Gregory, Lisa (21 page)

"Here
now, child," his voice soft and gentle. "Surely it isn't as bad as
all that." He extended his hand to her. "Come now; come here. I won't
hurt you."

She
snorted. "No more than you did last night, no doubt."

He
smiled. "I think you'll find it different this time. I shan't hurt you
again."

She
looked at him disbelievingly. He sat down on the bed and patted the space
beside him. "Come sit here. I want to explain something to you."
Cautiously she moved to sit beside him, still clutching the sheet to cover her
nakedness.

"Now
then," he said, putting an arm around her in an almost paternal way.
"Has no one ever told you about sex? Marriage? The ways of men?"

Blushing,
she shook her head and stared fixedly at her hands.

"Not
at all?"

"No."
Her voice was barely discernible.

"Well,
then, I suppose it's up to me. Here, let me under the sheet; it's chilly out
here." He slipped under the sheet and lay down, gently pulling her down beside
him, her head on his shoulder.

Funny,
she thought, how perfectly her head fitted into his shoulder; for a brief
moment, she wanted to snuggle into him, like a child. Curiously, she listened.

"You
know that people have children."

"Yes."

"Well,
this child that grows in a woman's belly gets his start through sex; and,
fortunately, we are so made that the process is highly pleasurable. Now, there
is in a woman, in you, an opening. All your life, until now, you have had a
thin piece of tissue here; that's the mark of a virgin. The first man you have
breaks it. That's where the pain comes from, and you have it only once."

His
gentle, exploring fingers made her feel strangely limp and warm. Her voice
trembled slightly as she said, "Then it was not something you did to hurt
me?"

"Heavens,
no! I have no desire to hurt you. In fact, my intention is quite the opposite.
Before too long, I think you will find it quite enjoyable."

"Yes,
but what about a man—about—you know," she said, her voice small and
embarrassed.

"Ah,
now, a man has the seeds of the child inside him, which he must put into the
woman when he enters her."

"But
how can you help but hurt me with such a huge thing?" she blurted out,
then flushed to the roots of her hair.

His
chuckle was rich and deep. "You must have rocked the foundations of Boston
society with questions like that."

She
bit her lip in anger and self-hatred.

"Here
now, don't go all huffy again. There's nothing wrong with what you said.
Believe me, it doesn't hurt a man's self-esteem one bit." He kissed the
top of her head, and then laid her hand on his chest. "Here. Touch me.
Satisfy your curiosity."

"No!"
She jerked her hand away, but inexorably he drew it back and guided it across
his chest.

His
skin was smooth and warm, the hair on his chest prickly. She buried her face in
his shoulder; she was avidly curious, but ashamed for him to see it. Now he
moved her hand down, off the plateau of his ribs, onto the softer flesh of his
stomach. She could feel the ripple of his abdominal muscles beneath his skin.
And then as he drew her hand lower, she pulled away in fear and shame.

"There
now, it won't hurt you. Come back." His voice was low and raspy, and when
he replaced her hand a smothered groan arose from his throat. "I think I
must halt our lesson for a little practical application."

He
pulled her head up and kissed her, not the consuming kiss she had come to
expect from him, but a light, gentle kiss. Then his lips moved to her ear,
gently nibbling at her lobe, sending a tremor across her abdomen. Softly, his
hands caressed her, stroking her silky skin until she felt lost in an enclosing
haze of peculiar sensations. All her nerves seemed to scream within her; she
wanted crazily to push out of herself into him, to arch against his weight, to
do
something. Achingly, she wanted something, but didn't know what. His mouth
returned to hers, and, as if breaking out of her frustration, her tongue
plunged into his mouth. A tremor shook him and he wrapped his arms around her,
encircling her like steel. But somehow now it didn't hurt; now she wanted him
to crush her into him. He rolled over onto his back, pulling her on top of him,
his legs wrapping and unwrapping around her as he kissed her, an interminable
kiss, delightful, tormenting. Wildly they rolled on the bed, locked in embrace,
until finally he moved her legs apart and slid into her. Slowly he moved inside
her, thrusting and retreating, circling his body against hers until she moved
in rhythm with him, swept along in swirling pleasure until he burst within her.

When
he left her, she felt bereft. Tenderly he kissed and caressed her, sheltering
her in his arms.

"That
is the way it is, Katherine—and better," he whispered in her ear.
"I'll teach you things you can't imagine; I'll make you wild with wanting."

Soon
he left the bed to dress. Katherine lay there, stunned by her passion. After he
had dressed he returned to her bed. Casually he stroked her hip.

"You
make me lazy, Kate. I must get to work." He paused, then smiled. "My
instincts were right. I think you will be a wild and passionate mistress."
He bent and lightly kissed her lips, then left.

His
words jerked Katherine from the haze created by her passion. Dear God, what had
she done! In shame, she covered her face with her hands. She had yielded to him,
yes, enjoyed herself with that devil, abandoned her genteel upbringing. No
doubt he felt confirmed in his belief that she was a slut. Of course he did;
hadn't he just said that he planned to make her his mistress? Weakness,
wickedness—never again would she allow herself to act so. She would never
willingly be his mistress, no matter what his opinion of her morals.

After
dwelling for some time on his evilness, lack of morals, and generally
degenerate character and on her own shocking lapse into sin, she arose
purposefully and set about to correct her error. She went to the wash basin and
scrubbed her body until it was almost raw, trying to rid herself of the taint
of his lips and hands. Dressing presented something of a problem. While her
petticoats were largely intact and her pantalets and chemise at least
repairable, her dress was absolutely ruined. Well, he would just have to find
her something, as it was he who ruined the dress. Calmly she wrapped her cloak
around her and searched the cabin for needle and thread. Taking out the small
bachelor's sewing kit, she began to repair her undergarments.

Once
she had finished her needlework Katherine dressed as far as she could, putting
on all her underclothes, including petticoats and hoop, though she had to omit
her stays as they were as demolished as her dress. She left off the cloak, as
it was really too warm for the cabin. Carefully, she brushed out the tangles in
her hair, then thoughtfully studied her reflection. She could not leave her
hair like this, for it gave her a much too wanton look. She searched the cabin
floor for her hairpins, then attempted to fasten her thick hair into her usual
bun. She found, to her amazement, that she couldn't do it; strands kept sliding
out of her fingers and sticking out where they should not. How infuriating it
was not even to be able to dress her own hair! Pegeen had always done it for
her, just as she had always helped her dress, just as servants had always done
everything for her, just as her father had always protected her from want and
danger and the cruelties of life. Thinking of how insulated from the world she
had always been, she was tempted to give way to another outburst of tears. She
had thought herself so realistic, so self-sufficient, so capable. Now, thrown into
the harsh reality of a dangerous, uncaring world peopled only by enemies, she
realized how ill-prepared and sheltered she really was.

Sternly
she shook herself. This was not like her at all—hurt and terrified by Hampton's
advances one moment and the next positively transported by them; feeling
excited and almost glad to face danger yesterday, and today cowering in her
cabin, unable to function without her protectors. It was utterly ridiculous.
Determinedly she attacked her hair once more. Perhaps she could not fix it as
Pegeen did; she would just have to practice. And for the present—well, she had
often done her hair as a child. So Katherine carefully braided her hair.
Certainly that was a plain enough hairdo, not likely to incite a man to lust.

To
keep herself occupied, she turned to cleaning the cabin. She dusted everything,
including the books, and organized the contents of the desk. She began to make
up the bed, but stopped at the sight of the bloody sheets. That was her blood!
It reminded her all over again of what a loathsome creature he was. Angrily she
ripped the sheets off the bed, searched the drawers until she found clean ones,
and remade the bed. Since the room was small and not too disorderly to begin
with, it did not take her long to finish cleaning it. She sat down and tried to
resume reading
Ivanhoe,
but could not for the hunger gnawing at her
stomach. She had had nothing to eat since the day before at breakfast, having
been too nervous to eat anything of the unappetizing plate of beans Peljo had
brought her the evening before. What was he trying to do, starve her to death?
He could at least have been thoughtful enough to have breakfast sent down to
her. Unable to sit still, she got up and went to the porthole to look out. The
sea stretched out endlessly before her, gray and cold under a similarly gray
sky. It was bleak, yet somehow, as always, soothing to her.

Footsteps
sounded outside the door and she whirled to face it just as Captain Hampton
entered. He stopped, a trifle stunned at her appearance. What a changeable
creature she was. One day a prim old maid, the next a yielding, voluptuous
woman, now a little girl with braided hair, surprised in her petticoats. He
smiled—life was certainly more interesting around her.

Hurriedly
Katherine grabbed her cloak and wrapped it around her, then turned to face him
with some of her old hauteur. "Captain Hampton, is it your custom to
starve your prisoners?"

His
lips twitched, but he replied gravely, "No, madame. In fact, lunch should
be here shortly. I'm sorry that I sent you no breakfast. I must admit that it
slipped my mind. It won't happen again, I assure you. Though I have to admit
that our food supply will soon become a problem."

"Why?"

"Because
the
Susan Harper
was just completing a transatlantic passage, and
therefore her food supply is rather low. It will never last us to England,
especially considering all the prisoners we have."

"Is
that where we are going? England?"

"That's
our first port of call, yes. Have you ever been there?"

"No."

"Odd
sort of place. Very stuffy, in some ways worse than Boston. Now don't get your
dander up. Very full of what is proper and decent and correct. Yet certain
parts of London are so teeming with bordellos and taverns and thieves that it
makes San Francisco seem tame."

"Really,
Captain Hampton, what a shocking thing to be telling a lady."

"Oh,
yes, dreadful, isn't it? You, of course, have absolutely no curiosity about it,
just as this morning you had no curiosity about a man's anatomy."

Katherine
flushed clear up to her hairline and started to speak, then clamped her mouth
shut. He smiled and continued, "Then in other ways, England is very
similar to the South, very concerned with being aristocratic and riding and
shooting and partying. I think you'll find it interesting."

"Not
if you're with me," Katherine snapped.

Hampton
grinned. "You didn't seem to mind my company this morning."

"Please
don't throw that up to me. I was very distraught and disturbed; I didn't really
know what I was doing. The past day has been rather unsettling."

He
choked back a laugh. "My dear Katherine, only you would describe being
kidnapped by enemy prisoners of war and capturing a ship and pretending to jump
into the ocean and fighting with me and being rather forcibly deprived of your virginity
as 'rather unsettling.'"

She
glared at him. "Well, you can be amused if you like, but
I
do not
find it so. I think you are a low, vile, inhuman beast!"

"I
fear you're not alone in that analysis of me. Oh, Katherine, come here."
He reached out and pulled her into his arms and cradled her there, resting his
cheek against her hair. "Sweet girl, I have no desire to hurt you. I'm
sorry I hurt you last night; believe me, it would have been the same pain had
it been your wedding night and the sour Lieutenant Perkins instead of me. No
doubt you are right—I am not much of a gentleman, I'm afraid. Charleston
society has been informing me of that for years. Generally, when I want
something, I go after it, and damn the consequences. I wanted you, and I am not
noble enough to stand by and see you wasted on that cold, grim Yankee."

"How
dare you speak of Lieutenant Perkins that way! You are not worth one-tenth of
him."

"Please,
don't extoll your fiancé. I'm sure he is a splendid citizen, but I have no
desire to talk about him. Look, Katherine, I am sorry; I have wronged you. But
you cannot deny that you are attracted to me—"