Microsoft Word - Sherwood, Valerie - Nightsong (41 page)

And then even those faces and those hovels of Havana's outlying barrios melted away and they were in the green countryside with the trade winds blowing their horses' manes.

Around them stretched pleasant green valleys and rolling hills dotted with cattle, for they were west of Havana. In the distance as they crested the low hills they could see the glittering blue of the sea.

They rode in silence now, Carolina looking straight ahead and Don Ramon, an easy rider in excellent control of his horse, considering her with an expression that Carolina, whenever she chanced to glance his way, could not fathom.

She could not know that in his mind's eye he was seeing a magnificent future. An impossible future perhaps, but a joyous on{}-a future with this woman forever beside him. He saw her ordering about the servants of a big new house he would somehow get for her. He saw her leaning back luxuriously, blonde hair shining in the sun, in a handsome new carriage (one he likewise did not possess) as he drove her about Havana so that everyone might envy him this glorious beauty. He saw her, regal in diamonds and pearls, her dainty chin high as he led her out upon the floor at a ball at the governor's house-no, not the governor's house, but a ball at one of the great houses in Seville, in Madrid itself! He saw her presented at Court, the most dazzling woman there--and himself beside her.

He saw a life that did not exist, perhaps would never exist. And while he was dreaming mad dreams, he envisioned Carolina as a woman in love with him. Deeply.

Passionately. Past all returning. He imagined in her silver eyes an awakening glow, he saw her strolling gracefully to her bed in something sheer and black, saw the clean sweet lines of her figure silhouetted in candlelight as the gauzy material rippled, watched her turn and smile and beckon to him. His blood heated up at the thought! She would love him, by God she must love him for he would never meet her like again!

Thinking of it with a lover's desperation, his expression grew so determined that Carolina, now and again gazing at him idly, thought he looked very fierce.

She could not know that in his mind he was swiftly removing the last of her garments, tossing her gauzy black night things away, that his arms had just this moment enfolded her, that she sighed luxuriously and relaxed as he caressed her silken skin, quivered as his hot mouth trailed down her sweet body, moaned as his lips toyed urgently with her breasts, nuzzling their pink crests to hardness, whilst his hands were busily engaged elsewhere, bringing her to quivering delight.

She could not know, nor did she give more than a passing thought to what might be in his mind. She followed the lead of his big horse blindly. Indeed she cared not where they went,for there was a blackness in her soul this day that could have led her anywhere. Still it came to her as they proceeded, not idly but in a definite direction, that Don Ramon had a specific destination in mind.

She was right.

He brought his horse to a halt atop a low hill beneath the shade of a large ceiba tree.

Off to her right she could see a great estancia with a handsome tree-lined avenue, and tilled land-and the thatched roofs of the Indian bohios of the tillers. And in the surrounding pastures clumps of palms waved in the breeze.

"That is the estancia of Perez de Cadalso," he explained to her as if the name should mean something to her.

Carolina viewed the handsome holding with enormous disinterest.

Don Ramon tried again. "Perez de Cadalso is the father of Dona Jimena Menendez,"

he said softly. "She is his only child."

Carolina sat straighter and stared with concentrated interest at the obvious luxury of this sweeping hacienda.

"So Dona Jimena grew up here," she murmured.

Her escort nodded. "Here and at their town house. Her father owns two other estancias some distancefrom Havana-and landholdings in the jungles of the Oriente."

"It is easy to see why Dona Jimena might marry the richest man in Havana," Carolina said dryly. "She must have been the town's greatest catch!"

Don Ramon was studying the estate. When first he had come here he had bitterly regretted that Dona Jimena had so recently spoken her wedding vows in the great twin-towered cathedral behind the Plaza de Armas. Like so many others, he had been instantly enamored of the Cadalso beauty. But now, looking down at her father's handsome estate, he felt oddly free and somehow optimistic about his life.

It was, he knew, because of the woman who sat on her horse beside him—a woman whose flashing silver eyes seemed today filled with sadness.

"Dona Jimena fancies Don Diego," he said bluntly in case she did not know, for he wanted it made clear to Carolina that his rival had other interests.

"I am aware of that," Carolina heard herself say in a detached way.

He dismounted and lifted her down.

"We will rest," he said, "and let the horses graze."

Carolina sat down with him upon the grass. It was late afternoon now. A bee buzzed lazily nearby. From somewhere in the distance came the plaintive sound of bells.

Don Ramon leaned against the trunk of the ceiba tree and considered her silently.

She could feel the heat of his glance. It was making her nervous.

"I never thought to feel about a woman as I do about you," he said frankly. "I would have stormed Port Royal for you, do you know that?"

"And now both Port Royal and I are swept away," she murmured. "Port Royal may be gone but you are here,"he said bluntly.

She had been looking down at her dark skirts and now, at something in his tone, she looked up. He was gazing at her keenly and his tawny eyes said much.

Idly he reached over and took her hand. She did not try to pull it away, but let him caress it, lifting it to his lips, rubbing it against his cheek.

"I desire you as I have never desired a woman," he told her huskily and bent forward to kiss her.

Carolina tensed. Now if ever was the moment to break away. And then she caught sight again of the great estancia rising in insolence before her-and for a moment she could see in her mind Dona Jimena strolling its corridors. With Kells. Of course Dona Jimena would never dare to take him there-c-or would she? Were they there right now, making love behind one of those grillwork windows?

A sob caught in her throat and Ramon del Mundo took it for desire.

His strong arms closed around her and he drew her to him, down upon the grass. His lips were on hers and they were tender lips for all that they were so determined.

His every touch revealed something she had not really taken in before-Ramon del Mundo loved her.

It was a shock to realize it and she stiffened.

Don Ramon sensed that withdrawal and he drew back. "Do I go too fast for you?" he asked softly, and she sat up and pushed him away. "Yes, you do," she said, feeling confused. "I-I am upset today, Don Ramon. Please do not ask me why."

"I do not have to ask-I can guess. The Menendez carriage, with Don Diego in it, was seen on the Plaza de Armas."

"Luz told you that! She is a wicked girl."

He shrugged. "The whole town knows it." His hand gently stroked her shoulder and she felt a heady lightness at his touch.

"I suppose-they do," she said haltingly, and could not entirely keep the misery from her face. For Ramon del Mundo's touch might be enticing, but her heart was with Kells, back in Havana.

He leaned forward until his dark face was very near her own. He took both her shoulders in his hands, kneading them gently. His tawny eyes, looking into her own, were very keen for he wanted Carolina as he had wanted no woman before her and he knew, in a sudden flash of inner vision, that he would want her forever.

"Tell me," he demanded, "what hold isit that Diego Vivar has over you? You have known him but a matter of days! Is he then such a remarkable lover?"

Her guard came up at that and she turned watchful. For Ramon del Mundo must never guess what hold it was that Don Diego had over her. She might leave Kells, but she would never, never betray him to the hangman's noose!

"He reminds me of someone," she said, and instantly wished she had not, for his eyes lit up.

"A memory of an old love? Ah, that is romantic- and to be expected. I had not thought of it." He sat back and began to laugh, for it had occurred to him that Dona Jimena reminded him of a girl for whom he had yearned as a callow youth back in Spain.

"We are all victims of old memories," he said, smiling at her.

"Yes--that is it, of course," she agreed hurriedly, looking down and plucking nervously at her skirt. But something in her voice had not rung true, and Don Ramon gazed at her narrowly.

"You are marking time here," he said suddenly, as if he had made a great discovery.

"You expect to be rescued by your buccaneer lover!"

She frowned at him. "My buccaneer husband," she corrected him. "And he will not, as you suggest, 'rescue' me. He lies dead in Port Royal." Perhaps that is true, she thought bitterly. Kells is dead and Don Diego has taken his place.

He pounced on that. "You saw him die?"

"No, but when the city sank-"

"So you are not certain! In the disaster, I am told, there was much confusion. And you cherish the thought that he is not dead, that he will return to you." He leaned upon an elbow and a kind of wry amusement spread over his dark features. "Ah, yes, I see how it is. You expect your buccaneer to reappear, to sail into Havana harbor, silence the guns of EI Morro-s-and the Punta and La Fuerza-and sail away with you. I can read it in your eyes!"

"No." She sighed. "In truth, that is the last thing I expect."

"Perhaps now that you have seen Havana's superb defenses you realize the folly of such a move? Perhaps it is realizing that you will not be reunited that has made you remember an old love, is that it?"

"Yes," she lied eagerly. "That is it."

He gave a low laugh and seized her by the forearm. "You are lying," he said. "And from you I want only the truth. You have forgotten your buccaneer! You have fallen in love with Diego Vivar!"

That much at least she could answer with candor. She looked him full in the face, hopelessly. "I will never forget my buccaneer," she said. "But you are right, Ramon, I have fallen in love with Diego Vivar. And I wish"-her voice was bitter-"I wish I had not."

"Then let me lure you away from him," he said quickly, and drew her toward him by the forearm he had pinioned.

She felt a fluttering in her breast. The lure of this man's masculinity was very strong.

Kells was some-where-perhaps in bed-with Dona Jimena. I will find me a Spanish wench to share my bed. . . . His hurtful words still rang through her mind. Around them as they sat there, the shadows had lengthened. The swift night of the tropics was about to fall.

"Ramon ..." she said in a choked voice.

He sensed her surrender and eased her into his arms, caressing her with his lips.

"You should belong to me," he murmured into her ear. "And one day you will belong to me. . . ."

Carolina's eyes were closed. She could feel tears sting her eyelids.

"Ramon," she whispered, and he silenced whatever she might have been about to say with his lips.

A kind of stillness seemed to hover over Carolina. She felt suspended between heaven and earth. She had moved into Ramon del Mundo's arms almost without volition. She stayed there like a trapped bird, afraid to move, afraid to breathe.

What she was seeking in those arms was solace, perhaps. What she found was passion.

And so for you I've spun a tale of love that would not die

(It's in the Caribbean, floating on a perfumed sigh!)

And in the night somewhere the stars flash in a lady's eyes

And ghostly man and ghostly maid are melded in their sighs!

THE OUTSKIRTS

OF HAVANA

Summer 1692

The lean Spaniard's arms tightened about her. There was a sense of urgency in him now, and she was swept along with his desires, blown forward like a leaf before a strong wind.

She was hardly aware of how they sank to the grass in the fast-gathering dusk. He was battling the hooks of her bodice now, even as he smothered her with kisses. He was through with the hooks, his determined hand was beneath the bodice, was past her chemise, was gently stroking her breast. As she gasped, his tongue found her parted lips, explored within. She turned her head and the grass tickled her ear.

Crickets chirped and from somewhere came the sound of a tree frog.

Her skirts were riding high now, tossed upward by a determined lover. There was a small sound of protest in her throat-instantly hushed. For her soul had been bruised this day and her broken world needed mending. In these moments she needed Ramon del Mundo as much as he needed her. With a little choking cry, her arms twined around him and for long moments they both pushed aside the world they knew-and must deal with on their return to Havana: that he needed a rich wife to keep him going; that she was hopelessly and forever in love with a man who had rejected her. But for them in those moments when they embraced on the grass beneath the old ceiba tree there was no past and no future. Only the shared wonders of the soft tropical night.

To Carolina his touch was balm upon the hurts the day had given her, and in Ramon del Mundo's turbulent soul he cherished the proud hope that she would find his arms irresistible and never wish to leave them. He was wrong of course-but then lovers so often are. Carolina found Don Ramon's embrace exhilarating; with him she was swept along by the thrills of the flesh-with him she even for a few moments found forgetfulness.

But it was all too brief, and even with his kisses still pulsing on her lips, her world was back upon her again. What madness had come over her? she asked herself dizzily.

She was Kells's woman, whatever happened, whatever the cost!

"No," she gasped. "No!" And drew away from him, tugging at her skirts.

Ramon del Mundo stared down at her, not comprehending. A moment ago she had been a hot wench, exchanging passionate kiss for passionate kiss. A moment ago he had thought himself on the road to ecstasy. Yet now she flinched back from him, her face averted, a hand raised fluttering as if to ward him off.