Tempestuous Eden

by Heather Graham

  Blair spent a little too much time pondering the problem. She suddenly realized that she had been hearing scampering up on the deck—sure movements, swift movements. There was a change in the feel of the sway.

  Taylor had cast anchor and lowered the sails. And he was coming belowdecks.

  Thoroughly annoyed with the interruption in her fumbling search, Blair continued to comb cabinets for cups. She knew when he was behind her; his presence permeated the small space of the galley section.

  Dismayed with her panicked obedience, Blair refused to glance his way. Willing her hands not to tremble, she poured coffee into two cups, knowing that he watched her, knowing that he was near. She turned and none too graciously pressed his cup into his hands. “Here.”

  He accepted the cup. “Sit down, Blair.”

  The only feasible course of action seemed to be acquiescence to his invitation—or command, whichever. Brushing past him, Blair took a seat at the round table, scooting far away to leave him plenty of room.

  But he didn’t sit immediately. He reached for a short-sleeve blue work shirt and shrugged into it, leaving it unbuttoned, then fit a hand into his pocket and tossed a pack of cigarettes and book of matches onto the table in front of her. He watched her speculatively, but said nothing and turned back to the galley section. Moments later he had produced a cast iron frying pan and procured a handful of brown eggs from a wire basket near the sink. Along with the eggs he cracked into the pan with a practiced hand, he threw in a thick slice of ham.

  Blair drew a cigarette from the pack and lit it, noticing with dismay as the match trembled in her hand that she was still as nervous as a cat. He was being, in a strange way, courteous, she realized. If not courteous, at least concerned. He had known how very badly she needed that cigarette.

  The aroma from the galley began to fill the cabin. Despite everything, Blair was aware of a voraciously growing hunger. Glad that she was to be fed, Blair took a covert look at her “host.” In the unbuttoned shirt and cutoffs, moving about the galley with the innate precision that was his in all things, he was just too much the epitome of the male ideal. Her blood began to sizzle again with the pain of betrayal.

  Craig set a plate of food before her, then procured a plate for himself. Placing utensils on the table, he sat down across from her and began to eat. “You haven’t touched your coffee,” he commented politely.

  It was too easy to be drawn into his web. Blair determined never to waver in the scorn she would show. “I was waiting for you,” she told him with a biting bravado, as cool as he for all outward appearances as she smiled icily. “I thought I’d assure myself it contained no arsenic.”

  A look of intense annoyance flashed across his features. “That was silly, Blair.”

  She picked up her coffee cup, furious to find her fingers trembling. “How the hell would I know anything?” she flared.

  His cup made a sharp, clattering return to the table. Craig had had it. He was doing his best to see to her creature comforts and safety and she was still acting as if he had grown horns and a tail overnight.

  “All right, Blair, you don’t know anything. So I’m going to fill you in.” There was no anger in his voice; it was low, soft, excruciatingly silky, and deadly. He stood, his height wavering her resolves as he towered over her before lowering his torso down to hers, setting an arm behind her, the other on the table, creating a virtual prison without touching her. “I’m a member of an elite cult. We meet in the forest on Halloween night. I’ve gone through all this trouble so that we can use you in a ritual. I was all for having you drawn and quartered myself, or at least put to the rack, but, no, we decided to save you for bigger things. You would have made an absolutely lovely sacrifice dressed in white upon the high altar, but …” His confession, told with a serious deadpan that had Blair staring at him with an almost believing fascination, suddenly took a pause as he cast an insolent glance over her from the top of her head to the spot where she disappeared beneath the table. “I’m afraid they demand the virginal type for sacrificial maidens, and I could personally guarantee the high priests that you certainly couldn’t be classified virgin material.”

  Blair sat stunned at first, hypnotized by the somber intensity of his absurd explanation. The last, however, sank in with sure, deliberate insult. There was no conscious thought to her action; she simply responded with the spontaneity of rage and flicked the remainder of her coffee into his face.

  Luckily it had cooled. Belatedly Blair thanked God for that small favor, sitting motionless, but regretting her impulse while cringing inside with the fear of reprisal.

  There was none, unless eyes could be said to really wound. Craig was startled, definitely, and he stood as still as she for an explosive moment as the coffee dripped from his severe features. Then he grabbed his napkin, wiped his face slowly, and shot her that impaling glance. “Excuse me, will you?” His fingers lifted a side of the wet blue shirt from his chest. “I’ll just grab another shirt.”

  Blair watched numbly as he walked to a cabinet in the far aft and extracted a similar shirt, a little more faded, and discarded the damp one to don the new. The man, Blair decided, was capable of tolerating a lot. But he did know what was going on; his nerves weren’t shattered, he was striking exactly where it would hurt the worst.

  He sauntered slowly back to the table, his facial expression unfathomable, his eyes firmly guarded. “I’ll be happy to pour you another cup of coffee, Blair,” he said with an edge of warning rasping his voice, “if you plan to drink it this time. It will be hot, and though I’m a patient man, I do tend to become irate when scalded.”

  Blair didn’t answer him, but something in her expression must have given the assurance that she didn’t have the innate maliciousness or nerve to purposely cause serious pain. He poured her a cup of fresh coffee and set it before her, watching her. Then he ran his fingers tensely through his hair before sitting opposite her a second time. “I’m sorry for what I said, but I don’t like this situation any better than you do and that razor-edged tongue of yours is wearing on the nerves.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Blair demanded thickly. “Thank you for taking me along?”

  “I asked you to trust me.”

  “You asked the impossible.”

  “You trusted me once.”

  Blair looked quickly to her plate and gave her concentration to her now very cold eggs. “Yes,” she said lightly, trying to hide the tears that were forming behind her lids. “I made a very foolish mistake, didn’t I? On top of your other tricks, you connived me into a confession scene where I bared not only my own life to you, but Ray Teile’s.”

  “Damn it, Blair!” His fist connected with the table in an uncontrollable spurt of violence before he took a deep breath and started over. “Blair, all the time that we shared has nothing to do with this. You and I have nothing to do with this. Anything I asked or gave was real—”

  “Oh?” Blair couldn’t prevent the bitterly sarcastic interruption. “Seducing me wasn’t part of the plan?”

  She almost heard the grind of his teeth and his cynical reply made her desperately wish she had chosen to keep her mouth shut.

  “It was the other way around, wasn’t it? I distinctly remember you appearing in my tent. Although I will say that I’m perfectly willing to take up where we left off.”

  “Thank you, no,” Blair denounced him with acid contempt. “That is, if I do have a choice. After all, I’m merely the victim, right?”

  He laughed with no mirth, and the leonine eyes were keenly upon her. “Poor, ravaged victim, eh? Can’t quite reconcile your own nature with the situation. Are you suggesting I rape you? It will be all right if Blair has no conscious choice?”

  “No!” Blair gasped with horror, standing to viciously assault the table with her napkin. She had been ravenous; she now felt sick.

  “Don’t worry, my dear Mrs. Teile,” he mocked her, lazily leaning his shoulders against the seat, “We haven’t been at sea qu
ite that long. Besides, I sincerely doubt that anything occurring between you and me could ever be classified as rape. I’d never have to use force, I promise.”

  Blair glared at him for a split second, then turned from the table, certain that if she stayed any longer she would toss another cup of coffee into his face or do something even worse. She was equally certain that his reaction would not be so calm a second time.

  “Where are you going?” Craig demanded coolly.

  She turned back to him and her gaze implied he had to be ridiculously stupid. “Now, just where the hell could I go?” she demanded in turn. “Topside. I don’t believe I’m compelled to carry on a conversation with you either.”

  “Wait!” he ordered in a stinging voice. Rather than trust her luck, Blair stood antagonistically still, wondering if and vaguely hoping that he was about to make another apology.

  None was forthcoming. His eyes were imperious and hard as he reached for the wet shirt. “We have a few things to get straight here.” He stuffed the shirt into her hands. “Our clothing supply is limited. You are laundry detail.”

  “The hell I am!” Blair denied in an adamant growl.

  “The hell you aren’t,” he replied softly, eyes narrowing to their dangerous tilt. “You’re also going to cook and sail this tub along with me. We have a distance to go, my sweet, and you’re going right along with me. There’s nothing outside this boat, Mrs. Teile, not for a long, long way. We’re surviving together out here, and you will be putting in your fair share.”

  “You forget, Mr. Taylor, this sail was not my idea. And if you have problems to solve, you are just going to have to solve them yourself.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he informed her, leaving no doubt in her mind that they certainly would. But for the moment he had little else to say. Brushing past her, he mounted the ladder to the deck.

  Since he was on deck, Blair decided to stay below. She sat back down, glanced at the cigarette pack on the table, and hastily extracted one to light. She watched the smoke plume away in the cabin. Dusty gray curtains were pulled over the portholes, and with a flash of claustrophobia she yanked them open. She was just in time to catch a view of Craig’s muscled calves and bare feet passing by fleetly as he moved busily across the deck weighing anchor.

  She nervously smoked the cigarette down to the filter, aware that they were under sail again as the swaying of the cabin increased. The feeling wasn’t uncomfortable though—she loved to sail. She and Ray had often spent their free time sailing the brilliant blue waters of the Chesapeake.

  Ray! She thought of her husband with dismay. She had entrusted Craig with so many secrets.

  But it had seemed so right at the time. She had purged herself of so much pain, relinquished the ghost she held so dear, found a new ecstasy that had shadowed the past into its proper perspective.

  That was her fury, she knew. She should be frightened, she should be determined to escape her captor at any cost. But her humiliation was still taking precedence in her mind.

  She was faced with the unhappy realization that Craig had indeed struck a bull’s-eye. She hated him, didn’t she? Despised and scorned him. She knew him to be a cunning and devious renegade. But she still wanted him, still wanted to feel his touch. His gaze, sensuous when lazily taunting, sensuous when honed by anger still held the power to send chills racing down her spine with the anticipation of excitement.

  Blair sent her teeth down cruelly into her bottom lip. He would never know. She wasn’t a witless animal, she was an intelligent human being capable of governing her physical actions with her mind. She would loathe Craig Taylor until this episode was over, and then she would happily see him behind bars, where he belonged.

  Lions should be caged, she told herself.

  Her mind continued to run in merry-go-round circles as she desperately tried to figure out reasonably what was happening. He kept insisting that she trust him, but how could she possibly trust a man who had so carefully planned her abduction? Even now the memory of seeing the first shocking lights streak through the jungle had the power to cripple her over with new pain.

  Who was he? her mind shrieked. And how dare he continue to behave as if she were at fault for not accepting this farce?

  She sat until she thought her mind would drive her over the brink of sanity. Then she realized she had been sitting so long that her muscles were cramping. She stood, stretched, and flexed her muscles, grimacing ruefully. One thing was certain; she couldn’t spend her days just sitting.

  But pacing the confines of the cabin was not much better. Her naturally fastidious eyes kept reverting to the dishes left at the circular table, and although she kept telling herself there was no way she was going to cooperate in the least with Craig, she finally succumbed to the irresistible urge to straighten up. Stacking the plates and utensils in her arms, she moved into the galley with a sigh. He had been right on a point, and so had she. She had nowhere to go—and she was here as well as he. It appeared that she would eat again tonight in the cabin and just might be eating here for quite a while. Besides, a show of cooperation might put him off-guard. When the time came, she just might be able to get away if he believed himself secure in his control over her.

  Blair dumped the dishes into the sink and began to raid the cabinets beneath it for soap. It was a strange-looking tub to be so well supplied, she thought again. Craig hadn’t mentioned water conservation at all. The sailboat had to carry an impressive supply.

  At the helm Craig stared unseeing at the mainsail, billowing ever so slightly in the slight breeze that carried them along at a poky four knots. But he didn’t need speed at the moment; their voyage was moving along just as planned.

  As he stared absently at the sail, he was busy silently berating himself. Why did he keep losing control? It was unlikely that even the most polite, courteous manner would sway Blair into renewed trust when he couldn’t explain himself. But it was unnecessary for him to keep driving in the little stakes that were bringing her hostility upon him in full force.

  Why was he doing it? He couldn’t help it. Every time her chin rose with that scathing contempt, he couldn’t control the primitive force that propelled him into reminding her that she had been his, completely his, intimately his.

  He was in love with her, he reminded himself ruefully. Male instinct couldn’t allow him to let her forget how she responded to his slightest touch.

  The tiller suddenly jerked with the convulsive tightening of his hand. Damn, he hissed to himself. He was tempted to draw in the sails, weigh anchor, and run below to satisfy his charge, to take her forcefully on the cabin floor until she cried out the realization that she did want him, loved him no matter what, trusted him.

  Easy, Taylor! his mind snapped. His eyes scanned the river. He did have a few problems, and he did need to solve them. They would be passing the village of Santa Maria Teresa before long, and the river would narrow. He wanted to make sure to pass by so that the villagers would notice nothing out of the ordinary. Hoisting a loose line around the tiller to hold the boat steady, he moved fleetly to the hatchway. “Blair!” he announced briskly. “Topside, I want to talk to you.”

  There was no reply, and Craig grimaced, a twitch of amusement pulling at his lips. He hadn’t really expected the princess to come bounding obediently to the deck. Leaning down to the hatch, he was pleasantly surprised to hear the trickle of running water. He didn’t kid himself into suspecting that she might be about to take him on trust. He was sure that her caged exile had just left her desperate for something to do, a way to pass the time.

  “Blair,” he called down sweetly, “could you please come up here? I’d hate like hell to have to cast anchor just to come to you.” Though tauntingly pleasant, he made sure his voice implied that she too would hate for him to have to come to her.

  Blair listened to the sound of his request with her teeth grating. She glanced around the galley, in order now, and dried her hands furiously on a piece of cloth she had found. H
er mind wandered briefly. The boat gave her the same feeling that Craig’s presence always had—something just didn’t jell.

  Their boat was definitely a rustic-looking tub, but on closer inspection it was a strange rustic. The drab coloring made one think of age and dirt, as did the chipping varnish and knotted wood. But there wasn’t a piece of wood in the cabin that she had tested that wasn’t hard and sturdy. And the galley was certainly well equipped. Cabinets opened by her questing hands had displayed a wide variety of canned goods and a small icebox had sported a nice array of meats. Wicker baskets like the one from which Craig had earlier procured the eggs rested in various places on the counter that was the separation of galley and cabin. In them were fruits, potatoes, beans, and rice.

  None of it was particularly encouraging. It appeared that they were prepared for a long siege.

  “Blair!” She heard Craig’s snapping command once more and mimicked him with silent fury. The thought of ignoring his summons was tempting—she should give him every bit as much trouble as possible—but she wasn’t terribly secure in her belief that he wasn’t going to harm her. He isn’t going to harm me, her mind persisted, no matter what I do. Toward me he isn’t a physically dangerous man.

  Like hell! He was the most physically dangerous man she had ever met.

  That’s not what I mean, another voice, shocked, replied. And none of it mattered anyway. She simply didn’t have the nerve to find out.

  “I’m coming!” she called back up the hatchway with vast irritation, squaring her shoulders in an attempt to build a wall of hostility. Warily she dropped the cloth and climbed the ladder.

  “What?” she snapped icily, surprised and taken off-guard as she almost crashed into him. Skittering to one side, she narrowed her eyes upon him and repeated, “What?”