Love Me With Fury

by Janelle Taylor

  “I do? Why?”

  “You’re the first woman who’s fit into my life so nicely. But I can’t take the time or energy to keep you right now.”

  “What if I agree to wait for you?” she boldly offered.

  “What about your father and his demands?” he countered.

  “I could refuse to go back. I could wait at your home.”

  “Until I left? You’d be gone the moment my back was turned, just like tonight,” he challenged her honesty and feelings.

  “You know why I tried to leave! You’ve been mean and cruel.”

  “Were you heading for your uncle’s?” he inquired.

  “Yes. He’s probably frantic by now.”

  “Where?”

  “Why do you always do this? You’re only trying to trick me!”

  “How else can I protect both you and me?”

  “You don’t care about me, only yourself and your greedy pockets. By the way, I took some money from your desk. It’s in your clothes I borrowed.”

  He burst into laughter. “Too bad you aren’t this honest all the time.”

  He reached and pulled her down to him. Before she could pull free, his mouth was covering hers. He pressed her into the softness of his bed, his hands taking command of her body. It was useless to resist him—and Alex realized she didn’t want to resist him. It was sheer madness, but she couldn’t help herself.

  Once their passions were sated, she snuggled into his protective arms and went to sleep. He gazed down at her. Why did she have to look and act like such an innocent? In and out of bed, she was an intoxicating delight. Too many secrets were between them. First the truth, then…He shook his head as if to clear it of these unwanted intrusions. Even if Angelique were innocent of all wrongs, he couldn’t seriously consider a future with a peasant girl. When his sons were born, their bloodline would be matchless. Of all men alive, he knew how important a spotless heritage was!

  In spite of his vanity and arrogance, he couldn’t keep her dangling for years, and he couldn’t make any commitments to any female at present. Still, she was too rare a treasure to lose. He fumed at the fate which had borne them of different classes. If a woman this unique had to enter his life, why couldn’t she be a lady? For the time being, she was his. He determined to take all she had to give until the day came when he would be forced to send her away…and that day would come.

  To dismantle her guard, Spencer began a new and compelling tactic that next day. He resolved to have her so enamored of him that she could confess the very depths of her soul. He spent every moment possible with her, assailing her mind and body with his multiple and irresistible charms. He was mellow and loving; he was tender and passionate. He entertained her with tall tales about his adventures. He waited upon her like a devoted slave. He was overpowering and charming, everything a dreamy hero should be.

  Spencer would take her walking on the decks twice a day: during the early morning when the mist was just rising from the sea and the sun was dancing over the water, and just at evening tide when the moon was scanning her face in the serene ocean. The colors, odors, and sights set a very romantic and tranquil mood…and Alex found herself loving every minute of her captivity.

  They would share marvelous dinners by candlelight, and would dance in the privacy of his cabin to the haunting strains of music coming from the deck. They would converse on many subjects; yet, Spencer never questioned how she knew so much or why she was so polished and educated. Amidst the display of her refined qualities and best behavior, he refused to comprehend what fineness was before him. He denied all his perceptions and reactions but his delight in vividly charming her.

  Two weeks passed as they savored each other without pressures. The more Alex relaxed and warmed up to him, the more he suspected her eventual defeat. Spencer dreaded the thought of her final submission; for once she capitulated, he would have no reasonable excuse to keep her. For that reason alone, he ceased to make any demands for the truth. With her and the ominous petticoat in his possession, she was no threat to America.

  Skirting the southern coast to watch for a fleet coming from that direction, the days were long and lazy and the nights heady and short. Once while anchored in a cove, they went for a moonlight swim and made love on the beach. Alex wondered at this gay abandonment she was experiencing. Was she becoming as wanton as some street slattern? No matter what her head told her, her heart always overruled its logic. There was no denying the fact she was in love with this magnificent man who was so strong and so tender. In view of his present conduct, she assumed he was feeling the same way she was. With all her heart, she honestly felt he loved her and wanted to keep her. She concluded she had won his trust and his affection. Even his crew had come to treat her with respect and fondness as the captain’s woman.

  During the third week with her love, a terrible event took place: the American Captain Rodgers sank the English warship Belvidera. From the talk she overheard, Rodgers’s ship had become separated from the rest of the American squadron and was laying waste to many British merchant ships up and down the coast. Following the Black Mist’s capture of an English frigate, they learned the English fleet was pursuing Rodgers for revenge.

  As the men rambled on without awareness to her nearby presence, Alex was horrified to learn the greatest ship in the American line, the Constitution, had outwitted the British who were lying in wait for Rodgers. She held her breath as she listened to their versions of the fierce and bloody battles going on near the Canadian border. Somehow she couldn’t find joy in the British victories at the cost of so many lives. Why were her countrymen employing savages to slaughter friends and kin? She feared to hear the names of Englishmen or Americans whom she knew.

  Not wishing to refresh Stephen’s suspicions about her, Alex stubbornly refused to question him about the war and depended upon eavesdropping for her news. Thinking of her beloved uncle, she fretted over this ghastly war which didn’t sound promising for the Americans. The Royal Navy had never been defeated; how could America defend herself against such a force when she could only boast of a few meager ships? Their only hope lay in the mighty Constitution, and she could only do so much. In a way, Alex was slightly perturbed with Stephen for not lending his ship, men, and himself to this obviously just cause!

  Before leaving home, her father had been distressed and angered by America’s embargo, Napoleon’s Continental System, and England’s Orders-in-Council. Did those messages between her uncle and her father contain treasonous information? Had they decided to use privateers to save their shipping business? If only she knew what those baffling stitches said! Until Stephen proved his love and faith, she dared not trust him with their identities. But, oh, how she wished she could!

  New fears and doubts tormented her. They had outsailed several ships and attacked others. How long could their luck hold out? What future did this life offer either of them? How she wished he would become a loyal American, for then she would accept him.

  Each time they docked or anchored near the American coast, Stephen would go ashore for hours. She would pace the confines of his cabin until he returned safely. After each separation, no matter how brief, she would fall into his arms and make almost savage and desperate love to him. When he returned after an overly long visit, she would rant angrily in relief before he would scoop her up in his arms and toss her on the bed to make leisurely and tormentingly tantilizing love to her.

  Time seemed endless; and yet, it was passing swiftly. August was half over when the final straw to their bittersweet stalemate came. The Black Mist had boldly taken many British merchant ships and daringly sunk several English frigates. They had delivered confiscated booty to different ports and had restocked simultaneously. Not once had Stephen given in to her pleas to go ashore. He steadily warned of her dangerous predicament if anyone learned of her presence. Believing he was sincerely concerned about her health and safety, she obeyed his every command.

  Alex was perplexed by the brown packets which
Stephen would bring to his cabin and conceal after battles with English ships. She was even more confused when he took them with him when he went ashore. Yet, the significance of these actions never registered in her innocent mind.

  Her heart sank the night he returned to his ship in a stormy rage. On August nineteenth, the Constitution had confronted and disabled the noted Guerriere! Alex couldn’t believe that shocking news. Instead of being elated, Stephen was furious. During an explosive outburst, she learned why. The British army and naval fleet were making steady and deadly progress against the American forces on land and sea. Her country was even threatening to blockade the entire coast! Thousands of men had died, some brutally at the hands of Indians. Wounded soldiers lying near death had been slaughtered and scalped on British instruction! It was an awesome thing to discover about her own people.

  She had been with Stephen for nearly two months now. He had not mentioned the notorious petticoat until tonight. As he paced his cabin in pensive thought, she watched him closely and curiously. She wondered what had him so upset.

  Alex would never have suspected what was troubling the pirate so deeply. Matters were getting worse on land and at sea. Madison had ordered him to proceed to Florida to meet with the new Spanish governor to convince him to allow an American stronghold in his territory and to prevent the English from digging in there as a supply stop and for attacking America from her southern border. With the dangers increasing daily and his missions becoming more critical and secret, he couldn’t keep Angelique any longer. Should he release her or turn her in?

  Spencer wished Castlereagh’s letter of capitulation to the Americans’ terms had come sooner. He raged at his timing, for never had it been more costly. He had been rescuing Angelique and wasting time with Thackery while that ominous letter was slowly, too slowly, making its way across the Atlantic ocean to arrive after the American declaration of war. If only he had intercepted the Hornet instead! The plan set into motion, there was no turning back now. Only victory would appease the Americans.

  In light of the intensity of the war, he needed his full concentration on the war at hand. Time for leniency and personal pleasures had run out. He needed to get down to serious fighting now. Whatever Angelique’s connections were, he was determined to uncover them.

  He halted his aimless roamings to stare at her. Confusion clouded her eyes. “Is something wrong, Stephen?” she softly asked.

  “It damn well is, love. You,” he added mysteriously.

  “Me? I don’t understand. Did I do something to upset you?”

  “If you can’t relate the code on your petticoat, give me the names of the men involved. I have to know now, Angel. It’s vital.”

  She looked at him. “That isn’t important, Stephen,” she protested, alarmed by the way he was acting.

  “Let me decide if you don’t mind,” he snarled.

  “I do mind. I can’t tell you,” she refused as in the past.

  “You can and you will!” he thundered, astonishing her with his vehemence. His eyes narrowed and darkened in reckless determination.

  “No,” she replied, her tone carrying a pleading note.

  “I’ve spent nearly two months playing the lovestruck idiot to you. The game is over! Tell me what I want to know, woman!”

  “Game?” she echoed. Only a game?

  “That’s right, love. I tried to win your trust and affection, but I failed. I’m weary of coddling you and coaxing you. I see no reason for your continued silence. If you don’t relent soon, I’ll be forced to take drastic measures,” he threatened.

  Drastic measures? After all they had shared, would he really turn her over to her enemies? His expression and tone said yes. She grimaced at the pain of his calloused betrayal. It would have only required three short words to extract anything from her. But in his arrogant resolve, he had stubbornly and haughtily refused them.

  Alex was beyond caring now. If the choice was between her freedom and her father’s life and reputation, there was none. “I suggest you set sail for the nearest port of American authority, for I’ll never tell you,” she blatantly resisted his fury and power.

  “You’ll be sorry, love,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

  “I already am, Captain Steele,” she uttered in despair. She had lost everything she loved and desired. What little pride and loyalty remained within her strengthened her resilience.

  He seized a handful of silvery gold hair and yanked her head backwards, compelling her to lock gazes with his. “Once the course is set, love, there’s no turning back. If I’m to help you, it must be now. Please, Angel, trust me,” he unexpectedly and tenderly entreated her.

  Tears blurring her vision, Alex vowed, “I can’t. There’s more at stake than my life and freedom. My fate lies within your hands, sir. There is nothing I can do or say to affect it.”

  “You’re blind and stupid, love. It would take but a few words to end this private war between us. Yield to me, Angel, else your life is worth little. Don’t place this monstrous decision upon my head.”

  A solitary tear slipped down her cheek. “It is already within your realm of power, sir. I have yielded all that is mine alone to give, far more than I should have. There is nothing more to grant that is mine alone. I have given my word the code is of no threat to you or the Americans. After all we have known together, if you do not trust me now, you never will. I cannot understand this fierce doubt within you, nor how you could calmly hand me over to those who have declared themselves my foes. You know what will probably happen to me. Yet, you do not care. You have no mercy or kindness, Steele. I am innocent. If I die, my blood will forever be upon your hands.”

  Thinking her trying to play upon his warring emotions, he sought to halt the ruse, “It will not be the first blood I have shed out of necessity, nor the last. You hold the deliverance of your fate within your obstinate, cunning head. If you choose to remain silent, you have only yourself to blame. You can play the patriotic martyr, but I’m no executioner. You have six days to make up your mind before we dock in Florida. When I set sail again, you will sail with me only if you earn that right.”

  “Plan to sail without me, Captain Steele,” Alex announced, her lips and chin quivering.

  “As you wish, Angel. I only pray you realize this is no game before it’s too late. If I leave you in Florida, our paths will never cross again.”

  She wondered if there was a trace of disappointment or sadness in his tone. His expression was harsh and impassive, telling her nothing. Six days to set the pattern for the remainder of her life…or death. What should she do? If he had tricked her for two months with his golden dreams and promises, he could easily delude her again.

  Bereft and alone, she turned and walked to the bed. As if minus all modesty and shame now, she quietly stripped and went to bed…as usual. Her back to him as tears of bitterness and anguish dampened her pillow, Alex could feel the force of his cold stare. She wished things were different, but they were not and never would be.

  She jumped as the cabin door slammed after his departure. Unable to prevent it, Alex burst into tears, knowing whatever they had shared for such a short time had been brutally shattered by the vicious demands of war, demands which she could not alter or prevent.

  Spencer’s pretense of resignation and acceptance of her and her silence had proven costly for each of them. It had only served to increase their love and desire for each other. Each carefree day and blissful night spent together had forged a stronger bond between them; each day, especially now, they blindly and foolishly resisted it.

  XII

  “My only love…Too early seen

  unknown, and known too late!”

  —Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare

  Avoiding each other as much as possible, the next few days passed in a tormenting existence for the illfated lovers. Spencer totally ignored Alex, in bed and out. Desperately in love, but too proud to submit, Alex avoided the moody captain.

  Two days fr
om their destination, black clouds began to build ominously upon the far horizon, rapidly closing in on the tall-masted ship now boasting white sails and the name Wandering Siren. For an hour the storm trailed them like a persistent hound after a wounded deer. The winds were gradually picking up, warning of what was to come. The waves answered her gusty cries, crashing white tips against the sturdy hull of the ship. The sails crackled and popped like corn in a hot pan. Eventually all traces of white and blue disappeared from the heavens. Only leaden gray and portentous black could be sighted. The mare’s-tails upon the horizon forecast the bleak story of what was in store.

  “Batten down the hatches and gear, men,” came their captain’s command as he stood proud, calm, and self-assured upon the rolling deck on his first love. “When she hits, she’ll take her toll.”

  “Should I warn Angelique we’ll be hitting a violent squall soon?” Andy asked in deep concern for the lovely creature his friend was mentally and emotionally torturing. After being around her for so many weeks, he wasn’t at all convinced Josh was accurate in his stubborn assumptions.

  “She’ll know soon enough,” he growled impatiently, growing weary and annoyed at the way his crew was rebelling against his decisions.

  The tempest hit at sunset, attacking as viciously as a starving wolf on a helpless lamb. The winds and waves seemed to join forces to test the strength and prowess of this ship and her captain. The massive craft heaved violently under this assault of nature. The ship heeled sharply to the leeward side as several crew members struggled with the heavy sails. Water surged over the sides to flood the deck.

  The persistent waves tugged at gear and men, begging to take them along with their watery fingers. White-knuckled hands clung frantically to ropes and denied Mother Nature her sacrifices. From behind the thunderous clouds shot jagged streaks of lightning, dancing like eerie skeletons upon a somber backdrop. Rain beat down upon the men with a stinging, punishing force. It was impossible to assess which element rendered the most power or the loudest noise: the crashing waves, the howling winds, the roaring thunder, the defenseless sails and groaning masts, or the crew screaming over them to be heard.