Love's Vengeance (35 page)

To be clear is to be to close
. He could interpret it as an unfinished thought, to be clear is to be to close to the
truth
or he could interpret it that she would rather not be so open or close to him about her feelings just yet. Either way, the remark would surely prompt further inquiry of her meaning. If not, she had at least answered with something and that he did not understand was irrelevant.

Stephen laughed heartily, pulling the covers up about them, “In other words no answer is forthcoming.” He said kissing her mouth lightly. “Good night Sweet.”

“Good night.” She cuddled closer within his arms and they were quiet for a long moment, then he chuckled again.

“I should have made an effort at some point to learn French. Every utterance is so pleasant to the ear—flowing and harmonious. Why is it—I have the distinct feeling that I have just been abused verbally or unknowingly been called a scoundrel or worse?”

Desiree choked back a giggle, “I have no idea.”

***

The sliver of a moon high in the night sky brought barely the illumination of a solitary candle through the small leaded cabin windows and in the semi-blackness Stephen was unaware that Desiree was awake, watching him slip silently into his clothes and then exit the room. He was obviously having difficulty finding sleep as was she and she wondered what his cause of unrest might be.

For herself, the cause was not clear in her own mind. She sifted through the bits and pieces of conversation she had shared with Stephen this night; his admission of a colored past, her unexpected reaction to that admission and the abrupt discovery of Bridgett’s scandalous indiscretions. It all brought home to her, her total lack of experience to deal with any of these realities.

Stephen was so sure of himself, so calm and in control, with years of experience and exploits to his credit—when compared with her; floundering in insecurities; with a childish lack of composure. What did she know of the grown up affair she had entered into with the faculties of a schoolgirl? He was probably asking himself this moment how he could have allowed himself to become entangled in this predicament; saddled with a clinging vine who was unsophisticated, jealous and a possessive child.

But his words were so convincing, calming her fears, making her feel as though she were the most important part of his life. My Lord was that the ploy of all men? Saying exactly what they must to achieve their goals? Smooth words and hollow promises as Bridgett claimed she had received? How on earth did one know—how had Bridgett known the difference when her
true love
came into her life; some feeling, a thunderbolt suddenly slashing through her heart? What of the comfort, the warmth, the rightness of every moment spent with Stephen? Perhaps only the utterance of those three words
I love you
or a proposal on bended knee to take one as a wife assured undying devotion.

But Stephen was unbounded in his patience with her and unperturbed by her giddy personality. Teaching her the fine art of love with tenderness and gentle urging, with respect for her and it seemed respect for the act. Then to, he engaged her in conversation, asking her for her views and opinions on subjects that most men never even broached with women, as though her opinion were of great importance to him and worthwhile.

He had hung on every word when she had spoken of her parents, her home, the lake, describing it all in detail. He understood her hesitancy to delve into her father’s business and its complexities. He stated she was fortunate for Jacques Monet and his expertise and advised her to depend upon him until she could seriously consider learning such things and he was very confident in her ability to learn whatever would be required of her. He made her feel as if every aspect of her were of importance to him, not only her physical self. Was that the way of a man toward one he considered only his mistress or the caring of a man who loved a woman?

No answers came, no insight, no inkling. She could only wait, to see what happened next. She was playing a game without knowing the rules. Unsure of whether there
were
a winner or a loser or if the best one could hope for would be a draw. Whatever the outcome and in spite of her lacking womanhood she would make one resolution—no more possessive quarrels over his past lovers. She knew by the discussions she had shared with Rene’, Antoine and Honore’ of one taboo, the one she was now committing—suffocating by clinging too tightly.

She had never worried on that with her friends, for it was such a family type of affection that no show was overmuch but those same young men had avoided anxious women—virgins—as if they had the plague. Just what would they be inclined to do were they to find themselves in an affair with a young clinging naïve child? However, on considering their possible courses of action, she realized that none would find themselves in such an affair, not by any stretch of the imagination. Certainly none would have endured to the point Stephen had.

Why on earth had he endured this long? He, being so charming and handsome could easily have any woman he desired. Why had he made love to her that first time, when he knew, he said he was
certain
that she was innocent? Why did he want her still? “And why are you thinking such childish thoughts?” she asked herself aloud sharply. After all, she had gone into this with her eyes wide open. He wanted her for the same reason she wanted him, they were attracted to one another. Why must she analyze it? “Oh when am I going to grow up?” She moaned aloud, turning to her stomach and pulling a pillow over her head.

***

The chill night air of early October touched Stephen when he came above deck, slowly making his way by moonlight to the helm.

“Stephen! What are you doing up?” Ham asked in surprise, “Don’t tell me you longed for the company of this old sea dog when a beautiful woman is below to keep you warm.” he chuckled.

Stephen made no reply, moving to the rail and leaning there he crossed his legs at the ankle and leaned back, “Ham that lady has me shaking in my boots.” He confessed, looking up at the night sky.

“I don’t need to be told that. I have eyes.” Ham nodded when Stephen’s regard turned to him, “I watched you Stephen, carousing Dover and Jamestown every night, searching—finding, never sampling. I have never known you to think twice about easing your need but like a loving husband wanting only his mate you set all away from you, retiring alone each night.”

“She is barely a woman. Was only two months into her eighteenth year when…” he paused with a shake of his head, “How has one young woman brought me to such a state? I’ve bedded some of the most beautiful women in the world, the most exciting and experienced bits of fluff money could buy or charm could sway. Not one—not one could hold a candle to Desiree. How has she turned me to her slave and left me totally addled?” he asked more himself than his friend.

“Stephen whatever she has done—I approve heartily. You know well enough that I have never approved of your lack of discretion but then I have had my sweet wife and have been a married man more years than you have been alive. That fact aside, I have never seen a man prowl more than you, except of course for Will and Dan. Maybe it is your good looks—Will and Dan too. None of you ever seemed to believe you needed to care. You always had whoever you wanted, whenever you wanted. None of you have had trouble finding a willing partner—now Timmy, he is a different breed. At least he is choosy with whom he dallies but you three—they fell all over your brothers and they fall all over you to get a share. I think it is high time you appreciated a woman for all she is and has to offer.” he decided thoughtfully.

“I never knew you held such a high opinion of me old friend—but Lord Almighty Cunningham give me a little credit! I know there are at least a few out there I have missed.” Stephen growled in a defensive tone.

“Cap I have watched you every step of the way and you know I speak the truth. I don’t like to speak ill of the dead but I would have to lay the blame with your brothers for your lack of caring. They twisted your thinking—corrupted you at an early age. Hell they had you bedding your first by the time you were fifteen.”

“Sixteen” Stephen corrected.

“Aye in fact I seem to recall it being your birthday.”

Stephen chuckled, remembering that night just months before their deaths. Daniel and Will had decided that at sixteen it was high time little brother became a man. So after briefing him on the basic details and tipping a few, accompanied by an assortment of off color toasts to his departing innocence, the two drug him through the streets of London in search of the appropriate sport.

They ended their search at a modest little brothel and he was so nervous that he, to this day, could not remember the location or recall a feature of the place. He only knew that Daniel went off to make the arrangements while Will, following the instructions received from a woman with a huge bust, tossed an arm about his shoulders and with him in tow, stumbled up a flight of stairs to wait outside a bedroom door.

During this wait Will had related his philosophy on women, offered last minute advice and when Daniel and the one to relieve him of his innocence approached, Will had clapped him upon the back with a wink and a grin and told him, “Stephen now get in there and make us proud!”

She had been very pretty as he recalled and he realized now the care Daniel must have taken when choosing her, for she was slim and not quite amply endowed. Just enough woman for a young man to handle, but she was experienced and more than willing to help in this quest for manhood.

Daniel and Will had stood guard outside the door in case he had any ideas about fleeing with his innocence still intact and afterward the two of them had proclaimed him to be truly a man and one of their ranks. Their philosophy had become his philosophy and he had never looked further than a woman’s charms when measuring her importance.

“I have a feeling the wild days have come to an end for you Captain.” Ham interrupted his thoughts, “I think you are in love with the lady even if you are trying valiantly to deny it. Your behavior shouts it loud and clear.” He stated confidently.

“Well old friend, “Stephen said pushing away from the rail and coming to his full height, “I have spent too many years at one extreme to simply leap to the other. I shall have to take it one step at a time.” He patted Ham’s shoulder as he passed, “Good night.”

“Night Cap.”

***

Stephen made his way below to his cabin and quietly undressed, slipping into the berth beside Desiree. She snuggled up next to him in her sleep and a trim leg settled across his own, while her arm came across his waist holding him tight. Her breath was warm against his neck where her slightly parted lips touched there. He turned toward her and draped an arm across her waist, running his hand against the silky flesh of her back. The hauntingly sweet fragrance of her hair, so much a part of her, filled his senses and he felt the torment of the change this woman had brought about in him.

He actually needed her—her company, her thoughts; her wit as much as he needed to satisfy himself within her body. It had become more than simply possessing a woman. It was Desiree he wanted and no other. So why did he find it so difficult to simply succumb? Why not admit to himself—to her—to the world, this discovery? He could have blurted it out to her this night and had been on the brink of doing so; what had held him back; his old ideas? Yes, a change in oneself—finding that you are capable of more than you ever suspected, is hard to accept. Then too, there was Desiree herself—just being Desiree held him back from expressing himself.

She was accustomed to love—
all
men loved her; her fire, her intelligence, her trusting and innocent nature. She had, no doubt, been told those words countless times in her life and would not be surprised to hear them from his lips. It was commonplace to her. It was expected. How could he bare his soul completely, admit this revelation he had never experienced before in his life to someone who found love in the world—as easily as breathing? Would she take it lightly? Simply add him to an already long list? Did she love him? He had asked this night in a light manner and she had answered in French. Had it been a denial—an admission? He hadn’t understood a word and his pride had prevented him from pursuing it further.

But she gave herself to him freely and had never given herself to another before him. Her passion left him gasping and she brought him to heights he had never attained, returning every kiss, every caress. Her stance in society placed her above a tryst for pleasure’s sake. She was meant to marry well and be a devoted wife and mother. She would not submit so ardently unless she cared for him, or was he making more of it than it was? She was a passionate woman experiencing fulfillment for the first time with a comfortable partner. As she once put it, he had stolen her innocence, so perhaps she had merely decided the damage had been done and was enjoying him and the pleasure he brought to her.

That thought hurt—like a closed fist in his gut knocking the wind from him. Interesting, because he had never held himself for only one, never considered sex a means by which to express emotion. It was a base pleasure, an animal urge. Now he found, all at once, he was expressing emotion, his desire was directed toward only one and for the first time in his self indulgent existence it did matter.

Yes love her he surely did but he would not state it openly—not yet. If she loved him it would grow and become evident and then he could lay his heart in her hands and feel secure in the care of that love.

He touched a flowing lock of dark hair tossed over her shoulder and kissed her brow lightly. She stirred, cuddling closer to him and a satiny breast touched his chest. He smiled, wrapping her in his arms and drifted to sleep contented.

***

The last leg of their voyage went rapidly for Desiree—the remainders of her days on the ship were spent with Bridgett but the nights, belonged to Stephen. Although Bridgett objected, no mention was made of it and by the time they were in the last days, approaching Somerset Bermuda, Bridgett and she were back on good terms.