by Meg Hennessy
Donato made his way down the levee and crossed the canal to the American side. The only sounds in this part of the city were those calling out the hour. It was now three in the morning. The water smoke that filtered through the sails of the tall ship had worked onto shore and hovered over the city streets in a shroud of salty mist. Vision was good for only a few feet, and everything felt wet.
He licked the salt off his lips, feeling more drenched here than on the ship. The street lamps fluttered in the fog and created large glowing balls of movement and shadows. The heels of his boots struck the stone walk with purpose.
Nothing would stop him tonight.
He hoped Jordan didn’t get in his way. It would only end badly for one of them. Preferably Jordan. But either would only further divide Colette’s sense of loyalty.
Nearing the corner where Jordan’s house stood, Donato pulled out his flintlock and approached the house. It was a large, imposing house with white and green shutters. It had seven massive plastered brick columns holding up the front gallery and three doors on the first and second floor, interwoven with windows. The ground level was covered with louvers. The upper doors were open to the early fall night air. The yard was neatly manicured with beds of flowering plants, giving him a sense of where he was in the dark.
He stepped off the paved path to walk on the ground. Being near the river, he knew the soil would be wet and quiet. He remembered the layout of the house from the first time he’d been here.
The large brick columns easily bore his weight as he climbed to the upper gallery. Enio’s room was just off the sleeping porch, and if he remembered correctly, Colette’s to the right of that. He slipped over the balustrade and landed sure-footed on the veranda without making a sound. In the corner of the room, there was a loggia that allowed for a quiet place to sneak in.
His plan was simple. Wake Colette…well, he’d start there, but this was the only way to see her and speak to her without the armor of her brothers.
As quiet as the air around him, he slipped in through the open window. But that easy open window made him suspicious. He wasn’t alone. To his surprise a dip match was struck. A woman’s hand lit the lamp and turned up the gas, illuminating the room.
Having landed on bent knees, he straightened and faced Colette.
The light fluttered over her face, allowing a brief look at her expression, hard and lean. She had a pistol in her hand.
“Like a thief in the night,” she whispered. “Viceroy or not, some things never change.”
“A talent, senora. Ah, this pistol, did I never take that away?” he returned in the same low whisper.
“Apparently you aren’t so clever, for you did not. Now you must disarm yourself.” She motioned with a wave of her hand. Beneath the large hooded robe she wore, he caught sight of the earrings he had given her in Spain.
“I am at your mercy, cariño.” He pulled his pistol and dirk from his belt and placed them on the floor, trying not to wake her sleeping brother. He raised his hands in surrender. “Be gentle, I bruise easily.”
She said nothing, but started to circle around him, one step at a time. Over her body, she wore a long robe that had a large hood draped over her head and shoulders. A heavy robe meant for…travel? A dainty yellow satin slipper appeared then disappeared under the flowing hem of the robe, only to reappear with another slow, steady step. The hood covered her hair, but wavy tendrils hung down across her shoulders to curl around her breasts, and when she peeked up at him, only a shadow of her face would show. He caught sight of her smooth, silky skin; those lips that formed a perfect square were slightly pursed, and though he could not see her eyes, a speck of light reflected from each beneath the hood.
Friend or foe, he had yet to know. But if she didn’t speak soon, he’d take that damned little pistol out of her hand and have his way with her, regardless of dear Jordan down the hall.
Suddenly she stopped circling and faced him. Pistol still in her hand, but he noted the relaxed position of her trigger finger. “So…Donato de la Roche y Borbón, Marquis de Andalusia, Virrey de Nueva España…what in the hell took you so long?”
His lips turned up slightly in the corners as he fought a smile, not wanting to assume too much, too quickly, but he heard a hint of his Colette in her voice.
“Am I late, senora?”
Suddenly, she closed the distance between them and grabbed the lapel of his overcoat. He noticed she no longer limped, her steps smooth and even.
“Damn right you are,” she whispered a moment before she raised on tiptoe and closed her lips over his.
Donato wrapped his arms around her and fell into the kiss with passion that only she could give him. Her body folded into his with a heated sweep of familiarity. His hand roamed over her delicate terrain knowing each curve and dip of her small frame by memory. The soft curve of her breasts, the narrow turn of her waist, the small pulsating point of heat at the base of her throat. He had been there before, and never again would he risk letting go.
“Mi vida,” he whispered. “Do I have my Colette back?”
She pulled away from him and looked up with her beautiful green eyes, shadowed by the long lashes that surrounded them. Her lips moved into a smile as she pushed the cape from her shoulders, letting it drop about her feet, exposing her body to him. Underneath, she wore the sparkling yellow dress that curved low over her bosom, and the Tourmaline necklace she had worn in Spain. Her long honey-colored hair draped over her shoulders, wild with curl. “I think to enjoy being the wife of…the most infamous pirate of the gulf.”
“Mi vida, my life.” He pulled her into his hungry arms. “I beg you, my dearest Colette, might I tell Jordan?”
Epilogue
The night had cooled with the falling sunlight. Rayna walked into the inner patio of the hacienda, pulling a wrap around her shoulders to ward off a slight chill. With Colette back on the island, her brother’s disposition had greatly improved, but she waited night after night for his retaliation, for she was sure he had a plan. Tonight, he had summoned her to his office.
She returned from the patio and walked through the sala de recepcion, a beautiful sitting room, through the salon de baile, an exquisite ballroom, until reaching the despacho del gobernador where a small light flickered.
Donato was there, seated at his mahogany desk, surrounded by leather-bound books and mahogany shelving. There was a fireplace to the back of the room, a few logs ablaze, and over the mantel hung a small replica of the family arms that had been engraved in stone over the hearth at home, in Spain.
He looked up when she walked into the room. “I hope I have not kept you up too late.”
“You do not, nor have you, but I wish to end the suspense.”
“So you have grown tired of my company.” He leaned back and smiled, running his fingers over a glass of whiskey next to him on the desk.
“Perhaps.” She shrugged with disinterest, running a finger over the leather books, noting their pristine condition. Typical of Donato, he spared no expense, and she sometimes envied the lavish attention he poured on his wife and son. Could there be a man like that for her? Not so. There wasn’t a man alive who would satisfy whatever burned deep inside her.
She had had her share of lovers and found life easier to dismiss them once she’d grown bored. Because whether Donato knew it or not, to be in love made him vulnerable. Colette had far more power over him than even he’d admit. A risk Rayna swore she’d never take. Having seen her mother’s descent into a death spiral of heartache, she’d never surrender her personal power to any man.
“Am I to tour the new colonies with you? Is that your revenge? Or will you keep me locked up on this island until I am old and gray?”
He stretched out the length of his legs under the desk and slouched against the chair. “You have misjudged me, sister. I am no longer a man of vengeance.”
“You are talking to me, Donato.”
He ignored her comment, or at least the underlying meaning. “
Tell me, Rayna, what is it you would like, more than anything?”
“You test me, brother. I tell you and you take it away. Is that the revenge?”
He chuckled and stood up. “Have a drink with me.”
She sat down opposite his desk and waited as he poured her a glass of wine from the wine table. He had his back to her, and she had to admit, she was proud of him. Whether he cherished his new position or not, she was proud of him. She admired him taking a stand for principle, and surprisingly, she believed his commitment to his beliefs had won their father over the moment Donato returned home. Not that she’d ever tell him that. She was a woman of iron, prided herself on her strength, her ability to move about in a man’s world. She was always in charge of herself and her surroundings. She glanced out the window of the office, seeing a skyline of mountains, and suddenly found herself very homesick and missing her father.
Donato placed the drink on the desk for her. She picked it up and took a sip. The wine was sweet, redolent, and scented her nose with each sip. “I want to go back to Spain.”
“I will arrange a polly boat for you to paddle.”
“Unkind. When I return, it will be with style.”
“You challenged me, Rayna. You declared your cleverness as superior to mine.”
“I did, for I am.”
“Finish your wine, sister, then I reveal my plan.”
She could drink like a man. Swallowing the last of the wine, she placed the glass on his desk. “I await your wisdom.”
“Then this is the challenge you’ve waited to hear.” He stood and leaned against the desk, looking down at her. “Listen very carefully, Rayna, for this is your only chance to hear it. That drink will have you sound asleep in a few minutes.”
Rayna glanced down at the empty glass, now tasting the bitterness of tincture on her lips, knowing he had drugged her.
“You wish to go back to Spain. You will need money to do that.” He handed her a leather-bound packet. “Inside that pouch you will find a treasure map. Find the treasure and you are a wealthy woman. If you do not, I will enjoy your return to my lovely island.”
Rayna fought a smile. She loved her brother, and this was why. He shared her sense of adventure, both having spent their lives fighting the constraints of their noble upbringing. She unlashed the leather case and pulled out a small diagram that looked like a coat of arms or something similar. “What is this?”
Donato took the paper and held it up to the light. “Each side has a drawing. When viewed together they form a map; when apart, meaningless.”
Knowing she was short on time to ask him questions, she dug out the rest. It was a large drawing of the two smaller maps with notations made all around. “And this?”
“A larger picture, but with thoughts, speculations noted.”
“Is this real?”
“I believe it is.”
“You’re handing me a treasure map?”
Donato smiled. “You fancy yourself a clever woman. Find that treasure and you’ll never again be subject to me or father for your livelihood. You’ll be a free, wealthy woman.”
She could already imagine how much fanfare her return to Spain would rouse if she was wealthy enough to hire the ship she wanted. Her lids started to feel heavy but she wanted more, her appetite for adventure stirred. “What is in this for you? If these are real?”
“They are real. They belong to Colette’s brother, Jordan. He’d like to find his treasure, and I’d like him not to. He’s the one who made the notations in French, but he made a mistake in his calculations. I will not tell you what it is, but I am confident you will figure it out.”
“If I refuse to do this?”
“No harm done. You wake up tomorrow morning on this island…day after day…until I decide to take you back to Spain. Do you refuse?”
“Jordan’s calculations are wrong?”
Donato nodded, seemingly pleased she was following him. “Correct, senorita.”
“Then where is this treasure?”
“Study my notations, written in Spanish, and you will figure it out. You will have to find this on your own. I cannot be involved.”
“You are wicked, dear brother, so wicked.”
He smiled, pleased with his offer. “As are you. It must be in our blood. I give you ninety days to find the treasure. If you do not, you will have lost your way back to Spain.”
“Why ninety days?”
“Because in about ninety days, Jordan will realize that all maps and references to his medallions have been taken.”
“You know where this treasure is?”
“I have a valid idea.”
“Does Jordan?”
“No, not yet.”
She knew she could not fight the drug much longer. Refusing the challenge was not an option, because he wanted her to take this mission. A refusal would disappoint him, but she knew she’d wake up somewhere else tomorrow. The drug had wormed through her body, and she could barely keep her head from dropping to the desk. “You will send this with me?”
“Si.”
“And Nadia, she will come, too. I must have a personal maid.”
“I’d have it no other way.” Her brother leaned down close to her ear and whispered, “Say the word mesteños. Say it.”
Her eyes fluttered shut; she was barely able to move her lips. “Mesteños. What does it mean?”
“It means mustang, the wild horse of Mexico, untamed, free spirit. Like you, Rayna, wild and beautiful.”
“I learn this why?”
“It is your secret word if you are in need of me. Spend it wisely, for I come only once and the mission is over.”
“Mesteños.” Rayna closed her eyes, unable to stop the inevitable.
Before she spilled out of the chair, Donato pulled her into his arms and set her upon a settee.
“Ramón! She is ready to board. Bring Nadia.”
The men worked in silence, carrying Donato’s discreet package from the house, down the walk, and to the ship without waking a soul at the hacienda. The sails were cracked and anchor rolled in. The package was placed in the captain’s bedchamber, which would remain a private room.
Donato unwrapped the package and put his sleeping sister atop the bed. Her trunk was brought on board and personal items laid out. After Nadia changed Rayna into a disguise, the maid was removed from the ship.
Only his most trusted men would he send on the journey with Rayna. Ramón, not approving of the mission, had planned to stay awake all night and guard her room.
“Isn’t Nadia coming with her? She has no maid?” he asked.
Patting Ramón on the back, Donato grinned, already enjoying Rayna’s surprise. “Allow me some revenge, por favor.”
Donato climbed back to the main deck and glanced around in the chilling darkness. “Where are you?”
The American stepped from the shadows. “I am here, Your Excellency.”
“Did you stay well hidden on our journey? Did my sister see you?”
“I remained out of sight, as you ordered. She did not.”
Donato placed a bag of gold in his hand. “Take good care of her, keep her out of trouble, and keep me informed of her activities. You must keep her safe, and that will be a challenge, for she is headstrong and clever. Her code word for me is mesteños. You are to notify me immediately. Understand?”
The man took the gold and bowed. “Yes, Your Excellency.”
Donato stepped ashore and watched as his ship carrying his sister silently stretched away from shore. Yes, he was no longer a man of vengeance, and proud of that, but that didn’t hinder his anticipation of snatching that treasure right out from under Jordan’s nose. He had faith in Rayna that she’d do it. The lights of his sister’s ship faded into the dark sky. But he almost pitied America, for they had no idea the storm that was about to come ashore in the form of…
Rayna de la Roche.
About the Author
Award-winning author Meg Hennessy lives with her husb
and amid rolling hills of Hartford, Wisconsin. Besides writing, spoiling her first grandson, and pampering her much-loved horse, she enjoys backyard birding and admits to being a gardening addict. As a history lover, Meg likes to create high-energy characters against historically rich backdrops, offering her readers a vivid peek into the lives and loves of yesteryear.
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