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COP BLOCKED
AUBREE VALENTINE
 Contents

1. Logan
2. Rachel
3. Logan
4. Rachel
5. Logan
6. Rachel
7. Logan
8. Rachel
9. Logan
10. Rachel
11. Logan
12. Rachel
13. Logan
14. Rachel
15. Logan
16. Rachel
17. Logan
18. Rachel
19. Logan
20. Logan
21. Rachel
22. Logan
23. Rachel
24. Logan
25. Rachel
26. Logan
27. Rachel
28. Logan
29. Rachel
30. Rachel
31. Logan
32. Logan
33. Logan
34. Rachel
35. Logan
36. Rachel
37. Logan
38. Rachel
39. Rachel
Epilogue
Want more Cop Blocked?
Prologue
Stacey Mae
Cody

Playlist
Also by Aubree Valentine
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Cop Blocked
Copyright © 2019 by Aubree Valentine
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this book may be reproduced, copied or
transmitted in any medium, whether electronic, internet or otherwise, without the
expressed permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, locations, and names occurring in
this book are the product of the author’s imagination, or are the property of their
respective owners and are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events,
locations, or persons (living or dead), is entirely coincidental and not intended by
the author.
All trademarks and trade names are used in a fictitious manner and are in no way
endorsed by or an endorsement of their respective owners.
Contains sexual situations, violence, sensitive and offensive language and mature
topics. Recommended for age 18 years and up.
Cover Design— Beyond the Bookshelf PR
Formatting - Beyond the Bookshelf PR
Editing—Jenny Dillion;
https://www/facebook.com/ratherbereading143
Created with Vellum
 Dedication

In honor of Justin.
Because not all super heroes where caps. Some of them where
boots and dog tags.
ONE
 Logan

T his was a stupid idea. Then again, I’ve been filled with a lot of
dumbass ideas as of late.
For someone who hates social media and enjoys keeping my private
life, private; I should have known this would be a disaster of epic
proportions. At work alone, I’ve seen too much shit go down.
Women being taken advantage of, “women” catfishing men, and vice
versa. People getting hurt.
It’s easier to avoid things like online dating apps. But nooooo,
instead of sticking to my usual methods of attracting ladies, I’m the
guy who can never turn down a dare. So, when three of my best
friends decided that I really needed to get out more and recruited
my little brother to get in on the action? I folded. Hoping like hell, it
would get them all off my back.
Gunner is happily married to his high school sweetheart, and they’ve
got a whole gaggle of little monsters running around. Louis, aka
Shortstack - he’s married to an Army nurse that he met on
deployment years ago. He claims it was love at first sight. I think she
drugged him - or maybe it was the other way around. Either way,
they all believe in happy endings and shit. Especially Sunny, our
collective little sister who dated one of our Marine buddies back in
the day. And of course, Ryker, my little brother who “finds chicks all
the time on those dating apps.”
I happen to think they’re all full of shit, but like I said - I gave in
anyway. Next time, I need to ignore those fuckers and trust my gut.
If I had listened to my gut, I wouldn’t be sitting in the restaurant bar
dealing with this nonsense.
The woman across from me, my “date” for the evening, takes
another drink of her expensive martini while she goes on about how
awful her life is. I’m listening, half-heartedly, and wishing I was at
home watching baseball instead.
I agreed to one date. One, that’s turning out to be a horribly
obnoxious date with a stranger. A stranger I’ve talked to via text for
over a week.
I thought she was normal. Now, I’m thinking my people reading
skills need work.
Trish is not going to be my ticket to moving on or settling down.
“You know what the problem is?” she slurs and drapes an arm
around me.
I cringe.
God, the smell of alcohol pouring from her is enough to make me
drunk. Pretty sure that Trish has a drinking problem. I’ve been at the
restaurant for our date, for fifteen minutes. Trish was already two
drinks in at the bar when I got here, early, I might add. Our
reservation was for six-thirty, but I don’t think we’ll be making it to
dinner at this rate.
“Men are afraid of women who go after what they want.” Her fingers
dance across my chest before toying with the top button on my
shirt. “But, not you. Right? You’re not afraid of a woman who takes
charge, are you? You seem like you’re secure enough to handle
giving me what I need.”
For fuck sake. No. I know where this is going, and I am not
interested. Whichever one of those fuckers I call friends, told me
that dating apps were so much more than people DTF - or down to
fuck… LIED.
“Trish. What do you say I get you a ride home?” I tread lightly,
removing her hand from my body.
“Only if you’re coming with me, big boy,” She winks and reaches
between my legs, going for my most prized possession. Thankfully
I’ve got quick reflexes and stop her. Trish is brazen.
“Maybe some other time. When you’re in a better frame of mind.” Or
never. But she doesn’t need to know that.
I wave to Kasey, the bartender on duty, while taking care of that ride
for my, uh, friend here. “Kasey, we’ll take the check, please.”
He gives me a knowing look and fights back a laugh. Pulling out
enough cash to cover Trish’s drinks and my bottle of water, I hand it
over to Kasey.
“How about some fresh air while we wait for your ride?” I offer,
thankful when Trish doesn’t put up much of a fight and willingly
walks outside with me.
We find a bench in front of Sage and have a seat while Trish
continues on her tirade about men not being able to handle her, how
her job sucks, and she’s pretty sure her cats hate her. I’m doing my
best not to laugh or roll my eyes when her ride finally pulls up.
As I’m tucking her in and sending her back to her place, she sobers
for a moment and looks up at me. “You’re one of the good ones,
aren’t you?”
“I don’t know about that, Trish,” I’ve done my share of shitty things
and undoubtedly broken some hearts, something I’m not proud of.
“Maybe I’ll see you around sometime. Have a good night.”
Since I’m already here and starving, I head back inside to grab a
bite to eat at the bar. Might as well make the most of it.
Kasey takes my order, and while I wait, I send off a text message to
let the three musketeers know how epically wrong tonight’s date
went. I’ll leave it to one of them to report the details back to Ryker,
as I’m sure they will.
Me to Defcon1: Logan - 0, stupid dating app – 1. I told y’all
that would be a waste. I called an Uber and sent her home.
Ping. Ping. Ping. Three immediate responses, like they were waiting
by their phones for an update. Knowing these three, they probably
were.
Defcon1 (Sunny): You sent her home in an Uber?
Defcon1 (Gunner): Lol. This is priceless. Were you catfished?
Defcon1 (Louis): I’m going to need more details about how
this date failed epically.
Me: Fuck all three of you. Yes. I sent her home in an Uber.
She was far too drunk to drive, let alone participate in any
sort of worthwhile date. I think it’s safe to say she might
have a problem that is a whole lot bigger than her cats who
try to kill her in her sleep. Now, if the three of you will
excuse me, I’m going to enjoy my dinner - alone. Online
porn is better than this.
Defcon1 (Sunny): Aww, don’t go away mad. I would,
however, like to point out that you made fun of me for
giving up the online dating thing. Karma.
Defcon1 (Louis): Better luck next time?
Me: There will not be a next time. No more online dating
apps. I am just fine on my own.
I drop the phone on the bar top and take a swig from the bottle of
Miller Lite Kasey delivered.
Lost in my own world, I don’t notice the woman taking a seat beside
me until she speaks. “Well, I have to admit, that was one heck of a
date.”
Turning my head, my breath catches in my chest. The woman on the
barstool next to me is stunning with her long dark brown hair and
hazel eyes. Eyes that are looking right at me.
The strappy dress she’s wearing perfectly accents her curves, and I
think today’s luck may have just turned in my favor.
“You saw that whole mess?”
“Front row seat,” she laughs. “When she went for the ball grab, I
almost fell out of my seat.”
Chuckling to myself, I shake my head. “That was a first for me. She
came on pretty strong.” I hold out my hand. “I’m Logan.”
“Rachel,” she says with a firm shake. “Looks like we both have
something in common tonight.”
I raise a brow. “Oh, and what’s that?”
“Both our dates for the night failed miserably.”
“Yikes, I’d say that calls for a drink.” I flag down Kasey. “The lady
would like a drink. You can put it on my tab.”
“Hey, Kasey. I’ll have my usual. And I’ll be paying for it.” She shoots
me a saucy glare.
“How about a burger too? The bacon burger is on special tonight,”
Kasey adds, talking to Rachel.
“I’ll take it. Thanks, Kasey.”
“Come on now, I was trying to be a gentleman,” I mock offense
once the bartender walks away.
“I appreciate it, but I’ve got it covered. Thank you.”
Out of nowhere, I decide it’s a good idea to ask about her date. “So,
you want to talk about it?”
“About?”
“Your failed date.”
“Oh. Not much to talk about. A blind date that a friend hooked me
up with. Never showed. His loss. The entertainment was great while
I waited.”
Her sassy attitude makes me grin. “Keep rubbing it in. I’m glad one
of us enjoyed that.”
Our food arrives at the same time, and we fall into a comfortable
silence while we eat. Another beer for both of us to wash our
burgers down, then Rachel asks for her bill. I’ll be damn if I’m going
to let her pay for her meal even if we didn’t come here on a date
together.
Before Kasey can even set the check on the bar, I snatch it away
from him. “Alright, listen, since you got stood up and I provided the
entertainment, it’s only fair that you let me grab this. No strings
attached.”
Rachel gives me a hard stare. I should probably be a little bit scared,
maybe, but instead - I’m turned on. Another time, another place, I
think I’d enjoy the hell out of her spunky attitude. Who am I
kidding? I am enjoying it.
“I thought we agreed?” she grumbles. “I can handle this myself, ya
know.”
“I have no doubts. Let me be the gentleman here.”
Kasey slides back over and laughs. “It’s too late, anyway. Logan
scares me more than you do. I already ran his card for both tabs.”
He hands me receipts for both, and I quickly sign, leaving him with a
hefty tip as well.
“Unbelievable.” Rachel throws her hands up with a hint of a smile
playing on her lips.
“Bros before hoes,” Kasey adds.
My eyes widen. “Did you just call her…”
Rachel’s hand on my arm instantly stops me in my tracks. “Relax, it’s
an inside joke. He wasn’t calling me a ho, and you don’t have to
defend my honor.”
I look at Kasey, who nods. “She’s right. Only a joke, some other
time, I’ll explain. Don’t go trying to beat my ass, Hulk.”
It’s my turn to laugh now. “Okay, fucker. You’re lucky.”
Rachel pats me on the shoulder and sighs. “Well, Logan, it’s been
fun. Thanks for the company, but now I’ve got to get home.”
I refuse to miss out on the chance to see her again, so I take a leap
of faith and ask for her number.
“Thought you said no strings attached, Mister.”
“I did. And I meant it. I’d love to get to know you and take you on a
proper date sometime. If you’re not interested, that’s okay too.”
Instinctively, I reach out and brush a stray lock of hair behind her
ear, “There was no way I was going to let you walk away without at
least trying.”
She hesitates but only for a moment.
Oh yeah, luck ended up on my side tonight.
TWO
 Rachel

“S oooo, how’d last night go?” my co-worker and friend, Tori,

asks over lunch the next day. “Ohhh, don’t think I don’t
notice that grin. Was he hot? Did you invite him back to your
place?” She bounces in her chair like a child. “I want all the steamy
details.”
My mind drifts to Logan’s smile and his mocha-colored eyes. “Well,
my date - didn’t show up.”
Tori points her fork at me. “That does not look like the face of a
person who was stood up.”
“Oh, he stood me up. But then I met this guy at the bar, and we
ended up having dinner together. And he asked for my number.”
“What?” Her mouth drops open. “You…had dinner…with some guy at
the bar? Now I know you’re lying.”
I mock offense. “Why is this so hard for you to believe? And really,
what’s the difference between a blind date that didn’t show up and
dinner with a stranger who happened to be in the same place at the
same time?”
“The difference is you, my dear friend. One, I barely convinced you
to go out with Peter, and the Rachel I know would have bailed when
he didn’t show.”
“Okay, okay. You have a point. I would have bailed. Except, the guy
at the bar was rather intriguing, and I figured I already had a sitter
for the evening, I should at least grab a drink and a burger or
something before I went home alone.”
“I’m proud of you. Yay for getting back out there.” Tori raises her
bottle of water and grins. “So, did you get his number too?”
“Mayyyybe.”
“YES! Oh, this is totally epic. Wait until I tell Frank about this, well,
after I tell him that his buddy Peter stood you up. That fucker.”
“We do not need to discuss any of this with Frank.”
“I have an idea.”
Of course, she does, I groan to myself. “I’m probably going to say
no to whatever you’re suggesting. I can feel it.”
“You should go out on a double date with Frank and me. That way, I
can vet this guy out.”
“Yeah, that’s a no. Hard no.” I can only imagine how a double date
would go down with Tori and her flavor of the week. “I don’t need
you questioning Logan and scaring the guy off. Besides, he may not
even call.”
“Don’t wait for him to call. You call him, duh!”
That may work for some people, but I am not about to call someone
I just met. If he’s interested, I’ll wait for him to make the first move.
“I’m good. And we need to get back to work,” I remind her after
checking the clock.
Lunchtime is officially over.
Six more hours stand between me and my weekend off.
Tossing my trash, I check my phone one more time as I walk back to
the NICU, and this time, I’m surprised to see I’ve got one new
message waiting - from Logan.
Logan: Hi. Thanks again for keeping me company last night.
I enjoyed getting to know you a little bit. I hope your day is
going well so far. Big plans for the weekend?
I have a few seconds and contemplate my reply, but then the NICU
phone in my pocket rings, diverting my attention.
“This is Rachel,” I answer immediately.
“Rachel, we’ve got a delivery. Emergency c-section. OR 1.” The
Neonatologist in charge lets me know that she and Allie, the second
nurse are on their way down.
Already in motion, I let her know I’m on my way as the door to the
stairwell slams shut behind me.
Adrenaline kicks in as I run down the two flights of steps to Labor
and Delivery. I’ve beat Dr. Malone by a minute. I’m scrubbing in as
she rushes in with Allie and begins doing the same.
When we step into the operating room, the OB is already cutting the
mom-to-be open. He begins filling us in on the situation as we
quickly prep the warmer and make sure we have everything we
need to help the tiny baby that is coming into this world too soon.
It doesn’t take long before the newborn is in the hands of Dr.
Malone. Two pounds, one ounce - there are no cries coming from
the little boy. Quickly we intubate and get oxygen flowing to help
him breathe. Once he’s stable enough to be moved, we place him
inside the warm incubator and wheel him over to his mom. A quick
hello and goodbye before we whisk him up to the NICU where
they’re waiting for us.
Like always, my heart aches for the mom left behind there on the
operating table, unaware of what’s going on with her baby and
whether the child will make it or not. I used that fear and anxiety to
motivate me to do the best I can to care for the little guy as we get
him admitted to the unit and stabilized. Lines and IVs are being
placed, and machines are being hooked up all around him. At just
twenty-seven weeks gestation, this little guy is going to be with us
for a while, and he’ll need all the help he can get from us to survive.
I spend the rest of my shift working on the newest addition. Happy
and relieved to see Mom’s first visit with her son on the way from
the recovery room to her post-partum suite where she’ll be for the
next few days before she’s discharged. Though her little guy - who
she tells us is named Jordan, is tiny, he’s already proving to be fierce
and is doing as well as can be expected for his first few hours of life.
I’m a half-hour late leaving work after giving my shift report to the
next nurse on shift and finishing my charting, but it’s worth it, and
I’m once again reminded why I chose to become a NICU nurse.

Dropping my towel in the hamper, I don’t even bother with clothes.

Instead, I climb right into my bed, determined to get a few hours of
rest before Piper wakes me bright and early for our usual
Mommy/Daughter Saturday Breakfast. I’m just about to close my
eyes when I remember the long-forgotten text message from earlier
today.
I debate replying now, but when I notice it’s not quite nine-thirty at
night, on Friday, nonetheless, I figure, it’s better than nothing.
Me: So sorry about the delayed response. Work was insane
today, and I didn’t have a moment to reply. Hopefully, it’s
not too late, and I didn’t wake you. I enjoyed our dinner
conversation, as well.
In less than two minutes, Logan replies.
Logan: Not too late at all. Still awake, flipping aimlessly
through the tv, trying to find something to watch.
Me: Do you have Netflix? You should watch Lucifer. It’s
pretty good.
Logan: You know…I’ve got a friend who keeps telling me I
need to watch it too. Maybe I’ll give it a try.
Me: Do it! I’ve just started the second season, catch up, and
then we can discuss!
What the hell am I thinking? I laugh to myself.
Logan: Okay, you win. Season 1, Episode 1. I’m going in.
Me: Great. You watch, I’m going to sleep for now. Early
morning ahead.
Logan: Sleep well.
THREE
 Logan

“Y ou alright, man? You look like you’ve lost your puppy or

something.” Rhys kicks my foot under the table.
I hate to admit it, but I’ve been checking my phone waiting for some
kind of reply from Rachel since my last message. It’s stupid. I know
she’s working today. Yet, I’m anxious to hear from her again. I sent
her a good morning text with a cute kitten meme but haven’t heard
back. Hell, I planned to ask her out this weekend when she replied.
“Nah, I’m good,” I answer as Ava, our favorite waitress at the diner,
slides our food onto the table.
“Can I get you fellas anything else?”
Rhys looks at me, I shake my head, and he nods to Ava. “I’ll take a
refill on coffee. Other than that, we’re all set.”
She smiles and walks away to retrieve more coffee for Rhys.
I still remember coming here for the first time with the guys and
how Smitty was laughing so hard he could barely breathe as he
recounted the story about when Ava was just starting and fangirled
over Rhys’ face on a book cover. Shit seems like ages ago now
when, in reality, it's only been a few years. Now, Ava waits on us
every time we come in if she’s working. And she knows Rhys’ wife
and kids too.
“I know that look. And I know exactly what you’re thinking. Don’t
laugh.” Rhys cracks a smile. “I’m so glad those days are mostly
behind me.”
“That’s not what I heard. Smitty said something about, Topher is still
selling photos of you from his stockpile,” I tease.
Rhys shakes his head. “Stockpile. Psh. Uhm. No.”
“Wait. You didn’t?” I can tell by his voice that something is up.
“Kelsey had a few of her author friends reach out about a custom
cover they wanted my picture on. For charity. I agreed, and once
Topher and I got together, he asked how I felt about taking a few
more shots and seeing what happened. Apparently, people aren’t
tired of me yet.”
I can’t fight the laughter. “Oh, that’s hilarious. Must be your baby
face and dad bod that gets them going.”
“Fuck you. Dad bod. Yeah, right.” Rhys rolls his eyes. “More like, I’m
a dad now and still have a hot bod.”
“Shut up. That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard come out of
your mouth. Which is saying a lot.”
Rhys throws a napkin at me and flicks me the finger. “Asshole.”
I’ve just about finished my breakfast before our shift officially starts
when the radio cracks to life. “24385, we’ve got a call for you.”
There’s a playful hint to the dispatcher’s voice.
“24385, go ahead.”
“1995 Rob Way. Caller reports there is a suspicious sound coming
from her backyard.”
Across the table, Rhys chuckles.
“10-4. Enroute, ETA five minutes.” Standing from the booth, I pull
out my wallet and toss a twenty on the table. “Guess I’m going to
see what Miss Beasley’s up to.”
Rhys wipes tears of laughter from his eyes. “Oh man, that old lady
sure does love you.”
“Don’t be jealous. See ya around,” I call over my shoulder and make
my way back to the patrol car.
Less than five minutes later, Miss Beasley is waiting on the front
porch when I pull up. Her smile widens as I step from the car and
make my way up the driveway.
“Hey, Miss B. What’s going on?”
“Well. You know, I heard all this ruckus outback, and I haven’t seen
Kitty all day. I’m worried she may have gotten into a scuffle again.”
Miss Beasley is a regular, and if she can have it her way, it’s always
me who she requests to visit her when Kitty gets into trouble. The
first time she called in, another one of the guys came out and called
the Fire Department to get Kitty down from the tree. Miss Beasley
was not happy. The second time, I was in the area and got the call.
Now I’ve been dubbed “The Pussy Whisperer” at the station, all
because I can talk Kitty from the tree without needing a ladder.
“I’ll go take a look,” I assure her.
“When you find her, I’ve got some fresh baked cookies waiting.” She
gives me an innocent grin.
Visiting Miss B does have its perks.
It takes me all of five minutes to find Kitty. She’s hiding in the back
of the yard behind some of Miss B’s landscaping. Unscathed, she
trots over when I call her and purrs at my feet.
“You know, you’re rotten, Kitty. How about you stay inside with your
momma for a while and stop escaping.”
Miss Beasley is waiting at the back door for us as I cross the yard.
“You found her,” she holds out her arms and takes Kitty from me.
“And she’s in one piece.” Holding open the door for me; she urges
me inside, “Good thing that didn’t take long, those cookies are still
warm.”
Knowing I won’t get out of here with declining her offer, I step inside
and wash my hands at the kitchen sink like I’ve done a dozen times
before. A sugary sweet aroma fills her tiny kitchen, welcoming me in
its homely feel.
“Milk?” Miss Beasley asks after opening a can of food for Kitty and
sitting her down.
“You don’t have to.”
“Nonsense. Sit for a spell and enjoy a glass of milk with these
chocolate chip delights. I could use the company.”
I enjoy two of the cookies and listen to Miss Beasley tell me about
the ladies at Bingo and her latest disagreement with Hank - the
grumpy old man who lives across the street from her, (her words -
not mine.)
“Now, Miss B, I’m not going to have to cite you for causing trouble,
am I?” I tease, and she gives me a gentle smile.
“Oh boy, don’t you wish you could. Hank needs to keep his nose on
his side of the road, and we’ll be fine. Why does he care that my
rose bush blooms more than his?”
I stifle my laughter. “I’m not sure, but Hank should know by now
you’re not going to give up your secrets.”
She stands and pats my cheek, “I always knew I liked you. Smart
kid.” Miss B shuffles over to the countertop and bags up a few more
cookies. “I guess I should let you get going before the police
department sends a search party for you.”
As usual, I carry my empty glass to the sink and run water in it and
toss my napkin in the trash. “Thank you for the cookies.” I wink at
her, making her blush.
At the front door, she stops me and puts the extra cookies in my
hand. “Say, Logan, you should come by for dinner one day. My
granddaughter comes over every Thursday, and truth be told, she
could use a young man like you in her life.”
This time I can’t fight back the chuckle. “Didn’t you tell me your
granddaughter has a little girl of her own?”
“She does, and that little girl needs to see her mom with someone
who loves her.”
I shake my head. “I appreciate you looking out, but I’m good. Kids
aren’t my thing.”
“Nonsense. I don’t believe that for a minute.”
When my radio cracks to life, I’m thankful for the reason to escape.
“Always a pleasure, Miss B, but now I’ve gotta run.”
“Stay safe out there. Thursday at five,” she calls out as I walk away.
“You know, in case you can make it.”
I wave as I climb in my patrol car and hit the lights, letting dispatch
know I’m responding to the call for a domestic dispute near the
college. Something tells me Miss B’s going to call the station
Thursday looking for me if I don’t show up to dinner.
FOUR
 Rachel

L ogan: Next question. Have you ever done anything

illegal?
I laugh to myself as I read Logan’s text while I’m in line at my
favorite coffee shop on my lunch break. He’s been sending me some
of the most random messages over the last few days. All of which,
I’ve found myself amused by.
Me: If I did, I sure wouldn’t admit it to you, Officer. But, no.
I’ve never done anything illegal. Except for uhm, there was
one time I got pulled over for speeding. I didn’t get a ticket,
though.
A voice behind me whispers, “Good girl.”
Causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. When I turn, Logan’s
amused face is looking back at me.
“Holy shit. Seriously? You scared the hell out of me.” I give him a
weak punch in the arm, which only makes him grin wider.
“Morning, pretty girl.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you stalking me?”
Logan huffs. “Hardly. I usually stop here a few times a week for a
cup of coffee.”
“Hmm. Interesting. I don’t recall ever seeing you in here before. It’s
my go-to place when I’m working.”
“That’s a shame really because I would have noticed you, and I
would have asked you out long before now.” He winks as we move
forward.
“You think you’re so smooth,” I tease.
“I know I am.” He gives me a devilish grin.
When I’m up to the register, I order my coffee, and Logan slyly tells
the barista that we’re together - refusing to let me pay.
“Logan,” I grumble in defeat.
He puts an arm around my shoulders. “Rachel.”
The spicy smell of his cologne intoxicates me, and I find my heart
beating faster. Hell, I’d be lying if I said that his uniform did nothing
for me either. I’d never considered myself a badge bunny, but
suddenly I see precisely what all the fuss is about.
“You okay?” He nudges me gently.
“Yep,” I squeak. I can see myself falling hard and fast for Logan if
I’m not careful.
The barista hands us each of our cups of coffee and the two cookies
that Logan added to our order.
“One for you.” He hands me one of the chocolate chip treats as we
step away from the counter.
“Thank you. I hate to run, but I’ve got to get back to work.”
He nods. “I’ll walk you out.”
We reach my car, and Logan opens the door for me like the perfect
gentleman.
“Something I’ve been meaning to ask you, got any plans for Friday
night?” he asks before I slide into the driver’s seat.
“That depends on what you have in mind,” I tease.
“Well, I thought I could take you out to dinner, and maybe we could
grab ice cream for dessert.”
“Hmm. Ice cream for dessert? I think I can clear my schedule.”
“So, Friday it is then. I’ll pick you up?” he offers.
“I can meet you there. Thanks again for this.” I hold up the coffee
and cookie.
“Anytime, pretty girl.”
“Text me later and let me know what time on Friday.”
Logan’s grin widens. “You can count on it.”
I’m floating on air by the time I get back to the hospital to finish out
my shift, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.
“What’s got you so happy?” Tori asks as she leans against the door
to my tiny patient’s room. “You’ve been giddy since you got back
from lunch.”
“Nothing.” I shrug while I enter the baby’s vitals into the chart.
“Lies. What’s his name?”
“Will you stop being ridiculous? You know I’ve been talking to
someone.”
“Ohhhh, it’s Logan! Did you two hook up for a little…”
I quickly turn toward Tori and silent her with an icy glare. “Don’t you
dare. And no, we didn’t.” I smile. “I may have run into him at the
coffee shop.”
“No way!” Her loud voice startles the baby, who was sleeping
soundly in the crib next to me. “Does he know about Piper yet?”
“Tori. For heaven's sake. Keep it down,” I hiss. “No, he doesn’t know
about Piper. No sense in bringing her into the mix until I know where
this is going, I don’t like the idea of having random men floating in
and out of her life. Logan and I, we’re just having fun right now.
Now, enough. Besides, don’t you have work to do?”
“Spoilsport,” she whispers back and disappears as I pick up my
patient and begin to rock him to soothe him back to sleep.
He’s napping on my chest when his mom comes in to visit. I stand
from the rocking chair and help her get settled. Then we shuffle her
baby boy and all the wires until he’s nestled comfortably in her arms.
After I update her on his progress for the day and answer any
questions she has, I excuse myself to check on my other patient.
My little two-pounder, who was born during my last shift, is holding
his own in the next room. His mom, on the other hand, is having a
rough recovery and hasn’t been able to visit with him as often as
she’d like because of the heavy medicines they have her on to
control her blood pressure. To try and make up for it, I’ve been
sending her pictures of the little guy and checking on her during my
fifteen-minute breaks when I’m here.
At one week old, he’s stable and doing well tonight. Already off of
the ventilator, my little friend is doing well on high flow oxygen.
Taking my time with him, I change his diaper and check his
temperature and vitals. Once I’m satisfied that all is well with this
kiddo too, I pull up the computer next to his incubator and begin
charting. By the time the night shift arrives, I’m all set to give my
report and clock out.
FIVE
 Logan

M e to Defcon1: Guess who has a date tonight? Don’t

wait up suckers.
Defcon1 (Gunner): Hell yes, get ‘em, tiger.
Defcon1 (Louis): Make sure you pack condoms.
Defcon1 (Sunny): You boys are gross. Keep it in your pants,
Playboy.
I got here early out of habit and have been pacing outside of The
Edison for fifteen minutes until Rachel finally arrives and puts me out
of my misery.
The minute she spots me, she smiles and gives me a shy wave.
“Hey.”
I pull her in for a casual hug, catching the faint scent of grapefruit
and jasmine. “You look beautiful.”
Her jeans might as well be painted on, and her shirt clings to every
curve with the slightest hint of cleavage peeking out the top. My
God, I’m a lucky man right now.
“T-thanks.” She relaxes in my arms and hugs me back.
“Before we go inside, I got you a little something. I saw it and
thought you might like it.” I hold out the tiny butterfly figurine I
found at a local shop while I was running errands earlier today, with
her love of butterflies and the color purple, the trinket called her
name.
She runs her fingers over the tiny wings and smiles up at me. “Wow,
it’s super cute. Perfect even. You didn’t have to…”
“I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to.” Placing one hand on the small
of her back, I guide her forward. “Shall we head inside?”
Our table is ready and waiting, and the hostess leads us out onto
the patio. I pull out her chair and wait for her to take her seat before
taking a seat across from her. We’re not alone long when the waiter
approaches us to get our drink orders. With two beers on the way,
we both look over our menus, though I already know what I’m
ordering.
“You made a good choice in venues. It’s been a long time since I’ve
been here. Last time didn’t go so well…” her voice trails off.
“Well then, I’m hoping to make this experience a positive memory
for you,” I wink.
Her face flushes, and it’s so damn cute for about five seconds until
my mind takes a detour into the gutter, and I can see her whole
body flushed pink as I make her scream my name. Christ, now I’ve
got a raging hard-on under the table. I promised I would take it
slow, stick to my own rules.
Thank fuck she can’t see the tent in my pants.
“Well, it wouldn’t take much. The last person I was here with didn’t
set the bar very high,” she says back, dropping her gaze.
“He must be a fool.”
Before our conversation continues, our waiter is back with drinks
and ready to take our order. My heart damn near skips a beat when
she tells the waiter, “I’ll have what he’s having.” This girl is clearly
after my own heart.
“Their steak is the best on the menu,” I tell her as the waiter leaves.
“You know something. I’ve been wondering. How in the hell have we
never run into each other before?” I shake my head in disbelief.
“We probably have, and we never realized it. I mean, after all, I was
there the night of your uh, busted date,” she lets out a hearty laugh,
and I groan.
“Yeah, yeah. Keep reminding me about that disaster.” Seriously
though, what are the odds that she’s been right here all along?
“So, Marine Reserves, is being a cop not enough fun for you?” She
jokes as she picks at the label on her beer.
“Being a cop is great; thank you very much.” I smile. “I love being a
Marine, too. This gives me the best of both worlds.” Not a lie, not
the entire truth. If things were different, I’d still be living that full-
time military life. That’s a topic for another day, not something I
want to talk about on a first date with someone who’s genuinely
sparked my interest since Ensley and I split several years ago.
It’s not like I’ve been a saint since then. I’ve done my fair share of
fooling around and dating, but something about Rachel is different.
A good different. And I find myself looking forward to getting to
know her even better.
“Okay. Fair enough.” She tips her beer at me. “I do have to say, I
can totally see the Marine in you, especially with your hair cut short
and no facial hair.”
“And what look is that exactly? The badass, buff, and sexy as hell
look?” I jest, as our waiter returns with our food.
“Oh my gosh.” Rachel laughs at my expense before taking the first
bite of her steak. “You did not just say that! I know damn well a guy
like you does not need to fish for compliments.” She takes a long
pull of her beer before she continues. “You are pretty buff, though.”
I’m rewarded with a sexy wink with that statement.
“Thanks for noticing.” I flex one arm and chuckle. “You said you’re a
NICU nurse. What made you decide to go in that direction?”
She pauses briefly, looking down at her food before meeting my
gaze. “For a while, I considered becoming a hospice nurse. When
my grandfather was in the final stages of his cancer, I saw these
amazing angels, helping to make his last days the best they could
be. After doing some volunteer work and an internship with a
hospice center, I knew there was no way I could handle it. Hospice
nurses have a gift. So, I went in the opposite direction. I wanted to
help people live.” Her eyes light up, and as she continues to talk, I
can’t help my awe for this woman. “Sure, we have bad days too,
when our tiniest of patients don’t survive. But I’ve never seen a
human fight harder than a one-pound baby. Seeing those babies
going home with their moms and dads, knowing I’ve been a part of
that? It’s something I cherish.”
“You sound pretty passionate about it.”
“I am. You have no idea just how fragile life is until you’ve been
around a preemie.”
Being around any baby is enough to give me hives. I’m not about to
tell Rachel that, though.
“Enough of the mushy stuff,” Her voice drops, and she leans across
the table, “I’m dying to know. How well do you know how to use a
pair of handcuffs?” Mischief twinkles in her eyes, and I’m sure I’ve
got my hands full with this woman.
“If you could see your face,” she hoots. “Man, you must date some
really forward women if they bring up the cuffs on the first date.”
“You just did!” I mock offense.
“It was a joke.” She continues laughing. “Though now that you seem
all embarrassed…” her voice trails off.
“Changing the subject.” Before I nut in my pants like a teenager.
“Fine, fine. Where are you from originally? I’m guessing you may or
may not have moved around a lot as a Marine.”
“Born in Lynchburg, Tennessee. My little brother Ryker still lives
there, well, I guess he’s not so little anymore.”
Our conversation continues to flow smoothly throughout our meal.
The usual awkward silence that I’m used to on first dates never
happens. In fact, I think I’ve laughed more tonight than I have in a
long time.
“Funniest thing that’s ever happened to you at work, and go…” I ask
as we finish up our drinks.
“I was giving one of the babies a bath, went to pick the little guy up,
and he shit on me. It was on my scrubs and in my shoes. Made this
loud noise, too. I can laugh about it now.” Rachel smiles. “It’s a good
thing they’re cute, ya know. Now it's your turn.”
I watch her face contort in humor as I tell her about one of our
“regulars” that we’re sadly always picking up.
“Okay, okay, wait.” She wipes tears of laughter from her eyes.
“You’re serious? The woman bit you.”
“Yes. And on my ass at that.” I’m trying to remain straight-faced as I
finish telling her the story. “One of our female officers did the pat-
down and cuffed her. Sat her on the curb, and I was behind her,
talking with another officer. She turned around and bit my ass. I had
teeth marks for weeks after that.”
“What in the world? Was she drunk or something?” Rachel shakes
her head.
“God knows what she was on. The guys didn’t let me live that shit
down for a long time.”
She takes a deep breath and tries not to chuckle. “I can’t…” She
giggles. “Sorry. Oh gosh. I’m picturing this and your reaction.
That’s...insane.”
I lean back in my chair and grin. “Go on, laugh it up.”
Our waiter returns, momentarily interrupting us. “Would you like a
dessert menu?”
Looking at Rachel, I ask, “You still up for ice cream? I know the
perfect place, it’s just around the corner. We can walk there.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“Just the check, please,” I tell the waiter.
He’s back with the bill in no time. I’ve already got my wallet out and
stuff enough cash inside to cover the meal plus a generous tip.
“Shall we?” I stand and reach for Rachel’s hand as we make our way
out onto the sidewalk.
SIX
 Rachel

L ogan’s hand on the small of my back is a steady presence as he

leads the way to the ice cream shop. The comfortable silence
between us gives me the opportunity to soak it all in and enjoy
just being with him. I thought I felt it before, but now I’m sure.
There’s something about Logan. A connection I’ve been missing with
anyone else. It’s easy to forget everything else and be myself.
The time we’ve spent chatting on the phone or through text
messages makes me feel like I’ve known him nearly my whole life.
“This is it,” he says, opening the door to Sugar Rush.
The air inside the ice cream shop smells like vanilla and sugar. It’s
familiar and cozy. Reminiscent of all those weekends I spent with my
grandmother, baking cookies and pies. The retro decor adds an
adorable 1950’s flare.
“Wow. This place is…” My voice trails off as I look around and take it
all in.
They certainly don’t do anything small at this place. The tables are
filled with patrons and oversized milkshake concoctions and giant ice
cream cones.
“Tell me they have kid-sized options. I don’t know that I can finish
off something like that,” I point behind the counter to the dish that is
currently being adorned with sprinkles and full-size candy bars.
Logan’s eyes light up, and he winks at me. “We can share.”
We take our place at the end of the line and begin discussing our
flavor options.
“I’m taking it that you’ve probably been here before, so what’s your
pick?” I ask, leaning into his welcoming embrace.
“Hands down, if I’ve got to choose one, it’s the Reeses Cup
Milkshake, though I wouldn’t really call it a milkshake. I’ve always
had to enjoy it with a spoon, at least at first.”
I let out a low hum. “Reeses are life.”
Logan tenses beside me. When I look up at him, he swallows hard
and gives me a shy smile.
“Everything okay?”
“Yep, all good.” His words roll off his tongue in a husky tone.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was having an effect on him.
“Good evening, what can I get you lovebirds,” the teenager behind
the counter asks as we step forward, taking our turn.
Logan looks at me. “Reeses, then?”
“Yes, please.” I grin like a fool.
“One Reeses Milkshake. Two spoons.” He places our order, and we
move toward the register.
He pays for our dessert and gathers napkins and straws before they
hand him the milkshake.
We find an empty booth in the corner. I expect Logan to slide in
across from me, but instead, he slips in beside me and hands me a
spoon.
“Ladies first. I want to see your face when you taste this
amazingness.”
I give him a flirty side-eye and take the spoon. The first taste hits
my tongue, and I swear I’ve nearly died and gone to heaven.
“Holy shit.”
He beams. “It’s great, isn’t it?”
“I’ve never tasted anything like this,” I agree.
Plucking half a Reeses Cup from the top of the glass, he offers it to
me.
Clearly losing all common sense, instead of taking it from him, I lean
forward and take a bite.
I’m rewarded with a smoldering look and a low hiss.
“I have a feeling you’re going to be the death of me,” he whispers,
and my heart does a little leap.
After we finish our shake, Logan and I walk back to the parking lot
at the restaurant. This time he wraps his arm around my waist and
keeps me close.
“There are some benches on the other side of this place. They
overlook a little man-made pond. If you’re not in a hurry, we could
sit and watch the sunset.” Logan offers before we have a chance to
walk to our cars.
“You know, I think I’d like that.”
We find what seems like the perfect spot and enjoy the tranquility in
silence for a little bit. Part of me contemplates mentioning that I
have a daughter while the protective mom in me says it’s still too
soon, and I barely know Logan. Despite how much we’ve talked,
kids is one topic of conversation that has not come up.
“Rachel.” Logan’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.
“Hmm.”
“You good? You looked like you drifted away there for a minute.”
I turn to him and force a smile. “I’m good. I was thinking about how
great tonight turned out to be.”
Logan grins back at me. “You’re right. It has been a lot of fun.”
Leaning in, he cups my chin and presses a gentle kiss to my lips.
When he pulls back, I sigh contently, and he takes my hand in his.
“We should do this again sometime.”
“I would like that,” I tell him honestly.
“When can I see you again?” he asks as he pulls me a little closer
and wraps an arm around my shoulders.
“That depends. I work the next few days, but I’m off Wednesday.
Maybe we could do lunch?”
“I think I can swing that,” he teases. “Listen, I’ve got drill this
weekend, so if I go silent on you, don’t think I’m ghosting you. I’ve
got to be on base by 0600 tomorrow. Sometimes I’ve got free time,
other times, not so much.”
“I appreciate the heads up. I would have been worried I scared you
off,” I laugh.
“Never.” He kisses the top of my forehead. “I hate to end the night,
but morning comes early.”
“It does. We should go. I’ve got to work this weekend myself.”
Hand in hand, we stand, and I let Logan walk me to my car.
He spins me around and leans me against the door then kisses me
again, this time he takes his time and lingers before deepening the
kiss. I wrap my arms around his neck and melt against him. Our
tongues dance together, the lingering hint of peanut butter and
chocolate against his lips is like an aphrodisiac, spurring me on.
Another time, another place, I’d beg him to take me to his place or
mine.
Logan pulls back and presses his forehead to mine. “Thanks again
for tonight.”
Looking up at him, I know he can see the lust written all over my
face. “It was perfect. Thank you.”
“Send me a text and let me know you made it home safely?” he
asks.
I nod. “I’ll text you.”
He gives me another kiss, then opens my car door. “Drive safe.”
“You too.”
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
freely to the bent of his own inclination: He could now renew his resolution
of plunging into a religious war, without apprehension of being restrained
by opinions to which he was used to yield. The habit of believing this
resolution highly meritorious, had given some imperiousness to his mode of
carrying it into execution; and he could not always conceal his disdain for
such persons as represented that no zeal for general good, should make him
risk the particular good of his own subjects. But towards Antonio, he turned
with redoubled favor; for Antonio warmly embraced the revived projects,
offering to accompany him into Africa, a country now become the object of
his contemplation.
The Moors, though driven out of Spain, still continued to increase in
strength and dominion among the mountains of Barbary: they frequently
attacked the fortresses belonging to Portugal, which remained to her upon
their coast, and not only treated the prisoners made in these engagements
with extreme rigour, but terrified or seduced some of them into the
profession of their impious faith. Sebastian meditated the destruction of this
growing power: he communicated his design to Antonio alone, who
consented to become his companion in a secret excursion to the fortress of
Tangier, from whence they might gather certain information of the nature
and the resources of the Mauritanian states.
As it was the young king’s wish to avoid controversy with his ministers,
by keeping the whole affair secret till he had reconnoitred Africa, Don
Antonio was directed to make private arrangements for their conveyance
beyond sea, while under the pretence of a hunting match, he should draw
together all the young lords likely to embrace their enterprize.
Gallantly provided, those favorite nobles met their sovereign in the
province of Algarve, where he disclosed his project of crossing over
immediately into Africa. Smit with the phrensy of chevalric adventure,
every one consented to embark their fates with those of their King; and
rather to incur the chance of being taken prisoners by the Moors, than
shrink from danger when it might lead to glory.
They set sail in a single vessel badly manned and worse armed; but to a
band of rash young men, whose leader was still younger, and more
adventurous than themselves, even hazard had charms. After a short
voyage, they landed safely at Tangier.
 Sebastian was no sooner upon African ground, than he began to
prosecute his enquiries with equal vigour and ability: he learnt the military
force and resources of the Moors, their points of weakness and of strength,
their system of war and of government, the nature of their troops, and the
topography of their country; he ransomed several Christians who had long
languished in slavery, and from their accounts of the Moorish princes began
to hope that in their contests for supremacy, he might reap solid advantage.
Having thoroughly acquainted himself with these important subjects, the
King hastened his re-embarkation: flushed with the conviction of being now
able to bear down every cautionary suggestion of his counsellors, by
arguments drawn from actual observation of the country he was going to
invade. After a short absence he set sail again with his followers for the
shores of Portugal.
In mid sea they met and engaged a Turkish vessel. The Turk was greatly
superior in size and force; but a band of brave spirits animated into heroes
by the example of their King, were not to be conquered by common efforts,
Sebastian fought like a roused lion; he fought for the first time; he fought
for the lives and liberties of men whom his rashness had endangered; he
fought too for honour, and he fought against infidels. After a long and fierce
resistance, the Turk struck his flag, and Sebastian ordered the ensign of the
cross, to take its place. His heart hailed an omen which promised victory
over Mahomet.
Elated with conquest, the royal galliot proceeded direct for Lisbon: as
they were entering the mouth of the Tagus, a sudden storm arose, and for
some hours Sebastian beheld death approaching in a more appalling shape
than when dimly seen among the flashing of arms. But his courage did not
desert him even then: nay, it shone with steadier brightness as the danger
darkened. By remaining undismayed himself, he recalled the energies of
others. Every effort and activity were exerted; and it proved ultimately
successful: they rode out the storm in safety through a starless night, and
the next morning were seen entering the Tagus in triumph with their prize.
The return of their beloved prince thus accompanied, circulated extreme
joy throughout Lisbon:—in his safety and his conquest, the boyish
imprudence of his conduct was forgotten, and exultation alone appeared on
the faces of the Portuguese. But alas! this exultation was quickly swallowed
up in horror; for the plague, which during the King’s absence had appeared
in several provinces, now broke out in the city, and swept away thousands
with resistless fury.
Sebastian’s strenuous exertions were applied to stop the progress of this
calamity: he refused to abandon his capital, confidently reposing on the
protection of heaven, while engaged in the performance of a duty. Often
was this youthful father of his people seen passing from house to house, to
witness the execution of the orders he issued for the relief of his suffering
subjects: often was he seen to weep over domestic wounds, which not even
the hand of a munificent prince could heal.
When the contagion had exhausted its rage, and the few remaining
inhabitants awoke from their stupefaction, the King’s safety became a
miracle in their eyes: and Sebastian himself, recollecting his conquest over
the infidel and the tempest, believed his life preserved for some admirable
purpose.
It was with bitter regret that he now saw his African enterprize frustrated
for awhile: his dominions wasted by sickness, and enfeebled by terror, were
not capable of affording him those supplies, necessary to success; he
therefore laid aside the plan, and went with his cousin Antonio, to recover
from their fatigue and mortification among the romantic scenes of the
prior’s residence near Crato.
It was in this enchanting retreat that he was startled by a proposal from
his first minister, for his marriage with a princess of France. Though
Sebastian treated the idea of love (such as he saw it amongst his young
courtiers,) with infinite scorn, and wondered how a man’s heart could find
room for any other passion than glory, he had at this moment a confused
idea, that preference at least, was necessary to make the marriage yoke
pleasant, or light. He hastily caught up the miniature of the lady (which had
been sent with the proposal,) and looked earnestly at it: the next instant he
threw it away, exclaiming with his usual impetuosity, “ ’tis a peevish, little-
souled face, and I would not marry the original if she had all France for her
dowry.”
Antonio took up the picture, and eyed it with some admiration—“and
pray my good, insensible cousin,” he said, “what wouldst thou have?—here
is a very pretty neck, a skin like roses and lilies, a delicate mouth, tolerable
eyes!—the princess is, I dare say, a charming little doll, with which a man
might amuse himself very agreeably, when he had nothing else to do.”
 “But I shall always have something else to do,” replied Sebastian, “I
cannot bear the thought of having a contemptible play-thing for a wife; yet I
should despise myself were I ever to be fascinated by any woman into the
servile bondage of love,—no; you must all wait my time: I shall marry some
day; but I swear by Heaven, not before I have combatted the infidels on
their own ground.”
“That is a very foolish vow,” observed Antonio, “and I’d have you recal
it.”
“Never!” exclaimed the King, “never!” (and while he spoke, his eyes
lightened with youthful ardour) “you know my character Antonio; it is
formed of tougher materials than yours, it does not easily bend even to
necessity. Though our exhausted country now is fainting before us, she will
revive, she will recover; and then, strong in a divine cause, conscious of no
motive beyond the love of mankind, (whose bodies these accursed
Mahometans torture in slavery, and whose souls they draw into everlasting
perdition,) I will advance under the banner of the cross, confident of
victory.—What is it I seek?—not dominion, not power, nor the mere name
of conqueror? I combat for the eternal good of the human race: I pant after
no earthly honour; except indeed the proud distinction of having extirpated
the enemies of Christ.”
“That is all, very admirable, and very true, my royal cousin,” replied the
prior, “but as neither priests nor laymen can pretend to read the will of
Heaven, we must not be quite so confident of success, at least you should
conceive the possibility of your being ordained, (which God forbid!) to fall
in the very moment of triumph, purchasing with your blood the saintly
distinction to which you aspire.” The young King who was traversing the
apartment, turned quickly round at this; transported with the dazzling
thought his enthusiastic spirit blazed on his face; he looked at his cousin
with rapture. “Such a death!—Antonio, would you not envy such a death?”
“Not in the least,” replied the prior gaily, “you must excuse me if I pray
for a very different end for us both.—But if you are bent upon thus expiring
like the Phœnix amidst the cloves and cinnamon of glory, suffer me to
remind you, that Portugal will then have reason to lament the princess of
France’s peevish countenance, and her monarch’s imprudent vow.”
Sebastian was struck with the observation: after a pause he said, “you are
right; yet I am not inclined to retract. While I study the happiness of my
people, surely it is not required of me to sacrifice my own?—Though at this
instant, I could contentedly take the vow of celibacy to please them (if that
were necessary for any good purpose,) I do not find in myself a disposition
to embitter my domestic life merely for the sake of leaving them an heir to
my crown.—I can imagine infinite happiness with a wife suited to my taste,
consonant with my principles, and capable of catching some of my own
wild-fire; and I feel a jealous something in my breast—call it pride, call it
delicacy, what you will, but it is a sentiment of abhorrence at the thought of
cherishing a woman who would have consented to fill the arms of any other
King that might have sat on the throne of Portugal.—For this reason I
cannot, I will not marry one to whom I am personally unknown—this is my
determination, carry it to Alcoçava, and let him manage the refusal with the
customary decorum.”
After a little good-humoured raillery, Antonio prepared to set out for
Lisbon, and the King, without suffering any one to attend him, mounted a
horse and rode forth.
His spirit was disturbed by that prevalent anxiety for his marriage, which
his ministry had urged in support of their late proposal; and it was saddened
by the small prospect there was, of his being speedily able to realize the
darling wish that had grown with his growth, and strengthened with his
strength. Disinterested as he firmly believed himself, and purely actuated by
zeal for the holy faith, yet he could not conceal from his own conscience,
that a boundless ambition of fame, had its share in regretting the delay of
his purposed expedition: the enfeebled state of his dominions had prevented
him from contributing any assistance to the grand coalition then forming
against the Turks—and the splendid success of that coalition, deepened his
chagrin. The victory of Lepanto haunted his nightly dreams; he secretly
repined at the thick laurels of Don John of Austria; painfully contrasting
that young admiral’s achievements, with his own blighted and withering
hopes.
Wearied with thought and motion, Sebastian threw himself off his horse
in a solitary spot surrounded by hills, and suffering him to graze at will, cast
himself along under a shade of cork trees; there he mused over ten thousand
new prospects of vain and impracticable enterprize.
The sultry air was cooled and perfumed by the breathing of aromatic
plants, kept in all the greenness of spring, by several rills which trickled
almost unseen beneath them; not a breeze stirred the leaves of the cork
trees, and the very birds were silent: the only sound to be heard throughout
the valley, was the lulling murmur of bees coming to feed upon the flowers.
A steady heat glowed in the air: Sebastian cast aside his mantle and his hat,
and pushed away the hair from his forehead; all the summer burned upon
his cheek, but a hotter fire, the fever of impatience was in his heart.—By
degrees the enervating warmth overpowered him, and he sunk into sleep.
He had not reposed long, when his slumbers were dispersed by the sound
of steps and a voice; he opened his eyes; at that instant a goat twisted with
flowers, and dragging along a half finished garland, bounded past with a
suddenness which made the King start up.—The wanton animal was swiftly
followed by a young virgin, who stopt confounded at sight of a man: part of
her veil was off, and filled with the flowers she had been employed in
arranging, and a profusion of bright golden hair, picturesquely disordered
by the heat and the pursuit, was scattered on a neck that sparkled in the sun
like alabaster. The eagerness of her feelings had heightened the lustre of her
beauty to such perfection, that Sebastian almost believed the object before
him a celestial vision. The blue glory of her eyes, the glittering bloom of her
complexion, the gracefulness of her attitude, and the animation of her whole
person, gave him for the first time in his life a complete idea of female
charms.
Abashed and surprised by an exclamation which escaped him, the fair
stranger turned blushing away, hastily endeavouring to cover herself with
her veil.
Sebastian pointed to the goat now trailing his fantastic trappings along
the ridge of a steep height—“You will not go, fair creature! he said, till you
have given me permission to attempt the recovery of yon runaway?”
Fresh beauty was diffused over the exquisite features of the lady, while
she willingly essayed to thank him: “I have imprudently ventured too far
beyond my father’s park, she added, or you would not see me thus
unattended sir. I ought not to remain here with a stranger perhaps, but your
countenance insures me respect, and I think, I hope, I am not wrong in
accepting your services!”
The King now led her to the shade, where she seated herself, while he
ascended a neighbouring hill, and soon returned with the goat: at the playful
chiding of its lovely mistress, the little animal lay down in seeming
penitence beside her, suffering Sebastian to caress, and hold it prisoner. The
panting fatigue of Donna Gonsalva, and the peculiar freshness of the air in
the valley, afforded him a plausible excuse for seeking to detain her:
Gonsalva herself, flattered with the admiration she inspired, was in no haste
to recover. She was struck with the noble air of her companion, and felt
some womanish curiosity about his name and rank: but Sebastian, desirous
of concealing himself, without anticipating any further acquaintance,
avoided her questions. He found from her own account, that she was the
only daughter of the count Vimiosa, (his envoy at the court of France,) and
was then inhabiting the family mansion, under the protection of a maiden
aunt.
An abundance of enchanting gaiety led Gonsalva into unreserved
conversation: she rallied the King upon the solitude in which she had found
him, and with arch naiveté told him she should never in future address her
saint without remembering to pray for the gallant solitary. “But by what
name shall I pray for him?” asked she, rising to depart: the King hesitated;
as he was born upon the eve of the joint feast of two Saints, he believed
himself entitled to the name of either, so bid her remember him by the title
of Don Fabian.
Donna Gonsalva repeated the words. “I shall not forget you; said she,
remember me, when you look at this flower, that will be just five minutes,
for it is withering now.” She threw him a lily out of her bosom with a smile
of such magic beauty, that Sebastian could not refrain from snatching the
fair hand which dropped the flower, and printing it lightly with a kiss.
Gonsalva drew away her hand in displeasure. Would she have done so, had
she known that this was the first kiss those lips had given to beauty, and that
it was the King of Portugal who gave it?
She disappeared the next moment, leaving Sebastian endeavouring to
rally himself upon so unusual an impulse of gallantry.
The beautiful Portuguese had successfully dispersed the young
monarch’s gloom; it did not return: he loitered awhile longer in the scene
where he had beheld her, then seeking his horse, returned to Crato.
 CHAP. II.
As Antonio had business to transact for the King with his cabinet, he did
not return immediately from Lisbon, and Sebastian having visited him
without any of his favorite Lords, was now thrown principally upon his own
resources for amusement. The weather was too hot for hunting or tennis,
reading stirred his ardent spirit too violently, and he was not in the mood for
general society; the next day therefore, he naturally thought of the last day’s
agreeable adventure: without absolutely proposing to do so, he rode out
again unattended.
On reaching the pass leading into the valley, he left his horse in charge
with a goatherd who was stationed there to watch some flocks, and pursued
his way on foot. The heat was moderated by a slight shower which had
refreshed the verdant landscape, and now the birds sung from every copse:
but the scene wanted the presence of Gonsalva; she was not there. Sebastian
mechanically followed the track he had seen her take, and descending the
opposite side of a steep hill, saw stretched out before him, a luxuriant and
extensive vale, in which the villa and domain of Vimiosa, were nobly
conspicuous.
Proceeding through a thicket of evergreen oaks, the King soon found
himself in a labyrinth of walks; he chose one at a venture, and fortune
destined it should lead him to the entrance of a bower, where stood the fair
subject of his thoughts, occupied in reading a letter.
At sight of him, roseate blushes succeeded by entrancing smiles, passed
over her face. “Don Fabian!” she exclaimed, “for Heaven’s sake what
brings you here?”
The question was unlucky, as it was the only one perhaps, which the
King could not answer satisfactorily to himself, he looked at her, hesitated,
felt embarrassed, and at length said timidly, “to ask forgiveness I believe,
for the fault I committed yesterday.”
Donna Gonsalva now remembered that she had left him in anger. “So
then, you have the boldness to encrease that fault by following me into a
place, where if you were to be seen, it might cost you your life; me, my
reputation and peace of mind!—for pity’s sake, do not stay here—I expect
—I expect one of my relations every instant—should he see you—a
stranger—-go, for Heaven’s sake go!”—As the beautiful Portuguese spoke,
she unconsciously grasped his arm with her hand, and impelled him
towards the mountains.
Sebastian’s heart, for the first moment in his life, throbbed with a tender
emotion, nearly a-kin to love: he understood nothing in this speech but a
desire for his preservation; and he knew himself unknown: It was not the
King of Portugal then, but an obscure stranger, whom the daughter of the
count Vimiosa was thus solicitous to save. “Ah, charming Gonsalva,” he
cried with an air of mental intoxication, “if you are as amiable as you
appear, the wishes of”—my people, he was going to add, but checking the
indiscreet expression, he finished the sentence with a sigh.
An excess of pleasure brightened the beauty of Gonsalva; she averted
her eyes to conceal it, while she repeated an intreaty that he would consider
the impropriety of her being discovered in conversation with a young
nobleman unknown to her family. Sebastian still lingered: “you must not
refuse me another meeting!”—he said; and he said it with the air of a man
to whom command is habitual, and refusal a novelty.
“I must not!” repeated Gonsalva, laughing, “do you remember, Don
Fabian, that you are speaking to a woman—and that woman the daughter of
the count Vimiosa?—our sex are not accustomed to yield, even the slightest
favors, at the mere expression of an ardent wish; we must be sued to
submissively.”
“Submission is my abhorrence!” exclaimed the young monarch with
vivacity, “I feel now, and for the first time in my life, that I can admire, I
can prize, I can love, perhaps; but you must not expect me to renounce
equality with the object. I must have heart for heart, I must excite as many
tender apprehensions as I feel, or—”
“And who are you, that can never speak without an I must:” exclaimed
Gonsalva, laughing excessively—“but I have not time to hear your answer,
leave me I say—we may perhaps meet again, and then—I hear footsteps—
farewell count.”—She turned abruptly into a side path, and Sebastian
desirous of remaining unknown, hastened out of the domain.
He was no sooner at a distance from the villa Vimiosa, than he began to
muse over the confession of admiration into which he had been hurried, and
to dwell with extreme pleasure on the concluding words of Gonsalva, as
they certainly intimated a wish to see him again. In less than an hour, a
complete set of new ideas had taken possession of his mind: the
conversation with Don Antonio, and the wish of his people, blending with
the image of Donna Gonsalva, awakened in his bosom an emotion hitherto
unknown; but an emotion too sweet and subtle for rejection. The adventure
itself had the charm of novelty; as for the first time in his life he beheld a
young and lovely woman, who so far from dreaming of his rank, believed
herself his superior. Amongst the ladies of the court he had seen beauty, but
it was beauty divested of its most touching graces, the play of innocent
freedom: he had never met with one who did not appear emulous to attract
the King’s notice; and as he possessed too much delicacy to bear the
thought of owing any thing to an exalted station, he despised and avoided
their homage.
Occupied solely with the romantic reveries of an amiable, though erring
ambition, he had hitherto felt without reasoning upon the subject, that he
had no time for love; conscious that whenever he yielded to that sentiment
it would influence his happiness entirely. Here, now, was the only
opportunity that might ever present itself for acquiring a female heart,
without the hateful aid of royalty; here was an opportunity of gratifying his
people without mortifying his own feelings. The prospect of arms and
victories, no longer filled the void of his capacious soul, and how could he
better console himself for this, than by trying to accommodate his private
inclinations with those of his subjects?
The extreme beauty and graceful gaiety of Donna Gonsalva delighted
the senses of Sebastian; he hoped to find her equally charming in mind and
heart: above all he passionately desired to make her love him. With the
inperiousness of a King, he resolved to reign absolute over her affections, to
have his power avowed and submitted to, or not to reign at all: he
determined to be preferred as Don Fabian, before he should be known as
Sebastian. Every thing promised success to this romantic resolution; and the
more he reflected on it the more he was confirmed in the intention of
concealing his real rank from Gonsalva; as she lived much secluded, and at
some miles distance from Crato, discovery was unlikely, besides which, the
clandestine nature of their intercourse rendered enquiries on her part almost
impossible.
Satisfied with these mental arrangements, the King rode gaily home,
forgetful of the foolish vow he had taken; treading lightly on the delightful
precincts of Love, whose first prospects are like “the opening of Heaven’s
everlasting gates, on golden hinges turning.”—
He finished the day amongst his young nobles, with uncommon
animation.
The prior of Crato was expected the next morning: Sebastian saw day
dawn, after passing a night of sweet wakefulness, during which the image
of Donna Gonsalva had floated perpetually before him. Eager to behold her
in reality, ere the return of his cousin, the King withdrew early from his
attending lords, and took the road to Vimiosa.
As he was proceeding to enter the path through the thicket, he saw
Gonsalva at a distance, in another part of the domain, walking on a terrace,
cut on the side of a hill, that overlooked the house; he hastened thither, but
perceiving that she had a female companion, retreated and placed himself
under the boughs of a tree. The ladies turned, and walked towards him: as
they approached, his heart beat with an anxiety that surprized himself; if
Gonsalva should not see him! he shook the branches of the tree with a
trembling hand, at which she started and put aside her veil. The same bright
glow of pleasure irradiated her effulgent beauty, the same smile that had
charmed away the reason of Sebastian, again transported him; but she
dropped her veil, and passed on without speaking.
After taking several turns together, the ladies separated: the aunt of
Gonsalva descended a flight of steps over which the trees hung so thick, as
soon to exclude her from sight, while her fair niece at first advanced
towards the grove which concealed Sebastian, and then capriciously struck
into a path sloping directly from him.
The impetuous monarch disturbed at the thought of her departure, sprang
forward, intreating that she would stay. Gonsalva half turned round—“So,
you are here again my good friend?”—she said, in a tone of careless gaiety
which her sparkling looks contradicted,—“are you come to teach me
another lesson out of your new catechism of female subjection?—let me tell
you that air of authority that you have, is abominably provoking, and I
should like vastly to break its neck: one grain of humility would make you
—not absolutely hateful.”
“You shall find me humbler to you, than to any other being in the
world;” replied Sebastian smiling, “if you will but strive to think of me with
tenderness.” Gonsalva laughed. “What a pleasant madman chance has
introduced me to!—upon what do you ground these extravagant
pretensions? pretensions too, so insolently urged! did you never read the
Spanish author, who calls Love, that courteous affront offered to beauty?—
prithee con over his definition and profit by it. Think of you with
tenderness! why, my presumptuous friend, if I think of you at all in any way
’tis more than you should expect. Think of you with tenderness, when all I
know of you is that you have a tolerable figure, which sillier women than
myself may have persuaded you is irresistible!—A potentate could not woo
with more authority.”
The accidentally penetrating glance of her eyes while speaking these
words, so confounded Sebastian, that it made the blood mantle on his
cheeks, she laughed again. “Come, this is the colouring of penitence, so I
must not chide you any more. Never let me hear a presumptuous word
breathed, consent to be docile as a lamb, and I may condescend to be so
much interested in you as to ask you, who you are? whence you come! and
whither you go?”
During this discourse Donna Gonsalva had entered a path leading off the
terrace, and they were now advancing through an olive plantation which
effectually secured them from observation. Sebastian was encouraged by
her arch freedom: “Whence I come, and whither I go, fair Gonsalva,” he
said, “matters not; what I am, you shall know. I am a soldier: one that
hitherto had no other passion than glory; one that never yet bowed either
heart or knee to beauty. If you see honour and honesty in my countenance,
believe me when I swear that neither my rank nor fortune are unworthy of
the count Vimiosa’s heiress: but ask me no further; imperious circumstances
render me mysterious. Suffer me to see you, suffer me to attempt winning
your heart, and losing my own, and then,”—“O ye saints!” interrupted
Gonsalva, “what excess of gallantry! So—you have not lost your heart yet!
but wait most obsequiously for the surrender of mine! I protest count, or
duke, or whatever you are, you have a very taking way of making love!
This cloven foot of arbitrary insolence is for ever shewing itself: I have a
shrewd notion you are one of our young King’s attendants, and have caught
his character?” “And what is the King’s character?” asked Sebastian
smiling. “An excellent one for a King, doubtless,” replied Gonsalva. “He
thinks of nothing but rule and dominion, breathes nothing but war and
devastation, and would fancy himself un-kinged if he were to yield an iota
to a woman. All the court ladies love him mortally, and hate him mortally:
they are charmed by his accomplishments, but piqued at his coldness. I
have heard some of them say so repeatedly. Give him the world to reign
over, and he would not care if there was not a woman in it.”
Sebastian did not reply: he was momentarily lost in rumination upon the
injustice done to his actions by mistaking their motives. It was evident that
Gonsalva had learned his character from report, and spoke therefore the
prevailing opinion. After a pause he said, “I have been told that Don
Sebastian young as he is, cannot be justly taxed with a thirst for mere
power; he is said to be actuated by zeal for our holy faith.”
“You know it perhaps?” rejoined Gonsalva playfully. “Come, come,
confess that you are one of his court. I hear his majesty is at Crato with Don
Antonio, and of course some of his lords must be in attendance on him.”
“Well then,” replied Sebastian, “I may frankly own that I came with the
King, and must return with him to Lisbon. My visits here are secret; Don
Sebastian has always expressed such disdain at lovers, that if he knew me
capable of humbling myself to such a merciless tyrant as your fair self, I
fear he would blush for my altered sentiments. Allow me to hope, charming
Gonsalva, that you will permit me to see you here again at this hour to-
morrow? The King will soon return to Lisbon, and then I shall see you no
more.”
Sebastian pronounced the last words with a sigh, and anxiously looked
on the heavenly features of Gonsalva for an expression of answering regret:
those heavenly features were as usual brilliant with delight; her heart did
not appear touched by the intimation of this separation. “Do you see that
tower yonder?” she asked, pointing to a part of the house which rose above
some trees—“my apartments are there: under the tower-window passes a
neglected path half choaked with shrubs, where if you chuse to ramble and
take the chance of seeing me, and being noticed, I shall not command you
away. A short excursion by moonlight will do you no harm: but mark me—
no serenading.”
“Then it is at night I am to expect the happiness of seeing you?”
“Have I not told you, not to expect any thing? if you won’t consent to
take even trifles as unlooked-for favors, you will lose my friendship. I will
be absolute in my way; a very counterpart of your royal master. Fare you
well, Don Fabian, if you should miss seeing me at my window, take this as
a complete adieu: and, do you hear, when you return to Lisbon, do set about
curing both yourself and the King, of your abominable insolence.”
Away flew the volatile beauty with the grace of a nymph, leaving
Sebastian pierced with pains which he dreaded to analyze; too certain they
were occasioned by her seeming indifference. Something like resentment
swelled his proud heart as he recalled the tenderness of his parting manner,
and the carelessness of hers: he felt as if he had been duped; and execrated
himself for having yielded even momentarily to a weakness which had thus
sunk him into the play-thing of a coquet. To have gained gently upon her
affections, and fanned an infant fire with the softest breath of respectful
love, had been the aim of his wishes; but to worship an idol without a heart,
feed an inhuman deity with groans and tears, to dote on what he could not
esteem, was a meanness he scorned.
“You have seen me for the last time, insensible Gonsalva!” he
exclaimed, as turning from the view of the tower, he rushed towards the
mountains.
Vexed at himself, and irritated with disappointment, he rode to Crato in a
mood that clouded his physiognomy. The prior was waiting his return:
Sebastian scarcely noticing him, seized a bundle of dispatches sent from
one of his ministers, and began to read them eagerly. Don Antonio ventured
a jocular remark upon his disturbed countenance.
“I am in an ill-humour cousin,” replied the King, “in a rage at my own
conduct; and at this moment could tear up the roots of earth itself.”—
Antonio expressed some astonishment and more curiosity: Sebastian
declined satisfying it, adding, “I have quite enough to bear, cousin, when I
have my own contempt to encounter, without seeking the addition of yours.
Let this squall of temper have its way—for heaven’s sake talk with me of
business, news, nonsense, any thing—change the current of my thoughts if
possible.—What said Alcoçava and the cardinal to my refusal of the
Frenchwoman?”
“Since you require me to change the current of your thoughts, and thus
lead to the subject of love and marriage, I may conclude the mischief-
making God has had no hand in raising the present storm?”—Don Antonio
spoke this with a forced smile, and not without hesitation; yet he fixed his
eyes earnestly upon those of his cousin: the ingenuous countenance of the
latter was immediately crimsoned over; he turned away, uttering an
exclamation of contempt, coupled with the idea of love, and abruptly
entered on another topic. The prior surprized and disturbed, appeared
somewhat hurt at the King’s reserve, for he became thoughtful, and
supported conversation with less spirit than was usual with him; but at
length this mutual restraint wore off, and the remainder of the day was spent
in all the freedom of friendship.
Sebastian’s resolution to avoid Gonsalva, lasted rather longer than his
indignation. By degrees the flattering parts of her manner came oftener to
his memory than those gay airs of indifference which had mortified his too
sanguine nature: the agitating blush, the hope-awakening smile haunted his
day-dreams; sometimes he saw her in the visions of the night, yielding him
one of those tresses like the morn, which shaded her ivory neck, and half-
averting a cheek now glowing with the sensibility of a melting heart.—He
awoke, but the seducing image still swam before him.
Sebastian then revolved the probability of his having judged hastily and
harshly: delicacy alone, or love distrustful of its empire, might have dictated
that sprightly carelessness which had shocked him: though she had said
they might not meet again, she did not perhaps think so, nor mean him to
seek for her in vain at her window; would it not be well then, to make
another essay to observe the effect of his absence? the youthful lover
decided in the affirmative.
Being unexpectedly summoned by state affairs to his capital, he
determined to make a last trial of Gonsalva’s sentiments, by visiting her on
the night before his departure. When that night came, he excused himself
from the amusements of his courtiers, and leaving Don Antonio chained
down to a game of chess, he glided away unobserved, and was soon
conveyed by his swiftest horse to the domain of Vimiosa.
A soft moonlight distinctly discovered the spot to which Gonsalva had
directed him six days before. He saw the steep romantic bank shading the
road towards which he now turned his steps: as he trod it lightly, the smell
of orange flowers and wild thyme, came mingling from the hills and the
gardens. While his eyes were fixed on the windows of the tower, where
perhaps Gonsalva slept, some low tender sounds caught his ear: he listened,
but they had ceased; the next moment they returned again; drawing gently
nearer he found they proceeded from a lute which some one was touching at
intervals with an unsteady hand, another pause succeeded: he stood still,
and scarcely respired; for now the voice of Gonsalva was heard singing this
canzonet.

“Hast thou, a sleepless pillow prest,

And vainly, vainly sought for rest?
Ah! say, have sighs and tears confess’d
That love was kindling in thy breast?

Alas! if not, why dost thou fly

To haunt my gate, my path, mine eye,
Still looking as thou wanderest nigh
A world of fond idolatry?

O cease, if vanity should be

The only aim that leads to me;
O cease, while yet my heart is free
From hope, and fear, and love, and thee!”

Rapt, enchanted, Sebastian stood listening to this celestial voice: its

thrilling tones revolving in continual sweetness but endless variety, were
like the melodious warblings of a nightingale. The serene Heavens, the
resplendent moonlight, the fragrance of the earth, the transport and the
gratitude of his own heart, all conspired to heighten its magical effect.
Donna Gonsalva had evidently chosen this song because it pourtrayed a
situation like her own; this thought finished the intoxication of Sebastian,
and he vehemently exclaimed, “Angel!”
At this expression, Gonsalva dropped her lute, and flying forward,
uttered a cry of pleasure. “Ah, is it you, ungrateful Fabian!” she cried: her
beauty and her emotion completed the conquest over her sovereign. She
was without a veil, and he now beheld for the first time, all the charms of
that matchless face: traces of tears were on it.
Scarcely conscious of the extreme joy he betrayed, the king uttered a
passionate expression at this visible mark of sensibility; and forcing his way
up the bank through shrubs and roots of trees, got sufficiently near the
object of his tenderness to kiss her hand from the window. The night breeze
blowing among his fine hair, and the moon beams falling on his white
forehead, gave lustre and animation to the noblest countenance that ever yet
united sublimity with beauty: Donna Gonsalva evidently beheld him with
admiration.
 Endeavouring to recover from the effects of her surprize, she attempted
to answer his ardent assurances of repentance and gratitude, by light
railleries: She acknowledged that she had been in tears, but would not
confess that his absence was their cause: Sometimes she spoke in a tone of
touching sensibility, then suddenly flew off into sallies of gaiety: her air and
her words were at variance. Sebastian, though little skilled in the science of
woman’s heart, could not help perceiving the whimsical inconsistencies of
Gonsalva: while her voice fluttered, her complexion glowed, her eyes
sparkled, she persisted in assuring him that he had never once entered her
thoughts since they parted, and that even now, if his ridiculous speeches did
not amuse her excessively, she would not stay a second moment at the
window.
It was in vain she asserted this: the delighted lover assured her in return,
that the stratagem of insincerity was fruitless. Since he was resolved to win
the heart, she seemed determined not to surrender.—“And if you were to
take it by storm, (as I perceive that is your mode of conquering,)” replied
Gonsalva, “what would it avail? You know, daughters are not allowed to
dispose of themselves: I have a father, Don Fabian, and it is from his hand I
must take my husband.”
Sebastian gazed on her enamoured, smiling with the consciousness of
sovereign power: “Let us not talk of fathers, fair Gonsalva; were I beloved,
I should fear nothing: what will not a joyful and ardent passion accomplish?
Do not deny me then the hope of having interested you?—I must quit Crato
to-morrow; the King is recalled by important business, and I cannot remain
behind.”
“O! how much you are in love!” exclaimed Gonsalva, with an air of
tender reproach, “you profess to live only in my sight, and yet you can
leave me merely for the sake of preserving an empty honor about the
King!”
The gratified Sebastian protested that nothing but a sense of duty could
make him forego the delight of these stolen interviews, which he would
hasten to renew; promising soon to return. “Till that blissful moment, let
this remind you of Fabian,” said he, (unloosing from his neck a brilliant
cross of the order of Christus which had hitherto been concealed by his
vest.) “Let this assure you, that your lover is noble.”
 “And if he were not”—exclaimed Gonsalva, stopping and ending the
sentence with a tender sigh. The triumph of Sebastian was now complete:
“and if he were not, charming Gonsalva, you would not cease to bid him
hope?—Dare I flatter myself that such was the sentiment your modesty
deprived me of?”—Gonsalva bowed her fair neck without speaking, while
rapture sparkled in her eyes: the King lightly threw over her head the
embroidered ribbon by which the order was suspended, and when he did so,
lifted some of the tresses of her hair to his lips. “Might I bear away with me
one of these glittering ringlets!—Surely you will not deny me the precious
gift?”
A faint denial only served to stimulate the young monarch, Gonsalva
refused, and chided, and jested, but yielded at last.
At parting, the coy beauty would not utter a confession of regret, though
she suffered the sentiment to appear in her swimming eyes. Sebastian was
perhaps more enamoured by this conduct: the difficulty of subduing so
haughty or so delicate a heart, gave additional pleasure to the attempt; and
the spirit of domination then mixed with the tender desires of love. He
returned to Crato with his golden prize, believing himself a conqueror when
he was in reality a slave.
The vivacity of Sebastian’s feelings were in proportion to their novelty:
he loved for the first time, therefore he loved with his whole soul; and the
idea of being beloved in return, for his own sake, finished the enchantment.
During their rapid journey to Lisbon, he disclosed the romantic secret to
his cousin.
Though Don Antonio was evidently too discreet for the indulgence of ill-
timed raillery or unpalatable rebuke, the King perceived that his imprudent
attachment surprized and shocked him: the prior’s florid complexion
changed frequently, and he spoke with a trepidation unusual to him. Donna
Gonsalva’s comparatively inferior birth, was in his opinion an
insurmountable objection; but he forbore to press other arguments upon his
sovereign, whose suddenly inflamed looks warned him to beware. Having
by a strong effort conquered his excessive surprize, which secret
circumstances rendered almost insufferable, he gradually acquiesced in the
passionate reasoning of his kinsman, and began to assist him with plans for
the completion of these new wishes.
 To facilitate the King’s interviews with Donna Gonsalva, and yet conceal
the affair from his court, it was requisite that some plausible excuse should
be found for his visiting Crato again: Antonio therefore offered to return
almost immediately to his priory, feign sickness there, and intreat the
society of his gracious cousin. This offer was accepted: Don Antonio
scarcely refreshed himself in Lisbon ere he set out once more for Crato: the
King remained behind, and for the first time in his life gave audience to his
ministers with a divided mind, after dispatching the various state affairs for
which he had returned to his capital, he waited impatiently the prior’s
summons, and shortly receiving it, hastened, with a very small train, to the
hunting lodge.
The interviews of the lovers were now regular, and every interview
heightened the young monarch’s passion. His fair mistress stimulated this
ardor by just as much condescension as excited without satisfying hope;
acquiring at each unexpected act of kindness fresh power over his peace.
Sebastian gradually lost that self-command upon which he piqued himself,
and often found that he bartered some of his independence for a smile or a
kiss: but he had learned the art of silencing his own reproofs; and constantly
declared to his cousin that he knew himself beloved to excess, or he would
not stoop to acts which otherwise would be mean submissions.
At length, the moment so long panted after, arrived; Gonsalva one
evening pronounced the tender confession of reciprocal preference, and was
rewarded the next instant by an avowal of her lover’s sovereign rank.
Confused and agitated, the fair Portuguese half sunk upon her knee,
faltering out a few words of humility and gratitude: Sebastian hastened to
raise, and clasp her in his arms, while he explained his intention of recalling
her father from France in order to witness their immediate marriage. Donna
Gonsalva changed colour, averted her eyes, hesitated, panted for breath, and
at length apprehensively confessed that she was under engagements to a
young nobleman; nay, that her father had given her to him in marriage at the
age of seven years.
Had the earth opened at the feet of Sebastian, he could not have felt
more horror.—Speechless with emotion, his looks only continued to
interrogate Gonsalva: she trembled and wept, but conjured him to believe
that after the ceremony was performed, she had almost forgotten it, as her
bridegroom had gone out to Goa with his grandfather the viceroy of India,
and was but lately returned.
“And you have seen him Gonsalva?” asked the King mournfully. “Yes, I
have seen him thrice, but without giving him the least hope that I would
ratify the cruel engagement in which my infant mind had no share.—When
he visited me last, you were absent, your love was doubtful, your real rank
unknown, I was uncertain whether you might ever return to me, and yet I
told him my resolution.”
“Then you loved me from the first?” cried the transported Sebastian, “let
not my Gonsalva ever again torture me with assumed indifference, when
this conduct shews that she preferred the pain of concealment to the hazard
of losing me by the early mention of this hateful obstacle. Take courage,
dearest! ties like these may be broken without dishonour; and thank God! I
am a King.”
The impetuous and imperious Sebastian forgot at this moment his
character of just; he was incapable of admitting either a parent’s or a
husband’s right, when the one had used his power tyrannically, and the
other had been forced upon a child incapable of choice. To obtain the pope’s
bull for annulling this marriage, seemed not a matter of difficulty; the
consent of Vimiosa was of course certain; and as the rival husband had not
been long returned from India, he was not likely to oppose the divorce from
any motive of attachment: at all events, Sebastian resolved to use his
prerogative if necessary, since Gonsalva had expressed for him the most
passionate preference, and ought not her happiness to be the first object of
his life!—She now repeated her promise of living for him alone, and at that
sound the momentary obstacle disappeared from her lover’s sight.
After this conference the rash young monarch dispatched couriers into
France with letters to the count Vimiosa, demanding his daughter, and
inviting him to return and assist in dissolving the bands which tied her to
Don Emanuel de Castro: at the same time he sent a magnificent embassy to
Rome, praying for a divorce; and commissioned his cousin Antonio to see
and converse with Don Emanuel.
Meanwhile Donna Gonsalva had hinted to Sebastian the impropriety of
exposing her reputation to the scandal of being discovered in a clandestine
intercourse with her sovereign: having no longer a reason for concealment,
Sebastian embraced the permission this hint gave him, and came with a