Souls Aflame (10 page)

“It doesn’t have to end when we reach Bermuda, Julie.” He spoke quietly, his voice firm and sure. “You don’t have to go on to England and commit yourself to a life of loveless misery. You can be my woman. I’ll find a place for you there, away from the turmoils of the war, and I’ll see you as often as I can. We’ll get to know each other, and when the war is over—”

“No!” She all but screamed the word, jerking from his grasp and turning quickly to clutch the railing with both hands. It couldn’t work. It was not possible. She did not want to be his mistress. She wanted to go on to England and marry Virgil so they could return to Savannah. She couldn’t walk out on her family, turn her back on them. And she and Derek did not love each other. What they felt was the desire between two animals, she reasoned, nothing more.

“I’ve never asked a woman to be mine before.” He seemed to be struggling to control his anger once again. “If you refuse me after all you told me while you were in your feverish stupor, you’re going to make me think what we shared means nothing to you and any man with the right touch could have you the way I did.”

“That isn’t fair,” she responded tightly. “I wouldn’t be like that. I know I wouldn’t.”

“You didn’t think it was possible with me. Now it makes me wonder just what kind of woman you are. You plan to marry a man you don’t love, for the sake of your family and your precious plantation, yet you turn into a bundle of squirming, screaming flesh in my arms. Perhaps I judged you wrong. Maybe you just put on a good act, and you really are willing to couple with any man.”

“Derek, I hate you when you talk like that.” She faced him once more. “The plain, simple truth is that I don’t love you. So just leave me alone. It seems we bring out the worst in each other. Forget what happened, and I’ll try to do the same.”

He laughed then, an ugly, cruel sound. “I’ll leave you alone once I’ve left you safely in Bermuda. Till then, you will obey me and come when I call you, or I’ll see to it that Virgil Oates is informed that his bride-to-be isn’t the virtuous lady he believes.”

“You would do that too, wouldn’t you?” She stared at him with loathing. “After your tenderness of a short while ago, you’d blackmail me into submission. I don’t know you at all, Derek. I don’t think you even know yourself. You’re mean and vicious and unscrupulous.”

“No,” he said simply. “I meant the tender words I spoke. I do feel we were meant to be together. It angers me that you refuse to acknowledge that fact. You’re denying your heart, your womanhood, and you turn your back on an emotion that could easily lead to the real and deep love I know you’d like to share with a man.

“And yes,” he went on bluntly, “I would be vengeful enough to tell Oates about us, to keep you from destroying yourself.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She turned away from him once again. Oh, would he never stop tormenting her? Would he not just leave her be? “You made me respond to you. I didn’t ask you to make me feel that way. Why can’t you understand that?”

She turned to face him, blinking against the darkness as she realized she was speaking only to the night wind. For silently, like an animal stalking its prey, he had slipped away. She was left alone, there beside the railing, the ocean waters still churning angrily below, Derek’s threats echoing in her soul. Without a doubt, she knew he’d meant everything he said, and that he would again call her to his bed to fill his needs.

She had no choice but to answer that call. Derek Arnhardt was not a man to bluff. A shudder passed through her body as she remembered his kisses, still sweet upon her lips…and his caresses, the feel of him lunging powerfully inside her body, filling her with his manhood.

God forgive her, but for the time left, she would secretly welcome his call.

Chapter Six

Each night Derek would slip silently into Julie’s cabin. There was no set time, so she never knew exactly when he would appear. It could be any hour between midnight and dawn. Sometimes she would fall asleep, only to awaken to his warm, tender kisses and hungrily seeking hands. And always, no matter how hard she tried to be cold and unyielding, he could arouse her body to a fever pitch. She would answer his hunger with her own, and the two would entwine passionately, hotly. He would thrust himself inside her again and again until he was sure that she, too, was satisfied and fulfilled.

One night he waited till just before dawn to steal into her bed, and after they had made love, he held her against his powerful chest and stroked her hair lovingly for a long time without speaking. Then he whispered, “Soon we’ll be in Bermuda, Julie. Do you really want to continue on to England? Haven’t I proved to you by now that you want me every bit as much as I want you?”

She stiffened. He felt her rejection and stopped caressing her, waiting tensely for her reply. “I
am
going on to England, Derek. It would be hypocritical for me to say I haven’t enjoyed these hours in your arms. I have. Very much. I’ve tried to fight it—”

“How well I know.” He chuckled softly, rolling from his side to his back and folding his arms behind his head. “I keep waiting for the night when you stop pretending, and I’ll find you waiting for me naked and eager, the way you really want to be.”

She thought how desirable he looked, lying there in the gray-rose light of dawn that filtered through the porthole, his muscles glistening with perspiration from their passionate lovemaking. Her fingers tingled with the desire to dance down that beautiful, massive chest, but she held back. “Derek, you are a wonderful lover, and shameless as I may be, I have enjoyed all we have meant to each other, but soon it’s going to end. It has to. I can’t be what you want me to be.”

He raised an eyebrow, and she could tell by the flash in his eyes and the twitch in his jaw that he was getting angry. “Just what the hell do you think I want you to be?” he snapped.

“Your mistress,” she said simply as she fumbled beneath the mussed blankets in search of the gown he had removed from her. She found it and pulled it over her head, shaking her hair loose about her shoulders and tying the bow of the gown beneath her chin. “I don’t want to be any man’s mistress, Derek.”

He snorted contemptuously. “That’s all you’ll be as Virgil Oates’s wife—his mistress. You won’t have a marriage in the true sense of the word, and you know it.”

“At least I’ll be his wife. That will give me respectability, security, something I would never have with you.”

He drew in his breath, then let it out in an annoyed rush. “Women! By any other name, they’re all prostitutes, wanting something from a man, whether it’s money or a husband. I’m not surprised to find that you’re no different.”

Momentarily she felt a ripple of anger move over her, but refused to let it take hold. Instead she kept her voice calm and even. “Someday you will fall in love, Derek, and then you’ll want to give a woman what Virgil is giving me. Will you consider your wife a prostitute?”

He looked at her as though she had lost her mind. “I’ll never marry, Julie. If I have a wife, it’s the sea. I’ve known plenty of women, but I’ve never thought about marriage.”

“But have you ever been in love?” she pressed on.

He looked thoughtful, then shook his head slowly. “No. I don’t guess I have. But then, I have never stayed with the same woman for very long.”

He lowered those thick, dusty lashes that she found so appealing and gave her a strange, thoughtful look that made her uncomfortable. Scrambling from the bed, she stood barefoot on the rough floor and murmured nervously that he’d best be on his way. “It will be completely light soon. You might be seen leaving. Others will be waking.”

He continued to stare at her in that puzzled, searching way that made her feel so odd. Finally, almost reluctantly, he got up and began dressing. Julie walked over to the porthole and stared out at the rolling sea. A greenish mist clung to its surface, but she knew that would soon rise, giving way to the usual sparkling, azure waters. She loved the sea and found it strangely mysterious, as though a million secrets lay beneath its depths, forever hidden. She could stand for hours and dream of those secrets, wondering how many before her had done the same.

Suddenly something caught her eye—an object, far away, as best she could tell; but no, it was close by. The fog played tricks with her sense of distance. She could not make out what it was, but here, this far from land, the only thing it could be was a ship. “Derek,” she whispered, a feeling of undefined terror making her heart beat faster. “Derek…I think there’s a ship out there—”

“A ship?” he cried, forgetting to keep his voice low, forgetting that her mother slept just across the narrow hallway. He bolted to the porthole and roughly shoved her aside as he squinted to see through the thick mist that still clung to the ocean’s surface. “Where? Show me. You must be seeing things.”

“There…” She squeezed next to him to point. “Wait a moment, till the fog rises a bit. There. Can you see it now? Doesn’t it look like a ship? What else could it be? Or perhaps it’s land. Maybe it’s Bermuda, and we’re arriving sooner than you thought—”

He pushed by her to scramble into his trousers, forgetting about his shirt and boots as he hurried toward the door. “Hell, no, that’s not land,” he yelled. “That’s a goddamn ship, and I don’t know what
kind
of ship…”

He opened the door and slammed right into his first officer, who had been about to knock.

“Sir, we’ve been looking for you,” Edsel Garris cried, feeling slightly embarrassed at finding him in Julie’s quarters. “We’ve caught sight of a ship, and it’s too far away to tell what flag she flies. I’ve ordered the men to their battle stations.”

“Let’s go…” Derek shouted, and the two ran down the hallway as Julie’s mother opened her cabin door. Her sleepy eyes were instantly wide awake, shocked at the sight of the captain coming out of her daughter’s room, his chest and feet bare.

“What on earth…” she gasped.

Julie ignored her mother and scurried after Derek, forgetting that she wore only her dressing gown. “Derek, what’s wrong? What’s happening? We’ve passed ships before.”

He whirled about at the bottom of the steps, his eyes narrowed grimly. “Julie, go to your cabin and stay there. I told you: we don’t know what kind of ship it is. We may be fired on. Federal steamers are in these waters, and if they demand to board, we’d have a hell of a lot of questions to answer. If they find out the
Ariane
is a blockade runner, then we’re all in danger. Now do as I say. I’ll let you know when it’s safe.”

He saw her mother for the first time. “You too. Get in your cabin and stay there. If you hear any firing, lie down on the floor.”

Then he disappeared up the steps. Julie turned and hurried back to her cabin, looking about for something to put on. She had no intention of being caught in her nightgown if the Yankees did board.

Her mother followed her. Instead of being frightened about the possibility that their ship might be attacked, she was overcome with rage because of the implication of Captain Arnhardt being in her daughter’s cabin, especially the way the two had been dressed, and at such an early hour.

“I demand to know what has been going on here,” she cried. Then she saw Derek’s boots, carelessly tossed on the floor beside the bed, and his shirt lying nearby. In anguish she whispered, “Julie, no. Don’t tell me you and the captain were…” She could not bring herself to speak the actual words.

Julie felt herself reddening as she groped in her trunk for a dress. What could she say? Denial was futile. Finally she croaked out an apology. “I’m sorry you had to know.”

“I…I thought you loathed him,” was all her mother could think of to say. “I never dreamed this was going on.”

Julie finished dressing, then went to where her mother had sunk down on the edge of the bed. Kneeling before her, Julie reached up and clasped her mother’s trembling hands. She attempted to explain herself. “Mother, I did loathe him at first, but he’s so tender and loving. Oh, how can I tell you what’s happened to me? I don’t even understand it myself. I can’t describe it. I know it’s wrong, but I’m helpless.”

“Dear Lord.” Her mother swayed. “Julie, you aren’t falling in love with him, are you? Oh, please say that you aren’t.”

It was a long time before Julie could answer. “I haven’t thought about it.” And it was true. She hadn’t, not till now, when her heart began to pound tremulously at the idea. Did she love him? Was that the reason her body could not deny him and came awake so easily beneath his touch?

No. It wasn’t possible. Especially when he’d made it clear she was merely a woman to take his pleasure with whenever he felt the need. He would never offer her more than the degrading status of being his mistress. He’d certainly given her no hint that she could ever possess his heart. What they shared was passion, lust, pleasure—nothing more. It would be foolish to think their coupling meant anything else.

Not wanting to discuss it further, Julie got to her feet. “I have to know what’s going on out there.” She ran out of the cabin, down the hall, and scurried up the steps. Her mother called to her frantically to return, warning her there might be danger, but she paid no heed. For not only was she running to find out whether there was going to be an attack, she was also running
away
from something she was not ready to face or think about.

The upper deck was in a state of confusion as crewmen scurried about loading guns and stacking ammunition. The air was tense, strained, and no one so much as glanced her way as she moved to where Derek and his three officers stood on the bridge. Derek peered through a long, cylindrical instrument with one eye; his other was squeezed shut. Julie assumed it must be a telescope, though she’d never seen one before.