Nobody's Saint (8 page)

“Tell me, was there ever a maid killed in the battle with the pirates?”

Mary Kate crossed her arms over her breast and gave him a sour look. “Nay, there never was. And don’t that tell you something about my grandfather? What sort of a man ships his granddaughter across the ocean with no one for company or comfort?”

He looked at the food sitting on the table. “Eat what you want,” he told her. “I will see to your quarters and have this trunk moved in there.”

With a sigh, Mary Kate sat back down. “I suppose you hate me now.”

“I do not like liars.”

“What would you have done if I’d told you true from the start?”

“Exactly what I am going to do now. I will deliver you to a friend of mine in Cartagena. He will see to it that you are ransomed back to your fiancé and returned to him with due haste.”

“You cannot
return
me to a man I’ve never even seen.”

“You belonged to him even before you set sail, Señorita O’Reilly.”

“D’you not hear what you’re saying? I’m not a piece of property, Captain! And what of my da and my sister? I wasn’t lying there. My da really is sick, and he and Bridget need me!”

“If your father saw fit to turn you over to his father—”

“My mother’s father, and he’d no more love or care for his own child than he has for me!”

“And yet your father trusted him to find you a husband. In Spain, a girl does not question her parents’ decisions—”

“Aye, she does. It may be she never speaks her questions aloud, but she questions, that I’ll tell you. Oh, I know your kind. You think there’s two kinds of women, ones who are only too happy to be whatever men want them to be and have no hopes or dreams of their own and ones like me who are nothing more than a thorn in the side. Well, I’ll tell you true sir, we’re all the same, we are. ‘Tis just that some of us hide it better than others. There’s not a one of us wouldn’t just as soon have some say in our own lives. Can you not understand, Captain? All I want is to go home!” She had scarcely paused throughout her tirade, and she had to take a deep breath when she finished.

“I will have one of my men fetch you when your quarters are ready,” Diego replied. With a little bow, he walked crisply out the door.

“Son of a—” She picked up an orange from the tray and let it fly with all her might against the wall opposite the cabin door, which was still propped open. It gave a satisfying splat. She started to go after him, but thought better of it.

English, Spanish, even Irish to some extent, men were all the same. To them, there were two kinds of women. There were the meek, obedient sort, pure and chaste and made for marriage. Then there were the passionate, challenging kind. Men liked them, too. But they weren’t pure and they weren’t chaste, and men didn’t marry them. No indeed.

She gave a wicked smile and sampled the fish. Salted, the flavor stronger than she had expected. Quickly, she refreshed her wine.

Now that she’d gotten to know him better, she didn’t think she so much wanted to kiss this Spaniard after all. He was every bit as rigid and stuffy as any Englishman. But she didn’t want to kiss her English betrothed either, much less lie with him. If she had to give herself to a man she didn’t want, better to give herself to one who would surely cast her aside than one who would lay claim to her for life. And having been taken by the one, the other would no longer want her. Best of all, once she was back in Ireland, the only two men who could bear witness to her shame would be far, far away.

She ran a quick tally in her head and counted on her fingers.
Let’s see, four lies, one dead pirate, one blasphemy that I can recall. Maybe I should count two in case I missed one. One lustful thought.

She finished every last bite on the tray.

What Diego really wanted to do was to climb up into the crow’s nest and sulk under the stars, but such was not the behavior of a ship’s captain, so he stayed at the helm. He could have gone to his quarters and further castigated his saint, but the thought worried him more than a little. At one point, he would have been too awed to be so presumptuous, but that was not what caused him to hesitate now. Now, he found himself seriously questioning whether or not she was what he had always thought her. He thought about Pablo’s advice. Make a full confession and hand himself over to the Church? He should. But the thought chilled him to the bone. Was that yet another ill omen? Now his vision had him fearing his church!

“Magdalena,” he whispered, “come to me and tell me I have made a mistake. Tell me this is not the woman you spoke of.”

“Are you afraid of me then?”

He whipped around and nearly fell over, unable to decide whether the woman next to him was flesh or fancy.

She held up her bandaged wrists. “The surgeon’s done with me, and I’ve been out of your room for nigh onto an hour. You can come back down.”

He struggled to catch his breath. “I thought to wait until you were asleep.”

“Then you are afraid of me.”

“I am annoyed with you.”

“It was wrong of me to lie.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “You are very good at it. I almost believed you.”

“Ha! You were eating it up ‘til you read that cursed letter.”

“Ha!
You
are not so good a liar as you think. I was looking very hard at you just before Enrique came, no?”

She smiled and let her eyes wander idly over him. “You’re not the first man to take a long, hard look at me, y’know.”

He smiled back, in spite of himself. “You think too much of yourself. I was thinking that there was something not quite right about you. I was thinking that a woman who kills a pirate does not run from anybody.”

She laughed loudly, as unrestrained in her mirth as she was in her ire, and damn him if he did not, just for a moment, cease to care about Magdalena.

“You’ve the right of it there, Captain. That’s a rare thing, a man who actually
pays
attention
to a woman. There’s plenty who’ll study her form close enough, but look inside her? I’ll give you good credit for that.” She gave him another impudent look and stepped closer, and he caught a subtle whiff of roses. “How long ‘til we reach Cartagena?”

“We stop in Havana first. It will be nearly a fortnight before this journey ends.”

Havana? Mary Kate tucked that piece of information away. Perhaps she only had to befuddle this man long enough to escape him in Cuba. She might yet get away with her virginity intact. But he had to be good and befuddled. She drove her hands through her loose hair and lifted it from her back, causing the fabric of her bodice to stretch tightly.

“‘Tis hot here, even at night.”

Diego deliberately looked away.

“A fortnight is plenty of time for me to try you down to your last nerve. Might I call you Diego, as you’re sure to be calling me any number of names?”

“And I always thought the
English
allowed women too much freedom.”

“The English think we Irish are barbarians. If it makes you feel any better, I’m the bane of my village, second only to my sister. Most Irish girls are far better behaved than I.”

“What if I say that it would not be proper for you to call me by my Christian name?”

Mary Kate smiled again and looked him straight in the eyes. Warm eyes they were, dark in the light of the lamp at the helm. “I’m sure to call you Diego anyway.”

“Then I will call you Mary Katherine.”

“Mary Kate, unless you think of something more descriptive at any given moment.”

María Catalina
, he thought, then shook his head. She was
not
Spanish. She was
not
what he was looking for. She was a manipulative little liar and entirely too forward. He already had all the casual lovers he needed.

“I imagine I may think of something else from time to time,” he said.

“D’you know that you smell of lemons?”

“Of all the…have you no notion of decorum?” That was another problem. She made his head spin, the way she jumped from one thing to the next.

“I certainly do! I was only wondering why that was. ‘Tis a clean, pleasant smell.”

“Lemon verbena,” he explained tersely. “It is a plant that grows in Tierra Firme—the part of the New World that the English call the Spanish Main. You can scatter the dried leaves in your trunks, like lavender.”

“I favor roses, myself.”

It was out before he could stop it. “I noticed.”

Mary Kate’s mouth curved upward into an expression of feline smugness.

“You should go to bed,” Diego stated firmly.

“But I haven’t apologized properly.”

He looked at her, eyebrows raised skeptically.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Are you? For what?”

“For having to lie to you.”

“You
had
to lie. That is what you are sorry for?”

“Aye.”

Diego scratched his head. “Usually my English is very good, but I think that I do not understand.”

“I’ve already told you
why
I lied. I have to get home to my family, and my grandfather had no right to do what he did.”

“Then you are apologizing for lying?”

Mary Kate chewed on her lip and narrowed her eyes in concentration. “Nay,” she decided at last. “I’m sorry you had to find out and get your feelings hurt.”

Diego laughed out loud. “You are apologizing for getting
caught
?”

With an indignant humph, Mary Kate replied, “Certainly not! That weren’t my fault! How was I to know there was a letter? I’m sorry it upset you. You’re a good man, a fine man, the sort of man a girl admires, and I’m sorry to have caused you any grief.
That’s
what I’m apologizing for.”

He was staring at her in open astonishment, and Mary Kate did nothing to disguise her conquering grin. If honesty was the way to this man’s heart, he was about to get more than he bargained for. “So now, I’m hoping we can be friends.”

“I have had an Englishwoman for a friend. It did not work out well for me.”

Instant understanding lit Mary Kate’s face, and Diego bit his tongue.

“So, one of them cold English lasses broke your heart. Well, you’ve naught to fear from me. I’m Irish. You’ve yet to have yourself an Irishwoman, but you’ll see ‘tis very different.”

Diego felt like he’d been hit by a forty-foot swell. Mother of God, was she offering what he thought she was offering? Looking at her in the lamplight, he was sorely tempted to take her up on it!

“For a friend!” Mary Kate amended with a shaky laugh. “For a friend! You shouldn’t look at a woman like you’re going to eat her up, especially when she’s helpless on board your ship!” Although his reaction had been just what she expected, the jolt she’d felt when he’d looked at her had taken her breath away.

Diego sighed and then chuckled. He had to admit, she made him laugh. And he liked this side of Mary Kate, this irreverent and entirely too straightforward side. “Somehow, I cannot think of you as helpless. I have seen how well you wield a cutlass.”

Mary Kate flung her hair behind her with an elaborate toss, covering her sudden uncertainty with bravado. “See that you don’t forget. I think I’ll be off to bed, after all, now that I’ve made my peace with you.”

“I do not recall granting you forgiveness.”

His voice was somber, and Mary Kate gave him a quick, worried look, but the corners of his mouth were twitching and finally curved upward. He had fine lips, too.

“Shall we kiss and make up, then, Diego?” she asked. Before he could answer, she stepped closer and brushed her lips over his narrow jaw, the day’s stubble rasping them lightly. She started to dance away, but he grabbed her arm and held her close.

“I wonder if you know where to draw the line when you tease, María Catalina. Or are you making me a serious offer?”

He was warm, his hand was strong, and his body smelled of citrus and sea and sweat. She thought of the feel of him when he had held her against him and wondered again if he might still taste of oranges and wine from dinner. It wasn’t supposed to be like this! She was supposed to be in control, to merely keep
him
off his balance.

“You’re an honorable man, Captain,” she protested breathlessly. He let her go, and she backed away, both relieved and disappointed.

Diego felt the same peculiar mix. He had seen in her eyes the fear that she had pushed him too hard. For all that she was bolder than any maid he had ever met, she was an innocent. And while he found himself glad to know that, it meant that he would have to leave her as he had found her. She was right. He was an honorable man.

He forced a casual grin. “Off to bed with you, then. I trust you will behave yourself for the rest of the trip.”

Mary Kate nodded and walked sedately away, but a few steps later, she turned back. “I like it best when you smile,” she said softly.

“Then give me no cause to frown,” he replied with what he was quite certain was a fool’s grin.

*

Diego tossed and turned in bed that night. Sleep, dreams, visions, these were fickle things. How could he confront Magdalena when he could not catch the merest hint of her presence?

Actually, she sat in the captain’s chair, snugged up to the table in his room. When time ceased to appear linear, one was not trapped by trends or expectations, and she wore a pair of loose trousers that very nearly looked like a long skirt. She had seen them on a 1940’s Hollywood actress and had immediately adopted the style as her own. They were topped by a loose blouse with dolman sleeves.

“Isn’t that just the way of it, poor Diego? The harder you look for a thing, the more it eludes you, even when it’s under your very nose.”

“You should not toy with him so.”

The other Mary appeared abruptly in her customary robes, seated next to Diego on the bed. She lay her hand on his brow, and instantly his body relaxed and his sleep became deep and calm.

“I’m not toying with him,” Magdalene replied. “You have a mother’s wisdom, Mary, and her soothing touch, but I know a thing or two more than you about matchmaking. These two are perfect for each other.”