Love's Fiery Jewel (9 page)

Abruptly releasing her, he stood up and turned away,
running his hand through his hair in an anxious gesture.
"That's why I stayed away from you for a week and tried
to find an interest in Cecily Hargrove. I thought if I could
manage to put you out of my mind for a while.. .but the
moment I saw you again, Cecily no longer existed."

Without her realization, Amethyst moved to stand
beside him, and placing her hand on his arm, she said
softly, "William, why are you so upset?" Turning him
gently toward her she smiled into his tortured expression, inadvertently increasing his passion by the sheer
power of her sublime beauty. "I'm fifteen years old now,
but next year I'll be sixteen... Certainly sixteen is
considered quite mature. Can't you wait a year for me,
William?"

For a small, wordless moment William's eyes roamed
her face, a small smile appearing on his lips only seconds
before he pulled her against him in an abrupt movement,
holding her tightly as he whispered against her hair in a
choked voice. "God help me, Amethyst, that's the
problem.... I don't think I can..."

In the next moment he was kissing her wildly, his lips
sending a madness racing through her body that she
seemed powerless to control. She had never been kissed
before, much less allowed a man to arouse her so
violently, and inundated by a sweep of unfamiliar
emotion, Amethyst found herself drowning in pure, unadulterated desire. William's kisses went on and on,
raising her passion, destroying her resistance, until she
found herself lying prone on the ground with William's
young, lean body lying atop hers. His hands were on her
breasts, exciting even deeper emotions than before and
gasping with ecstasy, Amethyst strained him closer as his
lips trailed across her shoulder. Frustrated by the
clothing that lay between them, he began to fumble at the
buttons on her skirt. Suddenly he was unable to wait and
reaching down, he awkwardly pushed it aside. The
second his hand touched the skin of her thigh, Amethyst
was wrenched from her passion-induced lethargy and she
gasped hoarsely, "William, what are you doing?"

Raising his eyes to hers, William pleaded softly,
"Amethyst, darling, don't stop me now.. .darling, I
love you.. .I must have you... darling..." His hand
was on her stomach, moving sensuously downward when
Amethyst felt the first jolt of fear.

"William, stop! Stop, please!" When her panicky
entreaty had no effect on his passion, Amethyst pushed
at his hand wildly, only to feel his arm stiffen and refuse
to be moved aside. Mumbling incoherently, his lips
pressing hungry kisses against her face and neck,
William's hand moved unalteringly to the soft warmth of
her crotch where he began an intimate caress. Suddenly
Amethyst was fighting frantically, pounding and scratching at his hands and back, twisting and turning beneath
him as she cried out softly over and over again, "No,
William.. .no! I don't want it this way... stop!" And
then as anger overran her emotions, "Stop! William, how
dare you treat me like this? You are a beast... stop, I
say!

But he was deaf to her pleas and immune to her blows.
Suddenly overwhelmed by fear and succumbing to a
strange weakness slowly stealing over her, Amethyst
began sobbing softly as she sought frantically to free herself from his arms.

Where all else had failed, Amethyst's heartbroken
sobs appeared to suddenly penetrate his raging passion
and raising his head, William stared in a startled manner
at her tear-streaked face.

"Don't cry, darling, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to
frighten you... Amethyst..." Smoothing his hand
across her cheek, he gently wiped away the tears,
contrition shining brightly in his eyes as he whispered
softly, "You don't have to be afraid anymore, darling."
Kissing her mouth lightly, he rolled off her, straightening her skirt as he did, and rising to his feet, he gently
pulled her up to stand beside him.

Her body was rigid and trembling and when he reached
toward her, he saw her tense for flight. Taking her hands
gently in his, he looked deeply into her eyes, remorse
clearly defined in his unhappy expression.

"I'm sorry I frightened you, Amethyst. Darling,
you're right, I was behaving like a beast. Can you forgive
me...please, darling... can you try to forget what just
happened? Just remember I love you, Amethyst. I
wouldn't do anything to make you unhappy or frightened."

Still unable to speak, but touched by William's
obvious sincerity, Amethyst nodded slowly, her breath
catching on a small sob as she made a positive effort to
regain control.

His own eyes bright, William slowly enfolded her in a
gentle embrace, stroking her hair soothingly until her
trembling subsided. When he was finally satisfied that
the hysteria of the moment had been conquered, he
slackened his embrace enough that he might look into
her face. Content that he no longer saw fear in her eyes,
his own tense expression relaxed into a tentative smile.

"I haven't destroyed your trust in me, have I,
Amethyst?" His voice held an urgent, hopeful appeal that tugged at Amethyst's heartstrings, and managing a
small smile of her own, she whispered shakily, "No,
William."

"Then you have my word now, darling," William's
voice was firm with conviction. "We'll wait ...I won't
rush you into anything. And you're right, Amethyst.
Sixteen is a mature age.. .even mature enough to
marry."

Amethyst remained silent, her eyes traveling the
smooth unlined planes of his handsome face until he
chafed at her silence and urged quietly, "What do you
say, Amethyst?"

Her violet eyes still a bit wary, a tentative smile
touched her lips as she whispered huskily in response, "I
suppose that's so... we'll see, William..."

1782

Long, slender fingers curling tenaciously in the thick
hair at the base of his neck drew his mouth down possessively to meet parted lips inviting the invasion of
his tongue. Somewhere in the back of his mind a warning
bell sounded shrilly as the tactics of the woman in his
arms became more and more transparent to Damien's
mind's eye. He had been through this same scene many
times before and was wary of the shrewd maneuvers of
calculating females who sought to insinuate themselves
firmly into his memory and his life with their willing
bodies. This knowledge was not a matter of conceit,
merely a matter of experience gained from repetition, the
few close calls he had managed to escape in the past. But
he was determined to avoid the allure of inviting arms
which promised much while demanding far more in
return. A life at sea was not conducive to long, binding
relationships and he did not intend to be tied down.

Slowly freeing himself from the soft, clinging embrace,
Damien pulled his head back to look down into Merrell's
sultry glance, unable to deny the persistent tugging in his
groin her expression evoked. Concealing the self-derisive
smile rising to his lips, he whispered firmly, "I must be
leaving, Merrell. The tide will be high within an hour and
I have many last-minute details to accomplish."

"Damien, darling," Merrell cooed, her caressing, darkeyed glance moving provocatively across his mouth,
"you don't really want to leave me, do you?"

"I have to admit," Damien countered evasively,"you
make it damn hard for a man to think of business, but,"
his hand moving purposefully to the handle of the coach
door, he continued, "we can continue where we left off
when I return to port in a few months. In the meantime,
try to behave yourself while I'm gone ...if that's
possible."

"Can you give me a good reason why I should behave
myself, darling?" Merrell's voice was petulant as her
expression took on a faintly victorious glow. "Will you
be behaving yourself for me?"

Damien's direct response was delivered in a soft, even
tone. "Merrell, dear, you wouldn't want me to lie to you,
would you?"

Her eyes snapping wide in surprise, Merrell Bristol
stared silently into his face for a few brief seconds, her
lips tightening ever so slightly in concealed anger. The
spoiled daughter of a wealthy Philadelphia merchant, she
was not accustomed to being thwarted once she had set
her mind on any goal, and she had definitely set her mind
on becoming Mrs. Damien Straith. However, far too wise
to press a situation where she was obviously beginning to
lose ground, she replied slowly, "Of course not, darling.
And neither will I lie to you. But when you return, we'll
make up for lost time, won't we..."

Leaning forward to press her ample bosom against his
chest, Merrell slid her arms around his neck, offering her
mouth again as she moved sensuously against him in a
tantalizing promise that could not be ignored.

"Damn if she isn't an efficient little seductress,"
Damien thought silently, regretfully tearing his mouth
from hers as he firmly disentangled himself from her
clinging arms. Flashing her a brief smile, he slipped out of
the carriage door without a reply.

Striding briskly toward the Sally, he turned to extend a
brief salute in the direction of the elegant black carriage and the lovely woman staring unsmilingly out the
window at his retreating figure. Turning back to mount
the gangplank, the smile swiftly dropped from his face as
his thoughts moved quickly to the imminent voyage.
Within a few brief seconds, all thoughts of Merrell
Bristol were completely dismissed from his mind.

A steaming tropical sun beat mercilessly on his head as
Damien stared sullenly at the placid, gleaming waters of
the Caribbean Sea. The voyage was not going well.
Directing another glance upward, he snorted disgustedly
at the sight of limp sails against the masts, lifeless ghosts
of the full billowing beauties that should be carrying
them smoothly toward Kingston. With a small shake of
his head, Damien's lips curled in an ironic smile.
Smuggling was still extremely profitable in Jamaica. The
necessities of life continued to be in short supply on the
island and the cessation of the war the previous year had
not discouraged the islanders from welcoming smuggled
merchandise. He was well on his way to becoming
wealthy while still maintaining the devotion of the
islanders for his steady provisions of needed supplies,
smuggled or not. But he had decided he would enter port
legally this time. Rather than risk a problem with his
American registry, he would use the set of false ship's
papers he maintained for just such an occasion. The Sally
would not be challenged. He owed himself and his men
some leisure time in a port where they were practically an
institution even if it was a whispered fame. And that was
the irony of the situation. Having made the decision to
enter Jamaica legally for the first time in many years, the
Sally had become becalmed. She had been floating in the
same area for three long days, seeing less movement than
she had seen in dry-dock the last time around!

"Hell!" he thought, impatiently shifting his broad
frame for a brief glance across the motionless horizon. He had had his fill of still, hot air that sat on a man's
shoulders with soul-wearying weight. He was anxious to
be on to Kingston.

His brow knitting into a small frown, a persistent
thought returned to his mind, effectively mounting his
agitation even as he attempted to ignore its nagging
presence. It was only by chance that he had learned that
Marian Greer had died a few months ago. The damned
brat with the purple eyes was an orphan... she was
alone... Refusing to acknowledge the sudden tightening in his stomach that recurring thought evoked and the
influence that bit of information had had on his sudden
desire for leisure time in Jamaica, he rationalized
silently, "Well, at least she is assured of an ample supply
of food." He had seen to it on his last trip to Kingston
that the usual portion of supplies was delivered to her
door, and if she continued to be as shrewd as she had been
in the past, he was relatively certain that food would not
now be a problem for her. He had also learned through a
few inquiries that Amethyst had been gradually assuming
more and more of her mother's acting duties while the
sickly woman recuperated from repeated illnesses, and
had been well received by the audiences in Kingston. A
scoffing expression covered his handsome face for a few
brief seconds. In his own silent estimation, Amethyst's
reception as an actress only served to prove the
stupendous ignorance of the famous Jamaican Creoles.
But why he was actually spending any time at all in
contemplation of the surly little beggar's plight was a
complete mystery to him. Unexpectedly the vision of a
small, angry face turned up to his, heated purple eyes
blazing furiously into his own stormy expression
returned to his mind and a peculiar sense of urgency
increased inside him. Damn that lazy wind! Damn the
obstinate sea! The Sally lay as dormant as a leaf on a
stagnant pond and he was helpless against the situation.