THE GOLDEN ROSE

Chapter 11 - The Ways of Love

La Quemada Ruins, New Spain - 1770

Clara woke up in Sebastaio's arms, cosy beneath the blankets, the warmth of the campfire sneaking over to wrap around them. She could feel the hardness of his muscles, the tickle of the hair on his chest and legs, the heat of his body, the sweetness of his breath. She thought of the things her friends had told her, and in her experience their descriptions had not done it justice. She had never felt anything like what she felt for this person. Not in her body, not in her heart and not in her soul. Still, although he had voiced his intention of taking her with him back to Portugal, which solved a lot of problems for her on one hand, and on the other brought her feelings of great happiness and excitement, he had not indicated in what capacity this would occur. Would he marry her then take her? Take her there and then marry her? Or did he not intend to marry her at all? Perhaps he would put her up in a house as his mistress or put her to work in his household? She had been innocent of the physical ways of men and women, but she was equally as naïve in the ways in which they interacted when it came to discussing such things. She didn't know how to address it, she didn't even know what the etiquette was.

All at once she felt the need to pull away from him. She wanted some time alone, but at the same time, she felt so safe and secure and cared for in his embrace that she never wanted to leave it.

"What do you ponder querida?" came the rumble of his voice in her ear.

"How did you know I am awake?" she asked, smiling.

"I can hear the wheels turning in your head, very noisy wheels they are," he said with a trace of amusement. "What concerns you? Is it Francisco? The quest? Or is it about you and I?"

"Yes," she said. "The last."

"Is it what I said about taking you to Portugal with me?" he asked. "Do you not wish to come with me?"

She turned over in a few awkward movements until she was facing him. The flames of the fire reflected in his eyes, making them look amber, like a jungle cat. His long hair, fell unbound to his shoulders and his face was shadowed with the start of a beard, since he had been unable to shave. She loved to look upon his face, it made her heart ache, and she traced the line of his brow and his lips with one delicate finger.

"Why do you want me to come with you?" she asked lightly.

"To keep you safe, qerida."

She felt her heart sink. It was a noble reason, but not a romantic one. She wanted him to want to take her with him, because he couldn't bear to be without her, because he wanted to take her to his homeland to meet his family, to become part of it. She wanted him to do it because he loved her.

Well there it was. She loved him. And she would go with him, even if it was just to work as a maid that he had access to when he felt the need. Maybe he would learn to love her, or it would come to him over time. She felt happy and sad at the same time. She had always seen herself as a strong woman, a woman with her own path, her own destiny. By running off she had sealed her fate. She had no choice but to go with Sebastaio. She would be going to a strange land, with a language she didn't speak, and a man who didn't love her. But at least she didn't have to marry Francisco.

***

Sebastaio knew he had said something wrong. He wished he could tell her the truth, that he wanted her to come with him because he loved her, he adored her, was besotted with her. He could not imagine life without her. But he did not want her to feel obligated to him because of his feelings for her. She had chosen him to take her virginity and to bring her on this adventure, but she had made it clear that the fact he was leaving, first Zacatecas and then New Spain itself, were the reasons for choosing him. He didn't doubt that she found him attractive, but she was so innocent in the ways of love that she probably didn't know what she felt. She might think she loved him, but most girls fancied themselves in love with the man who deflowered them. A small voice inside said "maybe that's enough" but he wanted more, he wanted to be her everything. He hoped by the time they reached Portugal she would know how she felt, and if it was as he hoped and she loved him in return, then he would propose marriage, perhaps even get married on board the ship. To be honest, he couldn't imagine landing in Lisbon without Clara as his wife, and perhaps even the prospective mother of his child.