"And you'll let me be your mistress!" She felt as though her heart were breaking into bits and pieces, dissolving as quickly as the white-foamed breakers smashing against the sandy shore. But she wouldn't let him know it. Oh, no, he was far too cocky as it was.
"I wouldn't be your mistress or your wife. I want to be free of you, and as for what we've shared, I'll just look back on it as a time in my life when I stooped as low as a mating animal—just to experience what it's like to grovel in filth so I can appreciate being a respectable woman...."
"Julie, you come back here...."
Ignoring his call, she walked with chin held high, looking neither right nor left as she moved ahead to the steps. Only when she was in her cabin with the door locked and bolted behind her did she give way to the stinging, burning tears that demanded to be released.
She was a fool—a complete, utter fool. Why had she given in to him? she asked her tormented brain. He'd made it clear from the first he only wanted the pleasures her body could bring him... and she had given herself to him freely.
True, there was nothing he could do but let her go now that it was apparent no ransom was going to be paid, but at least, she reasoned, he might have behaved as though he cared—if only a little. That would have salvaged some of her pride. He didn't have to behave as though she were just some river trollop he'd picked up for a few nights of debauchery.
She had felt all along that her mother would never be able to raise the amount Derek demanded, but in the back of her mind had believed Virgil would. Could it be possible Derek had told the truth when he said the man was a fake—that he wasn't wealthy as he claimed?
So now she was faced with the decision of what to do with her life. Would her mother have returned to Savannah? Julie had no way of knowing.
She tried to sort out her thoughts, but it was difficult to think with her head aching from all the tears she had shed. Turning over on her back, she closed her eyes, trying to blot everything from her mind. If she could relax, the throbbing pain would go away, and she could think about what she must do....
* * *
When she opened her eyes, Julie was staring into darkness. How long had she slept? Silence surrounded her with the oppressive cloak of night.
She sat up and swung around so that her bare feet touched the rough wooden floor.
Where was Derek? He was probably still angry over their argument, or, she reasoned, he would have been down to make amends. But maybe he didn't want to make peace. Why should he? After all, he'd be leaving her behind, never to see her again. He probably wasn't at all concerned over whether their parting was amicable.
Her stomach gave a hungry lurch. With a sigh, she decided there was nothing to do for the moment but go to the galley and find something to eat. Tomorrow she would leave the ship. There was no point in worrying until then.
But still, there was a pain in her heart she found disturbing. Surely she did not actually feel something for the man. With a toss of her head, she told herself she was being silly. It was over. It must be forgotten. All of it.
Leaving her cabin, she turned toward the galley, then decided it was only polite to ask Derek if he'd like something to eat also. She told herself she really didn't care whether or not he was hungry—it was that stove. She hadn't mastered it and didn't like using it when he wasn't around. She could forget about pride for the moment—at least until her screaming belly was fed.
Still, in the back of her mind, a little voice shouted, You do care... you care whether he's hungry... and you care about him....
"That's absurd!" she said out loud, angrily, bitterly. The voice kept nagging her.
Looking up as she ascended the steps, she could see the night was clear, the sky a purple backdrop for the thousands of glittering stars that sprinkled the heavens.
It was difficult to see, but once her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, she could make out objects and shapes well enough that she wouldn't stumble and go sprawling upon the deck.
She called to Derek as soon as she reached the top step. "Derek, where are you?" Her tone was clipped, short—anything but friendly. "We can call another truce long enough to eat, if you'll help me with that confounded stove...."
There was no answer.
A wave of apprehension swept over her. Then she told herself there was no need to be frightened. Derek was probably in his cabin, brooding over her caustic remarks or busying himself with charts and maps.
Or maybe, she thought suspiciously, he was deliberately not answering because he wanted to frighten her. All right, then, let him think he'd succeeded. She would go to the galley and rummage up whatever she could find to eat without using the old stove. He could go hungry.
A cool breeze whispered across her bare skin, and she realized she was still naked. Cursing herself, she started for her cabin to dress. It had become a habit all too quickly, she mused, this cavorting in the nude.
"Miss Marshal."
She froze, terror constricting her throat. That was not Derek's voice.
Someone was there, stepping out of the shadows, but she couldn't make out his face. Her legs were frozen, and she could not move.. could not scream. Was it one of the crewmen returning early? He mustn't find her like this—without a stitch on.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she was able to will her legs to move... but not soon enough. As she started to scurry down the steps, the man grabbed her arm and held her tightly in his grip.
"Don't be afraid, Miss Marshal. I'm not going to hurt you."
"Captain Guthrie!"
Her brain was spinning dizzily as she recognized his voice. "I—I don't understand. What are you doing here?"
He chuckled with smug satisfaction. "I've been lurking about in these waters for months waiting for this opportunity. Arnhardt was a fool to think I'd let him get away with what he did to me and my crew. I would have searched for him the rest of my life, if necessary. And now I've found him—"
Abruptly he sucked in his breath, then cried, "My God, you aren't wearing any clothes!"
Her lips parted to speak, but what was there to say? She heard him snap his fingers and yell to someone to bring a blanket. Then she felt the rough material being draped about her shoulders, and she wrapped it closer about her.
"Now, then. Suppose you tell me why you are here? Of course, I knew you were on board—the two of you alone. My men have been watching from a distance with a telescope. Why weren't you left in Bermuda long ago? And where is your mother?"
So many questions, and she had many of her own. Not knowing where to start, she finally stammered, "I—I was held for ransom." She certainly didn't want him thinking she had stayed with Derek of her own volition. She managed to tell him the story about the ransom demand, how it had not been paid.
"That savage!" his voice boomed through the night, then he patted her shoulder in a gesture of sympathy. "You poor child. To think what you must have endured at the hands of that—that barbarian!"
He rushed on, "You aren't to fret a moment longer. I'll personally see that you are taken safely wherever you wish to go."
Then he told her Captain Arnhardt was securely bound in his cabin. "We took him by surprise. We waited till dark to board. We found him sitting on deck, and he was naked too. I wondered about that, but now I can see he's depraved."
Clearing his throat, he went on, "We won't discuss that, as I'm sure it's distressing to be reminded of what you've been forced to endure. We thought it best to wait for you to come up on deck rather than search for you. We didn't want to frighten you."
"And what is to happen next?" she asked fearfully.
"Would you happen to know when the crew is to return? Arnhardt won't cooperate by answering our questions."
She stiffened. "I don't think I should tell you anything, either. After all, you are a Yankee... and the enemy."
"But I'm not your enemy," he said incredulously. "Really, Miss Marshal, I should think you would be grateful. After all, I've rescued you."<
br />
"He was going to let me go tomorrow—"
And then she realized she'd said too much, as he cried, "Ah, so it's tomorrow the crew returns. Well, they won't have a ship to return to."
She shook her head slowly, fearfully. "I don't understand."
He made it all sound so simple. "There won't be a ship because we're going to destroy it.
"Now, then," he continued, steering her toward the steps, "Suppose you get dressed and join me in the galley for tea. I imagine you're hungry. I'll have one of my men get something together for the two of us."
Bewildered, Julie dressed hurriedly, slipping on a dress and not bothering with petticoats. Her mind was whirling. What did the Yankees have in mind? Were they going to kill Derek?
That thought stabbed at her. Maybe she and Derek didn't share love, but they'd had many happy times together when they weren't sparring with each other. True, he was despicable and arrogant, and she found it quite easy to hate him... despite the rapture she had enjoyed in his arms. But that didn't mean she wanted to see him killed.
Perhaps there was still time to help, she thought with panic. What she could do, she didn't know, but at least she could try to sneak up to his cabin and talk with him, find out what was going on. What if Captain Guthrie were lying about letting her go? Why, her life might be at stake as well. She would never, ever trust a Yankee.
With these feverish thoughts swirling in her head, she flung the door open to find the narrow hallway flooded with light. Someone had lit the lanterns that hung on the walls.
And then she found herself staring up into the smug face of a man in a dark-blue uniform. He was smirking, as though he knew what she planned to do.
"Miss Marshal, I'm to take you to Captain Guthrie. He's waiting with tea and food." He bowed slightly—insolently, she thought.
His hand fastened on her arm before she could protest, and she found herself being walked swiftly down the hallway. They entered the officers' dining room, and Benjamin Guthrie rose politely in greeting.
A mug of steaming tea sat on the table. Guthrie quickly pulled a chair out for her. "Now, then," he smiled when they were both seated. "Suppose we talk about what is to be done with you."
Staring down at the golden liquid in her mug, she murmured that she had no plans. "I've no idea where my mother is."
"There would've been difficulty had she tried to return to Savannah," he remarked. "For Pulaski has fallen, as I'm sure you have heard. The Savannah port is sealed off from the sea. I suppose it's possible she could have made it into Wilmington on a runner, then made her way home by land."
"We'd already booked passage for England, but she would have been quite upset when she heard of my being kidnapped. I just don't know what she might've done."
"It's logical to think she would've continued on her journey, possibly hoping your fiancé... what was his name—Oates? Yes, that's it. She would probably have gone to find him and asked for his help."
He patted her hand. "Don't fret, my dear. You're too beautiful to be so distressed. Finish your tea, and I'll have my men take you back to our ship. We'll be leaving soon to sail north. I must report to Washington for further orders now that I've settled my score with Arnhardt. I'll take you with me."
She pushed her chair back from the table and shrieked, "But I don't want to go north! I want to go home!"
"Nonsense." He waved a hand, as though dismissing such an absurd thought. "You're in the hands of a gentleman now, and if you'll just relax and leave everything to me, I assure you that you'll find I have only your best interests at heart."
Leaving her tea untouched, she arose, and he followed. Then he surprised her by bending to kiss her hand, a strange look on his face as he murmured, "I never forgot your beauty. It haunted me all these months. It's going to be a pleasure having you in my company...."
She recoiled in horror, and he was quick to assure her he meant her no harm. "I won't be a rogue, my dear, but I must warn you I will be trying to win your heart—"
"I beg your pardon?" She stepped back.
He blinked his eyes several times. "I said I'd be trying to win your heart. Do you find that so unbelievable? I'm a man without a wife, and I would like to properly court you."
"I think you share the foolish optimism of your Yankee brethren," she responded icily.
"I don't understand...."
It was Julie's turn to smile. "Like your fellow Yankees, you think you can win something from a Southerner. That is folly. You could never win my heart."
He bowed slightly. "I accept the challenge."
"There is no challenge," she snapped in exasperation. "Can't you understand—"
She fell silent at the sound of someone opening the door behind her. Turning, she saw a craggy-faced man appear and salute Guthrie, his eyes glittering excitedly. "Sir, we're ready. We've got Arnhardt on the plank."
"Very well. I'll be right up."
The sailor saluted again, then turned and quickly left. Captain Guthrie started to follow, but Julie felt a sense of terror and foreboding, and she reached out to clasp his arm. "What was he talking about?" she demanded.
"Don't burden yourself with unpleasantnesses. Finish your tea, and it won't be long till someone comes to escort you to my ship."
"I'm not going anywhere!" She picked up her mug and sent it crashing against the wall as fury soared through her. "I'm going up on deck and find out what's going on. I have a right to know what fiendish, barbaric torture you damn Yankees have planned for Derek."
"Derek, is it?" His eyes narrowed. "Perhaps I was hasty in bestowing sympathy upon you, Miss Marshal. It appears you've got a soft spot in your heart for your captor. Very well. I think maybe you should witness how I inflict retribution on my enemies. Come along."
He allowed her to move ahead of him, and when they reached the steps he moved to help her ascend, but she jerked away from him. She didn't want a Yankee to touch her. Maybe she didn't know all there was to know about the politics of the war, but one thing was for certain: to her mind the overbearing Yankees had started it by trying to force their will on the South, and she wanted no part of any of them—not now—not ever.
On deck, lanterns burned, and she could see perhaps twenty of the blue-clad sailors clustered at the bow of the ship. Beyond them, standing on a wooden board which extended out over the water, Derek stood, still nude, his hands bound behind him.
As she moved closer, his eyes fell on her, but only for a moment. Then he turned his gaze back to the sea. He didn't appear frightened. Actually, he looked quite annoyed about the whole matter.
"Arnhardt," Captain Guthrie shouted in a mocking tone, "do you have anything to say before we feed you to the sharks?"
Julie stepped back, horror-stricken with the realization of what they were about to do.
There were sharks about. Derek had seen them earlier in the day and said it wouldn't be possible to take another swim. And sharks had quickly taken care of Shad Harky and his fellow mutineers.
Now Derek would share the same fate.
No, she couldn't let it happen. She told her pounding heart she cared because he was a human being, not because he meant anything deeper to her. They were lovers, nothing more, not ever....
No one was watching her as the men busied themselves and taunted Derek. Glancing about, Julie searched for a weapon, anything with which to try and stop this madness.
Her foot scraped against something as the unpleasant odor of fish filled her nostrils. This was the spot where Derek had scaled and cleaned the fish he'd caught for their breakfast that morning. He hadn't taken the time to wash away the mess, and now the stench was overwhelming.
Her foot touched the object again, and then she cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner. Stooping quickly, hands groping in the darkness, she touched the knife Derek had used on the fish and quickly hid it in the folds of her skirt as she stood up.
Derek was looking coolly at Guthrie as he asked, "What do you intend to do with her?" He no
dded toward Julie.
"She'll be going to Washington with me," Guthrie replied. "But don't be concerned. You've made her miserable for the last time. She's in good hands." He gestured impatiently. "Is that all you wish to say?"
"What about my ship?"
"Dynamite, Captain." Guthrie was unable to suppress his glee and broke into happy chuckles, along with his men. He hurried on. "You have heard of that marvelous invention, have you not? It was invented by the Swedish physicist, Alfred Nobel. You see, by mixing nitroglycerin with a porous inert absorbent, Nobel has produced a solid that is resistant to shock but readily detonable by heat or percussion."
He waved his hand airily. "But what would you know of such marvels—you, a common sea rat? Dynamite is going to blow your ship into a million pieces, Arnhardt. The Ariane will never run a blockade again."
Derek threw back his head and laughed tauntingly. "You don't give a damn whether she runs a blockade or not, you pompous bastard. You only want revenge because I made you look like the fool you are."
"Now is that any way for an officer to speak in front of a lady?" Guthrie clucked, shaking his head. "Be grateful I don't have you shot. I am giving you a sporting chance, because you did leave my men and me afloat so we could be found."
Derek laughed. "You call throwing a man overboard, with his hands tied behind his back, giving him a sporting chance? That's Yankee thinking, I suppose."
"Let's get on with it!" Guthrie snapped.
Julie could not contain herself any longer. Lunging forward, she screamed, "Wait! You must let me have a moment with him, please—"
Guthrie looked down at her reproachfully. "Well, I think I was wrong about you, Miss Marshal. Now I find your story about being held against your will quite hard to believe. You must have enjoyed—"
"Oh, I don't care what you believe! Can't you grant me one last moment to say goodbye to him?" she pleaded.
His face, in the lanterns' glow, was almost maniacal. "It probably will be goodbye." He sounded triumphant. "We've dumped quite a bit of raw, bloody meat into these waters to draw sharks. I'm sure they're waiting for their main course now." He laughed. "So go. Say your goodbyes. You've now lost your pride along with your virtue."
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