Watching her, Cloud found himself fascinated once again by the easy grace with which she moved, the fluid elegance of her limbs. She smoothed out the legs of a pair of fawn-colored trousers with her slender fingers, folding them gently, and laid them in a drawer; then she turned and retrieved another article and went through the same process again. He could not take his eyes from her hands caressing the material any more than he could resist recalling what it was like to have those fingers touch his naked flesh.
“I’ve missed you, Alex,” he said suddenly. He was instantly sorry. Her reaction to the words he spoke was quick although she said nothing. She halted in midmotion, her profile frozen. He saw her, kneeling on the deck, one arm outstretched reaching into her bag. It was only a second. She pulled her hand out quickly and composed herself.
Alexis had heard him speak, but it was not only what he said that produced her reaction. The coldness of sharp metal beneath her fingers had also taken her by surprise, and sudden clarity almost made her laugh. Peach, of course! Silently she thanked him for his effort; then she placed her hand inside the bag again, this time deftly sliding the dagger into one of her boots before she retrieved them. As she placed them at the foot of the bed, she remembered Cloud had spoken to her. The full weight of his words clutched her. He was still watching her, curiously now, at odds with his admission.
Alexis stared at the man occupying her space so easily, so naturally. His thick, copper hair wasa little longer, curling at his neck, feathered back at his temples. Beneath his dark blue jacket and white trousers, she knew his muscles were as firm and tight as she remembered and his flesh just as warm. The open collar of his shirt revealed the pulsing of his blood through the vein in his neck, and as she stared she saw it grow stronger while his chest heaved suddenly, then was still as the breath caught in his throat. His sea green eyes were like whirlpools that drew her closer even while she fought against them. His lips were parted as if he were going to speak. Or kiss her.
Alexis turned sharply and went back to her task. As she bent over the black silk trousers and shirt of her time aboardDark Lady shewhispered softly, “I missed you also, Cloud.”
He closed his eyes and stared into the blackness provided. She could not have wielded more pain if she had carried a whip. He wondered how much it would hurt to hear her response to what he’d held back. The silent I love you.
His eyes opened wide when he heard her small gasp. He sat up and saw her pulling a shirt from the depths of the bag. His shirt! Alexis glanced over and saw he recognized it. She wanted to take it and fling it in his face, but she could not bring herself to part with it. Where was it? Where was the disgust she professed to have for the man who had stood in her way once too often? Why did she not feel it deeply? She struggled to find the emotion, but it was not there. Neither was love. The desire to tell him what she had felt for two years had been obliterated the moment she’d seen him on board her ship, but she could not stop wanting him. No! It was a silent scream; her mouth, as if by its own volition, formed the word on her lips. It hung there as Cloud stood and crossed the distance to her. He took the shirt from her trembling fingers, noticing the patched elbows and shiny, threadbare material.
“You have worn this often?” he asked quietly.
“Yes.” She tried to retrieve it. Her hand brushed his and the contact seared their flesh. She pulled her hand away at the same time he did, and the shirt fell to the deck between them. Alexis watched it fall and settle in a careless heap. She bent to pick it up. Two strong hands, insistent yet gentle, prevented her downward movement. She paused, looking up into Cloud’s face.
“Why?” The simple word when it left his mouth brushed against Alexis’s cheek, warming it, and Cloud imagined he could see the imprint of his breath there.
Alexis touched her cheek lightly with the palm of her hand, then removed his hands from her shoulders, taking a step backward at the same time. She felt suffocated by his closeness and his questions and her own brief response to his touch.
She stooped, gathering the shirt in her hands and folding it with more care than any other article of clothing. “It was the only thing I had of yours. The only thing to remind me you were not of my imagination.” She paused, turning her back on him as she put the shirt with her other belongings.
“I only wore it at night, Cloud. To sleep in. I liked to think I was sleeping with you.” Her last words were barely audible.
“And that has changed now?” It was hardly a question; only the tiniest inflection at the end made it so.
“You know it has,” she answered, turning once more to face him, letting the hammer drop with hushed grace.
There was nothing more to say. He had known there could be nothing between them until this assignment was over, only he knew now that he had never wanted to accept it. Abruptly he turned, no longer able to look at the soft light, sheathed in pain, emanating from her amber eyes. He rapped loudly on the door and the silence, already broken, was further split by the bolt sliding across the catch. He left the cabin without looking back and Alexis felt, rather than heard, the shudder of the door as it slammed closed. Heavy steps in the companionway assured her that her words had had their anticipated effect. Barely conscious of the movement she bent over her boots and took out her dagger. With a calculated flick of her wrist she sailed it across the cabin to sink into the blank wall of her prison.
When the hilt had ceased vibrating from the force of her toss Alexis threw herself across the bunk and stared at the porthole, willing her lips to stop trembling and her tears to stay unshed.
Hours later Cloud brought her dinner. He did not stay while she ate and he sent Frank to get her tray. The porthole continued to provide her one diversion until the sun went down and the light disappeared, plunging her prison into darkness and obliterating even the opening to the sea from her view.
She closed her eyes and pulled her knees close to her chest, covering herself with a blanket. When she fell asleep she did not dream of Washington, her escape, or Cloud. She dreamed of a young girl whose world was the color of soot.
As she slept Cloud kept watch for some sign of her ship. She might believe her men would not come after her, but he was not so sure. He had seen the way they’d all looked at her, recognized their respect and admiration and their reluctance in the very end to submit without a fight. She had been magnificent while she told them what was happening. There was no martyred look, no indication she was sacrificing anything for them. Her voice had been calm, self-composed, and margined with just the right amount of firmness to give her unquestionable authority. He stared out over the water. Her men would come, maybe not now, but they would try to help her, sooner or later. Cloud hoped it was sooner.
He thought of her in his shirt, naked beneath the soft, white linen, tugging at the sleeves the way she always did, trying in vain to uncover her hands as the material slid past her fingers. He thought of how she looked when only moonlight shared the cabin they slept in, casting its delicate blue light over the shirt, causing shadows to reveal the curves beneath. Her smile could only be seen in her eyes, her willingness apparent in the slight tilt of her head, the position visible only because it was followed by the gentle swing of her hair, soft and blue-gold in their silent companion’s light.
He stopped, inwardly bracing himself. No matter what she meant to him she was still Captain Danty. If her men came it would be the captain he would have to fight for; Alex was not his any longer. Maddeningly, wonderfully, she still belonged to herself, a prisoner only by virtue of the four walls and locked door he had forced upon her.
“I’m your relief, Captain,” Landis said, jerking Cloud back to reality.
“Good. I was getting tired.”
“Do you think they’ll come?” he asked as he took over the watch, allowing Cloud the freedom to close his eyes for a moment.
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes. So would Harry and Mike and everyone else.”
“Then why should her men be any different?”
“I’m not looking forward to it,” Landis said, shaking his head.
Cloud laughed weakly. “You think I am?”
