She pursed her lips, then nodded. “All right. We’ll declare a truce. I may loathe you and despise you, but I’ll put up a front if it means getting out of this cabin.”
“That’s a wise decision.” Grinning, he slapped his knee and stood. “The storm’s abating. Suppose you get dressed and we’ll go topside. It’ll do you good.”
She padded over to where her clothes lay scattered on the floor, frowning as she realized she’d destroyed her dress in her angry outburst. No matter. She moved to her trunk, with its abundance of dresses. Long ago she’d realized the reason her baggage was not sent with her to Bermuda. Derek had known she would be returning once her mother was settled and his plan could be carried out.
As she dressed, she noticed Derek position himself so he could watch her. His behavior was puzzling. She had offered herself to him and been rejected. She had goaded him to such fury he had slapped her. Yet he had asked for a truce for the duration of the time they would be together. It was baffling.
Memories of their hours of passion danced through her mind, yet he could look at her naked body and not take her. What kind of man was he? A darting glance downward told her he wanted her.
Finally she smoothed back her hair and murmured, “I’m ready.”
His eyes sparkled as he whispered, “You’re lovely, Julie, as always.”
He wrapped his fingers about her tiny hand, which she felt was lost in his grasp. Then he led her up on deck, where a light, misty rain was still falling. The distant sky still crackled with lightning.
They moved together to the railing, watching as the crew began to appear and clean up after the storm.
Suddenly Julie stiffened and squeezed Derek’s hand. He followed her startled gaze and saw the strange light flickering high up on the masts. It danced along the spars like stark, cold flames, casting an eerie light as it outlined all that it touched. The air was filled with the smell of smoldering ozone.
Several men cried out in fright and backed away. Julie stood rigid, still holding tightly to Derek’s hand “It’s beautiful,” she whispered in awe. “Should I be afraid?”
He chuckled. She was so refreshingly honest at times that he found it amusing. “It’s called Saint Elmo’s fire,” he explained. “It’s a phenomenon often seen at sea during rough weather. I don’t really understand it, but I’ve heard it’s called Saint Elmo’s fire after the patron saint of Mediterranean sailors. Seamen regard it as the visible sign of his guardianship over them.”
“Its beauty is awesome.”
And then it disappeared. Julie relaxed her grip on Derek’s hand, quite suddenly, as though just realizing how tightly she had been holding on to him. He noticed and smiled to himself.
The storm was moving farther out to sea, but the breeze was still stiff. Derek cupped his hands about his mouth and shouted to his men, “Hoist the sails. Let’s take advantage of the wind. Everyone to his post. We can make good time in the wake of the storm!”
Julie watched as the sailors scurried about, each knowing exactly what he was supposed to do. Occasionally she could hear someone shout, and there was the sound of a sail snapping loudly against the wind, the creaking of the riggings, and water breaking on either side of the bow. The seas were still rough.
As her eyes scanned the darkness, she could make out other objects besides the men. Her gaze fell on the spot by the railing where she’d sung that night, then traveled on to the place where Shad had tried to ravish her. With a shiver, she asked, “Whatever happened to him?”
“Who?” Derek looked down at her, puzzled.
“Shad Harky.” A wave of revulsion swept over her.
Derek did not answer. Instead he turned his face toward the water, ignoring her.
“Derek,” she persisted, tugging at his sleeve. “What happened to him? Did you set him adrift with the Yankees? Did he join up with them?”
“No.” He spoke so coldly that she felt a chill. “I guess you could say he joined up with the sharks.”
Nausea welled up in her throat. “You—you mean…” and she shook with revulsion, unable to continue.
He nodded. “There’s a lot you don’t understand about the sea, Julie. The man was a mutineer. I dealt with him accordingly. Along with his friends. We forced them overboard. We saw sharks in the area. It was over quickly.”
“Oh, my God, no…” She covered her mouth with both hands and stumbled to the railing, stomach heaving as the image marched in review through her shocked mind.
“It’s the way of the sea.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve got to understand that if there’s disorder and rebellion on board a ship, shipping cannot survive.
“I gave Harky a second chance,” he pointed out, “and he wanted me dead. I had no choice but to pass judgment and have him and the others executed.”
Swallowing hard, Julie struggled for composure. Finally she was able to speak. “Perhaps what you say is true, but it still seems cruel, barbaric.”
“Life is cruel. Now come. I’ll take you back to your cabin, and tomorrow morning you’ll join me for breakfast. I’m going to make sure you start eating as you should. I don’t want you getting sick on me again.”
She could not resist a waspish reply. “Heavens, no. If something happened to me, you wouldn’t be able to collect your ransom, would you?”
He slid a powerful arm about her shoulders and turned her toward the steps leading downward. “Julie, let’s don’t spar with each other. We agreed on a truce.”
“I suppose we did, but it’s so easy to hate you when I think how you’ve messed up my life and the way you’ve probably caused my mother to worry herself sick.”
“Ahh, but one day you’ll thank me, little one.” He grinned down at her.
When they reached her cabin, he told Julie he would not lock her door. “I see no need. Where would you go, anyway? We’re miles from land, and I don’t think you want to feed the sharks.”
She chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. He was so handsome, illuminated as he was by the lantern’s cozy glow. In his eyes she could recognize the desire for her that he refused to acknowledge. And she could feel a stirring in her own loins as she remembered the hunger he had awakened in her.
“Good night, Julie.” He turned to leave, but suddenly she reached out and clutched his arm. With a raised eyebrow, he turned to look at her.
She could not put her feelings into words. She knew only that she had spent many lonely hours alone in her bed in the tiny cabin, and here stood a man who could answer all the needs he had taught her body to crave.
Slowly, deliberately, she reached to unfasten her stays, letting her dress fall to her waist. In seconds her breasts were once more exposed, and he feasted upon them with his eyes. Trancelike, silently, he reached out to press each nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
Closing her eyes, she moaned softly with the ecstatic rush that charged through her body. Saint Elmo’s fire. She felt as though she were actually lightning dancing along the spars as her whole body ignited in sky-shattering explosions.
Her dress slipped to the floor, and she stepped from her pantalets with ease. He lifted her in his arms to take her inside the cabin, then kicked the door shut. He placed her tenderly upon the bed, then his hands seemed to travel everywhere at once. She writhed, moaning aloud with pleasure.
Then he was spread-eagling her, moving her thighs apart to probe with his swollen, seeking member, which he had released from his trousers. She gasped as she felt him enter, marveling that her small body could receive a man of such magnitude. In the beginning, when they first made love, she had felt some pain, but it had soon dimmed. Now she was able to take all of him with ease.
Sighing, she wrapped her legs around his narrow waist and dug her heels into his buttocks, spurring him on as she wriggled her hips beneath him.
There was no world but this world. No pleasure but this.
And together, like the sails that unfurled against the never-ending sky, they soared to th
e winds…leaving everything else behind.
Chapter Eleven
It was obvious to Captain Arnhardt that the man standing before him was quite angry.
“I asked you a question, sir.” Edsel spoke coldly, evenly. “How much longer do you plan to keep that woman on this ship? And I’m not the only one who wants to know. The crew is concerned as well. You know a lot of them believe it is bad luck to have a woman on board.”
Derek drew in his breath, an awesome sight, for he was bare-chested, and his muscles rippled along his shoulders and down his arms, making him appear even more formidable. His crewmen jokingly said he must exercise by lifting the ship’s cannons when no one was looking. A powerful man, strength seemed to exude from every pore of his skin.
“Garris, I don’t give a damn what you or anyone else thinks. You seem to forget this is my ship, and I’ll run it as I see fit. Now don’t bother me with superstitious prattle. We’ll be in Bermuda by sunrise, and we’ve got a cargo to unload.”
He turned back to his pacing on the afterdeck and peered ahead into the murk, worrying once again about the wisdom of running ahead of the wind on such a dark night. There were lookouts posted to watch for other ships’ running lights, but the danger of a collision was still a risk to be reckoned with.
“Sir!”
Derek’s head snapped about at the sharp tone. “I said I wasn’t discussing it. Now get to your post. I don’t care how good a bank pilot we’ve got working for us, navigating around the coral is always tricky. It’s your job to help him. Now be on your way. You’re trying my patience.”
Edsel’s face reddened as he exploded, “I don’t give a damn whether your patience is tried or not, Captain, because mine is exhausted.”
Derek’s eyes widened. He was not accustomed to being addressed in such a manner by anyone, much less one of his men.
“Go ahead and get mad,” Edsel rushed on. “It’s time we got something settled. There’s not going to be any ransom paid on her, and you know it. We’ve docked in Wilmington three times now, and there’s been no money waiting.”
He pounded his fist on the railing, his body heaving with rage. “Dammit, Captain, it’s been over four months. If her people were going to pay that ransom, they would’ve done it. Maybe her mother died or something. Maybe she couldn’t get the money.”
He sucked in a deep breath. “So here we are, running blockades with a blasted female aboard. It isn’t right, and the men are getting more and more indignant over it. I say leave her where you got her—in Bermuda. And let’s get back to the business of sailing.”
Derek turned his face back to the sea. The salt spray felt cool on his warm skin. He was mad. Hell, he was madder than he could remember being in a long, long time. And he was fighting for control. Early in life, he’d had to learn to keep a tight rein on his anger. Because of his size and strength, he could easily kill a man with his bare hands. So he had learned to intimidate with a look, or by flexing his enormous muscles. And it usually worked. But this time the man confronting him was hell-bent on making his point. They’d been friends, as well as a shipping team for a long time. Derek wasn’t about to hurt him, but dammit, he wished Edsel would back off while he still had those reins in check… He was approaching the breaking point.
Through gritted teeth, without facing him, Derek ground out the words: “That’s all, Garris. You’re pushing.”
The first officer started to speak, but there was no mistaking the fury boiling in Derek Arnhardt at that moment. Garris could see his face in the dim glow of the ship’s running lights.
So with an exaggerated sigh, which, he decided, would have to take the place of a parting shot, he retreated, shaking his head from side to side in frustration. He had accomplished nothing. But at least Arnhardt knew his first officer and his crew were upset. That should give him something to think on, Edsel decided.
Derek’s grip on the railing relaxed. He didn’t need Garris to tell him about the crew’s feelings. He’d seen it in their eyes, which were accusing and brooding. They didn’t like Julie being on board, and it didn’t make any difference that they were aware she was his mistress. They cared only that the ransom hadn’t been paid and she seemed to have become a permanent fixture.
Frankly, he didn’t know what to do with her. He had to admit, if only to himself, that it didn’t look as though the ransom was going to be paid. And there had been time. Too much time.
He had thought of a hundred possibilities which might have prevented Mrs. Marshal from making the contact at Wilmington, but as time passed, all of his reasons grew weaker and weaker. Something had gone wrong. Either she’d died or didn’t have the money. He knew Virgil Oates didn’t have it.
He could have used that gold too, at least what would’ve been left of it after he divided it with Julie as he promised. It was still profitable running the blockade, but not as much as before the Confederate government stepped in. It was smuggled luxuries that people wanted, items such as tea, coffee, sugar, and silks and satins. But the government had outlawed the importation of some luxuries entirely, stipulating that one-half of the space on every ship had to be reserved for government goods.
Derek didn’t like it. There was more money to be made on luxury items, but he wanted no quarrel with the powers of the Confederacy, and conformed with the law.
He could’ve put his part of the ransom aside for use after the war, he thought with disappointment. More and more he was questioning his life on the sea. True, he loved it, but now and then he had a strange desire to plant his feet on solid earth. Yet he would always hoist anchor and sail with the tide.
Julie was badgering him also, wanting to know what the future held. Though they enjoyed each other’s bodies every night, and sometimes even in the balmy afternoons, they did not discuss a future. Theirs was a relationship existing solely to satisfy physical needs for the moment at hand, he reasoned. Tomorrow simply did not exist for them.
Derek had admitted to himself that if he allowed himself, he could fall in love with the misty-eyed beauty. But he kept himself in check. His heart would belong to no woman, no matter how lovely and enticing she might be.
He knew Garris was right. Something had to be done, and soon. It couldn’t go on. And, though he didn’t like to think about it, the fact remained that he was constantly putting Julie in a dangerous situation. Running the blockade was not something to be regarded lightly. Each man held his breath as they slipped through, knowing they could be spotted and fired upon at any second.
He decided the time had come to free her. Sure, he would miss her. No point in lying to himself about that. But reality had to be faced. No money was going to be paid, and he figured he had no right to endanger her life any longer. So…he’d just leave her in Bermuda and give her enough money to buy passage to England. And if she wanted to go home instead, she could find a way. It would all be up to her.
Sunrise. He squinted toward the east. Was the sky turning the least bit pink? He couldn’t tell yet.
Soon it would be time to say goodbye and never see her again. The muscle in his jaw twitched. No, he wouldn’t just say goodbye so abruptly. He’d do something he ordinarily didn’t do. He’d send his crew ashore for leave. Usually they were in and out of port so fast there was no time for them to make merry and get drunk. This time, however, he’d make time, because the ship would be anchored in the harbor, and once he sent everyone in, he’d be alone with Julie.
He laughed aloud over his plans. Many times she had stared wistfully at the clear emerald waters surrounding the sandy pink beaches of Bermuda and murmured that she would like to go for a swim. Well, she was going to have her chance, he decided. For two golden days and nights, they were going to frolic on the ship and in the water. They would savor the delights of each other’s bodies, tasting the fruits one last time before parting forever.
As though an unseen hand lifted a nonexistent curtain, the sky suddenly became pale pink, then shifted to a rosy hue, and a new day was born
.
Almost simultaneously the cry of “Land, ho!” split the reverent stillness of dawn, and Derek turned his gaze on the first sighting of the coast of Bermuda.
For the next few hours, the deck was alive with activity as men hurried back and forth to unload the cargo of cotton which had been brought through the blockade from Wilmington. Derek went onshore to take care of the paper work, pleased to learn he could pick up ammunition needed by the Confederacy, as well as medical supplies, and that there would still be room left in the hold for tea and sugar and fine silks. He’d make one hell of a profit off this run back through the Federal fleet.
By late afternoon, the ship’s bowels were empty. Edsel reported to Derek’s cabin to ask if they should wait till morning to begin taking on the new cargo.
“No,” was his curt reply. “Have the men prepare to take the ship one mile out and drop anchor.”
‘What?” Edsel’s eyes bulged. “What for—”
Derek slammed his hands down on his desk. “Dammit, why in hell do you keep questioning me? Now follow my orders at once.”
“As you wish!” Garris ground out the words, turned on his heel, and stomped from the cabin.
Derek smiled, leaned back in his chair, and propped his feet on the desk. Soon he and Julie would be alone to romp like children, with no watchful eyes about. They would have complete freedom, no longer forced to be confined to a narrow bed in a cramped cabin.
All he had to do was wait.
When the ship was secured, he walked out on the bridge after having the crew summoned. In clipped tones he informed them that, beginning immediately, they were on shore leave, and he would expect them back on board by sunrise of the third day. With all the cheering and shouts of jubilation, he doubted any of them had heard the termination date. No matter. He would inform Garris and Watson, and it would be their task to round up the crew. No doubt some of them would be in jail, and others hung over from too much rum and too many women. Loading the new cargo would be a problem, as he wouldn’t get much work out of his crew till they got over their celebration—but it would all be worth it, he knew, to have the precious, private, final hours with Julie.
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