Nobody's Saint (24 page)

Port Royal was English. It had only been English for two decades, but whatever traces of Spanish culture had been there in its early years had been swallowed up. Still, it shared some things in common with Havana. The flesh peddling trades of slavery and prostitution were lucrative here, and the international mix of criminals, tradesmen, pirates and naval sailors could have thrived in either port. The market places of both cities boasted spices from the Orient to the New World, along with fabrics, liquor, and trinkets. Sugar, rum, and indigo waited in countless crates to be loaded up and shipped across the ocean. The same bright afternoon sunshine splashed down over the streets and buildings. The architecture and primary languages were different, but as far as Mary Kate could tell, these were superficial distinctions.

She had fully expected to finally lay eyes on Mister John Hartford, and she had dressed for the occasion, wearing the same gown she had left Cartagena in. In fact, it was the very gown she had worn nonstop for the duration of the voyage. She’d even slept in it. Her hair hadn’t seen a brush in three days.

“Well,” she huffed as soon as it was obvious that there was no welcoming party to greet them, “if I’d known the lout wasn’t going to be here, Diego, this wouldn’t have been the last sight of me I’d have chosen for you. I’d have looked a lovely lass for you to remember.”

“You are
álainn
,” he said with a smile. “Always
álainn
.”

“You’re a smooth-tongued devil, that’s sure, Diego Montoya.” By unspoken but mutual consent, they kept the talk light between them. It did little good to spend their last hours together brooding.

“Diego Montoya, you Spanish bastard!” someone cried from the deck of ship along the dock. She looked up and saw two men at the rail, one tall with golden-brown hair that hung loose down his back, the other somewhat shorter, his own darker hair tied neatly back.

“Do you know those men?” A bolt of fear shot through her. This was a port filled with English pirates and privateers, many of whom might well wish to see Diego dead.

“
¡Buenas tardes, Capitán Hampton y Capitán Courtney!
”

“Hampton and Courtney! The privateer you saved in Cartagena and the man whose wife you bought in Havana?”

“Stay a moment!” the shorter man called. His voice was different, so it had clearly been the taller one who had called out first.

While the two Englishmen headed down the gangplank, Mary Kate turned back to Diego. “Well that first fellow sure doesn’t sound at all grateful, and you having done so much for them both!”

“Ah, yes, well, it may be that he carries a bit of a grudge. You see, it was I who captured him and took him to Cartagena to begin with, and while he awaited his execution, I did everything in my power to steal his woman. But the name-calling is all very good-natured.”

The man in question dodged through the crowd with his friend to join them. Illustrating his point, Diego made introductions. “Mary Katherine O’Reilly, this is Capitán Geoffrey Hampton,
el hijo de puta
, and Capitán Giles Courtney, a true rarity as he is a perfectly respectable Englishman.”

“And here I thought there was no such thing,” Mary Kate said.

The golden-haired one, Geoffrey, gave her a quick appraisal with striking golden eyes. “Not in Port Royal five minutes and you’ve found yourself a fiery little Irish wench, have you?”

“I can leave your Faith a widow, yet, Hampton. You will watch your language in the presence of a lady. This woman is my friend, and she is under my protection.”

Giles stepped into the awkward exchange. “He’s not changed a bit, I’m afraid,” he said to Diego. To Mary Kate he added, “Forgive him, Miss O’Reilly.”

Mary Kate shrugged. “‘Twas an honest mistake. I don’t look much of a lady. I’ve been wearing the same dress since I left Cartagena.”

“You’re John Hartford’s Irish heiress, then?” Geoffrey asked, and then he laughed. “This is an introduction I cannot miss!”

Giles scowled at his friend. “Somehow I doubt ‘twill prove all that funny.” He looked at Mary Kate, and his face remained dead serious. “Just so you know, miss, both Geoff and I owe Diego more than gold can repay. If you are under his protection, then you may consider yourself under ours, as well.”

There was a weightiness in his voice that took Mary Kate aback, and she could think of no more to say than “Thank you, sir.”

“And given that debt and our friendship,” Geoff said, “our wives would never forgive us if we failed to invite you to join us for dinner. Grace and Faith came to the city with us to shop. I’m for Boston in a week, and Giles must take care of plantation business.”

“I remember now,” Mary Kate said. “You have a plantation that runs without slaves, and your wife is Afri—” She stopped, suddenly aware of how rude she must have sounded.

“Her mother was a mulatto and her father English. And you are right. We run a plantation with indentured servants and paid workers.”

“I didn’t mean to be rude. I’ve lived most of my life in the Irish countryside, and the Caribbean is so very different from what I’ve always known. I also have a bad habit of saying whatever pops into my pea brain.”

“I like her, Montoya,” Geoff proclaimed. “Bloody waste on a swab like Hartford.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Mary Kate said.

“Speak of the devil,” Giles said.

Two men approached the dock from the sprawling city, and Mary Kate needed no introductions to know which was her betrothed. One man wore an immaculate wig and elegant justacorps, the latest fashion in men’s coats. If he wasn’t the governor of Jamaica, he was some representative of the English government. The other suddenly made her mouth go dry. He was huge, perhaps six foot three, with the kind of fat that carried solid muscle underneath. She knew of no other word to describe his face than thick. His lips were thick, his eyelids were thick, his cheeks melted into substantial jowls, his forehead protruded. His hands looked like slabs of meat with fat sausages sticking out.

If that weren’t enough, he wore a shirt that was, God help her, more rumpled and stained than her gown. His hair, what there was of it, had probably gone far longer than hers without combing, and she wasn’t entirely sure it had
ever
been washed. His breeches and boots were sullied by heaven only knew what.

Somehow, she didn’t think he’d give a damn what his wife looked like, smelled like, or spoke like.

“
Mierda
,” Diego whispered.

Yes, that probably was what was clinging to the man’s boot heel. She wondered where he had stepped in it.

The well-dressed man spoke first. “Are you the captain of the Spanish vessel that just made port? This is Miss O’Reilly?”

For the first time in her life, Mary Kate was speechless.

“I am Captain Diego Montoya Fernández de Madrid y Delgado Cortés, and yes, this is Miss O’Reilly.”

The other man looked her over from under his heavy lids. “She’ll do. Did you bring anything with you?” The man’s deep, cultured English accent warred with his appearance, reminding Mary Kate that he was, after all, just another snobbish English nobleman. She could manage him.

She hoped.

Mary Kate pried her dry mouth open. “My dowry is in Cartagena.”

“I know. Do you have clothes?” She nodded, and Hartford looked at Diego. “Get them out here on the dock. I shall take them to my wagon.”

“She is not going anywhere with you,” Diego said.

Geoffrey snickered, and Giles glared at him.

“Do you have business here, Hampton?” Hartford snapped.

“Montoya here is an old friend,” Geoff said.

“Of both of ours,” Giles added.

“Then take your friend to a pub and get drunk. Darnley,” he said to the man accompanying him, “give the man his money so he can be on his way.” His eyes, the color hard to make out under the heavy lids, slid back to Diego. “The money’s mine, but a ransom must go through the government or some such nonsense. I assure you, ‘tis all there.
Comprende
, Spaniard?”

“I speak perfect English. Do you? I said she is not going anywhere with you.”

“Quite right,” Darnley said. “Have no fear for your charge, Captain Montoya. She will not be sent to Mr. Hartford’s residence until she has been duly married.”

“I’ve had the license for a month,” Hartford said. “A priest should be easily procured.”

“I’m Catholic!” Mary Kate protested. “I cannot possibly get married without a proper Mass.”

Hartford spit out a word that gained an instant reaction.

“Even I know better than to say that in front of a woman!” Geoff muttered.

“As of now, you are no longer Catholic. We’re Church of England here, though I’m not much of a churchgoer,” Hartford said.

Mary Kate turned to Darnley with a look of distress that was not all affectation. “Please sir, I’ve been through so much! I can hardly be wed looking like this.”

“I care not,” her betrothed insisted.

“There has been a mistake,” Diego said. “Miss O’Reilly cannot stay here. She will need passage to Ireland.”

Hartford repeated his oath. “I’ve paid a bloody fortune in ransom and forfeited her dowry. I’ll damned well have the title and inheritance that come with her. Your job is finished here, Spaniard.”

“You must admit,” Giles said to Darnley, “it is rather a lot to expect this girl to get married here and now. She’s been dragged across the Caribbean and is no doubt a bit—overawed to be meeting her betrothed.”

Geoff nodded toward Giles. “Enter the voice of reason.”

“I do not think I have made myself clear,” Diego repeated. “María Catalina is not marrying this man.”

Darnley smiled as though they were all just having a pleasant chat. “Truly, there is no need to worry, Captain Montoya. My sister is a widow who lives here in town. Miss O’Reilly can stay with her tonight. You may consider her under the protection of the English Crown now, and I assure you she will be well cared for.”

“You will find her a ship to Ireland?”

“Captain, I do believe Mr. Hartford has made an excellent suggestion. I should think you have very few chances to visit with your friends,” Darnley indicated Geoff and Giles, “and you must be looking forward to a bit of rum and conversation.”

“I cannot simply leave her here. I must be assured that she will be returned to her family.”

“Put it out of your mind. I will take the very best care of her.”

“This is unacceptable.”

“How so? Her ransom has been paid and she has been united with her fiancé.”

“That is precisely what I find unacceptable.”

“Captain, they will need to become acquainted sometime. But I assure you, I will make quite certain no ill befalls her. Really! These are not the Middle Ages. If Miss O’Reilly refuses to marry Mr. Hartford, no one can force her. Here, if you wish to see her tomorrow, you have only to ask for me at the governor’s office, and I will arrange for you to visit.”

“A moment,” Diego said, pulling Mary Kate away from the group. “I do not like this,” he said softly.

“Let me work on him a while,” she whispered back.

“Are you quite certain?”

“You forget, I’m an expert at avoiding unwanted marriages.”

Diego sighed and looked around him. In the whole port, he had two friends. It seemed unlikely his protests could have much influence. “If you need anything…”

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I know that Darnley fellow’s kind. I’ll have him and his widow sister eating out of my hand. By morning they’ll never be able to bear turning such a delicate lass as myself over to that…that… You know, I had every kind of vile thing to call him before I’d met him, but now, there’s not a one of them strong enough.”

“I do not like this at all.”

“Go, Diego. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Diego forced a smile. Better they should think him completely resigned. It seemed he was picking up Mary Kate’s propensity for deception. “Well, then, Hampton and Courtney, take me to what passes for a decent
taberna
in your city.” He gave her one last, worried glance before he followed the two toward High Street.

Darnley looked at Mary Kate and smiled pleasantly. “Alas, I have the very distinct impression there is nothing on God’s green earth that will persuade you to wed Mr. Hartford, is there?”

Mary Kate eyed the gigantic Englishman in question. “Nothing personal, sir…”

“Find a priest, Darnley.”

Darnley looked behind him, into the crowd that had swallowed up Diego, Geoff, and Giles. “I have no doubt we can find a priest at a moment’s notice. Finding one who will swear she was a willing bride may take a bit more doing. I know of one, but he is generally tied up in one of the pubs this time of day—no telling which one—then off to some undetermined brothel afterward.”

Mary Kate began to step backwards, but John Hartford grabbed her by the arm. Her limb seemed thin as a twig against his fat hands.

“I want this done tonight. I like not the look of that Spaniard.”

“You don’t know who it is you’re dealing with,” Mary Kate warned, although she had quite the feeling it was she who knew not with whom she dealt. It seemed terrifyingly likely she had met her match.

Darnley and Hartford ignored her. “The Spaniard has leave to stay a few short hours. I’ll have soldiers track him down. Hampton is well known. A few questions should lead us straight to him and his companion. We’ll send Montoya and his ship back into Spanish waters. For now, he is out of the way, and I can have the ransom delivered to his ship with his first mate to sign for it so there can be no question as to the legality of the transfer.”

“To hell with the legalities. I have the contract. I’ve paid her ransom. She is mine.”

“She wouldn’t be the first unwilling bride in Port Royal, but I must answer to the governor, and I’m certain he would draw the line at my leaving a baronet’s granddaughter at the mercy of a man not yet her husband.”

“Calder Larcombe wouldn’t give a damn.”

“Never know about those bloody new nobles. Have patience. She’ll be yours in the morning.”

He reached for Mary Kate, and her first impulse was to put up a battle royal, but a quick survey of the rough crowed surrounding her left her wondering at the wisdom of that course. Instead, she whimpered and cowered.