by Paula Reed
“I said, I know it is a rather long journey, but I thought you might like to see your family again. It is an easy enough matter to find passage on an English ship.”
Faith blanched. “Nay, I think that is not so wise. My aunt has sent them a letter to assure them of my safety, but I do not know if we will hear anything back or not. My father may well never forgive me.”
“I am sure your father loves you and only wants what is best for you.”
“I doubt he would think you are what is best.” At Diego’s crushed look, she rushed on. “You must remember that my aunt was disowned for marrying a Catholic. I may have cut myself off from my family forever. I wish I could know it was the right thing to do.”
“You told me that you could not marry your village priest, and that you could not stay and still avoid this fate.”
“Aye, that is so, but it has cost me much. I wonder if I shall ever find my place in the world.”
“You know that I would gladly give you a place at my side.”
“Diego, I wish I could tell you what you want to hear, but I cannot.”
“Faith, I do not wish to press, but it has been over a fortnight since I returned to my uncle’s house, and in less than a week my ship will come for me. I do not expect you to be so fickle that you can dismiss your captain easily. Your feelings for him were deep, and it speaks well of you that your heart can be so true. But it also says something that, for once, it is not Hampton for whom you grieve. Perhaps, it is time to move forward.”
“My aunt says time heals all.”
“She is a wise woman, Elizabeth, but sometimes healing requires some other balm.” Faith turned to Diego with a quizzical look, and he took a breath and plunged ahead. “We have made good friends, Faith, and my mother once told me that, in the long run, friendship is the most important part of a marriage.”
“Diego, I do not think I am ready— “
“Nay, let me finish, please. I love you, Faith. I have already told you this. You like me, also, sí?”
“Aye. You have been a good friend, Diego, and patient, as well.”
“You do not find me unpleasant to look upon?”
Faith laughed. “Nay, Diego. You are a most handsome man.”
A smile lit his face, and he drew her down with him onto a bench beneath the wide, scarlet-tipped poinsiana tree. “Many a happy marriage has begun with less than this, Faith. I know I told you I would wait, but I must return to sea soon, and I would have you with me.”
“Perhaps if we had more time...”
“My love, I must speak plainly, though it may cause you pain. We can spend every minute of the day with one another, and it will avail us naught if you continue to lend your thoughts to a man who will soon be as much a ghost in reality as he is in your life. He left you. He is facing the fate that he has chosen. Your life must go on. I will work very hard to make you happy, Faith. This I promise.”
He held his breath through her silence. He was right, of course. Her life would go on without Geoff, and it seemed to her that she would not be so unhappy with Diego.
“Where would I live when we are apart?” she asked.
As though he had anticipated this concern, he replied, “I thought perhaps Havana. It is an easy journey by boat to Jamaica, so you could visit here often. Your Spanish is coming along. If you lived among those who speak it, you would learn quickly.”
“But your family is in Spain.”
“They see me seldom anyway. They will hardly notice a difference. Of course, I would take you to meet them.”
“And my religion?”
At this, Diego’s discomfort was hard to conceal. “You once said that Catholicism was not out of the question.”
“Aye, but I did not say that I was certain.”
“You will have things to think about. That is only prudent. You must decide whether or not you can pledge yourself to my church and whether you can be happy in Cuba, and these are not trifles. Still, I ask you to think on this. I would be a faithful husband. I would give you a good home and beautiful children. I would do everything in my power to make you love me and to provide for your happiness. Perhaps what you once found with your Englishman you could, one day, find with me.”
“I will think on it,” she replied. In truth, she was tiring of the limbo in which her life had become suspended. She felt restless, ready to move on. It seemed as though she teetered upon some precipice.
Diego leaned forward and tilted her face to his, pausing long enough for her to divine his intent. When she uttered no protest and made no move to retreat, he touched his lips to hers.
Some other balm besides time; this was Faith’s thought as she allowed Diego’s kiss to deepen. There was no doubt that there was a physical component to the love between a woman and a man, and if she were going to consider Diego, they should cultivate this between them as well as friendship.
She felt his warm lips upon her, parted her own to welcome his tongue, tasted the faint flavors of mango and masculinity. She heard his breath quicken, felt his arms embrace her, but she was an observer, strangely detached. Though she waited, expected some spark to ignite, it did not.
He pulled away from her, and the desperate disappointment in his eyes confirmed that he had noticed her failure to respond. “What you shared with Captain Hampton has wrapped itself tightly around you,” he murmured passionately against her cheek, as he placed light kisses along her jaw. “I would free you, if you would let me.”
She straightened and went rigid. “What are you suggesting?”
He kept her hands in his and rushed to explain. “I would not ask this of you, but it seems you think only of him in my arms. I will marry you if you will have me. I am not asking you to be my mistress, but I would have you think only of me. If you would let me truly show you how I feel, I think you would see that you could feel it, too.”
Pulling her hands from his and rising, Faith turned her back to him and took a few steps to place some distance between them. “You’re asking me to sleep with you?”
“I would gladly wait, but I am afraid that if I wait too long, I will lose you. God will forgive us. My patron saint, she will understand. She will intervene.”
“Your...?”
“Never mind. We will talk later. Now is not the time for talk, Faith.”
“What if it does not work? I have no desire to hurt you. I do like you, I do, but what if Geoff was the love of my life? What if I can never feel for you what I felt for him? It wouldn’t be fair to you. You deserve a woman who can return your love unfettered. You are worthy of more than a woman whose body betrayed you long before she met you.”
He closed the distance and pulled her close. Looking fiercely into her eyes he cried, “¡No importa! It does not matter! I told you that I do not care what happened before. I will gladly take whatever you have to offer, but give us a chance.”
He kissed her again with reckless passion, and Faith forced her mind to go blank, allowed herself to be led, abdicated the responsibility inherent in conscious thought.
Miguel and Elizabeth were visiting a neighbor for the rest of the afternoon, and she doubted any of the slaves would dare to carry tales. He pulled her toward the house, and she followed. She looked at nothing but her feet as they peeped out from her skirts with her long strides, then counted the stairs and studied the pattern in the rug that covered the upper gallery floor. Anything to keep her mind from engaging in the moment.
When he pulled her into his arms in his room and sank onto the bed with her, she squeezed her eyes shut and banished the image of gilded hair and golden eyes that sprang before her. He kissed her skillfully, his hands roaming over her in gentle caresses designed to inflame without threatening. There was no question that her emotions were turbulent and wild, and she thought that perhaps she did feel some response, for her breath seemed to be coming in short gasps.
She had, indeed, removed herself from her feelings, for it was Diego who pulled away, realizing that she was
sobbing.
“Forgive me,” he murmured. He would have held her against him, but she pulled away and struggled to compose herself.
“I’m sorry, Diego. I’m so sorry.”
His head dropped to his chest. “Nay, Faith, it is I who should apologize. I wanted you so much.”
Guilt squeezed her heart at the pain in his voice. “It is not your fault! You are such a good man. You are handsome and kind, everything I should want. I cannot fathom myself, truly!”
“I can,” he sighed. “You are steadfast and true, and because of that, you can never be mine.” He walked to one of the windows in his room and looked out over the bay. When Magdalena returned, she would make a brief trip to Cartagena. “We must go on a short journey together, you and I, although it will not be the journey I had hoped for.”
“I do not understand.”
He turned and smiled at her with dark eyes that reflected his pain and regret. “I have a promise to keep, if it is not too late.”
*
“Santa Maria,” Diego prayed, “what have I done? I was so certain that I was doing the right thing when I took Hampton to Cartagena. I did not understand how deep this thing was between them.” He stole a glance at the woman who stood at the ship’s rail, searching for the coast of the Spanish Main.
“Now, whatever softness Faith has felt for me will vanish when she learns that I lied to her regarding the English captain’s capture. If we arrive too late, she will see the blood of her beloved on my hands. We must arrive in time!”
Diego chastised himself. Oh, he had been a fine one to lecture the pirate about placing the needs of others before his own desires! Despite his honorable intentions, he prayed again. “Maybe we can save the Englishman’s life, and he could be sentenced to prison or slavery. Faith would be grateful, but the two would yet remain apart. Better still, he might reject her again.”
He dropped his head, ashamed of his own selfish thoughts. “Ah, but that is a fool’s hope, is it not, Maria? Diego and the lovely English Protestant were never meant to be.”
That night he closed his eyes and dreamed. Mary Magdalene smiled at him with her full, red lips, gazed at him with deep, blue eyes, and whispered in her lyrically foreign accent, “She is not the one for you, Diego. You will sacrifice much for her, and for that sacrifice, I will send you another. You will know her when you see her.”
Chapter 24
Geoff and Father Tomás sat quietly in the dark cell. The musty air seemed even more dense than usual, the silence more palpable. The trial had concluded only the week before. Spanish justice was to be swift. Captain Hampton would die on the morrow, hanged, as he should have been in England if Spain could trust English fair play. His face was unshaven, somehow making his eyes all the more imposing. It never ceased to amaze the priest that, through it all, he had never seen fear in those golden orbs. Regret, yes, an impossible mix of self-loathing and pride, surely, but no fear.
“Are you at peace with your spirit, my son?” he asked.
“Aye, as much as I can be. D’you think I’m bound for hell, Father?”
“It is not for me to say. That decision rests in God’s hands. Christ says that the kingdom of heaven can be reached only through Him.”
“He also said, ‘The kingdom of God is within.’”
The priest smiled slightly. “You have been reading the Bible I left you.”
Geoff’s answering grin was rueful. “There is naught else to do here.” The smile faded as quickly as it had come. “I read. I do whatever I can to keep from thinking about the inevitable. I’ll never see Faith again. If ‘tis true, if there is a heaven and a hell, then I’ll live with that single thought. I’ll spend eternity knowing that she still exists, somewhere beyond my reach. God could spare himself the lake of fire and the brimstone. Existence without Faith would be hell enough.”
“I think it more likely that hell is like that for everyone condemned to it. Existence without faith.”
“I wish I could believe, Father. It would be so much easier.”
Tomás nodded his head. He knew there were priests who would gladly take credit for the conversion of a man who professed beliefs he did not truly hold in his heart, but he was not such a man. “I wish you could believe, too, my son.”
A key turned noisily in the lock of the stout wooden door, and the guard who appeared addressed Father Tomás. “Él tiene una visita.”
“There is someone here to see you. A woman,” Tomás explained. “Entre,” he called. The guard stepped out and was replaced by the mysterious caller.
There was never a moment’s doubt in the old man’s mind as to the identity of the visitor. The woman wore a gown of white silk accented with silver ribbons and heavy white lace. Her hair was of spun silver, her skin opalescent, her eyes a startling shade of blue-green. She looked a very angel, and there could be no question, she was faith personified.
Tomás all but disappeared to the two people reunited in the dismal cell. Neither moved, neither breathed. That one last glimpse, one last moment both had hoped for, dreamed of a thousand times over, formed a bittersweet agony beyond words. All that they had lost hovered silently between them.
“Those eyes,” she whispered at last, “they are surely yours, but this face is not.” She ran her hands lightly over his thick beard, then moved them to his gaunt shoulders, encased in a torn, stained shirt. “Nor this body. Do they never feed you? Are you to starve for them?”
With a strangled cry he caught her, held her close, rained kisses upon her face before he captured her mouth and kissed her as though by this act he could bind them together forever. His voice was husky with emotion when he spoke. “Oh God, Faith, ‘tis you. Ah, you are my redemption and my only taste of paradise.”
She wept without restraint, holding him close and pressing her cheek fiercely to his hard shoulder. “I could not bear never to see you again. When Diego said he could bring me to you, I had to come, but now I think I will die if we must part again!”
He clasped her face tenderly in both hands. “‘Tis glad I am to hold you one last time. I would have spared you the pain, but I am selfish enough to be glad to see you.”
“Though it haunts my dreams the rest of my life, I’ll never regret this moment. Diego and I thought to save you, but we cannot even gain an audience with the court. They say that tomorrow...” She stopped, emotion choking off the rest of the sentence.
Father Tomás watched on in silence, his own throat tight, his eyes blinking back tears of compassion. If ever he had seen two people who were meant to be together, it was this captain and his lady.
Geoff spoke tenderly to her. “We’ll think of tomorrow later, but promise me this now. Promise you will not be there.”
“Nay! You cannot ask that of me! I will die with you, though my body goes on. You cannot deny me the right to be there for you, to be the last thing you see when you bid this life farewell.”
“Mayhap it will not be farewell for us. Mayhap there is another way.” Geoff turned to Father Tomás, blinking him back into existence. “I do not know exactly what I believe, Father, but if I have a soul, I care not who gets it. It may as well be God as the devil. If there is any way that we can have another time, another place, I would have them. Will you wed us, here, now?”
The priest shook his head apologetically. “It is not so easy, my son. To begin, a marriage performed under these circumstances would not be legal. And I must tell you, I think God will not take a soul that is not well and truly His. So long as you doubt, salvation eludes you.”
Faith’s gaze carefully searched the priest’s face. “Have you been sent to counsel Captain Hampton?”
Geoff smiled, and for a moment, the obligatory formalities made the situation feel absurdly normal. “Faith, this is Father Tomás. He has been my friend through all of this.”
She curtsied. “If Geoff counts you as his friend, then you are a good man, Father. The legality of our union is unimportant. As for the destiny of our souls, I
would follow this man into hell and have no regrets.”
“My child, I cannot help to lead a faithful Christian woman astray.”
“I have strayed already.”
“God will forgive you! Do not act in a moment of passion, my child, and regret it for all eternity.”
“Nay, Father, it is not only this man who has led me from the path I trod ere I met him. Indeed, the way was ever a slippery slope, and now, I have seen too much. I have come to love people who cause others the bitterest pain. I have questioned the faith of my childhood and somehow found myself. I have seen divine grace in a man who defies every absolute I once believed. I have been offered everything I should want and yet come away empty.
“I would bind my soul to this man in the eyes of my Maker, and I will trust the judgment of that Being. It matters not that neither the state nor the church will recognize this marriage. There is much I am unsure of these days, but this I know: God sees what is in our hearts. That is enough.”
Her passionate words left Father Tomás with a mighty battle of the spirit. What these two asked of him went against everything he believed. To do as they asked, he jeopardized his own immortal soul. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Heavenly Father,” he beseeched silently, “grant me some guidance. What is Your plan for these two children of Yours? You have bound their hearts, but You do not soften them to You. To what purpose? Is he the test of the woman’s faith? Do I help to tear her from You, or is it Your will that they stay together forever, whatever the price?” As he prayed, he listened to their hushed conversation.
“I never told you,” Geoff began. “I thought I would die ere I could. I love you, Faith. Because of you, I believe in love. It is truly a miracle.”
Her smile was both sad and wry, her voice gently teasing. “Nay, you lust for me. Just as it is the nature of the sea to reflect the clear, blue sky, it is the nature of a rogue to lust for a wench. ‘Tis no miracle.”