ROMANTIC VENTURE

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The small cabin was awash in milky blue-gray shadows, and rain pattered in windy torrents against the outside beams. Inside the rolling ship, the sleeping Maurette bumped against Dominic's hard body in the plush softness of the feather bed. He awakened to find her snuggled against him, her head nestled in the curve of his arm. In that bronzed setting, she seemed a rare and perfect jewel. Her opaline skin was warm and flushed from her virginal passion, and her shimmering hair was tangled in wild curls. As he moved to lift himself to one elbow, she wriggled against him and sighed like a contended kitten.

He did not wish to awaken her, but the sight of her bared breasts, coral-tipped and rising gently with her breath, made his own catch painfully. He reached out and ran his fingertips over the opal mounds. Maurette squirmed and rolled to her side, and, groaning, Dominic laid aside his own passion and merely watched her sleep.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he remembered her unbridled response to his lovemaking. She had moaned and writhed at the touch of his mouth and the caress of his tongue. His hands had roved her sweet body with intimate freedom. Dominic winced at the thought of her deflowering. He forgave himself only in the sense that he knew that he would never have to cause her pain again. He would play with her and tantalize her eager flesh to his heart's content. He would arouse new and wilder responses in her innocent body. Last night was only a beginning. Dominic would teach her every joy of passion that the world had ever known. Her virgin response was his to explore.

He heard the bells on deck and knew that he could ignore them if he wished. Looking down upon the treasure that had molded itself to him in sleeping trust, he drew in his breath. His whole reason for existence was the protection of this precious creature, but, hearing the rain and feeling the rolling of the ship, Dominic feared they had entered a storm. Though their crossing was to be a short one, he knew the perilous North Sea was the scene of many unexpected and savage storms that seemed to arise out of nowhere, do their heinous damage, then disappear.

Reluctantly, he drew himself from the cozy warmth of the bed. He had prayed for an uneventful crossing, but the pitch of the deck as he stepped out of bed told him that this was no harmless rainstorm. Shrugging into his shirt and doublet and drawing on his breeches and boots, he grabbed a slicker and ducked from the cabin.

The fore deck was a swarm with men. Huge drops of rain pelted the decks, and the riggings were slippery in the hands that secured them. Dominic moved quickly to the wheel and, questioning the helmsman, discovered that the storm had been brewing since dawn, and now the swelling ocean was tossing the ship as if it were a toy. Surveying the sky, Dominic saw great banks of rolling black clouds hugging the horizon and forming a low, surging ceiling over the ship. Dazzling swords of blue lightening cracked inside the churning vapors, thunder boomed threateningly, and a thickening wall of inky fog hung in the north sky. Dominic knew that they were in for the severe violence nature had to offer in this part of the world, and he prayed that Maurette would remain securely asleep until the worst had passed.

Geoffrey Frobisher, the first mate, moved unsteadily along the deck to where Dominic now stood. The younger man's hat was cockily askew and soggy in the slanting rain, but a cheerful smile creased his friendly beaded face.

"Ahoy, Captain," he called jovially. " 'Tis a bit of a breeze we're havin'," he said.

Dominic leveled a look of consternation at his friend and crew mate. "Let us hope," he said over the roar of the rain, "that it is just a 'breeze,' Geoff. You know I have my lady, Maurette, aboard."

"I have not had the pleasure of meeting her, sir," said Geoffrey; moving to Dominic's side, "but I'm told she is a beauty and well worth saving should, this little tub flounder." He gave Dominic's arm a friendly jab. "She'll be getting a taste of the sea one way or the other now; won't she?" he said gaily.

Dominic turned in disgust from his friend's joviality. "Some things do not survive a jest," he said roughly. Then, to the helmsman he said, "You need to get below, Roger. Send old Jase up with coffee for Geoff and me. I will be a long day, I fear. Will you look in on my cabin from time to time to see that Maurette is safe?"

The old helmsman nodded and swiped at his dripping face and hair, accepting the dismissal with a small smile of gratitude. He went below to the relative dry of the galley and informed the cook, Jase, of the captain's order. Then, obeying his captain's other order, he peeked in on Maurette.

Maurette was still deep in slumber. And what a pretty thing she was, thought the old man. Her body seemed to glow with an ethereal aura, her bright curls were splayed out over the white pillow, and her innocent mouth formed a small pout each time the ship pitched. Closing the door softly, he shook his head grimly and violence of the sudden storm. That, child deserved a more peaceful crossing, he thought, clicking his tongue. Were she his daughter, she would be at home where a delicate thing like that belonged, not out on this savage ocean.

Up on deck, Geoffrey continued to speak as if he and Dominic were idling in a sunny meadow. "When shall we meet your good lady, sir?" he said, leaning nonchalantly on the helm's rail.

Dominic glanced at him and quickly righted the wheel that had suddenly twisted from his grasp. "Your good nature is wearing mine," he said, gritting his teeth with the effort and causing Geoffrey to throw his big head back and roar with mirth. Dominic regarded him with disgust and placed his concentration on steering where it was most needed at that moment. The big ship was rolling wildly now, and the masts groaned in the vicious winds. Rain came in sheets to sweep across the slanting decks.

Suddenly, Geoffrey's hat was snatched from his head by the wind and sent skimming across the sodden deck. Geoffrey smiled and shook his head as he started across the deck to retrieve the hat.

"Avast, Geoff," shouted Dominic. "Don't be a fool!"

"'Tis my favorite topper, Captain," the younger man yelled back as he pulled himself along the rigging. "I'll be careful." He gave Dominic a small wave of his hand over his shoulder. The ship pitched wildly at that moment, and Geoff's grip on the ropes faltered.

Dominic saw Geoff fall but was powerless to stop him. The layer of water on the deck of the rolling vessel made traction impossible, and Geoff slid, arms and legs thrashing wildly, across the pitching deck. Dominic watched in horror as the big man crashed into the gunwale and then, propelled by the force of his own weight and by the slant of the deck, over the side. Dominic yelled for a crew man to take over the helm. Pulling himself along the slippery riggings to where Geoff had grabbed onto the running rig and was precariously dangling just above the smashing waves, Dominic reached one long sinewy arm out to his friend.

The young man, having every faith in Dominic's strength, dared to loose one of his hands from its altogether too tenuous grip on the ropes. Slipping, with only one hand clutching the slippery ropes, Geoff instantly grasped the rigging again with his other hand.

"Go back, Captain," he shrieked, grimacing with the effort of holding himself above the violently foaming ocean beneath him. Between the slick rope and the torrential gale, his grip was loosening.

Dominic, straining against the force of the storm, pulled himself further along the deck and then fastened himself to a rigging. One powerful arm held fast and one arm reaching in a slow painful stretch, he extended himself across the deck. With a mighty lurch, Dominic propelled himself against the now screeching wind and the pitch of the deck and grabbed Geoff around one wrist. Rope strained cuttingly against flesh as Dominic heaved mightily and dragged his friend's heavy body from the side of the ship and across the deck. Oblivious to all else, they hugged each other, one protecting the other in a stronghold of defense against the raging elements. Neither man noticed the horror-stricken shout of the crewman who had taken the helm.

"Captain!" he called wildly, straining to make his voice heard above the howling winds and the crashing waves "Captain, please. Avast, you there, mistress," he yelled. "Captain," he shouted again, his desperate voice finally reaching Dominic on the shrieking wind. "She's up amid-ship, sir," he yelled, pointing, and Dominic's gaze was now riveted.

There, in shroud of gossamer shreds, wet tendrils of hair flying wildly about her stiffened white body, stood Maurette. Fear emblazoned Dominic's being, And, uncaring of his own safety, he struggled to a standing position. Gripping the riggings that had held him fast, he moved painfully over the water-soaked deck toward Maurette's wraithlike figure. Her pale body was too fragile to withstand the horror of what it was now enduring.

"Maurette," Dominic shouted as he dragged himself toward her. "Go back, little one! Go below!"

Maurette did not move. She seemed not to hear or see him. The wind raged around her, and the rain beat and tore at her flimsy covering until she seemed nearly naked in the deluge. She looked tiny and frightened beneath the tumultuous power of the storm. Her great eyes were wide and searching, and her lips moved soundlessly. She seemed to be calling Dominic's name, but the force of the wind swallowed up the sound.

Just as Dominic reached her, the ship pitched fiercely without warning and threw them to the deck and a mighty wall of green water erupted over the side and engulfed them both. Dominic groped wildly for Maurette's body. Feeling something solid, he grasped at it blindly with one hand. His fingers tore at the filmy sodden night dress, and reaching desperately with both arms painfully outstretched, he caught Maurette's languid form in his arms and dragged her through the heaving mass of water to him. Grabbing onto a spar with one arm, he held her flaccid body to his chest with the other, and protected her as much as it was within his power from the intense ebbing pressure of the mountainous wave.

Straining against tons of receding water, the pitch of the ship, and the force of the howling wind and swirling rain, Dominic shored up the remnant of his immense strength. He must get Maurette below. Mercifully, she had fainted and no longer felt the pummeling of the storm. Dominic, holding onto the spar, felt as if his arm were about to be ripped from his body. Ignoring his agony, he lifted Maurette's limp form over one powerful shoulder and drug them both across the deck through the unrelenting onslaught of the storm-swept ocean.

*

Three days later, Maurette had not regained consciousness. A dull, pounding roar echoed in her ears and became louder as she relived the storm. Sheets of icy rain pelted her small unclothed body, and wind whipped at her hair in awesome fury and she was helpless and horror-stricken in the tearing assault. A sheen of perspiration covered her tormented body and her breath came in short sobbing gasps. Twisting her head furiously from side to side in a frantic attempt to escape the terror that engulfed her, she reached out blindly and screamed Dominic's name, but the howling wind pushed her voice back into her throat. She could not breathe, and her eyes popped open. Panic overwhelmed her as she saw a mountain of green water towering above her. The water turned black. Maurette screamed once more as the water plunged over her and consumed her in its ebony depths.

In the dim golden light of the cabin, the three men watching the horror of Maurette's tortured awakening tried to restrain her, but she fought them wildly, desperately, until her fevered body stiffened and went suddenly limp. She lay quietly now, breathing in short irregular gasps. For three days, Maurette had lain in her own perspiration, her body and mind enmeshed in a terrible agony from which there was no escape.

The ship's doctor, Ben Tremain, shook his tired head and hugged himself against the cold shivers that racked his body from September to June.

" 'Tis horrible," he breathed. "I've not seen anything like it, Dominic."

Dominic, his eyes red-rimmed, his haggard face covered with a thick growth of coarse stubble, groaned in helpless agony. He had cursed himself a thousand times for exposing Maurette to this horror. As he looked down upon her fragile body in the huge bunk, it seemed even more delicate. Her hair tumbled about her white face in matted tangles. Her thick lashes lay upon her pale cheeks, and her closed eyelids were a translucent violet. How much more of this, he wondered, could that sweet, frail body withstand. She had suffered that nightmare many times over the last three days. Each time, Dominic had hoped that recognition would return to her, but each time, she had seemed to sink back into the depths of a horrible dream.

"Poor wee thing," Geoffrey crooned as he stood beside Dominic, holding a cool cloth. "Let me sponge her, sir," he said gently. "You go and rest."

Dominic took the wet cloth from Geoffs hand. "I'll do it. She is my responsibility," he said sharply and gently wiped Maurette's face and neck.

"Then let me watch her for you," Geoffrey pleaded. "I can do that as well as you, sir, and you need rest."

Ben gathered his tools into his bag. "Let him help you, Dominic," he said. "Take another bunk and sleep. Geoff will let you know if there is any change. I must get to the other injuries." He faced Dominic squarely. "I want you to get some sleep."

Dominic simply shook his head. His big shoulders slumped as he sat down heavily on one of the chairs near the bunk.

The other two men looked at each other. They understood, though Dominic's obstinacy worried them. Dominic had neither slept nor eaten in three days and had disregarded his own injuries, allowing Ben only a cursory examination of them.

"At least let me change the dressings on your hand and wrist, Dominic," said Ben. "And your chest and shoulder should be rebound." Ben was deeply concerned about Dominic.

Dominic placed his hand on the table but kept his eyes on Maurette. Ben removed the bandage with efficient speed and examined the welting cuts. Geoff placed a bowl of water on the table, and the doctor washed the injuries. He rubbed a greasy yellow salve into the wounds. Looking up at Dominic quickly to see if the stinging medicine was hurting him, he was disappointed to find no reaction in his patient. Whether Dominic felt pain or not, he was not responding to it. Ben had never seen such remorse in a man. He began to rewrap Dominic's hand and wrist.

"You could not have prevented the storm, Dominic," said the doctor with concern. When Dominic did not answer, Ben tried a new tack. "Only the gods could prevent a storm," he said harshly. He hoped that his tone would inspire anger or even denial in his friend.

Dominic looked up slowly. His eyes were like deep, dark holes in his face. For the first time, Ben and Geoff noted that tears coursed down his roughened cheeks. His voice, when he spoke, was a hoarse whisper. "No," he said raggedly, "I could not have prevented the storm." His face was a mask of pain and haunted suffering. "No man has the power to do that. But for Maurette," he continued haltingly, "I should have been a god."

Geoff and Ben stared at their captain. Fear and pity were in their hearts and in their eyes as they turned to each other. Finally, Ben looked down and remembered the task at hand. He finished wrapping Dominic's hand with a tenderness he seldom utilized in doctoring the rough sailors with whom he dealt. Ben was not a hard man, but a pragmatic one, and long ago he had accepted that injury, pain, and death were part and parcel of a man's life. His heart went out to Dominic Warbrooke, who sat before him now, his muscular body convulsed in sobs.

Ben cursed his ability to tend a surface injury while being helpless in the face of the deep agony of the soul. Placing his hand on Dominic's shoulder, he spoke gently. "Please let me replace this bandage, Dominic."

Dominic stood and allowed Ben to examine his chest and shoulder.

A small moan erupted from the depths of the bunk, and the three men riveted their attention on Maurette's small form. Dominic was the first to move. Ben and Geoff tried to hold him back, but he shrugged them off. Both men feared Maurette's awakening again into a horrible dimension of a reality they could not fathom.

Dominic lowered himself onto one knee next to the bed and looked down into Maurette's face. She moaned again and very slowly opened her eyes. She looked into Dominic's woeful gaze, and recognition showed upon her face. She smiled weakly. Haltingly, she moved her mouth to speak.

"Dominic," she breathed feebly. Her small white hand came up from the bed, and she reached for his cheek. Laying her palm on the dark stubble that covered his face, she grimaced lightly. "You are hairy," she whispered with a soft smile.