Into His Arms (29 page)

“Answer the question.”

“Aye! It would make the purchase of a ship somewhat harder, but it could be done. Why do you ask?”

“What would you do if you were not left with enough funds for the ship?”

In frustration, Geoff raked his hands through his hair and began to pace. “I suppose I would talk to my first mate about establishing a partnership. He has no taste for the killing that often goes with taking Spanish vessels.”

“Would you be willing to sign a statement to the effect that you would pose no threat to Spain nor any of her people or property?”

He stopped and faced his inquisitor. “Are you asking me to?”

“Would you?”

This could be a trick, some final cruelty. Cautiously he answered, “Aye.”

“Upon pain of the most gruesome death?”

“Aye.”

“And would you legally marry the woman, in fact, swear you would not touch her until you have accomplished this?”

Anger bubbled up inside of Geoff, and he gripped the back of his chair to keep himself from throttling the man who seemed to hold freedom tantalizingly close before him, but stopped short of actually offering it to him. It seemed that nothing more than sordid curiosity could motivate such an interview.

“Why are you asking me this? Aye, aye, I would do it all, not to spare my life but because it is the life I would have if it were not to end in a few hours’ time! Is it somehow more just that I die with the salt of my regrets rubbed into the wounds the hemp will inflict? There, you have it! Now let’s call an end to this ridiculous charade. Put the damned rope around my neck and get on with it!”

Father Tomás repeated Geoff’s outburst, translating faithfully, but wincing at the grim demand for an end to the horrible wait.

“Although it pains me to admit it,” Juan Gallegos said, “I can see why Diego Montoya has such respect for you, Englishman.” He drew a deep breath and handed a sheet of parchment to Father Tomás. “I ask these things because they are the conditions of your pardon. Father Tomás can read the contract and verify it for you.”

Dumbfounded into silence, Geoff only stared at him. Finally, he turned to the priest, and Tomás confirmed the contents of the contract.

“Is this true?” he finally asked the man who had presented it. “You are offering me a pardon?”

“The offer is sincere. If you agree to these conditions, you will sign the contract and be sent immediately to Port Royal on board a Portuguese ship.”

A sudden, acute awareness of life swept over Geoff. He breathed deeply, intensely conscious of the air that moved powerfully in and out of his lungs. He could actually feel the blood pumping through his veins and flexed his hands, struck by the simple miracle that he could do so. These were things he had not thought to do another day, and it occurred to him that he would never again take his breath or body for granted.

“Why? Why would this be done?” he asked. “It all seems real enough, but it makes no sense. Well I know the court was pleased to finally have an English privateer at its mercy. Why this sudden leniency?”

“You say you have found faith,” Don Juan replied. “It was not misplaced.”

*

At noon, Geoff stood on the deck of a Portuguese ship, the wind in his hair, his arm draped over the shoulders of an angel, and wondered how the crowd that awaited his execution was faring. It seemed he should feel more elated, but part of him still didn’t trust the smell of the sea and the warmth of the woman at his side. Mayhap he had fallen asleep, and he would yet wake to find himself in his cell, awaiting the end.

As for Faith, she thought perhaps she had never met anyone as selfless as Diego. God willing, he would find the woman who was meant for him. She wondered about the man beside her. He was quiet and seemed a thousand miles away. Did he wish that marriage had not been one of the conditions? Marriage was one thing if you didn’t actually have to live with it, but this was another matter.

“Have you any regrets?” she asked.

He laughed softly. “That seems to be the question of the day.” At her confused look he smiled and shook his head. “What have I to regret?”

“You once told me that you preferred willing wenches and the heat of battle.”

“Did I say that? Nay, that was another fellow. One who only thought he knew the meaning of passion.”

“Not you?”

“Nay. That man was never content, ever searching for something he could not name. He knew not the joy of finding his heart’s desire. He thought it didn’t exist.”

“And you? What do you prefer?”

“Love, a love that can be counted on, one that will last forever.”

She thought her heart would burst as it swelled within her. “I thought forever was a fairytale,” she chided softly.

“What thick-headed lout e’re told you that? ‘Tis a mystery, not a fairytale. That man I once knew, he saw no mysteries. Nothing existed that he could not see, but the poor fellow never knew that he was blind.”

“I knew a woman very like that. Oh, she believed in the mysteries of life, but she believed she had solved them all.” Faith frowned, then amended, “Well, she thought others had, anyway.”

“Really? What became of her?”

“She is only now beginning to understand the questions.”

Chapter 26

Mayhap the building was filthy and run down, but such was the state of nearly every available structure in Port Royal, and neither Geoff nor Giles had funds enough remaining to build anything new. Giles smiled optimistically in the gloomy light that trickled through the grime-encrusted windows.

“Why such a dark scowl, old friend?” he asked Geoff. “There’s nothing here a bit of plaster, soap, and a strong hand can’t remedy. God knows, we’ve each of us lived in worse.” He took another glance around and amended, “Well, at least as bad.”

“Aye, but neither of us thought to bring a wife into such a mess.” His gaze swept the small office space. One long window looked out onto the street, or rather, would look out, once it had been cleaned. Plaster fell from the walls and ceiling in patches, and there was actually enough dirt and rubbish on the floor for the two men to leave footprints. It was devoid of furniture, another quandary, given the fact that, having paid Geoff’s debt to the Spanish merchant and bought
Destiny
from the crew, neither man had much left in his purse. Well Geoff knew that the room above, the one he intended for their living quarters, was in no better shape.

He had felt such bright confidence when he and Faith set sail from Cartagena. They were together, and they had the rest of their lives before them. Now, the truth of the matter seemed far less romantic. There would be many years of hard work to come ere they replenished the money he had spent getting them to this point. He ran his hand through his hair and thought of his beautiful Faith in these dingy apartments. It just didn’t seem right.

Giles was undaunted. “We’ll have a go at it before you bring Faith here. It won’t look so bad then, you’ll see.”

Geoff smiled and shook his head. How had he ever been so fortunate as to find such a friend, and how was it he had never seen before just how important this friendship was?

“Do you never think you would have been better off just leaving me to my own devices? I could have gone broke alone paying off that damned Spaniard, and you’d have been the captain of
Destiny
, plundering ships and getting rich.”

“Aye, and met my demise at some sea dog’s cutlass or the end of a hangman’s rope. Well I knew that if they caught you, I had no better luck. Nay, I’m of a mind to settle down a bit. Mayhap I’ll find me a wench to grow old with. It seems to suit you.”

“You’ll be hard pressed to find a wife here,” said Geoff. “There’s plenty of women, but few enough of the marrying kind.”

Giles kicked absently at the rubbish at his feet, raising more of the dust that already formed a gritty coating in both their mouths. “Mayhap one will fall into my lap, as Faith did in yours.”

Geoff grinned. “She put herself in my lap, as it were.”

“Dumb luck!” Giles argued. “She knew not whose lap she’d landed in, else she’d have run back home ere we left port in Boston.”

“Aye, Boston,” Geoff echoed softly.

“We’re bound to return there, sooner or later,” Giles said. “Think you she’ll join us? Will you two ever face her fearsome father and sainted family?”

Geoff left the question unanswered, floating with the dust motes in the stale air.

*

Despite his every effort to convince her to stay at the ship while he and Giles cleaned and made repairs, Faith insisted that she accompany them the next day. He made one apology after another for the scene that would meet her, but Faith waved them all away. It still took him aback, her lack of concern for luxury and comfort. Although he knew her to be a strong woman, he expected her to burst into tears at the sight of the wrack and ruin he and Giles had purchased.

But Faith simply assured the two men that it was a point of great pride among Puritans that, in addition to their modesty, they were known for their capacity for hard work. In less than a fortnight, the trio had the office and accompanying apartment sparkling clean and furnished.

The opulence of Winston Hall had been an exciting, new experience for Faith, but she had to admit she preferred the simple home that she and Geoff shared in Port Royal. The tiny room boasted a small hearth, a sagging bed, a nearly empty cupboard, a wobbly table, and four equally unsteady chairs.

It mattered not, for she had unflinching faith that they would work hard and build a better life, and Geoff found her confidence infectious. They had put many hours into it, and if the place was not as splendid as Winston Hall, nor as finely crafted as the home of her youth, it was clean and tidy and filled with love and laughter. Their bowed mattress sent them ever rolling against each other, igniting sparks, encouraging kisses, sighs, and slow, sweet caresses.

At times, Faith did look around her and puzzle where they might put the children of those sparks when they came, and the thought tugged at her heart. She had ever thought to have her mother there to guide her when it came to raising children of her own. She had always seen them bouncing on her father’s knee.

And there were smaller aspects of their humble life that plagued her. The tendency for their chairs to fall apart was one of them. Having examined one that morning, and coming to the inescapable conclusion that something must be done ere the entire seat disintegrated, Faith decided that she was not the daughter of a cabinetmaker for nothing. Mayhap she had never actually built anything, but she had spent countless hours watching the men in her family.

There was a cabinetmaker four doors up from them named Stuart Abrams. He was generally known to be a cantankerous sort, but he never failed to smile at Faith when she came and went to market or on some errand. She ought to feel some remorse for what she planned to do, but she was a desperate woman. Shamelessly, she smoothed the lavender skirts of one of her most flattering gowns, checked her hair in the mirror, pinched her cheeks for color, and strode downstairs to the shipping office.

Geoff was gone, out with a potential customer Giles said as he wrote in a ledger at the broad table that served as a desk for them both. She told him she would return soon and marched out the door. Outside Mr. Abrams’ joinery, she forced herself into a more relaxed demeanor and sailed through the entrance as though she dropped by to visit all the time.

*

Had anyone cared to ask, Stuart Abrams could have told him the cause of his sour disposition. Though his wife, Mathilde, was reigning matriarch of decent society in their neighborhood, she was a shrew behind closed doors. For a moment’s reprieve, there were whores aplenty, all friendly as could be and good enough, but they were also crass and rather hard looking. The sea captain’s lovely, young wife was a breath of fresh air, so although he had been donning his coat to leave, Stuart didn’t protest the delay.

“Good morning, Mr. Abrams,” Faith said cheerily.

“Mistress Hampton. Aye, it is a fine day, isn’t it?”

Immediately he realized that he must have appeared a complete fool. It was, in fact, overcast and sure to rain before noon. But his visitor smiled kindly.

“Aye, Mr. Abrams, fair indeed. Do you know, in all the weeks we have been neighbors, I have never been in your shop.”

He wondered briefly if his hairless head was as shiny as always. Perhaps his wife was right and he should take to wearing a wig. Shrugging self-consciously, he said, “I don’t suppose my shop is of much interest to a young lady like you.”

“Oh, but that’s not so. You see, my father is a cabinetmaker in Massachusetts.”

Stuart smiled broadly. A pretty woman with some knowledge of wood—’twas a fine day indeed! “Then mayhap you’d like to see this,” he suggested, holding up a round case upon a pedestal for inspection. “I’ve just finished this knife caddy, here. See—the knife blades fit into these slots, the top comes down like this, and it locks. ‘Tis for the mistress of one of the plantations. Have to keep the knives away from the slaves. They’ve been known to take a blade to themselves, you know.”

“Or an overseer. Yes, I know. Sad, isn’t it?” He noticed that she spoke with the kind of compassion seldom wasted on slaves, and he found it touching. “Still,” she continued, “this is ingenious, Mr. Abrams! And the craftsmanship is superior!”

He swallowed nervously, the approval in her extraordinary eyes leaving him feeling boyish and unsophisticated. Unfortunately, the thought of her husband, the sea captain, intruded. Word had it that he was a privateer and a man who had sent many a sailor to Davy Jones’ locker without a grain of remorse.

“How fares your husband’s business?” he asked.

“Well. Ere long, he will have enough in his hold to set sail. Is that a new coat?” She reached out with one of her elegant, white hands and lightly touched his cuff.

Stuart straightened up a bit and tugged at the coat. “This? Nay, ‘tis an old rag.” But he flushed and preened despite his words.

The lady graced him with another winning smile. “‘Tis a most flattering color, and the cut suits you.”