Chapter 8:

The streets were not crowded, but what would you expect in the dead of a London night. John Smith rode his horse threw the streets, grateful for the quietness that the dark, moonlit night provided.

He past old familiar houses, shops, and squares; and noted with sadness how horrible the shops and houses looked as he rode farther in to the poor section of London. John straightened as a dilapidated, poor excuse of a tavern loomed in his sights.

"The Day inn," the man murmured to himself as he found a hitching post and tied his horse to it, and went in the door.

It took a few seconds for John's eyes to get used to the dim light of the tavern, and his ears to adjust to the loud noises of the bar. He backed up against a wall, folding his arms across his chest as he did so. John's blue eyes scanned the tavern with mild interest. Those eyes passed over the tables housing drunken men, their swaggering voices leering at the women serving them their beer. The thick stench of alcohol and the even thicker film of smoke clouded most of the faces, making the Englishman frown; nothing was exactly a clear sight. With a sigh, he shifted from his position against the wall and walked to the bar. Sitting down, his eyes scanned up the long table in the same manner he had when upon the wall. Not finding who he wished for, the blonde sourly ordered a drink from the bar tender. Upon receiving his ale, he paid and turned around in his seat, his eyes settling upon the staircase. Without having drunken a drop, John's eyes narrowed in thought as he slid from his seat and began his way to the stairs. The stairs did not spark his interest; it was the bronze skinned woman that was beginning her way up them. She was clad in the normal wear of a whore, her long skirts concealing her legs while her top revealed quite a bit of her shoulders. He followed her up the stairs, pausing to look back in order to make sure no one was following him. As they reached the top of the steps, the young woman stopped and turned her head, to see who was trailing her. As blue eyes met brown orbs, John carefully backed away from the woman, looking her over. He was the first to break the gaze as he lowered his eyes to the floor.

"Gabriela?"

John's soft voice inquired, as he raised his head in order to see the woman shake her head yes.

"Si, I am Gabriela, who are you?"

"It's John, John Smith."

"John, Smith?"

Her thick Spanish accent penetrated the noise, and made the man shake his head in order to clear his memories of her sweet voice.

"How do I know, that it is you?"

Again, John brought up his head, looking deep in her eyes.

"It's been two years Gabriela, I left you here, and I ran off."

"Prove to me that it is you, do you know how many men that I have come to know?"

For the second time that evening, he leaned against the wall, thinking back to the last night they were together. She had whispered to him in Spanish, and slowly, as if in a trance; he repeated her words.

"Mi amor es verdad, para siempre estaré con usted. Te quiero, téngame cierro a usted."

Gabriela's eyes widened as his words, hit her full force and she looked in his eyes.

"It is you," she whispered.

"I tried, I tried to forget those words," he said, "but, I…"

"What is it you want?"

"I," John stopped, "I had to come, and to see if it was true, to see what I heard was true."

"What did you hear?"

"Did my father, rape you?"

Gabriela didn't reply; instead she took John's hand and began to lead him down a long hall.

"Where are you…"

The young woman placed a finger to her mouth, signaling for John to be quiet as they stopped at the end of the hall and Gabriela opened a wooden door. Letting go of John's hand, the young man stepped in the room, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark room. As he gazed around the sparsely furnished room, a tiny voice made him jump.

"Mama?"

John's mouth fell agape as the mother walked over to her little child and lifted her out of the bed that she shared with her mother.

"Esperanza, it's alright; he is not going to hurt you."

"Had bad dream mama," the girl whimpered, clinging to her mother.

"Who is that?"

The child looked at John; as the man gasped, looking in to his father's green eyes.

"This is," he couldn't get the words to come, couldn't bear to say them.

"This is your father's child, your half sister."

Time seemed to stand still as John took in the news, "you're living here, does he know?"

"Of course he knows," she replied softly, "I had hoped that Esperanza would have been your daughter."

She laid the girl down on the bed, and covered her up with the only blanket on it. Kissing her forehead, the woman straightened and walked towards John.

"How do you know she isn't mine?"

The question hung in the air as Gabriela closed the door and guided John to another room.

"At first," she began as she shut the second door, "I thought she was yours; however when her eyes turned green, and she had red hair, she could not have been yours."

"I'm so sorry," John whispered, "I, I am so sorry."

"You could not have known."

"Why won't your parents help you? Did you tell them about her?"

"John, my father holds a very high position in the Spanish courts, if they find out that I am not only a whore, but that I have a child by an Englishman, he will lose his respect, and position. They do not send me anything; nothing."

"Gabriela, you can't go on living like this."

"How else is a woman like me going to make a living? I was rich John, a respectable noblewoman in my country. Then one day, my father says that I have to go to England, in order to study my English. I went, I had all my servants and my lady's maid Maria, and I went."

She stops as she sits on the nearby bed in the room, "I met you, outside of my school."

"The house you were staying in is where I met you," John remarked.

"It felt more like a school."

John nodded, his mind replaying his first meeting with the beautiful senorita.

"Si," Gabriela said, folding her arms over her breasts, "what are you really doing here, John?"

She moved closer to him, as he took a step back, her eyes never leaving his face.

"What do you want, is it me that you want?"

John took in a sharp breath as she stood, and began walking towards him.

"Alright, if it's me you want," in one swift movement, she pulled down the top of her dress, revealing a thin chemise underneath.

"No, Gabriela no, that's not what I want."

"Just one more time?"

"I have a wife."

The Spanish woman sighed and stretched, "that fact stops no man that I have come across."

"It stops me."

With those words said, John stood and turned to walk out of the room.

"Will I see you again?"

John didn't answer, instead he pulled out a pouch of coins and threw it at her. Catching the pouch in her hand, she looked at John expectantly.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to try, using that money to give yourself and your daughter," he paused, "my sister, a better life."

With that, he left the dimly lit room, walked down the stairs, and out in to the streets with his horse and rode home.

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"John, John?"

Pocahontas, half asleep, rolled on her side so she could face her husband.

"John?"

The native woman stretched out her arms, feeling the empty space beside her body.

'Where is he?'

Pocahontas thought as she sighed; and fell back to sleep.

-----------------End of Chapter 8----------------

A/N: Hi guys!!!!!!

I hope you liked this chapter, you find out a lot of info!!!!! Lol!!!

Please leave me your thoughts and/or suggestions in a review!!!! Or, feel free to email me!!!! Also, thanks (major thanks!!!!!!!) go out to my friend, Laura-chan!!!! She helped me with describing the tavern…among other things, thanks Laura!!!!!!

Oh yes, here is what I wrote in Spanish above, but it's in English:

My love is true, for always I will be with you. I want you, hold me close to you.

I got the translation from a free translating sight, so blame them if it's wrong, I don't speak Spanish, and I don't know anyone that does…

Please RR!!!