“Goodness, it’s lovely,” she sighed, reaching out to stroke the pearls. “Thank you.”
“I am pleased you like the box, Gwendolyn,” he said with a slight smirk. “But there is something inside, which is the real gift.”
There was a small click as the shells opened. Atop a tiny pillow of deep red velvet sat a beautiful sapphire ring. The flat, oval stone was of the richest blue she had ever seen. It was inlaid in gold, the gem surrounded by gilded webs where small diamonds were nestled like tiny birds’ eggs.
“Gaspar.” She could think of nothing else to say as he took her left hand and slipped the sapphire upon her ring finger.
“Now you have a token of our union,” he said softly, pressing his lips to the stone. “It was made just for you, the only in the world. It is a sapphire from India, gold from France, and diamonds from Africa. Tokens from all the placed I wished to show you.”
“I can’t—”
“No. You can and you will. There is no one else, remember? There is just you and I here on this ship. You are my wife, at least for the night.”
Gwen swallowed back tears she didn’t know were lurking below the surface. She had done so much crying the last weeks, she could hardly believe there were more tears to be shed. But as she looked upon the ring, she thought of nothing more she wanted in the world than to keep it, and him, forever.
“It’s beautiful.”
“It is nothing compared to you.”
As if drawn together by an unseen force, their lips crashed together and their hands tore through each other’s clothes. His shirt, her dress, their shoes—all jumbled together on the hardwood floor. In their hurry to feel one another, their groping bodies almost didn’t make it to the safety and comfort of the bed.
But as soon as Gwen’s back hit the freshly changed sheets, she found shelter in his arms. She thought she’d never feel his skin against hers again, breathe him in, allow herself to give and take so freely, so selfishly. Their time together was almost over before it even began, but she was so blissfully happy to be back where she felt most herself in the world.
But she didn’t. As he entered her, she could think of nothing else but him in that moment.
“Meu único ouro,” he groaned as he thrust into her again, his pace slowing to a deep and steady rhythm that made her breath catch in her throat.
Gwen ran her fingers over his back, careful to avoid the injured hip. She wanted to feel every slope and plane of sculpted body beneath her fingertips. And every so often, her hand would skim over his shoulder and she would catch a glimpse of the sapphire ring, the color flashing in the fading sunlight—like a lighthouse, a beacon in the dark.
***
Afterward, they lay together, their features only slightly illuminated by the light of the full moon that had risen at some point during their dalliance. Gwen’s head was nestled against Gaspar’s chest. He wound a curl lazily around his index finger, looking up at the embroidered canopy above. As for Gwen, her eyes were still trained on the ring, which much to her surprise, fit her perfectly.
He made a small sound like a hum.
She tore her eyes away from the ring and looked up at his freshly shaved face. “Did I hurt you?”
Gaspar kissed her on the forehead. “No, I am just happy.”
“Me, too,” she admitted.
“It’s late.”
“I know.”
“Will they worry?”
She shrugged. “They’ll be fine.”
He lazily ran a hand down her arm, leaving a stream of goosebumps in its wake. “If it could only be this way forever.”
Gwen said nothing about his comment, but closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. She did wish it could be that way forever—that they could stay in their little bubble together, away from the world. But a knock on the cabin door made it abundantly clear that they were not alone.
Gaspar groaned as he untangled himself from the bed and Gwen’s arms. He pulled his pants on over his naked legs and fastened them low upon his hips before answering the knock. Ever the gentleman, he blocked the sliver of open door with his body, hiding Gwen from view. Still, she pulled the covers up to her chin.
Almost immediately, he brought something inside, closing and locking the door behind him. Grinning, he showed her a simple tray of meat, cheese, apples, and freshly baked bread. “Finally, some real food. No broth here.”
Gwen pulled on her silk robe and sat up, eager for something to eat. He handed her the plate and knife then went to a small cabinet beside the desk, pulling out a bottle of red. It opened with a sharp pop and he offered it to her.
“My finest red from Portugal.”
“Do you even own any glasses?”
He shrugged, taking a swallow and sitting across from her on the bed. “Why dirty two cups when we can drink from the bottle? Concerned you might catch the sailor’s pox from sharing a dram?”
“Of course not. If you had the pox, I would have it by now, in any case,” she replied, stifling a small smile at his look of surprise.
“Which I do not have, by the way.”
“I am aware,” she quipped, taking the bottle and sipping daintily before placing it on the floor beside the bed.
“You are a strange woman, Gwendolyn.”
“Strange women are always the ones most worth knowing.”
“This is true,” he agreed, leaning over the tray between them to cup her cheek. “You have been so worth knowing, even though I admit that I could stay here with you for a thousand years and still never know enough. You always surprise me.”
She turned her head and kissed his palm before taking his hand in hers. “And you, me. I was rather shocked when I found that it wasn’t Spanish I had been learning, but Portuguese. You’re a very sneaky man.”
“Any wife of mine needed to be able to speak my native tongue…and I thought my wife would be you.”
At the look of his downcast face, she regretted bringing up the lessons that initially sparked their romance. “For tonight I am.”
“And the morning, meu único ouro? What comes then?”
“Please, let’s not speak of it,” she begged, squeezing his fingers.
“I cannot play pretend any longer.” His voice was tired and his face appeared lined and weary in the moonlight. “I want nothing more right now than to cast off, taking you with me.”
“You promised you would not.”
He looked up at her hard, studying her face. “I know what I said, what I have not said, what you refuse to admit, even to yourself. There are so many words that are unsaid between us and it can go on no longer.”
“What are you saying?” Gwen felt slightly alarmed. The playfulness they had enjoyed was gone, leaving darkness and moonlit tears in its wake.
“I’m saying that I was a coward and you pushed me to be strong for my men. But now it is you who are the coward.”
“Me?”
“What do you feel for me, Gwendolyn?”
She pulled her hands away and pursed her lips, unsure of what to say. She was afraid if she dared to speak, she would betray the promise she made to herself to marry well, marry safely, and allow Gaspar to continue his life on the sea.
“Meu único ouro, just be honest with me for one night before I leave,” he pleaded, running his hands through his hair. “I’ve nothing left to lose so I might as well lose my dignity by begging you to be open with me.”
“Please, don’t,” she said weakly, leaving the bed and crossing to the open stained glass window. “Please.”
He followed her and was behind her in an instant. He brushed the hair back from her shoulder, kissing the swatch of skin that showed where the robe had fallen a bit. “If you will not be honest, may I?”
“I cannot stop you.”
“I love you, Gwendolyn,” he whispered softly into her hair, his accent thick with emotion. “I love you more than my ship, the sea, the hundreds of diamonds I have no desire for anymore. I thought that a fleet and riches
would keep me happy with my lot in life…but it cannot be so without someone to share it with.”
“And you will find someone,” she whispered bitterly, feeling the sharp pain of the eventual loss of him.
“No,” he replied fiercely, moving his hands to her hips and digging his fingers into her flesh. “There is no one else—will be no one else. You are mine and I am yours, if you wish to admit it or not.”
“We can’t.”
“We can. I can care for you, Gwendolyn, more than I thought I ever could another person. I can give you everything your Spanish prince could and more…every gemstone, more silks than you could ever wear. You will have a home with me on my ship, another in Portugal—a grand one that overlooks the water with a garden you could read in and plant the heather that reminds you of home. And we could come here to see your family often, bringing them trade and news of your life with me. I could make you happy.”
Gwen bit her lower lip, trying to quell the sobs that fought to escape. She couldn’t let him see the cracks in her armor. She needed to stay strong so he would have the strength needed to return to his place at the head of his wounded fleet. The men needed him and he needed the ocean.
“My love for you has no borders, no limits, and I fear I will never escape you once I leave. Your eyes are the deepest blue of the sea, full of life and secret storms. The sea is my home, as are you when you look at me with those eyes and without your steady gaze to guide me, there is no shore for me. No safe harbor.”
Still she said nothing, but her shoulders shook and her knees grew week under the weight of her broken heart.
“Eu te amo…I love you,” he said again. “And I will do whatever it takes to prove it to you. You are not some woman I have at port to warm my bed, nor some passing fancy whom I will allow to marry some other man without confessing the extent of my feelings.”
“You needn’t prove anything to me,” she managed, wiping at her damp cheeks with her arm.
He stepped around to face her, placing his hands on her arms to hold her still. “I must. You need to know that I would do anything for you, Gwendolyn. I would die for you, kill for you, live for you. If there is something I can do to keep you by my side, tell me and it will be done.”
Her mind screamed, tell him. Tell him to leave the sea behind and you will be his! But she refused. She couldn’t let him give up his life and livelihood for her. Besides, it was pointless. The Spanish messengers would arrive any day to finalize the match and she couldn’t disappoint anyone. Things had already gone far enough.
“Do you even care for me?” Gaspar asked finally in a cool tone, releasing his hold on her arms.
“You know I do,” she replied in a voice much harsher than she anticipated.
“Then tell me, Gwendolyn. Tell me what I can do if I mean anything to you!”
Tears slid down her cheeks. “You mean everything to me.”
“Then come with me. Your family will understand and we—”
She silenced him with a kiss and he must have taken it to mean their heated exchange was over, replaced by the tender caresses and slow exploration that only lovers do. Soundlessly, quietly, he took her again. And afterward, neither spoke a word as they lay, spent, together in the dark. Their limbs interlocked, their hearts beating as one, they silently said their goodbyes as they watched the pale moonlight transform into the pale pinks of a new day.
Chapter Twenty
Gwen woke first that morning and stayed as still as possible so as not to awaken Gaspar. Instead, she listened to the sounds that made up his life—the calling of the sea birds, the low roar of the waves, the sound of ropes hitting the wooden hull as the men above went about their work. She didn’t wish to leave the cabin, although she knew she would soon be missed at the keep, if they hadn’t noticed her absence already.
But staying in the warm, safe cocoon of Gaspar’s tan arms was far too tempting to even dream of leaving. They had stayed up until sunrise, locked in each other’s embrace, not really speaking much, but just being together. Gwen knew she couldn’t say the words she longed to admit and felt that Gaspar was silent due to her pushing away his romantic declarations. Still, she let her body speak where she was silent and she prayed it would be enough.
“Must you go?” Gaspar asked quietly, holding her tighter against his chest.
“How did you know I was awake?”
“I never slept.”
“Oh, I see. Well…I do need to get back soon. It’s well into the morning, if not the afternoon.”
“I know. I did not wish to wake you.”
“Nor I you.”
He pressed his lips to her temples and asked, “Must you go?”
Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded, her fingers tracing a line down his arm.
“Will you not stay another day…and night?”
“I cannot.”
“I know.” He released her and she instantly felt his absence against her body.
Not wishing to delay the painful inevitable, she slid out of bed and pulled on her crumpled gown and tried to smooth her tangled hair. Then she watched as he dressed himself, slowly and deliberately, as if drawing out the moment. She almost wished he would say something to break the painful silence, but he didn’t.
Instead, he took her by the hand and led her from the cabin, up to the top deck, through the crew and climbed over the railing. She swiftly followed and settled herself onto the wooden plank that served as a seat. She waited for one of the sailors to accompany them to row, but none did and Gaspar untied the small boat himself, pushing away from the hull before picking up the oars.
“You shouldn’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself,” she told him, glancing nervously at his muscular arms as he rowed. It was true that he looked as if he had the strength, but he had been gravely wounded and had only just begun to heal. She thought it too soon for him to overexert himself so.
“If I did not take you to land by my own hand, I would forever blame whatever poor soul who did and that would be a heavy cross to bear.”
The closer the rowboat came to shore, the sicker Gwen felt. But it wasn’t seasickness that turned her stomach, it was her heart. With each stroke of the oars, she could feel the organ cracking in her chest, chipping off into painful pieces that were sharp to the touch.
When they reached the dock, he looped a rope around the piling and deftly leaped up. He looked down at her for a moment, the sun illuminating him from above. Then he held out a hand and pulled Gwen up beside him. He held her hard against him, his face buried in her hair and the breath was forced from her lungs. She clutched him just as tightly, not sure of what to do or say.
“Por favor,” he rasped as he drew back, his gray eyes portraying much more pain than those two words would have ever conveyed.
She said nothing, knowing she couldn’t say what she wished, so ardently, that she could. If she could, she would tell him yes and brace the oceans to be tied to his side forever. But they were from too separate worlds of land and sea, she an ordinary woman whose feet belonged on solid ground and he a mysterious selkie, a mythical and beautiful creature of the deep. Just like in the old legends, the two lovers could never live in each other’s worlds and were fated to forever be parted by circumstance. Gwen always hated those tales.
“Then this is where I must leave you,” he said, pulling back. His eyes were glassy with tears, pleading, begging, and imploring her to take action.
“Goodbye, Gaspar.”
He covered her mouth with his, hungrily devouring her lips with a desperate need. She knew he was taking all that he could from their final moments together and she selfishly did the same. Before she knew it, she was sobbing into his chest, draining cries that echoed in the cliffs above. But she couldn’t find it in her to care. She felt no shame, merely the excruciating burn of loss.
“Goodbye, meu único ouro.”
One final, fleeting kiss and he was gone, back into the boat, leaving her alone on the dock as he rowed away. Their
eyes stayed connected, but soon the distance grew too great and there was nothing left for Gwen to hold on to. And when he was truly gone, she fell hard to her knees upon the wood and said her final goodbyes to the wind.
***
Gwen sat tucked between the stones on the cliff for hours afterward, her knees drawn up to her chest. She watched as the men below unfurled sails and went about their day, apparently unaware of their silent observer. They were too far away for her to be able to see which man might be Gaspar, if he were even upon the deck of the ship.
Part of her knew that staying there, watching the small fleet below, was doing her more harm than good, but she couldn’t force away her gaze. After he had left her, she had tried to return to the keep, but only made it as far as the bluff before having to stop. The tears made her breath come short.
Horse drawn wagons were coming down from the closest village, heavy with barrels and crates. They towed their goods to the edge of the shore where swarthy sailors carried things up to Gaspar’s ship, which had come to dock since she had left. She knew they had no great exports in their part of the Highlands, and assumed they were merely stocking up the boats with fresh water and food for the crew. Gwen knew they would be leaving—and soon.
Not wishing to watch their actual departure, she shakily pulled herself to stand, bracing a hand on the warm surface of the stone. She felt she had already said her goodbyes, in more ways than one, and couldn’t stomach the idea of standing there any longer. Besides, she was tired, so dreadfully tired. It was the kind of exhaustion that one felt down to the marrow.
She shambled up the hill to the keep, brushing past maids and footmen, climbing each stair as if her shoes were made of lead. Luckily, no one of any merit was about to question where she had been. Gwen assumed that Conner would probably have a few choice things to ask of her, but that’s what the heavy lock on her door was for.
The lock clicked thankfully into place and Gwen stripped off her gown as she went toward her dresser. Once she had kicked off her slippers and stockings and pulled a fresh nightgown over her head, she slid between the cool sheets of her bed. For a moment, she regretted not thinking to bathe beforehand, but that would mean washing away the faint prints Gaspar left behind.
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