“You are insulting.”
“Nay. I respect your pride; but I know his kind. I would not wish to insult you. We are not brigands here. We live graciously and in a becoming manner I shall secure my revenge if you permit this. I know that you were not his mistress. My spies kept me informed.”
“The false Rackell, the falser Gregory.”
“Faithful to me,” he said, “as they should be. I have vowed to take my revenge and shall do so whatever the cost. I shall rejoice if you are a virgin, for that will make my revenge complete.”
“That is your purpose then?”
“Our wedding took place as arranged. She was demented. She would awaken screaming from her sleep; her dreams terrified her. None but her duenna could comfort her. When I approached her she shrank from me. She associated me with him, you see. We discovered that she was with child … that brigand’s child. You cannot realize this tragedy until you have seen it. I vowed revenge. I have sworn before all the saints that I shall not rest until that revenge is complete.”
“A strange vow to take in holy places,” I said.
“I have sworn,” he said, “in the name of God the Father and the Holy Virgin; I have sworn on my family’s honor, and I know that I have divine help in this, for now you are delivered into my hands.”
“And so the drama is to be reenacted. I take the part of Isabella and you Pennlyon.” I recoiled from him—this strange cold man. “Do you think you could ever be like him? You could not be more unlike…”
“And you like her. It matters not. You are here by God’s grace. We have brought you out of your island. You have come safely through the perils of the sea. And I swear by my ancestors and all the saints that you shall not leave this island until you carry my child in your womb. You shall take my child to him as he has left his to me.”
“So you think that I will submit with docility?”
“I think that you have no choice but to submit.”
“And allow myself to be treated as of no consequence as merely a means of giving you your revenge!”
“As Isabella was a means of satisfying that man’s lust.”
“You call yourself courteous, sensitive! I call you a rogue, a pirate, for although you are too fastidious to sail the seas and capture women for yourself you have your servants bring them to you. You are as bad as he is.”
“I have vowed a vow. I intend it to be carried out. I am indeed different from the man who was to have been your husband. I offer you a choice. Gracious submission or force.”
“I’ve no doubt he offered her that.”
I stood up and moved to the door. He was beside me.
“This is distasteful to me,” he said. “Do not imagine I lust for your body.”
“Can I hope that I am as repulsive to you as you are to me?”
“You can believe that I have as little pleasure in what must be done as you have. But it shall be done and whether our encounter is to be conducted with seemly discretion or in a manner which will be humiliating and degrading to you is for you to decide.”
I looked at him; he was slender and he did not give the impression of great strength, as Jake Pennlyon had. A woman would know at once that she had no chance against him. I could fight this man. And if I escaped him where should I go?
He followed my thoughts. “I have many servants here. I have but to summon them. Strong men who would truss you up as a chicken for the pot. But I do not wish for that. I want the matter to be conducted expeditiously and with as little discomfort to you and myself as possible. I do not blame you for what happened. But you are a necessary instrument of my revenge.”
I thought I could like him better if he were goaded by that lust—anything would be better than this coldly scheming approach.
He said: “I will send for Maria; she shall conduct you to the bedchamber; she will prepare you. I will visit you there. I beg of you consider. You know you are here and powerless to resist. This shall come to pass. How depends on you.”
He went to the door. Maria must have been waiting. She came in and knew what to do. I followed her back to the bedroom.
I suppose always before I had acted on impulse. I had forcefully expressed my agreement or refusal to do anything. I had rarely been undecided. “Count ten before speaking,” my mother had said. I could go on counting day and night now and I should not know what to do. I was going to be this man’s mistress. It was as inevitable as the rise and setting of the sun. I could see nothing that would prevent it. I was a prisoner on this island and there was nothing that could save me. If I attempted to resist him he would resort to force as he had said; and he was not the man to apply force himself, any more than he was to take part in the actual abduction. Others did that for him.
Maria slipped off my clothes; over my head was put a night shift of silk. It had that pungent odor about it.
Maria turned down the sheet. She indicated that I was to get into the bed. I did so shivering. I was fighting with myself. I saw men tying my ankles together. I saw myself forcibly taken as Jake Pennlyon had taken Isabella. I could not endure that—just to reach the same end.
Maria was blowing out the candles. The room was in darkness. She went out and shut the door.
I leaped out of bed. I tried the door. It was locked. I went to the window. I drew back the curtains so that a little starlight penetrated. I opened the window and stepped out onto the balcony. I wondered if I could climb down into the patio. I could find Honey, run to her for shelter.
I pictured rough hands on me. He was right, I had to make a choice. Would I make a pretense of submission or would I wait to be degradingly forced?
It was too late. I could hear the key in the lock. I ran back to the bed and lay there, my heart beating quietly.
He came into the room. I saw him in the starlight standing by the bed. He was wrapped in a robe, which he took off. I closed my eyes tightly.
Then I was aware of his body, his hands on me, his face close to mine.
I tried to calm myself and I thought: Oh, God, I saved myself from Jake Pennlyon, from the lustful men on the galleon … for this.
A week had passed. I could not believe that this was happening to me. I saw little of him during the day, but each night he came to me. He never stayed. “The matter,” as he called it, was as distasteful to him as to me. I had never thought it possible to have such a cold-blooded lover—but he was not a lover; this had nothing to do with love; it was revenge.
There was a certain passion—the passion of revenge—and for me the passion of hatred. I hated him for this humiliating use of me. He had robbed me of my dignity as a human being. I was not a woman to be loved or to be hated; I was a means to give him the revenge he needed. My hatred grew when I considered that. He was trying to create a life; he would bring a child into the world to satisfy his revenge and make me the instrument of reproduction. Could anything be more humiliating than that?
Only a man of extreme arrogance could dream of using others for such a purpose. He was every bit as bad as Jake Pennlyon. I hated them both. How dared they treat women in such a way!
When this man came to me I thought of Jake Pennlyon and I could not shut out of my mind the thought of his coming to this house and finding Isabella and in my imagination I was Isabella and the man who was humiliating me was Jake Pennlyon.
I was treated with respect during the day. There were servants to wait on me. During that first week I was not allowed beyond the house. But I did see Honey. The very first day I was taken to her. I was very shocked on that day by what had happened on the previous night; and as the days passed I was shocked in another way to discover how quickly I had grown accustomed to his visits.