Judged by Him (27 page)

Gemma danced in a frilly floral summer dress with skimpy straps and hennastained feet in her sandals, which clicked on the floor as she moved about in time to the music blaring from the sound system. One of her hands held Gaspar’s. Her dance partner. The smile on her face told Jason she was happy in her world of spinning, hip-jiggling salsa.

Jason’s right fist closed tight while his other hand held his laptop case. The relief at being back on the yacht along with the excitement at seeing his wife was overshadowed by the sight, not only of her dancing with another man, but the presence of an audience watching the gyrating wriggle of her bottom and shoulders. His plan to sweep her into his arms was crushed, and he started to back away from the salon’s vista. As he moved, Maria caught his eyes. She stared at him for a few seconds before tugging on Enrique’s arm.

Arriving in his office, he unzipped his laptop case and began the process of reconnecting his computer to the yacht’s communication system. By now, he knew Gemma would have been told of his return, and he expected the crew would rapidly disperse to their tasks. What had he anticipated upon his return? A dutiful wife sitting alone reading in an armchair or relaxing on a sun bed enjoying the evening’s lingering warmth, taking in the ambience of Malta’s air. Possibly, she might have sought out the company of McKenzie or Lubinsky, dined with them in the appropriate setting, not nibble her way through platters of food. His disappointment at her behaviour was extreme, feeding his disciplinarian personality and all of his controlling traits.

***

Enrique switched off the music in the salon. Gemma froze, mid-twirl, feet poised. She and everyone else looked towards him, his finger still touching the power switch. Maria gave Gemma a nod and pointed to the upper deck. In an instant, she forgot the crew and ran up the stairs to the owner’s deck. She found Jason upright behind his desk, looking at his monitor screen, tapping at the odd key with a stabbing finger.

“You’re back!” She couldn’t contain her sheer joy. She practically collided with his desk and held her arms out wide in anticipation of an embrace.

“So it would seem,” he said coolly.

“You’re not pleased to see me?” Gemma lowered her arms to her sides and took a step away from his desk.

“I thought I would be, until I saw you in the salon.” He sneered. “Dancing.”

“I can explain—”

“I’m sure you can,” he interrupted, pushing his chair back and reaching for the pen. “But not in here. In the stateroom, and in a suitable pose.”

She couldn’t believe he wasn’t delighted to be in her company. Her passions had reignited the moment she had received the message about his return. He should be touching her. She backed out of the door, aghast. He hadn’t even looked up at her. Made eye contact.

Sitting on the bed, she fumbled with the zipper at the back of her dress. Of all the activities he had to see upon his return, it was her dancing—his adversary and the one pastime of hers he suffered her to do. To add to his ire, she had been in the company of several men and, though Maria had been present, it would be of no consequence to Jason.

Now, she had to face one of his tormenting inquisitions where he would dissect her behaviour, her misdemeanours and failings. She would be disciplined for breaking his rule that she must not flirt with men. Whatever explanation she would give would be insufficient, as he would have set his mind to return her to complete submission, whether with sex or with some form of corporal punishment. She feared both would be on his agenda, in a combination that would tax her abilities.

She felt strangely resigned to her fate. She didn’t deserve his anger as she had done nothing wrong. However, his undivided attention would be guaranteed, and she would submit to attempt to rectify his negative feelings towards her. Pushing away her own anger, she acknowledged her pathetic, needy wretchedness would allow her to be. A rogue tear fell down her cheek. His return had become a nightmarish anti-climax, all her plans to welcome him scuppered.

***

“Señora?”

Maria crept quietly into the room. Señor Lucas remained ensconced in his office. He had summoned her to prepare her mistress. Over the intercom, his tone came across as ominous and severe. She had time, she thought, to speak to the señora.

“Maria. He has seen me dancing with another man. I must answer to him for my behaviour.” She sniffed. “Can you help me with this dress zipper?”

“No, señora. I will not let you be treated this way!”

“What did you say?” Gemma turned to see her face.

Maria’s lips set firm. She believed the señora acquiesced to her master too easily and quickly, and initiating a session in the heat of high emotions was plainly wrong. The wife had been devoted to her absent husband. Perhaps Señor Lucas had come back from the stresses of work thinking of other voyages on his yacht, with other submissives. Those girls had been extremely biddable and compliant to anything he chose to do to them. She remembered those cruises vividly. However, this woman wasn’t only his submissive, but also his legal wife, with rights and status. A status Enrique had never given her.

“You are his wife, señora. Whatever else you are to him, you have a right to be treated with respect and not accused of infidelities. You told me this morning how hard you found his absence, missing him and keeping him in your thoughts. You succeeded, and he accuses you of not being a good wife. Don’t let him, señora. I beg you.”

Gemma sighed, still unsuccessfully fiddling with her zipper. “It isn’t that easy.”

“Señora. Has he really been told the truth? What evidence does he have to make him think you have been unfaithful? The man is hasty, perhaps. Don’t let him find you here. Make him come to you as an equal. He loves you. Remind him of that.”

She picked up a small notepad off the chest of drawers and handed it to Gemma, along with a pencil. “You know what to write. Then go, up above. Away from him. Wait.”

***

Entering the stateroom, Jason saw no sign of Gemma. Checking the bathrooms, he failed to find her. He saw the piece of paper on his pillow, resting in the indentation left by her sleeping head.

RED

One powerful three-letter word. Jason heard footsteps. Turning, expecting to see his wife, he found Maria by the door, her face tense. She didn’t flinch or drop her eyes, not like his wife. Anger returned as he pictured Gemma dancing, swaying in the arms of Gaspar.

“She has refused me!” he snarled. “Then she will have none of me. Make up a bed in a guest room for her.”

“No, señor. I will not.” Maria didn’t move.

“What did you say?” He crushed the piece of paper in his hand.

“You will listen to me, Señor Lucas.
Your wife
does not deserve this. She has done nothing wrong—”

“How dare—”

“She has been the perfect faithful wife to you. Let me tell you how, and then, if you still demand it, I will make a bed up for her, because you don’t deserve her. She has thought of you continuously, almost to the detriment of her health. On Tuesday, Esteban told me, she barely ate or slept. She refused to come out of the stateroom, and he was concerned. I wasn’t there, remember, banished. She had been so very lonely. Esteban encouraged her to come to the main deck to eat, and he put music on. She didn’t know about the dance floor, and when the dancing lights came on, she seemed happier. Gaspar is a professional dance teacher. That’s what he does on some cruises, he demonstrates and teaches Spanish styles. She told me she once danced for you, for your eyes only, and that she wanted to do it again. A proper choreographed dance. Gaspar taught her new moves. She insisted Esteban, or another, remain present. This evening, she knew you were coming back. She leapt about with joy. That was why she danced. Do you want me to go on?”

His eyes drifted around the room. The absence of his wife became increasingly stark. He had been pacing throughout Maria’s recounting. Now, he stopped. “Go on,” he said quietly.

“She spent time in galley with Dario. She spoke about what you liked to eat. She taught him how to make cakes that you like, scuns?”

“Scones.”

“She played card games with Hans. The man is very well-mannered. Kevin and Nick watched her do card tricks. They were impressed with how she memorises cards. The backgammon set. She brought it down to show it off. To tell them how proud she was that you liked it. She wouldn’t let them touch the precious box though. Leo took her out on the Jet Skis because Ted said something inappropriate to her, and she didn’t want to be with him on the powerboat.”

“Inappropriate?”

“He boasted about how on other cruises he would take women out on the boats and they would beg him to make love to them. Señora Lucas didn’t believe him, but she sent him away all the same.”

Ted hadn’t been present on the main deck.

“She has done nothing to warrant your anger, señor. You had me confined to my room, leaving her alone on a boat full of men. She is a very chaste lady. You should be proud of her. There. I’ve said what
she
should have been able to say to you without fear. A wife shouldn’t
fear
her husband.”

Jason inhaled deeply and shut his eyes. Maria had chosen to emphasis the one word he promised Gemma she shouldn’t feel towards him. “How do you know all this?”

“This morning, I gave her a massage. I asked if she was coping without you. I talked to Esteban, too. There is something else you should know.” Maria pressed her fingers to her temples, massaging them. “Ted. He is confined to his cabin. I do not know why. Enrique knows why. The captain and Leo sent him there. There was lots of shouting in the captain’s cabin this afternoon while your wife slept on the sundeck. Catching up on lost hours.”

“I will find out about Ted tomorrow.” Jason rubbed his fatigued eyes. A long, arduous day. He walked over to Maria, taking her chin between his fingers. She flinched.

“You’re a good woman, Maria. As I said before, a brave one, too. I have been hasty and judgemental about Gemma. Do you think she is in a forgiving mood?”

“Yes, señor. She would have done anything for you this night. It was I who encouraged her to refuse you. I warned you about her self-esteem. You want her to awaken desires hidden deep within her and be a more complete submissive for you. Don’t make her something she isn’t.” Maria shook her chin free of his fingers.

“I won’t. It will always be her choice. Just as it was to write this.” He held up the paper. “I will go to her now. You need have no fears for her.”

***

Gemma lay staring at the stars above her head. The streetlights of Valletta had diminished their intensity and number. The day had been a continuous mix of emotions. She had awoken to find Maria had returned to her side, with a cup of steaming coffee and bright smile.

“You’re all right now?” Gemma had asked nervously.

“Sí, señora. Fine.”

There had been the offer of the massage, which she took up. She had received the occasional texts, informing her of his whereabouts and progress. Eventually, he had sent an e-mail explaining the deal had collapsed as a result of the seller and nothing to do with Jason’s team of negotiators. The CEO of the other company had apologised. A rogue analyst had sabotaged the figures in a hope of altering the outcome of the deal. Having been exposed, the closet alcoholic had killed himself, adding to the fallout. The chief executive had assured him the deal would be back on once he had put his own house in order. She could sense the relief in Jason’s brief missive.

Later, after lunching with the captain, she had disembarked and toured the sights of Valletta. She had lit a candle in a Carmelite church and offered up a small prayer, although she wasn’t religious.

“Please, give us a baby,” she had murmured under her breath.

Lubinsky and Remy had given her plenty of space. Not so close as to hinder her ambling, but close enough to be a noticeable presence around her person. She had visited the National Museum of Fine Arts. Apologising to her escorts if they found the trip boring, they shrugged and told her not worry about them.

She had drunk a little wine with her evening meal. Again, she had dined with the captain and chief engineer. The conversations low-key and understated. Jason’s absence not mentioned. She couldn’t enter into the spirit of aimless chatter. She realised even with his quiet reserve, Jason often directed a conversation or chipped in to encourage a different topic of discussion.

The wine must have been sufficient to bring down her previous level of formality to a degree that had opened her to Jason’s accusations. The crew had gathered, in dribs and drabs, as the evening progressed. Finding a CD of Santana, she had let Gaspar show her how to improve her salsa technique. He was good, far better than her instructor back at home. The joviality had been contagious, and everyone relaxed. She had quite forgotten the hour and that Jason was due back. With regret, she wondered if she should have kept to their private deck, hidden from view.

Maria’s outspoken words enabled her natural rebellious spirit to resurface. The Mexican was right. Jason should be made to listen to her as his wife. As such, she was entitled to parity, an equal stage to converse upon. But how to make him be her husband and not her Master?

“I missed my husband, Maria,” she had told the Mexican before she wrote on the notepad. “I yearn for him with all my heart. He doesn’t trust me though, does he?”

Taking a breath, she had written one word. Sometimes, being both his wife and his submissive didn’t balance out. She had to choose which was more important to her. The decision had been easy. She had left the piece of paper on his pillow and quickly walked past the closed door to his office, running upstairs to the sundeck. The stars would keep her company.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him standing under the mast arch—he had come to her.

“I apologise,” he said across the open space. “I missed you terribly. Being alone in the house for two nights, I overreacted to what I saw down below. I forgot I had only provided you with the company of men, without a suitable chaperone.”