Querida

- 2 -

They walked in stubborn silence for a while, but it was quite impossible to maintain even justified annoyance on such a night, the air cool but soft, and scented with night-blooming flowers, and the moon casting its silvery glow over the land, and over his pretty companion as well. The girl had told Jack it was near five miles to her father's hacienda. Jack had groaned at this, but mostly for show. He naturally preferred life aboard the Black Pearl, but he'd never been averse to exploration on land, especially when there was a prospect of treasure. Though the acquisition of gold was not the object of this particular exercise, still there was that about the experience that made him think it was worth the trouble, even if it was just for the company of his fiery little charge.

The girl was certainly easy on the eyes, with that thick, shining black braid hanging down that straight back, nearly to the sweetly rounded arse that swayed beneath her long skirts. Jack thought about what that hair would look like, unbraided and brushed smooth, wondered how long it would be, laid like a cape over the pale gold of that slender body. Her complexion was far lighter than his own sun-bronzed skin, and this, along with the fine-boned aristocratic features would have told him something of her lineage even without her unremittingly haughty demeanor. As it was, she had barely spoken to him since leaving her nurse's house, a state of affairs that obviously gave him far too much opportunity to contemplate her physical attributes.

Lord, he was as lecherous as Barbossa, or near it. She was just a girl!

"How old are you, Querida?" he demanded suddenly.

She looked down her finely sculpted, slightly aquiline nose—not easy, considering her lack of inches, but she had the trick of it. "Old enough, Malvado. And do not address me with endearments. You should be ashamed!"

"Perhaps," he acknowledged, with a wicked smile.

She stopped walking, turned to him, and stated succinctly, eyes ablaze, "If you dare to touch me, my father and my betrothed will hunt you down and kill you like the dog you are."

He damped the smile to a smirk and bowed. "My apologies, señorita."

"Humph!" She turned away, and started up the road again.

His eye was again drawn to the swaying skirts. He tried once more. "You are betrothed? How can that be? You're but a girl!"

She gave him a brief look. "I am sixteen. Quite old enough to be a wife."

Her words were belied by her tone: she believed them no more than he. He said, chidingly, "Nonsense! To have a suitor, perhaps—or many of them, surely. But to be a wife? No."

"Nevertheless," she said. "My father wishes to ally our house with that of the Corozóns. I am to marry Don Alejandro, who is the head of that house since his father's death."

"Don Alejandro Corozón?" Jack frowned. "I thought I had met one by that name. Is he recently returned from Spain?"

"He is. How is it you know him, Malvado?"

"Why, it is just as you suspect, Querida: we took his ship not so many months past."

"You were of the pirate band that attacked the Santa Inez!" she exclaimed, looking over at him, startled.

"The very ones," he acknowledged, with an inclination of his head.

She was silent for a moment, and then said, "I should have known. The Black Pearl."

"Aye. Fiercest pirates in the Caribbean."

Her pretty lips quivered. "They all say that, no doubt."

Jack laughed. "Like as not, but it's true for all that."

"Don Alejandro reported that you killed no one."

"Where's the use in killing unnecessarily, señorita?" Jack studied her profile. "You are sure 'twas that Don Alejandro Corozón? The man I met is old enough to be your father."

"He's thirty-six!"

"Aye?"

"He… he is in the prime of life."

She was trying to convince herself. He said, "As you say, Querida."

She walked along in silence, a little crease between her brows. After a while, she spoke again. "I have not met him, you understand."

"No?" said Jack, and obligingly supplied information. "He seems a good man, more of a philosopher than a swordsman I'd guess. But a man of some talent. It was chiefly his doing that there was no bloodshed, and we were most appreciative. Left the Santa Inez plenty of provisions to reach Cuba, though we relieved 'em of some trinkets."

"Two chests of gold!"

Jack grinned wolfishly. "Also as you say."

"Malvado!" she accused.

"Querida!" he pleaded, eyes alight.

"You are truly shameless!" she said, but a dimple appeared as she suppressed a smile. This faded after a moment and, in a deceptively light tone, she asked, "What does he look like?"

Don Alejandro. Jack considered, trying to remember. The phrase like a Spaniard came to mind, but that would tell her nothing. Finally he said, "He is tall, and well made. He was elegantly dressed, but a little disheveled- he thinks of his books more than fashion, I fear. Had an interesting collection of 'em-books I mean. He has kind eyes." The girl looked at Jack, and he frowned thoughtfully, thinking of that middle-aged philosopher's hands undressing this child. Touching her.

She looked away, suddenly. "My father would not give me to one who was not kind, though of course it makes no difference in the end."

When she did not elaborate, he prompted, "No difference, Querida?"

She threw him a glance. "Do not call me that," she said again, but her voice was preoccupied. After a pause she said, "My older sister was married to a kind man."

"Was?" Jack frowned.

"She…she died in childbed. Three years ago, now."

Jack stared at her, the slight, straight figure, her jaw set, the line of her mouth firm. Jack had seen men with a similar expression, before going into armed conflict. He said, finally, "I am sorry to hear it. Ill-luck, indeed. It is fortunate that you will not suffer the same fate."

She turned to look at him, startled. "And how would you know that, Malvado? How can you know what God intends? Or are you indeed el diablo?"

He laughed. "Your sister was a gentle soul, obedient to God's will, and her parents'?"

"Sí! Always!"

"Well, there you have it. God wanted her to be with him, to be one of his angels. You, on the other hand, demonstrably have much to learn before you are worthy. You will have a long and fruitful life in pursuit of this knowledge, Querida. Never doubt it."

She stared at him, open-mouthed, for a moment, taking in this logic. And then, to his delight, her face lit up and she laughed, the sound like music in the still night.

"Oh, Malvado! What a thing to say! And, indeed, it is no more than the truth." She shook her head.

He chuckled. Lord, that smile! Don Alejandro had best be suitably appreciative of this treasure.

She looked up at him, her teeth very white, her dark eyes gleaming. "What is your name?"

"Malvado, as you have said," he laughed. "No, my name is Jack Sparrow."

"Zheeeeack Sparrrrrow."

He laughed again at her pronunciation of the very English name. "Juan, then. And Sparrow is Gorrión."

"The bird?"

"Sí."

"Juan Gorrión." The dimple reappeared. "I think Malvado suits you, better, Juan."

Jack grinned.