Chapter Thirty-One
REUNION
Sitting in a comfortable armchair shielded from the hubbub of conversation by the pillar of a secluded alcove, Emilio Velázquez crossed one leg over the other.
His elderly companions, all high-ranking Cuban businessmen, assumed he was listening to their chatter about trade, but in truth he was making a valiant attempt to calm the arousal brought on by watching Lady Elena.
They’d fallen head over heels in love when he’d visited Madrid, and been heartbroken by the separation necessitated by her father’s appointment.
After a fortnight of pacing his office in Sevilla, he’d made the decision to sail to Cuba, ostensibly on business, and ask for her hand in marriage.
The governor had been favorable to his proposal and planned to announce their betrothal this very evening.
However, things had suddenly become more complicated. He’d stared in disbelief when Elena’s father told him of his brother’s arrival in La Habana. Last he’d heard of Santiago, he was plundering ships on the Spanish Main, a wanted man.
Now he was apparently a respectable sea captain—a hero, according to the rumors circulating, who was betrothed to the daughter of La Florida’s former governor.
Santiago wouldn’t be happy to come face to face with the younger brother who’d taken over the shipping company that should have been his inheritance, especially when he learned of Salomé’s fall from grace.
Ambrosio de Funes might not look so favorably on Emilio’s suit for Elena if he was relegated to second-in-command, that is if he was allowed to stay on at the company at all.
He smiled when, true to her loving nature, Elena greeted the stunningly beautiful woman who was to wed his brother, but his gut tightened when a figure he recognized appeared in the entryway and handed his card to the footman.
Fidgeting with his tricorn as he waited for the footman to announce him, Santiago drew courage from a glimpse of Valentina. Deep in conversation with another young woman, she bloomed like a vibrant red rose in an otherwise unremarkable garden.
“Capitán Santiago Fernando Velázquez de Vallirana y La Granada.”
Much depended on what happened next, but his feet seemed fixed to the tiled floor.
He scanned the curious faces turned in his direction. Did they know of Salomé’s accusations? Were they aware of his marauding escapades? Had they been told about the Letter of Marque, the sunken treasure, his role in the rescue? How was he to convince them of his honor, of his…
A thousand thoughts swirled in his head, but uncertainty fled when Valentina hurried towards him, her companion in tow.
“Lady Elena, may I present my betrothed, Santiago Velázquez. Elena is Ambrosio’s daughter, Santi,” she explained.
Santiago bowed and reached for Elena’s hand, delighted Valentina had already made an important friend. He was taken aback when Elena stood on tiptoe and pecked a kiss on his cheek.
“You are Emilio’s brother,” she said with a broad smile. “I can certainly see the resemblance.”
“You are acquainted with him?” he asked, surprised by her deep blush. He’d wager Emilio and Elena were more than acquaintances.
“Sí,” she replied, “he’s…”
She stopped abruptly and looked up at the young man who’d come to stand bedside her.
Past resentments, worries, and recriminations flew away like chaff on the wind. What mattered was the beloved brother Santiago thought he’d lost forever. “Mi hermano,” he rasped, opening his arms.
He feared his heart might burst when Emilio came willingly into his embrace. No words were needed as they thumped each other on the back, rejoicing in their reunion.
Valentina struggled to control her tears as she watched the heart-rending reunion.
Curious onlookers smiled broadly when Elena explained they were brothers who hadn’t seen each other for years. It was a circumstance many of them were no doubt familiar with, the separation from family and friends in Spain made all the more difficult by the recently ended war.
Santiago and Emilio finally broke apart, gripped each other’s shoulders, laughed, then embraced again.
Elena fought back tears as she stroked Emilio’s back. “He talks of nothing else but his long-lost brother.”
This familiarity seemed to surprise no one, except Manuela who stood nearby, scowling. It became clear to Valentina that Emilio and Elena must be betrothed.
Governor Ambrosio arrived, beaming a big smile. “Bueno,” he exclaimed. “You’ve found each other.”
Her father joined them, a look on his face that she recognized—ever the diplomat, cautious, weighing the pros and cons of what was happening.
“My baby brother has grown into a fine young man,” Santiago said hoarsely, taking Valentina’s hand.
The joy on his face touched her heart, but she saw an unusual flicker of uncertainty in his brown eyes.
A flurry of excited introductions ensued, the brothers laughing again when they discovered both were betrothed.
“Well, unofficially,” Elena explained.
“We were planning to make the announcement this evening,” Emilio added, the same hint of uncertainty in his voice.
“Sí,” de Funes confirmed, looking equally unsure of what was afoot.
It was evident Elena loved Emilio; Valentina didn’t want the reunion to cause a postponement of their happy event. “You brothers have many things to discuss,” she said, hoping Santiago wouldn’t resent her interference. “Perhaps after the announcement.”
He frowned briefly, but then squeezed her hand and smiled. “Valentina is right. We have intruded. This evening is for you, hermanito, and your beautiful Elena.”
“No,” Emilio replied. “We need to talk now.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
STRICT FORMALITIES
De Funes ushered Santiago and his brother into his office, assured them they could stay as long as was necessary, and left.
“I suppose you’re surprised to see me,” Santiago began, his voice hoarse. He and Emilio had always been close, but his brother was no longer a youth obligated to show respect to an older sibling.
“I admit the circumstances are not what I expected,” Emilio allowed. “I feared I’d eventually receive word you’d been hanged for piracy.”
Santiago grimaced. “I would have dangled at the end of a noose if not for Melchor.”
He bade Emilio sit in an overstuffed armchair and paced like a restless cat as he told the tale of life after his banishment, omitting nothing except the existence of the treasure.
Emilio moved to the edge of the chair. “I need to tell you something.”
Santiago folded his arms and braced his legs, sensing he wasn’t going to like whatever came next.
“A year after you fled Spain to avoid arrest, Salomé recanted.”
A swell of emotion swamped Santiago. His exile could have been over years ago. He need never have become a pirate. “Recanted?”
“She withdrew the accusations against you. The Suprema eventually declared your innocence after subjecting her to a lengthy interrogation.”
Santiago had to sit before his knees gave out. Every Spaniard knew of the methods the Inquisitors used to interrogate witnesses. “What became of her?”
“The shame was too much for her parents. Her father banished her to a nunnery.”
Santiago clenched his jaw. “They might as well have sentenced her to death.”
Emilio got to his feet. “Then justice would have been satisfied,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “Papa never recovered from the ordeal. He wore himself out leaving no stone to prove she had lied.”
Santiago closed his eyes, conjuring an image of his beloved father in happier days. “I only heard about his death months afterwards.”
Emilio stood ramrod straight, fists clenched. “This means you can now return to Spain and take over the company. It’s your right.”
Santiago looked up sharply. He might ha
ve known his brother would act honorably. “That’s not what I want.”
Emilio frowned. “You intend to remain a pirate?”
Santiago laughed. “No, that life has become much too dangerous, and Valentina deserves to be married to a man of standing. I want to be involved in the family company, but in Cuba and the Caribbean.” He took a chance. “I have money to invest in expanding your influence here.”
Emilio raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Money?”
“Spanish gold.”
Emilio tapped his chin, a gleam in his eye. “I see.”
Half an hour later, having each smoked one of Ambrosio’s excellent cigars, they emerged from their discussions, satisfied they’d laid the groundwork for the company’s future expansion in the New World.
“Congratulations, by the way,” Santiago said, putting an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Elena is a beautiful woman.”
Emilio came to an abrupt halt. “What do you say to a double wedding?”
Valentina’s instinct was to hurry to Santiago’s side when he and his brother reappeared in the hall. However, if they were to carve out a place for themselves in La Habana, it was incumbent upon her to start behaving like the well-bred noblewoman she was.
Like Elena.
She suspected Ambrosio’s daughter itched to rush to Emilio, but she waited, showing no outward sign of agitation as she chatted with the ladies gathered around them.
Valentina knew she’d made the right decision when the perpetual censure left Manuela’s face.
She tamped down the urge to touch Santiago when he and his brother reached them, reassured by their obvious camaraderie and the faint, sweet aroma of tobacco. Discussions must have gone reasonably well if they’d smoked cigars together.
“All is resolved,” Emilio announced, taking Elena’s hand. “Come, we must find your father.”
Delighted by the relief evident on her new friend’s face, and overjoyed for Santiago, Valentina threw decorum to the winds and linked arms with her beloved.
Buoyed by the swell of Valentina’s breast pressed against him, Santiago bent his head to whisper in her ear. “Judging by the crescendo of excited voices, we’ve caused a stir.”
He was tempted to nibble her earlobe, but Manuela’s disapproving glare deterred him.
Valentina squeezed his arm. “I think they’re excited for Elena and your brother. A society wedding will be a reassuring sign things are getting back to normal after the occupation.”
“And the appearance of a long-lost brother rumored to be a pirate and betrothed to a beautiful woman hasn’t captured their interest?” he teased.
The blush that spread across her delectable breasts had the predictable effect on his manhood. “How would you feel about a double ceremony?” he asked, wishing he could whisk her away to the Santa María and have done with the strict formalities expected of noblemen and women.
The leisurely fluttering of her fan suddenly became agitated. “I would love that, but…”
“It was Emilio’s idea.”
She had no chance to reply when a hush fell as de Funes and Melchor mounted a small dais at the front of the hall.
“Good evening to you all,” the governor announced, spreading his arms wide. “It’s my unexpected honor and pleasure to introduce illustrious guests. My old friend, His Excellency Felíx Melchor, erstwhile Governor of La Florida, and his daughter. They have finally made it safely to Cuba after the harrowing ordeal of arranging the evacuation of Spanish citizens from San Agustín, and weathering a hurricane en route.”
Melchor bowed in acknowledgment of the loud cheering and applause that ensued, then raised his hand for quiet to be restored. “I thank you for the warm welcome you have afforded my daughter, Lady Valentina, and myself, as well as the hundreds of refugees from San Agustín. I wish to make it known that without the courage of Capitán Santiago Velázquez, we would not be here today. As time goes by, you will no doubt hear details of the difficult experiences we encountered, but, for the moment, I would ask you to recognize the hero of the hour.”
Santiago fervently hoped no one ever found out about Valentina’s kidnapping. His crewmen would take the secret to the grave.
He’d never asked if she’d been violated, and it made no difference to his feelings for her. However, malicious rumor could destroy an innocent person, as he well knew. He squared his shoulders, his heart thudding in his ears as people cheered and whistled.
“You’re blushing, Santi,” Valentina teased as she too clapped her hands together.
“I just wish my father could have been here,” he rasped.
She nodded to the dais where Emilio and Elena had taken their places next to the governor. “You have the next best thing,” she said.
It was true. Emilio’s pride was evident in the set of his shoulders and broad smile as he too applauded. Santiago swallowed hard. His father was, in fact, present.
A hush fell again when Ambrosio cleared his throat. Every head turned to look at the dais. People were anxious to at last bear witness to the announcement they’d come to hear.
“It’s my distinct pleasure to stand before you and announce the betrothal of my daughter, Elena de Funes Villapán to Don Emilio Antonio Velázquez de Vallirana y La Granada. As you all know, Emilio is head of the Velázquez Mercantile Shipping Company of Sevilla. Please join with me in welcoming Don Emilio to our family.”
The guests responded with enthusiastic applause. Shouts of Felicidades echoed off the high ceiling.
Emilio’s happiness was plain to see on his grinning face, but suddenly Santiago saw something else. His brother was looking straight at him, as if…
Of course! How could he have been so blind? For Emilio, Santiago was the father figure, the family representative. He elbowed his way to the front. “Señores y señoras,” he began.
The hubbub quieted.
“In the absence of our late father, I congratulate my brother and declare how honored we are that the beautiful Elena is joining our family.”
The cheering resumed, but it was the gratitude and pride on Emilio’s face that warmed Santiago’s heart. Their bond had been tested and proven strong.
“I love you,” Valentina whispered when he rejoined her.
“Te amo, también,” he replied.
Her grip on his arm tightened when her father stepped forward and held up his hand for quiet to be restored. He beckoned Emilio to his side and shook his hand. “I have no wish to intrude on this young man’s special evening, but I’m afraid I can no longer keep the secret, that everyone knows anyway!”
Emilio laughed, as did everyone else.
“It is a happy coincidence that my daughter has also become betrothed recently, to another member of the illustrious Velázquez family, Santiago Fernando.”
Before the crowd had a chance to react, Emilio spoke. “I am proud to share this happy occasion with my older brother, and I bid Lady Valentina welcome to our family.”
Santiago and Valentina were urged to the dais in a swell of cheers. He didn’t think his happiness could be any greater until his brother declared, “And I think we should have a double wedding.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
BECOMING ONE
Three weeks later, Santiago carried Valentina over the threshold of the opulent chamber allotted to them in the Governor’s Residence.
“Our wedding is apparently the talk of La Habana,” he said as he sat her down on the edge of the enormous bed. “Probably one of the last in the Basilica de San Francisco de Asis.”
“Why?” she asked, reaching up to unpin the long lace mantilla from her head.
He put one knee on the bed and stayed her hand. “I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you walking down the aisle with Elena.”
She leaned back, enjoying the feel of his fingers freeing her hair. “The weight of it trailing behind me made my head ache.”
“It gave me an ache too,” he quipped, “but a pleasant
one in a different part of my body.”
His words sparked a thrill of desire that spiralled through her. In the weeks they’d spent preparing for the wedding, Santiago had spoken openly about what happened between a man and a woman during sexual congress. There had never been a hint of censure about her spending time alone aboard a ship with Maitland and Montserrat. It apparently made no difference to his feelings.
She suspected his primary motive was to counteract Manuela’s dire descriptions of marital relations. Now, she could scarcely wait for the promised rapture that joining with him would bring. But she was nervous, too. “So, you were saying it’s the last wedding?”
He removed the mantilla and laid it carefully over the back of a nearby armchair. “Ambrosio tells me the Cubans no longer want to use it as a church.”
“Because they are building the new cathedral?” she asked, the heat rising in her body as he knelt to remove her shoes, then her hose. No man had ever seen her bare feet, except her father when she was a babe.
“Partly,” he replied, brushing a kiss on the toes of one foot, then the other. “But mostly because the British used it for Anglican services during the occupation. They feel its sanctity has been defiled.”
In an effort to calm the wanton sensations his kisses caused in very private parts of her body, she thought back to the ceremony. Walking down the long aisle, glad of Elena’s presence beside her, she’d glanced up at the impressive domed ceiling supported by twelve enormous columns, filled with a sense of rightness. “Surely they won’t destroy such an imposing building?”
He shrugged as he stood. “The monks still live in the seminary, so I suppose not. They’ll find some use for it. But enough of this talk of churches. You’ll have to explain how to get you out of your lovely gown.”
The Marauder (Pirates of Britannia Book 11) Page 14
