But he knew why he had to have that one drink. He wanted her. Dammit, he wanted her as fiercely as he’d ever wanted a woman in his entire life. Perhaps more so. Yet she was just that, he reminded himself crossly—a woman. Nothing more. He’d never let her mean more to him than any other female had, since he’d discovered how good it felt to empty himself in their bellies.
That’s all she was. A receptacle. No matter how loving, warm, or willing.
God only knew how many women there had been. He never tried to keep count. But one thing was certain. He seldom saw the same one more than a few times. Oh, there was Opal, who ran that house of pleasure up in Richmond. Still, that was different. He paid her well, and it was her business to please him. She would never make noises about wanting him to marry her, or say she’d wait for him when he sailed with the sunrise. Not Opal. She knew what a woman was for, and she was good at it. And that’s the way it should be, so far as he was concerned. The sea was his wife. No one would ever keep him from it; not for very long, anyway.
All the same, he was starting to wonder about that, his love of the seafaring life. Where was it all going to take him? One day he’d be too old for it all. His skin would be parched and wrinkled from the salt and sun and wind. His shoulders would bend and ache from the damp and chill. What then? He could go and sit on the rotten, smelly docks and watch the ships come and go, swapping sea tales with others just like him as they all waited to die.
Oh, hell.
He lowered his feet with a thud onto the floor that pitched and rolled beneath him. This wasn’t the time to be thinking grim thoughts. It was the damn war that made him feel depressed. True, as a runner he was making more money than he’d ever dreamed possible. When it was over, no matter which side won, he’d have enough put away to buy the best boat that ever sailed the seas. He wouldn’t be forced to sit and whittle and spin yarns in his sunset years. He’d hire someone to run his boat, and he’d travel the seas till he died. Eventually he’d be buried somewhere in their murky depths.
Until then, he thought caustically as he stood up, he’d take care of matters at hand. Julie Marshal was his prisoner, and she’d remain so till the ransom was paid, no matter how long it took. His crew could gossip and grumble all they wanted. He knew what he was doing. Not only would he make extra money; he was also doing her a favor. He was saving her from Virgil Oates!
A sudden rumble of thunder exploded dangerously nearby, and he glanced sharply at the porthole to see the sky split with yellow-white streaks. Julie would be frightened, he knew. It had been over a week since she was brought on board and locked in her cabin. He hadn’t allowed her outside for even a moment. Her food had been taken to her, though he received reports she was hardly eating enough to stay alive. She’d probably lost a lot of weight, and she was only a tiny scrap to start with.
He tugged thoughtfully at the beard he’d grown. The polite thing to do would be to go and see about her in person. After all, he was the captain.
But he’d promised himself to stay away from her. He had only brought her back for the money and in the hopes that he could save her from a miserable destiny in England. If the ransom wasn’t paid, what then? He shook his head.
Another crash of thunder, louder this time. Lightning flashed on top of it. The storm was almost upon them.
Derek walked to the door of his cabin, opened it, and peered out. There was no one about, as best he could tell. The lanterns had long ago been blown out by the fierce wind.
He moved down the ladder and stepped onto the deck, bracing himself against the harsh gale. It had to be a fierce storm to make him sway and bend, he thought with alarm.
The ship was taking a beating. He’d ordered the men to batten down the hatches and secure everything. He knew some of them had probably shirked their duties in order to hide below, fearing they would be washed overboard.
As the sky ignited, he could see the frothy, whipping waves. Never had he seen the ocean so angry, as though the wrathful breath of God Himself was breathing down upon them in His most vengeful of furies.
Derek moved slowly, feeling his way and making sure he had hold of something before proceeding any farther. He wanted to check and be sure everything was secured. In times such as this, he didn’t even trust Garris and Watson to see that everything was taken care of.
“Sir!”
He turned his face into the wind; he was already wet and dripping with rain. It was Thurman Debnam, the ship’s fireman, and he was soaking wet. His body was bent against the fierce gale, and he held his cap on his head with both hands as he made his way across the deck with great difficulty.
“Sir, it’s a bad blow,” he said when he got closer. “I’ve got the fires stoked. All the riggins are lashed. There’s nothing we can do but batten down and wait ’er out. Mr. Garris, he ordered the men below. It isn’t safe to be on deck. Gardner almost blowed over, and they barely grabbed him in time. Got him by the ankles, they did, and it took a few minutes of struggling to hoist him back over the railing.”
Derek was alarmed and worried, but years of experience had taught him never to show the slightest sign of fear in front of his crew. Standing perfectly straight, he towered above Debnam and stared down at him as though quietly contemplating the situation but certainly not upset by it. Finally he gave a quick, authoritative nod of his head and said, “Very well. Go below. We’ll just have to ride her out, Debnam. We’ve done it before. We’ll do it again.”
“Aye, sir,” the fireman shouted, and turned to make his way back. Derek watched him stumble on the slick deck, then fall on his face. Righting himself by grasping a hatch, Debnam struggled to his feet and went on his way.
The boat gave a sudden downward lurch, and Derek grabbed the railing to hold on as his feet began to slip from beneath him. It was dangerous to be on deck. That was for sure. He started back for his cabin, then hesitated. Julie would be frightened. He had forbidden any of the crew to engage in conversation with her, so in addition to being scared for her life, she was probably starved for companionship.
He decided it was only humane to check on her. Precariously he made his way below, soaked to the skin by the time he reached her cabin.
He unfastened the heavy bolt, started to enter, then hesitated as he decided to knock first. No sound came from within. He rapped harder, but when there was still no answer, he turned the knob and entered complete darkness.
“Julie?” he called softly.
He heard a quick intake of breath, then an accusing voice. “It’s you. Oh, how dare you come here to gloat!”
He kicked the door shut with his foot. “Don’t you have a lantern in here? I told them to make sure your lantern was working at all times.”
“I don’t need light,” she said quietly, emotionlessly. “It’s miserable enough being kept prisoner, without having to look at my drab surroundings.”
The boat heaved again, so sharply that for an instant, Derek feared it would plunge straight to the ocean floor. Then, with an upward bob, it lurched to the side. He steadied himself by flinging his hands out blindly until he could touch the walls. “Dammit, Julie, light the lantern before I break my neck.”
He heard her emit an exaggerated sigh, followed by noises that told him she was obeying. In a few moments the cabin was filled with a mellow light. The glow gave the place some semblance of security, despite the raging storm outside.
“That’s better.” His eyes raked over her, and, as he had feared, he saw that she was much thinner, and her complexion was pale, sallow. Irritably he snapped, “I’ve been told you aren’t eating the food that’s brought to you. From now on, you eat everything or I’ll have you fed by force.”
She lifted her face to his, eyes flashing. “Yes, I suppose you do want to keep me alive, don’t you? After all, you could hardly collect ransom on a dead body, could you? But does it matter how barely alive I am? All you want is the money!”
She turned her face away in the direction of the porthole and the forke
d lightning that continued to split the black night and illuminate the sky with streaks of jagged silver and gold. Her eyes were burning with tears, and she did not want him to see that he’d made her cry. “You’re despicable, Ironheart,” she whispered in anguish, “and I wish you were dead.”
He could not suppress a chuckle. She was even more lovely, if that was possible, when she was angry. “Do you think it’s only the money I’m after? Come now, misty eyes. I think you know I find your company most enjoyable. Maybe I kidnapped you merely because I couldn’t stand to let you leave me. Perhaps the money isn’t important, after all.”
“I know how much money you make,” she said sharply. “I have heard how a blockade captain can earn up to five thousand dollars a trip. Even your chief officer stands to make twelve hundred dollars. And no doubt you will make much on Rose Hill cotton, in addition to what my mother already paid you. I hate you and your kind, who want only to make a profit on the war.”
“Why not?” She was sitting in a chair next to the table beneath the porthole, and he positioned himself on the edge of the bed, so close he could reach out and touch her if he wanted—and yes, he thought warmly, he did want to touch. But not yet. Perhaps not ever.
He took out his pipe, then his pouch of tobacco, and Julie watched him in angry silence as he packed the bowl, then lit it and drew on it. He exhaled the smoke, which floated upward in a blue-gray haze. “Why should I get myself killed on a battlefield? I can do so just as easily at sea, and perhaps I will have earned a great deal of money before departing this life.
“And,” he continued, “you must realize that the blockade runners are the lifeblood of the Confederacy. Lincoln’s closing the ports might starve our people if it weren’t for the ships that manage to slip through with needed supplies. I hear that Savannah is now closed. Wilmington should be kept open, as it is an ideal haven for smugglers, since the Federal fleet cannot effectively block the mouth of the Cape Fear River. It’s divided by an island and blocked by a shallow bar. With Wilmington just a few miles upriver and at the entrance, Fort Fisher is their protector, with big guns. The gray steamers of the runners can go in and out of that port and be invisible for more than a hundred yards away at night or in the fog. The Yankees can’t hear our engines over the roar of breakers.”
He paused to draw on his pipe again, satisfied that his running conversation had taken her mind off the storm. The ship still heaved and tossed like the stomach of a sailor hung over from drinking too much rum, but Julie did not look quite so unnerved as when he had first entered the cabin.
“Big British steamers loaded with arms and luxuries from Europe unload at Bermuda or Nassau and take on cotton for their return voyage,” he explained. “The last miles, which involve slipping into Confederate ports, are covered by swift, lean light-draft ships like mine. You may have noticed the Ariane is painted black. I had that done when I heard about the impending blockade and knew what my course would be.
“We should be in Wilmington in another week, if the weather clears,” he went on.
Suddenly Julie jumped to her feet, fists clenched at her sides. “Derek, I demand that I be returned to Savannah. You have committed a crime, you know. If you’ll just see me safely home, I’ll do everything in my power to see that you aren’t punished for what you’ve done. If you don’t release me, then I can’t be responsible for the consequences. I have a brother, you know, who loves me very much. He won’t sit back idly when he hears of my fate, even if it means risking his own life.”
Derek’s lips formed a crooked smile. “Julie, when the ransom is paid, you’ll be returned. Not before. Why don’t you use the time to map out a new course for your life? One that doesn’t include marriage to a man you’ll never love.”
Hot tears of frustration sparkled in her eyes. “Why are you doing this? I know you’re greedy for money, but this is insane! What if Virgil doesn’t have the ransom you ask for? And what if my mother can’t raise it? All we had is in the hold of this ship.”
She whirled in a complete circle, throwing her hands up in the air. “It’s madness! Dear God, what can you be thinking? I’m in the hands of a lunatic!”
“You’ve enjoyed being in my hands, and you know it.”
“Oh, is that all you think of, you—you animal!” She faced him, trembling with fury. How she ached to slap his smug face. “Go ahead and be done with it. Take me. Have your fill of my body, then set me free.”
Derek never liked to lose control, but her caustic accusations and her sniping were starting to seep beneath his hard exterior. His eyes narrowed. He wanted her, true. He’d spent many sleepless nights tossing and turning in his bed as he remembered their times together. But now…now with her standing before him with those flashing eyes, that arrogant smile upon her lips, he knew he couldn’t have taken her had he been about to penetrate at that very moment.
“You give me no more pleasure than any other woman I’ve ever bedded,” he lashed out at her, his body trembling with rage. “In fact, I’ve known much better, so don’t puff up your silly female pride and think I brought you on board ship because I was panting with desire.”
“Weren’t you?” She continued to rankle him. “If you say you don’t want me, you’re lying.”
She gave her long, silky hair a toss. “Go on! Take me! Have your fill. Take me again and again, and then set me free.”
His nostrils flared as the muscles in his jaw and neck began to twitch.
“I don’t know how much ransom you’ve demanded, but surely you can take some of it out in trade, can’t you? I mean, you did go to a lot of trouble to have me kidnapped. You must have planned it all well in advance.”
All the long days and nights locked in her cabin had taken their toll on her nerves. Julie felt she had reached the breaking point and could control her tears no longer.
She lifted shaking fingers that she fastened on the bodice of her dress. Then, with a rough jerk, she snatched it downward, exposing her breasts. She loosed the stays and stepped out of the garment, kicking it aside before struggling with her undergarments.
She stood before him completely naked, hands on her hips, legs spread apart. “Now,” she hissed, thrusting her breasts upward, “take me, you bastard.”
He made no move to touch her as his gaze moved slowly up and down her body.
“Well, isn’t this what you wanted?” she taunted, her voice rising shrilly.
Derek bolted to his feet, and before he realized what he was doing, cracked his hand sharply across her face. She reeled slightly, then regained her balance and laughed while the tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’m not afraid of you, Ironheart. Do with me what you will—”
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her so violently that her head bobbed helplessly to and fro, her eyes mirroring the fright she was unable to conceal.
“Hell, yes, I want you,” he cried. “A man would have to be a fool or a eunuch not to. But that doesn’t mean I have to have you.”
He released her so abruptly that she stumbled and fell to the floor. He made no move to assist her as he coldly said, “You don’t mean a damn thing to me except a quarter of a million in gold, Julie. When I’ve got that, you’ll be released.”
She stared up at him in hatred and confusion. “You may not have raped my body, but you’ve raped my mind and soul and left me with nothing. Are you satisfied?”
Lifting herself up, she made her way to the bed, where she lay down and gave way to sobs that shook her body convulsively.
Derek stood quietly staring at her. God, she was beautiful. The firm roundness of her buttocks, the creamy skin…how he longed to stretch out on top of her and take her again and again.
But her tears moved him and erased both his anger and desire. “Julie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but you provoked me and drove me to it…”
She continued to cry.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he reached for the blanket that had been folded neatly at its foot and sp
read it over her. “I’m not completely mercenary. I actually did you a favor.”
“A favor?” She raised herself up on her elbows and turned to stare at him in wonder. “Are you out of your mind? You think holding me for ransom is doing me a favor? And my mother is probably worried sick—”
“When the ransom is paid, you’ll be set free, as I told you. As for your mother, she had her servant with her, so she wasn’t left alone.”
He smiled. “And the favor, milady, lies in giving you additional time to reconsider marriage to Virgil Oates.”
Her long lashes swept her moist cheeks as she blinked in bewilderment. “If I mean no more to you than money, why do you concern yourself with my future?”
Raising up as she was, her breasts dangled free, barely brushing the bed. Derek felt his pulse quicken. Taking a deep, ragged breath, he turned his face away.
“Suppose I give you a portion of the ransom? That would give you a start on your own. You could go north and search for your brother yourself. Would that make up for some of the injustices you feel you’ve suffered at my hands?”
“If my mother somehow manages to raise the money herself, then it would be partly mine, anyway.” She stared at him thoughtfully. “But what if you don’t get the ransom? What will you do with me then?”
He shrugged. “We’ll deal with that when the time comes. Till then, things would be a lot more pleasant if we could at least pretend to be friends.”
“Friends? You’re out of your mind.” She laughed harshly.
“If we can reach some sort of understanding, I’ll let you go topside for fresh air and sunshine. You could take your meals with my officers and have some companionship. I’m worried about you. You don’t look well.”
He pointed out that they might be together for some time. “In my ransom note, I gave the name of a contact in Wilmington, but there’s no telling how long it will take for your mother to get in touch with him. As soon as we unload and take on a new cargo, we’ll make another run. It might be a month before we return.”
Souls Aflame Page 15