Brant grabbed her by the shoulders and jerked her
against him. "Do you think I'd trust any other man with something I wanted
for myself?"
He shoved her from him then, slamming the door
behind him. Anne stared after him in amazement. She should have been furious
that he had prevented her from running off with Colin. Yet Brant had wanted her
badly enough to do something. And she had wanted Colin badly enough to forsake
her husband. She had wanted him badly enough that just the memory of him had
kept her alive those horrendous months with the Comanches. Could she in all
honesty blame Brant when she was doing the same?
She hurried to the window and picked up the
telescope, uncapping it and holding it to her right eye. Tensely she watched as
the Mexican schooner of war sailed closer, lured by the flag of her country.
Then, at a distance of less than half a mile, it appeared the schooner
suspected treachery and heeled over until her lee guns were almost under water.
Thunder echoed throughout the
Seawasp
as her
men let go a broadside from the
Seawasp
's starboard batteries. From
somewhere above came Brant's muffled shout. "Hold your fire for closer
quarters! Keep the fuses ready. Strike our colors!"
The Mexican schooner, the
Guerra
, retorted
with a volley of grape that took down some of the
Seawasp
's rigging. The
brig shuddered from the shot. Now fear swept through Anne―fear that they
all would be killed―or that she would find herself in a slavery much more
degrading than that with which Brant had threatened her. And she was forced to
acknowledge that at least Brant had never degraded her sexually―not even
in his fiercest lovemaking.
The
Seawasp
kept within the wake of the
Mexican schooner, firing a volley of round that blasted away the Guerra's main
top-gallant mast. A second and third volley unshipped one of the gun carriages,
taking with it a chip off the after-part of the foremast.
Anne watched in horror as the schooner's foremast
fell and killed two men, the sails and rigging crumpling to the deck like a
burial shroud. A final shot plowed through the schooner's hull, and the
Seawasp
gained on her weather quarter to within easy pistol shot to put a broadside
over the exposed decks.
Putting away the telescope, Anne watched with naked
eye as the flag with the cactus and the eagle emblazoned on it slowly lowered
in surrender.
That she would never do. Never would she surrender
to Brant.
XXVII
The parrot squawked raucously from its stand,
interrupting the melodious strains of a guitar that floated from the palm-lined
shore that stretched beyond the walls of the hacienda.
The hacienda, just outside the perimeter of the
Mexican town of Sisal, was deserted by its original occupants―Yucatan
insurrectionists favorable to the Texas Republic, who had fled at the approach
of Santa Anna's Centralist troops. And then, with the sighting of the Republic
of Texas brig of war, those Centralist troops had prudently vacated Sisal
rather than be shelled by the
Seawasp
.
In some of the hacienda's rooms the seamen of the
Seawasp
slept off their weariness in beds, for the first time in weeks, while the
venturesome had gone into Sisal to take advantage of the flashing, dark-eyed
señoritas
available there. The seamen still on duty carried supplies of fresh water,
fruits, and smoked meats to the waiting longboats.
Anne held out the last nut in her hand, and the
macaw thrust its hooked beak at the proffered food. "
Gracias
,
mujer
linda
, " it replied.
With a wan smile Anne brushed her hands off on the
red flowered skirt she had found in one of the upstairs bedrooms and moved off
restlessly, wandering about the large
sala
. Her senses were strained and
finely attuned to everything about her...to the coolness of the adobe-tiled floor
beneath her bare feet, and the fragrant, heavy scents of the frangipani and
hibiscus that wafted from the open doors of the terrace. Just beyond the
wrought iron gates a tropical moon rose over the blackness of the ocean, its
beams silvering a pathway to the shore. Somewhere outside, a man's baritone
voice joined the guitar.
It should have been a place for a honeymoon, she
thought. But here she was, a captive of a man who was as contemptuous of her as
she was of him. And yet, he admitted wanting her, though he had not yet once
touched her since she boarded the
Seawasp
.
Perhaps it was the romantic atmosphere of the
tropical hideaway, but her own mind strayed to the more intimate moments she
had shared with Brant, conjuring up the vision of his splendidly formed body,
feeling once again the ripple of his muscles beneath her palms and his husky
voice whispering love words in her ear. And she knew that, though she did not
love him, she wanted him also.
Anne wandered to the open doors. She longed to go
outside, if only for just a few minutes, to walk along the sand-pebbled beach,
to be anywhere but in the same house with Brant. But he had refused her even
this pleasure, had confined her to the hacienda with the excuse that it was too
dangerous to be walking alone. She had almost been tempted to demand he Escort her,
but she had been half afraid that he would. Even now, she could hear his voice
from the open door of the study as he conversed with the various members of the
crew who had come and gone in succession during the past hour.
How long could she hold out against Brant―against
her own physical desire for him? Surely up the coast toward Veracruz there must
be English or American steamers putting into the port of San Juan de Ulla―some
steamer that would be willing to take her aboard. Out of Mexico, out of Brant's
hands, she could at least find some way of getting to England and Colin.
With purposeful steps Anne made her way toward the
study. Brant sat behind an enormous desk, his dark head bent over a sheaf of
papers. The quill pen in his hand moved furiously, only to halt as he sensed
her presence in the doorway. He looked up. The narrowed eyes regarded her
steadily. "Yes?"
"I would like to talk with you," she said
stiffly.
His gaze switched from her to something just beyond
and Anne realized that a sailor had come up behind her. "Come in―both
of you," Brant said. With a nod of his head he indicated to Anne to take a
seat. She lowered herself into one of the ponderous, velvet-covered chairs to
wait while he spoke with the sailor.
"Gunner Adams," Brant said.
"Sir?" The young man snapped to attention,
dragging his gaze from the lovely girl the men had talked of but had seen so
little of during the voyage.
"At ease." Brant came around from behind
his desk and, taking one of the heavy leather bags piled at the foot of the
deck, handed it to the man. "Your share of the prize money, Adams. You've
done well."
A wide smile appeared on the man's unshaven face.
"Thank ye, Captain Powers!"
The suspicion grew into certainty as Anne stared at
Brant. "I thought you were on government business," she accused,
after the sailor had gone.
"We are," Brant said, returning to his
chair. He stretched out his long legs before him and rested his chin on clasped
hands, waiting for her to continue.
"And this blood money?" she spat.
"We took twenty-five thousand dollars in silver
off the
Guerra
," he explained calmly. "As an inducement to
sail for the Republic of Texas, our government offers one-fifth of the spoils
to be divided among each man."
Anne sprang to her feet. "Is there no limit to
your barbarism? You're nothing but a common privateer ...and a slave
trader!"
"Is that what you wanted to see me about?"
The dark brows raised mockingly.
Why was it that she could not carry on an
intelligible, reasonable conversation with him without becoming upset? "I
was about to make you an offer," she said, trying to regain her composure.
"A bargain of sorts."
"Oh―what sort of bargain?"
Anne realized at once she had erred. To bargain with
her body in exchange for release, when she was his for the taking―what
could she be thinking? It must be the tropical climate that dulled her senses so.
"I―I've changed my mind," she said and
turned to flee the room. Behind her she heard his light laughter and feared he knew
her plan from the beginning. If he was waiting for her to come to him, he could
wait forever! Angry at herself, at him, she left the hacienda with deliberate
steps that took her past the stucco walls that surrounded the hacienda's gardens,
down along a path overgrown with papaya, palm, and date trees, always following
the sound of the sea carried by the wind.
Just as she broke free of the forested overgrowth
and came out onto the open beach, she collided with another person. They both
stumbled to their knees in the shifting sand. The moon's light revealed the man
to be none other than the grizzled seaman, Tucker. "It be the captain's
woman," he said thickly. His own surprise turned to a grin that terrified
Anne. He pushed his face forward, and she could smell the pulque on his breath
as she struggled against him, losing her balance.
"The captain's not enough for ye?" He fell
across her so that she was pinioned between him and the sand that grated against
her bare thighs. "I can show a doxie like you things I bet the captain
never thought about."Tucker squirmed on top of her so that he straddled
her, and Anne could feel him jerking at the buttons of his pants.
"See it," he panted, drawing forth his
swollen flesh. "Prime piece of manhood, it is. Now I'll show ye how to
choke my chicken," and he grabbed at her hands.
Anne wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the
situation, but fear won out. She arched her body, bucking like a wild horse in
her frantic attempt to throw the man. At that same moment the seaman's weight
was abruptly removed from her. The man stumbled backwards, falling on his back
to look up into the muzzle loader Ezra held on him. "I think Captain
Powers will be wanting to see you," Ezra said.
The torrid sun blazed down on the brig riding the
Gulfs gentle waves. On the brig's main deck thirty-six sailors stood at
attention while Ezra laid the first of two dozen cat-o'-nine-tails over Seaman
Tucker's bare back. As punishment for insubordination, the sailor had been
stripped to the waist and lashed to a cannon. With each bite of the cat, florid
ridges of flesh sprang upon his back followed by flowing lines of crimson.
From above, on the poop deck, Anne was forced to
watch the flogging. Each time her eyes shut against the grizzly sight, the man
at her side dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her arm. Once she swayed,
held upright only by Brant's steely grip. "Damn your whoring heart, Annie.
Watch! Watch what you've brought about by your damned willfulness!"
When it was over and the seamen had been dismissed,
Brant yanked Anne after him up the companionway to his cabin. He slammed the door
and shoved her onto the bed.
Anne jerked upright. "How dare you accuse me of
willfulness," she blazed. "If it weren't for your own blind selfishness―your
warped desire for revenge―I wouldn't have been aboard the
Seawasp
to begin with. But no, you had to have your revenge. You couldn't stand it that
I might prefer a decent man to you!"
Brant's eyes narrowed to burning slits. The air
about the two of them crackled with the electricity of his anger. Anne drew back
in fear, but he grabbed one wrist and jerked her up against him. She could feel
the heat that was both anger and desire emanating from him. "I don't care
how many men you prefer to me―you're still my wife, Anne."
"You forget Otto," she whispered.
"No―you forgot him. In the eyes of the
law―and aboard this vessel I am the law―you are my wife… as I
intend to remind you."
She struck out at him, leaving red scratches across
his right cheek, and he laughed as he shoved her back on the bed again. Anne
tried to scramble to the other side, and he threw his body across hers. When
his mouth clamped over hers, she dug her hands into his thick hair and yanked
his head backwards, but he jammed his knee up brutally between her legs.
"If you wouldn't fight me, Annie, "he
whispered at her ear, "I wouldn't have to hurt you."
But it was not he she was fighting but her body's
treacherous response to his own body's demands. She twisted and shoved, even
sinking her teeth into his shoulder, but still his hands had their way with
her. And at last her curses turned to moans of ecstasy as she wrapped her arms
about him, pulling him against her in that final explosive moment of rapture.
But afterwards, with his lips at her temple, she
whispered scathingly, "You're no, better than Tucker!"
She felt him stiffen and expected him to hit her,
but instead he rolled off of her and began to dress. At the door he paused and
looked at her. She saw the tired lines in his face―and something else she
could not identify. "I don't know whatever made me think you were worth
wanting―or having. Like some fool I kept hoping―hoping you'd get
over Donovan―hoping that by the time we returned to Texas you would
realize what it was you wanted. But I can see I was wrong."
The
Seawasp
sailed up along the Texas coast,
and Anne watched impatiently through the telescope for a glimpse of Galveston's
weathered buildings, but so far there were only the low sandy beaches backed by
scrubby, wind-bent trees. For eleven days she had remained within the cabin,
seeing no one but Ezra. Where Brant slept at night she did not know, but she
was grateful she was spared his presence. There was something about the two of
them that set them at each other's throats whenever they were together...every
time but one―that one idyllic day spent at Brant's ranch beneath the huge
oak.
There was a knock at the door, and Ezra entered with
a tray of mangoes and nuts. He sat it on the desk, and she put aside the
telescope. "How long before we reach Galveston, Ezra?"
"Three or four more hours at the most."
"It can't be soon enough," she murmured.
Ezra shook his grizzled locks. "I don't think
I've ever met two more pig-headed people."
"How can you defend him―how can you
justify his involvement in slave trade and―and piracy?"
"You ought to check your facts first, miss. The
reason Brant ran away from home was because of his father's involvement with
slave trade." Anne would not relent. "But his piracy―you will
condone that?"
"Brant's share of the booty goes toward buying
more supplies to outfit such ships ...but why don't you ask him these questions
yourself?"