“You are so beautiful, so wise in the ways of love. Surely you can help me win his love. Yet I still must have my revenge, and I don’t know how to gain one without losing the other. Please help me, for if you cannot, there is none who can. Only you, Venus, born of my wondrous, mysterious sea, the supreme creation of the sea, love goddess of all time, can solve my dilemma.”
As she finished speaking, a calm swept over Kathleen, as though Venus had heard her and would take care of everything. Kathleen whispered aloud, “I leave it in your hands.” Backing away, she strolled to a far corner of the garden where she sat on a bench until she had composed herself sufficiently to rejoin the men.
As Kathleen left the statue of Venus, Reed turned to Jean. “Well, what do you make of what we have just witnessed?”
“It is one of the strangest yet most beautiful experiences I’ve ever seen. Was she actually praying to that statue?”
“I don’t believe praying is the right word, Jean. Kat believes in God, I know, but she seems to have a unique affinity with the sea. It is almost as if she can communicate with it in some way that we cannot fathom. Tell me, of all the figures in your garden, why did Venus affect her so instead of a sea god or goddess?”
“It is not well known, but Venus actually is a sea goddess, Reed. Most people think of her only as the goddess of love, but actually it is said she was born of the sea, rising from the foam. In fact, she is the most beautiful of all the goddesses and most important of the sea goddesses. Perhaps that explains your wife’s reaction to her, although I still don’t fully understand what you are trying to tell me, my friend.”
Reed related to Jean the two times aboard ship that he had witnessed Kathleen’s behavior. “So help me, Jean, I don’t know exactly how or why it happened, but that night the wind began to blow and the waves to roll once more. It sounds crazy, but I honestly think Kat may have had a hand in it.”
“It does sound crazy, but I cannot discount what I saw here today, and I do not doubt your word,” Jean stated matter-of-factly.
“She confounds me. On one hand she is a fiery tempered Irish wildcat, or a cuddly, purring kitten in turn. At other times she is a tempting, untouchable sea nymph in all her glory. Do you think Kat is deranged, or possibly possessed somehow?” Reed asked hesitantly.
“From what you tell me of Kathleen, I would say no. She does indeed have a unique ability beyond ours, but that does not deem her unstable.”
Reed sighed in relief. “I am glad to hear you say it. I am of the same opinion, but I wanted your view on the matter. I value your judgement as much as your friendship. This thing with Kat is almost as you described with Venus. It is almost as if she becomes a part of the sea itself, as if her roots and her being spring from its sources. It’s as if sea water runs in her veins and she draws her strength from it. It is strange, and yet marvelous to behold, this fascinating change that occurs in her. Her face glows and she seems wrapped in an ethereal web of serenity. She is at once eerie and magnificent, my copper-haired sea goddess.”
“She is beautiful enough as it is,” Jean complimented, “even without her mantle of mystery.”
When Kathleen again joined them, Jean escorted them to the guest house. He invited them to dine with him that evening and left. As soon as Reed left to see to matters of the ship, Kathleen, feeling drained of energy, collapsed onto the bed. Her head had barely touched the pillow before she was asleep.
Dinner that evening was a sumptuous affair. After weeks aboard ship, it was luxurious to view a table laden with fresh food. Hickory smoked ham, fried chicken, and succulent shrimp were piled high on huge platters next to sugared yams, mashed potatoes, gravy and rice. There were fresh sweet garden peas with baby onions, green beans in almond sauce, carrots swimming in butter, and much more. The aroma alone made Kathleen’s mouth water.
Kathleen had dressed carefully that evening in a copper colored taffeta gown that matched her hair and set off her golden tan perfectly. Her skin seemed to pick up the luster of the gown. It had a modestly cut bodice that molded itself to her shapely bosom, and the skirt followed smoothly the slim lines of her body.
A young slave girl sent by Jean had done her hair for her in shining braids twisted into a crown atop her head. Around her neck hung a single rare black pearl on a thin gold chain, with smaller matching pearl earrings as her only adornments other than her wedding ring. The look in Reed’s eyes told her she had succeeded in her efforts.
Jean sat at the head of the table with Kathleen on his right and Reed next to her. Across the table from her sat a lovely young woman with dark brown hair and lively dark eyes. She was very petite, with a delicate heart-shaped face. Next to her sat a man who resembled her. Jean introduced them as Dr. Charles de Beaumont of New Orleans, and his sister Eleanore. Captain Venley was to Reed’s right, and across from him sat a tall, dark man known as Dominique You. He was Jean’s best gunner, an expert in his own right, and if anyone looked like a pirate, he did. He had black hair and eyes with bushy brows and a long scar the length of his left check, and a large hoop earring in one ear. Although he was clean and neatly dressed, he presented a formidable image with his brace of pistols, his saber, and his long knife, all of which he wore to the table.
“All he needs is a sash and an eyepatch,” Kathleen speculated. He must have felt her staring at him, for he looked up from his plate, grinned broadly, and winked at her. Kathleen turned red, smiled weakly, and returned her attention to her plate.
Reed chuckled softly and whispered. “That ought to dampen your curiosity a bit. I do believe Dominique is charmed by you, Kat.”
“Not half as charmed as your little Spanish-speaking friend is by you,” she countered.
“I take it you are referring to Rosita.” Reed shrugged. “She isn’t so bad once you get to know her.”
“I’ll take your word for that since I doubt I’ll ever know her as well as you do, dear,” she said snidely.
“Touché,” he said lightly with a rakish smile, and returned to conversing with Jean.
Eleanore leaned forward, saying, “Your gown is exquisite, Mrs. Taylor. It is delightful to have another woman of good breeding and style grace this island.”
“Do you live here?” Kathleen inquired.
“Oh, no, my dear. My brother and I have a townhouse in New Orleans, but we visit here often so Charles can tend to the medical needs of the people here. I enjoy coming with him to see Jean.” Here Eleanor’s eyes turned to Jean with a soft, loving look that passed between them. “It is tiresome not to have another woman to converse with when the men are busy, though. Will you be staying here long?”
“I really don’t know, Miss de Beaumont.”
“I really would be pleased if you would call me Eleanore, and I shall call you Kathleen. It is silly to do otherwise when we are the only ladies on the island.” She stressed the word ‘ladies.’ Catching Reed’s eye, she asked, “I was wondering how long you and your lovely wife will be staying, Reed.”
Jean interjected, “I was just discussing the matter with him. Pierre will be returning soon from the West Indies with another cargo of slaves, and I would like Reed to look them over.”
Kathleen gave Reed a questioning look, and he replied, “The crew needs a rest anyway, so I agreed.”
Kathleen gave a slight shrug. “You’re the captain,” she said cooly, and from her tone, Reed knew they would be debating the issue later.
Kathleen turned her attention to Jean. “Who is Pierre, one of your captains?”
“No, mon petit, he is my brother,” Jean answered with a devilish grin. “He reminds one of a banty rooster at times,” he chuckled, “but you will meet him for yourself soon enough.”
The meal over, the men retired to Jean’s library for brandy and cigars, and Eleanore led Kathleen to the parlor where they enjoyed coffee and talked of fashions and got better acquainted. Kathleen wished she could ask Eleanore about Rosita, but resisted the urge. A lady simply did not ask about her husband’s
lovers. “I’m sure Rosita will delight in giving me full details, unsolicited.” She grimaced thoughtfully.
As the evening was quite late when the men again joined them, Reed suggested that they retire. Eleanore, who was staying in Jean’s house, invited Kathleen for tea the next day. “And don’t forget that you can call on me for anything you may need. The guest house has been empty for some time and undoubtedly needs some attention,” she added.
Once back in their house, Kathleen slammed and banged until she located a brown lawn nightgown in the bottom of her trunk. She tugged it over her head, and was hanging her dress in the armoire when Reed spoke sharply. “Enough, Kat! You’ve had your little fit, now settle down. Get that ugly rag off your back and come to bed.”
She whirled on him, eyes spitting green flame. “So! We are staying, just like that!” She snapped her fingers. “No matter that I have an aunt waiting who may worry about me, or that I may not wish to stay!” She flounced to the dressing table, shook the pins from her hair, and unbraided the plaits.
“Be reasonable, woman. This way your aunt will merely receive news of your coming in time to prepare for your arrival. It won’t be for long.”
“No, just long enough for you to renew acquaintances with your Puerto Rican slut!”
“Now we come to the crux of the matter. You’ve stewed about that all day, haven’t you?” he shouted. He leaped from the bed, scattering the covers. “Well, we both know this was no love match, and I don’t have to explain my actions to you—past, present, or future!”
As he advanced on her, Kathleen swung about. “Stay away from me, Reed. There may be no love in our marriage, but I will not be played for a fool!” She aimed the hairbrush at his head and let it fly. He ducked it and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her roughly.
“Let me go, you fiend!” she hissed. “Go to your precious Rosita. She will welcome your touch I’m sure, but leave me alone!” She wrenched away from him.
“No, Kat,” he growled. “I warned you before that I would have you any time I desired. I would rather have you willing, but—”
“Never!” she screamed, backing away from him.
“So be it,” he said curtly. His hand flashed out, grabbing her nightgown at the neck. With one swift movement, he tore it from neck to hem. She gaped at him, astounded at his savagery. Frightened green eyes met those of frosty blue.
“No, Reed,” she whispered past the lump of fear rising in her throat. She clutched at the shreds of her gown. He reached out again, knocking her hands aside, and ripped the gown completely away. Quickly he jerked her toward the bed, flinging her onto it. Desperately she tried to escape him, but he threw himself upon her, pinioning her to the mattress. She tried to push him away, but he held her arms beneath her, laughing at her efforts. Her head fell back, baring her throat to his searing kisses; her breasts arching upward invitingly.
His lips ground down on hers, bruising her mouth. She bit down hard, and he drew back sharply, wiping the blood from his lip with his free hand. “You little Irish viper! Bite me, will you?”
He kissed her again roughly. She tried to twist her head away, but her hair was caught beneath her, holding her firmly. He drew back, and she glanced at him defiantly.
“I’ll tame you yet, Kat,” he swore hoarsely, his blue eyes blazing.
“I’ll see you in hell first!” she spat out.
He laughed deep in his throat and clamped his mouth around the rosy tip of one breast, pulling hard on it, making her cry out in pain and surprise.
He pried her thighs apart with his knee, and with his hand still binding her waist, he arched her to him. He entered her with a mighty thrust, filling her entirely, searing the very core of her being. She cried out again, and bit down on her own lip to squelch any further outbursts. As he continued his attack, tears rolled down her cheeks, wetting her hair. “Please, Reed,” she sobbed brokenly. “You are hurting me.”
He eased up, his face softening at her liquid emerald eyes. “Then give in to me willingly. You’ll find it easier than making me use force, which I will do when I find it necessary.” He released her wrists. Seconds ticked by until she slowly raised her arms, locking them behind his back, pulling him to her in defeat. Now she offered her lips to him, and he took them in a tender kiss, igniting the familiar fire deep within her. Her passions roared out of control as he took her with him to the heights of the heavens, and the stars burst like a billion brightly colored suns around them.
Afterward, he held her tightly when she would have turned from him. “Don’t ever fight me, kitten. You can’t win,” he assured her.
“Don’t bet on that,” she reflected bitterly to herself. “Someday you will be in for the surprise of your life, Reed Taylor, when your kitten suddenly becomes a raging tigress.”
The next morning, before Reed left the house, he picked up the torn nightgown and tossed it on the end of the bed. “Get rid of that and any more you have like it,” he directed sternly. “I want you in my bed as God created you.”
Kathleen turned her back to him, defiantly pulling the covers over her ears. It was a useless gesture, for she still heard his wry chuckle as he trod down the steps. “Insufferable cur!” she muttered into her pillow.
After a leisurely breakfast on the veranda overlooking the bay, Kathleen spent the morning investigating the house. It was small, but comfortable. A parlor, library, dining room, kitchen and pantry occupied the ground floor with two bedrooms upstairs. There was a veranda off the rear of the house upstairs, and a large front porch off the downstairs hallway, and a patio to the rear off the dining room. Someone had planted a few flowers around the house, and a small vegetable garden in the back. Beyond the garden the ground sloped gently to the beach.
Jean had sent over a cook, a valet for Reed (who doubled as a butler) a lady’s maid for Kathleen, and a housemaid. Lally, the pleasant girl who had coiffed Kathleen’s hair the previous evening, was her lady’s maid. The cook, Mae, was a jolly old woman whose husband Joe was the valet. The sour-faced, but efficient housemaid, was Tess.
Kathleen set Joe and Lally busy with the trunks, unpacking and hanging and pressing her clothes and Reed’s. Mae put some order to the kitchen. Donning an old dress, Kathleen pulled back her hair in a bandanna, rolled up her sleeves, and joined Tess in cleaning, airing the dining room, parlor, and library. So absorbed was she in her labors, that she failed to hear anyone enter until Rosita’s accented voice echoed from the library door.
“Not so fancy today, eh, skinny one?”
“The name is Mrs. Taylor,” Kathleen corrected, wiping the dirt from her cheek.
Rosita shrugged and sashayed into the room, hips swinging. “Reed, he put you to work where you do the most good, I see.”
“Reed did not put me to work. The house needs a good cleaning, and we prefer not to breathe dust, Rosita. A little work never hurt anyone. You might try it sometime,” Kathleen retorted.
“He would not want me to bother myself with such things as cleaning. We spend our time in other ways,” Rosita taunted.
“I’ll bet. Of course, you probably can’t work very well standing up, can you?”
“Who do you think you are to talk to me this way, you Irish baggage!”
“For your information, I am Lady Kathleen Taylor,” Kathleen maintained, using her full title. “Furthermore, if you do not leave this house immediately, I will have you forceably ejected; and don’t come back again unless you are invited.”
“Reed will hear of this!” Rosita screeched as she huffed out the door.
“I’m sure he will,” Kathleen grumbled to no one in particular, and went back to dusting books.
Kathleen spent a pleasant afternoon with Eleanore, returning in time to bathe for dinner. Joe lugged up several buckets of hot water, pouring them into the wooden tub in the corner of the bedroom. After Lally had shampooed her hair with lemon-scented soap, Kathleen lay back, luxuriating in her first hot bath in months.
She bolted upri
ght as the bedroom door was thrust open, admitting Reed. Quickly she slid back into the water. He strode to the dresser, removing a clean white shirt. Throwing her a glance in the mirror, he said, “Don’t let me interrupt you, Kat.” He pulled a pair of dark blue trousers from his wardrobe, and laying them aside, perched on the edge of the bed to watch her.
“Must you stare, Reed?” she snapped.
“Just enjoying the view,” he smirked. “I heard you had another encounter with Rosita today.”
“Yes. She invited herself in, and I invited her to leave.”
“That wasn’t very neighborly of you. Perhaps she wanted to borrow a cup of sugar,” he teased.
“The kind of sugar she wants to borrow doesn’t come in a cup.”
His rumbling laughter filled the room. “Hurry out of that tub, will you?”
“Why? I’m enjoying it.”
“Because you are what I intend to enjoy, my copperhaired vixen,” he declared huskily, his blue eyes smoky with desire.
Chapter 6
THE next week went by without incident. Rosita kept her distance. The house got a thorough scrubbing, and all their clothes were cleaned and neatly pressed. Kathleen spent most of her afternoons with Eleanore. They lunched, chatted, and sometimes toured the island. Reed kept her evenings well occupied.
At the end of the week, Eleanore and her brother returned to New Orleans, and Kathleen took to wandering about Grande Terre by herself. Whenever she did, she got the eerie feeling someone was following her, watching her. Each time she whirled about, she saw no one, but the feeling persisted. Soon she noticed that wherever she went, be it the warehouse, fort, beach, or supply store, Dominique You appeared. He would nod politely, inquire about her day, and go on.
Fire and Ice Page 8
