Catalina's Caress (10 page)

❧

Catalina wanted to tell Charlotte what had occurred, but the time was rapidly slipping away and her aunt had not returned. When it grew too late for her to put off the choice any longer, she hurriedly threw some clothes into a satchel and took her cloak from the closet.

She then sent a shocked servant for her carriage. As it careened through the damp night streets, Catalina smothered all her misgivings in the hope that this hasty journey would lead to her brother's rescue.

❧

Travis waited in his room at the hotel, his feet propped up and a glass of brandy in his hand. Assurance kept a smile on his face, but he watched the clock as it ticked away the time.

She would be here, he knew it as surely as he knew the sun would rise. He was so certain of it that he had already packed some clothes and set his satchel near the door.

Eleven-thirty. But his confidence remained unshaken. A satisfied smile twitched his lips when he heard a slight rap on his door. He went to it and opened it.

"I kept my carriage below," Catalina said quickly. "We must hurry. It is still aways to the docks and time is growing short."

"Good. Let's go."

He picked up his satchel, and they rapidly left the hotel and entered her carriage.

❧

Marc stood alone on the deck of the
Belle
. From the depths of the shadows he watched the carriage roll to a halt. Travis climbed out, then turned to help the heavily cloaked and hooded Catalina descend.

Marc clenched his teeth to keep from cursing, and the muscle in his jaw twitched. With almost silent steps he moved toward the top of the gangplank just in time to take Catalina's hand as she stepped onto the deck. It was jerked from his almost at once.

The cloak covered her from head to foot, and its hood was pulled forward until her face could not be seen.

But without seeing her Marc knew her by the heady scent of her perfume. He trembled momentarily at feeling her cool hand in his.

"Welcome aboard, Lady Carrington," he said softly, and heard the muffled sound of her indrawn breath.

"You have the lady's stateroom ready?" Travis said in a firm commanding voice.

Marc clenched his hand into a fist and held himself in restraint, but his urge to strike Travis was difficult to control. Catalina had not said a word, but she watched the confrontation.

"It's ready ... and yours is ready as well. You might hurry a bit now, we're ready to cast off."

Travis passed Marc and started below, but as Catalina began to move by him he reached out to grip her arm.

"This was a very foolish move, Lady Carrington." She jerked her arm from his grip, but did not move past him. Then she spoke softly.

"Does it trouble you that I'm aboard?"

"Trouble me." He chuckled. "I will welcome you aboard as warmly as I did the last time you paid me a visit."

She gasped in shock at this whispered attack and at the arrogant way he had reminded her of the last time she had confronted him on the
Belle
.

"You are a filthy scoundrel," she spat out.

"Why must you always put the blame on me, dear lady?" he taunted. "Each time it's you who come to me, not I to you."

"I am a passenger to you and a passenger only. If you try one trick I shall kill you."

"I do not think it's my trickery you have to worry about," he retorted. "I have a feeling you're two of a kind and your little rendezvous is just typical of the way the Carringtons do as they choose. Well, my lady, have your fun. I wouldn't intrude on it if you begged me."

She swept past him, barely controlling the urge to commit murder, and Marc watched her fade into the darkness with Travis beside her.

Why had she chosen to book passage on his boat when their mutual dislike and distrust of each other was so strong? Something beyond a tryst with a lover had brought her here. He knew Travis too well to believe the adjoining door would be any barrier. But he took a firm hold on himself, though he was aware of the unwelcome feeling that she would need some kind of protection.

This situation could only be a help when he decided on the final blow that would crush the Carringtons. Catalina would be stripped of her pride when word spread of her involvement with Travis and of their romantic little assignation on this boat. The tryst was a tool for her destruction, he thought angrily, and she had willingly given it to him.

He went to his own quarters and poured himself a liberal drink of whiskey.

After a while, he felt the slow movement of the boat and knew he had started a journey that would, at the very least, prove interesting. At best it would prove to be a satisfactory link in his plans. He was pleased, wasn't he? But the bottle, as the night wore on, grew emptier and emptier.

❧

Catalina and Travis walked down the hall to their staterooms. If she noticed that they were side by side, she did not remark upon it.

"I imagine they will be departing at any moment," Travis said. "I suggest you get some sleep. Tomorrow will be difficult. He is clever and dangerous. One slip and he will know why we are here. Then, any chance of finding your brother will be lost."

"I am tired," Catalina responded. What she refused to acknowledge, even to herself, was that her very nerves-were strumming a song she had no intention of listening to. She was here for a purpose and she meant to carry it out. Once she found her brother and ruined whatever plan Marc had, she would see what other steps might be taken to bring the man to some kind of justice.

"I'm grateful for what you have done for me, Travis. I could never have gotten on this boat alone."

"You would not have been safe if you had. Remember, Cat, the Carrington fortune lies in your brother's hands and yours. If Copeland ever gets total control over both of you, I hate to think of what he might do. And don't forget, I'm right here—right next to you should you need me."

"I'll remember, Travis ... and thank you again."

"Good night, Cat," he said gently.

"Good night."

He stood too close and she suddenly became uncomfortable. Had she bitten off more than she could handle? She was on her own with two men she could not trust. She opened her door and stepped inside quickly, closing it and sliding the bolt home almost in one motion.

After setting her satchel on the bed, Catalina turned to look about the room while she removed her cloak. It was then her hands stilled for she had seen the door that adjoined her stateroom and Travis's.

The bolt was unlocked. Did he expect her to leave it so? Would he test the door, and if it was open, would he think he was welcome?

She almost ran across the room and slid the bolt into a locked position.

Travis stood on the other side of the door and he heard the bolt slide. He smiled to himself and began to remove his clothes. Tonight he would have most excellent dreams.

"In time, my dear Cat, in time you will find that bolt will not be enough to keep this door closed between us," he said softly.

Within moments, Catalina lay in her bed listening to the swish of the water beneath the boat as they moved slowly upriver. For the first time in her life she was frightened, but she refused to let it weaken her resolve.

Had Travis deliberately taken rooms with an adjoining door because he believed she would open it and welcome him? If so, he would be more than disappointed.

She wished for the small derringer her brother had given her, only to be assailed with the memory of where it was and how it had gotten there.

❧

Time and the river both flowed on at a slow steady pace. Yet Catalina was restless, and despite her efforts she couldn't sleep.

She rose and put on her robe and went to the window. Her stateroom being dark, she could see the moonlit river clearly. Beyond it was the darker line of trees. She felt confined and very much alone. Her fears for Seth were predominant, bringing visions of him hurt or worse... dead. What did Marc Copeland know of Seth's disappearance? she wondered How far did his guilt in this situation extend? She would like to tear the truth from him. His denial had to be a lie. Who else would have harmed Seth? Only Marc had the answer, and she had to find a way to get behind the shield of arrogant assurance he wore. She had to find it. The danger of her own situation made her shiver, for she could not deny one truth. Marc Copeland had awakened feelings in her that were very hard to control, but she would have more strength next time. Next time she wouldn't let him close enough to penetrate her will... next time... next time.

Her thoughts were so tangled that the light rap on her door was repeated before she heard it She turned from the window, her lips pressed firmly together. If this was Travis, she would make it completely clear that this was not the trip he had bargained on.

When she opened the door she was completely stunned to see Marc Copeland leaning against the frame, a smile on his face, and an unopened bottle of brandy in his hand.

❧

Marc fought sleeplessness as long as he could. Then he rose from the tangled sheets and poured himself another drink. He had drunk a great deal before he had retired, and his mind was still filled with the torturous thought he had battled most of the night... Catalina in the arms of Travis.

He cursed himself for the effect he was allowing her to have on him. What did he care if she slept with every man aboard? So much the better. Why then couldn't he wipe the taste of her lips from his? Why did his body still feel the touch of hers? Damn it, he had to exorcise her from his mind and there was only one way. He had to find out if she and Travis were together, had to seek an answer to plaguing memories, had to wash them away once and for all.

He grabbed up a full bottle of brandy and made his way toward Catalina's stateroom. Outside the door he stood for a moment in silence. Then, angered by his own uncertainty, he rapped and rapped again. Was she asleep? Worse, was she not in the cabin at all? Then the door opened and Catalina stood before him.

He drew in his breath at the picture she made framed in the doorway. Wearing a blue nightgown and a robe of filmy lace, she was breathtaking. He smiled, totally ignoring the spark of anger in her eyes.

"It's rather late to be checking on your passengers, isn't it?" she asked coldly.

"Not checking." He grinned evilly. "I just thought you and your companion might need a stimulating nightcap." He held the bottle of brandy up and watched her anger burst into pure rage. But her anger defeated her purpose, for without thinking she flung the door wide and waved him past her.

"There is no one in this cabin but me. Now if you will take your filthy mind and leave, I would like to go back to bed."

But she had made the mistake of letting him move past her. She realized it as soon as he reached out and pushed the door shut, leaving them vague ghostlike figures in the moonlit cabin.

"I didn't invite you in," Catalina snarled. "Leave!" She reached for the door handle, but a large hand closed about her wrist in a merciless grip. It was then that she realized that Marc, although he was not drunk, was most certainly not sober enough to be pushed. She became still, her mind whirling and seeking a way to get him out. He was entirely too quiet as they stood there, his hold keeping her immobile.

"Marc, let go of me." Catalina's voice was controlled, but instead of releasing her, he drew her closer. Now they stood within inches of each other, so close that the scent of her perfume teased his senses. She could feel the warmth of his body and the heat of it flowed from his hand to hers. She felt as if she were being filled with vibrant warmth, yet she remained silent.

Marc moved slightly and she could hear the bottle of brandy being put down. Then he put a hand on her shoulder, his fingers lightly touching her throat. He could feel the rapid beat of her pulse through their tips.

"Your heart is pounding," he whispered. He reached to take her other hand and place it against his chest. "Like mine."

She felt the drumming of his heart as his other hand skimmed the soft flesh of her throat so lightly it was barely touching her. Yet her skin seemed seared by it. She sucked in her breath and caught her lips between her teeth to stifle the sudden impulse to call out his name.

Gently the tips of his fingers brushed along her collarbone, then down her arm, to again capture a trembling hand in his. He lifted it and brushed his lips against her wrist, his tongue tasting the sweetness of her skin.

She wanted to say please. She wanted to beg him to stop, but no words would pass her half-parted lips. Still he made no sound. His tongue licked lightly across her moist palm. Then he caught her fingers, nipping lightly at them with his teeth, caressing them with his tongue.

She could feel a tightening deep in her, and a moist heat arose between her thighs. She damned him and damned herself... but still neither spoke.

Her hand was still pressed against his chest, feeling his heart beat wildly, and he placed her other hand beside it as he slowly loosened the tie of her robe. Then he drew her hands down and slid his fingers beneath the robe, to slip it from her shoulders.

She let out a soft half-whispered moan as his fingers drew the straps of her gown off her shoulders, then let it slowly drift down her body, in a sigh of silk, to puddle at her feet.

For a few minutes they stood immobile, not touching, just breathing in the scent of each other. Marc didn't speak because he couldn't. Every sense he had was totally involved in accepting her—knowing the touch, taste and scent of her. He felt as if he were afire and her flesh was cool—so invitingly cool.

He touched her tenderly, spanning her waist with his hands, then letting them slide about her body. He could feel her shiver as he lightly brushed her spine.

One bit of pressure, one show of force, would have enabled Catalina to extricate herself from the tenuous thread that held them together. But he used her own senses against her. He bent his head to touch his lips to her shoulder, sending a shiver through her that made her knees weak. With the slightest of movements he stood behind her, and his arms came about her, one hand cupping a breast, and the other sliding lightly down her belly to stroke and caress her moist pulsing heat until she felt she might truly collapse. She was beyond thought, beyond all but feeling

His face was buried in the scented silk of her hair and his hands were savoring the sweet feel of her. Marc was as lost as she.

All thought of tomorrow had vanished, and all thought of the past... What happened next was explosive. There was a hard rapping on the door and a masculine voice came through it.

"Mr. Copeland, sir! Mr. Copeland."

Catalina leapt from him as though she had suddenly been dropped to earth from the heights. Marc cursed and turned Catalina to face him. But the magic had been totally destroyed.

"Cat..."

"Mr. Copeland," the insistent voice repeated.

"Get out! Get out!" Catalina sobbed roughly as she fought against his hold. She broke from him to snatch up her gown and then put as much distance between them as the room would permit

"Cat, I hadn't meant for this to happen. I don't want to leave you like this."

"Don't worry about me," she said scathingly. I'll be much better when you're gone... and I'll be much safer."

"From me or from yourself?"

"Just get out, Marc," she said softly. "Get out."

He knew she was on the verge of violent behavior and beyond being reached by any words he might say to convince her that he regretted the way it had happened. He opened the door and left. For a long moment the dark stateroom was totally silent. Then there was a soft muffled sob as Catalina threw herself across the bed and buried her face in her pillow. She could not cry. She could only muffle her gasps of disbelief. She had almost succumbed to his touch.

"I hate you! God how I hate you," she whispered. But she was not sure whether her words were directed at Marc Copeland or at herself.

Outside the door the young man stepped back, startled by the look on Marc's face.

"What do you want?"

"Uh ... sir ... there's a problem below and I went to your cabin to get you. When you wasn't there, I went to Miss China."

"And China sent you here?" Marc said in a cold disbelieving voice.

"Yes, sir. She said you might be here."

Marc's rigid anger was slowly cooling. He couldn't blame the young sailor for his interference. But China ... At the moment he could strangle her, yet he knew he would say nothing to her. Her interference might just have been a warning, but he'd be damned if he'd give her the satisfaction of laughing or of asking questions that he couldn't answer.