by Meg Hennessy
He pushed off the bed and pulled her to her feet. He pulled her gown over her head and tossed it aside, then the remaining undergarments until she stood naked before him.
Donato stopped as if seeing her for the first time. With his finger, he traced along her throat, the contours of her breasts, and across her stomach. “Did you hate my touch?”
“Never,” she whispered.
He lowered himself to his knees and splayed his large hands on each buttock. She nearly liquefied from anticipation. He pulled her hips into him and kissed her core of desire. The heat soaked through to that very defenseless vulnerable spot that craved him and only him.
She put her hands on his shoulders for support, her knees having dissolved the moment his lips touched her body, feeling the work of his tongue penetrate inside. “I cannot deny.”
“I grew up in a world of manipulation and betrayal. Do not speak of new alliances where one already exists.” He rose to his feet, kicked off his shoes, then pulled off his pants and stood before her as a man of blood and flesh, muscle, and strength. The father of her son and…God’s blessing…the love of her life. “If making love to you will give you that assurance, I will not deny you, for I can no longer deny myself.”
He lifted her into his arms and gently placed her atop the bed. He leaned over her and brushed her forehead with his lips. Colette threw her arms up and around his shoulders, pulling him over her. “Now—take me now.”
“Such demands, cariño.” Donato smiled, spreading her legs with his. “Maybe you should buy me?”
“I will.” Colette closed her eyes, waiting for him to enter her. “My husband is rich.”
“I heard he is a pirate. I hope not a jealous one.”
“No.” Colette looked directly into his eyes. “He is secure in knowing that I love him.”
She thought she saw a slight mist hit his eyes, but he lowered his head so quickly to kiss her throat, she wasn’t sure. She reached down and wrapped her fingers around his swollen shaft and guided him inside her.
Slowly, he started to move.
She raised her hips to move with him. A swirling heat burned inside her until it plunged to her depths and ricocheted outward, banging against her hips, her thighs. He stiffened as he projected his life force into her body, the same life that had given them Enio. She held tight. Her fingers dug into his shoulders until they both lay still and silent.
For a moment or two, he kept his head buried in her hair, then started to move. He slipped out of her and rolled to his side. Colette had to move her body over to accommodate him in the small bed. She laid her head on his shoulder and stroked his chest, then ran circles over his heart.
“Tell me, Donato, have I mended this wound?”
He kept his eyes closed, but nodded. “I believe you have, cariño.”
“I am happy for both of us.”
“We will be in Spain in a few weeks.”
“And I will be at your side.”
“So we have established our alliance.”
“With our hearts,” she added.
A smile worked over his face. “At this point, I don’t know who owns who, so we must stay together, do you not agree?”
Colette allowed a small chuckle at his logic. “Together we stand.”
He nodded, then drew a deep breath. The muscles across his chest pulled against the strain. After a quick kiss to her head, he pushed himself to his feet.
Colette remained on the bed, drifting between ecstasy and sleep. As he washed up in the small basin of water, she watched, admiring the strong, broad shoulders, narrow waist and tight buttocks topping off his powerful legs, the soft tint of his skin, when suddenly a cold wave of memories invaded her sense of security.
She glanced over at Donato, fighting a feeling of something familiar but evasive, of something standing in the shadows of her mind, afraid to come out.
“Donato? Why were you in Port-au-Prince the night I was auctioned? It is a place of French corsairs, very dangerous for a Spaniard, non? Why were you there?”
“I have to get on deck.”
…
Rayna de la Roche stood atop the forecastle, looking down at them as Colette and Donato boarded. The ship was massive, with gilding of gold and scrolls of silver covering ornate carvings. As Donato had explained, the ship had three stories of living space, four masts, forty-six cannons over two gundecks giving her broadside advantage, and at least three hundred men.
When the boarding was complete, Rayna took the stairs down and approached them.
She bowed to her brother. “Your Excellency.”
Donato placed Colette’s valise in plain sight. “This woman is the mother of Enio, and will care for him the remainder of our voyage.”
Rayna’s mouth tightened, and Colette heard a deep sigh. “Agreed.”
Colette nearly collapsed from relief and joy, but managed to keep her body straight and upright. She would be with Enio. She glanced up at Donato and whispered, “I cannot thank you enough. Merci.”
Rayna gave Colette a long once-over. Compared to Rayna’s style of dress, flamboyant colors, and radiant beauty, Colette knew she looked more the employed nurse for a child than a nobleman’s wife.
“He is a good boy, senora.” Rayna motioned for her to follow.
They walked the length of the main deck and then took a winding stairway down a level. The run had several rooms; each one looked more glorious than the first.
Colette had never seen a ship like this, a city on water. Her body started to settle, knowing that with this kind of wealth, Enio had most likely received adequate care. She could hear the babbles of a baby wafting through the run. Her heart started to pound mercilessly against her chest, so much so she thought her ribs would give way. As they neared his room, she heard the child laugh and a woman’s voice talking to him in Spanish.
Rayna halted and faced Colette. “The child has been well cared for.”
Was Colette to thank her for that, for taking care of a little boy she had no right to have, for terrorizing the child’s parents and leading them across the ocean on a perilous journey? Was she to thank her for that? Colette’s fingers folded into fists and it took all of her strength not to swing, but she understood the tenuous situation and that the fragile relationship could change at a moment’s notice. She wanted Rayna to disappear, but brought her temper under the simmer mark and barely uttered the word, “Merci.”
Rayna stepped aside and motioned for Colette to enter the room.
There he was, little Enio. His dark hair neatly formed around his head, his dark eyes enchanting as a child’s can be. In his little hands, he held a small wooden ship. When he saw Colette, he dropped it and ran to her. “Maman! Maman!”
Colette burst into tears as she fell to her knees to hug her little boy, who wrapped his pudgy arms around her neck and held on so tight she thought she’d never breathe again. “Oh my bébé. Oh my little bébé. Mama miss you so much, n’est-ce pas?”
Rayna whirled away and left the room. Donato came forward and knelt on the floor next to Colette and his son. When Colette glanced over at him, his eyes had watered up. “Enio, here’s your papa.”
Donato smiled, running his hand over the boy’s head. “Tu padre, Enio, I am your padre.”
The nurse who had been caring for Enio had stood but kept her head bowed. “Your Excellency.”
Donato acknowledged her, then nodded toward the door. “Puedes retirarte.”
The woman again bowed and left the room, closing the door behind her.
Colette felt nearly giddy, vacillating between tears of happiness and joyous laughter. He looked well, but his little arms clung so tightly around her neck she knew he was aware of a separation. “Mère is here. We will not part again, my darling little one.”
Colette glanced over to Donato wanting him to confirm, but he said nothing. He seemed nearly mesmerized by the small boy in her arms. Her tears of happiness disappeared. She reached out to Donato, with her palm to his
cheek. “Can you ever forgive me for taking him away from you?”
An apologetic smile flashed and disappeared. “Do not dwell on that. I can and I do. We are here with him together now.”
Donato stroked the little boy’s head, then pulled him into his arms. Enio seemed to instinctively know Donato was his father, for he settled in and seemed to enjoy the feel of strong arms holding him. Donato kissed the top of his head. “He is a handsome little man, Colette.”
For what seemed like hours, they held their son together, huddled on the floor of the cabin. Donato made the first move to leave. Colette felt her heart seize and her throat went dry. “Donato, they bow to you, call you Your Excellency, do they not have to obey you?”
He shook his head. “They are on a mission for the Crown. We are all subject to the Crown.”
“Even Rayna?” Colette didn’t know why she asked, but wanted to know how much of this was actually the idea of his sister, or was she too a pawn?
“Si, even Rayna.” Donato kissed Enio on the forehead, hugged him dearly before rising to his feet. Colette stood as well. Her hip burned from sitting for so long, and she stumbled. Donato reached out and steadied her. That touch stirred everything to the surface.
“Donato,” she whispered. “Tell me we will prevail.”
“It is a promise I cannot make. I will accept God’s will.” He then winked at her. “I’ll make some suggestions to the Almighty. Stay with your prayers and keep me in your heart.”
“I know you explained, but I want you to stay.”
“I surrender too much power if I do. I must be on my own ship.” He leaned down to kiss her, but suddenly pulled her into his arms and crushed her against his chest. “I will do all that is in my power. I love you.”
After saying the words she had so longed to hear, he left the room without looking back.
…
The days dragged with the burning sun, no wind, no Enio, and no Colette.
Every day, he awoke and missed both of them until he thought his body would physically break. He stood atop the helm and watched the mesmerizing wake of the large frigate that carried his son and wife. It had been four weeks since he had left her on his sister’s ship, but to know Colette was there with Enio made all the angst worthwhile. Within the hour they would dock in Cádiz, Spain, the journey over.
For the past few weeks, Colette would appear at the bulwarks with Enio and wave toward Donato’s ship. But it didn’t alleviate the cool nights alone in the bedchamber, not being able to be with her or them. They were in danger, yet innocent of any wrongdoing. Donato was the guilty party, and he prayed again they wouldn’t pay for his crimes.
Sooner or later, he’d have to tell her the truth about the night she had been abducted, for it seemed a secret destined to surface. Once she knew, maybe then the dreams that haunted her would cease and allow her peace in her life. But would she cease loving him, as well?
Before he had left Rayna’s ship, he had learned both his father and King Ferdinand were in Cádiz, saving Donato a long journey to the Palacio Real de Madrid, the king’s palace.
Rayna was intense. He could see the strain wearing on her, though Rayna would never admit it. She seemed to have no fear of the king or of losing her head, but seemed to think her actions noble to save their father’s legacy. With the king’s popularity plummeting, he had focused on saving the Spanish colonies. But they were already in revolt against the mother country, and there was no hope of Spain ever regaining control, Cuban military base or not.
As they sailed into port, he noted the San Sebastián Castle with the old large cannons that had once controlled the south sea lanes into the bay and La Caleta beach. High limestone walls, parapets, and drawbridges mingled with the many towers built along the water’s edge for merchants to see what ships were arriving.
Cruising into port, Rayna’s ship anchored closest. The two sister ships sailed past her and anchored to her starboard. El Rescate anchored larboard.
Donato raised his binoculars, watching her ship. Being back in Spain made him feel as if he had stepped back in time. He had expected a heavy weight to fall over his person from seeing his home again, but the only thoughts that plagued his mind were of Colette and Enio, their safety, and getting back to the island. He had set up emergency protocols should a fast escape be necessary. Over the next few hours, his little clipper, El Rescate, would be ready to sail.
His father’s holdings were quite vast in the Roche, near Cádiz. His personal wealth rivaled that of the king’s treasury. Today, Donato would again return home and, according to Rayna, have an audience with the king the following day.
He drew a sharp breath, pulling in courage and clearing his head. The next few days would determine his future. Could he fool the king or not? Did the Crown already know about him? There was no line he would not cross. He would lie, cheat, be deceitful, even kill, if that meant he’d get his son and wife out of Spain.
Rayna’s ship disembarked first. As he watched the activity he noted that neither Colette nor a special little boy crossed the planked walk. Once the de-boarding process ended, Donato knew Colette and Enio were no longer onboard.
He dropped the binoculars from his eyes and walked down to the American, the first man he had posted on watch, having posted men from every angle. “Which ship are they in?”
“The one farthest starboard.”
“You are certain.”
The American nodded, then glanced at Donato. “How did you know they would change ships?”
“Because it’s what I would do if I were Rayna. Watch that ship at all times. Be prepared for anything. Get a message to my wife that I know where she is, and that is the safest place for her and Enio. It will be easier to take them with us when we leave. Provision the ship and keep her lying to. Be ready.”
Ramón had packed Donato’s personal items and met him at the end of the gangplank. “The men are ready whenever you say the word.”
“Colette and Enio are in the farthest ship starboard,” Donato whispered as they walked along the dock toward the waiting landaus. “If I were Rayna, I’d not leave my collateral behind, but it is best for us.”
People milled around the docks loading and unloading ships. Some recognized Donato and bowed as he walked by, others only knew he was nobility by his dress and bowed, anyway. With the king in town, no one would chance anything that might appear revolutionary.
Donato caught up with Rayna. Walking beside her, he asked, “When do I see my wife and son again?”
“After you see the king. If the meeting does not go as we’d all like, it would be most dangerous for the little boy on Spanish soil. I will have them taken to France. I owe you that much.”
Donato grabbed her elbow and spun her around. “You owe me a hell of a lot more, and I will collect, dear sister, I will.”
“You have to live through tomorrow before you are any threat to me. Come, Father awaits, to welcome the return of his long-lost son.”
There were four carriages lined up for the entourage. Guards rode in the first and last. Rayna boarded the second with her maids, and Donato and Ramón were in the third. The train of horses started through the village and into the countryside. Not far from town, and they were already on his father’s property.
The high sierras offered excellent grazing lands for growing herds of cattle, with the best pastures reserved for his father’s horses. The economy was healthy and growing. They passed his father’s olive groves and numerous orchards of oranges, lemons, and limes. Though the sun dropped a veil of warmth on the entourage, and the smell of the ocean waters hung in the air, it seemed to be an unusually cool spring day.
They entered the Roche.
As they traveled along, Donato could only think about his son and Colette left behind. It was safest for them on the water. If things did not go as hoped with King Ferdinand tomorrow, they had a chance to escape, and that was the only thought that kept him going.
They pulled through the massi
ve iron gates bookended by finials of cast stone, and traveled up the cobblestoned drive. Nothing had changed. If anything, the house looked worn, and the grounds needed more care. Everything looked older than he remembered.
The estate comprised more than twenty thousand acres with stables, a carriage house, servants’ quarters, and a seventy-two-room manor house, requiring a staff of at least thirty-five to run. The house was made of smooth stucco and red barrel tiles over the multiple sloping roofs at varying degrees.
The horse-drawn conveyances pulled through the inner courtyard surrounded on three sides by a wall. One by one they came to a halt under the carriage port. Two footmen were waiting and opened each door.
Rayna was the first to disembark. She glanced back at Donato before turning, her dress swirling about her, and entered the house. By the time Donato approached, Rayna had said her proper acknowledgment to their father and stepped aside for her brother.
After giving Rayna a kiss on her cheek, his father turned and faced his son. Donato swallowed hard, suddenly feeling twenty years younger in the wake of his father’s stern expression. But he wasn’t the tower of a man Donato remembered. His skin had aged. His hair more silver than black, and shadows collected beneath eyes that looked dull and tired.
“Donato, hijo mio,” he said, though his lips were stiff and his face unyielding.
“Your Most Excellency.” Donato bowed.
His father took stock of Donato’s looks, his dress, seemed to measure him from head to foot. Donato had taken the time to dress appropriately and look the noble even if his heart was not in the same place. “I trust you are well, son. Journey safe?”
“Si, Your Most Excellency.”
“He came as soon as he received word of his being needed here, Father.” Rayna interjected as if trying to diffuse the older man’s reprimand, but Donato didn’t need or want her help, for he didn’t see anger in Father’s face; he saw something much more disarming…love.
“You must be tired.” His father came forward and dropped a hand to Donato’s shoulder as if this meeting was under the most pleasant circumstances. “Come, come inside. You are home.”