A River of Orange Read online

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  The Wild Rose Press

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  Copyright ©2007 by Roberta C.M. DeCaprio

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  Meav felt her spirit rise from her body. She looked down at the stone slab and saw herself lying peaceful, deep in sleep. Neteru stood beside the stone altar, chanting and singing words Meav could not understand. The melody had a tranquil effect on her, as she floated to the chamber ceiling. ‘Twas from that vantage point she spotted the large, black cat. He entered the room slowly, his amber eyes rising to meet hers. Meav floated down ... down ... until her bare feet touched the stone floor. Then she climbed upon the panther's back. With each feline step his muscles moved sensuously between Meav's bare thighs. She gripped the fur at his powerful shoulders and rode his sleek, shiny body out of the chamber.

  He took her to his cave, carefully setting her onto the pile of animal pelts. Then he sat before her, opened his large mouth to reveal long, sharp fangs and looked into her eyes, growling ferociously.

  Meav was not frightened ... oh, she should be, but she was not. She reached out and stroked the cat's chest. “You do not scare me, so you can stop trying. I will not be that easily dealt with. ‘Tis time you let another help you."

  The cat's eyes bathed Meav in adoration, searching each and every facet of her face. Slowly he backed away to the far corner of the cave and stood on his hind legs.

  "Come to me, Rule,” Meav gently coaxed, extending her hand. “I am here now."

  In a blink of an eye the man replaced the animal, standing before her in nothing but a green loin cloth.

  "'Tis really you, then?” Rule muttered.

  Meav stood. “Aye, ‘twas always me, it just took some time for me to understand.” She smiled warmly. “I am not afraid or repulsed by you, milord."

  Rule stepped closer. “Sute ... how could you not be? I repulse myself.” He looked away, his words clipping into silence.

  Meav inched her way toward him. “Look at me, milord."

  He brought his gaze to meet hers, regarding her for a long moment.

  Meav saw the hurt and longing lying naked in his eyes. “I choose to see the man first, and marvel over how he has handled his plight instead of condemn him for it."

  Wings Press best selling author, Mariah LeGrand, (Reiver's Passion and The Gypsy Witch) has classified Roberta C.M. DeCaprio's writing as riveting and captivating. “Ms. DeCaprio is an excellent writer who knows how to create believable characters, putting together page turning plots and storylines that definitely keep the reader's interest."

  A River Of Orange

  by

  Roberta C. M. DeCaprio

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  A River Of Orange

  COPYRIGHT ©

  2007 by Roberta C. M. DeCaprio

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Tamra Westberry

  The Wild Rose Press

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Faery Rose Edition, 2007

  Print ISBN 1-60154-161-9

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  I dedicate this book to my children, William and Tammy; and my granddaughters, Fiona and Mia. The years of telling them all fairytales has inspired me to write this one for adults.

  Chapter One

  Atlantic Ocean, July, 1830

  Meav sat in the bowels of hell, grieving the death of her family; dirty and sick, scared and tormented. The old wooden vessel creaked with the waves that crashed its side. Meav curled her knees to her chin, and covered her bare feet with the hem of her skirt. Closing her eyes she buried her face in the palms of her hands. Somewhere in the darkness rodents scampered, looking for a morsel to feed on. Her stomach churned at the mere thought of eating another raw potato, and she swallowed hard.

  She had stowed away in the dead of night, leaving her homeland and the disease, famine, waste and death that littered the streets of Dublin.

  She wiped the grime from her hands down the side of her dirty and tattered skirt. The dampness seeped into the cracks of the old ship, down upon where she slept, and into her young bones. Meav felt achy and older than her twenty years. With fear in her heart she worried she would die of consumption in the dank slime of the floating dungeon.

  "'Tis not consumption, but the lack of water that will be the death of me for sure,” she groaned.

  Her frail body would be found, eaten away by the rats, amongst the potatoes the thieving Brits took from her country. How Meav despised them, and yet she had been forced to take refuge on the Sea Dragon, one of their vessels. Would it have been better then, to have stayed put in Ireland, and die with the rest of her family, rather than in the belly of the enemy's ship?

  "Nay,” she whispered. “I do not want to die at all."

  She had no idea of the ship's destiny, only that it carried her as far away from Ireland as it could; leaving behind, not only the destruction of her land, but the lecherous Hollister McGreary as well.

  The scraping of the hatch being pulled aside and the sound of men's voices forced Meav to gather her will and move behind a large piece of mahogany furniture. The elegant wardrobe, no doubt on its way to adorn some mansion owner's bed chamber, hid her petite frame from view. Like the vermin, her own flesh foul and displeasing to her nose, Meav blended into the shadows.

  Heaven help her! What would her dear grandmamma say if she could see her now? The auburn curls that bounced with the shine of an Irish morn were matted to her scalp. And the cotton peasant blouse, once crisp and white, was pasted to Meav's flesh; grime embedded into every soft fiber.

  "Blimey, Mate, methinks the crate of rum is by the gentlemen's cupboard,” one of the men bellowed. Meav peeked around the armoir and caught a glimpse of him, stout and menacing, holding the lantern high above his head.

  The sailor's steps neared the wardrobe. Meav crouched lower, her face nearly touching the musty floorboards, not daring to breathe.

  The ship tossed, and a small crate slammed into Meav's back. The pain brought tears to her eyes. Clamping a dirty hand across her mouth, she stifled the moan that threatened to escape from her throat.

  The younger man lost his footing, and fell against a crate. “Bloody hell!"

  "Hey, Grissom, be watchin’ your step there. I cannot be havin’ the cargo damaged. The Captain would have me bloody head for sure."

  "If the rockin’ of this blasted ship ‘tain't jarrin’ it, me measly hide ‘tain't gonna.” Grissom inhaled sharply. “The stench down here is drawin’ from me belly the meal I just ate, Denton,” he complained. “Grab whacha gotta grab, and be done with it."

  "Get use to it, Mate.” Denton threw the light of the lantern Grissom's way, and laughed heartily as the younger sailor tr
ied to stand. “Seems ya forgot ya sea legs."

  Grissom braced his feet and stood erect. “Who the bloody hell ya think ya laughin’ at?"

  Denton laughed again and shone the light behind the younger man. “There it be, the crate of rum the Captain's wantin'. Been only out to sea four days, he has, and already made his way through one crate,” Grissom complained. “Least hope this last one will be gettin’ the bastard through the stretch ahead.” He handed the lantern to Grissom. “Now hold steady. Do not be droppin’ the light, or ya will be settin’ this hell hole on fire.” Denton made his way to the crate. “And keep it shinin’ on me,” he shouted back to Grissom."

  "Doin’ me best, Mate,” Grissom snapped. “'Tain't all that easy."

  A sharp, high pitched scream echoed through the hold. The haunting screech seemed to paralyze the two sailors.

  The shrill reverberation set Meav's ears ringing.

  Grissom's voice trembled. “What the bloody hell was that?"

  Denton stumbled to the hatch. “Get up the ladder, and be quick about it, Mate."

  Again the penetrating noise filled the hold.

  Meav covered her ears with her hands.

  Grissom hurried to follow Denton up the ladder. “Will ya tell me what the bloody hell that sound is?"

  "'Tis the water folk, the cry of the mer-people,” Denton explained, reaching down to take the lantern from Grissom.

  "Mermaids?"

  "Aye, mermaids,” Denton said. “Sirens of the sea. Their song is deadly."

  Crouched and trembling in her hiding place Meav swallowed hard. She had heard stories of the half women, half fish creatures that lived beneath the ocean. Their bewitching voices lured ships onto the rocks and men to their death.

  "Saints preserve us,” she whispered. “Me end has come."

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  Meav licked her dry lips, tasting particles of sand in her mouth. She spat the grit from her tongue and slowly rolled onto her back. Every bone in her body cried out in pain. She opened her eyes slowly, shielding them from the sun's light. Intense heat burned her alabaster flesh. Slowly she sat up and looked around, blinking into focus the ship's cargo strewn across the white sand, pieces of crate and wood scattered everywhere.

  Her head began to swim. Squeezing her temples, Meav tried to relieve the pain that throbbed within. She watched a small crab walk across her lap and make its way over her tattered skirt. It scampered down her leg and disappeared behind a rock.

  She inhaled the salty air, trying to clear her mind. What did she remember last?

  "The cry of the mermaids,” she whispered.

  In an instant it all came flooding back to her. The ship had struck a rock; the wooden frame had been ripped apart. Water had gushed into the hold, and she had been swept away. Meav remembered she had sunk down, into the deep, black waters. Her lungs had been ready to explode; her heart pounded within her ears.

  Then suddenly a pair of hands had reached for her and with great speed pulled her to the surface. Meav had been placed on the beach. The water she inhaled had gushed from her lungs. She had choked and gasped for air. And then she had felt nothing, until now, waking on a warm bed of sand.

  Meav brushed the earth from her face and pushed aside the strands of hair that fell across her forehead. Slowly she stood. Her legs, too weak to hold her, brought her quickly to her knees. She gathered her bearings for a moment before crawling to a nearby rock and pulling herself upon it.

  Her gaze wandered about the land. The trees were green. A rich, deep green; greener then any tree she had seen in Dublin. Huge blue and purple flowers adorned the bushes, their petals so vivid with color it took her breath away. Casting her glance out to sea, Meav marveled at the crystal clarity of the blue water. She rubbed her fingers along the rock where she sat. It felt smooth and polished. She dug her toes into the warm, white beach. The sugary dirt shimmered in the sun. Slowly Meav reached down and scooped up a handful of sand, watching it sift between her fingers.

  "Where am I?” she whispered, awed by the brilliant colors, and the peaceful beauty that surrounded her.

  Meav's rumbling stomach broke the serenity. When had she eaten last? Again she tried to stand. Her legs, though wobbly, held her. Slowly she took tiny steps over to a bush that sprouted berries. She plucked one free and held it between the tip of her thumb and forefinger. Hesitantly, she brought the tiny red orb to her mouth. Did she dare take the chance it wouldn't be poisonous? Slowly she stuck out her tongue, and lightly licked the fruit. It left a sweet aftertaste. Her temptation overcame caution, and quickly she popped the berry past her lips, its juice moistening her dry mouth, the flavor a welcome treat to her palate.

  "Have mercy on me soul, should I keel over and die where I stand,” she prayed, filling her hands with the delicious outgrowth and shoving them into her mouth.

  Meav devoured the entire crop from where she could reach then circled around to consume what grew on the opposite side. From that point she noticed a plantain plant. A few had fallen to the ground. Meav fell to her knees and grabbed a large, fat one. She pealed its greenish skin with trembling fingers, and hungrily sunk her teeth into the soft produce.

  It practically melted in her mouth. She rolled her eyes heavenward. “'Tis paradise that I have landed upon,” she muttered; her cheeks full of the luscious food. But it left Meav's mouth gummy.

  Water, I need water.

  She pushed herself to her feet, and walked into the tropical forest.

  Meav had no idea where she was headed. She just knew she was in dire need to quench her thirst, and began to make her way through the thick foliage hanging from trees and sprouting from bushes. The large, leafy obstructions hampered her greatly.

  "Ah me,” she groaned, pushing aside the branches that whipped about her legs, caught on her skirt and tangled in her hair. The thorns cut through her flesh, leaving stinging wounds.

  Stopping to catch her breath she inhaled the intoxicating aroma of the flowered plants that scented the air with their beautiful floral mix. The heady fragrance would have normally lifted her spirits, but the sweltering heat had left her agitated. She continued on in her quest for water.

  Just when she thought she could bear no more, she came upon a clearing. The sight of the scene before her nearly took her breath away. Beautiful floral bushes and large, crystalline rocks lined the path of a river. A river of orange.

  "Orange water,” Meav mused, moving toward the edge.

  How could that be? Would it be suitable for drinking?

  Slowly she dipped one big toe into the colored stream. Its tranquil flow instantly refreshed her flesh. She sunk her foot deeper, the revitalized feeling traveled up her leg. Quickly she knelt, scooped the water into her palms and brought it to her mouth. Eagerly she drank the cool liquid. It was sweet and energizing, quenching more than her thirst. Meav suddenly felt everything inside of her tingle. All sensations were magnified; her wet hands, the breeze playing with the auburn curls that framed her face, the aroma of the Tiger Lily and Snap Dragons nearby; all of it was heightened.

  "Oh, Lordy be ... ‘tis not just water."

  She stood, again taking in her surroundings, marveling over the colors, now more extraordinary than before. The scenery around her and its magnificence wasn't all that left her awed. Meav herself felt rejuvenated, and suddenly extremely aware of her own body.

  It was then that from the depths of the serene pool a creature emerged and slid upon a pearled rock. Meav instantly crouched to her knees and crawled behind a large bush. There she hid, scarcely able to breath, and peered through the branches at the incredible sight before her.

  The beautiful water nymph's long, golden curls fell around tanned shoulders. Meav watched the mer-woman push aside the ringlets, exposing rosy nipples that stood erect in the sun's heat. Naked and content the creature reclined, playing, pinching and teasing the peaks; oblivious to the fact that another watched her every move.

  Meav gasped as her own nipples hardened beneath her
blouse. Slowly she began to rub her fingers back and forth over the firm nubs.

  The mermaid then stretched her long tail. The silver scales began to slip from her waist, down her hips and past her thighs. Slowly she brought her hand down to her flat belly, and gently massaged herself.

  Meav felt the muscles in her own belly quiver. She rubbed herself as she saw the mermaid do.

  The water woman's hand roamed down past her hips. She slipped her fingers between her thighs and stroked herself, back and forth, until her tail curled with pleasure and her beautiful face smiled with contentment.

  Meav grew moist between her legs and felt a strong urge to touch herself. The thought of her grandmamma's conservative ways suddenly made her feel guilty at taking such pleasure in her own body. The heat rose to Meav's cheeks. It would have meant a trip to the wood shed for sure, and a switch to Meav's bared bottom. A woman's parts should be kept sacred, covered. Meav had been taught that only when conceiving a wee one does a woman let those private areas be touched, and then, only by her husband. No God fearing woman would ever take pleasure in the deed, least she be considered impure. And watching this water creature doing sinful things would truly send Meav's soul to hell upon departing this life.

  Silently she chastised herself. Turn away; crawl from this hiding place and go back to the beach.

  But Meav's senses were too stirred to move, too engrossed in watching what the mermaid was going to do next.

  The sea woman rolled onto her belly, threw back her head, and arched her spine like a feline animal; warming both ends of her slinky form beneath the sun's rays. Curling the tip of her tail, she stroked herself with the fin, up and down the center of her bare behind. Her smile grew as deeper and deeper she inserted the tail, taking much delight in how she fondled herself.

  Meav felt her posterior muscles tighten, and longed to strip off her dirty, tattered clothes; allowing her own nakedness to drink in the warmth of the sun. She yearned to explore the forbidden areas of her body—to rub and caress the parts that were now begging for her attention. And the strange, yet wonderful sensation she was having in the inner most depth of her womb was so gloriously intense, she groaned aloud.