The Flame and the Flower by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss Page A

dreaded even the thought. She needed no further encouragement to be ill. Each morning she rose, dragging herself from the cot with an effort, feeling sick and listless and wondering if she would ever get well. With the extra load of chores her aunt had thrust upon her, she was finding it hard to keep her illness a secret. She had vowed never to allow her aunt to see her ailing, but it was becoming difficult. Sometimes she felt so faint she expected to collapse any moment. She had hoped in time that those tormenting memories which made her ill would leave her in peace. But still they remained with her, and so did her troubled stomach and frayed nerves.
     
    "Stop your mopin' around and finish those dishes, missy."
     
    Heather shook off the daze that enveloped her and hurriedly wiped another wooden bowl. In just a moment more, she would be able to relax in a warm bath and soothe her aching body. She was tired and weary, and there was a dull ache in the small of her back. She had done the washing earlier in the day and her strength had been sapped away with the lifting, the scrubbing, the beating, the reaching. And later she had almost swooned when carrying in a load of firewood.
     
    She put the dishes away and dragged out the wooden tub for her bath. Watching her, Aunt Fanny picked up another sweet tart from the table and stuffed a great part of it into her large mouth. Heather shuddered, wondering how the woman could eat so much. It seemed her aunt's favorite pastime.
     
    She wished the woman would go to bed as Uncle John had done. She would prefer to bathe in peace. But her aunt wasn't budging, so Heather filled the tub and tested the water. It was pleasantly hot. She unfastened her dress and let it slide from her shoulders down to the floor.
     
    She stood before the hearth, totally unclad, her smooth skin glowing in the light of the fire, and her slender body was clearly sithouetted in its glow. Her breasts rose heavier now and were taut, and there was a slight rounding curve to her abdomen.
     
    Suddenly Aunt Fanny choked on the tart she was swallowing. With a strangled cry she leapt from her chair, alarming her niece who whirled around to look at her. The woman's eyes were wide, staring at her in horror, and her face had gone from beet red to ashen gray. Aunt Fanny charged across the room toward her and Heather cringed away, thinking her aunt had gone mad. She was seized viciously by the arms.
     
    "Who are you breeding by, missy? What jackal have you hooked yourself to?" the woman screeched.
     
    Cold, dreaded shock seized Heather's every nerve. Her eyes grew very wide and her face very pale. In her innocence she had not thought of this. As she had lain under Captain Birmingham and struggled with him, she had not considered the consequences of his act. She had reasoned her failure to come sick at her normal times to be because she was so upset with everything that had happened to her. But now she knew differently. She was going to have a baby—a baby by that scoundrel of a sea captain. That cad! Madman! Lunatic! Oh God, she thought, why? Why?
     
    Livid with rage, Aunt Fanny shook Heather until her head threatened to snap off.
     
    "Who is it? Who's the bloody toad?" she cried. Her hands tightened around Heather's arms until it brought an outcry of pain from the girl's lips. "Tell me or by me God I'll wring it out of you!"
     
    Heather found it impossible to think. She was dulled, senseless with shock.
     
    "Please—oh, please let me go," she murmured in confusion.
     
    A look of enlightenment crossed Aunt Fanny's face, and she shoved Heather into a nearby chair. "Henry—that's who it is, ain't it? Your uncle said he was sweet on you, and now I know the reason. He's the father of the babe. If he thinks he'll ruin my good name in the village and go flitting off clean, he thinks wrong. I told you if you ever sinned, you'd be found to reckon with and now you're going to wed Henry. The filthy good-for-nothing! He'll pay