Captives' Charade

by Susannah Merrill

  It was a massive twisted-walnut bed, the elaborately carved and gold-leafed posters reaching nearly to the high ceiling and supporting a frighteningly heavy wooden canopy. Six people could recline comfortably within its confines, so wide was the mattress. And six people probably had, Sarah thought, swallowing hard as her eyes rested on the dingy linens. “It is most unusual,” she finally murmured through gritted teeth.

  “Ah,butlookcloser!”d’Alavaencouraged gleefully. Throwing a helpless look at Stewart, who seemed to be taking quite an interest in the bed, Sarah tiptoed nearer and saw that the handwork was not some abstract design, but detailed representations of amorous nudes. Not wishing to show offense, or shock, she grimaced weakly and made to test the bedding with her gloved fingertips.

  “It seems quite comfort--.” A movement directly above snagged her

  upwards, she gasped at the

  attention. Peering sight of her own

  surprised face reflected in the Venetian mirror tiles lining the canopy’s interior. Mortified by the indecency of the carnal couch, and feeling all the more agitated by the two men staring at her, Sarah felt a terrific urge to scream out her indignation. Fortunately, Stewart surmised her distress and placed himself between his wife and the Spaniard.

  “I think my wife is somewhat overwhelmed by your surprise, Simon,” he said laconically. “Her upbringing has been sheltered, as you might imagine, but I am sure she will come to appreciate your gesture of hospitality. Won’t you, darling?” He clasped his large hand over her trembling one and pulled her next to him.

  “Of course, Señor.” Her voice startled her with its assuredness, for she felt anything but calm. “Tell me, do you have fresh linens for us?”

  D’Alava smiled knowingly. “So! You are eager to sample the delights of this love nest, no? But of course. There is a bathing chamber through here, see?” He pointed to a door opposite the bed. “I believe it is well stocked with all you shall need, including netting to ward off mosquitoes, if memory serves me correctly. But you needn’t trouble yourselves. The maid will take care of everything.”

  As soon as d'Alava departed, Sarah released the shudder of revulsion that had been building up, and backed away from the bed until she found herself leaning against the window sill that spanned the length of the far wall. Aiming a gloved forefinger at the monstrosity, she declared, “I will die before I sleep in that hideous thing! It’s not fit for a brothel!”

  Stewart was unperturbed as his hand carelessly traced the carvings on one of the posters. “I did not realize you were familiar with the décor of a brothel. Actually, this would fit in rather nicely, I believe.” His eyes examined her leisurely, for she presented a startlingly pretty picture in her violet day gown, firm breasts heaving in her discomfiture. The afternoon light softened the rosy hue of her skin, and her chestnut hair shone where it was touched by dappled sunlight.

  “I fail to see the humor,” Sarah snapped, crossing her arms in defense of his gaze. Obviously she was not aware that in so doing she was presenting him with an even more provocative view. “This place is unlivable, though it seems not to bother you one iota.”

  “Since we have little else to do, perhaps we can remedy that somewhat. Unless, of course, you find housecleaning an offensive chore.”

  “Filth offends me, sir, as does your smugness,” she muttered, removing her hat and gloves and pushing up her sleeves.

  The two attacked the bedroom and bathing chamber, using strips torn from the bed sheets to knock down cobwebs and dust the few pieces of furniture in the rooms. Stewart managed to pull the mattress to the small balcony on one side of the room, beating the feather-stuffed ticking soundly to free the dust and stale odors. By the time he returned it, Sarah had shaken out the clean but musty linens and the two proceeded to make up the bed. He laughed aloud when she produced a bottle of toilet water from her case and liberally sprinkled the sweet-smelling perfume on the sheets and pillow cases. “Now I am convinced you know something of brothels. ‘Tis a very effective means of freshening up between customers.”

  She was about to level a scathing retort when a knock sounded at the door. Stewart went to open it and found himself confronted by a shy young black girl loaded down with a pail of water, linens and various cleaning items. “Come in,” he smiled engagingly, taking the heavy bucket from her. “We’ve taken the liberty of starting without you.”

  Thegirlgavehimapuzzledlook,buther eyes widened in surprise as she saw the very beautiful lady, her dress wrinkled and damp with perspiration, face flushed, and hair tumbling in sweaty ringlets, coming round the end of the bed.

  ThelookmadeSarahconsciousofher rumpled appearance, but she was much too preoccupied to do more than rub her sleeve across her brow. “How do you do?” she asked briskly, taking in the girl’s simple, flowered dress, skinny ankles and bare feet peeking out from beneath. With a smile, she added, more kindly, “What is your name?”

  “Galena,” the waif replied nervously, in a strangely-accented voice. “Come to m-make nice.” “Iamsoglad,”Sarahanswered.“Here,come with me and we will have this place spotless in no time.”

  “No!” the girl implored. “I clean. You not work. Señor not like you work.” “Wellhe’llneverknow,willhe?”Sarahsmiled sweetly, taking the girl’s arm and pulling her toward the bathing chamber. “You are going to need our help if you’re ever to finish before nightfall.”

  It was some time later that Sarah found herself finally relaxing in a heavenly warm and fragrant bath that Galena had prepared for her. It had been a long time since she had exerted so much physical effort and her muscles ached with satisfying fatigue. Stewart had gone off to do some reconnaissance so she luxuriated in her privacy, knowing that she’d be undisturbed until dinner.

  She found Galena to be a competent, willing maid, eager to demonstrate her skills that were rarely in demand in d’Alava’s mansion. Galena had managed to find a new dress for Sarah to wear, since her trunks were still aboard ship. It was a trifle too daring – an extremely low-cut empirestyled gown in a pale blue silk that clung most provocatively – but it was clean and fitted her tall, slim figure. The shy girl was an excellent hairdresser, Sarah was pleased to discover, and worshipfully clucked and fussed over her glossy, smooth tresses, so unlike Galena’s own crimped, short hair. As she finished up her task of placing a fragrant camellia entered the room. in the upswept style, Stewart

  “I see clothes have been found for you, too,” Sarah said casually, though her heart raced with a sudden thrill at seeing Stewart immaculately attired in white breeches, hose, shirt, stock and vest and a rich green cutaway coat. His face seemed darker, more handsome, and his pearly teeth dazzled as he smiled his approval of her décolletage.

  “Yes, our host is eager to please,” he replied ruefully, holding the jacket open for a moment. “It seems he has enough clothing here to outfit the capitals of Europe.” Turning for a moment to the reticent young girl, he spoke gently. “Galena, your handiwork is truly appreciated. My beautiful wife has not looked quite so ravishing since we first began our voyage.” Both women blushed under Stewart’s lazy perusal, but for entirely different reasons.

  “Nowmaywehaveamomentofprivacy?I’d like to speak with Mrs. Chamberlain before dinner.” The maid bowed briefly, then beat a hasty retreat, a happy expression on her dark face. Sarah, on the other hand, frowned slightly, finding it uncomfortable to be alone with this tall and disturbingly handsome man. Pretending to fuss with her earrings in front of the looking glass on the dressing table, she spoke offhandedly.

  “And where did you manage to find a bath?” Walking up behind her, he directed his reply to her reflection. “There’s a rather delightful lagoon but a minute’s walk from this wing. Remind me to show it to you tomorrow.” He bent his head close to hers. “Perhaps you might be encouraged to join me in my next partaking?”

  Annoyed at his implication, Sarah hastily slid off the hassock, and occupied herself with smoothing the clinging gown. “I prefer something mo
re civilized if you don’t mind. Tell me; were you able to get Tegan out of the sailors’ quarters?” Her concern for her maid appeared in a sudden widening of her azure eyes.

  “Much to my surprise, d’Alava is being amenable to practically our every wish. Jeremiah said he found the idea much to his liking, after he told d’Alava she – he – was responsible for our meals aboard ship. I guess his own chef is average at best. I just hope ....”

  “Stewart, you don’t think d’Alava would demand to keep her here, do you?” He raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Now Sarah, don’t go borrowing distress. We will deal with any problems as they arise, not before. We have every reason to believe that we will be on our way in a fortnight – with the entire crew intact. Jeremiah and I looked over the work that d’Alava wants done, and it’s not extensive. Now just worry yourself with continuing your convincing performance, and we’ll take care of the rest.” As he spoke, he had gained her side and was putting his arms around her. Sarah cowered for a moment under his captivating onslaught, then began to struggle.

  “My role begins out there,” she muttered through clenched white teeth, pointing her chin toward the door. “Not in here!”

  Brown eyes caressed her face, then dipped to the nearly immodest display of creamy white skin above her bodice, while all the time his arms held firm. “My only wish is to help set the proper mood. Is it too difficult for you to imagine what d’Alava believes we are doing every hour we are alone?” He chuckled at her gasp of embarrassment. “It’s important that you look like a sated, thoroughly enraptured bride, fresh from her marriage bed yet stimulated by musings of the next joining.” She thrust her face away, her body hot yet stiff with indignation at being spoken to with such intimacy. Undaunted, Stewart pressed his face against the arched and straining neck she presented him and between titillating kisses thereon, he murmured, “Since you’re as yet unwilling to feel like a real bride, at least let me light a fire in your eyes ...”

  Try as she might, Sarah could not control the racing of her heart nor stop her ragged breathing. Stewart’s lips were communicating with a part of her far more willing than her mind. Each touch of his mouth on her neck, her throat, her cheek, her ear, brought waves of pleasure that made her struggles seem sensuous rather than defensive. In a final effort to stop his experienced seduction, she nudged her upturned face toward him, choking, “Don’t ... please ....”

  It was a fatal maneuver, for his lips captured hers and held them prisoner while his tongue Endeavoured to probe the sweet depths exposed to him. She was lost; overwhelmed by the need he had so skillfully brought to the surface. With a defeated moan, she brought her arms, which were suddenly freed, around his neck, and leaned her body closer to his hard form. He held her so for a moment, letting his hands run at will up her bare back and down to her softly rounded hips. Then he took a step forward and she ached with the blissful feel of his thigh pushing against the flimsy skirt covering her legs.

  When it became apparent that he was as much aroused as she, Sarah was surprised that her own reaction was one of satisfaction rather than revulsion. So she, too, had the power to stir. The thought so overpowered her that she failed to realize he’d guided her to the bed until the back of her legs hit the cool wood and she dropped softly to the mattress, Stewart’s arm gently cradling her, as his other broke their fall.

  Immediately she sti ffened as a gasp of panic escaped from her partially covered mouth, But Stewart persisted, carefully working to erase her fears with sweet, gentle kisses on her lips and face, his free hand taking her fingers that were pushing against his chest and returning them to his neck. His eyes, black glimmers in the dim candlelight, allayed her struggling somewhat, as they were warm and loving, with no trace of their usual arrogance.

  Finally she relaxed again, twining her fingers into his wavy hair and letting her delicate tongue and teeth join her lips in pursuit of passion. It was then that Stewart allowed his leg to drive casually across her hips and in this sublime captivity, she felt his hand come up between them to the exposed flesh of her bosom. Her eyes flew open as his burning fingers explored the edge of her low bodice to find the ribbon fastening her chemise. She pulled him closer to her hoping to thwart his attempts, but her strength was feeble and she felt the undergarment give way.

  With a voice gentle and persuasive, he began whispering endearments, and between kisses and feather-soft nibbles, he encouraged her acceptance of his caress. Her whole body shuddered when his strong but gentle hand pushed the bodice away from her shoulders, slid beneath the corset and brought forth a full, rounded breast, the rosy nipple peaking with excitement. He kissed her lovingly while he massaged her, his palm bringing excruciating pleasure until this moment unknown to her. When she thought she could stand it no longer, he took the tender tip between thumb and forefinger, rubbing it until she felt she would drown with longing.

  As Stewart boldly exposed her other breast, his lips left her slackened mouth, burning a trail down the hollow of her neck to come to rest on a swelling bud, which his moist tongue teased mercilessly. A sob escaped Sarah’s spoiled lips as her senses went numb with shock, his actions so unimaginably persuasive. But at the same time, with her heart thumping so strongly that her ears rang, she awakened to the indescribable ache of passion in her loins – a phenomenon so new, so exciting, that she was rendered completely helpless by the effects. Unbidden, her trembling hands pressed Stewart’s head closer against her bosom as she basked in the heat of his lean and hard body, his hips moving ardently against her thinly-clad shape.

  Sarah didn’t hear the knock on the door, but when Stewart suddenly raised his head, leaving her moistened skin vulnerable to the air, her mind reeled in shocked confusion. Stiffening when he calmly called out an inquiry, she held her breath as she heard Galena announce dinner through the closed door and then leave nearly as silently as she had come.

  With a displeased growl, Stewart returned his gaze to the woman beneath him, expecting to look into dazed, navy blue eyes. But instead, Sarah’s fair face was contorted by surprise and horror as she saw, for the first time, the reflection of twining bodies and her own bare flesh on the looking glass overhead. With a cry, she began frantically pulling up her somewhat limp dress, casting her eyes up and down, embarrassed as though the glass were a shop window rather than a mirror.

  Stewart chuckled indulgently and captured her flailing hands in his steel grasp, forcing her to glare at him when he still managed to fondle the heaving mounds she was bent on hiding. His slim, warm hand caressed her, and even though Sarah still burned from their lovemaking, his sardonic expression humiliated her and an angry, remorseful tear slid from her eye.

  “What’s this? Tears?” he asked, an indulgent note in his deep voice. “I too am sorry we’ve been so rudely interrupted, but later ....”

  “Stop it!” she sobbed through lips that felt too swollen to speak. With a lunge, she attempted to rise but the result was completely unsuccessful, so great was the weight above her.

  “Sarah?” Immediately his voice was again warm and concerned as he moved to cradle her against him, his magical fingers brushing the tear away, just as another formed in the other eye. “What is it, love? What’s wrong?”

  “This is wrong!” she gasped. “This tawdry setting. And you! Haven’t you an ounce of decency in your black heart? I am not some cheap lightskirt, and I see no humor in your conquest.” Ignoring the warming glint in his observant eyes, she added with a vengeance, “And don’t make it even more sordid by pretending you care about my feelings. It is quite obvious you do not. Now if you’ll allow me the dignity of covering myself ....”

  His tone was instantly tough, sarcastic. “What? And risk changing your low opinion of me? Perhaps I should take your clothes away and force you to parade for my pleasure ....” His eyes burned her flesh with their smoldering perusal even as his words caused a tremor to engulf her. But when he saw the hurt and fear in her expression, knowing she believed absolutely that he was ca
pable of heaping such humiliation on her, Stewart abruptly rolled away and swung himself up from the bed, angry, no longer with her, but with himself for his dark humor.

  Sarah scrambled o ff the mattress and away from the stark reflection of herself in the mirror. Her limbs felt weighted and numb as she shakily repaired her dishabille. Feeling sharp brown eyes boring into her back did little to ease her troubled spirits. She knew Stewart was very angry with her and this made her earlier pleasure seem all the more vulgar and tragic.

  Butwhatdidheexpectofher?Tohaveher fall happily into his arms, heedless of the consequences? His triumphant, disquieting mood had convinced her that his domination of her physical body was the only appeal she held for him. Where would she be left once she had made the ultimate sacrifice? The answer was more troubling than she cared to ponder.

  But briefly, spurred on by the hot glow left by his skilled touch on her innocent flesh, she realized what a tender trap he had set. The awakening of this primitive need prompted an almost desperate longing for more caresses incautiously accepted. How long could she remain strong when she was forced to share intimate quarters and these all-too-dangerous private moments?

  The threat was not even abated when they were in the company of others, Sarah realized dejectedly. For a man who held such a dim view of marriage, Stewart convincing husband proud and protective of his bride – the perfect mate. His words, breaking into her thoughts, startled her.

  was an enthusiastic and

  – affectionate, considerate, “Are you ready to go?” It was impossible to tell what he was feeling, for his voice was even, unemotional.

  “Y-yes,” she stumbled, not daring to look back at him lest her eyes give away her pain and confusion. She slowly began her walk to the door, willing herself not to flinch when his large hand embraced her bare elbow as he gained her side.