Tender Torment

by Jane Archer

  His hands stroked her. "Open your legs for me, Alexandra," he whispered urgently.

  "Oh, no. No, Jake," but her legs spread of their own accord, the need within her too deep to be denied.

  Gently, deftly, he slipped inside the moist warmth of her. Moving deeper, deeper, probing, searching, but not finding. A frown marred his face and he looked up quickly at Alexandra, but her eyes were closed and her hands clutched the sand convulsively. Hell! Fury washed over him. Someone had stolen her virginity before him. Who had she given it to? He should have been the first—and the last.

  Angrily he jerked out, causing her to start up in fright, and seeing the frozen blue eyes staring angrily at her, she cried out in real fear. What had happened? He gave her no time for thought as he grabbed her roughly, pulling her up towards him, then in one furious, revengeful plunge, drove in deeply. Alexandra gasped, not so much in pain, as in despair. He wanted to hurt her, and tears slipped from her eyes.

  But even in his overwhelming anger, Jake was determined to burn out any trace of the man who had gone before him and he slowed himself, determined to give Alexandra something to remember, something to make her forget that other man. Controlling himself, he began to move in her slowly, reassuringly, determined to bring her with him. She opened her eyes in wonder, suddenly aware of the change, but stifled her cry when she looked into his hard, blue eyes, bright slits of anger. Oh, what was he doing now? Her thoughts were wild, distorted, frightened, then slowly they began to focus on the mounting tension within her. Was there no release? She couldn't stand much more. Her body had broken out in a fine film of sweat, and as he kept moving within her, she clutched out, drawing him to her, wanting more, demanding more until finally the raging fire exploded and she rushed down into oblivion, taking him with her. Then he fell on top of her heavily, sweat trickling down onto her breasts, as his breath came in great heaves, drowning out her own gasps.

  As their breathing stilled, she became aware of the waves crashing in upon the shore and the cool water swirling up around them, outlining their bodies as one. But it was a momentary oneness for as the water receded, there was nothing left to prove that it had once formed the shape of two people joined together. Suddenly Jake moved, rolling from her, and she was cold, alone, vulnerable as never before. Would she ever be the same again? No, she knew now. She knew how it felt to be joined with another in supreme bliss, to be one with Jake. The water swirled up around them again, but this time it outlined two separate bodies, and Alexandra was sad, feeling as if she had lost something that should have been treasured always.

  "Who was the first one, Alexandra?" Jake asked, lying on his back in the soft sand, his voice hard as flint.

  "What?"

  "Who was he?"

  "Oh!" Alexandra sobbed, rolling over on her stomach as if to hide, to forget what had happened before him. And what right did he have to know? He condemned her without knowing. That was what had happened when he first began making love to her—he had discovered she was not a virgin. Stan had been right. No other man would want her once he had taken her. Oh, how she hated him, and she hated Jake, too, for condemning her so quickly.

  "Tell me, Alex," he said, gritting his teeth as he grabbed her wrist, squeezing it painfully.

  "No. You won't believe me. You'd rather think I was a whore," she sobbed, refusing to look at him.

  "Damn it, Alexandra, tell me his name." He knew he was hurting Alexandra for her face blanched as he pressed harder, knowing how easy it would be to snap her tiny wrist, but he wanted to hurt her, punish her for her unfaithfulness.

  Controlling her tears, but feeling the coldness in her heart returning, Alexandra glared at him with her green eyes, now like bits of glass. "All right, if you must know. I was raped by a man who wanted to marry me. He told me that once I'd lost my virginity no other man would ever want me. I hadn't thought it would make so much difference, but I can see that I was wrong."

  "Rape?" Jake said softly, wondering if she spoke the truth.

  "Yes, rape. But you'll never believe me and I don't care. I really don't care. Just leave me alone," she said coldly, determined to retain as much of her dignity as possible.

  Could she be a whore who played a virgin as Sully had suggested? Jake thought. Had she played him for the fool? Had she played them all for fools? Still holding her wrist, he said, "His name, Alexandra. I want to know. Tell me."

  "There's no need. You'll never meet him."

  "Tell me his—" Jake began, but suddenly stopped, gripping her wrist even harder as his eyes quickly scanned the dark, shadowy wall of palms which bordered the silver sands of the beach.

  Alexandra watched his face questioningly. What did he see, or hear? He had stiffened, like an animal sensing another presence, but what was out there?

  "Get dressed, Alex. Then slowly walk toward the ship. Whatever you do, don't look back, and act natural," he hissed, his eyes still searching the shadows.

  "But what—"

  "Shhhhh. Don't ask any questions, just do as I say," he whispered harshly, squeezing her wrist in warning, then letting her go.

  Alexandra felt her heart beating rapidly as she got up unsteadily from the clinging sand. This unknown enemy was even more terrifying than something she could have seen. She picked up her gown—torn, dirty, salt stained now, and quickly slipped into it. She put on her sand-filled slippers, ignoring the gritty feeling on her feet in her concern to get away from the beach.

  Not looking in any direction, she started walking as quickly as she dared down the moonlit beach. She had taken only a few steps before Jake fell in beside her. He was wearing his pants. He didn't look at her, but put his arm comfortingly around her waist.

  Suddenly shots rang out and sand splattered in front of them where the bullets drove deep into the soft sand. Jake never hesitated; he pulled Alexandra with him as he broke into a run. Alexandra could hardly keep up with him, and as more shots rang out, she stumbled, falling to one knee. Jake jerked her up, pulling her more fiercely after him.

  Then suddenly Jake stopped dead still. Alexandra looked at him in surprise, then in the direction that he gazed. She gasped, instinctively moving closer to him. Directly in front of them stood Caroline, a long, black whip dangling from her right hand, with Hayward and Sully on either side of her, guns in their hands.

  "Did you really think we were so stupid, Jake?"

  Caroline asked softly, gently flicking the whip over the sand so that it reminded Alex of an undulating snake.

  "I thought you were smarter than to tangle with me, Caroline. We would have gone in peace. I don't want a quarrel with you," Jake said, his voice tightly controlled.

  Alexandra stood there, intensely aware of the malevolent expressions on their adversaries' faces and the hard tenseness of Jake's body touching her own.

  "Give her to us, Jake," Hayward said coldly, his face like a mask of death as he glared first at Jake then at Alexandra.

  "Give us what belongs to us, Jake," Sully said as he leered obscenely at Alexandra, making her conscious of her wet, clinging gown with nothing under it to protect her from their prying eyes.

  "Yes, we want her, Jake," Caroline said, almost purring.

  Alexandra shrank back, her hands clutching Jake for protection. She had thought there could be nothing worse than the three Clarkes trying to run her life, but they wanted to rule her in life. These people wanted to rule her in death.

  "Now, all three of you know that Alex is mine. I found her. I keep her. I've made her mine."

  "But, my darling double-crossing love," Caroline said coldly, letting her whip flick toward them, "you are unarmed. Give her to us, or they will shoot her now. Do you want her dead?"

  The guns were trained on Alexandra for an instant, and Jake shoved her behind him.

  "You think you're clever, Jake?" Sully asked. "That won't work. I only have to walk around behind you while Hayward guards you from the front. Give her to us."

  "Stop playing with them," Caroline said sha
rply, suddenly losing her patience. "I want that woman!"

  She snapped her whip once, twice, then sent it reeling toward Jake in a vicious snap at his eyes. But he was ready for her move and caught it in his hand. Jake jerked the whip, and Caroline fell, still clinging to the weapon. He took the few steps to her and as his foot crushed mercilessly down on her hand, a sharp, commanding voice rang out in the soft stillness of the night.

  "Drop the guns—slowly."

  Alexandra glanced up in surprised relief to see several brawny sailors under Morley's command, all armed with guns which were trained on Hayward and Sully. Jake jerked the whip out of Caroline's hand, throwing it far away into the surf. His eyes coolly raked her sprawled form; he stepped back, taking Alexandra's hand. Caroline struggled to her knees, then stood up in all her feline magnificence, glowering at Jake and Alexandra.

  "You may have won this time, Jake, but don't ever set foot in the Bahamas again," she warned angrily, her brown eyes hard and flashing.

  "Don't worry, my dear. I have no plans for that. There doesn't seem to be any reason now."

  He smiled down at Alexandra, but it didn't extend to his eyes, and she wondered if he did it to taunt Caroline. She would not soon forget his earlier anger, or hers either. He had unfairly condemned her, and she knew instinctively that it would be something not easily worked out between them.

  "I have no need for more bloodshed," Jake said. "There was enough of that in the war. Alexandra belongs to me and let that be the end of it."

  He bowed curtly, then turned to give instructions to Morley before taking Alexandra by the arm. He led her toward his ship which she could now see anchored not far away. It was a welcome sight after what she had just been through, and it would have looked like a safe haven if not for the hard, unforgiving man who walked by her side.

  PART TWO: IN THE LAND OF COTTON

  Chapter 9

  Alexandra paced the captain's cabin on The Flying J. They were in the port of New Orleans, but she was virtually Jake's prisoner. Although they had only been together a few days since leaving the Bahamas, Jake had decided to keep her with him. He would not listen to her pleas that she had to stay in New Orleans, that she had business in the city. He was going to Texas and he was taking her with him, one way or another.

  Jake quickly settled their relationship once he had her on his ship. When he wasn't on deck, commanding his ship, which fortunately, had been most of the time, he was in his cabin with her, teaching her the art of love. She fought him. She never gave in without a fight, but still he was so strong and somehow, her own body always turned traitor in his arms. She was furious with herself for succumbing to his desires, yet when he came to her, her own body would rise eagerly to join his until she lay exhausted and satisfied in his arms.

  She could not understand herself. She had never felt about anyone as she did Jake. He outraged her with his demands and his assumption that she would be glad to stay with him, doing anything to be with him. Well, he was wrong. She was her own person. She had her own life. And she would not allow herself to become prisoner of the strange power he seemed to have over her body. She would escape him. She had to escape him!

  And then, there was her promise to Olaf which she was determined to keep. She was in New Orleans. She had come a long way and through a lot to get here, and she would not allow herself to be whisked away to some barbarous place in Texas by a man she didn't even like, much less trust. No, she had to get off Jake's ship and out of his life.

  Her first problem was clothing. She had the one gown that she had worn from the Bahamas—and no underthings. It was embarrassing, but she simply had nothing else, except the garish shawl that she had found in Jake's trunk. At least that would hide the bodice which was cut much too low for the daytime, exposing half her breasts.

  She had no money, and she could not risk contacting her bank in New York for as surely as she did, Stan Lewis would know exactly where to find her. She would have to slip away from the ship, and make inquiries in New Orleans for the Jarmons. She was determined to find Olaf's family, perhaps they could help her. She was certainly in no position to help them at present, she thought unhappily.

  Jake had left the ship early that morning. He had told her not to leave, or he would hunt her down. His hard blue eyes had threatened her and she knew his temper would flare if she did escape, but it made no difference. She was determined to leave. He had also told her that he would be gone several days, and when he returned, he would bring her new clothing and take her on a tour of New Orleans. She had decided that he must actually believe Captain Sully's taunt that she was a whore fleeing to New Orleans; why else would she come to the city? And then, why mind going with a man to Texas? Fool! She would show him!

  All of The Flying J sailors had been given leave, except Morley, who was in charge of her, with strict instructions from Jake to keep her locked in his cabin. The old sailor had been kind to her on the trip from the Bahamas and she had grown fond of him so she felt a little guilty for what she would have to do to him to escape, but it was necessary. She had been waiting impatiently all day for Morley to bring her dinner. It would be her best chance to escape since he would have to unlock the door and come in. She was just sorry it was getting so late in the day. She would much rather have been venturing into the unknown city in full daylight.

  Then she heard the knock on the cabin door that she had been expecting. Morley, at last. Determination turned her eyes a hard, glittering green. She must not think of Morley's past kindness to her, or of Jake's fury with him when he discovered her gone. She had to escape no matter what. As the knock came again, more urgent, she picked up the nearly full whisky bottle Jake had left on his desk. It was the best weapon she could find and it would have to do. She tiptoed to the door, positioned herself behind it, holding her weapon ready.

  The knock came again, louder, more persistent. Morley called out in concern, "Miss Alexandra. Miss Alex. I've brought your dinner. I went into New Orleans and bought you fresh fruit and vegetables. You'll enjoy the change. Are you asleep? Well, I'll just be coming in then and leaving the tray."

  A key turned in the lock. Alexandra tensed, ready with the bottle. Morley pushed the door open. Just as he stepped into the cabin, Alexandra brought the bottle down on his head with all her strength. It broke, spilling its contents down the man and spraying Alexandra as broken glass flew from the force of the impact. Morley's knees buckled and he crashed heavily to the floor, the dinner tray spilling its contents all around him.

  Alexandra quickly checked to see that he was still breathing. Then, she grabbed up the shawl and a blanket from the bunk. She threw the blanket over the old sailor, wrapped the shawl around her shoulders and left the cabin, closing the door tightly shut behind her.

  As the soft April night fell over New Orleans, Alexandra stepped onto the quay, pulling the brightly colored shawl more closely about herself, acutely aware of the stench of whisky that had soaked her gown. Although the day had been warm, she could feel the cool, damp evening air penetrating her clothes and curling the soft hair that had escaped the knot at the back of her neck. She smoothed down her skirts, then looked about. Nothing was familiar, of course, and she didn't know which way to go, for she knew nothing of New Orleans. But she knew she must do something quickly. She walked determinedly away from the dock, heading for what appeared to be the main part of the city. Perhaps she could find a church there and make inquiries, or at least find a place for the night within its safety. She had no money for a hotel, and she certainly did not want to be out alone at night.

  Alexandra plunged into the narrow streets of New Orleans. It was darker here for the buildings blocked out the dying rays of the sun, and she pulled the shawl more closely to her body, as if in defense of the eerie, deepening shadows around her. Without realizing it, she moved toward the sounds of people, deeper into the dark labyrinth of streets, and closer to what she hoped would be safety.

  But as she continued her fast pace along the di
mly lit streets, turning first down one and then another, Alexandra grew more and more confused and steadily more aware that she was not approaching a church. For as she hurried along, more sailors passed her, calling to her, and from dark, shadowy doorways, shapes beckoned, calling her to them.

  As dusk turned into night, street lamps spread their pale luminous glow to the buildings and people, and Alexandra realized that she was not in the best part of town. She hurried even faster, feeling her heart grow cold with fear as she tried to find a better section of the city. Suddenly a stranger grabbed at her shawl, suggesting things in a low voice that she could not believe he said. Where was she?

  Finally, out of breath from her frantic pace, she stopped and looked around. She was on a narrow street lined with two and three storied buildings. Light streamed from the open doors of each building, and loud, tinny music blared from them all. The sounds of high pitched women's laughter and the low, mellow sounds of male voices chimed with the music of piano and fiddle to fill the street with a chorus of raw noise. Alexandra stared at the rough, coarse, crude-looking people about her, and knew that she had somehow stumbled into a very bad part of New Orleans.

  What was she to do? As she pondered her problem, another brawny sailor stopped, pulling her roughly to him. She pushed at his broad, hard chest desperately.

  "Where's your place, honey? You're a frisky little thing, aren't you?" he said loudly as his hand reached down boldly and fondled her hips.

  Alexandra cried out, trying to hit him. But he merely caught her fists, laughing.