Louisiana 08 - While Passion Sleeps

by Shirlee Busbee

Her eyes bright with almost feverish intensity, she stared out the window of the hotel at the wide expanse of the cold blue ocean. In just a few hours she would be boarding the ship that would take her from England. Was she going to let a bit of what was surely malicious gossip destroy her marriage and her future? For a second, the picture of Three Elms flashed through her mind, and the memory of Melissa's dislike as well as her father's cold indifference returned. No! She could not return there! Her future was with Nathan. Nathan who loved her and who cared for her. She must believe that, and she must dismiss the ugl^ conversation from her mind.

  Nathan entered the room just then, his smile warm and endearing. "Well, my love, are you ready for the long journey to America? I know you will find the journey somewhat boring, but when we reach New Orleans I know you shall feel it was well worth it."

  Taking a closer look at her, he noticed instantly the signs of agitation that she hadn't yet been able to hide, and, his face immediately concerned, he asked seriously, 'Ts something wrong, my dear?"

  At the note of kindness in his voice, her heart contracted painfully. Those men were wicked, wicked creatures spreading ugly, vicious half-truths, she told herself vehemently. And then, because she was, after all, an unworldly, naive, and bewildered child, she suddenly broke into nearly hysterical tears and threw herself into Nathan's arms.

  Genuinely alarmed and astounded by Elizabeth's obvious and unexplained distress, Nathan's arms tightened instinctively around her slim body. ''My love, my love, hush," he murmured softly into the bright golden-ash waves that tickled his chin. "What has disturbed you? Is it that you are unhappy leaving your home? Please don't be—I will make you happy, I promise I shall." Almost grimly, he added, "No matter what!"

  Mortified that she had given away so ignominiously, Elizabeth vainly tried to stifle the sobs that were racking her body. Looking at Nathan's troubled features

  with tear-drowned violet eyes, Elizabeth asked with pathetic wistfulness, "Do you love me, Nathan? Truly love me?"

  She felt him stiffen and, unable to understand her own motives, her hands clutched at his shoulders. "Tell me the truth, I beg of you! Do you love me'?"

  His eyes searching hers, Nathan gently pushed back a wayward lock of hair that had fallen onto her forehead. "Beth, what is it, my dear? You know that I love you. I wouldn't have married you if I didn't love you more than any woman in the world." His voice husky, he went on emotionally, "You are my hope for the future. And if I find that I can't...I can't...with you, then I am truly damned."

  "Can't what, Nathan?" Elizabeth whispered tightly, the soft mouth beginning to tremble.

  Nathan pulled her closer into his arms, the expression on his face tormented. In a voice barely audible he muttered, "Happiness, if I can't find happiness with you, then I deserve whatever the future may bring me."

  For a long moment he gazed down into her face, and then slowly his head lowered and he kissed her deeply, his mouth warm and reassuring on hers. Elizabeth eagerly returned his embrace, deliberately forcing herself to be satisfied with Nathan's avowals for their future happiness. She did believe him. She had no reason not to, and so with a soft sigh she melted into him.

  Nathan's arms seemed to tighten more excitedly about her slender form, his mouth moving tantalizingly across hers. It was a gentle kiss and Elizabeth was sorry when it ended. But too soon, Nathan lifted his head and glanced down at her. His face kind, he asked quietly, "Feeling better now? No more worries about whether I love you or not?" _

  A tremulous smile beginning to peep from the violet eyes and convinced he loved her, she returned shyly, "Oh, yes. I mean no!" He laughed at her indecision and she said quickly, "Oh, you know what I mean!"

  "I do indeed, my dear!" Reaching out for one of Elizabeth's hands, he carried it to his mouth and gently kissed it. "Trust me, my love. Everything will be just fine. Trust me!"

  CHAPTER THREE

  In spite of the reassuring conversation with Nathan, Ehzabeth found the journey across the dark-blue Atlantic to New Orleans a bewildering time. As he had done at the hotel in Portsmouth, Nathan had reserved separate accommodations for them on the Belle Maria, and night after night Elizabeth slept alone, as virginaL as the day she had left her mother's womb.

  It was a subject she could not bring herself to discuss with Nathan. But the question hovered on her lips a dozen times a day. Why? Why doesn't he seek my bed?

  She knew little about marriage, but she knew that theirs was progressing at an odd rate. Nathan was kind to her, solicitously watching over her and attempting to keep her entertained on the long uneventful journey. Yet the closeness she had thought would come did not, neither a physical one nor a mental one. Nathan appeared to dote on her, but still she never really felt as if she knew him any better than she had on the day she accepted his offer of marriage. He was polite, he was kind, and he was concerned—he was not a lover!

  It was Elizabeth's gentle nature to blame herself for the lack of consummation, and it simply never occurred to her that the fault lay with Nathan. She blamed herself bitterly for her continued state of virginity.

  If only, she thought disconsolately, she were more beautiful, more womanly, instead of a thin stick of a child! If only she knew more of the world, of the ways to please a man. She was certain it was her own inadequacies that kept her husband from her. Upon occasion she was tempted to discuss the matter with Mary, but shyness held her back. It was too embarrassing a confession to be blurted out to one's maid.

  Finally she gathered enough courage to bring up the subject with Nathan. She couldn't even get the words out, but Nathan guessed and, his face wearing a strained smile, he muttered, ''Ah... er... yes, of course, I know it must seem strange to you, my dear, but I thought perhaps it would be best if we waited. New Orleans is a lovely, lovely city, and I thought it would be more enjoyable for us if we waited until we reached there to... um... begin our honeymoon."

  Again reassured, and thinking how very considerate he was of her, Elizabeth was able to look forward to reaching their destination. But her worry about the lack of Nathan's ardor did not diminish. It plagued and troubled her, and no matter*^how often she chastised herself for being a forward -piece and probably very vulgar and common too, she couldn't help but wish Nathan wasn't quite so forbearing and thoughtful of her.

  The problem was compounded by the fact that, like any extremely romantic young girl of seventeen, she dreamed. Dreamed wild exotic dreams that on waking would bring a flush to her cheeks. Too often at night, as she lay listening to the waves breaking against the ship, her mind drifted aimlessly and she lost herself in daydreams and sleeping dreams that sometimes frightened and alarmed her. She was a married woman, if not a wife in the true sense of the word, and she should not still be dreaming of a tall, black-haired devil. But she was. It seemed every night he came to her. She never saw his face completely, it was always shadowed or in profile, but she knew it as well as she knew her own, and it haunted her. The dreams were all vaguely terrifying, and in the morning she could never quite recall what had happened, but she remembered she had been filled with terror, that there had been danger, even pain. What she did remember most clearly was a hard mouth on hers and strange, frighteningly exquisite emotions that were evoked by hard, ungentle hands on her body.

  There was no one she could talk to about these oddly lifelike dreams, and she was deeply embarrassed that she could recall the man's kisses but not his face or what happened. More than once she started to confide

  in Mary, but her innate shyness or the fear of being ridiculed held her back. Yet there was something so very precious about these dreams that she wasn't certain she wanted to share them with anyone, even someone as undemanding and kind as Mary Eames. Instead, Elizabeth treasured them and almost looked forward to the night, the dreams... and the man!

  Despite all the fears and uncertainties besetting her, Elizabeth was enthralled by New Orleans. The intricate iron-worked balconies of the houses in the Vieux Carre, the incredible
array of items to be found in the French Market as w^ell as in the numerous shops and stores, and the theaters and the various amusements to be found in that beguiling, charming city spreading on the banks of the Mississippi River all filled her with pleasure.

  Strangely enough, when Nathan again reserved separate suites for them and, somewhat red in the face, suggested another delay before they indulged in the "delights of marriage" (his choice of words), Elizabeth was not surprised. She was gradually accepting the idea that for some as yet unexplained reason theirs was a different marriage from most, and that when Nathan felt the time was exactly right she would discover the... er... delights of marriage. She didn't chafe so much against the delay, for she was beginning to wonder if "it" was so awful that Nathan was sparing her the evil moment.

  Still, she wondered about the intimacies of the marriage bed, and on their second night in New Orleans she somewhat timidly brought up the subject. They were both preparing to retire after a pleasant day of exploring the city, and, dreading her large, lonely bed, Elizabeth had been unable to prevent herself from asking Nathan to at least enter her bedchamber and explain, if he would, why they could not even share the same bed—they didn't have to do anything, if he didn't want to.

  It was an awkward moment. Elizabeth again filled with mortification at her forwardness, and Nathan's fair skin turned bright red in obvious embarrassment. They stood staring mutely at each other, Elizabeth in-

  credibly appealing in a soft clinging peignoir of lavender silk and Nathan very handsome and boyish in a robe of red-and-black brocade. For several seconds they remained thus, and then Nathan seemed to shake himself, and with a nervous smile he said, "My dearest child, of course I will enter your bedchamber! I merely wanted to give you privacy if you wished it and..." He hesitated, sv/allowed with apparent difficulty, and finished, "And if you want me to share your bed, I see no reason to postpone the moment."^

  That Nathan was as nervous or even more nervous than herself was glaringly evident, and Elizabeth's own fears expanded to a point where she very nearly be-seeched him to pretend she "had never said a thing. It was a silent couple who entered that bedchamber, and an increasingly apprehensive Elizabeth who laid aside her lavender peignoir and, clad only in the delicate matching gown that clung almost lovingly to her slender curves, settled herself into bed. With huge, nearly purple eyes, she watched as Nathan, with interminable slowness, shed his robe and stood before her wearing only his linen nightshirt. He quickly blew out the candle, and in the darkness Elizabeth heard the sounds of further clothing being removed. Her heart beating in her throat, she waited with a dry mouth for her husband to join her.

  Nathan's entrance into her bed was somewhat gingerly, and after slipping under the satin coverlet, he lay stiffly by her side for several more moments. Then, his own agitation and nervousness nearly tangible, he slowly reached for Elizabeth.

  Tentatively he pulled her next to him, and with butterflylike pressure began to touch her. His lips were warm and kind, but instinctively Elizabeth sensed that there was no passion in him. In the time that followed, that feeling grew. How she knew it she wasn't sure, she just knew that Nathan's uncertain and hesitant caresses were halfiiearted, as if he wanted to please her, wanted to be passionate—but could net! He fumbled for some time with her small breasts, his hands moving with increasing agitation over them and his mouth pressing harder against her lips. Elizabeth tried

  to respond, but Nathan's inept and reluctant touches, instead of arousing passion, caused her to become even more uncertain and frightened, unable to take any enjoyment from the strange but not unpleasant sensations his touch on her body aroused. As the moments passed and Elizabeth lay next to him in bewilderment and embarrassment, not quite certain what should happen next, what she should do or what he would do, Nathan's caresses grew almost frantic, and Elizabeth had the oddest feeling that he was in the grip of some sort of angry frustration, his body pressed hard against hers. And with gentle accommodation, hers gave no resistance, but that seemed not to satisfy him. If anything it seemed to upset him further, for his movements became more and more frantic, his hips thrusting wildly against hers, the warmth of his body seeping through her nightgown, his hands pulling her tightly to him.

  Nathan seemed to become aware of the nightgown for the first time then, and with a muttered comment he bunched it up around her neck, his touch on her naked flesh startling her and filling her with agonizing sh3mess. But nothing changed. He continued his strange, frantic caresses until Elizabeth wondered if this was what Melissa had meant by letting her husband satisfy his base emotions, as it was certainly very embarrassing having his hands on her breasts and hips. And Nathan didn't seem to be enjoying it very much either!

  After several more minutes of the same activities, with an anguished sigh Nathan rested his damp forehead against Elizabeth's cheek and said in a muffled voice, "Perhaps I can do better tomorrow night, love. I think that I am just tired from our journey. Do not think too badly of me, my dear, that you are not a wife tonight in the ftillest sense of the word. I love you, and more than anything I want to make you happy. Believe that, my dearest Elizabeth."

  Her heart was moved by his distress, and she did not realize the significance of the fact that while Nathan lay next to her, there had been no pulsating, rigid male member to make its presence felt. She kissed him with clumsy tenderness above the eye. Shyly she said, '1 don't mind, Nathan. It is pleasant just to have you here

  next to me. I have not liked sleeping in all these strange places all by myself."

  Nathan's arms tightened convulsively around her and, pulling her tightly to his side, he said softly, "You are so good and kind to me, Elizabeth. There are not many brides who would be as understanding. Perhaps tomorrow night I will be able to... Well, tomorrow night we will see what happens. For the present let us both sleep." His lips gently caressed her cheek and he added, "I must confess, too, that it is very pleasant having you with me."

  His words satisfied Elizabeth, though leaving her slightly puzzled. What was it he hadn't been able to do? But for the mom.ent she wa^happy, certain that she and Nathan had taken the first step toward the closeness and companionship that she hungered for.

  They spent the next day leisurely strolling throughout New Orleans. Nathan was a bit reserved at first, but upon seeing that Elizabeth truly had no recriminations about the previous evening, he soon relaxed and was his usual concerned, gentle self. Unfortunately it appeared that the day had not resolved whatever had been bothering him the night before, because the night was a repetition of the previous one.

  There was a slight difference, though—Elizabeth was not quite as embarrassed or shy. At least she now had some idea what to expect, and when Nathan's hand touched her breast, she did not stiffen in surprise. She even made a clumsy, uncertain attempt to return her husband's caresses, her lips soft and warm beneath his and her small hands lightly and with trembling boldness touching his shoulders and back. But nothing seemed to do any good, and after several moments of his same fumbling attempts, Nathan tore himself away from her with a groan and said in a tone so low she could barely hear him, ''Elizabeth, it is useless. I thought that with you, I could... I could... It appears that Longstreet was right—I am...I am...not capable of bedding a woman! Good God, what am I to do?"

  Elizabeth felt her entire body freeze and, sitting up in bed, she asked slowly, "Nathan, what do you mean? What does Longstreet have to do with us?"

  His voice bleak, Nathan muttered, "Everything and nothing. I should have told you all before we married— given you the chance to cry off! But I was so sure, so very certain, that I could put my relationship with Longstreet behind me. So sure that with your goodness and gentleness that I could be like any other man. That my past excursions into the dark side of passion were something I could forget." Bitterly he finished, "It appears that I was damnably wrong."

  Elizabeth sat like a small icy statue in the middle of the bed, her thoughts tumbling and scattering
like ash before a blast of winter wind. There was so much that Nathan was saying that didn't make any sense, but she suddenly remembered with a clutch of unnamed fear that peculiar conversation she had overheard at Portsmouth. What had that man said? Something about that "Longstreet was enamored of the young man." Frightened and not knowing why, she asked tensely, "Do you want to tell me about it now? Would it help you to talk with me? I would try to help you, Nathan."

  He turned to her and, taking one of her icy little hands in his, he said tiredly, "I do not think it is something that talking will solve. But, yes, I will tell you about it, my dear... and afterwards if you wish to leave me, I will understand."

  The last thing in the world that Elizabeth wanted was to leave her husband. Even if she did not love him, she was very fond of him and deeply grateful to him. He could confess that he was the greatest murderer on earth and she would not leave him, simply because he had always been kind and concerned for her—something no one else ever had been in all her short life. She thought a fleeting moment of the cold austerity of Three Elms, of her sarcastic, domineering stepmother and of her indifferent father, and she shuddered. Nathan would have to harm her physically to make her ever wish to return there.

  Still, when he wept and haltingly confessed of his intimate involvement with men, with Charles Long-street in particular, she was repelled and horrified. That two men could be lovers was almost beyond her understanding. Not even quite certain of what went on be-

  tween a man and a woman in the privacy of their bedroom, the idea of two men doing those same things was nearly incomprehensible. And Nathan's further confession that he appeared to be incapable of making love to a woman, that he was in fact impotent with females, only added to her hurt confusion and bewilderment.

  Most of what Nathan explained to Elizabeth that night made no real sense, but if she had been older, more experienced, more aware of what marriage and passion were all about, she might have made a different decision. As it was, filled with misplaced youthful confidence, she was certain that, given time and their own wish to make things normal, they would succeed. There was much of what Nathan told her that disgusted and appalled her even if the full import did not sink in; nevertheless, when she balanced his kindness to her against the welcome she would receive should she decide to return to Three Elms, Nathan with his shameful confession was far more appealing than England and her stepmother's wrath at the failure of such a short marriage.