Gregory, Lisa (31 page)

"I
stand reproved," he said in a chastened tone. "In answer to your
rather impertinent question, I suppose I have known a fair number of women.
None quite like you, if that's what you want to know."

"I
had nothing of the kind in mind," she sniffed.

"I'm
not sure what you want to know. Do you want me to tell you about all of
them?"

"I
do not," she snapped. "I'm sure that would take too much time."

He
grinned teasingly and she picked up
Tom Jones
and began to read aloud.
However, that night, when she had climbed into bed clad in her chemise and lain
down by his side, her head resting against his arm, she began to question him
again, feeling sheltered and concealed by the darkness.

"Captain
Hampton?" she said softly.

"Don't
you find it a bit ridiculous to be lying in a man's arms and addressing him as
if he were a total stranger?"

She
remained silent and he sighed. "What is it, Katherine?"

"I—I
wanted to ask you a question—if you promise not to laugh at me."

"Good
grief. What?"

"You've
been to—that kind of place, haven't you?"

"What
are you talking about?"

"One
of those places where bad women are—you know."

"A
brothel?"

"Yes."

"For
Heaven's sake, why don't you just say what you mean? Yes, I've visited
brothels."

"What
are they like?"

"You
show the most shocking lack of propriety," he said, his voice warmly
teasing.

She
nudged him with her elbow. "Stop being obnoxious and tell me."

He
turned toward her more and pulled her closer to his chest, casually running a
hand down her side to rest on her hip. It felt warm and good to lie like this
with her, talking to her without strain between them, as natural as any couple.

"Well,
it depends on how expensive the place is. Some of them are just broken-down
houses, but the fancy ones have plush red carpet and red velvet curtains.
Couches and chairs and benches covered in velvet. Usually a big marble bar. And
the walls are covered with big, gold-framed mirrors and paintings of nude
women."

"You're
joking. Actually nude?"

He
chuckled. "Yes, my dear. Actually nude, or perhaps with a filmy scarf
draped across them."

"What
happens when you go there?"

"Well,
you sit around and have a few drinks. Maybe there's a buffet to eat from, too.
Girls wander around in various stages of undress, and you talk to them and look
at them. Choose the one you want."

"Are
they pretty?"

"Some
are; some aren't. Few as pretty as you."

"Really?"

"Really."

"You
think that I am pretty, don't you?" she asked, sounding slightly amazed.

"Of
course. You are beautiful."

She
lay quietly, digesting this thought. No one had ever thought her beautiful. Or
desirable. Yet he had stolen her simply because he desired her. Not for her
money, like other men; he had just wanted her for herself. Not even for her
good stable nature and common sense, like Lieutenant Perkins. It was sort of a
heady feeling, being desired and beautiful. Perhaps she
was
pretty.
Perhaps Pegeen had been right; maybe it was just her demeanor and clothes and
the way she wore her hair that made her unattractive. She felt a sudden desire
to test out her desirability on him; she found herself wanting to touch him, to
arouse him with teasing kisses, to wantonly drape herself across him.

Sternly
she restrained herself and said, "And when you've chosen one?"

"Then
you go upstairs to her room. Those differ also with the quality of the house.
Some are very fancy, even have mirrors on the ceiling above the bed."

"Mirrors?"
Katherine repeated in a shocked tone.

"Yes.
It can be rather erotic."

"What
do they do to you?"

"Varies.
What they
don't
do is lie beneath you, stiff as a board and teeth clenched."

"I
didn't say I cared to emulate them," Katherine flared.

"Calm
down, now. Mostly they try to please you. They do what you ask them—different
positions, or doing certain things that stimulate you."

"Like
what?"

"I
shall be happy to show you," he said quietly.

"Don't
be silly. You're too weak. You have been sick."

"I
could never be too weak if you want me to make love to you."

"Well,
I don't; so don't trouble yourself. I was curious what they did
differently."

"They
don't do anything differently from what any woman will do if she is warm and
passionate. It's just that most women are too bound by propriety. Maybe they'll
do no more than just caress you; a man enjoys being touched and kissed,
too." His voice was husky. "Oh, Katherine, it stirs me just to talk
of it to you. I want so to feel your hands on me. Your mouth."

He
turned her face up and tenderly his mouth covered hers; her lips were soft and
yielding and for a moment she responded, pressing her mouth against his. A
shudder shook him and he crushed her to him. Her tongue crept into his mouth
and a moan escaped him as she softly explored his mouth. Suddenly she tore away
and averted her face.

"No,
please."

"Damnation,
Katherine, don't tease me!" His voice sounded tortured.

She
looked at him, realizing that she could excite him, even with her inexperienced
responses. She could arouse him, heighten his desire. A strange, heady sense of
power swept over her—she could exercise some control over him, arouse him
against his will if she wanted to. Desperately she longed to try oat her power
over him, to caress him, let her hands wander over him and see his face light
with desire and hear his breath become harder, quicker.

Exerting
her will power, she pulled away from him. "No, I can't. It's wrong."

"Katherine,
do you have any idea what you do to me?"

"I'm
sorry." Her voice was close to tears. "I didn't mean to. Oh, please,
please, I just can't."

"All
right. I haven't the energy to fight you tonight. Come back here; I won't do
anything. I just want to hold you, talk to you."

His
voice went on, quiet and impersonal, but she scarcely heard him, so aware was
she of his body against hers and her aching desire to touch him. It was a long
time before she was able to sleep that night.

The
next morning Hampton insisted on dressing and moving about the cabin some. In
the afternoon he took a stroll around the deck, one arm around Katherine for
support. He ate heartily and soon began to recover his strength. By the day
after, he was spending hours on deck, and in another day or two seemed fully
recovered.

The
ship steadily approached England, and Katherine anxiously awaited their
arrival. He did not try to make love to her again, but she found that she
wanted him to. Lying beside him at night became more and more difficult; she
was constantly aware of his hard, masculine body and his lean, strong hands. If
they didn't reach London soon, she would give in, she knew.

"Well,
my dear, we're almost there," Hampton said casually one day as they sat
down to lunch.

"What?"
Katherine gasped.

"We
should reach Liverpool this afternoon."

"Liverpool?
I thought we were going to London."

"Yes.
I am going there by train when we dock. But I shall sell and buy my goods in
Liverpool. You may come with me to London if you wish."

"I—I
guess that would be the thing for me to do. Go to the American embassy
there," she said uncertainly.

"What
makes you think you will be going to the American embassy?"

"Well,
surely you intend to release me when we reach England. You can't seriously
expect to continue holding me prisoner."

"Why
not?"

She
stared at him in astonishment. "But—I mean a ship is one thing, but how
can you keep me a prisoner in the middle of a crowded country? Believe me, I
don't intend not to make a fuss."

"Very
simple. If you want to get off the ship, all you have to do is promise me, give
me your word that you won't attempt to escape. I'll trust you to keep your
word. Otherwise, I shall leave you locked up here in the cabin and leave Peljo
outside the door to guard you."

"I
shall scream until someone investigates," she threatened.

Calmly
he began to peel an orange. "Number one: I think it would be unlikely that
anyone would hear you from inside this ship clear across the noisy docks.
Number two: I doubt that in Liverpool anyone would pay attention if they heard
you. Number three: If it becomes necessary, Peljo will have instructions to
bind and gag you."

Katherine
went white with rage. "You monster! I wish I'd never lifted a finger to
help you get well. God help me, I should have let you die."

"I
think it would have been more in character if you had. Care for a slice?"

"I
don't want your orange—or anything else of yours. You are the most
hard-hearted, cruel, soulless devil I have ever met."

Hampton
kept his eyes steadily on the spongy orange peel in his hand. He could not
bring himself to look at her blazing face. He knew that he had destroyed what
little friendliness had sprung up between them during his illness. She had
treated him kindly, and now he was repaying her selflessness with harshness.
There was no doubt but that she would think him evil and despicable.

But
he could not let her go. This morning he had decided that the right thing for
him to do would be to release her. But on the heels of that thought came the
searing realization that he couldn't bear the thought of losing her. No matter
how irritating and exasperating and spoiled she could be, she was so
increasingly desirable, so challenging, so interesting, that he knew he could
not rest until he had captured her mind and spirit as well as her body. If he
kept her, he was sure he could do that. After all, he had detected definite
signs of weakening, hadn't he? All he needed was enough time. It would set him
back to retain her as a prisoner, but he would have time to work it out.
However, if he let her go, she would pass right out of his life, and he would
have lost all hope of ever winning her. He didn't know why it was so important
to have this woman more than any other. In the past he had gone quite easily
from one woman to another, never regretting giving one up. He did know,
however, that this one he would regret bitterly, and that no matter what, he
had to have her.

"Katherine,
I won't try to explain it now. You are too furious to understand—or even
listen. Later I shall try to explain my actions, and I hope you will
understand. But for now, please just accept it."

"I
will not accept it!"

"You
must." His voice was devoid of emotion.

Katherine
stood silently glowering at him, too overcome with anger to speak. Finally he
bowed slightly to her and left. After the door shut, she stormed around the
room in an uncontrollable rage, crying, cursing, hurling everything she could
put her hands on against the blank, uncaring door.

All
her past dislike of him boiled up in her, thickening and bubbling like cooking
candy. She despised him. He was a totally inhuman, evil man, with no grain of
sympathy for the girl he had mistreated, no regret for what he had done, and no
gratitude for the fact that she had nursed him so tenderly. Eventually she
worked out her fury and was calm enough to sit down and think.

Though
it was frustrating to be denied the freedom she was depending on, realistically
her situation was at least far better than before. If she could manage to
escape now there would be someplace to go, whereas before there had been
nothing but boundless ocean all around. For a while she contemplated promising
not to run away and going with him to London and then breaking the promise. But
he would probably watch her so closely that he would be able to catch her
before she reached the embassy, and then there was no telling what he would do.
No, it was better to stay here and hope for a chance to escape.

There
was a tap at the door and a voice said, "Miss Devereaux?"

Katherine
leaped from the bed. Dr. Rackingham! How could she have forgotten about him? He
would help her. She raced to the door, but could not open it; Hampton had
locked it. "Dr. Rackingham, the door is locked. Can you hear me?"

"Yes.
Why is the door locked?"

"Oh,
Doctor, you have to help me. He is
not
going to release me when we get
to England; he told me so at lunch."