Authors: Connie Mason
Luca shuddered, imagining how repugnant it would be to submit her body to a man, especially a man she hardly knew. “Please, Father, why can’t you see that I am meant for a life of piety and prayer? I wish to become a bride of Christ.”
Don Eduardo sent his daughter a look that spoke eloquently of his contempt. One has only to look at you to know how unsuited you are to a cloistered life.”
He stared at her, at the sultry beauty of her face, at the lush curves of her body, barely disguised by her loose-fitting habit. Her eyes, large, dark, and tilted up at the outer corners, sparkled with life, spirit, and passion She could fool others, but she couldn’t fool him; he was her father. He was convinced that once initiated to passion she would partake greedily, and he intended for Don Diego to be the man to ignite the flame burning within his daughter.
“I can’t help the way I look, Father,” Luca said with a hint or censure. “Outward appearance has nothing to do with piety. I wish to spend the rest of my days serving God.”
“Bah! How can you know what you want when you have experienced nothing of life?” Don Eduardo chided impatiently. “I was remiss to leave you here so long. You will leave with me now, Luca. You must be ready to sail in two weeks aboard the
Santa Cruz
to join your intended. You will be pleased to know that Don Diego has been appointed governor-general of Cuba. He is a powerful man, much respected and admired. You are a lucky girl, Luca.”
“Father, he is old and I…”
“Enough! I will listen to no more arguments. You will marry Don Diego and that is final. You will travel with a duenna and a priest During the journey they will instruct you on your wifely duties. Don Diego will expect certain things of you,” he said evasively. “An army of seamstresses will work night and day to provide you with a wardrobe fit for the wife of an important man like Don Diego. You must understand that I am doing this because I love you, Luca. You will have a good life with Don Diego.”
Luca understood none of it. Why did she have to leave a place of peace and contentment to join a world torn asunder by strife and war? She wasn’t completely ignorant of worldly matters. She knew of the tenuous coexistence between England and Spain and had heard about the simmering cauldron of political intrigue at the courts of Philip II of Spain and Elizabeth I of England. Visitors to the convent spoke in whispers about acts of piracy on the high seas. One name in particular made her shiver with dread whenever she heard it.
El Diablo. The Devil posing as an Englishman.
She shuddered, recalling the first time she’d heard the name. It had been several years ago. She’d overheard an overnight guest telling the abbess about the ruthless English privateer who attacked and sank Spanish galleons with almost manic obsession.
He’s probably grown rich as a king on Spanish plunder,
she reflected, recoiling in revulsion when she tried to picture the cruel pirate who attacked Spanish ships almost exclusively.
“Did you hear me, Luca?” Don Eduardo repeated impatiently. “Say your good-byes to the abbess and pack your belongings. We must leave immediately.”
Though twenty years old, Luca knew it would do little good to protest further. It was degrading to know that all aspects of her life were controlled by men. Her father, her two brothers, and now Don Diego, her betrothed. At least in the convent she had no one to answer to but God.
“I heard you, Father. Is there nothing I can say or do to change your mind?”
“No, daughter, I have your best interests at heart. With Don Diego you will have wealth and position. You will be the pampered wife of an important man. Do you not want children? Don Diego will give you children.”
Not until Don Eduardo mentioned children did Luca feel any degree of longing for the kind of life her father had just described. Children of her own would be wonderful, but her mind couldn’t picture Don Diego as their father. She had only seen him once. She had been ten years old, and even then he had seemed a stern older man, though he couldn’t have been more than twenty-five at the time.
“Very well Father,” Luca said dispiritedly. “Only know that my heart isn’t in this marriage.”
Aboard the
Santa Cruz
Bracing her feet on the pitching deck, Luca leaned into the wind, spindrift clinging to her ebony hair and stinging her luminous dark eyes. Her cheeks were blushing roses against the pale olive of her face, a charming result of the blustery wind. She’d been standing on the pitching deck for hours, staring moodily into the churning sea, wishing herself back at the convent, where life was serene and uncomplicated.
“Please return to the cabin, Luca. You must not catch a chill else Don Diego will be displeased with you, and with me for allowing it.”
Luca sent Donna Carlotta an exasperated look.
She liked her duenna well enough but thought her much too strict for one still young. Not much older man Luca, Donna Carlotta was a widow whom Don Eduardo had hired to act as duenna and traveling companion to Luca. Also accompanying her was the priest, Father Sebastian, who saw to her spiritual needs during the trip.
“I’m not cold, Carlotta. The wind is most invigorating.”
“I find it revolting,” Carlotta said. Her face had turned an unnatural shade of green, attesting to the seasickness she had suffered since boarding the ship at Cadiz. “I was hoping this wretched seasickness would pass after the first few weeks at sea, but it only gets worse.”
“Go back to the cabin, Carlotta, I am fine. I’m sure Father Sebastian will keep you company.”
“Si,
I will do mat, Luca. He can read to me from the good book. His voice is so soothing.”
Luca watched the woman stagger back to the large stern cabin they shared. She had to admit that Carlotta was a most pious and proper chaperon, but quite boring. As for Father Sebastian, the good priest was a stern disciplinarian who had been sent along to make sure Luca reached her betrothed as pure as the day she had left the convent Each day the priest set aside a time for religious instruction and prayer, which Luca enjoyed. She hoped that once Father Sebastian saw how devout she was, he’d help her avoid this marriage upon which her father was so set.
Staring morosely into the distant horizon, Luca thought she spotted a sail. Squinting her eyes against the glare of the sea, she spied it again, then watched it disappear below the horizon. When it did not reappear, she assumed it was an illusion and turned her eyes in another direction.
Aboard the
Avenger
“I see her, Captain. She’s a galleon, all right. Riding heavy in the water, she is. Probably loaded with plunder.”
Captain Morgan Scott trained his glass on the Spanish galleon just barely in his sights. He had spied her yesterday and had begun tracking her, keeping just far enough behind to avoid detection.
“You’re right, Mr. Crawford, she’s a big one. Probably carrying twenty or more cannon.”
“We can take her. Captain. They’re no match for the
Avenger.
Our men are seasoned fighters, itching for another go at the accursed Spaniards. Shall I prepare die men for battle?”
Morgan grinned in vengeful anticipation. “I agree, Mr. Crawford. Pass the word. Ready the ship for battle and distribute arms. Order the gunners to their posts. This time for El Diablo to take another prize.”
“Aye, aye, Captain. We’ll show those Spanish bastards what the
Avenger
is capable of.”
Aboard the
Santa Cruz
Inside her cabin aboard the
Santa Cruz,
Luca knelt beside Father Sebastian, fervently reciting prayers as the exchange of cannon fire exploded around them with a deafening roar. Captain Ortega had sighted the English pirate ship at dawn. As the day progressed it had closed the distance between them, until it came within cannon range. Riding heavy in the water, the
Santa Cruz
was no match for the swifter, lighter
Avenger.
When the shelling began, Luca could only imagine the terrible carnage to be visited on them by the pirate ship.
At the first hint of trouble. Father Sebastian had fallen to his knees in prayer, exhorting Luca and Carlotta to join him. But it seemed as if God was deaf to their entreaties, as the battle on deck continued unabated. After countless prayers, Luca could stand it no longer—she had to find out what was happening. She rose shakily from her knees and approached the door. Cracking it open, she peered outside. She spied Captain Ortega standing on the bridge amid the wreckage of his ship, and she stepped out onto the deck, determined to find out what their chances were of escaping the pirate ship.
“Luaca, where are you going?” Carlotta’s voice rose on a note of panic.
“To speak with the captain. I can’t stay here and do nothing, wondering what’s going to happen to us.”
“You are doing something, child,” Father Sebastian chided. “You’re praying for a miracle.”
“I’ll be right back,” Luca said, unmoved by the priest’s words as she closed the cabin door firmly behind her. Flames and soot shot up from various places on the tilting deck, and noise from the roaring cannon was nearly deafening as she dodged debris and bodies to reach the captain.
Suddenly a cannonball from the
Avenger
ripped across the deck, slamming into the magazine located next to the cabin where Carlotta and Father Sebastian knelt in prayer. The resulting explosion sent Luca frying across the deck. Picking herself up, she cried out in genuine alarm and raced back to the shattered cabin. The door hung askew on broken hinges and she forced it open, throwing aside smoldering wood and rubble until she found the bodies of her two traveling companions amid the wreckage.
“Captain, help me!” she cried as she tried to find a spark of life in Carlotta’s limp body.
But Captain Ortega had problems of his own. The
Avenger
was closing in fast and his ship was sinking. He could see the pirates preparing grappling hooks and boarding planks and knew that he, his crew, and his passengers faced certain death.
To Luca’s horror, Carlotta was beyond human help. Luca turned her attention to the priest. He still breathed, but barely. The rise and fall of his chest was so ragged that Luca feared his death was imminent.
Father Sebastian opened his eyes and saw Luca bending over him. He knew he had little time left on this earth but he was at peace with himself; he had devoted his entire life to preparing to meet God. His last few moments were spent in fear over Luca’s fate. Her father had entrusted her into his care, and he prayed for enough time to impart important words of advice to her before death claimed him.
“The enemy, they are boarding?” he asked, his eyes already glazing over.
“Si, Padre,”
Luca said sadly. “Captain Ortega never had a chance.”
“Listen carefully, child, for I have little time left.” Luca bent close to hear Father Sebastian’s dying words. “You must not let the pirates defile you. Choose death over dishonor. In time you will be ransomed, but only after you have been violated ruthlessly. You will lack the innocence Don Diego demands of his wife and the mother of his children, and unfortunately you will no longer be suited for a holy life among the pious at the convent With my dying breath I implore you to think carefully, then do what your conscience demands.”
Luca stared at him, aghast. “You would have me kill myself,
Padre
?”
Father Sebastian was beyond answering as he slipped serenely into death, but Luca knew that was exactly what he thought she should do.
Luca rose unsteadily to her feet suddenly aware of the acrid stench of smoke and blood and of the fierce battle being waged between her countrymen and the English pirates. The ship was burning, listing to the starboard and in danger of sinking, yet Luca stood amid die smoldering shambles of the cabin with two dead bodies at her feet, unable to kill herself as Father Sebastian hinted. Had she not left the cabin when she had, she would have joined diem in eternal rest.
Abruptly the terrible noise of battle subsided, and she heard the deep booming voice of an Englishman demanding surrender. Then she heard a name that sent chills down her spine. His name came to her on the smoke-filled winds of fear and dread, passed from mouth to mouth. El Diablo. Moments later that same deep voice ordered the ship searched for plunder, and Luca knew that she had little time left in which to make a choice between death or ravishment by the ruthless El Diablo. Neither choice was palatable. Fingering the small eating dagger she wore at her waist, she contemplated suicide. Two quick slashes across her wrists, and her life’s blood would drain from her body before the pirates found her.
And yet… wasn’t death the coward’s way out? It had taken the nuns at the convent years to tame Luca’s fiery disposition and subjugate her to their will, but it took only ten seconds for her to regain the stubborn pride and willfulness that her father had despaired of when she was a child. Had Don Eduardo seen her now, her eyes blazing defiantly, her expression neither meek nor submissive, his belief that Luca was not meant for a religious life would have been justified.
“I will not kill myself,” Luca declared bravely, “nor will I submit to filmy pirates.” Though her words were courageous, she had no adequate weapon save her small knife with which to defend herself, so she turned her thoughts in another direction.
Spying her trunk lying amid the debris of the cabin, she recalled that she had packed her gray nun’s habit. She had foolishly thought that during the journey she could impress Father Sebastian with her piety and convince him how wrong it was to force her into a marriage, when what she really wanted was to spend her life serving God. But the priest had brushed aside her protests and adamantly refused to petition Don Eduardo on her behalf. He had been engaged by Luca’s father to safely deliver Luca to her fiancé and see that she was properly wed, and he was a man of his word.