Hot Winds From Bombay (11 page)

As Persia headed for Jefferd’s Tavern, wrapped in her fur-lined cape and bent forward against the wind-whipped snow, her mind churned with uncertainty. Maybe Europa was right. Maybe Zack was all talk. Could it be that he had taken her to his room the day before hoping to seduce her? Was he the type of man who wanted to sample the charms of both sisters before he decided which one, if either, he wanted?

No! He had decided. And apparently Europa was his choice. Maybe there wasn’t anything she could do about it, but she could certainly give him a piece of her mind.

The tavern was all quiet at this still early hour. She slipped in unnoticed and hurried past the front desk, where the innkeeper slumped in his chair dozing. With all the stealth she could muster, she made her way to the second floor. No one was astir in the hallway. She all but ran to Zack’s door. She tried the knob and found it unlocked. In the blink of an eye she was inside his room with the door closed and latched behind her.

There he was, sleeping. Propriety forced her eyes away for a moment, but curiosity brought them back. He lay sprawled in his bed—naked, she could tell. His bare chest with its forest of golden hair rose and fell softly with each breath he took. The sheet had slipped nearly to his groin, and she saw that his belly was well-furred as well, his man-hair growing in an inverted triangle that pointed to a pulsing rise under the sheet. One long leg dangled off the side of the narrow mattress, the toes of his foot almost touching the floor. His hair was tousled, but bis face calm.

She felt such a need to go to him, to kiss the slightly parted lips, to stroke the hair on his chest, to touch the white belly exposed to her eyes for the first time. Then she remembered Europa, and all tenderness fled her body and mind. How could he have hurt her so?

Suddenly, she felt as if another presence had entered the room. Gooseflesh crawled up her arms, and her face felt hot for no discernible reason. She looked from his belly to his face. His eyes were open, devouring her with an odd sort of hunger.

“Persia?” His voice was raspy with sleep. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to come. To tell you what I think of you.
You bastard!”
The words quivered from her lips, and her eyes misted with tears. “Don’t try to defend what you’ve done. I may be young, but I’m not stupid, Zachariah Hazzard!”

He propped up on one elbow and squinted at her. “Persia, what the hell are you talking about?”

Her smile held no humor. “Oh, that’s the way you plan to play it, eh? ‘Persia love, there’s been a terrible mistake!’”

“I’m not playing anything any particular way. I’d just like you to tell me what’s going on. It’s not often that I’m awakened by a woman who looks as if she might kill me on half a dare.”

He noticed all at once that his body was nearly exposed to her and yanked up the thin sheet. It did little to disguise the full erection aroused by the sight of her in his waking vision.

“I could kill you! Don’t doubt it for an instant!” She grabbed up his knife from the table near the door and started toward him. “Maybe I should just castrate you like Father has Fletcher do our little bullies. That would put an end to your fun and games!”

Zack was backing up in bed, pulling the sheet with him.

“Persia darling, tell me what I’ve done. Even a condemned man has a right to know what he’s accused of.”

“Did you speak to Father last night?”

“Yes. I did. Just as I promised I would.”

“And did you ask for
my
hand?”

“Of course. And he agreed.”

“Liar!”
She screamed the word and plunged toward him, the knife upheld in her right hand.

Zack caught her wrist just in time. Whether she would have really driven it home through his heart neither of them would ever know. The sharp steel weapon clattered to the floor and Persia collapsed, sobbing against his chest. He held her, stroking her hair, murmuring to her, trying to console her and to find out what had happened. But she was incoherent, hysterical.

“Persia, Persia,” he crooned. “My love, my darling. What can I do?”

Her hand crept over his chest. She twined her fingertips through the golden forest of hair, not noticing that when by chance she stroked his paps he stiffened, moaned, and thrust toward her.

“Love me, Zack,” she whispered between sobs. “Love me as if I were the only woman in the world you cared for.”

“But you
are,
Persia!”

“Make me believe it.” Her warm, moist breath tingled over his chest, and one tear dropped down, stinging his flesh.

He caught her up in his arms, searching her tear-salted mouth with his tongue. She quivered against him and sighed into his open mouth.

This was the moment… the
woman
… he had been dreaming of all his life. He held her with one arm and with the other began unbuttoning her bodice. She made no protest at first, but when his hand found her bare breast, she pulled away and stared at him with anger in her flashing blue eyes.

“It doesn’t matter to you, does it?”

“What
doesn’t matter to me?” he asked in a voice strangled with passion. God, how could she do this to him—lead him on and then turn away?

“The woman’s body beneath yours? One’s as good as another, isn’t it? The more the merrier, that’s what Europa says.”

“Europa? What the hell does she have to do with this?”

“Everything!
You find her appealing, don’t you?”

Still holding her with the front of her gown parted so that her breasts were bared before him, he shrugged. “I won’t deny it. What man would?”

“The man I’m going to marry would!”

“Be reasonable, Persia. I’m only human. I may look at Europa with appreciative eyes, but it’s
you
I love. If I didn’t love you, I promise you, you would be stripped and beneath me this very moment.”

She stared down at him, trying to read the very depths of his eyes. Her own were filled with uncertainty.

“But Father thinks when you spoke to him last night that you were asking to marry Europa.”

“Europa?
But that’s impossible!”

“Didn’t you say
which
sister you were asking for?”

“Of course I did!” He frowned and clawed a hand through his wild shock of golden hair, uncertain. “I
must
have. And besides, Seton spoke to your father before I did. He asked for Europa’s hand.”

“So we thought, but he lost his nerve. You must not have mentioned my name. Since Seton didn’t ask for Europa, Father would have turned you down if you’d asked for me. She has to marry before I will be allowed to.”

“But he gave us his blessing, Persia.”

She shook her head sadly, the fight gone out of her. “He gave you and
Europa
his blessing.”

Zack closed his arms around her and Persia sank into them, sobbing against his bare chest as the full impact of the hopeless situation crushed her with it’s weight.

Stroking her hair, he murmured softly, “Darling, it’s nothing to be so upset about. All we have to do is go to your father and tell him there’s been a mistake.”

“No, it’s not that simple. Europa has accepted the engagement. She
wants
to marry you! She said you were the most fascinating man she’d ever met.”

He drew back, smiling. “Did she really?”

Until that moment, Persia thought she had no heart left, but his words and their tone tore the rest of it from her living flesh.

“You want her, don’t you?” she accused, pulling away.

“I want
you,
Persia love.
Only you/”

He clasped her about the waist, bringing her lips up to his. For the next moment, Persia gloried in his velvet exploration of the secret depths of her mouth. How easy it was for him to turn pain to pleasure! Did such a talent come through broad experience?

“What are we going to do, Zack?”

He turned her, pressing her back against the mattress, and stared down into her tear-streaked face. One hand caught at the hem of her skirts, moving the full fabric up her stockinged leg. “We could seal our bargain now. They wouldn’t
dare
refuse to marry us!”

It was tempting, but she shoved his urgent hand away. “A child born prematurely? You think that’s the answer? No, Zack. I won’t have it that way, as much as I want you.”

She was lying there on her back, the bodice of her dress spread wide before his eager eyes… and lips.

Slowly, he lowered his head and touched one strutting nipple with his tongue. She winced with pleasure and surprise. Her tender flesh crinkled at the unexpected contact. He pressed his assault, drawing the sensitive bud between his lips. Persia gasped softly.

“Shall I stop?” There was mischief in his voice as his breath tingled her tender flesh.

“Yes!” The answer was firm and strong, even if she didn’t mean it.

He looked down into her eyes, his own dark and seething with desire. “Your first lesson as my wife, Persia dear.
Never
invade my bedroom first thing in the morning unless you are in the mood for love.”

Holding her shoulders firmly against the pillow, Zack took his morning sup at her breasts. She tossed and twisted beneath him, dying a thousand small deaths to have him take the rest of her. Her flesh ached with desire, and she murmured his name, pleading over and over again, but Zack contented himself with what lay naked before him. The rest, he resolved, would wait for their wedding night.

When he could take no more without crumbling that resolve, he pushed himself away and closed her bodice with an air of finality. Slowly, while Persia stared up at him with pleading eyes, he refastened each and every one of her twenty pewter buttons.

“There! You’re safe now, my darling.”

She raised up on her elbows and gave him a half smile. “Am I?”

“What do you mean?”

“The only way I’ll be safe, Zachariah Hazzard, is as your wife. Which will it be? Are you going to marry me or Europa?”

“Well-l-l… let’s say I’ll give you my answer at supper tonight.”

She caught him about the neck with sharp nails and answered, “Let’s say I’ll do you bodily harm if you don’t marry
me!
”

He fended her off. “All right! All right! Now I have a threat for you. Either you leave in the next two minutes and let me get my pants on, or you’re going to find out, in the most shocking and exciting way, exactly what I put into them!”

Persia was very tempted to stay but didn’t dare. Gathering herself in her cloak, she hurried out, secure in the knowledge that all misunderstandings would be righted by evening and
she,
not Europa, would be Zachariah Hazzard’s betrothed.

As she hurried down the stairs, not looking where she was going, she literally ran into the innkeeper. He caught her shoulders with his beefy hands for a moment to steady her.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“Quite all right, Miss Whiddington.”

She stared. How did the man know her name?

“Been visiting upstairs again with your gentleman friend, Mr. Hazzard?” He gave her a broad wink and a highly suggestive grin. “You needn’t worry that I know all about your little rendezvous. I’m deaf, dumb, and blind when it comes to such delicate matters.”

Persia gasped in horror. She had to defend her honor and her innocence. “It so happens that Mr. Hazzard and I are about to be married.”

The man bowed to her and chuckled. “Then let me be the first to congratulate you. You’ll be snagging a rich man.”

“Zachariah?
Rich?”

“Indeed! He made a wager that it seems he’s won.”

“What kind of wager?”

The man squinted at her, considering. “Well, now that’s for him to tell. But he’ll be collecting a small fortune for his amorous efforts.”

Persia stared at the man, and her mouth dropped open.
A wager?
What kind of games was Zack playing?

She pushed her way past the innkeeper, confused and more upset than ever. She couldn’t go home yet. She was still too angry to face Europa. She hurried blindly down Main Street, letting the snow whip her face with its cleansing coolness.

After all that had happened, did she still love Zack? Did she still want to be his wife?

Yes!
The answer was as clear to her as the memory of the sensations aroused by his mouth suckling gently at her breasts.

Zack sat on the edge of his bed, listening to the tap-tap of Persia’s footsteps fade down the hallway. He leaned forward, staring at the wide pine boards of the floor, but not really seeing anything. His body might be here, but his mind was miles away, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong. Thinking back over it, he realized that the past days had been like a dream… a
nightmare, perhaps?

What was he doing here? If he’d only gone on to Boston with most of his shipmates, he’d be happily drinking in some tavern, a willing doxy at his beck and call and not a care in the world. He stared down at himself and the hopeless erection throbbing against his belly.

“Damn!” he swore.

Matters had been bad enough before Persia had presented herself this morning. Her kisses, the honeyed taste of her breasts, even her anger had aroused him. If only
honor
hadn’t chosen that very moment to rear its bothersome head!

He got up and dashed his face with icy water from the ironstone pitcher on the washstand, shivering at the shock. The fire in the grate had gone out during the night and the room was cold. Distractedly, he poked at the few glowing embers. The thought came to mind that their deep-burning glow was the color of Persia’s hair in bright sunlight.

“Persia, Persia,” he murmured, tossing his head back to stare at the gray ceiling. “What am I going to do about us?”

He could, of course, take the coward’s way out—leave the whole mess behind and leave Quoddy Cove forever. The thought was suddenly appealing. No doubts. No worries. Just take off and ship out as quickly as possible. Yes! That was what he’d do! Damned if he needed
two
women fighting over him!

So resolved, he dressed quickly and shoved the remainder of his belongings into his duffelbag. He went to the shaving stand to collect his toilet articles. That would do it. Then he could go.

But standing there in front of the mirror, he caught sight of his own accusing eyes staring at him. Something clutched in his guts. He was no coward! And Persia Whiddington… sweet, innocent Persia… didn’t deserve such treatment from any man.

He shied away from the dark blaze of his eyes in the glass. Who was he trying to fool? It wasn’t for Persia that he must stay. It was for himself. He loved her. He wanted her. And he meant to have her! But he couldn’t wait all day to untangle this mess. He would go to the Whiddington house now and straighten out the misunderstanding.
This very minute!

As he dashed past the front desk, the innkeeper said, “My congratulations, Mr. Hazzard! When’s the wedding to be?”

He never looked at the man but called out in answer, “As soon as I settle the question of which sister I’m to marry!”

He didn’t see the man’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he slammed out the door into the snowy morning.

The distance between Tavern Hill and Gay Street took Zack only minutes to cover. The wind caught his coat and whipped it like a scarlet sail as he mounted the steps to the front door of the Whiddington residence. He had not yet pounded the knocker when the door opened to him.

“Why, Zachariah! You’re hours early. But never mind. We’ll have some time together this way.”

The woman before him looked enchanting, her heart- shaped face glowing like shell pearl inside the ebony frame of her hair. The scent of summer’s first roses emanated from the folds of her lace-jaboted bosom, and her hand felt like warm silk as it touched his almost shyly.

“Europa, I’m here to see your father.” His tone was all business, never mind roses and soft, scented flesh.

“Oh!” She sounded disappointed and taken aback. “I naturally assumed, under the circumstances, that you’d come to see me.”

“Those
circumstances
are exactly what I must speak to your father about.”

She offered him such an apologetic and alluring smile that some of the stiffness melted from his body.

“I’m sorry, but Father is meeting with some other investors down at the docks this morning. Some tiresome business about buying an ice ship, I believe. Mother’s in quite a state over the whole matter. She can’t see and neither can I how anyone can do other than lose a fortune by trying to transport ice to hot climates.”

Europa’s whole speech was accompanied by a fluttering of eyelashes and lace ruffles. She continued stroking the back of Zack’s hand while she spoke. By the time she finished and took a gasping little breath, she had Zack under her spell.

“There’s a fortune to be made in ice, Europa. Hasn’t your father ever explained the business to you?”

She smiled sweetly. “Oh, he’s tried. But my poor brain is filled with feathers, I’m afraid, when it comes to business. Perhaps if you told me all about it, I would understand.”

“Of course, if you like.”

They were still standing in the open doorway. Europa glanced back down the hall to make sure no one was about before she opened the door wide for him to enter. She was safe. Her father wouldn’t be back for hours. Her mother was upstairs lying down. And Fletcher was in the back of the house helping the cook get everything ready for their special dinner. As for Persia, Europa had no idea where she might be. She hadn’t yet come back from her walk. But should she happen in on them, that would be perfectly all right. Persia would have to get used to seeing them together… for the rest of her life.

“Do come in, Zack. You must be freezing.”

Europa showed him to the parlor across the hall from her father’s study. She had been in there since breakfast, poring over fashion books, trying to decide which wedding gown would best suit her. The walls were a rosy hue, enhanced by the cheery light of the fire. As the captain’s study was a man’s room, so the parlor was decorated to suit a lady’s tastes with its pastel brocades and gilt-framed watercolors of flowers and birds in delicate tints.

“Come sit here beside me. It seems we have a lot to talk about,
darling
.” She said the word pointedly, to let him know she knew.

Zack tried to keep his distance on the cramped love seat, but there was not that much space and Europa seemed set on intimate contact.

“We do have a lot to talk about. You’re right. There has been a mistake. That’s why I’m here. I hope you’ll understand, Europa.”

She turned to him, her eyes fairly gleaming, and cradled his cold cheeks in her soft palms. “Darling, the only mistake was in my thinking that I could ever marry a man like Seton Holloway. You are the one I want… the one I’m going to marry. I knew the night at the pond that you were only playing up to Persia to get to me. Then when you risked your life to save me, why, I would have agreed to marry you that very evening!” She looked up at him shyly, peeking through her lashes. “The way you held me in your arms as you carried me… the way you kissed me later when we were alone. I could tell you wanted me, Zack, just as much as I wanted you.”

He was tempted to point out to her that she was half-frozen and nearly drowned when he took her in his arms and that
she
had kissed him, not the other way around. But the gentleman somewhere deep down inside refused to allow him to be so blunt with her.

“Well, it all paid off, my dearest,” she continued. “You have me now, and we’re quite alone. Let’s not waste our time on needless chatter. You may kiss me.”

“Europa…” he began, but her lips pressed his, sealing off his protests.

He sat still and unresponsive for a time, willing himself not to be aroused by the pressure of her lips, the scents of roses and female flesh filling his nostrils, or even the warmth of her breasts against his chest. But when her hand found his thigh and worked its way to the throbbing crotch of his trousers, he had no will to fight her. His arms came up, drawing her harder against him. She parted her lips, inviting him to enter. Still maintaining some willpower, he refused. It was no use. An instant later, her velvety tongue was gliding over his lips, parting them, seeking what she longed for.

Summoning more strength than he thought he possessed, Zack pulled back. “No, Europa! This isn’t right!”

Her eyes were veiled by half-closed lids. Her lips, still parted, looked red, puffy, and inviting. While he watched, one of her slender hands went to her throat, unbuttoning the lace with slow, seductive ease. Soon Zack found himself staring at the deep, satiny valley between her firm breasts. She reached for his hand and pressed his palm against her chest.

“This
isn’t right, Zack darling?” she said in a husky voice. “Then you show me what is.”

He groaned deep in his throat and allowed his hand to be guided from the valley to the soft mountain peak just beyond. Europa murmured a sigh and leaned into him, increasing the pressure on her breast.

“My darling,” she gasped, tearing at her bodice to bare more of herself to him. “Oh, I know how you’ve wanted me! You’ve been dreaming of this moment since you first saw me. And I knew even then that someday you would take me. It was there in your eyes, even as it is this very moment.”

Suddenly, she was like a female animal in heat—clutching at him, begging him, offering to allow him to take unspeakable liberties with her body. Quite frankly, he was shocked. Drawing away, he caught her by the shoulders and shook her roughly.

“Europa, what’s come over you? What do you think you’re doing? I didn’t come here for this. I came to tell you that there was a mistake made last night. I asked your father for
Persia’s
hand, not yours. You’re a beautiful, desirable woman, but it’s your sister I love.”

If she had reminded him of an animal before, the effect now was even more startling. Her eyes narrowed. Her breath escaped with a hissing sound. Her teeth were clenched in rage.

He was still clutching her shoulders, trying to keep her away from him, when the door to the parlor opened. His hands dropped away from her and he stood up abruptly. But not before Persia, her face drained of all color, saw them huddled on the love seat together with Europa’s bodice gaping wide in invitation.

“Persia, wait! It’s not what you’re thinking!” He charged after her, but she was already out of the house and racing down the icy walk.

“Please darling!” he shouted. “Let me explain.”

She didn’t answer, only ran faster and faster, finally darting off the road into a stand of evergreens. Therein lay the undoing of her flight. The deeper snow in the woods slowed her pace. And instead of losing Zack in the maze of trees, she left a deep trail for him to follow.

When he caught up with her and grabbed her from behind, she screamed. The piercing sound dislodged a wet clump of snow from a branch overhead, showering them both with its white coldness. Persia fought him with every ounce of strength she had—pounding his chest, kicking and biting. But Zack would not release her.

Finally, tripping over a log, Persia fell backward, toppling Zack with her. On her back, pressed deep into the soft snow, she could no longer resist him. His weight held her to the spot where she had fallen. One ironlike hand gripped her wrists so that she couldn’t claw his face. She could only lie there, gasping and sobbing, wanting nothing so much as to be far, far away, hidden from his probing gaze and his lying tongue forever. But even as she tried to shrug away, his mouth came down and took hers with a force of passion she had never known. It was as if he were putting his brand on her for all time—letting her know that he would do as he damn well pleased and she could like it or go to hell.

But following close on the heels of his near brutal kiss, his words to her were surprisingly gentle. “Persia, please, don’t fight me. Listen to me. I love you!”

She ceased struggling, but the hard lines of anguish in her face did not soften.

“I don’t believe you.” Her words were as lifeless as if they had been spoken from the grave.

“You
must!.
What you saw back there at the house means nothing, I tell you.”

“Nothing?
Then I suppose what you’re saying is that if someone had walked in on the two of us this morning while I lay half-naked in your embrace in your bed, that would also have meant nothing!”

“No, no, no!” He shook his head furiously. “That’s not what I mean at all. There is nothing between your sister and me. I love
you
and only you. And I intend to marry you.”

She still refused to be convinced. “Oh, I understand now. Zachariah Hazzard doesn’t have to love a woman to undress her and take liberties with her. He is above such plebeian codes of morality. He is free to do what he will with
any
woman—his fiancee, his fiancee’s sister, or any other female in any port of the world,” she said sarcastically.

Even though he was plainly in the wrong and realized that Persia had a right to her anger, her words wounded him deeply. He was new at being in love and he’d managed it badly. But even ignorance and stupidity shouldn’t be dealt with so harshly. Once, as a new seaman, he had been tied to the mast and flogged for insubordination, receiving the usual ten lashes with a cat- o’-nine-tails. On occasion in his most terrible nightmares, he still relived that burning, flesh-rending, bone-deep pain. But even that paled before the anguish of the punishment Persia was inflicting.

Still, there must be some way to make her forgive him. Zack knew his only convincing defense would be to accuse Europa of the seduction, but he had never been one to hide behind a woman’s skirts. If Persia truly loved him, she would have to believe him and forgive. If she didn’t, well…

Releasing his hold on her wrists, he rose from her and offered a hand to help her up. She eyed him suspiciously.

“You’ll freeze lying there in the snow,” he said matter-of-factly. “Get up.”

She took his hand warily. When she was standing upright, Zack turned and started walking away.

She watched him go for a time before she cried out, “Wait!”

He turned back toward her but didn’t speak. His face looked exactly like the fierce, carved figurehead of Neptune she had seen once on a ship’s prow. She waited for him to say something until it became apparent that he would waste no more words on her.

“Where are you going, Zack?”