The Elusive Flame (26 page)

Cerynise found her own contentment sharply dimmed by the realization that Beau hadn’t yet fully recovered the hardiness he had exhibited prior to the storm. At times, she was sure his face appeared flushed, at other moments pale and drawn. His movements appeared strained and listless, as if it took a concerted effort for him to walk from bunk to chair or to make an ascent to the deck. Cerynise was there when, from a distance, she saw him speak a few words to Mr. Oaks, who frowned with sudden concern. A moment later, Beau went below.

Usually by the middle of the afternoon the captain was present on the quarterdeck, but he made no appearance on this particular day, nor was he seen when the evening watch took over. Cerynise became increasingly concerned, and although she was reluctant to intrude upon his privacy now that the stress of the storm had passed, it seemed the least she could do was to make sure he was all right. If nothing else, it would ease her own worries.

His cabin door was closed, and no sound could be heard from within despite the passage of time she stood beside it in a nervous quandary. Cerynise could resist no longer
and rapped her knuckles lightly against the wood. After a moment of continuing silence, she eased the portal open and found her husband sprawled naked on his back with an arm folded over his eyes.

“Beau…?” she murmured, moving quietly to the bed. His lack of response compelled her to reach out a hand and touch his cheek. He had not shaved since the previous morning, and that was most unusual for Beau, who had always been meticulous about doing so except during the height of the storm. But of far greater significance was the fact that he was burning up with fever.

Cerynise promptly set to work. After bidding Billy to fetch a bucket of water and a fresh bundle of towels, she shushed the boy’s concerns and assured him that she would do all she could to care for his captain. She bade him tell Philippe that a light broth would be needed as well as some of the medicinal tea which he had once boasted about while she sketched him.

Beau was mumbling incoherently by the time she returned to the bunk. He looked at her strangely when she sat beside him and tried to press a cup of water to his lips. It seemed as if the demons of hell had just threatened him, for his arm thrashed out wildly, sending the container and its contents flying. Cerynise managed to duck just in time to escape being hurt, but she was immediately back, spreading a wet linen across his brow. Soaking another cloth, she began to bathe his throat and body in an effort to reduce the fever, all the while speaking soft, soothing words to calm him. He raved on in disjointed sentences that made no sense to her, and she was constantly aware that any moment he could rise up and send a fist crashing into her jaw.

Bathing his body didn’t seem to have as much effect reducing his fever as she had hoped, and Cerynise fretfully changed tactics. After dribbling cool water over his chest, she spread a wet cloth over it and left it there. She did the same for his lower torso, providing him a modesty cloth of sorts, though in truth she was no more concerned
about his nakedness than he was. She was too upset to think of such a trivial matter when she was far more intent upon getting him well again.

The cooling compresses were soon warmed by the heat of his body, and once again she addressed herself to sprinkling him down and laying on freshly dampened towels. She was leaning over him and reapplying a wet cloth to his brow when he drew his breath in sharply and opened glazed eyes to stare at her. Cerynise had no idea if he recognized her or not, but of a sudden she found both her arms seized in his unyielding grip. A smile slashed across his hard features as he drew her down upon his chest.

“I need you.…”

“Yes, I know,” she replied pleasantly as she tried to pry his steely fingers loose from her arm. She managed to lay the cloth over his brow, but in the next moment she found her breast encompassed by a large hand.

“Behave, my love. You’re sick,” she cooed, stroking the hair at his temples. “We can discuss this at a later time, when you’re feeling better.”

Her attempts to brush aside his hand seemed to amuse him. “Don’t be frightened, my sweet,” he rasped. “I won’t be rough with you.”

“You’re ill,” she stated, trying to penetrate his fevered trance. “You must rest. Now lie back and behave yourself.”

The tug of war that quickly ensued for possession of her breast ended in a rending of cloth which promptly separated her bodice to a depth well below her bosom. The ripe fullness spilled outward through the rent, masked by nothing more than a filmy chemise.

“Now look what you’ve done,” she gently rebuked.

“You’re beautiful,” he crooned, reaching to seize the pale orbs.

Cerynise promptly decided she needed to put some distance between herself and her feverishly amorous husband, at least until he sank again into uncaring oblivion. Gathering her bodice together, she flitted back to the mate’s
quarters, garbed herself in a nightgown and robe and then returned to the captain’s cabin.

Beau had turned his face aside to the wall, and the twitching of his arms and legs indicated that he was in the midst of a dream that apparently had him waging a different sort of a game, perhaps one with a more aggressive combatant than she had proven to be. He began to mutter something about Majorca…the ship being threatened…a fight…men he had to free from a prison.…

The next three days were an agonizing torture for Cerynise. At times, Beau recognized her and was aware that they were in his cabin. He would eat and submit himself to her wifely baths with barely a complaint, but then his fever would start rising again, and he’d be drawn back into the demented world of delirium. Though Mr. Oaks and Billy both tried their utmost to persuade her to get some rest, offering to take turns watching over their captain, she firmly refused. The thought of leaving Beau even for so short a time was unbearable. Instead, she moved her clothes back into the cabin, ate the food that was brought to her without being even remotely aware of its taste, and kept her vigil as faithfully as a mother over her child. When she slept, it was beside her husband, for she knew if Beau took a turn for the worse during the night, she’d become immediately aware of the change while lying next to him.

Command of the ship had fallen to Stephen Oaks, who came down frequently to see if there was any change. Billy Todd hovered nearby, his young face the picture of misery. Although the ship was in competent hands and no thought of shirking was ever entertained, the atmosphere on board had seemed to change drastically. Philippe fretted that he was not doing enough, and the quartermaster was seen talking solemnly to Mr. Oaks in the companionway outside the mate’s quarters. When Cerynise passed them looking for Billy, the older man made inquiries that readily convinced her of his loyalty and concern for his captain.
He offered to do what he could if she had need of him, but she graciously refused, assuring him that he would better serve his captain at the helm, steering them homeward.

In an effort to strengthen her husband, Cerynise was forever trying to force some kind of liquid into his mouth and would often press a cup to his lips and urge him to sip the water or a warm brew. When he sought to turn aside, she gently scolded him for being obstinate and declared his own words back to him: “You’re as dry as an unearthed skeleton, Captain Birmingham. Now drink!”

Whatever hesitation she might have once suffered at the idea of touching his private parts was completely vanquished by the familiarity of bathing him and tending his personal needs. Though she remained virginal in actuality, her naiveté was no longer something Cerynise accepted as fact, for it had been nigh sundered by the intimacy of handling her husband’s body. In those brief moments in which he was aware of her service to him, she no longer blushed or felt any shame for having to touch him in areas that even in his illness evoked his reaction. It definitely brought a sharper flush of color to his face when she performed the more debasing duties. When he was too weak to stand, receptacles were brought for his use, and as efficient as a well-practiced nursemaid, she would assist him and then dispense with the contents in quiet dignity, whisking the container out the door, where Billy took charge.

“Why don’t you let the boy see to my needs?” Beau asked weakly, abashed after another such occurrence.

Cerynise smiled down at him with glowing eyes and murmured considerably more sweetly than he had once done, “In sickness or in health, my dearest.”

“Are you set on tormenting me, woman?” he asked gruffly.

“Never that, my dear.” Cerynise paused to wash her hands as she teased, “I’m only trying to get you well so I won’t have to wear widow’s weeds for months on end.”

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” he complained, grating a hand across the stubble darkening his cheeks. It was definitely not as bad as it could’ve been, for she had also learned the knack of shaving him, along with giving him a bath. It was just that he was tired of being sick and embarrassed by her wifely ministrations when he had always been so stalwart.

Cerynise came back to the bunk and laid out fresh sheets to change his bed linens. “Turnabout is fair play, is it not, Captain?”

Beau scowled. “You’re deliberately antagonizing me when I’m too weak to do anything about it.”

Gazing down at him, Cerynise allowed her lips to curve coyly as her eyes glowed back at him. “What would you like to do about it if you were stronger, sir?”

If his chin hadn’t already been wedged against his neck by the pillows stuffed behind his head, Beau was sure it would have descended forthwith. Even with his dazed senses, he could detect an invitation when it was presented. “Careful, madam. I’ll not always be hampered by this confounded weakness.”

“Strange, I didn’t realize you’ve been hampered in the least.” Cerynise looked straight into his eyes, daring to remind him that only a moment earlier when she had been in the process of bathing him, the manly flesh had thickened beneath her hand.

“’Tis the other I speak of…the lack of strength that afflicts me,” he muttered grumpily. “I could be nigh dead and the sight of you would awaken that part of me. But you undoubtedly think you’re safe, woman, else you wouldn’t tease me.”

“I think no such thing, sir,” she asserted, and then, just as quickly, flashed him a smile. “But that is neither here nor there, sir.” She twirled her finger in a downward circle, motioning him to face away. “I need to get dressed for bed, and since I’ve given Mr. Oaks back his cabin for the time being, I can’t very well ask him to vacate his quarters so I can change, now can I?”

“You’ve seen enough of me,” Beau argued. “Why can’t I see more of you?”

“Because, dear husband, looking at you isn’t going to place
you
in danger of being raped.”

“Is it rape when a husband makes love to his wife?”

“We’ll leave that for the sages to answer in years to come, my dear,” she answered with a coquettish smile. “As for now, I would like for you to turn your head…
please.
”

Beau started to roll over but was once again reminded of just how weak he had become, leaving him no more strength than a baby. He averted his face instead.

By the next evening, Cerynise sensed that a crisis had come. Beau’s fever escalated sharply, and his delirium became more intense. At one point, he lashed out and sent a basin of water crashing to the floor, thoroughly soaking Cerynise in the process. It had been in her mind to don a nightgown, but perhaps not as soon as she was required to do so.

Beau finally quieted, and Cerynise was torn between apprehension and relief. When she felt his skin, she was led to hope that it might be a slight degree cooler than before, but she couldn’t be certain. Taking no chances, she cooled him down with wet towels until she was at least assured that the fever was no higher than it had been earlier that day. Then she doused the tiny flames of all but one lantern which hung near the bunk and crawled over Beau to take her usual place on the far side. Mentally and physically drained of strength by her fretful worrying throughout the days and nights, she nestled close against his back and found her favorite area to rest her hand, feeling pleasantly reassured by the strong, sturdy heartbeat beneath her palm. She closed her eyes and let herself be swept along into deep, blissful repose.

It was strange the pleasures one could find in the arms of Morpheus. A warm titillating wetness drew on her nipple while a feverish hand moved beneath her gown, searching out the secret softness of her. Following the
urging pressure of her dream lover’s hands, she relaxed back upon the pillows and welcomed him with opening limbs. His naked body covered hers and seemed to scald her with more than the fervor he exhibited. The blunt probing of a blazing hardness against her womanly flesh was only one more caress she willingly accepted. Then a burning pain stabbed through her, bringing her up off the pillow with a shocked gasp.

Cerynise passed a hand over her eyes as if to wipe the sleep from them, but this was no dream thrusting intently at her loins. This was Beau, feverish, dazed and thoroughly engorged with lust as his narrow hips caressed hers in long, leisurely strokes that soothed the shock of his penetration. Down in the depth of her, where the hard flint struck, she could feel sparks beginning to flare in a tinderbox overflowing with womanly ardor. His detailed explanations of weeks ago were now made vividly clear, and she responded in ways that he had described were pleasing to a man, rising up against him, taking him fully into her, and meeting his hard strokes with a passionate zeal and desire to gratify his cravings completely. For too long he had wanted this from her, and now she was giving him everything she had within her.

His harsh breathing rasped near her ear, sounding thunderously loud, while her own quickening gasps seemed to be torn from the inner marrow of her being. His loins thudded into hers with increasing intensity until she was nigh moaning for want of some strange release that she could not fathom. The intensifying hunger within her became almost insatiable, driving her to a kind of wildness that made her dig her nails into his back. Then she caught her breath in surprise as she felt the first pulsing waves of bliss begin to wash over her. She was greedy to savor it all and began to writhe beneath him until they were straining against each other, forcing every pleasurable sensation that could be wrenched free to gush forth in a torrent of sizzling, scintillating ecstasy. It was a dazzling display, a thoroughly unique experience of being lifted
aloft while tiny, rapture-filled bubbles burst in and all around their cleaving bodies. Cerynise felt a feverish warmth filling her and welcomed it in the cavern of her being, clasping her husband’s tautly flexing buttocks as she lifted herself up to him so the feeling wouldn’t be lost or wasted. Gradually the hard thrusts slowed, and Beau relaxed against her.