Caribbean Reign Ch. 25-26

Warning: This chapter is a major spoiler zone, so if you are interested in the story of our enslaved heiress and her handsome but cruel master, I REALLY recommend you start reading from the beginning!

Chapter 25: A Gentleman's Pact - Catherine's Perspective

His syllables hit like the thud of a beaten carpet.

"Rafael?"

I spot him from over the hill. He has chosen his most diplomatic navy jacket and a somber expression. A twisted part of me craves the splintering rage, the all-consuming pride of a defeated villain, but there is none in the man who stands before me. He is eager. Sincere. A man who believes that redemption can be found in my smile. That is what sickens me most.

"Catherine, I am overjoyed to see you. I- " He reaches for my hand.

I recoil.

For the briefest of moments, I had actually been enjoying Benjamin's company. Once beyond his overflowing prose, Benjamin seems to be an excellent listener. In time, I truly believe that we could become fond of each other. Between thin slices of cheese and warm bread, my future was beginning to feel bearable.

The viscount will not take that from me, too.

"Allow me to stop you before you embarrass yourself further. You and I have no business together."

He is the last person I want to see right now. As usual, he is the very source of my pain, the urgency behind my covert meetings. How am I to make a new life for myself while my tormentor persists?

Benjamin appears in the distance, clutching my purse.

"My love," he says, examining the stranger, "Is this gentleman bothering you?"

The viscount is less than pleased.

"This is who you're marrying? Catherine, you can't be serious. The man looks like an overstretched doll."

I cannot promise that I have not had thoughts of the same affect. Yet, coming from his mouth it feels increasingly unkind. All sounds of remorse have fled his lips.

"Rafael, just go. We will all be the better for it."

He straightens. "I cannot. There are important things left unsaid between us."

Benjamin cuts in, "If the lady does not appreciate your presence, then you best be on your way." His hand lingers at the filigree hilt at his waist.

"Or what?" says Rafael. "Will you defend these French lands, monsieur?"

"With great honor," Benjamin replies.

The viscount's fingers knot around his own scabbard. Any hope of de-escalation dies with these two idiots.

Without further warning, two rapiers are thrust into the light. The viscount takes a step forward, and Benjamin promptly levels his weapon. With a sharp clang, Rafael flicks it away. The blade rears back like an injured animal.

The viscount laughs coldly, "If it comes to blows, I warn you that you'll be at an even greater disadvantage."

"I believe, señor, that you are the one who has already spent his advantage."

In the next breath, Benjamin rushes toward him, blond hair spraying in the breeze, his legs surprisingly nimble.

For once in his life, the viscount attempts a more defensive approach. He digs his heels into the ground and bats away Benjamin's advances with even greater vigor. They continue thrashing past me, Benjamin slowly pushing Rafael towards lower ground.

It takes but a single missed parry before the viscount is nipped at the elbow. His jacket splits, but its dark color hides any trace of blood.

"Very well," says Rafael, teeth clenched. He pounces on my fiancé with renewed vigor, drawing Benjamin closer before immediately crowding his space. Benjamin panics and surrenders critical distance.

Rafael's superior training has started to outwit his arrogance. If anything, this minor injury adds fuel to the fire. At least, Benjamin has the good sense to flee back toward higher ground. I drag my skirts through the grass to keep up with them.

"Please, cease this madness," I say. Both of them are too damned pig-headed to hear anything above the blood rushing past their ears.

There is only one acceptable outcome to all of this. My family's enemy and my captor slain by a good and noble man, my soon-to-be husband. Unfortunately, this is not the most likely outcome. Benjamin winces as Rafael's blade brushes his inner thigh. Impressed as I am with Benjamin's resourcefulness, Rafael has a hunger for victory that surpasses almost all other things. He rapidly advances, each time more certain of his striking distance. He cannot be held off for much longer.

Benjamin lurches backward to avoid a particularly close swipe. He loses his footing, and the weapon is knocked easily from his hands. The viscount grins and kicks the rapier away.

"Do you surrender?" he says, his pointed tip touching Benjamin's collar.

Benjamin glances over at me, "Never to you, brute."

I sigh. The fool is going to get himself killed. Then, what would become of me?

Another round of portraits sent out to good families. Another gentleman romancing my parents. My ailment will be far too developed by the time I should have the pleasure of his acquaintance. It must be Benjamin. In both sonnet and action, what other soul could be half as devoted?

As the viscount deliberates on his killing blow, I unstrap the pistol from under my skirts. My birthday gift from Papa. It was intended for the occasion that my loyal fiancé was unable to protect me from the world's dangers.

I fear that this shall be the case more often than not. I fire the weapon in the air.

"This is over," I declare with the barrel. "Get up, the two of you."

Benjamin scrambles to his feet, and rushes to my side, recognizing the extraordinarily thin patience of a woman with a gun.

Of course, the viscount knows no such wisdom.

"I wouldn't have skinned him. I came here to apologize," he says, brushing off the dirt that has accumulated on his jacket during the fight. "Catherine, I have wronged you, but my steward wronged us both. I assure you that he has met justice."

"And you? What justice can there be for the viscount?" Anger makes its way into my fingers. I rage back and forth, the pistol trembling under my grasp. The two men look on nervously.

Good, let them worry about their own safety for once.

"Why are you here, Rafael? Next week, Benjamin and I shall wed, and my life shall continue as if I never had encountered you."

The look in his eyes has changed. It is not arrogance or witty rebuttal.

He withdraws, "If that's truly what you want, then you at least deserve my apologies."

I point the weapon squarely at him. "Your apologies? I want your head on a platter."

Do I carry the strength to truly put this behind me? The viscount was my captor and I, his captive. Nothing more. Unladylike as it may be to off one's enemies, his death would be celebrated by my kinsmen. And I would have every reason for the offense.

Still, my fingers resist the cool smoothness of the trigger. I am unable to fire.

He drops to one knee. "Please, let me show you how sorry I am."

I press the barrel into his chest, and his eyes go wide. "You have shown me everything there possibly is to know about you. And now I carry it on my flesh."

There is no need to pull up my skirts, to revisit the burned edges. More than one symbol of our time together awaits Benjamin on his wedding night.

"I - I only want you to be happy."

Even with my gun to his ribcage, he has managed to wound me.

"Happy? Did you want me to be happy when you chained me up in your cellar and told me that no man would ever want me? What does it matter, whether I am happy or miserable or destitute? I am the enemy."

There is nothing to purchase with his bloodshed. I lower the pistol. "Congratulations, you have slain me. Take whatever prize is left to claim."

He pauses, "Catherine, I love you."

How dare he.

I'd rip the very earth out of the ground if I could. Never once did I ask to feel anything for my handsome master, he forced it out of me. He forced me into imported gowns and out of them at his convenience. He put himself inside me and ruined every last beautiful pleasure. All the while, it meant nothing to him because of my name, be it Ana or Catherine. His treacherous words cannot mean anything to me.

"Your Excellency, I will say this only once more. I never want to see you again. Now, go."

I wave the pistol unenthusiastically and turn around. He is silent.

Benjamin brings the viscount his horse, both to ensure that he'll leave us be and to enjoy a partial victory. I breathe once the sound of hooves fades. Salt stings my vision. I cannot prevent quiet tears from running down my nose.

Benjamin puts his hand on my shoulder. Surely, he can no longer rationalize the strange relationship I appear to have with the viscount. My prior sins must be apparent.

"Catherine, I have something to confess," he says.

I inhale slowly. A good man deserves the truth, not some half-cooked story about a nautical kidnapping.

"Me too. Benjamin, I -"

He cuts me off, "I am a homosexual."

I blink twice. In all of my vanity, I had simply assumed he was an incompetent lover. Uninterested merely due to an uninteresting disposition. Not a lover of men.

I cough, "Perhaps that would have been prudent to mention before we got engaged." It's hardly tactful, but there are no easy words to traverse this situation.

Benjamin laughs, "I could say the same to you. You never mentioned your love affair with your family's longstanding rival."

He pauses, "You love him, don't you?"

My heart tightens with flashes of the viscount grazing my spine with his lips. His laughter after landing a particularly preposterous touch behind my elbow. The thunderous rocking of the Joaquina. A warm cup of tea after my first drought of bubbly liquid. And yet, I also remember his boot shoved between my knees after hours spent alone and afraid. The humiliation of being dragged naked in front of not only his staff but the entirety of his court. His silence, so many times after I pleaded for his compassion.

Damn him for coming here. That which is dead cannot be brought back to life.

"Benjamin, I could never -"

"It's quite alright." He puts his hand on my shoulder, almost fatherly. I was so quick to judge him when I'm not sure that even I deserve him. The truth may ruin everything, but he has a right to know.

I remove his hand. "Benjamin, I'm afraid it's not alright. I'm carrying his child."

The illness has descended upon me, wave after wave. Nausea, headaches, a bump underneath my corset. I was praying that Isabel, the resourceful woman that she is, would have some remedy. A special tea, a witch doctor - anything. Even someone to talk to would have been nice. Someone to share in the terror and help me figure out how to give birth to a bastard in secret. After that, I'd only have to figure out how to dispose of it. And yet, to abandon the thing seems so cruel, no matter how the child was conceived. I try to dismiss my developing sentiment for the little swell as the weakness of my sex. For as long as I carry his seed, we are linked.

I give Benjamin a moment to collect his thoughts. An unwed mother is perhaps the least marriageable of all. Even if I concealed the truth, the secret would soon be displayed on my body.

"We shall work it out," he declares. "Even if I don't get on with the father, I will see this through. You have my word."

I throw my arms around him. More tears stream down my face. We are two undesirables fated for each other.

Chapter 26: Reckless Schemes -- Rafael's Perspective

The rain returns. First in small droplets that pelt my cheeks. Then in large, fat ones, slickening my coat, finding their way into my new wound. It takes a steady hand to calm Centurion. The road in front of us becomes less certain. The trees are too weighed down to hold anything back.

I guide my horse mechanically.

Left. Right. Straight through a puddle.

The spoiled water soaks my kneecaps, paving the way for an especially damp ride home. What does it matter? Would I even notice if I fell asunder the hooves of my beast? A live trampling would be preferable to that deadened look in her eyes.

Isabel would say that I am experiencing rejection for the first time. I tug on the reins as we cross onto the estate.

No, this isn't an affair with some silly chambermaid. I meant what I said. I love her, and now she can't even bear to look at me.

Centurion slows to a trot once we reach the manor. A stable hand takes his reigns to bring him in for the night. He's a good boy who has done his job well. It is I who has failed to maintain his end of the bargain. I dismount onto the wet ground, the mud splashes all over.

She's right. I deserve it.

There is no justice for the viscount of San Miguel. His majesty, Felipe, is concerned only with what my family brings to his coffers. What I do with my slaves is my own business; what I do to the French is probably not cruel enough. And yet, I can't shake the feeling that I ought to be horsewhipped as soundly as Sebastián should have been.

Of course, that isn't feasible. I am still vizconde. My subjects need to respect me. I can show no weakness towards the Guînes family, especially not more than I already have. A miserable, lonely life must be penance enough.

I dredge my boots toward the entrance.

Isabel throws open the door at the first sound of my step. Within seconds, her dress is doused by the backsplash of the downpour. Rain has never cooled her spirits.

"How did it go?" she demands.

I push past her toward the drawing room. Someone else will have to clean up the mess.

"Isabel, I'm not in the mood."

My sister is persistent. "You did not confiscate my private mail and go on some half-baked adventure for me to not hear about it. What did she say?"

"Catherine never wants to see me again. That's the end of it. I've done enough to hurt her."

I sink into one of the armchairs. The fabric soaks on contact.

"That girl was the only one who could ever make you see sense. Does she seem pleased with her choice in husband?"

"He defended her honor well. Left me this." I present my arm and pull up the sleeve.

Isabel brushes her fingers over the long, agitated cut. The wound was shallow enough, but the hours of dampness have caused the flesh around it to swell. A far greater wound is the image of Benjamin standing in front of Catherine as her protector.

Isabel clucks to herself. "It sounds like she picked a real firecracker. Landed a serious blow on the great Rafael de Navarro y de Silva."

I groan, "Remind me never to bring a field slave into the house again."

I slump over the armrest. "Isa, I loved her, and I ruined it."

"Royally." She crosses her arms. "So, what are you going to do about it?"

"I will do as she commanded. Stay out of her way. Pay my penance."

Her hand smacks my good arm. "The very idea of it could make a stuffed bird laugh. Two weeks and you'll be up to the neck with Marisa, Maria, and Marisol. If you've learned anything from Father, you would know that irresponsible bachelorhood isn't penance."

She steps aside for a moment to think.

"Rafa, this is love we're talking about. Surely, you have wronged her in ways that upset my constitution, but love doesn't just vanish. How dare you let this be the first time you listen to anyone else?"

She slaps my bad arm.

I recoil, "First, you want me to leave Catherine alone, and now you want me to galivant in and demand her hand in marriage?"

She raises her hands in defense, "Slow down, I never said anything nearly that specific. But yes, even though you've been absolutely terrible to this girl, anyone can see that you love her. And I believe she loves you, too. Even if you are a tyrannical, arrogant ass, the two of you are made for each other."

I stand and begin pacing about the room.

Could my sister truly be on my side for once? That alone had to mean something. If all her meddling ultimately has some divine purpose, please let her be right about this. And yet, to go to Catherine, again, without a plan would be foolishness. Lavish gifts will only make her feel as if I am trying to buy her forgiveness. My word no longer has any meaning to her. I cannot court her with pretty sonnets or heartfelt apologies.

Justice. Catherine wants justice.

If I come to her wedding unarmed, she'll have no choice but to judge me. I'll throw myself at her feet, and through such a foolhardy risk, she'll see how terribly sorry I am. There is, of course, the unfortunate possibility that her family will have me killed. It's not every day that the Guînes family has a vulnerable royal Spaniard in their midst. But the danger will prove my love. A danger I embark on willingly for nothing but her heart. There is no valley I would not cross for Catherine's love, no mountain I would not climb to feel the sun on my face once more.

"So, if I wanted to attend this wedding, how would I go about that? The Guînes family will undoubtedly be on high alert, guards at every perimeter, a crowd several plots thick. I haven't the faintest when the event will even take place."

"Lucky for you, I happen to have an invitation."

She loosens a folded piece of paper from her stays. Official stationery, gilded with the wide calligraphy of wedding script. "You haven't intercepted all my mail."

I pick her up and spin her in a circle. "My incredible sister. A genius among men."

"Just don't get too ahead of yourself. She might not come back with you. Even if she doesn't marry Benjamin, she is permitted to say no."

"Yes, of course. Should you think they'll recognize me as the viscount?"

"The mercenaries? I doubt it. You didn't recognize her."

I kiss Isabel's forehead.

This is a half-baked plan that endangers years of planning for San Miguel's future, but a man can only take so much heartbreak. I think I'd prefer anything to the slogging depression I felt on the way home. If this is to be the end of my reign, then so be it. If I can't have her love, at least I'll give her the justice she demands.

As long as I manage not to get killed first.

***

Thank you, dear readers, for enduring yet another plot heavy installment. Our characters have a lot of emotions to process, but quite a few steamy developments will come to a head in the next chapter. At least, I rest content in the knowledge that the commenters who have been begging for Catherine to be impregnated from Day 1 have finally got their wish.