Gregory, Lisa (23 page)

"Dreadful
affair," the doctor said, shaking his head. "He—he hasn't harmed you,
has he?"

"He
has raped me, if that's what you mean, but he has not beaten me or tortured
me."

The
older man looked shocked. "My dear girl, I hardly know what to say."

"There
isn't much to say. I hope this won't make you take back your offer of
friendship to me."

"No,
of course not. How could you think such a thing?"

She
gave a crooked smile. "Oh, I think there will be quite a few who will
think it quite shameful of me not to have killed myself."

"I
doubt that happens very often. It is my belief that that idea is one that is
more 'honored in the breach.' Don't allow what some old biddies will say to
bother you. Some fine young man will love you and it won't matter to him except
to make him angry that someone has hurt you."

"Oh,
really?" Katherine said in a tone of disbelief.

"Really."
He patted her hand. "Believe me. A man who really loves you wouldn't hold
it against you. Perhaps even Hampton can be awakened to his duty as a gentleman
and marry you."

"Him?"
Her voice was scornful. "I wouldn't marry that snake for anything. Please,
let us talk of something more pleasant."

"All
right. Do you, by any chance, play chess? Captain Sloane was my chess partner,
but now he is clapped away in irons."

"Why,
yes, I do."

"Good.
Then you and I can while away a good deal of our time playing chess."

"I
should love to, Dr. Rackingham."

"Good.
Well, I must go now. This cold wind bites into these old bones, and I must
retreat to my cabin."

"Shall
I see you tomorrow?"

"But
of course. We can have our first game."

"I
shall look forward to it. Good afternoon, Doctor."

"Good
afternoon, Miss Devereaux—and be of good cheer."

"I
feel much better now, thanks to you," she replied.

She
did feel better, somehow; the doctor and the sea air had revived her spirits.
She took a turn around the deck, feeling the gaze of interested eyes with every
step. Her face burned and her good spirits evaporated. All the sailors knew,
she thought. They all knew and were watching her, leering at her, thinking of
what she had done. She wanted to sink through the floor with shame. Worst of
all was that Hampton waited in front of her, lounging casually against the
railing. Everyone would observe their meeting, wanting to see how they spoke
and acted toward each other, wanting, no doubt, to see him inflict some further
humiliation on her,

Katherine
started to sweep past him without a word, but he forestalled her by springing
to her side and offering her his arm.

"Taking
a stroll around deck, Miss Devereaux?" he asked politely, grinning that
insufferable grin.

She
could not refuse without causing a scene, so she rather ungraciously took his
arm. He covered her hand with his other hand and patted it, smiling down into
her face. She realized suddenly that he possessed great charm when he wanted
to, that his smile was reassuring and his eyes warm.

"Are
you being charming for the benefit of your men?" she said caustically.

"For
the benefit of
you,
dear lady. You see, I'm trying to entice you into my
bed."

She
attempted to pull her hand away, but he held it firmly where it was. "You
are insufferable. As if you had to entice me."

"Ah,
you mean that you are quite willing?"

"You
know very well that I mean that you
force
me."

"Only
if enticing doesn't work," he laughed.

"You
are a pig."

"Are
you always so kind to your suitors?"

"I
would hardly consider you my suitor."

"No,
you are right, as always. I am your lover."

"Really,
Captain, must you—"

"I
enjoy seeing you blush in confusion. Most of the time, you are far too much in
control."

"Please
take me back to my cabin."

"What?
Won't you take another turn around the deck with me?"

"I
wish I'd never come up here," she said in a muffled voice.

"Whatever
is the matter, Katherine?"

"I'm
so embarrassed. All the men watch me. They
know,
don't you see?"

"Has
any of them said anything to you?" he said, his voice hard.

"No.
It's just that they look. They know what you did to me; they think I'm—that
I'm—"

"That
you're what, Katherine?"

"You
know."

"No,
I don't know. I never know what you are thinking."

"That
I'm cheap, loose, fair game."

"Don't
talk nonsense. They think nothing of the kind."

"Oh,
you just don't notice it."

"I
will tell you what they think. They think you look like a pretty little girl
with your hair in braids, like an innocent waiting to be taught. And they want
you and no doubt speculate on how you look without any clothes. I know that
because that is what I think, too, when I see you. And they envy me because you
are mine and they wish they could be me tonight. Then they think about how they
must restrain themselves because they know I would keelhaul any man who
approached you."

"And
you think that shouldn't embarrass me?"

He
shrugged. "It's the lot of a beautiful woman."

"Oh,
really!"

He
looked at her quizzically and she said, "I am hardly beautiful."

He
chuckled softly. "Don't be foolish. You may try very hard to appear not
beautiful, but you cannot hide it from me. Nor from very many other men. Your
problem is you have spent all your life around Bostonians, who wouldn't know a
lovely woman if they saw one. Now, don't fire up; it's the truth. New
Englanders have cash registers for hearts. I see your hair, your eyes, your
skin, your breasts, your luscious lips. But a Bostonian goes: 'Click, click,
father's business; click, click, jewelry and expensive clothes; click, click,
how big is her house; click, click, ping.' Now isn't that the truth?"

Katherine
burst into laughter. "Stop it. You're dreadful."

"I
know," he said with sham repentance. "But isn't it more fun to be
with me than sitting in a drawing room in Boston, sipping tea and saying, 'Yes,
Aunt Prudence, isn't it shocking that Sally Throckmorton actually smiled
yesterday at a man she has met only six times!"

"My
aunts are named Amelia and Amanda, not Prudence," she said lightly.

"Good
God."

"Yes,
quite so. And my mother's name was Alicia."

Hampton
chuckled. "How did you come by such a nice name, with all that
precedent?"

"Well,
my father's name is just as bad as Mama's—Josiah. Mamma said my name could not
begin or end in an
a
and Papa said it must not sound like a Puritan or
something out of the Old Testament. So they chose Katherine, which is, you must
know, a terribly wicked name. I cannot imagine how they came to choose
it."

"Why
is it so wicked?"

Her
eyes dancing with mirth, Katherine said, "Why, it's the name of that
licentious Russian queen. And
three
of Henry VIII's wives were named
Katherine—two of them most sinful and the other a Catholic! And worst of all,
it was the name of John of Gaunt's paramour, the ancestor of the Tudors."

"That
is quite a list of evildoers," he smiled. "You seem to know a great
deal of history."

"I
do," she said simply. "I find it interesting."

"Tell
me, then, whom you admire."

"Queen
Elizabeth of England," she said promptly.

"I
should have known. You two are a pair."

"And
whom do you admire?"

"Oh,
Lord Nelson, I guess; Sir Francis Drake."

"They
were great sailors," Katherine admitted. "But what about
rulers?"

"Well,
I think Edward IV and Charles II have both been slighted."

"Womanizers,"
she sniffed.

"What's
wrong with that? I happen to like women myself. But, you see, that's all people
remember about them; they ignore all the constructive things they did. But I
guess, all in all, the king I admire most was Henry II."

"Another
libertine."

He
grinned. "Perhaps it's a factor of greatness."

"Certainly
it's a factor of your admiration. However, I have to admit that he made a great
many improvements, particularly in the judicial system."

"And
in pruning church influence."

"And
in pruning the nobles' influence."

"There,"
the captain said triumphantly, "we have made a second circuit of the deck
and you didn't even notice the stares."

"That's
true. Thank you."

"Thank
you; it has been a most agreeable conversation. I have never before met a woman
who even knew who Edward IV or Henry II were."

"Perhaps,
Captain Hampton, you, like Bostonians, look for the wrong things in a
woman."

"I
stand rebuked," he said and bowed over her hand. His lips faintly brushed
her fingers, sending a strange thrill through her. "I am sorry, but I must
return to my duties. Until this evening."

She
nodded her head formally, and went back to the cabin. It was amazing to think
that they had had such a normal, enjoyable conversation. And he had been so
pleasant and really rather considerate to get her through that first stroll
around the deck by distracting her. It would not be so difficult again; she
would no longer be such a novelty. Then she grimaced to herself. What a fool
she was to feel grateful to that man! After all, if it weren't for him, she
would not have had to face the situation in the first place. Angrily she picked
up the cotton print dress and flounced into a chair to begin altering it. She
had better not forget that, she told herself. He was only trying to charm her
into forgetting her resolutions.

Before
long, Hampton returned to his quarters, and dinner followed soon after. It was
an odd mixture of normal seafare—beans and salt pork—together with expensive
luxuries—fine French wine and oranges from Spain. Matthew explained that they
were supplementing the ship's sparse food supply for the crew with some of the
delicacies which the
Susan Harper
was importing from Europe.

"We
may starve to death," he joked, "but at least we'll die with the best
wine in our stomachs."

He
received only a sour look for his attempt at jollity. Inwardly he sighed: there
was no understanding her. Their brief camaraderie of this afternoon had
vanished. All through the meal she was gloomily silent. Well, if that was the
way she wanted to be, he was not about to spend all his time trying to improve
her mood. As soon as Peljo removed the dishes, Hampton seated himself at his
desk and began charting a course to England. He chose a common route, hoping to
waylay some merchantman to restock his provisions.

Katherine,
weary of sewing, passed the time reading
Ivanhoe.
She was unable to
remember a word she had read the evening before and so started the novel all
over again. However, she had little more luck now, as she could not keep her
mind off the coming night. Would he try to rape her again? What course should
she follow? It seemed so pointless to struggle, yet she could not just meekly give
in. When at last he put away his charts and instruments, rose, and stretched,
she tensed and slowly stood up to face him.

"Why,
my dear," he said mockingly, "you are trembling. In anticipation, I
hope."

"In
dread," she snapped.

He
sighed. "And I thought this afternoon we were getting along so well."

"I
should be quite happy to converse with you, if that is what you wish."

"No,
it is not what I wish." His voice was teasing. "What I wish is your
not-quite-virginal body."

"How
dare you, you—animal, you brute, you—"

"Please,
Katherine, I'm beginning to get tired of your epithets."

"And
I am tired of your unwelcome attentions!"

"Katherine,
I am weary and would like to go to bed. Now, tell me," he said, coming
toward her, "do you propose to fight me? I'd be careful if I were you;
your supply of dresses is somewhat limited, you know. Or do you want to remove
your dress before we tussle? You may begin in any amount of clothes you
wish."

"Damn
you," Katherine said evenly.

"We're
wasting time, my love. Just tell me your rules for our battle. I wouldn't want
to do anything that isn't proper or damage your property in any way. Perhaps
you would prefer to just flip your skirts up over your head like a two-bit
whore."

"Oh!"
Katherine gasped and slapped him hard.