Flame on the Sun Page 8

  His smile widened, the gleam of white teeth against his bronzed skin making him appear almost predatory. Eyes with a hard pewter sheen that revealed nothing roamed over her slowly. He laughed softly at her unavoidable blush, his big hand going out to catch her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

  "It's very simple, my sweet. All you have to do is agree to live with me."

  Chapter Seven

  Erin stared at Meg openmouthed. She could hardly credit what she was hearing. Having just finished explaining, with much trepidation, what Storm wanted her to do, she steeled herself for an explosion of righteous outrage. Instead, the older woman merely nodded calmly, her plump face bobbing serenely beneath her ruffled bed cap.

  "Yes, dear, I understand. Perhaps that might be for the best."

  Erin shook her head dazedly. The terrifying experiences of the day before must have distorted her senses. "B-best. . . ?"

  "Of course. Not only will Mr. Davin be able to assist you with your business, but he is also more than capable of assuring your safety. I'll rest much easier at night knowing that you're in such good hands."

  Swallowing hastily to keep from choking on her own astonishment, Erin bit back the urge to point out that while Meg might rest easier, she most certainly would not.

  The mere thought of what her nights would be like if she accepted his scandalous offer made her tremble with the heady mixture of fear and excitement. There was no room left over for the shame she knew she should be feeling but oddly enough did not.

  A true lady, such as she was supposed to be, would never have even considered agreeing to his terms. She would have wrapped herself in the cloak of moral indignation and taken herself off in a huff. So what if the result was the destruction of all her hopes and dreams? At least she would still have had her honor. —

  Whereas now she would have . . . What? Her expectations were hazy at best. Not for an instant did she doubt that Storm meant to make her his mistress. As innocent as she was, it was impossible to mistake the unrelenting power of his desire for her.

  Yet he had somehow managed to convince not only Meg but the Carmodys as well that he and Erin had nothing more than a business relationship which could be best facilitated by her living under his roof.

  She longed to know what he had said to them after escorting her home the previous day. Her experiences in the market and afterward had left her weak and shaking, enough so that she could be bullied into going upstairs to lie down.

  Almost an hour passed before she heard Storm departing on his big ebony stallion. By then Ned, Elizabeth and Meg herself were all soundly convinced that what they would ordinarily have viewed with shock and dismay was instead an eminently good idea.

  Driven to try to discover exactly what he had said to them, she studied Meg carefully. "Are you certain you think this is a good idea?"

  The older woman nodded firmly. "Absolutely, especially since I'm finally reconciled to the fact that I won't be able to get around anytime soon. Otherwise, you can be sure I'd insist on looking after you myself."

  Meg's sudden willingness to admit the restrictions resulting from her fall was puzzling in itself. But her matter-of-fact acceptance of their impending separation baffled Erin. "You really don't mind staying here without me?"

  "Of course I do, but it's still for the best. You'll be busy with your work and I'll be able to give Elizabeth some help getting ready for the baby."

  Listening to her, Erin was filled with contradictory feelings. On the one hand, she had to admit to a certain pleasure at the possibility of being out from under the older woman's protective eye. Yet she also felt a bit abandoned, almost as though Meg had inexplicably lost all interest in her and transferred her loyalty to Elizabeth instead.

  Telling herself that was nothing short of childish, she went off to consider her predicament in private. Caught up in her thoughts, she missed the tender look in Meg's eyes and the faintly knowing smile that curved the older woman's usually stern mouth.

  Seated in the bay window of her room with a view of the formal gardens below, Erin puzzled over why she was on the verge of agreeing to a course of action that barely a few days before would have been unthinkable.

  Reluctant though she was to admit it, the answer was all too obvious. She loved Storm. Not even the moral teachings of a lifetime could stand up against that pure, radiant truth. Yet powerful though it was, her love did not blind her to the realities of her situation.

  He might well desire her as a woman, but he also meant to prove to them both that he was strong enough to force her to act in a manner that revealed what he believed to be certain less-than-flattering truths about her character.

  Eight years before, Storm had decided she was a shallow, selfish girl with no thought for anything but her material comforts. Now he seemed determined to make her admit the correctness of that judgment through her own actions.

  Far from despising him for his intentions, she could not deny a certain eagerness to accept the challenge of proving him wrong. Saving the Nantucket Moon and the Emerald Isle had become merely a side benefit in a far more vital struggle to win, once and for all, the man she could no longer deny held the key to her heart and soul.

  Without giving herself any further opportunity to debate the matter, she penned a short message to Ned and Elizabeth. Rationalizing that there was no need for lengthy farewells when they were likely to see each other frequently, she thanked them for their hospitality and their care of Meg. Before her emotions could run away with her, she signed the note and propped it up against the gas lamp on her dressing table.

  Going over to the closet, she pulled out her trunk and began quickly to pack. Half an hour later a wide-eyed houseman was loading her luggage into the carriage while she straightened her cloak and tried hard to control the frantic beating of her heart.

  The boatyard swarmed with activity. Two new ships were in dock, their cargo being off-loaded onto wagons. A long line of crewmen snaked around one of the warehouses as the sailors waited impatiently for their pay, talking loudly of the exotic Oriental delights they intended to sample as soon as they had money in their pockets.

  Their ribald suggestions did not penetrate the haze of Erin's preoccupation as she maneuvered the buggy through the crowd to the main building. Spotting Storm's Japanese assistant out in front, she slipped quickly from the seat and went over to inquire as to his whereabouts.

  "Captain Davin is on the wharf, miss. One of the ships that just came in was damaged in a storm last night. He is inspecting it."

  Erin hesitated a moment, wondering if she shouldn't simply wait for him in his office. Unsure of how much longer her courage would last, she rejected the idea. If her sudden arrival angered him, so be it. Compared to the risks she was already running, that seemed little enough to worry about.

  Oblivious of the sailors' curious looks, she strode purposefully toward the docks, her long skirt swirling around her slender body and her glorious ebony hair gleaming in the sunlight.

  When she caught sight of Storm, she stopped, the determination that had propelled her thus far abruptly draining out of her. He had just pulled himself up onto the dock after diving to check on the damage beneath the ship's waterline.

  Stripped to the waist, his buckskin trousers clinging to his big, muscular body, he looked like a magnificent bronze sculpture come to life. Diamond droplets shone against his massive shoulders and hair-roughened chest. As he spoke with an older man, he tossed his head back, sending a shower of water from his thick, sun-streaked hair.

  Erin took a ragged breath. Panic flared on the edge of her mind. What on earth was she doing? How could she consider agreeing to his demands when she knew she had no defenses against him? To allow him to get any closer to her than he already had would be the height of folly. His uncompromising maleness was an iron-hard wall against which her softness would be battered unmercifully.

  She turned shakily, torn between the need to go and the almost intolerable desire to stay. But the decis
ion proved not to be her own. Storm caught sight of her and reacted instantly. He took a quick step forward, his hand lashing out to seize her arm in an implacable grip.

  "What a pleasant surprise, Erin. Surely you didn't intend to go off without seeing me after having taken all the trouble to come out here?"

  His mocking tone stung her. Lifting her head proudly, she glared at him. "I would hardly wish to be accused of disturbing you when you are so obviously busy."

  A rueful grin touched his hard mouth. "You always disturb me. I've given up trying to deny it."

  The admission of her ability to unsettle him surprised her. But not the swiftness with which he recovered his equanimity. "Dare I hope that your presence here means you have decided to accept my offer?"

  "It might be better termed a demand," Erin said stiffly.

  Storm shrugged, his gaze wandering over her so intently that it took all her willpower not to turn away. "Call it what you like. The terms stand. If you have come to try to negotiate a different arrangement, you are wasting your time."

  "It never occurred to me to attempt anything so futile. You made your requirements quite clear. However, I do wish to be sure you understand mine."

  A quizzical glance prompted her to continue. "If I agree to.. . . live with you, you will return my ships to me and facilitate the purchase of cargoes for them. Is that correct?"

  "It is."

  "When those cargoes are ready, you will make no attempt to prevent either the ships or me from leaving Japan?"

  Picking up his shirt, Storm pulled it on before answering. "If that is what you want. You understand, however, that it will take several weeks to purchase the goods you want?"

  "Yes, I just wanted to be certain that you would not attempt to keep me here any longer."

  "Do you rate your charms so highly?"

  "Of course not! I only meant..." Biting her lip, Erin broke off. If she was to have any chance of coming through the next few weeks in one piece, she had to stop letting him provoke her.

  As coolly as she could, she said, "I gather that we understand each other. However, I have one other point to add. If I agree to your terms, I want your word that you will be as discreet as possible about our situation. I don't want Meg or the Carmodys hurt."

  There was some small measure of satisfaction in the knowledge that she had managed to surprise him. Storm looked down at her narrowly. "You actually seem concerned about them."

  Erin let her silence speak for itself. After a long moment, he appeared to realize that she meant what she said. "I have no need to advertise our arrangement, if indeed we have one. It can be kept as quiet as you wish."

  With her last objection removed, the moment she had dreaded was upon her. Averting her eyes to keep him from seeing the contradictory emotions warring within her, she asked, "When would you expect me to move in?"

  Storm's response was unequivocal. "At once. There is hardly any purpose in delay."

  "No, I suppose not." Taking a deep breath, Erin squared her shoulders. So softly that he had to strain to hear her, she said, "My trunk is in the carriage."

  If she had been watching Storm at that moment, she would have seen the surprised look that flitted across his rugged features as he realized she had just agreed to his outrageous proposal. When he had made the offer, he had envisioned a long campaign of resistance before she finally admitted the inevitability of her plight. Instead, she was giving in after only the most token objections. He couldn't begin to understand why his victory caused him such conflicting feelings.

  Without taking his gaze from the slender, straight-backed young woman before him, he moved toward her. The faint shadows beneath her eyes and the tightness of her mouth hinted at emotions she was struggling to hide.

  For a moment, it was all he could do not to reach out to her, to soothe away her fears and promise everything would be all right. Guilt at what he was putting her through threatened to make him forget the wrong she had done him.

  Only the memory of her body, warm and pliant in his arms, strengthened his resolve. It would do her no harm to find out that she could not trample on a man's heart and still expect him to remain bedazzled by her charms.

  Accompanying her back to the carriage, he spoke briefly with his assistant. As he did so, Erin climbed back up onto the buckboard. She sat with her eyes downcast and her hands tightly folded in her lap. When Storm settled into the seat next to her and picked up the reins, she did not look at him.

  "I'll arrange to have this returned to the Carmodys' later today," he said as he urged the horses to a brisk trot.

  Erin merely nodded. Out of the corner of her eye she was aware of him glancing into the back, where her small trunk lay.

  "Don't you have any other luggage?"

  She shook her head. "I find that quite enough." If he thought her wardrobe less than adequate for the role he was thrusting on her, too bad. With the single exception of the dress she had worn to the Carmodys' dinner party, her clothes had little to recommend them beyond being clean, comfortable and well-suited to her active life. She was not about to give them up in favor of the cumbersome garments weighed down with lace and ribbons that she had once worn.

  Storm shrugged, making it clear that her clothes were hardly his prime concern. The appraising look in his eyes seemed to see right through her modest cloak and neat skirt and blouse to the satiny skin beneath.

  A pulse beat in his lean jaw, and the rugged lines of his face were drawn even more harshly than usual. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn he was a man wrestling with his conscience.

  From some hidden wellspring of courage she found the nerve to ask, "Are you certain this is what you want? It isn't too late to change your mind."

  The moment the words were said, she knew she had made a mistake. Lightning flashed in his quicksilver eyes. A wave of anger, almost smothering in its intensity, reached out to engulf her. The smile that curved his hard mouth held nothing of humor. He might have been a wild predator baring his teeth to attack.

  "Don't credit me with principles I gave up a long time ago, Erin. I know exactly what I want and I intend to have it. Nothing you can say or do will convince me otherwise."

  She had no choice but to believe him. But it still surprised her to discover how much pain his words could cause. They might have been swords, so brutally did they pierce her illusions.

  Why should the knowledge that he was unencumbered by scruples cause her such dismay? Was it because she remembered him as he once was, a young, idealistic man ready to lay down his life for his beliefs? Now he seemed interested only in accumulating so much wealth and power that nothing would ever again be able to threaten him.

  All his finer, gentler feelings appeared to have been blown away by the searing wind of tragedy. The tender compassion she thought she had seen in him the day before must have been nothing more than her imagination trying to give reality to her most cherished memories of him.

  She would do well to remember that, Erin told herself as she sat stiffly beside him in the buggy. Her situation was bad enough without worsening it through indulgence in romantic fantasies that could never come true.

  The jolting motion of the matched pair of bay horses pulling the vehicle knocked her against him. She pulled back instantly, as though burned. Storm shot her a sardonic glance. "You'll have to get used to that, you know."

  Momentarily confused, she forgot her resolve to remain unaffected by anything he might do or say. Her voice shook slightly as she asked, "Get used to what?"

  "To my touching you, of course. You do understand that's part of our... arrangement?"

  The wave of color that stained her face was inspired as much by anger as by embarrassment. Was it really necessary for him to rub her nose in it? "I have no difficulty understanding business deals," she informed him frostily. "But even if I did, your terms were unmistakably clear."

  She turned away too quickly to see the corner of his mouth twitch in what looked suspiciously like a grin.
"I'm glad to hear it. That makes everything so much simpler, don't you agree?"

  Erin shrugged, refusing to answer him. She stared out at the passing street, pretending great interest in the new protective measures being rushed into place by the shogun.

  Already the shops damaged by the rampaging attackers were being quickly repaired, the burned merchandise was hauled away, and the bloodstains were scrubbed from the wood-plank walkways. New bamboo awnings were being lifted into place above the display windows, new signs were being carefully painted, and the usual bustle of the market was slowly resuming.

  But none of that detracted from the wariness evident in the watchful eyes of heavily armed samurai, the guarded behavior of Western visitors, all of whom now had handguns strapped to their sides, and the nervousness of the Japanese merchants caught in a vise which threatened to destroy everything they had worked more than two decades to build.

  "Have the men responsible for the attack been caught yet?" Erin asked. Her need to know what lay behind her own brush with death was so overwhelming that she was even willing to turn to Storm for information.

  From Ned she had been able to gather only that the entire city was in an uproar, the diplomatic community stunned, and no one with any clear idea of what might happen next. She could hardly blame the young consular officer for being dazed by the assault, but she was willing to bet that at least a few people had a much firmer grasp of what had happened, and that Storm would be among them.

  He did not disappoint her. Waiting until the buggy was out of earshot of any curious passersby, he said, "Unfortunately, the few attackers who didn't manage to flee the area couldn't be questioned. Before there was any chance to take them alive, they committed suicide."

  "Suicide? But that's horrible. Why would they do that?"

  "It's a Japanese tradition. All fighting men follow the code of Bushido, which translates roughly to 'the way of honor.' The greatest dishonor possible is to be defeated in battle. That failing goes far beyond what a Westerner might consider the worst sin. It is so bad that the only possible response to it is to leave this life as quickly as possible, namely by one's own hand."