Upon his return, Aaron was quickly occupied with plans to travel south, and, more interesting to him, with plans for Santa Catalina Island's occupation by the pro-Southern conspirators. With Carson and Melville and two very seaworthy ship's captains, now in the San Francisco port and obviously at the disposal of these Southern sympathizers, Aaron discussed a variety of possibilities for the island. They might set up a formidable smuggling operation, handling both men and supplies for the South's army; or perhaps, totally disrupt shipping on the western coast. With Indian uprisings where and when they chose to supply the necessary arms and provisions, California would be cut off from the rest of the nation and subject to persuasive ideas with which her populace was already becoming familiar, and to which a good number of her citizens were increasingly very sympathetic.
Marguerite had been the first to rush alarmedly to Louisa's bedside as soon as she'd arrived. She came with armloads of clothes and her dressmaker in tow. "Oh, my dear, Louisa, Marshall has told me everything!" she cried, seemingly with genuine grief. "I'm so sorry you've had such a dreadful time." She pressed Louisa's hand to her cheek. "But now Miss Wilson will cheer you up," she said, indicating the thin, very plain seamstress she often raved about, insisting Louisa get out of bed that instant for the taking of her measurements at least. It was easy and yet hard to hate Marguerite, Louisa thought. At times she was very pleasant, even kind, but woefully empty-headed and amoral. Is that it? Louisa questioned when Marguerite had left. "I still hate her," Louisa raged aloud, sinking back into bed, pulling the covers over her head.
As soon as she'd arrived, Louisa had a marvelous, nearly scalding bath, feeling her skin begin to soften again in the oil-rich water and from the luxurious creams Arabella Melville had generously given her.
Now with Marguerite finally gone, Louisa hid beneath the covers, alone with her murderous thoughts for the woman. But she heard her door, and when she peeked out from under the comforter, she saw a very handsome man standing by her bed. "Oh, you shaved off your beard!" she cried, and sat up without thinking, the comforter slipping to her bare waist.
"And scraped a few layers of dust off the rest of me."
"Why, Aaron, don't tell me you're getting soft?"
"I haven't been in that comfortable condition for weeks," he replied, his eyes fastened hungrily on her breasts. Louisa frowned at him, suddenly aware of her naked body, hastily pulling the comforter up under her chin, leaning back on the pillows. "You needn't worry. I gave you my sacred word of honor!"
"I'm not so sure you're very honorable."
He shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose in some circles it's open for debate."
But he remained true to his word, in spite of the obstacles in his way. For one, Marguerite made it plain she was occupied for the time with a new lover. "He's very attentive, but he won't be with us much longer. I do miss you," she purred. "But he's a very important friend of the colonel's. You do understand."
He understood her houseguest was very welcome, and that he was being punished. Marguerite had been miffed with him for leaving the city in such a hurry even if it was to go after his wife. Aaron only smiled at Marguerite when she said she didn't know just when she could see him, then told her flatly he didn't expect to be kept waiting very long. She gave him a very pleased look when he released her after mauling her savagely, raising her skirts, taking her quickly and violently amid only very faint protests on Melville's thick parlor carpet the same afternoon he'd arrived with Louisa.
Another obstacle was his continued craving for Louisa. Their infrequent contact, now that they did not share the same bed and she rarely appeared outside her room, did little to relieve him. When they began to sleep together again, he'd even considered raping her at one of his lowest moments, and it was then he'd left the house in the middle of the night and headed straight for Elena's hotel.
It was a place where he was recognized as a good friend of Peter Melville. It was how he was acknowledged by Elena herself, his reputation enhanced by the news of the way he had handled his wife's abductors. The first night he patronized her establishment, it amused Elena immensely to introduce him to a woman she swore she only introduced to very special clients. "Rita comes and goes as she pleases, and she's always welcome. You may settle your preferences with her," and her smile erupted into a wild mirthful laugh.
Aaron was ushered into a dimly lit, lushly bluecarpeted room designed to look like a ship's stateroom. The furniture was rich dark oak and carefully preserved, the enormous bunk mattress covered with white satin, strewn with an abundance of white satin pillows. Aaron propped himself in the bunk and waited, startled yet pleased with the woman Elena ushered into his presence. He roared with laughter when the door was closed behind Marguerite, who stood wrapped in a red silk dressing gown, just like all Elena's other whores.
Marguerite clapped her hands for joy. "Elena promised me, when she could keep from laughing that wonderfully wicked way she does, she promised I'd just be thrilled with tonight's customer."
The games they played that night and on many other nights were paid for in hundred-dollar gold pieces, the fee seeming to add something to the pleasure of the experience for her. And these often prearranged' nights they spent together made the time Aaron remained in San Francisco a little more bearable. Marguerite craved violence and abuse, never happy when Aaron chose to be gentle, begging him to make her terror a little worse each time, her pain a little more intense. She was merely lucky the man she goaded on these occasions was not as sadistic as it seemed she would have liked. There were times Aaron thought Marguerite actually wished to be murdered. But at least he went to Louisa's bed exhausted, if not satisfied.
Chapter Eighty-five
CAPTAIN Will Hansen had his eye on Louisa from the first moment he met her. From a respectful distance he surveyed Louisa's youth and great beauty, and the grand looks of Marshall Hudson, speculating theirs was a delightful combination, something' to envy. "No fool, that one," the captain speculated aloud. "There's a gentleman who'll never spend much time at sea, even if he does own most of the ships afloat. Couldn't be leavin' that one for long."
He was struck dumb when the couple settled aboard the Crystal Mae in separate cabins. And further puzzled when it became obvious Marshall Hudson never visited with his wife in private for more than a few minutes. Could it be this woman who seemed so ripe and appealing, whose every curve invited wishful thinking about the levels of passion to be coaxed from her sensuous body, could it be her spirit was cold and forbidding? Now that would be a hell of a spot, the captain thought. To get yourself all worked up and find it hardly worth your while.
He found further speculation worthless, but he kept his eye on both of them, He found the gentleman very knowledgeable, though he'd never been formally a member of a ship's crew. But that came from growing up with ships, as Marshall Hudson had, and he soon could see why Melville had chosen the man to oversee the plans for Santa Catalina. Mr. Hudson seemed to have a native ability, a natural craftiness, a sense about the complexities of such a project. With Marshall Hudson, Captain Hansen further confirmed his thinking the rich were at heart only a well-dressed bunch of pirates.
Travel south was swift in spite of choppy seas and changing wind that made keeping the course steady a difficult task. They reached Catalina Island in three days from San Francisco, pulling into Isthmus Harbor on the southwest side of the island. Fog still hung over the top of the island when they anchored offshore. There was little evidence of habitation on the island though the ocean-battered remains of a crude landing wharf could be seen at the shoreline. A longboat was soon lowered from the Crystal Mae and before it reached the beach with Aaron and Captain Hansen aboard, two men on horseback appeared, obviously waiting for the men to arrive.
Louisa stood at the ship's railing and watched the crew beach the boat. Aaron stepped gingerly into the rough surf, and he and the captain greeted the two other men with hearty handshakes. Aaron rode off with one of the men while the other r
eturned to the Crystal Mae with Captain Hansen, and soon her work boats were busy hauling supplies ashore.
Wanting some fresh air, Louisa stayed topside, but out of the way. She'd spent little time above decks on the swift journey, hoping to keep out of Aaron's reach in the close quarters of the ship. While they were in San Francisco, her moods seemed to shift erratically. At times she wanted to reconcile with Aaron, especially during the days and nights when she saw very little of him. When they slept in separate beds they rarely saw one another, sometimes not even at meals.
Louisa rose late in the morning and if she had a companion for breakfast it was usually the benign Arabella Melville. She often skipped lunch. Dinner and early-evening conversation was always cluttered with other guests, Louisa able to give as little or as much attention to her husband as she liked. She maintained the appearance of devotion, but found Aaron's hands on her in Melville's parlor now produced uncharacteristic blushing, which obviously amused Aaron, for he seemed to seek her out and put his arms around her whenever there was the slightest excuse.
Sometimes when he touched her, it took restraint on her part not to gasp at the rush of feeling in her body. But when they again began to share the same bed, she was usually hostile" his touch making her angry and defensive, though once she almost approached him even while she sensed he was doing his utmost to control his passions. And once she had thought he had reached his limit of saintly behavior. For an instant she thought his mood was so black, he might rend her limb from limb, if not make love to her. In the mood she was in that night, he would have had to rape her, and he seemed to know it. She could feel the incredible tension in him as she lay stiffly next to him, and that night she would have fought him with every ounce of her strength. Since her experience with Jack Herbert, there were times she could not have faced any man willingly. She doubted even Marshall could have approached her without her turning against him. Sometimes her memories of Jack, mingled with her memories of Justin, were overwhelming, and anyone's hand on her, in love or otherwise, would have been more than she could bear. There were moments she thought she would kill to be left alone.
After that especially unpleasant night when Aaron had left their bed hastily, she was often alone most of the night. She didn't know for sure where he spent his time but she suspected he didn't lead a monk's existence. On occasion she was certain he'd been with Marguerite, for a trace of the woman's favorite heady perfume seemed to cling to his body, which did nothing to improve Louisa's mood.
In private Louisa and Aaron usually stood off from each other like two stray cats eye to eye on the same fence, one waiting for the other to make a move. Sometimes when she caught his eye, she read the kind of longing she wanted to respond to. She was sure she saw the hunger for love she herself knew so well. But Louisa accused herself harshly. Fool, she charged silently. She'd not go begging. Never again. He'd made a fool of her before, and she'd never crawl to him. She swore he would have to come to her―on her terms or not at all.
But when Louisa lay in her solitary bed with her body urgently wanting Aaron's, her words only seemed ridiculously brave. She would scream and pound her fists on her pillows, replacing her physical hunger with anger. "You're Justin Boyd's daughter for certain! You're low and immoral. You'd take anyone into your bed―a born whore, just as the man said." Louisa no longer needed other voices to accuse her; she was now very adept at self-indictment.
Yet as the Crystal Mae sped down the California Coast, with the wind howling at Louisa as it often had, she managed to stay sane. Pensively, she watched Aaron watch her. He stared after her in the passageways, on the deck, at the mess, his eyes disturbingly full of desire, and desire was rekindled in her―with unmerciful ease. Even now she stood at the ship's rail waiting for Aaron's return from the island, wanting to see him, knowing in a few more days when, at last, the ship left her in San Diego, she might never see him again. And it seemed like a death sentence.
But when he returned to the ship for the very purpose of seeking her out, to invite her to go ashore and ride with him for a tour of the island, she agreed in what he described to himself as her "rich man's whore" attitude.
When the boat was close to shore, Aaron lifted Louisa against him, high above the turbulent surf, bundling her skirts around her. He enjoyed holding her in his arms, feeling her cling to him, her arms tight around his neck, her face close to his. As he watched the swirling sandy water, trying to keep her layers of skirts out of the water, he felt her eyes on his, and he yearned for her as if all the unpleasantness between them had never existed.
Earlier Aaron had had the pleasure of surveying this very interesting island. It seemed perfectly suited to the plans now in motion. What the islands in the Caribbean would probably do for enterprising ship owners on the Atlantic side of the continent, Santa Catalina and perhaps other islands along this coast could do for California's conspirators. There were natural advantages to Santa Catalina Island that made it an ideal headquarters for privateers. There were several good harbors. It was a perfect place to station ships whose goal would be to interfere in normal coastal shipping, or to launch military action against the coast or at sea. The island could support a permanent settlement, having ample supplies of wood and water, good soil for self-sustaining crops, an abundance of good pasture land, and a plentiful supply of fish. If armed properly, it could be a perfect settlement for pirates. The prospects very much appealed to Aaron, but it occurred to him he was getting almost too fond of this part of the operation for his own good. With Louisa now riding by his side, obviously enjoying the rugged beauty of the island, he could even imagine keeping her captive, spending long hours persuading her to love him again. It was a very appealing daydream.
They rode a long while, at last reaching the other side of the island. Louisa was very impressed with all she saw. It was a lovely, if lonely, setting. What a shame, she thought, for this place to figure in the empire-building schemes of men like Simon Hudson and Peter Melville. It would be a wonderful place to seclude oneself away from the world, something which part of Louisa longed to do. She thought she would very much like to take Rachel and retreat, perhaps to this very island. Somewhere. Anywhere. But soon Catalina would be no haven. Soon it would be swarming with men, many with less than honorable motives. A suitable nest for Aaron, she thought in a moment of bitterness.
She was frowning deeply over her thoughts now, though not many moments before she had watched Aaron as he led them on a narrow trail, her eyes full of his powerful body, her senses overcome with longing, wanting desperately to hold him in her most intimate embrace. If at that instant he had turned and confronted her, she would have been powerless to resist him. How could her emotions swing so violently within the space of minutes, she wondered, catching Aaron's eye, a scowl deeply etched in her face.
Aaron halted their horses and dismounted, reaching to assist her. "I thought the scenery might improve your temper, Mrs. Hudson. Obviously, I was wrong." He spoke sarcastically, and she ignored his glance as best she could.
"My spirits will improve only when we set foot in San Diego."
"Only one more day to wait. Tomorrow, señora, I set you free."
Yes. Free. Free of memory and desire for him. Free to forget all. "Please let me be free at last," she intoned privately while they looked down the steep rugged slope at a sandy beach on the eastern side of the island. Seeing the lazy, deserted shore made Louisa suddenly remember their early encounters in the sand, and the promises she'd hoped eventually to hear from his lips. She knew even then she probably asked too much of him, if not the world.
Aaron's thoughts wandered in the same direction, and he grabbed her suddenly, moving his hungry body fiercely against hers. To her horror, Louisa's instantaneous response was just as violent, but not the least defensive. She didn't want to struggle against him, and protested his approach not at all, her arms reaching around him, clutching him with all of her strength.
His kisses, the pressure of his body inflamed h
er, and there was no possibility of turning back. Soon they were lying on fog-wet grass, her clothes seeming to fall away from her eager body, his warm mouth quickly on her breasts, tugging at her nipples, pulling low animal cries from deep inside her throat. Under her skirts his hands were fast but, for all his passion, amazingly gentle. She met his probing fingers with cries of obvious pleasure, totally blind to normal vision when he entered her; lost when his hardness touched her, seeming to be in agony, meeting his thrusts with sharp cries, but locking her legs around him so that he could not have escaped even if it had occurred to him to leave her.
Louisa's softness seemed to liquefy under him, the pressure of her body on him extreme as he drove himself deeply into her warmth, wanting to attach himself to her, never to be unfastened. Aaron postponed his own moments of rapture, coaxing Louisa's body to new heights of response, repeatedly and lengthily feeling her body and spirit soar against his, finally taking blessed relief in the momentarily subdued depths of her body.
Afterward Louisa was weak and trembling in his arms, at first unable and unwilling to move away from him, yet unable, when he helped her dress and onto her feet, to look him in the eye, tears streaming down her face, not hearing anything he said, not the least aware of his tone or the meaning of his words. Suddenly she did not want him near her, and he stepped back, at first dismayed, then angered at the constantly mercurial side of her nature.
By the time they boarded the Crystal Mae, they were once again adversaries, Louisa retreating to her cabin in shame and regret over her extremely passionate response to a man she knew would leave her behind indifferently the very next day; Aaron boiling, his face as dark as the black storm clouds that were fast filling the southern horizon, but soon too preoccupied with getting the ship safely out to sea to brood over Louisa.
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