“Not if you understand what you’ve just said—and what it means about me.” She dropped her protective armor, ready to welcome him into her arms as he murmured his comprehension, but she pulled back sharply in the next moment when she heard his words.
“Let me make love to you, Alex.”
A frustrated cry escaped her throat and muffled itself in the blanket as she covered her mouth with it. Cloud snatched the gray wool away from her.
“What’s wrong with you?” he demanded, searching her face for some answer.
“Don’t call what we are going to do making love,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t want to be made love to. I don’t want to be loved. I don’t love you.”
Cloud stood over her and placed one hand firmly at her throat, his thumb extended vertically, supporting her chin and forcing her head upward. “But I do love you, Alex. You can’t change that.” He pulled his hand away when she laughed at him. The vibration of her scornful chuckle as it rose from her throat seemed to burn his hand even before it could be heard by his ears.
“Have you forgotten I made two vows, Cloud? I haven’t. Neither of them were made lightly. I will never love you. I don’t want you to love me. What you call love is suffocating, binding, restrictive. Your love is holding me prisoner more securely than any chains. If you really knew what it was like to be kept from something you had to do, you would recognize your love for what it is. You would know why I am going to punish you. Here. In my bed. Your love is like a yoke around my neck so use me in the manner of an animal. That’s what I want. Use me. Take me. But don’t call it love.”
He said nothing. She continued to stare at him while her fingers moved to the buttons of her shirt, unfastening them coldly, deliberately. He sat down beside her and removed his boots, matching her single-minded approach. There was silence until a hoarse gasp escaped her lips as he shrugged off his shirt.
She had just seen the scars on his back. He remained motionless, waiting for her reaction, knowing those scars would say more than the explanation he had denied her. He felt her weight shift as she moved directly behind him. The depression she made told him she was kneeling. He felt her palm close to his skin but not touching it yet. He knew it was there by the heat emanating from it, the warmth caressing his flesh across a small space of air. She touched him lightly with her fingertips and drew back quickly, as though she was unsure if she wanted to do it at all. He felt a single finger trace the line of a single scar, causing them both to draw in breath simultaneously. He, from the sensation of pleasure; she, from the sensation of pain. She stopped abruptly. He felt both her hands press flat against his back in an attempt to absorb all the suffering he had gone through. Her hands slid down his skin. When they were gone she replaced them with the cool flesh of her cheek. She held her face against him for a long time, then added her hands, placing them on his shoulder blades, on either side of her head. He closed his eyes as he felt a single tear try to wedge its way between his back and her tightly pressed face. He knew the outline of her cheek as the tiny drop of salt water ran along its edge until it fell in a straight line down his back. Her voice, when she spoke, was broken like pointed slivers of the finest crystal, sharp and clean.
“I didn’t know how well you do understand.” She released him, and he turned to face her. “Tell me,” she said. He shook his head and wiped away the wet line on her cheek with his thumb. “Not now,” he answered, pushing her gently against the sheets. “Later. First this.”
He brushed her lips lightly with his. “I love you,” he whispered, knowing how much it hurt her to hear it. He clamped his mouth down on hers hard then, insistent, demanding. She responded fiercely, pressing her lips tightly against his own, searching for an outlet to the pain of his words. His hands slid down her neck, and lower, parting the material of her shirt. He heard her moan as his fingers circled her breasts, spiraling inward until they touched her nipples and her flesh stood erect under his caress. He took his mouth away from her lips and kissed her eyes, her nose, and followed the line of her jaw from her chin to her ear. He put one hand under her back and lifted her until she was sitting up, her head resting on his shoulder while his fingers quickly undid the braid lying against her back, freeing her golden hair until he locked it in his own hands, memorizing the texture as he curled it between his fingers. He slipped the shirt from her unresisting body, and when his eyes caught sight of the bandage he took it off also, so he could see all of her and know everything she was.
He laid her on the bunk once again and Alexis remained passive while he removed his trousers and slipped in beside her. Once his hands touched her skin the passivity was gone, and she trembled in response to his stroking. There was no place he could touch that did not answer to him. His kisses were alternately brutal then fragile, and his hands were as often cruel in the pressure they applied as they were tender, sometimes barely coming in contact with her flesh. It did not matter, she realized as she returned his kiss, matching his savagery of the moment. It did not matter what he did, only that he did it, and that her body responded to it. She held him tightly. Her fingers could feel the rough line of the scars on his bronzed back. Her legs could feel the power and strength in his thighs as naked flesh touched naked flesh.
Soft moans escaped her throat and she liked the sound, liked the fact that it was he who forced those sounds from her. His mouth was on her breast, evoking the same sensations he had with his hands, and now his hands were moving along her inner thighs, slowly parting her flesh. She tried to move away from the incessant motion of his strong fingers at the junction of her legs but he would not allow it and then she was pushing her body against him, demanding more of the exquisite pleasure shooting through her; pleasure so intense it was almost painful in its grip over her body. She felt him release her breast and his mouth moved down her quivering flesh to the place his fingers had caressed.
“Cloud,” she murmured between ragged breaths. “No. Not yet. No one…” She tried to grab his hair and push him away but it was a useless motion that ended with her flinging her arm over the edge of the bed in defeat.
“Shh,” he reassured her. “I know that.” His body shifted and his mouth returned to her own, his lips hovering above hers. “Everything about you is lovely. I want to know all of you.” Then he kissed her and she responded greedily, hungrily, glad he liked what she had to offer.
Cloud moved between her parted legs, brushing against her gently. Slowly he moved into her, watching her carefully to assure her in that moment of pain. When it came, her eyes opened wide in shock and she looked at him as if he had betrayed her. Then as he gently continued his movements and the pain washed away, her face revealed an odd mixture of emotions. He saw her struggling with her own desire; a desire to be free of him and a desire to never let him stop what he was doing. The struggle was the conflict between her body and her mind, and her wish to give him one or the other, unaware that with him there could be no such division—that when she’d surrendered her body, she had already given him her mind. She began moving with him, catching his rhythm, working toward a single instant when she would allow him to have all of her.
Alexis gasped as he carried her toward the edge of fulfillment once more and kept her there until she cried out. Then as he thrust deeply inside her a final time, she felt herself tumble over the precipice, her body convulsing in free fall, her limbs making wild thrashing movements designed to protect herself once she hit bottom. And once she hit, once the fiery, burning sensations no longer controlled her, she lay motionless beneath him and a warm glow spread over her flesh. It was warmer than the heat from the sun, only now making its presence felt in her room, casting its rays more fully over their bodies. It was warmer than his breath, close to her ear; breath that caused wisps of yellow hair to part at the force of life within him. She heard his words again, the same words he’d spoken earlier, the same words that had hurt her before hurt her again, but she listened, wanting to be hurt by him. “I love you,” he said.
“Tell me now, Cloud,” she said after a long stretch during which the only sound had been their soft breathing. The sheet was pulled over them and Alexis liked the coolness of it next to her perspiring flesh. She moved under it, bringing her body close to his, touching his chest lightly with her breasts.
Sighing, he pushed her away. “I won’t be able to tell you anything if you insist on moving like that.”
“So soon?” she asked, surprised. She could not imagine it. The last sensations still caressed her limbs.
“So soon,” he assured her. He remained lying against the pillow as she lifted her head and supported it with her elbow so she could look down on his face.
“Tell me,” she said gently.
“Are you familiar with theChesapeake,Alex?” Her sudden stiffening answered his question. “I’m glad you know. It makes it easier to explain.” He continued flatly, without emotion, reciting the story as he had so many times before. The memory was etched permanently in his brain. “It will be three years ago in June. I had been with the navy for two years when I was assigned to theChesapeake.We were leaving Norfolk, Virginia, on our way to Europe. We had not gone more than ten miles when a British frigate hailed us.”
“TheLeopard,”she whispered.
“That’s right. Our captain, Commodore Barron, thought they only wanted us to carry dispatches to London so he permitted one of their officers to board. The officer produced a copy of an order from the Vice Admiral—Sir George Berkley, I think. He was the Commander in Chief of the American Station at the time. The order was to allow theLeopardofficer to search theChesapeakefor deserters. Barron refused and all hell broke loose after that. The British met our decision with a ten-minute cannonade which we were defenseless against. Those ten minutes seemed to drag on for hours then. When the smoke cleared and the fires were put out we had lost three men and eighteen were wounded.”
“Friends.”
“Some.” He knew she heard his bitterness slowly surfacing, and he searched her face for the first signs of pity. He only saw understanding. He kissed the fingers that were resting lightly on his shoulder before he went on. “Barron had no choice but to submit to a search after that. He fired off one defiant shot for our flag, then he allowed a second boarding party to search theChesapeake.The British produced the usual false documents and claimed four men as deserters. I was one of them.” He paused, seeking the words to continue with the part of the story he did not often share. Her fingers curled around his arm, offering support and the tightening in his throat eased.
“I stayed with theLeopardfor almost six months. During that time my family went through every channel open to them to find me and have me released. They nearly managed it, but then I was put aboard theGrenadaand British officials informed my family they were unable to trace my whereabouts. The furor over theChesapeakeincident gradually died down and my parents and sister found every government door shut to them.
“At first I could not accept what had happened to me. I believed my family would be able to locate me and the nightmare of serving the British would end. Others had been that fortunate. When I never heard anything I realized I could not depend on either my family or my government to rectify the situation. I took the matter into my own hands as I should have done in the beginning—as I had always done before.”
“You tried to escape?”
