* * *
Damn, Kitty thought. They had weighed anchor in the port of La Coruna, and now she sat beside Rafe, a heavy wool greatcoat draped about her shoulders as they rowed for the city’s piers.
The voyage into port had been like nothing Kitty had ever known. The seas beneath them had been rough with the influx of tide, and the ship had made the most of a powerful tail wind as well to drive them along their course. El Verdad had rocked on her streamlined keel, pitching violently from side to side as she tacked and skirted around treacherous shoals and cragged rock protrusions that ravaged the coastline. Kitty had been frightened, even though she had said nothing, and she suspected that, in spite of a cool exterior, Rafe had been anxious, as well. They had sat together on the bench by the stern windows, and he had done his best to distract her by playing his guitar, but the heaving motion of the ship often left his fingers stumbling over chords, his voice cut short in mid-stanza of song.
They had arrived safely, and at last, the ship had settled around them as they had anchored in the deep waters of the port. Both Kitty and Rafe had heaved audible sighs of relief as they heard the heavy clatter of the anchor chains being released, and as the ship finally grew still beneath them.
But now they were on their way ashore, and from there, to a blacksmith. Damn, Kitty thought again.How can I prevent this?
The chains binding her to Rafe were the only hope she had of saving her father. Without them, Rafe would not be forced into her company. He would be able to resume his rightful duties as the ship’s captain once they were underway for Lisbon once more.
And then he will still try to kill my father, she thought. His horrible brother will not let him abandon it.
“La Coruna is an ancient city,” Rafe remarked from beside her on the skiff bench. “It was an important shipping port in the Roman Empire. There is a lighthouse still standing here that the Romans built called la torre de Hercules―the Tower of Hercules.”
“It sounds like you know it well,” Kitty said. “Have you been here before?”
Rafe was quiet for a moment. “A time or two,” he said at length, and Kitty had no accounting for the somewhat uncomfortable edge to his voice.
They reached the docks, and Rafe held Kitty’s hands in his own, helping her clamber from the boat and onto the pier. He drew his arm around her and held her closely, ushering her in swift tow. One of his crewmen―Claudio, the older boatswain with whom Rafe seemed very close―hired a hansom for them, and they were off.
The smithy smelled terribly; a foul and acrid mix of coal soot, smoke, metal and sweat that assaulted Kitty’s nose when they drew within a block of it. It was loud; a cacophonous din of banging, clattering, hissing, grunting and shouting that came at her from all directions, leaving her disoriented and shied fiercely against Rafe’s side as he led her inside. The air beneath the smithy eaves felt thick and choked with heat.
What am I going to do? she thought desperately, as she listened to Rafe speaking with his boatswain, Claudio and the blacksmith in rapid Spanish. Once the chains are cut, it is over. Rafe is going to go after Daddy, and I do not think I will be able to prevent him.
Her only hope was to remain chained to his side, and she knew it. He had begun to soften toward her in the few brief days of their predicament; she knew he had. And maybe it had only been her imagination, but she felt certain that there had been more to it than even this. She thought of his kisses, his caresses; these had never been repeated, but there had been yesterday, when he had touched her face with seeming tenderness and told her she looked beautiful. Maybe she had imagined it, and maybe she had not, but she thought maybe Rafe was growing fond of her.
And maybe I do not mind for that.
“He says he can make short work of it,” Rafe told Kitty, leaning close, his nose brushing against her ear as he tried to make himself heard over the smithy’s clamor. “He will have to heat the chain in the coals, and then he can batter the links apart. The cuffs will have to keep for now, I’m afraid, but a good locksmith can surely make short work of it for you back in England.”
I have to stop this, Kitty thought. I have to stop you, Rafe.
Rafe led her toward the blacksmith’s coal bed. She could feel the blazing heat pressing against her, and she shied anxiously. “It is alright,” Rafe said to her, again leaning near to speak almost directly against her ear. “I will not let any harm come to you, Kitty.”
“I know you will not,” she whispered, and in that moment’s realization, a plan flew together in her mind.
She extended her hand at Rafe’s guiding tug, but as she felt the tremendous heat of the red-hot coals beneath her as the blacksmith positioned the chain where it would heat the best in the least amount of time, she tried to draw back. “It is too hot.”
“It will only be for a few moments,” Rafe said gently, trying to ease her hand forward. She let him until the heat of the coals again stung her skin.
“Rafe, stop,” she whimpered, pulling her hand away. “It is too hot. It is burning me.”
She felt his hand against hers, the chain between them slackening. “Kitty,” he began, trying once more to coax her hand over the coals. “The chains have to be heated. There is no other way to break them.”
“It burns!” she cried, tugging against him. “It is burning my arm, Rafe! I am sorry, but it is too hot. It is burning me and I…I am sorry…!”
She clapped her free hand over her eyes. She uttered a loud gasp and pretended to burst into tears. Immediately, she felt Rafe draw her away from the heat of the coal bank. He stepped against her, drawing her near, embracing her.
“Please, Rafe,” she cried against his sleeve. “I…I know it is the only way, but I…I just cannot…!”
“It is alright,” he whispered, sounding anguished. Kitty felt ashamed of herself, but pleased all at the same time. It had worked, then, or so she hoped. When the blacksmith said something in exasperated Spanish and Rafe answered him sharply enough to stave any further comment, she knew indeed that her plan had worked.
“We will find another way,” Rafe told her, his breath and voice soft against her ear. He began to lead her away, holding her tucked against him as he turned to leave the smithy. He called out to his boatswain to follow, and within moments, Kitty felt the blessed coolness of fresh air beyond the humid confines of the smithy.
“I am sorry,” she said again.
“I am the one who is sorry, Kitty,” Rafe said, and he sighed heavily. “What was I thinking to bring you here?”
What began as a long, weary exhalation drew abruptly short, and Kitty came to an obliging and unexpected standstill as Rafe stopped in midstride, his posture stiffening, his entire body growing rigid.
“Rafe?” she said.
“Madre de Dios,” he whispered. He said this often enough that she didn’t need a translation. Mother of God.
“What?” she asked, knowing he had seen something in the crowd ahead of them, something that had filled his voice with sudden, apparent dread. “What is it?”
“Here you are at last!” she heard his brother, Cristobal, exclaim. She had neither seen nor heard him since the heated argument he had had with Rafe, and had not realized that he had come ashore with them. Yet there he was, his voice inexplicably infused with unflappable good cheer. “Rafe, look who I have found! What a surprise!”
“Rafe Serrano Beltran, hello,” she heard a woman say, a deep, sultry, melodic voice that rose above the din of the crowd around them in a distinctive, resonant purr. It was a beautiful voice, the audible equivalent of silk, as rich to Kitty’s ears as fresh cream, as delicate and lovely as dew-dappled rose petals in a pre-dawn garden.
“It has been far too long, my darling,” the woman said, and there was a rustle of fabric immediately in front of Kitty and the sudden, sweet fragrance of floral sachet as the woman pressed herself against Rafe in a fond, lingering embrace. Kitty heard the soft brush of the woman’s lips against Rafe’s skin as she offered him a buss. ??
?I have missed you so.”
It did not take a scholar to know who the woman was, but still the same, Kitty felt her heart sink in dismay when Rafe spoke.
“Isabel,” he said, sounding strained and somewhat at a loss for breath. “Why, I…I just…it is lovely to see you again, too.”