Island Flame Part 23

"I'm cold, too," she whispered demurely, her hand stealing out from beneath the quilts to run tentatively up his thigh. "Won't you warm me up?"

"Ah, G.o.d, Cathy, you're still drunk," he groaned. Cathy smiled in the darkness. Yes, she was drunk. Drunk on the heady nectar of his love. Her hand moved higher, her fingers running teasingly along the hard bulge in his breeches. He started to pull back,then stopped. A low growl sounded deep in his throat and his hand came down to cover hers, pressing her fingers against him.

"I want you." His voice sounded strangled. Cathy's fingers curled against the soft velvet, kneading, probing. She touched the hard roundness of a b.u.t.ton, freeing first it, then its fellow. Her cool little fingers slid inside to delicately stroke his hot flesh.

"Ah, G.o.d," he groaned, coming down beside her on the bed. His arms went around her and he strained her body against his hard length. The thick quilts were between them and Jon kicked them aside impatiently, his mouth twisting across hers with searing need. Cathy twined her own arms tightly around his neck, returning his kiss with abandon, sobbing endearments against his mouth. She could feel the tremors that racked his corded limbs as they pressed her to him.

Through the thin silk of her nightdress, Jon's fingers burned on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and thighs and belly. Cathy writhed under his caresses, thrilling to his touch.Her own hands came away from his neck to tug at his shirt. The b.u.t.tons popped, allowing her access to his furred, muscular chest. She pulled her mouth away from his, pressing wanton kisses on his body. His breath rattled in his throat as though he was dying.

Jon sat up suddenly, and Cathy could have screamed at the removal of his warm flesh.

"Darling?" she questioned huskily, moving to kneel behind him where he sat on the edge of the bed, her soft arms sliding around his waist.

"I have to take off my d.a.m.ned boots," he gritted, tugging at the offending footgear.

Cathy chuckled softly, the sound seductive. She pressed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s tightly against the hard muscles of his back, and he groaned, his hand leaving what he was doing to pull her head around for a brief, burning kiss. Then, dropping his boots to the floor one at a time, he stood up, stripping off his clothes with hands that shook. Cathy stayed where she was, kneeling on the edge of the bed, watching him boldly. In the flickering firelight his flesh looked orangey-bronze, as hard and pagan as any savage's. Cathy admired the bulging muscles of his arms and thighs through half-closed lids, reveling in his strength. When at last he was naked, her eyes swept him with a long, desirous look that made him catch his breath. With every pore of her body she was aware of his maleness and his pa.s.sion.

"Wanton," he murmured, coming to her and pulling her nightgown over her head with a swift movement, leaving her as naked as he. She pressed against him un-inhibitedly, loving the rasp of his body hair against her soft b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the heat and hardness of him. He bore her backwards, his knee parting her thighs as they came to rest on the softness of the mattress.

When he possessed her, Cathy felt throbbing burning ecstasy. She arched against him, grinding her softness to his strength, sobbing her need against his mouth. He was gasping, his heart beating so hard that it sounded like a drum being pounded between them. He took her to the edge of rapture once, and then again. When at last he was still, his mouth pressed warmly against the curve of her neck and his hand gently stroking her hair, she felt as if she had died and gone to heaven. Her fingers came up to touch his mouth wonderingly, and then before she could tell him of her joy she fell asleep.

Jon slept too, but not as deeply as Cathy. He awoke just as the sun was peeping over the horizon, the first of its rays slanting into the room, to find his arms wrapped tightly around her naked body. Jon ran a lazy hand over her silken skin, then when that brought no response he propped himself up on one elbow, staring down at the sleeping loveliness of her face.

His eyes touched tenderly on the dark lashes that layin long, feathery crescents against her delicately tinted cheeks, her small nose,the lovely, seductive curve of her rose-colored mouth. He admired the fine-boned curve of her jaw, her slender neck, the strawberries-and-cream perfection of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The quilts were still twisted about their feet, and the slenderness of her waist, the rounded turn of herhip, her long, lissome legs were all laid bare to his appreciative gaze. He thought of the incredible bliss she had given him in the night, and marveled at the depth of his pa.s.sion. Never before in his life had he experienced anything like it.

A stray sunbeam touched a curling lock of her hair, bringing it to vibrant, shimmering life. Jon picked up the strand, testing its silken texture with his fingers, lifting it to his nose to inhale its sweet fragrance, pressing it reverently to his lips. He froze in the act. He was behaving like some besotted half-wit! Last night the devouring love he felt for her had blinded him to everything but her beauty and his need. Daylight, with its accompanying return to sanity, had come not a moment too soon. Jon thanked G.o.d that Cathy had slept through his awakening. If she had not, he would have confessed his love, imploring her on bended knees if necessary to return it. G.o.d, how she would have enjoyed that! Her revenge would have been complete.

Jon got off the bed hastily, gathering up his discarded clothes from where they had fallen. A scowl furrowed his brow. He needed time to think before facing Cathy again. They could not go on as they were. At least, he could not. Not bothering to do more than pull on his breeches, he let himself quietly out of the room.

The day was well-advanced when Cathy awoke, the sun high up in the sky. She stirred sleepily, missing the warmth that had curled around her in the night. Her eyes blinked open, and she pressed her face lovingly tothe indention in the pillow next to hers. Jon must already have gone out to the fields. What a slug-a-bed he must think her! And what a shameless hussy, she thought, blushing as she remembered her boldness of the night.

Jon loved her. The thought rang with a clarion purity through the otherwise confusing memories of last night. Could she doubt it, remembering his wild lovemaking? Slowly a frown marred her features as less welcome memories began to intrude. He had taken her more than once, last night. The first time was in the carriage on the way home from the ball. With sickening detail, Jon's brutal rape of her body replayed itself in her mind. G.o.d, how could he have done such a thing?If he loved her? Had he actually said that he loved her, or had she only imagined it because she wanted it so much? She concentrated, trying to remember. A deep, painful blush crept up over her face to the very roots of her hair as the events of the night came back to her. G.o.d, she had acted like a b.i.t.c.h in heat, practically begging him to make love to her! She remembered the way she had touched him, had pressed wanton kisses all over his body, and wanted to die.

He didn't love her. He couldn't. Not after the b.e.s.t.i.a.l, disgusting way he had taken her in the carriage! The champagne she had consumed had combined with her desperate need to make the words up out of thin air! G.o.d, how he must be laughing at her! How he must despise her! Or worse, maybe he just didn't care. Maybe such nights were so common to him that he wouldn't even give her behavior a second thought.

A discreet knock at the door interrupted her agonized musings. She took a deep breath, willing herself to be calm.

'Yes?"

"About time you woke up, Miss Cathy," Marthascolded good-humoredly, opening the door. "Master John told me to let you sleep, but enough's enough. Master Cray is making such a to-do that you'd think he was about to starve!"

"You've seen Jon this morning!" Cathy said with as much coolness as she could muster.

"Yes,and a fine feather he looked to be in, too. You must have stirred his blood for him, last night!"

In spite of herself, Cathy could feel a blush stealing across her checks. There was no doubt that she had, as Martha put it, stirred his blood! Humiliation rose like bile in her throat, and Martha's amused chuckles didn't help.

"Was he going out to the fields?" She had to know how much time she had to prepare for her next meeting with him. Martha's eyes widened with surprise.

"Why, no,lovey , he said he had to go to Atlanta on business. He said he'd be gone about a week. Didn't he tellyou! " Martha sounded suddenly concerned, as if she was beginning to suspect that something was not quite right. Cathy swallowed, and did her best to produce a bright smile.

"Oh, yes, of course he did. I just forgot, for a moment," she lied. "Did you say Cray was hungry? Poor little boy! Bring him here, please, and I'll see what I can do about it."

Cathy went through the rest of the day like a zombie. She smiled, she played with Cray,she made all the right responses while one thought pounded repeatedly in her brain: Jon cared so little for her, thought so little of what had happened between them the night before, that he could take off to Atlanta for a week without a word, without even saying good-bye! Dear G.o.d, the thought hurt! Cathy had never felt so totally forsaken in her life.

Late that afternoon as she played with Cray in therose garden she heard a carriage roll up the drive. What now, she thought dismally, and prepared herself for a gossip session with a catty neighbor. Some pretty probing questions were likely to be directed atherself , she realized with a blush. Last night had been a disaster on all fronts.

"You've got a visitor, miss,"Petersham came out to tell her, sounding vaguely disapproving. Cathy looked at him, puzzled by his tone.

'Who is it?"

"A gentleman, miss. He wouldn't give his name."

Which accounted forPetersham's disapproval, Cathy reflected. She hoped fervently that it wasn't Paul Harrison come to apologize for his behavior of last night, or, worse, to pursue their acquaintance. Cathy carried Cray with her as she followedPetersham back into the house, hurriedly smoothing her hair as Petersham indicated the parlor.

"I put him in there, Miss Cathy. If you need me, I'll be within call."

Really, did he expect the man to attack her in her own house? Cathy frowned at him impatiently,then pushed open the parlor door. A nattily dressed, silver haired gentleman stood with his back to her. He turned slowly as Cathy opened the door. Cathy recognized him as soon as he moved. A glad cry rose in her throat, and she practically ran across the room to embrace him.

"Papa!Oh, Papa, I'm so glad you're here!"

Seventeen.

"Are you sure you're doing the right thing, Miss Cathy?" Martha sounded deeply troubled as she poured steaming cans of hot water into the ornate bath.

"Yes, Martha, I'm sure." Cathy's reply was clipped. Inwardly she wished she was really as certain as she claimed to be.Part of her longed to tuck Cray under one arm and her portmanteau under the other and fly back toWoodham -and Jon-as if her feet had suddenly sprouted wings. But that was the soft, weak, feminine part. With the rest of her-her pride, her self-respect, her common sense-she knew that the time had come to cut her losses. Jon did not love her-his behavior had made that more than clear. It was folly-no, madness- to stay with a man who sooner or later would take her heart and break it into millions of tiny pieces. She had to get away while she still had the strength of will to do so-and before she had another infant growing under her skirt. Now that the ice had been broken and he was once again taking her to bed, it would not be long before she found herself with child a second time. And the bonds that bound her to Jon would be stronger than ever. Even now, she could only hope that his seed from those last two encounters had not taken.

The thought of Jon's reaction to her leave-taking made Cathy swallow nervously. But luckily she wouldn't be around to see or hear it, she thought, shifting Cray to a more comfortable position as he nursed. By the time Jon returned toWoodham , the "Unicorn" would be well out to sea. He had said he'd be gone for a week, and two days had already pa.s.sed. Two more would see the "Unicorn" on her way to England.

Her father's presence was providential. Without Sir Thomas she would never have been able to arrange pa.s.sage in the time available to her. But Sir Thomas had already reserved one cabin on the "Unicorn," and with his influence it was easy to arrange for two more.

Something about her father's att.i.tude puzzled Cathy. He acted worried, guilty almost, and he went to great pains to a.s.sure himself that both she and Cray had not been harmed. He had even questioned Martha as to how they had fared, and when the woman told him roundly that Captain Hale treated both his wife and new son with the utmost kindness Sir Thomas became thoughtful, even morose. When Cathy had announced her intention of leavingWoodham while her husband was still away, Sir Thomas had seemed almost reluctant to help her. He had only relented when she had broken down and cried on his shoulder.

But finally, she had gotten her own way as she always did with him. And here she was, in a luxurious cabin aboard the English ship "Unicorn," her son at her breast, her nanny to care for them both, and under the protection of her father. Why then did she feel so miserable?

"Lovey, won't you change your mind before it's too late?" Martha's words broke into her thoughts. Cathy stirred restlessly in the chair by the bed, one hand joggling Cray's diaper-clad bottom as she stretched her aching back.

"No, Martha, I won't." Cathy was tired of the endless discussion and her voice reflected it. "It's best that we go back to England for a number of reasons you know nothing about."

This attempt to quell Martha failed abysmally, as Cathy should have known it would. Instead of being silenced, Martha merely shifted the focus of her attack.

"You'll break the poor man's heart,lovey . He's that daft about you."

Cathy slanted Martha a reproachful look,then deliberately shifted her attention back to Cray, whose grip on her nipple was lessening as he struggled with sleep. A fond smile curved her mouth as she watched his silent battle. As long as her son lived she would never be able to forget his father, she thought a trifle sadly. The two were so alike, even in Cray's infancy, that it was uncanny.

"Captain Hale's a fine man, Miss Cathy. You'll be hard put to it to find another to match him, or his care of you."

Cathy was unable to stop herself from responding to this.

"Captain Hale kidnapped me, raped me, and got me with child. He then deserted me, and only came back because he wanted revenge for some fancied wrong. If that's what you call his care of me, you can have it. I think I'll be better off without it."

"He's your husband,lovey , whether you like it or not.In the eyes of G.o.d and the eyes of the law. It's not right, you taking his son and leaving him."

"Oh, hush, Martha, for G.o.d's sake!" Cathy cried angrily. The shrillness of her voice caused Cray's blue eyes to open wide with alarm. The small replica of Jon's face crinkled ominously, and Cathy got hurriedly to her feet as Cray let out a frightened yell.

"Hush, my darling, mommy wasn't fussing.Shh , now, that's my good boy," she crooned into the black curls that lay against her shoulder as she walked him back and forth. At Martha she cast a burning glare, as if to say, "Now see what you've done." The woman looked unrepentant. Her face was set in stolid lines as she laid out soap and towels for Cathy's bath.

Finally Cray's sobs quieted to gulping sniffles, and then these too ceased. Cathy crossed with him to the bunk. If she moved very carefully and was very quiet she might be able to put the child down without waking him. He had been fractious all day, and she was worn out with tending him. She could only surmise that the change in his surroundings had not agreed with him, as Martha had pointed out earlier with gloomy relish.

Cathy positioned Cray on his stomach close to the wall side of the bunk,then covered him with the tiny hand-crocheted blanket that she had brought with them fromWoodham . Dear as the child was to her, she welcomed his periods of sleep. The bath water steamed invitingly, and she longed to climb in and soothe her stiff muscles with a long, luxurious soak.

Martha was thankfully silent as she helped Cathy to undress. Cathy knew that this unaccustomed forbearance was not due to anything she had said or done. Martha was just reluctant to disturb Cray's rest. Sooner or later the woman would start again with her recriminations. They would undoubtedly be thrown at her head incessantly until the "Unicorn" was at sea.

The water, as she slid into it, felt wonderful. Cathy sank to her chin, breathing deeply of the soft honeysuckle fragrance and blowing idly on the bubbles. She closed her eyes, determined to enjoy the first moments of peace and quiet she had had all day. A dark, hawkish face appeared on the screen of her closed lids. Cathy opened them immediately. She would not allow herself to think of Jon.

Taking the bath sponge in one hand and the soap in the other, she worked up a vigorous lather on the skin of her arms and legs. One long tendril escaped from the ma.s.s on top of her head, and she tucked it upimpa-tiently . Finally she scrubbed at her face, and then rinsed the soap away. Martha was ready with a towel as Cathy climbed out.

Cathy was wrapping the towel around herself when the door to the cabin was kicked open with such force that it bounced back on its hinges. Cathy gasped, clutching the towel to her, and turned startled eyes on the door. Martha was doing thesame, and little Cray, his sleep disturbed, blinked once before starting to cry.

Her consternation was such that Cathy had no thought even for Cray. Surveying her grimly from the open doorway was Jon. Water dripped from the brim of his hat and his clothes were soaked, and looking beyond him Cathy saw that rain was falling steadily, making the already dark night look even darker. His mouth was set in an uncompromisingly straight line, and his eyes blazed at her accusingly.

"Good evening, Cathy," he said mockingly when she only gaped at him. "I'm glad to see you've fared so well in my absence." His glance raked her scantily clad, still damp body from head to toes.

In her return, Cathy swiftly inspected him. He was dressed for riding in dark breeches, caped coat that swirled around his knees, tall boots and a wide-brimmed hat. From the looks of him he had just ridden in from Atlanta, found her gone, and somehow traced her to the "Unicorn." Cathyswallowed, her throat suddenly dry. All her plans, her preparations might have been for naught. Then she pursed her lips thoughtfully. This was an English ship, and her father was nearby. Jon could not force her to go with him.

While Cathy stared at Jon as if frozen in place, Martha gathered her wits and crossed the cabin to pick up Cray. The baby's cries stilled as Martha rocked him comfortingly. Jon nicked a glance toward his son and the nursemaid.

"Martha, would you take Cray elsewhere, if you please?Iwould like to have a word with my wife."

"Yes, sir."Martha sounded subdued, and Cathy guessed that the woman found Jon almost as intimidating as she did. But such thoughts were rudely shattered when Martha turned a brief, triumphant look on her before sliding from the cabin. When the two were gone, Jon closed the door very softly,then shed his wet hat and coat with almost casual movements. The dampness of the night had pushed his black hair into deep waves, and he raked a hand through it impatiently before leaning back against the closed door, his arms folded over his chest.

"Suppose you explain to me just what the sweet h.e.l.l you think you're doing here." His voice was still mild, but his eyes were leaping with anger. Cathy wanted to drop her own before that burning gaze. Instead she wrapped the towel more securely around her body, tilted her chin, and returned his look coldly.

"I'm leaving you. I should think that was obvious."

"So you're leaving me, are you? Just like that, without a word, while I'm away earning a living for you and your son?Our son." The gray eyes burned brightly at her. Cathy met them steadily.

'Yes."

"Like h.e.l.l." His shoulders came away from the door, and he crossed the floor toward her in two swift strides, his hands clamping hurtfully down over her slender bare shoulders. Cathy held her ground, forcing herself to look up into that menacing face with a calmness she was far from feeling. His long fingers bit deeply into her soft flesh.

"You're not leaving me." The words were ground out from between clenched teeth. That tell-tale muscle was throbbing warningly in his jaw. His big body was tense with anger, his face dark with it. He looked as if he could easily do her an injury.

'You can't stop me. Even if you were to carry me bodily off this ship, I'd find another sooner or later. You can't keep me locked in, or watch me all the time."

Her calm response seemed to infuriate him. He shook her, letting her feel the strength in his hands. Cathy's hair tumbled down and the towel slipped. She caught the edge of it, holding it in front of her. He stopped shaking her, his eyes running over her nearly naked body almost savagely.

"Why? Have I beaten you, mistreated you in any way?" Cathy could tell he was holding on to his temper with an iron rein. She looked at him derisively. He had the grace to flush.

"You're angry about the other night." It was a statement, not a question. Cathy refused to answer, shifting her gaze so that she was staring stonily over his shoulder. His hands slid down to her upper arms, tightened.

"I'm sorry about that. Like you, I'd had too much to drink. Anyway, you can't deny that you deliberately provoked me. You'd been teasing me for months, since even before Cray was born. What kind of response did you expect?"

"Not rape!" Cathy snapped,then wished she had been coldly dignified instead.

"All right, I'm sorry. It won't happen again, I promise. What else can I say?"

"Not a thing." Cathy pulled away from him as she spoke, and clutching the towel around her went to pull her wrapper from the trunk. She kept her back to him as she slid into it, but she could feel his eyes burning into her.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n it, you're not leaving me!" His voice cracked like a whip behind her. Cathy whirled to face him, golden hair flying, blue eyes flashing.

"Oh, yes, I am," she hissed at him, tying the belt to her wrapper then clenching her fists. "And you can't stop me!

"The h.e.l.l I can't."

"The h.e.l.l you can't!" Cathy was suddenly as enraged as he was. "You don't own me, you know. And there is such a thing as divorce.Although there really isn't much point. You've made this marriage such a h.e.l.l that I'm not likely to repeat it!"

Jon drew in his breath sharply, his eyes darkening as if he'd been punched in the stomach. Cathy took perverse pleasure in knowing that she'd somehow managed to hurt him. He took a step toward her,then stopped. A thin white fine appeared at each corner of his mouth.

"You want me to beg you, don't you?" he asked savagely. "That's what you've wanted all along, to have me groveling at your feet. All right, you b.i.t.c.h, you win. I'm begging you: don't do this."

The look he turned on herwas hating . Cathy stared at him, feeling her mouth go slack with amazement. He was begging her. . . . Her proud pirate captain was actually begging her not to leave him! Hope began to beatsuffocatingly in her breast. Was it possible . . . ? She had to be sure.

"Why do you want me to stay, Jon?" she asked softly, her eyes never leaving his. Angry red color seeped up under the flesh of his cheekbones. His eyes glared at her.

"G.o.d, you want your pound of flesh, don't you?" he demanded ferociously. "All right,I'llgive it to you. I love you, G.o.dd.a.m.n it. So go ahead and laugh."

"Say that again." Cathy could feel the corners of her mouth quivering up into a smile. He saw it too, and his face tightened almost fiendishly. Cathy didn't care. She was beginning to feel wildly, deliriously happy. She couldn't believe it. He'd said he loved her, and from the fierceness of him he meant it.

"So you think it's funny, do you, b.i.t.c.h?" he growled, reaching for her and pulling her hard against him. "We'll see how hard you laugh after this!"

His mouth was deliberately ungentle over hers, his arms around her Like iron bands. The force of his kiss threatened to snap her spine. Cathy trembled in his hold, her arms sliding up to twine around his neck, hugging him tightly.

"I love you too, you dolt," she murmured into the warm strength of his neck when he at last allowed her to draw breath. He went very still against her, his hands freezing in their caressing movements. After a moment he caught her by the arms, holding her out at arm's length so that he could look down into her face. Cathy smiled up at him mistily.

'What did you say?" His voice sounded hard, suspicious. His eyes were leaping with strange wild lights.

"I said I love you. If you weren't so stubborn and suspicious, you'd have known it months ago."

His eyes began to blaze, their hot depths searing her.

"If this is some kind of game you're playing. . . ." He broke off, his teeth snapping together warningly. Cathy shook her head at him, her eyes warm and tender on his tense face.