“You go ashore, wench!” Barbados said. “And there you are to be held until such a time as this Captain Ramón comes to claim you. Why he should want you is more than I can explain to myself. You are a pretty wench, it is true, but too much of a spitfire!”
He watched her closely when she was in the boat. And when they landed the pirates’ women and the ragged children rushed forward to jeer at her as she passed beside the flaming fire. Barbados took her to a large adobe building, the best structure in the camp. He opened the door and thrust her inside.
A woman cooking over an open fire whirled to look at him. She looked at the señorita, too, and her eyes flamed.
“What is this?” she demanded, her fists against her hips. “Is it a younger and prettier woman?”
“It is, indeed, Inez,” Barbados laughed. “She is a share of the loot!”
“Your share, eh? And you dare to fetch her here?”
“Why not?” Barbados asked.
“To my face?” the woman screeched. She was of middle age, a creature hideous in a way. “So! It has come at last, has it? I am to be tossed aside for a comely wench you have stolen from some rich hacienda!”
“Jealousy is a foolish thing,” Barbados observed. “Think you, Inez, to hold my love for life?”
“None other shall have it!” the woman screeched. She flashed forward, her hand raised to strike, her nails ready to tear into the señorita’s fair face. But Barbados seized her and tossed her roughly aside.