Gregory, Lisa (27 page)

"Get
that away from me. What are you trying to do?"

"Bring
you back to life. You fainted on me, my love."

"I
never fainted in my life," she protested weakly.

"There's
a first time for everything. Now if you'll just stand up, we'll get you
undressed and into bed, and then you're going to take a nice sleep."

"It's
silly to be so weak," she said, clinging to his arm to help her stand.

"Even
you are allowed to be weak sometimes," he replied, supporting her with one
arm and unbuttoning her dress with the other hand. "You have had a rough
time today."

"You
didn't faint," she said and yawned.

"It
was not my first battle, either. Besides, I just stood around shouting orders.
You were doing actual work."

She
tilted back her head to look at him. She felt strange, light-headed, with
little control of herself. "Why are you being so nice?"

Hampton
looked down into her wide, luminous eyes and breathed in sharply. How lovely
she was, even with a sweat- and dirt-streaked face. "Relief that we're not
dead or captured, I guess. Anyway, you're not up to it tonight," he
grinned. "Tomorrow I plan to be very severe, however, about the fact that
you disobeyed me. You could have been killed, you know."

"I
know," she sighed, and rested her head wearily against his shoulder.

"All
right, now." He pulled off her dress, then unfastened her hoop and
petticoats so that they dropped to the floor. "Into bed with you."

She
crawled in obediently and he tucked the covers in around her shoulders, then
bent down to kiss her cheek.

"Sleep
well. I'll join you as soon as we're out of danger."

"Goodnight."
She was asleep almost before he reached the door.

She
slept fitfully, dreaming harried, confused dreams, still hearing the boom of
cannon fire. A few hours later, she woke up as Hampton crawled into bed beside
her. He was large and warm and smelled still of gunpowder. She snuggled up
against his back and fell sound asleep.

The
sound of his chuckle awakened her the next morning. She opened her eyes
sleepily and looked at him.

"Good
morning, Katherine," he said and kissed her lightly.

"What
is so funny?" she asked sourly.

"You.
You look like a chimney sweep."

"What
are you talking about?"

"Your
face, dear. And mine, too, no doubt."

He
was indeed covered with soot. She crawled over him and went to the dresser to
look in the mirror.

"Good
heavens!" She gasped at her reflection; her face was smudged and streaked
with gunpowder.

Immediately
she poured water into the wash basin and began to scrub her face and neck and
arms with soap and water. When she finished he took her place, washing off the
grime, stripping off his dirty shirt to scrub his chest. Katherine began to
dress, pulling the light flowered dress from the trunk. The other was dirty and
splashed with blood and needed a good cleaning before she could wear it again.

"Very
attractive," he said and she turned.

Katherine
glanced away uneasily at the sight of his bare chest, firm and well-muscled,
little droplets of water still glistening on the crisp brown hair.

"A
little girlish for me."

"A
little, for your personality," he agreed. "But still very pretty. The
neckline shows off your lovely bosom."

She
blushed, then shivered. "I'm afraid it leaves too much uncovered. I am
freezing."

"Well,
it won't be high fashion, but you could wear one of my shirts over it."

"Could
I?"

"But
of course. My generosity is boundless. Anyway, they belong to Captain
Sloane."

"That's
true," Katherine said, as though the idea made her feel better.

As
she put it on, he said, "Katherine, what I said last night is true. You
should not have disobeyed me. I realize you were a great help to Dr.
Rackingham. But I want you in the safest place, not the most exposed. I did not
bring you along to get you killed or even to put you to work as a nurse. You
know that a captain's word is law on his ship."

"I
know," she said petulantly, feeling herself to have been in the wrong.
"But I just couldn't stand to miss it."

"I
am sure you couldn't, and your bravery is commendable. But during a battle,
during any crisis, it is imperative that everyone obey quickly and exactly. You
could endanger everyone by disobeying. Surely you understand that. No matter
how you react to me personally, you have to obey my commands as captain."

"Oh,
all right. I won't do it again."

"Good
girl. Now how about some breakfast?"

She
wanted very much to pout, but instead assumed a dignified air. "As you wish."

He
winked at her. "No sulking. You know I'm right."

She
stuck her tongue out at him and felt better. He grinned.

After
breakfast, he went out to set the ship back on its course and attempt to repair
some of the damage that had been inflicted. Katherine tried to read, but found
it dull, still feeling the overflow of tension and excitement from the day
before. Soon she gave it up, put on her cloak, and went up on deck to survey
the situation.

Hampton
was too busy to notice her and she observed him undetected. She had to admit
that, no matter how low he was as a human being, as a captain, a sailor, a
warrior, he was superb. Calm, quick, daring, respected and obeyed; she had seen
him in a different light when she watched him coolly outwitting and escaping a
faster, better-armed ship. Before she had thought of him only as her hated
enemy, a swaggering, conceited brute. Now she saw him as his men did, a trusted
leader, competent, bright, responsible. And she felt a pang of hopelessness.
What chance did she have against such an opponent? Implacable, a master of
strategy, quick-witted, strong—he was sure to defeat her.

Her
gloomy thoughts were interrupted by Dr. Rackingham, who took her down to visit
the men she had helped nurse the day before. It improved her spirits to see
their gratitude and to cheer them and make them feel better. She promised a man
with a broken arm to write a letter at his dictation and was immediately
swamped by requests from many of the men who were illiterate. She agreed,
feeling useful and needed. Then she proceeded further to improve her attitude
by soundly defeating the doctor at a game of chess.

Soon
after the doctor left, Hampton came in for lunch. Katherine greeted him coolly.
She might feel moments of despair, but that did not mean she was about to give
in easily. He responded to her icy demeanor with a sardonic smile. So the
companionship of the day before was gone. Well—he shrugged mentally—the
excitement of yesterday had caught her off-guard, causing her to reveal herself
more as she really was. Today, she had recovered her image. He didn't expect to
win her over that easily. Still, it was a little disappointing.

"I
see you are as ingratiating as ever," he said. She merely raised an
eyebrow.

She
was too cool by half, he thought. He came up to her and lightly traced the
neckline of her dress, running one finger down the valley between her breasts.
Katherine looked at him, startled out of her composure for a moment. He bent to
kiss her neck, his lips lingering over her smooth flesh. She simply stood
stiffly.

"I
would like to eat lunch," she said crisply. "I am rather
hungry."

"I
have a hunger of a different sort," he murmured.

"You're
mad. It's the middle of the day!"

He
chuckled. "Have I offended your sensibilities? Can't it be done by light
of day? I think I will enjoy looking at your body in full light."

She
flushed and bit her lip. "Please, Captain Hampton. This is really
most—"

"Most
what?" His lips traveled down the quivering flesh of her breasts. She
stood still as a mannikin, her face averted, while he removed her clothes. He
led her to the bed and she got in and lay perfectly straight and unyielding,
her face blank and her eyes closed. He took off his clothes and joined her in
bed. He explored her with his hands and mouth, delighting in the sight and feel
of her rounded, silken body. He teased her by naming the parts of her body that
he touched; he kissed and caressed her until he himself was at a fever pitch of
passion, but she remained cold, never softening or returning a kiss or caress.
And when he had finished, his passion spent, she still said nothing, but
slipped out from under him, washed and dressed, then sat down at the table.

"When
will supper come?" she asked coolly.

Anger
spurted in him. Damn her for a frozen Yankee bitch! His lovemaking had not
touched her at all; she seemed perfectly indifferent to him. He wanted to storm
at her, to shake her, to slap her, anything to wipe that cool indifference from
her face. He leaped from the bed and strode across the room to her. Her face
filled with fright at the sight of his enraged countenance.

"You
goddam little—" he broke off and kissed her savagely, violating her mouth
with his tongue.

Hampton
bent her back onto the table, pinning her down with one arm, and jerked down
her undergarments. He stroked and caressed her, concentrating on bringing her
to pleasure, lightly brushing her skin with his fingertips and mouth, touching
all the hidden secret places of a woman that brought her pleasure. Again his
manhood enlarged with intense desire and standing before her, he parted her
legs and entered her, moving within her until finally, in spite of herself she
groaned with desire.

"What,
my pet?" he breathed. "Was that a sound of pleasure I heard?"

She
nodded in shame.

"Then
you enjoy this?"

She
stubbornly remained silent and he began to withdraw. "Yes," she
forced out.

"What
do you want?" he whispered. He pulled down the bodice of her dress and
began to lazily nuzzle her breasts, as though he had quite given up what he was
doing. She trembled violently beneath him.

"Please,"
her voice was an urgent whisper.

"I
have a name," he said, tracing intricate designs on her hips with his
fingers.

She
swallowed hard and said, "Please, Matthew."

He
grinned wickedly. "Please what?"

"You're
awful!" she choked.

"I
know. What is it you want?"

"You.
Please make love to me. I want you."

"Do
you now?" he said and suddenly pulled out of her. "May I suggest
exercise and a cold bath?"

He
began to dress. She struggled to sit up, gasping, "Matthew!"

"I
leave you to your own cold company, ma'am, since that is what you prefer. I
hope you find comfort for the fire in your loins—and reflect upon your
actions." Jauntily he went out the door, saying over his shoulder,
"I'm sure your lunch will be here soon to satisfy your hunger."

"Damn
you!" she screamed after him.

Never
had she hated him so much. He took every opportunity to debase her. Her legs
felt weak and inside she burned, aching to feel him inside her again. She
almost cried in frustration. It was weak and wicked to so long for him to do
those dreadful things to her. He was cruel and inhuman to treat her so. He had
done it purposely, calculatingly working on her treacherous body. (And how many
women he must have had, to know so well how to excite her!) She had begged him!
Oh, God, she could never live that down. And worst was that if he returned now,
she would probably throw herself at him, she wanted him so. Even yet she longed
to run after him and beg him to return. It was only with great power of will that
she held herself back from making more of a fool of herself. Instead she threw
herself on the bed and dissolved into hot, angry tears. Finally, when she could
cry no more, she lay quietly staring at the far wall, feeding her hatred of him
and conjuring up wonderful scenes in which she managed to hurt him. Somehow,
someday, she would get back at him.