HF - 05 - Sunset (37 page)

But she realized her anxiety was needless, because
his
anxiety had gone. Nine years before he had still been a boy, for all his appearance as a man. He had been afraid, at once of what he was doing, of discovery by his captain, of hurting her, of having her change her mind, perhaps. As she had been afraid she might. And mutually fearing, they had done no more than distract each other. This night there was no fear. His hands came to her, slowly, stroking down her shoulder blades to the small of her back, slipping round her buttocks to hold them and squeeze them, but still gently, seeking to give rather than to take sensation. Then they were between her legs. And tonight, because of her frame of mind, of her midnight ride, of her surroundings, which belonged to
him,
for the first time ever, and because more than

anything of the surging passion in her belly, she exploded in a tumultuous orgasm within the seconds of his first touch, and then immediately rose to another climax.

Now she could allow him inside. She lay on her back, felt that gentle caress she still remembered as if it had been yesterday, then the thrust, but slowly, this first time, making sure she was wet and ready to receive, then quickening, rising to a tempo of savage bursts which seemed to impale his rod upon her womb, while at the same time filling her entire belly from the navel down with shrieking passion.

This was what she had waited for all her life. This was all she wanted from any man. But this was what she wanted from this man, most of all.

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE GUERILLA

THE stillness of the night ended with the dawn breeze, drifting down from the Blue Mountains, caressing Kingston before spreading across the harbour in a series of ripples, gentle, but sufficient to make the ships tremble and do little curtsies to their anchors.

Meg raised her head, glimpsed the first lightening of the black at the ports; the lantern had long burned down and the cabin was gloomy.

'Meg,' Alan whispered. 'M
eg.' He had tried to speak sever
al times in the past couple of hours, and been silenced by her kisses. But now she sat up.

'I must go. Will one of your men row me ashore?'

'I will row you ashore myself, Meg. If you must go.'

'I must.'

'But to have you here ... I still feel I am dreaming.'

She slipped from the bunk to the cabin sole, ran her fingers through her tousled hair. 'No dream, my love.'

'Yet something totally incomprehensible.'

'Not in the slightest.' She found her gown, put it on.
‘I
heard you were in the habit of coming into Kingston for water, and asked to be informed whenever next you were anchored here. I wished to see you again.' She leaned over the bunk, kissed him on the nose. 'I wished to make love to you again. To have you make love to me.'

'But ...' He raised himself on his elbow, held her arm. 'After seven years ?'

'Nine years,' she said.

'And we parted with a quarrel.'

'Over an ethical matter which I am glad to discover you have got out of your system. They tell me you are become a smuggler.'

'A smuggler,' he said. 'And you are married, with children.'

'Richard is your son, Alan.' He sat up. 'Mine ? But we ...'

'Shared but one embrace? You have a potent weapon there. No doubt I am again pregnant. Aline is another's, but not my husband's.'

'Billy Reynolds,' he said bitterly.

'How else would you have me own my plantation at eighteen?'

His eyes gloomed at her in the darkness. 'You married
...
that,
just to own your plantation ?'

'I am Meg Hilton, and that is Hilton land.'

'And however much of a convenience it may have been nine years ago, yet you still sleep with him.'

'From time to time,' she said coolly. 'When I choose. I sleep with whoever I choose, whenever I choose, although I may say that I do
not
choose, very often. And I take back what I just said. You have not improved your sophistication. And I would not quarrel. Will you take me ashore ?'

She turned for the doorway, and he was out of the bunk to slip his arms round her waist and pull her back against him. 'Nor would I quarrel with you, my dearest Meg. I love you. I have always loved you. You must know that.'

She turned in his arms. 'Of course I know that. Just as I have always loved you. And will always love you, I suspect. Which is why I am here.'

'Well, then ...'

She laid a finger on his lips. 'I am Meg Hilton. Are you ready to become Alan Hilton?' He gazed at her. 'Meg ...'

‘I
said I would not quarrel with you. You have but to answer yes or no.'

'You would have me go against all my principles.'

'I would have to say yes or no. Although I cannot really understand principles which allow you to engage in smuggling, and yet refuse you the permission to manage a banana plantation.' She sighed. 'But as I imagine your answer will be no, then I must come to you, whenever I can, as your mistress, and we shall have to be satisfied with that.'

'Do you know,' he said, 'if I have not changed at all, neither have you. You are still the most arrogant, selfish woman I have ever known.'

'I am Margaret Hilton,' she pointed out. 'I have a right to be arrogant. As for being selfish, I long ago came to understand that what is best for me is generally best for those around me.'

'Even committing adultery ?'

'Why not? I have asked Billy for a divorce, on more than one occasion. He prefers not to. He enjoys being William Hilton far too much. Therefore I no longer consider myself bound to him.'

'Oh, Meg, Meg ...' He hugged her against him. 'Marry me, Meg. I'll make Billy give you a divorce. I promise.'

'I'll not marry a smuggler whose entire fortune is a rotting old schooner, Alan.'

'But you love me, Meg. You say you do, and I know you do. Only a woman in love would come to me like this. Only a woman in love would have shared what you have shared these past few hours.'

'If I shared them, Alan, if I came to you, in defiance of husband and convention, it is because I came to you as Meg Hilton. Cannot you understand that?'

He released her, sat on the bunk with a sigh. 'Yes. Yes, I suppose I can.'

'And I will come to you again, Alan. Believe me. Just tell me when you will next be in Kingston.'

'Well, a matter of four days, really. I do not go very far.'

'Four days?' she cried. 'Where do you go to?'

That had better be left to me.'

'Don't you trust me?'

'I trust your good intentions, Meg, as regards me. I cannot trust the certainty that your good intentions will always coincide with my ambitions.' He smiled. 'It would be quite in keeping with your character to have me locked up here in Kingston merely to keep me available.'

'And why not ?' she demanded. But she was also smiling as a magnificent idea beg
an to take root in her mind. 'All
right. I'll ask no questions. But I'll come with you.'

'Eh?'

'You sail on Monday afternoon. It would delay you no longer than an hour to put into that beach further up the bay. It is deserted in the evening, and no one will see. I will be waiting there, and you can pick me up, and we will have four days together, and you will return me here on Thursday, or Friday, it matters nothing.'

'You must be mad.'

She kissed him on the nose. 'Not mad. In love. We quarrelled, and so lost each other for nine years. That is too long. So perhaps we can live together as man and wife. That is no reason why we cannot spend as much time together as we may. If your voyage is to take only four days, why then, it is a perfect opportunity.'

'And your husband?'

'Billy has a house in Kingston, and never visits Hilltop except at weekends. He will leave on Monday morning, which will give me ample time to reach the beach, and he will not return until Friday afternoon, by when I shall be home again.'

'And you don't think he'll find out? Suppose he
did
go out to Hilltop during the week? Suppose we were delayed by bad weather?'

"There is no sign of bad weather, my darling, and Billy is above all else a creature of habit.' She frowned at him. 'Don't you want me to come with you ?'

'Oh, Meg ...' He seized her arms to hold her close again. 'It would be magnificent. But
...
what of your children?'

'Prudence will look after them.' 'And she will not tell anyone?' 'She will not.'

"Then what of the overseers ? They say you manage Hilltop. Don't you suppose you will be missed ?'

'I will tell them to mind their own business. Alan, Alan. It does not matter what they think. They are used to thinking the very worst of me. Believe me. And I do not care. Alan. Please. Let me come with you.'

He was frowning again; the cabin was by now quite light. 'I dare not, Meg. This
...
this smuggling, as you call it, is a dangerous game.'

She smiled. 'My presence will probably be your best security, if you are caught. What, Commander Pritchard arrest Meg Hilton?'

'I was not thinking of the Navy. Meg ...' He sighed, and began to dress himself. 'You can keep a secret?'

'Of course.'

'This is my life at stake.' 'Then be sure of it.'

'Aye.' He opened the cabin door, stopped, released bolts holding the table to the floor. To her surprise she discovered the entire structure folded, and could be lifted, at least by a man like Alan, onto the bunk. And beneath it, quite concealed when the table was in place, there was a large double hatch, some six feet long. Alan stopped, thrust his forefinger into the brass grips, and lifted one side. Meg stood above him and stared at the wooden crates.

'Gold ingots?' she whispered.

'You really think little of me,' he said. 'Those are rifles. Modern breech-loading rifles, each with two hundred rounds of ammunition.'

'My God,' She sat on the bunk. 'Whatever do you wish them for?'

'I do not wish them for anything. I deliver them to Cuba.'

'Cuba?' She found herself scratching her head.

'There is an insurgency movement there, in case it has
escaped your notice. The Cubans are endeavouring to throw off their Spanish masters. Believe me, it is a bloody and filthy war, like all civil wars.'

'And you supply the rebels with arms?'

'I supply the patriots with arms.'

'My God,' she said again.

'And if I am taken, I will be hanged,' he said. 'So will anyone with me.'

'But why?' she cried. 'Why risk your life, time and again? Are you so well paid?' 'I am adequately paid. I do not do it for the money.' "Then
why?

He sighed, and slowly lowered the hatch back into place. 'I doubt you will ever be able to understand that, Meg.'

'I don't see how I can, if you will not explain.'

'Well
...
for nearly four hundred years these people have been subjected to the most ghastly tyranny in history.'

'Oh, nonsense. Are they not of Spanish descent themselves
? Was every Cuban woman forced
?'

"The original Cuban people, the Indians, were liquidated by the conquistadores. There is not one left. Negroes were imported to work the sugar, as in the rest
of
the West Indies. So a large part
of
the population is of mixed blood. And they are treated as inferior beings by the
Creoles,
in turn treated as inferiors by the Spaniards from Spain, who include nearly all the government officials.'

'It sounds exactly like any West Indian island to me.'

'Save that our notions of justice are slightly different.'

‘I
am not at all sure of that,' she said. 'I remember your father shooting a goat stealer once. And the whole thing was hushed up by my father.'

"Those were our fathers,' he said. "Those were the very people I am determined never to follow. But the people you are aping to the best
of
your ability. Anyway, shooting a burglar is one thing. Systematically destroying pride and dignity and indeed humanity is another. The Cubans mean to be free, to
be
Cubans. And I intend to help them to achieve that.' He finished dressing. 'Now I shall put you ashore.'

She held his arm. 'And take me aboard again, Monday afternoon.' 'I have just explained ...'

'Very well. So well that I am determined to see for myself. Just as I am determined to spend four days in your bunk.'

'And because you are Meg Hilton, the thought that you might be putting yourself in danger, that you are certainly making a mistake, is irrelevant.'

'Of course,' she said. 'Because I am Meg Hilton.'

She stayed on deck to watch Jamaica fade into the night. And perhaps to stare back at the beach, where Pilgrim had waited with the horses to wave goodbye. He would be there again on Friday morning. Faithful Pilgrim. And would she?