Command of the ship had fallen to Stephen Oaks, who came down frequently to see if there was any change. Billy Todd hovered nearby, his young face the picture of misery. Although the ship was in competent hands and no thought of shirking was ever entertained, the atmosphere on board had seemed to change drastically. Philippe fretted that he was not doing enough, and the quartermaster was seen talking solemnly to Mr. Oaks in the companionway outside the mate’s quarters. When Cerynise passed them looking for Billy, the older man made inquiries that readily convinced her of his loyalty and concern for his captain. He offered to do what he could if she had need of him, but she graciously refused, assuring him that he would better serve his captain at the helm, steering them homeward.
In an effort to strengthen her husband, Cerynise was forever trying to force some kind of liquid into his mouth and would often press a cup to his lips and urge him to sip the water or a warm brew. When he sought to turn aside, she gently scolded him for being obstinate and declared his own words back to him: “You’re as dry as an unearthed skeleton, Captain Birmingham. Now drink!”
Whatever hesitation she might have once suffered at the idea of touching his private parts was completely vanquished by the familiarity of bathing him and tending his personal needs. Though she remained virginal in actuality, her naiveté was no longer something Cerynise accepted as fact, for it had been nigh sundered by the intimacy of handling her husband’s body. In those brief moments in which he was aware of her service to him, she no longer blushed or felt any shame for having to touch him in areas that even in his illness evoked his reaction. It definitely brought a sharper flush of color to his face when she performed the more debasing duties. When he was too weak to stand, receptacles were brought for his use, and as efficient as a well-practiced nursemaid, she would assist him and then dispense with the contents in quiet dignity, whisking the container out the door, where Billy took charge.
“Why don’t you let the boy see to my needs?” Beau asked weakly, abashed after another such occurrence.
Cerynise smiled down at him with glowing eyes and murmured considerably more sweetly than he had once done, “In sickness or in health, my dearest.”
“Are you set on tormenting me, woman?” he asked gruffly.
“Never that, my dear.” Cerynise paused to wash her hands as she teased, “I’m only trying to get you well so I won’t have to wear widow’s weeds for months on end.”
“I don’t want you to see me like this,” he complained, grating a hand across the stubble darkening his cheeks. It was definitely not as bad as it could’ve been, for she had also learned the knack of shaving him, along with giving him a bath. It was just that he was tired of being sick and embarrassed by her wifely ministrations when he had always been so stalwart.
Cerynise came back to the bunk and laid out fresh sheets to change his bed linens. “Turnabout is fair play, is it not, Captain?”
Beau scowled. “You’re deliberately antagonizing me when I’m too weak to do anything about it.”
Gazing down at him, Cerynise allowed her lips to curve coyly as her eyes glowed back at him. “What would you like to do about it if you were stronger, sir?”
If his chin hadn’t already been wedged against his neck by the pillows stuffed behind his head, Beau was sure it would have descended forthwith. Even with his dazed senses, he could detect an invitation when it was presented. “Careful, madam. I’ll not always be hampered by this confounded weakness.”
“Strange, I didn’t realize you’ve been hampered in the least.” Cerynise looked straight into his eyes, daring to remind him that only a moment earlier when she had been in the process of bathing him, the manly flesh had thickened beneath her hand.
“’Tis the other I speak of…the lack of strength that afflicts me,” he muttered grumpily. “I could be nigh dead and the sight of you would awaken that part of me. But you undoubtedly think you’re safe, woman, else you wouldn’t tease me.”
“I think no such thing, sir,” she asserted, and then, just as quickly, flashed him a smile. “But that is neither here nor there, sir.” She twirled her finger in a downward circle, motioning him to face away. “I need to get dressed for bed, and since I’ve given Mr. Oaks back his cabin for the time being, I can’t very well ask him to vacate his quarters so I can change, now can I?”
“You’ve seen enough of me,” Beau argued. “Why can’t I see more of you?”
“Because, dear husband, looking at you isn’t going to place you in danger of being raped.”
“Is it rape when a husband makes love to his wife?”
“We’ll leave that for the sages to answer in years to come, my dear,” she answered with a coquettish smile. “As for now, I would like for you to turn your head…please.”
Beau started to roll over but was once again reminded of just how weak he had become, leaving him no more strength than a baby. He averted his face instead.
By the next evening, Cerynise sensed that a crisis had come. Beau’s fever escalated sharply, and his delirium became more intense. At one point, he lashed out and sent a basin of water crashing to the floor, thoroughly soaking Cerynise in the process. It had been in her mind to don a nightgown, but perhaps not as soon as she was required to do so.
Beau finally quieted, and Cerynise was torn between apprehension and relief. When she felt his skin, she was led to hope that it might be a slight degree cooler than before, but she couldn’t be certain. Taking no chances, she cooled him down with wet towels until she was at least assured that the fever was no higher than it had been earlier that day. Then she doused the tiny flames of all but one lantern which hung near the bunk and crawled over Beau to take her usual place on the far side. Mentally and physically drained of strength by her fretful worrying throughout the days and nights, she nestled close against his back and found her favorite area to rest her hand, feeling pleasantly reassured by the strong, sturdy heartbeat beneath her palm. She closed her eyes and let herself be swept along into deep, blissful repose.
It was strange the pleasures one could find in the arms of Morpheus. A warm titillating wetness drew on her nipple while a feverish hand moved beneath her gown, searching out the secret softness of her. Following the urging pressure of her dream lover’s hands, she relaxed back upon the pillows and welcomed him with opening limbs. His naked body covered hers and seemed to scald her with more than the fervor he exhibited. The blunt probing of a blazing hardness against her womanly flesh was only one more caress she willingly accepted. Then a burning pain stabbed through her, bringing her up off the pillow with a shocked gasp.
Cerynise passed a hand over her eyes as if to wipe the sleep from them, but this was no dream thrusting intently at her loins. This was Beau, feverish, dazed and thoroughly engorged with lust as his narrow hips caressed hers in long, leisurely strokes that soothed the shock of his penetration. Down in the depth of her, where the hard flint struck, she could feel sparks beginning to flare in a tinderbox overflowing with womanly ardor. His detailed explanations of weeks ago were now made vividly clear, and she responded in ways that he had described were pleasing to a man, rising up against him, taking him fully into her, and meeting his hard strokes with a passionate zeal and desire to gratify his cravings completely. For too long he had wanted this from her, and now she was giving him everything she had within her.
His harsh breathing rasped near her ear, sounding thunderously loud, while her own quickening gasps seemed to be torn from the inner marrow of her being. His loins thudded into hers with increasing intensity until she was nigh moaning for want of some strange release that she could not fathom. The intensifying hunger within her became almost insatiable, driving her to a kind of wildness that made her dig her nails into his back. Then she caught her breath in surprise as she felt the first pulsing waves of bliss begin to wash over her. She was greedy to savor it all and began to writhe beneath him until they were straining against each other, forcing every pleasurable sensation that could be wrenched free
to gush forth in a torrent of sizzling, scintillating ecstasy. It was a dazzling display, a thoroughly unique experience of being lifted aloft while tiny, rapture-filled bubbles burst in and all around their cleaving bodies. Cerynise felt a feverish warmth filling her and welcomed it in the cavern of her being, clasping her husband’s tautly flexing buttocks as she lifted herself up to him so the feeling wouldn’t be lost or wasted. Gradually the hard thrusts slowed, and Beau relaxed against her.
“Cerynise, don’t leave me…” he muttered against her throat.
Her arms slipped around him, and she smiled, tears of joy filling her eyes. “I won’t, Beau.”
She held him close to her, aware of the thudding of his heart and his harsh, labored breath tickling her face. She didn’t know how long she lay there. Her eyelids were sagging closed when she felt him move away. Turning on his side away from her, he huddled beneath the bedcovers and immediately began shivering.
“Cold,” he mumbled. “So cold.”
Fear spiraled through Cerynise, but when she rose up behind him and laid a hand to his brow, it seemed definitely cooler. She sighed in relief and then glanced down at herself in some surprise. The ties of her nightgown had been pulled free, and the garment now hung off her shoulder, falling open to an elbow and leaving her ripe breasts fully exposed. Minute pinpoints of red speckled the pale orbs where they had been scraped by her husband’s beard. The nipples were equally flushed and tender where he had suckled her.
For some strange reason Cerynise found this new experience strangely satisfying, as if these tiny wounds were evidence of her new wifely status. The day of their marriage, Beau had been incredibly gentle with the sensitive peaks, leaving no hint afterwards that he had ever taken them into his mouth. But in his fevered state he had been mindless of everything but the fulfillment he had sought and, perhaps unwittingly, gave her in return.
Cerynise crawled over him, taking care not to disturb him, but he reached out a hand to halt her from leaving. As she climbed free, it fell back upon the mattress. For a moment she stood beside the bunk, gazing down at her handsome husband, feeling closer to him than she ever had before. Much in awe of this stirring tenderness, she knelt beside him and lightly kissed his ear, his cheek and his mouth. As she did, she realized that not once during his lovemaking had he kissed her. It was almost as if he had avoided doing so, which seemed very odd, since he had previously sought her kisses with fervent zeal.
From beneath heavily weighted eyelids Beau stared at her in a daze, and with a smile Cerynise sat back upon her heels, making no effort to cover her breasts as his gaze ranged over them slowly. He lifted a hand toward her, but with a sigh, he closed his eyes and sank again into a heavy slumber.
After a moment Cerynise rose and was surprised to feel a sticky wetness between her thighs. On closer examination she realized that part of it was her own blood. Her eyes flew back to the far side of the bunk, where she saw reddened blotches marring the whiteness of the sheet. She searched further still and found that Beau had not been excluded from the ritual of virginal sacrifice. It seemed a late hour for such a task, but baths were definitely in order, and the sheets needed to be changed.
Freshly garbed in a nightgown, Cerynise set about to cleanse Beau and strip away the sheets. Her fingers brushed his forehead in a loving caress, and a sob of pure relief broke from her as she found his skin much cooler than it had been in days. The flush of fever was gone. Already he seemed to be resting easier and deeper. He stirred slightly, his lips moving. She bent closer, hardly daring to breathe. It seemed but a spiraling thread of sound that issued forth. “Cerynise, don’t hold yourself from me forever.…”
Gloom settled in, thrusting a sharp pain through her heart. He didn’t even remember what he had done. Nor did it appear likely that he would when he came fully to his senses. Would he even believe her if she tried to explain? Perhaps, if she made such an attempt, he’d even be inclined to think that she had taken advantage of him in his delirium. Or more rightly, perhaps, insist that she continue letting him have his way with her until their marriage was annulled.
Painful as it was for her to consider that he might want to proceed with the nullification of their marriage upon their arrival in Charleston, Cerynise reaffirmed her intent not to stop him from obtaining his freedom. Better to let him think the consummation never happened at all than to see him vexed by a union he had offered only on a temporary basis. As painful as it would be for her to bear, she thought she could let him go more easily if he remained unaware of what had happened in his bunk. If he felt honor bound to do the right thing by her but eventually came to resent her being his wife.…
Cerynise choked on a sudden welling of tears and couldn’t continue with the thought, for her heart grew cold even as the idea formed.
No! It was better to pretend that nothing had ever happened. Though her decision filled her with trembling disquiet, she grew more dedicated to it with each passing moment. With no other thought in her mind but to allow Beau the liberty to make the final decision whether to continue with their marriage or to dissolve it, she lovingly bathed the now quiescent male form, kissing his arms, face and chest amid a profusion of tears. Then she labored to turn him over as she stripped away the stained sheet and spread a fresh one over the mattress.
She had just finished remaking the bed when she recognized Billy’s footsteps in the passageway. Frantically Cerynise glanced around for a place to conceal the dirty clothes and espied the second locker beyond the bunk, the one that normally held his rain gear, which was now dry and stored away again. Surely, she reasoned, they’d be favored by a calmer voyage from now on and the locker would remain unused. Rolling up the sheet and nightgown together, she stuffed them near the back of the compartment and barely clicked the door shut before Billy knocked softly and asked if she needed him for anything or if he should go to bed.
“The captain’s fever has broken, Billy,” she called through the door. “He’s going to be just fine, so go and enjoy your sleep.”
His ecstatic response left no doubt in her mind that the news of his captain’s recovery pleased him.
Ten
BEAU RESUMED COMMAND of the Audacious with a zeal that allowed no uncertainty to remain in anyone’s mind that he had fully recovered from his illness. Neither could Cerynise entertain even the smallest hope that he remembered their intimacy. Upon waking to restored health and finding her beside him in his bunk, he had promptly started making overtures commensurate to a groom coaxing his virgin bride to yield herself to the delights to be found in a marriage bed. Plying her with persuasive kisses, he had promised to be gentle with her and assured her that, in spite of the initial pain, she would come to enjoy their union. During this heady beguilement, Beau slipped the ties at the top of her nightgown free, making it abundantly clear to Cerynise that he was feeling much like his randy old self again and was just as eager to make love to her as he had been before. His husky blandishments quickened her own hunger for what she had once tasted. Yet the fact that he still thought her a virgin frustrated her so much that she swung a pillow into his face in a fine display of flaring temper.
Moments earlier, Beau had drifted upward through a cloud of haunting impressions and entered the realm of full awareness with a strange sense of well-being, perhaps unlike any he had hitherto known. Almost at once, he had realized he had been ill, evidently very ill, and that made the odd contentment all the more perplexing. He couldn’t quite lay a finger to the cause. The past days, for the most part, were lost to him. Yet something had happened which he could neither define nor deny, and for some obscure reason it all seemed connected to Cerynise. His befogged recollections seemed distantly detached from reality, yet he was inundated with glimpses of his wife tending him and an awareness of her nestling against his back, her soft breasts pressed tightly to him and her slender thighs snuggled beneath his. At least that much he guessed was true. Yet fragments of more sensual impressions flitted through his mind, seeming so real that
he could almost have sworn they were true. Still, they were so equally farfetched that he could only accept them for what they were. Illusions! How could he even consider that he had actually seen his young wife sitting on her heels beside his bunk with her gown falling down around her arms and her soft, lustrous breasts gleaming with an unusual rosy hue beneath the hanging lantern? Or that he had felt her nails clawing at his back as he poured his love into her? Or heard her rapturous panting as she soared to the lofty pinnacle of ecstasy? He certainly discerned no change in her. If anything, she seemed even more adamant that he not touch her, for the very moment his fingers tugged loose the delicate ribbon of her nightgown and pulled the garment open to allow his gaze to feast upon her bosom was the precise instant he got a face full of feathers. It didn’t help in the least that the pillow she hit him with burst open, sending fluffy down flying everywhere, mostly, it seemed, into their noses and mouths, and all she could say was “Oops!”
His good humor sharply declined from there, dropping to a roiling point when she scrambled to her feet in the bunk, albeit hunched over, and lifted her gown in a quest to jump over him. Challenged by a desire to keep her prisoner, if only to solve the mystery befuddling his senses, he raised a leg to block her path to freedom. He soon found out just how tenacious his wife really was to leave his bed. Planting a dainty foot upon his chest, she fairly sailed across his bulk, permitting him an enticing view that nearly staggered his wits. Almost at once she began throwing her clothes and possessions into a satchel, obviously scurrying in her haste to get out of his reach. Had he warmed her backside with hot oil, Beau was certain she could not have moved any faster. It was understandable, then, that whatever ebullience he had briefly relished upon finding her snuggled close against his side swiftly darkened into a sour irascibility.