The Captain's Caress

by Leigh Greenwood

  “The captain sends his apologies,” he said, reciting the message he’d memorized, “but the press of business makes it impossible for him to accompany you this evening. I am to go in his place.”

  Summer felt completely deflated, utterly without value; she didn’t really want to attend this or any other party. How could she smile and pretend to be gay when her hopes were in ruins? Even though she had told herself for weeks that this day would come and that she had no one to blame but herself, it was cruel to expect her to parade before the curious and cynical eyes of Havana’s aristocracy on the heels of such a rejection. Summer was about to refuse to accompany Lane, but she changed her mind almost at once, anger and pride coming to her rescue.

  Brent had used her, had shown a callous disregard for her feelings; there was nothing she could do about that. She had been his captive, physically incapable of holding him off; but she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was suffering greater agony than she ever thought possible. She was a countess, and, if he wanted her to play that role, then she would do so. And she hoped Gowan did come after her. If she was lucky some fatal fever would carry her off before she reached Scotland; then Brent Douglas wouldn’t have the satisfaction of knowing that she loved him and longed to feel his strong arms around her.

  Summer told herself she didn’t care if he did go to the affair—it wouldn’t matter one wit if that predatory marquise was on his arm—she would show him and everyone else that the Countess of Heatherstone languished because of no one, especially not a pirate captain.

  But after Summer had been socializing for two hours she wished she hadn’t left the hotel. She was heartily tired of feeding fish, exploring grottos, and admiring exotic plants; her new shoes pinched and her patience and good humor were at an end. Trying to remember names got on her nerves, but she continued to smile, all the while cursing Brent under her breath.

  Finally, unable to stand it another minute, she sent her youthful escort to find her something to drink and wandered off to a quiet corner. She hoped he would not find her for several minutes; it was rude, but she didn’t care. She needed to calm her nerves so she might stop looking for Brent at every turn, listening for his voice. He’s with the marquise, she told herself, and you might as well get used to that fact. Saying he was protecting your reputation was just an excuse to be with some black-eyed witch. That way he didn’t have to tell you he was weary of you; you could figure it out for yourself.

  “You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself.” The voice came from behind the stone bench where she was seated; Summer started and turned sharply. She found herself looking into the face of a dark young man. It had a Spanish cast, and his black eyes twinkled merrily. He was tall and his smile was quite contagious. “Have you lost your way? You can’t have been abandoned.”

  “I haven’t been so fortunate. I’m just resting while my escort goes for something to drink.”

  “And I thought you were trying to escape a procession of young men too tongue-tied to put together a single intelligent sentence.” He laughed.

  “Well, yes,” Summer confessed. “You’ve been spying on me and that’s not nice.”

  “Not spying exactly, but I have been watching you.”

  “Then you know I’ve seen every part of the garden at least twice. It’s really quite lovely, but it’s impossible to admire it for a third time in the same day.”

  “I should think so.” He nodded. “I’m surprised you didn’t try to escape altogether. May I join you, or have you foresworn all human companionship?”

  “I don’t think you should,” Summer replied. “I don’t know you, and it’s quite improper for me to be sitting with a perfect stranger in a retired part of the garden.”

  “That’s easy to remedy,” he said, promptly executing a formal bow. “Señora, I would like to introduce Gonsalvo de Aguilar, beloved only son of Vincente and Doñ a Isabella de Aguilar,” he said in a perfect imitation of her host’s voice and manner. “He is a handsome youth of upstanding habits, exemplary character, and the heir to a great fortune.” Summer was shocked, but she burst into a ripple of laughter.

  “And he is extremely modest.”

  “But I would never say such things about myself,” Gonsalvo said, using his own voice now. “It would be much too impolite.”

  “But it’s all right if someone else says them for you?”

  “Of course. Who can argue with the Baron de la Rocha? Besides, he is a great admirer of my family and believes I shall become as fine a man as my father.”

  “Will you?” she asked, wondering what he would say next.

  “His life has been but a prelude to the wonders I shall accomplish,” her companion replied, seating himself next to her with a smile that was almost too broad to be genuine. “I shall perform such amazing feats that all of Spain will stand dumbfounded. The King himself will seek to reward me.”

  “And of course you will tell him of your deeds, just in case he happens to miss one or two?”

  “Naturally. It is the duty of all loyal subjects to see that the King is well informed.”

  “But could such a hero as yourself remain the subject of a mere King?”

  As Gonsalvo paused and wrinkled his brow in deep thought, Summer struggled to suppress a giggle.

  “I cannot say,” he finally replied gravely. “It would be extremely difficult to bend my knee to one so inferior, but as I do not have the royal blood in me, I cannot but see that I should have to accept him in the end.”

  “It would be a sacrifice,” Summer stated in an unsteady voice.

  “Yes,” he responded, “but I should be quite ennobled by it.” He stared straight before him as though concentrating on a beatific vision. Summer’s laughter bubbled up.

  “Do you always talk such perfect nonsense to strangers?” she asked as she moved a little away from him.

  “Not unless they have a crease between their eyes, and are frowning as though they have lost their last friend.”

  “How unhandsome of you to describe me in such unflattering terms,” Summer protested.

  “But it was a beautiful crease and an entrancing frown,” he added hastily.

  “There is no such thing as a beautiful wrinkle,” declared Summer. “A freckle is hardly a worse tragedy.”

  “As you have neither, you may continue to entrance me with the loveliness of your smile and the delicious sound of your laughter.”

  “You do know how to say pretty things.” Summer favored him with a rueful smile. “I suppose you have half the girls in Havana hanging on your every word.”

  “All of them,” he stated confidently. “Could you expect less?”

  “Perhaps not.” Summer admitted to herself that he was quite handsome and very charming. “But if you carry on like this I’m surprised that any mother would let her daughter come near you.”

  “But my father is very, very rich,” he added.

  “Ah,” she said, a twinkle in her eyes. “I’m sure that accounts for it.”

  “Cruel!” he protested in mock despair as he slid to his knees before her with practiced ease. “Can you look upon these features I modestly claim as my own and dare to deny their hypnotizing effect on all beholders?”

  “Quite easily,” she answered promptly.

  “Pitiless maiden,” he groaned. “You have a heart of ice. I shall make it my task to melt it.”

  “Do get up and stop acting like a buffoon,” begged Summer. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable. “I’m not a maiden, and if any of these hateful, disapproving women were to see us they would start the most alarming rumors.”

  “You’re far too beautiful for the women to like you.” Gonsalvo seated himself beside her. “You will have to resign yourself to being an outcast among your own sex, like the marquise.”

  “Don’t you dare speak my name in the same breath with that siren’s!” Summer commanded, trembling with suppressed anger. Her lighthearted mood was totally vanquished.

&nbs
p; “When one thinks of the marquise, one also thinks of you, one beautiful thought giving birth to another,” Gonsalvo explained with a smile. “She is famed for her thoughtless cruelty while you have earned a reputation for gracious modesty. Already the young caballeros are divided as to who is more beautiful. Many hold with the marquise because of her lush sensuality, but her adherents are steadily being whittled down by your spectacular figure and haunting loveliness.”

  “It is most improper for you to talk to me like this.” It frightened Summer to learn that she could be the focus of any kind of controversy.

  “Don’t you want to know what people are saying?” Gonsalvo was undeterred by her criticism.

  “No!” she replied vehemently.

  “Not even if it’s in your favor?”

  “Not even then,” Summer insisted, but not so firmly.

  “You’re right,” Gonsalvo said, hanging his head in pretended chagrin. “I don’t know what could have caused me to behave with such a lack of taste.”

  “You should be ashamed of yourself,” scolded Summer eyeing him skeptically.

  “I am,” Gonsalvo professed with supposed sincerity.

  “No you’re not,” Summer said calmly. “You’re laughing at me, and don’t mean a word you’ve said. You’re just about the most brazen man I’ve ever met.”

  “I wish that were true.” Gonsalvo smiled at her with a genuinely open look that melted her ire. “But since Captain Douglas’s reputation for audacity is known throughout the Caribbean, I really doubt that it can be.” Summer’s heart lurched, and she quickly looked away to hide the grimace of pain she could not suppress.

  “It is true that the captain is a bold man,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “but I don’t imagine that you’re any different in your own way.”

  “I’m quite flattered to be held the captain’s equal, Countess, but I know him well, and I’m compelled to admit that I have yet to discover his like.” Gonsalvo’s mocking eyes watched Summer closely, but she did not look up. Her heart ached so agonizingly, she wondered if she would be able to go on with the conversation.

  “The captain is not without faults for all his renown.” Her voice threatened to break.

  “You tell me the captain’s faults,” Gonsalvo instantly was transformed into a conspiratorial child, “and I’ll tell you everything I know about the marquise.”

  “I would never do anything so ill-mannered,” she said, choking on the words. She could never tell anyone what Brent had done to her; it was locked inside her forever.

  “But it would be so much fun. And it’s not as though I’m a stranger. I’ve known the captain for quite some time; I’ve even done business with him. He asked me to keep an eye on you tonight.” When Summer looked at him sharply, Gonsalvo added, “Oh, just to see that you didn’t come to any harm.”

  “If you know the captain that well, you don’t need any information from me.”

  “Not even one little bit of gossip?” he begged.

  “No.”

  “Then I guess I’ll have to bribe you.”

  “You can’t.” Summer was indignant.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, for all the world as though he were offering her a second serving of dessert.

  “Absolutely.”

  “That’s too bad. I was sure you would like to meet my sister and spend the day on our plantation. You could go horseback riding, take a boat trip along the river, or spend the afternoon in idleness under the mahogany trees, enjoying the cool breezes and a delicious drink.”

  “That’s a cruel temptation,” said Summer.

  “I never would have told you if I’d thought you could be tempted,” he replied with feigned innocence.

  “You told me because you knew I wouldn’t be able to resist. Do you really have a sister?”

  “I do, and my parents would be delighted to welcome you to Casa Carvalho. I will go find her right now, and then you can come visit us tomorrow.”

  “That’s too soon,” said Summer, flustered by the unexpectedly swift turn of the conversation. “I’m not sure what my immediate plans are.”

  “How long will you stay in Havana?”

  “I don’t really know,” she muttered uncomfortably. “I suppose that depends on how long it takes Captain Douglas to dispose of his cargo. A few weeks maybe?” she said questioningly, expecting him to know more about the sale of cargo than she did.

  “My sister and parents will be leaving in ten days and will be gone for quite some time.”

  “I’m sure I will have returned to Scotland before they come back.” Summer’s disappointment was evident.

  “Are your days all taken up?”

  “No”

  “Could we arrange an afternoon visit?”

  “I suppose so. In fact, there’s nothing to keep me from it.” If Brent was deputizing his friend to watch her, then why shouldn’t she visit him? she asked herself angrily. After all, doing so would make it easier for Gonsalvo to keep an eye on her.

  “Splendid. How about the end of the week?”

  “Fine.”

  “I’ll bring my sister to see you as soon as I can find her,” Gonsalvo said. “My parents have already met you, and will look forward to seeing you again.”

  “Are you sure they will welcome me?” she asked, suddenly serious. “You aren’t just saying that to get me to visit, are you?”

  “Yes to both of your questions,” he replied with a disarming smile. “My parents have already commented on your graciousness and dignity, and I know Anita would love you. She has already asked me to introduce her.” Summer remembered the coldly formal couple she had met several nights before and doubted that Gonsalvo was sticking too closely to the truth, but she decided not to concern herself with that. The chance to get out of Havana, away from Brent and the marquise for even a few hours, was too inviting to resist. As long as she had been invited, she would go.

  “It will also give me a chance to talk to you without being interrupted by youthful swains bearing drinks.” Gonsalvo pointed to a young man who was looking for her amid the shrubbery.

  “You are totally without conscience.” Summer laughed. “And I probably shouldn’t accept your invitation at all.”

  “But I haven’t invited you. My parents will invite you, and you will be visiting my sister.”

  “I’m not quite sure I trust you, but I think I will come anyway—only if your sister will be present.”

  “She’ll be there. And as a sign of my good intentions I’m going to disappear before your young man comes back.” The hot and baffled swain had finally caught sight of Summer and was hastening to her side.

  “Thereby investing a chance meeting with all the trappings of an illicit assignation,” Summer informed him.

  “There’s no satisfying you,” he complained. “Whatever I do, you want something else.”

  “Isn’t that the way of all accredited beauties?” she asked ingenuously. “I was just trying to follow Roussillon’s example.”

  “Spare me,” he said without humor. “We have the original. A copy is totally unnecessary.”

  “Unkind.” Summer was secretly pleased to find that at least one of her rivals was not so universally admired as she had supposed. “But I promise to behave as I ought. Now my sober escort draws near so you must go away. Your irreverent tongue is liable to cause me to say something that will disgrace me with the whole city.”

  “Nothing could do that.”

  “Well, I have no desire to tempt Fate too far. You must disappear at once.”

  “Your servant, Countess,” he declared, and disappeared into the shrubbery.

  Chapter 23

  “Did the señora enjoy the evening?” Chichi asked as she helped Summer out of her light cloak.

  “Not very much,” Summer replied, wilting onto the sofa. She was getting used to accepting invitations on her own, but she had never given up hope that one evening Brent would suddenly appear and would go with her.

&nb
sp; “How could you not enjoy wearing such beautiful clothes and meeting such grand people?” Chichi could not believe that possible.

  “Can’t you think of anything except social affairs, clothing, and men?” Why should Chichi be any different from herself? She could never think of anybody except Brent.

  “What else is there to think about?” Chichi asked in wideeyed wonder.

  “Lots of things.” Summer sighed. “But I can see it would be a waste of breath to point them out.”

  “Did the señora have lots of suitors?”

  “Yes, you abominable girl. I had every man in the place at my feet begging for a dance and swearing he would cut his throat if I didn’t give him the flowers from my hair.”

  “Oh, señora,” Chichi was ecstatic, “I knew you would slay them with your beauty.”

  “Hush, you absurd child. Nothing like that really happened.” Summer went to the dressing table. “I’m only making fun of you.”

  “Men didn’t ask you for dances?” Chichi asked, shocked.

  “Well, yes, they did.”

  “And they didn’t admire you?”

  “Yes. At least, they said they did.”

  “And didn’t you meet lots of rich and important people?” the girl asked, almost dancing around the room.

  “Of course.”

  “Then you did have a good time.” Chichi was delighted at having proven that Summer had enjoyed herself.

  “You’d better hurry and help me get undressed, or I’ll never get to bed,” Summer chided. “Then I’ll look like such a hag everyone will say that the countess is a witch and the sooner Captain Douglas takes her back to Scotland, the better.” There were times when Summer almost hoped that Brent would take her to Scotland. At least they would be alone at sea, and maybe they could rekindle what they had felt for each other before reaching Havana.

  “No one would dare to say such a cruel and stupid thing,” Chichi stated categorically as she helped Summer out of her gown. “I know you were the most beautiful woman there tonight.”

  “But I wasn’t. There were many beautiful women present.”

  “And who was as beautiful as the señora?” Chichi asked skeptically.