Winds of Fate [Books IV - VI]

*Interlude: Mi Amor y Mi Vida (Part Two)

Content Warning: *Mild mature content ahead

Bang!

The window pane slams after Theresa struggles to pull it up. He rushes there and helps her keep it upright with a stick. Moonlight floods the meager cabin; no more than an extra patch of wood divided from the rest of the building, and finds a humble bed with a blanket on it, her satchel by its feet, and a washbowl and towel seated on chair.

His apple bobbed painfully in his throat.

"It's not safe to cross the bridge at night. The Guadalquivir is stronger," Theresa explains, probably a last second change of mind. "And... ruffians might be around."

"I can deal with them."

"Not without your saber?"

"Paquito gave me a dagger..." Anton squirms, touching the soft leather sheath strapped about his leg. "But, yeah... daggers are crude. I hate having to use them." When her eyes widen, he balks. "Not that I have! I have never killed, not even with my saber. Gracias a Dios."

"What were you even doing out on sea?" Theresa smiles and beats down the poor blanket. "All I know is that you are not part of the Navy."

"No." He coughs nervously.

She beams. "The maids talk about it all the time."

Anton blinks fast. Of course, he has assumed that, but to hear confirmation of those whispers amuses him. "I do hope I have worthwhile adventures in their gossips?"

"They say you might be a spy."

"A sp-hahaha!" He snorts, chuckling so carefree that even Theresa laughs a little at the ridiculous notion. "Sadly, no. I joined a trade ship. Briefly, I tried the privateers, but what they have to do... I don't like it."

"There were battles?"

"Most assuredly for any sailor, amor." He sighs softly. "It'd be a surprise not to encounter one. Pirates or the English, I've crossed paths with th—"

"You never speak of that." Theresa embraces herself and looks him over, probably seeking traces of those battles. Her forehead scrunched, she shakes her head. "It seems... as if once you step on land, you're a different man."

"Erm..." Anton shrugs. "My life..." He sighs. "Well, it was never meant to be simple."

Theresa sadly nods. "But it does fit you." When he points at himself in disbelief, she laughs. "You're a thousandfold better than many princes."

"Oh?" Hot blush wells on his cheeks, and when he looks up, his eyes widen to find she hides the same, but her pale face doesn't permit her.

She blooms like the rose in her hair, as she whispers, "And you're very handsome whenever you return from your voyage."

Oh. Anton cannot reply to that, however. All his insides have melted into a puddle. "I... gracias." He smiles like a fool, swaying away with his hands in his pockets. "Being on a ship is hard work."

"You feel alive?" She dares, crossing a leg over the other that his throat dries up at a glimpse of that porcelain-white thigh and knee.

Theresa laughs.

Anton wipes his face with a hand. "I do." He frowns. "But I admit I feel more alive now than..."

"Maybe you like working with your hands..."

He very nearly purrs when she leaves the bed and walks close, and closer, those hips never losing their elegant sway. Theresa raises a brow, but then, she doesn't make fun of it anymore. She looks down and takes his hand.