“That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it?”
“Of course that’s what she wanted. I wanted it for her too.”
Landis took a quick sip of his drink to hide his smile. “Why?” he asked.
Cloud shook his head slowly, thinking about it before he answered. “I can’t let her go, John,” he replied softly. “But I still want her to try. And if she is successful I want her to be prepared for Travers. I guess you already knew that, didn’t you?”
“I knew. I had to find out if you knew it too. Why are you drunk, Tanner? Who are you feeling sorry for?”
“Alex,” he replied without thinking.
“It’s a good thing she can’t hear you. She doesn’t want your pity. She would despise you for it.”
“Myself then.” He finished off his drink in one long pull.
“She would despise you for that too,” Landis said, placing his hand over Cloud’s glass and preventing him from pouring another.
“Christ, John! What do you want me to say? I knew she was getting tired. She hasn’t had enough rest since she first came on board. Her back isn’t even healed for God’s sake. Are you forgetting I know what kind of pain she’s in?” He said the last through clenched teeth. The memory of the leather hitting his back returned. He could hear every crack of the whip and the sound of tearing flesh. He removed Landis’s hand from his glass and emptied the bottle into it. His voice was low and controlled when he spoke again. “It could have waited. I wanted to teach her, but it could have waited until she was stronger.”
“I suppose. But she thought she was ready or she would not have asked.”
“She was wrong.”
“Yes, she was. It was her mistake. Why are you taking the responsibility?”
“I almost killed her.”
“But you didn’t. And she doesn’t blame you for anything that happened, does she?”
“No.” Cloud stared into his glass, his fingers gripping it tightly, causing the tips to turn white.
“Get some sleep, Tanner. It’s after midnight and she’ll probably rest until morning. You’d better hope she does. She will not want to see you the way you are now.” Landis got up and left quietly. He whistled softly to himself on his way to his own quarters.
Cloud took the advice of his friend. He fell into his bed, fully clothed, and shut his eyes. His head throbbed and the cabin tipped dangerously. In spite of that he fell asleep, dreaming of Alexis.
He saw her approach his bunk hesitantly, dressed only in the white linen shirt he had given her. He could just make out the bandage beneath the material and he winced at the sight of it. His eyes traveled downward to other, more pleasant sights. Her breasts rose and fell gently in time with her breathing, their soft swell noticeable because the collar of her shirt was opened wide. Her hands were all but invisible, the only evidence of their existence being the slender fingertips peeking out from under the long sleeves as she walked. Her legs and feet were bare and his eyes swept down them in a single continuous motion. She stood beside his bed and placed his hand on her thigh and held it there for a moment before she let it drop, allowing it to graze her leg as his eyes just had. She leaned her head toward his face as she sat beside him and whispered something so lightly he could feel the words more than hear them. Her breath caressed his cheek. He wanted to hold her, molding her form to the curves and hollows of his own, but his arms felt as if they had been anchored to the bottom of the ocean floor. The blood in his head was pounding and he fought for breath even as he fought for control over what was happening. The alcohol was still in command and he saw horror and disgust wash over her face. He could not stop her when she pushed him away and fled the cabin. He returned to oblivion.
Cloud woke a few hours later, before the first signs of the morning sun had reached his cabin. Holding his head in his hands, he rose and cursed himself for his stupidity. He washed, shaved, and changed his clothes, not recalling the dream until he put on his shirt. He buttoned it slowly, each movement bringing him closer to the truth. It had not been a dream, or even a nightmare, as he would have labeled it now if he did not know better. His hand flew to his head, his fingers coursed through his hair in a sullen, bitter motion. He paced the cabin for several minutes, stopping suddenly when he knew what he had to do. He left his quarters, slamming the door violently behind him.
Once he entered Alexis’s cabin he was calm, no hint that inside he was burning from anger directed solely at himself. Leaning against the door, he extended his legs in front of him, supporting his weight with his back pressed solidly against the wood. His thumbs hung in his pockets and his fingers rested on his hips. He remained still, content to observe Alexis in the last stages of sleep.
Her face rested in the crook of her elbow, the other arm hidden somewhere beneath the blanket. As before she had kicked away the part of the blanket covering her legs, and the smooth flesh of her calves appeared even softer in contrast to the rough woolen blanket lying beside it. When she stirred Cloud walked toward the bunk, pulling a chair with him. He placed it within an arm’s length of her bunk and sat down, waiting for her to wake.
“It wasn’t a dream, was it?” he asked when her eyelids opened and amber eyes met his own.
“No,” she answered as she sat up, pulling the blanket around her as if the gray wool had the same qualities as tempered steel. “Why are you here?”
Cloud smiled, tiny lines forming at the corners of his mouth.
“To do what I was in no condition to last night. To do what you wanted me to, and what I wanted to, and could not.”
“You were drunk,” she said flatly revealing none of the disappointment that she’d felt earlier. “Why?”
“I blamed myself for what happened. I know you said it was not my fault and I realize that now. I realized it last night after too many drinks.”
“I took on too much, too soon. I came to your room last night to make certain you knew that and”—her voice dropped but her eyes did not waver—“…and to tell you I wanted you.”
“And has that changed?” His voice was just above a whisper.
