As he instructed her, Katherine was thinking that unwittingly he had solved her problem. Though she was still scared, this gun would give her the courage she needed to return. Just let Hampton try to frighten her again. She would show him that she was smart enough to defend herself. She looked at Perkins’s intent face, close to hers as he explained the gun, and suddenly she wondered if he would kiss her as the Southerner had done.
“Thank you very much, Lieutenant Perkins. You are a very thoughtful man.”
“I’m glad you accepted it. Some ladies would faint at the sight of a gun.”
“Well, I’m not so poor-hearted.”
“Why, Lieutenant Perkins!” came Aunt Amelia’s voice from the doorway.
Katherine grimaced at him and turned. “Hello, Auntie.” She slipped the gun quietly into her skirt pocket.
“You must think it very amiss of me not to greet you when you arrived,” Amelia said, shooting her niece a disapproving look. “But the servants didn’t tell me you were here.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Fritham. I came to apologize to you and your niece for having been so remiss in not calling on you. There was a death in my family, and I was called away to Nantucket.”
“Why, how dreadful for you, Lieutenant!” Amelia’s ready sympathy rose to the surface, submerging her disapproval. She was also afforded one of her favorite topics of conversation—death and funerals—and she plunged into questions and condolences.
Katherine finally stopped her aunt’s morbid flow of words by saying, “Auntie, I fear we have delayed Lieutenant Perkins much too long. I know he must need to return to naval headquarters.”
The lieutenant shot her a grateful glance and took his cue. “Yes, I’m afraid I must go. I hope that I might have the privilege of calling on you again soon.”
“Whenever you like—you’re always welcome here,” Katherine said, then added, “Lieutenant Perkins, I realize that of course you are in mourning, but perhaps you might join us for dinner some evening. Not a party, of course, just the family.”
“Thank you. I should very much like to.”
“Good. Then Wednesday, say? We dine at seven.”
“I shall be here.”
Aunt Amelia’s expression turned to one of alarm, and, after the man took his leave, she turned to Katherine, highly flustered. “Oh, Katherine, you shouldn’t have done that!”
“Why?”
“Well—because he’s in mourning.”
“Good heavens, one doesn’t become a pariah just because he’s in mourning. I should think it would make him feel better to be able to spend an evening with friends instead of alone with his grief.”
“Yes, but it makes it seem like he is more than—”
“Than what? He is more than a casual acquaintance. I count Lieutenant Perkins as one of my friends.”
“Oh, dear, whatever will Amanda say?” Amelia fretted.
“Why should she say anything? What does it have to do with her?”
“Why, she’s your aunt.”
“That’s right. But she’s not my mother. There’s no need for her to know everything I do. Nor is there any need for her to voice an opinion about it.”
“What will your father say?”
“Probably ‘Splendid!’ He likes Lieutenant Perkins.”
Katherine turned and swept out of the room. The weight of the gun in her pocket gave her a pleasantly secure feeling and a brief smile curved her lips. No doubt that loathsome man Hampton thought he’d won; how pleasant it would be to see the look of surprise on his face.
“Let me fix your hair up different this morning, mum,” Peg said eagerly as she brushed Katherine’s hair the next morning. Pegeen had noticed with satisfaction the change in Katherine’s mood; she was sure now that her mistress was in love with the grave lieutenant. And Pegeen intended to do everything she could to help Katherine get him. If only she could get her to take care with her looks.
“Why, Peggy?”
“Just to be different. A little more fullness around the face, Miss Kate, maybe a couple of side curls—”
“Pegeen, I am not a young girl. I am twenty-four years old, and I can’t go around with foolish curls all over my head.”
“Oh, miss, you never would fix your hair different. It looks like an old maid!”
“Well?” Katherine smiled briefly. “That’s what I am, Pegeen.”
“Not if you’d take a little trouble to look pretty.”
Pegeen made a face, but pulled Katherine’s hair back into a severe bun.
“Pegeen, I’d like for you to do something.”
“What, miss?”
“Take the muffs I carry and on the inside of each make a little pocket—about this big.” She measured with her hands.
“Yes, miss.” Pegeen’s eyes sparkled. No doubt it was a little pocket for secret love notes.
As she and her father set forth for the office, Katherine found that her heart was beating in trepidation and excitement. Despite her little handgun, she was still frightened of the captain, but she had regained her bravery and looked forward to a confrontation with him—scared she might be, but she’d not back down.
“Captain, your lady’s returned,” Ensign Fortner whispered, plopping a box of nails down beside Hampton.
Hampton raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Indeed? I guess she has recovered from her illness.”
“If you want my opinion, sir—”
“Which I don’t.”
Fortner grinned and continued unabashed, “The little redhead’s worth two of Miss Devereaux.”
“Fortner, it’s easy to see that you are from Savannah—you have no breeding,” the captain said mockingly.
“Well, I’ll admit that she’s more a Charleston girl than a Savannah one—only time I’ve seen a haughtier face than a Charleston lady’s is on that Boston girl,” the young man retorted.
Hampton chuckled. “My boy, I will tell you something. I’ve about ten years of experience on you, and I have found that true beauty lies in the bones. Look at the Devereaux girl—her face is as beautifully sculpted as a statue.”
“And as cold.”
“Well, that is where your lack of foresight comes in; you should always imagine how a particular woman would look in bed. Your little Irish maid would be just as she is—pretty and giggly. But my choice, well, picture her hair down, clothes off, face passionate. And all it takes, you see, is to bring that image to life.” He grinned diabolically. “Which only takes the right man.”
“You, I presume?”
“But, of course.”
“You two!” a voice cracked out. “Cut the gab and get to work.”
“Duty calls,” Former said. “I wish you luck with your lady.”
Hampton returned to hammering, feeling slightly cheered. So she had returned. She had spunk, you had to give her that. He was glad; the past couple of days he was afraid that he had frightened her too badly. She had pulled a typically female trick, having him punished like that. Once they had enthralled your heart, they tormented you, teasing, flirting, firing you with desire, and then retreating. And if they had you physically in their power, then capriciously they had you whipped. He was not the sort to let a woman get away with either trick. But he hadn’t intended to completely frighten her away—he wanted her. It had taken all his will power that day not to go ahead and take her there in the office, despite the danger.
Though no woman had ever managed to capture his heart, and though he thought women vain, foolish creatures, he found them amusing, delectable, and pleasure-giving. He enjoyed their company and their bodies, and he had found the last few months difficult. He was used to periods of celibacy, for such was the lot of a seafaring man, and one compensated with orgies of lovemaking ashore. But months at sea followed by months in prison had made him deeply hungry for a woman.
When she first stepped out of her carriage that day and he had seen those strange gold eyes, he had felt a stab of desire so strong he had almost groaned aloud
. Since then she had haunted his thoughts. She was lovely—even her stark hairdo and dark, restraining clothes could not hide that—and the very sight of her sent a delightfully painful tingle through him. When they had thrown him in that hole, his back sore and bleeding, and had starved him for two weeks, the thought of her had helped to keep him sane. Alternately he cursed her for placing him there and mentally undressed her and made love to her. He pictured her eyes, dark gold with desire, her wide mouth soft and yielding, her body naked and glistening under his hands, her honey-colored hair like a waterfall across the pillow. He felt her eager body against his and heard her soft moans of desire. The events of three days before had only made him want her more—how full and soft her breasts beneath his hands, how intoxicating the scent of her, how sweet her virgin mouth. He ached to possess her, to awaken her inexperienced body, thaw her freezing hauteur, tutor her in the arts of love. But he would have to wait until there was time and a private place. Wait until they escaped.
Matthew Hampton was not one to sit out a war in an enemy prison, waiting for a prisoner exchange. From the moment he had been captured he thought of escape. His assignment to this duty had presented him with the perfect opportunity. Although only the dark monkeylike Peljo was one of his original crew, he was beginning to form the men into a unit. He had cautiously felt them out, judging them, making sure none would turn informer. Ensign Fortner—hot-blooded, fiercely patriotic, daring—was an easy ally. Peljo was loyalty itself to the captain. The others—well, he had seen better crews, but every one of these men had expressed the desire to escape, and daily they became more and more a united crew that accepted him as their natural leader. There were gaps in their skills, and he had no idea how they would perform in action, but then the prison had not selected them to be his new raider crew, and he must do the best he could with what he had.
He had not yet told any of them what his plan of escape was—even he did not know exactly when it would take place. His scheme was of the sort of daring simplicity that often succeeded through its sheer audacity. Once the ship they were working on was caulked and painted and moved into the water, with only last-minute touch-ups needed, they would overpower their guards, don their uniforms, and simply set sail, as if making a little trial run. It might not cause comment, used as everyone would be to seeing them on the ship, and with the phony guards standing watch. Of course, there were a thousand things that might go wrong. The timing must be absolutely perfect—the ship must be ready to sail, but not so complete that they were taken off it, and it must be done when the civilian workers were not on the ship. They would need food, weapons, navigational instruments—in fact, a whole new ship as soon as possible. It was an enormous risk, but one that he must take; he could not live without the freedom of his own ship under him. And he knew he could succeed; it was possible. The daring wildness that was so often the despair of his family made him a superb raider captain. As his Grandmother Soames had severely told him, “You have the soul of a pirate.” And a pirate was what was needed in this situation.
Fiercely he hammered in a nail. He would pull it off, he told himself. It required only patience and the ability to move quickly and without second thoughts when the time was right. It would come off; he would see to that. And when it did, he would take her with him.
The days quickly fell into a pattern for Katherine, interrupted only by the activities of the Christmas season. Every day but Sunday she went to the office to work, and each day at twelve she and Pegeen handed out lunch to the prisoners. Gradually she came to learn their names. The cheerful young man was Edward Fortner; the earringed man was called only Peljo; the dark man with the heavy accent was Jenkins, Teddy’s riverboat gambler from Louisiana; the flaxen-haired silent man was Mason. There were twenty-two of them and eventually she knew them all; some she found herself grudgingly liking. She was almost disappointed to find that the captain stirred up no more trouble. He kept her aware of his presence, nearly always fixing his gaze upon her, sometimes coldly, sometimes with an odd glint in his eye. Every now and then he spoke to her, usually saying something lightly teasing or sarcastic, always with that exasperating grin. When she handed him back his plate, he often slightly caressed her hand, not noticeably, but enough to send a chill up her spine. Once, helping her put the empty boxes back into her carriage, they were shielded from the sight of the others by the carriage, and he took her hand and raised it to his lips. The moment was over quickly, but her hand seemed to burn where his lips had touched it.
Such moments were few in the months that followed, however. Usually he was rather aloof. Curiously, she felt almost piqued—certainly none of the men kept their admiration for Pegeen a secret, always hanging about her, laughing and joking, and following her movements with their eyes. Katherine did not know it, but Hampton was keeping a tight rein on himself; he could not afford to let passion sweep him into anything that might destroy his escape plan. He found it difficult to keep his head when near her, and so he kept his distance. Katherine, however, had the vague feeling that he was merely trying to irritate her, as always. It was irrational, she told herself, to feel that way; certainly she didn’t want him bothering her again. It was just that she had primed herself for a showdown, and it seemed rather deflating that it never materialized.
The personal pattern of her life came to be centered on Lieutenant Perkins. As the cold winter days straggled by, he became a more and more frequent visitor to their house. Often he ate dinner with them, now and then arriving with a box of candy or a precious nosegay of hothouse flowers. He and Katherine talked contentedly, usually about the ships or the War or foreign policy or naval history, leaving Aunt Amelia quite stultified with boredom. Determinedly she fought off dozing to sleep and never left the room; after all, she was the guardian of her niece’s reputation. Sometimes she was relieved of this duty by Mr. Devereaux, who rather enjoyed the conversations and skillfully steered them toward his business concerns. He was delighted with the way things were proceeding.
Amanda constantly reprimanded both Amelia and Katherine. It was a personal insult to her that Katherine so encouraged that nonentity of a lieutenant. In vain she implored Katherine to remember her family, her breeding, her ancestors. “After all, who is this man?” she stormed.
“He is a very nice, very capable lieutenant in the United States Navy and a good friend of mine.”
“He’s a nobody; that’s who he is. And he’s only after your name!”
“Really, Aunt Amanda, I believe that a wife takes her husband’s name, not vice versa.”
“A wife! Has he spoken to you of marriage?”
Katherine colored slightly. “No, of course not. We are only good friends. It is you that implied Lieutenant Perkins wanted to marry me.”
“Only friends—hah! You can’t fool me. He calls here far too often to be only friends. He wants to marry you, and—mark my words—he wants your money.”
“Is there anything so unusual about that? Mr. Stephens wants my money; your precious son Jamie wants my money. In fact, I think Lieutenant Perkins is about the only man who ever showed an interest in me who isn’t after my money!”
“Katherine!” her aunts chorused.
Though she denied that he intended marriage, Katherine secretly suspected that marriage was the lieutenant’s goal. His handclasp was always warm; often she caught him off-guard, looking at her intently; twice he had, on taking leave of her, raised her hand to his lips in a kiss much more personal than the usual polite grazing of the lips against the hand. Someday, she thought, he would propose. And what would she say?
She wasn’t sure. There were times when she thought she might agree. He was so much preferable to men like Jamie Miller and Henry Stephens. She enjoyed his company, liked talking to him and listening to his ideas and plans. He respected her, sought her opinion, obviously thought her very competent. He would not be the sort of husband who would object to her being involved in the operation of her business. She knew they would work together, p
erhaps build a new ship line or expand the yards. It would be a very satisfactory marriage—except that she didn’t love him! There were times when she wondered if he would kiss her when they were married, kiss her with his lips and tongue and whole mouth as Matthew Hampton had done. Would he touch her intimately as the Rebel had, press his body into hers? She blushed hotly at the thought. She didn’t want him to, of course, being a respectable girl. And yet—somehow it made marriage seem more exciting. Of course, Lieutenant Perkins would be much more respectful, not frightening, and it wouldn’t be so dreadful to feel that limpness in her legs when her husband made free with her body. But did wondering about her wedding night with him mean that she loved him? She seriously doubted it.
Sternly she told herself that she was being nonsensical about it. That roseate glow of love in the novels did not exist in real life—at least not for her. Better to be practical about it. She knew the horrors of spinsterhood. She also knew that she wanted a home of her own, children, a focal point to her life. And Lieutenant Perkins would be the perfect husband. Then, unbidden, would come an inward wail—“But I don’t love him!”
The weeks quickly passed. Katherine worried and weighed the alternatives and went through her daily life. Lieutenant Perkins tried to judge her feelings for him and pondered when would be the correct time to ask for her hand—would he be too soon? Too late? Would she turn him down or tilt up her lovely face for his kiss? The thought of her lifting her delectable mouth to receive his kisses made him almost ache with pleasure. He daydreamed about kissing her—should he seize her and devour her mouth with the raging passion he felt? No, better to be slow, gentle, not frighten her; at first only a chaste kiss. Later he would deepen his kisses, softly break down her reserve, until on their wedding night he would gently introduce her to love. The thought made him tremble. But all that would come, he reminded himself, only if she accepted him—whenever he got up the nerve to ask her.
The matter was finally forced to a reckoning by the United States Navy: he was given his orders to sail on the blockader Henry Kemper in a week. He felt he had to ask her now; he could not bear to sail with their relationship still in limbo. The evening he received his orders, he called on Mr. Devereaux. Josiah, somewhat surprised, greeted him affably. Perkins sat down, his hands clenched nervously. Twice he started to speak, then stopped.
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