Finders Keepers (A Carrington Family Novel Book 1)

by Sarah Monzon

  His gaze swept over her. “That you are not among my men I am well aware.”

  Her chin notched higher. “I will not marry a man who does not care for me.” As surely Hernando had not cared for her mother, the captain did not harbor those feelings that a man and wife should feel toward one another—although that was where the comparison of the two men ended.

  He took a step toward her, and she instantly crept back. The intent of the movement thwarted, however, when the captain’s strong grip caught her arm and pulled her forward into his space.

  “What surety do you have that I do not possess such care for you, Isabella Castellano?”

  What say he? Was this an admittance of love from this powerful man’s heart? Nay… She shook her head. “You do not love me.”

  “That word never crossed my lips. But, sí, I do care. Though I do not know why nor how nor when, it is there just the same.”

  Was it enough? Could care grow into love, or would it weaken? She did not wish this man to look upon her through eyes of regret. But what other choice did she have? She could not return to Spain, could not stay in Nassau, and had no other means for travel to a safer location. In truth, she had but one option. And if she had to marry a man who did not love her, she at least had the assurance he was a man who would protect instead of harm. There was also the peculiar warm stirrings in her center whenever he drew near…

  Pushing her shoulders back, she met the captain’s steady gaze. “I will marry you.”

  He let out a breath that caused the loose hairs around her face to tickle her cheek. Relief? She had no time to reflect on that, however, as he slid his hand down her arm and captured her fingers. They were lifted, and his lips pressed firmly atop her knuckles, mustache tickling in not an unpleasant way.

  “As soon as we dock I will inquire as to a priest so our vows may be spoken.”

  Her free hand flew to her throat. “So soon?”

  “As needs be.” He squeezed her fingers in a sign of reassurance.

  A knock sounded from the door, which caused Isabella to startle.

  “Enter.” Captain Montoya’s voice sounded strong and sure, which seemed to mock her insecurity.

  An elderly man past his sailing prime entered. “Capítan Abana wishes to inform you that we have docked, señor.”

  Captain Montoya inclined his head. “Gracias.”

  He stepped forward and made to pull her along, as he still had ahold of her hand, but she planted her feet, causing him to halt and look back at her. “You are to be my husband, and yet I do not even know your Christian name.”

  “Forgive me.” He dropped her hand and bowed formally at the waist. “I am José Montoya.” Straightening, he hitched a brow. “Anything else you would like to know?”

  A thousand things, but the words lodged in her throat.

  His large hand held out to her. “Come. There is much to be done.”

  She eyed his palm and then slipped her hand inside.

  ***

  Nothing could have prepared Isabella for the city which was Nassau. Filth-strewn roads, raucous laughter, crude language that jabbed the air, and scantily-clad women who fairly hung out doorways, not only with suggestive glances but outright spoken entreaties. The smell of ale saturated every breath, made putrid by the stench of many unwashed men.

  Eyes followed her every step as she and the captain traversed the part of town said to hold a small chapel. Her shoulders hunched as she tried to hide as much of her body as she could.

  The long material of her borrowed gown had since dried, leaving the fabric stiff and coarse. One of the crewmen had offered to ask if the lady he frequented while they were in port had a spare dress, but Captain Montoya had quickly intervened and declined. Isabella would have been thankful for fresh clothing, but not at the expense of her modesty.

  “We are here.”

  She looked at the diminutive building that was hardly more than a few boards nailed together. This was the city’s place of worship?

  A man stepped through the doorway, and her breath caught. He was the priest? The white clerical collar and long black cassock, sun glinting off thirty-three buttons representing the years of the Lord’s earthly life, bespoke his occupation. His face, unmarked by lines of age nor the shadow of whiskers, seemed to argue with his garb. The priest in her town had been closer to the coffin than the cradle. Weren’t all holy men of God such that had born years of wisdom?

  The man’s hands clasped in front of him. “I am Father Rodriguez. How can I help you, my children?”

  Captain Montoya—nay, she must start thinking of him as José—stepped forward. “We wish to be married, Padre.”

  The priest’s eyebrows drew together. “Have the banns been read?”

  “They have not.”

  “I see.” The young man heaved a great sigh. He alternated his gaze between Isabella and her soon-to-be husband at one side and little Luis at the other. “Have you both come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?”

  There was no hesitation from the captain. “We have.”

  Father Rodriguez turned his light-brown eyes on her.

  “Sí,” she croaked.

  His lips turned down, but he continued. “Will you honor each other as man and wife for the remainder of your life, and will you willingly accept any children from God and bring them up according to the law of Christ and the Church?”

  “We will.” Captain Montoya spoke with confidence.

  Again the priest’s unsettling gaze rested upon her. Throat dry, she nodded her assurance.

  “Well then.” Father Rodriquez rocked onto the balls of his feet. “It is not keeping with the strict traditions of the church, but rushed weddings are not unheard of.”

  He stepped aside and ushered them into the small sanctuary. Luis walked in front of them, but turned and took a seat on one of the short pews. Dimly lit by tiny windows and a row of candles near the rear, Isabella stumbled in the aisle. Strong fingers wrapped around her upper arm and steadied her.

  Father Rodriguez stopped in front of a wooden crucifix and turned. “I assume it is but vows you wish to speak?”

  Captain Montoya looked down at her and searched her eyes. Did he look for an answer among their depths?

  “Vows will be sufficient, Father.”

  “Very well. Your names?”

  “José Montoya and Isabella Castellano.”

  The young priest bowed his head, and out of the corner of her eye, Isabella watched the captain’s head lower as well. Following their example, she also cast her gaze to the floor. Father Rodriguez intoned a prayer in the language of the Church, then crossed himself and kissed his fingertips.

  “Now…” The priest’s gaze rested upon the captain. “Will you, José Montoya, take this woman as your wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep only to her so long as you both shall live?”

  “I will.”

  Isabella managed to repeat the captain’s words when the same vows were put to her.

  “May the Lord in His goodness fill you both with his blessing. Señor Montoya, you may now kiss your bride.”

  José turned to her, one strand of black hair falling across his forehead. For some reason, it softened his usual staunch features and eased Isabella’s tense muscles.

  He looked into her eyes and then lowered his gaze to her mouth. “May I?”

  It took a moment for the question to register, as she’d never have imagined one who commanded others to seek permission for a kiss. She tilted her face up to receive the last symbol that they were truly now husband and wife. The scent of cedar filled her senses as her new husband’s head descended. His lips brushed hers for the barest of moments, then lifted and hovered as a bee to an open flower.

  Isabella held her breath in that moment of in between. Would his mouth return to hers
? Did she want it to?

  Before she could find the answer to that question, she was gathered up in José’s arms, her body pulled tight to his, and her lips captured.

  Not captured. For she found in herself no resistance. Quite the opposite as her hands slid up and gripped the back of his neck. Her lips giving as much as receiving.

  A throat cleared, and Isabella jerked back. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she lowered her face. To act in such a manner. And in front of a priest! He must think her completely wanton.

  Captain Montoya’s hold loosened enough for air to pass between their bodies once more. “We thank you, Father.”

  The young priest raised a hand. “God’s blessing on you both.”

  Slight pressure at the small of her back propelled Isabella forward. Luis stood and followed them out of the small chapel, the press of the captain’s hand now directing her to the right and down the dusty road.

  Where were they going? What did their future hold—both immediate and otherwise? The Santa Rosa lay at the bottom of the ocean, and what was a ship’s captain without a vessel to command? Did her new husband plan to return to the sea in some capacity? Would he leave her and Luis in this city of pirates on their own?

  A battalion of thoughts warred in her mind, yet her tongue was thicker than polenta left too long upon the fire. She searched her being, rooting around for the tight ball of anxiety such uncertainty wound up inside her. It couldn’t be found, but how could that be?

  She gazed at the captain’s profile as he walked beside her. Long, straight nose, the soft pucker of skin above his eye where the fiendish quartermaster had cut him, same hard set to his jaw that had become familiar to her. His focus remained steady. He didn’t glance to the right or the left, and his gait bespoke certainty and control. Of their short acquaintance, he had proven himself to be true. She could trust him with her life, her future, and, mayhap, even her heart.

  Captain Montoya stopped in front of a corral. Horses grazed within the center of the rough-hewn circular fence. Off to the side, a small lean-to housed an open hearth, where a hot fire blazed. Metal tools hung along the far wall. A large man, his chest and legs covered by a long apron, stepped around an anvil, smiling so wide he showed teeth.

  “José Montoya, you are once more returned, and before the promised year, no less.” The two men clasped forearms.

  Isabella watched the exchange, her curiosity piqued.

  The captain once more put a hand to her back, and she took a tiny step forward. “Pedro, I would like for you to meet my wife, Isabella Montoya.” He motioned Luis forward with two fingers. “And my new son, Luis.”

  She startled at the use of her new name and the claiming of Luis as his son, but found the sound of both rather pleasing.

  Pedro’s eyes rounded larger than his ample belly. “Wife, you say? How did you manage to get such a pretty thing to marry the likes of you?” The man elbowed the captain.

  For the second time that day, Isabella felt her cheeks grow warm.

  “The Lord blesses, my friend. Now, do you have my horse?”

  “Of course. Your stallion gives me nothing but trouble, and I cannot say I am sorry to see him go. My mares however—” The large man looked at her and changed his mind about whatever it was he had planned to say. He continued to regard her, then looked back at the captain. “Will you be needing one of my mares for your wife, José?”

  Both pairs of eyes rested on her, but she managed not to squirm under their scrutiny.

  “I think not,” Captain Montoya said, his gaze still upon her. “We will ride double.” He looked to his friend. “Cozy, no?”

  Pedro grinned. “Quite cozy.”

  Not only did her cheeks burn but so did her neck and ears.

  “We will need a mount for the boy, however.”

  She turned to look at the horses grazing upon the tall grass. Which belonged to the captain?

  An air of excitement swirled around her, and she looked down. Her new son bounced foot to foot. He glanced up, a grin stretching wide across his dirty face. She bent down to his level and put upon her face a serious look. “Do you think you can handle one of these beasts?”

  A shrill whistle pierced the air, and a horse as dark as midnight raised its mammoth head. Hooves pounded the earth as the stallion trotted toward them, his long, flowing mane blowing out with each prance, his tail held high and regal. He stopped just feet from them and lowered his neck across the fence. Captain Montoya stroked the large space between the animal’s eyes.

  Isabella hadn’t been aware of Pedro’s absence, but the man had left and returned with two saddles and bridles. The captain accepted the long leather straps and metal bit from his friend. He swung his legs over the top of the fence and landed on the other side. With the horse’s head nearly in his chest, he slipped the bit into the stallion’s mouth and secured the bridle’s straps under the chin. After the saddle was secured, the captain stepped into the stirrup and settled into the saddle. Pedro let down two long boards of the fence, and horse and rider rode through.

  Isabella found herself straining her neck as the captain reined the horse in right beside her. Never had she been on the back of such an animal. Her family hadn’t lived far from town, so she’d walked to wherever she needed to go. Hernando had owned a horse, but never had he allowed her a ride.

  Large hands encompassed her waist, and she was lifted into the air. A small squeak escaped her lips before the captain reached down and hoisted her the rest of the way until she was settled in front of him. As the saddle was not made for two people, nor her skirts proper to ride as a man did, both her legs draped over one of his. Spine erect, she tried to hold herself as far from his person as possible, as propriety surely warranted. The stallion pranced sideways beneath her.

  She sucked in a breath and wrapped her arms tightly around the captain’s middle. Díos, she was going to tumble to her death at this height.

  Laughter rumbled beneath her ear. “If you relax, so will he.”

  Relax? Not possible. Not when awareness of her new husband so close awakened her every sense. Not when one wrong step of this mighty beast could make him so quickly a widower.

  “I will not let anything happen to you.”

  She let out a deep breath and forced her muscles to relax. In so doing, she leaned into the captain’s chest, his arms around her as he gripped the reins in front of her.

  Pedro brought around a smaller horse, and Luis mimicked the captain’s movements to mount. He urged the mare forward until she was next to the stallion.

  The captain raised his hand. “Until next time, my friend.”

  “Until next time.” Pedro nodded his head in her direction. “Señora.”

  She smiled at the man, and the stallion moved beneath her.

  By the time they reached the outskirts of town, Isabella had acquainted herself with the rhythm of the horse. Luis seemed to be as natural in the saddle as he had been climbing the ships rigging, so she didn’t worry about him as he rode beside them.

  “Where is our destination, Captain Montoya?”

  A small rabbit bounded out of the brush and across the path. Their mount flung his head in the air. His hooves pounded the ground as he sidestepped. Isabella tensed as the captain wrapped his arm about her waist and pressed her more firmly to his chest. The horse calmed and continued on.

  “I think it is time you start calling me José.”

  They headed away from the shore and the vast ocean. As that had been her constant view for the previous month, so this man had been only Captain Montoya. It would take some time to think of him by another name. “I will try to remember.”

  “Shall we make a pact? You will call me José, and I will not call you Benito, hmm?”

  Snickers sounded from her left, and she found Luis hiding a smile behind a hand. Her own lips bowed. “A fair trade.”

  “Now, to answer your question, we are headed to my hacienda.”

  That she had not been expecting. “Yo
u own property on this island?”

  “For some years now. I have crossed the ocean many times carrying treasures out of the New World and bringing them back to Spanish soil. This was to have been my last voyage. And so it is.”

  “Do you not plan on going back to sea then, Captain Montoya?” Luis asked.

  “Plans are a funny thing, Luis. They never seem to go quite how you imagine. Is that not right, Isabella?”

  Hers surely had not. She’d plotted a way to be away from Hernando, and while the outcome had proved the same results, the journey getting there had been far different from what she’d thought.

  A yawn overcame her, and she covered her mouth.

  José pressed her head to his chest. “Rest. We have a long ride ahead of us.”

  The lids of her eyes grew heavy as the horse rocked her back and forth. Sleep soon crept upon her, and she gave in without a fight.

  When she aroused, stars dotted the night sky. The full moon illuminated the path the horse’s hooves tread, and crickets called to one another through the thick air. Off in the distance, Isabella could make out the shape of a modest cottage.

  “Welcome to your new home, Señora Montoya.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Florida, Present Day

  I love you. He’d said the words, but did he mean them? Did he really love her? But then he’d said one day. So he didn’t love her. He just thought the possibility was there that one day he might love her. Or one day she’d believe him when he said it. So was the one day in conjunction with his love or with her belief of his declaration?

  Ugh. She’d run the conversation through a thousand times and still couldn’t decipher the here and now from the then of the future. What was more, her head hurt from trying to figure it out. Not only the intent behind his words but her own jumbled thoughts and feelings when it came to Trent Carrington. Add to that a heaping dose of impatient anxiety over the editor’s decision at Our World, and she was a wreck.

  “Vanilla latte.” The barista placed a tall paper cup on the counter.

  Summer walked over and retrieved her coffee. Adele and a latte couldn’t work miracles, but they could help her decompress for a minute.