Catalina's Caress (21 page)

C
hina warned Willie against repeating one word of what he had told her, and he was more than relieved to agree to this. Travis and Marc were the last two people he wanted to have any trouble with.

"Willie, it would be best if you left the boat as soon as possible. I will see that you receive some money for your information."

Willie nodded and shuffled closer to the door. All he wanted at that moment was to get as far away from all the people on this boat as he could, and as soon as possible. He didn't know what kind of games they were playing with each other, but he wanted out of the whole thing.

"We'll be in Natchez day after tomorrow. If you come to me when we're ready to dock, I'll make sure you have some money. Willie," she added, in a voice that told him she meant business, "if I find you've contacted Mr. Sherman between now and then, I shall make very sure your life, or what you have left of it, will be worth very little. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am. I understand."

"Good," China said. Her smile chilled Willie's last attempt at bravado, and when she opened the door, he stepped back so he would not have to pass too close to her as he left.

China closed the door, satisfied with what she had learned, but a small nagging thought told her that she should have rid the world of Willie before he could do more harm. She was sure, in a strange fleeting way, that they had not seen the last of him. Discarding that thought, she returned to Catalina's stateroom, where she gathered up the balance of her things.

Then she made her way to Marc's cabin, and found Catalina sitting on the bed next to Shawna, talking.

The door had swung open soundlessly, and she stood quietly watching them for several minutes without drawing their attention. She used that time to critically regard Catalina. Shawna was smiling at whatever Catalina was saying, and Catalina bent toward her, resting a hand over hers in an almost sisterly gesture.

She is exquisitely beautiful, China thought. She could see why Marc was so drawn to her that he was becoming confused about his motives. For this, China was grateful; she still felt Marc's course was leading him down a destructive path on which he might be hurt worse than anyone else.

Shawna caught China's presence out of the corner of her eye, and rose to her feet while Catalina turned to see who had come in.

China was well aware of the wary distrust that leapt into Catalina's eyes, and she noted that it was accompanied by another look. If China had to guess she would have labeled it jealousy. This thought brought a smile to China's lips, for jealousy could well be the predecessor to stronger emotions.

China moved across the room to stand near the two women.

"Good morning," she said, bowing slightly toward Catalina.

"Good morning," Catalina answered. Thank you for bringing my things."

"You are quite welcome. I am sorry for the difficulty that forced you to vacate your room."

Catalina's cheeks flushed. She wondered if China's words held a double entendre and she was curious how much this woman knew about the situation.

"Shawna has been gracious enough to help me dress."

"Excellent," China replied. "If you would care to join us, Shawna and I would be delighted to have breakfast with you ... unless you have other plans?"

"No," Catalina said quickly. "I would like to talk to you."

China was more than certain this was true, but she, too, wanted to talk to Catalina. And she wanted to listen to her, to decide for herself about this woman who had stirred more emotions in Marc than any other.

They made their way to the elaborate dining room and were served a breakfast so extensive that Catalina wondered if this was China's habitual fare. She was quite aware that China was assessing her every word and every movement, but she wasn't quite sure what China was looking for. Was she seeking information for Marc ... or for herself? Was Catalina a threat to China? Was China jealous of her? Impossible. Marc and China were... The thought, once it had insinuated itself into her mind, jolted her with an emotion she could not put a name to.

By the time they had finished eating, China's curiosity seemed to be satisfied, and Catalina decided to take a walk on the main deck. She refused to admit, even to herself, that she had been looking about the boat for any sign of Marc.

As she walked through the dining room, she absorbed the beauty of it. The ultimate in steamboat Gothic splendor had been achieved in the main cabin or grand salon of the
Belle
. Its decor befitted its function as the center of life on the steamboat. Decorated in the most ornamental manner, the ceiling was supported by rows of ornate columns, their connecting arches carved in lacelike patterns. In the stern of the cabin, which was reserved for ladies, a huge mirror created an illusion, seeming to double the salon's length.

The windows, of stained glass, created a colorful interplay of sunlight on the rich Brussels carpeting and on the fine furnishings. In the evening it was illuminated by crystal chandeliers.

On the
Belle
an intermediate deck, above the main deck at the stern, was provided for those wishing to enjoy the view, the breeze, or a stroll. Catalina knew of it and chose to go there. She wanted to be alone, to think, and she did not want to cross Travis's path yet. The anger in her was too virulent. Losing her temper where Marc Copeland might be around to find some amusement in it would be embarrassing.

She stepped out on the deck and lifted her face to the soft breeze with pleasure. As a child she had always enjoyed finding places where she could retreat from everyone and enjoy the river. She planned to do that now as she walked toward the rail, but as she leaned both arms on it, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply, she heard a soft taunting voice.

"Very beautiful. I kind of thought you might come out here."

She spun about, completely unprepared to see him leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest and a half-smile on his lips.

"I'm sorry," she said frigidly. "I didn't mean to intrude on your privacy." She headed toward the door, but he stepped between her and it in one lithe move.

"Don't go," he said. "The view is not my personal possession. Besides, I'd rather look at you."

The look in his eyes was more of a challenge than anything else, and Catalina refused to be awed by it.

She turned from him and returned to the rail. In a moment he was beside her, one elbow resting on it, his eyes filled with deep appreciation for her intoxicating beauty.

The breeze brushed fine wisps of sable brown hair across her cheeks, and the morning sun made her seem aglow ... vital, alive, and very disturbing.

"It seems your friend sleeps late in the morning."

"He is not my friend."

"Aren't you the least bit curious about him?"

"Not really. Why Travis chooses to remain in bed is not my affair and I don't choose to make it so."

"Is that jealousy I hear?" Marc laughed. "I hope it's not the violent kind. Charlene is a woman of beauty, but sadly lacking in temperament. She's apt to become angry when interrupted."

Prepared for a display of anger and distress because Travis had chosen a lover so quickly after she had left him, Marc was surprised when she gave him a cold and disdainful look.

"Really, Mr. Copeland. If you can discuss only the amorous antics of that disgusting man I would prefer to be alone. Why don't you go below and seek out one of your 'ladies.' Then you and Travis would both enjoy your trip more."

He was surprised by her lack of anger at Travis, but he kept his reaction from registering on his face.

"Catalina."

"Yes?"

"Look at me."

She turned her head toward him, and her eyes sparked icy shards that could have bloodied him.

"What made you book passage on my boat?"

"The boat is mine."

"Was yours," he corrected gently.

"If you were any kind of gentleman you would return what you have stolen."

"Wrong again," he declared calmly. "Gambling losses are considered perfectly legal gains, and I have the signed papers to prove my ownership."

Catalina now turned fully toward him, studying his face.

"Where is my brother?" she said suddenly, and then in a controlled voice, "Whatever you've done with him at least tell me. I have to know. Where is Seth?"

"So," he said softly, "that's why you're aboard?"

"Where is her

"Your friend, Travis, was he—"

"I said he is no longer my friend. I want an answer."

"Then I'll give you one. You asked me that question once before and I told you I had not seen him since I won the boat. I repeat"—he held her eyes and spoke levelly and with conviction—"I have not seen your foolish brother since we gambled together."

"Gambled," she scoffed. "Hardly a gamble for you. I've a feeling my brother was like a child when gambling against you."

Marc didn't want to tell her how right she was. For the first time he felt a tug of conscience for having taken advantage of an unskilled gambler in order to ruin him. He tried his best to deny this.

"If a man gambles he must expect to lose as easily as he might win. In this case I was the winner."

"I want to know... I have to know," she said, coming as close to pleading as her pride would allow. "Where is my brother? Is he alive?" Her voice suddenly broke.

She watched his smile fade, his eyes grow warm and intense. "Catalina, no matter what you think of me I am not a man who commits murder. I won the boat from your brother, but I have not seen him since and I have not raised a hand to injure him. I do not know where he is, but he has not been aboard the
Belle
."

Despite her worry, her anger, and her distrust of most males, she found it difficult to admit that she actually believed him. Flooded by a surge of relief, she sagged momentarily, grabbing the rail. When Marc reached out and took her hand to steady her, she made an inarticulate sound, half-protest and half-sob. But the hand that held hers was strong and firm.

He drew her close to him and slid his arm about her waist, but she pressed her hands flat against his chest, preventing him from drawing her close as he wanted to.

If Catalina had been unprepared for the shock of accepting his words, Marc was just as unprepared for his unexplainable need to make her understand that Seth had come to no physical harm at his hands.

His plan to destroy the Carrington family had started out well. He'd meant to drive them to their own destruction, but now he felt that his control had been slipping since that first night he had held Catalina in his arms.

The early morning sun lit her amber eyes and gold flecks danced in them as she gazed hopefully up at him. She needed to believe, but it was not to be that simple. Something unsaid, untouched, lay between them. There was a current below the surface of all that he said, and it was treacherous. It would pull her under and perhaps drown her in emotions she couldn't control.

Marc reached blindly for the blankness of his desire for vengeance to prevent succumbing to her charms. This was not part of his plans and he did not intend to fall victim to Catalina's charms.

With effort, he regained his equilibrium and the warmth in his eyes was replaced by a wary scorn. Searching for her brother. He laughed to himself. What a feeble excuse for a rendezvous with a lover.

He even began to wonder if the battle he had witnessed between Travis and Catalina had been planned to deceive him somehow. He had to force himself to remember who and what she was .. . and that having her here was only a first step.

"Rest assured your brother is most likely back in New Orleans enjoying himself, maybe even wondering where you are."

Nothing he said rang true to Catalina, but his intoxicating nearness was playing havoc with her body, with memories she couldn't stifle. They had suddenly come alive.

"Tell me when you saw Seth last. What did he say? What did he do? Did he give you any idea where he might go?" she said, as she moved from the circle of his arm.

He sensed her uncertainty, and it pleased him ... another step.

"You want to talk about your brother and nothing else?" He smiled as he asked the question, but his eyes were laughing at her obvious insecurity.

"Damn it!" she snapped. "Why can't you just answer a question?"

"I will... in my own time."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'd find myself more of a conversationalist over a nice meal for two served with champagne ... in my—oops—your cabin."

"I doubt that," she replied.

He shrugged and turned to walk away.

"Wait a minute, where are you going?"

"I've some business to tend to."

"You could at least be enough of a gentleman to help me."

His smile was quick. That's the second time you've accused me of not being a gentleman. You're free with your accusations, but you get offended if I suggest that you might not be the lady you claim to be. That gives me the idea you're a little girl hiding behind a woman's skirts. I've things to do," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Let me know if you ever decide to grow up. As for me, I think you'll be afraid the rest of your life."