Tender Torment

by Jane Archer

  He reached the ship before his mate, who swam slowly, gently with his delicate charge until the ship was within reach. Standing at the bottom of the rope ladder, the sailor looked once more as his friend pulled the young beauty from the ocean, water falling away from her form as in a soft waterfall to reveal the full curves of her body. His own body tightened at the sight, and he cursed slightly at himself as he swung hastily and clumsily up the ladder, the vision of the girl forever imprinted on his mind. The other sailor hoisted the girl over his broad, strong shoulder as carefully as possible, then followed his mate up the ladder.

  Just as the two sailors reached the deck, the storm broke. But the men on board scarcely noticed it for all their attention was on the scantily clad girl who was now placed gently at the feet of their captain. They all seemed mesmerized by the gentle rise and fall of her breasts outlined by the sheer, wet silk fabric. She was alive.

  They formed a circle around her prone body, shutting out the harsh wind that had begun to rage around the ship. Slowly, Alexandra began to regain consciousness. Her red-gold hair clung to her head and body, away from the perfect oval of her face, revealing full, pale lips that were growing pinker as she revived. At last she opened dark fringed eyes and gazed at the tall, looming figure of the captain, then around at the circle of sailors. An involuntary gasp came from her mouth.

  The sailors stepped back from her in confusion and consternation.

  One muttered, "Red hair."

  "Green eyes," another growled.

  Another, "The fates preserve us."

  It was then that the full impact of the storm and the girl from the ocean hit them, and they looked questioningly at their captain. With her on board, could they survive? She seemed to read the expression in their faces, and put her pale, slim arms around herself as if in protection. The movement was not lost on the captain.

  He gruffly commanded his men to their stations, then turned to the old sailor at his side.

  "Take her below, Morley. Lock her in my cabin. Then come back up. We'll need all hands to weather this storm."

  The old sailor nodded, then leaned down to pick up the frightened Alexandra, but she stuck out her chin slightly and on trembling limbs lifted herself to her full height, well below the two men standing over her.

  "I—" She cleared her throat. "I'm quite capable of—"

  But her sentence was never finished for a huge wave splashed over the deck as the old, tough sailor caught her in his arms and ran for protection below. The impact of his lunge and the wave had been too much for her slight strength, and the old sailor carried her unconscious into the captain's quarters.

  He paused momentarily as he placed her in the narrow bunk, then hurriedly stripped the wet clothes from her body. He could not control his sudden intake of breath as he saw her in complete nudity, for she was as perfect a woman as he had ever beheld. He quickly covered her up, then hurried back outside onto the storm-ridden deck.

  Chapter 3

  A sound awakened her. Her mind began to clear, and Alexandra remembered the horrible nightmare of the storm raging all around her. She had been locked in the cabin, sure of her death when the ship sank to the bottom of the Atlantic. And she had been sick, sicker than ever before in her twenty years of existence. Now she felt weak, but grateful for the calm, gentle rocking motion of the ship. She glanced around the room, then gasped as her eyes fell on a man, dressed in torn, sea-stained clothes, staring at her in a cool impertinent way.

  And as she looked at him in horror, unable to move in her terror, she saw his eyes rake her face, then move lower, appraising the full curves of her body as a pirate would his prize. She felt a blush of red travel from her breasts to her neck then explode in vivid color over her face. For she now realized that the covers had fallen down around her hips, and she was naked.

  Furiously she jerked the covers up around her shoulders, glaring at the insolent man standing casually before her, who had the audacity to smile, showing even white teeth.

  "How dare you?" she said in an unsteady voice.

  "Dare I what?" he mocked, his lips curling slightly.

  She blinked several times, trying to understand his words. They seemed to have been drawn from his throat in a slow, lazy manner. She realized that before her stood a Southerner, a real Southerner, even a former Confederate perhaps. She had never seen one before and looked at him more closely.

  He was tall, stooping down slightly beneath the low ceiling of the cabin, and powerfully built. She couldn't remember having ever seen such wide shoulders before. The sea-stained clothes, pulled taut over his hard body, barely concealed the raw strength of his muscles. But his face was what intrigued her the most for it was tanned and in contrast to the sun-bleached blond hair and the blue eyes with fine lines at the corners as proof of his life in the sun. She could only hope he was a gentleman for there was a cool recklessness in the sharp, angular features of his face.

  "How dare you?" he asked sarcastically.

  "Oh," involuntarily came from her lips. She blushed scarlet. She was as bad as this man. She certainly had better manners than to stare so openly—especially at a man.

  "Well, my little drowned rat—" he began, moving toward her.

  Her green eyes darkened as she edged back against the bed, pulling the covers tightly up around her chin. "I'm not your anything and I'm no rat!"

  "So the lady has a fiery spirit to go with her fiery hair."

  "I—I think you should leave," she said with as much conviction as she could get into her voice.

  "Leave? But where would I go? I'm the captain and this is my cabin," he stated, gesturing around the room.

  "Then, then I'd better leave," she said softly, glancing around the room for her clothing. None seemed to be in evidence and she glanced uneasily back at the rugged face watching her intently.

  "You didn't have much on to begin with, and they were wet so—"

  She blushed again until her skin seemed to blend in with the roots of her hair. "You—you didn't—" She couldn't finish her statement.

  He smiled wickedly, letting her believe the worst.

  "I need something to wear. There must be something on board

  "Now, why would you want to cover up a body like yours with clothing?"

  "Oh, do stop! I won't be treated like this. I won't be talked to like this."

  He raised an eyebrow mockingly, then grinned sardonically. "Is the choice yours, my dear?"

  She shuddered involuntarily, feeling suddenly exhausted. The room swam about her and his face began to fade. She heard him murmur something as consciousness slipped from her once more....

  Voices forced her awake this time. She could hear them in the hall—sailors talking among themselves."He's still got her."

  "Yes, and locked in his cabin."

  "Won't give her up. She caused the storm. She caused all the trouble."

  "But she's mighty pretty."

  "No matter. Fate's against us as long as she's with us."

  "What's this?" the captain's voice boomed in through the door.

  The sailors muttered among themselves as they hurried away.

  A key turned in the lock and Alexandra stared apprehensively at the moving door. The large body of the captain filled the opening for a moment as he came through, then behind him came the slighter body of the old sailor, carrying a tray. The sailor smiled warmly at her, then set the tray down on a small table.

  The old sailor came over to her, smiling and said, "I'm Morley, miss. You've been mighty sick, and you must eat now to get better. If you need anything else, you just tell old Morley here."

  She nodded at the smiling sailor, feeling her stomach gnaw at the smell of the food. She was hungry. Morley glanced down at the clutched covers in her hands, her reddened face, then back at his captain.

  "Clothes. She's got to have something to wear, Cap'n."

  The captain growled, but turned to dig through his trunk. He finally pulled out a fine, hand worked shirt and th
rew it at the old sailor. Morley grinned, then handed it gallantly toward Alexandra.

  She smiled slightly, and took the garment. She looked about her, then stared pointedly at the two men, saying, "If you don't mind."

  Morley quickly turned his back to Alexandra, but the captain still watched her with amused interest. Finally Morley cleared his throat and motioned to his captain who finally turned around, slowly and reluctantly. Alexandra quickly jerked her arms into the long sleeves, pulled the huge shirt, which reached to her knees, around her, then hastily began to button the shirt.

  The captain turned back again, continuing his hungry search of Alexandra, as Morley busied himself with the food, wanting to help the beautiful girl as much as he could. But the captain soon dismissed him. Morley left reluctantly after giving Alexandra an encouraging smile.

  When the door had closed, leaving them alone together, the captain's attention focused on Alexandra once more.

  "Better eat while the food's hot," he said.

  Wanting the food more than the security of her bed, she slipped her feet over the edge of the bunk, aware that he could see at least half of her legs. She blushed again, desperately wanting more clothing to shield her body from this man. But there was nothing she could do about that and she had to eat. She walked unsteadily across the small room, holding on to whatever was handy until she lowered herself carefully onto the chair in front of the table of food. It smelled delicious, and as she began to eat the thick seafood soup, she forgot the captain's presence.

  Soon she could feel strength returning to her weak body and she hungrily pushed more food into her mouth. But her benefactor, if he was that, was not to be ignored for his voice broke the stillness of the room, and she hastily looked up to see that he had moved to stand closely beside her. She could read the questioning look in his hard, sun-weathered face and realized that he must have asked her something.

  She stopped eating. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."

  "What do you call yourself?" he drawled in his low, commanding voice.

  Alexandra froze. This was the question she had been dreading. No one must know her true identity. She could trust no one with the truth for if her relatives ever found her, it would surely be death, or, worse, marriage to Stan Lewis.

  She glanced up into the clear blue eyes of the captain and decided that she could tell him at least her nickname. That way she would not be confused when someone called her by that name.

  "You may call me Alex."

  "Alex!" he chortled. "That's no name for a woman, even a Yankee woman. But then maybe Yankees give their women male names since they can't tell the difference."

  Fury washed over her. Her green eyes blazed and she tossed her hair back like a horse's mane. If he had known her better he would had recognized the uncontrollable anger that was about to descend on him, but he didn't know her and he wasn't used to the spirit of a Northern woman. A Southern lady would have held her temper with a sweet smile on her face, but made sure that he paid for his remark later—in a back alley if necessary. But Alexandra never controlled hers so she let its full force fall upon him.

  She picked up her bowl of food and with all her strength threw it at him. He easily dodged it, much to her dismay. Alexandra flung herself bodily against him and began to pummel his chest with her fists. Intent upon his destruction, she did not realize for some time that she was having no effect upon him at all. When in confusion she looked up into his face, he winked at her.

  This was too much. She began to throw anything loose in the cabin at him. He dodged all the missiles, making his way carefully toward her to stop the further destruction of his cabin. As he got closer, she began to run out of weapons and finally stopped to glare angrily at him, her chest heaving as she gasped for air.

  He held out his hands and said softly, "I'm not going to hurt you, Alex," as he continued to approach her.

  She backed away, determined to find some means of escape, the desperate scene with Captain Sully vivid in her mind.

  "What has someone done to frighten you so badly?"

  He still didn't know his woman. At the word frighten, her chin jerked up and her eyes flashed dangerously at him again, but not as desperately as before.

  "I'm not frightened," she said softly, evenly between her teeth. "And I will not be treated meanly."

  He smiled, pulled a chair around, and sat down before her. "I haven't meant to treat you badly, Alex. You're my guest while on my ship, but you are also under my protection."

  Suddenly her legs felt weak, and she gestured toward the bed. He sat between her and its comfort, and she wanted his assurance not to be molested in getting to it. He nodded, but as she passed closely by him, his hand reached out and touched her softly. Yet he did not detain her. She hurried by and sat down on the bed, pulling the covers up around her shoulders for security as well as warmth.

  "Frankly, I can't devote as much attention to you as I'd like right now," he said, grinning again, "but perhaps we can take care of that later."

  She frowned at him and tossed her golden red hair.

  "All I want to know is how the hell did you get in the Atlantic with just an oar? You must realize that I saved your life. I'd always thought that there was some special reward for such a deed."

  She looked thoughtfully at him, calculating if he was teasing her again. She couldn't be sure. "I do appreciate your getting me out of the ocean. I'm sorry I haven't thanked you properly before. Thank you for your help. I would naturally offer you money, but—" She bit her lip remembering that she wanted no one to know about her or her position in life.

  "But your life isn't worth much, or my saving it isn't worth much?" he questioned.

  He was teasing, she thought, but still trying to learn more about her. "Not that either is worth little, but I have nothing to offer that's worth anything," she said and turned her clear green eyes to his.

  He hesitated a moment as if caught in some spell, then, "You're wrong there. With no possessions at all you have a great deal to offer—if you're willing."

  It took a moment for Alexandra to understand his message. She blushed and looked quickly away. "You don't treat me with respect," she said unhappily.

  "On the contrary, my dear lady, I have treated you with a great deal more respect than I would have most women whom I found in my bed. But then, perhaps I'm too tired today to be fully appreciative of your charms. Another time perhaps."

  "Please—I must—I need to find passage to New Orleans," she said intensely, looking at him imploringly.

  "Don't," he said gruffly, his blue eyes turning icy. "A coy look doesn't fit you at all. Leave that to the experts—Southern ladies. You'd better play straight with me."

  "I need to go to New Orleans," she repeated.

  "You have money for passage?"

  She had lost everything she had brought with her from New York—all her fine clothes, all her money—on the schooner. She couldn't risk contacting her bank to get more money because Stan Lewis would immediately come for her and she had no way to defend herself. No. She had no money, no clothes. In fact, for the first time in her life she was dependent on someone else. She hated the feeling.

  "Do you have a name?" she asked.

  "Jake."

  "Captain Jake?"

  "I'm the captain but the name's Jake. Don't tag anything else on to it," he commanded harshly.

  She caught just a flash of what his anger could be like if it was ever directed at her; she hoped never to see it. She knew she had a temper, but she had a feeling that in comparison to his it would be tame.

  "Call me by my name," he said softly, urgently.

  She glanced at his face and caught a warm glint deep in his eyes that she couldn't quite understand, but it suddenly made her stomach jump, made her legs seem weak and heavy. She looked away and whispered, "Jake."

  "I didn't hear you."

  "Jake," she said loudly and looked deep into his hard blue eyes, her own green ones glinting strangely.

/>   He was silent a moment and his voice was thick when he again spoke. "What were you doing in the Atlantic and who are you?"

  She swallowed, thinking fast. "I must beg of you to let me keep my identity a secret, at least for now. Surely it can't matter to you, and for me it is—it is a life and death matter." She spoke so earnestly that he raised his brows in surprise, quietly deciding.

  "All right. Have your secrets. You want to go to New Orleans. Do you know where you are now?"

  She shook her head.

  "We are, unfortunately, in the Bahamas so—"

  "Bahamas! But—"

  "We are in the Bahamas so I would assume that your original destination could have been New Orleans. The storm has not only blown us off course, but has done damage to my ship as well. All in all, it is not a fair day for either of us."

  She shook her head, then looked up suddenly at him, saying, "The sailors—"

  "Yes?"

  "I overheard them talking. They think I'm responsible. You won't let them—" She shivered.

  He watched her closely. "Cold?"

  "No."

  "They are superstitious about women on board ship, especially a ship like this. But they won't dare harm you. You are safe—at least for the moment," he said, grinning wickedly.

  Somehow she didn't feel as reassured as she should have. She just wasn't used to coping with a man like this; he seemed so wild, untamed.

  "Thank you for the small measure of comfort," she said icily.

  "You're quite lucky that I picked you up, by the way."

  "Really? I was beginning to think that I would have been better left in the ocean."

  "Never think that. As a matter of fact, I have a few friends here I made during the war—well, never mind that, but I've already sent for supplies and for a conveyance to a plantation that's not too far away."

  She looked up at him in surprise, then quickly around the cabin. So she wouldn't be forced to stay here after all. She breathed a sigh of relief.