Catalina's Caress (19 page)

❧

Travis was mentally preparing an apology for Catalina. His plans had been upset, but that did not stop him from creating new ones.

He would have Catalina as a wife if he had to tie her to the bed to seduce her. Then, for the protection of the Carrington name, she would marry him. Nothing was going to stand between him and the Carrington fortune. He would make abject apologies, throw himself on her mercy, tell her he had drunk too much and that when he had found the door open, he had thought it was an invitation.

He could blame Marc Copeland for the door's having been open, tell Catalina that Copeland was the only person on the boat who would have a key to her room. He would separate Copeland from her so that she would be left defenseless.

She would believe what he said about Marc, for to her it would sound logical. After all, Marc was her enemy, wasn't he?

Satisfied that he had concocted a good story and that Catalina's hatred of Marc would work against her, he decided he would have her back in the stateroom next to his soon. And this time he would be much more careful.

He would make sure Catalina was unable to fight him. He'd see that she had more champagne and maybe one of the small white pills he carried in a little vial for just such an emergency. Yes, he thought, the next time will be different.

The knock on his door startled him, and when he opened it, he was even more surprised.

Charlene smiled seductively. "Hello."

"Hello," Travis said with growing interest.

"I saw you at dinner tonight."

"Oh?"

"Yes. It took me a while to find out that the lady was not your wife."

"You took the time to do that?"

"Yes. I thought you might be alone and interested in a little company."

Travis smiled. Passion, thwarted by Catalina, still simmered within him, and this woman was lushly beautiful, openly seductive.

"Come in, come in. I was feeling a little lonely."

"Well, you need feel lonely no longer."

Charlene entered the stateroom, and Travis closed and bolted the door behind her.

At the far end of the passageway, Marc chuckled as he moved out of the shadows, satisfied that Charlene would take good care of Travis and that Catalina would be one of the first to find that out tomorrow.

Marc returned to China's stateroom. He did not hear any movement in the next cabin and there had been no light beneath its door, so he felt certain Catalina must be asleep.

He started to undress, removing his jacket and shirt. Then he went to a small table and poured himself a drink.

He was uneasy, and he didn't know why... Of course, I know why, he thought, angry at himself. She was close, within reach, and he wanted her. He damned his own desire, but he could not deny it. He wanted her.

He finished the first drink and poured another, amused by the fact that he was so aware of himself. He intended to get drunk so that he could go to sleep and forget that she was in the palm of his hand. When he took her, it would not be with passion, but with a cold and brutal determination to subjugate her—to break her.

Expertly, he denied the emotions that bubbled inside him, refusing to let them surface. He was in control and he damned well didn't intend to lose that control this time.

Like a spider waiting for a fly to cease struggling, he had patience. He had been patient for years, he could be patient now. He tossed off his second drink and poured another.

❧

Catalina slowly moved about in the confines of the boat. There were two types of riverboats, the Eastern and the Western built. The
Belle
was an Eastern model with a low-pressure engine, a deep hull, and the fine lines necessary for speed.

It had been created for speed, and it had enclosed upper-deck cabins for the comfort of passengers. Landing without a dock was facilitated by giving the stem of the boat a long rake, or an angle. This made it possible for a boat to strike the mud and sand of the sloping riverbank, and thereby be close enough to shore to lower a gangplank.

The areas below the main deck, those in which Catalina had begun to search, were shadowy. The presence of mice and spiders, and of things her imagination created, made her move slowly and gingerly. Her anger at Marc Copeland increased at every step.

She had just come to a small narrow compartment and bent her head to look inside. It was empty, but as she withdrew her head an arm encircled her waist and a huge hamlike hand covered her mouth and nose closing off her breath.

She struggled and fought for air, but the man who held her was immense. Slowly stars began to sparkle before her eyes. Then her fighting ceased and unconsciousness claimed her.

As soon as she sagged in his arms, the man removed his hand. He caught her up in his arms as if she were a ragdoll and tossed her over his shoulder. Then, moving as if his burden were nothing, he started toward the upper deck and the captain's cabin.

When he got to Marc's quarters, he knocked but received no answer. He knocked again and again. Finally he shook his head, surprised that his usually alert captain didn't answer.

He moved to the next cabin, feeling that China would know where Marc was. He knocked.

Marc struggled up from a euphoric half-sleep, muttering a curse at this intrusion. He went to the door and pulled it open, and his eyes widened as he looked at the huge black man carrying an unidentifiable person.

"Jacob, what have you got there?"

"Stowaway, suh. Found him crawlin' round below. Thought yo might want to see him. Cain't be mo' dan a boy of twelve or so, suh. Yo might be able to knock some sense into him."

"Dump him on my bed, Jacob." Marc sighed. "I'll see what needs to be done."

Jacob crossed the room and dumped Catalina unceremoniously on Marc's bed.

"You're keeping a good eye, Jacob. Thanks for bringing him up. The hold is no place for a boy to sleep."

"Yassuh." Jacob chuckled. "Bet that chile was scared to death."

"I'll take care of it," Marc repeated. He closed the door after Jacob left and then walked back to the bed.

"Seems there's a conspiracy to keep me from sleeping tonight," he muttered. He stopped by the bed and his eyes widened in shock as he looked down into the unconscious face of Catalina Carrington.

C
atalina sucked in her breath sharply. She then gasped, coughed, and opened her eyes. She didn't know where she was until a soft aggravating chuckle from somewhere nearby made her close her eyes again and groan half-aloud. Marc Copeland.

He had been waiting patiently for Catalina to waken. Now she turned her head to glare at him.

He drew a straight-backed chair to the bed, straddled it, and rested his folded arms on the back.

His eyes were alight with such fiendish amusement that Catalina made soft inarticulate sounds that closely resembled words no lady would have spoken.

"Welcome back," Marc said, laughter in his voice. "Did you find what it was you were looking for? You gave Jacob a real scare."

"I gave him a scare!" She turned away from his penetrating gaze. "He tried to kill me!"

Marc laughed outright. "My dear Catalina, if Jacob had wanted to kill you, he could have crushed you between his hands like a walnut. Why were you prowling around my boat anyway?"

His eyes raked over her body, and from the glimpse she got out of the corners of her eyes, his look was one of fascinated wonder.

"I do believe those clothes used to belong to me. This is a puzzle that intrigues me. What were you up to?"

"Where am I?" Catalina asked, unwilling to answer his questions.

"In my bed of course," he said, mischief dancing in his eyes. "You seem to be determined that I shan't get any sleep tonight Not that I mind"—his voice lowered seductively—"if you insist that whatever bed is mine is also yours, I don't mind sharing."

Catalina sat up abruptly and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She held his eyes defiantly, revealing not one ounce of regret or embarrassment over her capture. He had to admire the fire in her look.

"You may have your bed all to yourself," she said as she stood.

He didn't rise, but rested his chin on his folded arms and smiled. "Those were a pair of my very best breeches."

"Good," she replied with satisfaction. "Now if you'll excuse me I'm leaving."

He let her walk halfway across the cabin before he spoke again.

"I'm afraid you'll need a key." As she spun about, he dangled a key from outstretched fingers. "Only before I give it to you I must tell you that it annoys me very much when someone takes something that belongs to me without having asked my permission. So," he said calmly and quietly, "before you go I'd like my clothes back."

"You're insane! Give me that key." She reached for it only to find it whisked into his pocket. His eyes met hers, challenging her.

"I will," he stated. "When you return what belongs to me."

She had only the thin piece of sheer silk and lace beneath Marc's clothes, and the thought of what he was demanding raised her anger to a level that promised impending disaster.

Their eyes met and held, and both knew the other would not retreat. The moments ticked by. Then Catalina's pride won out over her stubbornness. She was not going to give an inch to this monster. She wanted that key, and she meant to have it.

Marc watched her make the decision, again admiring her self-control.

Slowly she unbuttoned the shirt and shrugged it from her shoulders, letting it fall at her feet Her hands fumbled for a moment at the tie about her waist before the knot came undone and the cut-off breeches slid to the floor. She tugged off the hat and threw it at him, letting her hair spill about her. Then she bent and scooped up the clothes and flung them at him.

Marc was caught between conflicting emotions. He had to admire both her pride and stubbornness as well as the extraordinary picture she made. He was slowly coming to realize that breaking Catalina was not going to be as easy as he had thought Another woman would have been in tears by now, begging to be let go, defending her honor as any proper lady should. But Catalina was not any other woman.

He rose from the chair slowly and deliberately and walked to her, hoping to intimidate her. He was rewarded, when he was close enough, by the barrier of her outstretched palm and a glow of defiance in her eyes.

"The key please," she said coldly.

"I don't know," he replied in a quiet suggestive voice. "Maybe I've changed my mind and you won't be needing the key."

Instead of fear he watched scorn appear in her eyes as a derisive smile tugged at her lips.

"Of course. Should I have expected anything less? You are not a man to be trusted to keep his word. Like a rat you will scurry for any hole as long as it leads to what you want."

Marc felt the fire of anger. She had him. To keep her, he would have to use force, and that was repugnant to him. He reached out and took hold of her shoulders. The softness of her flesh made him tingle with warm excitement. He drew her to him. She did not acquiesce, nor did she resist It would be a battle of wills. His mouth took hers.

Neither would bend as the brilliant flame of desire burst around them. Reluctantly he released her lips and their eyes met.

It took all Catalina's will to contain her desire to melt into his arms and to keep the look of derision on her face, for he read her eyes, looking for one sign of weakness.

"The key please," she said. "Or are you going to resort to rape? I assure you I will fight until you are forced to kill me before I let you succeed."

He almost flung her from him. He was not aware that every nerve in her body was quivering and that if he kissed her again, held her close again, she just might not have the resistance to fight him any longer.

She smiled the last arrogant smile she could muster, telling him that she was Catalina Carrington and she was not about to allow him to drag her into the dirt willingly. Then with slow deliberation, while her eyes rebelliously held his, she held out her hand for the key.

He was more surprised at himself than at her when he dropped the key into her outstretched palm. It was the end of a battle, not the winning of the war he'd promised himself.

Catalina smiled, turned from him, and gave him a good view of her as she walked to the door. That view would linger in his restless dreams during the long, unrewarding, and uncomfortable night.

The door clicked softly behind her, and Marc laughed. "We will see, Lady Carrington, if one skirmish proves anything. We have a long way to go you and I—a long way."

Catalina was shaking so hard that she had to lean against the door for a minute until her trembling legs gave her the strength to walk to her own stateroom. Once inside, she made sure she locked it carefully. She had had enough of mysteriously locked and unlocked doors for one night.

The release of tension left her cold and weary. She crawled beneath the blankets and drew them about her. Closing her eyes, she sought sleep, keeping at bay the pulsing needs of her body—the warmth of strong arms and the taste of heady kisses.

If tears stung her eyes at her untenable position, she ignored them. She knew more battles would follow. She sensed much more in Marc Copeland now, more than a seducer of women. Women he could have anytime he chose. No, there was more than that to him, and she was going to find out what it was. She was almost certain now that Seth was not aboard the
Belle
, and she wondered what kind of game Travis and Marc were playing. She didn't know the rules, but she intended to learn them and then prove to both of them that she could play the game better than they did. There was only going to be one winner, and it would be her.