The black swan (63 page)

The carriage lurched. A scream of pain sliced through the clatter. Then they were streaking in a runaway carriage, crossing lamplit streets at a dead gallop, crashing into garbage barrels, sometimes running over the piles of refuse that lay along the sidewalks.

Behind them, all around them, wild shots thudded into buildings and broke windows. Police whistles shrilled. Running feet pounded. Horses' hooves clattered recklessly on the cobbles. Facedown on the floor, her ears drumming, seeing dizzying glimpses of shadowy buildings and cross streets, Dulcie hoped their careening ride was taking them to safety.

Half a block away a fire engine was bearing down on them, clanging its bell aggressively. Its six horses were straining as they galloped full tilt, their eyes showing white and their nostrils flaring as their driver plied the whip. Around the horses' hooves ran three Dalmatians, accompanied by a score of baying, yapping curs. The long, heavy

steam pumper swayed dangerously. Men and boys ran alongside, crying, "Make wayl Make way!"

Adam's horses were galloping at top speed, out of control. If Adam's driver couldn't stop them, the two vehicles would crash at the intersection. With six large horses against the two smaller, the lethal tonnage of the pumper wagon against a flimsy open carriage, he and Dulcie would certainly die, mangled beyond recognition in a totally senseless accident.

The driver was out of his reach, past Dulcie's billowing hoops. He lunged, his long body bridging Dulcie as he grabbed the driver's waist, pulling back as the driver sawed on the reins.

The horses veered unexpectedly, went one on each side of a lamppost, and came to a lurching halt. The driver was flung over the rump of a horse. Adam slammed against the driver's seat, then was thrown back. In front of them the fire engine rumbled unchecked across the intersection, pursued by its stream of dogs barking, men, and children all yelling.

"Dulcie I Are you all right?" Adam shouted, trying to find her beneath the tangled mass of hoops and silk. He leaped from the carriage. "Give me your hand!" They had to get across the intersection before the next pumper engine passed.

"Adam, I can't! I'm stuck!"

He dragged her backward out of the carriage, avoiding the wheels as the panicky horses reared and lunged. Her skirt caught and ripped, but she was free, standing shakily beside him, her hair wild, her arms scraped and bruised.

He grabbed her hand. "Run!" She pulled free, bendmg down. He grabbed her again, and they ran, clumsily, her hoops swaying against his legs. "Hurry up! Damn those contraptions! They'll get us both killed!"

"Let go! I can run better without you!" She scooped her hoops up and sped through the break in the traffic only a step behind him.

The street was thick with carriages, running pedestrians, mounted policemen, and running dogs and children. Their pursuers would be stopped for several minutes by the tangled carriages. But he still had to get them to the ship, several miles away at anchor.

Dulcie ran beside him valiantly, taking three steps to his long-legged two. He pulled her into a deep doorway. She

clung to him, her breath coming hard, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Trouble though she was, she had spirit and fire.

He grinned at her appreciatively. Then he frowned. "Oh, Christ!"

"What's the matter?"

"I left the danmable chart! I'll have to go back!'*

"I picked it up!" she panted. "It fell out of the carriage."

"Good girl!" he said inadequately. "Now, if we can find a horse!"

He found several carriages tethered near the Happy Tymes Tavern. He was untying the animal when a rotund, slightly wobble-legged man came out of the tavern, heading directly for them. "Damn!" Adam muttered. Bewildered, the man looked at Adam, then at his horses. "Hunting your carriage, sir?"

"Ain't this it?"

"No, sir. They all look alike, you know.** Adam smiled ingratiatingly as he led the man to another vehicle. Like the best of footmen, Adam secured the man in his seat, tucked a leg blanket around him, then hurried back to Dulcie. "Let's get out of here before the old coot realizes he never had a driver in his life."

He lashed the horse and took off at a run. The streets had quieted now. He looked over at Dulcie sitting tensely beside him. "Do you see anyone?"

"Not a soul." She giggled, slipping her hand under his arm, her cheek resting against him. "I always wondered what it would be like to be your wife, and now I know. It's bein' a horse thief."

He found himself laughing uproariously. "Miss Moran, whenever you're nearby, all hell breaks loose. Is it you, or what?"

"/ didn't cause this! If you'd taken me along when I asked you in New Orleans, none of this would have happened!"

"Then I should have taken you ... I did!" He laughed again.

Now that they were together, in spite of plans gone awry and dangers left behind, their hilarity bordered on the hysterical.

"Oh, Adam, what if I hadn't gone to the ball? I almost didn't!"

"And what if I'd met Courtland at his brownstone? I almost did!"

"What if you hadn't bent over to pick up the chart when that man shot at you I" She shuddered against him.

He squeezed her tight. "Dulcie mea, why were you in New York and not waiting in Savannah? Have you changed your mind about me?"

She burrowed against him like an insistent kitten wanting to be petted. "Never. Never I Adam, I love you. I want you, no matter what.'*

"The last time I heard you say that, I got trapped into a proposal.**

She sat up, no longer pliant. "I did not trap you into anj^in'l I merely"—she gulped, not having the right word.

Adam laughed. "Whatever it was, I liked it. So, Miss Moran, the moment we board the Liberty, we'll have Ben marry us.**

"Why?"

"Why!? What do you mean, why?**

"I certainly won't become just another of your charities!**

"My charities! What in hell do you mean by that?"

"I mean I'm not goin' to be married out of obligation— just to keep your conscience clear.'*

He looked at her sidewise. In a formal tone he said, "Miss Moran, I do not wish to shock you with my precipi-tousness, but I should like to call your attention to the fact that for several reasons not at all clear to me, I love you very much. And because of that, and not some damn-foolish idea of obligation, I am asking you to become my wife."

Dulcie looked at him, her eyes holding his.

More sdftly, he said, "Dulcie, I need you. Marry me.**

Chapter Eighteen

Beau was stalking around the dock when they arrived. "God Almighty, Adam, what happened to you?" He stopped short as he saw Dulcie, bruised and disheveled. "Dulcie?" Beau looked appealingly to Adam. "Adam? What—?**

Dulcie giggled, "Good evening, Beau," she said pleasantly. "Fine black night for an ocean voyage, isn't it?"

"Christ! You're both crazy as loons! Is she comin' with us?"

Adam grinned. "It's a long story.'*

"I'll bet. Jeez, Adam, I never know what's goin* to happen when you're around this girl."

"This time I'm going to marry her."

Beau stood open-mouthed, then grinned. "Yee-hool Welcome aboard, Dulcie!"

It was barely two hours before daylight. Once the congratulations had died down, Adam took Dulcie to a cabin. "Please, just stay in one place," he said urgently. "I promise I'll be back as soon as we're clear."

"It's so dark, I can't see a thing."

"Don't light a lamp or even a match. You could get us spotted by some Federal. We'll be lucky to get out unseen as it is."

Dulcie waited, not in the least convinced there was need for all the precautions Adam demanded. They were moving furtively past black shores, lined with blacker trees and occasional small shacks. She heard the engines turning, the paddlewheels slicing the water. She strained to hear commands, but heard none.

It was an uncomfortable, eerie feeling to slip through the night chancing obstacles, risking discovery, hoping, heart in mouth, that luck would ride with them one more time. And Adam went through this every trip!

Accustomed to the darkness now, she could make out shapes: the bed, a washstand. There was water, soap, and towels. When Adam returned, she would be fresh, smelling of soap, with her hair neat . . . and wearing what? Her torn and dirtied dress hung on her like a rag. Well, she'd wear her petticoat. It was attractive, the nearest garment to a nightgown she had.

If she hurried, she could have a basin bath all over. She wished Claudine was there to undo the forty small silk-covered buttons down the back of her dress. She reached around, found a loop and tried to undo it. After an irritating struggle she got one button free. If only she had a buttonhook. There, another one free. In a few minutes, with aggravating setbacks, she had undone those she could reach.

This left twenty buttons just below her shoulder blades.

Maybe if she took off her hoops and turned the tight-fitting dress around? The tape that held her hoops up was tied with one of Claudine's hard knots at the back. Nothing would move. She was stuck in her clothes.

Adam came in and locked the door. His arms found her, pulled her near. His fingers ran over the silk neckline. "You're not very eager, little one." He tugged gently at the bodice. "I had hoped . . ."

"Oh, Adam! I can't undress myself! I can't get out of my buttons or hoops or—"

He burst into laughter, then pulled the gown. Buttons popped and flew around the cabin, bouncing along the floor.

"Don't!" she cried frantically. "I don't have anythin' else to wear!"

His mouth was on hers, his hands pulling her dress to shreds.

"Oh, not my petticoat too!" She did not know this Adam, this laughing exultant rapist.

He skinned the straps off her shoulders, and her breasts were loosed into his hands. He caressed them greedily, then tugged at the tape that held her hoops fast. He unsheathed his knife. Her hoops collapsed to the floor. Petticoats and pantalettes followed. She stood naked as he shucked off his uniform. She looked at him with glowing eyes.

He smiled and reached for her. Bracing himself against the bulkhead, he put his hands under her rump, pulling her off her feet, entering her without preamble. Dulcie felt his heat within her, urgent, driving, demanding. She was helpless in his strong arms, her body opened to him, her own passion rising, soaring like a kite on the wind. He kissed her deeply, his tongue filling her mouth as his heat grew and throbbed. She ground against him, wanting him in her as far as he could go, wanting him to press her tighter and tighter to his body, wanting ...

"Ohh . . ." she moaned. Her pulsations reached a delirious, unbearable peak and went on. Groans escaped Adam's lips as he drove into her convulsively, embracing her with trembling arms until his own storm had passed.

At length he released her. His breath was coming hard. Both their bodies were drenched in sweat. Against her mouth he said, "Oh, Dulcie, forgive me. I couldn't wait. I'll make it better."

She said dreamily, "I couldn't wait either. I had to have you."

He looked into her amber eyes, shiny in the gray dawn. "Thank God!" He laid her on the bed, then started to lie beside her. "Adam, lie on top of me, as if we're making love again. I want to feel you . . . grow hard inside me."

He rested on her, the end of his penis at the hot entrance between her thighs. He kissed her eyelids, the tip of her nose, her ears. With his tongue he teased her nipples to rosy erectness. Gradually he became harder. He went into her little by little, aware as he had not been before of the tightness and warmth with which she sheathed him.

He kissed her, tantalizing, touching her tongue, drawing away. His fingers caressed her, then went down to open her gently, fully.

She whimpered, and began to writhe under him, until he felt the sucking caress of her orgasm; but he made himself wait

He eased down on her, his cheek beside hers, her long hair tangled around them. Her heart slammed against his as she caught her breath. Then tears flowed from her, onto his cheek. He kissed her tenderly. "Don't cry, love, don't cry."

"Adam, I'm so happy! And it's so wonderful. But aren't you—?"

"Never happier."

"But you're still.. . you haven't— **

"Not yet. Are you comfortable?"

"Mm-hmm. Oh, it feels so good. Don't pull away from toe."

"Never." For a long time, then, he kissed her, caressed her smooth skin with his hands and his lips, murmuring love words, rejoicing in the feel of her. Her hands held him, played across the heavy muscles of his back and arms, teasing as she unsheathed him. He was throbbing with ardor, exquisitely torturing himself by holding back.

She made little noises, moving her head from side to side. Her fingers became claws, digging into his back. "Please," she whispered as if in agony.

His hands slipped under her, drawing her close to him. He moved in long, smooth strokes, and together they

ascended to a golden plateau of rapture he had hardly dreamed could exist.

He stayed inside her afterward, pulling the sheet up over them to absorb the perspiration that wetted both their bodies. As they both sank into profound sleep, he murmured, "I love you, Dulcie."

He awoke in the sunny afternoon. Dulcie leaned on one elbow, trailing strands of her hair over his cheek until he grabbed her to him. He kissed her, and her hands began to work down his belly. He rolled over onto the floor, and she followed, landing on top of him with a surprised grunt. They laughed, lying in a tangle of arms and legs and the sheet and her hair.

He rolled away, scrambled up, and grabbed his trousers. "Up and out, wench."

She lay still, gazing at him with dreamy golden eyes, her delectable mouth curved in a soft smile. Pale freckles sprinkled her nose and her rounded breasts that rose and fell with her breathing. One leg lay straight, the other bent in an unconsciously seductive pose. She held out her hands, inviting him to join her on the floor.

Adam shook his head, still grinning. "Up, love," he commanded. "I'm so hungry I could eat an old sail.*'

She rubbed against him, feeling the harsh wool of his uniform against her bare flesh. "What am I goin' to wear?"