by Dana Roquet
“Desiree,” he began gently, “I am very sorry for my behavior and haste but I have no regrets regarding what we shared together last eve.” He declared quietly, with a warm smile still playing about his lips.
“No regrets!” She sneered with mocking sarcasm. “I was a virgin Captain! Is it so commonplace for you to destroy a woman’s virtue that it matters not—simply another triumph of your prowess?”
His smile faded and he took her by the arm leading her up the deck toward the bow, where they would be out of the earshot of his crew. He stopped, pulling her around before him and standing her against the forecastle. He towered over her and Desiree glared up into his stormy brown eyes, wishing she had the courage to rake her nails across that handsome face.
“So quick to condemn, aren’t you my sweet? But answer me this—is it so commonplace for you to share kisses and spend time with a man alone in his quarters?”
“You bastard!” Desiree hissed.
“I am sorry my dear but if the bait is dangled, you must be prepared for the strike!”
“You loathsome wretch,” she laughed bitterly, “it was you who dangled the bait and I—like a fool, swallowed the steely barb whole! You and your tender words; the feigned interest and caring for me—all a farce—a lie!”
His dark eyes narrowed and he grasped her shoulders firmly, pulling her a step closer, “The farce was you! The lie yours!” he roared.
He released her, turning away to regain his composure and then turned back to those defiant violet eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, carefully controlling his voice, “I wanted you Desiree. I never hid that fact! If you would remember,” he stepped toward her again, placing one hand on the wall above her shoulder and thumping his chest with the forefinger of his other hand, “it was I who asked last night whether you should be with me unchaperoned! I gave you the option to leave! You neglected to take it!”
“Oh of course!” Desiree nodded, “How stupid of me. You should have informed me that by staying, I was giving you permission to have your way with me!”
“Damn it!” he barked, slamming his hand against the wall, “I wanted you and if you would admit it to yourself—you wanted me! Perhaps I did not woo you or falsely ply you to my pallet with sweet lies—I took you with honesty. I wanted you—I admit it without reservation.”
“How very gallant of you!” her words dripped with venom.
“Stop it Desiree! Why don’t you admit to yourself that you enjoyed what we shared? Admit the feelings you felt for me!”
“I felt nothing!”
“You’re lying!”
“Enough Captain Colter!” she spat, “I will not discuss what happened with you! We shared nothing! You are vile—and I have no desire to be mauled by the likes of you! I am repulsed by you and the thought of what occurred last night makes me feel ill! Stay away from me Captain—I do not want you anywhere near me!” she whispered viciously, pushing past him.
Desiree dashed along the deck and rushed to the stairs at the stern castle and down to the companionway, leaning in the passage to regain her composure. The lies she had just spoken beginning to gnaw at her conscience. She knew in her heart that her own desire to have that first taste of romance were partly to blame for what occurred last eve. She also knew, in her heart, that she found Stephen to be anything but vile. In truth it had been so unbearably tender, almost magical in its warmth. His practiced touch had been wildly exciting, his passion consuming and his need, almost desperate.
The act had been so very intimate and he had taken such care to ease her fear and pain. It had been a letting down of defenses totally and she had felt a hint of what love must mean as he held her close in his moment of glory—his emotions raw and exposed, by something she had caused. There had been a rare touch of vulnerability in his voice as he had whispered her name—helpless were she to have thought to wound his pride but trusting in her not to do so. Just as he had brought out her vulnerability and seemed to revel in the exposure of her need.
These truths tore at her more than her lies just spoken above deck, because it had been so wonderful and she had to admit to herself that she wanted him; this moment she wanted him and she could not allow it to happen again.
***
The next morning, well before the dawn and before Bridgett stirred, Desiree was up and dressed. With her gown loosely laced, with no one to assist her, she donned her cloak and quietly removed her burgundy gown from its hiding place.
At the rail, standing in the dark, with the light of dawn only a grayish hue at the eastern horizon, she dropped the dress over the side of the ship and it was pulled under the cold black water by the wake.
With the burial at sea of the evidence of their encounter, she willed her mind to bury it also, to forget. But her mind and her yearning would continue to churn the memories to the surface, time and again.
Chapter Fifteen
Bridgett mounted the stairs, to join Desiree for an early morning stroll about mid ship. The chill air felt exhilarating as she topped the flight. Then her eyes caught a movement near the bow, a flash of a bright topaz colored gown and she halted. In the first golden hues of morning, she witnessed the unusual occurrence that had come about, often of late. She seemed continually interrupting heated discussions between Desiree and the captain. Their words now were hushed against any possible eavesdropper but their eyes crackled and the stance and gesturing of the two, told of a bitter disagreement.
Bridgett knew from experience in the last fort night, that were she to approach the pair, a stony silence would fall, all conversation coming to an abrupt halt—while their eyes would burn into one another. The captain’s jaw would clamp shut, flexing with rage and he would quickly excuse himself and depart, while Desiree would bestow a sweet smile upon her as though she had no care in the world. It was most peculiar. When she had broached the subject with Desiree some time ago, she had received a confused oration from her young mistress.
“Bridgett I hold no grudge against Stephen!” she had giggled self consciously, pulling at an imaginary loose thread at the hem of her emerald gown, “On the contrary—he is a most adept sailor and seems to have his duties well in hand.” She had stated, turning down her hem and smoothing the satin. Then laying her hands in her lap, Desiree had smiled serenely.
She had contemplated her, totally perplexed, “But Desiree you seem at odds with the man constantly! You rarely speak and on the occasions you do, you seem upset. We no longer dine with him! You rarely speak with Davison or Mr. Cunningham, for that matter! It is as though your nature has taken a turn. What is it dear?” she begged, trying to pin Desiree down; wanting to force her to give a straight answer.
Desiree had stood, pacing slowly across the cabin with her hands laced before her, “Bridgett my mind of late seems often disturbed with thoughts of my future and its offerings. I am a touch melancholy and not in the mood for giddy conversation. I have a huge responsibility now. I do so want to make myself worthy of my parent’s trust, in leaving it in my hands.” Her eyes had fluttered downward as she stood solemnly before her, “I think I shall take some air now.”
Desiree had whirled about, strolling from the cabin and she had sat with a knitted brow, pondering the words spoken, musing aloud “I never heard a person utter so many words without saying a single thing!”
Her change in temperament could be easily discerned. A swing in mood, becoming withdrawn, quiet; pensive—and for the life of her, Bridgett could not understand it. She could now see only her young mistresses trim back as she faced the captain near the bow. His face, visible over Desiree’s head was etched in anger. Sparks were fairly leaping from the deep brown depths. Not wanting to appear to be spying, Bridgett made her way below once more, deciding to come back up a bit later.
***
“How can you simply dismiss me and turn your back on me—as though we are total strangers, after we have known each other so well?” Stephen rasped softly.
“Captain I know nothing of yo
u but I did have an important lesson that night, not so long ago! I do know this much—I was mistaken about you!” Desiree hissed, whirling away from him and moving further down the ship.
He strode briskly after her, planting himself before her once more with a glare, “Yes damn it I took you in my arms and we gave and received pleasure and that made me all at once—an ogre!”
“It was rape Captain, why is it you continue to neglect to mention that small detail? I had no designs on the occurrence of that night in the slightest! You attacked me and I swear you act as though you were the injured party!” Her eyes flashed brightly, glaring into his handsome face, daring him to disagree.
“As far as designs—I had none! What happened that night wasn’t charted out by me, it just happened. You keep referring to it as rape and to call what we shared between us rape is idiotic! Rape is not gentle and giving—not pleasure. Rape is violent, spiteful, and vile. Did you find anything but pleasure within my arms? Are you attempting to claim injury by my hands?” he flung up his hand dramatically and his eyes flared with his own outrage. “You must have forgotten Desiree, I was present. I felt the fire of your passion.”
“No!” Desiree shook her head, covering her ears with her hands as she tried to move away from him once more.
Stephen stopped her from fleeing, pulling her hands away from her ears, forcing her to hear his words. “You asked me to release your hands and you held me to you.” He reminded her.
“Stop it!” she spat, her face flushing crimson.
“Damn it, you shared yourself with me and you reveled in your first taste of ecstasy.”
“Enough! I admit it! You cast your spell upon me for that moment but I have since regained my wits! Why do you continue to terrorize me when I ask only to be left alone?” Yanking her hands from his, she stood arms akimbo tossing her head and her long, loose tresses fanned wildly about her body.
Stephen’s breath caught and she detected the smoldering passion in his eyes. Outraged, she stamped her foot, “You filthy beast! Molest me no more! Even your eyes seem to defile me! You had your sport—at my expense—to your own satisfaction but make no mistake, it shall not be repeated, so cool your lust!” she ordered.
He reached out and held her by the shoulders, pulling her a pace closer. “I have not asked for such favors have I? Have I?” he questioned passionately. “It is you Desiree—You are the one who can think of nothing else! You continue to plead revulsion and outrage concerning our union of that night and yet—at our every meeting it seems to be your only topic of conversation. You bring it up continually! I try only to salvage the rest of what we have shared.”
“What rest? You are making no sense. I but asked you to leave me alone and you seem unable to heed that simple request. We shall be reaching the colonies in but a few days time, until then, please keep your distance and upon our arrival, I hope never to look upon your leering face again. Now leave me alone!” she shrieked, pushing free of his hands.
Clasping his hands loosely behind his back, Stephen smiled without humor, “Had I even the slightest inkling of what a prudish and immature child you were beneath this womanly facade, I assure you I would have thought better of it, before taking you to my bed. Worry not little girl, I shall trouble you no further.”
With that he turned and strode away while Desiree dismissed him as well, looking out to sea. Then with her hands pressed against her troubled brow, eyes squeezed shut; she said a silent prayer—praying that he would hold true to his word this time and leave her alone, for she was weakening under his constant onslaught of the truth, fighting against a flood of emotions which were threatening her resolve. The void her woman’s body felt was continually at odds with her mind and reason. All too often she awoke from dreams of strong gentle hands upon her, to the emptiness of her small bed and an ache for the want of him.
She had turned her back on him completely, refusing even light conversation or simple courtesies—steeling all her defenses. She was afraid of the consequences, were she to let them down even for an instant. Were that to occur, she might well find her way back to his pallet and give her body to him willingly. Against all she believed, against years of upbringing. She was not some waterfront whore—not meant to be a momentary distraction for a man from the boredom of a long sea voyage but she realized, all too clearly, that were she to allow herself, she would become just that.
It seemed that each night, he waited there, just beyond the soft misty tendrils of slumber, to again gather her within his arms. His mouth, warm and teasing would sear her lips, her breasts. She could almost feel the lean hard muscle of his sun-darkened back beneath her hands, the power in his frame as he pressed down upon her and she welcomed him. Her eyes would open, staring into the darkness, with his name bursting from her lips and of late, her outbursts had awakened Bridgett. It was becoming frightening to even sleep.
His disposition had continued to be gentle and caring since that evening. At each meeting, his eyes would be tender and his manner at ease, until she pricked his pride, goading him into yet another confrontation. She knew she must or resign herself to succumbing to the dreams of her endless nights and if she were to succumb, what then? What if she were to take his seed? Perhaps even now his child could be growing within.
Her mind conjured terrible scenes—her growing heavy with child under her aunt’s roof; Bridgett’s shock and horror that she had lain with a man without the marriage vows so important to Bridgett’s sensibilities. Returning home to face the Roche’s with a bastard child in her arms. All these images helped to strengthen her resolve against him and that which she longed to share once more.
***
Stephen took the steps to the helm, in one bound, relieving Davison from his shift. His eyes scanned the ship and fell upon Desiree as she was joined by Bridgett. He noted the brilliant smile bestowed upon the older woman and grit his teeth in rage. He would rout the wench from his mind if it were the last thing he ever did, he vowed. He had felt the bite of her rancor for the last time. She was but one of many women, there would be many more and once rid of her presence, day after day, he would again be in control.
But during his tortured nights, he had to admit, she had gotten into his blood. He had never thought he could succumb to any woman or those possessive, elusive emotions other men displayed but he was feeling them and he could not deny it, at least not to himself.
He had tried everything he could think of to bring her back to him. He had begged her for forgiveness. He had talked until he was weary. He had confronted her with the truth, trying to force her to see what had really happened that night for what it had been, but she preferred lying to herself and to him. He had tried to ignore the subject altogether—to simply share warm conversation with her as they once had, but she threw it up in his face every time they met. Never allowing them to get past it, never giving him the warmth he was now desperate to recapture. What more could he do? Get down on his knees—grovel at her feet? She would most likely laugh in his face.
Since the first time he had possessed a woman, any need had been eased in a moment of passion—but not so this time. Not only did he agonize over the need to feel her body beneath his own once more but also for that which lay beneath her womanly allure. He had come to know her moods, her quick wit and quicker mind and the loss of her was devastating. It seemed that with attaining that completing bond between them—he had destroyed all.
Chapter Sixteen
The ship groaned and strained under the effort, as it sought to tack windward against the prevailing winds. With an order from the helm the sails were trimmed and again the ship cut through the wind, at an odd angle; making progress by zigzagging across the ocean.
Desiree had stood at the rail for hours at a time in the past few days, as they passed the stark wilderness of North America. Along the coast, the harsh terrain was dotted with signs of civilization, becoming more frequent as they moved south. Rustic towns flourished and even from the distance, she could see bui
ldings at Bar Harbor. In just two short days they would arrive at Portsmouth and she yearned for the feel of solid ground beneath her feet.
***
It was a late morning, late in the month of July that they approached Portsmouth New Hampshire. At first the scene resembled France and ports along England but was revealed to be distinctively different as they moved closer. Although through the spyglass she held to her eye, Desiree could see the activity was very similar—hectic, dirty, with crates and livestock waiting to be loaded and ships large and small all doing business, the buildings and warehouses looked somehow unfinished—plain. Not what she was accustomed to seeing on the coast of France. The endless wilderness seemed to crowd in all around the small hamlet. She wondered when or if she would get a glimpse of the gigantic white pine trees used for the masts in the booming ship building industry that Stephen had told her about once during their discussions. She did see the islands dotting the entrance to Portsmouth that flourished with fisheries, which he had told her would be one of the first sights as they approached. Those discussions, during their times together, seemed so very long ago at this point.
She and Bridgett stood quietly watching, as the New World came into distinct detail before their eyes. And as they observed the land, the captain joined them, speaking to Bridgett while keeping his eyes intentionally averted from Desiree. He leaned against the rail beside Bridgett as he looked out over the water and Desiree could not help her sense of longing as she watched his face, while appearing to look past him to the land.
“That coastline there—as far as you can see, is New Hampshire and yet it spans only over four leagues. That harbor there is the mouth of the Piscataque River and leads up near Dover. That will be my stop after leaving you ladies here at Portsmouth before I head on down the coast to Virginia. We will be docking within the hour and I will be escorting you straight to your aunt’s home—Miss Chandelle.”
