Authors: Paula Reed
“Santa Maria,” he whispered softly into the warm gulf breeze, “perhaps we could forego these other hardships of which you spoke. You said there would be another time to play the hero.” He closed his eyes, half expecting her to appear to him again, and he was both relieved and disappointed when all he saw was the backs of his eyelids.
*
When Faith awoke, the cabin was unfamiliarly bright. Geoff was not next to her, and she had no idea whether or not he had ever returned. She rose, wincing at the tenderness between her legs, letting her glance skim the droplets of dried blood upon the sheets. She could almost have believed the whole incident a dream if were not for the physical evidence. Once she had dressed and tucked her hair into her coif, she mounted the ladder determined to face the day.
Nothing could have prepared her for the sight that met her eyes. At first she felt disoriented by the blinding light, and she closed her eyes against it. Then she blinked and gasped in awe. Above her, the sky had been washed clean to a dazzling azure offset by merry yellow sunlight. The ocean had gone from murky green to brilliant blue, and the breeze that caressed her was warm and delicious.
Geoff couldn’t help himself. He watched her, the look of disbelief followed by wanton pleasure. In the dark of night he could easily promise himself that he would never touch her again. In the light of the sensuous Gulf Stream sun, he knew that he would take all that he could get ere he left her in Port Royal.
She scanned the deck and found him. He smiled at her, and whatever coldness he had left in her heart the previous night melted. She spread her arms and whirled in a spontaneous gesture of delight.
“It is a miracle, is it not?” Faith asked.
As much as he wanted to believe it, Geoff only shook his head. “‘Tis no miracle, Faith. ‘Tis calm, blue waters reflecting the clear sky above. What you see is but the nature of these climes.”
“And ‘tis our nature to be moved by them,” she insisted. “Mayhap that is the miracle.”
“Mayhap,” he agreed, unwilling to spoil the moment and having no argument. “Mayhap.”
Faith ducked her chin sheepishly. “I must seem so very silly to you. Of course, you’ve seen this many times.”
“Aye, Faith, I have. Still, one can experience a thing over and over, and with the right person, ‘tis all anew.”
She cast a questioning look through her lashes, and her heart gave a little flutter at the seriousness in his eyes. He meant more than this new aspect of the ocean.
They walked to the rail, and she leaned comfortably against him, letting the wind blow her troubles into the endless jewel of the ocean and sky. She had almost expected the storm to renew its fury the night before, when Geoff had left and she had had time to contemplate the magnitude of the choice she had made. All this beauty, the perfect contentment she felt in his arms, it all seemed but a benediction. Perhaps God understood that these were special circumstances. If this was, indeed, meant to be, there was time to set things aright.
The crew seemed lighter of heart, as well. They laughed more readily; tempers flared less often. The one with the fine tenor voice broke into song, and Geoff hummed along softly. The tune was unfamiliar to Faith, who knew only hymns, so she simply enjoyed the music and the breathtaking loveliness of the scene.
Only the one called Killigrew continued to nurse whatever resentment he held. He watched her intently, and she liked not the look in his eye.
Giles cautioned her about the effects of so much sun on skin as pale as hers and led her back to the cabin below. She flushed brightly when she saw his eyes travel to the rumpled, bloodstained sheets. Hastily, she tugged the covers up and smoothed them neatly.
“You’ve no cause for shame,” Giles said softly. “And besides, I had no need to see the sheets. ‘Twas on your faces above.”
“You must think me loose,” she protested.
Giles only smiled. “You? Nay. Geoff has always had a way with wenches.” At Faith’s sharply indrawn breath, he hastened to explain. “Forgive me! ‘Tis just a word. I’ve been too long in coarse company and don’t always think before I speak. You are a lady, Faith, and a virtuous one.”
She blushed again, and her eyes were drawn back to the bed with its incriminating linens hidden from view.
Guessing the path of her thoughts, Giles leaned against the desk and addressed her firmly. “Virginity and virtue are not the same thing, you know.”
“Not entirely,” Faith acceded.
“Not at all,” Giles replied. “Damn me! I almost feel like I should call him out over this. Did he hurt you?”
Unable to meet his earnest gaze, she shook her head. “He kept his promise to you,” she confessed.
“Well then,” Giles answered with a little grin, “I shan’t run him through with my cutlass, after all.”
Finally, she looked him in the face. Perhaps she was a little embarrassed, but she wasn’t truly ashamed. “I love him,” she explained, and as she did so, her throat tightened and tears welled in her eyes. “It wasn’t merely lust. I think I could have resisted that.”
With a weary sigh, Giles pulled himself up so that he was sitting on the desk. “You cannot love him, Faith.”
“But I do! You cannot know what it’s like. All my life I have felt like a fraud. I have never measured up to what I was told a good woman should be. But Geoff, he makes me feel whole. He makes me feel worthy. I can think, be, breathe when I am with him.”
Giles nodded. “Aye, he’s a good man, Geoff. He is forthright and honest and accepts people for what they are, even as he expects them to accept him on the same terms. So, in his honesty Faith, what promises has he made to you?”
She broke her eyes away from his. “He needs time, that’s all. Everything’s changed now. Ere we reach Jamaica, he’ll see that we must be together.”
Sliding off the edge of the desk, Giles came toward her and took her hands in his. “You are very young, and you’ll grow much in this journey of yours. But Geoff is a man, fully grown and set in his ways. I only hate to see you hurt.”
“And you believe that to be inevitable?”
“Men like us, adventurers and libertines, we’re not the ones for women such as you.”
She gave his hands a little squeeze. “You’re no libertine, Giles Courtney.”
“Well, I’m no gentleman, either. The Caribbean is not Massachusetts, Faith. You’ll find the freedom you seek, even with a more stable husband. It’s more broad-minded even than Europe, so this affair will do little to spoil your chances of finding the right man.”
“You think I’ve made a mistake, then?”
“Perhaps not. Perhaps, after awhile, you will look back and treasure this time. Your mistake is in believing it will last.”
*
In the weeks that followed, Geoff and Faith took all they could from the fair seas, warm rains, and each other. Now that they had reached more temperate climes, Geoff hung blankets on deck to shield her from prying eyes, and she bathed in seawater. Letting the rain caught in a tarp sluice over her, she rinsed the salt and sweat from her, while Geoff took his place at the crows nest, keeping watch over the sea and her, neither a sight he could ever tire of.
It was on such a day that Geoff called out to the men below, “Ship off the port bow! Faith, dress and go below!” He hastily climbed from the crow’s nest and began his descent.
She obeyed without hesitation, but called up, “Is it an enemy ship?” She couldn’t imagine who their enemies were. It seemed that Geoff would be on friendly terms with most pirates, and they were protected by the Crown.
By the time Geoff reached the bottom of the riggings, she was dressed and pulling down the blankets that had afforded her privacy. There was no time to dry her hair, and water soaked the back of her gown, making it stick uncomfortably to her.
One of the sailors climbed up in Geoffrey’s place, and after a long look through the spyglass, he sang out, “Spanish! A carrack, cap’n, merchant ship!”
The crew raised a general shout of enthusiasm, but Geoff swore under his breath and turned to Giles. “We’ll hold our course and let her pass.”
The one called Killigrew stood but a few feet away, and his eyes lit with fire. “What are ye talkin’ about, man? She’s sittin’ low in the water, ripe fer the takin’.”
“Not this time,” Geoff responded tersely. “We’ve enough from the last one. We all have plenty to keep us in drink and women when we get home.”
“Oh,
ye’ve
enough fer a woman, that’s sure.” Killigrew swept her with his eyes and a nasty sneer. “‘Tis she who’s makin’ ye turn coward. Well, the rest of us ‘ave no wench to keep us satisfied, so ‘tis gold we’ll be takin’. Ye can be the captain ye’re paid to be, or ye can take a swim and we’ll chose another.”
There were shouts and murmurs of agreement, and even Giles turned his palms up in a gesture of defeat. “If we don’t go after her, they’ll mutiny. Faith’s no safer that way.”
Killigrew still assessed her, licking his lips in anticipation, and Faith squelched a sudden urge to vomit.
When Geoff faced her, it was with cold, blank eyes. He pulled her roughly away from the odious sailor, and spoke to her in a harsh whisper. “Go below, Faith. In my desk, you’ll find a flintlock. If it is not Giles or I who come to get you, you must use it.”
“But of what use is it against a mob?” she cried.
The barest trace of tenderness and regret slipped through his defenses, and his throat constricted around his words. “For yourself. You must use it for yourself.”
She stared at him in disbelief and choked on a sob.
Giles softened it a bit. “If the Spanish win, you can claim you were kidnapped. They might show mercy. But if ‘tis Killigrew and his men, believe me, Faith, you’re better off dead.”
“Giles?” she asked, seeking reassurance.
He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, and all at once, she thought of Noah. This day might well seal her fate. If Geoff and Giles did not prevail, it was very likely she’d have no chance of ever reconciling with her family.
“Have faith,” Giles assured her.
“You’ll protect him?” she asked.
“We have ever guarded each other’s backs.”
She nodded and he turned away to serve his captain and his friend.
Geoff was already shouting orders. Cannon and flintlocks must be loaded, the red flag hoisted. She was loath to leave, but Giles firmly led her to Geoff’s cabin. Once there, she opened the desk drawer, found the flintlock, a lead ball, and a small pouch with acrid, black powder. As they approached the Spanish vessel and fired a warning shot across its bow, she discerned how to load it. By the time they had drawn along side the other ship, she felt sure she knew how to use it.
Suicide was a mortal sin, but as both Geoff and Giles had told her, she would have little choice. The thought of Killigrew’s and the others’ vile hands upon her, profaning the act that had seemed sacred in its own right with Geoff, was enough to spur her on. Besides, if she had to kill herself, it would be because Geoff was dead, and even heaven would be hell without him.
Chapter 13
It was almost automatic, really. He had been through enough battles to give all the right orders and yet still allow some part of him to dwell upon the woman who waited below. Cannons were fired across the merchant’s bow and none answered back. At first he thought it was the easy surrender that kept his blood from heating as it always did when he and the crew took a Spanish ship. Nay, ‘twas Faith. She had brought out so many surprising feelings that he was hardly shocked to realize that he had no desire for this battle, and that it went beyond his concern for Faith’s safety.
He knew that one of his greatest strengths in combat was that while he wanted to live, he did not care if he died. It gave him a lethal combination of daring and self-preservation. Now, he had to live. He was, quite simply, not finished, and it was this thought that he carried with him when his crew swung their grappling hooks across the space between the two ships, pulled along side, and boarded the Spanish carrack
Magdalena
.
Capitán Diego Montoya de Madrid y Delgado Cortes pulled his sword from its sheath. He knew that his carrack could not outrun the larger, faster brigantine, and there was no question that
Magdalena
was outgunned. He could not challenge
Destiny
across the water. Still, the valor in his men’s hearts could surely prevail above the pirates’ evil intentions. Hand-to-hand, he thought they might well stand a chance.
But his optimism did not last. Pirates swarmed
Magdalena’s
deck, and though his crew fought as bravely as he could have asked, they were no match. Diego scanned the fray, his brown eyes alighting upon a tall, golden man who fought with the grace of a cat. Their captain. Without hesitation, he plunged forward. Perhaps, if he could fell their leader, they might still stand a chance.
Geoffrey neatly parried the thrust of a Spanish sword, his own blade slicing through the sword arm of the man who had challenged him. The merchant crewman screamed, slipped on his own blood, and fell heavily to the deck. Even as a young cabin boy, Geoff had always had an unerring sense of impending attack, and he spun just in time to avoid another Spaniard’s advance.
On a naval vessel, one always knew which of the crew was its captain. On a merchant vessel, it was often not as clear. Now, as Geoff gazed into the determined eyes of his opponent, he knew that it was his counterpart with whom he crossed blades.
“
¡Entregue!
” Geoff shouted. He knew little Spanish, but a few words were essential for a privateer. ‘Surrender’ was one of them.
“Never!” the Spanish captain rejoined, and Geoff had to grin. Apparently his foe had picked up a little English, as well.
Their blades struck against one another over and over again, their clanging lost amid the cacophony of metal clashing and men crying out in pain or glory. The two were well matched, and while one might gain the advantage for a while, the other would quickly take it back. In turn, each would reach up to wipe away the sweat that stung his eyes and tasted of salt upon his lips.