Her mother had heard the sound of the bottle shattering against the wall and hurried in from her own cabin. She burst into the room, looking over her shoulder with wide, curious eyes, then faced Julie and cried, "What's going on here? And who was that big man?" She saw the glass on the floor. "Did you have a fight with him? I'll send for Mr. Garrís, and he'll see that the captain puts a stop to these intrusions..."
"That was the captain," Julie murmured feebly, leaning back against the pillows. She felt so weak and light-headed and something warned her that it was not just from the captain's kiss. A hot fever seemed to be engulfing her, and her stomach began to knot and heave.
Her mother opened the door to take another look, but Derek Arnhardt had disappeared. "That was Captain Arnhardt? He's a fine figure of a man. I had no idea he was so handsome." She turned back to Julie. "But what happened between you two, dear? Did you have a fight?"
She was not about to tell her of the kiss that seemed to have ignited her body into one giant flame. "We had words," was the only explanation she would give. "Please, Mother, let me rest now. I don't feel at all well."
Her mother moved to touch her forehead with the back of her hand, then stepped back, aghast. "You have a fever. I'm going to send for that ship's doctor and let him look at you again."
Feeling dizzier with each passing moment, Julie held up a limp hand in protest, but her mother was already scurrying from the cabin.
Everything was whirling about, becoming coated in a veil of dim, multi-colored lights and swirling currents that dipped her body up and down, making her even more nauseous. She reached out to grip the sides of her bed but only flailed wildly at the air.
A chill began, slowly at first, then moved to rattle her bones as her body contorted with spasms of cold. Her teeth chattered, and she huddled beneath the blankets, jerking and twisting from head to toe as she struggled to focus her eyes in the ever-tightening cloak of oblivion wrapping itself around her.
She was only dimly aware of people entering the cabin, of the chatter of concerned voices. From far, far away, a man was saying, "Yes'm, she's got the fever. It hits sudden-like, and she's got it right smart bad. Not much we can do except keep her warm and try to keep broth going in her so she won't get too weak...."
The sound faded. There was only a giant roaring in her ears that grew louder, louder, pulling, suddenly snatching at her. The shivering stopped, and in its place came a wave of heat pressing down, smothering her, drawing the breath from her body. She was fighting to stay afloat on a sea of fire, dimly frightened, feeling that at any moment her flesh would erupt into crackling flames.
Out of the darkness an unseen hand was reaching to coax her away from her suffering... and Julie held out weak arms to grasp that hand... grateful for escape....
Chapter 5
The invisible mammoth fingers opened, releasing her from their grasp. Julie was free. She had returned. She opened her eyes wearily, with great effort. She had an intense feeling of being drained physically and emotionally, as though she had been on a long, long journey.
But where was she now?
It came back slowly, heavily. The ship... on the way to Bermuda... then on to England and marriage... her cabin... no, not her cabin. This one was a bit larger and furnished differently. The bed on which she lay was longer. There were two portholes instead of one. A bigger desk occupied one side of the room, and it was covered with stacks of papers. Straining to see, she realized the papers appeared to be charts or maps of some sort.
There was a table, two chairs, a lantern hanging from a hook in the ceiling. Austere, sparse, almost harsh in décor.
She pushed back the blankets, which were like a giant weight upon her, and sat up, swinging about to gingerly test her feet against the rough-hewn wood floor. The ship was moving; she could feel the chugging steamer cutting through the waters. They were not in port, but she had a sense of time having passed... a lot of time.
She noted with distaste that the muslin gown she wore was stained, and her hair felt limp and dirty.
She stood on wobbly legs, then slowly shuffled over to stare at her reflection in the mirror which hung on the opposite wall. Gaunt, shadowy eyes stared back, with deep, dark circles beneath them. Her complexion was pale and sallow, her lips parched and swollen. She shuddered at the sight.
The door swung open. She spun around in surprise and started to topple forward from weakness. Derek Arnhardt stepped up quickly to grab her elbows and steady her.
He smiled, his eyes mirroring concern. "So you're awake at last. Here, let me help you back to bed. You're still weak, as you've probably discovered by now, and you've got no business being up and about."
She did not protest, but once he had tucked her snugly back into bed, she erupted with questions. "Where am I? This isn't my cabin. How long have I been asleep?"
He chuckled softly. "You've been more than asleep. You've had the fever, and quite a case, I'm afraid. You gave us all a fright. The good doctor Jenkins cared for you, along with your mother. Then the two of them were stricken. I decided it best to quarantine that deck, and since there was no one else I could risk having exposed in order to look after you, I had you brought here. This is my cabin."
He went on to quickly assure her that her mother had not been quite so sick and didn't need constant care. "When I tell her you're awake and the fever's finally broken, she'll be in to visit.
"We were worried for awhile there you might not make it." He winked. "What a pity 'twould have been to dump you overboard to feed the fishes, though I would've envied them such a delectable morsel."
It was all coming back to her—that night on deck when Shad Harky attacked her, the scene with Captain Arnhardt when he kissed her. She felt her face flaming with the memory of her aroused passion. But strangely, she felt no animosity toward him now. After all, she supposed he had saved her life.
"How long before we get to Bermuda?" she asked, reaching up self-consciously to push at her mussed hair. "I've caused so much trouble on your ship, I suppose you'll be glad to be rid of me."
"A few days yet. And yes, it will be a relief to have you and your mother delivered to your destination. By the way, that old colored woman you brought on board with you was taken ill too. I hear she's slowly recovering."
Julie nodded. "Thank you for all your help... and concern."
"Under different circumstances, I'd be charmed by your company, but you've been a big responsibility. Now then, suppose I have the cook bring in some food. You're probably starving. I wasn't able to get much broth into you."
Julie murmured that she would like something to eat, and then she looked at him, really looked at him, and realized he was bare-chested. Never had she seen a man who exuded such strength. Despite her weakness, she had to restrain her desire to reach out and touch that massive, handsome chest.
A wave of guilt moved over her as she realized there was a warm tingling in her loins at his nearness.
He leaned over her, and for a moment she tensed, sure that he was about to kiss her again. Instead he touched his lips briefly to her forehead, then straightened and said, "Yes, I believe the fever is gone. That's the way my mother always checked to see if I had a fever when I was a child." He smiled slightly.
"Your mother..." Julie blurted out. "I've had such a vision of you, Captain, that I never pictured you as a child with a mother, only as a cruel, domineering man filled with bitterness and hate."
"Oh, I had a mother, Julie." He raised an eyebrow. "I hope you don't mind the familiarity of me calling you by your first name. After all, while you were delirious, we talked a lot, and whether you know it or not, we've become quite close."
He went on. "As I was saying... yes, I did have a mother, and a father. I grew up in Wilmington, North Carolina and had a happy, normal childhood as the only son of a fisherman. I suppose I had a lust for the sea from the time I could walk, and even when my father was lost at sea during a storm, I still knew what my future destiny would be: to ha
ve my own ship. My dream came true, and I had a nice fishing business going till the war came along. Now I find myself a blockade runner."
He paused to push her hair back from her face with a sudden display of tenderness. "I have a sister somewhere. She married young, shortly after my mother finally grieved herself to death over my father's tragic end. Selma and her husband moved west and settled there. I suppose she's written to me, but I haven't been home in quite a while."
"I have a brother," Julie said quickly. "His name is Myles, and—"
"I know all about Myles," the captain interrupted, watching as her eyes widened with surprise. Then he informed her that she had told him all about her brother. "I'm sorry to hear that he was forced to run away. You also told me about your father, how he died."
Julie was stunned, speechless. She opened and closed her parched lips, but no sound would come. How could she have divulged such deep, dark secrets? The fever must have made her insane, forcing out the things she kept locked deep inside.
"And if you're wondering whether or not you told me about the truth of your impending marriage to Virgil Oates," he continued, further shocking her, "you left nothing out, I can assure you."
Her cry was barely audible: "Oh, my God..."
He paused at the door and gave her a penetrating look with those smoldering eyes. "I took care of you as best I could, Julie. And I say it again: you do have a lovely body."
He was out the door and gone before she could vent her quick flash of anger. The nerve, she thought, regaining her strength as fury charged through her veins. He had the gall to make such a remark, to remind her of her feverish ramblings.
Oh, would they never get to Bermuda? she fumed. Would she never be out of the company of this man? Besides, she did not like the way her body betrayed her, the way he made her feel, all warm and glowing and tingling with emotions she did not quite understand.
He was every inch a man, and just being near him reminded her that she was a woman. She did not like the feelings he aroused... not at all.
A short while later, her mother came with a tray of cooked beans and potatoes that had been simmered into some kind of palatable stew. Julie ate ravenously and sipped at a mug of hot tea while her mother clucked over her anxiously, wanting to be reassured that she was indeed going to be all right.
"We were all so scared. You gave us such a fright." She repeated the earlier words of the captain. "And he was so good to you, dear. I didn't like it when you were moved in here, but I was so sick I couldn't care for you any longer. Mr. Garris said the captain didn't sleep a wink for several days and nights. He just hovered over you constantly, afraid to leave you alone for a second."
Afraid, he would miss something I said in my feverish ravings, Julie thought with silent ire which overcame any appreciation she might have felt for his solicitude.
She noticed that her mother had not regained any color in her face. "Are you sure you're all right now?" she asked anxiously. "You don't look well, Mother."
The answering smile was wan, weak. "Yes, I'm all right. I suppose I'm tired of being on board ship. I might as well get used to it, though, hadn't I? We've quite a ways to go after we reach Bermuda."
"Maybe it wasn't such a good idea, our going to England. Maybe we should've just remained in Savannah. Virgil and I could have been married there."
"No, I agree that it's best we left. Maybe by spring the war will be over, and we can all go home—and Myles will be there."
Julie saw her mother's eyes glistening with tears. "Let's just hope and pray Virgil can use his influence to bring him home," she said wistfully. "The way things are now, we both know he wouldn't get a fair trial."
Her mother nodded in agreement. "We both know that colored man who was working in the tavern that night saw the whole thing, and he told the sheriff, but it didn't do any good. They all hate him because his sympathies aren't with the South."
"Let's don't think about it now, Mother. Surely things will change once the war is over."
But Julie did not believe her own words. Their only source of faith would have to be Virgil's promise that he would do everything in his power to straighten the matter out. Until the war ended, there was not much use in his even trying, though he had assured them that he would do what he could.
When she had finished eating, Julie felt stronger, and welcomed her mother's suggestion that she take a hot bath.
A wooden tub was brought in, and two crewmen made repeated trips to the galley stove to bring in buckets of steaming water. Finally Julie was able to strip off her soiled gown and sit down in the relaxing bath.
"I feel so much better," she told her mother. "To think I was so sick, and now I feel as well as I ever did."
"That's exactly the way I felt when the fever finally broke. It happens that way sometimes. And just think. A few more days and we'll be in port." She grinned at her daughter and seemed to have a little of her color back as she glowed with happy expectation. "It makes me happy to know my little girl is going to marry well and never have to worry about anything ever again."
Julie used a sponge to dribble water over her back. A thoughtful look came over her face as she murmured, "I can see how you feel that way, Mother. I suppose I should be grateful Virgil asked me to marry him."
"He should be grateful you accepted his proposal," her mother said quickly. "You're a beautiful young woman, Julie, and any man would be proud to have you for his wife."
She moved toward the door, saying she would go and get Julie a clean dress. "You just sit there and soak and enjoy yourself."
Julie suddenly felt melancholy. Perhaps she was still weak from having been sick. But she had to admit that a disconsolate mood came on whenever she thought of her impending marriage. Still, it was for the best. She had come to terms with herself long ago on that point. Virgil would be a good husband. She would have liked to be marrying a man she loved, but she knew she had to be realistic.
Myles. Her mother. The two dearest people in her world. They had both suffered so much. Sometimes when her mother did not know she was watching her, she would see a shadow of pain in her eyes, and Julie wondered if perhaps, after all, she had known of her husband's infidelity. She prayed not.
Myles. He was devoted and adoring, and after Virgil arranged for his safe return home, her marriage would bring still more happiness to them all. Virgil would see to it that they did not lose Rose Hill. It was home. It was security. They could not lose it, because they had worked too hard, sacrificed so much, to keep it this long.
The ship had been jerking and heaving more than usual, and Julie noticed that it seemed to be getting worse as the water in the tub began to slosh over the rim and onto the floor. There was a distant rumble of thunder, and just as she glanced toward a porthole, the sky exploded in a blinding flash.
A storm at sea. She had heard they could be terrible.
Quickly, she rinsed the suds from her skin, thinking she would feel safer out of the water and dressed. She picked up a thick, thirsty towel, and did not hear the door open as she dried herself.
Derek Arnhardt stepped inside the cabin and stood watching her with interest.
The towel dropped to the floor as she stretched her arms lazily above her head, wishing her mother would return with her dress.
With a stab of panic, she realized she was not alone. Whirling about, she faced Derek and cried, "How dare you spy on me? How dare you walk in without knocking...." She scrambled for the towel at her feet to cover her nakedness.
His lips curved insolently. "Habit, I guess. It's my cabin. I don't normally knock when I enter my own room." He was carrying her dress, which he tossed on the bed.
"Well... you have no right...." she sputtered. "Now get out so I can get dressed."
He appraised her coolly. "You seem to forget I'm the one who bathed you while you were sick, trying to get your fever down. I've seen all of you, and I know every inch of your body. It's a shame to cover it, too. You should live on one of those So
uth Sea islands, where I hear the natives romp naked—"
"You're despicable!" she responded, shocked by his candor. "I suppose all you did was stare at my body like some... some pervert, while I was helpless."
"You're beautiful," he admitted.
"You probably molested me."
At that precise moment, a crash of thunder reverberated, and she froze as he murmured, "You'd best get your clothes on, Julie. That's a bad storm about to bust loose. The crew is busy battening down the hatches, and I sent your mother to her cabin to settle in for the duration of the blow.
"She trusts me, you know," he added with an insolent grin. "More than you do."
"I don't trust you at all. If you'll get out of here, I will dress."
His black eyes flashed with rage. A muscle twitched ominously along the line of his hard-set jaw. She had succeeded in arousing his ire.
He scooped her dress from the bed and flung it at her. The movement caught her off guard and she dropped her towel to catch the garment. As his eyes raked boldly from her breasts to her privates, her own gaze instinctively dropped downward on his body, then rose quickly as her mouth flew open with a silent cry of surprise.
"Well, what did you expect?" he asked quietly. "I am a man, and there are some things I can't control—things I don't wish to control."
"I—I just want to get out here...." she stammered, shaken by the sight of the swelling in his crotch. "I want to get to Bermuda and off this ship and never see you again."
There was no warning. Her dress was yanked from her, and he tossed it aside and wrapped arms of steel about her, drawing her tightly against his massive chest.
"You want to see me again, and you know it." She could feel his hot breath upon her face. "You want to do more than see me. You want to touch me... and you want me to touch you... like this...."
His hand moved to her waist, down the curve of her belly, and finally slid easily downward to caress her intimately. Moaning softly, she could do nothing but yield to him as he bent her backwards in his arms and continued to use his fingers to dance between her thighs in a silent rhythm of passion, giving her unfamiliar pleasure. She could not control the spasms of delight that rippled through her beneath his touch.
This Rebel Heart Page 6
