by Cheri Lasota
Heat rose in Eva’s cheeks. She peeked at her mother to see if she had heard, but her mother’s gaze was fixed on the porthole, so she turned back to listen.
“First Mate Maré can do what he wants with his own women,” Marquês Cheia said. “If they need punishing, that’s for him to decide.”
“But you own this ship—”
“You aren’t marquês yet, boy, so stay out of things that don’t concern you. And by God if I hear one more word about it, you’ll feel the back of my hand.”
She heard a mumbled reply and one set of rapid footfalls up to the portico that straddled the poop and weather decks. Certain that Diogo was now alone in the Great Cabin, she glanced around, hunting for anything breakable. Her eyes lit on the tiny ritual salt bowl—just a bit of pottery, but it would be enough.
Eva threw the bowl as hard as she could. It cracked against the door and jagged pieces clattered to the boards.
“Eva!—” Her mother’s sharp cry rang out behind her.
Eva held up a hand for silence. The scuff of expensive shoes on wood came to her ears. She caught her mother’s look of surprise and put a finger to her lips.
“Senhora Maré, are you well?” he called to her mother.
“Senhor Cheia,” Eva said, “please unlock the door. I need your help.”
She had expected hesitation since his father had told him to stay out of it, but a moment later she heard the turn of the key that her father had left in the lock.
She whirled around to her mother, whispering, “I will ask him to find the master key. I’ll snatch the moonstone from Pai’s stateroom without anyone noticing.”
“Eva, you must be careful that your father doesn’t find you,” Mãe whispered. “If he catches you—”
“He won’t. I promise you.”
“Senhorita Maré?” Diogo said through the door.
Arethusa tidied her hair, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
“Senhorita Maré.” He bowed formally. When he rose to his full height, a foot above her own diminutive size, his smile left her in no doubt that he was pleased to see her. He cut a serious figure in a grey waistcoat and pants and a white linen shirt. They would come into port sometime during the night, so she supposed he had dressed for the disembarking.
“Seems you’ve been breaking things again,” he added.
She smiled at the memory of the wine glass she had spilled at supper two nights ago when the ship dipped into a trough. “Yes, well.” She turned away to her mother, so he couldn’t see the embarrassment creep up her neck to her cheeks.
“I’ll be back soon,” she told Mãe.
“Find a new bowl, Eva. We must have another.”
When Eva turned back, Diogo was staring at Mãe’s bruised face.
She had forgotten he had never seen her mother before. Pai had kept her hidden from everyone and even stole her aboard at night when the ship was deserted.
Eva beat a path around Diogo, closing the door before he noticed anything else.
He didn’t move. “What happened to her face?” he whispered.
His blunt question made her pull back. “It’s...”
“Is that why he keeps her locked in there?” he said, an incongruous mix of bravado and concern edging his voice. “So no one can see what he did to her?”
Empathy flooded his gaze, but she was afraid to speak to him of such things, not when he could easily let it slip to his father. She dodged by him into the Great Cabin. No one lingered there. The lanterns were lowered and all lay quiet. Eva stole past the dining table and chairs with barely a whisper of her skirts. The window framed the deepening twilight and gathering storm. The clouds were swallowing the stars one by one, but Artemis had not yet crested the horizon.
“Pai took something from my mother,” Eva said, glancing over her shoulder as he followed her into the cabin. “Something that means a great deal to her. Something she needs right now. And I know it’s in his stateroom.”
He came around in front of her as she moved past the dining table. His hands were at his sides but she still would have felt better if she had some distance from him. Eva had seen him every day for two weeks, but they had always been chaperoned by the adults. Diogo had watched her, talked with her when he could, but even this was unusual in her limited experience. She had seen young men back home calling up to their sweethearts on balconies, unable to touch, not even allowed to be in the same room together. If Pai found her with Diogo, her punishment would be severe.
“Will you help me?” Eva swallowed hard, a knot of rising panic in her throat.
She knew she wouldn’t have to explain further. Diogo was always getting into trouble with his father, always exploring where he didn’t belong. He knew every corner of the ship, including where the keys were kept.
He smirked. “You want the master key.”
He clasped his hands behind his back and paced the room in an unhurried pattern, watching her with glinting eyes. “And what would you do for me in return, Eva?”
She started at this. “What?”
“This is a dangerous errand, and discovery is quite possible.”
Eva stared at him, unsure how to react. “I know of nothing I can offer you in return, Senhor Cheia,” she said with much formality.
“It’s Diogo, Eva.” He fingered his jeweled rings, suddenly awkward and silent. Then he waved a hand dismissively and stepped back. “Wait here. I will find your key.”
But Diogo did not leave yet. He took up her fingers, caught her gaze long enough to make her realize his eyes were so brown they were near-black and then bent to kiss her hand. It was what she imagined a marquês would do when he met a titled lady at a ball. For a split-second, she saw herself as that grand lady, admired and desirable. A smile escaped her lips.
“If I don’t come back, they will have found me out. And then, querida, I will show you no mercy.” He flashed her a brilliant smile and strutted out of the room like a matador at the praça de touros.
She brought her fingers to her lips so that when she blew out her breath, she could be certain it was steady and sure. But it wasn’t. Diogo had seen to that. She shook her head, tried to think. Where to find a replacement for the broken bowl?
Eva moved to the sideboard and opened a drawer to find nothing but linens and the china settings. She opened the next one and found the chess set. Diogo had asked his father to play on that chess set with him in the afternoons. It was easy to see why. Diogo always won. It was the one game at which he could best his father. Eva was surprised the severe marquês would even bother to play. She suspected he persisted only for the enticing prospect of beating his son. He hadn’t yet succeeded, but it didn’t matter. The marquês could beat Diogo in other ways. Eva pursed her lips at the thought. As much as she disliked her father, she did not envy Diogo his.
When her gaze moved beyond the chess pieces, she found what she was looking for: a small wooden salt bowl. But the chess pieces stood sentinel in front, miniature prison guards. There were too many to move, so she reached over them, steadying herself against the sway of the ship. When she grabbed the bowl, she knocked over the white queen. She shoved the little bowl into her dress pocket and then moved to put the piece back in its place. A hand was already there, holding the queen, a ruby ring on the forefinger giving it an amber glow. She knew that ring—Diogo. How long had he been back?
His voice streamed over her shoulder, perilously close. “So the virgin queen waited for me after all. And out past two bells, no less.” He clucked his tongue.
“Please—” Taking a shallow breath, she stepped to the side.
He stepped with her, his lips still at her ear. “And how will you repay me for my kindness then?”
“Diogo.” She kept her voice even.
“Beija-me,” he said.
He leaned closer and his warm lips brushed her cheek. The sudden contact sent shockwaves through her skin. He was much too close. She turned around to face him, touched the velvet of his frock
coat, begged him with her eyes.
“The key?”
Though a curl of annoyance touched his smile, his eyes flashed with enthusiasm. “If you wish it, Senhorita, then you shall have it.”
Diogo tilted his head, cocked his ear. Then the noise beyond the portal of the Great Cabin caught her attention as well. Voices and footsteps. Diogo pressed his hand to the small of her back and nudged her toward Pai’s stateroom, which lay on the opposite side of the Great Cabin.
Without a word, he fingered for the key in his pocket and unlocked the door. The stateroom was tidy but cramped, with very few places to hide valuables. Diogo lit the lantern in the corner and Eva stepped toward the built-in cabinet below Pai’s berth, trying to push down the feelings of guilt as she glanced at his rumpled blanket and worn shoes neglected at the foot of the bed. She found nothing there, though, and rose to look for another hiding spot. She felt Diogo’s unnerving gaze following her as she snooped. He leaned against the bulkhead, his foot bracing against the motion of the waves below. She avoided his eyes and stepped past him toward the traveling trunk in the corner.
Thankful the trunk was not locked, she rummaged through heavy weather gear and several changes of clothing. At last she found a box at the bottom with a Porto wine label burnt onto its wooden slats. She lifted the lid. A flask, a pocket watch, and a substantial quantity of ten reis coins lay in a haphazard pile inside.
“I see you’ve found what you were seeking.” Diogo narrowed his eyes. “Stealing a bit of coin for dresses and such?”
“No,” she said, glaring at him. She moved the money aside, and there it was. The moonstone glowed a faint blue in the low light. She tried to slip it around her neck but Diogo caught her wrist. The pendant dangled loose in her fist.
“What have you there?”
“It’s my mother’s. An old heirloom.”
He wrinkled his nose and let go of her wrist. “If it is, then why would he take it from her?”
“They had a fight.” It was the truth, but somehow it felt like a lie.
Diogo’s perplexed frown told her that he only half-believed her. She shut the lid of the box and the trunk and then moved to rise. He held out his hand, a chivalrous glint in his eye. She hesitated but took it. As he helped her up, he snatched the pendant from her other hand.
“Give it back,” she nearly shouted.
“Seems more than an heirloom for all this trouble, eh?” Diogo said, swinging the moonstone like a pendulum before her eyes. Eva snatched at it but he kept it just out of her reach. She stalked forward as he moved back.
He laughed. “You’ve not thanked me yet.”
“What is it then?” She huffed out a breath. “What do you want?”
“I want you, Eva.”
His words were so quiet, so unaccountably sincere, that she nearly missed them. But she couldn’t miss the serious look in his eyes.
“This is our last night onboard. I won’t ever see you again. I want something to remember you by. A token.”
He took up her hand and, pressing the stone into her palm, leaned forward. “A kiss.”
His eyes are black, she thought. And then she realized she was moving toward him too. She suddenly wondered what his lips would feel like on hers, what they would taste like. For a long time yet she was to remain chaste—years and years. How could one little kiss matter?
It was getting difficult to breathe. She felt her back brush the desk. He jerked her into his body and covered her mouth clumsily with his, driving her up against the desk as if he couldn’t consume her fast enough. Eva stayed rigid, shoulders stick-straight, hands fisted.
This is what it’s like to be kissed? It was hard to let go, to let herself feel. Pai might barge in at any moment. Eva broke away from his kiss.
Diogo did not allow her this moment of reprieve.
“Haven’t you wanted to know what this would feel like, Eva?” He gentled his embrace and encircled her body with his arms. “I have.”
Without thinking, she looked up into his dark eyes and uncurled her fists. His smile coaxed her into another kiss, softer this time, a kiss that made her think of nothing but him. She felt a flutter, a heartbeat, a joy encased in fear.
The voices of two sailors came echoing down the passage leading to the Great Cabin and staterooms. She and Diogo stared at each other for an instant. Then Diogo raked his hair with an anxious hand, severing their locked gaze. He put a finger to his lips and moved to listen at the door, as she blew out the lantern. Darkness settled into the room, unnerving her. She heard the footsteps grow louder and then fade away.
When only the familiar sounds of creaking wood and ocean waves remained, Diogo glanced back at her. “Come with me.”
Eva frowned. “Where?”
“A place we can be alone for a little while longer.”
Eva wanted to go. Wanted to feel his lips against hers again. Wanted to forget everything but him. But she pulled back, glanced away. “My mother needs me. I have to go.” She shoved the pendant into her other pocket and stepped to the side so that he could open the door.
“It doesn’t have to be one or the other. Just stay a little bit longer. Then I’ll bring you back to your mother. Don’t you want this”—He brushed his thumb down her face and kissed her lightly on the lips—“one more time?”
Eva opened her mouth to deny it, but no words came out. She forgot the urgency. She couldn’t remember why she needed to get back so soon. Perhaps just a few minutes more wouldn’t hurt.
She made out his half-smile in the darkness. Then he turned his ear to the door again. “It’s clear.”
He took hold of her hand and opened the door. The Great Cabin was empty. Diogo moved at a fast pace, pulling her along. And she watched him, his sure stride, his cautious glances around corners, his care in leading her down the stairs and around open doorways. He was far above her in station, in wealth. And yet, he had kissed her, told her he wanted her. She had a fleeting, foolish thought of what it would be like to be his wife, free from Pai’s anger and disapproval, free to love openly. Free as she had never been before. The thought made her smile.
He took her far beyond the areas she was familiar with, down to an enormous storage cache on the lowest level. Without a word, he led her beneath a row of spare riggings. A lantern swung in the corner near them, and, as it threw light about, large rolls of white canvas materialized like phantoms out of the dark. He had brought her to the sail room where the spare sails were sewn and stored. Spools of rigging line, block and tackles, and needles for sewing the heavy cloth lined the built-in shelving.
The ship lurched into a trough and the lantern swung wild. She watched the swinging lantern transform the smooth planes of Diogo’s face into distorted shapes. Light—dark. Light—dark. Like shadows passing through the sun.
Then he stepped in front of the lantern, away from the harsh light, and stood gazing at her. By degrees, his features softened and his hands at his sides relaxed.
“Que beleza,” he said, reaching out to her, his fingers curling around a bit of her hair.
She felt the gentle pull against her scalp and closed her eyes for a moment. His lips were there at her cheek, his hand at her back. He kissed her again, harder this time, pressing his tongue against her lips and cradling her head in his. For a moment she let him do what he would. She let him carry her through this unfamiliar feast of sensation, all the while knowing it would be the first and last time.
She saw again the handsome half-smile that had caught her attention when she had first seen him boarding the Sea Nymph. It was a smile of promise and invitation.
He drew her into a deeper kiss. She reached for his neck, but her fingers tangled in his shirt and two buttons twisted loose. When her hand brushed his skin, her breath caught and she stared at him in disbelief. Was it just a trick of the light?
“What happened to you?”
He followed her gaze down to the scars pitting the skin on his chest.
Who had done this?<
br />
The dismay in his eyes turned to a feeble pride. “Tests of manhood,” he blurted.
Then she understood. His father.
“Diogo.” She tried hard to mask her horror, but she knew he saw it in her eyes. “I’m sorry, but...” She backed away, trying not to think of the monstrous things his father had done to him.
The spell Diogo had cast was broken. She glanced around and realized that this was not where she was supposed to be, not who she was supposed to be with. Arethusa, her namesake, was loved by another. When he came for her, would he learn of this moment? Was the Goddess watching now?
She stayed Diogo’s hand. “Take me back now.”
When he reached for her again, she shook her head.
“Diogo, I can’t stay here any longer with you. Take me back.” Her voice maddeningly betrayed her fear. “Now.”
For an instant, she glimpsed the weight of her rejection through his down-turned head and the clench of his jaw. The wounds of an unspeakable past fired his eyes, as he fumbled to button up his shirt.
She wanted to comfort him, but it seemed to her that the kind of comfort he needed was beyond her ability to give.
“I’ll find my own way back,” she said at last, backing away suddenly.
So many emotions crossed Diogo’s face in the split-second after she moved that she could not catch them all. It all settled into a cold gaze, hard as stone.
Eva didn’t wait, didn’t hesitate. She walked past him and stumbled up the steps, making her way into the upper decking. She had no idea how to navigate belowdecks, so her instincts took over. She moved down blind passageways, touching the smooth wood of the bulkheads as her lips burned with the memory of Diogo’s kiss. The further away from him she moved, the clearer her thoughts grew. What had she been thinking to follow him down there?
“Wait, Eva. Come back.”
She had hoped Diogo would let her go back to her stateroom alone, but his labored breathing and the thump-thump of his shoes trailed too close behind. She ignored him and walked faster.
The Great Cabin’s portal beckoned a few steps away, but Diogo caught her, yanking her arm so hard that her body snapped back into his. Thrown off balance, he fell hard, taking her down with him.
