Captive Secrets (28 page)

“Where should I tell my brothers to take the ship? I see you haven't given that any thought. Well, give this some thought, Miss Fury, the man on the steps is starting to make my blood sing.”

“Tomorrow is another day,” Fury said airily. “I expect you to bring back information. Your brothers have always lived here. Surely they know places. . . . I'll leave it to you, Juli. I have to get back before Luis suspects something. Oh, and Juli, take Gaspar and Pilar with you. Simply tell them to follow you and they will. Go along now,” she said in her mother's firm voice.

“Dear Aldo, there's something my mistress wants me to do. I'm afraid we'll have to postpone our dinner in the kitchen. Perhaps we could breakfast together if you have a mind to. My mistress is soooo demanding,” Juli simpered as she backed herself up the stairs. It wasn't till she was all the way to the top of the stairs that she realized she would either have to go down over the balcony or descend the stairs and go past Aldo, who would surely wonder where she was going at that time of night. And where was she to find the damn black birds?

 

He was so close, she could smell the faint scent of cigar smoke on his clothing, a scent reminiscent of her father. He had her elbow in the palm of his hand as she took dainty little steps in the tight gown. She could feel herself shivering in the warm air, shivers that had nothing to do with the balmy air.

The garden was exquisite, with colorful lanterns illuminating the intricate footpaths. A slight breeze carried the heady scent of jasmine to Fury's nostrils. She began to relax, savoring the feel of the air and the touch of the handsome man walking by her side.

They would miss the board of governors' announcement if they stayed in the garden, she thought, then realized she didn't care if she missed it or not. This was what she wanted. And she didn't want it to end.

Be bold and brash, Fury decided. She bent down to pick up her skirts only to realize there was no excess silk to hike above her ankles. She gave a light tug at the clinging wrapped silk—and immediately toppled over to land flat on her face in the grass. A furious flapping overhead in the darkness made her bury her head in the lush greenery to stifle her laughter. She knew the hawks would circle harmlessly and then return to their perches.

Luis was grinning from ear to ear as he reached down to help her up. “I guess I have to thank you for wearing that scandalous dress, for if it weren't for the dress, I wouldn't be about to . . .”

His lips were so close that Fury could feel his warm breath on her cheek. She closed her eyes in anticipation of the kiss she knew was coming. She wanted him to kiss her, expected it; after all, that's what this evening was all about. Another moment and his lips would be on hers. She would swoon, be all light-headed and warm all over. What was taking him so long? Perhaps he was staring at her, memorizing her face or simply drinking in her beauty. She opened one eye and then the other. He wasn't drinking in her beauty or memorizing her features at all. He was staring at something behind her. Something that was high in the air. The birds! She turned and almost lost her footing a second time. She should have fainted, she thought sourly.

“Isn't that your housekeeper hanging from the balustrade?” Luis drawled.

“My housekeeper!” Fury shrilled. “Absolutely not! Why would my housekeeper hang from . . . that woman doesn't look anything like . . . my . . . my housekeeper. How can you think such a thing? It's a trick of lighting, the lanterns . . .”

“Something seems to be attacking her . . . do you hear that noise?” Luis chuckled deep in his throat, a sound Fury took to be fear. “It must be those damn killer birds! You stay here while I get help!”

“That's not my room!” Fury lied brazenly.

“I don't think that matters right now. What matters is getting the poor woman down before she kills herself. Do you want her death on your conscience?”

“Well, no, but . . . look, she's got a foothold and is ... she's over the side and back on the balcony. See, your anxiety was for naught. Poor woman was probably trying to get away from . . . from someone,” Fury said weakly.

“Did you see those damnable birds?” Luis asked gruffly.

“No, I didn't see any birds, and I could barely see the woman,” Fury said huffily. “I think we should go indoors. I feel a chill and I think I have a headache coming on.”

“I wonder why that doesn't surprise me,” Luis drawled.

“I beg your pardon, what did you say?” Fury asked fretfully as she started to mince her way on the garden path.

“What I said was we should get back to what we were doing before that ridiculous woman decided to escape from her lover.”

Fury could feel herself stiffen as Luis gathered her into his arms. She closed her eyes, knowing this time he was memorizing her features. His lips were so close, almost on hers. She could feel her heart begin to pound—or was it his? His lips were soft, gentle, and full of promise. She could feel his hand on her bare arm, the fingers trailing down, down . . . And then those same gentle fingers were on her back and working their way down her draped arm. Another second and they would find their way to the inside portion of her arm.

Suddenly, deep inside her a warning sounded. She didn't want to heed it, she wanted to remain in Luis's warm embrace, their bodies pressed tightly together. But some instinct prompted her to tear herself away. She took a few steps backward, a flustered look on her face, and then ran—ripping at the confining fabric of her gown, loosening it slightly. At the French doors she stopped to regain her composure, then smoothed back her hair and walked into the ballroom.

No one was paying attention to her; all eyes were on the dais, where the governors were about to make their announcement. She heard the words, and later they would sink in, but not now. Dykstra had been passed over for the governorship, and some faceless man she'd never heard of was being mentioned for the position.

In her room, Fury unwrapped the shimmering emerald silk from her shoulder, tied it to the bedpost, and then twirled until she was standing naked in the darkness. She'd never felt this hot, this burning fire that was consuming her. Fear? Luis Domingo? In minutes she was dressed and on the balcony, peering into the darkness for a vine or trellis. There were none. Heart thudding in her chest, she climbed over the balustrade. Poor Juli. Poor Fury, she thought grimly as she closed her eyes.

Luis Domingo stood in the shadows, his dark eyes narrowed in amusement. Did she dare to jump? She could kill herself. When he saw her kick off her slippers, he moved out of the shadows and ran, knowing he didn't want the young woman to hurt herself no matter who she was, no matter what she'd done.

Fury squeezed her eyes tight and leapt, her arms flailing the air. At the same moment Luis stretched out his arms and caught her, his body jerking backward with the force of her weight.

“My God . . . what . . . ”

“I have to assume this is a new cure for a headache,” Luis drawled from beneath her.

“My God . . . what . . .”

“You already said that. . . . I think an explanation is in order, but if you prefer to . . . ah, ignore this situation, I can and will keep my lips sealed.”

He knows and he's laughing at me.
Sparks spewed from Fury's eyes. Damn, what would her mother have done in a situation like this?

She realized then that her body was literally covering his. She was so close to him, her lips almost on his. “Actually,” she murmured in a shaky voice, “I was . . . was looking for you. Obviously you were closer than I realized.” She cradled his dark head in her hands and brought her lips to his in a searing kiss that sent shock waves through her entire body. Luis's arms tightened around her, straining to bring her even closer.

She didn't care then if his fingers caressed her arm; she didn't care about anything but his lips on hers. Her body was demanding, ordering her to explore, to search . . . to seek and find.

“No,” Luis said hoarsely as he thrust her from him. Fury blinked and looked at him, confused. “You don't know what you're . . . No. I can't. . . .”

Fury blinked again, then shame rushed through her. He'd been playing with her, he didn't want her at all! The kiss was . . . the same kind he'd given the whore Naula. Damn him to hell—he thought she was no more than a common wanton!

She was on her feet in an instant, her face fiery red. “Good night, Señor Domingo,” she said coldly.

Luis could only stare after her, too stunned to move. The moment the darkness swallowed her, he cried her name, again and again.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Fury ran through the dark, quiet streets until she came to the parish house. She didn't bother to knock but thrust open the door, calling the priest's name in a voice so tormented, the good father—who' d long since left the soiree for the comfort of his own bed—was downstairs in an instant, tripping on his nightshirt as he went along.

“What is it, child? What's happened? What time is it?”

“He knows, Father, he knows! I'm sure of it!”

“Who knows what?” the old priest demanded fretfully.

“Señor Domingo. He suspects who I am. My scar . . . the hawks, the diamond garter . . . I sent Juli to get the ship out of the cove before sunup. There is no other hiding place for her.” Fury began to pace up and down the foyer, wringing her hands. “It's all over, Father. Everyone will know shortly. I suppose you know that Mynheer Dykstra was passed over for the governorship for someone I never heard of. He will never forgive my father and mother, or me, for that matter. Do you know why they wouldn't accept him, Father?”

Father Sebastian sighed. “Because he is getting on in years. They want a younger man, or at least that's what I think. I can't prove it. I saw the mynheer's face; he took the announcement badly, I thought. I tried to speak with him, but he stormed out of the house. He said if he isn't good enough to be governor, then he is resigning as the manager of the Dutch East India Company. The mynheer is a very bitter man and I can't say I blame him. I devoted an hour of prayer for his soul.”

“Yes, yes, that's all well and good, Father, but about my problem. If Luis Domingo tells Mynheer Dykstra, the . . . they could send me to prison, Father. My mother, too.” The thought of her beautiful mother in prison turned Fury's face white. She herself knew about prisons; she'd been planning on entering one.

The elderly priest shook his head. “They have to have proof, Furana. A scar on your arm isn't going to convince the authorities you're anything but who you are, a young lady sent here to enter the convent.”

“A young lady who was
rejected.
Father, the authorities will see it as a simple ruse. My mother's ship . . . I can't let it be confiscated, she'll never forgive me. Once I secure it, I'll return here and decide what I am to do.”

He should tell her now, the old priest thought. He should walk over to his Bible and show her the letter from the archbishop. But he knew he wouldn't do any such thing. “What can I do, child?”

“If Luis Domingo is half as astute as I think he is, he knows this is the only place I'd come to at this late hour. Would you—would you tell him I came here to make a confession because of my . . . my wanton desires?”

“Do you think he'll believe you came here in the middle of the night to confess your sins?” Father Sebastian asked gently.

“It's up to you to make him believe it, Father. The casa is being watched by Mynheer Dykstra's men. I was going to sail the
Rana
to provide Luis with an escort back to Spain—at a safe distance, of course.” She told him then about the diamond consignment. “I have to go back to the von Klausner house now,” she concluded, “and believe me when I tell you it's going to be much harder to get in than it was getting out. I have no idea how I'm going to explain my absence. The story will be all over Batavia. God only knows what Mynheer Dykstra will do.”

“You are your mother's daughter, Furana. Whatever happens, I'm sure you'll do the right thing,” the priest said loyally.

Fury whirled. “I'm sick and tired of hearing I'm my mother's daughter! That sort of thinking is what got me into this predicament. Listen to me, Father. I will do whatever I have to to keep this secret. No one—not Mynheer Dykstra, not Luis Domingo—will reveal it.
No one. Now,
Father, you can pray for me!”

Fury had her hand on the doorlatch when Father Sebastian called to her. “Do you love Luis Domingo?”

Fury's bitter laughter sent chills down the old priest's back. Why, he wondered miserably, had he expected an answer?