You’re a simpleton to place any dependence on words spoken only to calm you, she told herself angrily. You’d better be giving some serious thought to your prospects before you find yourself forced to do anything just to stay alive. Mooning over a brute of a pirate is a sure way to end up with no future at all.
In spite of Summer’s attempts to sustain her anger by enumerating Brent’s iniquities, she was forced to admit that she was hopelessly in love with him. That awful realization made her feel like a wandering soul willed by unfeeling Fate to worship the agent of her own destruction. Her anger rekindled every time she thought of the humiliation she had known at his hands, but then she pictured him as he moved about the ship, looking like a young god, and everything else became meaningless. While envisioning his muscled torso or his handsome, sun-bronzed face, all she could remember was the comfort she found in his arms.
She would not give up just yet, not as long as they were at sea and there was still time for him to learn to love her. She forced herself to smile even though she felt like throwing herself on the bed and crying her heart out. She might be desperate, but her pride would not allow her to advertise that fact.
Moodily Summer stared out the window. Multicolored stars distributed by a prodigal hand littered the dark velvet sky, and a soft breeze gently caressed her cheeks, cooling some of the turbulence within her. She rested her chin on folded arms as she gazed absently at the moon. Riding low on the horizon, it cast a pale yellow trail across the rippling waves, its hypnotic presence lessening her tension and easing her fears. Soon the soothing waves of sleep began to lap at the edges of her mind, beckoning her into the blissful relief of unconsciousness.
You’re acting like a hopeless romantic, she told herself as she sank lower and lower into a subliminal world. When he smiles at you, you forget every cruel, degrading thing he’s ever done. And you let his occasional flashes of humanity deceive you, though he’s proved over and over again that he’s an unfeeling monster. Any man who would force his attentions on a helpless young woman night after night can’t be trusted, not ever. He never balks at embarrassing you in front of the crew, he cruelly abuses you if you dare to disagree with him, he laughs at you when you make a mistake. He’s a brute and a bully, he’s obsessed with his bestial lusts, and he’s only nice to you occasionally because you’re pretty to look at. If you think for one minute that this experience can be turned into an enduring love, then you’re witless enough to deserve the dreadful fate in store for you.
Feeling that she had effectively dealt with her tendency to depend upon such a mountain of conceit, Summer sighed and sank further into her stupor. As the last anchors of inhibiting consciousness were unleashed, the image of Brent’s laughing face floated before her mind’s eye. Then it haunted her dreams like a gadfly, always flitting beyond her grasp, laughing at her efforts to capture it or to escape its bothersome presence.
The door swung open without a sound. Brent stood framed in the opening, through which a shaft of light fell to illuminate Summer’s shadowy figure.
“Not asleep yet? Dare I hope you were waiting up for me?” he asked, closing the door behind him. There was a hint of hopefulness behind the mockery in the softly spoken question.
Summer woke from her light slumber. “I knew you would come,” she said sleepily.
“That doesn’t sound like an invitation.”
“You’ve never needed one.”
“Nevertheless, I would enjoy feeling your arms about me in a real embrace. It’s hard to make love to a limp fish or a snarling catamount.” He loosened his tie.
“It’s dangerous for a fish to get too close to a shark,” she answered in a listless voice.
“Is that how you see me?” he asked, genuinely surprised.
“Sharks are predators; they devour whatever they choose and destroy their victims in the process.”
“I plead not guilty to the last charge.”
“I suppose you think the first one isn’t important.”
“Not if it doesn’t hurt you.”
“Did you ever consider what might hurt me?” she asked, somewhat embittered. “You never ask what I want.”
“You wouldn’t let me come near you if I did,” he said, grinning in a way that caused her heart to flutter. “Think of all the pleasure you’d miss, and the agonies I’d suffer every time I set eyes on you.” He pulled off his shirt and tossed it into the corner.
“Do you think I enjoy being mauled every night?”
“That’s not exactly how I’d put it.” Brent sat down to take off his shoes. “But I remember a definite improvement in last night’s performance.” He tossed aside one shoe. “I particularly liked the way you responded to my kiss with your tongue.” He tossed aside the second shoe. “Of course I found it very encouraging when you cried ‘More, oh please, more!’”
“I don’t remember last night.” As she lied Summer saw the ground caving in under her. “But I do remember that I never invited you to share my bed.”
Brent stood up and loosened the strings of his pants. “I keep telling you this is my bed, and may I remind you that you’re still in it.”
“I’ll be happy to get out.”
He dropped his pants to the floor. “But I don’t want you to go,” he said sweetly. He faced her in fully aroused splendor. “I’m anxious to take up where we left off.”
Summer recoiled from the sight that frightened and fascinated her at the same time. “You’re nothing but a low, rutting beast,” she hissed, but her words lacked conviction.
“It’s not my fault that the sight of your incredible loveliness excites these low desires in me. If you looked like a peasant wench, I wouldn’t be so anxious to share your bed.”
“If I were a peasant wench, I wouldn’t be here,” Summer retorted. He sat down on the bed, but she moved as far away from him as she could.
“Talking about things that don’t exist is a waste of time. You look like Venus must have been meant to look, and I want you so much it hurts.” His voice was rapidly losing its clarity, and he pulled her inexorably toward him. Slipping his left arm around her and dipping his right hand into her gown to cup a firm breast, he kissed its hard nipple, letting his tongue tease her as he gently forced her back down on the bed.
“But I don’t want you to want me,” she protested faintly, her breath rough and uneven. “I want to be left alone.” She squirmed as he slipped the gown over her shoulders and exposed her other breast to his hot hunger.
“That can’t be helped,” he murmured as he peeled the gown from her. “You might enjoy our moments together if you didn’t fight me so hard.” His lips played across her belly causing her muscles to tense. And when his hand found the inside of her thigh and then boldly entered the soft warmth between her legs she nearly ceased breathing altogether. She gasped and her body rose off the bed as his hand and then his lips caused an explosion of intense pleasure to erupt through her loins and race to every part of her body. She was horrified that he would take such advantage of her helplessness, but she was beyond resistance.
White-hot throbbing pleasure sapped her strength, and all determination to resist wilted in the steaming atmosphere of his torrid desire. She gave in to his advances, floated on waves of the enslaving sensuality that engulfed them both. Each was absolutely necessary to the fulfillment of the other. Beyond considering anything except her need to be one with the man she loved, Summer abandoned all restraint and threw herself wholeheartedly into the hot embrace of her lover. She clung to him, driving him with her demands, scorching him with her heat, until they reached a consummation almost too exquisitely painful to endure.
Chapter 15
The cool morning breeze struck Summer with bracing force when she stepped out on deck, her limbs heavy with exhaustion, her brain still numbed by sleep. As usual she had been the last to wake, and she was very late; several events, including Brent’s first wrestling match, had already taken place.
“Are you trying to show m
e how uninterested you are?” he asked, although giving her a bright smile of welcome.
“I can’t seem to wake up,” she said, repressing an urge to indulge in a delicious yawn. “I never slept this late at home. Maybe it’s the sea air.”
“Did you help with the running of the plantation?” Brent inquired companionably as he offered her a seat.
“I managed the house after my mother died,” Summer replied. She was distracted by the nearness of his barely clad body as he settled down next to her, but she managed to keep talking. “My father wasn’t very good about paying the bills, or seeing that things were done on time.” Her eyes wandered to his powerful thighs, and as she remembered the feel of his Herculean limbs, her pulse began to race.
“It sounds like you ran everything by yourself.”
Startled, Summer said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
“It seems I can’t even hold your attention when I’m next to you,” he remarked, obviously irked.
She couldn’t possibly tell him it was his nearness that was distracting her. She remained silent.
“I said you must have practically run the plantation by yourself,” Brent repeated.
“I did. Father could be a great help when he wanted to be, but he didn’t really like being a planter.” Summer attempted to adjust her chair.
“Did he grow up in England?” Brent rose to rearrange her chair, and thrust his torso so close to her shoulder she could smell his skin. A torrent of debilitating excitement washed over her, leaving her faint. She closed her eyes, hoping he would move before she started to lose focus.
“My parents came over from Scotland right after they were married,” she explained, her eyes still closed. “I don’t think either of them wanted to do it, but my mother had tried to elope with another man and there had been some sort of scandal.” She opened her eyes, but Brent’s body still blocked her view. She shut them again, trying to stop the tremor beginning to overtake her. “Mother managed things until she died of a fever. After that, Father never really tried.”
“Are you feeling all right?” Brent asked, looking at her closely.
“I have a slight headache.”
“Are you sure that’s all?”
“Yes. But if you don’t really need me, I think I’ll sit here a little while longer.”
“Stay as long as you like.” His massive bulk filled her visual field and made her tremble even more. “Are you sure you’re well?’ he asked again. “Maybe I’d better have the doctor look at you.”
“That’s not necessary. I really do feel better.”
He felt her forehead. “It’s not hot.”
If he doesn’t leave, I’m going to scream, she thought, gripping her chair tightly. “I’m all right, really I am. If you don’t go, you’re going to miss your event.”
“I don’t think I ought to leave you alone.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” she claimed, desperate now. “Send Smith or the ship’s doctor if that will make you feel any better, but I am fine.”
“I think I’ll stay with you.”
“You know you can’t. Lane has been dreaming of racing you for two years. You mustn’t disappoint him now.”
“I don’t swim yet. This is a wrestling match.”
“That’s just as important. You can’t win unless you wrestle, can you?”
“No,” he admitted, grinning at her dogged insistence. “If you’re sure you’re all right…”
Good God, would the man never go away! “Yes,” she said, trying not to scream the words at him. “Now go before you’re disqualified.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Just go.” Summer’s desperation was so thinly veiled she feared she couldn’t stand much more.
She didn’t have to hear the squeak of his chair or the soft padding of his bare feet on the painted deck to know he had gone. The easing of the unbearable tension in her limbs told her as clearly as her eyes and ears could that he was no longer by her side. She let out a long-held sigh, and her body melted into the chair.
She had looked forward to watching all of his matches, but now she felt that if she didn’t get some time to herself, if she wasn’t free for a while of his dominating male presence, she would do something desperate. She was losing control over herself, and she knew it.
They had passed some kind of limit last night, breached some invisible barrier. She had been attracted to him from the first, but though he had consistently worked to get within her defenses, she had never completely succumbed to his seductive powers. She had kept some distance between them, even if she had done that by whipping up her anger over his thoughtlessness. But that had ended last night. She had been defenseless before his passionate lovemaking.
They had made love twice. She didn’t see how he could have any strength left after their draining consummations. Yet here he was, bristling with energy, ready to compete in any event, whereas she felt as though she’d been doing hard labor. Her head didn’t ache, but everything else did.
It was chastening to discover that his mere presence could make her tremble. If she didn’t take some time to calm her senses, she’d make a fool of herself before they reached Havana. She had to stay in this chair until she could face him without feeling like she was going to pass out, even if it took the rest of the morning. They had held some games without her; they could do so again.
She leaned back, let the breeze ruffle her hair and swirl her dress gently about her ankles. Its soothing warmth eased the stiffness of her body, and the gentle rocking of the ship calmed her tortured mind. As her muscles relaxed, she allowed her shawl to slip from her shoulders, then sagged against the ropes of the chair, sinking more and more deeply into its welcoming depths. Gradually she slipped back into the welcoming arms of gentle sleep, her worries lulled by dreams that caused her lips to curve in a smile of pleasure.
“The captain insisted I check on her even though she’s still asleep. She looks fine to me, but he’s been running over here every five minutes for the last hour.”
“She’s probably just tired. A good night’s rest should put everything to rights,” Smith declared. There was an uncomfortable pause as the ship’s doctor digested the meaning of those words.
“I can’t see any reason to wake her,” Smith continued, “especially since she seems to be sleeping peacefully. Just keep an eye on her and call me if anything happens. I won’t be far away.”
“Make sure you aren’t. If she really is sick, you’re about the only one who can keep the captain from running his sword through my heart.”
“I doubt anybody could stop him if you let anything happen to her.”
“Things have gotten that bad, have they?”
“I think this one’s going to last.”
“But she’s already married.”
“I know that, but you tell that to the captain.”
“Not me. The last time I tried to tell him anything, he locked me in my cabin with a blasted monkey. You can laugh because he’d never do anything like that to you, but it’s pretty awful to sit in the dark for three days and have your food shoved under the door.”
“There’s no point in either of us saying anything. He knows the mess he’s got himself into, and if he means to persist, there’s nothing we can do to stop him.”
“I don’t understand. He’s always been such a sensible man, one you could count on to use his brains.”
“I would say this comes under the heading of the inevitable.”
“It’s madness if you ask me.”
“Maybe not,” Smith said, looking at Summer’s sleeping form. “Maybe not.”
Loud cheering brought Summer out of her dreams with a confused start. She looked around, wondering at the source of the noise. The crew, bunched at the rail and moving down the length of the ship in a loud, milling mass of jostling bodies, were shouting their enthusiastic encouragement to someone in the water. None of the occasional words she could catch made an
y sense. Then she heard someone call the captain’s name and was instantly wide-awake; it was the distance swim, and if she didn’t hurry she’d miss the whole race.
Ignoring her dizziness, she scrambled to her feet, rushed to the rail, and tried to push through the press of bodies; but no one offered to let her through. She tugged at the arm of a big burly man she didn’t remember seeing before.
“What’s happening?” she cried. “Who’s winning?” A sudden increase in the cheering drowned out her efforts to gain his notice, and she moved from one person to the next until she came to one of the young officers dangling from the rigging. She pulled doggedly at his sleeve until she got his grudging attention.
“Mr. Caspian, please tell me what’s going on,” she pleaded. “Is the captain in this race?”
Young Caspian looked down into her soft, gold-flecked eyes and breathtakingly lovely face, and he almost lost his balance. All thought of the race left his mind. “I beg your pardon. I couldn’t hear what you said.” Her hand was on his arm, and she stared at him with such intensity he felt his tongue cleave to the roof of his mouth.
“What’s happening?” she asked again. “Why is everyone yelling?”
“It’s the race,” he said, dazed.
“I know it’s a race, but which one? Is the captain in it? Is he winning?”
“They’ve just finished the third lap,” he mumbled, still in a trance.
“Who’s ahead?” she asked with rising irritation. “I can’t see through all these people. Can you see the race? Don’t stand there like a dolt!” she ordered sharply. “Tell me what’s happening before I push you overboard.”
Caspian tore his eyes off her exquisite face. “They’re just rounding the stern,” he said finally. “The captain is on the inside. I think he’s slightly ahead.”
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