Jade Star (Star Quartet 4)

He said in his usually calm voice, “Please remove my shirt, my dear.”

Jules clutched the fine lawn material to her chest. “No.”

He sighed. “If you do not remove the shirt this instant, I will call back my gallant first mate. He, I am certain, no matter what his chivalrous feelings toward you, will be pleased to see all your charms.”

Jules felt the pounding in her temples—fear, outrage, determination. “I won’t,” she said. Quickly she leaned down and picked up the ivory bookend. “You come near me and I will kill you.”

She didn’t stand a chance, of course. He was on her in an instant, bending her arm in an iron grasp until she dropped the bookend. He practically tore the shirt from her and threw her none too gently onto the floor.

“You deserve to be beaten,” he said as he pulled on his ripped shirt. “But I can’t mark you. There isn’t the time for you to heal. And no man would want to buy damaged goods.”

All bravado was gone, stripped away as surely as he had stripped away her only clothing. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed softly.

Jameson Wilkes frowned down at her. Her glorious hair was in wild curls about her face and shoulders. Her white back quivered as she cried. Never before had he dealt with a female like her. For a moment he stood quietly, indecision written clearly on his face. He didn’t want to break her, not completely, but he couldn’t allow her to be a wild thing, either. He didn’t doubt for a minute that she would never willingly allow herself to be raped by the man who would buy her. It would hurt his reputation badly were she to kill the as-yet-unknown man.

Then he smiled, his decision made. Without another word he lifted her from the floor and set her on the bed. He tied her wrists above her head and left her.

That evening when he brought her dinner tray, he said nothing to her of the afternoon’s incident. He even allowed her to cover herself with the sheet while she ate.

“Do drink your wine, Juliana,” he said. “It is from my own private stock, and quite tasty.”

She shook her head.

“You’ve never tasted wine before?” he asked with mild interest. He rose and poured himself a glass. “Come, now, just a bit to see if you like it.”

Jules, her mind numb and empty, raised the glass to her lips and drank. The deep red wine was rich and sweet. It sent welcome warmth all the way to her stomach.

Jameson Wilkes watched closely as she downed the entire contents of the glass. He smiled. “Excellent,” he said.

It would take a while, he knew. He had no idea whether the amount of the drug he’d poured into the glass was correct. The old Chinese gnome who’d sold it to him had merely said that the dose “depended.” On what? Jameson had wondered. Well, he thought, leaning back in his chair, he would soon see. The drug was a mixture of opium and other things, the old man had said, things that would make women utterly wild. Jameson wasn’t certain that such things as aphrodisiacs existed. Certainly the myth about oysters was just that, a myth.

“We will be in San Francisco within a week,” he said, cutting through the thick silence. “We’re making excellent time, better than I’d expected. Did I tell you, my dear, that this was my last voyage to the islands?”

Jules was beginning to feel odd, somehow detached from herself. She heard his soothing voice, understood his words. She said slowly, her tongue feeling thick in her mouth, “I want to go home. I do not particularly like my father or my sister, but Lahaina is my home.” She looked a bit startled at what she’d said, but continued in a soft singsong voice, “I collected flowers, and cataloged fish. I don’t want to be a man’s whore. I don’t want to be like some of the women on Maui.”

“You are a smart girl, Juliana. Perhaps the man who buys you will indulge you in your interests. Perhaps you should consider how best to . . . endear yourself to your future protector.”

“No,” she said quite clearly. But Jameson Wilkes wasn’t very clear anymore, and she blinked to keep him in focus. “My family would know.” She realized vaguely that what she’d said didn’t make any sense.

She saw he was smiling at her, and wondered at it. She also realized at that moment that she had to relieve herself. Always before, she’d been alone. “I must use the chamber pot,” she said.

“Go right ahead, my dear.”

Jules shook her head in confusion. “No,” she said. “I can’t, not while you’re in here. Please l

eave.”

This was interesting, Jameson Wilkes thought, studying her face closely. A loss of inhibition, an excellent start. “Of course you can,” he said, his voice as soothing as smooth honey.

But still she sat there looking confused, bewildered. He said very gently, “I won’t pay you any heed. Go ahead.”

Jules eased off the bed and walked to the chamber pot, which was stored beneath a small cabinet. She didn’t realize that she was quite naked. Nor did she pay any more attention to Jameson Wilkes. When she was finished, she turned, straightened, and stared at him.

To his complete and utter surprise, Jameson Wilkes felt a powerful surge of lust. He’d believed himself immune to her body—to any woman’s body, for that matter. It was a heady combination, her standing so confidently before him, but her eyes dazed and confused.

“What do you feel, Juliana?” he asked, forcing himself not to move.

She shook her head, not understanding what was happening to her. “I don’t know.”