Surrender To Love

Poor little thing, Alexa thought contritely as she came up for air, delighting in the salty tang and taste of the sea. Perhaps she should forgo her own selfish pleasure and go back for Menika’s sake. But then, watching the riding lights of a ship that was anchored some distance away, beyond the coral reef that protected this part of Ceylon’s coast from sharks and enormous breakers that could crush any unwary bathers, Alexa decided that she might just as well enjoy herself and the glorious feeling of freedom that bubbled in her veins. She had never done anything this daring before. Swimming stark naked in the Governor’s private pool on a moonlit night. What if the Governor himself had the same idea? She had to resist the impulse to giggle at that thought. Not the Right Honorable James Alexander Stewart Mackenzie, most certainly! Balding, bespectacled and quite overshadowed by his wife, whose name he had adopted upon their marriage, he was hardly the kind of man who would dare to stray—and especially since he was devoutly religious as well. Or so Aunt Harriet had warned her, begging that Alexa should on no account enter into any kind of discussion on religion or religions, as the case may be.

Well, I did promise everyone that I was going to behave and be a credit to them all, Alexa reminded herself stoutly. But that is tomorrow, and tonight is mine alone…my last secret adventure, perhaps. Just for tonight I can be what I feel and what I am. Turning on her back, Alexa floated lazily again, letting the slight swell of the water rock her while she stared back at the silver face of the moon and let her thoughts wander as they pleased.

4

How gentle the ocean was tonight, with hardly a wave to break its smooth, swelling surface; and how bright the moon, splintered into a thousand, a million tiny silver fragments that danced along the gentle swells. A magical, enchanted night with the moon a fairy godmother who could turn every hidden, secret wish into reality for just a few precious hours. Alexa knew that Harriet would have frowned and told her that she should think rationally. Learn to be more practical. But how she hated that word! Ah, tonight was meant only for fantasy…was only a fantasy, perhaps, as she felt herself caught up in a silver-spangled web that transported her into a magical place where wishes came true and anything was possible if you closed your eyes and believed hard enough.

Almost mesmerized into believing she could disappear into the silver eye of the moon as she stared into it, Alexa found herself remembering the fairy tales that Mama used to read to her when she was very young and Freddy hadn’t even been born yet. Stories of handsome Princes, and Princesses with long golden hair that could be let down castle walls. Of dragons that could spit fire, and tall giants and twisted gnomes. Enchanted forests and bramble bushes that could grow in the twinkling of an eye to shut in a sleeping beauty who could only be awakened from her slumbers by a kiss. “Stuff and nonsense!” Aunt Harry used to scold. “The child’s head shouldn’t be filled with fantasies and falsehoods that have nothing to do with real life!” But what was wrong with escaping from real life sometimes into the magic world of fantasy where anything was possible? To imagine herself the fairy princess held captive by the spell of the wicked magician—waiting, wrapped about in her silver-webbed sleep for the Prince who was destined to rescue her. Or a pagan sacrifice like Andromeda, waiting for her Perseus. Waiting, like a moon-silvered statue, for…it did not matter. She felt herself flow into the moon and felt the moon flow into her, and she was magic and part of the night itself that was the birthday gift of her fairy godmother. A gift of magic…

Still floating languidly, Alexa suddenly felt a different, almost agitated motion of the water beneath her. A sudden wave that had managed to force its way in through the tiny entrance to this miniature bay? A splash…? No, her own moon-fevered imagination. What had she expected, a sea monster? She should not have let herself stare so hard at the moon that she became altogether lost in the fantasies her imagination surrounded her with. There was no one, and nothing here but poor sleeping Menika and herself. Annoyed at herself, Alexa closed her eyes for an instant against the silver brightness that seemed reflected everywhere, and began to tread water while she pushed annoying strands of wet, clinging hair from her eyes. So much for fantasy!

And then, on the very heels of that particular thought Alexa almost felt her heart stop as she felt something touch her. Seaweed? Then the strangest sensation of having her skin stroked underwater, all the way up from her calves to the length of her thighs. Not a shark? No, only some large fish that had somehow managed to find its way in here through the narrow opening that separated this pleasant little pool from the sea beyond it? Suddenly frozen and losing all power of motion for some seconds Alexa felt herself sink under water, to come up gasping and spluttering and blinded momentarily again by her water-logged hair, which clung to her face and neck like choking strands of seaweed. Helplessly, and unbelievingly, she could feel herself being moved backward in the water until her back scraped uncomfortably against a rocky-surface—one of the “steps” hewn into the rock here on the land side of the pool. She was still quite incapable of speech, having accidentally allowed herself to swallow a considerable amount of salty water, and barely capable of thought either until she heard an unmistakably human voice that held an annoying undercurrent of amusement.

“Well, well! I seem to have caught myself a mermaid! Or is it a sea witch? One of old Neptune’s wicked daughters?”

It was also, Alexa realized belatedly, unmistakably a pair of human hands that held her hard, and far too familiarly about the waist at this moment. And if only she was not still choking and coughing in a most unladylike way she would have used some of the barracks slang she had picked up from some of the young officers who sometimes forgot that she was a female. Oh damn, damn, she thought; why did her damned hair always have to get in the bloody way? How often she had longed to be able to crop it off! She shook her head fiercely, pushing heavy tangles back from her temples, and found herself looking into a face that was far too close to hers—a face she could hardly see, because the moon was at his back.

Alexa had not, until tonight, ever really believed in superstition or ancient legends; but now without her willing or her wanting, the sudden memory of her earlier fantasy thoughts raced through her mind. A man (and she knew instinctively that he was as naked as she was) who had risen out of the sea—or so it seemed. Had she managed, by some impossible accident, to conjure up some dark spirit from the ocean depths? Poseidon? No, Lucifer himself—no fairy prince! She could only see him as an outline against moon-bright sky and water…archetypal man, as pagan and primitive as the night itself. Alexa felt spellbound; and she had never known the meaning of that word until now. As if she too had been turned by a silver-tipped wand into someone else. As if, while she had lain floating on her back and offering herself to the moon she had suddenly had her offered sacrifice capriciously taken up and had lost herself. Even her voice, since her vocal cords seemed to have become frozen and immobilized like the rest of her senses as she stared into the darkness of a face she could not see.

“I never thought to wonder whether mermaids could speak or not…and perhaps it’s better they don’t. Is that why you’re such temptresses?”

The man’s voice was rough, because he had had time to study her face in the moonlight, and he did not like to admit, even to himself, the unwanted emotions it aroused in him. It was a different face, one which might indeed have belonged to some mythical creature, whether sea nymph or siren. Wet hair always looked dark, but hers seemed to have strange shimmers of light shot through its wet, curly masses wherever the moon happened to touch it. Well-defined dark brows were etched against the pale oval of her face; and her eyes? They reflected the moon in miniature, but were they black? Dark grey? He had the instinct that they would be, even in daylight, the kind of eyes no one could read.

He had spoken to her twice and she hadn’t answered—had just continued to stare at him with those strange dark and silver witch-eyes. Was she only held transfixed by terror, or was it possible that she could not understand English? Perhaps she was the pretty Eurasian mistress of one of the English officers or the Governor himself; or a trespasser afraid to be found swimming in the Governor’s private pool. Whoever she was he hadn’t meant to scare the poor girl out of her wits when he’d navigated that little channel underwater. He’d meant to come to this place late tonight to swim in privacy, and then he’d seen her, hardly believing his own eyes. A naked pagan goddess under the moon, as open and unashamed of her nakedness as the women of Tahiti and the Sandwich Islands; women who had not yet had civilization trap them and change them from natural to artificial products of an unnatural society. Who was she? Ah, but did it really matter?

Almost unconsciously he had been looking at her parted lips, noticing that they were chiseled and well-shaped. Tempting lips. And so, without thinking, he bent his head and kissed them, acting purely out of instinct, his hands sliding up from her waist to her shoulders to bring her body closer against his. He wanted to taste and feel the texture of her lips, her mouth, to feel the pressure of her high, pointed breasts against his chest as they rose and fell like the sea itself with the motion of her breathing. He wanted much more than that, and his loins told him so; but he did not relish the thought of rape, and enjoyed seduction and the building up of desire that was mutual—the long, lazy enjoyment of lovemaking. So all he did for the moment was enjoy kissing his captive mermaid, who, as he had already discovered, possessed two long, sleek legs instead of a tail. And he kissed her gently at first, savoring the salt taste of her, the faint answering tremor he felt under his seeking mouth in the beginning and then under his hands. He could sense that she was like a shy, only half-tamed animal that might spring away in panic or begin to struggle desperately to escape if he moved too fast. But God, she had the sweetest, most temptingly perfect body in the world; and when at last her mouth yielded to him and her head fell back against his arm it was hard to remember patience.

And as for Alexa herself, she was still in a kind of trance. A dreamlike feeling of unreality had taken hold of her, while in the depths of her mind she wondered if, like some bold Greek maiden of ancient times who had dared challenge the gods, it was her fate to be held captive forever in the silver-webbed spell spun by the moon while strange sensations she had never experienced before chased themselves up and down her spine before spreading all through her body; making it feel unaccountably weak. She had never been, never wanted to be, kissed by a man, and yet it was happening and she was enjoying it! Even when she felt his hands caress her body, touching her everywhere like an exploration, it was as if the slightest brush of fingers over her skin explored her senses as well—evoking feelings she had not known existed within herself, making her feel breathless and no longer in control of anything that was happening to her.

She heard him whisper against her ear as his lips left her mouth and moved there on a trail of burning kisses, “I want you, sea witch. Silver moon maid. But you know that, don’t you?”

He “wanted” her? What did he mean by that? Did he mean to carry her off with him somewhere into the depths of the sea or wherever he had come from? Who was he, what was he? And what was it she was supposed to know? With a concentrated effort that cost her almost all of the strength she had left in her, Alexa tore herself free and dived back into the water, swimming vigorously as she tried to gather her already scattered wits about her. Moon maid, he had called her. Moon mad was more like it! Lunatic…now she realized how the word had been coined.

When she came up for air, shaking wet hair away from her face, Alexa found him before her again. Without her knowing it, she was playing the coquette—going from the innocent playfulness of a moon child to deliberate teasing. The cynical side of the man’s mind told him that she was playing a calculated game with him. Of course! Wasn’t that what most women were taught from infancy? Sweet deception. Blow hot, and then cold. Tease and pretend while you played “catch me if you can”; a game guaranteed to drive a man to his knees. But the fact remained that she was here like a fantasy turned flesh and blood—a naked nymph whose shoulders gleamed like silver in the light of a sinking moon—and he was the mortal man who had come upon her by accident, overcome by desire for her, as she probably knew very well!

Alexa still could not make out his features too well, although she could at least see that he was dark-complexioned. And although his English had been impeccable, he had a slight accent she could not quite recognize. Was he a gentleman? But then, how could he take her for a lady? It suddenly occurred to her that in spite of all the books she had read on almost every subject under the sun and in so many different languages, there were still many things of which she remained ignorant. Like…well, how did one act if you found yourself alone with a strange man on a moonlit night and neither of you had any clothes on?

Irrepressibly, Alexa started to laugh, perhaps as much from nerves as from the awkwardness of the situation she found herself in. But he did not laugh with her. In fact his voice sounded as if he was gritting his teeth while he spoke.

“You find something laughable about this?”

“I’m nervous! I always laugh when I’m nervous. And none of this seems quite real yet…”

It was the feeling she had that his body was suddenly poised—for attack? Assault?—that made Alexa suddenly break off in mid-sentence and turn in panic to swim for the steps again. But as she had half-dreaded and half-anticipated he was there before her to bar her way to safety and security. Ridiculous! She, Alexa Howard, had never been cowardly enough to run away from danger, and of course she was not afraid! And yet, when she felt his arm go around her, she could not help the sudden tremor that ran up under her skin.

As if they were merely continuing a polite conversation he said casually, with his head bent to hers, “What is it, mermaid? What did you suddenly think of? And were you thinking or—calculating?”

“Calculating? And what do you mean by that?” Indignantly, Alexa tried to shrug off his arm as she added, “Not that it matters in the least, of course; except that you have intruded upon my privacy, and you…”

“Indeed?” His drawling voice made her hackles rise instinctively as he continued sarcastically: “But then, you see, I had counted upon having some privacy myself tonight, and I happen to know that you are not the Governor’s wife nor the wife of the Lieutenant Governor either. In fact, I really cannot imagine you as the wife of any one of the very proper British gentlemen I’ve met, for that matter…having the courage to go out swimming under the moon without a stitch of clothing on! Which makes me wonder about you, sweet sea nymph…”

“Oh!” Alexa felt her face grow hot and was glad he could not know it. It was quite insufferable, as well as ungentlemanly of him to mention it, of course. Sitting one step lower than he was, she slid herself deeper into the water until her shoulders were safely covered; and hearing his soft, amused chuckle at her strategy, Alexa would dearly have loved to use her nails on him. But instead, controlling herself with an effort, she said stiffly: “Since I happen to be a guest at Queen’s House, I can only believe that you must be the trespasser here. And if you had any decency you would leave at once! In fact, I don’t even think you are English! Where did you come from anyhow? I’m sure you have no rights to be here, and if you are wise you’ll leave before…”

She did not quite like the sound of the short laugh that cut off her half-uttered threat as he said: “Before…what? Would you call the sentries and let them see you as you are now? A guest at Queen’s House? I had guessed you for some lucky man’s light of love, not His Excellency the Governor’s, for I don’t think his wife would permit him such an indulgence; but perhaps one of his senior officers? Obviously one of the older ones, or you would not be out here by yourself to seek your solace from the moon and the sea, would you?”

Her volatile temper boiling to the surface at last, Alexa snapped cuttingly, “By God! And now you’ve made it obvious that you are not only without manners but a depraved, degenerate…”

“You left out pervert and libertine,” he pointed out in a casual tone of voice that took Alexa by surprise. And then he said savagely, almost beneath his breath, “But if I’m no gentleman and all that you think I am, my little mermaid, then neither are you a lady! I think you’re a flirt and a hypocrite.”

“That’s not true!” Alexa flared up.

“It isn’t? Then why are you afraid to prove it, little liar? Or are you going to seek safety behind the convenient wall of convention and mortal sin?” His voice, deceptively calm to begin with, had suddenly turned into an animal snarl that almost frightened her. But then, before she had time to think further, his arms captured her again; and he began to kiss her, sliding his body against and over hers until she was held trapped and helpless. And this time his kisses were not gentle as he cut off her half-formed protests by the pressure of his hard mouth over hers. They were demanding and almost savage, these kisses; and when she fought, almost by instinct, to free herself from the encroachment of his body over and against hers, it was only to discover that he was much stronger than she was—and in the end, and even more frighteningly, that her body did not, inexplicably, really want to escape.

He was touching her everywhere—everywhere, even though she wriggled and tried to twist and turn herself free. And nothing in her upbringing or her schooling, as unconventional as it was by the standards of the day, had prepared Alexa for the wild and almost overwhelming tumult of emotion and sensation that raced through every vein in her body and rendered all the rational, practical commands of her mind futile. She heard herself moan and felt the shudders that shook her whole body when he touched her in certain ways, despising herself with the one small detached part of her mind that remained sane and actually relishing all the new sensations that had suddenly begun to erupt in her with all the force of a volcano. What was happening to her? What did it mean? How could she let it happen, this feeling of senses taking over from mind and reason until thought was only a vague pinprick?

Caught and trapped in a daze of unfamiliar emotions and feelings, Alexa was only half-aware of leaving the softly undulating coolness of water for the wetness of dew-damp grass. They had climbed the steps, still holding on to each other, and had almost fallen down together soon after.

The moon had slipped even lower in the blue-black sky, moving inexorably towards the horizon that was defined by the dark line of the Indian Ocean. Silver reflections still danced and shimmered off the surface of the pool they had just left and the sea beyond it; and Alexa could still see the twinkling orange riding lights of the ship she had noticed earlier, anchored at Colombo Roadstead. She saw without really seeing because for the moment only feeling was uppermost in her.

The grass had not been cut for some time, and it felt scratchy and coarse against her skin. And with his hands roving over her body—seeming to know, diabolically, just where to linger—Alexa found her breath first coming faster and then catching in her throat as she began to wonder helplessly what she was doing lying here with a stranger and allowing him to take such liberties with her. Harriet had never warned her about this—no one had! He was lying on his side with his body touching hers along its length; and when his fingers began to play teasingly with her breasts—making taut, aching points of her nipples before he bent his dark, wet head to kiss each one in turn—she wondered why she did not seem to have the strength to roll her body away from his and thought that she must have been made mad by the moon. Because she was suddenly frightened by so many strange feelings inside herself that she did not understand—this sensation of being swept away on a surging tide she could not control, making her body ache and tingle and want…? That was what he had said before. Want what? She was afraid—of him and of everything he was making her feel in spite of herself.

“No!” Alexa heard herself moan softly in protest. “No…no more…please stop!”

“And why is it that women always cry ‘no’ when they really mean ‘yes’?” He reared himself up on one elbow to look down at her, and the meaning of his caustically uttered words acted like a glass of ice-cold water thrown in her face.

With a catlike swiftness that took him by surprise Alexa twisted away and sat back on her haunches as she glared down at him. “I suggest that you go find these women you are so familiar with who say no when they mean yes and do as you please with them! But as for me, I detest that insufferably superior attitude of yours, and you can…”

By now he had sat up too; and unfairly, she still could not read his shadowed face as he held her wrists for a moment and said: “Listen, moon maid…mermaid…witch…whatever you are. Why should we waste time on questions or arguments on a night like this? We’re strangers brought together by Fate and we’ll probably never meet again. But why not make the most of the present? I could not fall asleep tonight, for some reason, and so I decided to swim out here and try out the Governor’s pool, and I found you. And I want very much to make love to you, moon maid. Right here and right now.”

His hand reached out to touch her face, and Alexa flinched away nervously, never wanting to lose herself again under the touch of a stranger’s hands. Within an hour’s time he had used her far too familiarly and had turned her into a shameless wanton—a bold, reckless hussy. Her hair lay in tangled, sea-wet curls about her face and shoulders, and although she could not know it, the way in which she stared at him in startled silence reminded the man of a frightened doe—and was unaccountably annoying to him. Now what was she playing at? She had yielded, teased coquettishly and then yielded again before this latest display of temperament. How dare she suddenly glare at him as if he had mortally insulted her?

“For Christ’s sake! What is the matter with you now? Or is it that you dislike plain speaking? Should I have seduced you without words instead? When I first saw you, swimming naked under the moon so naturally, I had the feeling that you might be different. Why must you suddenly insist on playing a game of charades?”

Each contemptuous word was like a stone that had been flung at her, sinking into vulnerable, sensitive flesh. He thought…but of course he would think the worst, and no wonder. She had allowed him to think, all this time, that she was one more of the quick, easy conquests he was no doubt used to. How humiliating the thought was!

Almost unconsciously, Alexa’s small white teeth had begun to worry her lower lip, and her eyes had narrowed dangerously—both signs that would have made her Aunt Harriet watchful and that made him aware intuitively that he had said something to make her as furious as a spitting cat, suddenly. He watched her warily now, outwardly relaxed but half-expecting her to leap at him like the wild creature she had begun to remind him of at this moment, when only seconds before he could have sworn she was one of the few women who might appreciate honesty and openness in place of flattery and guile.

Breaking the tensely-stretched silence between them, he said quietly, “I have the impression that I’ve said something to make you angry, even if I did not mean to do so. What was it?”

Instead of mollifying her, his speech only seemed to make her even more angry, her lips drawing back from her gritted teeth as if she belonged, in fact, in the depths of some primeval forest—an animal as wild and as untamed as every other that lurked there.

“Why should your ‘plain speaking’ make me angry? Or your ‘seduction without words’? I wish you could repeat your speech so that I could learn it by heart! Is it one of your favorite gambits when you think you are dealing with some gullible female?”

Oh, hell! he thought disgustedly, all the more annoyed at himself for letting the advantage slip so easily into her grasp. He should have been more cautious, more careful with her; and most of all he would have liked to act the brutal savage and snatch her into his arms without thinking about seduction, wrestling her into submission while he kept kissing her into silence and caressed that magnificently long-limbed body of hers that gleamed like polished marble in the moonlight. Making her as wild with desire as he was, although he had sensed instinctively by now that it was too late for that. Damn!

“Do you make up a new speech for every occasion that arises?” Her overly honeyed voice cut through his thoughts, and he gave her a considering kind of look that made her scramble to her feet rather too hastily to match the air of cool, detached dignity she belatedly tried to portray. “Not that it matters…. It’s time I returned before I’m missed….” And where was Menika? She had been sleeping (supposedly) right there in the shadow of the tall hedge. Where had she gone? How much had she witnessed?

“Are you sure you don’t need an escort? A beautiful young woman can never be certain what kind of depraved monster she might run across on a night like this!”