Nobody's Saint (26 page)

Rum was a sweeter drink than Diego cared for, but he joined Geoff and Giles in drinking bumboo, where the liquor was watered and flavored with nutmeg. He had told them an abbreviated version of his story and was currently mulling over ways to get Mary Kate away from John Hartford without violating his country’s agreement with hers.

“Had it been me,” Geoff said, “I’d have had my way with her before bringing her here. Even Hartford wouldn’t touch a Spaniard’s used goods.”

“Had it been you,” Diego answered with a trace of hostility, “you would have had your way with her before you reached Cartagena. You have no sense of honor.” He was only too aware of the fact that Geoff had not waited for a betrothal, much less marriage, when it had come to Faith.

Geoff shrugged. “Either way, you’d not be in this bind.”

“You’re impossible, Geoff,” Giles said. “At this point, Diego, I should think it goes without saying that your country’s contract with ours is no longer an issue. You wish to steal her out from under Darnley and Hartford.”

Diego shook his head. “In the strictest terms, my country’s contract is my only remaining obligation. There must be some way to assist María Catalina without compromising Don Juan and others who have placed their faith in me.”

“Don Juan’s faith will make for a very cold bedmate.”

“Unlike you, Captain Hampton, I think of more than my own gratification. Furthermore, I do not wish to aid Miss O’Reilly in order to win her to my bed. That I could have accomplished long ago, if I had chosen to. Sometimes a man may aid a woman out of chivalry.”

“Turned him down cold,” Geoff said to Giles.

It was a difficult thing when chivalry warred with male pride. If only Hampton knew how very easily he could have had María Catalina as his lover. Certainly, he would never say such a thing, so he merely shrugged.

“I’ll be damned,” Geoff said, after a healthy swallow of bumboo. “You’re a better man than I.”

Diego frowned at him. “I do not know what you mean.”

“Had she snubbed you, you would have made up a lie. Successful men are the only ones who can keep their mouths shut where women are concerned.”

Giles nodded in agreement. “But not far enough to get her out of this?”

Diego looked straight at Geoff when he answered. “I respect a woman’s virtue.”

Geoff raised his hands in defeat. “I married her!”

“None of this withstanding,” Giles interrupted, “who’s to know that Diego is such a noble fellow? It would be a simple enough matter to claim…”

“Once again, my friends, you miss the point. I was trusted to bring María Catalina here in marriageable condition. I have given my word.”

“A hell of a lot of good your word will be to her if she’s forced to marry Hartford,” Geoff countered. “And did you have some ridiculous Spanish name for Faith?”

He had not. It had not even occurred to him to give her some term of endearment in his native tongue. But María Catalina had become so much a part of his world that it had seemed only natural to give her a name that fit into it, as well. Still, knowing how Geoff would interpret his silence, he only smiled and shrugged.

At Geoff’s dark scowl, Giles laid a hand on his friend’s arm. “Water under the bridge, Geoff.”

“Besides,” Diego said, repeating Darnley’s word’s, “these are not the Middle Ages. No one can force her to marry against her will.”

Geoff and Giles exchanged frowns. “Haven’t spent much time in Port Royal, have you?” Geoff asked.

“Bloody bastard,” Giles muttered, looking up at the doorway and a new arrival. “D’you suppose he followed us?”

“Over here, Dora my love, with a bottle of rum and your lovely self!” John Hartford cried to one of the serving maids. “‘Tis my last night of freedom, for on the morrow I’m a married man!”

Diego did not bother to turn around and look at Hartford. He beckoned to another serving maid and asked her for a tankard of straight rum.

“Finally found a blind wench to take you, John?” a man called out.

“What of your heiress?” asked another.

“My heiress has been delivered to me after all,” John answered.

The first man chortled. “After servicing whole crews of pirates and Spaniards, even old John here don’t look so bad!”

“Bite your tongue. I have Spain’s word she’s been delivered unscathed.”

“Spain’s word, eh?” the second man said with a smirk. “And has your bride laid eyes upon you yet?”

“At the dock today.”

“She’ll bolt,” the first predicted.

“She’s holed up at some house Darnley knows. On the morrow she’s my wife, willing or not!”

“What does he mean?” Diego said to Geoff and Giles.

“This is Port Royal,” Giles said. “‘Tis not uncommon for pirates to take women from ships and sell them as wives here. Few enough of them are willing.”

Diego gave them a look of revulsion. “And you have done this?”

“We were
privateers
, Montoya,” Geoff said. “For God’s sake, give us a little credit.”

“Then if María Catalina refuses…”

“It will matter very little,” Giles finished.

Diego rose slowly from his seat, turning to face John Hartford, who by now had joined his acquaintances at the table behind him. “I can personally assure you, Señor Hartford, that your betrothed has serviced neither a pirate crew nor a Spanish one.”

Hartford’s thick lips formed an uneven leer. “You see there, fellows? That is the Spaniard who brought her here.”

“
Sí
. I rescued her from the pirates and took her first to Havana, then Cartagena. No serious harm befell her on the pirate ship, for they wanted full ransom.”

Hartford nodded. “Sounds perfectly reasonable to me.”

“And of course, I kept her well away from my crew.”

“Bloody decent of you,” Hartford replied, beaming.

“This is how I know that your bride has, in fact, serviced only one Spaniard.”

For a moment, Hartford continued to smile stupidly. Then slowly, his entire bloated face seemed to run down into his ponderous jowls. “What did you say?”

“I am quite certain that when I rescued her, Mary Katherine O’Reilly
was
a virgin.”

Geoff turned to Giles with a grim look. “We’re going to have to fight on Diego’s side, aren’t we?”

“Well, we cannot leave him one against fifty.”

Geoff looked around. “At least another fifteen of these men have sailed under us at one time or another. I suppose we should let them know whose side we’re on.” He stood up behind Diego. “That why you must use force, John? Your heiress compared you to her Spaniard and found you wanting?”

“Stay out of this, Hampton.”

Giles stood, too. “He’s right Geoff. What business is it of ours if John Hartford wants to marry a Spaniard’s whore?”

At the laughter that erupted throughout the common room, Hartford’s face went purple, but Diego doubted the other man’s anger could be any more intense than his own. To be forced to drag María Catalina’s name through the mud in a
taberna
full of drunken Englishmen and betray Don Juan’s trust made his stomach turn worse than the sickening-sweet rum he had been drinking. But he had come this far, and there was no turning back.

“The ransom message I was sent guaranteed that she was untouched!”

Diego shrugged. “I know nothing of the message. She was my mistress before we reached Havana. It was a well known fact that we did nothing to hide.”

“That’s a lie! If she is your mistress, then why have you brought her here?”

He picked up his rum and forced himself to take a leisurely draught despite his nausea. “She was beginning to bore me. We had already done everything I could think of—even a few things I learned from whores in the Far East.”

Another burst of raucous laughter and Hartford upended the table he and his friends had been drinking at. “You filthy son of a Spanish bitch!”

Awkwardly, but with more alacrity than might be expected of a man his size, Hartford stepped on and over the overturned table and advanced. Diego would have felt infinitely better if he could have drawn his sword, but these were close quarters, and if the fight went to swords, more than one man would lose his life in the fray.

He blocked Hartford’s first punch, but the second found his gut, and by all that was holy, he thought he would never breathe again. The next blow from Hartford’s beefy fist caught him in the face and a sharp pain exploded in his head. He went down against the table and grabbed his tankard of rum, tossing its contents into his opponent’s eyes and giving himself a chance to catch his breath and his balance and land a punch of his own.

There was a time, probably only fifteen minutes ago, that such a dishonest tactic would have been unthinkable to Capitán Diego Montoya Fernández de Madrid y Delgado Cortés. But as a fist the size of a coconut came flying toward him once again, Diego cast all thoughts of honor and fair play aside and kicked Hartford hard between the legs before going after him again.

He had been in more than his share of battles on ships’ decks, and even as he gave Hartford most of his concentration, he wondered why it was he had yet to feel some other Englishman jump him from behind. While he had Hartford on the floor momentarily, he glanced behind him to find Geoff and Giles defending him as gallantly as ever the men of his crew had. Beyond that, it was nearly impossible to tell who was on which side in the pandemonium that had broken out, but at least he did not have an entire common room of men trying to kill him. It was good to have friends.

“What’s this about then?” a deep voice shouted above the din. Men in uniforms poured in from the street, and they had no qualms about unsheathing their blades. “Cease this disturbance in the name of the king!”

Those closest to the door stopped first, and the soldiers swept quickly into the room, settling remaining disputes by drawing their blades between combatants. Diego’s ears were ringing, and he fought to breathe against razor sharp pains in the ribs on his right side.

“What’s this about?” the commanding officer repeated.

“Dat Shpanish bashtahd inshulted my bwide!” Hartford slurred through bloody lips made fatter by one of Diego’s better-laid punches.

The officer turned to Diego. “You the captain of
Magdalena
?”

“
Sí
.” Come to think of it, Diego’s own mouth felt strange. He touched his fingers to his lower lip and came away with blood. He wiped again with the back of his hand, smearing it with crimson. To top it off, he could feel his left eye swelling shut.

“We were sent to find you. You had leave to dock here long enough to make your exchange.” The man looked around at the shambles of the tavern. “I would say you have overstayed your welcome.”

“I have not finished my business,” Diego said.

“Take him,” the officer commanded, and Diego, with very little fight left in him, found himself flanked by two English soldiers.

“Wait!” cried the proprietor. “Who’s to pay for the damage?”

Giles grinned despite the red mark on his jaw that would surely turn purple later. “I owe you, Diego. Send the bill to Welbourne Plantation.”

“Bloody hell, Giles, we’re both in this,” Geoff said. Like Diego, he was speaking past a nasty cut on his lip. “Send it to Courtney and Hampton Shipping.”

“I want my money now!”

“Come now, Smythe, you know us,” Geoff said. “Send ‘round for it in the morning. There’s naught you can do tonight.”

“Well, you’ll bloody well stay here and help clean this mess up!” one of the serving wenches snapped.

The commanding officer stepped in. “That’s right.” He scanned the group of brawlers with an icy gaze. “You men stay here and set this man’s establishment to rights. You,” he said to Diego, “will accompany us to your ship and set sail immediately.”

Diego twisted around to see Geoff and Giles, a move that cost him yet another scalding stab of pain in his ribs. “María…”

“We’ll take care of her,” Giles promised.

“Meet us at Winston,” Geoff added. “Winston.”

Winston. That would be Winston Hall—the plantation owned by Diego’s uncle and Faith’s aunt, well to the west of Port Royal. Diego had made port there before without harassment. Hopefully Darnley had not sent the navy after him as well.

*

Geoff’s ship,
Destiny
, sailed into the bay in front of Winston Hall in the wee hours of the morning. If Mary Kate thought Geoff had looked a sight when he had boarded his ship, it was nothing compared to Diego, who had arrived at the plantation hours before
Destiny
and her passengers. He was sitting in an ornate chair in the midst of the sumptuous gallery of the manor house where his aunt and uncle lived. A woman tended him, looking elegant, even in her nightclothes. She had Faith’s delicate face, but somewhat darker blond hair. Next to her stood a man who bore some resemblance to Diego, but he was shorter and a score of years older. He seemed to have found time to don breeches and a loose, white shirt.

Diego’s lower lip was cracked and distorted. His left eye was swollen, with a patch of dark purple underneath. He was shirtless, and his ribs had been bound with tight strips of white cloth. Mary Kate supposed she ought to be more sympathetic, but she had to admire the well-defined muscles in his arms and shoulders.

Diego tried to rise, then winced, and with a hand on his right side, slumped back into his chair. “Thank God they found you.”

“I found them, actually.”

Diego grinned, then winced again and put the other hand to his mouth. “I should have guessed.”

Faith and Geoff had accompanied Mary Kate into the grand house, having left Giles and Grace behind to settle accounts with the tavern owner. Now Faith stepped forward into the arms of the woman with Diego.

“Aunt Elizabeth,” Faith said, and the two women embraced. “Thank you so much for helping us.”

“There’s nothing Miguel and I would not do for you or Diego. This is surely Miss O’Reilly?”

“It is,” Faith said. “Mary Katherine, this is my Aunt Elizabeth and her husband, my Uncle Miguel.”

Mary Kate acknowledged them both, then walked over to Diego, resisting the urge to touch his swollen lip. “Oh, a fine brawl that had to be. ‘Tis sorry I am to have missed it,” she said.