Sally Wentworth - The Sea Master

by Sally Wentworth

  and wandered off towards the town as if being asked to do something like this was commonplace. She just hoped that he was honest and would do as she asked, but there was no alternative when she couldn't leave the boat herself.

  It was very late before Guy came back. Michelle was sitting on the deck watching for him, his sweater pulled over the tee-shirt because the breeze had turned cool now that it was dark. The town seemed so busy and so noisy after the quietness of the open sea; music came from the open doors of several bars along the waterfront, several parties were going on aboard the big motor-yachts anchored in the marina, and in the background there was the steady hum of traffic driving along the main road. Michelle tried to tell herself that she wasn't worried, but as the hours dragged by and the day gave way to night, she had become, increasingly anxious. What if something had happened to-him? What if he'd had an accident?

  When she finally saw him walking down the jetty she could have cried with relief. Springing to her feet, she ran to the side and grabbed his arm as soon as he came near, almost unbalancing him as he swung a leg over the rail.

  'Where have you been?' she demanded in the fury that always follows relief. 'I expected you back hours ago!'

  Guy's dark eyebrows rose in surprise. 'The chap I was seeing insisted on taking me out to dinner.' His tone sharpened. 'Why, what's happened?'

  Michelle tried to get a grip on herself, guessing that he would hate anyone, especially a woman, to act possessively over him. 'Nothing. It's just—that I was—was worried about you,' she answered lamely, half turning away and looking down at her bare feet.

  Guy was silent for a moment, then said gently, Tin sorry. I'm not used to anyone worrying about me, you see.'

  That statement, and the tone in which it was said, made her head jerk up in surprise. But there was no time to read his expression because he was holding a large box out to her, a grin on his face.

  'Here, isn't this what you've been waiting for?'

  'What is it?'

  'Clothes, of course! And then he laughed as her face lit up with pleasure.

  'Oh, Guy, thank you!' She made a grab at the box as he playfully raised his arm so that she had to jump for it. Her other hand she put on his shoulder, and finished up leaning against him. For a second her face was close to his. Without stopping to think about it, she kissed him quickly on the mouth, whispered huskily, 'I'm glad you're back,' then took the box from his hand and ran down below with it.

  In her cabin she emptied the box on her bunk-and went through the contents ecstatically. First there was a pair of pretty, colourful sandals that fitted perfectly and felt terribly strange after walking around in bare feet for so long. She tried a couple of turns round the cabin and discovered that she'd have to learn how to walk in high heels all over again. Next she found a pale blue cotton bikini, a pair of white shorts with a red and white striped sun-top to go with them, and also some underclothes: a couple of pairs of pants with matching bras. Michelle exclaimed with pleasure, tried everything on and couldn't fault a tiling; All her life she had always had as many clothes as she wanted, but none of them had given her anything like the thrill that these did. She twisted in front of the mirror trying to see her

  back view, realising that Guy must have a great deal of experience at buying clothes for women if he could just walk into a shop and pick out the right style, colour and size so unerringly. That thought gave her pause for a moment, but she shrugged it off; she already knew that, didn't she?

  There were some cosmetics in the box, lipstick, eye-shadow, mascara, etc., and one other garment, packed separately. It was a dress in soft, floating dark-gold silk. Carefully, Michelle removed it from its tissue wrappings and put it on. It was a young, simple style, sleeveless, with a fullish skirt and wide gold belt, but the shirt style top clung to her breasts and the belt emphasised the slimness of her waist. Slowly she picked up the cosmetics and began to apply them, then stepped back to look at herself critically. She looked what she was, a girl on the brink of womanhood. Her body had the firm tautness of youth, but there was femininity in the roundness of her breasts, the gracefulness of her neck and arms. Her tan helped, of course; the gold of the dress would have made her look pale and insipid without it, but now she looked like a creature of the sun, embraced by it and a part of it. Her hard work on the boat had made her lose weight and her face was thinner, emphasising the fine hollows of her cheeks, and her brown hair had a golden tint from the sun. She knew, with sudden certainty and excitement, that she had never looked better. She would never be beautiful, but she came very close to it now. She looked ready tor life, for love.

  Guy hadn't come down below or she would have heard him. With a little smile Michelle undid another button so that the soft swell of her breasts was revealed, and went up on deck to find him.

  He wag sitting on the squab seats on the afterdeck, a drink in his hand and his, legs stretched out in front of him. He had taken off his tie and his shirt was open at the neck, revealing a deep V of tanned skin. Michelle's heart jumped crazily and she had to take several deep breaths before she could walk out and stand in front of him.

  'How do I look?' she demanded unevenly.

  His eyes ran over her, but his face was in shadow and she couldn't tell what he was thinking. The sound of music drifted across to them from another boat, a soft, insidious love song.

  At last he said, 'You look—very different.'

  Just that, with nothing in his tone to tell her whether he approved or not.

  Michelle laughed, trying to keep it light, and hoping that it didn't sound selfconscious. 'Well, I hoped I might.'

  She hoped he might say something else too but, although his eyes were still on her, he seemed absorbed in something else, then he blinked and gave a quick shake of his head as if he was trying to pull himself together. 'Sorry. Would you like a drink?’

  'No.' Michelle sat down beside him and leant back against the cushions. 'Thank you for the clothes.’

  'I'm afraid I didn't have time to go to the Post Office today. I got those things from a shop in the hotel where we had dinner. But at least you'll have something to wear when you go shopping.'

  'Yes.' Michelle slid along to lean against him.

  'Cold?'

  'A little.'

  His arm lay on the back of her seat and he moved it forward so that it was across her shoulders. Michelle tucked her feet up under her and nestled against him.

  'Is the broker going to look over the boat?'

  'Mm. He seemed really interested. Said she sounds just the size that he could do with, and if she comes up to expectations he'll want to order several.' He had been idly running his fingers up and down her arm as he talked and Michelle could hardly keep from gasping aloud at the sensations his touch aroused in her.

  'When is he coming?' .

  'Tomorrow morning. I'm not sure exactly when, but he said he'd try and make it as early as possible. I want to refuel and push on to Miami as soon as I can.'

  He was silent for a while and Michelle knew a great feeling of contentment; to be held like this, even so casually, with his arm around her, close together in the soft darkness, with only the distant musk and the soft lapping of the waves against the boat to disturb them. This was peace, this was heaven.

  But presently his hand stopped, tightened a little, but his voice was' quite offhand as he said, 'How about you? Will you stay in Bermuda for a while before you go back to England? You don't have to worry about money, by the way; I'll give you enough for your fare home and to keep you in Bermuda for a couple of weeks if you want to stay.'

  'You don't have to give me any money…' Michelle began, but he cut in sharply.

  'Nonsense! All boat crews have it written into their contract that they get their fare home. And besides, I owe you your wages.' .

  Taking her courage in both hands, Michelle said as lightly as she could, 'I'm enjoying the sun, but I don't think I particularly want to stay on in Bermuda. I think I'll go on to Miami with
you.'

  She felt him stiffen, then he straightened up in his seat and took his arm from round her shoulders. 'Can't be done, I'm afraid,' he told her tersely,' You have to have an entry visa to go to America.'

  Michelle bit her lip, looking at the firm profile of his face in the moonlight, the straight nose, the strong, clean lines of his mouth and jaw. Somehow she had to try and break through that iron determination. 'That's no problem,' she told him. 'I could just stay on the boat, like I am now.':.

  'But I intend to sell the boat in Miami, not sail it back to London,' Guy said shortly. 'And anyway, you'd do better to go back to England.'

  He moved to get up, but Michelle caught his arm. 'Please don't go. Not yet.'

  Reluctantly he leant back again and she kept hold of his arm, feeling the hard muscles beneath the cloth of his jacket. Leaning her head on his shoulder again, she sought for the right words. 'It seems rather a waste to have at last got me working fairly efficiently and then to send me home before the voyage is over.'

  'Why do you want to stay on?' he asked abruptly.

  Because I love you, Michelle wanted to say, because just to see you, be near you, to touch you, makes my heart want to burst with happiness. But she couldn't say that, of course, not now, not yet, not ever perhaps. Emotion threatened to choke her and her voice was husky as she answered, 'Because I'm happy here on the Ethes. I'm happy with you,' she added daringly, and waited breathlessly for his reaction.

  It was immediate rejection. Guy stood up and turned to face her, his features set into a hard mask. 'No, you're just happy because you're starting to grow up, to be free of some of your inhibitions at last. If you want to start experimenting with life then the sooner you get back to England the better.'

  'I don't want to, start experimenting,' Michelle returned tartly.

  'Oh, yes, you do. Do you think I'm blind? I inadvertently roused your sexual curiosity those first few days aboard before I found out…' he paused, 'just how young you were. And now you can't wait to satisfy that curiosity.'

  Michelle's hands curled into fists and she had to hide them in the folds of her skirt. Unsteadily she said, 'So don't you think you ought to finish—what you began?'

  His jaw tightened. 'Why me?' Why not one of your boy-friends back home?'

  She licked lips gone suddenly dry. 'I've never known anyone like you before. My boy-friends, that's what they were—just boys, compared to you.'

  Guy thrust his hands into his pockets and stared down at her in silence for what seemed an age, then he said shortly, 'So I happen to be the first older man you've ever been close to. But when you get home you'll probably meet someone, fall in love and be happy to give…'

  'I won't!' Michelle interrupted forcefully, then, more gently, 'I know I won't. I want to stay here, with you.'

  Guy's dark brows drew together into a frown. Brusquely he said, 'You're too young and inexperienced for me, Mitch. You're like a bud that's waiting to burst into flower.'

  Slowly she stood up, a shaft of moonlight catching the soft folds of her dress and turning it to molten gold as she moved towards him. She stopped close by and gazed up at him. 'So—teach me,' she said softly, tentatively putting out her hand to touch his sleeve.

  He didn't answer for a long moment, just stood staring down at her, then swung abruptly away until brought up short by the rail. Michelle's hand dropped limply to her side and she knew she'd lost even before he spoke.

  'When I make love to a woman it's on equal terms,' he told her bluntly. 'That of teacher isn't my role. Go back home and do your experimenting with someone your own age, Mitch. I don't give lessons to little girls!' he added cruelly.

  Desolation filled her heart, but somehow; she managed to say with quiet dignity, 'Oh, but you do. Not in the way you mean, perhaps, but I've learnt a lot from you on this trip.' She shivered suddenly and put her hands up to rub her arms. 'It's chilly, and I'm rather tired. Goodnight, Guy.' She walked past him to the galley steps, then paused. 'Thank you again for the clothes. You have very good taste.'

  He was watching her, a strangely intent look on his face, his hands still thrust into his pockets, and for a moment he didn't answer, then he merely said, 'Goodnight, Mitch,' and she nodded and went down the steps.

  'Mitch! Mitch, where are you?' "

  Guy's voice reached to where Michelle was sitting on the swimming platform at the stern of the boat, dabbling her bare feet in the water and watching some windsurfers trying to stay upright behind their colourful sails farther along the bay.

  'I'm here.' She got up, climbed the ladder on to the deck and ran towards him. He had gone into the town only a quarter of an hour ago and she hadn't expected him back so soon. 'It's all right, your broker friend didn't turn up while you were away.'

  But he hardly seemed interested. His brows were drawn into a frown and there was a grim look in his eyes as he said tersely, 'I've just been to the Post Office; your passport isn't there.'

  'Oh.' Taken by surprise, Michelle could feel colour coming into her cheeks despite her efforts to control it. 'Isn't it?' she added lamely.

  Guy's eyes had narrowed. 'No, it isn't—and I rather think you knew it wouldn't be there all along,' he bit out menacingly, taking a step towards her.

  Michelle laughed-nervously and backed away. 'But how could I?'

  'I don't know, but I'm certainly going to find out.'

  He made a lunge for her, but Michelle turned and fled, heading for the galley steps and the temporary safety of her cabin door between them. Temporary, she knew, because Guy wouldn't let it stand in his way for long. But she had only got half way down the deck before he caught her and swung her round.

  'You knew that passport wasn't going to be there, didn't you? Didn't you?' he repeated, grabbing her other wrist and pushing her back against the main saloon bulkhead.

  'Of course I didn't. Let me go, you're hurting my wrists!' Michelle knew that she'd given herself away, but she tried desperately for time to think.

  But Guy didn't give her time for anything. He used his body to stop her struggles and demanded, 'I want the truth and I want it now. Who was the man whose address you gave me? Did he really have your passport?'

  'Mind your own damn business! Let me go! Fear made her raise her voice and continue to struggle, arching her back and trying to wrench her wrists free. She was wearing just the new bikini and Guy his shorts and a loose cotton spoils shirt. As she struggled her legs rubbed against his and she could feel the hardness of his body pressing against her thighs. She began to pant with exertion, the moist gleam of sweat "on her skin.

  'You're going to tell me, -you little bitch. D'you hear me? Or I'll…'

  But whatever threat he was going to make was bitten off as a voice behind them with an American accent, drawled out, 'Hey there! Am I interrupting something?'

  Guy swung his head round to look at the man who had climbed on to the deck, then slowly let her go. 'Nothing that can't wait,' he answered grimly as he gave Michelle a threatening look, his breath still rapid and uneven.

  He moved forward to greet the man white Michelle rubbed her wrists, grateful for the breathing space but knowing that Guy would make her give him the answers he wanted as soon as they were alone again. The visitor was-obviously the expected broker, but he seemed in no hurry to look over the boat, instead running his eyes over Michelle in a frank appraisal that brought a flush to her cheeks.

  He turned to Guy. 'Have you got many more like her in the crew?' he asked with a grin that was close to a leer.

  'No, just the one,' Guy returned evenly.

  'Can't say I blame you, she looks hot enough for any man to handle.'

  'How she looks is none of your damn business,' Guy snapped out, his brows drawn together into a frown.

  The American held up his hands in a sign of peace. 'Okay! So it's like that. I'm sorry, I didn't realise.'

  'Then let's get down to business, shall we?' Guy

  said curtly, leading the man towards the stern.

/>   Michelle went back to her seat on the swimming platform to wait until the man left. It took a long time; he spent over an hour going over every inch of the boat with Guy, and then they sat together in the main saloon for at least another hour; discussing terms presumably. Michelle hoped fervently that Guy would, succeed in obtaining a favourable deal so that he would be in a good mood. She tried to think what she was going to do, how much to tell him, but everything had changed now; the wish to punish her parents had faded before her all-consuming determination to stay with Guy as long as she possibly could no matter what she had to do to achieve it. But against this she felt a strong desire to tell him the truth, to have everything open and straight between them, to wipe the slate clean and not have to pretend any more. But if she did that, she had no doubt at all that he would immediately hand her over -to the nearest Customs official and have her put on the first plane back to England. Michelle bit her lip and looked down at her feet, oddly distorted in the gently lapping water. Even when she saw the broker leave, she still hadn't made up her mind what to do.

  She stood up and braced her shoulders, expecting Guy to come for her as soon as they were alone, but to her surprise he went back down below again. Nervously she walked towards the galley steps, her wet feet leaving footprints on the deck that dried almost immediately in the sun. At the doorway to the galley she hesitated, wondering whether or not to go down and confront him, expecting to see him reappear at any second.

  But it was several minutes before he came into the galley and saw her hovering uncertainly in the doorway. His mouth was drawn into a thin, grim line and there was a cold, almost bleak look in his grey eyes. He stopped by the table, looking up at her, and Michelle felt herself go cold before the ice in his gaze. .