Souls Aflame (9 page)

When she had finished eating, Julie felt stronger, and welcomed her mother’s suggestion that she take a hot bath.

A wooden tub was brought in, and two crewmen made repeated trips to the galley stove to bring in buckets of steaming water. Finally Julie was able to strip off her soiled gown and sit down in the relaxing bath.

“I feel so much better,” she told her mother. “To think I was so sick, and now I feel as well as I ever did.”

“That’s exactly the way I felt when the fever finally broke. It happens that way sometimes. And just think. A few more days and we’ll be in port.” She grinned at her daughter and seemed to have a little of her color back as she glowed with happy expectation. “It makes me happy to know my little girl is going to marry well and never have to worry about anything ever again.”

Julie used a sponge to dribble water over her back. A thoughtful look came over her face as she murmured, “I can see how you feel that way, Mother. I suppose I should be grateful Virgil asked me to marry him.”

“
He
should be grateful you accepted his proposal,” her mother said quickly. “You’re a beautiful young woman, Julie, and any man would be proud to have you for his wife.”

She moved toward the door, saying she would go and get Julie a clean dress. “You just sit there and soak and enjoy yourself.”

Julie suddenly felt melancholy. Perhaps she was still weak from having been sick. But she had to admit that a disconsolate mood came on whenever she thought of her impending marriage. Still, it was for the best. She had come to terms with herself long ago on that point. Virgil would be a good husband. She would have liked to be marrying a man she loved, but she knew she had to be realistic.

Myles. Her mother. The two dearest people in her world. They had both suffered so much. Sometimes when her mother did not know she was watching her, she would see a shadow of pain in her eyes, and Julie wondered if perhaps, after all, she had known of her husband’s infidelity. She prayed not.

Myles. He was devoted and adoring, and after Virgil arranged for his safe return home, her marriage would bring still more happiness to them all. Virgil would see to it that they did not lose Rose Hill. It was home. It was security. They could not lose it, because they had worked too hard, sacrificed so much, to keep it this long.

The ship had been jerking and heaving more than usual, and Julie noticed that it seemed to be getting worse as the water in the tub began to slosh over the rim and onto the floor. There was a distant rumble of thunder, and just as she glanced toward a porthole, the sky exploded in a blinding flash.

A storm at sea. She had heard they could be terrible.

Quickly, she rinsed the suds from her skin, thinking she would feel safer out of the water and dressed. She picked up a thick, thirsty towel, and did not hear the door open as she dried herself.

Derek Arnhardt stepped inside the cabin and stood watching her with interest.

The towel dropped to the floor as she stretched her arms lazily above her head, wishing her mother would return with her dress.

With a stab of panic, she realized she was not alone. Whirling about, she faced Derek and cried, “How dare you spy on me? How dare you walk in without knocking…” She scrambled for the towel at her feet to cover her nakedness.

His lips curved insolently. “Habit, I guess. It’s my cabin. I don’t normally knock when I enter my own room.” He was carrying her dress, which he tossed on the bed.

“Well…you have no right…” she sputtered. “Now get out so I can get dressed.”

He appraised her coolly. “You seem to forget I’m the one who bathed you while you were sick, trying to get your fever down. I’ve seen all of you, and I know every inch of your body. It’s a shame to cover it too. You should live on one of those South Sea Islands, where I hear the natives romp naked—”

“You’re despicable!” she responded, shocked by his candor. “I suppose all you did was stare at my body like some…some
pervert
, while I was helpless.”

“You’re beautiful,” he admitted.

“You probably molested me.”

At that precise moment, a crash of thunder reverberated, and she froze as he murmured, “You’d best get your clothes on, Julie. That’s a bad storm about to bust loose. The crew is busy battening down the hatches, and I sent your mother to her cabin to settle in for the duration of the blow.

“She trusts me, you know,” he added with an insolent grin. “More than you do.”

“I don’t trust you
at
all
. If you’ll get out of here, I will dress.”

His black eyes flashed with rage. A muscle twitched ominously along the line of his hard-set jaw. She had succeeded in arousing his ire.

He scooped her dress from the bed and flung it at her. The movement caught her off guard and she dropped her towel to catch the garment. As his eyes raked boldly from her breasts to her mons veneris, her own gaze instinctively dropped downward, then rose quickly as her mouth flew open with a silent cry of surprise.

“Well, what did you expect?” he asked quietly. “I am a man, and there are some things I can’t control—things I don’t
wish
to control.”

“I—I just want to get out of here…” she stammered, shaken by the sight of the swelling in his crotch. “I want to get to Bermuda and off this ship and never see you again.”

There was no warning. Her dress was yanked from her, and he tossed it aside and wrapped arms of steel about her, drawing her tightly against his massive chest.

“You
want
to see me again, and you know it.” She could feel his hot breath upon her face. “You want to do more than see me. You want to touch me…and you want me to touch you…like this…”

His hand moved to her waist, down the curve of her belly, and finally slid easily downward to caress her intimately. Moaning softly, she could do nothing but yield to him as he bent her backwards in his arms and continued to use his fingers to dance between her thighs in a silent rhythm of passion, giving her unfamiliar pleasure. She could not control the spasms of delight that rippled through her beneath his touch.

His middle finger lowered slightly, then plunged inside her cadentially, again and again. Her legs were like boneless appendages, lifeless and limp. Suddenly they straightened as her back and toes arched simultaneously. A deep rumble of joy worked its way up from the depths of her being to erupt in a cry of rapture.

When her last shudder was over, he flung her down on the bed, and she could only stare up at him in wonder and awe.

“You’re a damn liar if you say you didn’t like that.” He glared at her, as though daring her to attempt denial.

“You had no right,” she choked the words out. “I’ve never been with a man—”

“And you didn’t know it could feel so good?” He chuckled. “Think how much better it would be if I spread those golden thighs of yours and filled you with everything I possess.”

He walked slowly to the porthole and looked out at the angry, foaming sea. Without turning around he asked, “Why are you marrying Virgil Oates? You don’t love him. Besides, he’s a fake. I know him well. He’s not what he pretends to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“He has no wealth, no influence. He bartered for your passage and your mother’s with a portion of your cotton. He didn’t have the money to pay for it. He’s marrying you because he figures he can get your family’s precious plantation, but why are
you
marrying
him
?”

“You—you lie,” she sputtered. “Virgil is everything he represents himself to be. He’ll continue to help my mother get Rose Hill cotton through the blockade. And he’ll make it possible for my brother to come home.”

She shook her head in disgust. “I don’t know why I even bother trying to talk to you. I think I hate you more with each passing second.”

Again he laughed, but the eyes he turned upon her matched the storm about to explode beyond. “He wants Rose Hill, you little fool. He also wants your beauty, and I can’t fault him for that. But I do think you’re very stupid to marry him for the sake of your mother, your brother, or your plantation. Nothing is worth a certain life of misery, and that’s exactly what you’re facing.”

“It’s no concern of yours.” She began jerking on her dress.

“That’s true.” He nodded thoughtfully. “But you’re a beautiful woman, Julie. It would be a waste for you to marry a liar and a fake like Virgil Oates. Especially when I know why you’re doing it. You’re a martyr.”

“A martyr?” she echoed, stunned.

“Like I told you, you did a lot of talking when you were delirious. I know the whole story. While it’s admirable that you’re so loyal to your family, it’s not right that you should sacrifice yourself for them, especially to a wretch like Oates.”

His audacity was overwhelming. “You are mad! And you’ve done enough to insult me. Now will you take your leave, or haven’t you finished tormenting me?”

“No, I haven’t finished with you.” He was beside her in two quick steps, and she cowered beneath him, helpless. “Damn you, woman, I want you, all of you.”

Her hand cracked across his face, but it was like striking stone. Her lips parted to scream, but he covered them with his own.

Beneath the onslaught of his seeking mouth and hands, she felt the betrayal once more of her own body. Slowly her fingers began to dig into the rock-hard flesh of his back, pulling him even closer as he delighted and aroused her with his tongue and fingers.

He raised his head, and in the flashing glow of the storm venting its fury all about them, she could see him smiling down at her as he whispered, “Tell me you don’t want this, you misty-eyed vixen. I challenge you to tell me you don’t want me inside you…”

The tip of his swollen, throbbing member teasingly probed between her thighs, sending sweet, hot spasms of fire darting into her belly.

“Damn, you, Derek…” she sobbed, hating herself, hating him. “I can’t. God help me, but I do want you…”

With one mighty thrust, he burst inside her, and the pain she felt was overshadowed by the glory of his possession.

As the loudest crack of thunder split the night, her own storm erupted, and he silenced her cries of wonder and joy with his lips, devouring her mouth hungrily.

His penetration was deep, rough, but she welcomed every thrust. Only when it was over and they lay side by side, panting with exhaustion, did she begin to cry against his broad, perspiration-slick shoulder. The realization of what she had done flooded over her, and she felt only revulsion for being so weak.

How easily she had given in to this man she was so sure she hated for his bold interference in her life. What must he think of her now? How he must be gloating. She shuddered and closed her eyes, unable to face him.

He began to stroke her hair, then moved gentle fingertips to caress her face. She felt like a child being soothed and calmed, and when her tears subsided, he whispered, “I know what you’re thinking, Julie…how you’re ashamed…but you have no reason to be. You’re a woman answering a need. I knew, somehow, that this would happen. There was something between us, a spark like the lightning out there that splits the night. We were meant to be. I feel it, and so should you…”

“No. It wasn’t meant to be. It never should have happened, and it won’t happen again.”

She turned her face to the wall, washed over with misery. “I’m going to marry another man! God, what kind of woman am I?…”

“A warm, hot-blooded woman, alive, passionate. That’s nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to regret. It’s wrong only when you deny it, when you lie to yourself about who and what you really are. Then you become a hypocrite.”

He cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You’ve got to be honest with yourself, Julie. Admit you care for me and desire me.”

“I don’t. You’re wrong…”

But her denial sounded weak even to her own ears.

Then she realized with a start that his hardness was pressing against her bare thigh. He was ready for her again, and she accepted him as he entered her. He rocked gently this time, slowly, teasingly, till she was clutching at his plunging buttocks with her fingertips, urging him on. Only then did he move harder, faster, taking her with almost a surge of violence, until they reached the pinnacle of pleasure in unison.

He held her for a long time afterward, and this time she did not cry. She wanted to savor the moment of tenderness, for she knew it could never happen again. It had been precious and wonderful, a time to be treasured, but it was now only a memory and nothing more. She could not let it be more, for it could only cause her pain.

Derek Arnhardt loved no woman. His harlot, his lover, was the sea—always and forever—but having him inside her, being as close as a man and woman can be, had made them a part of each other, if only for a little while. But now they were separate entities once again, which was the way it had to be.

The storm subsided as slowly as their passion, and finally all was calm once more. She dressed, and together, arm in arm, they went up on deck. The air tasted so sweet after the rain that Julie drank in big gulps of it, reveling at its clean sweetness.

The wind was cool and gentle, and blew her hair about her face. They paused at a railing in the shadows, and Derek put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. She could barely see him in the darkness, but she sensed he was not smiling.