The Last Killiney (35 page)

“It’s Kwakiutl,” she was saying, pointing toward the village.

“That’s a people, is it?” Paul winked, squeezed her hand.

“Yes, a people,” she said, laughing at his flirtatiousness, “a native people, but they’re actually called something I can’t pronounce. If I’d taken the time to learn it on my last trip—”

And telling Paul about her parents and that, how Mitchell Bay was just beyond an island to their northeast and she’d spent many an hour in her motor boat there…hearing about her life before they’d met, Paul was more than content.

Soon he was summoned to help set the anchor. Ravenna went below, but even then Paul felt good. It’s been a really great day, he thought to himself. That morning had been especially perfect. They hadn’t begun sailing until nearly eight o’clock, so Paul had had plenty of time for making love before he’d been called. Also, after days of going hungry on ship’s biscuit, they’d been greeted by Indians eager to trade salmon for sheets of copper. With Ravenna’s morning sickness gone, for once Paul had been able to enjoy his meal along with her company, something he’d missed in the last few weeks. That she was now pregnant—a turn of history he didn’t object to—this, for Paul, was the greatest happiness of all.

Indeed, finishing up at the capstan bars, he couldn’t have been in a better mood. The working day was done. Everyone went below, but still Paul remained, watched the sunset sink below the clouds and turn red as the downpour really started. I’m blessed, he thought. Blessed t’be standing here, healthy and alive and soon to be a father. Blessed to have not only Ravenna in m’life, but James as well. Taking off his shirt in the midst of the squall, he thought about what he cherished, whom he loved. The chill of the storm only sharpened his sense of belonging, stirred him even further toward envisioning what he’d soon have—a son and family, a real home with real friends, in a Swallowhill not falling down in a mess.

This is where I’m meant to be. And reaching into his trousers’ pocket, he pulled out his fob watch, held it toward the weakening light to the west. He was still far too preoccupied to notice either the time or Ravenna coming up behind him there on deck. The rain drummed loudly. Paul couldn’t hear her words, nor her footsteps treading the well-worn planks until she’d slid her hands around his shoulders.

“What’s keeping you?” she purred.

Closing his eyes at the sound of her voice, Paul smiled to himself. As if I’d be kept from you. Turning around in a surge of emotion, he gathered her up, took her in a slow, meandering kiss that brought all his senses to attention. The sheer pleasure of it, savoring the taste of her, feeling her snuggle closer, it made him forget they were standing on deck. He slipped his hands around her. He probed the velvet warmth of her lips with careless abandon, needing everything she had to give, not complete without her, until he wanted to stay in her mouth forever.

Ravenna didn’t let him.

“Where’s your shirt?” she asked, drawing back. Her hands rubbed up and down his arms, warming him as she waited for his answer, which she didn’t get. “Paul, you can’t keep doing this. I know you’re used to Ireland, but if you should get sick—”

“I’m fine,” he whispered, and cupping her strong little chin, he leaned closer, rested his nose against hers. He felt completely overwhelmed with the way he adored her in that moment. Even with her hair dripping about them, the rainwater running down her pert nose and onto his, she was everything he’d ever wanted—lover and mother, conspirator and minder, confessor and tempter. She was his life. She made sense of him, and Paul felt God’s favor every time he held her, in each breath he drew against her soft ivory neck, between her limber, flexible legs…

Although the rain kept coming down, he couldn’t bring himself to usher her toward the companion ladder and below, out of the storm. Instead, he bent to kiss her right there. He didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t help uttering a low, uncontrollable moan when her lips parted, when she took him in her mouth and wet his passion with an urgency of her own, flicking her tongue in a satiny invitation. He could barely stand it when she slipped her hands into his trousers. Now how does she do that? he wondered, for already he felt that familiar heat like a drug all through his body, the rush of her lilac scent, her taste flooding his senses until his maleness had become unbearably hard.

“You’ve got me going here,” he whispered, his words smothered by her lips. He tried to step away a bit, just enough to keep himself from taking her then and there, but Ravenna’s nimble fingers had slipped around him, caressing him to the breaking point with all that he’d taught her and more that he hadn’t. “Sweetheart…Ravenna, I’m gonna embarrass m’self if you don’t give me some air—”

“Should we go below?”

Raising her knee, she rubbed him in a slow, deliberate friction, and he almost couldn’t answer. “No, em…let’s not, actually. I’ve another idea.”

With a quick kiss, he rebuttoned his trousers. Then, taking her by the hand, he pulled her toward the mainmast shrouds. He urged her up before him, catching tantalizing glimpses of her shapely legs, her voluminous skirts hiked up as she climbed. Her bare feet seemed inexplicably enticing, and by the time Paul had crawled into the crow’s nest after her, it was all he could do to keep himself together.

Soon darkness fell around them. The masthead rocked gently with the ebbing tide as Paul undressed her feverishly, tearing at her buttons, her woolen lapels. He pulled back her dress to get at the cotton chemise beneath, and feeling the heat of her skin at last, her slick strands of hair when she leaned close to tug his trousers down, Paul was furious with how much he wanted her. He wrenched the chemise over her head. He didn’t care if it ripped. He was aching for her, and when he slipped his hands up her inner thighs, saw that reach of heaven in the dark, enticing curls of her warmth, his need overrode everything else.

“Come here,” he told her.

Fumbling for her hands amid the tangle of their limbs, Paul pulled her forward. He led her into his lap until she’d settled herself on the source of his throbbing and wrapped her arms about his neck. “You’re perfect,” he murmured to her.

All the while the rain beat down. It beaded on her lips in a moist, delicious kiss, and he drank it up as he felt her glide downward to sheath him in a rapturous snugness. More than just the exquisite feel of her or the way she instinctively rode his desire, it was the look in her eyes that affected Paul most. She’s forgotten herself entirely, he thought. Tossing that mane of heavy hair, she arched her back. She wasn’t even aware of the little sounds she made, the soft, whimpering moans that escaped her lips when he reached down and stroked her. She sat astride him, rocking him with a delicate fervor, and as the friction built between them, as he hurried the rhythm of his fingers in those damp, silky curls, she shuddered in a whisper against his cheek. He rose up to meet her, and his own release seared through his veins in a shattering heat, a white hot whirl of heedless carnality and near-religious affection centered in the motion of her slender hips.

* * *

Again and again they sought out that hallowed communion, safe in the height of their chosen retreat. They lay kissing under the shelter of her woolen skirts when finally Ravenna drifted off, and listening to her quiet breaths, bursting inside with contentment, Paul lay awake for the longest time just relishing the love he felt.

I’d die for you, he thought, cuddling her closer.

Chapter Twenty-Three

A few hours after dawn, Ravenna felt fingers shaking her awake. “There’s Indians coming,” Paul whispered in her ear.

Sure enough, when she opened her eyes, Ravenna looked down to see canoes surrounding
Discovery’s
sides. Native men chanted in time with their oars as they circled the ship; sea-otter skins were tossed on deck as a gesture of the Indians’ trading intentions, and grabbing her chemise from the mess of their clothes, Ravenna hurried to cover herself. She knew at the merest suggestion of commerce every sailor would be on deck, and if just one of them were to look up, Vancouver would hear about how she’d been naked. Then she’d really be in trouble, or worse—Paul would.

By the time Vancouver appeared, however, everyone was fully clothed. Ravenna climbed down the shrouds in a rush, and as she followed Paul, clutched her skirts together and hoped nobody had seen her
sans
chemise, she saw the Indians come aboard and greet Vancouver with friendly smiles.

Like I needed to worry
, she thought. Vancouver—as well as everyone else—was totally immersed in talking to the native guests. Although she didn’t understand their Chinook jargon or the gestures they used, she heard the translation: The chief of the village had invited Vancouver to come ashore.

Soon the pinnace was swayed out and lowered to the main chains. Officers and marines were picked from the company, and in the midst of this, with Mr. Whidbey at his arm entertaining the guests, the captain called Paul and James forward.

“I have a job for you,” he said to James, “another sporting excursion, if you will. I’ve sent for your muskets, and this chief, he’ll direct you to the best hunting grounds, lest there be any
confusion
.” He gave Paul an obvious glare, and without waiting for an answer from either of them, Vancouver went back to talking with Whidbey.

Ravenna was in shock. Go ashore?
Here?
Admiring native villages from the safety of
Discovery
, even greeting nice people like this friendly chief, these were controlled situations, supervised by sixteen well-armed marines. To send Paul ashore by himself with only James to guard him…this was madness. Ravenna was more than frightened.
There’s a river over there
, she thought with a tremble.

Paul seemed to be thinking the same thing, for as the sailors and officers hurried into the pinnace, he didn’t move. After a moment, James bent down and whispered in his ear, and Ravenna could easily guess what he’d said:
Don’t do it, my friend
.

Paul glanced at James nervously; he scanned the crowd until finally, having found Ravenna, he said the words that made her feel a bit better. “Permission to remain aboard, Sir.”

Vancouver turned around. He didn’t speak, but it was obvious when he glowered at Paul that the captain wouldn’t tolerate his orders being questioned. Still Paul went on. “Em…I suppose I can’t justify myself,” and he didn’t take his eyes from Ravenna’s, so she felt his uncertainty when he continued, “In fact, I reckon there’s no reason why I shouldn’t go ashore, but—”

Vancouver glanced around to see what Paul stared at. He found only sailors. Ravenna had ducked.

Wise to the situation all the same, Vancouver turned back to Whidbey and the otter pelts. “Get in the boat, Killiney,” he said. “You’ll act as your captain dictates, not your woman.”

Paul’s lips tightened before he answered. “I’m not trying t’be disrespectful, here, but if you think I’ll walk into an Indian village—”

“You will, Killiney, or I’ll arrest not only you, but Lady Elizabeth, as well.”

“But she’s told you about the Columbia River, hasn’t she?” Paul glanced at Puget for support. “What about the strait that Cook said didn’t exist? She’s not been lying, she’s been tellin’ you history, and I wouldn’t think you’d be daft enough t’send me down a river, yeah?”

“Do you hear yourself, Killiney, Sir?” An uneasy silence settled amongst the men as Vancouver turned slowly, his words intended for everyone. “My orders aren’t for pondering, they’re for execution, by able seamen such as yourself, for that is what you are, Sir. You’re not a viscount on my ship, you’re a sailor, a crewman, an ordinary subordinate.
Now leave off the woman and get in the boat
.”

“You can’t stand the thought of it, can you?” Still Paul didn’t budge, but stood fiercely waiting for Vancouver to answer.

Vancouver didn’t answer.

“You just can’t bear havin’ a woman knowing something you don’t,” he continued, glaring at the captain, “only you’ve not got the guts to admit as much, that Ravenna’s been right all along about Vancouver Island, about your illness an’ that. You’d kill me before you’d say it—”

That was the breaking point. With a shout, Vancouver had the marines up and running, along with Mr. Whidbey who was big enough to intimidate even Paul. Together they stormed toward him, and seeing them, his back straightening with defiance, Paul stared down the sailing master, raised his fists against the marines.

“Come on, now, m’lord,” Whidbey said softly. “You’d best do as the captain says. You don’t want m’lady locked up in chains?”

Paul tensed as Private Bonchin stepped nearer.

“I’ll do it, Killiney,” Vancouver called across the deck, and with a dip of his head, he signaled Puget to detain Ravenna.

After that, all hell broke loose.

Ravenna was dragged toward the companionway. The irons were brought out, and when James saw them, he turned on Vancouver, face contorting furiously as he threatened legal action and disembowelment, spitting on the captain with the force of his shouts. The crew erupted in response to this attack, cheering James on, siding with him, so that six more marines were dispatched to control both James and the mutiny-minded sailors.

All this and Paul didn’t move. Marines surrounded him on every side. From within Puget’s grasp, Ravenna felt weak when she saw Mr. Whidbey motion toward the larboard rail, saw Paul utter a curse and grudgingly turn in that direction.

“
Paul!”
she cried, and fighting to make her voice heard, she struggled against Puget. “I don’t care if they chain me, I don’t care what they do—”

But with his hands held fast behind his back, Paul had made up his mind. The marines walked him toward the boats, and although there were yards of planking between them, Ravenna could still see the emotion in Paul’s eyes.
Love you
, he mouthed, and she felt an icy dread deep in her heart when they forced him around at the railing, turned him to face Vancouver. Mr. Whidbey gave him a shove, but Paul couldn’t be budged from delivering to the captain one last violent glare before he was ushered toward the waiting boat. The six marines holding James in check now released him, pushing him forward, and Ravenna heard him swear as he followed Paul over the side.