Souls Aflame (19 page)

Her eyelids grew heavy. The serenity of the place was causing her to drift away. Lowering her body to the soft ground, she curled up and gave in to the tropical breezes and warm sun. Soon she was fast asleep.

The sound of distant laughter awoke her with a start. How long had she slept? Blinking against the shroud of purple darkness, she could make out below the lanterns burning on ships, docks, and along the wharves.

Behind her, in town, the merrymaking for the evening had begun. Her mother would be frantic. Julie leaped to her feet, not taking time to smooth her skirt or brush away the damp grass that clung to it. She had but one thought: to hurry through those crowded streets and return to Mrs. Odom’s as quickly as possible. It was not safe to be out on the streets alone at night.

Just as she was nearing the edge of the thick palmettos and palm trees through which she had passed earlier to make her way to the ridge, something caused her to stop short. Turning about in a circle, slowly, her eyes searched the darkness.

It had to be the night wind, she thought nervously. It whistled through the rattling palm fronds with a sound that only made her imagine someone was calling her name. She took a deep breath, then started walking once again, her steps quick.

She heard it again and froze in her tracks. It was not her imagination, she realized. A man’s voice
had
whispered her name. She told herself not to be afraid. Her mother had probably found some men staying at the boarding house who had agreed to search for her. There was no need for hysteria.

Without looking to the left or right, she tried to keep her voice steady as she called, “Who’s there? Who calls to me?”

“I do, Julie.”

She whipped about at the sound, heart pounding as she strained to see his face in the darkness. She heard footsteps coming closer, moving slowly, deliberately, but from the direction whence she had just come. She felt frightened, and her heart was thumping. Frantically she wondered why he had been
behind
her.

“Who are you?” Julie demanded, trying to hide her bubbling hysteria as she took a few steps backwards. Could she break into a run and make it out of the shadows and into the streets where the people were, before he could catch up to her? Would anyone hear her if she screamed now? “Who are you, I say! Don’t come any closer to me.”

“You’ve no reason to be afraid, Julie. It’s me, Edsel Garris.”

He stepped into the halo of moonlight that filtered down from the purple sky. It touched his face, illuminating him with a ghostly silver glow.

“It
is
you!” Julie realized her legs had suddenly become as quivery as the palm fronds bending in the wind. She reached out to steady herself by placing her hand against a nearby tree. Her breathing was ragged, hoarse.

“Why are you here?” She forced the words past the apprehensive knot in her throat. “I thought you’d be on your way back to the
Ariane
. Isn’t it dangerous for you to be here?”

“So many questions,” he chuckled, moving to stand mere inches from her. “And there’s no time to answer them now. You see, Captain Guthrie and his crew were picked up by a passing ship this afternoon and brought into port. They’re combing the island for us now. We’re anchored off a remote point with a small boat that we ‘borrowed,’ and we’ll be leaving shortly. We set the Yankee steamer adrift, you see.”

Julie was bewildered. “Well, why do you risk being captured to come and see me? And how did you know I’d be here?”

Her mind danced suspiciously. Something was not right. Then she remembered the times she thought she had seen him and pointed an accusing finger. “It
was
you! You’ve been following me ever since we arrived here, and you were supposed to return at once to your own ship. You stayed—to follow me…and that’s how you knew I was here.”

The reality of her situation made her dizzy. “You watched while I slept, wanting darkness to come before I awoke. But why? What do you want from me?” She backed away, silently commanding her wobbly legs to move.

“It’s not me who wants you. It’s the captain. This was all planned before you ever left the ship. I’ve orders to take you back with me.”

“Are you insane?” she exploded, stunned. “My mother and I are leaving for England the day after tomorrow. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He sighed impatiently. “Julie, I have explicit orders, so come along peacefully now. You won’t be hurt, and I don’t have time to stand here arguing.”

He moved forward.

She whirled about, ready to make a desperate attempt to run for the crowded streets. Surely someone would hear her screams and come to her aid.

But she found herself bumping into another man waiting to grab her as someone quickly stretched a foul-smelling rag around her face, covering her mouth to stifle her cries.

Struggling, she managed to free one hand to push the gag away as she cried, “Please don’t do this. I can’t go with you. My mother is waiting, and she’ll be worried sick…”

Edsel Garris clamped an arm tightly about her waist. “We can dispense with the gag, Julie, if you promise not to scream.”

“All right, all right,” she answered frantically. “Just tell me what Derek wants with me.”

“Everything is going to be all right.” He began to lead her away from the direction she had been headed and toward the dense woods and brush that led to the beach below. “You know you’ll be treated well. We wouldn’t hurt you. I’ve got my orders, and I’ll follow them.

“As for your mother,” he continued, “a message will be delivered to her within the hour, and she’ll know what’s become of you. She isn’t alone, you know. She has that old Negress with her.”

Julie was trapped, and she knew it. Several more crewmen emerged from hiding places and walked along with them. She was surrounded. “Just tell me why you’re doing this horrible thing,” she pleaded.

Garris took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Damn, he hated having to be so blunt, but it was obvious the girl was going to keep badgering him until he gave her an explanation. There was nothing to do but be completely truthful. “I believe, Julie, that Captain Arnhardt said something about a ransom.”

“A what?” she yelped, jerking to a stop only to be roughly yanked along. “He’s crazy! He has to be out of his mind. This is a crime…”

Her struggles were futile. “I might have known,” she cried to the wind. “I might’ve known the greedy bastard would want more money. But he won’t get it. My mother and Virgil will hire men to hunt him and all of you down. You can’t get away with this—”

“Julie, I’m going to have to gag you,” Edsel said quietly.

“No.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “You won’t. I’ll go with you.”

He raised an eyebrow suspiciously as he stared down at her in the moonlight. “Is this some sort of trick? As I said, we don’t want to have to get rough and maybe hurt you.”

“No, it’s not a trick. But mark my words, sir. Ironheart will rue the day he chose to make me his prisoner.” Her voice was frosty, ominous.

He chuckled. “Aye, I can surely believe that, Julie. I surely can.” He seemed relieved that there would be no more need to struggle with her, at least while he was in charge.

Chapter Ten

Derek sat at his desk, shoulders hunched wearily over the clutter of maps and charts. The lantern began to flicker. He wondered absently when it was last filled with oil. No matter. He didn’t need light simply to ponder.

Outside the wind swooped and shrieked, reminding him of sounds he’d once heard coming from one of those places where they put people who’ve gone mad. Such people howl more when there’s a full moon, someone had said. Derek wondered why, then shook his head, admonishing himself for letting his mind wander to subjects that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except getting his ship through the blockade and safely into port at Wilmington. There was a hell of a lot of cotton in the hold.
Rose Hill
cotton, he thought with a smile of satisfaction.

He leaned back, throwing his long, trunklike legs up and propping his booted feet on the paper-strewn desk.

He thought of Virgil Oates. He hadn’t liked the man from the first time they’d met. He was pompous, the sort to flaunt whatever power he felt he had, trying to make people think he had money to go along with it. Soon he was going to find out he’d been taken.

Derek chuckled out loud as he imagined how Oates would sputter and stew when he learned his beautiful bride-to-be had been kidnapped.

A quarter of a million in gold. It was a high price. When Garris had seen the amount scribbled on the ransom note, he’d accused Derek of not expecting, or actually wanting, the sum to be paid. He accused him of kidnapping Julie not to collect money but rather to have an excuse to keep her on board for his own pleasures.

Derek liked Garris. He was a trusted officer. But that accusation had almost brought the captain to violence. And Garris had sensed he’d aroused his ire to the danger point and had immediately become contrite.

Now Derek wondered why he’d let himself get so angry. Perhaps until that point he hadn’t realized his true intention himself. Someone else had had to make him see it.

There was no denying he was captivated by Julie’s rare and delicate beauty. He had studied her features as he would a maritime chart, remembering everything until he could close his eyes and still see her clearly in his mind—the sensual shape of her mouth, her misty green eyes, mysterious, beguiling.

And how well he remembered what it was like to touch her naked body, the skin creamy, silky…as though carved from the finest ivory—but not as cold and dead. Not Julie. She’d stopped playing games and pretending to be indignant over his possession of her body. She’d returned his kisses, his caresses, and he was aware that she wanted him physically in every way. They’d spent many enjoyable, passionate hours together.

He frowned and reached into the bottom desk drawer to remove a hidden flask of rum. He uncorked it, tilted it to his lips, and took a large swallow. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he cursed himself for being so weak as to need a drink.

Outside the ocean’s swells grew larger, making the boat roll and pitch higher and higher. Thunder could be heard in the distance, and now and then Derek could see a hot white zig-zag of lightning fork across the inky black sky. The storm that had been brewing for several days seemed to be gathering strength to unleash its full fury at last. When it hit, Derek would need all his wits about him. He couldn’t have his crew thinking he sat in his cabin getting soused on rum.

But he knew why he had to have that one drink. He wanted her. Dammit, he wanted her as fiercely as he’d ever wanted a woman in his entire life. Perhaps more so. Yet she was just that, he reminded himself crossly—a woman. Nothing more. He’d never let her mean more to him than any other female had, since he’d discovered how good it felt to empty himself in their bellies.

That’s all she was. A receptacle. No matter how loving, warm, or willing.

God only knew how many women there
had
been. He never tried to keep count. But one thing was certain. He seldom saw the same one more than a few times. Oh, there was Opal, who ran that house of pleasure up in Richmond. Still, that was different. He paid her well, and it was her business to please him. She would never make noises about wanting him to marry her, or say she’d wait for him when he sailed with the sunrise. Not Opal. She knew what a woman was for, and she was good at it. And that’s the way it should be, so far as he was concerned. The sea was his wife. No one would ever keep him from it; not for very long, anyway.

All the same, he was starting to wonder about that, his love of the seafaring life. Where was it all going to take him? One day he’d be too old for it all. His skin would be parched and wrinkled from the salt and sun and wind. His shoulders would bend and ache from the damp and chill. What then? He could go and sit on the rotten, smelly docks and watch the ships come and go, swapping sea tales with others just like him as they all waited to die.

Oh, hell.

He lowered his feet with a thud onto the floor that pitched and rolled beneath him. This wasn’t the time to be thinking grim thoughts. It was the damn war that made him feel depressed. True, as a runner he was making more money than he’d ever dreamed possible. When it was over, no matter which side won, he’d have enough put away to buy the best boat that ever sailed the seas. He wouldn’t be forced to sit and whittle and spin yarns in his sunset years. He’d hire someone to run his boat, and he’d travel the seas till he died. Eventually he’d be buried somewhere in their murky depths.

Until then, he thought caustically as he stood up, he’d take care of matters at hand. Julie Marshal was his prisoner, and she’d remain so till the ransom was paid, no matter how long it took. His crew could gossip and grumble all they wanted. He knew what he was doing. Not only would he make extra money; he was also doing her a favor. He was saving her from Virgil Oates!

A sudden rumble of thunder exploded dangerously nearby, and he glanced sharply at the porthole to see the sky split with yellow-white streaks. Julie would be frightened, he knew. It had been over a week since she was brought on board and locked in her cabin. He hadn’t allowed her outside for even a moment. Her food had been taken to her, though he received reports she was hardly eating enough to stay alive. She’d probably lost a lot of weight, and she was only a tiny scrap to start with.