Authors: Janelle Taylor
As the men rambled on without awareness to her nearby presence, Alex was horrified to learn the greatest ship in the American line, the
Constitution,
had outwitted the British who were lying in wait for Rodgers. She held her breath as she listened to their versions of the fierce and bloody battles going on near the Canadian border. Somehow she couldn’t find joy in the British victories at the cost of so many lives. Why were her countrymen employing savages to slaughter friends and kin? She feared to hear the
names of Englishmen or Americans whom she knew.
Not wishing to refresh Stephen’s suspicions about her, Alex stubbornly refused to question him about the war and depended upon eavesdropping for her news. Thinking of her beloved uncle, she fretted over this ghastly war which didn’t sound promising for the Americans. The Royal Navy had never been defeated; how could America defend herself against such a force when she could only boast of a few meager ships? Their only hope lay in the mighty
Constitution,
and she could only do so much. In a way, Alex was slightly perturbed with Stephen for not lending his ship, men, and himself to this obviously just cause!
Before leaving home, her father had been distressed and angered by America’s embargo, Napoleon’s Continental System, and England’s Orders-in-Council. Did those messages between her uncle and her father contain treasonous information? Had they decided to use privateers to save their shipping business? If only she knew what those baffling stitches said! Until Stephen proved his love and faith, she dared not trust him with their identities. But, oh, how she wished she could!
New fears and doubts tormented her. They had outsailed several ships and attacked others. How long could their luck hold out? What future did this life offer either of them? How she wished he would become a loyal American, for then she would accept him.
Each time they docked or anchored near the
American coast, Stephen would go ashore for hours. She would pace the confines of his cabin until he returned safely. After each separation, no matter how brief, she would fall into his arms and make almost savage and desperate love to him. When he returned after an overly long visit, she would rant angrily in relief before he would scoop her up in his arms and toss her on the bed to make leisurely and tormentingly tantilizing love to her.
Time seemed endless; and yet, it was passing swiftly. August was half over when the final straw to their bittersweet stalemate came. The
Black Mist
had boldly taken many British merchant ships and daringly sunk several English frigates. They had delivered confiscated booty to different ports and had restocked simultaneously. Not once had Stephen given in to her pleas to go ashore. He steadily warned of her dangerous predicament if anyone learned of her presence. Believing he was sincerely concerned about her health and safety, she obeyed his every command.
Alex was perplexed by the brown packets which Stephen would bring to his cabin and conceal after battles with English ships. She was even more confused when he took them with him when he went ashore. Yet, the significance of these actions never registered in her innocent mind.
Her heart sank the night he returned to his ship in a stormy rage. On August nineteenth, the
Constitution
had confronted and disabled the noted
Guerriere!
Alex
couldn’t believe that shocking news. Instead of being elated, Stephen was furious. During an explosive outburst, she learned why. The British army and naval fleet were making steady and deadly progress against the American forces on land and sea. Her country was even threatening to blockade the entire coast! Thousands of men had died, some brutally at the hands of Indians. Wounded soldiers lying near death had been slaughtered and scalped on British instruction! It was an awesome thing to discover about her own people.
She had been with Stephen for nearly two months now. He had not mentioned the notorious petticoat until tonight. As he paced his cabin in pensive thought, she watched him closely and curiously. She wondered what had him so upset.
Alex would never have suspected what was troubling the pirate so deeply. Matters were getting worse on land and at sea. Madison had ordered him to proceed to Florida to meet with the new Spanish governor to convince him to allow an American stronghold in his territory and to prevent the English from digging in there as a supply stop and for attacking America from her southern border. With the dangers increasing daily and his missions becoming more critical and secret, he couldn’t keep Angelique any longer. Should he release her or turn her in?
Spencer wished Castlereagh’s letter of capitulation to the Americans’ terms had come sooner. He raged at his timing, for never had it been more costly. He had
been rescuing Angelique and wasting time with Thackery while that ominous letter was slowly, too slowly, making its way across the Atlantic ocean to arrive after the American declaration of war. If only he had intercepted the
Hornet
instead! The plan set into motion, there was no turning back now. Only victory would appease the Americans.
In light of the intensity of the war, he needed his full concentration on the war at hand. Time for leniency and personal pleasures had run out. He needed to get down to serious fighting now. Whatever Angelique’s connections were, he was determined to uncover them.
He halted his aimless roamings to stare at her. Confusion clouded her eyes. “Is something wrong, Stephen?” she softly asked.
“It damn well is, love. You,” he added mysteriously.
“Me? I don’t understand. Did I do something to upset you?”
“If you can’t relate the code on your petticoat, give me the names of the men involved. I have to know now, Angel. It’s vital.”
She looked at him. “That isn’t important, Stephen,” she protested, alarmed by the way he was acting.
“Let me decide if you don’t mind,” he snarled.
“I do mind. I can’t tell you,” she refused as in the past.
“You can and you will!” he thundered, astonishing
her with his vehemence. His eyes narrowed and darkened in reckless determination.
“No,” she replied, her tone carrying a pleading note.
“I’ve spent nearly two months playing the lovestruck idiot to you. The game is over! Tell me what I want to know, woman!”
“Game?” she echoed. Only a game?
“That’s right, love. I tried to win your trust and affection, but I failed. I’m weary of coddling you and coaxing you. I see no reason for your continued silence. If you don’t relent soon, I’ll be forced to take drastic measures,” he threatened.
Drastic measures? After all they had shared, would he really turn her over to her enemies? His expression and tone said yes. She grimaced at the pain of his calloused betrayal. It would have only required three short words to extract anything from her. But in his arrogant resolve, he had stubbornly and haughtily refused them.
Alex was beyond caring now. If the choice was between her freedom and her father’s life and reputation, there was none. “I suggest you set sail for the nearest port of American authority, for I’ll never tell you,” she blatantly resisted his fury and power.
“You’ll be sorry, love,” he muttered through clenched teeth.
“I already am, Captain Steele,” she uttered in despair. She had lost everything she loved and desired. What little pride and loyalty remained within her
strengthened her resilience.
He seized a handful of silvery gold hair and yanked her head backwards, compelling her to lock gazes with his. “Once the course is set, love, there’s no turning back. If I’m to help you, it must be now. Please, Angel, trust me,” he unexpectedly and tenderly entreated her.
Tears blurring her vision, Alex vowed, “I can’t. There’s more at stake than my life and freedom. My fate lies within your hands, sir. There is nothing I can do or say to affect it.”
“You’re blind and stupid, love. It would take but a few words to end this private war between us. Yield to me, Angel, else your life is worth little. Don’t place this monstrous decision upon my head.”
A solitary tear slipped down her cheek. “It is already within your realm of power, sir. I have yielded all that is mine alone to give, far more than I should have. There is nothing more to grant that is mine alone. I have given my word the code is of no threat to you or the Americans. After all we have known together, if you do not trust me now, you never will. I cannot understand this fierce doubt within you, nor how you could calmly hand me over to those who have declared themselves my foes. You know what will probably happen to me. Yet, you do not care. You have no mercy or kindness, Steele. I am innocent. If I die, my blood will forever be upon your hands.”
Thinking her trying to play upon his warring emotions, he sought to halt the ruse, “It will not be the
first blood I have shed out of necessity, nor the last. You hold the deliverance of your fate within your obstinate, cunning head. If you choose to remain silent, you have only yourself to blame. You can play the patriotic martyr, but I’m no executioner. You have six days to make up your mind before we dock in Florida. When I set sail again, you will sail with me only if you earn that right.”
“Plan to sail without me, Captain Steele,” Alex announced, her lips and chin quivering.
“As you wish, Angel. I only pray you realize this is no game before it’s too late. If I leave you in Florida, our paths will never cross again.”
She wondered if there was a trace of disappointment or sadness in his tone. His expression was harsh and impassive, telling her nothing. Six days to set the pattern for the remainder of her life…or death. What should she do? If he had tricked her for two months with his golden dreams and promises, he could easily delude her again.
Bereft and alone, she turned and walked to the bed. As if minus all modesty and shame now, she quietly stripped and went to bed…as usual. Her back to him as tears of bitterness and anguish dampened her pillow, Alex could feel the force of his cold stare. She wished things were different, but they were not and never would be.
She jumped as the cabin door slammed after his departure. Unable to prevent it, Alex burst into tears, knowing whatever they had shared for such a short time had been brutally shattered by the vicious
demands of war, demands which she could not alter or prevent.
Spencer’s pretense of resignation and acceptance of her and her silence had proven costly for each of them. It had only served to increase their love and desire for each other. Each carefree day and blissful night spent together had forged a stronger bond between them; each day, especially now, they blindly and foolishly resisted it.
“My only love…Too early seen
unknown, and known too late!”
—
Romeo and Juliet,
William Shakespeare
Avoiding each other as much as possible, the next few days passed in a tormenting existence for the illfated lovers. Spencer totally ignored Alex, in bed and out. Desperately in love, but too proud to submit, Alex avoided the moody captain.
Two days from their destination, black clouds began to build ominously upon the far horizon, rapidly closing in on the tall-masted ship now boasting white sails and the name
Wandering Siren.
For an hour the storm trailed them like a persistent hound after a wounded deer. The winds were gradually picking up, warning of what was to come. The waves answered her gusty cries, crashing white tips against the sturdy hull of the ship. The sails crackled and popped like corn in a hot pan. Eventually all traces of white and blue disappeared from the heavens. Only leaden gray and portentous black could be sighted. The mare’s-tails upon the horizon forecast the bleak story of what was in store.
“Batten down the hatches and gear, men,” came their captain’s command as he stood proud, calm, and
self-assured upon the rolling deck on his first love. “When she hits, she’ll take her toll.”
“Should I warn Angelique we’ll be hitting a violent squall soon?” Andy asked in deep concern for the lovely creature his friend was mentally and emotionally torturing. After being around her for so many weeks, he wasn’t at all convinced Josh was accurate in his stubborn assumptions.
“She’ll know soon enough,” he growled impatiently, growing weary and annoyed at the way his crew was rebelling against his decisions.
The tempest hit at sunset, attacking as viciously as a starving wolf on a helpless lamb. The winds and waves seemed to join forces to test the strength and prowess of this ship and her captain. The massive craft heaved violently under this assault of nature. The ship heeled sharply to the leeward side as several crew members struggled with the heavy sails. Water surged over the sides to flood the deck.
The persistent waves tugged at gear and men, begging to take them along with their watery fingers. White-knuckled hands clung frantically to ropes and denied Mother Nature her sacrifices. From behind the thunderous clouds shot jagged streaks of lightning, dancing like eerie skeletons upon a somber backdrop. Rain beat down upon the men with a stinging, punishing force. It was impossible to assess which element rendered the most power or the loudest noise: the crashing waves, the howling winds, the roaring thunder, the defenseless sails and groaning masts, or the crew screaming over them to be heard.
The scene had been enacted many times before, but it never ceased to inspire dread and respect. Faces were lined with worry and strain; hands were taut and bleeding as they gripped ropes to steady the sails or to play them against the winds. Booted feet scuffed over wet decks as they attempted to brace their owners against the pull and tug of the mighty ocean. As the mischievous fingers of the water and wind yanked at ropes, many were pulled free to send gear or cargo rolling into the roaring waves to disappear instantly.
But even amidst their awe and apprehension, an aura of suspense and elation filled each man, especially the captain. Each storm was like a personal battle where he proved his greater cunning and courage. He revelled in his dauntless contempt of danger and fear. It was a challenge he savored, one in which he always won. He was experienced and skilled, as was his loyal crew. He knew exactly what to do and the precise moment to do it and he commanded his beloved ship to withstand it all.
As suddenly as it had come, the fierce squall headed away to blow itself out to sea. Soaking wet, but filled with excitement and satisfaction, Captain Joshua Steele gave the first shout of victory when the last sign of danger was past. He studied each mast and the riggings. A slight rip here and there but no real damage, he joyously concluded. He ran his fingers threw his dark head of wet hair. He licked his lips, tasting the salt. The peril a thing of the past, he shouted to Andy he was going below to bathe and change into dry clothes.
“We can handle the clean-up, Josh. Why not turn in?” he suggested, hoping his friend would spend some time with his ravishing captive, hoping Josh would change his mind and free her.
Their gazes met and locked in mutual understanding. “No need, Andy. We’ll make port in two days.”
Without caring if Josh saw him, Andy sadly shook his head and walked off. Even if Angelique was a spy, didn’t she deserve some mercy? Just who was Josh trying to punish and why? Did he even know himself? He sincerely hoped Josh would change his mind, but he wouldn’t interfere.
When Spencer entered his cabin, it was totally engulfed in darkness. At least Alex had the sense to douse the lantern to prevent a fire! He called her name, but she didn’t answer him. He grinned roguishly at her willful streak. As he headed for the lantern, he nearly tripped and fell over her. “What the…” he exploded, catching his balance before tumbling to the floor. “Angel?” he called out through the obscure shadows. No reply. He shook her shoulder. No movement.
He hurriedly found the lantern and lit it. He turned to see what mischief she was up to now. Stunned, he instantly saw the bloody injury upon her forehead. He knelt beside her and lifted her head, resting it upon his quivering knee. She was out cold. He gently picked her up and placed her upon the bed. He touched the sensitive wound and she winced in pain and moaned. He took a cloth and wet it to mop the blood away to study the wound.
It was a small cut, but was bleeding steadily. He held the wet cloth to it. Dipping his fingers in the water basin, he flicked moisture into her pale face. Her thick lashes fluttered and opened. Emerald green eyes looked up at him in confusion.
“What happened?” she hazily inquired, her temple aching.
“There was a storm. Evidently you took a fall,” he speculated. “It appears my wooden lady sought her own revenge for your past attack. Your injury matched the one you gave me by the pond.”
She pondered his explanation, then flippantly agreed. “I was sitting at the table, but the ship was rolling so badly I moved. I was going to lie down, but I didn’t make it. I think I hit the table. Is it bad? Will there be a scar?” she asked, like any vain female. “Perhaps your ship packs a heavier wallop than I do.”
He chuckled, inwardly relieved she wasn’t hurt any worse. “I think not. Were you ill?” he teased.
“No. I’m a good sailor. Captain Burns said so,” she pertly snapped.
“Burns? Of the
Moon Maiden?”
he pressed.
“Yes. I sailed to America with him,” she carelessly continued.
“The
Moon Maiden
sailed the same day I did. You escaped right under my nose?” he sneered in anger, recalling how he had searched for her everywhere.
Astounded by this fact, she blurted out, “You were on the ship heading southward that morning?” She could still envision that stimulating sight, but hadn’t realized this was that same sleek and graceful ship.
He began to laugh. “All that time we were only a few feet apart,” he murmured thoughtfully. It might do to check with Burns to learn who had purchased her fare, perhaps even discover her identity!
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she curiously asked.
He grinned slyly. “Inquisitive little tart, aren’t you? How do you feel? Head injuries can be dangerous.” Perhaps he could find out the truth without her aid…
“More so than your American authorities?” she sneered sarcastically at his concern, phony no doubt! This was his first smile in days.
“My American authorities?” he probed.
“If not, you wouldn’t be so eager to assist them!” she hotly accused.
“I have my reasons, love,” he coldly replied.
“So do I, Captain Steele,” she stated acidly.
“Angel, Angel…Why do you make this so difficult for us?” he sighed in exasperation.
“It isn’t difficult at all, Captain Steele, merely impossible.” She turned her face away from his piercing gaze to conceal her tears.
He gently grasped her chin and pulled it back around, placing a heady kiss upon her mouth. As he dragged his mouth from hers, she informed him, “You’re getting me all wet.”
“As I recall, you did the same to me one night,” he jested mirthfully, standing up to remove his clothes. Knowing the futility of resisting him, she submitted to his hands as they undressed her and eased her
beneath the covers.
He joined her, but once again kept his broad back to her. He was too near and inviting to be ignored, no matter how fiercely she tried. There was so little time left. Her ravaged heart rebelled against his loss and the loss of all she loved dearly.
Just above a whisper, she solemnly confessed, “You’re right, I’m not brave. I was terrified during the storm. I want to go home, Stephen. Please…” She began to tremble and weep.
Why did she appeal to Stephen to weaken him? At sea, he was Joshua Steele. Why did she have the power to make him forget that fact? He listened to her sobbing as long as he could stand it. He turned over and murmured tenderly, “Come here, love.”
He didn’t have to ask twice. Alex was instantly in his comforting, strong embrace. He nuzzled his chin against her fragrant mane of silky gold. She was too small and fragile to endure such a dire fate. Nothing worked with her, neither force nor gentleness. What was he going to do now? Soon, she would be out of his life forever. Why did that thought plague him? For countless reasons, they were an impossible match.
At her touch and smell, his passions flamed to possess her. She was warm, willing, and alluring. Her mesmerizing siren’s song was too magical to resist. His mouth sought hers in an exploratory, devastating kiss. Within moments, they were entrapped in a world of fiery passion.
Spencer trailed his tongue seductively over her parted lips before tasting the sweetness of her mouth.
As he pulled his feverish lips from hers to tease at her ear, he whispered tenderly in a voice laced with heavy emotion. Ensnared by her own wild and wonderful needs, her mind absorbed only the passion which his husky voice declared so boldly. Her body throbbed with fierce cravings which only Stephen could incite and soothe.
Alex eagerly stroked the virile body which her senses had come to know as well as her own. Its strength and beauty tantalized and pleased her. She absently wondered why his masculine hands which caressed her body to such heights of frenzied pleasure were not weathered or callused from their rugged way of life. Each part of his valiant frame represented vitality, from his sable head to his warm feet. The mere sight or smell of him filled her with greedy desire. He was like a powerful and deadly drug which she could not resist sampling, to which she had become addicted.
With deliberate and agonizingly sweet movements, his hands seemed to memorize each inch of her trembling body. How was it possible for a brief touch here or there to be so stimulating? Without cupping her breast, his hand wandered over it, teasing the protruding nipple with his palm. A liquid fire which raced from her spinning head to her dainty feet burned like potent acid, dissolving and enflaming her with a greater need. She groaned as he slowly continued his intoxicating foreplay, as if to have her mindless with passion before entering her and appeasing the yearnings he was inspiring.
Spencer’s mouth returned to hers and hungrily
sought delight where he couldn’t find truth. His teeth gently pulled upon her lower lip before easing down to the hollow of her throat to place several kisses there, then slowly moving to nibble at her ivory shoulder. As his tongue made tiny circles around her other breast, his hand found another place to blissfully torment. Just as he was certain she was moist enough to allow his easy penetration, she moaned in a strained voice, “Please, Stephen…I need you now.”
He moved atop her and drove his manhood into that warm, dark haven to seek his own ecstasy. With tightly leashed control, his rhythm was calculated and stirring. Higher and higher they climbed the spiral of mutual desire, their bodies joining and working as one. Each time he thrust into her receptive body, she arched upwards to take all of him. Each time he slightly withdrew, she groaned with lingering hunger.
Reality had deserted them long ago. Only thoughts of fulfillment lingered in the shadowy cabin. Soon, the masterful strokes increased in purpose and speed, driving almost desperately into her. Yet Alex was beyond feeling anything but Spencer and his savagely sweet onslaught. Her mouth and body instinctively responded to his touch; her stomach tightened momentarily as the overwhelming spasms swept through her fiery womanhood; his lips seared hers, binding her to him for all time. Simultaneously, Spencer abandoned his guard and allowed his molten juices to intermingle with hers. Time and time again he plundered her mouth and womanhood until every ounce of torturous need was filled. He had made love
to many women, but never had ever delighted him as this slip of a girl did.
Swept away, he relaxed briefly upon her before rolling aside, pulling her along in his possessive embrace. Spencer’s hand trailed over her smooth stomach, then over her breasts to rediscover their soft flesh. She was calm and limp in his arms, her passions sated. He smiled into the darkness of his quarters. He had given as much pleasure as he had received.
His fingers wandered into her silky mane and pulled her head to rest in the hollow of his throat. One of her long legs was gently trapped between his as her body molded itself perfectly against him. He grinned as her hand began to move up and down his side, hesitating at his narrow waist, while her other hand toyed absently in the curly mat upon his chest. Alex sighed in contentment and snuggled closer to him.
He grasped her chin and lifted it, gazing down at the exquisite features which he could barely detect in the dim glow offered by the shafts of moonlight entering the porthole. He gazed at her for a lengthy time, bringing a look of inquisitiveness to her brilliant eyes. His finger traced over her cheekbone and across her passion-swollen lips. His manhood began to stir to new life. Alex pressed forward to boldly kiss him, so enraptured that she was unaware of her unbridled actions.