Forever Waiting (47 page)

She clambered from his lap and tripped over the trousers bunched around her ankles, lying sprawled at his feet. He threw back his head and laughed, lunging forward and grabbing hold of the pants, pulling them free. She was up in a flash, streaking bare-bum to the door. But before she could throw it open, he was upon her again, yanking her around. His anger had evaporated, vanquished beneath a rush of passion, the animal instinct to dominate and conquer, and he relished the arousal her struggles had ignited.

“Now, where will you go without any pantaloons? Or aren’t you afraid of those men anymore?” She pushed hard against him, but he didn’t budge. “I know,” he chuckled. “You aren’t frightened. You’re a strapping lad! Let me see your muscles.”

Before she could react, he ripped the shirt open, revealing perfect little breasts, round and inviting. Aghast, she pummeled his hairy chest with both fists, but he ignored the admirable attack as he swept the tattered garment from her shoulders, leaving her naked before him. He pinned her to the door, grabbing her bottom with one hand and the hair at her nape with the other. He pulled her head back and kissed her passionately, forcing her lips apart and thrusting his tongue into her mouth. His hand traveled from her buttocks along the curve of her hip and up to her breast, which he cupped and kneaded.

The sensual assault left Rebecca reeling. She relinquished the battle with a feeble punch, prisoner to Paul’s blistering kiss and her own smoldering passion. If he didn’t release her mouth she would faint, and yet she hungrily kissed him back, quickly noting how it was done. Her mutinous hands grabbed hold of his corded arms and swept over his broad shoulders. She savored the feel of his skin under her palms, her breasts crushed against his rock-hard chest, and luxuriated in the arousing heat of his body.

He abruptly tore away, and she teetered on weak legs until he scooped her up and turned toward the bed. She didn’t fight him when he put her there, observing him through hooded eyes as he ripped off his trousers and joined her.

“So you want to be a woman?” he queried, his voice husky.

“Your woman,” she murmured, titillated by the unbridled lust in his eyes.

Her words were as intoxicating as her unadorned beauty, and his loins ached for her, the fire that burned there volcanic. His mouth possessed hers again, a consuming, breathless kiss. When he released her, she sighed, but his lips pursued their sensual assault, tracing a searing path along her jaw and down her throat. His coarse moustache raked her soft flesh, meeting the callused hand that fondled a firm, yet pliable breast, sampling the delectable orb, teasing the nipple with his tongue until it stood erect.

The familiar wanton desire that was triggered whenever she looked upon him was stoked to an unbearable degree, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders, joyous tears trickling into her hairline. His roving hands continued to explore the curve of her hips, her belly, the inside of her thighs. Upward he stroked, until his fingers found and probed that most delicate of spots, already moist in anticipation of his lovemaking, the center of all pleasure, craving him now in unchaste abandon. She groaned with expectancy and agony when he mounted her.

She was a virgin. In all his thirty years, he had had many women, but never a virgin. The thought that this young woman had never lain with another fanned his ardor. He would make certain she yearned for him when this was over, so he fought to subdue his soaring need and lay still until her pain ebbed, basking in the sweet sensations of rapacious lust, until he could stand it no longer, her supple body responding beneath him. Shifting on his elbows, he began to slowly move inside of her, each throbbing stroke exquisite.

Rebecca pressed her head back into the pillow and closed her eyes to ecstasy. He kissed her all over, his lips constantly coming back to hers, then roaming afield again. His rhythmic invasion evoked familiar, ravenous sensations in her loins. As he grabbed her buttocks, she wrapped her legs around his hips to receive more of him. He rode her harder, faster, plunging ever deeper, and her body answered with a will of its own, hips writhing, the sublime sensations indescribable—building—the summit nearly reached. Suddenly, he groaned and, with one final thrust, collapsed upon her, clutching her closely in resplendent gratification. Surprisingly, it was his stillness, the press of his body, that catapulted her into the realm of rapture, an upheaval of such enormous proportion she shuddered violently, the spasm sucking him into the very depths of her womanhood, leaving her tummy and pelvis quivering, surpassing any act she’d initiated in her lonely bedroom. She lay with her eyes closed, astounded, her heart pounding, her breathing as ragged as his. When he moved, she hugged him closer, reveling in the feel of his blanketing body.

Eventually, he rolled on his side, still very close in the cramped cot.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” he muttered, more to himself than her.

She frowned up at him. “I thought it was wonderful.”

He smiled in spite of himself, a plaintive smile. She was lovely, and she was a woman. He’d just made her
his
woman. But he was already thinking about Charmaine and was ashamed. This was the second time he had proposed to her and the second time he had dishonored that proposal.
What is the matter with me?
He rose and began to dress.

“I love you,” Rebecca whispered, desperate tears welling in her eyes. “You’ll marry me now, won’t you?”

Paul looked back at her and saw her anguish. “No, Rebecca, I won’t marry you. Like I said, what happened between us—it shouldn’t have happened.”

“It’s your precious Charmaine!” she lashed out. “
Fool!
You
think
you love her!”

“Don’t!” he warned, angry with himself when she faced the wall. She was crying, but he feared if he consoled her, he’d take her all over again. Unsettled by that thought, he grabbed the blanket that had fallen to the floor. As he shook it out to spread over her, he noticed a strange scar on her derrière, below the curve of her hip.

“What’s this?” he growled, touching the mark, irritated by the imperfection.

She vaulted as if branded, then recoiled. “It’s from my father,” she ground out. “He was cruel, too!”

The declaration hit its mark, and Paul stepped back, duly chastised. He tossed the coverlet on the bed and deserted the cabin. He needed time to think.

The night sky was black. Dense clouds roiled above, blocking even the brightest stars, the deck illuminated only by a series of dimly lit lanterns. Paul picked his way around the sleeping sailors, who preferred the open air to the stuffy forecastle quarters below. He went to the railing and stared out into the dark void, breathing deeply of the salty air.

What have I done?
Not so long ago, he would have already dismissed this romp. But then, this experience had been different from any other.

He remembered his first sexual encounter. He had turned fifteen, and John and George thought it was high time they pay his way at Dulcie’s. John wagered George ten dollars he wouldn’t get through it successfully, but John lost that bet. Of course, Paul never let John know he had left the brothel concerned. Even though the strumpet had had more men than she could count, he worried that he’d impregnated her; no child should ever endure what he had.

There was no turning back, however. He’d tasted the pleasures of the flesh, and it eclipsed his fear of fathering a child. And there was no more paying. Paul knew he had charisma, and many of the women he met at home and abroad were ready and willing. They were always older or experienced, and he let them know from the start they would not leave his bed carrying his babe in their bellies. There were ways around it. He learned how to elicit great pleasure and to withdraw before he ejaculated. If the woman was responsive, especially if she had shared his bed before, she might satisfy him in her own way. His love life was robust, yet he was confident he had never spawned a bastard.

Tonight with Rebecca, that nagging fear hadn’t even crossed his mind. He had taken her fiercely, spilling every bit of his seed deep inside of her.
What are the odds she’ ll conceive from this one time? Slim, very slim
. His heart mocked his rational mind.
Not slim enough
 … Their lovemaking had been dynamic—intoxicating. Who had dominated whom?

He had heard tell a virgin did not experience the full depth of her womanhood, but Paul knew Rebecca had been deeply satisfied; even now, he could feel her hips undulating, hear her moaning in ecstasy. Was it because she loved him? He inhaled deeply, reliving those intense moments of consuming pleasure. Was this love? It couldn’t be. He hardly knew her.

He raked his hands through his hair and thought once again of Charmaine. He had wronged her. But he had wronged Rebecca as well … just like his father with his mother and Elizabeth.
Don’t think about it! Don’t be a fool. Watch and wait. That’s all you need do
.

When he grew tired, he went back into the cabin. Rebecca hadn’t moved, and he assumed she had cried herself to sleep. Fully clothed, he lay down next to her and quickly dozed off. Almost as quickly, he began to dream.

He rode up to the manor on Alabaster. Charmaine was sitting on the swing, and little Marie was crawling on a blanket next to her. She saw him and waved. As he dismounted, she picked up Marie and walked over to him. Together, they strolled into the house and climbed the staircase. She put Marie to sleep and opened his bedchamber door, sauntering in. He followed her, closing and locking it behind them. She undressed and stepped into his embrace. He kissed her and lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bed. He made love to her, but when he was finished, she rolled away from him, tears in her eyes, leaving him empty.

Next, he was headed for a day’s work, checking on the mill and nodding to Wade. He turned his horse toward town. Then, he was walking up to the Remmen house. No one answered when he knocked, so he pushed his way in. Rebecca was standing there, her eyes flashing. She knew he’d been with Charmaine, and she spurned him. But he was certain if he kissed her, she’d be a slave to her passion. She attempted to flee, but he crossed the room in two strides and pulled her into his arms. She ceased to struggle when his lips conquered hers. He kicked the bedroom door open and took her to the bed. He rode her hard until all his passion was spent, then cradled her in his arms, satiated, savoring his ebbing pleasure.

“Paul—what are you doing?”

John was standing in the doorway.

Paul’s eyes flew open. His breathing was ragged, his pulse quick, and beads of perspiration dotted his brow. He stared up at the ceiling, slowly realizing where he was; it had only been a nightmare.

Rebecca had turned in her sleep and was now cuddled close to him, her head resting on his shoulder, an arm thrown across his chest. Despite his resolve, he pulled her closer. “. . . but I do love you,” she murmured. Paul swallowed hard, befuddled, for he wanted to cry. He closed his eyes to the urge and, after a long while, succumbed to exhaustion.

Light pouring through the porthole awakened Rebecca. Her head hurt, her eyes burned, and her body ached all over, especially between her legs. She shifted and realized her cheek rested on Paul’s chest. She rolled away, rousing him. As his eyes opened, she was filled with shame and tried to cover herself.

“Here,” he gently offered, stripping off his shirt and draping it over her bare shoulders. She pulled it tightly around her, dropping her gaze to the bed. “I’m sorry about last night,” he remarked.

“You said that already,” she replied hotly.

“We need to talk,” he pursued, aware of her anguish despite her ire. “You’re very beautiful, Rebecca, and someday you will find someone who will make you happy. But that someone is not me.”

Her eyes glistened with tears, and once again, she averted her face. But he cupped her chin and forced her to look at him. “Last night, you said I loved Charmaine. You are right, I do. I set out on this voyage to find my brother, but if I don’t bring him home alive, I’m going to marry her. I promised her that before I left, before all of this happened. Do you understand?”

She refused to answer him and pulled away.

“Do you understand?”

“Oh, I understand, all right! She’s sending you to your death, just like she did with her husband and your father!”

Unlike the night before, Paul didn’t get angry, though his brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“If your father and John are dead, and Dr. Blackford kills you, Charmaine’s baby will inherit the entire Duvoisin fortune. Isn’t that true?”

Paul put his head in his hands and let out an incredulous laugh.

“Isn’t it true?” she pressed, offended by his sardonic bemusement.

“Yes, I suppose it’s true,” he conceded. “But Robert Blackford is not going to kill me.”

“He might—if you chase after him!”

“I’m not chasing after him, Rebecca, and Charmaine didn’t want
John
chasing after him, either. I’m going to New York to find out what happened to my brother and father—to bring them home, one way or another. Where did you get these ideas, anyway? Not from Wade, I hope.”

“He doesn’t know anything about this,” she hastily replied. “It was Felicia, Felicia Flemmings.”

Paul scowled. “Did Felicia tell you I fired her for spreading lies?”

“No,” she whispered. “She said she quit because she couldn’t tolerate … ”

“Charmaine,” he supplied.

“But not everything she said was a lie!” Rebecca rallied, unhappy he still revered his sister-in-law.

“Perhaps she told you she has lain with me—many times,” he continued sharply. “That she hoped our romps would turn into something more. That she’s jealous because Charmaine married into my family and she did not.”

Rebecca’s face bore her injured pride. “And now you think I’m trying to do the same thing,” she murmured, casting her eyes to the floor.

“No, Rebecca,” he replied softly. “I don’t think that of you.”

She heard none of it, rising from the bunk and retrieving her pants from the floor. She pulled them on through her tears. “Don’t worry,” she whimpered. “Once we get back to Charmantes, you’ll never have to see me again.”