Captured

by Beverly Jenkins

  She shook her head and whispered, “No.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “Was there violence?”

  Clare knew what he meant. “No.”

  “Good, then I won’t have to find the man and kill him.”

  She pulled back so she could see his face. The hard glitter in his dark eyes revealed him to be quite serious. She fit herself back against his broad chest and let his strong yet gentle arms enfold her again. “He was a stranger chosen by Violet from amongst her brother’s field slaves. I didn’t know what to do, but he did, so I—I just lay there. I knew it would hurt, and it did. When he was done, I wasn’t sure how I felt. Shamed. Soiled.”

  He nodded his understanding.

  “A year after Benjamin was born, she chose another man, another stranger, and I sent my mind elsewhere until he was finished.”

  Dominic wanted to send Violet Sullivan to the bottom of the sea for her callousness, but putting his anger away, he said genuinely, “Coupling doesn’t have to be so joyless, petite. When our time comes, I shall be especially attentive.”

  Their gazes met.

  “I promise,” he declared, using a finger to tenderly stroke her cheek before placing a solemn kiss on her brow. “With all my heart.”

  “Do the women you have coitus with just lie still?”

  “I should hope not. That would make me a very poor lover.” Dominic had never had a conversation quite like this one, but he would cut off his own arm before mocking her for her inexperience.

  “And you are not considered a poor lover, are you?”

  “Non.”

  She sat up and he watched her appear to mull something over. After a few silent moments, she looked to him, asking, “Do you think I will be damned for all eternity if I choose to give myself to you?”

  The earnestly stated question made his heart swell, even as he shook his head negatively. “The people enslaving you are the ones facing damnation.” He traced a slow finger over the curve of her lips. “And I would be honored to accept such a precious gift. In return, I will teach you a love that will make you forget all about what happened before.”

  Moved by his husky declaration and filled with an uncharacteristic boldness, she kissed him to show her thanks, and whispered against his lips, “I don’t have the experience your others likely had.”

  He kissed her back and ran his hand slowly up her spine. “That matters not.”

  “You’ll show me what to do?”

  For a long moment, while they lost themselves in the tastes and warmth of each other, all words and responses were set aside.

  “Will you?” she asked humidly as the languid kissing continued. Only the sounds of their breathing could be heard against the silence.

  “Gladly,” he whispered. “But the first time I make love to you, I want it to be in my home, and in my bed.”

  His voice was so potent her eyes slid closed and her body shimmered.

  He moved his lips to her ear and asked, “Do you know why?”

  “No,” she breathed as he rubbed the tip of his finger slowly over one tight nipple and then the other.

  “So that there will be no one to disturb us.”

  Too shocked and overwhelmed by his decidedly bold fondling, Clare felt as though she were in the middle of a powerful storm that was threatening to sweep her away. Her breasts crooned in response to his glorious stroking, and there was a warm restlessness between her thighs she’d never felt before.

  Dominic met her eyes and smiled. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “Very much.”

  “Bon. You are a passionate woman, Clare. We will have fun together, you and I.”

  “I’ve not had much fun. Ever.”

  “I know, but we’ll make up for that while we are together. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.” Clare realized that in less than a day, he’d turned from a man who terrified her, into one with the ability to see into her heart, while at the same time offering her something she’d never tasted before—passion. And even though their time together would be finite, she planned to take full advantage of each and every moment, so that when she returned to Savannah she would at least have the memories.

  “Would you like more?” she heard him ask through the haze floating around her. A drum seemed to be beating softly between her thighs.

  He filled his hands with her breasts and she moaned again when expert fingers gently tugged and plucked. “Or do you wish for me to stop…”

  There was so much sensation flowing through Clare, she couldn’t even recall her name, but she did know that she didn’t want him to stop. “No, I don’t want you to stop.”

  “Then say…Don’t stop, Dominic….”

  He teasingly bit each of her breasts and she came apart, crying out softly. Her hips rose, her body stiffened, and an unnamed force took hold and spun her out over the ocean.

  Dominic closed his eyes and employed every calming thought he could muster in order to fight down the smoldering urge to take her over to his bed and have her. Now. He was so close to the edge, he knew that if he even looked at her he was going to spill his seed like a youth visiting his first bordello, so he kept his eyes closed.

  She asked in a dazed voice, “What was that?”

  Against his better judgment he looked down and swept his vision over her lidded eyes and passion-full lips. She was in the final throes of her orgasm, and the sight threatened to shatter the tenuous hold he had on himself. Closing his eyes again and forcing himself to think of the snows of Greenland, he said quietly, “Orgasm.”

  “Is it a normal occurrence?”

  “It is when you’re with a proper lover.”

  “Are you in pain, Dominic?”

  Her usage of his first name garnered a smile. “No, petite.”

  “Then what—”

  “Up with you now,” he said, giving her one last stirring kiss before placing his hands on her waist and guiding her to her feet. “I have a ship to captain and some charts to look over. Having you so close will distract me.”

  Her reply, a saucy pout, drew his laughter. “Go sit on the bed. I’ll only be a few minutes.

  She nodded and complied.

  Watching her retreat, Dominic forced himself to look at the chart in front of him. In reality, the chart was a ruse. He’d needed to distance himself to allow his erection to subside. Her tempting kisses had him in turmoil. Being at the desk gave him the opportunity to sit in tortured silence until he could stand and not embarrass her with a show of how much he physically desired her.

  A short while later with everything back to something akin to normal, Dominic stood. “I’m going up on deck. I have to meet with my officers. Would you like to get some air?”

  Clare doubted she’d ever be the same after such a novel experience. Even now her breasts were whispering his name. “Yes, I would.” She hurried to get her cloak.

  When she joined him at the door, he touched her cheek and said, “I’ll be very discreet in my dealings with you in front of the crew. I don’t wish for them to think you are anything but the lady that you are.”

  “That’s very generous.”

  “You should expect no less.” He gave her another long, lingering kiss, then let her precede him from the room.

  Up on deck, he walked her to the stern rail. “I’ll return as soon as I can. If you need anything just ask one of the crew.”

  She nodded.

  He bowed and departed.

  Alone, Clare stood and watched the late afternoon sunlight sparkle like jewels strewn across the water. Her body was still echoing from her passionate encounter. Her lips stung from the many kisses they’d shared, and the restlessness between her thighs had lessened somewhat after the orgasm, but her awakened senses craved more. Her enslavement, with its puritan influences, had left her unprepared for such a stimulating interlude, and she again wondered if she would be damned for seeking the pleasures of the flesh with such a man. In the end, she decided she di
dn’t care. Returning to Savannah and the fetters of captivity would occur soon enough.

  Whether due to the captain’s orders, or of their own accord, the deck crew didn’t disturb her. Those who came near nodded greetings but continued on their way; however, the sudden sound of someone calling out, “Miss Clare,” caused her to turn with curiosity.

  Dr. James Early was approaching. The tall blond Scotsman was in his own way as handsome as the captain. “You did a fine job patching up the captain,” he told her in words laced with the brogue of his homeland.

  “Thank you, and thank you for the plaster.”

  “You’re welcome. The captain’s still meeting and asked that I come and make sure you are well.”

  “I am.”

  He came closer and stood beside her at the rail. “Quite the day.”

  She knew he was referencing the battle and she agreed. “Is it always this frenzied?”

  “At times yes, and at others no. Sinking the Amsterdam was a boon though.”

  “What will happen to its captain and the men who chose to leave with him?”

  He shrugged. “Hopefully, they’ll be picked up by the British Navy and hung for their crimes. Even better would be to have their longboat sink so they could turn into a shark’s supper. I’ve no sympathy for slavers.”

  Neither did Clare.

  “More than likely, though, they’ll find refuge on a passing ship and live to sell more human cargo.” He didn’t bother masking his disgust.

  “How long have you sailed on the Marie?”

  “Two and a half years. Met the captain and Gaspar at a tavern in Kingston. When I learned they needed a doctor, I joined the crew.”

  “Do you have family where you are from?”

  He shook his head. “I left nothing behind in Scotland but a date with the hangman.”

  Surprise filled her eyes.

  He shrugged and explained, “I treated a lord back home who died a few days later. His family accused me of hastening his demise. I was arrested, tried, and sentenced to hang, but having no desire to dance on the end of a noose, I bribed a jailer and escaped. Made my way to the coast and signed on with a merchant captain heading south. When I told him I was a doctor he didn’t care about my past.”

  “And you went from his ship to the Marie?”

  “Not at first. The merchant ship that I was on initially sank in a storm and the survivors like myself were picked up by another ship. A slaver.”

  Clare went still.

  He looked out over the ocean and said nothing for a moment as if recalling the times, then in a voice filled with emotion, continued. “For three months, I sailed on a filthy, godforsaken vessel with two hundred Africans stuffed in its hold like stacked grain. The captain refused to let me aid the ones who were sick or near death, and those who mercifully did pass on were tossed overboard as if they had no right to expect better. It was the most horrific experience of my life. When I continued to protest the treatment, he threatened to throw me overboard, or maroon me, so I kept my mouth shut for the rest of the voyage.”

  Tight-lipped, she watched the ocean undulating silently.

  “I’d lie in my bunk at night and hear them singing below decks in soft, mournful melodies that I learned later were their death hymns.”

  Tears filled Clare’s eyes.

  “Changed me forever. When we reached the Indies where they were going to be sold, I walked away from the ship and never looked back. Men like Vanweldt have a special room in hell. There’s not a crewman aboard the Marie who didn’t applaud the captain’s decision today. As I see it, every slaver should be sent to the bottom, and the faster the better.”

  Only then did he turn her way and notice her reaction to his tale. “Oh, miss. Forgive me. I didn’t mean to make you cry. The story seemed to come out on its own. Captain finds out I made you cry, he’ll hang me from a yardarm for sure.”

  Clare wiped at her eyes with her fingers and sought to reassure him. “No, it’s just that I came over in a slaver, too. Your words brought back memories. I thank you for letting me know I am amongst honorable souls who find the trafficking as much an abomination as I.”

  She saw that he still looked doubtful. “Please don’t fault yourself. Your story shows you are a good man, Dr. Early.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Very much so.”

  He bowed gallantly. “You’re very kind, miss. Again, my apologies.”

  “None are needed.”

  “I’ll let the captain know you are faring well.”

  “Thank you.”

  He made his departure, and Clare directed her eyes back out to sea. She thought back on her first few months as a captive and how frightened and confused she’d been. Before being torn from her home, she’d never seen a White person and therefore knew nothing of their language, food, or customs. In many ways, dying during the Middle Passage might have been preferable, but then she would never have given birth to her precious children. No matter the circumstances of their conceptions, they were the fruit of her loins, and she loved them with every breath. She also worried about them, Benjamin mostly. Sarah worked in the kitchen, but he toiled in the fields, and at twelve years of age was amassing the size and height of his sire. Healthy male captives were fetching higher and higher prices on the slave block. Although the Hamptons had given her no indication that her son might be sold, they didn’t have to. He was their property, and could be auctioned in an instant to settle a debt, pay for feed, or for any other reason they might decide. She tried not to think about the terrifying prospect, but the fear was something she carried in her heart, also. If Dominic kept true to his word, she would see both Ben and Sarah in the months to come. As their mother she felt it could not happen soon enough.

  “Clare?”

  This time it was Dominic walking towards her and her senses leapt. “Are you finished with your business?” she asked when he neared.

  “I am. My officers and I would like for you to join us for supper if you care to.”

  “I’d enjoy that.”

  He extended his arm. She placed her hand across it, and let him lead the way.

  The meal was served at the table in his quarters, and she found herself seated with Gaspar, the doctor, and the pilot Esteban. Richmond Spelling acted as their server.

  “It’s turtle soup again, sirs,” he told them, setting down two tureens. “Miss, Cook says he’ll prepare you a feast once we reach home and begs your pardon for the plain fare.”

  “Tell him I find his soup to be very good so there’s no need for him to apologize.”

  “He’ll appreciate you saying that, even if it’s not the truth.”

  He left them a plate of hardtack, then departed.

  Clare declined the hardtack when the plate was passed her way. The hard, breadlike staple was known to harbor weevils and worms.

  Gaspar put a spoon into his soup and said, “We’ve eaten so much of this, it’s a wonder we haven’t grown shells over our backs.”

  “Beats months of dried fish,” Esteban told him.

  “Aye,” Gaspar responded.

  The men were all so large in stature, Clare felt as if she were dining with the sons of Hercules. She also thought the soup much better than the boiled bland fare she’d eaten on the frigate. She wondered about the fate of Violet and the others, but she supposed she’d find out when she returned to Savannah.

  A bottle of fine French wine taken from the captain’s store was added to the meal. Clare declined it as well. She was content to eat her soup and watch and listen while the conversation flowed around her. It became readily apparent that the men were not just crew members, but friends as well, and seemed to enjoy poking fun at each other.

  James asked, “Think we can convince Esteban to hunt us down a boar for the homecoming feast?”

  Uproarious laughter erupted, and Esteban chided Clare, “Do not believe a word they say, Lady Clare. They lie every day of their lives.”

  Howls greeted
that, and Clare looked around in confusion.

  Dominic asked, “Were you or were you not screaming for help up in that tree?”

  “Spaniards do not scream. We may shout, but scream? Never.”

  James was laughing so hard he was gasping for air.

  Gaspar said sagely, “Sounded like a scream to me. No, I take that back. It sounded like many screams.”

  Clare had difficulty masking her smile. “May I ask what happened?”

  James gestured with his shoulder. “Don Juan da Silva over there got himself treed by a two-hundred-pound boar.”

  Clare turned to Esteban, who was pouring himself more wine, and he explained further, “Let’s just say the boar caught me and a young lady at an inopportune moment. I fended the thing off with a pistol long enough for her to run to safety, but the ball I put into it only made it angry, thus the tree.”

  Dominic picked up the story. “The boar was so angry that not only was it charging the tree in attempt to shake Esteban down, it ate his breeches!”

  Screams of laughter filled the small cabin.

  Clare stared. “If you were in the tree, how on earth did it get to your…” She then remembered him referencing an inopportune moment. “You were undressed?” Genteel women never uttered the word naked.

  “As a newborn babe,” Gaspar answered for him.

  The smiling Esteban sipped his wine and didn’t respond.

  She was astounded by the implication. Surely he and the lady weren’t…? Out of doors? The look of sheer wonder on her face brought forth even louder peals of glee.

  Dominic said, chuckling, “Our apologies, petite.”

  “It’s quite all right. I know my naiveté is showing.”

  “But it is very sweet,” he told her. He lifted his goblet high. “To Clare. May she never be treed by a boar!”

  The others raised theirs. “Hear! Hear!”

  She laughed at the outrageous toast and at them.

  Later, as she climbed into the bed with the sweet sounds of Tait’s fiddling floating in through the open porthole, she thought back on their antics and smiled. What a merry band of men. After the meal, they’d returned to their duties, the captain included. Now, with night falling, she’d lit the fire and a few candles, and changed out of her dress and into his overly large nightshirt.