Father Miguel turned expectantly to Nick. “And you, my son? Do you have a key as well?”
Nick started to shake his head, but Harriet remembered a conversation they’d had in his cabin on the ship, when he’d been brushing her hair. She elbowed him in the ribs. “Romans thirteen.”
He glanced at her, understanding dawning in his blue eyes, then addressed the priest. “’Let us walk honestly, as in the day’,” Nick quoted, “‘not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying.’”
“That rot,” Zach muttered, shaking his head in disgust.
Father Miguel beamed. “Those are indeed the keys as set by Viscount Sheffield and Señor Chase.” He looked at Nick and Harriet. “Tesoro belongs to you two.”
Chapter 18
Chaos erupted as Marlow, Hornsby, and Ruford simultaneously shouted their objections. Hornsby was also furious with Zach and accused him of cheating.
“My dear Lord Hornsby, do take care in tossing about that accusation,” Zach said. His words were polite, but there was steel in his voice. “When I offered the map in our game, I was clear that it purported to lead to a treasure. The map itself was the wager, not what it may or may not lead the bearer to find.”
With a blistering set of oaths, Hornsby stalked off toward the stable. Ruford followed behind, demanding to know how Hornsby was going to reimburse him, as fifty percent of nothing wasn’t going to pay his expenses let alone turn a profit.
“Captain Ruford!” Nick called.
Ruford spun on his heel, the tall feather in his tricorne hat trembling with the force of his fury, in case the murderous expression on his face wasn’t clear enough.
“You’re docked in Oporto,” Nick continued in a soothing tone, as though speaking to a growling dog. “Some of the best wineries in Portugal are right there by the River Douro in Vila Nova da Gaia. You’ll have to sail past additional wineries and distilleries in Spain and France on your way home. Surely a businessman as enterprising as yourself can find a way to make this journey profitable.”
Ruford’s expression cleared as Nick spoke, and eventually his smile was broad enough to reveal his stained, uneven teeth. “Aye, laddie, I think you have the right of it.” He gave a nod and strolled to the stable whistling, his plume dancing.
“But what about—”
Nick cut Marlow off. “You need to leave before I send for the gendarme and charge you with assault.” He pointed at the bandage on his temple, visible under the brim of his hat.
Zach scratched his chin. “I heard tell of a boxing tournament being planned in Braga to begin day after next,” he said. “Top purse is more than what you made in a year at the club, including vails.” He assumed a boxing stance and mock-punched Marlow. “I may have placed a wager or two on my way south through the town.”
“What makes you think I’ve ever stepped in a boxing ring?”
Harriet couldn’t help chuckling.
Zach tapped the side of his nose, indicating Marlow’s crooked nose.
“I’ll have my dagger back before you go, if you please.” Nick held his hand out.
Marlow retrieved it from his left boot and grudgingly handed it over.
“And my keys.” Harriet held her hand out.
Marlow rolled his eyes but handed them over. She looked through them before she pocketed them.
“I’m losing my patience,” Nick said when Marlow still made no move to leave.
Marlow gave a last sad look at Tesoro, shook his head slowly, and tugged his forelock. “Good day, my lords. Father.” He glanced at Harriet. “Lad.” He jogged to the stable.
Ruford and Hornsby mounted and cantered out of the courtyard, quickly followed by Marlow.
Zach clapped his hands together. “Right, then, now the riffraff have gone, let’s have a good look at this fellow, see what’s under all this dust and ash.” He turned to Father Miguel. “I expect you have a saddle for him, not just a harness for pulling the plow?”
“I expect I do,” the priest replied, with a surprisingly sly grin for a man of the cloth. He tucked his robe and climbed through the rails of the fence into the pasture, then made kissing noises and patted his thigh, and headed for the stable. Tesoro followed at his shoulder.
Nick and Harriet exchanged puzzled looks, then climbed through the fence and trailed after Zach.
In the stable, Zach grabbed the curry comb and began brushing Tesoro, while Father Miguel cleaned tack. A worker from the winery walked in with a pronounced limp, wearing a wine-stained apron. He spoke softly with the priest, gesturing at Nick and Harriet, and joined in cleaning the tack.
