Authors: Jan Carol
"Well, good morning, Miss Wisdom." He sounded exceptionally happy so early in the morning. For a few seconds, he studied her, wondering what made her eyes so puffy, what made her cry most the night. But it wasn’t his place to ask.
"Morning, Flap. I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d come up for a cup of coffee and see if there was anything I could keep my hands busy with." She stayed in the doorway.
"No, ma’am. Mr. Ayers would have my head if I let one of his guests work on his ship. I could get that cup of coffee you wanted, if you’d like to sit at a table in the diningroom." He disappeared behind the hanging pots.
"Thanks. I’m serious about needing something to do." Walking around the counter to see him while they talked, she leaned on the edge, folding her arms.
Miss Wisdom." He was pouring her cup of coffee. "I’m Jenà, Flapjack. Just plain old Jenà." She
accepted the cup, though she really didn’t want it
anymore. "Mr. Ayers doesn’t own me. I was hired to
help, and I’m not his guest, nor anyone else’s. I feel
more of a prisoner, if you want the truth. He’s very
forceful about what he wants, isn’t he?" She couldn’t
smile anymore, thinking about Ethan’s demanding ways. "That he is, Miss Wisdom. That’s why you can’t do
anything in my kitchen." He was back to his morning preparations. "I enjoyed listening to you sing again last night. Glad your voice is back. I hope you let Mr. Ayers
help you into a career."
"I don’t want a career. I’ve told Mr. Ayers that.
Even though he’s moved me upstairs, which I very much
opposed, I still work for him. Singing is my job, even on
this cruise. He may have ideas of his own, other than my
voice, but..." Her cheeks warmed at the words she easily
spoke.
"You and Mr. Ayers aren’t... already?" He asked
hesitatingly, immediately regretting the words. "I
apologize, Miss Wisdom. It’s none of my business." "No we are not!" Her voice raised at his words. "Not
that he hasn’t tried. I’d like to go back downstairs with
Jenni, if I were given the freedom to choose to do so." "I’m sorry, Miss Wisdom," he couldn’t excuse his
words enough. "Everyone has been talking." He shut his
mouth, looking back down at his work. He was fluting
the edge of a cherry pie.
"Well, you have my permission to repeat my
confession, in full." She started to walk out, but changed
her mind. "I really do need something to do, Flap." Her
voice begged him. "Anything. I’ll sit in a dark corner
and shine the silver, if that’s all you have that needs to
be done. I know the salt air isn’t good on silver..." "Alright, Jenà. You’re right. The silver does need a
bit of polishing. I’m sure Jenni would appreciate the
help, it is something she is going to have to begin on this
morning when she comes up."
"Fine." She went to the pantry, taking down one of
the black dresses, changing in the corner before anyone could come in. Finding the soft cloths and polishing cream, she walked back into the kitchen. "Do I look the part now?" She questioned the cook when he turned to
look at her.
She received only half a smile. "I still worry what
Mr. Ayers will say."
"You leave that man to me." She winked at him,
leaving for the diningroom to begin her chore. Jenni joined her shortly after she had begun. Her
wide eyes said a lot, though her mouth remained closed.
Jenà opened her up by letting her have the facts straight
out. "Jenni, I’m not sleeping with Mr. Ayers." She saw
the eyes get wider.
"I... But..." The stuttering woman couldn’t say
anything.
"I know everyone thinks that’s what is going on.
But it isn’t true." She closed her eyes for a second,
blushing. "He’s tried hard enough, I can tell you." Both
girls giggled, knowing men as they did. "Like he wants,
I sing for my supper. He put me up there so I would be
at his beck and call."
"I’ve missed having you around." Jenni confessed to
her. "Not having to worry about waking you has been
nice, but..."
"After work, you’ll have to come to my rooms. It
gets pretty lonely there at times." They continued their
conversation as they worked, getting more pieces done
than Flapjack figured one could do in two days. Having put away all the signs of work, they got the
room ready for the early diners, which would be
dragging in any time. The first ones up would be ready for their coffee an hour before breakfast was to be served. Then came the rest, a few at a time. Jenà remained in the kitchen, helping as much as she could, feeling like a fifth wheel, but it helped keep her mind off
other things.
Just before breakfast was ready to go out to the
diningroom, Ethan came into the kitchen. Jenà had gone
into the pantry, and was on her way out when his voice
came to her ears. It was raised at the man who had
allowed one of his guests to work.
In a rush, Jenà walked into the kitchen, between the
two men. Flapjack’s expression said he was sorry for
having done such a thing. Ethan’s was pure anger. Setting the can of baking powder down hard, the lid
popped off, sending a dry white mist through the air
immediately. Then she turned on the man.
"You have no right to get onto Flap this morning,
Mr. Ayers." Her index finger hit his chest a couple of
times. "I came up here begging for something to do."
She advanced toward him as he took a couple of steps
back. "I couldn’t sleep, and as I was hired to work, that
was what I’ve been doing. Now, get off his case!" At first he didn’t know what to say. She was in his
face yelling at him. He had never experienced such fury
from a woman before, and it almost had him
dumbfounded. Very quickly he was over that state. "I
will speak to you downstairs. Now." His voice was
almost as loud with her as it had been with his cook. "I’m sorry, Mr. Ayers. I am not at your beck and call
this morning. I have a job to do. After breakfast has been
served, I might find a little time for you." Jenà was afraid she had gone too far, speaking to him as she had, and in front of the help. She was afraid he would
explode as soon as they were alone.
"I said
now
!" He took her arm roughly, pulling her
out of the kitchen, away from his guests who were ready
for their meal.
She stopped in the hall before the stairs, holding
onto the corner of the wall to keep him from dragging
her any further. He stopped also, his eyes nearly balls of
flames. No words came from either of them as he picked
her up as if she were no more than a sack of flour,
carrying her squirming body down to his suite. He only
obeyed her shouts to put her down when he had her
behind his closed door.
As he figured she would, she made a dash for the
door to her suite. He knew it was locked, though he
blocked it anyway. He dared not touch her. He was too
angry at that moment, knowing he might hurt her if he
put a hand on her, so he restrained himself.
Turning, Jenà headed for the door he’d brought her
in. Again she was met there. Back to the other, she
found his anger leaving, being replaced by amusement.
Her steps took her to the third door, in his sitting room,
where she closed and locked it before he got there. She
was where he wanted her; his footsteps slowed. She was
going no where else.
Hearing the key in the lock, she ran to his bathroom,
locking and leaning on the door. She knew it would do
no good, as he would come in there also. Within
moments, a key was inserted into the knob, and he was
pushing on the door.
In a frightened voice, she called out. "Go away
Ethan." She felt her body being pushed with the door,
panic entering at each fraction of an inch she was
moved.
"Not until I give you exactly what you’ve got
coming." His tone was threatening, filling her with
worries of what he could do to her.
"I’m sorry. I lost my cool. But you had no right to
get all over Flapjack. I forced him to let me have
something to do. And it did help Jenni. She wouldn’t
have gotten near as much of your silver polished before
tomorrow afternoon." As she talked, he continued to
push her, until her last word was forced out by the
slamming door and she was being pulled to him. "Ethan,
I’m sorry."
"Now that I have you, what do you suggest I do with
you?" His tone had changed to teasing, as he held her
close to him, resting his chin on her head.
She remained silent, listening to the rhythm of his
heart as the tempo picked up. She knew if she didn’t get
away from him, she would find herself regretting what
he would accomplish.
Bringing her chin up, he looked into her eyes,
grinning boyishly. "Your room or mine, Jenà?" He
brought her up as he bent down, giving her all he felt for
her. At first she struggled against his force, then he
backed to look into her eyes again. "Tell me you want
me, Jenà. Let me hear you say it again."
Silently she tried to get away from him. When one
of his hands came to the front of her dress, to the
buttons, she grabbed at it. "What are you doing?" Her
voice demanded of him.
"Getting rid of this ugly dress. They weren’t made
for you, Jenà." Despite her tries at stopping him, he was
able to finish getting them apart, exposing her bra and
creamy skin.
"Ethan! If you want me to change, I’ll gladly go to
my room and do so. If you’ll let me go..." She grabbed
the material, holding the dress together, still fighting for
her freedom.
"I don’t think so." He said thoughtfully. "What you
just did in the kitchen... I can’t just let that go, can I? It
wouldn’t be fair."
She stood still for a minute. "Ethan, I apologized
already. What more do you expect of me?" She didn’t
need an answer, she knew what he was expecting, and
she wasn’t willing to hand it to him.
"You want to act like my wife, then I intend to treat
you as if you were." His tone was completely serious, as
was his expression. Moving her hands from the front of
her dress, he started opening it.
"Your
wife
?!" She almost screamed it. "I did no
such thing. Let go or I’ll start screaming at the top of my
lungs."
One eyebrow arched. "You should know that you
can scream all day and it wouldn’t get anyone’s
attention. You yelled at me in front of my staff, a
privilege only my wife would have." The grin said he
was enjoying the struggle. "Last night you asked me to
stay with you. I was the fool who walked out. I made
you cry all night, didn’t I?"
"If the rooms are sound proof, how do you know what I did all night?" She continued to fight him for the
control of her clothes.
"I stood outside your bedroom door most the night,
fighting myself. You don’t know how much I wanted to
go to you. But I couldn’t take advantage of the way you
were feeling." Getting an unfair advantage, he removed
the dress from her shoulders.
"But you can take advantage of me this morning?
Even though I’m not willing any more? What other
difference is there?" She knew it was too late to get
away from him. He started kissing the soft skin that had
become exposed to him again. She was losing the battle,
becoming weak, even as she continued to fight him. "In a few minutes, you’ll want me as much as you
did last night. As much as I wanted you last night. And
as much as I want you right now." He whispered in the
ear he was now nibbling on.
"No, Ethan. Please." The dress was pushed past her
hips, falling to the floor. "You can’t do this, Ethan. You
don’t love me."
"Who says?" he growled the words. "I do love you,
Jenà. A discovery I made last night."
"No. You put the make on every woman, that’s
what I’ve heard." Her words stopped him momentarily
as she had hoped they would.
He stood looking down into her beautiful, bright red
face. "Who have you been listening to?" His words were
spoken in a husky tone. "It isn’t true, Jenà. I’m no saint,
but I won’t own up to bedding every woman who comes
within my reach. My reputation you are so worried about
says one thing, while I’m totally different. Don’t you know that every man, or woman for that matter, who has money, also has ‘playboy’ tacked onto the end of their
name?"
"How do you expect me to believe that? Ever since
you found that I excited you, you can’t keep your hands
off me." To her relief, the intercom in his sitting room
beeped several times, and a frantic voice came over the
speaker.
Taking her hand, Ethan pulled her with him. If it
hadn’t sounded so urgent, he would have ignored it. In
the outer room, he made her sit on the sofa while he
went to his desk. She wanted to leave, but remembered
that the door between their suites was locked and
without her clothes on, she wouldn’t go out in the
hallway to go in the outer door to her room. Anyone out
there would automatically know what was going on
between the two of them.
Listening to the excited voice coming from the
speaker, she picked up what was happening. There was
a fire in the kitchen. She was up, through the bedroom,
into the bathroom to pick up the dress from the floor.
Getting it back on as she walked, she found Ethan
coming for her. "Up, on top, now." His voice said there
would be no arguing, there wasn’t time.
In the hall an alarm was going off. In his room she
wasn’t able to hear it. That was another bad thing about
sound proofing a room, she thought, as he nearly drug
her up the stairs. Some of the staff were up and down the
stairs, moving everyone outside.
Once out on the bow, Ethan left her, going toward
the kitchen. She was frightened for him. Was he playing the hero because of his guests? Was he just doing what he would have done if he had been alone with his staff? Of course he would try to save his yacht, she told herself. How much would the thing cost? He would have insurance, surely, but with all the people on board, he couldn’t risk their lives. They were out in the middle of nowhere, from the looks of the water surrounding them.
There was no land anywhere she could see.
Frightened, she leaned against the rail, facing the
building where the kitchen and dining areas were. Was
it bad? Would they have to leave the ship? Her hands
were shaking visibly. She wasn’t aware of the many
people around her, until a man touched her arm, looking
very concerned at her.
"Please, won’t you sit down?" he asked quietly.
"Everything is going to be all right."
"Thank you." Her whispered words received a
caring smile as he led her to a chair that was unoccupied.
She wondered if he could see in her expression the
nervousness she felt inside.
"Will you be all right?" He was asking her as he sat
on his heels at eye level beside her.
"I think so, if you don’t mind staying here, too." Her
hands were fidgeting in her lap, her voice shaking. She
felt his hand cover the two twisting ones that belonged
to her, quieting them.
"You must have had a bad experience with a fire
before." His statement was quiet enough that she was the
only one who seemed to have heard.
Nodding her head, she looked down at the three
hands. "In a night club, where I was singing." The memories came flooding back, as she felt the need to talk about it. "It started in the kitchen, but spread so fast." One of her hands covered much of her face. She could hear it as if it was happening all over again. "People ran every direction. They were screaming and pushing. I just sat on stage, frozen to my seat, watching as if it was just a movie. Someone pulled me out the back way, away from the mob. So many people were