DOGS. Legacy Saga II

27

Castillano made sure Alma would put Juan Martin to sleep that night. Alone in his room, he opened the window and sat on his bed, face to the garden, fully dressed. Bells tolled to ten and eleven while he waited there. He'd slid to sat on the rug, his back against the bed, to keep the higher branches of the tamarind tree in sight. But they didn't shake, revealing his child's swift, nimble moves. He crossed his ankles and his hands, resting back his head with a heartfelt sigh. His child? A sad grimace touched his lips. Yes. She would always be a child for him. The beautiful child with her raven hair floating in the sea wind, the waves shining in those astonishing black eyes, the sun caressing her velvet skin.

And in a way she'd always be his. Even if his lips had never navigated further than her swan neck and toned shoulders. Even if his hands had only slipped occasionally by her collar, not allowed to linger there. He felt his fingertips tingle. She would always be his because he'd taught her desire. And because she loved him. And that certainty had become the only true, solid, real thing among the smoking ruins left of what once had been his life. Even if he didn't have much time left, that feeling would nest in his chest for as long as his heart beat.

When the bells tolled to midnight, he went out the window and up to the tamarind tree. Marina's window was open, and her room was dark, as if she were about to come down. He took a quick walk around the garden, but didn't find her. Back under the tamarind tree, he cursed under his breath to remember who he was and grabbed the lower branches to lift his legs.

Her room was empty. All of a sudden, a terrible doubt assaulted him: had she left? Was that the reason why she'd summoned the pirates to the house that afternoon? Maybe by then she was far, far away from there, on her legendary ship, the wind loading the sails that would take her away from him forever. While he was waiting for her in his room like an idiot! Like a shy damsel! Him! Darn moron!

He stood in the middle of the room, trying to get a grip on himself and on his sudden distress. He didn't mind if his days were counted, he wanted to spend them with her. He didn't want to die away from her. Around him, Marina's things were in place. But he knew she would leave it all behind when the time came to depart.

He scampered to the upper-floor hall and went to Dolores' room. Another door wide open. Another dark and empty room. He put his hands together by his mouth, as if he were praying, feeling a dark despair take him over.

He went back to Marina's room and closed the door. He looked around again, his eyes blinded by the night and his worst fears. He could only sit on his old bed, that seemed to be custom-made for her. He lay down with his back to the open window and folded his arms against his chest, where cold welled. He closed his eyes against the pillow that smelled of Marina's hair and clenched his teeth, struggling to swallow the hurt choking him. He couldn't help falling asleep, lost in the awful conviction that Marina was gone. She'd left him for good, without even saying goodbye.

Behind him, at the corner two steps away from the window, a shadow appeared noiselessly.

Alma and Dolores had gotten lost in speculations about Segovia's sudden absence, suspecting it wasn't due to work, but to another message about the Inquisition's intentions. Maybe this time they'd mentioned Dolores, and he didn't want to be seen with her. Marina hated speculation, so she'd left the two women to go up to her room.

About to go out her window to see Castillano, she'd hesitated. How would he treat her? Would he still be sarcastic and pettish with her? Full of fear for him, she didn't feel like facing his incredulity and his indifference. So she'd sat in that corner near the window, wrapped in the wide black shawl she'd bought that morning in the market. Tears had erased any will to meet with him. She'd remained there, her arms around her knees to hide her face as she cried quietly.

And then he'd stormed in through the window without seeing her. And before Marina could wipe her tears to stand up and face him, he'd gone out to the hall, to come back a moment later and lay down on her bed, not even glancing at the corner from where Marina watched him puzzled.

She wondered what to do. Until a shaky sigh told her that, against any logic, Castillano had fallen asleep right there, in her room, in her bed, fully dressed, while a soldier kept the door to his empty room downstairs.

Marina decided she was sick and tired of pride games. She tiptoed to the bed and lay down close to his back. He didn't notice. She rested a hand on his arm but he didn't wake up. Yet she felt his skin cold even through his shirt. So she opened her shawl, got even closer to him and rounded his chest with her arm to cover him. She stuck to his back, rested her cheek against his shoulder and closed her eyes.

Castillano woke up an hour before sunrise, confused. He felt the warm fabric covering him. And the arm holding it in place over his shoulder and arm. The relaxed hand rested on his own chest. He allowed himself a moment of gratitude, kissed Marina's hand and felt her move behind him. A smile curled up his lips. He tried to roll over without waking her up, but when he faced her, he found her black eyes through her long eyelashes, and a mild smile pursing her lips. He sought them out before even thinking about it.

Marina broke the kiss soon, still sleepy.

"Where were you?" he whispered, stretching his arm for her to rest on his shoulder as if it were the most comfortable pillow ever.

He saw the finger pointing at the corner. Marina had closed her eyes again, cuddling against his side, her arm across his chest, the shawl covering them both.

"I thought you were gone," he murmured, his lips against her skin.

She frowned and scratched her forehead, the spot his mouth had stroked. "You wish you were so lucky," she mumbled. "Don't stay long. They could see you."

He smiled, his other arm circling her. "Yes, darling."

Marina was already back to sleep. He didn't close his eyes again.