Souls Aflame (16 page)

“What’s the use?” he yelled. “Why should I concern myself with you, anyway? Go on and marry the bastard, if that’s what you want. Make a martyr of yourself if that’s the only way you can be happy.”

Julie was seething. “Then why don’t you just shut up and leave me alone? You got what you wanted from me. I ‘performed’ for you satisfactorily. Now get out of my life and let me live it as I choose.”

He opened and closed his fists, teeth grinding together as he stared down at her. “So be it, pretty lady.”

He rubbed at his wound again. He knew it needed binding, for blood continued to ooze from the torn flesh. He had been slashed by a knife wielded by a dying man who lacked the strength, thank God, to plunge the blade deeper, or Derek might have fallen to eternal sleep alongside him.

He turned to leave, then stopped to give Julie one final glare. “And by the way,” he said evenly, “you didn’t ‘perform,’ as you call it, all that well. And who ever said I got exactly what I wanted from you? You were a woman, and I felt a need. Nothing more.”

He walked out and slammed the door behind him.

Chapter Eight

The day passed slowly. While she yearned for a breath of fresh air, Julie decided not to go up on deck. She could hear sounds of much activity there, and even though her curiosity was roused, she knew the scene would be unpleasant after what had taken place during the night.

It was Lyman who brought her food. A bowl of gruel and a cup of tea was the only offering at mid-morning. Then, as the sun began to die, he returned with another tray. Julie wrinkled her nose at the sight of the boiled fish stew.

“I’m sorry,” he said matter-of-factly. “There’s just been so much to do today that no one’s had time to see to the kitchen. The cook was put to work with a mop and pail, and all he had time to do was get this pot of stew together.”

Earlier, when he had brought the gruel, Lyman had left so quickly that Julie didn’t have time to question him about what was going on above. This time, before he could take his leave, she quickly positioned herself in front of the door and said, “It doesn’t matter about the food. I’m not hungry. But you aren’t leaving this room till you tell me what’s happening.”

“Happening?” He blinked with contrived confusion, then added nervously, “Oh, you mean topside.”

“Yes, I mean topside. I want to know everything that is going on up there.”

“We’ve had a lot of scrubbing to do. Blood, you know.” He made a face. “And the captain is busy repairing our guns.”

“Has he set the Yankees adrift? Did he sink their ship?”

Shaking his head, he shrugged and murmured, “I can’t say no more, ma’am. Captain, he wouldn’t like it. Now I really can’t stay no longer. It’ll be dark soon, and there’s still a lot of work…”

He took a step sideways, but Julie moved also, blocking his path. She placed the tip of one finger on his chest as her eyes burned into his insistently. “You must tell me everything, Lyman. I’ve a right to know what my destiny is to be. Is the captain turning us about to head for Wilmington?”

He swallowed hard, glancing about uneasily as he said, “Miss Julie, I’m just about the lowest rank of crewman there is. I’m only sixteen, and the captain, he was good enough to take me on, even though I got into some trouble with the law back in Savannah. He made it perfectly clear I wa’n’t gonna be no more’n a swabby till I learned about the seafaring life. So how would I know of his plans as to the course of his ship? He don’t tell me nothing.

“But,” he paused to grin slowly, “after I proved my loyalty last night, I bet he’s gonna see me in a different light. He sees how I took a stand for him when so many of the older and more experienced crewmen were afraid.”

Julie sighed, exasperated. “Lyman, I’m sure you know whether we’re going to Bermuda or turning around to go north. I’m also sure you’re aware of whether or not the Yankee ship has been sunk and the crew set adrift. So why won’t you tell me this much? I’ve a right to know. I am a paying passenger on this ship.”

He looked down at his bare feet, and she followed his gaze to see they were pink-tinged—probably, she surmised, from mopping the bloody deck.

“Did Captain Arnhardt instruct you not to answer any of my questions?”

Without raising his head, he nodded.

“All right. I suppose I’ll just stay here and worry myself sick over what my fate is to be.” Turning her back on him, she pressed her face against the rough wood of the door, pretending to shudder with sobs.

The effect was as she expected. Lyman shuffled his feet uncomfortably, took a few nervous breaths, then whispered, “Please don’t cry. I can’t stand to see a woman cry. I’ll tell you what I do know, which ain’t much.”

And he told her that the Federal ship was still afloat, with the crew being held prisoner. “That’s all I know. Honest. I don’t know which way we’re going to sail from here.”

She pretended to dab at her eyes with the hem of her dress. Giving him a grateful smile, she thanked him.

He left after asking her to promise she would not tell anyone he had revealed even that much information. Disappointed that she had learned nothing really important, Julie assured him she wouldn’t.

Her eyes stung with weariness. Despite the anxiety she felt about all that had taken place, she was eager to succumb to much-needed sleep. Taking off her dress to put on a gown, she was about to snuggle beneath the covers when there was a sharp, insistent rap upon her door.

With pounding heart, she opened it. When she saw her mother standing there, she had to admit to herself that it was actually Derek she had been hoping to see.

Trying to hide her disappointment, she hugged her mother and told her to come in. “What have you been doing with yourself all day?”

“Napping when I could.” Mrs. Marshal sat down in a chair. “And you?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I was too worried over what our fate is to be.”

“Well, it took a bit of doing,” her mother gave her a secret smile, “but I’ve persuaded the captain to take us on to Bermuda.”

Julie stared at her, mouth gaping open in surprise.

“That’s right,” her mother said in triumph. “He’s a stubborn one, but like most men, he’s weak when it comes to money. Everyone has a price. His was half of your dowry.”

“My dowry? I don’t understand.” Now she was baffled.

“Of course, you have a dowry. It’s only right and proper that a bride go to her husband with a dowry. That is, in circles of refinement. Virgil tried to tell me it wasn’t necessary, but he understood the propriety of the gesture.”

“And just what was the gesture?” Julie demanded suspiciously.

“I deeded to him one-half of Rose Hill and five thousand dollars.”

“One-half of Rose Hill?” she echoed, not believing what she was hearing. “Oh, Mother, you didn’t.”

“Well, of course,” was the surprised reply. “It’s where the two of you intend to make your home. It was the proper thing to do.”

Mrs. Marshal hurried on. “As for the five thousand dollars, it’s all the money I could raise, and I was taking it to him. I persuaded Captain Arnhardt to continue on to Bermuda by giving him half of that money. But I let him think that was
all
I had to give him.”

Julie was stunned. She paced up and down for a moment, then faced her mother and shook her head in dismay. “Mother, that was wrong of you, not only to give half of Rose Hill to Virgil but to give half of your money to Derek. What if we had been killed on this voyage? Virgil would have half of your property. That wouldn’t be fair to Myles.”

“We’ll get to England safely.” She smiled with the confidence of a child who anticipates a visit from Santa Claus at Christmas. “And I’ll explain to Virgil about what happened to half of his money. He’ll probably find a way to get it back, because he’s going to be terribly upset when he finds out I had to barter our way when he already paid for our passage.”

Julie pressed her fingertips against her throbbing temples. “Mother, why didn’t you talk to me about this first? You don’t realize what you’ve done. You’re dealing with a—a
pirate
. We still have no assurance Derek will keep his word. And I don’t like the thought that Virgil already holds the deed to half of your property.”

A booming voice made both women jump. “Get your things together!” someone commanded through the closed door. “You’re being moved to the Federal ship.”

Julie yanked the door open to find Officer Edsel Garris standing there, a tight, set look upon his face.

“You’re to come with me,” he said, then, seeing her mother, told her to get her things together also. “The two of you are being transferred to the Federal steamer for transport to Bermuda. We plan to hoist the sails at sunrise, so it’s best we get you all settled in as quickly as possible. We don’t want any delays.”

Julie and her mother exchanged puzzled looks, then her mother cried, “I just don’t understand this, Mr. Garris. Captain Arnhardt never said anything about our traveling on that Yankee ship. I’d like to speak with him.”

“That’s impossible, Mrs. Marshal. He’s busy. We all are. Now if you’ll just cooperate, we can have you on board the other ship in no time and properly settled for the night.”

“I suppose it really makes no difference which ship takes us,” her mother said absently, moving toward the door and her own cabin. “Tell your captain we’ll be ready in a little while.”

Garris left, and Julie heard her mother saying to herself, “No wonder he wanted money in addition to the cotton. He had no intention of taking it to Bermuda and selling it any time soon.”

Julie laughed bitterly. “Don’t worry about Ironheart, Mother. He won’t lose anything. Let’s just hurry and get off his infernal ship and be rid of him for all time.”

It took but a few moments to pack her trunk. Then she decided it would not be appropriate to make the move from one ship to another wearing a gown and robe. She stripped, then searched through her trunk for a simple dress she could don quickly.

“An artist could never capture such beauty on canvas!”

Whipping about, she found herself staring into the hungry eyes of Derek Arnhardt. His gaze was moving arrogantly over her body. Despite her annoyance over his bold and silent intrusion, she was once again mesmerized by his ruggedly handsome face, the animalism that exuded from his rock-muscled body.

His chest was bare, and she wondered dimly if he realized how the sight always aroused her. She felt her fingers tingle with the desire to dance once again through the dark, thick curling hairs on that beautiful chest, and she longed to press her cheek against its hardness to feel the strong beat of his heart against her face.

She gritted her teeth, angry for being so vulnerable. Snatching up the first garment she came to, she covered her body and snapped, “A gentleman always knocks upon a lady’s door, sir, as I’ve told you before.”

He laughed, that cocky, smug laugh. It made her even more furious. “I don’t pretend to be a gentleman. And why do you pretend to be a lady? Remember, misty eyes, I know only too well how you abandon that cool façade when I take you in my arms.”

She turned away, frustrated. Jerking the dress over her head, she fumbled with the stays at the back while he continued to enjoy her indignant anger.

“Here, allow me.” He moved to fasten her dress and she pushed him away, only to realize after several more futile attempts that she would need his assistance. Lifting her long hair from her shoulders, she shivered at the touch of his warm fingers. When he was finished, he quickly slid his hands around and down to squeeze each breast, pulling her tightly back against him.

She could feel the rigid pulsation of his organ throbbing against the top of her buttocks. She tried to wriggle away, but he held her more firmly.

“Why do you fight me?” She could feel his warm breath against her cheek as he leaned closer. “You know you want it as much as I do. Enjoy. That’s what a man and woman were meant to do with each other.”

Lifting her foot high, she brought it down hard, smashing his right toe. Stunned, he loosened his hold on her, and she was able to jerk free. Then, before he knew what was happening, she spun around and brought her knee upward and smashed it into his crotch.

With a yelp of pain, he clutched at himself and, doubling over, staggered backwards.

“Damn you! Stop treating me like an animal!” she cried. “You’re a savage, Derek Arnhardt, and you look upon a woman as someone to use for your own selfish pleasures and nothing more. I’m not your slave, your mistress, or your whore!”

He lifted angry, pain-filled eyes and stared at her in wonder, stunned by this violent explosion.

“I know all about your making my mother give you part of my dowry, you—you pirate! And to think I risked my life to save yours. I should’ve let you rot in chains. I hope the Yankees do catch you, and hang you, and—”

He straightened, a tight, menacing look spreading across his face. Julie tilted her chin upward in a gesture she hoped made her appear unafraid. Actually, she was trembling inside over the way this big, ominous man towered above her…and over the realization of what she had just done to him, the things she had said.

One giant hand snaked out to clasp her throat tightly, but still she continued to face him defiantly. “Let me tell you something, you conceited wench. My men are taking quite a chance by bringing you to Bermuda. It’s certainly worth something extra to cover the risk they face. Your mother was willing to pay to get you quickly on your way. And I think it’s best. I hope you do marry Oates. You deserve each other.”