Chapter Twelve
The moment Rego arrived, Amalie set sail for the Sunda Strait, her destination Sumatra, where she would lay in fresh stores and then head for open water. The galleon and brigantine ivory remained behind in the thick gray mist at the mouth of the river, unmanned and ghostly.
Amalie felt paralyzed with fear, an emotion she hated but seemed unable to conquer. She was shaking now, her stomach churning as she contemplated what might happen to her. For some reason she’d always thought she would grow old regally and die in her bed, bedecked with jewels and all her servants in attendance.
The moment Cato left the ship she’d been assailed with doubts of every description. Her instincts told her to give up the diamonds, take what booty she’d salvaged, and return to Saianha. The ivory alone would make her a wealthy woman for the rest of her days. But just when she’d been about to follow through, a vision of the diamonds had appeared before her—a small mountain of them, all shimmery and sparkly. Worthy of a queen and belonging to a kingdom. She couldn’t give them up.
Amalie’s throat closed at the thought of meeting up with the real Sea Siren, the one her father was so obsessed with, the one who had killed him in the end. She has no equal, her father had written. On another page he’d said no man was capable of besting her. He’d died for his efforts, and here she was, foolish enough to think she could succeed where so many others had failed.
For days now she’d been debating with herself about telling the crew what she was after. If they knew of the diamonds, they would fight with her and for her, but when it was all over they would kill her. If the diamonds were divided among her men, they could live in splendor for the rest of their lives.
It was too late for anything now save forging ahead. If she did anything else, she would lose Cato, which would be even worse than losing the diamonds. That particular thought had made her blood run cold. Never, until now, had she believed love would rule her mind and her heart.
Then a second thought struck her, one she’d done her best to ignore for days. If she was caught, she would be turned over to the authorities and either hung or imprisoned for life. Her stomach fluttered warningly at the prospect. Perhaps she should give it all up and return home. Cato knew where she lived. Somehow he would find her.
“Bitch!” she spat out, disgusted with herself. “I want those diamonds, and I mean to have them!”
Seething, Amalie stomped her way from the wheelhouse to the deck. Her crew scattered on sight, busying themselves with the endless task of keeping the frigate seaworthy. She leaned against the quarter deck rail and watched her men go about their duties, lulled by the sounds of water slapping against the hull of the ship. She was calmer now, her breathing deep and regular. Her eyes strayed to the top of the mizzenmast, and she wondered what it would feel like to climb to the top and survey the ocean. Exhilarating, no doubt, but she would not do it. Nothing, she thought morbidly, would drive away this accursed fear. Too late . . . it was too late to do anything but stay on course. Whatever was going to happen would happen.
It was dark, she realized suddenly. She’d missed the sun sinking red-gold behind the horizon. How had she failed to notice the end of a day? She lifted her face to the open sky, relishing the crisp tang of the salt sea as a million stars winked down upon her.
“Mount a square topsail,” she shouted. “I want speed, this wind is too favorable to lose. We can make eleven knots easily.” Damn their eyes, she hated every one of them. Dirty, filthy drunkards, red-faced from rum and grog.
Amalie’s anger drove away her fear as she watched her men mount the topsail. “I could do it faster myself,” she shouted.
“Then come up here and do it,” came the surly reply.
In a frenzy Amalie scrambled her way up the mast to the insolent seaman. Unsheathing her cutlass, she lashed out at him, slicing the man’s arm from shoulder to wrist. He bellowed in pain and fear as he toppled down, down ... to land on the deck in a crumpled heap.
“Throw him in irons!” Amalie screamed. “I’ll have nothing less than respect on his ship. Hear me well, you scurvy lot. The next man goes over the side!” She could hear their muttered curses as they dragged the bleeding man below.
For six days Amalie prowled the decks of her ship like a tiger in search of food. She had not been able to sustain her anger, and her fear was as ripe and rotting as week-old fruit. The need to cry was overwhelming at times. She wished constantly for Cato.
On the seventh day there came a shout from the rigging. “Sail ho!”
“Where away?” Amalie called.
“Dead ahead, thirty knots. She appears to be at anchor. Possibly repairs.”
“In the middle of the ocean?” Amalie cried, incredulous.
“She’s weighed anchor,” came the stubborn reply.
Amalie ran to the bow of the ship and brought the glass to her eye. Damn his eyes, he was right. Only one ship. Where was the Dutchman’s escort? Unless the ship didn’t belong to the Dutchman, but to someone else, the only person brave enough to weigh anchor in the middle of the sea to . . . lie in wait. She knew in her gut that the ship was black, and the moment the clouds passed across the sun, she would have all the proof she needed.
Now that there was virtually no breeze, her ship’s progress slowed. By the time they were within a five-knot range it would be dark. Amalie could feel herself start to tremble.
“Rego, come here,” she called softly. “Pass the word, the moment we’re within range I want that ship fired on. The shots had damn well better make their mark, or the gunners will be swimming home. Pass the word and do it quietly, voices carry over the water. If we’ve spotted her, she’s spotted us.”
“I see her on our stern,” Fury called jubilantly. “The wind’s dying. One hour, two at the most, and she’ll be close enough to fire upon. All we need is two good shots, one on her bow and one broadside. Hoist the anchor. I don’t want to make it too easy for her. Quickly now, men. We can’t give her the advantage.”
“Aye, Capitana. Do you have a mind to play a little game with the black ship?” her first mate inquired in an amused voice.
Fury’s soft laughter tinkled across the water. “In a manner of speaking. The cat is always faster than the rat.”
Her first mate laughed with her. He had every confidence in this strange young woman with her scanty costume. He listened with interest as she described what she was going to do.
“We’ll sail like a bolt of lightning, this way and then that way, a jagged pattern, so to speak. Let her think we’re limping and making repairs. She’ll think she frightens us. Dawn will provide us with all the light we need to bring about a confrontation. This matter is going to be laid to rest once and for all. She’ll never plunder those diamonds in my mother’s name,” Fury vowed. “If I have to, I’ll kill her.”
Amalie watched Fury’s zigzag pattern through the glass, the smoke pots creating eerie yellow circles on the water. “She’s playing a game. She’s been lying in wait for us. It’s to be cat and rat at first light. We’ll hold our own, never fear,” she called to Rego, who passed the word down the line of nervous crewmen.
Amalie cringed when she heard a sound she couldn’t identify at first.
“She’s laughing at you,” Rego said. “I’ve heard tales of the Sea Siren’s laughter, musical as a bell, they say.” He hunkered into himself.
“You’re a gambling man,” Amalie declared in return. “Who do you wager will win this . . . confrontation?” Rego took so long in answering, she lashed out at him with her booted foot. “I suppose the others are of the same opinion,” she sneered.
“She’s been sailing the seas for over twenty years,” Rego said hesitantly.
“That makes her an old woman, Rego. Can an old woman best me? Miguel didn’t fare too well against me, and I’m a mere woman. What do you have to say to that?”
“I say . . . you will need all the good-luck charms and prayers you have at your disposal. There will be no mutiny on this ship, if that is what you fear. We fear the wrath of the woman on our bow. You would do well to fear the Sea Siren,” Rego said brazenly, not caring if he upset his captain or not. He wanted to live, and at this moment he didn’t give a whit about the cargo she was bent on capturing. Cato, his best friend, had whispered to him that the cargo she was after was a fortune in diamonds and had sworn him to secrecy, promising to appoint him a prince in Amalie’s kingdom. He’d just wiped away that promise with his bold, honest opinions. Besides, he didn’t believe for one minute that Cato was going to be a king. He didn’t believe his captain was going to be a queen either. Kings and queens wore crowns and royal robes. His young face puckered in disgust at his friend’s fairy-tale beliefs.
Men were all alike, Amalie thought bitterly. The little skirmishes she’d participated in to prove herself to her crew were nothing in comparison with what would happen shortly. If only she knew for certain that it was the real Siren lying in wait for her, she would . . . do nothing differently than she was doing, she decided.
The thought occurred to her that she could weigh her own anchor or change course, but if she did that, the Siren could come at her from behind or broadside. For the moment she had the advantage—an advantage she intended to keep.
Luis’s neck ached with the strain of holding his head steady to peer through the glass. He felt as if he’d been dragged over rough terrain by a runaway horse. For more hours than he could remember he’d done nothing but keep his eye pressed to the glass, and the strain was starting to affect his position with the crew. And now it was almost a new day, he thought tiredly as he accepted a mug of steaming coffee from his first mate.
“If you like, Captain, I’ll take the watch,” Julian offered. “A wash and a shave will go a long way to easing your tiredness.”
Luis nodded and handed the spyglass to his first mate. The moment he closed the wheelhouse door behind him, his shoulders drooped. A wash and shave would feel good. A clean shirt wouldn’t hurt, either, he decided.
The faint breeze circling about him felt good. He looked up and noticed the first gray streaks of dawn. A second later he realized the breeze wasn’t coming from the ocean, but from the rigging. He arched his neck to see better in the grayish light, and his blood ran cold at the sight of the black birds sailing straight up into the air at a dizzying speed. They continued to circle the topsail, their wings fanning the air furiously. A moment later they were higher than he could see. His eyes burning, he ran from the wheelhouse for his spyglass, all signs of weariness gone.
“Where the hell are they?” he roared minutes later when the gray sky remained clear. He heard them before they came into sight, diving toward the ship faster than a thunderbolt. Gaspar, his wings feathered inward, plunged straight to the bow where Luis was standing. The Spaniard sucked in his breath as the bird fanned his wings and swept outward, away from the railing, just as Pilar rocketed behind him. They worked the breeze to stay aloft at eye level until Luis raised his hand to show he understood. He watched as both birds arrowed a westerly course.
“I’m changing course,” Julian shouted before Luis could issue an order.
Luis brought the glass to his eye, straining to see in the early light. There was no sign of the hawks, nor had he expected any. They were on their way to Fury. Their temporary visit was at an end.
He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Fury was close now. The hawks had come to him for help. If she were in mortal danger, they wouldn’t have stayed with him so long. Whatever was about to happen was going to happen soon.
“Tighten sail, full speed!” he roared. He wished then that he, too, could soar and fly to Fury as the hawks had done.
“Now, what the hell are you doing?” Peter Dykstra raged across the water. “You’re following those goddamn birds, aren’t you?” He shook his fist in the air. “I want you to turn your ship around and sail a steady course. Stop this foolishness immediately!”
“This is my ship, Dykstra, and if you don’t like what I’m doing, fire me,” Luis called back. “I never wanted your job in the first place. If you want your cargo, I’ll lower it in one of the jolly boats. I have no intention of getting myself killed so you can live to be a rich man. The Sea Siren is out there, or maybe I should say both Sea Sirens are out there. One way or another, she’s going to come after your cargo. It’s my decision to meet her head on. She won’t be expecting this kind of maneuver.”
“You’re insane,” Dykstra said hoarsely. Yet in his heart he knew the Spaniard spoke the truth. He lowered his eyes until he was facing the scurvy crew he’d hired at the last minute. To a man, they would cut him down the moment they discovered the true contents of his cargo.
“Follow him,” the diamond merchant called in a feeble voice. “I’m paying you to take my orders, and I’m ordering you to follow Captain Domingo!”
“I’m filing charges against you the moment we reach Spain, Domingo,” Dykstra blustered. “You won’t like languishing in a Spanish prison.”
“Then you’ll be right alongside me,” Luis snarled. “And my countrymen will not be kind to a Dutchman. Think about that, Mynheer.” He turned to Julian. “Tie the vinegar cask to the jolly boat and lower it.”
“No, no, no!” the diamond merchant screamed. “I’m paying you, not Mynheer Dykstra. I’ve made no demands on you. I want you to continue!”
Luis was gracious in his acquiescence. “But I want your assurance that our bargain is sealed,” he called to Dykstra.
Dykstra bristled. “I’m a man of my word!”
“Dykstra, you’re a man of many words. Just one will do this time. Is it a bargain?”
“Yes, damn you!” Dykstra bellowed.
“Sail ho!” came the cry from the rigging.
“I see two sets of sails,” came a second cry.
“Where away?” Luis shouted.
“Dead ahead on our bow, Captain. She’s sailing at seven knots.”
“Man your stations,” Luis ordered. “Fire only when I give the command!”
“She’s gaining on us, Capitana. We’re ready to fire when you give the order,” Fury’s first mate shouted excitedly. “Capitana, look, to the west!”
Fury whirled, the glass to her eye. “Gaspar!” she cried. “Pilar! You came back!”
Faster than a cannonball, the hawks were on the ship’s railing, their talons curled securely on the shiny brass, their glittering eyes fixed on Fury’s excited face.
“Where have you been? Oh, I don’t care where you’ve been, only that you’re here safe and sound. I knew you’d come, I knew it! It’s not time for me to leave you . . . yet.” She bent low, her head between the two birds as she stroked their silky backs. “Go up, Gaspar, high in the rigging in case shots are fired,” she urged. “Pilar, stay with him.”
“Sail ho! On our bow, three ships. I can see the Spaniard on the bow. The frigate on our stern is gaining. What should we do, Capitana?” shouted the youngest of Juli’s brothers.
“Those on our bow are . . . friendly. I think,” Fury muttered. So that’s where the hawks had been; they’d gone after Luis! She laughed, a sound of pure joy. Leaping to the stern, she nicked the air in a salute to the birds perched on the mizzenmast.
“Hawhawhawhaw,” came the response.
The sudden roar of a cannon shot split the early-morning dawn. “Fire!” Fury shouted. “She’s in your sights. Rip her bow to splinters. Broadside now! On the count of three!”
Black smoke spiraled upward on the gentle trade winds, obliterating all view of the pirate ship. Her own ship rocked crazily beneath her feet. “We’ve been hit, Capitana, our stern!”
“Shore up this ship!” Fury ordered as a second wave of cannon fire thundered through the air. This time the volley of shots came from the Spaniard’s ship.
“Try hitting the ship instead of the water, señor!” Fury called to Luis. “You do me no good if you can’t knock her guns out.”
“Ungrateful bitch!” Luis muttered as he gave a second order to fire. His own ship took a volley of shots then, splintering his bow just beneath his feet. “Fire, goddamn you!” he raged. “Not this black ship, the one on her stern. Drive her into the sea!”
“All hands on deck!” Fury shouted. “Mount the shrouds and yardarms. I’m going to steer this ship directly astern at full speed, and our bow will puncture hers. She won’t have time to turn her sail. She’s taking on water; one of us got off a good shot. Fire!” The impostor was dead ahead, and Fury could see the men scrambling on deck as she shouted orders.
A deafening crash sounded as the cannonball made contact with the enemy ship. As the ram punctured her bow, large splinters of wood flew in the air. Men toppled overboard as other seamen rushed to secure the cannon that was no longer stationary. The crackling and rendering of the ship was ear-splitting.
Fury raced to the bow, her hand on the hilt of the cutlass as several of Amalie’s men leapt aboard her frigate. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Juli’s brothers defend themselves with an expertise she hadn’t known they possessed. Once she risked a glance in the direction of the Spaniard’s ship. The entire crew was gathered at the rail, watching her, waiting to see if she needed their help.
“I want to see you before I kill you!” she shouted to Amalie, who was standing on what was left of her stern. She was truly magnificent, Fury thought, every bit as beautiful as her mother must have been years ago as she, too, had stood in just such a position, ready to do battle. It never occurred to her that she was equally as magnificent to those watching.
Amalie leapt aboard the Rana, landing less than a foot away. “You aren’t old at all,” she exclaimed, brandishing her cutlass.
Fury laughed. “Why should I be old?” she said. “I’m not real; I’m a legend you refused to let die, and for that you will die.” She smiled at the rage in the impostor’s eyes.
“You’re as real as I am!” Amalie snarled. “Blood will spout from your veins just as it will from mine. You’re no spirit!” Fury smiled grimly as she unsheathed her cutlass.
“Do something!” Dykstra shrieked to Luis.
“I believe the situation is well in hand, Mynheer Dykstra,” the Spaniard called back. “We have only to wait for the outcome. Your cargo is safe.”
Dykstra was so upset, he fairly jittered in response. “Look again, Captain!”
Luis shaded his eyes to see through the thick black smoke circling upward from the impostor’s ship. He’d been so intent on watching Fury and her adversary, he’d ignored the pirate’s men, who were now attacking from all directions. Bedlam broke out as Dykstra’s crew joined in the battle, followed by the governor’s men. Luis and his own crew were the last to leap into the fray.
“Look to your back, Siren!” he shouted over to Fury, who turned with the speed of a cat and slicked her cutlass with a high, wide arch. She watched in horror as her attacker’s arm as well as his cutlass rolled across the deck. She whirled back just in time to see Amalie bearing down on her.
All about her the air was filled with shouts and screams as metal clanged against metal. Shots seemed to come from nowhere, and most neither knew nor cared whom they were killing and wounding.
Great black clouds of pungent smoke rolled about the cluster of ships, making visibility almost impossible. Fury rubbed her eyes and backed away to search for firmer footing, all the while intent on the advancing figure of the impostor.
“I want those diamonds,” Amalie said hoarsely.
“No,” Fury shouted. “Your days of plundering in the Siren’s name are over. Give quarter now and I’ll spare your life. Prison is better than dying here, with this scurvy lot you call a crew. What’s it to be?”
“Never!” Amalie brought up her cutlass.
Slowly Fury raised her own weapon. “So be it,” she said, her voice deadly calm. Flexing her knees and lashing out with a sudden thrust, she drove Amalie backward. Amalie recovered quickly, slashing upward at Fury’s cutlass. Stunned with the force of the blow, Fury stumbled but recovered quickly and jabbed straight for Amalie’s midsection. Daintily she sidestepped, then lashed out again, this time glancing down the side of Amalie’s scarred arm to draw blood.
Hatred spewed from Amalie’s eyes as she jabbed upward, knocking Fury against the railing. She crouched and with both hands on the cutlass whipped the blade up and down and down again until Fury was bent over the railing, her weapon held crossways in front of her. “I’ll kill you for this, you miserable bitch!” Amalie screamed.
Suddenly she sensed a presence behind her and dropped to her haunches, swiveling as she lashed upward to drive the weapon from Luis Domingo’s hands. Her shrill laughter echoed off the water as the Spaniard stumbled backward, losing his footing. Immediately two of Amalie’s cutthroats were on him as Fury lashed out, slicing close to her opponent’s skull. She feinted to the right and thrust downward, missing Amalie’s back by a hairbreadth. But the momentum carried her forward, and she slipped and lost her footing, the cutlass flying from her hands. Frantically she scrambled for her weapon as Amalie bore down on her.
In a sudden burst of speed, Gaspar swooped downward from his perch in the rigging, Pilar in his wake. Wild, shrill screeches ripped from their mouths as Gaspar dove straight for Amalie’s slender back.
Amalie threw up her arms to ward off the deadly attack, her eyes filled with terror. She shrieked with pain as Gaspar raked her shoulder with his talons. Blood spurted everywhere. Pilar circled around her, her screams more shrill than Gaspar’s. In the blink of an eye she had Fury’s cutlass in her talons, offering it to the young woman as if it were a precious prize.
With a frenzied shake of his feathers, Gaspar outstripped the wind as he plunged upward in preparation of a killing dive that would render Amalie helpless.
Breathing raggedly, Fury crouched low as she prepared to leap over the pool of blood. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Luis fighting for his life. “Pilar!” she screamed. “Over there!” She jerked her head in the Spaniard’s direction.
“This places me in your debt,” Luis called as the hawk distracted his opponent long enough to enable him to heave his cutlass upward in a mighty thrust.
“They’re leaving!” Fury spat angrily as the governors’ ship hoisted anchor. “They value their precious lives more than they value honor! Dykstra is leaving, too. He wants to live to enjoy his new role as governor. Tell me, señor, whose ship carries the cargo?” Fury demanded raggedly. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re outnumbered. Give it up before more of your men are killed. These scurve will fight to the death!”
In a makeshift cell in the hold of Luis’s ship, Cato worked at his bonds. Amalie’s scream of terror was still ringing in his ears. Already his wrists and hands were slippery with his own blood, fingers numb with his efforts to free himself. When the rope slid over his hands at last, he leapt up and raced to the galley for the vinegar cask. Up on deck, no one paid him any mind as he leapt over wounded bodies in search of Amalie. Suddenly he stopped, watching in horror. Gaspar, sleek as an arrow, was hovering over Amalie menacingly as Fury approached, cutlass in hand.
Amalie, one eye on the black bird and the other on Fury, cast away all fear the moment she heard Cato call out to her. Drawing on every ounce of strength left in her body, she lashed out at Fury with her cutlass, knocking the blade from Fury’s hand with unbelievable force. She crouched, feinted, and leapt in the air just as Gaspar’s talons crunched down on her neck. The force of his descent pulled her backward, and as she groped to remain upright, her blade sliced into Gaspar’s chest. The sleek bird dropped to the deck with a cry of pain that pierced Fury to her soul.
The sound carried on the wind to Pilar, who turned in midair, circling the frenzied melee. Up she swirled, higher and higher, screeching her own cry of pain, then she swooped down, ripping and clawing as she raced back and forth across the bloodied decks.
“No, Pilar, she’s mine!” screamed Fury, her eyes blinded with tears. The hawk halted and dropped to the deck, her wings feathering out to protect her fallen mate.
Every curse, every epithet she’d ever heard, ripped from Fury’s snarling mouth. “Kill my bird, will you! I’ll run you through till your blood covers these decks. Murdering bitch! I’ll slice every inch of flesh from your body, I’ll gouge your eyes till you’re blind, and while you’re dying, I’ll laugh! No quarter!” she snarled, her teeth bared in hatred. Luis gawked and moved backward, noticing that the odds of battle had dwindled to his and Fury’s benefit, thanks to the avenging black birds.
Luis watched, his heart in his mouth, his eyes filled with admiration as Fury battled with Amalie. To his first mate, Julian, he roared, “Drive these cutthroats over the side. There’s to be no interference. No quarter!”
Glazed, hate-filled eyes glittered at Fury as she slashed out again and again. Up and down the cutlass slicked until Amalie’s blouse was in shreds, her bare breasts exposed to the men on deck. “Whore!” Amalie shrilled, stumbling backward.
Fury’s blade lashed out again, faster than lightning, curling a streak of rushing blood on the impostor’s breast. “The S is so you’ll remember this moment as you die!” Fury cried, laughing maniacally. Amalie’s blade sliced upward, but she danced nimbly away. “Now, Pilar! Pin her to the rail!” she screamed as she drove her opponent backward.
Pilar rose on her talons, her wings fluttering dangerously as she sailed upward to obey her mistress’s command.
Her breast heaving, Fury brought up her cutlass one last time. Amalie’s weapon dropped to the deck, her hand slick with her own blood. Blood streamed down her face as her mouth spewed obscenities, her bare breasts heaving with the effort it cost her to speak. Suddenly her head was jerked backward as Pilar pulled and tugged. She groped for the rail, trying to unleash the deadly talons holding her prisoner.
“No! Leave her be! No!” Cato cried as he skidded across the deck, still holding the vinegar cask. He slipped on the blood-slick surface and dropped the cask. Diamonds glittered ruby red as they rolled across the deck.
“Fool!” Amalie snarled—and in that moment Pilar’s talons drove her over the side.
Cato’s mad, glittering eyes brought Luis to his side in an instant. “Don’t even think about picking up her weapon,” he snarled.
With a mighty heave, Cato sailed over the railing to land in the water, searching frantically for a sign of his love. Water bubbled all about him from the cannon shot as he reached out and made contact with a pair of flailing arms.
It was over.
Fury was on her knees, her hands cradling Gaspar’s head. “Please, Gaspar, don’t die,” she pleaded. “Not here, like this. I can’t let you give up your life for me. . . . Luis, please help me,” she cried, looking up. “Please! I don’t care about my mother’s secret; you can tell the world, if you’ll only help me. He can’t die. Tell me what to do, please!”
Luis dropped to his knees, his fingers gentle as he probed the bird’s bony chest. When he raised his eyes he was smiling. “It’s a clean wound, Fury, straight between his ribs. He won’t be able to fly for a while, but he’ll mend. I can fashion a dressing with some ointment to ward off infection. If we can keep him at rest, he’ll live to soar through the heavens again.”
Fury dropped her head in her hands and wept, great heartbreaking sobs of relief. “I didn’t kill her, the impostor—she was alive when she went over the side!” she cried. Luis smiled at her outburst, knowing she was reacting with her emotions, as a typical female, now that the crisis was past.
Her eyes shimmering with tears, Fury looked up in time to see Pilar’s wing tip feather out against Luis’s cheek. The sight made her wail, a high keening sound.
“What is it, what’s the matter?” Luis asked, touching a lock of her hair.
“They like you. Pilar does that only to me. You’ve stolen their affection,” she moaned.
Luis chuckled. “I guess they know what a sterling person I am. I never meant you harm, I told them that; little did I know that they understood me. I will never forget the day they arrived on my ship. My crew thought me daft for changing course. I knew something was wrong and that they’d come to fetch me. Now, who is to carry this gallant bird to a clean, calm resting place?”
“I want to,” Fury said softly. “He’ll rest on my bunk until he’s better.” She bent down to pick up the injured hawk.
How gentle she was, Luis thought, watching her. It was almost impossible for him to reconcile the bloodthirsty, hard-driving combatant with this delicate young woman who would weep over an injured bird. It must be why God chose her to serve Him. His heart shattered with the thought.
“Clear these decks and scrub them till they shine!” he ordered. “Lower all jolly boats!”
“Aye, Cap’n. What’s to be done with the diamonds?” Julian asked as he bent down to pick up a sparkling gem.
It was a good question, Luis thought. “What happened to the diamond merchant? Did he sail with the governors or with Dykstra?”
Julian laughed. “Neither, Cap’n. When the fight broke out he went over the side in one of the jolly boats. I saw him paddle off with my own eyes. I’ve been thinking about those diamonds, Cap’n. I believe they were stolen. He could have taken them with him; he knew they were in the vinegar cask. But he valued his life more than he valued his stones.”
Luis nodded. “Sounds right to me, Julian. I myself had serious doubts about our cargo. Mynheer Dykstra pushed my back to the wall, and we struck a bargain. I had no other choice but to carry them on board. I guess they can be considered salvage.”
“That’s what we thought you’d say, Cap’n,” Julian said, reaching into his pocket for a handful of the sparkling gems. “This is your share, and it’ll more than make up for your lost cargoes, and your father’s cargoes years ago. You could probably live the rest of your life in luxury with the remainder.” He drew closer and lowered his voice. “And, Cap’n, I finally remembered what it was about the Sea Siren I wanted to tell you. She didn’t kill your father, and she didn’t destroy his ship. Aye, she boarded and demanded to see all our hands. But she was satisfied the man she sought was not one of our crew. The shot that was fired and sunk our ship came from a marauder that she went after. Your father toppled over the side. She tried to pull him back on board, but he was a large man, and his weight was too much for her. In my mind and fear, all I could remember was her at the rail with your father. When I saw the lass at the rail, I remembered. It’s true, Cap’n, the Siren never killed for the sake of killing. And this lass has that same trait. Her secret is safe with me and this crew. No word of this will ever pass our lips.”
“She was magnificent, wasn’t she?” Luis said softly.
“Aye, Cap’n, magnificent she is. A man would be a fool to let such a creature escape his clutches. I saw the way she begged you to save that damn bird. There was love in her eyes, Cap’n.”
“For the bird, not for me,” Luis said gruffly.
“You’re a fool if you believe that, beggin’ your pardon, Cap’n.” Julian grinned. “I know what my eyes saw. The tears were for the bird, the love was for you.”
Luis shook his head. “She’s going into a convent. I can’t ... she’s meant for a life of—”
“The older a man gets, the more foolish he becomes,” Julian said tartly. “I think I’ll have the crew tidy this ship, shore her up good, and then we’ll retire to the Lady. Tall tales and rum will be the order of the day, if you’ve no objection. With us out of your way, you’ll have a chance to get to know the young lady before she . . . You understand, Cap’n?”
Luis grinned and winked at his first mate. “Perfectly! Her crew, are they hale and hearty? She’ll want to know.”
“A few minor wounds that’ll be forgotten the moment they receive their pocketful of stones.” He saluted smartly and turned on his heel. Luis nicked the air with the tip of his cutlass. “You’re a man among men, Julian,” he said lightly.
Julian turned. “All I need is a good woman who will know how to spend all my money.” His delighted laugh rolled off the decks.
The Rana was scrubbed down with holy stones, from bow to stern, and by sundown no trace of the bloody battle remained. A pot of simmering salmagundi stood ready in the galley, compliments of Julian and the crew of the Silver Lady. Gaspar was resting comfortably, with Pilar standing guard.
Fury stood on the stern of the Rana dressed in a white muslin dress. Luis thought she looked like an angel. It was hard for him to believe she’d fought as valiantly and gallantly as any man he’d ever served with. Now he had questions to ask, questions that required answers. His stomach heaved at the thought of causing this beautiful creature even one moment of discomfort.
When the first star appeared, he fetched two cane chairs and set them side by side. Fury looked up and smiled wanly.
“A diamond for your thoughts,” he teased. The rhythm of his voice remained light as he continued. “I—I need to know why you came after me. When the birds came, you weren’t in danger. They were content to sail with me in the rigging. I didn’t understand then, and I don’t understand now.”
Fury shrugged. “I can’t answer for the birds. I thought they’d deserted me; they were gone so long. They’d never done anything like that before. There are times when they seem to be so attuned to me, it’s almost frightening. I came after you because . . . because I wanted to warn you, to see you one last time. I suppose I wanted to say good-bye. You left so abruptly the last time I saw you. . . . I—I should apologize for my behavior when we—”
“You should do no such thing,” Luis said harshly. “It’s I who should apologize. I acted like an idiot. . . .” His voice softened. “And I’m most heartily sorry, Furana.”
The night was coal black, sultry, and sea-scented. Overhead, a silvery moon vied with the diamond-bright stars for illumination. Fury found herself wishing for cloud cover. When the low, swirling fog drifted in from the sea, she knew her prayers had been answered. Soon the only light would come from the smoky yellow lanterns hung about the ship. She smiled in the darkness. “I accept your apology.”
“You do!”
“Of course. But I also apologize for lying to you about my mother. I think you . . . deserve to know about her and why I went to the lengths I did to protect—”
“No, I don’t want to hear. That’s one secret that should remain a secret. I’ll carry what I know to my grave,” he whispered, laying a gentle finger against her lips.
“In my heart I knew you would say that,” Fury murmured. “I have so little time . . . I must sail for Batavia tomorrow. Weather permitting, I shall arrive in time to . . . But tonight—tonight is mine. There will be no prayers to ask forgiveness . . . no regrets. I want to . . . I must be certain in my own mind that I’m doing the right thing. It isn’t fair to you . . . it’s all I can think of to do.”
“Shhh,” Luis said, drawing her close. “This is no time to talk.”
Fury was aware of him as never before. He was so lean and hard against her, so warm and strong. She felt his hand under her chin, gently turning her face to his as the soft gray fog obliterated the moon. His mouth was on hers, sweet and gentle. She pressed herself against him, her arms circling his broad back, her mouth trembling beneath his. She felt him growl low in his throat and knew she was responsible for the sound of pleasure. It seemed to her a tidal current rivered between them as his warm breath caressed her cheek, her neck. She regretted the fog now, wishing only to see Luis’s desire for her in his eyes and for him to see her own. She felt him smile against her cheek as his hands fumbled with the buttons on her dress. Her own hands felt clumsy as she searched for the buttons on his shirt.
“I’ve never done this before,” she murmured.
“I know.” Luis chuckled deep in his throat. His voice was thick and husky, her own sounding the same. Suddenly he lost patience and ripped at her camisole. She reveled in his touch, welcomed it, demanded more, and he obeyed, his head dropping to the softness of her breasts. This was no dream, she told herself, this was what she’d dreamed of for so long; what she’d craved. She arched her back, drawing him closer.
She felt beautiful and desirable as Luis murmured her name over and over, his lips trailing down, down, until they reached the flat plane of her stomach.
Their clothes lay next to them, discarded and forgotten. He was against her, the length of him. She writhed with pleasure as she pressed her body against his. He kissed her cheek, her throat, her breasts, his fiery tongue scorching her body. She felt his name escape her lips again and again as his hands reached out, circling her bare back, luxuriating in the satiny warmth of her skin. His mouth was drawn to the place where her neck joined her shoulders, and she was aware of her own shudder of delight and the anticipation that coursed through him. A tear fell from her eye and slipped down her cheek. Seeing it, Luis kissed it away, tasting the salt of it, as though it had come from the sea.
He moved just slightly from her—only far enough for his eyes to focus on her through the soft mist, needing to commit her face to memory so that she would live in him for the rest of his days. How bittersweet this love, he thought as he drew her close again.
Magic spun a web and cloaked them from the world; they were in love this night. His hands caressed down the length of her body, loving her, worshiping her. Their passion, he knew deep in his heart, was a gift from God. A gift for this night only and to be treasured unto eternity.
Fury rolled over, pulling him against her, into every curve, as she fought to keep from losing herself in the fierce, hot joy spreading throughout her body. She felt light, soft nibbles against her lips. The pressure of his lips on hers was increasingly demanding, persuasive. Her breathing became his as he explored her mouth with his probing tongue. His hands on her body were fluid, hypnotic, touching her intimately, spreading fire throughout her entire body. Her arms moved naturally to encircle his broad back. She felt his hands cradle her head as her wealth of ebony hair fell over their faces. She began to moan softly as his hands tantalized her with their gentle, sensuous caresses. The warmth of his body and the rippling muscles beneath her hands so delighted her, she crushed her lips against his, demanding he return her ardor. Her heart pounded as she heard him emit low animal groans of passion.
“I need you,” he panted as his mouth came down against hers, crushing her, driving the breath from her body.
His lips were hungry, demanding that he be satisfied by her. She strained toward him, willing him to demand more of her so that she could feed his insatiable appetite. Her lips parted, and she tasted his sweetness as she felt his hands continue to explore her body. She moaned with pleasure when his fingers found the way to the soft, silky place between her thighs.
The searing heat of her desire washed everything else away. Everything was forgotten, all her promises, all her religious longings. All she wanted now was to be near him, to have him be a part of her. He whispered soft endearments that were barely audible as his lips blazed a burning trail from her mouth to her neck to her breasts, his hands tender yet searching. Nothing matters, Fury told herself as she sought his devouring lips and the delicious feel of his body next to hers. Passion rose in her in waves as she felt him stiffen against her.
“Now,” he whispered huskily.
Fury gazed at him with passion-filled eyes. He wanted her, needed her as much as she wanted and needed him. God help her, she meant to have him, no matter what the cost. Her eyes flooded with tears as she nuzzled her head into the hollow of his neck.
The prick of pain as he entered her was minuscule as her overriding passions rose and fell to match the rhythm of his thrusts. Suddenly, unexpectedly, the core of her being shattered, flooding her entire body with hot, scorching release.
Spent, they lay in each other’s arms. Fury sighed deeply. So this was what it was like to be a total woman, the kind of woman she’d heard whispered about at the convent school. She closed her eyes, reliving each exquisite moment of their lovemaking. How, how was she to give this up? How was she never to think of this again? Her sinful flesh had betrayed her. Could she atone? Tomorrow she would think about atonement. For now she wanted to lie in this man’s arms and whisper all the words lovers whispered to one another.
They slept then, their cheeks pressed close together. Fury smiled in her sleep, her dreams sweet and gentle, and when the last tendril of fog lifted to expose the silvery moon and twinkling stars, she woke, her silky lashes fluttering against Luis’s cheek.
“It’s not morning yet, is it?” he whispered anxiously.
“No. The fog has lifted,” Fury murmured. “Perhaps we should wish on a star. Do you think wishes come true?”
“Not this one,” Luis said through clenched teeth. How many more hours, he wondered, before he would have to give her up? He didn’t want this to end, not ever. How could he give her up? He wasn’t made of stone; he loved this beautiful young woman. He’d proved his love, and she’d matched his ardor with her own. What was she thinking, feeling? he wondered.
“My wishes always came true before,” Fury said wistfully. “Of course, I never realized as a child that my parents were responsible for making them come true. . . . I’ll never forget you, Luis.”
“Nor I you,” Luis said, stroking her hair. “I want only your happiness, and if I’m not the person to grant you that happiness, I can at least wish you . . . You know what I’m trying to say,” he said gruffly.
There was no way she could explain her feelings. She didn’t understand them herself. She only knew that she would never be able to drive him from her heart. In her dark cell at night she would think of him and in the morning she would offer prayers, asking forgiveness.
The silence between them seemed more eloquent than words. When Luis reached down to take her hand in his, she sighed with happiness as she felt her body being drawn to his. She was ever aware of his leanness, his maleness. Her flesh tingled with the contact of his. She felt her body move into the circle of his arms as his mouth became a part of hers, and her heart beat in a savage, untamed rhythm. In their yearnings they strained together, mounting obstacles of the flesh to marry spirit and soul, united for eternity.
In the quiet moonlight they devoured each other with searching, hungry lips. At last Luis tore his mouth from hers, his breathing ragged and harsh. But it was Fury whose sensibilities returned first, and she moved away from him, her eyes sleepy, almost content. She moistened her lips, and her bruised mouth tasted sweet to her tongue.
When Luis pulled her to him again, Fury responded by crushing her mouth to his, demanding more. The banked fires burst into flame as she felt his searching hands explore her body. His touch was scorching, searing, as her own hands caressed his high cheekbones and luxuriated in his lustrous raven hair. Moan after moan escaped her as she strained against him, her mouth mingling with his, her tongue darting to conquer his.
Luis drew in his breath at the sight of Fury’s body bathed in silvery radiance. His face was inscrutable in the ghostly rays, but his gaze was almost tangible; she felt it reach her, touch her, and she became aware of the all-consuming fire that raged through her. Her body took on a will of its own as Luis caressed and explored every inch of her. She moved to the rhythm he initiated and felt him respond to her in a way she had never dreamed possible. Flames licked her body as she sought to quench the blazing inferno that engulfed her. He kissed her ears, her eyes, her moistened mouth, murmuring tender words of love, his hands traveling down her lithe form, arousing, teasing her, until her breath came in short gasps and her body writhed beneath his touch.
His lips clung to hers as he pressed her down into the coarse blanket on the deck. He buried his hands in her silken hair, twining the thickness, holding her head still as he kissed her savagely. Fury strained against his muscular chest as she responded to his passion with an urgency that demanded release. He caressed her again and again, cherishing her, desiring her, imprisoning her body with his.
He felt her flesh grow warm and taut beneath him; his avid mouth worshiped her, tracing moist patterns on her creamy skin. His dark head moved lower, grazing the firmness of her belly, down to the silky smoothness between her thighs. He parted her legs with his knee and felt her respond to him, arching her back to receive him. Her parted lips were a flame that met his raging, tumultuous mouth. She welcomed him, accepted him, his hardness, his leanness, his very maleness, as he drove into her.
He lay upon her, commanding her response, and she offered it, writhing beneath him, exulting in her own femininity as she caressed his broad back and crushed her lips to his. The unquenchable heat that was soaring through her beat in her veins, threatening to crescendo into a raging inferno. The pounding of her heart thundered in her ears—or was it Luis’s that beat and roared about them? Her breathing ragged, she prepared herself for him. And when at last the searing ache erupted within her, she was consumed in the explosion—a soul-shattering cataclysm that carried Luis with her over the brink.
They clung tightly to each other like children fearful of being separated. “I’ll always love you, Luis,” Fury whispered.
“And I you,” Luis murmured, his lips in her hair.
“It will be light soon, we have to get dressed.” For the first time Fury realized that they were lying out in the open on a coarse blanket.
“Who will see us?” Luis teased.
“Those on your ship.”
“She’s drifted off, a good distance. But you’re right, it’s time to get dressed. Fury, I . . .”
“Shhh, no words, Luis, please. What we had . . . have . . . will stay with us always. It’s time for you to continue with your journey home, and I must . . . continue mine. Please, flag your ship while I see to Gaspar and Pilar. Please, Luis, don’t make this more difficult for me than it already is,” Fury said through her tears. “Adios, my love....” A moment later she was gone, down below with her protective birds.
Luis never felt so alone in his life.
“How can I live without him?” Fury demanded of Pilar, who was standing guard over her mate. “You must understand what I feel. You battled those in your way to get to Gaspar. You can’t bear to be without him, I know you can’t. I feel that way about Luis.
“Oh, I’m so selfish,” she wept. “I want to have everything, but I can’t. I’m promised to God. It’s my destiny. There are no choices. Already I’ve betrayed my God and my faith and will spend the rest of my life atoning for my ... last night.”
Fury washed and brushed her hair, donned clean undergarments and a fresh dress. Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. The ship was moving now, no longer drifting, which meant in a matter of minutes Luis would board the Silver Lady; Juli’s brothers would return, and they’d change course for Batavia. She felt as though her heart had been ripped from her chest.
The moment she heard Juli’s brothers on board, she wiped away her tears and ran up onto the deck, racing to the stern. Hair billowing behind her, she waved once, twice . . . and then once again as the man on the stern of the Silver Lady saluted her in return.
When the Rana was safe in her berth at the cove, Fury, drawn and haggard, issued her last orders. “Clean this ship from top to bottom, see that her repairs are first rate, scour the decks one last time with holy stones, and repaint the ship. Fix her right name on the bow. Last but not least, fashion a litter for Gaspar and I’ll carry him to the casa. Adios, my friends. I’ll tell Juli you’re well.”
The brothers banded together and stared at their captain. The eldest spoke, his voice gruff yet gentle. “We know it’s not our place, but the Spaniard loves you very much. If you let him go now, he’ll never be the man he’s destined to be, just as you will never be the woman you are destined to be. Your life will be a world of holy words without meaning.” He glanced at the others, then down at his feet. “That’s all we have to say, Capitana. . . . Oh, yes, one last thing. Give these to our sister, one from each of us.”
Fury accepted the handful of brilliant gems and did her best to smile. “I want the mouth of the river blocked once the ship is secure,” she said. “Can you do that for me?”
“Aye, Capitana. We’ll send word when it’s sealed. Adios.”
“Adios,” Fury whispered.
It was done.
“You look like death!” Juli grumbled as she ushered Fury up the stairs to her room. “Fetch up the hot water!” she ordered one of the maids.
Fury grimaced. “I know what I look like, Juli. I don’t need you to remind me.”
“Tomorrow—”
“I know what tomorrow is,” Fury snapped. “I’ll be ready. Has Father Sebastian been here? Is he going to accompany me?”
Juli nodded. “He doesn’t want to, but he will. It’s a mistake. Everyone but you knows it’s a mistake, and still you persist in this foolishness. You aren’t meant to enter that damn convent!” She grumbled as pail after pail of water was poured into the tub.
“I’m committed to God—you can’t change that with words!” Fury cried. “Now I don’t want to talk about this ever again. Do you hear me?”
“Everyone in the casa can hear you,” Juli retorted. “Tell me something, Miss Fury, have you given any thought to the fact that you could be . . . enceinte?”
Fury turned slowly to stare at the matronly housekeeper. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. Those things happen when a man and a woman . . . You should think about that before you enter the convent, or you will shame everyone—your parents, those good, holy women, and yourself.”
Fury sat down in the tub with a loud splash. She cursed then, long and loud.
Juli covered her ears and turned so Fury wouldn’t see her smile. “Where did you learn such words? Not from my brothers! Although,” she added thoughtfully, “I seem to recall your mother using those very same words whenever your father angered her.” She chuckled. “Your God will never forgive you.”
“As of this minute, Juli, you are no longer in my employ. Take your damn diamonds and go away. Go to Aldo—or go to hell! I don’t care. With those jewels you can live in splendor for the rest of your life! . . . What are you waiting for?”
“Your apology and then I’ll go. You see, you’re upset, and the only reason you’re upset is because of Senor Domingo. You know what you’re planning is wrong, yet you’re still going to go through with it. You lack the courage to admit you made a mistake. You should never have let him go; now you’ll never see him again. He could be killed at sea by other marauders, have you given that any thought?”
Fury’s eyes filled with tears. “I want to be alone, Juli, please, leave me to my misery. And yes, I’m sorry for what I said. You can stay on here if you like.”
After Juli left, Fury sat in the tub until her skin puckered. Then she crawled into her bed, pulling the light coverlet up to her chin. Through the window she could see Gaspar in his litter in the sun, Pilar perched nearby. A happy ending for everyone but her and Luis.
She beat her fists into the pillows, tears of self-pity drenching the lacy covering. Eventually she slept, but it was a sleep invaded by dark dreams of a squawling baby in her cell at the convent, begging for wholesome food and sunlight. She woke exhausted, with dark shadows under her eyes that no amount of powder could cover.
As she dressed she found herself wondering if she really could be pregnant. It simply wasn’t possible, she thought. She was obeying her calling, her destiny was preordained. Her sins of the flesh would be obliterated. God was all-forgiving. She would serve Him for the rest of her life.
Father Sebastian was downstairs; she could hear his voice, subdued yet anxious. Juli would be telling him all the details of her sea voyage, possibly even the intimate details she thought she knew. Fury’s face burned as she remembered the things she’d done, the emotions she’d felt. Perhaps she should make a confession before she left for the convent. Her heart thudded at saying the words aloud to the priest. No, she would wait and make her confession at the convent.
“Damn!” she muttered. She should enter the convent free of sin, pure and holy. She was none of those things. “Please, give me some sign that You want me,” she whispered. “I will honor my commitment to You, Holy Father, if this is what I’m supposed to do.”
She walked out to the balcony to say a last good-bye to the hawks. They were quiet, too quiet, she thought as she stroked them. They know where I’m going. They know they’ll never see me again.
“When Gaspar is well, I want you to find Luis and stay with him,” she told Pilar. “He’ll take care of you, I know he will.” She sobbed then, hard sounds of pure grief that neither bird appeared to acknowledge. Pilar’s glittering eyes remained on Gaspar, whose own shiny dark eyes remained closed. “Good-bye, my friends,” she whispered, and ran from the room, her satchel bobbing against her legs.
Pilar’s diamond-bright eyes followed Fury until she was out of sight. Gaspar’s eyes snapped open, and he struggled to raise himself but felt Pilar’s wings pressing him back down on his bed. She flapped her wings, admonishing her mate to remain where he was, before she spiraled upward and out through the open French doors that led to the balcony. Instead of following the priest’s wagon, the hawk flew toward port and then out to sea.
It was hours before Pilar spied the ship she was searching for. She circled in a pattern that only she and Gaspar knew before plunging downward to land next to Luis on the stern. He showed no surprise at her arrival. Pilar watched him intently, waiting for him to speak.
“I can’t let her go,” he said hoarsely. “I have to try to make her see it’s me she needs. I’m not going to ask her to forsake God. I’ll beg if I have to. I told her I loved her, but I didn’t tell her how much. I had to come back to tell her I can’t live without her. Once she walks through the gates, there is no turning back. But I can’t make this ship go any faster, and the wind is dying. I need more time, hours at least. There’s no way I can make it in time, I know that, but I have no choice. I must try.” He looked at Pilar and slowly shook his head. “Why am I telling you all this? You can’t possibly understand what I’m thinking and feeling.”
Pilar gave a piercing cry as she spiraled straight up over his head. Luis watched until the hawk was out of sight. He cursed at the sea, his ship, and the dying wind. He knew he was torturing himself by continuing, but he couldn’t live if he didn’t at least try to convince Fury that he could make her happy.
“We’re picking up a stiff breeze, Cap’n,” Julian called to him. “A storm is following us. If we can outrace it, we’ll make ten knots and be in port by sundown.”
Luis raised his eyes, convinced he would see Pilar hovering overhead. Instead, a bolt of lightning raced across the sky, followed by thunder that deafened him.
“Thank You,” he whispered.
The sun was merciless, Fury reflected as she shifted her parasol to offer shade to the priest at her side. They’d said little to each other, but she knew he was aware that she’d been crying. Now, though, her eyes were dry, all her tears shed. She was resigned to her fate, her destiny. She wouldn’t dwell on the fact that this should be the happiest day of her life.
“Oh, no,” she exclaimed suddenly as she was jolted from her seat in the priest’s wagon. “Father, the wheel’s come off!”
“So it has,” Father Sebastian muttered. He reined in the horse and offered the reins to Fury while he climbed from the wagon. He lowered his head, his wide pancake hat shielding the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.
A moment later he threw up his hands in a helpless gesture. “The wheel’s cracked. I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“Can’t you fix it?” Fury asked.
“Child, it’s split in two. See for yourself.” It hadn’t been easy to replace his original wheel; the blacksmith had looked at him suspiciously when he’d insisted on the cracked one.
“We’ll have to walk,” Fury said firmly.
“In this blistering heat!” the holy man cried incredulously.
“We were riding in this heat; walking will make no difference except to our legs,” Fury pointed out. “If you prefer, I can make my way alone. There’s no need for you to accompany me.”
As stubborn and strong-willed as her mother, Father Sebastian thought. “You won’t arrive in time, Furana. The Mother Superior will not open the gates after dark. Even if you ran all the way, I doubt you could arrive in time.”
“I’ll take the horse, then,” Fury said desperately. “If you wait for the sun to set and walk slowly, Father, you can make it back to the casa. But this is my last chance, I must take it. Please, say you understand.”
“Oh, I understand,” the priest said, nodding. “I hope you understand that this is an old horse. There’s no speed or adventure left in him.”
“I have to try,” Fury said through clenched teeth. “I’ll leave you the food and water and my parasol.”
A moment later she was on the horse’s broad back, urging him forward. The animal moved off so slowly, she wanted to scream. An hour later she was convinced she would make better time if she walked. She dismounted and smacked the horse’s flanks, watching him clop off in the direction from which he’d come.
Fury trudged on, her rosary in one hand, her satchel in the other. For hours she limped along, every bone in her body protesting the abuse she was inflicting upon it.
Shortly before sundown she saw the imposing convent in the distance. Her heart thudded as she glanced up at the setting sun. She had several miles yet to go, and most, if not all, of her energy was depleted. She dropped her satchel and kept on walking. She’d come into the world with nothing, and she would leave it the same way. She prayed for the energy to continue. The moment she finished her prayer, she felt a sudden burst of energy and ran as fast as her legs would carry her. She would arrive in time. Darkness had not yet cloaked the outside world.
She could see the habits of the nuns as they walked from the convent courtyard toward the gates. In minutes she would be able to see their faces clearly. She ran faster, the heels of her shoes leaving clumps of earth in their wake. On and on she ran, her breathing ragged, her lungs burning. She could see their faces now, so serene and peaceful-looking, their dark habits so protective. One of the nuns carried a lantern, the other a huge brass key. Another minute and she would be there, she thought exultantly. Despite everything, she’d actually arrived in time. It was meant to be.
In the near darkness she heard a sudden rush overhead. She ran faster, her heart thundering in her chest. The nun’s lantern light was so close, she could see Pilar clearly as she sailed downward in her own draft to fall at Fury’s feet with a soft thump.
Fury heard the key clank into the iron gate’s monstrous lock as she dropped to her knees. She stared at the nuns for a moment before her eyes lowered to Pilar. From somewhere far off she thought she heard the sound of hoofbeats. Father Sebastian, she thought; he must have found a way to make the old horse pick up his feet and actually move. They were looking at her. She could feel their eyes on her, but hers were on her faithful friend. “She’s hurt, may I bring her inside?” she pleaded.
“No, child, the bird belongs to the outside world,” the oldest of the nuns said gently. “Come, it’s time.”
“I can’t leave her, she’s hurt. She’ll die if I leave her here. Father Sebastian won’t know what to do for her. She doesn’t know him,” Fury pleaded. “Please, just until she’s-”
“No, child.”
Fury sobbed. “But Pilar is one of God’s creatures. How can you turn your back on—” They were closing the gates. She could hear the rusty sound of the old hinges in the darkening night. “Wait!” she screamed.
Luis watched from a distance, his heart in his mouth, waiting for the girl’s decision.
“If you can’t leave your worldly possessions and . . . friends behind, child, there is no place beyond these gates for you,” said the old nun.
“I won’t leave her behind. The God I pray to would never forgive me if I . . .” The sound of the key in the lock was so loud in Fury’s ears, she thought she would faint. “You’re right, Sisters, I don’t belong behind these gates,” she called to the retreating nuns.
Pilar was on her feet in an instant, strutting about Fury, her wings fluttering softly in the darkness. Fury sank down beside her, stunned. “You tricked me,” she said slowly. “You weren’t hurt at all. Why, why did you . . . come here, you wonderful friend.” She sat cross-legged in front of the convent gates, cradling Pilar, something the hawk had never allowed before. She lost all sense of time as she sat in the moonlight contemplating her future. Luis would be part of it—if she cared to return to Spain. Her heart fluttered at the thought of living without the handsome Spaniard. It might be years before she saw him again. What a fool she’d been. She should have listened to her heart. God in His infinite wisdom had shown her the destiny that was to be hers.
“It’s time to go home, Pilar,” she murmured. “Gaspar is waiting for you. I’ll find my way, have no fear. Somewhere out there in the darkness Father Sebastian is waiting.” She clapped her hands, a signal for Pilar to take wing. “Tell Gaspar I’ll be along shortly,” she called happily as she strode off into the darkness.
“I have this fine steed, Miss van der Rhys. He has a broad back and can carry the both of us with ease, if you have a mind to join me, that is,” Luis said huskily.
“Luis!” Fury cried, running to him. “How did you . . . Why . . . Oh, I don’t care how it happened. I’m so . . . You must have ridden like the wind . . . did you?”
“Don’t you ever finish a sentence?” Luis laughed as he slid from the horse to take her in his arms.
“Only short ones. I love you,” she murmured against his broad chest.
“And I love you,” he said, stroking her hair. “I told myself I wouldn’t interfere, that I would abide by your decision. I thought I would die when I heard those gates creak open. And when they closed I wanted to . . . do what I’m going to do now,” he said, and brought his lips down on hers.
Hovering in a circle overhead, outlined by the moon, Pilar voiced her approval before streaking off to her mate. “Hawhawhawhaw!”