“Ow! Let go of me, Toby. You’re sopping wet. Just look what you’ve done to my gown.”
“I leave you alone for two minutes and—blow me—if you’re not up to mischief. Get back to the cabin, immediately.” Miss Fox’s assailant gave her an angry shove as if to emphasise his instructions.
“I take it you’re Miss Fox’s brother,” said Rufus, refraining, by sheer force of will, from repeating the description of him the lady herself had used.
“Yes, I am, and I’ll thank you to keep your hands off her in future,” snapped Fox, rounding on Rufus with a glare that reinforced his sister’s view of him. “I’m responsible for her, and I don’t intend to deliver damaged goods to our destination.”
“Damaged goods.” Rufus could not keep a smile from his lips. “What a quaintly old-fashioned expression. But I assure you, Mr. Fox, I mean no harm to your sister.”
“Hah! A likely tale. You toffs are all the same, think you’re God’s gift to women just because you’ve got a title or money. Well, don’t think—”
Miss Fox, who seemed unfazed by her brother’s outburst, spoke to him in a furious undertone. “Toby, stop making a scene. You’re embarrassing me. Mr de Hunte and I were doing nothing that need worry you in the slightest.”
Fox turned on his sister. “I’ll be the judge of that, Nellie, thank you very much. Now, you heard me. Go back to the cabin. Go on. I won’t tell you again.”
Miss Fox sighed and rolled her eyes, but with a curtsey to Rufus, moved off to do her brother’s bidding.
Fox gazed after her for a moment, a look of smug satisfaction on his face and then turned back to Rufus. “And that goes for you, too, Mr High-and-Mighty. Just you leave my sister alone if you know what’s good for you.”
“Certainly, since it means so much to you, though I’d have thought Miss Fox might have some say in who she chooses to talk to.”
Fox said nothing to this, merely scowled at Rufus and repeated his warning. Rufus gave a formal bow and strode towards to stairs to the main deck, leaving Fox glaring after him like an over-zealous guard dog.
Back in his own cabin, Rufus fell to wondering just why it was he always seemed to fall foul of disgruntled husbands and protectors. Of course, with Charlotte, he’d simply chosen the wrong woman. Had he had the slightest inkling that she was married, he’d never have become involved with her, regardless of how charming and beautiful she was. It occurred to him that his cousin, Edward, might have warned him, but then perhaps he didn’t know, either. Rufus supposed a woman with a penchant for indulging in affairs would be unlikely to advertise her marital status to all and sundry. Then again, perhaps, like him, she’d been led astray by her feelings. Didn’t everyone, at heart, want to be loved? Though apparently not Toby Fox, he amended with a grimace, if his behaviour tonight was anything to go by. It would be all too easy for a man to be swayed by sympathy for his browbeaten sister, but Rufus promised himself that that man would not be him. He had no wish to deceive her as he had been deceived, and besides, the last thing he needed was an enemy in the cramped confines of the ship.
Where Serafina was concerned, however, he suspected he’d be prepared to risk Springer’s enmity for the right to hold her in his arms and to kiss her crimson lips. Just why she held such a powerful attraction for him, he was at a loss to say, and he supposed he’d never find out, now, since both she and Springer seemed to be avoiding him. Willing though he might be to risk Springer’s wrath, if Serafina herself was determined to shun him, there seemed little he could do about it. Why did he seem fated to be attracted to women he was not permitted to have? Had he been born with some fatal flaw, or did the Fates just have it in for him?
With a sigh, he lay back on his bed, letting the gentle rocking of the ship, and the hint of a warm breeze filtering through the open porthole, lull him into a sleep mercifully free from dreams of threatening husbands or brothers.
SIX
Although the Orion had crossed the Equator, and was steadily making her way south, the weather remained warm, rendering it stuffy and uncomfortable in the cabins and even worse below decks. Like many of his fellow passengers, Rufus spent most evenings on deck taking advantage of the cooler night air.
Late one night, while strolling on the main deck, he heard voices nearby. He couldn’t quite tell where they were coming from, but curiosity made him stop to listen. His heart gave a wild lurch as he recognised Serafina’s voice. She spoke in a furious whisper.
“You can’t expect me to obey you in this. Do my feelings count for nothing?”
“Of course they don’t,” came Springer’s calm reply. “But surely you can see there’s no other way. I cannot have you jeopardise our safety here.”
“You cannot—!” Serafina’s voice came to an abrupt halt, as though she were overcome by emotion. In a few moments she continued, her voice controlled, but still angry. “Just remember, Anton, this voyage was your idea. It’s you who have put us in danger, not me. Besides, I’m my own person, not yours.”
“Are you, Serafina? Are you sure of that?” His voice sank to a murmur, so that Rufus, feeling more than a little guilty, yet unable to stop himself, had to strain to hear it. “I know it can be hard, my dear, but did I ever pretend it would be otherwise? Unlike some of us, you came willingly, and with open eyes. This particular venture is vital to both of us. Whether we like it or not, Serafina, the world we inhabit is rapidly changing, becoming smaller, less safe for our kind. If we’re to survive with some degree of security, we must accept this and adapt ourselves accordingly. Yes, it can be a lonely life, but really, all I require is for you to avoid putting us in danger. Surely that’s not too much to ask?”
There was a pause, as Serafina apparently thought over what he had said. At length, she said with a sigh, “Sometimes it is too much, Anton. I hate all this constant travelling! Why can’t we settle in one place? Others do.”
“Believe me, Serafina, I wouldn’t travel so much if it weren’t necessary.”
“But why is it necessary?”
“For God’s sake, Serafina, can’t you just accept what I say? I’ve already told you it’s for our safety, yours as well as mine.” Springer sighed and went on more calmly, “In the end, my dear, I dare say you’ll do as you wish. But remember this – I made you. You are blood of my blood and nothing can change that – ever.”
“Yes, you made me, but you can’t control my feelings, Anton, any more than I can.” Serafina’s voice sounded as though she were on the verge of tears again.
“I assure you I could quite easily do that,” came Springer’s reply. “But, as you well know, that’s not my way. Do not, however, give me cause to regret my leniency.”
Rufus withdrew into the shadows as he heard Springer’s footsteps, waiting until they had died away. He waited for a moment longer, then crept out again and looked about him. The deck appeared deserted. He stood there, both puzzled and disappointed. He could have sworn Serafina had not left with Springer. Then his ears caught the soft, but unmistakable sound of a sob. Turning towards it, he made out a dark shape hunched against one of the lifeboats.
“Serafina,” he called out softly.
Her head lifted, and he saw her pale face, her great, dark eyes staring out at him like those of a frightened animal. For an instant, it seemed she might turn on him, but she merely lowered her eyes again. He hurried towards her.
“Serafina, what is it? Please let me help.”
At his urgent whisper, she looked up again, tears sparkling on her long lashes. Rufus felt his heart contract at the sight of her.
“You can’t help,” she murmured. “No one can.”
Instinctively, Rufus reached out to touch her cheek. It was as cold as snow. He quickly pulled off his jacket and draped it about her shoulders. “You’re freezing! Let me take you to the dining salon. I have some brandy in my cabin.”
Serafina looked up at him, a faint smile tugging at her mouth. “You’re very kind, Rufus, and I truly appreciate it, but pl
ease don’t trouble yourself on my account.”
Rufus fixed his eyes on hers, still brimming with unshed tears.
“Nothing I could do to make you happy would be the least trouble in the world,” he told her. “Oh, Serafina, it’s what I want, more than anything. Since the moment I first saw you, I’ve thought of nothing else.”
He caught up her hands in his and kissed her icy fingers, his eyes fixed on hers. Serafina returned his gaze, her eyes wide, and gleaming with a strange, wild light. A sensation like electricity surged through Rufus. His body pulsed with it; his blood sang to a music the like of which he had never experienced before, a music both dark and infinitely sweet. He had no power to resist it.
He pulled Serafina close, kissing her black hair, her eyelids, and her soft, smooth cheeks. She gave a little gasp as he kissed her mouth, then her lips, so strangely cool, parted beneath his. His kisses became more urgent, and Serafina responded with a passion as exciting as it was unexpected. They became lost to all but the sensations aroused by the explorations of hands, lips, tongues and teeth, their bodies clinging like two trees grown together.
“Oh, Serafina,” he murmured at last, his voice rough with emotion. “I want you so much! Please say you’ll be mine.”
He moved to kiss her again, but she drew back, her eyes suddenly wary.
Rufus felt a stab of alarm. “What is it? What have I done to frighten you? You must know I’d never do anything to harm you.”
Serafina shook her head, looking down at her hands. “No, no, I cannot—you cannot—you must not...!”
He took her hand and held it fast in his. With his other hand he raised her chin so that her eyes met his. She held his gaze, but it was as though she had withdrawn behind some dark, impenetrable wall.
“What is it?” he asked again, his voice gentle. “I know we’ve not known each other long, but I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you. I don’t know yet if it’s love, but I—I think it must be. It’s as though I was incomplete until I met you. If you don’t feel the same, just tell me and I won’t trouble you any more, but if you do, won’t you please give me the chance to prove myself to you?”
Serafina gave a sigh like the stirring of winter leaves. She lowered her eyes and bit her bottom lip as though grappling with some powerful dilemma. Then she raised her eyes again to his. “Oh, Rufus, if only things were that simple.”
Rufus frowned, puzzled. “Is it Mr Springer? Is he your—your lover?”
Serafina laughed and shook her head. “No, Rufus, I can assure he is not my lover, but he…”
“I heard you arguing with him just now,” Rufus said. “If he’s worried about my intentions, let me speak with him. I’m sure I can—”
The look of despair she turned on him tore at his heart. When Rufus tried to put his arms about her, her body stiffened defensively.
“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,” he said stiffly. “I had thought my attentions weren’t unwelcome, but it seems I was mistaken. Please accept my apologies; I’ll trouble you no further.”
He turned to leave her, all at once desperate for the privacy of his cabin where he could give vent to his feelings. But Serafina’s hand on his arm held him back. Slowly, he turned to face her. At the sight of her, all his resolve fled. Whatever the price, he longed to tell her, I’m prepared pay it – only say I may stay with you.
But Serafina spoke first, her voice little more than a whisper, but her eyes firmly holding his. “Rufus, it isn’t you who have upset me. Indeed, since first we met, you’ve been nothing but kind and considerate. I cannot, in truth, deny there’s a bond between us. Yes, I’ve felt it, too. I didn’t mean it to happen, but...” She paused and drew in a sharp breath, then continued rapidly. “Truly, I wish things were otherwise, but I cannot love you, Rufus. Indeed, I must not.”
Rufus stared at her, his thoughts in turmoil.
“Must not?” he ground out at last, gripping her shoulders angrily. “This is Mr Springer’s doing, isn’t it?”
Flames kindled in her dark eyes, blazing forth until Rufus felt they would engulf him. He was at once repulsed, yet desperate to be consumed by their fierce heat, to become one with her, even though it destroyed him. Slowly, Serafina closed her eyes. When she opened them, the flames were gone. He must have imagined them, Rufus told himself, or perhaps it was just the way the moonlight had fallen on her eyes.
“It is Anton’s doing, in a manner of speaking,” she said, her voice deliberately calm. “But you mustn’t blame him, Rufus. Truly, he’s not to blame.”
“How can you say that, when I heard him, myself, say you’re bound to him? What did he mean, Serafina? Just what is the hold he has over you? Only tell me, and I’ll help you break it. If necessary, we’ll go where Mr Springer can’t find us.”
Serafina shook her head. “There is no such place, Rufus. Besides, Anton’s right. I am bound to him – by ties that cannot be broken.”
Rufus put a hand to his brow. His head throbbed from confusion and anger, and a terrible, desperate anxiety. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply in an effort to still the tempest within him. As if from a distance, he heard Serafina’s voice.
“Rufus, I don’t expect you to understand – just believe what I say is true. We all make choices, don’t we? And whether we make them from understanding or ignorance, those choices determine our future lives.”
Rufus thought of what had led to his present voyage. There was no denying that if he’d managed to resist Charlotte’s charms, he’d still be in London, leading the uncomplicated life of a young man about town with his friends. He was seized by a sudden, aching longing for the life he had left behind. Then he opened his eyes and saw Serafina’s strange, solemn face with its dramatic frame of night-black hair, and knew he’d gladly lose it all if only she were his.
“What you say is true,” he said, “but we can make new choices. We don’t have to be bound forever by one decision.”
“Sometimes,” she said simply, “we do.”
“Let me talk to Mr Springer,” he urged her. “I’m sure I can make him see how much we mean to one another. Surely he wants you to be happy?”
“Oh, Rufus, it’s just not that simple.” When Rufus made to urge her again, she placed one slender finger against his lips to silence him. “Please, you mustn’t speak to Anton about this. He mustn’t know of this conversation.”
“Of course, if you wish it, but surely...”
She fixed her eyes on his, holding him in a gaze that seemed to fuse his will with hers, so that there was nothing left in all the world but Serafina.
“I do wish it, Rufus.” Her voice remained little more than a whisper, but it now held a hint of the steel he’d heard in Springer’s voice. “Promise me you won’t tell him.”
“I promise.” His voice sounded strange in his ears, as though muffled by fog.
“Thank you. I’ll never forget you, Rufus, but for your sake more than mine, you can’t love me, and…and…and I can’t love you. Please, you mustn’t try to see me again.”
To his surprise, she moved close to him and kissed him hard on the mouth.
Then she was gone, swallowed up by the darkness.
Rufus stumbled back to his cabin and flung himself, fully clothed, onto his bed. For a long time he lay there, staring unseeing at the panelled ceiling, still half under the spell Serafina seemed to have cast over him.
He must eventually have fallen asleep, as he awoke to bright sunshine and the first mate’s voice overhead bellowing orders at the crew. Rousing himself to consciousness, he discovered his face and pillow were wet with tears.
Then he remembered why.
With memory came pain. At first a fire so intense it seemed his heart would shrivel like paper in the flame, it became by slow degrees a dull, cold ache in his breast, as though his heart were encased in ice. It stayed with him, a demon lurking at his shoulder, taunting: She’s gone, you’ve lost her, and there’s nothing you can do. Gradually, the pain transforme
d into a slow-burning anger. She cares nothing for you, his demon whispered then. Why should you care for her? Show her how little you care. Show her!
So began for Rufus a fury of self-enforced gaiety. If there were a concert, Rufus played. If there were a dance, he danced, flirting furiously with any young lady who gave the slightest encouragement – or none. He even sought out the company of the single men below decks, drinking or gaming with them with a recklessness they viewed at first with incredulity, and then with a sort of amused tolerance.
Of course it was impossible not to see Serafina and Springer from time to time, although neither of them spoke to him. In fact, whenever he did see either of them, it was at night, and they seemed so intent on some errand that they didn’t notice him, even when he called out a greeting. One night, after a drinking session with his companions below decks, he was making his way back to his cabin when he caught sight of Serafina, also apparently returning to her cabin. Emboldened by cheap brandy, he decided to follow her. If he could only speak with her, perhaps he could persuade her to change her mind about him. She was some way ahead of him, and try as he might he was unable to catch up with her. How could she move so quickly, with so little apparent effort? He increased his own pace until he was almost running, but was only just in time to see her disappear through the door of cabin twenty-three. He was about to knock on the door when something stopped him. Some fierce but nameless impulse stayed his hand in the very act of striking the panelled wood. Confused, he turned towards his own cabin.
* * * *
A Different Hunger Page 5
