Catalina's Caress (29 page)

"Travis, your concern is unnecessary. I shall do what I think is best, and I do not have to ask for your approval."

He reached out and gripped Catalina's wrist. His viselike hold drew a soft cry of pain from her. She tried to jerk her arm free, but it was held in a grip she could never hope to break. He drew her to him, well aware of the fire of rebellion that leapt into her eyes.

"Cat, I won't let you fall victim to that man. You can't possibly realize what you are getting yourself into. When we reach Natchez tomorrow, I will take you ashore and we will find a boat on which to return to New Orleans."

His demanding voice and his overpowering attitude spurred her temper, but before she could answer him a strong lean hand closed over Travis's wrist and an unconscious sound erupted from Travis's mouth. With an iron grip, Marc squeezed his wrist until Travis was certain the bones were shattered.

"I believe the lady came aboard of her own choice, and she can leave when she chooses. If you would care to depart before we dock, I have men who are more than willing to send you off royally."

Travis jerked his arm free, fury burning in his eyes. But he remained silent before the threatening coldness in Marc's eyes, for he knew Marc wanted him to fight back.

"Cat boarded this boat with me," Travis said angrily, "and when we dock tomorrow in Natchez, we will return to New Orleans on another boat."

"Oh, really?" Amusement played at the corners of Marc's mouth. "Let's ask the lady if she chooses to leave. I believe you'll find she has other plans."

Catalina wanted to slap the arrogant self-assurance from Marc's face, but she was too aware of Travis's anger to do so.

"I am not leaving this boat until we get to Memphis," Catalina stated firmly, as she glared at first one and then the other. "I make my own choices about where I go and what I do, and I'd like to remind you both that I need no help in doing so."

China watched from a short distance as Travis fought for control. He refused to look in Marc's direction, but Catalina was aware of the look in Marc's eyes, of the relief in them he would have denied.

"I think this is a decision you are going to regret, Cat," Travis said stiffly, "but, as you say, it is your decision." He turned to Marc, his glance frigid. "How long will we be in Natchez?"

"We'll dock tomorrow, stay one night, and leave the next day."

Travis nodded, then returned his gaze to Catalina. He had control now. "Whether you believe it or not, Cat, you need protection, and I intend to be here in case you discover what a deceptive liar he is."

"Be very careful with your accusations, my friend," Marc said in a deceptively casual voice. "I'll consider the circumstances once, but the next time you call me a liar, be prepared to defend yourself and to prove what you say."

Travis inhaled deeply. He wanted to attack Marc there and then, but his long-term plans were more important

Without another word he turned and walked away.

China followed like a silent shadow. She was impatient for the boat to dock in Natchez. Among the assortment of unsavory characters that lived in Natchez-under-the-hill, China had many friends who could supply her with information. Her suspicion of Travis Sherman had grown, and she meant to get a few facts about him.

Catalina was still shaking with ill-controlled fury as she turned to face Marc.

"You didn't tell him."

"Did you want me to?" he asked innocently. "I thought you wanted to spare the delicate feelings of your ... friend."

"Is that the only reason you said nothing to him?"

"Why, sweet." He chuckled. Then he bent to kiss her half parted lips leisurely. "What other possible reason could I have? Outside of the fact," he added in a wicked suggestive voice, "that I don't share such a lovely mistress as you with any man. Remember that, Cat," he added softly. "What's mine ... I keep."

He had drawn her breathlessly close. "I am not yours," she said in a voice as controlled as his. "And you remember that, Mr. Copeland. I'm not yours."

She moved from his arms and walked away, pleased by the look she had seen in his eyes when he had realized she was not going to be so easily conquered.

M
arc and Catalina sat across the table from each other in the elaborate dining room of the
Belle
. They had shared a magnificent dinner, and were now sipping wine and covertly studying each other for signs of vulnerability.

The night was beginning here and both knew it. The terms of their bargain were to be fulfilled. Yet Catalina denied the tingle of excitement that warmed her blood, blaming it on the wine.

Could she change the course of Marc's life in one night? She didn't think so, but trying was the only way she had to reach him, the only way to open his mind to the amazing emotion that drew them to each other.

In a moment of panic she wondered if she was the only one who felt it. Had what she had read in his face and in his touch really been pretense?

In a moment of truth, she realized she was placing her future in jeopardy. Risking all, on the chance that she could reach past passion and touch his heart

The game had no rules. If she won she would have everything she dreamed of. If she lost. .. The very core of her trembled at that thought, for she would have no future.

Marc had made no mention of the coming night. He had not teased or tormented her. In fact he was being unusually considerate and charming. It took her some time to realize that he was trying to make her transition into being his mistress as easy for her as he possibly could.

Marc watched the reflected light from the crystal chandeliers dance in Catalina's gold-brown eyes. He enjoyed the soft sound of her laugh when he said something amusing, and had kept her wine glass full all evening in the hope that wine would make the situation easier for her.

He found himself suddenly boyishly impatient, as if Catalina were a loved bride and this was their wedding night. He had to remind himself that Catalina Carrington wanted something from him and that she intended to use her body to get it.

He could not allow her moist red lips to continue to invade his senses. He had to keep in mind that he had to control emotions easily wasted on a woman who was at best a charming deception and at worst... He wasn't sure yet.

He touched the lip of her glass with the wine bottle as he poured more wine for her, purposely neglecting to fill his own glass. He wanted to be completely in control when Catalina came to him. He had been thinking about her surrender all day.

He knew by her flushed cheeks and the brilliance of her eyes that she was close to being inebriated. He lifted his glass and smiled.

"Shall we propose a toast?" he inquired.

She raised her glass to his.

"A toast to what?"

He shrugged. "To whatever might please you, my lady," he said softly.

"To the mystery of the future ... and the hope of finding solutions."

They drank. Then he chuckled as he sat his glass down. "Strange toast."

"Why strange?"

"What mysteries do you hope to find the solutions to?"

"Ah"—she laughed softly—"is not every woman preoccupied with the mystery of love?"

"Love?" His eyes glowed with a derisive look. "Love is a fantasy, my pet. A silk trap in which a woman snares a man who will then calmly lay aside his own dreams to crawl between the sheets with her. Love is for children. Smart adults know better."

He sat back in his chair and his eyes roamed thoughtfully over her. "But you do not strike me as a lady pining for love, for a man to take her away from the wickedness of the world."

"Oh, and how do I strike you, Marc?"

"As a lady who knows what she wants and sets out to get it, much like a man would."

"And that annoys you?"

"No, not really, I admire courage in a woman. I admire intelligence also. I do not admire foolish sentiments. They are usually a cloak for more dangerous ones."

"And love is a foolish sentiment," she said softly. "Have you never loved anyone?"

Again he laughed, deliberately misinterpreting her words. "I have made love to many, and I hope many more will pass my way."

"I did not ask if you had made love," she retorted. "I asked you if you have ever loved anyone. Tell me, Marc Copeland, has any woman ever loved you, or have they all been butterflies—flirting, loving, and flying away?"

"I prefer butterflies." His lips twitched in amusement. "Much less demanding."

"Then maybe you are afraid of demands. Could these women have found you lacking? I suppose it is safer to remain with butterflies than to face a challenge that might prove more than you can handle."

As she watched, anger flickered in his eyes, though he retained his smile of tolerant amusement.

"I do not refuse challenges, and have never found one too difficult to handle yet."

"Pride often walks before a fall."

"I don't speak with misplaced pride, Cat," he declared in a hushed voice, "and I have no intention of falling. If you've any more on your mind than our bargain, put it aside."

"I was speaking hypothetically, Marc," she replied. "Surely"—she lowered her voice seductively—"you do not believe I would harbor thoughts of anything permanent between us. We made our bargain. The
Belle
is my goal. Once it is mine, seek out all the butterflies you choose. You will have my blessing."

She was not certain what effect she had had on him, for he remained in complete control. Still, his green eyes were unnaturally bright, and had she understood him better, she would have realized that he was both excited and challenged. These reactions, combined with the anger that had been stirred in him, put Catalina in a more vulnerable position than she knew.

He rose slowly and extended a hand toward her in utter silence, yet his eyes now spoke volumes. They sparked with a dangerous glow that made her quiver and suddenly become frightened.

"I understand you well, Cat, and I am most willing to pay your price. The only rub is that now it is time to prove the worth of our bargain."

She wanted to run, yet she wanted to throw herself into his arms and plead with him not to force her to keep a dishonorable bargain. She wanted this night to be a beginning for them both. But she could not tell him, for she knew such words would drive him from her. Her eyes reflected emotions she would have denied as she put a trembling hand in his.

He drew her up from her chair and tucked her arm in his. Then they walked out the dining-room door and onto the moon-bathed deck.

For a moment, as she walked beside him, she chastised herself. Marc Copeland would never surrender to the profound emotions she felt. She was a fool, but she loved him. And if there was the slimmest chance he would respond in kind, she would take it.

Marc was acutely aware of her. She excited his every sense, sang along his nerves like an electrical current, the force of which shook him. He had never felt for any woman what he was feeling, but he attributed that to the excitement which bound them.

He had never forced a woman to bend to his will, and that thought rankled a bit He wondered, if the
Belle
did not exist, if his need for vengeance did not exist, could he bring Catalina Carrington to his bed. The question, once raised, was difficult to dispose of, and it shook some of his resolve.

They stopped by the boat's rail, and turned to face each other.

She was breathlessly beautiful, and Marc was again struck by the elusive thought that there was a great deal about Catalina that he did not understand, would never understand. The thought intrigued him. She spoke of mysteries, but she continued to be the greatest mystery of all.

He reached out and traced the line of her jaw, then let his fingers roam down the soft flesh of her throat to rest for a moment on her shoulder. He watched her eyes widen as he slid his hand to the back of her head and drew her to him.

She made no effort to fight him or to resist in any way. In fact he was momentarily surprised when her hands slid about his waist and she stepped into his arms as their lips met. His mouth took hers eagerly, as wisps of thought misted his mind until he craved only a deeper and more satisfying taste of her.

If he wondered why she hadn't resisted, his question was lost in the searing heat of his pleasure as her mouth, soft and moist, opened to his like a flower welcoming the heat of the morning sun.

Catalina not only returned his kiss with wild abandon, she clung to him with an intensity that amazed her as it did him. When his mouth reluctantly left hers, her breath was coming quickly and her heart pounded rhythmically. Her senses seemed to be filled with his presence.

Marc's breath caught in his throat, and he was not quite sure he would be able to take the next one.

His eyes swept her in a deep passion-filled caress. His world had seemed to lose its sense of balance.

"Marc .. . please give me just a little time. Wait here for a few minutes before you come to me."

She sounded like a frightened bride, and Marc, if his urge for revenge had been predominant, would have been rough and demanding. But he had forgotten all but the promise of the sweet intimate pleasure they would share.

He nodded and felt the void as she stepped from his arms and only the subtle scent of her perfume remained. He stood in silence, trying to keep his mind centered on the purpose he intended to accomplish on this night. But he failed miserably. He could only envision her preparing for him, her body pale gold in his bed.

It took all the self-control he had for him to remain still and allow the time to build into a half-hour. Finally, he could tolerate no more. He turned from the rail and strode purposefully toward his cabin.

When he reached the door, he was amazed, and laughed softly, at the fact that his hand actually trembled. He swung the door open and stepped in. Then he stopped and sharply drew in his breath, for a vision met his eyes. The room was lit only by the glow of a few candles, and their mellow haze enhanced the mood.

He swallowed as if something had interfered with his breathing, and his blood surged through him in a violent flood.

She lay on her side against the pillows, her sable brown hair spread about her. The gown she wore was a wisp of material that revealed much more than it would ever hope to conceal, and her breasts, pressed against the soft white material, were vaguely pink, their erect nipples suggesting a need to be free. One leg, revealed by a split in the gown, was creamy smooth and delightfully inviting. She smiled a Mona Lisa smile, and her eyes held a seductive promise as she extended an inviting hand to him.

As if he moved within a dream, Marc approached her and reached out to take her hand. As he bent over her, she slid her other hand into his hair to draw his head to hers.

Her intoxicating fragrance drew him to her as potently as the tingle of warm smooth skin, and he savored the feel of her. Then he stood to remove his clothes, his eyes sweeping over her as if to memorize every line, every curve.

Cheeks flushed, Catalina caught her lower lip between her teeth as vibrant excitement coursed through her when she viewed his muscular body in the glow of the mellow candlelight

Again he stood for a moment, looking down at her. One day, in the future, he would recall that at this moment his resolve had begun to slip and for a fleeting moment he had envisioned Catalina as more than his mistress. Then he joined her on the bed and drew her warm body to his.

A soft whispered moan escaped her a second before his lips caught hers in a moving kiss that left her weak and clinging to him. As his mouth took hers eagerly, they strained together in a mutual hunger heightened by the feel of flesh on flesh and by exploring hands. The flame of desire intensified, surged through Catalina's veins until it consumed her. Yet his lips nibbled and played, parting hers and leaving her gasping with breathless and rapidly rising passion.

They were caught on the wings of a whirlwind that carried them to the dizzying heights. The reasons he had for retaining control deserted him in the face of the slim silken body, velvet smooth beneath his hands, that surrendered to a primitive, demanding need that matched his, touch for touch, passion for passion.

It was an eternity of exquisite torment as hands caressed, lips blended, and bodies merged. He was heated pride as he pressed himself to the depths of her and felt her enclose him, hold him. She moved urgently against him, arching her body to meet his driving thrusts. Gentleness was forgotten as they dissolved in the fire of desire.

Finally they lay in each other's arms, legs entwined silently, enjoying the luxury of mutual completion. Catalina felt as if she were floating in a heavy mist, held in iron-hard arms. She was content. She realized she had found such contentment nowhere else but in Marc's arms.

Yet she had been aware all along of a subtle undercurrent in Marc, a part of him that excluded her.

With all her heart she wished that there was some slender crack in the iron casing that enclosed his heart, a small fissure that she could find her way through.

She had so little time. They would be in Natchez for only one night Then, in a few more nights, they would arrive in Memphis.

Would he return the
Belle
to her or just walk away from her as if the wild and beautiful magic they now shared was less than the perfection she knew it to be?

She would have derived a great deal of pleasure from knowing that despite all his efforts to retain control, Marc's mind was moving in the same general direction.

"What will we do while we are in Natchez, stay aboard the
Belle
?" she asked.