The Blonde Samurai. Jina Bacarr

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ motives.

      “A trip to Japan would be most illuminating,” I lied, “but Mother needs me here in London to help her, especially since Elva and the baby are coming to visit.”

      Though we had our differences, I was looking forward to my younger sister’s visit. Elva was the pretty one, dark and dainty, the daughter my mother groomed to marry a duke or a prince. Instead she’d gotten pregnant at seventeen and had her baby in a Paris hospital. I was eager to see her.

      I continued, making excuses. “I spoke without thinking, Da.”

      “I’m mighty glad you did.” He lowered his voice. The glibness was gone. That surprised me, made me uneasy. So unlike the rogue Irishman who could talk a gang of rail busters into working extra hours for no pay. “I need this deal with the Japanese, Katie. Need it bad.”

      No fragmentation of thought, just straightforward talk. I stared at him, something about the edge in his voice frightening me. “What are you saying?”

      “We’re heading for bad times with the railroad boom in the States coming to an end. Banks are overextending themselves and President Grant invoked the gold standard for the money supply.” He paused, chewed on his cigar. “I’m dead certain we’re going into an economic crisis before the end of the year.” He thought about what was on his mind, then finished with, “I fear I could lose everything if I don’t diversify my holdings.”

      “I had no idea it was that serious.”

      “It’s worse, Katie.” Thomas O’Roarke shook his head, his jowls drooped, the toll of many years of track walking for the railroad in his younger days showing on his face. Success had its price, I knew, though my father would never admit it. He’d come up the hard way, working with his hands till they bled, but it was his quick, mathematical mind and keen business sense that had put him at the top of the railroad game.

      “If what you’re saying is true, Da, wouldn’t it make more sense if you went to Japan with James?”

      I rattled my brain for an excuse, any excuse not to go on a long, tiresome journey halfway around the world with a man I feared and hated. No warmth existed between us, any attraction I may have felt toward him disfigured by his deviant games of domination, and if I stripped away the pretense we had forged with each other, it revealed only emptiness.

      “I wish I could, Katie, but I can’t.” He spoke harshly. “You must go to Japan and keep an eye on my business interests.”

      “But Japan is a pagan country,” I reminded him, “run by barbarians and samurai.”

      My father ignored my plea. “You’re a strong girl, Katie, not letting anyone get the best of you and speaking your mind.” He smiled, pleased. “You remind me of meself when I was starting out, all fired up with ambition, a wild temper and always breaking rules.”

      I grinned, remembering the photo I’d seen of my father back in his youth, a tall, thin young man with pants too short for him, a lantern in his hand and a whistle between his lips. I saw that young man come alive again when he said, “There’s nothing more beautiful in the world than miles of railroad track, all straight and shiny, calling to you.” He laughed. “Except your mother, of course.”

      I poked him in the ribs. “You always did know how to turn a phrase, Da.”

      He didn’t give up his cajoling, now that he had my attention. “Railroading is in your blood, Katie. When you were a wee girl, I’d take you along with me down to the tracks and we’d watch the big trains roaring into the station. Side by side they came, the crew heaving coal into the engines, the iron horses puffing, straining every bit of steel and muscle, passengers hanging out the windows and waving handkerchiefs, the rolling black smoke turning the sky dark overhead, the great iron steeds rounding the sharp curve and arriving at their destination, brakes screeching, tracks sparking.” He let go with a heavy sigh. “’Tis a sight to behold, but railroading is a young man’s game and the old man is running out of steam.” He patted his belly protruding over his trousers.

      “Not you, Da. You can do anything.” I remembered those days with my small hand clasped in his, hanging on to my soft blue bonnet whipped by the wind. I hugged him with warmth in my heart, but I couldn’t stop a cold fear growing in my bones.

      “Not this time, Katie. Your husband may be what we call an upstart back home, but he’s shrewd and can get the job done.” He leaned forward and looked me square in the eye. “I’m counting on you to see that he does.”

      I found the courage to return my father’s hard stare, though turmoil raged inside me, a smooth sheen of sweat moistening my upper lip. I remained silent for several minutes, my insides churning with something I didn’t understand, an anticipation of the unknown knocking my inner compass off course. I’d been so sure of myself, filled with self-direction, capable of making my way unaided, asserting my freedom as Lady Carlton, but all that ended if I followed my father’s wishes and journeyed to Japan.

      I looked away, guilt flooding me. How could I explain to him my husband was a madman who reveled in floggings, whippings and spankings? My father believed I was a happily married woman, though sexually I moved in the shadows, darkness cloaking my secret, my cries of ecstasy mingling with silence, my solitary game bringing me release but little joy.

      How I longed to crush my nude breasts against the muscular bare chest of an imaginary lover, rubbing my hard nipples against him, the heat of my need stirring his desire. Moving his body on mine, then thrusting his cock into me until the loneliness I lived with day after day ceased and my body hummed with a comforting rhythm I had yet to experience.

      When we did meet, my samurai relit my soul with acts so profound and passionate, so brilliantly intense I existed in a floating world. Every gesture, nuance and caress teasing me with the finest blue silk pulled taut over my breasts so my nipples peaked through the sheer fabric, inviting my samurai to linger at the task before stripping it off me and exploring me further, capturing my spirit and giving me pleasure with consummate skill. My nude body glimmering with such translucence it was as if I were bathed in mica dust.

      Yet at that moment I believed that would never happen with this new set of circumstances entering my life. Strange, I had gotten myself into this situation because I wished to strike back at my husband, make him see me as an equal, not as a sexually repressed woman. Agonizing, meandering thoughts consumed me. Questions haunted me, but the answer didn’t change. I had no choice but to embark on this journey.

      Reluctantly, over the next few weeks I assisted James with making the necessary arrangements regarding our identity papers, letters of credit from the bank along with a signature book and visiting cards, as well as securing passage to America, then Japan. I owed my father that much, but I couldn’t shake the uneasiness overtaking me as his lordship and I undertook our long journey to the Orient, a land of myth, pagan rituals and strange customs. I prayed I would survive nameless dangers I had yet to contemplate.

      What I didn’t know, dear lady reader, was that I would face a clear-cut danger the night we were to board the steamer to Yokohama from San Francisco.

      I shiver still, remembering the frightening incident that nearly cost me my life. Read on, if you have the courage. You won’t be disappointed. I have worked hard to re-create that night with witty dialogue and pertinent details as I remember them; but I must warn you to keep your smelling powders close at hand since I have also included a most explicit scene with my samurai that will—

      No, I will let you see for yourself, but I beg you СКАЧАТЬ