The Captain's Lady

by Jo Goodman

  He said nothing. She continued to stare at him while her fingers moved to the buttons of her shirt, unfastening them coldly, deliberately. He sat down beside her and removed his boots, matching her single-minded approach. There was silence until a hoarse gasp escaped her lips as he shrugged off his shirt.

  She had just seen the scars on his back. He remained motionless, waiting for her reaction, knowing those scars would say more than the explanation he had denied her. He felt her weight shift as she moved directly behind him. The depression she made told him she was kneeling. He felt her palm close to his skin but not touching it yet. He knew it was there by the heat emanating from it, the warmth caressing his flesh across a small space of air. She touched him lightly with her fingertips and drew back quickly, as though she was unsure if she wanted to do it at all. He felt a single finger trace the line of a single scar, causing them both to draw in breath simultaneously. He, from the sensation of pleasure; she, from the sensation of pain. She stopped abruptly. He felt both her hands press flat against his back in an attempt to absorb all the suffering he had gone through. Her hands slid down his skin. When they were gone she replaced them with the cool flesh of her cheek. She held her face against him for a long time, then added her hands, placing them on his shoulder blades, on either side of her head. He closed his eyes as he felt a single tear try to wedge its way between his back and her tightly pressed face. He knew the outline of her cheek as the tiny drop of salt water ran along its edge until it fell in a straight line down his back. Her voice, when she spoke, was broken like pointed slivers of the finest crystal, sharp and clean.

  “I didn’t know how well you do understand.” She released him, and he turned to face her. “Tell me,” she said. He shook his head and wiped away the wet line on her cheek with his thumb. “Not now,” he answered, pushing her gently against the sheets. “Later. First this.”

  He brushed her lips lightly with his. “I love you,” he whispered, knowing how much it hurt her to hear it. He clamped his mouth down on hers hard then, insistent, demanding. She responded fiercely, pressing her lips tightly against his own, searching for an outlet to the pain of his words. His hands slid down her neck, and lower, parting the material of her shirt. He heard her moan as his fingers circled her breasts, spiraling inward until they touched her nipples and her flesh stood erect under his caress. He took his mouth away from her lips and kissed her eyes, her nose, and followed the line of her jaw from her chin to her ear. He put one hand under her back and lifted her until she was sitting up, her head resting on his shoulder while his fingers quickly undid the braid lying against her back, freeing her golden hair until he locked it in his own hands, memorizing the texture as he curled it between his fingers. He slipped the shirt from her unresisting body, and when his eyes caught sight of the bandage he took it off also, so he could see all of her and know everything she was.

  He laid her on the bunk once again and Alexis remained passive while he removed his trousers and slipped in beside her. Once his hands touched her skin the passivity was gone, and she trembled in response to his stroking. There was no place he could touch that did not answer to him. His kisses were alternately brutal then fragile, and his hands were as often cruel in the pressure they applied as they were tender, sometimes barely coming in contact with her flesh. It did not matter, she realized as she returned his kiss, matching his savagery of the moment. It did not matter what he did, only that he did it, and that her body responded to it. She held him tightly. Her fingers could feel the rough line of the scars on his bronzed back. Her legs could feel the power and strength in his thighs as naked flesh touched naked flesh.

  Soft moans escaped her throat and she liked the sound, liked the fact that it was he who forced those sounds from her. His mouth was on her breast, evoking the same sensations he had with his hands, and now his hands were moving along her inner thighs, slowly parting her flesh. She tried to move away from the incessant motion of his strong fingers at the junction of her legs but he would not allow it and then she was pushing her body against him, demanding more of the exquisite pleasure shooting through her; pleasure so intense it was almost painful in its grip over her body. She felt him release her breast and his mouth moved down her quivering flesh to the place his fingers had caressed.

  “Cloud,” she murmured between ragged breaths. “No. Not yet. No one…” She tried to grab his hair and push him away but it was a useless motion that ended with her flinging her arm over the edge of the bed in defeat.

  “Shh,” he reassured her. “I know that.” His body shifted and his mouth returned to her own, his lips hovering above hers. “Everything about you is lovely. I want to know all of you.” Then he kissed her and she responded greedily, hungrily, glad he liked what she had to offer.

  Cloud moved between her parted legs, brushing against her gently. Slowly he moved into her, watching her carefully to assure her in that moment of pain. When it came, her eyes opened wide in shock and she looked at him as if he had betrayed her. Then as he gently continued his movements and the pain washed away, her face revealed an odd mixture of emotions. He saw her struggling with her own desire; a desire to be free of him and a desire to never let him stop what he was doing. The struggle was the conflict between her body and her mind, and her wish to give him one or the other, unaware that with him there could be no such division—that when she’d surrendered her body, she had already given him her mind. She began moving with him, catching his rhythm, working toward a single instant when she would allow him to have all of her.

  Alexis gasped as he carried her toward the edge of fulfillment once more and kept her there until she cried out. Then as he thrust deeply inside her a final time, she felt herself tumble over the precipice, her body convulsing in free fall, her limbs making wild thrashing movements designed to protect herself once she hit bottom. And once she hit, once the fiery, burning sensations no longer controlled her, she lay motionless beneath him and a warm glow spread over her flesh. It was warmer than the heat from the sun, only now making its presence felt in her room, casting its rays more fully over their bodies. It was warmer than his breath, close to her ear; breath that caused wisps of yellow hair to part at the force of life within him. She heard his words again, the same words he’d spoken earlier, the same words that had hurt her before hurt her again, but she listened, wanting to be hurt by him. “I love you,” he said.

  “Tell me now, Cloud,” she said after a long stretch during which the only sound had been their soft breathing. The sheet was pulled over them and Alexis liked the coolness of it next to her perspiring flesh. She moved under it, bringing her body close to his, touching his chest lightly with her breasts.

  Sighing, he pushed her away. “I won’t be able to tell you anything if you insist on moving like that.”

  “So soon?” she asked, surprised. She could not imagine it. The last sensations still caressed her limbs.

  “So soon,” he assured her. He remained lying against the pillow as she lifted her head and supported it with her elbow so she could look down on his face.

  “Tell me,” she said gently.

  “Are you familiar with the Chesapeake, Alex?” Her sudden stiffening answered his question. “I’m glad you know. It makes it easier to explain.” He continued flatly, without emotion, reciting the story as he had so many times before. The memory was etched permanently in his brain. “It will be three years ago in June. I had been with the navy for two years when I was assigned to the Chesapeake. We were leaving Norfolk, Virginia, on our way to Europe. We had not gone more than ten miles when a British frigate hailed us.”

  “The Leopard,” she whispered.

  “That’s right. Our captain, Commodore Barron, thought they only wanted us to carry dispatches to London so he permitted one of their officers to board. The officer produced a copy of an order from the Vice Admiral—Sir George Berkley, I think. He was the Commander in Chief of the American Station at the time. The order was to allow the Leopard officer to search
the Chesapeake for deserters. Barron refused and all hell broke loose after that. The British met our decision with a ten-minute cannonade which we were defenseless against. Those ten minutes seemed to drag on for hours then. When the smoke cleared and the fires were put out we had lost three men and eighteen were wounded.”

  “Friends.”

  “Some.” He knew she heard his bitterness slowly surfacing, and he searched her face for the first signs of pity. He only saw understanding. He kissed the fingers that were resting lightly on his shoulder before he went on. “Barron had no choice but to submit to a search after that. He fired off one defiant shot for our flag, then he allowed a second boarding party to search the Chesapeake. The British produced the usual false documents and claimed four men as deserters. I was one of them.” He paused, seeking the words to continue with the part of the story he did not often share. Her fingers curled around his arm, offering support and the tightening in his throat eased.

  “I stayed with the Leopard for almost six months. During that time my family went through every channel open to them to find me and have me released. They nearly managed it, but then I was put aboard the Grenada and British officials informed my family they were unable to trace my whereabouts. The furor over the Chesapeake incident gradually died down and my parents and sister found every government door shut to them.

  “At first I could not accept what had happened to me. I believed my family would be able to locate me and the nightmare of serving the British would end. Others had been that fortunate. When I never heard anything I realized I could not depend on either my family or my government to rectify the situation. I took the matter into my own hands as I should have done in the beginning—as I had always done before.”

  “You tried to escape?”

  “I did escape.”

  “And the lashings?”

  “The punishment for being unsuccessful—twice.”

  “Twice?” she said, barely concealing her horror. “Two times they did that to you and you still tried again?”

  He nodded. “I was on the Grenada eighteen months before I managed to get away. That’s where I met John Landis. And, Alex, I would have tried a fourth and fifth time if the third had not been successful.”

  Alexis dropped her head to the pillow and at the same time moved the hand that had been resting on his shoulder across his chest so her entire arm lay against his skin. “Then you know I will try to escape.”

  It was not a question but he confirmed it anyway. “Yes,” he said softly.

  “But you will still try to hold me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Because you think you love me.” The words were forced out slowly with a pause caused by the word she did not want to say.

  “Because I know I love you.” His response was quick, sure, no hesitation.

  She shivered in spite of the warmth of his flesh. “You will still take me to bed, knowing it may be the last time each time?”

  “Yes.” He waited as she moved closer to him; her head rested on his shoulder now and her leg intertwined with his.

  When she was quiet he said, “And you will still allow me to make love to you, knowing it will be more difficult for you to let it be the last time.”

  “Yes.”

  They were silent. She listened to the sound of his ship cutting through the water outside while she felt the pulsing of his heart against his chest with her arm. They were perfectly synchronized, she thought, and wondered why it surprised her. He was at home here. He belonged with this ship. She was the one displaced, the piece that did not fit, the one who had to leave before she could belong to him, to anyone, to anything.

  “Take me now, Cloud.” Her voice cut through the silence, shattering it with its intensity, its desperation, its frustration. The only thing absent from her voice, absent from everything she would do from now on, was confusion. She knew what she wanted. She was more sure of it than ever before. The thought of her liberty burned into her brain even as Cloud was branding her, chaining her with invisible white-hot shackles as his mouth moved along her throat.

  Their coupling was fierce this time and finished sooner. For each the intensity was greater, the desperation more obvious, and the frustration intolerable until they reached climax. It was as if the qualities of her voice which had snapped the silence had taken possession of their bodies and demanded physical expression.

  When it was over she saw she had added new scratches to his back and he had caused the wound on her shoulder to open again. It frightened Alexis because it seemed to be proof that their relationship was fated to hurt them. She looked to Cloud and, finding her fears not mirrored, selfishly took the reassurance he offered.

  “I have to be going on deck,” he told her after he had bandaged her shoulder.

  “So do I.” She saw he was about to protest and she cut him off, placing a finger to his lips. “I have work to do. I had a good rest last night although it was cut short this morning in a rather spectacular manner.” She pulled her finger away when he caught it between his teeth. She smiled at the sound of his laughter, spontaneous and unrestrained.

  “Then you are back to being the cabin boy?” he asked lightly, forcing himself to hide the effort it took to ask the question.

  “Yes, when we are with others,” she replied. “But Cloud, never, never when we’re alone.”

  He nodded and helped her on with her shirt, taking delight for the first time in fastening buttons. While she braided her hair and washed her face, he dressed. She was ready first and sat in a chair, smiling, as he put on the boots she had polished so furiously. He noticed her gaze and returned her smile. “I never did tell you what a fine job you did.”

  They went to the door together but she hesitated before she opened it.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She laughed. “I was thinking: what if anyone sees us leaving together?”

  “And?”

  “We’d only be confirming what they saw as inevitable all along.”

  Cloud grinned and kissed her forehead. She opened the door and they went out together to face the others as cabin boy and captain.

  The crew was pleased to see Alexis again. She put their worries about the incident aside by going about her work with a fresh enthusiasm that almost tired them out. As she performed her duties she talked freely with the men as she had done the day before, telling them what she planned to accomplish once she got away from the ship. She continued her incessant questioning, delighted to find more and more of the men willing to answer her with the seriousness her questions demanded. She saw Cloud watching her covertly from the quarterdeck but she knew he would make no attempt to stop this part of her education.

  By noon she was exhausted. Her shoulder pained her beyond her tolerance. She sat down on the deck, leaning against the box that held the signal flags for support. She drew her legs up, sitting in a cross-legged fashion and scanning the ship for some sign of Cloud. She wanted to tell him she was too tired to go on for the rest of the day, to ask to be excused from her duties. When she did not see him she closed her eyes for a moment, determined to get up and find him just as soon as she felt stronger.

  Quite unintentionally the moment stretched to a few minutes and Alexis had no choice but to give in to sleep.

  Cloud and Landis stood over her, smiling at her sleeping form. “It seems as if your cabin boy is shirking her duties,” Landis said with mock severity.

  “Looks that way,” the captain replied. “I’ll have to be getting my own lunch today.” He bent to pick her up.

  Through the hazy existence of almost-sleep Alexis felt strong arms sliding under her body and she relaxed against them. Her arms went around the neck of the lean, hard body pressed against hers. She felt her head fall a few inches and come to rest comfortably on a firm shoulder.

  Landis shot his friend a knowing glance and turned away to hide his chuckle when Cloud responded with a murderous look of his own. “Come on, Mr. Landis,” Cloud said, sighing
in resignation. “Go on ahead of me and open the door to her cabin.” Under his breath he muttered, “Sometimes you see too damn much.”

  Landis heard the comment and laughed. It was obvious something had changed between Tanner and Alex and yet, he wondered, had anything changed at all? They were both strong-willed individuals with purposes that conflicted. Had each finally accepted the other’s purpose? Landis opened the door to Alexis’s room and as Tanner walked past, Alexis held securely in his arms, he knew it was true. He looked from one to the other and for a brief moment allowed himself to feel their pain before he shut the door and went back to work, humming lightly to himself.

  Cloud placed Alexis on the bunk and drew the covers around her. He was almost to the door when she called to him.

  “Cloud?” It was only a whisper but it riveted him to attention. He returned to her side. “What is it, Alex?”

  “I’m tired, Cloud. I was going to tell you, but I couldn’t find you.”

  “How is your shoulder?”

  “It hurts dreadfully. I don’t want to work any longer today, but I wanted you to know why.”

  “I already know. It isn’t simply because of the pain, is it?”

  “No. If I strain myself much more it may cost me my—” She paused, wanting to hear it from him. “You say it. You say what it will cost me.”

  “Your escape,” he answered slowly. He allowed her to see by the tightening of his lips that she had punished him. “Get some sleep, Alex. I’ll check on you later.”

  Chapter 7

  When Alexis woke she saw Landis placing a tray of food on the table. She sat up in her bunk and smiled warmly at him. “What time is it? I feel as if I’ve slept through the night. I hope that isn’t breakfast.”

  Landis laughed. “No, it’s your dinner. Captain thought you might like some. He said you needed a good meal in you as much as you needed to rest.”

  Alexis agreed and sat at the table. “Where is the captain now, John?”