The Captain's Caress

by Leigh Greenwood

  With misty eyes, Juanita watched from the house as they walked arm and arm. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she said to Ana who was folding the last of the freshly ironed linen. “I never saw two people more in love.”

  “It shouldn’t be hard to love her. She’s so beautiful, and so nice too.”

  “The captain’s not a hard mouthful to swallow either.” Juanita chuckled. “If I weren’t tied up to Pedro, I’d be making eyes at him myself. What a man!” She sighed.

  “The captain’s not going to be looking at a fat old woman like you.” The outraged Pedro was bringing in the last of the polished glasses to store them in the cupboards. “It’d be enough to sour him on women altogether.”

  “Leave me be,” Juanita replied with good humor. “I don’t know why I put up with a dried-up piece of rind like you anyway. Never could understand what got into me to want to marry you.”

  “Couldn’t have been much to choose from if he was the best of the lot,” said Ana.

  “He wasn’t so bad once upon a time,” Juanita quickly responded. She never allowed anyone but herself to disparage Pedro. “But he’s gone off right sharply since then.” Pedro reappeared from the cupboard, and with an expert flick of the wrist, he twirled a table cloth into the air above the two women. It settled over them, making them look like two humps on a camel’s back. He then wrapped the two ends around the giggling women and drew them toward him.

  “Any more of this and I’ll hang you up in the smokehouse with the rest of the fat meat.” Their giggles turned to laughter. “I’d get enough lard for a year’s supply of soap.” As the laughter turned to helpless shouts of merriment, a pitcher of water caught Pedro’s baleful eye.

  “Maybe this will calm you down a little.” He dumped the water over the tablecloth. Most of it ran onto the floor, which would have to be mopped before they went to bed, but enough soaked through the cloth to get the women thoroughly wet. They emerged ready to do battle, but Pedro had already made good his escape.

  It was fortunate for Brent that Summer was unaware of the interest they had inspired among the servants. He would have been inclined to punish them, then forget the incident; but Summer’s evening would have been ruined. To her, it was pure bliss to be able to go about freely with Brent and not to have to hide her feelings. She luxuriated in this freedom, drinking it in as a dry desert absorbs an all too brief shower.

  As she lay in Brent’s arms and felt his warm body against hers, she could hear his soft rhythmic breathing in her ear. She snuggled closer, letting her hands rove over his hard, muscular body. Brent moved in his sleep, but when he did not wake, Summer continued her explorations. She was becoming less shy, but she still couldn’t match his complete acceptance of their physical hunger. She enjoyed his explorations of her body, responded thrillingly to every new and exciting expression of their love, but she couldn’t think of doing the same to him without turning pink, at least not while he was awake. She let her hands sink lower, timidly seeking the instrument of her pleasure. Gingerly she touched him there, amazed that anything so small, soft, and pliable could become so large and rigid. Then it began to change and within seconds it was full-blown and ramrod-stiff. She snatched her hand away.

  “I didn’t know you wanted me to wake up,” Brent whispered, biting her ear. “All you had to do was ask.”

  Summer didn’t have time to be embarrassed. Brent’s passion exploded like volcanic lava, wrapping them both in torrid heat, wiping out all embarrassment or hesitation. Joyfully she met him in a union that seemed to release her from the limitations of her physical body. They were independent of weight and space, two spirits who needed only each other to be complete.

  The weeks flew by, each one more wonderful than the last, until Summer found it easy to forget that she had ever heard of the Earl of Heatherstone or that Brent had once been a feared pirate. She settled into a daily routine that was at once satisfying and extremely pleasant. There was always a lot to be done, but the tropical abundance kept the job of providing for each day from becoming a burdensome task. If they didn’t grow it or couldn’t make it on the plantation, Summer had only to express a wish and Brent would send a boat to Havana to buy or order whatever she wanted.

  “If you don’t stop, I’m going to be afraid to open my mouth,” she said one evening after a half-dozen men had spent hours hauling a huge mirror up from the docks.

  “There’s no reason why you can’t have everything you want.” Brent’s smile was a besotted one. “I have enough money to last forever.”

  “No man has that much money.” Summer laughed. “You’ve got to stop buying everything I so much as mention.”

  “Why?”

  “A woman talks about a lot of things, it’s fun to daydream, but I have to make choices or the house will end up looking like a furniture shop.”

  “Then I’ll build you another house to put things in.”

  “We can’t live in more than one at a time,” Summer chided.

  “Then we’ll save that one for the children.”

  “They won’t want it. Children never do.”

  “In that case we shall have to give it to Pedro and Juanita.”

  Summer laughed and then turned the conversation to other channels. She loved being spoiled, but she was also worried. Brent had been like this since they’d come to the island. At first she thought it was the result of the absence of outside pressures, but gradually she began to think that there were other reasons for his perpetual gaiety.

  He worked very hard and was becoming increasingly involved with the plantation; he had even talked to Smith about the possibility of setting up a trading company. She had no cause to doubt his love or to question his unfailing attention to her, but she gradually became convinced that Brent was trying to run away from something. One day she figured out what it was: he had gone on being a pirate long after he’d needed to because he was running away from what had happened in Scotland and from the loss of his inheritance. Now he was using his love for her to do the same thing. With the passing of each day, she became more convinced that he would never be able to settle down and be contented, anywhere or with anybody, until he had laid the demon of Gowan to rest.

  But he refused to talk about that.

  “Why should I want to exchange this paradise for thousands of snow-covered acres?” he’d once asked when she had pressed him. She wasn’t sure that he did want to return to Scotland, but she was certain that he would never rest easy until he could make the choice for himself.

  But she didn’t know what to do. She had talked to Smith when he’d spent a week with them before going back to Havana to settle the issue of Summer’s marriage, but he hadn’t been able to get to Brent or to figure out a way to get around the legal net that Gowan had set up. Summer had no desire to make her home in a land that was foreign to her, but she did want Brent to be happy. And she was certain that Windswept was as important to his happiness as she was.

  “I’m going to have to start doing more of the work around here instead of letting you do it for me,” Summer said to Ana as she handed her one of her favorite dresses. “I’m getting so fat I can’t fit into half my clothes.”

  “The senora is not fat,” Ana stated. She had long envied Summer’s slim figure.

  “And your mother is going to have to stop tempting me with dishes she knows I can’t resist. Captain Douglas has already warned me that he’ll give me away if I become as fat as Juanita.”

  “Nobody is as fat as Mama.” Ana laughed as she handed her a rose silk dress. “Not even Papa, and he eats more than she does.”

  “But what could it be?” Summer asked, exasperated to find the rose silk just as tight. “At this rate I won’t be able to get out of bed in a month.”

  “There are other reasons for a lady to become a little stout,” Ana suggested.

  For a moment Summer looked blank, then her eyes grew wide. “You don’t think …”

  “I couldn’t say, but there are signs.”


  “I never thought…” Summer paused. “Oh my goodness,” she suddenly exclaimed before running to the enormous mirror which had been installed in her room. She began to poke and prod her belly, then turned sideways to the mirror and studied herself intently.

  “What do you think? I just realized that I haven’t had my flow in months. I didn’t even notice it.”

  “The señora has been very busy lately.”

  “But not busy enough to miss something like this.” Summer was aghast. “Brent will think me a fool. My God,” she exclaimed, suddenly realizing the full import of her discovery, “what will he think?” She slumped down on a chair, too perturbed to remember to put her clothes back on.

  “Señor Douglas will be overjoyed,” Ana assured her. “He will make a wonderful papa.”

  Summer smiled absently at the compliment. “I don’t know. There is so much that is unsettled.”

  “What could be wrong?”

  Summer didn’t feel that she could explain the tangled web of her life to Ana, so she hurriedly dressed. She would have to tell Brent, but first she wanted to think. She wanted to have a baby, but she wished she hadn’t become pregnant at this particular time. She didn’t feel she needed any more complications in her life.

  For weeks she had been making plans for the future, plans that covered almost every contingency. Oddly enough, she had forgotten the most obvious one.

  Summer brought Brent his brandy and settled into the crook of his arm. “Tired?” he asked when she remained quiet longer than usual.

  “No. Just thinking.”

  “Want to share it?”

  She chuckled. “I suppose I will have to. It’s half yours.”

  “I never trust you when you laugh like that.”

  “You don’t trust me?” Summer exclaimed, sitting up and turning to face him.

  “Is that so surprising?”

  “I should say so. After the way you’ve used me and the absolutely terrible things you’ve done.”

  “It all turned out for the best, didn’t it?”

  “I don’t say I’m not content to be where I am, but I can think of at least half a dozen ways I’d rather have gotten here.”

  “You have to admit they wouldn’t have been half as exciting.”

  “Excitement’s not everything. I’m right fond of a whole skin.”

  Brent ran his fingers along Summer’s shoulder, making her whole body ache for him. “I don’t see anything wrong with your skin as it is.”

  “You know what I mean, you infuriating man. Suppose you had a daughter and some pirate seized her and ran off to play house under the palms. What would you do?”

  “This is not the same.”

  “It is. You’re just trying to get out of answering my question. What would you do if such a thing happened to your daughter?”

  “I don’t know,” Brent answered rather quietly. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “Well it’s time you did, because you just might have one someday.” Lord, what a way to tell him. When would she learn to lead up to things carefully.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Even sailors know that women have babies and some of those babies are little girls who grow up into daughters that marry. How are you going to feel when you’re a father?”

  “I won’t let any daughter of mine go to sea without me.”

  “Okay, what are you going to do if your son brings home a wife he took captive when he plundered a ship?”

  Brent laughed, and took a swallow of his brandy. “No son of mine will steal his wife off a ship.”

  “Why not?” Summer said. “I was stolen off a ship.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Only because it was you who did the plundering.”

  “What’s gotten into you tonight? What’s all this about?”

  “I don’t think I’m going to tell you.” She pouted. “You’re insensitive and unfit to be a father.”

  “I don’t want to be a father yet.”

  “You should have thought about that before you pounced on me at every opportunity.” She was making things worse with every word she uttered.

  “Wait a minute. You’re not teasing me, you’re trying to tell me something,” Brent decided, putting his brandy down and turning Summer to him.

  “I told you that in the beginning.”

  “But you got off on this business about children playing pirates.”

  “You made me angry.”

  “I frequently do that, but it usually doesn’t make you talk gibberish. What are you getting at?”

  “Maybe it’s better if I wait until tomorrow to tell you.”

  “No, tonight.”

  “You might not like it.”

  “I’m getting used to that, too.”

  “Beast,” she cried, trying to push him away. He just held her tighter.

  “Okay, I take it back. Just tell me what this is all about.”

  “I was just thinking that it would be nice to start having children. I’m not getting any younger, you know, and neither are you.”

  “You’re twenty and I’m only four years older.” Brent laughed. “I hardly think anyone’s going to be calling you old anytime soon.”

  “But it’s never wise to put off having children. Parents must be young and energetic to raise them.”

  “I don’t intend to raise them. When the time comes I plan to hire a nurse and then turn them over to a governess or a tutor. But we won’t have to worry about that for another three or four years.”

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to start worrying about it a little sooner than that. Say, in about four or five months.” Brent’s expression froze and his body became alarmingly stiff.

  “I’m almost certain that I’m pregnant.” Summer watched Brent expectantly, apprehensively, but he didn’t move so much as an eyelash.

  “Say something,” she entreated. “Don’t just sit there. You’re scaring me to death.”

  “Y-you’re going to have a baby?” Brent stuttered for the first time in his life. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Summer answered, not yet sure of how he was taking it.

  With a shout that would soon bring everyone in the house running to see what was wrong, Brent leapt to his feet. He drew Summer into a crushing embrace, and then swung her about until she was so dizzy she couldn’t stand.

  “I thought you didn’t want a child for at least three years,” she managed to say breathlessly.

  “We can turn the empty bedroom into a nursery.” He was not paying any attention to her. “We’ll have to hire a real nurse, though, not one of the women here on the island, the best one in Havana. I’ll start Smith looking for one right away.”

  “Slow down.” Summer was feeling weak from relief. “We don’t even have a name for the child yet.”

  “He’ll be named after my father.”

  “And if it’s a girl?”

  “After my mother.”

  “This is my child, too, you know. Don’t you think I should make some contribution to the name?”

  “Well you can’t really name him after Boyleston and you don’t want to name him after Ashton.”

  “If he is a girl, I insist that she be named Constance.”

  “It will be a boy.”

  “Just in case.”

  “It will be a boy.”

  “That is what we’ll name our first girl then, when you’re finally tired of nothing but sons.”

  “I suppose Constance Elizabeth sounds all right.”

  “With a name like that, she’d better not be a tomboy.”

  “With half a dozen older brothers, she won’t be anything else.”

  Chapter 33

  Summer stared at the heavy sofa with the high, elaborately carved back, and tapped her foot with dissatisfaction. It probably would be exactly the right thing for the entrance hall, but she didn’t like it in the parlor; however, until she could find something else she would leave it where
it was. They had to have something to sit on. The room did look better, but it ought to. They had spent weeks washing, scrubbing, sewing curtains, and polishing and rearranging furniture. Nothing short of complete redecoration would alter the heavy Spanish feeling of the house, but Brent had already signified his approval of the changes in their bedroom and in the dining room. Now that the parlor was in reasonable order, she need only think about the salon and the breakfast room. The rest of the house could wait until she could purchase more material and buy some new furniture. It wasn’t likely that they would be entertaining guests soon, at least not until after the baby was born.

  She smiled to herself at the thought. She was looking forward to the birth of the baby, but she was unsure of when to expect it. She couldn’t remember having her flow since she’d left home; that would mean that the baby was due in about four months. But she was hardly showing, and it was Juanita’s loudly stated opinion that Summer was not going to have a baby when she looked flat as a board.

  “You can’t be carrying anything bigger than a piglet, and you know Captain Douglas will never accept a runt for a son.”

  Summer always laughed when Juanita started up. Neither she nor Brent was in a hurry to have the baby. It could come when it was ready. But she was proud of Brent and of her new home, and she thought it would be fun to have a houseful of people. Nonetheless, regardless of when the baby arrived, she didn’t intend to entertain until the legalities that prohibited their marriage were straightened out. Then she would put her plan into operation.

  Summer had reached the conclusion that since Brent was giving up the sea, he had to have a new outlet for his energies and abilities. She knew he would never be content to live out the rest of his life on a plantation, no matter how large, no matter how many new inventions and projects he and the overseer could think up. Sooner or later he was going to begin to look farther afield for something to engage his curiosity, energy, and drive. She would be prepared. She wasn’t going to leave their future to chance.

  Summer had decided that Brent should become Governor of Havana. If he had an important job to do, maybe he would lose his unvoiced desire to return to Scotland. She didn’t want him to be caught in Gowan’s traps, enmeshed in the ponderous wheels of Scottish justice.