Cybele's Secret - Juliet Marillier - Cybele's Secret

“You look fine, Paula,” Father said, setting his hands on my shoulders and kissing me gently on the cheek. “Go on now.”

Well, Duarte had seen me grimy and sweaty with my clothing in rags, so perhaps it didn’t matter. Now he greeted me with a smile, exchanged courteous words with my father, then followed me up the steps to the gallery, where we seated ourselves at the little table. I wished I had brought something to occupy my hands. I clutched them together in my lap and cleared my throat.

“Father told me about yesterday,” I said awkwardly. “I was…surprised. Very surprised.”

Duarte had dressed for the occasion. His shirt was of pristine linen, his tunic and trousers of finest wool in the light blue-gray he seemed to favor. His boots were buffed to a shine. Around his neck he wore my red scarf. I considered the aristocratic features, the mischievous dark eyes, the glossy black hair caught neatly back with a ribbon. The upright, athletic body. I tried to imagine being his wife. “To be honest,” I added, “you’ve never struck me as the marrying kind of man.”

“Up until recently, I was not,” he said, and I heard the slight tremor in his voice. He was nervous, too. “Our recent journey, the pleasure we took in each other’s company, the way the whole ship came to life while we had you on board…these things have changed my mind on the issue. The fulfillment of my debt of honor has caused me to reassess the future. Master Teodor will have told you, no doubt, that I gave him an inventory of my personal resources and those of my family. I want you to know that I did so not because I believe the final decision will be made on the basis of my wealth but so that your father will be reassured that I can offer you a secure future.”

“I see,” I said, wondering if I should tell him there was no need to set such details out for me.

“Paula, you know what kind of man I am. My past conduct has not always been entirely ethical. My life is one of constant movement and change. The success of this mission will not alter that. I love the sea. I love the adventure of it, the opportunities it offers, the surprises and challenges.” He had risen to his feet now and was standing by the railing with his back to me, tapping his fingers against his leg.

“Duarte,” I said, “why don’t you sit down? We are friends, aren’t we?”

He seated himself on the very edge of a chair.

“Good,” I said. “I’ve got a question for you. That life you just described, the life of a seafarer—it doesn’t sound like a life that has much room in it for wives. I could never be the sort of woman who tended the hearth and kept everything in place for a husband who dropped in once or twice a year when he felt like it. That seems to me quite pointless; one might as well stay single and live one’s own life.”

Duarte smiled. I liked that smile; it reminded me of our conversations on the Esperança, the way we sparked each other off with lively banter, each seeking to outwit the other in our debates on every topic under the sun. I had enjoyed those times. Father was right; Duarte was my intellectual equal, a partner such as I might have great difficulty in finding within my limited circle back home in Transylvania. He was clever, witty, possessed of a quirky sense of humor. He was also courageous, strong, and resourceful, not to speak of his physical charms and his considerable wealth. Not so long ago, I would have considered him completely unsuitable to be my husband or indeed anyone else’s. But he had proven himself to be a different man from the unscrupulous pirate I had once believed him.

“That wasn’t what I had in mind,” Duarte said quietly. “Nobody could imagine that a woman like you would be satisfied with that role, the stay-at-home wife waiting patiently while her husband goes off on adventures at a whim. It was for that reason I decided, long ago, that I would not marry. Such a partnership would be too uneven, and the kind of woman who wanted it would not be the kind of woman to interest me.”

I could not work out where he was heading. Down in the courtyard, near the area where Father was working, I glimpsed a tall, dark-haired figure in a dolman, with knives stuck in his sash. Suddenly every nerve in my body was on edge.

“Of course, when I made that decision, I had not met you, Paula,” Duarte said. “And I confess, during our earlier encounters, I had very mixed feelings about you. But I have entirely reassessed those feelings. I found it difficult to say farewell to you down at the docks. Then it came to me—I thought, perhaps I need not do this. Why should we not go forward together, side by side, companions in an even greater adventure? I believe we would continue to surprise and delight each other and add spice and sweetness to each other’s life.”

Down in the courtyard, Stoyan was moving in and out of the storage room, talking to Father. He looked as if he hadn’t slept a wink. My heart did a strange kind of flip-flop, as if to remind me to be honest with myself.

“You know I admire you, Duarte,” I managed. “I have greatly enjoyed your company. The voyage, your determination to fulfill your debt of honor, the way you conducted yourself…I can’t fail to hold you in high regard after that.” I drew a deep breath, struggling to keep calm. It wouldn’t be fair to cut him off short; he was a friend, and I owed him respect. “You still haven’t really answered my question. If I accepted you, where would I fit into the future you have said you want, the future of voyages and adventures and discoveries?”

“I was hoping,” he said, coming closer and dropping to one knee beside me, “that you would share it with me, Paula. Be my partner on the Esperança, travel with me, share my adventures. We would make an invincible team. Together, we could achieve anything. And think what enjoyment we would have doing so. Paula, I don’t think I am wrong in interpreting your willingness to spend time in my company as perhaps indicating you feel more than friendship toward me. I know your father intends to sail for home tomorrow. We don’t have much time. Can you give me an answer?”

The han seemed suddenly hushed. My answer trembled on my lips, reluctant to become sound, for I valued Duarte’s friendship and I respected the honesty with which he had presented his proposal—while it had scarcely been romantic in nature, he had said it in plain words, not masked by empty compliments. I rose to my feet, moving to stand at the railing. “Please don’t kneel like that,” I said, feeling tears somewhere close. “You’re making me feel awkward. Come over here, take my hand.”

He knew, then, that I was going to say no. I saw it on his face as he moved closer and put his hands around mine.

“I can’t,” I said bluntly. “I have a high regard for you, Duarte, and if the circumstances were different, I would accept your offer gladly. But I can’t.”

“Just like that you refuse me? Will you not at least take a little time to consider this? We could…” His words trailed off as he met my gaze. “You mean it,” he said simply. “You won’t change your mind.”

“I’m sorry, Duarte.” Cheeks flaming, I tried not to glance down to the courtyard. “You’re a fine man, and it hurts me to cause you pain. But I know I could never love you the way I should.”

He shrugged, lifting his brows and giving me that sardonic little smile. It made me want to cry.

“Ah, well,” he said, “I can see it’s back to a life of piracy for me. So much for redemption through the love of a good woman. It’s time I was off. But first…” And before I could so much as draw breath, he swept me into his arms and kissed me full on the lips, not the cheeky, joking kind of kiss he had given me as I left the Esperança but a proper kiss of a sort I had never before experienced. It was lovely: passionate, tender, a little frightening. It was a kiss that said, This is what you’re giving up. This is what we might have had. He did not release me for a while. When at last he did so, it was to turn abruptly on his heel and head off down the steps without another word.