10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

C larissa stood at the ship's railing, her gaze fixed on the horizon as the sun dipped slowly into the sea. The wind whipped at her hair, tugging loose strands from her coiffure, but she paid it no mind. Her thoughts were consumed by Rafael, by the way his presence seemed to fill every corner of the ship, every corner of her heart.

She sensed him before she saw him, his footsteps soft against the deck. "Clarissa," he murmured, coming to stand beside her. "Is everything alright?"

She forced a smile, tearing her gaze away from the endless expanse of blue. "Of course," she lied. "I was just admiring the view."

Rafael studied her for a long moment, his sea-green eyes searching her face. "You seem troubled," he observed softly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Clarissa hesitated, the words caught in her throat. How could she tell him of the frustration that gnawed at her, the sense that he was holding back, keeping some part of himself locked away? She knew of his worry for his sister, his desperate need to return home, but still, she longed for more.

"I am just tired," she said at last, the half-truth bitter on her tongue. "It has been a long journey."

Rafael nodded, his gaze softening with understanding. "It will not be much longer now," he assured her. "We are making good time. We will put into Gibraltar tomorrow for a day or two, and with fair winds, we should reach Lisbon within the week."

Clarissa felt a pang at his words, a sudden, sharp ache in her chest. The thought of their journey's end, of the inevitable parting that awaited them, was almost more than she could bear. But she pushed the feeling aside, forcing a lightness into her voice as she replied, "I shall be glad to see land again, I must admit."

Rafael chuckled, the sound warm and rich in the gathering dusk. "As shall I," he agreed. "But I will miss this, miss the freedom of the open sea." He paused, his gaze lingering on her face. "And the company," he added softly.

Clarissa's heart leapt at his words, a flicker of hope igniting in her chest. But she tamped it down, reminding herself of the realities that awaited them on shore. Rafael had his duties, his family to consider, and she...she had a life to return to, a future to navigate.

"We should make the most of the time we have left, then," she said, her voice carefully light. "Before the demands of the real world come crashing down upon us once more."

Rafael smiled, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Indeed we should," he agreed. He offered her his arm, his touch gentle as he guided her away from the railing. "Shall we take a turn about the deck? The stars are particularly lovely tonight."

Clarissa nodded, allowing him to lead her across the weathered planks. She knew that the coming days would be bittersweet, a tangle of joy and sorrow as their time together drew to a close. But for now, she would savour each moment, each precious second in his company.

For in the end, she knew, that was all they could ever have. Stolen moments beneath the stars, memories to carry with them into the uncertain future that awaited them both. And for now, that would have to be enough.

The Santa Dorotéia glided gracefully into the bustling port of Gibraltar, sails furling smoothly as her crew went about their business with practised precision. The cacophony of the harbour greeted them—vendors hawking their wares, sailors shouting orders, and the distant clatter of horse-drawn carriages navigating the cobblestone streets. A salty breeze carried the mingling scents of fresh fish and exotic spices from lands far away.

"Lady Clarissa," Rafael began, extending a gentlemanly hand to assist her down the gangplank, "I trust you are eager for our little excursion ashore while my crew replenish our stores and take on cargo?"

"Indeed, Captain de Silva," Clarissa replied with a playful sparkle in her eye, accepting his hand. "Despite the Santa Dorotéia's comforts, I confess I have grown weary of the relentless rocking of the waves and seek the firm ground beneath my feet."

"Then let us waste no time," Rafael said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

As they stepped onto the quay, Clarissa marvelled at the vibrant tapestry of life unfolding before them. Dockworkers unloaded crates of goods, while merchants arranged their colourful stalls under striped awnings. The air buzzed with the melodic hum of various languages intermingling in a symphony of commerce.

"Where shall we begin?" she asked, curiosity piqued by the array of sights and sounds.

"Allow me to be your guide," Rafael replied, offering her his arm. They navigated through the throngs of people, drawing curious glances as they walked—a striking pair indeed, with Clarissa's sun-kissed hair gleaming like spun gold and Rafael's commanding presence unmistakable even in the lively crowd.

Their path took them through narrow alleyways lined with quaint shops, where the scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the aromatic allure of Mediterranean herbs. Clarissa could not resist peering into a window showcasing intricate lacework, her fingers itching to touch the delicate patterns.

"Do you admire such craftsmanship?" Rafael inquired, noting her interest.

"Very much," she replied, eyes sparkling. "Each piece tells a story, woven with care and dedication." She fingered the purse in her pocket, considering how much money she had remaining. "Do you think we might enter and inquire about the prices? I might purchase some - a piece for Marianne and one for my mother, perhaps."

Rafael obliged, and Clarissa was sure his commanding presence was of assistance as she haggled with the shopkeeper, who fortunately spoke excellent English. The prices were far lower than she might have expected to pay in England or even Italy, and she ended up purchasing not only lace for Marianne and her mother, but also some for Diana.

Rafael spoke in rapid-fire Spanish as Clarissa finished her transaction, pointing at several more pieces of lace. The shopkeeper bowed obsequiously and made up a second parcel, Clarissa assumed for Rafael's mother and sister, and agreed to send both parcels back to the ship at once while they continued their explorations.

Clarissa adjusted her bonnet, squinting up at the formidable Rock of Gibraltar. The path ahead wound steeply, a challenge she was eager to embrace.

"Are you certain you are prepared for this climb?" Rafael inquired with a teasing glint in his eye.

"Assuredly," Clarissa replied with a smile. "I have faced many a social mountain; surely a physical one cannot be more daunting."

"Touché," he said, laughing softly. "Then let us conquer this peak together."

As they ascended, the air grew crisper, tinged with the salty tang of the sea. The calls of gulls echoed around them, mingling with the distant hum of the bustling port below. Clarissa's skirts swished against the rocky path, each step a testament to her determination. The Barbary apes scampered away as they approached, obviously intrigued but too shy to come close, for which Clarissa was more relieved than sorry - they had large teeth!

"Look there," Rafael pointed out, stopping finally as they reached the summit. "The view—it's worth every effort."

They had reached a vantage point, and Clarissa gasped. Below them stretched an expanse of azure sea, dotted with ships like toys floating on a cerulean pond. The land unfolded in a tapestry of greens and browns, bordered by the sparkling coastline.

"Magnificent," she breathed, her eyes wide with wonder.

"Indeed," Rafael agreed, though his gaze remained fixed on her. "A sight to remember."

"Thank you for bringing me here," she said earnestly, turning to face him. "It's—" She faltered, searching for words that could encapsulate her gratitude.

"An adventure," he supplied, his voice warm.

"Precisely," she affirmed, feeling a surge of camaraderie with him. "An adventure."

They lingered a few moments longer, absorbing the panorama before beginning their descent. Clarissa felt lighter, buoyed by the shared experience and the burgeoning connection between them.

The ship would remain in Gibraltar overnight, and Marianne had requested Alex to take rooms for them in a hotel for the night, so that she and Clarissa could bathe properly and have their clothes laundered. Alex, ever acquiescent to his wife's every whim, had promptly booked a suite in the best hotel in Gibraltar and invited Rafael to join them to dine in the hotel's restaurant.

The establishment exuded elegance, its grand facade promising an evening of refined pleasure.

"How was your excursion?" Marianne inquired, her striking red hair catching the candlelight as they were seated.

"Enlightening," Clarissa replied, casting a glance at Rafael. "And invigorating."

"Excellent." Alex raised his glass. "To new horizons."

"To new horizons," they echoed, clinking glasses as the first course was served.

The meal unfolded in a symphony of flavours—delicate soups, succulent meats, and decadent desserts—all accompanied by lively conversation. Rafael and Clarissa exchanged witty repartee, their words flowing as smoothly as the fine wine.

As the evening drew to a close, Clarissa felt a contentment settle over her, a sense of belonging she had not anticipated. The elegant surroundings, the engaging company, and the day's shared experiences combined to create a memory she would cherish.

"Until our next adventure," Rafael murmured as they parted ways for the night, his voice a gentle caress.

"Until then," she replied, her heart light and hopeful.

The room at the hotel was opulently appointed, with heavy drapes of burgundy velvet, a canopy bed adorned in brocade, and an ornate chandelier casting a soft glow. Yet despite the luxurious surroundings, Clarissa found herself restless. She lay atop the plush mattress, staring at the ceiling.

"Why can I not find solace here?" she muttered to herself, turning onto her side. The room's stillness felt oppressive, a far cry from the gentle sway of the Santa Dorotéia that had become oddly comforting. She missed the rhythmic creaks of the timbers, the distant call of the sea birds, and most disconcertingly, she missed Rafael.

"Clarissa, are you awake?" Marianne's voice floated through the adjoining door, a soft interruption to her musings.

"Yes, Marianne," Clarissa replied, sitting up and smoothing her nightgown. "I fear sleep eludes me this evening."

"Come, join me for a moment," Marianne invited. Her tone held a warmth that transcended their complicated relationship. Crossing into Marianne's room, Clarissa found her seated by the window, a steaming cup of tea in hand.

"Where is Uncle Alex?" Clarissa asked.

"Restless too," Marianne admitted. "He went out for a walk. Sit with me." She patted the window seat beside her. Now tell me, is it the ship you miss or its captain?" Marianne's eyes twinkled with knowing mischief.

"Perhaps both," Clarissa admitted, taking the offered seat. "But more than that, I long for the sense of purpose I feel aboard the Santa Dorotéia."

"Ah, the thrill of adventure," Marianne remarked, her gaze drifting out to the moonlit harbour. "It is a powerful lure."

"Indeed," Clarissa agreed, feeling a pang of longing as she imagined the ship rocking gently in the bay. "I do not know how I shall settle back into the constrained life that awaits me at home, Aunt Marianne," she said quietly, and Marianne reached out to take Clarissa's hand.

"I wonder if we did the right thing, bringing you on this trip," Marianne said thoughtfully, and Clarissa's eyes flew to her aunt's face, a shocked denial springing to her lips. Marianne shook her head. "Hear me out. After what happened to you in Athens…"

"That was not your fault!" Clarissa insisted vehemently. "And if it had not happened, I should never have met Rafael… Captain de Silva, I mean!"

"Indeed," Marianne said quietly, looking at her with a curious expression on her face, before she gave a rueful little smile. "Well. There is no sense crying over spilt milk. You have had enough adventures to last several lifetimes, Clarissa!"

They will have to last me the whole of this one , Clarissa thought sadly, turning her head to gaze out of the window. Once I get back to London, my mother will never allow me out of her sight until I'm safely married to some suitably staid lord who will never let me so much as think of adventure again.

Morning arrived with the golden hues of dawn creeping through the curtains. Clarissa dressed quickly, eager to return to the Santa Dorotéia. The bustling port of Gibraltar was already alive with activity as the group prepared to leave the hotel.

"Good morning, milady," Jean greeted her with a curt nod, the toddler twins clinging to her skirts like cherubic barnacles.

"Good morning, Jean," Clarissa responded brightly, bending down to scoop one of the children into her arms. "And how are my favourite little sailors today? Ready to go back aboard the ship?"

"Full of energy, as always," Jean replied, her no-nonsense demeanour softened by her affectionate smile.

As the ship set sail for Lisbon, Clarissa found herself delighting in the simple tasks of caring for the twins. Their laughter was infectious, their boundless curiosity a constant source of amusement. Whether chasing after a mischievous child or soothing a scraped knee, she embraced each moment with enthusiasm.

"Hold still, Edward," Clarissa instructed gently, dabbing a damp cloth on the boy's cheek where he had smeared jam. "You mustn't run amok during breakfast, or you'll end up looking like a ragamuffin. And we cannot have that, now can we?" The child squirmed and giggled, before planting a slightly sticky kiss on her cheek and running away to join his sister at play with their toys.

Jean watched the interaction, laughing quietly. "You have a way with them, milady," she observed.

"Thank you, Jean," Clarissa replied, feeling a swell of pride at the compliment. "They are delightful company."

The day passed in a blur of activity, the ship cutting through the azure waters with grace as she passed out of the Straits of Gibraltar and into the wide Atlantic Ocean.

The Santa Dorotéia rocked gently on the moonlit waters, its timbers creaking softly in the night. Clarissa, her skirts rustling faintly with each step, moved deftly about the dimly lit cabin. A small lantern cast a warm glow, illuminating her serene face as she coaxed the twins to settle down.

From his vantage point by the doorway, Rafael watched in silent admiration. The flickering light caught the golden hues in her sun-bleached hair, making it appear as if spun from threads of sunlight. Her hands, gentle yet firm, cradled the children with an ease that seemed innate.

"Shhh, darlings," she crooned, gathering the squirming toddlers into her arms. She began to sway, a rhythmic motion meant to soothe. Her voice, tender and melodious, wove through the air like a delicate thread.

"While the moon her watch is keeping

All through the night

While the weary world is sleeping

All through the night

O'er thy spirit gently stealing

Visions of delight revealing

Breathes a pure and holy feeling

All through the night," she sang, her tones soft and lilting. The lullaby, an old folk tune translated from its original Welsh, floated around them, its gentle cadence filling the room. The twins' cries began to subside, replaced by intermittent whimpers that grew fainter with each passing moment.

"Clarissa, may I assist?" Rafael asked, stepping into the cabin. His voice was low, careful not to startle the already restless toddlers.

"Thank you, Captain," she replied, her eyes meeting his with a grateful smile. "They are both teething, poor mites. I sent Jean to sleep in my cabin; she is exhausted from several sleepless nights. A distracting tale might do wonders."

"Very well," he said, settling himself beside her and reaching out to stroke Eleanor's red cheek; the child quieted a little and eyed him curiously. "Did I ever tell you of the time we outwitted a corsair near Madeira?"

"Do tell," Clarissa urged, her attention divided between Rafael and the twins.

"Well, it began as all good tales do—with a storm," Rafael began, his tone conspiratorially low. He launched into the story, weaving a narrative rich with daring manoeuvres and close calls. As he spoke, Clarissa's laughter rang softly in the enclosed space, mingling with the slowly quieting whimpers of the children.

"Your adventures are always so thrilling," she remarked, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Thrilling perhaps, but often fraught with peril," Rafael responded, his gaze lingering on her face. "Unlike your current endeavour, which seems equally challenging."

"Children are far more unpredictable than any storm or corsair," she said with a chuckle. "But infinitely more rewarding."

Rafael nodded thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving her. "I can see that."

At last, the twins' eyelids began to droop, lulled by the combined effect of Clarissa's gentle rocking and Rafael's engrossing tale. Soon, they were nestled peacefully in their beds, their tiny chests rising and falling with each breath.

"Sleep tight, darlings," Clarissa murmured, brushing a stray curl from one child's forehead.

"Your touch has a magic all its own," Rafael observed quietly, his admiration evident.

"Perhaps," she replied, turning to face him fully. "Or perhaps it's simply the love one feels for those in their care."

"Either way, it is a gift," he said earnestly.

"Thank you," Clarissa said, her voice softening, and for a long moment they simply gazed at each other, unspoken words heavy in the space between them.

"Goodnight, Clarissa," Rafael said finally, his voice tinged with reluctance. He made his way to the cabin door, casting one last glance at the serene tableau behind him.

"Goodnight, Captain," she replied, her smile lingering even after he had disappeared into the shadows of the ship.

Clarissa stood at the ship's railing, her fingers gripping the cool, weathered wood as she gazed out over the endless expanse of the sea. The sun had dipped low, painting the western horizon in hues of gold and crimson, casting a shimmering path across the water. A gentle breeze played with the loose tendrils of her sun-bleached hair, carrying with it the salty tang of the ocean.

"Do you ever wonder what lies beyond that line?" Rafael's voice broke the tranquil silence, drawing her attention from the mesmerising view. He stood beside her, his tall frame outlined against the setting sun, his sea-green eyes reflecting the myriad colours of the sky.

"Beyond the horizon?" Clarissa mused, her brow furrowing slightly. "I suppose I do. It seems to promise so much—adventure, opportunity, perhaps even a new beginning."

"Indeed," Rafael agreed, a thoughtful look crossing his rugged features. "The future is as vast and unpredictable as the sea itself. We chart our course, but the winds and waves have their own will."

"Much like life," she added, stealing a glance at him. "We plan and hope, yet we are often swept along by forces beyond our control."

"True," he said softly, considering her words. "Yet it is those very uncertainties that make the journey worthwhile, do they not? The unexpected moments, the uncharted paths—they shape us, mould us into who we are meant to be."

"Speaking of uncharted paths," Clarissa began, her tone tinged with curiosity, "what future do you envision for yourself? Will you return to your family's vineyard?"

Rafael leaned against the railing, his gaze distant. "Our vineyard... It holds many memories, both sweet and bitter. I do wish to restore it, to breathe life back into the land that has sustained my family for generations. But more than that, I long to see my mother and sister thrive, to ensure they know peace and happiness once more."

"Such noble aspirations," Clarissa remarked, genuine admiration in her voice. "You carry a heavy burden, Rafael. Yet you bear it with such grace."

"Thank you, Clarissa," he replied, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her heart quicken. "And what of you? What awaits Lady Clarissa Creighton upon her return to England?"

"Ah, England," she sighed, her expression becoming wistful. "I suppose I shall return to the usual expectations—balls, social engagements, the relentless pursuit of a suitable match. Yet, after all I have seen and experienced, those things seem so trivial now."

"Perhaps because you have discovered a different kind of fulfilment," Rafael suggested, his voice laced with understanding. "One that cannot be found within the confines of society's strictures."

"Yes," she admitted quietly. "This journey has opened my eyes to so much more—to the richness of different cultures, the beauty of the world beyond England's shores. And... to the depth of human connection."

"Connection," Rafael echoed, his gaze softening as it lingered on her. "It is a powerful thing, is it not? It transcends distance, social standing, even the barriers of language."

"Speaking of language," Clarissa said, turning to look at him directly. "Your family—I wish to make a good impression. They've been through so much, and I want to show them proper respect. Would you teach me some more Portuguese phrases? Enough to greet your mother and sister and thank them for their hospitality."

Rafael blinked, momentarily taken aback by her earnest request. Then, a slow smile spread across his face. "Of course, Clarissa. It would be my honour."

"Thank you," she said, relief evident in her voice. "I've learned a few basics, but they sound so awkward coming from me. I fear I may insult them rather than impress."

"Not at all," he reassured her. "Your effort alone will speak volumes. But let us begin with something simple. Repeat after me: ‘Muito prazer em conhecê-la'—'Pleased to meet you.'"

"Meu-to pra-zher em con-he-che-la," she attempted, furrowing her brow in concentration.

"Close," he chuckled. "Let's try it once more. Muito prazer em conhecê-la."

"Mui-to praz-er em con-he-ce-la," she repeated, her pronunciation improving.

"Excellent," Rafael said, nodding appreciatively. "You are a quick learner."

"Only because I have an excellent teacher," she quipped, meeting his gaze with determination.

"Then let us continue," he said, leaning closer, their proximity creating an intimate bubble amidst the bustling ship. "This one is important: ‘Obrigado pela hospitalidade'—'Thank you for your hospitality.'"

"Obri-gado pela hos-pi-ta-li-da-de," she recited, her voice gaining confidence with each syllable.

"Perfect," Rafael said softly, his admiration for her growing with every word. "You will do wonderfully, Clarissa. My family will be most impressed."

"Thank you, Rafael," she said, her eyes shining with appreciation. "Your faith in me means more than you know."

"Let us try something a bit more challenging," Rafael suggested.

"More challenging than ‘Muito prazer em conhecê-la'?" she teased, raising a mischievous eyebrow.

"Indeed," he replied with a grin. "Repeat after me: ‘O jardim da minha m?e é muito bonito.' It means, ‘My mother's garden is very beautiful.'"

Clarissa took a deep breath, her lips forming the unfamiliar words with deliberate care. "Oh zhar-deem dah mee-nya may eh moo-ee-to bo-nee-to."

"Almost there," Rafael corrected gently, his fingers tapping the rhythm of the sentence on the wooden rail. "Listen closely: ‘O jardim da minha m?e é muito bonito.' Pay special attention to the nasal sounds."

"Of course, those tricky nasals," she said, rolling her eyes playfully. She tried again, this time with increased precision. "O jardim da minha m?e é muito bonito."

"Perfect!" Rafael exclaimed, clapping his hands together in genuine delight. "You have an ear for languages, Lady Clarissa."

"Or perhaps just a highly persuasive tutor," she countered, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," he responded, his tone light but his gaze lingering on hers a moment longer than necessary.

"Then I shall continue to employ it liberally," she said, laughing. "What is next on our list?"

"Try this: ‘A comida está deliciosa,' which means, ‘The food is delicious.'"

"Ah co-mee-da es-ta de-li-ci-o-sa," she repeated, her accent still tinged with her English roots but improved nonetheless.

"Excellent!" Rafael proclaimed, his pride in her palpable. "With every word, you grow more confident. Your efforts are paying off splendidly."

"Only because you make it so enjoyable," she admitted, her cheeks flushing slightly under his approving gaze.

"That is the best way to learn," he said, his voice warm and encouraging. "When it is more than mere study, when it becomes a shared adventure."

"An adventure indeed," she echoed, smiling up at him as the evening shadows lengthened around them.