"Napping when I could." Mrs. Marshal sat down in a chair. "And you?"
"I couldn't sleep. I was too worried over what our fate is to be."
"Well, it took a bit of doing," her mother gave her a secret smile, "but I've persuaded the captain to take us on to Bermuda."
Julie stared at her, mouth gaping open in surprise.
"That's right," her mother said in triumph. "He's a stubborn one, but like most men, he's weak when it comes to money. Everyone has a price. His was half of your dowry."
"My dowry? I don't understand." Now she was baffled.
"Of course, you have a dowry. It's only right and proper that a bride go to her husband with a dowry. That is, in circles of refinement. Virgil tried to tell me it wasn't necessary, but he understood the propriety of the gesture."
"And just what was the gesture?" Julie demanded suspiciously.
"I deeded to him one-half of Rose Hill and five thousand dollars."
"One-half of Rose Hill?" she echoed, not believing what she was hearing. "Oh, Mother, you didn't."
"Well, of course," was the surprised reply. "It's where the two of you intend to make your home. It was the proper thing to do."
Mrs. Marshal hurried on. "As for the five thousand dollars, it's all the money I could raise, and I was taking it to him. I persuaded Captain Arnhardt to continue on to Bermuda by giving him half of that money. But I let him think that was all I had to give him."
Julie was stunned. She paced up and down for a moment, then faced her mother and shook her head in dismay. "Mother, that was wrong of you, not only to give half of Rose Hill to Virgil but to give half of your money to Derek. What if we had been killed on this voyage? Virgil would have half of your property. That wouldn't be fair to Myles."
"Well get to England safely." She smiled with the confidence of a child who anticipates a visit from Santa Claus at Christmas. "And I'll explain to Virgil about what happened to half of his money. He'll probably find a way to get it back, because he's going to be terribly upset when he finds out I had to barter our way when he already paid for our passage."
Julie pressed her fingertips against her throbbing temples. "Mother, why didn't you talk to me about this first? You don't realize what you've done. You're dealing with a—a pirate. We still have no assurance Derek will keep his word. And I don't like the thought that Virgil already holds the deed to half of your property."
A booming voice made both women jump. "Get your things together!" someone commanded through the closed door. "You're being moved to the Federal ship."
Julie yanked the door open to find Officer Edsel Garris standing there, a tight, set look upon his face.
"You're to come with me," he said, then, seeing her mother, told her to get her things together also. "The two of you are being transferred to the Federal steamer for transport to Bermuda. We plan to hoist the sails at sunrise, so it's best we get you all settled in as quickly as possible. We don't want any delays."
Julie and her mother exchanged puzzled looks, then her mother cried, "I just don't understand this, Mr. Garris. Captain Arnhardt never said anything about our traveling on that Yankee ship. I'd like to speak with him."
"That's impossible, Mrs. Marshal. He's busy. We all are. Now if you'll just cooperate, we can have you on board the other ship in no time and properly settled for the night."
"I suppose it really makes no difference which ship takes us," her mother said absently, moving toward the door and her own cabin. "Tell your captain we'll be ready in a little while."
Garris left, and Julie heard her mother saying to herself, "No wonder he wanted money in addition to the cotton. He had no intention of taking it to Bermuda and selling it any time soon."
Julie laughed bitterly. "Don't worry about Ironheart, Mother. He won't lose anything. Let's just hurry and get off his infernal ship and be rid of him for all time."
It took but a few moments to pack her trunk. Then she decided it would not be appropriate to make the move from one ship to another wearing a gown and robe. She stripped, then searched through her trunk for a simple dress she could don quickly.
"An artist could never capture such beauty on canvas!"
Whipping about, she found herself staring into the hungry eyes of Derek Arnhardt. His gaze was moving arrogantly over her body. Despite her annoyance over his bold and silent intrusion, she was once again mesmerized by his raggedly handsome face, the animalism that exuded from his rock-muscled body.
His chest was bare, and she wondered dimly if he realized how the sight always aroused her. She felt her fingers tingle with the desire to dance once again through the dark, thick curling hairs on that beautiful chest, and she longed to press her cheek against its hardness to feel the strong beat of his heart against her face.
She gritted her teeth, angry for being so vulnerable. Snatching up the first garment she came to, she covered her body and snapped, "A gentleman always knocks upon a lady's door, sir, as I've told you before."
He laughed, that cocky, smug laugh. It made her even more furious. "I don't pretend to be a gentlemen. And why do you pretend to be a lady? Remember, misty eyes, I know only too well how you abandon that cool façade when I take you in my arms."
She turned away, frustrated. Jerking the dress over her head, she fumbled with the stays at the back while he continued to enjoy her indignant anger.
"Here, allow me." He moved to fasten her dress and she pushed him away, only to realize after several more futile attempts that she would need his assistance. Lifting her long hair from her shoulders, she shivered at the touch of his warm fingers. When he was finished, he quickly slid his hands around and down to squeeze each breast, pulling her tightly back against him.
She could feel the rigid pulsation of his organ throbbing against the top of her buttocks. She tried to wriggle away, but he held her more firmly.
"Why do you fight me?" She could feel his warm breath against her cheek as he leaned closer. "You know you want it as much as I do. Enjoy. That's what a man and woman were meant to do with each other."
Lifting her foot high, she brought it down hard, smashing his right toe. Stunned, he loosened his hold upon her, and she was able to jerk free. Then, before he knew what was happening, she spun around and brought her knee upward and smashed it into his crotch.
With a yelp of pain, he clutched at himself and, doubling over, staggered backwards.
"Damn you! Stop treating me like an animal!" she cried. "You're a savage, Derek Arnhardt, and you look upon a woman as someone to use for your own selfish pleasures and nothing more. I'm not your slave, your mistress, or your whore!"
He lifted angry, pain-filled eyes and stared at her in wonder, stunned by this violent explosion.
"I know all about your making my mother give you part of my dowry, you—you pirate! And to think I risked my life to save yours. I should've let you rot in chains. I hope the Yankees do catch you, and hang you, and—"
He straightened, a tight, menacing look spreading across his face. Julie tilted her chin upward in a gesture she hoped made her appear unafraid. Actually, she was trembling inside over the way this big, ominous man towered above her... and over the realization of what she had just done to him, the things she had said.
One giant hand snaked out to clasp her throat tightly, but still she continued to face him defiantly. "Let me tell you something, you conceited wench. My men are taking quite a chance by bringing you to Bermuda. It's certainly worth something extra to cover the risk they face. Your mother was willing to pay to get you quickly on your way. And I think it's best. I hope you do marry Oates. You deserve each other."
His eyes raked over her again, this time with contempt. "You may be quite lovely, but you're just another body. Remember that. I'm not bewitched by you, rest assured. And I don't lie awake at night with desire burning in my loins. You're like every other woman I've ever laid with, and no doubt similar to the ones who await me in the future. You like to think you're being forced, raped, ravished, wh
atever you wish to call it, because you're too goddamned hypocritical to admit to yourself or anyone else that you crave mating your body with a man's just as strongly as he craves mating with a woman's!"
He released her, flinging her away so roughly she had to struggle to keep from falling.
"You saved your own neck when you saved mine, and you know it," he continued, still enraged. "At last I see you for what you are: selfish and spoiled. I pity Oates or any other man who is so damnably stupid as to take you for his wife."
He turned to leave, then whirled about to point a finger at her and say raspingly, "Get your things together at once. I want you off of my ship and out of my life."
"You can't want that any more than I do," she retorted acidly. "And now I can truly understand why your men call you Ironheart... if you even have a heart!"
His black eyes burned with red fires. His nostrils flaring, he rubbed his hands rapidly against his legs. Never had he wanted so badly to strike a woman, and he was fighting for control. "If you stripped naked before me now and lay down on that bed and parted your thighs, I wouldn't touch you! That's how desirable I find you, wench. You were just someone for me to empty myself into, like all the others. Now get the hell off my ship!"
Reaching out for the object nearest at hand, Julie grabbed the bowl of fish stew and sent it rushing through the air. It splashed upon his chest. "You bastard!" she screamed, tears of humiliation streaming down her flushed cheeks. "You damned arrogant bastard. I hope the Yankees do catch up with you. I hope they throw you to the sharks!"
Julie watched the captain leave the cabin without another word, slamming the door behind him hard enough to make the walls rattle.
She covered her face with her hands, furious with him and herself. To think she had found him attractive... how embarrassing to remember the hours she had reveled in his arms as he took her to heights of untold pleasures and ecstasy. Fool! She had been such a fool!
Thank God she would never see him again. For that much, she was grateful.
* * *
Derek took a deep breath, hesitating before he started up the steps. Damn her. He still hurt from the blow she had inflicted on his most vulnerable parts. It was a wonder he hadn't lost control and killed her before he realized what he was doing. She was a wild one, but she also stirred something within, him despite his ire—a twinge of desire... a shadow of tenderness.
Hell, it was best she was getting out of his life. He'd known many women in his lifetime, but never the likes of Julie Marshal, no matter that he'd told her otherwise.
He continued upward, drinking in the sweet salt air as he stepped on deck. There was a flurry of activity around him, but he removed himself from the fuss and walked to the ship's railing. Tightly he gripped the worn, splintered wood and stared thoughtfully out at the rolling green sea. Julie had touched his life only briefly, and they would never meet again.
Damn!
He turned around and stared at his men scurrying about.
He was a fool. She was spoiled, willful, nothing but trouble. He had enjoyed her body, but that was all. There could be no more. He didn't want a woman around him constantly. His mistress was the sea, and he was ashamed of feeling even the most remote attachment for the girl with hair the color of midnight and eyes as green as the deepest waters.
Someone called to him, and he moved in the direction of the voice. He had to leave his feelings behind, he told himself. There was no time to be melancholy. And what reason did he have, anyway? She was just another body, as he'd told her only moments before. Perhaps she was more generously endowed than most, but she was still merely a woman—good for a few hours of passion and frolic in bed, then to be cast aside.
Officer Watson approached him. "Sir, were ready to move the women to the other ship."
"Then do so," he replied tonelessly. "I'll be in my cabin. We'll go over the rest of the plans when you return."
Watson nodded, turned, then wheeled about suddenly to inquire, "Will you bid the ladies goodbye?"
"Hell, no!" Derek stunned the man with his explosion, then, realizing how he'd reacted, lowered his voice quickly and said, "No, I've said my goodbyes. Proceed at once."
Derek continued toward his cabin, ignoring the men who called out to him as he passed.
It was over. It had to be.
But a voice deep inside caused him much distress, for it seemed to be telling him that... goodbye was not forever.
Chapter 9
With Officer Garris commanding a skeleton crew from the Ariane, the captured Federal ship arrived off the coast of St. George on the northeast tip of Bermuda just two days after leaving the other ship.
Garris paid only one visit to Julie and her mother, to explain how they would put into port.
"We'll anchor out in the harbor, and two of my men will take you to shore by rowboat," he said tonelessly. "Once there, you will take your leave at once. We've no idea of what will happen once Guthrie and his men are found adrift and they start screaming piracy. We don't intend to be around to find out. My orders are to set you on shore, then see to the safety of my crew. You'll be on your own."
While they made the short trip into the harbor, Julie marveled at the beauty surrounding her. Peering over the side of the bobbing wooden craft, she gasped out loud as she realized that the water was crystal-clear. She could see down into its blue-green depths and watch the slickly gliding fish dart and weave as they searched for food.
The air was sweetly cool, scented not with salt but with the delicate fragrance of flowers, which reminded Julie of rare imported perfumes. "I don't think I've ever seen such beauty," she commented in awe to her mother. "It's the way I picture heaven."
Lost in the ethereal world surrounding them, her mother and Mammy Sara could only nod silently.
They reached the beach, and once again Julie was struck by the splendor of her surroundings. Dazzlingly clear water lapped against sand the color of pink-tinted coral which had been ground powder-fine by the wind and the waves. As soon as her feet touched land, Julie stopped to touch the sugary substance, letting it slide through her fingertips and laughing with a child's delight. "It looks so much like sugar, it makes me want to taste it!" she cried.
Her mother had lost interest in the scenery and was arguing with one of the sailors. "What do you mean, you don't have all our luggage? Several of my daughter's valises are missing. This is ridiculous. That man took my cotton, my money. Is he so greedy that he steals women's clothing as well?"
"I'm sorry," the sailor mumbled as though he really didn't care. "We couldn't get everything in the rowboat."
Mrs. Marshal pressed her hands against her temples and shook her head in frustration. "This is terrible. All her lovely gowns! I can't believe it!"
Julie started picking up her mother's bags. "Let's just be on our way and glad that it's all over. We can buy a few things to last us till we reach England."
"Virgil is never going to stand for such effrontery," Mrs. Marshal told the sailor, who snickered insolently. "He'll see that your captain pays for his wickedness." She continued to grumble, but Julie was too captivated with the majestic surroundings to be concerned about the loss.
Bermuda gave the impression of being a gigantic, well-kept flower garden. Even though it was late December, masses of gorgeous blooms could be seen everywhere: fields of delicate white Easter lilies, mile-long hedges of oleander, hibiscus, bougainvillea, royal poinsettia, and myriad other flora.
Beginning to feel intoxicated from the sweet essence that surrounded her, Julie delighted at the houses that dotted the landscape. Appealing and colorful, she knew they were made of limestone coral rock. Derek had told her about them, how the rock, which was soft enough to be cut with a wood saw, was cut from the ground. Once exposed to the air, the coral hardened with age.
She marveled at the roofs made of overlapping coral shingles which measured about ten by fourteen inches and were an inch thick. She knew, too, that these were washed periodically with a c
oating of lime for cleanliness's sake, since each household was dependent for its drinking water on the rains that slid over the shingles and were funneled into a reserve tank below.
As the three women made their way along the sandy beach, Julie could see the "welcoming arms" steps of one house, which were wider at the bottom than at the top. The chimneys were all huge; the windows surprisingly small-paned, each trimmed with shutters hinged at the top and swinging up and out.
Gazing about, Julie surmised that there was probably nowhere on the island where one would be more than a mile from the ocean. Bermuda was a busy place. This did not surprise her, since she was well aware that it was the chief supply depot for the Confederacy, and the port to which most of the South's cotton was shipped. Its proximity to the ports of Wilmington and Charleston gave it a superior advantage. And while submerged reefs made navigating difficult, all of the light-draft blockade runners carried Bahamian bank pilots, who knew every channel along the islands. The Yankee cruisers, Derek said, had no bank pilots and, since they drew more water, were compelled to keep to the open sea.
Captain Guthrie, Julie knew, would've had great difficulty navigating his ship out of the harbor. It was one of Derek's men, a bank pilot, who had been able to guide them in safely past the treacherous hidden reefs and who would take the others back to where the Ariane waited.
She explained all this to her mother as they walked.
"How do you come by all this information?" Mrs. Marshal wanted to know.
Julie hesitated, but only momentarily, deciding there was no point in being elusive. "Derek told me about it." Then she rushed on as her mother gave her a sharp look, "All of the islands are surrounded by coral reefs and shoals, and the channels are quite intricate. I also know that before the war, the chief industries of the islands were the collection and exportation of sponges and corals."
"You and the captain became rather close, didn't you?" Her mother spoke quietly, pensively.
"At one time, I suppose we were," Julie replied thoughtfully, not without a small twinge of pain, "before I came to fully realize what a savage he is."
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