Darkness Unchained

by Jane Godman

  “If it is true, does an evil spirit seek out an evil person?” It was a thought that had already occurred to me and I didn’t want to examine it further. I didn’t want to know what the answer might tell me about myself. “Or is it that the person must be very weak to not be able to drive the spirit out again? Shouldn’t Uther—or whoever that person is—be able to control what happens inside his or her own body?” I didn’t know if Finty’s words were intended as a message for me to do battle with the Jago darkness, but that was how I interpreted them. I was the only person who could fight what was happening inside me. And I wasn’t alone in my strange campaign. As if on cue, Nicca came along the deck and I felt my shoulders straighten as though some of my burden had been lifted. His smile was irresistible and my own lips curved in response. When I looked back at Finty’s troubled face, however, I knew that, while our conversation might have strengthened my resolve, I had failed to alleviate her worries.

  Chapter Ten

  As the ship drew farther away from England and my mind became clearer, I turned all the determination in my nature—which was really quite an extensive force—to the task of seducing Nicca. I wanted to be free of Uther’s touch forever. Uther had made it clear that our lovemaking would have been the final impetus the Jago darkness needed to claim us both. I reasoned, therefore, that making love to someone else would be one sure way of breaking some of the links that bound me to him. I could have chosen any man, I supposed, analysing the situation objectively. It wasn’t vanity that made me think that way. I knew I was attractive. I had enough of Bouche Jago about me to turn men’s heads, and the holiday atmosphere on board the ship was conducive to illicit encounters.

  So why did I want Nicca so badly? Was it because he was Uther’s brother? Was there an element of revenge in my determination that it must be him? Restlessly, I dismissed the thought. The fact that it was Nicca made it more dangerous because it meant Uther’s rage would be unwavering. No, I wanted Nicca because I was drawn to him. He was the other side of Uther, the light to Uther’s darkness.

  Why had I never before noticed the laughter that always lurked just below the clear blue surface of his eyes? Or the fact that his mouth was perfectly carved, with lips that I desperately wanted to touch? My own mouth had the oddest tendency to become dry as I watched his strong hands performing the most mundane tasks and imagined them undressing me. Had my experiences at Tenebris turned me into some sort of raging nymphomaniac, I wondered. Was that the true Jago legacy? That the darkness within us made us into sex addicts? Whatever the truth might be, the most annoying aspect of the whole situation was Nicca’s stubborn refusal to oblige me.

  While he skilfully and successfully “distracted” me from my dark thoughts, he refused to make love to me. “I am not going to take advantage of your innocence any further, Annie,” he insisted.

  “I don’t think I am very innocent, you know,” I assured him. “I’ve given it a great deal of thought, and I would quite like to be taken advantage of by you.” He laughed and shook his head. It was an impasse from which I was determined to emerge the victor. And since I knew how much he wanted me, I remained quite hopeful about the outcome.

  We had been at sea for five days when storm clouds painted the sky shades of lavender and rose, and the sea went suddenly from being too still to churning and boiling wildly against the ship’s sides. The decks were awash with water, and the crew advised all passengers to remain in our cabins. Nicca lay on his bunk, ploughing through a pile of books that he had brought up from the ship’s library. I paced the floor, looking out of the porthole at the ever-darkening skies, boredom making me even more restless than usual. Although it was midday, Nicca had to light the gas lamp so that he could continue reading. Now and then he cast an amused glance in my direction, but he said nothing.

  The ship began to roll and I staggered slightly, trying to maintain my balance. “Sit down, Annie, before you fall down,” Nicca warned.

  “I like watching the storm,” I said over my shoulder, ignoring his advice. Lightning ripped the heavens apart and it was hard now to distinguish between the dark grey of the sky and the endless roiling sea. Drops of rain slid one by one down the glass, each seeming to form a letter in its wake. I watched in fascination as each appeared to cover the last. Frowning, I tried to make sense of their tempestuous message. Nicca rose and came to stand behind me, bracing his hands on the wall at either side of me so that he could look over my shoulder. Instantly, I forgot the view from the porthole and focussed instead on the more interesting prospect of his nearness. I wasn’t afraid of what nature could do. The storms we saw in the mountains were wilder than this and more demanding. The storms I knew were yet to come in my own life were likely to make this tempest look like a squall. I stumbled again and Nicca caught hold of me. The gaslight crashed to the floor, plunging us into semidarkness.

  “We could die in this storm,” I whispered unconvincingly, leaning back against him.

  “We must hope not.” His breath touched my cheek in the darkness, and he held me with my hips pressed against his muscular thighs to keep me steady as the ship gave another wild lurch.

  “I don’t want to die a virgin, Nicca.”

  He was silent for a moment. Then he drew a ragged breath in. “You have no idea what you are asking of me, Annie.”

  “Oh, but I do. Anyway, you can’t refuse my dying wish,” I said plaintively.

  “Don’t do this to me,” he murmured, but his voice tailed off as I slid an experimental hand behind me and down over the interestingly large bulge in the front of his trousers. Then neither of us could speak at all as he swung me round to face him. His groan of surrender was followed by a kiss that scorched every inch of me. The wayward spark that started somewhere low in my belly quickly burst into a red-hot flame. I matched his kiss hungrily as a husky purr burgeoned deep in my throat. The storm raging outside was nothing compared to the wildness that consumed us then. Tearing at each other’s clothing, we stumbled across the cabin. I fell onto the edge of the bed, remaining in a sitting position while Nicca stood. Impatiently, I fumbled with his zipper.

  “Oh, goodheid,” I murmured as his erection sprang free from the restraining material.

  “Don’t be afraid, Annie.” Nicca’s voice was shaky. “We don’t have to do this.”

  I knelt on the bed and wound my arms around him, pressing my body to the contours of his, exulting in the feel of that naked, iron-hard length pulsing against the thin barrier of my blouse. “It was an appreciative comment. A sign of how very impressed I am.” I whispered against his lips.

  We melted onto the bed, our bodies moving together in a rhythm that signalled our intent. Our tongues met and clashed and tasted and demanded. His kiss became something else entirely as his hands tugged at my clothing until one breast was bared and his fingers could claim my nipple.

  Instinctively and impatiently, I ground myself harder against him. Nicca made a soft, animal sound as he broke the kiss and moved his mouth to my breast. His tongue rasped as he licked and circled over and over while one large hand determinedly raised my skirts. His leg was hard between my thighs and he raised his knee higher, pressing it into the apex between my legs, making me gasp and then squirm.

  “I never knew knees could be this exciting,” I murmured as we flung various bits of clothing to the four corners of the cabin. With the barrier of our garments finally gone, I strained against him as we continued to kiss, hotter and harder.

  The corners of those endless blue eyes crinkled. “I have very talented elbows, as well. One of these days I’ll show you what I can do with them,” he whispered. The knee returned to part my thighs and was accompanied now by fingers that already knew how to play my body well. It was too much, and I exploded into instant, frenzied pleasure, calling his name as my head thrashed from side to side on the pillow.

  Raising himself above me, Nicca positioned the tip of his cock at the opening of my swollen lips and gently rubbed it back and forth, intensifying
the sensation of my climax. Very slowly, he pushed himself into me an inch and then stopped, studying my face through eyes that were half-closed with desire.

  “More?”

  “Yes, please.” I nodded. That was all the encouragement he needed. His fingers parted my outer lips and he stroked my still throbbing flesh, urging me wider as he pushed again. Nothing happened.

  “I think you might be too big, after all.” I bit my lip in an effort to hide my disappointment. “Perhaps we should try again another time.…”

  That was the moment in which Nicca—courteous, kind, considerate Nicca—stopped being gentle. Grasping my buttocks roughly, he jerked my body upward and drove himself hard and fast all the way into me. I let out a sound that was midway between a scream and a groan.

  “Ow.” I frowned and squeezed my eyes tightly shut.

  “I’m sorry.” He kissed my closed eyelids. “Keep still while you get used to it.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who feels like she has had a cricket bat inserted into her.”

  “Annie! Must you say the most outrageous things…at the most inappropriate moments?” Nicca laughed, an action that provoked an interesting sensation deep inside me. I risked opening my eyes and gazed up at his face. His expression blazed warmth and desire. I cautiously tightened my muscles around him. He groaned, so I did it again. And again.

  “I need to move now, Annie,” Nicca murmured. “If I don’t, I might go mad.”

  I lifted my hips to show him that this was a plan I approved of. Then we were moving together in a hard, fast staccato that banished everything else from my mind. There was no sound except our ragged breathing and occasional sighs. Those vicarious, otherworldly experiences had not prepared me for this aching, grinding, wonderful reality. I relished the faint sheen of sweat on Nicca’s upper lip, the rasp of his chest hair on my nipples and the harshness of his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my buttocks as he lifted me so that I didn’t have to bear his weight. My nostrils flared at the musky scent of his body, and I returned to taste over and over the clean, masculine flavour of his skin. Then my other senses gave way to the building frenzy of Nicca filling and stretching me to the point where pleasure and pain met and grew and tortured and shimmered. And then my whole body was shuddering and floating all over again. I cried out in amazement, holding on to Nicca tightly as we both rode the storm, one that was created not by the elements, but by us.

  Eventually, we subsided, panting and sated, in each other’s arms.

  Sometime later, the sea was calm again, but the bed looked like a warzone. I opened my eyes to find Nicca’s clear blue gaze upon me.

  “We aren’t dead, Annie,” he said.

  “You can never be too careful about these things,” I murmured sleepily, snuggling closer against his chest.

  “Most people only get one dying wish,” he stated.

  “Does that mean we can never do it again?” I asked. I twined my legs more tightly between his and discovered that this provoked an interesting reaction. Looking down, I studied his erection with interest. “Because, and you can correct me if I’m wrong, there is one part of you at least that seems to be trying to tell me a different story.” I reached down to touch him, but he caught hold of my hand and stopped me. I raised questioning brows.

  “Why, Annie?” His voice was hoarse. “I mean, why me? Am I just a warm body that happens to be here? Something to pass the time on a boring voyage?” He drew in a shaky breath. “Or are you using me as Uther’s substitute?” I made as if to bounce up from the bed, but he anticipated my response and caught hold of me. “No, for once in your life keep a lid on that temper of yours, my beautiful firebrand. After what just happened between us, I think I deserve some answers.”

  “I’m not questioning your motives,” I said, easing back onto the bed.

  “Be serious, Annie. You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I’ve wanted to fuck you for almost as long as I’ve known you. Those are my motives. Now let’s get back to yours.”

  He was right, of course. His questions only mirrored my own thoughts of a few days before. It mattered that it was him. Sitting cross-legged on the cramped bed, I tried my best to explain it.

  “One day, probably soon, I will have to face Uther again. And I’m scared about how I will react. About the hold he has over me. I want to know that I no longer have that which he prized, that which he assumed was his. I want to hold my head high and know it was my choice to be with a man who is everything he is not. Good and honourable and honest. Light to Uther’s shade. A man for whom I am a reality, not a—” I searched for the right words “—shared memory of a past life. Yes, I want to get him out of my head and making love with you seems to be a particularly effective way of doing that.”

  I felt my lips curve into a smile at the memory and was relieved at the answering light in his eyes. “But I’m not using you as some sort of sexual comfort blanket, Nicca! My God! I wanted you because of you! I’ve been going mad with wanting you these past few days. You know that. Because of these lips.” I touched them lightly with my fingertips, tracking lower across the muscles of his chest as I spoke. “And this body.” I ran the tip of my finger lower and his whole body jerked violently. “You are not second best. And if you think that…” I grasped his hand and held it against me so that he could feel how wet I was. “…think again.”

  I sighed with relief—and something more primitive—as his fingers began to move enticingly. Reaching out, I caressed the straining shaft of his cock. “I do think it would be such a shame to let this go to waste just because I only get one dying wish, don’t you? Perhaps we should accept the fact that we are going to live and concentrate on making the most of this instead.”

  “Annie, you’re a witch.” He laughed, lifting me across his body so that I could straddle him. “As for dying wishes, I think you’re probably going to slay me anyway.”

  “Is that what you call it in England? Because where I come from we call it—”

  But I didn’t get to finish the sentence. Nicca, with a decidedly wicked gleam in his eyes, lowered me while raising his hips at the same time, so that I ended up gasping his name instead.

  From then on, the journey became my personal voyage of discovery. I wanted to spend every minute in Nicca’s arms or with him inside me. I was shameless in my longing for him, dragging him off to bed at every available opportunity. Uther, and the fear of his retribution—or the fear of my own weakness—became a distant memory when I could lose myself in this newfound pleasure.

  It was also something of a revelation that, when I began to spend more time in the dining room and the ballroom, I observed Nicca’s considerable popularity among the female passengers. It wasn’t as if he did anything in particular to encourage them, I noticed. Nevertheless, wherever he went, there seemed to be a little fluttering, cooing crowd following him. One pretty widow, who I judged to be in her mid-thirties, appeared to be particularly taken with him.

  “Oh, Mr Jago, how strong you are!” Mrs Jenkins exclaimed as, seeing her struggling with her deck chair, he obligingly moved the offending item into the shade. “I do so enjoy seeing a man with muscles.” Playfully, she reached out a hand and tested his biceps through the material of his jacket. “And you certainly do have muscles, Mr Jago.”

  Nicca smiled down at her and she drew in an appreciative breath.

  “Stop flirting with that poor woman,” I said when she had gone.

  “Which woman?” His eyes were half-closed against the glare of the sun, and a lock of light brown hair had flopped onto his forehead. His face was tanned, and because I was looking up at him, my attention was drawn to the firm line of his jaw, the slight cleft in his chin, the beautiful shape of his mouth and the purity of his white teeth. How had I ever thought his looks were unremarkable? It was as if Tenebris had held up its own mirror and made me see him the way it wanted me to. Because it had other plans for me.

  I sighed. “You can’t even re
member one among the many. I am beginning to think I have been seduced by a practiced Lothario,” I said in melodramatic accents.

  “You might be more convincing, Annie, if we didn’t both know you were the one who did all the seducing,” he said with a grin that made me want to seduce him all over again. Right there and then.

  After dinner that evening, Mrs Jenkins, having imbibed several cocktails, weaved her way toward Nicca and, pointedly ignoring my presence, said playfully, “Come now, Mr Jago, don’t tell me this delightful music doesn’t tempt you to take to the floor.”

  Casting a rueful look in my direction, Nicca escorted her onto the crowded dance floor. He was actually a very good dancer, I noticed approvingly, managing to steer his partner around while fending off the most outrageous of her advances.

  “Good gracious.” Finty and Rudi left the dance floor and paused beside me. “Who is the woman that Nicca is wearing draped around his neck?”

  Rudi threw her a warning glance. “You look so much better, Annie.” He kissed my cheek.

  “So do you, broer. The closer we get to Suid Afrika the more improved we both seem to be.”

  They left just before Nicca returned to me. I regarded him thoughtfully. “Hmm.” I reached up to straighten an imaginary kink in his tie. “What a pity for Mrs Jenkins that she is not going to be the one to make your hair—and certain other parts of your body—stand on end later tonight,” I said. I could hear a trace of acid in my own voice.

  A corner of his mouth lifted. “I’d be most interested to hear what you plan on doing to achieve that result, Annie.”

  I stood on tiptoe and whispered a few words in his ear. When I stepped back, a slight flush had tinged Nicca’s cheeks. “The problem is that, while people tell me I’ve inherited Bouche’s beautiful mouth,” I said, pouting slightly to draw his attention to it, “I just don’t know if it can do all those things. What do you think, Nicca?”