The whitewashed walls were broken by the arched doorways. Beneath her feet, the floor was of tiles in an abstract design. A shiver raced along her back, making her tremble. Something about this casa, as Ernest had called it, made her uneasy. It was more than the oppressive silence and encroaching shadows. Very little resembled anything she knew from Port Royal.
She put her other hand on Nathan’s arm. He squeezed her fingers lightly. Drawing his hand to her, she brushed it with a kiss. His eyes glowed like stars as his fingers tipped her mouth to his. A desperate moan caressed her lips the moment before he captured them. Her fingers crushed his velvet sleeves as his tongue searched her mouth. Oh, this was what she wanted. To be in his arms, to be against his mouth.
“Cap’n!” Ernest cleared his throat.
With dazed eyes, Rory looked past Nathan as he released her. The old woman padded toward them on silent feet. This time when she argued with Ernest, she was not willing to relent.
“What’s the problem, Ernest?”
“Padre Fernando insists on seeing Miss Rory without us.” A wry grin pulled at his mouth. “It would seem he trusts me no more than I trust him. He doesn’t think a ‘lovely lady with sunshine hair,’ as this old woman calls Miss Rory, would lie.”
Nathan cursed. “Let’s go. I won’t—”
“Swearing won’t help anything,” Rory said. “I’m going to see Padre Fernando. I have taken care of myself before without your help. I can today. If I have trouble, I can outrun a sixty-year-old man.”
“All right,” he agreed reluctantly. “Don’t hesitate to leave if you think the situation is becoming dangerous. There must be other ways of finding out what we need to know.”
He bent and kissed her cheek, and she saw the old woman’s mouth gaping, aghast. With a tentative smile, she followed the old woman. She tried to keep track of where they went as she glimpsed a garden in what must be a central courtyard.
Rory took a deep breath when they stopped before an ornately carved doorway. The old woman knocked so softly, Rory wondered how anyone would hear it.
A tall, dark-haired man opened the door. A single word sent the woman scurrying away before he added in unaccented English, “Come in, Señorita Mullins.”
When she entered the luxuriously appointed room, he lifted her hand to his lips beneath his reed-thin moustache. She drew back her hand as the wide lace at his wrists threatened to consume it.
“Allow me to introduce myself, señorita. I am Guillermo Herrera y Fallas.”
Finding her voice, she answered, “How do you do, sir? I am Rory Mullins. I thought I was to see Padre Fernando.”
“It’s my honor to escort you to my great-uncle’s bedside. We hope you forgive us treating you with the informality of family.” He took her hand and placed it on his arm.
Rory pulled away. “I can walk alone.”
“Of course.” He motioned at a door on the left.
She stared at the room beyond. The bed was the largest she had ever seen and was draped in cloth of gold. Plush rugs softened the tiles.
As she neared, a black shape amid the pillows became an old man. His eyes, almost lost among wrinkles, brightened. “Come closer, my child, so these old eyes may view you more easily.”
Rory wondered if she should curtsy. Her uneasiness had strengthened when she entered the room. The sooner she could get the information they needed, the sooner she could leave.
“I have been told by my friend Ernest Dawes,” she said, “that you might be able to help me find out more about my father, who sailed near Cuba.”
His eyes narrowed. “What ship, my child?”
“My father, Roscoe Mullins, sailed on the Lady’s Slipper and the Raven and his final ship was the Cove Cutter. I know that ship went down years ago.” When she saw the priest’s suspicious glance at the younger man, she said, “Padre Fernando, my mother is dying.” The lie was bitter on her lips. “She wants me to find the spot where my father went to his final rest. She wants to be put to rest there also.” She placed her hands over her eyes as if she was weeping. “Please help me, Padre Fernando.”
“Give me your hand,” he ordered.
“Padre?”
“Now, child!”
Rory’s fingers shook as she held them out. He clasped them in his gnarled hand. When he smiled and looked past her, she glanced over her shoulder to see Señor Herrera y Fallas far too close.
Her disquiet doubled when Padre Fernando placed her hand on his great-nephew’s palm. Señor Herrera y Fallas’s long fingers closed like a trap around her hand. She looked from one smile to the other.
“Go with Guillermo, my child,” ordered Padre Fernando. “What you ask will take many days to uncover. You shall stay here at La Casa de Las Flores until we learn what you need to know.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t impose—”
“I said you will stay here, my child. Go with Guillermo. He will take you to where you can freshen yourself before dinner.”
She hesitated, then realized in order to gain any information, she would have to obey. “Thank you, Padre Fernando. I look forward to speaking with you again.”
As soon as they left the room, she drew her hand out of Señor Herrera y Fallas’s.
“Don’t look so glum, señorita,” he said with a smile. “My great-uncle is accustomed to ruling this house and everyone in it. You will get used to his ways.”
How long did they think she was staying? She could not ask that, so she said only, “I’ll try.”
“May I call you Rory?”
“Of course.”
“And you will call me Guillermo. Smile, Rory.” He bent toward her as if to share a secret. When she backed away, his smile dimmed. “You must realize that your beauty has made him consent to help you in your search for your father’s resting place. He will enjoy seeing you often.”
“You sound as if you expect that I shall be here for some time. That isn’t possible. I must—”
“I understand, mi querida. Your ailing mamacita.”
He was mocking her. It was no wonder, for her story was filled with as many holes as a termite-infested board. A flash of fear congealed to send cold chills along her spine. If they did not believe her story, why were they willing to help her?
He opened a door and she walked into a room as big as Padre Fernando’s. The walls were painted a pale pink to divert the heat.
“These rooms are yours to use while you stay at La Casa de las Flores,” he said, then called out something she could not understand.
A young woman opened a door to reveal a bedroom beyond. She was tall and as willowy as a fisherman’s pole. Her hair was arranged in two sable braids down her back.
“This is Nicte, Rory.” He smiled. “She will be here to serve you. I regret she’s unable to speak English. Nor Spanish, I’m afraid. She knows only the Indian dialect.”
Rory bit her lip. Nicte must have been taken from her family to be a slave. That happened often in Jamaica. Turning to him, she said, “I cannot accept all this when I’m an uninvited guest.”
“Uninvited, perhaps, but not unwelcome, mi querida.”
His eyes glittered as Yellow Hal’s had when he discovered she was a woman, and she edged away.
He did not seem to notice. “Rest, Rory. If I may, I will return to escort you to dinner.”
“Yes, if you wish,” she murmured, unsure what else she could say.
He bowed once more and, going out the door, snapped something at Nicte. Rory saw her cringe and wondered what Nicte’s mistake was when she had done nothing yet.
Rory put out her hand toward the maid but withdrew it when she shrank back in terror. “I am Rory.” She pointed to her chest.
“Rory?” repeated the young woman. She uttered a series of syllables, but the only two Rory recognized were “Neec-tay.” She pointed to herself as Rory had.
“Do you know where Captain Lawler and Mr. Dawes are? Captain Lawler? Mr. Dawes?”
She got nothing but a confused shr
ug. Going to a door, she looked out at a balcony over the garden. The answers they sought might be here, but now all she cared about was discovering where Nathan was. She wanted to tell him what had happened during her conversation with Padre Fernando, although she was not certain herself. Also, maybe more importantly, it was time to have the talk they had been avoiding on the Vengeance, before it was too late.
Eight
Rory smiled when Nathan turned just as she entered the dining room with Guillermo. She wanted to rush to his side and ask him what mi querida meant, for Guillermo continued to use the phrase when he spoke to her.
The long room was decorated with dark furniture beneath an iron chandelier lit with dozens of candles. Nathan and Ernest were speaking with Padre Fernando, who sat at the far end of the table. Two women stood silently behind him. She knew the older woman must be Guillermo’s mother. She was dressed all in black, but richly. On her head, a black mantilla covered her graying hair. She wore her widowhood like a badge of honor.
The other woman was the most beautiful she had ever seen. Her dark brown eyes contrasted with her ivory skin. She wore a pale yellow silk gown with ribbons of gold. The expression in her eyes matched Nathan’s. Neither was pleased to see Rory arrive on Guillermo’s arm.
Rory tried to step away to go to Nathan, but Guillermo said, “Come, Rory. There are two I wish you to meet.”
Guillermo’s mother greeted her with the barest civility, but the younger woman was not so reticent. “I am Luz Isabella Maria de Valverde y Tejada.”
“I am Rory Mullins, señorita.” She was not sure how many of the names she was supposed to use. “Are you one of the family?”
“Not yet,” Guillermo said, squeezing her hand.
Luz glanced in amazement, then anger, at Guillermo, and Rory guessed Luz and Guillermo were to marry. She had heard of the Spanish custom of bringing the bride-to-be into the household so she might learn about it before the wedding.
In an icy tone, Luz said, “I am presently a guest, Señorita Mullins.”
“I’m pleased to meet you. Now, if you would excuse me, I must—”
“You must speak to my great-uncle, Rory.” Guillermo paid no attention to Luz’s rage at his familiar use of Rory’s given name.
She glanced uneasily at Nathan. His scowl was deepening, and she wondered how much longer he would remain silent, or she could.
Her attention was drawn to Padre Fernando when he asked, “How do you like your rooms, my child?”
“They are lovely, but something quite simple would have been sufficient.”
He laughed. “Such humility is lovely in a woman. Don’t you agree, Guillermo?”
“Assuredly, Great-uncle.”
“Guillermo tells me, Rory, that you are not a member of any church.” He sighed. “That is a shame, my dear. You must be concerned for your eternal soul.”
“I did attend St. Paul’s as a child,” she answered.
“St. Paul’s? Which one?”
When she hesitated, knowing her answer might reveal something best left unsaid, Nathan said quietly, “In Virginia colony.” His hands rested on her shoulders.
“And are you from Virginia colony as well?”
“A bit farther north, near the Potomac. I happened to be in Middle Plantation when Rory was looking to hire a ship.” His hands slid along her arms in a gentle caress. “Though we have not found her father’s resting place, we have had a very pleasant journey together, haven’t we, Rory?”
She blushed. Any answer she might have given was interrupted by the announcement that dinner was ready. He did not release her as he walked with her to a chair. “Nathan, behave yourself!”
“I have been, my sweet. Have you?”
She swallowed her outrage. What he intimated was disgusting. She had not obtained this invitation to dine by selling herself.
Padre Fernando and Guillermo controlled the conversation as they vied for Rory’s attention. She judged each word she spoke, not wanting to betray the truth. Certainly, Nathan must see that she was doing her best. This was not her world. She had never entered one of the fancy homes of Port Royal.
About halfway through the meal, Nathan interrupted to ask, “Padre, you have decided to help Rory in her quest? I’m certain she is delighted by your generosity, unless, of course, you’ve failed to mention the cost.”
“Nathan!” Rory cried. Why was he trying to ruin everything before it had begun?
The old man’s eyes grew narrow. “Captain Lawler, I don’t discuss business at dinner.”
“I only wished to assure you that Rory will prove she is worth everything you and your great-nephew ask of her.”
Rory glowered at him in outrage. How dare he suggest she was a harlot! She had spent her whole life in Port Royal trying to avoid a life in the brothel. She would not let anyone—not even Nathan Lawler—hint that she had failed. She started to rise, but a hand on her shoulder kept her in her chair. She looked up at Guillermo, who was coming to his feet.
“Señor,” he growled, “I ask you to refrain from speaking of Rory in such a coarse manner.”
With an indecipherable mumble, Nathan said nothing further, but Rory saw him exchange a glance with Ernest. She wondered what the final cost of this visit to Havana would be.
She picked at her food, no longer hungry. Luz was glaring at her, and Señora Fallas looked ill. When they rose at the end of the meal, she thought she might be able to excuse herself. Padre Fernando insisted they all join him in another room—the sala, as he called it. At his great-uncle’s request, Guillermo took down a guitar from a shelf and began to play. Even Nathan leaned forward to watch his fingers fly across the strings.
Fascinated, Rory applauded when he finished. “That was wonderful!”
He bowed his head graciously. “I am pleased that you are pleased, mi querida.” He lifted her fingers to his lips for a lingering kiss.
Señora Fallas stared in open-mouthed shock at her son. Luz gasped and ran from the room. Nathan and Ernest also were on their feet. Only Padre Fernando seemed unmoved.
“What is it?” Rory asked, wondering what was wrong. Being unable to control those around her with a simple jest or a sharp word was frightening. She wished for her breeches and kerchief to hide behind.
“If you will excuse your guests, Padre Fernando,” Nathan said in a clipped tone, “I think we should retire.”
Guillermo put his guitar aside. “Shall I escort you to your room, mi querida?”
“That’s unnecessary.” Nathan held out his hand in a silent order that his raised eyebrow dared her to protest.
Rage swept away her good sense. She had grown tired of Nathan Lawler’s inconsiderate behavior tonight. If he could not admit that she was doing all she could to help him, then she wanted to be done with him. Tilting her chin, she said, “That is very kind of you, Guillermo. Thank you.”
“Good evening,” Guillermo said. Placing her hand on his arm, he led her out of the room.
Rory said nothing as she walked by Guillermo’s side to her rooms. She must be insane! Why had she let Nathan provoke her into such ill-considered behavior? She did not want to be with Guillermo. She wanted to be with Nathan, healing the wounds between them with kisses. With his arms around her, she could ask him why he was angry at her. So deep was she in her thoughts, she would have walked past her door if Guillermo had not put out a hand to stop her.
He laughed. “It is good that I came with you, mi querida.”
“Thank you, Guillermo. I will see you in the morning.” She reached for the latch, but he drew her hand back.
“There’s no reason to say good night so hastily.” His other hand slipped behind her head to slant her lips under his mouth.
She tried to pull away, but his arm curved around her, tugging her to him. The sound of her hand on his face echoed along the passageway.
He jerked back in shock. For a second, his face reddened with rage, then he said, “I am sorry, mi querida. I thought when you accepted
my invitation that—”
“No!” She whirled and raced into her room before he could answer.
Nicte came running as the door slammed.
“I will be fine, Nicte.” She sighed. “Don’t worry about me.”
The maid took her hand and led her to a dressing room, where her few possessions had been unpacked. If Nathan did not want them to stay here, why had he sent for her things? Then fear choked her—someone else could have used his name to send for her things. Her life was whirling out of control.
Telling Nicte to go to bed and repeating the words with pantomime, Rory braided her hair. She was not tired. Too many thoughts spun in her head. She had to figure out what to do—she could not let these men decide for her. For too many years, she had depended only on herself. That had been so much easier in Port Royal, where she knew the rules. Here in Havana.… She wondered if there were any rules.
She went out onto the balcony for some fresh air. She missed the delicious sea breezes. Not until her fingers cramped did she realize how tightly she was gripping the railing.
From somewhere in the house came laughter. Strange that others could be happy when she was so miserable. Nathan’s cutting comments tonight had hurt. Was this his way of keeping her away? Maybe he was right. She had only herself to blame for thinking that he cared about anything but the Raven’s gold.
Hands on her upper arms turned her against a body which was instantly familiar. She clutched onto Nathan as tightly as she had to the rail. His lips pressed to her hair.
“I’m sorry, Rory,” he whispered. “I acted beastly tonight after dinner.”
“And during dinner?”
His thumbs tipped her face up toward his. “I meant every word there. I couldn’t think of another way to determine what our hosts expect. I wanted them to know I’m aware of their insidious plans to seduce you to Guillermo’s bed.”
“You didn’t need to do that.” She stepped away and ran her fingers along the metal railing. “I already knew. Guillermo hasn’t made any effort to keep that a secret.”
Raven Quest Page 8
