Elusive Flame

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  “When you were delirious, my love,” she replied, rubbing his thigh. “My nipples were quite tender afterwards.”

  The dark brows flicked upward briefly, conveying his chagrin. “Forgive me, madam, but considering my growing desire to have my way with you, I’m sure I was out of my head with lust for you.”

  “And quite feverish, too. I thought I was dreaming until I felt the pain of your entry, but by then, I had become a willing participant in your marital initiation. Whether you know it or not, my love, you gave me pleasure even then, though you were so sick it might not have been your intent. Still, I felt somewhat slighted when I realized afterwards that you hadn’t even kissed me.”

  Beau didn’t care to explain that he had always been reluctant to kiss the harlots he had sought out to satisfy his manly cravings. It was not until he had kissed Cerynise on their wedding day that he had actually become appreciative of that delectable practice. “I, too, thought it was a dream, but I’m glad it wasn’t.” He reached up to slip a finger through the tiny hand that kneaded her breast. “If I hadn’t been alerted to the fact that you were carrying my child, madam, I might never have realized that you needed or even wanted me. For a time I was convinced that I was the only one who felt like that.”

  “We made a beautiful son together,” Cerynise replied, dropping her head briefly on her husband’s shoulder. Reminded once again of what those two scoundrels had tried to do to her, she shivered. “Hold me close, Beau. I need to be reassured that I’m safe in your arms.”

  Beau willingly obliged her, pressing his lips to the nape of her neck before spreading more kisses over her cheek and moving on to her mouth. When at last he leaned his head near hers and gazed down with doting pride upon his nursing son, the baby cut his eyes to look up at him. For barely an instant, Marcus stopped feeding and gave his father a happy gurgle. Then, with renewed dedication, he returned to his feast.

  Several days passed before Sheriff Gates dropped by the warehouse to inform Beau of his lack of success in capturing Alistair Winthrop and Howard Rudd. Though the lawman and his posse had scoured the countryside west of Charleston several times since the botched kidnapping, they had found no trace of the culprits. However, the sheriff had received reports that led him to believe that Alistair and Rudd might have fled back to England on the first ship available. Two men fitting the descriptions that Beau had supplied were seen boarding a ship which had set sail before his deputy could go and question its captain.

  Beau sincerely hoped the two were gone, but he would need irrefutable proof that the scoundrels were still aboard the vessel when it set sail before he could feel assured of his wife’s safety. Although he considered Alistair and Rudd rather thick-witted at times, they had spurts of shrewdness which left him little choice but to suspect that they were not above faking their flight by devious methods. After he had checked with the captains of several ships inbound from London, which had docked the same day Alistair and Rudd had supposedly disembarked, Beau had failed to find their names on the lists of passengers. Yet, when he had gone to other vessels that had entered the port as much as a week earlier, his suspicions had been confirmed. Their arrival had been well in advance of Wilson’s murder. Having now become cognizant of the lie they had deliberately told for some unknown purpose, he was convinced that they were completely dedicated to creating any fabrication to achieve their own ends, perhaps even for the purpose of hiding a foul, murderous deed.

  His mother and father came in to stay with them for a few days to get better acquainted with their grandson. It was gratifying for both Beau and Cerynise to see the older couple so engrossed in the little one, whose comical faces and bright-eyed cooing elicited their delighted laughter. To celebrate the new addition to the family, the four, bedecked in all their finery, went to the theater to watch the American actor, Edwin Forrest, in a production of Othello. Since it was the first evening that she and Beau had gone out in elegant garb since Marcus’s birth, Cerynise wanted to look especially nice for her husband. Her cream-colored satin gown, which bared her shoulders sublimely, was bejeweled with tiny seed pearls and other diminutive beads that shimmered in the light. Her hair was dressed on top of her head, and a creamy plume curled coyly behind an ear. The cameo and pearl choker graced her throat, and pearl and diamond earrings glittered at her ears.

  In all, Cerynise created a beautiful, radiant vision that drew more than a few admiring stares from other men. Germaine Hollingsworth’s own newly acquired escort stared agog until the petite brunette jabbed him surreptitiously with her elbow, quickly drawing his attention back to her. Even so, during the performance, Germaine caught him avidly perusing her tawny-haired rival through her opera glasses, which he had apparently borrowed for such a purpose.

  “If you can’t keep your eyes off that little tart, Malcolm McFields, I’m going home!” she hissed in an huff. The actor’s booming voice made it necessary for her to repeat her threat in a somewhat louder tone, but in an abrupt moment of silence that ensued in the play, her last words were loud enough to draw sharp gasps of astonishment from the theater-goers and startle the performers. Germaine froze in sudden humiliation as she felt nearly every eye upon her. She saw the Birminghams glance around briefly, but they seemed much more interested in the performance than with her. The play resumed, but Germaine’s attention had now been ensnared by the four. It nettled her sorely when Beau pulled his wife’s gloved hand within his lap. As much as the conjecture disturbed her, she just couldn’t imagine him ogling another wench in Cerynise’s presence or her absence, which made Malcolm’s effrontery all the more angering. Germaine glared askance at her escort, but after suffering through such a painfully embarrassing ordeal, she was unwilling to issue another verbal reprimand lest she find herself completely flustered by a similar occurrence.

  Reluctantly Malcolm handed the glasses back, but that didn’t stop him from casting fleeting glances toward the tawny-haired goddess who sat close beside her husband in the Birminghams’ box. His continuing fascination proved too much for Germaine to bear. Indeed, after her disappointment over losing Beau Birmingham to one whom she had once sneeringly called Sticks, she had little patience to contend with another smitten swain. The last act was barely underway when Germaine tried once again to claim Malcolm’s attention and realized it was again centered on Cerynise. She promptly carried out her threat and left him to peruse the other woman as much as he desired.

  Eighteen

  RUMBLING THUNDER DRAGGED Cerynise upward from a sound sleep, and even as she struggled to full awareness, lightning flickered beyond the bedroom windows, illuminating the interior and filling her with a deep-seated apprehension. In that brief, jagged streak of light, she caught sight of the clouds that were hovering threateningly over the house. They were as dark and ominous as the blackness that still held back the dawn. In another flash she noticed the larger branches of the live oak located just beyond the house swirling chaotically in the forceful winds that were sweeping inland. In spite of the years that had passed since her parents’ deaths, Cerynise hadn’t yet been able to conquer her fear of storms. Seeking comfort and reassurance in her husband’s presence, she reached across to the pillow beside her own. Alas, she found only an indentation where his head had been.

  “Beau?”

  “In here,” he answered from the dressing room.

  Cerynise rolled onto her back and noticed a soft light streaming from the doorway of that area. “It’s still dark outside,” she announced sleepily. “Why are you up so early?”

  “I promised Mr. Oaks that I’d be at the ship just after daybreak so we can secure the Audacious. If you haven’t noticed it yet, madam, there’s a storm heading our way.”

  “Oh, I’ve noticed all right.” Worriedly Cerynise glanced beyond the windows again and cringed as another stroke of lightning swept across the dark shroud. “Is it going to be that bad?”

  “Too soon to tell right now,” he replied, leaving the dressing room. He came to the bed and
leaned across to give her a long, loving kiss. When he pulled away slightly, his eyes reflected the light as he smiled down at her. “Good morning, my pet.”

  With a soft purr she looped her arms behind his neck and drew him down to her again. The fact that he was naked was an open invitation for her to run a hand admiringly over the muscular contour of his back. “I was just dreaming about you,” she whispered beneath the kisses that lightly caressed her lips. “We were playing together again in the study, and you were doing all sorts of wonderful things.”

  Bracing up on an elbow, Beau grinned down at her as he searched her face in the meager light. “I thought I was the only one who had dreams like that.”

  “Oh no, sir.” She moved her hands downward over the steely hardness of his buttocks. “In fact, if you have time, we could create more memories to recall.”

  As much as he yearned to fulfill her request, Beau had to decline. He did so with a muted groan of disappointment. “Your invitation is enough to make me want to forget about going to the ship at all, but Mr. Oaks will be expecting me.” He pushed himself to his feet again. “I’ll be sending most of the staff to Harthaven as soon as they do a few things around here just in case the storm becomes severe. I’d like for you to go with them when they leave.”

  “Without you?”

  “I may not be back until about five or so this afternoon, and there’s no telling what the storm will be doing by then.”

  “Oh, Beau, I couldn’t bear not knowing if you’re safe or not,” his wife argued. “I’d like to wait for you.”

  “I’d feel a lot easier about the situation if you went out with the first vanguard of servants,” he said, hoping to convince her. “Jasper and the rest of the men will be going out later, after they finish securing the house, but I really think that you and Marcus should go out as soon as possible.”

  “But I want to wait here at least until Jasper leaves,” Cerynise stated stubbornly. “That’s the earliest I will go unless you’re here to take us.”

  Beau heaved a sigh. He had been afraid she’d say that. “I’ll return as soon as I can, my love,” he assured her, slipping into his underwear. “If the weather begins to look bad and I’m still not back, Jasper has strict orders to take you and Marcus to the plantation. I will brook no refusal from you then, madam. After Thomas takes me to the ship, he’ll be returning here to await your departure.”

  “But how will you get back?”

  “I’ll have my rain gear from the Audacious by then, so I can walk home. Once here, I can hitch up the chaise and drive out to the plantation.”

  “But, Beau…”

  He lifted a hand, halting her protests. “I insist that you leave before the winds get too strong, madam. I don’t want to have to worry about you more than I do already.” He fastened his trousers and cinched his belt. “I’ll leave for Harthaven myself before the storm becomes too severe.”

  “Please don’t wait too long,” she begged.

  He answered her through the light-knit sweater he was pulling over his head. “I won’t, my love.” Settling the garment in place, he blew her a kiss and stepped to the door. “I’m going down to grab something to eat and instruct the servants on what I want done in my absence. You might as well go back to sleep if you can. There’s no sense in you getting up so early.”

  “Promise me you’ll be careful,” she called as he closed the door behind him.

  “I promise.”

  Cerynise lay still, listening to the sound of his booted heels beating a rapid staccato down the curving length of stairs. Even when she could hear his approach or departure, his footfalls clearly conveyed the energy and vitality of the man.

  Cerynise dallied in bed for a while longer, and then addressed herself to a morning grooming. She fed and bathed Marcus and finally went downstairs. By then, most of the wooden shutters had been closed over the windows, and with the heavy clouds looming close overhead, the interior was as gloomy as if nightfall had descended. Lamps had been lit, and it was by their light that she carried Marcus around to view the progress that had been made.

  “You’re going to experience your first real blow, young man,” she cooed to the baby. “Yet I think you’re just the sort to enjoy it. A bit like your papa, you are.”

  As if in full agreement with her statement, her son gurgled at her charmingly, lifting his fine eyebrows and pursing his lips. His mother could do nothing less than nuzzle him and bestow a motherly kiss upon his soft cheek.

  Jasper had addressed himself to the matter of preserving the furnishings in case the house suffered extensive damage during their absence. He was both instructing and assisting the male servants in that ambitious endeavor. Since there was no guarantee that the exterior shutters could withstand a destructive gale or that a limb wouldn’t snap and crash through a window, the precious Oriental rugs were rolled up and placed against the walls of the hallway upstairs. Treasured bric-a-brac also went into temporary storage on shelves in linen closets located on both levels in the middle of the house. The crystal chandeliers were carefully wrapped with sheets to assure that no prism would plummet to the floor should strong winds sweep inward through broken windows. Outside, the wrought iron furniture was taken from the garden and stored in the carriage house. Soon after his return from the docks, Thomas started his own project, making the conveyance as watertight as possible for the baby’s sake. During all of this, Philippe cooked and packed up baskets of food, a few for those who’d be leaving earlier but mainly for the ones who would be staying until later on in the afternoon. In all, it was a tedious, time-consuming process, and midday had already passed when the first group of servants left the manor.

  Only a few moments before the appointed time that he and the mate were to meet and begin battening down the hatches and readying the ship for the storm, Beau sprinted aboard the Audacious beneath the covering of a small tarp, which he held over himself. Stephen Oaks was living in the first mate’s quarters aboard ship, and in recent days had been charting a course for the Caribbean islands, where, during the winter months, he would be sailing. While there, he’d be selling much needed goods to the merchants and collecting new cargo for the return trip. At the moment, however, there was no indication to assure Beau that the mate was moving about or, for that matter, even up.

  The rain was increasing, laying a heavy haze over the city, and Beau immediately went down to the captain’s cabin to fetch his rain gear. It was so dark beyond the stern windows that a lamp had to be lit and placed on the floor directly in front of the locker so he could see into it. While searching for the necessary items, he noticed a large white bundle that had been shoved all the way to the back of the cabinet. Bemused, he pulled it forth and shook it out. The main item he realized was a sheet from his own bunk. It was spotted with old stains, very much like dried blood. The second article was a woman’s lace-trimmed nightgown, which he recognized as one that had once been his favorite among those belonging to his wife. He hadn’t seen it since well before their return to Charleston and, on occasion, had wondered what had happened to it. The back of the gown also bore similar stains, but there were others of a yellowish hue that had become stiff with age.

  It didn’t take Beau more than a second to realize what he was staring at, and yet he was staggered by the evidence he had found. Here was solid proof that he had taken his wife’s virginity while he was out of his head with fever, and yet she had been so caught up with the idea of not tying him down against his will that she had refused to present it to him. If not for the fact that he had had his own entangled memories of that deed, she would have taken herself…and their baby…out of his life forever, just for the sake of honor.

  Beau’s vision blurred with a light filming of tears as he thought of what that occurrence would have done to him. Except for the fear that someone, whether Alistair Winthrop, Howard Rudd or another villain, would harm or even kill her, he felt so completely blessed and favored by her presence in his life that he could only imagine
the torment and anguish he would have suffered had they not resolved the matter of their marriage and her pregnancy.

  He glanced toward his bunk, the place where he had stripped away her virginity. How he must have hurt her in his fevered delirium, he mused, and yet…how could he be sorry for having done the deed when Marcus was now the pride of his life and Cerynise his truest love? Suddenly his heart bubbled over with joy, and he felt a burning desire to return to them with all possible haste.

  Slipping into his rain gear, he hurried down the hall to Mr. Oaks’s quarters and beat a fist upon the portal. “Eh, my mate, are you alive in there?”

  “Ah…Aye, Captain, I think so,” came a groggy voice from within. “I must have worked too long into the morning and overslept.”

  “Well, get yourself up. Bridget is going out to Harthaven, and she fully expects you to join her out there as soon as we’re done here. From the looks of things, we’ll be busy until nightfall unless you hurry yourself along.”

  “I’m moving! I’m moving!” Stephen called back with more eagerness.

  Cerynise made a concerted effort to keep her mind occupied. She had sent Vera to Harthaven with assurances that she would follow with the baby as soon as the captain returned. She nursed Marcus, talked to him about all sorts of things and, when he slept, tried without much success to read. As the afternoon waned, the fierce winds began to howl around the house. Listening to the eerie sounds heightened her trepidation, and she had to remind herself again and again that Beau would be home soon and that even with the fury that was being unleashed, she was secure. The walls around her were strong and sturdy. Yet, in spite of her efforts, she found little comfort. Only when she could feel her husband’s arms around her again would she be content.

  Concern for Beau began to weigh her spirit down, and she paced about restlessly, looking at the clock many times in the passage of a moment. It didn’t matter how strong, capable or experienced her husband was, she still feared for his safety and wanted him close at hand. She needed him there to soothe and comfort her. He was so gentle and adept at doing so, just as he had always been and probably always would be.