He subsided back into the bunk, lying on his side, watching her with narrowed eyes that held absolutely no amusement.
“It’s cold,” he said, even as he braced himself to keep from being thrown from the bunk. He watched her slide leeward, then catch hold of the desk leg.
“I’ll be just fine, thank you.” She pulled herself to her feet and jerked the sash tightly about her waist. The clipper lurched to port; she lost her hold and went flying across the cabin. She grabbed the doorknob and steadied herself. She looked back to see if Alec prepared to leap out of the bunk just as he’d leaped from the barkentine.
“Don’t you dare move.”
“Genny, I will tell you once more—come here. It’s dangerous out there, as you’ve just seen. I don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.”
“Go to the devil, Alec.” She turned away, lurching with the clipper, and eased her sore bottom into the desk chair. She pulled it close to the desk, leaned her elbows on the desktop, and stared at him. She steepled her fingers and rested her chin on them. She said slowly, easily, only a trace of fury underlying her words, “I am the captain of this vessel, sir. I wouldn’t care if you were President Monroe. It makes less than no difference that you are my husband. It changes nothing.”
Alec tamped down firmly on his anger. It burned brightly inside him, but he could control it. He understood her position, at least vaguely, but that wasn’t the point. “Please listen to me, Genny for I really have no taste for repetition. I am fully and completely in charge aboard this vessel. It is my responsibility as your husband, as a competent man, to ensure your safety to the best of my abilities. You will remain in this cabin even if I have to tie you to this bunk. Do you understand me, Genny?”
The clipper swayed and plunged, heaving and bucking like an unbroken horse. The two of them scarce noticed.
“We’re no longer in the eye of the storm.”
“True enough. Would you listen to that wind. Do you understand me, Genny?”
What to do? He was the stronger and could thus enforce his will. It wasn’t fair, but railing wouldn’t help matters. She fell back on reason.
“It’s my vessel, Alec.”
“No, it isn’t. You have been the captain on sufferance, nothing more. If you wreck her, I will lose a good deal of money.”
He’d gone too far with that jab and her fury erupted. She came to her feet, her palms flat on the desktop. “You would take everything from me. I won’t let you, Baron Sherard, you damned English bastard.” In a flash, she grabbed up dry clothing and rushed to the cabin door. Alec was faster. He caught her arm and jerked her back against him and folded his arms over her breasts.
“Oh, no, Genny, you’ve had your say and you’ve tried your best. You lost, my girl, fair and square.”
“There’s nothing at all fair about any of it. Let me go, Alec. I am the captain. Let me go.”
He didn’t release her, but she managed to twist about and kick him in the shin.
The howling of the wind didn’t drown out his grunt of pain. Well, she’d gotten him that time. He would have laughed if they weren’t struck in a bare protected inlet, headed into the wind, waiting for a hurricane to go about its business and not kill them.
He leaned down and kissed her, hard. Her lips were cold and pursed. He raised his head just as she opened her mouth, not to kiss him back, but to bite him. He grinned down at her, although there was no reflected amusement in his eyes.
Genny was panting, wishing she could kick him higher, in his groin. But he was holding her too tight, too close.
“You just wanted me down here so you could have sex with me. Then like a swaggering male, you’d leave me here and go save the damned world.”
“No, just the damned clipper. And yes, I want to have sex with you. You’re my wife. We might not be alive tomorrow. Why not? Perhaps it will soften you, Genny, make you realize that you’re really a woman, and that a woman should be giving and yielding and submissive—”
He thought she’d growl in accompaniment to the wind, but she said nothing. He felt a stab of guilt but only briefly, for she managed to send her fist with a goodly amount of strength into his naked belly.
“Enough,” he said and dragged her to the bunk. He held her there, stripped off her dressing gown, then lifted her, tossing her onto her back. He came over her hard, knocking the breath out of her. She lay there panting, looking up at him, feeling his hands prying her thighs apart.
“No, Alec, no.”
“Why not? You’re mine, Genny, this wretched clipper is mine, and we might well die before morning. Why not?”
Unfortunately, whilst he’d given her his declamation, she managed to loosen his grip on her left wrist. She jerked free, bucked upward frantically, smashing her fist into his neck, his shoulder. Alec saw red. He jerked her arms above her head and slammed his body down over hers.
“Does this remind you of another evening, Genny?”
She was staring up at him, mute.
“Does it? Remember, you silly girl, that night aboard my barkentine? I tied your hands over your head and gave you your first dose of woman’s pleasure. You went crazy with it. You howled as loud as the wind is howling right now, you loved it so much. Remember how I caressed you with my fingers and then my mouth? Remember how your legs parted for me, wider and wider? And I didn’t have to force you to part your thighs, dear one, you were eager to do it. You were eager for whatever I would give you.”
The clipper suddenly slammed to starboard. “Jesus,” Alec said under his breath. He wanted to punish her, to prove to her that she was his and it was his will that would dominate. But the wild shimmying of the clipper held him still. He knew deep, gut-wrenching fear. He drew an unsteady breath. “I’m going above. You will remain here.”
He knew she wouldn’t. The moment he swung his legs off the bunk, she bounced up, ready to fight him.
He tied her down again, just as he had that other, long-ago evening. Only this time, he told himself, it was for her own good. It had nothing to do with sex, damn her stubborn hide.
She yelled at him, snarled at him, until he’d securely tied her wrists above her head, her ankles to the posts. He took a moment to look at her lovely body, then pulled all the covers firmly over her. “You’ll be warm enough. I’ll be down soon to check on you.”
“You’ll let me drown here.”
He dressed in his sodden clothes, grimacing as he did so, ignoring her foolish words. There was nothing worse than wet clothing.
“Don’t do this to me, Alec.”
She didn’t sound furious, nor was she pleading. She sounded desperate somehow. He turned and frowned at her. “I can’t trust you, Genny. I care about you and—”
“And you tied me down to the damned bunk?”
“Yes. You’ll be safe here.”
“If we sink, I’ll have no chance to save myself and I’ll drown like a trapped rat.”
She could be right about that, but he didn’t think so. “I’m going above to check on Daniels. I’ll be back soon. I’ll think about it.”
And he was gone. At least he’d left the lantern lit.
To think that she’d actually prayed for him to be safe. She was a fool—no, she was much more than a fool. She was an idiot woman and he’d won.
That stark fact drove her into a frenzy. She pulled and tugged and jerked, but the bonds about her wrists stayed firm. Then she forced herself to calm. She took several deep breaths. She listened to the sounds of the clipper. The seasoned oak timbers were creaking slightly as the Pegasus turned one way, then the other. The wind was shrieking louder now. The crisis was close.
She had to get free. But calmly, slowly; she had to prove herself more adept than the bonds around her wrists, smarter than the damnable man who’d tied her down.
She set herself to work.
“Daniels? Would you like me to take over for a while?”
“My lord. No, sir, I’m fine. Holding her steady, sir, with the shifting
winds, it’s difficult. I’m fine for a while yet.”
Alec nodded and looked over at the barkentine. She was plunging and twisting but riding high and steady, as could be expected. While the clipper—but it felt like he was in a toy boat.
The wind whipped about, flipping the clipper to starboard, then to port. The rain lashed down, stinging the men’s faces. Freezing sheets of water slammed over the decks.
“She’s a good vessel, my lord,” Snugger said, struggling against the wind as he came up behind Alec. “Where’s the capt’n?”
“She’s in the cabin, resting for a moment.”
“Ah,” said Daniels, and gave Alec a troubled sideways glance.
Suddenly the wind shifted once again, bearing directly against the bow, then just as quickly tore to starboard. Alec heard a loud creaking. Daniels, Snugger, and Alec looked at the foremast.
“Oh, my God.”
The mast was being bent back with such force that the men knew it couldn’t hold. There was a great ripping sound, coming from the very bowels of the clipper’s belly.
Just then Alec saw the white flash of a man’s shirt. He was rushing toward the mast, screaming, “Hank! Hank, I’m coming!”
It didn’t occur to Alec to hesitate. He felt the wind grab him, jerk him about, as he raced forward.
“My lord, stop! No.”
It was over in an instant. Genny came through the hatch at the moment the foremast cracked. It was like the thundering of a loud cannon shot. The mast splintered and sheared nearly in two, coming down with the sails wrapped around it like a huge arrow falling from the heavens.
She screamed as Alec disappeared under the masses of rigging and white canvas.
She heard yelling, but it sounded like blurred whispers in the mouth of the howling, maddened wind. Men were rushing, heads down against the wind, toward the broken mast. It lay crookedly, half of it over the port side of the clipper, a huge splintered gash halfway up its length.
Genny plunged toward the fallen mast, feeling the wind pulling her toward the side, yet through her will alone she kept going, toward Alec.
The whole feel of the clipper changed with the broken mast. Despite the fact that the canvas had been fully furled, it had still added stability to the center of the clipper. Now it was as if the world were spinning wildly, freely, with no center. She heard Daniels cursing, but she didn’t look back.
Two men were digging through the masses of wet canvas. There were three men buried there. And Alec was one of them. She heard a moan. It was from Hank. The man who’d tried to save him—Riffer—was dead. She fell to her knees beside Alec, saw the gash in his head, and quickly pulled off her wool cap and pressed it to the wound. He seemed to have escaped other injury.
“Wake up. Wake up, you wretched stubborn Englishman!”
“Let’s get him below, Capt’n,” said Snugger, lightly touching her shoulder.
“He won’t wake up, Snugger.”
“I wouldn’t either, given the situation we’re in now, Capt’n. Come along, now. Cleb, give me a hand. You others, take Hank below and strap him in his hammock. You, Griff, see if you can help him.” Snugger paused, staring a moment at Riffer.
Genny brought herself back to her responsibilities. “Riffer’s dead. Send him overboard. We’ll say prayers for him later, that or we’ll join him.”
Snugger nodded.
It seemed an eternity to Genny before Alec, stripped and beneath mounds of covers, was safe as he could be in the bunk in the captain’s cabin. She sent Snugger back on deck to relieve Daniels. She knew she was acting on instinct now—washing the wound, patting it dry with bascilicum powder. The wound wasn’t too deep, not enough for stitches. Satisfied, she ripped off a strip of dry shirt and wrapped it around Alec’s head.
Why didn’t he wake up?
She kept him warm, covering him with every blanket in the chest. Then she knew she had to go on deck. It was her vessel, her responsibility, and one man had already died. She tied Alec to the bunk as best she could and went topside.
“The winds have risen,” Snugger said.
“The sky’s as black as the devil,” Daniels said and spat into a huge wave that was breaking over the deck.
“Blacker,” Genny said. She glanced over to the barkentine and was relieved to see that it was holding as steady as could be expected.
“How’s his lordship?”
“I don’t know. I tied him to the bunk. He’s still unconscious. The wound in his head isn’t all that deep. I don’t know why he won’t wake up.”
Snugger recognized strength when he saw it. She was terrified that her husband would die, terrified that they would all feed the fish off Ocracoke Island, but she kept her control, kept her head. In a burst of feeling, he hugged Genny to him. “It’ll all go better, you’ll see. We’ll make it. Yes, we’ll make it.”
A stupid wager and she’d nearly destroyed the clipper. She looked at the broken mast. It would take hours and a lot of money to repair it. If they returned safely to Baltimore.
The hours marched slowly forward.
The winds howled and screamed like banshees from the pit of hell. The waves lifted the clipper high, then brought her down into deep troughs, slinging mountains of freezing water over her decks.
The hours marched.
Genny was staring down at Alec. He was pale, his lips bloodless. She touched her fingers to his cheek. “Please,” she said softly, “please don’t die, Alec. I couldn’t bear it, you know.”
The hours marched.
It was at four o’clock in the morning when the winds slacked off.
Genny was afraid to say anything. No one said anything. They felt bowed with superstition.
As it grew light, she saw the barkentine, saw a man waving toward them. She waved back. She heard him yell, “We’re bloody well alive, ma’am!”
He’s English, she thought, and laughed.
Soon Snugger and Daniels were laughing. She heard laughter from Alec’s men on the barkentine.
The skies were lighter now, a dull pinkish gray. The wind had fallen sharply. The rains had diminished to a slight drizzle.
“It’s over.”
Genny stayed on deck for another half hour. There were orders to be given, tasks to be seen to, repairs to be mad. “We’ll hold our position here for several more hours until we know the extent of our damage. At least we’ve got the bark to help us back to Baltimore.”
Finally she went below.
Alec was still just as pale and just as unconscious. She quickly untied the rope from around his chest. He was shivering.
Genny didn’t hesitate. She stripped off her wet clothes, dried herself, and slipped into bed beside her husband. She drew him to her, rubbing her hands up and down his back, trying to warm him. His big body was shaking.
“Alec, love,” she said over and over, rubbing her hands over his body. “Please, come back to me.”
He was warming and she felt another wild spurt of triumph. “Alec,” she said again, and hugged him to her fiercely. She felt his warm breath against her throat.
He stirred. She came up onto her elbow, not even aware that she was naked and that her breasts were pressed against his chest. “Come now, wake up.”
He opened his beautiful eyes and looked up at her. He frowned then and he looked down at her breasts. He still said nothing and looked into her face again.
“This is all very nice,” he said at last, his voice low and raw.
She smiled, leaned down, and lightly kissed his mouth.
“Hello. How do you feel?”
“Like the very devil. My head is still on my neck?”
“Yes.”
“You’re very pretty but your hair is wet.”
“To be expected. It will dry soon. We’re safe, Alec. The hurricane has changed direction, headed out into the Atlantic, and left us alone. Your bark is fine. We lost one man, however.”
He was frowning again. “It’s very nice of you to be here in bed with m
e.”
She cocked her eyebrow at him. Did he believe she’d leave him to fend for himself, given the way he’d treated her? “You were shivering from shock,” she said with a slight smile. “You needed my warmth.”
“Yes, that’s a good reason. I should thank you. Did we make love?”
“I think that should wait for a while. Until you’re a bit better.”
“All right,” he said and closed his eyes. “My head does hurt abominably. I just don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate you. You have beautiful breasts.”
Genny looked down at herself. “I don’t mean to be immodest, Alec, it’s just that—”
“No need to explain. Except for just one thing. As I told you, this is all very nice. However, I would like to know who you are.”
Eighteen
Genny stared down at him, nonplussed. “What did you say?”
He wanted to explain more fully, but he found that his head hurt too much for him to want to make the effort. He also found that he couldn’t. It was too confusing.
“I don’t know who you are,” he said again, more slowly this time because it hurt his head to say each word.
“You’re saying you don’t recognize me?”
“That’s right.” He closed his eyes at her appalled voice and Genny saw the furrows of pain beside his mouth, the pallor of his flesh. He couldn’t remember her? That was insane, impossible. She lightly touched her fingertips to the bandage around his head. She’d heard from someone a long time ago that blows to the head could produce forget-fulness, but she’d never before seen such a thing. Alec couldn’t remember her?
This was madness.
Genny felt sudden embarrassment. But she didn’t want to leave him. She could feel her body heat going into him. He needed her, and he needed her just as she was, bare-fleshed and pressed against him. She lowered herself a bit more until her breasts were again flattened against his chest. “Alec, listen to me. You’re my husband. My name is Genny. I’m your wife.”
He grew very still. “My wife? But I wouldn’t marry, I know that somehow—Married? I can’t imagine marrying, but—” He shook his head, wincing with the pain it brought him. “You called me Alec. Alec what?”
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