Destiny's Captive (9 page)

“How did he die?”

“Spain hung him for treason.”

He went still. “My condolences.”

“Thank you.” Her father's death broke her heart. She'd loved him so much. He'd taken up the cause for his lost brothers, and she'd done the same for him. Now she was being forced to live for herself and she wasn't certain she knew how. “I can sail a ship and shoot a gun. I can walk a hundred miles silently through a jungle on little food and no sleep. I can start a smokeless fire, feed myself on what I can forage, treat wounds, and sharpen a machete until it gleams. I know nothing about being a wife.”

“And I know nothing about being a husband. That makes us even. Once you and I have worked through our initial clash of wills, I will send for your mother and sister with the hope that they'll consent to visit.”

“I doubt this will go as easily as you envision.”

“I'm envisioning a hard-fought battle, Pilar. Nothing worth having comes easy, especially not a woman so beautiful and fearless.”

Once again she was swept away, but managed to say. “As long as you understand.”

“I do.”

And with that she stood, and she was admittedly shaking inside, not out of fear of him or for her safety but of something unnamed: something that called to a portion of herself that was as intrigued by him as he claimed to be by her, even though the thinking rest of herself didn't wish to be.

“You still haven't given me an answer,” he reminded her softly. “Do you wish to be courted?”

“You don't leave much choice, do you? Yes, you may court me. I'll see you in the morning.”

She distinctly saw him smile that time. “This isn't funny.”

“No, but battling you will be fun. There's a difference.”

Exasperated, Pilar shook her head and left him.

As she disappeared into the darkness, Noah mined his own thoughts. He was now certain he'd lost his mind, but the parts of him that were drawn to her didn't care. As he'd noted, she was as lovely as she was fierce; even though it was readily apparent she'd never crossed swords on the field of courtship. He couldn't wait to begin his quest to win her. The memory of the rapier battle resurfaced, bringing with it the glorious surge of joy he'd felt during the encounter. To experience that again even occasionally was worth more than gold. He'd been wearing the dark horror of the island like a lead-lined mantle for over a decade. Never once had it fully lifted—until tonight. And even now, as it slowly descended again, the knowledge that it could be banished even temporarily gave him hope that over time he might escape it permanently. She held the key, the first he'd ever found, and just thinking about her seemed to ease the pain. Because of her he knew that hidden beneath his inner darkness lay something still alive, and he wanted to feed it so it could rise and grow. And as it did, and he and his recalcitrant warrior queen feinted and parried their way to a mutual understanding, maybe, just maybe he'd get to experience the joy his brothers seemed to have found with their wives, and that gave him hope as well. He was so elated by the evening's turn of events he wanted to wire Drew and let him know, he was finally having fun.

P
ilar's mother and sister were waiting in the bedroom the sisters shared when she returned.

“How did you fare?” her mother asked.

Pilar sank into a chair. “He refuses to change his mind.” She thought back on the overwhelming encounter and fought to ignore the lingering effects on her senses. “I asked if this was his way of extracting his revenge.”

“And his reply?”

“No.”

“Then why do this?” Doneta wanted to know.

Instead of revealing he'd spoken of desire, she hedged. “He said it's because I'm the only woman he knows who can wield a rapier.” She rolled her eyes at that, and added truthfully, “He also said that I would have a fine home, money of my own, servants. Whatever I desired he'd move heaven and earth to place at my feet.”

Her mother stilled with surprise.

Doneta said over a laugh. “Oh my. If you don't want him, Pilar, I'll take him.”

They all laughed, and Pilar wondered how she'd survive in California without Doneta's wonderful sense of humor. She held the gazes of the two people she loved most in the world. “He wants the two of you to come to California to visit once he and I are settled. I told him it wasn't going to be that easy. He can't possibly believe he'll win me over in two months.”

“Does he frighten you?” her mother asked quietly.

She shook her head. “He assured me I won't come to any harm and truthfully, I believe him. I just don't understand why he's so set on doing this.”

“Maybe he's in love with you,” Doneta said and shrugged. “Tio said he's honorable. You could do a lot worse.”

“But I don't want to do at all.” She thought back to the night she ordered him to the rowboat. “He said he'd find me, and he has.” The confusion on her mother's face made her explain what she was referencing.

“He's very driven then,” her mother concluded.

“Apparently.” She quieted and thought back on his potent encounter once more. “I don't know anything about being courted, Mama.”

“I do,” Doneta said dreamily. “In the books, the man takes his
novia
walking, brings her flowers and chocolates, and sometimes when the duenna isn't looking, he'll steal a kiss.”

The thought of Noah Yates kissing her made Pilar go weak. “I won't be kissing him, Doneta.” Would he really try and kiss her? She guessed he would. Saints help her!

Her mother was eyeing her keenly.

“Yes, Mama?”

“Nothing. I'm just listening to your silly sister. Did he say anything about when he'd return?”

“No, but I told him I would see him tomorrow.”

“Did you agree to be courted?”

“I don't have much choice.”

“Maybe this will work out better than you think.”

“I doubt that.”

“Just keep an open mind.”

Pilar didn't want to do or think about anything that might bring her closer to the man she'd left sitting on the patio. “I'm ready for bed.”

“I believe we all are. It's been quite the evening.” Her mother gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Rest well.”

“You too, Mama.” But Pilar doubted she'd be able to, knowing she'd be facing Noah Yates for battle in the morning.

P
ilar assumed Yates would make an appearance first thing, but as the morning slid into afternoon and he'd not shown up by lunchtime, she relaxed. She hoped he'd decided that a woman who smuggled guns was indeed unworthy of further pursuit and would never bedevil her again, but she knew that to be wishful thinking. More than likely he'd been waylaid by a business matter of some sort and would visit tomorrow. In an attempt to put him out of her mind she spent the afternoon sitting in the garden having her portrait done. Doneta thought a painting of her would be an excellent keepsake when she moved to California.

“Pilar, stop moving,” Doneta pleaded. “Each time you do, it throws things off.”

“Sorry.” This was Pilar's first time as a model and having to sit as still as a rock was difficult for a woman unaccustomed to doing so. “How much longer?”

“If you keep moving about, we'll be here until Christmas.”

Pilar sighed.

Her mother appeared. “Pilar.”

Glad for the reprieve, she broke her pose and heard her sister's frustrated groan, which she smilingly ignored. “Yes, Mama?”

“Do you remember meeting a man last night named Luis Garcia?”

“No.” Pilar didn't remember anything about the evening that didn't involve Noah Yates.

“Apparently, Senor Garcia remembers you. He's here and has asked me if he might sit with you in the parlor for a few moments.”

Pilar was confused. “Why?”

“I think he's interested in courting you.”

She sighed. She'd lived her entire life without any male interest and now they were lining up at the door. Granted there were only two, but that was two more suitors than she'd ever had before. “So what did you tell him?”

“I told him yes. If you are so opposed to Mr. Yates, maybe if you show an interest in another he'll bow out.”

Pilar seriously doubted that but before she could express it, Doneta asked, “What does Senor Garcia look like?”

“Looks are not always a true measure of a man, Doneta.”

“That means he's overweight and has a glass eye, Pilar.”

Their mother shot her a quelling look. Doneta pretended to fiddle with her paints and their mother turned back to Pilar. “Go upstairs and change into the blue day gown we bought for you—”

Pilar opened her mouth.

“Do as I asked, please, unless you prefer to go to California?”

Pilar left without another word.

When she entered the parlor, the man she assumed to be Senor Garcia stood. He was no taller than she and appeared to be quite a few years older. There was a balding patch on the crown of his head and he sported an enormous broomlike mustache that caused her to wonder if he'd cultivated it to make up for the baldness and his short stature. He took her hand and bowed respectfully. “I am honored to see you again, Senorita Banderas.”

Even though she still didn't remember being introduced to him, she replied, “I am honored as well.” His hand was sweaty, so much so she had to force herself not to drag her palm over the skirt of her dress to rid it of the clammy moisture. Instead, as she sat down, she discreetly used the arm of the settee instead. At her age, she didn't need a duenna but her mother played the role anyway because Garcia was a stranger, and her forced grin matched Pilar's.

His smile showed a few rotting teeth. “And how old are you?”

Thinking that an odd way to begin the conversation, she eyed him for a moment. “Twenty-five.”

He appeared surprised. “You look much younger.”

“Thank you.” She supposed that was the correct response. In truth, she wanted to get to her feet and leave Senor Sweaty Hands where he sat. She gave her mother a glance and saw
Be Nice
displayed on her face, so she drew in a deep breath and reset her false smile.

“And how often do you attend mass?”

Pilar believed in the Savior but her family had never attended worship regularly. “Easter and Christmas.”

His eyebrows rose. “That is all?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

Pilar wondered how long it had taken him to grow that elaborate mustache. It seemed to originate somewhere within his nostrils and looked to weigh almost as much as he.

“Senorita Banderas, I asked you if you've been baptized?”

She'd been so intent on the hair she hadn't heard his question. “My apologies. Yes, I've been baptized.”

“At birth,” her mother added, sounding proud.

“The woman I marry will be expected to attend mass each Sunday.”

“I'm sure she'd find that agreeable.”

He scanned her with mild disapproval.

She waited.

“I am a wealthy man.”

“That's very nice.” Again, she had no idea how to respond properly.

“And your expectations of a husband?”

“The senorita would expect her husband to have a boat.”

Pilar froze in response to the familiar male voice, turned and saw Noah Yates standing in the doorway. His arms were filled with flowers. How long he'd been there was anyone's guess.

“A boat?” Garcia echoed, sounding baffled.

“Yes. You know those vessels that move on water. The senorita likes to sail.”

Yates bowed before her mother and presented her with a large bouquet of stemmed red roses. “Senora, I tried to find blooms as beautiful as you, but the florist said that was impossible.”

Her chuckling mother shook her head at his outrageousness. “Thank you, Mr. Yates.”

He then crossed to Pilar and handed her an even larger bouquet of yellow roses. “Pilar.”

“Thank you,” she replied coolly. Doneta's words of last night rose tauntingly.
He brings his novia
. . .
flowers
. . .

“Who are you?” Garcia demanded.

“Noah Yates. Miguel Ventura's business partner.” He then asked her mother in an innocent tone, “May I join the family for dinner, senora?”

Sitting there with a huge pile of gorgeous roses in her arms, she gave him the only obvious answer. “Of course.”

“Thank you.” He moved his attention to Pilar. He bowed her way, straightened, shot her a smile and exited.

She sighed. He'd caught her so off guard that had she been on a true battlefield, she'd be severely wounded or dead. First blood. Noah Yates.

Senor Garcia looked to the hallway Yates disappeared into and then back to her. “You like to sail?” He eyed her as if she were something he'd never seen before.

“Yes.”

“And your uncle sails with you?”

“No.”

“Then with whom do you go?”

“Friends. Sometimes alone. My grandfather taught me.”

“You let her sail alone, senora?”

“I do. She's very knowledgeable about the sea and boats.”

Pilar asked him, “Do you sail, Senor Garcia?”

“I'm a tailor. What reason would I have to be on a boat? My wife won't have any reason to be on one either. Especially unaccompanied.”

Pilar kept her smile in place as she turned to her mother. “I'd like to put these in water, Mama. May I be excused?”

Her mother stood. “I think that would be wise. Thank you for your visit, Senor Garcia.”

He appeared taken aback by the sudden dismissal. “You're—welcome.”

“Let me see you out,” her mother offered encouragingly.

He bowed stiffly to Pilar. “Good-bye, senorita.”

“Good-bye, Senor Garcia.”

Picking up the hat beside him, he followed her mother's lead, and once they were out of sight, Pilar exhaled an audible sigh of relief.

“Seemed like a nice fellow,” Yates said, magically appearing again. “We've both probably caught fish larger than he is. Mustache was very formidable though.”

She swore she'd swallow a fish hook if she laughed. “Go away.”

“Do you think people mistakenly step on him in the dark? He'd be in real danger at my family's ranch. My brothers and I are fairly tall.”

Pilar wanted to run him through with her sword even though she was grateful that his entrance helped set in motion Senor Garcia's departure.

The intensity in Yates's eyes as he gazed down at her suspended time. His voice softened. “Do you like the roses?”

She glanced at their beauty in her arms and couldn't lie. “Yes.”

“Doneta said no one has ever given you roses before—or flowers of any kind, for that matter. I'm enjoying being your first.”

Her senses took flight again because she knew he was talking about more than flowers. “I—I need to find a vase.” Why he had the ability to make her stammer when she'd never stammered before—ever—was beyond her ken. She wondered if her mother would mind if she killed her sister.

“You find your vase. I'll see you at dinner.” And he took his leave.

One of the servants found her a vase and offered to arrange the roses for her, but Pilar declined. Even though she knew nothing about doing the task properly, for some reason she wanted to try. Taking both the flowers and the vase up to her bedroom she sat on the floor with them beside her.

Doneta came in. “See, I was right. The
novio
brings flowers.”

Pilar rolled her eyes. “Why are you helping him?”

“Because my, I've—never—read—a—love novel—sister, that is my role.”

Pilar stared.

“The younger sister is always on the hero's side.”

Pilar shook her head.

“Besides, I'm hoping he has brothers.”

“He does. Two. Both married.”

“Oh,” she replied dejectedly.

Doneta watched Pilar trying to put the roses in the vase in a fashionable order. “You first need to cut some of the stems so you have a few shorter ones. Then place them in front of the taller ones.”

“How do you know that?”

“I'm a painter and that's how you do it in a painting. Tall blooms in the back. Short in the front.” Doneta found a pair of scissors. “Here.”

Following her sister's instructions, Pilar ended up with a beautifully arranged vase of roses.

Doneta said, “You have to admit, they are lovely.”

“True, but you are not to tell Yates anything else about me. Nothing.”

“Pilar. I'm helping you.”

“No, you're not.”

“Yes, I am, because you need it. If this were left up to you that gorgeous man would walk away from here and wind up being some other girl's brother-in-law, and I'm not going to allow that to happen. Besides, he loves you.”

“No, he doesn't.”

Doneta sighed. “Fine. Be dense. When you love him so much you want to eat his shoes, don't say I didn't warn you.”

“What!”

“I've nothing else to say.”

“Eat his shoes? Women eat men's shoes in those silly books you read?”

“It's just an expression, Pilar.”

“Said by whom?”

“Never mind.”

“You're making me concerned about you, 'Neta.”

“You just mind your pole and don't let this big fish get away.”

Pilar sighed and shook her head. First eating shoes and now, allusions to fishing poles. Noah Yates had driven her sister insane.

N
oah was enjoying dinner with Miguel Ventura and the Banderas women if only for the opportunity to view Pilar at his leisure. She was wearing the same blue day gown she'd had on earlier. It was plain, high necked, and had long sleeves. The line of buttons up the front, in tandem with the bodice's snug cut, emphasized her curves. There were simple hoops in her ears. She possessed a natural beauty that didn't require a lot of adornment, so their sedateness was just the right touch.

Miguel was the only member of his immediate family present. He explained that his wife and daughters had left early that morning to visit her sister in Yorba City. Although Noah found the daughters pleasant enough, he didn't miss Simona or her judgmental attitudes in the least.

He was seated directly across the table from Pilar, who was doing her best to ignore him but he didn't mind. Each time she did send him a furtive glance, his eyes were waiting and hers would go chasing away. Again, he wanted to carry her off and be done with this courting-ritual nonsense. He could already imagine her soft lips opening under his own and what her nearness would do to him when he finally got the opportunity to slide his hands slowly over the curve of her hips and feel her nipples berry against his palm. Were she able to read his thoughts, she'd undoubtedly grab her sword and behead him there and then.

Senora Banderas asked her brother, “How long will Simona be away?”

He sipped his wine. “She said she won't be returning until you and your daughters have moved into a place of your own.”

“Then we shall try and conclude the arrangements as quickly as possible.”

“Take your time.”

Everyone fought their smile.

“Where is the property you're considering purchasing, senora?” Noah asked.