the sinewy muscle needed to propel his body upward. And once his feet hit the wood of the deck, it was clear he was in his element. He straightened his back and took a deep breath of the sea air, which seemed to revive him.

  They got little more than the usual polite nods as they crossed to the door that led down into the galley. Gaspar led the way, his shoulders ramrod straight as he walked. He said something here and there to some of the men while she followed silently behind. Gwen almost felt like an interloper as they stared at her—or perhaps it was merely her guilt-ridden imagination that made her feel that way.

  She was grateful when the cabin door shut behind them and let out an audible breath of air.

  “Getting easier for you to be upon my ship?” Gaspar asked as he peeled his shirt off and dropped it on the floor beside his dresser, gingerly stretching from side to side.

  “A bit. Are you sore?”

  “A bit.” He began to rifle through his shelves of clothes.

  She peered at his lightly bruised face. The dark purple contusion over the sharp cheekbone was beginning to heal,
slowly fading into the tanned skin of his face. “Should I leave you to rest?”

  “No.”

  He pulled a clean shirt over his head and brushed his dark hair away from his eyes. She always wondered why he never tied it back, instead leaving it to hang in thick, black waves. When he stood before her, framed by the light coming in through the large windows, she thought she had never seen a better sight in all her life. He was alive and well, back where he belonged and she was content to look at him for as long as he stayed still.

  “Might I ask something of you, Gwendolyn?”

  “That depends. What is it?”

  “Just for tonight, will you stay and pretend that…that none of this ever happened?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want you stay here…with me. I want to lie with you and hold you as if there were no rules and no limitations to what we could be.”

  On one hand, it didn’t seem fair to play make believe in their quiet little cave of wood and art upon the sea. It wasn’t fair to Gaspar, and it certainly wasn’t fair to her own heart. But the idea was so tempting, so attractive…she couldn’t bring herself to deny his request.

  “Yes,” she said, barely capable of forcing the word from her lips. “Just for tonight.”

  “Then may I give you something?”

  “I suppose.”

  He walked past her, going to his hidden room behind the painting that held a small fortune of smuggled jewels. There was a bit of rustling from within before Gaspar emerged, something silver clasped in his hand. He stood before her then, staring down at the object as if waiting for it to speak to him.

  Gwen was about to ask if he was well when he opened his mouth. “Just for tonight we will be as if there were no others on the horizon, so I must give you a token of that.”

  “Oh, you needn’t give me anything, Gaspar.”

  “I must and you shall take it. We’ve already agreed that tonight there is only you and only me.” He held out the piece of silver and she saw it was actually a small box in the shape of a closed clamshell with seed pearls inlaid around the edges.