Catalina's Caress (32 page)

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As soon as they were out of sight of Lorelei, Catalina tried to snatch her hand from Marc's but was unsuccessful.

"Don't be so upset, Cat." He chuckled. "We'll be gone from here in a day."

"It wasn't necessary to be so obvious."

He stopped before a door and drew her close to him, his eyes smoldering with an easily discernible intent. "I want to show you where we'll be later. In fact"—his voice lowered and he slid his arm about her waist— "I'm finding it very difficult to wait until later. You're a damned exciting creature, Cat, different from any other I've known. You're a puzzle I haven't solved yet... but I will."

"I should think you would be tired of me by now. Does not the illustrious Marc Copeland have women at his beck and call? Surely you can find someone exciting to take my place." She smiled, but her smile was really a taunting challenge.

"I probably could at that," he replied aggravatingly. "But a bird in hand is usually better than two in flight. Besides I'd hate to end our bargain and leave you without the
Belle
when you've worked so hard to get it back."

He reached out to swing the door open, then waited for her to walk away or enter.

As Catalina looked up at him, she knew what he was thinking. She stood on tiptoe, placing one hand against his chest for support, and kissed him fully and leisurely. Then she smiled up into eyes filled with surprise that was rapidly being overshadowed by a much more volatile emotion.

She walked into the room and heard him enter, then close the door. The room was large and square, with several windows that faced the east and the rising sun. She gazed about it for a long time until she realized what was giving her the strange tingling feeling. It was a masculine room. Could it belong to Marc? But that would mean he spent a great deal of time in this house. This thought led to a more potent one. If he was here so often, if he had a room that was so totally his it almost whispered his name, then was the attraction that drew him here an amber-eyed woman? Did she share this bed with him when he had not brought another to do so?

Marc sensed these thoughts as he looked at her mobile features, and he was suddenly and surprisingly elated to think that she was jealous.

"No, Cat," he said softly.

"No what?" she answered, but her eyes fled his green ones when she saw amusement glittering them.

"No, I've never shared this bed with Lorelei. In fact, I've never shared this bed with anyone."

Although she tried to keep from reacting to his answer, she was pleased. She didn't want to be with him in a bed he had shared with many others.

The night was promising. She had carried herself well in the face of his blatant exposure of her as his mistress. She had taunted and tantalized him into thinking of her here in his bed. Now she had to make him wish that she would be here to share it for a long time, and maybe to fill the balance of his life.

She went to him and moved against him, looping her arms around his neck. Her smile was soft and sensually inviting.

"I'm glad you haven't shared this bed with another woman. If memories are to be created, I don't want ghosts hovering nearby."

"Are memories being created?" he questioned softly.

"Much of that depends upon you. Shall we test the possibility?" Her voice died to a whisper as she drew his head down and his mouth met hers.

C
atalina gazed nervously in the full-length mirror, examining her reflection for the hundredth time in the past hour.

She was molding her resolve so she would have the courage to face the people Marc had invited to the small buffet supper. She had been amazed that they had responded to such a sudden invitation, but, of course, Marc was a man of unusual accomplishments.

She smiled to herself, remembering the surprise that had leapt into his eyes when she had kissed him earlier. He had then left her to see to the baggage she would need brought from the boat, and she had again drifted about the room, sensing his presence in it more and more. She wondered how it would be to spend the rest of her life in his home . . . wherever that might be.

Her, reverie was interrupted by a light rap, and when the door opened, Lorelei came in. Her smile widened when she saw Catalina and she walked to her.

"My dear, you do look beautiful. Our guests have arrived, and Marc has sent me to get you. He seems slightly impatient."

The words were spoken in a friendly way, but Catalina's heart heard only our guests and impatience. She felt that Lorelei was subtly reminding her of her position in the house, and in Marc's life.

Catalina gulped back her acute embarrassment and straightened her shoulders. Lorelei was quite conscious that Catalina was frightened, and at that moment she was extremely annoyed with Marc. She had decided that Catalina was not the woman Marc had portrayed when he'd spoken to her after taking Catalina to her... his room.

"Really," Lorelei had said, "you are asking a great deal when you expect me to stoop to subterfuge. She's not the black-hearted woman you wrote about. Why, Marc, she's younger than I am."

"In years maybe."

"Oh," she had responded, her anger mounting at his teasing glance, "you, my dear brother, are as blind as a bat." Regaining control, she had smiled.

"Now what's that supposed to mean, that Cat is beautiful? I recognize that. But so is a panther." He had chuckled. "And she could be just as deadly."

"I hate your stubbornness."

"It's a family trait," he had declared pleasantly.

"I don't want to take part in hurting someone."

"Even someone who profited from all our problems," he'd said quietly. "Someone who laughed and danced and sang while Father was dying and we were scrabbling in the dirt?"

"Marc, you said her father was responsible. You took the boat he treasured, and you shamed his son. Why can't that be enough?"

It had been hard for him to believe that he could experience such a surge of guilt. He had had no answer for Lorelei because he had had none for himself, and he hadn't been aware that Lorelei had seen his uncertainty before he had turned away.

Now as Catalina and Lorelei walked down the long upstairs hall to the top of the steps, Lorelei prayed silently that she could stop Marc from driving toward his own destruction. Both women were surprised to find him below, waiting for them.

Catalina paused when she saw Marc and placed a hesitant and trembling hand on the banister. She was annoyed with herself because his cool, ice green gaze caused such a tumult in her.

Lorelei did not notice for she was concentrating on the warm appreciative way Marc gazed at Catalina. She had never seen him look at a woman like this.

Meanwhile Marc waited, laughing to himself. He could have been sharing a drink with two of his best friends, but he had foregone that pleasure because he'd wanted Catalina on his arm when he met them, wanted to see the looks in their eyes when they saw her.

He drew in his breath as his eyes feasted on Catalina, who stood immobile above him.

Their gazes met for a long moment; then, very slowly, she started down the stairs.

She had brushed her sable hair until it shone in the candlelight. That done, she had bound it atop of her head in a mass of soft curls.

The gown she wore was simple, yet it enhanced her beauty more than an elaborate one would have. Of a rich green color, it gracefully exposed her soft shoulders and the high curves of her breasts. Her skin seemed to glow in the golden candlelight.

When she reached his side, he looked again into golden brown eyes of unfathomable depth. They held unanswerable questions. He had a deep, almost uncontrollable urge to snatch her up in his arms and carry her to his bed, to make luxurious and unending love to her.

Catalina saw his heated gaze, and smiled as provocatively and invitingly as she could. She was as determined as he that one of the major battles of their silent but ever-present war would be fought here.

Catalina reached out and put her hand on his arm.

"You are outstandingly beautiful, Cat," Marc said softly. "It's a shame we have other plans. You look too inviting to share."

"Thank you. And I must say, you look quite handsome."

Again she saw the quizzical look in the depths of his eyes, but she allowed hers to widen into an innocent expression.

"I'm sorry." She laughed softly. "I sounded more like a wife than a mistress. I shall have to mind my tongue."

Before he could speak, Lorelei joined them, and he could only offer an arm to each lady and escort them to the waiting guests. The few people he had asked to dine were his closest friends, and he had that day arranged to have them refer to him as Marc Copeland or just Marc. He had also asked them to keep from mentioning his past as much as possible, or from saying that Lorelei was his sister. He had promised a fuller explanation later. They had all agreed, more from curiosity than for any other reason.

There were two couples and one lone man in the room when Marc, Catalina, and Lorelei entered. All five turned to look toward the doorway.

The first to speak was the unaccompanied man. He was attractive, of average height with wayward blond hair and deep penetrating brown eyes. He walked toward them as he spoke, his words directed to all, but his eyes on Catalina alone.

"My God, Marc old friend. You told me you had a surprise to share, but you didn't warn us to prepare for an exquisite creature such as this. My name is Randolph Hammond," he stated, and his eyes sparkled as Catalina extended her hand to him. "And I am enchanted."

"Thank you," Catalina murmured.

As Marc led her farther into the room, all present observed the flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes of this pair. Marc introduced Catalina to Rachel and William Maguire, and then to Patrica and Amos Dixon.

Catalina was surprised by their graciousness. There were no smirks or knowing looks. The women were warm and accepting, and the men, though their glances were appreciative, were neither suggestive in their behavior or remarks, nor amused.

As the evening began to flow Catalina was snatched from Marc's side by one of his friends, and although Marc accepted this with surface amusement he was again shaken by the realization of his need to keep Catalina near him.

His plan to flaunt their relationship seemed to go astray when the question of her background and her reason for being at Garrison Hall was broached.

"I can't understand how a lovely creature like you slipped past me," Randolph declared. "Obviously you didn't come from anywhere near Natchez or I would have known. Where are you from, Miss Carrington ... or may I call you Catalina?"

"I would be pleased if you would call me Catalina."

Randolph's eyes glittered with humorous deviltry. "So you are a close friend of the Gar— ah... the Copeland family?"

Now it begins, she thought. But before she could answer, Marc replied.

"Cat's a friend of Lorelei's, I had the good fortune to bring her from New Orleans to Natchez so they could spend some time together."

No one was more surprised by his words than Marc or Catalina, or more amused than Lorelei.

Marc refused to meet his sister's eyes, and rose to get more wine. He was sure now that the evening was a total mistake, for the tables seemed to have been reversed. Catalina had reached out to capture all present, and had met with success.

From across the room he watched her laugh at something one of his friends had said, and despite himself he began to think of how she fit so easily into his home and among his friends. He remembered joking with Randolph, before Catalina had come down, about the world containing only three kinds of women: girls, women, and ladies. Watching Catalina he now realized she seemed to be all three. She was too complete, too perfect, for him to allow his thoughts to travel any further. If they did he would have to face what he had set as a goal—to force Catalina into a life of shame and disgrace.

He wished, at this moment, that the evening was over. Lorelei enjoyed his discomfort to the fullest, while Catalina seemed to be oblivious of it She began to sparkle, to relax and talk, and she drew everyone toward her as a magnet draws pieces of metal Meanwhile, Marc thrashed about in his own mental stress until the evening was finally at an end.

When the guests had gone, Lorelei and Marc and Catalina had a last glass of brandy before the fireplace. But after a few minutes Lorelei pleaded exhaustion, bade them a good night, and Marc and Catalina were left together in the candle-lit room, a heavy silence between them.

Marc rose to pour himself more brandy. After doing so, he turned to look at Catalina who was gazing meditatively into the low-burning fire. He watched the flames' pale glow reflect on her skin, and wondered what she was thinking. When he walked back to stand close to her, he realized she was caught up in some faraway thought. For a minute he was irritated, imagining that someone else occupied her mind.

Yet he was making no demands of a permanent nature on her. It would not be long until she was gone from his life, until he had tasted his revenge. Amazed when that thought filled him with a vague kind of panic, he reached down and traced a finger lightly across the soft flesh of her shoulder. She looked up at him, and he frowned to see her eyes glistening suspiciously.

"What's wrong, Cat?" he said softly. "You were far away." He braced his hand on the chair arm and bent close to her. "Where were you?"

Unable to tell him that she had been facing a moment of fear, that she was adrift on a sea of uncertainty, she forced herself to smile. It was a tremulous smile, inviting and so utterly feminine that he was held silent.

"Wrong? Nothing. I was just thinking."

"Of what?"

She was feeling much too vulnerable to tell him her thoughts. Furthermore they had been about him and the life they could have together. Maybe, she thought, we would never have a place as magnificent as this, but if he would only meet me halfway, we could build something.

On the periphery of her mind she was aware that there was a part of Marc she did not know—a part of him she could never reach. It could tear them apart, for she knew a threat of some kind hovered just beyond her vision. And in this quiet sensitive moment she felt that threat more deeply than ever.

She stood and they were inches from each other, yet Catalina wondered if the distance between had not grown.

"It was nothing." She smiled. "Just old memories."

His eyes held hers, and he would have given anything in that moment to have been a part of her memories. Catalina's smile faded and her eyes widened as she realized how fragile the situation between them was.

He raised a hand to cup her chin gently and lift her mouth to his. The kiss was soft and so very gentle that she trembled.

When he released her lips, he realized he was more puzzled now than he had been at the moment he had met her. He had wanted her, and she had surrendered. He had reached for her, and she had filled his arms. Yet there was an elusive Catalina just beyond his reach, and of all the Catalinas he knew, he desired to touch that one.

Maybe one more night—one more taste of passionate magic that blossomed between them—would free him to do what he felt he must.

"You were utterly charming tonight, Cat. I'm afraid you've captured more hearts."

"Your friends were delightful," she countered; "For a while they almost made me forget just how... uncertain our situation is. I had to keep in mind that none of this can be any more than a passing pleasure, as all your pleasures are."

His eyes narrowed as he searched her words for a double meaning, at the same time trying his best to push from his mind the thoughts that had subtly insinuated themselves. Permanence was the last thing he wanted, but the pleasures she spoke of evoked vibrant memories when he looked into the deep pools of her eyes.

His arms went about her and he drew her close to him. "You are a pleasure no man in his right mind could resist. God, but you're beautiful, Cat," he whispered as he bent to kiss her again. His mouth smothered any words she would have uttered, and within moments any thoughts either harbored were melted by the heat that forged them together.

She moaned softly under his fierce fevered kisses, and clung to him as she gave herself wholly to her passion, becoming so enmeshed in its intensity that she found herself returning to that state of wild and free abandon that amazed her as well as him.

When their lips parted momentarily, they gazed at each other, astounded by the sensations that tore at them.

But this was not what Marc had planned for this night... not this night

Catalina gave a startled gasp as he bent and lifted her up in his arms.

"Marc?"