The Elusive Flame (28 page)

She lifted a large sponge and dribbled water over her pale breasts, wondering what ploy he would use this time to get her into his bed. As much as she wanted to be with him, she knew that when her desires could be stirred merely by her memories of their intimacy, it was definitely better if she avoided the temptation of being with him. “I’m sorry, Beau. I’m busy.”

Beau wasn’t willing to be denied, not tonight. He was intrigued with fleeting memories of her snuggling against his back which made him loathe their present sleeping
arrangement all the more. But more than anything, he wanted answers to all those other tantalizing impressions that haunted him relentlessly and that refused to slip into oblivion. In a slightly stronger tone, he reissued his invitation. “Cerynise, I’m asking you to have dinner with me. I have something I wish to discuss with you, but right now I’m hungry. I want to relax and enjoy the meal with you
if
you will allow me the pleasure of your company.”

Cerynise suffered no uncertainty what he was hungry for. Indeed, with his propensities, she wondered how he had ever managed to endure lengthy voyages without a harlot on board to service his on-going needs. In an equally sweet voice, she warbled, “I’m busy.”

“You’re sulking again,” he accused testily, becoming a little more irate.

“I am not!” she denied, offended by his conclusions. “Now go away before your men hear you pleading at my door.”

“I don’t give a damn who hears me,” he growled, close against the wooden barrier. “I want you to open this door so I can talk with you.”

“And I told you I am busy!” she flung toward the door.

If Cerynise had thought she was safe in the cabin with a latch securely fastened across the portal, then she soon realized she had been in error to suppose that Beau Birmingham could be halted simply by a locked door. With nothing more than a hard jolt of a shoulder, he sent the panel flying open and the now-broken lock rattling to the floor. Before the door hit the wall behind it, he was already striding across the threshold, displaying enough surprise to convey the fact that he really hadn’t expected to find her in the tub.

Beau barely had time to cast an appreciative glance across his wife’s wetly gleaming breasts before he again found his face full, this time with a sopping wet sponge. The shock sent him stumbling backward over the same area the sponge had liberally sprinkled with water the very instant it met the intruder. His retreating feet hit the moisture
and abruptly slipped out from under him, throwing him backward against the far wall of the passageway.

Cerynise winced as she heard his head hit the wood panel, and the sudden silence that ensued made her fear that her husband had been knocked unconscious. Anxiety propelled her to her feet and she was out of the tub in a flash, seizing a robe and running toward him as she struggled to don it. Then one eye popped open in Beau’s now-grimacing face and fixed on her in a painful squint. Only the briefest of moments passed as he considered her delectable form and the sound of footsteps descending the companionway. His reluctance to have another man view what he was rapidly coming to consider solely his by marital rights was decidedly more pronounced than his desire to feast his gaze. “
Woman, get some clothes on before you have the whole ship up in arms!
”

“Humph!” Decidedly miffed at being bellowed at, Cerynise caught the edge of the door and swept it forward. It banged against the broken jamb and promptly came back. After a slight pause to yank away the splintered wood sticking out from the frame, she whipped the portal closed again with a finality that sealed the doom of any conversation her husband had hoped to have with her.

In the lengthy silence that followed, Cerynise stared at the door, wondering if he would make another assault upon it. Having dinner with her was something he had really seemed to have set his mind upon, she sensed, for after getting to his feet in the hallway, he muttered sourly near her door, “I hope you enjoy your damned privacy, madam, because I sure as hell won’t. But then, perhaps it’s your intent to torment me.”

It was unlikely the officers and crew on deck had been oblivious to what had gone on between the newly wedded couple on the lower deck that night. It was certainly more than Cerynise could hope for when Mr. Oaks knocked on her door the next morning and offered to take her for a turn about the deck. If not for the fact that she was feeling in rare need of fresh air after isolating herself in her quarters
for the duration of the evening and into a late hour of the morning, she would have forgone the opportunity. She sensed that Beau was too vexed with her determination to separate herself from him to even consider offering his arm for such an outing.

Stephen Oaks seemed rather sheepish about meeting her gaze, but as she fell in beside him, he was led to speak in behalf of his superior. “The captain is a bit more surly than usual, ma’am, what with being sick and all.” He didn’t care to explain in any great detail what he meant by “all,” but as a man he could understand his captain’s frustration with her continuing obstinance to withhold her favors, which Stephen strongly suspected might be the case. On the other hand, he could also sympathize with the girl. The marriage vows had been spoken in such haste that she probably hadn’t had nearly enough time to consider the demands her new husband would be making of her. “I’m sure ’twill pass ere long.”

“Aye,” Cerynise sighed somberly, having no doubt that Beau’s irritability was caused primarily by her presence aboard his ship. “The end of the voyage should see a turn in it.”

Stephen Oaks searched his mind for something more encouraging to say. He could have told her that her husband was well liked, and with only a few exceptions, who were themselves not worth their weight in salt, the seamen held their captain in high esteem. When the man had risked his own life to save members of his crew as he had done in Majorca, what else could anyone, who had been around longer than the last voyage or two, have felt toward the courageous man? The mate even considered expounding upon the wealth of opportunities the captain had given him when no one else had even cared to lend an ear to his aspirations of commanding a ship one day. And if she thought her husband’s gift to Mr. Carmichael had been a singular occasion, then Stephen Oaks would have enjoyed enlightening her on the generosity of the man, perhaps to the degree that she might have even been led
to think that he was only making it up to ease her exasperation with the captain. All of this Beau Birmingham would probably never have even pondered, much less have mentioned to another soul. The captain could be damnably closed-mouth at times, even to the point of letting others think the worst of him.

“Ma’am, I understand that you’ve known the captain for a goodly length of time. You must have seen his good side, else you wouldn’t have agreed to marry him. All you need is a little patience. He’s sure to come around fairly soon.”

Cerynise smiled ruefully. Come around to what? Their marriage? Doubtful! Captain Beauregard Birmingham enjoyed his freedom too much to seriously consider taking to wife any woman on a permanent basis. When a man as good looking as her husband, who could’ve had any lady of his choosing, had limited himself (at least as much as she could determine) to appeasing himself with strumpets, it was clear that he had long been dedicated to the idea of maintaining his bachelor’s status, to the degree that he had carefully avoided the pitfalls of compromising the virtue of young, winsome maids.

Beau was on the quarterdeck with the bosun when she arrived on the lower deck. Now that it was colder, her husband had once again garbed himself in a sweater, this one a dark blue, and narrow trousers of the same hue. He had lost weight during his illness, which made the handsomely proportioned bones and tendons in his face even more pronounced. As soon as he caught sight of her, the lean cheeks started flexing. A cold despair descended upon Cerynise when she noticed those snapping sinews, for she didn’t doubt in the least that his vexation with her was the cause.

The deep cowl of the knit garment had been lifted to provide him some further warmth and protection from the winds, but it seemed to her that every now and then an involuntary shiver would shake his frame. After tending him through a lengthy ordeal in which she had feared for
his life, Cerynise grew concerned that he was chancing a relapse. When Billy hurried past her on some mission, she bade him to fetch the captain a coat. The boy was soon back, handing her the garment and speeding on his way before Cerynise had a chance to tell him that she had also wanted him to take it up to the quarterdeck.

Folding the coat over her arm, Cerynise told herself that there was absolutely nothing to worry about, that Beau Birmingham, as much as he might have wanted to, wouldn’t gobble her up and spit her out in so many pieces. At least, she hoped he wouldn’t. But from the way the muscles in his jaw were twitching, she was not about to make any wagers.

Cerynise couldn’t subdue the nervous shaking that had suddenly seized her as she climbed to the upper deck and approached the two men. Even after gaining the higher level, she couldn’t bring herself to intrude. Indeed, Beau seemed to go out of his way to ignore her presence. It was Mr. McDurmett who brought her husband’s attention to bear upon her. Under the circumstances, Beau had no choice but to face her with a querying brow raised sharply. Against her better judgment, Cerynise moved forward with her offering.

“I brought your coat, Captain,” she murmured timidly, holding it out with outstretched arms. She detected a ruddiness in his cheeks that gave her cause to worry, and she could only hope that it was due to the wind and not a returning fever. “After you’ve been so sick, I’d feel greatly relieved if you’d wear it.” She shook the garment out as she offered, “Here, I’ll help you put it—”

The green eyes flashed a warning as his fingers closed around the delicate bones of her wrist, forestalling her attempt to drape the coat around his shoulder. “I’m not some mewling babe, madam, as you may be wont to think I am,” he muttered savagely. “I can take care of myself now, and I don’t need you to follow me about like an overanxious mother afraid that her weanling may catch his death. Now take the coat out of my sight.”

His words stung far more harshly than the steely grip he had fastened on her arm. Abruptly he released her and pivoted about, giving her no further notice as he returned to his conversation with the bosun, who seemed to blush in embarrassment as he flicked a worried glance toward her.

Cerynise backed away hastily, averting her eyes to hide her swimming tears. Somehow she managed to descend the steps to the main deck without stumbling and quietly, gracefully made her way to the companionway with all the dignity she could summon. She moved past men who kept their gazes focused diligently on anything or anyone but her. The knowledge of her public rejection only intensified her distress. Indeed, her chest ached as if her heart had been ripped free.

In her unhappiness and haste, Cerynise was unaware of the man who watched her with carefully hooded eyes from the quarterdeck. Beau had dropped any pretense of ignoring his wife, yet only the jagged pulse that had leapt to life in his throat attested to his own disquiet as he stared after her with mingled feelings of regret and concern. If not for his damnable pride, he might have broken his guise of stoic reticence and gone after her, letting the crew think what they would. His annoyance with himself was paramount, and try as he might, he could not stop those strange, tantalizing dreams from flaring through his mind where, with heightening recurrences, they conspired to form a memory.

With a broken sob Cerynise swung the door of her cabin closed behind her and threw herself onto the bunk, where she poured out her anguish in the muffling softness of the pillow. It seemed suddenly too much for her to bear, all of her fear and her love for Beau culminating in that brief interlude of passion that was her secret and her torment. But now, his manner was as cold as the sea they were sailing, as if her efforts to withhold herself had wrecked every chance she had ever had of staying married to him.

Cerynise’s tears ebbed only with the onslaught of a traumatized sleep, but it was a nightmarish elapse of time, a
horrible illusion in which she became desperately afraid for her life. She was running through a dark house with Alistair Winthrop and Howard Rudd following hard upon her heels while flashes of light burst all around her, startling her and sending her reeling away in fright and trepidation. In spite of her frantic attempts to flee, the two men came ever closer and, with each new discovery of her hiding places, set her to flight again and again until there was no place left where she could seek shelter. They seemed to swoop down upon her like banshees from hell, and in their hands they carried large black sheets in which to bind her for her burial. Her back was to the wall as they pulled them across her face, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe.…

With a muffled cry Cerynise came upright off her pillow, flinging away the hand that lay alongside her cheek. In rising panic she began to struggle against the one who reached out to take her by the arms. “No, you can’t!” she sobbed pitifully. “I’m not dead yet! You can’t bury me.…”

“Cerynise, wake up,” a familiar voice soothed. “You’ve been dreaming.”

She glanced around wildly, her fear undiminished. Had all of the events from the time of Lydia’s death onward been a dream? Had she even met with Alistair Winthrop and Howard Rudd to discuss the will? Perhaps she wasn’t even married.…

Her eyes fell on Beau, who sat on his haunches beside the bunk, and the desire to fling herself into his arms and sob out her relief against his shoulder almost tore her from her narrow bed, but the memory of his harsh rejection on the quarterdeck came winging cruelly back, making her pull away with a moan. “Please don’t touch me.”

Beau swallowed the lump in his throat with difficulty as he tried once more to soothe her. “Lie back upon the bunk, Cerynise, and rest a moment longer until your thoughts come clear. It frightened me to hear your screams from the deck.”