Elusive Flame

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  Deciding she needed fortification for what he was going to suggest, Cerynise reached for the goblet of wine she had left on the desk some time earlier, for she seriously doubted that he’d offer anything she could calmly accept, considering he had warned her against jumping to conclusions.

  Beau raised a brow as he watched her drain the contents. That simple act alone lent him great insight into her trepidation. The little girl who had adored him from years past had apparently come to fear him…or at least his proposals.

  Cerynise promptly hiccuped and pressed her fingertips to her lips in wide-eyed surprise. “Excuse me.”

  “No more wine for you,” Beau chided, moving around to the table and locking away the decanter. He didn’t need half his wits to realize she wasn’t used to imbibing.

  “So you don’t think I can lie and make them believe me,” Cerynise harped, and flushed with embarrassment as she hiccuped again.

  His mouth quirked at the merest thought. “I think you blush more readily than most people breathe.” He sighed heavily. “If your father had anything to do with establishing your values, young lady, I have no doubt that you’ve had little experience with duplicity. Therefore, you must make use of your strengths.”

  “And what are they?” She smothered another hiccup and immediately grew fearful that she would have to endure them for a while.

  “Innocence, naiveté. Obviously you know little of the world, and perhaps, if the magistrate can recognize a lady when he sees one, he’ll be reluctant to think you’d lie about our marriage.” Sitting on the edge of his desk, he stretched his long legs out before him and folded his arms across his chest as he peered into her flushed face. “Try not to be too nervous when he starts asking you questions. If you can, let yourself imagine that we’ve made love together and that you’re no longer a virgin.”

  Cerynise fanned herself, feeling decidedly heated by their discussion. Her hiccups didn’t help her discomposure in the least.

  “You do know what follows, don’t you?” Beau probed, studying her keenly.

  She refused to submit herself to his close scrutiny and, with a casual shrug of her shoulders, strolled across to the shaving stand. There she could see his face in the mirror without him being aware of it. “Lydia told me some things years ago.”

  Beau rolled his eyes in disbelief. “That must have been informative.”

  “I know that a man and woman must merge to make a child!” she declared, irritated that he thought her such an innocent. “I’m just not aware how it all comes about exactly.”

  “Would you like to know exactly?”

  Even as inquisitive as she was about it all, Cerynise didn’t think it proper that he should be the one to instruct her. “’Tis unseemly for you—”

  “Who else has a better right? I am your husband.…”

  “Not for long, you said.…”

  “For the time being, I am,” Beau pointed out, and watched her closely as he added, “But perhaps Alistair can tutor you when you become his ward.”

  Cerynise made no effort to hide a convulsive shiver. The revulsion she had felt when Alistair’s eyes had passed over her in a prurient leer came back with startling distaste. “What exactly do you think I should know?”

  Beau enlightened her in great detail, making it as stimulating to her womanly senses as he was capable of doing. Explaining the act of mating to her was nearly as satisfying as kissing her breasts, he thought, but it would never be as thrilling as the real thing. Still, he’d take what he could get.

  When Cerynise faced him in rapt attention, Beau knew he had evoked a comparable sensuality in her. He could feel a familiar tightening in his loins and made no effort to either hide or display that fact. It became obvious enough with his slimly tailored trousers, drawing flitting glances from his wife until she raised her eyes to his and saw his smile. Her cheeks flushed scarlet, and in quick response her gaze went chasing off to the far wall.

  “I couldn’t make love to you without that happening,” he explained, for he knew she’d be inclined to think he was making a deliberate overture. “Despite the control I would like to have over my body at times, I cannot prevent my arousal when I think of being intimate with you.”

  “Don’t think,” Cerynise flung over her shoulder, mimicking his earlier dictate to Oaks. “’Tis better for us both if you don’t.”

  “You may see it as unfortunate, madam, but I’ve been bequeathed with these manly instincts by nature for the purpose of procreation. ’Tis sure there’d be fewer babies in the world if men weren’t driven at times by their primitive inclinations.”

  “Have you informed me of all of this simply for your own pleasure, sir?” she inquired with a hint of sarcasm. “Or did you do so only because you wish me to be thoroughly aware of what the magistrate might ask me? ’Tis apparent that you think I’ll be unable to answer the man unrehearsed.”

  Not wanting to arouse his wife’s suspicions more than they were already, Beau carefully avoided her first question. “I just don’t want you to blunder into revealing the fact that I wasn’t able to consummate our marriage.”

  Feeling absurdly slighted, Cerynise wished vainly for some witty retort that would impress him. When none came to mind, she argued her case. “I’m not a bumpkin actress who has to be instructed in her repertoire every hour on the hour so she can speak her lines even moderately well.”

  Beau eyed her closely. “Then tell me this, if you will, madam. If you have to swear tomorrow that we became man and wife in my bed tonight, can you do it credibly after what I’ve told you?”

  She found it difficult to breathe suddenly, for her whole being felt as if it were aflame. “I…I…”

  “Come now, Mrs. Birmingham…if that’s who you are exactly. You must tell me whether or not you have shared a bed with your alleged husband, because if you cannot swear that your marriage is valid, I’ll have no other recourse but to give you over into Mr. Winthrop’s care.” Beau leaned forward and stared intently into her astounded visage as he continued his authoritative inquiries in a softer tone. “Now answer me truthfully, Mrs. Birmingham, did you and your husband make love together and consummate your marriage?”

  Cerynise was speechless for a moment until she finally blurted, “Surely they wouldn’t be so forward!”

  “For whatever purposes he has planned, Alistair is desperate to have you,” Beau averred. “He’ll stop at nothing to get his way. The magistrate, however, will hopefully be a bit more delicate. For his benefit, you must be able to say honestly that we spent tonight together.” He gave an abortive laugh. “Looking the way you do, you shouldn’t have to say anything more than that. The rest will naturally be assumed.”

  If Beau had thought she blushed a lot before, then he was quickly learning that it was nothing compared to what she had done within the last hour since their guests had left. “I know this isn’t easy for you, the idea of sharing a bed with me for the night, but frankly, it’s the best solution I can think of for alleviating the problem of you telling a lie. And though I’ll be hard-pressed to withhold my attentions, I promise you I won’t resort to rape.”

  Cerynise finally realized the hiccups had fled. No doubt being shocked out of her virginal innocence had squelched that small problem. “If that’s the only thing you can suggest, I guess we should try it for a time…but you’ll have to keep your trousers on.”

  Beau smiled. “If you insist.”

  His young wife heaved a wavering sigh. “In that case I’d better go and get into my nightclothes.”

  “Nothing too enticing, I hope,” he teased.

  “You needn’t worry. I’m well aware of just how fast your trousers come off, sir.”

  A moment of silence passed between them as each of them entertained memories of what had happened earlier in the day.

  “Feeling more relaxed?” Beau finally asked.

  Deciding it wouldn’t be wise of her to mention that her knees seemed to have melted, Cerynise gave him a careful nod
. “Yes, thank you.”

  Their polite conversation didn’t make it any easier when the time came to go to bed, nor did Beau’s deliberate tarrying at his desk to straighten out his log and all the receipts and documents that had been thrown chaotically about. Cerynise was still wide awake when he doffed everything but his pants and stretched out beside her in his bunk. For a long time they both stared at the ceiling of the cubicle, each unable to ignore the presence of the other. Finally Cerynise curled on her side away from him, but with his weight depressing the mattress on the outer side, it became a struggle to keep her distance. She was just beginning to relax when she felt his large body against her back. She tried to wiggle closer to the wall but found the tail of her nightgown imprisoned beneath him.

  “I always thought this was a fair-sized bunk,” Beau commented as he levered himself up slightly to give Cerynise a chance to reclaim the hem of her garment. She scooted over to the wall, but it did little good on an incline. She was soon back where she had started, and much to her chagrin, seemed ever destined to return.

  “I could sleep on the floor,” she volunteered.

  “Absolutely not. If I have to do something chivalrous, I might as well do it up royally.”

  “Well, then, you could—”

  “I said chivalrous, not saintly,” Beau retorted, having no doubt that he’d resort to rape before committing himself to the floor.

  Cerynise tried to curb her giggles, but they soon raised Beau’s brows to a curious level. “What’s so funny?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  “Tell me,” he urged.

  He was too close, too compelling. Her stomach did a slow, leisurely roll as she realized just how very hard it was for her to thrust him out of her thoughts for longer than a moment. Lying back upon the bed, she cast a glance askance at the broad expanse of his chest, wishing fervently that she could touch him again in ways that would make him gasp. “Earlier today I was thinking of you as a knight in shining armor. It struck me as funny, that’s all.”

  Beau looked appalled. “A knight in shining armor?”

  “Only for a moment, but it was pure fantasy. I couldn’t even get you to kiss my hand, and we both know you’ve done much more.…”

  “You couldn’t what?”

  “In my imagination,” Cerynise explained hastily, and then waved a slender hand to hopefully dismiss the discussion. “It doesn’t matter. The idea was absurd anyway. Why don’t we try to get some sleep?” As if that was remotely possible.

  “I’m not sure I like that.”

  “What?”

  “Not kissing your hand.”

  He was right about her being an innocent. It actually took her a moment to recognize where she had neatly led herself. Cerynise almost panicked, having already become aware of the fact that with his charmingly winsome cajolery, he could wheedle his way into a girl’s pantaloons with very little effort. “Beau, don’t.…”

  Too late!

  Turning her palm upward, he kissed it in a slow caressing way that made her suck in her breath. By the time he raised his head again, the bunk had narrowed alarmingly.

  “I don’t think you should have done that,” Cerynise whispered, already feeling the molten heat flowing into her loins.

  Beau’s expression was grim. “Neither do I.” Without another word, he fled the bunk, grabbed a blanket from one of the lockers, and returned to the chair at his desk. Cerynise remained where she was. Long moments passed before she had to accept the fact that he did not intend to touch her again. She should have been relieved. Instead, there bloomed a hungry ache deep within her womanly being that yearned to be filled and assuaged.

  Seven

  THERE WAS SOMETHING very intriguing about waking up with a soft, womanly form curled in the curve of one’s body, Beau mused sleepily as he became aware of the very first light of a new day casting its glow through the stern windows. The whole bunk was bathed with a strangely bright, reddish gold aura that gilded everything it touched, making the tawny tresses upon which he lay shine as if with a luster of their own. His wife’s long hair had tumbled across his pillow, and its delicate scent lured him to rub his cheek against the soft curls. But that was not the only enticement he was aware of. His thighs were tucked beneath her trim buttocks, and had he been without his trousers, he might have more fully appreciated the fact that her nightgown had wandered up nigh to her hip, leaving him a view that was breathtaking. His quickening pulse warned him that if he didn’t soon leave her side, he’d be remiss in his promise to her, because he was definitely thinking of waking her with soft, tantalizing caresses.

  Carefully he eased away from her and crept across to his shaving stand, where he splashed cold water over his face. What he needed was a frigid plunge into the river to wrench his mind away from what he was leaving behind in his bunk. In fact, there would just be time enough to indulge himself in a more humane bath in the first mate’s temporary quarters before his crew started stirring. He tossed a glance over his shoulder as he stepped toward the door, then promptly halted, feeling as if he had been hit in the gut. She was still lying in innocent repose upon her side, but the sight of her unclad backside was almost as compelling to his manly senses as a smiling invitation from her lips. He just couldn’t leave her like that when the mate might walk in, unaware of her presence.

  Returning quietly to his bunk, he reached across to the far side of the bunk and, lifting the sheet carefully, spread it over her. He stood staring down at her for a long moment, feeling his vitals twisting in knots in his belly as his eyes caressed her delicate features resting in profile against the pillow. For the life of him, he couldn’t resist stroking the backs of his fingers over the wisps of hair curling softly at her temples. A fluttering sigh wafted from her lips, and still deep in slumber, she rolled upon her back, flinging an arm wide across his pillow. It seemed only a momentary lapse of time before her hand started searching for him, and then her eyes flew open and found him leaning over her. Instead of fear sweeping her visage, a smile as sweet as the breaking dawn curved her lips and illumined her eyes.

  “Good morning,” she murmured sleepily.

  “Good morning, my sweet. I trust you slept well.”

  “Amazingly well…after you finally came to bed.”

  He cocked a brow in surprise. “Madam?”

  Giggling, Cerynise shook her head, refusing to answer the question that was implied rather than spoken. Turning on her side away from him, she curled in a knot, muttering something like “Never mind” behind the hand with which she scratched her nose.

  “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” he inquired hopefully, bracing a hand on her hip as he leaned over her to peruse her profile again.

  “Only if you are,” she whispered, biting her bottom lip to keep it from curving upward in a grin. The fact that she was inviting him to accept the lengthy position of being her husband was subtle, but he was keenly astute and had no need of further explanations.

  “Oh.”

  The single syllable sounded much like a note of dejection, Cerynise thought, abruptly losing her elation. She blinked away a start of tears and, to hide her disappointment, made much of rubbing her nose into her pillow as if it itched. Finally, after clearing her throat and trying to swallow the lump in it, she cast a glance askance to find that he hadn’t moved.

  “Would you mind turning your head long enough for me to get out of bed and put on my robe?”

  The lilting buoyancy had gone out of her voice, causing Beau to suffer feelings of regret. Although he was intensely aware of just how much he wanted to make love to her, there was still that rational side of him that refused to be herded into a long enduring situation without allowing himself enough time to think everything through very carefully. He knew her from years back, but with their lengthy separation, he could not swear that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her without first becoming acquainted with the woman she had become.

  Stepping away from the bunk, he
presented his back to her and waited. In the next instant he heard her bare feet padding swiftly toward the door and whirled to see her fleeing through the open portal. A brief moment later he heard the mate’s door slam loudly in the silence.

  Gnashing out a curse through gritted teeth, Beau flung his own door closed, ending the pleasantry of the morning.

  Beau wasn’t overly impressed with the magistrate who was ushered aboard by Alistair Winthrop and Howard Rudd. The judge was a stout, florid-faced individual who seemed pompously aware of his own importance, and it was evident from the amount of bowing and scraping the two unworthies did in his presence that they were vying for his favor. Indeed, they seemed confident of it as they bade Beau to call Cerynise up to the deck.

  “You will see, Your Honor, that this Yankee has taken advantage of an innocent young woman and enticed her to forget her proper upbringing,” Alistair assured the judge from as near as his elbow. “Having been ensconced on his ship for some days now, one must wonder what she has already given over to the rascal.”

  Mr. Oaks had been summoned to fetch the lady, and when she arrived, the deck grew hushed as the sailors halted their labor to watch what promised to be an exciting confrontation. Confident grins were worn by those wagering that their captain could handle the judge as well as the two pipsqueaks who were with him.

  Cerynise moved with elegant grace across the deck and arrived at her husband’s side before facing the three. The fact that Beau’s steadying arm came around her helped to buttress her for the task ahead.

  “You see!” Alistair declared, thrusting a finger toward the couple. “This blackguard even has the effrontery to handle the girl in your presence. I told you he was a lecherous scoundrel!”

  “Yes, I see,” the magistrate mused aloud, flicking his bushy brows upward. The girl was delectable enough to tempt the most staid gentleman, so it was understandable that she would arouse the attentions of a lusty, seafaring man. “Perhaps the lady and I should be introduced.…”