Intimate Strangers Affair Read online

  “Do it,” Margaret said.

  He folded his arms across his chest. “No.”

  “No?!” Her voice rose like the beginnings of a good storm, pitching ready to howl loudly and for the duration.

  “No,” Miguel repeated moving toward me. He gestured for the bodyguard to release me. “It’s unnecessary. A waste. She is more valuable unharmed. Catherine will pay less if she’s damaged.”

  “A possibility,” Margaret replied slowly. She tapped a finger against her chin while she seemed to think about it. Bloodlust versus greed. A difficult choice. “All right, I agree.” Apparently greed won.

  “Are you nuts? My aunt doesn’t hold with kidnapping or blackmail or crooks. She ran the Sydney Ducks right out the neighborhood when they tried their extortion racket there.” I rubbed the circulation back into my arms. “You’ve made a big mistake if you think she’s going to pay any ransom. She won’t pay a cent.”

  Miguel looked at me coolly. “You’re wrong. She values you.” was all he said. Without another word, he reached inside his frock coat and pulled out a thin silver whistle. He set it to his lips and blew three short shrill blasts.

  The first mate cupped his hands to his mouth. “Anchor aweigh!”

  Then the deck suddenly sprang to life. Someone pulled the gangway, while two other sailors pushed a crank-wheel to wind up the anchor chain. Ropes hissed across the deck. The ship rocked and lifted higher with each little wave as if she were ready to go, pawing and restless like a horse at the starting line.

  Beneath us, a distant bell rang. The deck shuddered as the steam engine caught and pushed the first gear, then the next. We began to chuff away, from the gradually receding dock. The harbormaster genially waved from shore.

  “Wait!” Buckner cried out. “Wait for me!” He ran to the rail. Next to him, two sailors laughed as they coiled up the ropes into neat piles.

  “Too late,” one of them grinned at the frantic man.

  “But…but…” Buckner babbled. He stopped when he saw Miguel’s cold impatient look.

  “You boarded my ship. It was your idea, not mine. I will not wait any longer with this cargo in my hold. When we arrive, I will take the rest of my payment in gold. After all, I know where it is. Gentlemen.” All business, the Capitán was already walking to the quarter deck.

  I crept to the portside as the Confederates argued among themselves. Apparently, no one had been planning to sail, or had a particular fondness for it. Buckner was trying to bribe one of the sailors. It may have been a matter of language, or maybe it was a matter of loyalty, but the sailor seemed to be refusing. Margaret went below deck, probably to make herself comfortable in the Capitán’s quarters. Well, she could have Miguel. The two of them made quite a pair.

  I reached the tackle and started loosening the rope. We weren’t too far, maybe twenty feet from shore. I could grab hold, push off, and swing out like we used to do when we were kids, jumping into the water. Okay, maybe it had been awhile and I was out of practice, but I was desperate. I had to get off this ship. I craned my neck. Thirty feet now, forty. “Don’t even think about it,” Miguel said, standing right behind me.

  I jumped. Why wasn’t he at the helm of his ship like a good little Capitán? I slowly turned around. “Think what?” My voice squeaked suspiciously high.

  Frowning, he pulled the rope tight and knotted it again in a second.

  My chin lifted. “I’ll think whatever I want.”

  “And how well has that worked for you? You are trouble. Constant trouble.”

  “Exactly. So steer away from me, don’t bother. Why should you? You said you didn’t care. Well, fine. You can’t keep me here, I swear I’ll find a way off this tub. You know I will. I’ll jump off first chance I get. You won’t ransom me, or sell me to some white slaver. I won’t let you.”

  “Slavers? Madre de Dios,” he muttered. A muscle in his jaw twitched. He took my arm. “Do not tempt me. Come.”

  “Forget it.”

  He stepped closer, towering over me. His face looked more thunderous than the horizon ahead. “You walk or I carry you. Easy or hard. Which?”

  I felt my mouth gaping. “You can’t be serious!”

  “Try me.” He reached over and gripped both my arms, starting to lift me.

  “All right, all right,” I said hastily. “I’m going under my own steam.”

  He set me down again, but didn’t release one arm. He started walking, pulling me along with him like I was some damn wagon. We were headed to the wheelhouse.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Okay, but don’t get any ideas. I’m not cooperating with you.”

  ***

  We had just left the harbor, but already the land seemed like a distant memory. I was back where the wind met the water, back where my true heart belonged. I could taste the salt in the air. It was still early, but the winds were already blowing strong. The ship vibrated as she met the waves and sliced through them. We moved slowly at first, then faster and faster until the wharf almost blurred. The seals lay on the rocks like fat sausages, barking at us as we rushed by. The cloud cover had lifted high enough so that we could see clear across the bay to Oakland, Point Bonita, and the base of the mountains. The fishermen were returning with their midnight catch. The triangular sails of their feluccas dotted the bay like scarlet butterflies here and there across the steel gray water.

  I felt a strange excitement. Was it being out at sea again? The danger I was in? Above us, the sails puffed out like giant white bellies, nine months pregnant and past due. Beneath us, the water hissed, parting like liquid glass before our sleek ship. We were picking up speed as we passed by Black Point Cove. I could see Miguel’s house. In front of it, a tall dark figure flew an enormous red rectangular kite. The person looked familiar. Terribly familiar… It was impossible.

  “That can’t be you,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes. Was I seeing double? Disbelieving, I glanced behind me.

  Miguel was at the helm, right where I thought he would be. So that couldn’t be him on the cliff. It was just someone like him. Oh, of course. It was probably Ricardo. Had to be. Who else would be crazy enough to fly a kite at the break of dawn? At least he had a good wind for it. His kite was already flying high like a great crimson bird in the clouds visible for miles. I could still see it as we sailed westward. I watched it grow smaller as we passed by Alcatraz Island and moved closer to the Golden Gate.

  Near the point, the wind picked up, snapping the sails even tauter, and chopping the waves into rapid splashy hills capped with white. Now spray hissed over the sides, heavy as rain at times. We were rolling and rocking as we surged forward on the wave’s lift, then slammed down again.

  Silently, Miguel steered the ship. The wind lifted his hair and made it seem as if each strand was dancing. The ends of his coat flapped around him. Why was I watching him? Why did I care? I was crazy, had to be. I should be plotting half a dozen ways of escape, but instead I sat there like an obedient idiot on the family bench in front of the wheel. I was protected against the wind underneath the skylight, and could feel the sun on my head and back, but it didn’t warm me. I felt cold to the core. Cold and stupid.

  “Well!” I tried to pour as much disgust in my voice as I could. “Never pegged you for a greedy man, but I have to say, you take the cake. Here you are, sitting on a pile of gold. What do you need more money for? You’ve got Calhoun’s gold, Calhoun’s wife. Anything else you want? His mansion maybe. Bored of your little clapboard house?”

  He was quiet for a bit, then finally said, “Ten minutes.”

  “What?”

  He peered starboard and adjusted his course. The ship tilted slightly, and the sails stretched even fuller. “That is your record.”

  “My record for what?”

  “For silence.” Miguel paused and checked his compass. “And for my record, I do not have Calhoun’s wife.”

  Appalled, I stared at him and his blank-faced audacity. It was one thing to sneak around and deceive
me, but to stand there and lie to my face… Who the hell did he think he was? “Oh, I see. You mean that Miss Margaret LaRue is an independent operator. She comes and goes, you come and go. How very modern of you both. So no one belongs to anyone and that makes it all right to cheat around? Well, I have to hand it to you. That’s pretty fast thinking.”

  His mouth tightened. “Margaret lied.”

  “Don’t be silly, I saw you together. Last night.”

  “Imposible. I was with you in my office.” He looked down at me. His voice lowered, “Or have you already forgotten, niña?”

  I flushed, staring down at my toes. “No, I haven’t. I wish I did, but I haven’t. And don’t call me that. None of those other Spanish nicknames either. Now I know they don’t mean a thing.”

  We matched stares. It was tough, but I stood him out, minute for minute. He muttered something in Spanish. At least, I think it was Spanish.

  Then finally, he said, “After our…interlude, I was on the ship. With Buckner. You saw me before you climbed into the carriage. I’ve been here the whole time. Ask my crew.”

  “Your crew? Ha! ‘I train them well’. I bet you have. They do whatever you tell them, and say whatever you want. No, I saw you with Margaret in the clinch. Pretty bold, if you ask me. Meeting when her husband’s there, right in the same house.”

  His head perked up. “Are you sure? You saw Calhoun in his home?”

  “Well, no, not exactly. But that’s who the Confederates were meeting. Or at least, I think so. I didn’t see that either.”

  “Ah.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Miguel sighed and shook his head once. “If you didn’t see him, he wasn’t there. He never is. Not on Thursday nights.”

  “Then where was he?”

  “At The Golden Catherine. Thursday is his regular night with Michelle. You ask her. Ask Catherine.”

  “Oh.” I sat back, feeling confused. If my aunt could verify that, then it must be true. “But if Hamilton wasn’t meeting Calhoun, then who was he going to meet? Who’s his superior? Margaret LaRue? Your Margaret. That’s the Calhoun they were meeting?”

  “Yes,” Miguel said shortly. “I fear so.”

  “So your mistress tricked you. You didn’t know, or was this all a dog-and-pony show for Hamilton and Buckner? Are you cheating them too?”

  “I didn’t know. Not until now.”

  “So you’re claiming it’s all a big fat surprise to you, because you were on the ship the whole time. You weren’t at the mansion. Well, if it wasn’t you, it was someone who looked exactly like you. Don’t tell me you have an identical twin somewhere. Or an identical…” Cousin? The image of Ricardo flashed in my mind. Similar, but not quite the same. From behind or from a distance, you could mistake them. I just had mistaken him for Miguel on the cliff. Had I done the same in the mansion? “Or maybe…maybe it was Ricardo?”

  “Ridiculous! He is simple. A child. He does not have the urges of a man.”

  “You don’t know that. Claude once said that the best gimmick in the world is the innocent act. Well, maybe Ricardo is pretending. Maybe he’s more than you realize.”

  “No. He is not capable.”

  “You don’t think he’s man enough to mess with your mistress? Don’t let your pride cloud your judgment.”

  “She is not my mistress,” Miguel bit out.

  I glared at him, feeling miserable. I wanted to know the truth, but at the same time, I wanted him to lie if it would make me feel better. Then I could pretend we had come to each other all new and innocent, both of us novices in love. I wanted him to spin some comforting fairy tale like that, even if it wasn’t true.

  Miguel was silent for a long moment. He stared out over the gray waves as if he were looking through the fog and into the past, a very murky past. I didn’t think he was going to say anything at all, but finally, he admitted, “She was. Once. A long time ago. A mistake. I was…young.”

  “And is that how you see me? Just another mistake?”

  “No,” he said immediately, his eyes sweeping around to me. They were dark, nearly black. “Being with you is foolish. Reckless. The most unthinking thing I have ever done. But a mistake? No, niña. How could the biggest blessing in my life ever be a mistake?”

  He sounded so fierce, so certain, and yes, even a little afraid. For once, his words tumbled out instead of his usual cautious speech. Listening to him, my heart squeezed, then stopped altogether. It was too wonderful to believe. Ten hours ago, I would have believed anything he said. But now I didn’t know. How could I believe him?

  He must have sensed my uncertainty because he looked away, self-contained once more.

  “You said I meant nothing to you. Even less.”

  “I didn’t mean it. I needed them to believe me.”

  “Well, I don’t know about them, but you certainly fooled me.”

  “I didn’t fool Margaret. If you had obeyed me and stayed hidden near the warehouse, none of this would have happened. You would have been safe. I said those things because I was trying to protect you. Now do you believe me?”

  “No.”

  “Cristo!” He slipped one hand inside his frock coat and retrieved something soft. Gray. He tossed it to me. A lady’s glove, completely salt-stained and ripped beyond repair. Buttons were lost, a few hanging by the threads.

  I stared at it as if I had never seen it before. But I had. It was mine. I’d lost it during the first voyage after the storm. He had tended my hand and kept my glove. Secretly. It was still warm from his body, as if he had kept it next to him for a long time.

  My hands closed around it. I looked up at him. “Why?”

  “Why do you think?” he said softly.

  We stared at each other for a long moment, and this time he let me see him. Really see him. All his defenses dropped at last, his eyes open and unguarded. He was silently pleading with me. He wasn’t lying. Not to me. Not any more than I can lie to myself.

  Foolish. Reckless, he had said. Yes, and illogical. Ill-advised. I must be crazy to trust him, but somehow I did.

  “Now do you believe me?” he asked again. And this time, it wasn’t the Don speaking, or the mysterious green-eyed Capitán. It was my Miguel asking. The man I loved. And still did.

  “Yes,” I said without even thinking twice. I held the glove to my heart, just like he had worn it next to his. What was magic, if not that? His words cast a spell over me. I tingled all over. Every last doubt melted away, and my heart felt light and airy. My hands reached out, hungry to touch.

  “No! Don’t,” Miguel said urgently.

  Startled, I stopped where I was. How did I get here? Had I left the bench and been walking toward him? I wasn’t even aware that I’d been moving closer. Now he was only one step away, just within reach. I could see his chest rise and fall in short fast breaths as if he’d been running hard or suffering.

  His nostrils flared. “Stop.” He held up his hand, palm out. A fine tremor ran through him.

  What was wrong with him? Another liver attack? “It’s okay, Miguel. Tell me. Where does it hurt?”

  His mouth tugged at one corner. “Not where you can help. Not right now. And don’t look at me that way.”

  “What way?”

  “Like you are now, like before you kiss me. Before you ask me for more. Diablo!” His fingers tightened on the wheel. “Each time you look at me that way, I die a little more. So stop it. Before I forget.”

  “Oh, you mean…not here?” I glanced around the wheelhouse. It was small but well appointed, protected from the wind. The glass cupola let the sun stream on to the family bench. Nice plump velvet cushions. My mouth suddenly dried. I licked my lips.

  Miguel groaned softly as he followed my gaze to the bench. “Yes…there. I’ve imagined it a hundred times before. In a hundred other places on my ship.”

  “You haven’t,” I said hotly, blushing, wanting. I hadn’t been thinking about it at all, but now, it was all I could think about. The want
ing pushed everything else aside. “When?”

  His lips twitched. “Ever since Cape Horn, when you ignored my orders.”

  His confession made my eyes narrow, conflicting feelings rioting through me. Aggravation, delight, desire. They all jumped up and down inside me. “Do you always get a yen for your female passengers?”

  “No, never. But I wanted you then, just like I want you now. Only now, it is different. Not just an attraction anymore.”

  “There’s more?” Love, I thought. He’s talking about love.

  Miguel nodded stiffly. “Yes, different. Like water from wine. But we must be careful. You can’t look at me that way, because they’ll know. And knowing gives them power over us. You are in danger, we both are until this is done.”

  I folded my hands behind my back. “Well, I can try,” I said doubtfully. “I’m no good as a liar, I can’t pretend I don’t love you. Because I do. Love you, I mean. I’m sorry.”

  “I am not.” Miguel smiled suddenly, quietly. His head tilted back so that the dawn caught the tips of his hair and turned them rosy gold. He seemed taller all of a sudden, self-assured, invincible. His eyes glittered with triumph. “I will never be sorry. Not for the rest of my life. Your life. Our life together.”

  His words reached me, the sense of them following more slowly. What was he saying? I shook my head as if I could clear my ears. I couldn’t be hearing him right. “Our life? Miguel, are you proposing?”

  “A quick learner. My favorite thing about you.” His smile turned roguish. “Now say ‘yes’, querida. I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

  “You never do,” I muttered.

  His brows lifted as if he was saying “So?”

  He was right. I hated to admit it, but he was right. For once, his arrogance charmed me instead of bugging me. I almost laughed out loud, joy expanding like a hot bubble inside me. Joy made all barriers seem tiny. Everything else seemed trivial. Even our dire circumstances were nothing compared to this.

  I opened my mouth to answer, but I didn’t have a chance because the first mate Domingo called out.

  “Capitán! Off port bow.”