“I am a man of tolerance. I am even ready to take my wife back even though she has played the whore with a filthy Don.”
“He was a man of fine and cultured manners such as you could never understand.”
He took me by the forearm and shook me; I thought at once of the gentle hands of Felipe.
“You were betrothed to me. That betrothal was binding. It was as good as marriage.”
“I did not regard it as such. If I had I would never have entered into it.”
“You lie. You wanted me. You would have been my wife, you would have been at Pennlyon Court had you not been sick of the sweat.”
“I never was sick of the sweat.”
He stared at me. Oh, I had deceived him completely then.
“It was a ruse. It was a way of keeping you off. Now, Jake Pennlyon, was I eager for you? When I kept to my bed for weeks to escape you?”
“You were suffering from the sweat. I saw your face.”
“A concoction … a paste, spread lightly over the face. Even you lost your lust when you saw that!”
“You … devil!” he said.
“In Tenerife they called me a witch and you call me a devil. In truth, all I am is a woman seeking to escape from a man she does not want.”
He was shaken. So he had not really believed in my reluctance, so great was his conceit.
He said at length: “I shall marry you when we reach Devon. In spite of everything I will honor my bond.”
“I will release you,” I promised him. “I will leave Devon and take my son with me to my mother. She will be happy to have us.”
“I have not risked much to bring you home for that. You will honor your promise and when you have a son of whom you can be proud you will forget that you so demeaned yourself as to go through a ceremony of marriage with a Spanish dog.”
“You are to blame for everything that happened,” I cried. “You with your lust and your cruelty and your wickedness. It was no ordinary raid which was made that night. It was for revenge because of what you had done to Don Felipe. You had ravished the innocent child he was to marry; you left your seed there. Carlos! Oh, yes, your eyes light at the sight of him. There is no doubt that he is your son. It is due to this and a proud Spaniard’s desire for revenge that I was taken as you took that girl. Because I was betrothed to you. Betrothed to you through blackmail. There never was a more unwilling partner in such a bond! So because of your wanton lust I was taken and submitted to similar treatment.”
He clenched his hands. I knew he was imagining me fighting with all my strength and finally being overcome.
“He was not like you,” I said. “He did not want violence. It was not lust for a woman but for revenge. You are responsible for everything. You … you … from the moment you came into my life you have destroyed my peace. Because of you this has happened to me.”
“You liked him. You agreed to marry him. Or was that for the child?”
“You would not understand this man. There could not be one less like you. He explained to me what was to happen. He did not come himself to get me and it was not until I reached the Hacienda that I was forced to submit. He offered me a choice. He did not wish to use violence. I was trapped. So I was passive. Then … he loved me and he married me … and life was not unpleasant.”
“So my wildcat was tamed … tamed by a dirty poxy Don.”
I turned away. As always I was, to my fury, excited by the presence of Jake Pennlyon. I felt alive now as I had not since I left England. I was actually enjoying the battle with him and I was disgusted with myself—particularly that this could happen so soon after Felipe’s death.
He sensed this, I know. For suddenly he had me pinioned; he held me against him.
He kissed me then and I felt an excitement which Felipe had never aroused in me.
He said: “I’ll not let the fact that you were a Spaniard’s whore stop our marriage.”
“Dare say that again.”
“Spaniard’s whore,” he said.
I lifted a hand to strike him, but he caught the hand by the wrist.
He bent me backward and again his mouth was on mine. He said: “Ah, Cat, ’tis good to have you back again. I was too kind to your Spaniard. I should have brought him back to the ship and had sport with him before I dispatched him to the torment of hell.”
I said, “I hate you when you speak of him. He was a good man.”
“We’ll forget him, for I have you back and to hold you thus and know that ’ere long you and I will be as one gives me such delight I have not known since you went away.”
When he said those words I felt a lifting of my spirits. I knew that I had missed him, that I had thought of him often, that although I hated him my hatred was in itself a fierce enjoyment. It was like coming out into keen fresh air after a long stay in prison. I was exultant, and I must be true to myself and admit that Jake Pennlyon had done that to me.
I knew that he would not allow me to escape him during the long voyage home. I knew he would force me to become his mistress within the next few days.
It was as inevitable as night following the day. Yet even as I mourned for Felipe I could not suppress a wild exultation.
For three days I held him off. I believe that was how he wanted it to be. He wanted to tease himself; to let me think I had a chance of winning in this battle, for battle it was. But it was inevitable that this would not go on. There he was in that floating world of which he was the indisputable master; he could have taken me at any time he wished. But he held off … just for three days.
He wanted to keep me in suspense. He enjoyed his verbal battles with me. Physically I was no match for him, but I was more than a match with my wits. I was trapped, of course. There was no way in which I could hide from him on his own ship.
For those three days the weather was ideal. There was enough wind to keep us on course. It was a wonderful sight to stand on deck and see those sails billowing out. Despite myself, I began to be proud of the Rampant Lion and admit that she had a quality which the stately galleon had lacked. The Lion was a faster vessel; she had less to carry; she was jaunty, confident; and I knew too that Jake Pennlyon was her master as the Captain had never been of his galleon. I guessed there would never be near mutiny on Jake Pennlyon’s Lion.
It was dusk. We had eaten and I came upon him in the alleyway near his cabin.
He barred my way and said: “Well met.”
“I am going to the children,” I told him.
“Nay,” he replied, “you are coming with me.”
He took my arm then and pulled me into his cabin.
The lantern swinging from the deck head gave a dim light.
“I have waited long enough for you,” he said. “Look, the wind is rising. It could mean stormy weather.”
“What has that to do with me?”
“Everything. You’re on the ship and the weather is of great concern to you. I could be occupied with my ship. I want time for dalliance with my woman.”
“I had thought you had begun to understand that I wished to be left alone.”
“You thought nothing of the sort.”
He pulled the comb from my hair so that it fell about my shoulders.
“That is how I fancy you,” he said.
I said: “If you are looking for someone on whom to satisfy your lust may I recommend you to the maid Jennet.”
“Who wants the substitute when the real thing is there for the taking?”
“If you imagine that I shall submit willingly … and eagerly … and that I am of a like mind to Jennet…”
“You lack the girl’s honesty. You suppress your desires, but you don’t deceive me into thinking they are not there.”
“It must be comforting I dare swear to have such a high conceit of yourself.”