by Dana Roquet
Stephen sighed heavily, looking up at the timbers above. She was forever putting him on the spot, delving deeper into his life and although it was what he had hoped to attain—a comfortable knowledge of one another; she left him ill at ease with this particular subject. It would serve no good purpose. Only build resentment, perhaps even cause doubts in her mind but she left him with no options. He would speak the truth if it came to that.
“Desiree why all these questions?” he released his breath wearily, “Why would you want to know something like that—because of Bridgett’s tirade?”
“Curiosity—that is all.” Desiree admitted softly. In truth though she had noted that at least one thing Bridgett said was true. He did have a string of entanglements behind him.
“Well I think it is something more. I fear you are planning to punish me for her words, when I have done nothing to earn such.”
“You sound as though you don’t trust me Stephen.” She quipped innocently.
He chuckled in amazement, “Not so long ago my sweet you made me pay dearly for my words and deeds. I fear I may be slitting my own throat with my answers to such questions.”
“Why? You have been in love many times—haven’t you? A string of broken hearts left in your wake?” She spat hotly, moving quickly away from him and sitting up on her heels.
Stephen sat up just as quickly, facing her, “See what I mean? You have just taken the offensive, ready to fight! You seem determined to have this out—fine! So be it! I have never had even as much as an infatuation. And if you fear we share something that many others have also shared with me, it could not be any further from the truth! I have never shared with another woman, what I have come to depend upon you for. There is no string of broken hearts in my past—only unimportant moments of passion as quickly forgotten as the act itself was accomplished!”
Desiree lifted her nose a notch with an expression of disgust, “That sounds very sordid. So you are saying it means nothing to you? You sail the high seas, taking women on a whim without caring in the slightest?” She yanked the sheet away from his body, draping it across her bosom, hiding her charms from his view and bounded out of the bed, taking the sheet with her, while he grabbed and caught only thin air. She swaddled herself in the sheet, tucking the end in her cleavage and moved to sit at his desk chair, facing him.
Stephen noted that angry flames leapt from the violet depths, awaiting—demanding a response. He rose from the bed with an angry growl and a shake of his head, searching for something to cover his nakedness. He retrieved a discarded towel from a chair, wrapping it about his hips and tucking it in upon itself. He then came to stand before her at the desk, gesturing with flourish. “If you thought I had a care for every woman I ever bedded then you could accept it, is that it? I doubt it highly!” He answered his own question, “I don’t know what you expect me to say! What is the point of this?” He dropped to his knees before her, his hands resting on either side of her hips in the overlarge seat, leaning against her knees and glaring up into the icy violet depths.
Desiree could not say for sure. Was it fear of her unknown place in his life? Jealousy that others had lain with him—or simply Bridgett’s words shaking her confidence? She shrugged her shoulders, noncommittally, dropping her eyes to her hands in her lap and Stephen reached out, covering both her hands with his own.
“For a man of my age I can hardly claim innocence, Desiree. But I care for you, I want you and if you do not know that by now, then apparently you find me lacking in expressing myself.”
Her eyes lifted to his and their expressions softened. He touched the soft flesh of her upper arm lightly with the back of his index finger and smiled gently, “I do not want to feel it necessary to defend myself when I have done nothing wrong Desiree. You are all I want. That is what matters and if you don’t except that, then take your revenge upon me but just remember—whom I may or may not have had in the past has no bearing upon our relationship whether Bridgett believes it does or not. I swear to you, I give you my oath, I have been with no other since you came into my world.” He finished sincerely.
Desiree felt her anger take flight. He was always so wise, so truthful, and so right. Why was she acting the jealous mate; as though she had any right to do so? It mattered not and was, in reality, none of her business. It was not her nature to be so possessive and was most unbecoming.
“I am sorry Stephen. I have no cause to act so childish. I show my age I suppose. Please forgive me.” She said lowering her eyes. She was surprised to hear Stephen chuckle and he rose before her, dropped the towel and then scooped her from the chair and carried her back to bed.
“Jealousy is not a matter of age, nor a matter of experience or the lack of it. It has to do with feelings Desiree, it is a sign of caring and at least I know you care for me a bit. But let me tell you a little secret…” He paused, falling back onto the bed with her in his arms. He assisted her as she unwound herself from the sheet and between them, they shook it out, covering themselves and he rolled atop her as he continued, “I am not immune. Although I was as positive as a man can be of your purity before our first encounter—had I found that to have been untrue, you would have seen jealousy that would have terrified you.” He kissed her gently.
“It matters to you that no other…”
“It pleases me to know that no other had gone before.” He assured, stroking her hair at her temples. “In fact, since we seem to be making this a night for honesty and voicing concerns, something has troubled me since I set out for Nevis—it matters very much that no others have gone after.” His voice was somber.
“You are serious?” she gasped incredulously.
“Well you were there for some time and you were a captive…” He let the sentence dangle.
She could not resist teasing him and looked away dramatically, biting her lower lip, then speaking softly; “True I was a prisoner—unsure of my fate. I had to use my—womanly wiles to try and ensure my life would be spared. Are you sure you want to hear this?” She queried as she tried to look sorrowful and ashamed, unable to meet his gaze.She watched as his tanned face seemed to turn a shade darker and his eyes narrowed.
“If you are making light of this I suggest you think again for I will kill the bastard that laid a hand on you!” he rasped quietly.
When Desiree continued to avoid answering the question and refused to look him in the eyes, he took her face gently in his hands, forcing her to look at him. His need for assurance that she hadn’t becoming a conviction that indeed she could not have.
“You would not have lain with another and appeared so casual in their presence! I know that by my own experience!” He paused as a thought dawned on him, “Unless you cared a great deal—such as Red or perhaps that O’Malley fellow! Christ they are old enough to be your father—your grandfather! Damn it, say something Desiree!”
Desiree was amazed by the anger—even rage she saw upon his face. She smiled innocently, “No other has gone where you have been Stephen but you have shown me that indeed jealousy is neither a matter of age nor experience. I don’t feel so foolish now for it appears we both have a possessive nature.”
His expression softened in relief and he kissed her soundly, “You are a cruel wench, putting me through that. Your state plagued me the entire voyage to Nevis. I was beside myself with worry and have wondered and worried on it since I brought you away from there. Please Desiree, unless you want me to put some poor beggar in an early grave—don’t jest about that again.”
He turned to his back and Desiree lay in the crook of his arm, both looking to the timbers above. He breathed deeply and she could feel the tension leaving his body.
“I’m sorry Stephen.”
His kissed her forehead, “Forgiven. So tell me, have you loved any of those you have had?” He asked lightly, wetting his fingers and stretching out his hand to douse the light at the bedside, casting the room into darkness.
“Somehow that question is neither as broad nor as im
personal as when I asked it of you.” Desiree quipped with a laugh, nuzzling against his neck.
“But valid.” He continued with a chuckle.
He was asking for an admission of love, when she had not asked or received such from him. She was not ready or able to admit this to him. She was unsure of his French vocabulary, whether it was more advanced than he claimed, so she spoke a simple disjointed, two-sided remark, “Etre clair, est etre et fermer.” she whispered.
To be clear is to be to close. He could interpret it as an unfinished thought, to be clear is to be to close to the truth or he could interpret it that she would rather not be so open or close to him about her feelings just yet. Either way, the remark would surely prompt further inquiry of her meaning. If not, she had at least answered with something and that he did not understand was irrelevant.
Stephen laughed heartily, pulling the covers up about them, “In other words no answer is forthcoming.” He said kissing her mouth lightly. “Good night Sweet.”
“Good night.” She cuddled closer within his arms and they were quiet for a long moment, then he chuckled again.
“I should have made an effort at some point to learn French. Every utterance is so pleasant to the ear—flowing and harmonious. Why is it—I have the distinct feeling that I have just been abused verbally or unknowingly been called a scoundrel or worse?”
Desiree choked back a giggle, “I have no idea.”
***
The sliver of a moon high in the night sky brought barely the illumination of a solitary candle through the small leaded cabin windows and in the semi-blackness Stephen was unaware that Desiree was awake, watching him slip silently into his clothes and then exit the room. He was obviously having difficulty finding sleep as was she and she wondered what his cause of unrest might be.
For herself, the cause was not clear in her own mind. She sifted through the bits and pieces of conversation she had shared with Stephen this night; his admission of a colored past, her unexpected reaction to that admission and the abrupt discovery of Bridgett’s scandalous indiscretions. It all brought home to her, her total lack of experience to deal with any of these realities.
Stephen was so sure of himself, so calm and in control, with years of experience and exploits to his credit—when compared with her; floundering in insecurities; with a childish lack of composure. What did she know of the grown up affair she had entered into with the faculties of a schoolgirl? He was probably asking himself this moment how he could have allowed himself to become entangled in this predicament; saddled with a clinging vine who was unsophisticated, jealous and a possessive child.
But his words were so convincing, calming her fears, making her feel as though she were the most important part of his life. My Lord was that the ploy of all men? Saying exactly what they must to achieve their goals? Smooth words and hollow promises as Bridgett claimed she had received? How on earth did one know—how had Bridgett known the difference when her true love came into her life; some feeling, a thunderbolt suddenly slashing through her heart? What of the comfort, the warmth, the rightness of every moment spent with Stephen? Perhaps only the utterance of those three words I love you or a proposal on bended knee to take one as a wife assured undying devotion.
But Stephen was unbounded in his patience with her and unperturbed by her giddy personality. Teaching her the fine art of love with tenderness and gentle urging, with respect for her and it seemed respect for the act. Then to, he engaged her in conversation, asking her for her views and opinions on subjects that most men never even broached with women, as though her opinion were of great importance to him and worthwhile.
He had hung on every word when she had spoken of her parents, her home, the lake, describing it all in detail. He understood her hesitancy to delve into her father’s business and its complexities. He stated she was fortunate for Jacques Monet and his expertise and advised her to depend upon him until she could seriously consider learning such things and he was very confident in her ability to learn whatever would be required of her. He made her feel as if every aspect of her were of importance to him, not only her physical self. Was that the way of a man toward one he considered only his mistress or the caring of a man who loved a woman?
No answers came, no insight, no inkling. She could only wait, to see what happened next. She was playing a game without knowing the rules. Unsure of whether there were a winner or a loser or if the best one could hope for would be a draw. Whatever the outcome and in spite of her lacking womanhood she would make one resolution—no more possessive quarrels over his past lovers. She knew by the discussions she had shared with Rene’, Antoine and Honore’ of one taboo, the one she was now committing—suffocating by clinging too tightly.
She had never worried on that with her friends, for it was such a family type of affection that no show was overmuch but those same young men had avoided anxious women—virgins—as if they had the plague. Just what would they be inclined to do were they to find themselves in an affair with a young clinging naïve child? However, on considering their possible courses of action, she realized that none would find themselves in such an affair, not by any stretch of the imagination. Certainly none would have endured to the point Stephen had.
Why on earth had he endured this long? He, being so charming and handsome could easily have any woman he desired. Why had he made love to her that first time, when he knew, he said he was certain that she was innocent? Why did he want her still? “And why are you thinking such childish thoughts?” she asked herself aloud sharply. After all, she had gone into this with her eyes wide open. He wanted her for the same reason she wanted him, they were attracted to one another. Why must she analyze it? “Oh when am I going to grow up?” She moaned aloud, turning to her stomach and pulling a pillow over her head.
***
The chill night air of early October touched Stephen when he came above deck, slowly making his way by moonlight to the helm.
“Stephen! What are you doing up?” Ham asked in surprise, “Don’t tell me you longed for the company of this old sea dog when a beautiful woman is below to keep you warm.” he chuckled.
Stephen made no reply, moving to the rail and leaning there he crossed his legs at the ankle and leaned back, “Ham that lady has me shaking in my boots.” He confessed, looking up at the night sky.
“I don’t need to be told that. I have eyes.” Ham nodded when Stephen’s regard turned to him, “I watched you Stephen, carousing Dover and Jamestown every night, searching—finding, never sampling. I have never known you to think twice about easing your need but like a loving husband wanting only his mate you set all away from you, retiring alone each night.”
“She is barely a woman. Was only two months into her eighteenth year when…” he paused with a shake of his head, “How has one young woman brought me to such a state? I’ve bedded some of the most beautiful women in the world, the most exciting and experienced bits of fluff money could buy or charm could sway. Not one—not one could hold a candle to Desiree. How has she turned me to her slave and left me totally addled?” he asked more himself than his friend.
“Stephen whatever she has done—I approve heartily. You know well enough that I have never approved of your lack of discretion but then I have had my sweet wife and have been a married man more years than you have been alive. That fact aside, I have never seen a man prowl more than you, except of course for Will and Dan. Maybe it is your good looks—Will and Dan too. None of you ever seemed to believe you needed to care. You always had whoever you wanted, whenever you wanted. None of you have had trouble finding a willing partner—now Timmy, he is a different breed. At least he is choosy with whom he dallies but you three—they fell all over your brothers and they fall all over you to get a share. I think it is high time you appreciated a woman for all she is and has to offer.” he decided thoughtfully.
“I never knew you held such a high opinion of me old friend—but Lord Almighty Cunningham give me a little credit! I know there are
at least a few out there I have missed.” Stephen growled in a defensive tone.
“Cap I have watched you every step of the way and you know I speak the truth. I don’t like to speak ill of the dead but I would have to lay the blame with your brothers for your lack of caring. They twisted your thinking—corrupted you at an early age. Hell they had you bedding your first by the time you were fifteen.”
“Sixteen” Stephen corrected.
“Aye in fact I seem to recall it being your birthday.”
Stephen chuckled, remembering that night just months before their deaths. Daniel and Will had decided that at sixteen it was high time little brother became a man. So after briefing him on the basic details and tipping a few, accompanied by an assortment of off color toasts to his departing innocence, the two drug him through the streets of London in search of the appropriate sport.
They ended their search at a modest little brothel and he was so nervous that he, to this day, could not remember the location or recall a feature of the place. He only knew that Daniel went off to make the arrangements while Will, following the instructions received from a woman with a huge bust, tossed an arm about his shoulders and with him in tow, stumbled up a flight of stairs to wait outside a bedroom door.
During this wait Will had related his philosophy on women, offered last minute advice and when Daniel and the one to relieve him of his innocence approached, Will had clapped him upon the back with a wink and a grin and told him, “Stephen now get in there and make us proud!”
She had been very pretty as he recalled and he realized now the care Daniel must have taken when choosing her, for she was slim and not quite amply endowed. Just enough woman for a young man to handle, but she was experienced and more than willing to help in this quest for manhood.
Daniel and Will had stood guard outside the door in case he had any ideas about fleeing with his innocence still intact and afterward the two of them had proclaimed him to be truly a man and one of their ranks. Their philosophy had become his philosophy and he had never looked further than a woman’s charms when measuring her importance.
