Night Storm

by Catherine Coulter

  It was too much. She was miserable, a weak, jealous woman. She jerked back suddenly when Alec stared directly at her. He looked utterly furious.

  Her body twisted away from that look and she knew in that instant that she was going to fall. And she did. She grabbed at a skinny maple branch and it bent downward with her weight. But it cracked off about six feet from the ground. Genny landed with a thump in the flower bed, fell back, and struck her head against the brick edging. She thought that without that wonderful branch she could easily have broken a leg. Instead, though, she’d broken her head. She cried out at the pain, then slumped back, everything going black.

  She opened her eyes, didn’t move for a good minute, then slowly, very slowly, raised her hand to touch her head. There was a stab of pain but it wasn’t too bad. She looked up. The windows were still alight from within. Perhaps she’d been wrong. Perhaps she’d just imagined Alec had seen her. How long had she been unconscious? Five minutes? An hour? However many minutes it had been, it was too long. She had to get out of here now, before Alec came out and found her lying like a nitwit in Laura Salmon’s primrose flower bed.

  She felt thorns from a lone rosebush dig into the back of her knee. She lay there a moment longer, wondering if she was dead, angry with herself that she wasn’t, but then as she tried to rise she fell down again.

  She rolled over onto her side and came up on her knees. She felt a stab of pain through her ankle and fell sideways again. She felt dirt and dead leaves crunch against her men’s clothes. She wanted to cry, then just as quickly told herself not to be an idiot woman. She’d come here of her own free will, climbed that fool tree of her own free will, and watched Alec kissing that dreadful woman’s breasts. It was nearly too much. Genny tried to rise again. Unfortunately, there was nothing to steady her and she went ignominiously down again.

  She didn’t know how much time passed. Enough time for the Americans to beat the British again. Perhaps more.

  Please, God, she prayed, please don’t let Alec come out here. She continued her prayer, promising a life of rectitude and good works. She even prayed that it was all right for her ankle to be broken if Alec wouldn’t find her.

  “Well, what have we here? A vagrant, I do believe. A fool, at the very least.”

  No answer to her fervent prayer. No life of rectitude for her now.

  “It’s something of a shock to look up from the very pleasant pastime of kissing a woman’s breasts to see another female staring at you, her nose pressed to the windowpane. It’s more than a shock. It’s unbelievable.”

  Genny didn’t look up at him. She surveyed his boots, saying nothing. He didn’t sound particularly angry. He sounded rather amused. She didn’t know which was worse.

  “Well, why don’t you say something? Why don’t you get up? Did you fall from your illicit perch?”

  “Yes, I did. I hit my head and I sprained my ankle.”

  “Well, you deserve it, though I doubt anything could get through that head of yours, wisdom or sense. I would very much like to leave you here, believe me, but I just might be doing business with your father and it wouldn’t do for him to be called to fetch his termagent daughter from Laura Salmon’s flower bed.”

  “Just leave. I wondered if you saw me in the window—and you did. You knew that I’d fallen and yet you continued to—well, you kept kissing her and—you’ve taken your precious time. I could have been dead by now.”

  “Do you think another five minutes might turn the trick?”

  “Go away.” Genny tried to stand up. She fell against the side of Laura’s house. Alec merely watched her, long fingers stroking his jaw.

  “That’s a start. At this rate you’ll be home by tomorrow morning.” So she believed that he’d stayed up there and made love to Laura before coming down to see whether or not she was dead.

  “Oh, just be quiet.”

  “Ah, I’m the one at fault now, am I? I, the miserable man, who did nothing but—”

  “I was lying down here unconscious, possibly dead, and you were up there making love to that woman.”

  “Lower your voice, or that woman just might shoot us for trespassers or toss a pail of slops down on us.”

  Genny bit her lower lip. Her ankle hurt; her head hurt. She felt enough embarrassment to last her for the next ten years. How could she have been so stupid to come here and spy on him?

  “All right. Have it your way. I’m a miserable human being. I’m also cold.”

  Alec heard her mumbling but couldn’t make out her words. He said instead, “How long were you unconscious?”

  “I don’t know. Long enough certainly for you to do what you wished to do up there.”

  Alec could have corrected her very insulting misapprehension, but he didn’t. Let her think that he’d made love to Laura. Let her think he’d made love to Laura ten times before he’d come down to see if she was dead or not. He’d left Laura almost immediately, frightened to death for Genny even as his fingers itched to find their way around her throat. He’d left both Laura and himself very frustrated, Laura wondering what had happened to her eager new lover. He’d simply told her that he had to return to his ship, that he’d forgotten something extremely important.

  “It would give me great pleasure to thrash the devil out of you, but I suppose it is only sporting of me to wait until you have a fighting chance.”

  Genny said nothing.

  The light in Laura’s bedchamber went out.

  “I mean it, Genny. I’m not feeling at all the gentleman right now; actually, I rarely feel the gentleman where you’re concerned. When you’re well, I fully intend to thrash you until your bottom is as red as your Baltimore tomatoes.”

  “You try it and I’ll kick you in your—”

  He held up a silencing hand. “Enough, Mr. Eugene. Now, let’s get out of here before Laura hears us or someone wanders by.”

  “If you’ll just help me home, I’ll—”

  “Don’t be more of a fool than you already are.”

  He picked her up in his arms. Genny stiffened, then relaxed almost instantly. She’d never in her life been picked up by a man. It was alarming. It was also very interesting. He was strong, very strong. She put tentative arms around his neck. He smelled wonderful. Sandalwood, she thought, but wasn’t certain.

  “Are you taking me home, Alec?”

  “No.”

  “Where, then?”

  “To the Night Dancer. It’s just over on O’Donnell’s Wharf.”

  “Why?”

  “Before I deposit you on your father’s doorstep, I wish to ensure that you haven’t broken your foot or your head.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Hush, Genny.”

  She did.

  The Baltimore weather was cooperating. It was dark, clouds covering the half-moon, but it wasn’t raining. They passed sailors, some of them drunk, others looking for a fight, the rest merely wandering about the city.

  Genny looked up to see Alec turn onto O’Donnell’s Wharf. The bow of a barkentine stretched high over Pratt Street. He walked up the gangplank and spoke quietly to a man on watch. Genny didn’t move. She stared straight ahead at nothing.

  But not for long. She wanted to look at his ship and she did. She raised her head and looked straight into the very startled eyes of a young man who couldn’t be more than fifteen.

  “Pippin,” Alec said pleasantly to his cabin boy. “Good evening. I have a guest, as you can see. Make sure that no one disturbs us.”

  “Aye, Capt’n.”

  It was tricky getting down the hatch, but Alec managed, bumping his head once and Genny’s elbow twice. “You made it sound like I was some sort of trollop you were bringing here to do loose things to.”

  He laughed. “You don’t look remotely like a trollop. If Pippin didn’t know me, he could think I was a bloody pederast. You’re dressed like a man, Genny, all the way to your wool hat.”

  “Oh.”

  “The good Lord save me from illogi
cal women.” He paused, then added, much struck, “My God, I haven’t been that redundant in many a month.”

  Genny ground her teeth.

  The ship smelled rich, she thought, inhaling deeply. When he kicked open a cabin door, the deep scent of sandalwood was more in evidence. He stepped into the cabin and shut the door.

  “This lovely.”

  “Yes, thank you, ma’am.” He eased her down on his wide bunk.

  Genny immediately tried to sit up. Alec shoved her onto her back. “Lie still. I want to look at your ankle. Actually, I don’t want to, but I can’t see that I have a lot of choice.”

  “You could be gracious.”

  “No, you’re wrong. I’m so far from gracious at this moment, I appall even myself. Just be quiet.”

  Genny closed her mouth. Then she closed her eyes as Alec lifted her right leg. She winced and cried out.

  “Sorry. I’ve got to get the boot off. Hold still.”

  Genny fisted her hands at her sides and kept her mouth closed. Alec got the boot off and dropped it to the floor. He looked up at her and saw that her face was perfectly white. He softened. He didn’t want to, but there didn’t seem to be any choice. He sat beside her and said gently, “I’m sorry to hurt you, Genny. It’s done now.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “Liar.” She felt his fingertips move across her cheek. Then the mattress shifted as he moved. He pulled off her wool sock. “Since you’re wearing men’s boots, it’s not surprising that your feet smell like men’s.”

  “Just what does that mean?” She opened her eyes and saw him grinning at her.

  “Give me a while to come up with something repulsive.” She heard him suck in his breath. “You did quite an excellent job on your ankle. It’s swelled up like a ripe melon.” He touched it and breath hissed out between her teeth.

  “Sorry.” He rose. “Stay put. I’m going to get some cold water. We’ll need to soak your ankle, then wrap it up before I get you home.”

  After Alec left the cabin, Genny pulled herself up on her elbows. It was a masculine lair, and very much to her taste with all the books and nautical instruments, the neat stacks of papers on the desk, the absence of mess. She saw the door that must give into the next cabin and wondered what was in there. She looked down at her ankle and grimaced.

  “I’m a mess,” she said.

  “True, but what can you expect? You decide you want to be educated, so you climb up the side of Laura Salmon’s house and look into her bedchamber. You look at me, Genny. I don’t like that. How would you feel if someone—man or woman—watched us, for example, making love?”

  “That’s absurd.”

  “What is?”

  “Why, you and I making—it’s crazy.”

  “Do you really think so? No, don’t answer that.” He wrung out a towel and wrapped it around her swollen ankle. She couldn’t distinguish which hurt more, her ankle or the cold from the wet towel. Then numbness set in and it was wonderful.

  “Lie still. We’ll do that for about fifteen minutes. Then I’ll bandage you and take you home. Unfortunately, my ship’s physician, Graf Pruitt, is out squiring a very dark-mooded lady about Baltimore.”

  “Where did he meet this dark-mooded lady?”

  “He’s known her for a good while. Like Laura Salmon, she’s also blessed with a name that raises brows. It’s Swindel. How would you like a bit of brandy? Never mind, don’t reply. You’ll have some.”

  Genny drank the brandy. It was smooth and French and warmed all the innards she possessed. She took three good gulps, Alec grinning over her.

  “Why are you smiling like a village half-wit?”

  “You. You gulped brandy and now I’ll wager you’re feeling not a whit of pain.”

  “No, I’m not,” she said, and it was true.

  “Hold still,” he said, unwrapped one towel, and applied another one, this one colder and wetter. She sucked in her breath but didn’t say anything.

  She watched him pull the chair from behind his desk and draw it over to the big bunk. He sat down and crossed his ankles. He folded his arms over his chest and watched Genny down more brandy, a lot more brandy. She looked over at him and gave him a crooked grin.

  “Did you really make love to her?”

  “I already told you that I did. She exhausted me. She’s quite good and very, very loving.”

  “I’m loving, too.”

  Alec couldn’t believe those words had come from Miss Eugenia’s mouth. Not Eugenia the lippy male-hater. This was interesting. Alec knew it was in his character to always push the limits, both of nature and of other people. After all, the worst she could do was throw a damp, cold towel at his face. “What do you mean you’re loving?”

  “I mean that I live to love and be loved. Don’t you?”

  “Yes, particularly by a beautiful woman.”

  “That isn’t precisely what I mean, but it will do for now because—”

  “I know. Because I’m a man and can’t really understand these elusive and ill-defined gradations of feeling and sensibility you women experience.”

  “That’s right. You’re arrogant—”

  “That’s quite enough out of you. I’ve been sitting here wondering what I was going to do to punish you. I think I’ve got it figured out now.”

  “Got what figured out?”

  “You’re a twenty-three-year-old virgin, a very long-in-the-tooth virgin.”

  Her eyes nearly crossed but she held her tongue, refusing to be drawn into an argument she knew was lost even before she began.

  “Have you ever had a climax, Genny?”

  Her mouth fell open. A wonderful, very honest reply, and not a word said.

  “A climax, my dear girl, is very possibly a series of the most phenomenal feelings a human being can experience. So you’ve never had a woman’s pleasure, have you?”

  “I want to go home now.”

  “Oh, no, Genny. I’ve quite decided on your punishment. And you’ll love it at the same time. Just call me a magician, call me magnificent, a man with a heart of gold.”

  “I want to go home.” She sat up and jerked off the towel. Alec, just as quickly, took the towel from her and tossed it back into the bucket of cold water. He sat down beside her, his hands on her shoulders, holding her down.

  “Would you like to know what I’m going to do to you, Eugenia Paxton?”

  “No, you wouldn’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “What it is you’re thinking. This climax business. You wouldn’t.”

  “Genny, why did you come to Laura’s? Why did you climb up the tree at the side of her house and press your nose against the windowpane in her bedchamber?”

  Not a sound.

  “You wanted to be educated?”

  Not even a whisper of a sound.

  “You wanted to see what I would do to a woman, didn’t you? Well, I plan to educate you a bit, right now.”

  Her beautiful, very green eyes became at once blank. “No,” she said.

  “You’ll enjoy it, I promise. Aren’t you tired of being a twenty-three-year-old virgin, Genny?”

  “I don’t want any man to touch me.”

  “I’m not just any man, my dear. I’m the man you followed. I’m also the first man who will give you a woman’s pleasure.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Can’t what?”

  “It doesn’t exist. Nothing like that could exist. It’s something you wretched men made up to try to make women climb into bed with you.”

  Alec laughed. “You’re a wit, Genny. I’ll watch you eat those silly words later. Ah, since I did make love to Laura, you needn’t worry that I’ll attack you that way. You will, at least technically, remain a twenty-three-year-old virgin.” A pity, he thought as he said those words. He did want to end her virginity once and for all. He did want to come inside her and feel her around him and feel her surprise and watch her eyes widen when he came deep and deeper still, then pulled out o
f her. He wanted to feel her shudder, hear her cry out when he touched her with his fingers, with his mouth.

  “What way?”

  “What way what? Oh. That I’ll come inside you. A man needs time to recuperate, time to get his body as ready as his spirit, time to—”

  “I don’t want you to do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “To touch me. I want to go home now.”

  “You’re so tipsy, you’d probably fall into the Patapsco. No, you’ll stay right here and enjoy yourself. But remember, too, Genny, that this is your punishment for your outrageous behavior.”

  “What you’re planning is far more outrageous, and I won’t stand for it, Alec. I won’t.”

  He tightened his grip on her shoulders. He lowered his head and kissed her. Gently, lightly, on her pursed lips. She tried to struggle away from him, but he was simply too strong. He kissed her and kissed her and couldn’t frankly believe it. He very nearly pulled away at the beginning, but he couldn’t. He’d kissed many women, and now he was kissing Genny and he loved it and wanted to keep doing it until the day he stuck his spoon in the wall, and it frightened him. But he didn’t stop. He wasn’t about to stop.

  When he finally raised his head and looked down at her, he saw clearly that she was as moved as he was. Her eyes were vague, surprised, and she made a tiny sound in her throat, but he understood and kissed her again.

  In the next moment, she struck him against his shoulders with her fists. It didn’t particularly hurt him, but it got his attention.

  “I want to go home.”

  “You’re not going home, so be quiet. Now, you were enjoying kissing as much as I was. What’s wrong with you? I’ll just give you more pleasure.”

  “I won’t be your whore.”

  “No, you won’t. You haven’t the talent or the skills for it. You couldn’t even make it through an interview stage. When I’m finished with you, Mr. Eugene, you’re going to wonder why you ever wanted to ape a man, you’ll relish your womanness so much. You’ll probably burn all your breeches—”

  “And beg you to make me your mistress? Beg you to make love to me? I hate you, Alec Carrick.”

  “At least I don’t follow people around and watch them in the most private and personal activity devised by nature. Enough.”