Elusive Flame

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  Growling, Beau batted away feathers as he stalked naked across the room, not giving a damn how nervous he made his wife as he crossed to the washstand. “Well, you’ve certainly made a fine mess of my cabin,” he snarled disagreeably. “Billy will no doubt be highly entertained trying to stuff this mess back into the pillow.”

  Cerynise kept her face carefully averted, but that didn’t keep Beau from seeing her primly elevated profile as she responded with strained dignity, “I didn’t mean for the feathers to come out.”

  “No, but you meant to hit me, didn’t you?” He grunted sharply in derision. “Was it too much for you to take pity on a man who has been laid low by illness? Did you have to abuse me?”

  “You were being rude,” she accused stiltedly.

  Beau slapped again at the feathers floating in front of his face. “I was being husbandly, madam,” he corrected tersely, “but I guess that was too much for your fine virginal purity to bear. Like I’ve told you before, I happen to enjoy looking at your breasts. I’ve seen none finer.”

  Cerynise wondered if he would have been at all curious had she let him see her bosom, for she still bore a rash from his bearding. It was to be assumed that he had locked those moments of passion deep within the coffer of his mind and had forgotten their union like a besotted man who, upon sobering, could recall nothing of the moments he had spent in lewd debauchery. To her, the fusion of their bodies had meant far more than physical appeasement, perhaps the most significant being the realization that she was now truly, lawfully his wife. Swallowing her emotions was difficult, and though she could chide herself endlessly for having carelessly ensconced herself in his bed, it didn’t change the way she felt now that the deed had been done. What grieved her was the fact that she couldn’t release all those warm, tender emotions and respond to him as a loving wife should.

  Making a valiant attempt to appear glib, Cerynise queried, “Have you seen many breasts, Captain?”

  Beau looked at her closely, but again he saw only her imperiously held profile. Had he imagined a thickness in her tone? “I’ve seen enough to know you have many women outdone by a fair margin. Not only are your breasts full enough to fill my hands, but they’re about as perfect as any man could possibly envision.”

  “You must have viewed a sizable number, Captain,” she surmised coolly, refusing to look around. “Should I express my gratitude for your ability to make such a comparison?”

  “No, dammit!” Beau barked, with long strides reaching her side. He opened his mouth to speak but instantly began spitting as he tried to dislodge the feathers that he had sucked in.

  A giggle was wrenched from Cerynise as she realized what had happened. Dancing away to a safe distance, she turned and, pointing at him, dissolved into laughter. “All you need now is to be tarred, Captain,” she declared through her amusement as her gaze lightly skimmed downward. “You certainly have more than enough feathers needed to complete such a task.”

  Bracing his knuckles casually on a narrow hip, Beau glanced down at himself and made a point of picking a feather off a very manly part. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find a little dust there, too.”

  Cerynise couldn’t resist a quick retort and did so loftily. “I would.”

  Beau’s brow cocked at an inquisitive angle as he looked at her narrowly. It was right on the tip of his tongue to ask her outright if he had indeed made love to her. Still, if he had only dreamed it, then he’d be giving her cause to wonder if he fantasized about her morning, noon, and all through the night. He probed indirectly. “Not unless you know more than I do, madam.”

  Cerynise bit her lip in an effort to keep from blurting the truth and, by dint of will, managed to respond with a blasé shrug. “I assume you had your full share of harlots in London. I saw you with several the night before we were married.”

  If she had hoped to startle him with her revelation, then Beau was most assuredly willing to disappoint her. “You saw me leaving them, too, a moment after they met my carriage.”

  The complacent smile her husband wore convinced Cerynise that he hadn’t been at all surprised by her remark. She lifted her nose in a guise of priggish prudery as she faced the gallery windows. “You certainly seemed to enjoy that hussy fondling you. She was rather pretty, as I remember.”

  “Strange,” Beau replied in a museful mien as he rasped a hand across his bearded chin, “whenever you’ve touched me there, you’ve always gotten immediate results. But as I recall, madam, nothing of that nature occurred that night…a fact to which you can attest after having witnessed her invitation.”

  Cerynise shot him a curious glance. “How do you know what I saw?”

  Beau chuckled briefly and shook his head. “Nay, madam, ’tis my secret, and I will never tell.”

  Feeling an urge to sneeze, Cerynise waved a hand through the air to fan the feathers away from her nose. She really wished she hadn’t hit him so hard after he had been sick. The pillow might not have even come open had she endeavored to make it a more playful swat.

  She sighed, wondering how long it would take Billy and her to put everything aright again in the cabin. “You’d better get dressed so we can start cleaning up in here,” she urged dejectedly. “This may take all day.”

  Beau crossed to the locker and, taking out his robe, shrugged into it. “I’m going to take a bath in the mate’s quarters. Then I’m going to shave and get decently attired once again. I’d really like for you to join me, madam, but if I dare ask, I may get another pillow thrown into my face.”

  With that bit of sarcasm, he stalked out, closing the door loudly behind him. That was the morning of Beau’s first day back on his feet.

  The second was no better, for by that time Cerynise had taken up residence in the smallest cabin, having had Billy help her carry her trunks and possessions into the tiny space. She hadn’t wanted to put Stephen Oaks out of his quarters any longer and had given the mate the very same options that he had once given her, flatly telling him that she wouldn’t use his cabin under any circumstances and that it was entirely up to him whether or not he used it. The mate conceded, for he had no other place to go now that she had become ensconced in the tiny cabin.

  In an effort to make her new accommodations less menacing, Cerynise questioned Beau about the possibility of hanging up some of her sketches and paintings on the walls. Grudging the fact that she was serious about living apart from him even to the extent that she would endure a windowless cabin that heightened her apprehensions, he scowled and snorted like an angry bull. Even so, he relented enough to give his consent.

  Billy offered to help, and Cerynise hovered near, making sure he drove the tiny nails into the seams where the planks of wood had been buttressed together against the wall, for she didn’t want her husband to regret the fact that he had acceded to her request. She arranged the artwork to lend the cabin a feeling of depth as well as the open atmosphere and freedom of the upper deck. Having painted the porpoises in full color and flying motion on a larger canvas, she hung that piece where she could espy it upon waking. Once the individual groupings on the four walls were arranged in a manner that suited her, Cerynise found herself pleasantly surprised by the warm, comfortable ambience now pervading the tiny room. The paintings gave her considerably more to look at than dull blank walls, but most of all she no longer felt like she was in a dark dungeon.

  After the upheaval and turmoil of the storm, her anxiety over Beau during his illness, and her startling introduction to the more erotic rudiments of being a full-fledged wife, Cerynise felt physically and mentally drained. Recognizing her own sense of depression, she promptly determined that she needed to take care of herself for a change and forewarned Billy that she would be resting for a while and didn’t wish to be disturbed. She slept for several hours and awoke feeling refreshed and wonderfully rejuvenated. Then, just as a woman is wont to do while in fine spirits, she directed her attention to her appearance, which she had been too worried to care about during Beau’
s feverish bout. Since Billy had gathered several barrels of rainwater for such purposes during the storm-driven deluge, she bade him heat enough water for a tub bath and selected scented bath salts appropriate to her mood, a sweet jasmine fragrance that reminded her of home.

  Cerynise settled back into the steaming water with a deep sigh of appreciation. She hated basin baths, preferring to soak on a daily basis, but a sea voyage wasn’t always conducive to such luxuries. The bath was probably the only benefit from the tempest. At the moment she thought it divine.

  Memories of those moments spent in carnal union with Beau swam provocatively through Cerynise’s mind as she dallied in the bath. The impressions were so overpowering and vivid that they rekindled fires, which she had naively thought had been smothered by the blunt realization of her husband’s incognizance. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel his large body moving upon hers, his hardened chest teasing her breasts, and his harsh gasps filling her mind. A long, trembling sigh slipped from her lips as she luxuriated in the sensations that flooded through her. Her yearning to have Beau’s arms around her right then and there was acute, making her realize just how deeply she had been affected by their union and the bliss she had found within it.

  Heaving a fretful sigh, Cerynise shook her head at the folly of entertaining such stimulating recollections. It didn’t strengthen her resolve in the least to be lusting after her husband when she knew that, for her own sake, she would have to hold him at arm’s length until he committed himself completely to their marriage, which she really couldn’t expect to happen.

  She was still in the midst of soaking herself when she heard the floorboards in the passageway creaking slightly as someone walked past her door. The distant closing of the captain’s door identified that one to be her husband. A moment hardly passed before the squeaking came back to her portal and, after a long pause, a light rap of knuckles came against the wood.

  “Cerynise,” Beau called in a gentler tone than she had heard from him since he had left his bunk. “I’d like for you to have dinner with me tonight.”

  She lifted a large sponge and dribbled water over her pale breasts, wondering what ploy he would use this time to get her into his bed. As much as she wanted to be with him, she knew that when her desires could be stirred merely by her memories of their intimacy, it was definitely better if she avoided the temptation of being with him. “I’m sorry, Beau. I’m busy.”

  Beau wasn’t willing to be denied, not tonight. He was intrigued with fleeting memories of her snuggling against his back which made him loathe their present sleeping arrangement all the more. But more than anything, he wanted answers to all those other tantalizing impressions that haunted him relentlessly and that refused to slip into oblivion. In a slightly stronger tone, he reissued his invitation. “Cerynise, I’m asking you to have dinner with me. I have something I wish to discuss with you, but right now I’m hungry. I want to relax and enjoy the meal with you if you will allow me the pleasure of your company.”

  Cerynise suffered no uncertainty what he was hungry for. Indeed, with his propensities, she wondered how he had ever managed to endure lengthy voyages without a harlot on board to service his on-going needs. In an equally sweet voice, she warbled, “I’m busy.”

  “You’re sulking again,” he accused testily, becoming a little more irate.

  “I am not!” she denied, offended by his conclusions. “Now go away before your men hear you pleading at my door.”

  “I don’t give a damn who hears me,” he growled, close against the wooden barrier. “I want you to open this door so I can talk with you.”

  “And I told you I am busy!” she flung toward the door.

  If Cerynise had thought she was safe in the cabin with a latch securely fastened across the portal, then she soon realized she had been in error to suppose that Beau Birmingham could be halted simply by a locked door. With nothing more than a hard jolt of a shoulder, he sent the panel flying open and the now-broken lock rattling to the floor. Before the door hit the wall behind it, he was already striding across the threshold, displaying enough surprise to convey the fact that he really hadn’t expected to find her in the tub.

  Beau barely had time to cast an appreciative glance across his wife’s wetly gleaming breasts before he again found his face full, this time with a sopping wet sponge. The shock sent him stumbling backward over the same area the sponge had liberally sprinkled with water the very instant it met the intruder. His retreating feet hit the moisture and abruptly slipped out from under him, throwing him backward against the far wall of the passageway.

  Cerynise winced as she heard his head hit the wood panel, and the sudden silence that ensued made her fear that her husband had been knocked unconscious. Anxiety propelled her to her feet and she was out of the tub in a flash, seizing a robe and running toward him as she struggled to don it. Then one eye popped open in Beau’s now-grimacing face and fixed on her in a painful squint. Only the briefest of moments passed as he considered her delectable form and the sound of footsteps descending the companionway. His reluctance to have another man view what he was rapidly coming to consider solely his by marital rights was decidedly more pronounced than his desire to feast his gaze. “Woman, get some clothes on before you have the whole ship up in arms!”

  “Humph!” Decidedly miffed at being bellowed at, Cerynise caught the edge of the door and swept it forward. It banged against the broken jamb and promptly came back. After a slight pause to yank away the splintered wood sticking out from the frame, she whipped the portal closed again with a finality that sealed the doom of any conversation her husband had hoped to have with her.

  In the lengthy silence that followed, Cerynise stared at the door, wondering if he would make another assault upon it. Having dinner with her was something he had really seemed to have set his mind upon, she sensed, for after getting to his feet in the hallway, he muttered sourly near her door, “I hope you enjoy your damned privacy, madam, because I sure as hell won’t. But then, perhaps it’s your intent to torment me.”

  It was unlikely the officers and crew on deck had been oblivious to what had gone on between the newly wedded couple on the lower deck that night. It was certainly more than Cerynise could hope for when Mr. Oaks knocked on her door the next morning and offered to take her for a turn about the deck. If not for the fact that she was feeling in rare need of fresh air after isolating herself in her quarters for the duration of the evening and into a late hour of the morning, she would have forgone the opportunity. She sensed that Beau was too vexed with her determination to separate herself from him to even consider offering his arm for such an outing.

  Stephen Oaks seemed rather sheepish about meeting her gaze, but as she fell in beside him, he was led to speak in behalf of his superior. “The captain is a bit more surly than usual, ma’am, what with being sick and all.” He didn’t care to explain in any great detail what he meant by “all,” but as a man he could understand his captain’s frustration with her continuing obstinance to withhold her favors, which Stephen strongly suspected might be the case. On the other hand, he could also sympathize with the girl. The marriage vows had been spoken in such haste that she probably hadn’t had nearly enough time to consider the demands her new husband would be making of her. “I’m sure ’twill pass ere long.”

  “Aye,” Cerynise sighed somberly, having no doubt that Beau’s irritability was caused primarily by her presence aboard his ship. “The end of the voyage should see a turn in it.”

  Stephen Oaks searched his mind for something more encouraging to say. He could have told her that her husband was well liked, and with only a few exceptions, who were themselves not worth their weight in salt, the seamen held their captain in high esteem. When the man had risked his own life to save members of his crew as he had done in Majorca, what else could anyone, who had been around longer than the last voyage or two, have felt toward the courageous man? The mate even considered expounding upon the wealth of opportunities the ca
ptain had given him when no one else had even cared to lend an ear to his aspirations of commanding a ship one day. And if she thought her husband’s gift to Mr. Carmichael had been a singular occasion, then Stephen Oaks would have enjoyed enlightening her on the generosity of the man, perhaps to the degree that she might have even been led to think that he was only making it up to ease her exasperation with the captain. All of this Beau Birmingham would probably never have even pondered, much less have mentioned to another soul. The captain could be damnably closed-mouth at times, even to the point of letting others think the worst of him.

  “Ma’am, I understand that you’ve known the captain for a goodly length of time. You must have seen his good side, else you wouldn’t have agreed to marry him. All you need is a little patience. He’s sure to come around fairly soon.”

  Cerynise smiled ruefully. Come around to what? Their marriage? Doubtful! Captain Beauregard Birmingham enjoyed his freedom too much to seriously consider taking to wife any woman on a permanent basis. When a man as good looking as her husband, who could’ve had any lady of his choosing, had limited himself (at least as much as she could determine) to appeasing himself with strumpets, it was clear that he had long been dedicated to the idea of maintaining his bachelor’s status, to the degree that he had carefully avoided the pitfalls of compromising the virtue of young, winsome maids.

  Beau was on the quarterdeck with the bosun when she arrived on the lower deck. Now that it was colder, her husband had once again garbed himself in a sweater, this one a dark blue, and narrow trousers of the same hue. He had lost weight during his illness, which made the handsomely proportioned bones and tendons in his face even more pronounced. As soon as he caught sight of her, the lean cheeks started flexing. A cold despair descended upon Cerynise when she noticed those snapping sinews, for she didn’t doubt in the least that his vexation with her was the cause.