Into His Arms (27 page)

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.”

“A saintly woman once told me that it was the nature of man to wonder at the reflection of the sky upon the sea, and mayhap that very wonder was the miracle. That it is my nature to love you, though once I believed there could be naught but lust, that is a miracle, too. I know naught of God, Faith, but I know that what we have is timeless and sacred in its own right.”

Her fingertips brushed lightly over his brow and traced the edge of his beard. “Saintly? Was she not driven from her village and her church as a temptress? She is just a woman, Geoff, but she is a woman who loves you.”

“It seemed it was ever her fate to be faced with men too shortsighted to see her grace. On the morrow, and in the days to follow, remember that there was one whose vision cleared and who loved you, too. Though I may cease to exist at all, carry that with you. It will prevail.”

She sobbed softly, and something inside Tomás settled, found firm ground. “I will do it. I know not what effect it will have in God’s eyes, but I will give you this. May God forgive me if I have not divined His will correctly.”

The guard remained in the hallway, watching the door that had been left open so he could hear what took place within. Next to him stood Diego, and as the couple in the cell exchanged vows, he slipped silently away.

*

Time had only mildly altered the face of Juan Gallegos Lucero y Esquibel de Aguilar. The longtime friend of Diego’s father had left Spain nearly a decade ago and risen quickly to a position of considerable power in Cartagena, but the weight of responsibility became him. His mahogany hair had grayed slightly, but good-natured kindness still lit his dark eyes. He embraced Diego warmly, despite the late hour and the younger man’s unannounced arrival.

“Forgive me, Don Juan,” Diego said in his native Spanish. “I do not mean to bother you so late, but I was unsuccessful in contacting you earlier, and the matter is urgent.”

“The days are full, that is true,” Juan replied. “The hour is no matter. I regret that we missed each other the last time you visited Cartagena.”

“It was unfortunate. My visit was hasty, as is this one. I plan to sail tomorrow.”

“I see, then it is urgent indeed, or we would have missed one another again.” Juan’s hearty smiled caused a small pang of guilt to stab Diego.

“Of course, I wanted to visit with you, Don Juan, but as the hour is late, I will be direct about my purpose. I have come to claim the favor you have often insisted that you owe me.”

Juan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “This is most unexpected, Diego. For many years, whenever I have suggested that I owe you a debt of gratitude, you have rebuffed me. Thirteen, no, fourteen years ago, when you saved my son from drowning, I would have funded your education, purchased a ship for you, whatever you asked.”

“I knew all this, Don Juan, but truly, it was an honor to save Francisco. It was never my intention to seek a reward, but I find myself in dire need.”

“Naturally,” Juan said, “if it is in my power to grant you what you seek, I will do it, but I must confess that you puzzle me. What has caused this change of heart?”

“If it were not of grave importance, I would ask nothing of you. This I ask on behalf of another.”

“What is it you would ask?”

“There is an English pirate sentenced to die tomorrow.”

“Captain Geoffrey Hampton. I know of him.”

“You have great influence in both the government and the court.”

“I do,” Juan affirmed, his eyes narrowing.

“Do you think that you can obtain a pardon for him?”