by Lily Silver
That image seemed ridiculous. She was merely going to her uncle’s villa, three days ride from here. He made it sound like they were headed into a battle.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, feeling petulant and not certain why. She wanted the other Jack to return, the engaging man who taught her how to hold a sword and had indulged her with brandy on his ship. “Kiss me, and I will agree.”
She didn’t think he would accept her challenge. Chloe was pleasantly surprised when his lips pressed against her mouth in a gentle caress. It was soft, light, and oh so wonderful.
“There, sealed with a kiss, as you so desire,” he said, ruining the mood entirely with his bluster and blow. Chloe opened her eyes at his brusque comment. He’d straightened and was standing mere inches from her. She could easily stand and slide her arms about his waist.
And yet, to do so would mean surrendering to his hard terms.
“If we are in danger, I will obey your commands. But only if we encounter banditos, French soldiers, or a charging boar.”
“There are no wild boars in Spain,” Jack replied, his tone superior.
She stood, placing her palms on the table as she leaned close so she could gaze up into his arrogant blue eyes. “Are you certain? I believe I’m talking with one.”
Chapter Nineteen
They were packed, ready to leave after breakfast. Chloe decided to take only one trunk along and leave one here for good luck. She could always send for the other one once she was with her uncle at his villa.
They were gathered in the foyer when Jack dared to argue with her yet again. This time, it was over her maid, Marta. He did not wish to take the girl with them.
“I cannot go to my uncle pretending to be a lady without a maid. It will seem improper if I am traveling with three men without an escort.”
“I can’t be responsible for your safety and for hers as well.” Jack slashed the air with his hand to emphasize his point. “I will not take her along. The housekeeper can keep watch on her until we are settled. I should have made her remain on the ship. You’re sending her back to Ravencrest anyway. I hardly see the need to drag her across Spain.”
“You’re sending me back?” the girl in question protested. Marta’s lip jutted out and her eyes filled with tears. “What have I done? Have I offended you, Mrs. O’Donovan?”
Jack’s insolence was more than enough to deal with at the moment. She didn’t need the added drama of the maid’s tears to add to this contentious stew.
“The captain is speaking out of turn.” She glared at Jack as he stood near the small carriage he’d procured for them.
“A word please.” Jack sidled up to Chloe and took her arm. He walked her quickly away from the girl.
She stood under the arch of the front entry door with Jack, craning her neck upward in order to glare at him past the obscenely wide bonnet rim. “I need her.”
“We do not need to be responsible for an adolescent girl while traveling through steep hill country riddled with bandits and thieves. It’s bad enough I and the lads are charged with protecting you. We should not have the added burden of a seventeen-year-old weeping willow.”
“These people are strangers. She doesn’t even speak Spanish. What if something happens to us and we never return for her?”
“Indeed, Mrs. O’Donovan. My point exactly.”
“Hire more men,” she hissed. “You know I have the funds.”
“More men means added trouble. I know Jinx and Morgan. Hiring strangers off the street will not guarantee protection. They will run at the first sign of trouble–or turn on us.”
Chloe reached into her reticule and pulled out a hundred pound note. She shoved it at his hand. “Just do it. I am tired of your constant arguing. If you think the journey is dangerous, hire more men to guard our carriage. That is what the count would do, is it not?”
“Yes, but he would personally test each candidate to make certain they were trustworthy before trusting his family to them, an exercise that could take weeks.”
“We do not have weeks, Captain.” Chloe was exasperated with the fellow. “And I am not your family.”
“Aye, you’re not my harpy to command. Still, I am burdened with assuring your safety. We can still abort this foolish quest. I’m certain your uncle is just on an extended visit to his fat mistress and half a dozen bastard children.”
Chloe gasped. She wanted to slap him for his impertinence. “How dare you.” She raised her hand, but his warning glare made her stay that hand.
“If you are going to seek out a devil, you may not like where you find him.”
It was past noon before they finally left Casa del Amico. Marta was included in their party, much to Chloe’s relief.
Jack hired four men whom Mr. Jinx and Morgan recommended after they visited the local barrios to gain information this past week. Chloe was not pleased by their delayed start. It was a bad omen. Arguing with Jack before they even left the shadow of her uncle’s home made her uneasy. Why was the man so overbearing?
In all her years of association, she always found him a pleasant fellow, sunny and warm, charming to a fault. How sad to think that his behavior as a guest at Ravencrest was merely a mask. The man was a veritable tyrant, accustomed to being obeyed without question.
As they traversed the narrow cobbled streets on their way out of Cadiz, Chloe stared out the window at the passing buildings. She saw a mixture of styles, some Baroque, some older, probably medieval. The city had an eternal feel to it. She liked that idea. Cadiz was an ancient city. She did not like the confined feeling it gave her with narrowed streets and walls three or four stories high reaching up to the blue sky. She was accustomed to being able to see for miles around her. The count’s home at Ravencrest was on a hill, overlooking the sea and the verdant jungle and waving green cane fields. Cadiz felt cloying by comparison.
Marta sat opposite her. The men, including Jack, were thankfully outside the coach. Jack was on horseback, as were his men, Jinx and Morgan. The other four were settled on the coach top and armed with guns.
How different Jack was from her gentle husband, she mused, catching a glimpse of his back as he rode past the carriage at an open section of road.
Gareth was not arrogant or demanding. He was a sweet man, a tender man. As a dependent relation, her husband had been a spoiled house cat to Jack’s fierce jungle lion. She’d been reasonable happy with Gareth. They were well suited in temperament, or so she always thought. Gareth didn’t like to argue. He lacked confidence, and seemed to wilt if he thought her angry with him. If they quarreled, he was always the first to apologize. It bothered her on occasion, but only when she compared her gentle, soft-spoken husband to the count. Elizabeth and Donovan did not quarrel often, but when they did, both parties held their ground. Elizabeth had a fierce temper and the count had a will forged in iron. The count was not unkind to his lady wife, but he was stern with those in his care and resolute. He did not bend easily.
And yet, therein lay the challenge. The passion between Donovan and Elizabeth Beaumont was something Chloe secretly admired, and even envied, just a trifle.
Jack Rawlings was infuriating. He was determined to question her every action and imply that she was incompetent. Worse for it, he seemed to think he could decide how she should proceed, as if they were husband and wife and not merely longtime acquaintances.
“Madame, you seem angry,” Marta whined as the carriage jolted along. “Are you displeased with my service? Please, don’t send me back to the countess. It would be my shame to be returned as a failure to Ravencrest. And how would I explain it to Papa?”
“Oh, do be quiet.” Chloe sent her maid a quelling look. “It will be a long ride to Guaro: let’s not fill the time with idle chatter. Read if you wish, or enjoy the view.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The girl crossed her arms about her chest. She stared out the opposite window.
The journey down the causeway, abutted on both sides by the vivid blue sea, was liberating. Ch
loe felt a strong sense of relief at leaving the walled city of Cadiz. It was mortifying to admit such a thing, even to herself. She’d made Cadiz her focus for so long, idealizing it in her mind, romanticizing the city and her reunion with her uncle. She wondered if this trip were destined to fail. So many tried to talk her out of going to Spain–Elizabeth and Donovan, Miss Wallingford, and even the captain of the naval fleet guarding Cadiz.
She couldn’t give up, not now. Chloe was determined to find her uncle. She felt driven in the task. Was she being reckless? What if she met the man and he rejected her?
Jack’s rude comment about a mistress and illegitimate children concerned her. What if it was true? Suppose Uncle Miguel had a family, even a family of bastards, and he did not wish to welcome her into the fold?
At least you’ll know for certain, a voice deep inside her whispered. You’ll never know if you don’t find him. Jack is just being contrary.
They traveled north and east for the rest of the afternoon. Once they had left Cadiz and the cloistered walls, Chloe felt her spirits rise once more to the stars. She gazed out the window, taking in the expansive view of the Spanish countryside.
Jack made certain they stopped at two-hour intervals so that she and Marta could get out of the carriage to stretch their legs and attend to personal matters behind a massive stone or tree. Marta, to her credit, did not complain about the long ride, the dust, or the lack of amusement.
They stopped at a quaint village west of Jerez the first night and were given accommodations at a modest inn. Marta shared a room with Chloe, although she slept on a straw pallet in the corner. Captain Rawlings made arrangements for the men to sleep out back. They ate together in a small room set aside for travelers to dine in, and parted company shortly after. Chloe was exhausted from the long ride. She was not in a mood to talk with Jack, as his earlier argument and suggestion that she may not be welcomed by her uncle upset her. Six hours in a carriage riding over a bumpy road had made her feel short and impatient with everyone.
The next day progressed much the same, a long, wearying ride. They were up at dawn and travelling east on the main road from Arcos to the interior mountains. It seemed there was no direct road to her uncle’s villa, as mountains spotted the countryside. They stopped several times to rest the horses and allow time to attend to nature’s call.
They stopped at a monastery before sunset on the second night. Jack sent Jinx on ahead to inquire and he returned with news that the brotherhood kept rooms for weary travelers, for a price. The lodgings were sparse. Chloe was led into a small room, like a prison cell that had a bed, a table with a candle and a window. The walls were of stone, cold stone. There was a crucifix above the small bed. A wooden bucket of warm water was provided for her to wash with. She was grateful for that. Still, she felt uneasy in that little stone room. She felt cut off from the world and from Jack and his men.
The monks were locking Chloe and Marta in a separate wing, away from the male residents for the night because the monastery had strict orders about celibacy. They did not usually allow women to stay here but when Jack offered them extra coin for their troubles, their rules were relaxed quickly to accommodate the marquis’s niece.
She was discovering a different side of Captain Rawlings she’d never known existed. He was adept at sizing up a situation and finding a way around any obstacle. She admired him for it, and found his cunning a comfort as he smoothed the difficult way for her once again. If not for his quick thought to pay the holy order, they might have had to sleep outside the monastery around a campfire on the hard ground. At least here, they were behind locked gates and high walls, away from the guerilla militia amassing in the hills.
She paced the confines of her small room. The candles wavered nervously at her passing. Marta sat near the window, looking out at the landscape as the sun set over the mountains.
“It is a pretty view, ma’am.” Marta offered, seeming more serene and relaxed than Chloe would have expected. “Come, you must see it.”
Chloe came to the window. The monastery was bracketed by steep hills. The lengthening shadows made the hills murky and ill defined. She thought she saw little fires flickering here and there. Campfires? She shivered at the thought. Bandits or militia? Jack’s warning about the dangers had seemed silly in the light of day, in the bright and civilized city of Cadiz.
Out here, in the isolated countryside, she found her courage sinking quickly.
“Sit, ma’am, please.” The girl was quick to rise from the wooden chair and offer it to her mistress. “You are tense. Let me attend you.”
Chloe sat in the chair and let her elbows rest on the open window. The night air was cool, refreshing. She sighed and let her head drop forward as Marta began to knead her shoulders and neck. She didn’t realize how tense she was until Marta started working the hard knots out of her shoulders and neck. It was painful and wonderful at the same time.
The maid must have felt the need to prove herself after Jack threatened to leave her behind at the beginning of their journey. She massaged Chloe’s feet and washed them in the warm water.
Chloe didn’t realize how fatigued she was until the girl made such efforts to soothe her.
Once she had undressed to her chemise and petticoats, and slipped into the narrow bed, Marta began folding clothing and tidying up. Her face held a fragile, frightened cast as she moved about the room.
Marta was given a room next door, but the girl seemed reluctant to find her own lodgings and rest. This wing of the monastery was an eerie place. It was deserted, save for the two of them. The place was silent, so deathly silent, more like an old sepulcher than a place of prayer. Perhaps Marta was uneasy sleeping alone. They had slept in the same room at the inn.
“Come, Marta, lie down. We have an early morning and a long drive ahead. Rest, child.” Chloe coaxed her, feeling maternal toward the girl as she watched her bustle about. “You may share this bed with me, if you like.”
Marta needed no more incentive. She slipped off her traveling dress, unlaced her shoes and slid onto the bed beside Chloe. It was an odd feeling, having the maid nestling against her like a chick tucked under the arm of a hen. Chloe was also grateful for the company in the lonely room. The girl had left one candle glowing on the wall. It flickered against the stone and cast gloomy shadows across the room and ceiling.
“You are worried,” the girl whispered, though there was no need as they were huddled together on the narrow bed. “The captain will see us through to the end.”
“Yes.” Chloe sighed. “I am worried, Marta.” She stared up at the ceiling of the room, unwilling to voice her fears to the innocent child beside her.
Morning light and the chirping of birds outside her window brought a fresh infusion of hope. Marta was already up and about, packing their things as the yellow light crept slowly across the room toward Chloe’s bed.
She spent too long last night worrying about her decision. Chloe’s conscience suffered through the night, as she considered the four other people whose lives she’d upset by insisting on this journey. There was Marta, the sheltered adolescent girl, Captain Rawlings, Lt. Morgan and Mr. Jinx. She imagined the worst happening—being set upon by thieves or bandits as they made their journey through the hills. She constructed images so harrowing she shivered in her bed.
“Good morning, ma’am.” Marta was in good spirits, so she must have slept without the unreasonable monsters taunting her mind, unlike her mistress.
“Marta.” Chloe smiled at her maid. Marta’s plain, coarse features would never evoke the poets. The girl had her hair braided again in two neat rows, in pigtails. She had them pinned against her head like mud brown snakes ready to be hidden beneath a poke bonnet when they resumed their journey. Poor dear, she had such large ears that the tight braids about her head only displayed the fault to the worst advantage. Marta could be pretty, if she’d give herself as much care as she gave Chloe in her appearance. She was tall, gangly, still in adolescence so her womanly cu
rves had not filled out to full advantage as yet. The plain truth of it was, with her coarse facial features and flat chest, Marta could easily pass for an adolescent boy.
“I’ve fetched water for you, ma’am. It’s not hot, just slightly warm. I didn’t wish to wake you, as you tossed so last night on that narrow bed.” She shook out a fresh petticoat from Chloe’s trunk, and laid it over the chair. “I thought you’d want a clean undergarment, ma’am, but the travelling dress will have to do again today. I’d hate to ruin your fancy gowns with the road dust.”
“Well planned,” Chloe said, feeling indulgent toward the industrious girl. “The blue plaid will serve well again today. I’m sure we’ll have access to a bath once we reach my uncle’s villa.”
“I never realized before that travelling was such dirty business.” Marta held up Chloe’s plaid cotton traveling dress and frowned at the dirt stains marring the edges of the skirt. “Never gave it much thought, me-self, as I thought I’d never see the world beyond St. Kitts.”
“Are you happy you came along, then?”
“Oh, yes, Mrs. O’Donovan. It’s been such an adventure! I’ve loads to tell my brothers when I return home. Why, of our brave captain slipping through the naval blockade, and of the port of Cadiz, and now this ride through the countryside fraught with thieves and bandits.”
So, the girl did not consider this to be a permanent arrangement. She was talking of going home to share the stories with her brothers. Perhaps that was just as well. Chloe was starting to realize that a green girl like this would never do as a proper maid for a member of the marquis’s family. She couldn’t imagine Marta being able to dress her for a court presentation to King Carlos. Jack was right, the girl should probably return home with him. The idea made Chloe a little sad, as she liked the girl. But that was the point, Marta was just a girl. “I’m hungry. Have the monks seen fit to feed us, or shall we be sent on our wicked way without breaking our fast?”
