Into His Arms

by Paula Reed

  Geoff said leaned his head back against the beam, studying the raw wooden planks of the deck above him. “So, the final victory is yours.”

  Diego had enough compassion to keep from smiling. Though he felt no remorse at clearing the way for him and Faith, he could well imagine the other man’s pain at having lost her, and all else, as well.

  “And Captain,” Geoff added, “don’t tell her about this conversation. Let her believe that you are the only man who ever loved her.”

  “You know, Captain Hampton, I think I could have liked you. You are more noble than you know.”

  A bitter sound caught in Geoff’s throat. “Tell that to the judge, will you?”

  Chapter 22

  Faith and Elizabeth sat in the shade of an arbor. Embroidery hoops reposed in their laps with their still white hands. The sea and an exquisite hummingbird feeding upon a bird of paradise proved too distracting, and so the stitchery was forgotten. Faith could not help but think that Eden must have looked very like this place, yet she had come to understand why Adam and Eve might have sacrificed it for knowledge. In the three weeks since Diego’s departure, Faith had carefully examined her relationship with Geoff and her future without him.

  He had told her that making love with her was not the same as it was with other women, and it seemed unlikely that she would ever know such tempestuous passion with any other man, but perhaps that was best. The memory was sweet, but in the end, it had wrought her nothing but pain. Better to know that now than to encounter such temptation later, when it could threaten any commitment she might have made.

  And she needed a partner who could share in the sense of wholeness that consumed her here in this lush land with its verdant mountains, gentle rivers, musical waterfalls, and mysterious coastal caves and cliffs. She cared not whether he was Catholic or Protestant, Jew or Mohammedan, he had to be strong enough to face his soul and consider his place in the universe.

  If she’d had to sacrifice the paradise she had known in Geoff’s bed for this new knowledge, so be it. Physical passion was not enough. She wanted something deeper. God gave man free will, but what was free will without knowledge? Perhaps Eve had sensed this. Perhaps in the sin that she had committed when she ate of the forbidden fruit, she had only deepened her love of God, loving Him not out of ignorance, but out of true choice. Never again would she blush to call herself a daughter of Eve!

  Elizabeth sat quietly, watching her niece. “Lost in thought, I see,” she said. “The island can do that to you, weave you into its magic spell. Have you found any peace, Faith?”

  “I think I am coming to find some acceptance, even forgiveness, Aunt Elizabeth.” She turned her head back to the sea and raised her hand to point to the vessel that sailed into view. “Who is that?” she asked.

  Elizabeth shrugged and ran into the house to fetch a spyglass. Raising it to her eye, she said, “Magdalena. It looks like our Diego has come back.”

  For all her philosophizing, Faith’s heart leapt into her throat. If Diego had returned so soon, then surely he had found Geoff. His desertion she could bear, but his death was another matter!

  Presently, the handsome and decidedly happy Capitán Diego Montoya Fernandez de Madrid y Delgado Cortes waved to them as he hiked up the road that led from the beach. “¡Buenas tardes!” he called.

  “Diego!” she cried as she rose, her embroidery falling, forgotten, beneath the arbor. “You are back so soon!”

  “Sí, the expedition did not go exactly as I had hoped, but I think my employer was satisfied with what I could present. In any case, he has agreed to take over the matter for himself, and I may resume my position. I told him there was a personal affair I wished to attend to, so he is permitting me to take some time before I return to his employ.”

  He took Faith’s cold hand in his and kissed her fingertips. “Ah, you are even more beautiful than I remembered. I thought of nothing but you the whole time.”

  “What did you give him? Did you find information on Captain Hampton’s whereabouts?”

  Diego’s smile never faltered. “Sí, he knows where the man was last seen. I think it is fairly certain he has not wandered far. I wash my hands of the whole thing. Are you all right, querida?”

  “I’m fine. It is only, as I told you, he boarded your ship to protect me.” Her pale face belied her words.

  Nodding sympathetically, he replied, “You feel somewhat responsible, I am aware of this. But we both know, mine is not the only Spanish ship he has captured.”

  “Aye, I realize that.” Belatedly she realized that she must appear overly worried. “Where did you find him?” she asked more calmly.

  Diego hesitated, then looked back toward the sea and his retreating ship. “He was at a tavern. He and his first mate were upstairs with two prostitutas.”

  She straightened her back and blinked hard. “I see. But you did not wait for him and take him?”

  “He was with his friend, and then he set back toward his ship. I am so sorry, querida. I know that this is hard for you. He was not unkind to you, and it is understandable that you are concerned for his welfare. If it eases your mind to believe he may yet escape Spanish justice, I will not argue. I only ask you to consider this: what befalls him in the future is his own affair. You ceased to have any responsibility for each other when he left you in Port Royal.”

  Faith tried to smile, but instead she nearly crumbled. “I need to be alone, if you don’t mind,” she murmured. At her aunt’s understanding nod, they parted company, and Faith ran, down the path and toward the sea.

  *

  Elizabeth gave Diego a studied, serious look. “You lied,” she said.

  Diego winced and raked a hand through his dark hair. “I skirted around a few things.”

  “And are you willing to live with those lies between you? If you get what you want, and she chooses you, will you be able to live with the things you ‘skirted around’?”

  “What would you have me tell her? Shall I tell her that he loved her? That he died loving her? That they could have been together, but I destroyed any chance they may have had? Or should I have let him go? Sí. Maybe I should have ruined my career so that your niece could spend her life with a pirate, one who would surely be caught by someone, somewhere. You know that he would have been executed or killed in battle, maybe after he had given Faith a few children to feed and care for. This is what you want for your niece?”

  “Of course not,” Elizabeth replied. “Still, there must be some way to tell her the truth so that she will understand.”

  “I do not think so. Sí, Elizabeth, I can live with these lies.”

  *

  Faith did not spare a thought for her gown when she kicked off her shoes and stepped into the warm Caribbean waters. Her skirts floated around her as she knelt into the sea’s embrace. The delicate silk was buoyed by air pockets, then slowly sank as it became saturated. Tears fell unheeded into the saltwater that tenderly clasped her waist. She sobbed without restraint, with all the passion she had thrown into her every joining with the man she had loved so fiercely.

  Just as passionately, she wanted to hate Diego. He had, in effect, sealed the fate of the man she loved with all her heart. At the same time, she knew him to be gentle, a man of honor. What Diego had done had not been from spite. And of course, Geoff had known the risks he was taking. If it had not been Diego that pursued him for Spain, it would surely have been another.

  Oh, Geoff! She could not imagine him gone. For months she had looked at the sea and known that he was out there, somewhere. He may have been lost to her, but there was comfort in knowing he sailed upon the very waters that lapped the edge of Winston Hall’s beach. Now, he was doubtless in some dark cell, and soon he would be gone forever. The thought caused an ache so deep in her chest she could hardly draw breath for the pain.

  This was where Diego found her, in the waning rays of the sun that sparkled on the crystalline surface of the tide. He pulled the boots and stockings from his feet, l
eaving his legs bare below his knee-length breeches, and waded out to her, helping her rise against the pull of her sodden dress.

  On shore, he brushed away the flaxen hair that the breeze had loosed from its pins and wiped her tears. “I, too, have washed my sorrows in the sea. It can soothe a troubled spirit.”

  “Aye,” she sniffed, “it can.”

  “I would help you soothe your hurts, as well, if you would allow me.”

  “Diego, I like you very much. Yo te quiero mucho.” He smiled at her efforts. “But, right now, can we just be friends? Amigos?”

  Diego sighed but offered her a warm smile. “I would be honored. We will be friends.”

  He took her by the hand and led her back to the carriage that had brought him there. They lit the lanterns that hung by the driver and slowly journeyed through the gathering darkness to the house. Diego held her hand, but other than that, he left her alone with her thoughts. The two alighted, and Elizabeth and Miguel rushed forward with worried faces, but they took in her ruined gown and the way she kept her hand trustingly in Diego’s, and retreated into the shadows. It was enough that she was safe and unhurt.

  They walked straight into the house and up the stairs, pausing outside the door to her room. Diego lifted her chin and looked deeply into her eyes. “I will not ask more than you would give, but I would tell you this. You English have two words, like and love. In Spain, we have one, querer. Te quiero, Faith. It is my dearest hope that someday you will say it to me as I say it to you, because right now, it is not the same for us I think.”

  She had been right earlier. Diego was a good man, one who deserved to know everything about her ere he declared himself any more. “Diego, I have to tell you something. I have to tell you why I was crying.”

  He nodded somberly. “It is your captain.”

  She toyed with her wet, salt-stained skirt. “Aye, that, but there’s more. You should know it ere you place too much of your heart in my care.” She took a deep breath. “This is so hard. I wish I could say I regret it, but I don’t. Neither am I proud, but I would not have a lie between us. I’m not—that is—if we were to wed...”

  Diego held up his hand and shook his head. “No es nada.”

  “You have a right to know.”

  “No importa. The past is over and done with. If you would pledge to me your future, I would treasure it as much as any gift a bride would give to her husband. It is the only gift that truly matters, is it not?” Tears shimmered again in her magnificent eyes, and he allowed himself to drown in their depths. “No more tears, querida. Sleep well. Perhaps you will find room for Diego in your dreams tonight.”

  Surprisingly, there was no room, even for Geoff, in her exhausted and dreamless slumber.

  *

  West of the little Caribbean island, in the city of Cartagena, Geoff reclined on the floor of his cell in the Fuerte de San Felipe de Barajas, an imposing Spanish fortress. His was a small room with a heavy oak door, a tiny window that let in little air and less light, and a filthy pallet on the stone floor. He had long ago become accustomed to the smell of his own unwashed body, but he still wished for a fresh breeze.

  Today, he had a visitor, Father Tomás, and a small wooden chair had been brought in for the occasion. The thin, elderly priest and gaunt, young privateer eyed one another uneasily.

  After a long silence, Tomás pulled his voluminous, brown robe about him, seated himself on the chair, and explained, “They sent for me because I speak fluent English. I do not know how much comfort I can give. I assume you are Protestant, but I will give you what comfort and counsel I can.”

  Geoff lifted an eyebrow. “You aren’t going to attempt to convert me?”

  “It has not been so very long since this was a seat of power for the Inquisition in the New World. Now, the government is more concerned with piracy than winning souls for the Church. The zealots that remain hate your kind so thoroughly they would just as soon let you burn in hell without redemption. No, I have no wish to convert you, unless you are moved to convert by your own conscience.”

  Geoff cast a despairing look at the cold floor. “It is too late for redemption, Father.”

  The priest put his hand on Geoff’s shoulder. “It is never too late, my son, not so long as you have breath to ask God’s mercy.”

  “My breath will not last long. I have yet to go to trial, but I know I will die, and the only mercy I would have asked of God is long lost to me.”

  “You must keep faith, my son.”

  Geoff gave a strangled laugh at the irony of his statement. “I have lost Faith, Father.”

  “You can find it again. Perhaps it is hard, here in a strange country, in a prison, but it is here that faith serves us most.”

  “Nay. I turned my back on Faith, and when I would have returned, God saw fit to intervene.”

  The priest furrowed his brow in confusion. “God does not keep us from our faith. It is our own selfish will and pride that come between the sacred and the temporal.”

  “Aye, you have the right of it there. Selfish will and pride. Ah, Father, what have I done?”

  “God will forgive you, my son. You have only to ask in the name of His son.”

  “God may forgive me, but will Faith? I suppose you will think it blasphemy, but to be honest, that matters far more to me.” He buried his face in his hands, then raked his fingers through filthy, matted hair. “How can I forgive myself knowing that I turned my back on her, that I used her and cast her aside as though she were not the single greatest miracle of my life?”

  “Faith?” The priest had never thought of faith as a woman, but having devoted his life to it, he found the notion appealingly romantic. A great miracle, aye, the satisfaction of living faithfully filled the soul beyond mere worldly gratification, but the forgiveness of faith? That he could not understand. Perhaps his English was in want of practice. “Do you ask if God forgives those who abandon faith?”

  Geoff winced. “Abandoned, aye, that’s just what I did. It doesn’t matter, now. The Spanish captain will take care of her, if she will have him. I only hope that I did not destroy her trust. Surely she will see that he is far more worthy of her than ever I was.”

  “I am sorry, my son. I do not seem able to follow your thoughts. A Spanish captain is more worthy of faith? Perhaps you do wish to convert?”

  Smiling at his own folly, Geoff answered, “Nay, Father. I spoke more to myself than you. You are wasting your time here.”

  Tomás smiled back. This young Englishman intrigued him, and at the moment, speaking with him seemed a more appealing use of his time than the mundane tasks that waited for him at the church. In the quiet of the prison they talked, and in ways that his more zealous brethren would never understand, he spoke of God as he experienced Him, beyond scripture, in the beauty of the earth and the goodness of the people he had come to know and love. It was this side of the sacred that seemed to speak to the young man whose soul was troubled and whose time was too short.

  In turn, he learned of the woman named Faith, the one who had brought light into the darkness of the sea captain’s world. He listened without comment to the confession that poured forth and wished he could grant penitence and absolution as easily to Captain Hampton as he did to his parishioners.

  “She sounds like she was a treasure.”

  “Aye. If only I had believed myself worthy of such wealth.”

  “But she has left you wealthy indeed. She taught you that there is something to this existence beyond its brief flicker upon this earth. And you taught her. You taught her that faith must be examined and thought about, that mere rote practice is not enough.”

  At Geoff’s look of ironic disbelief, Tomás laughed. “I know, it seems most of what we Catholics do is by rote. It is ritual. Through the practice of the familiar, that which comes as second nature, the mind can actually clear and deeper examination becomes possible. I realize that not all Catholics use it for this purpose. Many a parishioner uses it as a time to go over
her dinner menu or his duties in his work, but the truly devout pursue an endless quest for truth. You have been an important part in your love’s quest, and you will live on in that. Keep Faith in your heart, my son. I believe, from what you tell me, she will always keep you.”

  “She gave me something else,” Geoff answered. “She gave me the ability to find common ground with a priest, of all people, to seek a friend when I needed one most, in a place I would have once never considered.”

  Tomás rose and patted Geoff’s shoulder good-naturedly. “You are a skilled treasure hunter. I will come again later in the week. Would you like me to come to the trial?”

  Geoff nodded. “Aye, I’d like that. I have always believed myself utterly self reliant, but I must admit, I would like a friend there when I learn of the time and manner in which I am to die.”

  Tomás bid him farewell and returned to the bright sunshine and pale streets of Cartagena, but the Englishman stayed with him. He would very much like to meet the remarkable young woman who had nearly reformed the hardened pirate.

  Chapter 23

  Faith and Diego strolled past the lily pond in the rear courtyard, and she idly brushed her fingertips over the deep green and violet leaves of the dragon’s blood plants that edged the path. There was no breeze to stir the hem of her pale pink linen skirts, and sweat glistened on her brow and breast. She plucked a tiny, fluffy, magenta boa from a nearby pussy tail bush and twirled it absently. It seemed nearly impossible to concentrate on anything these days. She heard Diego’s voice, but it meant no more than the drone of bees. To his credit, he tried not to press her too hard, but she was ever aware that he was courting her.

  “Would you like that?” he asked.

  He paused for her answer, and the break in his speech pulled her attention back to what he was saying. “What?” she asked.