Gregory, Lisa (5 page)

"Oh,
fine. My ship should be sailing soon."

"Where
are you going?"

"To
join the blockade. I'm not at liberty to say where exactly."

"Of
course." Katherine smiled at him. She liked the lieutenant and enjoyed his
irregular visits. He had first come to her father's office over a year ago when
she had happened to be there, measuring the windows for the curtains she had
decided to put in. She had been impressed by Perkins's quiet assurance and
steady personality. Rather grave and earnest, he rarely smiled; when he did,
his brown eyes lit up and his face was touched with warmth. He was not a
particularly handsome man, but there was a certain strength of character in his
rough-hewn face that Katherine liked. He had escorted her back to her house
that day, and then she had not seen him again until she had begun working a few
months ago. Since then, he had taken to dropping in every once in a while, and
Katherine always enjoyed his visits, though she was a little puzzled as to why
he came so often.

There
were times when she felt that he was interested in her, but she knew she must
have imagined that, since he never visited her at home. She had to admit to
herself that she would not be entirely adverse to his suit. Although she
doubted she would ever love him, and the very stolidity of his character made
him dull at times, she thought him better than most men who had courted
her—more honest, innately warmer, easier to converse with about things that
interested her. Because she thought him admirable, it never occurred to her, as
it had to her father, that Perkins was afraid she would rebuff his suit because
of his background.

"Have
you heard about our prisoners, Lieutenant?" Teddy asked eagerly.

"Indeed,
I have. In fact, I came over just to see them."

Katherine's
heart began to pound violently inside her, but she forced herself to speak
calmly. "Oh? I'm sure that if you want to walk over to the ship to look at
their work, you can. I'll be happy to take you over there if you like."

He
smiled. "Why, thank you. I'd like that very much."

Katherine
hastened to put on her cloak and bonnet and slip her hands into her muff. She
told herself that she was being silly, that there was no reason to be excited,
that there was, in fact, no reason to go with him in the first place. Ignoring
her inner voice, she swept out the front door. Perkins, pleased because her
invitation seemed to him to indicate a liking for his company, followed her out
the door and solicitously put his hand under her elbow to assist her down the
stairs.

His
elation grew as they crossed the yards, for she chattered in a light, excited
way that he had never seen her adopt before. It occurred to him that perhaps
she was a little buoyant over being alone with him, for they had never been
together without at least the juvenile chaperonage of Teddy.

"How
thrilling it must be to be going to join the blockade soon," she said, her
voice vibrant.

His
chuckle was more a release of his turbulent feelings than an expression of
amusement. "Oh, I'm afraid not. Blockading is rather dull most of the
time—just sitting and waiting and watching. I would rather be out pursuing the
Rebel raiders."

She
smiled. "I imagine you're right. The raiders are almost like pirate
stories, aren't they? Charlie Kesey used to make my hair stand on end with his
pirate adventures—and I loved it."

"Did
you used to spend a lot of time with old Charlie?"

She
looked up at him, her eyes mischievous. "Indeed, yes, whenever I could
escape from my governess or my housekeeper or my mother; it was my favorite
occupation."

He
stared down into her amber eyes, glinting with gold lights, and felt as if he
might drown in them. "Katherine, I—I—"

"Here's
the hull," she announced gaily. "Now if we can just get past the
guards."

"All
it takes is assurance—and your name and my uniform," he whispered, firmly
taking hold of her arm and feeling a sudden rush of light-headedness at
touching her.

"Corporal."
He and the guard exchanged salutes. "Lieutenant Perkins. This is Miss
Devereaux. We've come to inspect the prisoners' work."

"Yessir."

They
went into the half-finished hull. All around them activity went on, seemingly
uncoordinated, with scaffoldings and catwalks at various heights. The guards
stayed at the edge, their eyes endlessly watching the prisoners, who worked,
not lazily, as Katherine had expected, but in silent concentration. The crew
foreman, George MacPherson, came hurrying toward them, smiling and whisking off
his cap to properly meet a lady.

"Miss
Devereaux." He made a funny little bob, his version of a bow.

"George,
this is Lieutenant Perkins. He is interested in seeing how the prisoners are
getting along."

"Why,
I'll be happy to show you around. You know," he confided, beginning his
tour, "I never would have believed it, but this crew has been working
right smartly. Just sailors, by and large, but they've at least done repair
work and they can handle the simpler tasks, which cuts down the number of
skilled workers we need. Why, I think I could practically do it with just them.
And they're not shirkers, either, which I can tell you, surprised me."

"I
imagine they're willing to work quite well if it means being outside the
prison," the lieutenant said. "I can think of nothing more grim than
a prison to a man who's spent his life with the limitless ocean around
him."

Katherine
walked along with them, barely hearing their words. Now that she was here, her
burst of enthusiasm had vanished, leaving her feeling foolish and mad at
herself. Why had she come? What did she think she was doing here? Why hadn't
she sent Lieutenant Perkins over here by himself? For once in her life, she
felt as if she had no control, no understanding of herself. Did she want to see
that man again? But how preposterous!

"Now,"
MacPherson was saying, "if you'll just come up here with me—" He
started to climb a ladder, with the lieutenant on his heels, but the young man
caught himself and turned.

"But
wait, Miss Devereaux can't climb like this."

Katherine
looked at the ladder and smiled. Climbing a ladder was almost impossible in a
hoop and petticoats, not to speak of the unmentionable view it would present to
the men below. "I'm afraid I can't," she said, "but you go on.
I'll wait right here for you. I'll be perfectly safe."

"Well—"

"Go
on. I know how interested you are."

The
lieutenant smiled his thanks and darted up the ladder after the chunky foreman.
Katherine, the smile lingering on her lips, turned and found herself staring
into cold gray eyes under satanically slanted black eyebrows. Her heart began
to pound and she thought frantically of running up the ladder after Perkins.

Then
the man smiled, jauntily pulled off his battered cap, and swept her a mockingly
elegant bow. "Captain Matthew Hampton, ma'am, at your service."

In
her best imitation of Aunt Amanda, she chillingly delivered a snub, looking
through him as if he didn't exist and then away.

"Bravo,
Miss Devereaux," his voice was softly jeering. "I've never seen even
an old Charleston matron administer a better cut. Of course, it's harder to get
such an icicle of a look in ninety-degree weather."

Pointedly
she turned her back on him. She could hear his chuckle behind her.

"Oh,
I am a pariah, aren't I?" he said. "My Grand-mama Soames always did
tell me I wasn't fit for polite society. 'Course, I'll admit," he
continued conversationally, "that I'm not attired in my finest evening
wear. My shirt is a little frayed around the cuffs. And my boots—" he
sighed dramatically, "well, they no longer have that mirror polish to
them." He paused for a moment. "Lord, girl, couldn't you even give a
little smile? Just a little look at your face to warm my lonely evenings?"

She
whirled on him, longing to shout that he was a rude, insufferable man, but bit
back the words. I won't even deign to speak, she thought to herself, haughtily
lifting her chin.

"That's
a good girl," he said. Slowly, brazenly, his eyes traveled over her face
and down her body. She felt suddenly as if he could see through her layers of
clothes, as if his burning eyes were roaming her bare flesh. She felt a blush
rise in her cheeks, and he grinned wickedly, as if he knew what she thought,
and had intended for her to think so.

She
bit her lip, trying to think of something sufficiently scathing to say. What
had happened to Lieutenant Perkins? Why didn't he return to rescue her?

"Please
do not force me to call a guard," she said coldly.

A
bitter smile twisted his face. "Oh, yes, we mustn't forget that I am a
prisoner, must we? Did you and your friend come down here today to look at the
animals? Was the zoo closed? Or is it just more titillating to see men in
shackles?"

"You
Rebels seem to sing a different tune when it's you who are in chains. Why, I
thought chains and whips and such were almost holy to you. I should think you
would be proud to wear shackles, a sort of symbol of your homeland, so to
speak."

He
stiffened in anger, and she recoiled a little at the blaze in his eyes. Then,
visibly, he forced himself to relax and his eyes returned to their steely gray.
"Miss Devereaux," his former drawl became abrupt and clipped, "I
suggest that you take a look at home before you start trying to reform me. Take
a look at the women and children dying day by day in your mills. Take a look at
your prisons, your insane asylums, your hospitals. Have you seen the food we
receive to fortify us for hard manual labor? Have you seen the filth of our
cells, the brutality of our guards? Why don't you go home tonight and get out
the Bible you stiff-necked Puritans revere so much and read the story about
Mary Magdalene. 'Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.' Or is that
story considered too risque for a proper young Boston lady?"

Quivering
with fury, she longed to slap him with all her strength or to roar, "Damn
your impudence!" as her father would. Then suddenly one of the guards was
by her side.

"This
man bothering you, miss?"

Shakily
she managed to say, "No!"

But
Hampton, grinning that vile grin, said, "Just discussing with the little
lady whether it's true that if you bed a Boston girl, you'll be frozen stiff
before dawn."

Katherine
gasped at his vulgar insolence, then shrieked as the guard swung his rifle,
clubbing Hampton with the butt end. The prisoner spun and went down at the
force of the blow, but sprang back up like a cat. Half-crouching, he warily
circled the guard, taut and tense, preparing to spring. Katherine stood frozen
at the terrible animal beauty of his predatory movements, at the cold gray
death in his eyes, at the fresh red blood trickling from his nose and mouth.
The guard slowly raised his rifle and squinted down the barrel at the man.

"No!"
Katherine cried, breaking out of her trance. "Don't! Stop it, both of
you!" She flung herself between Hampton and the guard. Though the guard
held the gun, she faced Hampton, recognizing him as the more dangerous, even
though unarmed. "Please, you mustn't do this. He has the advantage over
you. You'll be killed. He has a gun."

As
though deaf, he sidestepped; behind her the gun tracked him; and Katherine
moved again to block them. There was no reasoning with him; she could see the
hatred in his eyes. Inspiration seized her and, though she could not imagine
later how she had either thought of it or had the ability to do it, she
suddenly smiled, forcing a dimple into her cheeks. "Now, really, Captain
Hampton," she said in mock severity, with a pretty, flirtatious toss of
her head. Lightly she continued, "Didn't your Grand-mama Soames ever tell
you it's bad manners to kill someone in front of a lady?"

He
stopped, nonplussed, and reason returned to his face. He dropped his clenched
fists and then suddenly burst into laughter. "Lord, ma'am, you must have a
Southerner lurking somewhere in your family tree. I apologize for my poor
taste."

"Now,
Corporal, it was really quite innocuous. Why don't you go back to your post and
the captain here will return to work, and everything will go quite
smoothly."

"Miss
Devereaux? What's going on down there? Is something wrong?"

"Why
no, Lieutenant Perkins." She tilted her head to look up at him.
"However, I am a little tired."

"Of
course," he said solicitously, and descended the ladder. "I'm sorry
to have left you down here alone; it must have been quite boring."

A
faint smile touched her face. "No, not really, Lieutenant."

Hampton
gave her a mocking salute and retreated, as Katherine took the lieutenant's arm
and left the ship. Her heart was still racing from the excitement and she felt as
if she had enough energy to dance for hours. Mentally, she was in a turmoil,
totally confused by Hampton and her own reactions to him. He was really a most
abominable man, quite violent and rude and bold; she realized that she disliked
him more than any man she had ever met and would have loved to do physical harm
to him. The way he had looked at her had been infuriating and insolent, but it
had sent the strangest feeling spreading through her. And his lazy, husky voice
literally prickled the fine hairs on her neck. His voice, she mused, reminded
her of brandy, sleek and smooth but bursting like fire within her.