Quietly he nuzzled her hair and neck, while one hand roamed freely over her body, caressing her breasts and traveling down her stomach and abdomen to come to rest at the joining of her legs. She gasped and flinched at the intimacy of his touch.
“Hush, little one,” he murmured. “Soon you’ll come to know the feel of my hand.”
She felt tired, numbed, drained of all emotion, even fear or anger. She felt only a deep, still hatred for him like a cold lump in her stomach. Her eyes closed and she steeled herself to endure her humiliation, choking back her tears—she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her reduced to tears. His arms relaxed around her, then released her altogether. Quickly his obviously experienced hands unfastened and removed her thin chemise, pantalets, and stockings, until she stood before him completely naked. Desperately she tried to cover herself, but he gently pulled her hands away.
“No, I want to look at you,” he said, his voice husky with desire.
Good God, what a magnificent creature she was! Her skin was velvet smooth, creamy; her breasts ripe and firm, deliciously rosy-peaked. Her slender waist flowed into a flat, satiny abdomen, down to the soft triangular tuft of hair, and into her long, shapely legs. And what a delightfully rounded, squeezable little derriere!
He could feel desire rising in him, pounding along his veins. Hastily he began to disrobe. Katherine crept into bed and pulled the covers up to her shoulders to hide her nakedness. She huddled up against the far wall and buried her face in her arms. Soon she felt the bed sink and then felt Hampton’s warm presence beside her.
“Here, little one, come here.” His voice was soft. Gently he pulled her to him and turned her on her back. He began to kiss her, his lips traveling over her face and neck and returning to her mouth, until she was breathless. All the while his hand cupped and caressed her soft breasts, his fingers circling her pink nipples until they hardened. Then his hand drifted down over her stomach and in between her legs. She stiffened, and he gave an odd little laugh.
“No, darling, do not close against me.” Teasingly his fingers opened her legs, stroking her soft inner thighs, then crept up, finding and entering her, while his mouth lazily kissed her breasts and stomach, his tongue making little circles on her skin. A treacherous warmth spread through Katherine as his lips and hands explored her, and gradually she relaxed under his expert caresses. Hampton rolled over on top of her, his weight pressing into her. Suddenly he entered her, and she felt a searing pain. She cried out and tried to scramble away from him, but he held her firm. He murmured unintelligibly against her cheek and then took her mouth in a fierce kiss as he began to move within her. The pain was intense, and she stiffened against it, struggling ineffectually. At last he jerked spasmodically, then collapsed on her. Softly he kissed her face and caressed her gently. Katherine bit her lip, trying to hold back her tears, but when he rolled away from her, she could no longer restrain herself and burst into loud sobs.
“There now, hush, little one,” he whispered, taking her into his arms. He held her tightly against him and smoothed her hair and stroked her back comfortingly, murmuring quiet endearments into her ear. Illogically she clung to him and cried her heart out against his chest.
Matthew awakened the next morning with his arms still around Katherine. Looking down at her tousled head, he smiled. Last night she had fought him to the limit—cursed him, struggled against him, even tried to bring his life to a premature close—and now she lay snuggled against him, soft and innocent as a kitten. Lightly he touched her hair, then drew back their covers to look at her. Lovelier, if anything, in the daylight. He felt desire stirring in him and reluctantly turned away. He needed to be up and about his work.
Katherine woke at the sudden absence of his body heat. For a moment she could not remember where she was, but her scattered wits came back together in a rush that almost made her cry out. Oh, yes, she remembered all too well. She was in the bed of a Rebel seacaptain, shamed, humiliated, and ruined. I wish I were dead, she thought miserably. Was wedded bliss as gruesome as that? Surely it wasn’t always so painful.
And yet she remembered how soft and gentle he had been when she cried, how he had whispered to her and comforted her. Yes—after he had what he wanted! She blazed with anger, remembering his exploring lips and hands. Never had she imagined that anyone would do such things to her. How low his opinion of her must be!
Surreptitiously she glanced across the room at him. Immediately she closed her eyes at the sight of his nudity, but they soon crept open again in curiosity. She had never seen a man undressed before; even last night, it had been dark and he too close and she too scared. He was lean and well-muscled, emanating lithe power. And well she knew that power, she thought wryly.
She had never realized before that there was a sort of animal beauty to a man’s body. Covered with clothes, they did not reveal that sleek, supple grace reminiscent of a wild cat. She remembered the hardness of his body against hers, and then she blushed, remembering that extra hardness.
Feeling her gaze, he looked over at her and grinned, totally without embarrassment. Katherine felt embarrassment enough for both, however, at being caught looking at him, and she turned her face away.
“No,” he laughed, “go ahead and look. I don’t mind, and it will advance your education.”
“Thank you,” she replied tartly, “but I had just as soon receive no further education at your hands!”
He smiled. This girl was certainly no milk-and-water miss. She had the tongue of a termagant; he felt sure that she had frightened away many an eager lad. But he found her tartness refreshing and rather piquant, coupled as it was with a succulent body. He had felt guilty this morning that his anger and desire had led him to rape a gently reared virgin. Had she been tearful and passive now, his guilt would have increased, but his ardor would soon have been quenched. But that bravado of hers piqued his interest and made him feel, somehow, that she deserved better than what she had gotten.
“Katherine,” he spoke her name, liking the sound of it in his mouth.
She raised her eyebrows haughtily. “I was not aware that I had given you permission to use my Christian name.”
Matthew burst into laughter. “You mean we haven’t been formally introduced?” How enchanting she looked, all prim and Boston-proper in her tone, with her hair tumbled about her shoulders, clutching a bedsheet to her bare breasts. He felt desire rising in him, and he started toward her.
Katherine immediately regretted the quickness of her tongue. She recognized that look in his eyes. In terror she scrambled to the far side of the bed. He stopped, pulled up short by the real fear in her eyes as she cringed against the wall. He felt a pang of remorse and pity.
“Here now, child,” his voice soft and gentle. “Surely it isn’t as bad as all that.” He extended his hand to her. “Come now; come here. I won’t hurt you.”
She snorted. “No more than you did last night, no doubt.”
He smiled. “I think you’ll find it different this time. I shan’t hurt you again.”
She looked at him disbelievingly. He sat down on the bed and patted the space beside him. “Come sit here. I want to explain something to you.” Cautiously she moved to sit beside him, still clutching the sheet to cover her nakedness.
“Now then,” he said, putting an arm around her in an almost paternal way. “Has no one ever told you about sex? Marriage? The ways of men?”
Blushing, she shook her head and stared fixedly at her hands.
“Not at all?”
“No.” Her voice was barely discernible.
“Well, then, I suppose it’s up to me. Here, let me under the sheet; it’s chilly out here.” He slipped under the sheet and lay down, gently pulling her down beside him, her head on his shoulder.
Funny, she thought, how perfectly her head fitted into his shoulder; for a brief moment, she wanted to snuggle into him, like a child. Curiously, she listened.
“You know that people have children.”
<
br /> “Yes.”
“Well, this child that grows in a woman’s belly gets his start through sex; and, fortunately, we are so made that the process is highly pleasurable. Now, there is in a woman, in you, an opening. All your life, until now, you have had a thin piece of tissue here; that’s the mark of a virgin. The first man you have breaks it. That’s where the pain comes from, and you have it only once.”
His gentle, exploring fingers made her feel strangely limp and warm. Her voice trembled slightly as she said, “Then it was not something you did to hurt me?”
“Heavens, no! I have no desire to hurt you. In fact, my intention is quite the opposite. Before too long, I think you will find it quite enjoyable.”
“Yes, but what about a man—about—you know,” she said, her voice small and embarrassed.
“Ah, now, a man has the seeds of the child inside him, which he must put into the woman when he enters her.”
“But how can you help but hurt me with such a huge thing?” she blurted out, then flushed to the roots of her hair.
His chuckle was rich and deep. “You must have rocked the foundations of Boston society with questions like that.”
She bit her lip in anger and self-hatred.
“Here now, don’t go all huffy again. There’s nothing wrong with what you said. Believe me, it doesn’t hurt a man’s self-esteem one bit.” He kissed the top of her head, and then laid her hand on his chest. “Here. Touch me. Satisfy your curiosity.”
“No!” She jerked her hand away, but inexorably he drew it back and guided it across his chest.
His skin was smooth and warm, the hair on his chest prickly. She buried her face in his shoulder; she was avidly curious, but ashamed for him to see it. Now he moved her hand down, off the plateau of his ribs, onto the softer flesh of his stomach. She could feel the ripple of his abdominal muscles beneath his skin. And then as he drew her hand lower, she pulled away in fear and shame.
“There now, it won’t hurt you. Come back.” His voice was low and raspy, and when he replaced her hand a smothered groan arose from his throat. “I think I must halt our lesson for a little practical application.”
He pulled her head up and kissed her, not the consuming kiss she had come to expect from him, but a light, gentle kiss. Then his lips moved to her ear, gently nibbling at her lobe, sending a tremor across her abdomen. Softly, his hands caressed her, stroking her silky skin until she felt lost in an enclosing haze of peculiar sensations. All her nerves seemed to scream within her; she wanted crazily to push out of herself into him, to arch against his weight, to do something. Achingly, she wanted something, but didn’t know what. His mouth returned to hers, and, as if breaking out of her frustration, her tongue plunged into his mouth. A tremor shook him and he wrapped his arms around her, encircling her like steel. But somehow now it didn’t hurt; now she wanted him to crush her into him. He rolled over onto his back, pulling her on top of him, his legs wrapping and unwrapping around her as he kissed her, an interminable kiss, delightful, tormenting. Wildly they rolled on the bed, locked in embrace, until finally he moved her legs apart and slid into her. Slowly he moved inside her, thrusting and retreating, circling his body against hers until she moved in rhythm with him, swept along in swirling pleasure until he burst within her.
When he left her, she felt bereft. Tenderly he kissed and caressed her, sheltering her in his arms.
“That is the way it is, Katherine—and better,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll teach you things you can’t imagine; I’ll make you wild with wanting.”
Soon he left the bed to dress. Katherine lay there, stunned by her passion. After he had dressed he returned to her bed. Casually he stroked her hip.
“You make me lazy, Kate. I must get to work.” He paused, then smiled. “My instincts were right. I think you will be a wild and passionate mistress.” He bent and lightly kissed her lips, then left.
His words jerked Katherine from the haze created by her passion. Dear God, what had she done! In shame, she covered her face with her hands. She had yielded to him, yes, enjoyed herself with that devil, abandoned her genteel upbringing. No doubt he felt confirmed in his belief that she was a slut. Of course he did; hadn’t he just said that he planned to make her his mistress? Weakness, wickedness—never again would she allow herself to act so. She would never willingly be his mistress, no matter what his opinion of her morals.
After dwelling for some time on his evilness, lack of morals, and generally degenerate character and on her own shocking lapse into sin, she arose purposefully and set about to correct her error. She went to the wash basin and scrubbed her body until it was almost raw, trying to rid herself of the taint of his lips and hands. Dressing presented something of a problem. While her petticoats were largely intact and her pantalets and chemise at least repairable, her dress was absolutely ruined. Well, he would just have to find her something, as it was he who ruined the dress. Calmly she wrapped her cloak around her and searched the cabin for needle and thread. Taking out the small bachelor’s sewing kit, she began to repair her undergarments.
Once she had finished her needlework Katherine dressed as far as she could, putting on all her underclothes, including petticoats and hoop, though she had to omit her stays as they were as demolished as her dress. She left off the cloak, as it was really too warm for the cabin. Carefully, she brushed out the tangles in her hair, then thoughtfully studied her reflection. She could not leave her hair like this, for it gave her a much too wanton look. She searched the cabin floor for her hairpins, then attempted to fasten her thick hair into her usual bun. She found, to her amazement, that she couldn’t do it; strands kept sliding out of her fingers and sticking out where they should not. How infuriating it was not even to be able to dress her own hair! Pegeen had always done it for her, just as she had always helped her dress, just as servants had always done everything for her, just as her father had always protected her from want and danger and the cruelties of life. Thinking of how insulated from the world she had always been, she was tempted to give way to another outburst of tears. She had thought herself so realistic, so self-sufficient, so capable. Now, thrown into the harsh reality of a dangerous, uncaring world peopled only by enemies, she realized how ill-prepared and sheltered she really was.
Sternly she shook herself. This was not like her at all—hurt and terrified by Hampton’s advances one moment and the next positively transported by them; feeling excited and almost glad to face danger yesterday, and today cowering in her cabin, unable to function without her protectors. It was utterly ridiculous. Determinedly she attacked her hair once more. Perhaps she could not fix it as Pegeen did; she would just have to practice. And for the present—well, she had often done her hair as a child. So Katherine carefully braided her hair. Certainly that was a plain enough hairdo, not likely to incite a man to lust.
To keep herself occupied, she turned to cleaning the cabin. She dusted everything, including the books, and organized the contents of the desk. She began to make up the bed, but stopped at the sight of the bloody sheets. That was her blood! It reminded her all over again of what a loathsome creature he was. Angrily she ripped the sheets off the bed, searched the drawers until she found clean ones, and remade the bed. Since the room was small and not too disorderly to begin with, it did not take her long to finish cleaning it. She sat down and tried to resume reading Ivanhoe, but could not for the hunger gnawing at her stomach. She had had nothing to eat since the day before at breakfast, having been too nervous to eat anything of the unappetizing plate of beans Peljo had brought her the evening before. What was he trying to do, starve her to death? He could at least have been thoughtful enough to have breakfast sent down to her. Unable to sit still, she got up and went to the porthole to look out. The sea stretched out endlessly before her, gray and cold under a similarly gray sky. It was bleak, yet somehow, as always, soothing to her.
Footsteps sounded outside the door and she whirled to face it just as Captain Hampton entered. He stop
ped, a trifle stunned at her appearance. What a changeable creature she was. One day a prim old maid, the next a yielding, voluptuous woman, now a little girl with braided hair, surprised in her petticoats. He smiled—life was certainly more interesting around her.
Hurriedly Katherine grabbed her cloak and wrapped it around her, then turned to face him with some of her old hauteur. “Captain Hampton, is it your custom to starve your prisoners?”
His lips twitched, but he replied gravely, “No, madame. In fact, lunch should be here shortly. I’m sorry that I sent you no breakfast. I must admit that it slipped my mind. It won’t happen again, I assure you. Though I have to admit that our food supply will soon become a problem.”
“Why?”
“Because the Susan Harper was just completing a transatlantic passage, and therefore her food supply is rather low. It will never last us to England, especially considering all the prisoners we have.”
“Is that where we are going? England?”
“That’s our first port of call, yes. Have you ever been there?”
“No.”
“Odd sort of place. Very stuffy, in some ways worse than Boston. Now don’t get your dander up. Very full of what is proper and decent and correct. Yet certain parts of London are so teeming with bordellos and taverns and thieves that it makes San Francisco seem tame.”
“Really, Captain Hampton, what a shocking thing to be telling a lady.”
“Oh, yes, dreadful, isn’t it? You, of course, have absolutely no curiosity about it, just as this morning you had no curiosity about a man’s anatomy.”
Katherine flushed clear up to her hairline and started to speak, then clamped her mouth shut. He smiled and continued, “Then in other ways, England is very similar to the South, very concerned with being aristocratic and riding and shooting and partying. I think you’ll find it interesting.”
Gregory, Lisa Page 14
