Chain of Love (17 page)

You ‘re in love with him, she accused herself silently. Of all the stupid, idiotic, blind fools! You’ve been in love with him for
days—weeks—and you never even noticed. No wonder you were so eager to be talked into a loveless marriage. Because on your side there was more
than enough love. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

And when had all this madness started? Once she realized the depth of her hopeless infatuation, the rest was easy. She’d been attracted from the
first. But she’d been blinded by her lingering pain over Greg and a fear of new commitments, fighting the attraction with every ounce of her strength
and stubborn will. But it had done her no good to fight.

She’d fallen in love with him the night he followed her out of the French restaurant in Georgetown and held her trembling, miserable body against his
comforting warmth. And it had taken her another month to realize it! Well, she had never been noted for her wisdom in love. Witness Greg Danville.

Not a flicker of pain, she noticed with grim satisfaction. She was over him completely—at least loving Sin had accomplished that. But would the cure
be worse than the illness? She had a wretched feeling that it might be.

“Dinner’s ready.” He was standing in the doorway, filling it completely. He even had to duck his head to move inside. “Are you all
right?”

“Fine,” she lied, looking at him with new eyes. “But I’m not really hungry.”

“You should be.” Taking her hand, he pulled her from the bunk and drew her out into the main cabin. “Have you eaten anything all
day?”

“I had a sandwich sometime around noon.” She failed to mention she’d left more than half of it behind on the plate. The little booth was
set with white damask, silver candlesticks, and Waterford crystal wineglasses. A trace of humor penetrated her abstraction. “Do you usually travel
with all this fancy stuff?” she queried, slipping into her place.

“Wedding present,” he replied succinctly. “Meg didn’t want us to use the same tin plates we’d used all the way down
here.” He placed a perfectly cooked steak in front of her with a flourish. The salad to her left was a work of art, with thinly sliced avocados
spiraling around the outside. She looked up at him suspiciously.

“You told me you couldn’t cook,” she accused him after she took a tentative bite of the steak. It was perfect.

“When did I say that?” he demanded, surprised. “I love to cook.”

“You told me that the first day I met you. When I said the men should fix lunch.”

“Oh, that.” He smiled wickedly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I only wanted to rescue you from an embarrassing situation. You were
forced to admit you couldn’t sail, and I didn’t want you to feel any worse than you obviously already did.”

“Rescue me?” she echoed. Despite the feeling of helplessness it connoted, the notion was very pleasant indeed. Stop that, she ordered herself
sternly. He’s just got a Sir Galahad complex, and you’re a damsel in distress. It’s lucky he doesn’t know how distressed you are,
and all because of him.

Surprisingly enough, she was hungry. After devouring her steak, she finished her salad, three rolls with butter, and almost half a bottle of champagne. Sin
leaned back and watched her eat, with a light in his hazel eyes that was disturbingly tender. He was fast proving her undoing, Cathy realized hopelessly.
And she knew without question that however miserable she’d been after Greg, it was nothing compared to the devastation Sin’s eventual desertion
would wreak.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

She forced herself to meet his eyes candidly. “I was wondering how long we’d be married,” she said lightly, and had the dubious
satisfaction of seeing the good humor vanish from his face.

“That’s up to you,” he said noncommittally.

“You’ll let me go?”

A not entirely pleasant smile lit his tanned face. “Jumped at it, didn’t you? No, I won’t let you go. Not right now, at least.”

“Then when?” she pursued it.

“Cathy.” He leaned across the table and brushed her face with a gentle hand. “You agreed to marry me. Why all the doubts?”

She jumped like a frightened rabbit, pulling away from the caress as if burned. “Just nervous, I guess,” she said shakily.

His eyes surveyed her for a long, speculative moment. “All right.” He rose slowly to his full height, towering over her in the tiny confines of
the cabin. Without another word he began clearing the table with an economy of movements. Cathy opened her mouth to offer to help him, then shut it again.
If he did the dishes himself it would be longer before he turned his attention back to her. And she wasn’t quite ready for the full force of that
gaze.

Leaning her arms on the back of the bench seat, she stared out at the inky water beyond the porthole. “Do you mind if I go out on deck?” she
asked suddenly.

Sin’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Of course not. As long as you don’t jump overboard and try to swim for it. I wouldn’t take kindly
to a runaway bride.”

“Where would I run to?” she asked in a low voice as she climbed the three short steps to the deck.

Once alone in the inky blackness, she took three long, deep breaths. The water was all around her, still and black, with a wide trail of moonlight cutting
across it to the beach several hundred yards away. She could hear the quiet sounds of the water lapping on the hull, the soft breezes ruffling the palm
trees on the shore and jiggling the hardware on the masts. Cathy sat cross-legged on the bench seat, drinking in the cool, sea-tanged night air, reveling
in the deserted stillness, the calm and peace that surrounded her. For a moment she could almost forget the inexplicable mess she had landed herself in.
Married to a man who didn’t love her, a man whose presence sent her heart pounding and her pulses racing.

He moved so quietly she accepted his presence before she was completely aware of it. One strong, tanned hand reached out with a brandy snifter.

“I don’t think-” Cathy began.

“Take it.” The order was gently spoken, but an order nonetheless. “You need it. It’s been a long, long day, and you didn’t
sleep much last night.”

She took a tentative sip of the brandy, letting it burn its way down. He was so very close. She could feel the heat emanating from his body, smell the
enticing male smell of him. Like a magnet she could feel her body being pulled toward his, and the idea panicked her.

“Let’s go for a walk on the beach,” she said suddenly. “It’s such a pretty night and—”

“No.” The word was quiet but inexorable.

Cathy swallowed once, twice, and took another sip of her brandy. “What about a swim, then? It looks like a lovely beach, and I love swimming at
night.”

“No.” He leaned back against the cushions, his eyes glittering in the moonlit darkness.

“But it’s early and I-”

“No.” His voice was calm and implacable. “Finish your brandy, Cathy.”

“I—I don’t think I want it,” she said nervously, getting to her feet and edging out of his way. She half expected him to catch her,
but he made no move to impede her escape. “I think I’ll go below and—and find something to read. I’m not at all tired, and reading
always helps me sleep.” The words came out breathlessly and far too fast. Sin had the indecency to laugh at her lame excuse, but he let her go
without moving.

The main cabin was no escape, and the small room she would soon have to share with Sin was even worse. Cathy whirled about her in panic, wishing now she
had jumped overboard. She didn’t want... she couldn’t...

Sin moved slowly down the steps, lithe and graceful as a jungle cat, despite his height. Placing the brandy snifters on the tiny counter, he turned to face
her in the small confines of the cabin. There was a look of intractable purpose in his face as he moved slowly toward her.

“No, Sin,” she gasped, backing away. But in that small room there wasn’t much space to back into.

“Yes, Sin,” he corrected gently. “Yes, indeed, Sin. Yes, please, Sin.” He reached out and caught her by the retreating shoulders,
his hands warm and firm and inflexible. “Don’t run anymore, Cathy,” he whispered, drawing her slowly toward him. His hands ran up her
shoulders to her neck, cupping her face, and his eyes burned down into her frightened green ones. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, his mouth descended to
capture hers, his lips moving against hers in a sensual appeal. The only parts of his body touching hers were his mouth on hers and the hands holding her
throat, the thumbs stroking along the side of her neck slowly, sensuously, as his tongue explored the wet, hungry interior of her mouth. Cathy’s
hands were at her side, her fists clenched, and she willed herself to resist the practiced seduction of that experienced mouth. But Sin had all the time
and patience in the world, teasing, enticing, seducing her with his tongue, until her arms slid around his waist of their own volition, pulling him closer
against her yearning body.

His mouth left hers to bury in her neck, the lips nibbling at the sensitive cord above her collar. “Say it, Cathy,” he whispered against her
heated flesh. “Say that you want me.”

She shook her head helplessly. “No,” she whispered. The hand on her neck slid back to her shoulders, and she felt herself pushed a few inches
away. It seemed like miles, when all she wanted to do was bury herself against his leanly muscled strength.

“No?” he echoed, his eyes blazing, his voice soft but implacable. “Do you really mean that?”

They stared at each other for a long, tension filled moment. And Cathy knew that this was her last chance. All she had to do was tell him no, one more
time, and she would never have to worry about being further enthralled by the strange power he had over her. One word and he would release her forever.

“Answer me, Cathy,” he said, and his voice was fire and ice. “Do you mean that?”

“No,” she whispered. “I mean, yes. I mean...” She stumbled helplessly to a halt. And still he waited, unwilling to help her. She
had to cross that last bridge alone.

Reaching up, she covered his hands with hers, pressing them against her shoulders. “Yes, Sin,” she said, her voice husky. “I want
you.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “You’ve got me,” he said simply. A moment later one arm had slid under her knees and she was in his
arms, held high against his chest with effortless ease. “Lady, you’ve got me for as long as you want me,” he promised, and his mouth
found hers again as he carried her into the front cabin, kicking the door shut behind them.

Moonlight was streaming in the open hatch over their heads, casting silver shadows on the wide berth as he gently laid her down, his body following hers
with pantherlike grace.

“You aren’t still afraid of me, are you, Cathy?” he whispered, staring down at her.

She gazed up at the bronzed, unreadable features poised above her, and she shook her head, the last of her misgivings vanishing. She loved him and wanted
him, had loved and wanted him for what seemed an eternity. And now, for at least a time, he was hers. She smiled up at him tremulously, raising a tentative
hand to the buttons of his shirt. He lay there on his side, motionless, his eyes burning into hers, as she fumbled with the final button of his shirt and
slid her hand across the heated flesh of his chest. The skin was smooth and muscled beneath the light layer of curls, and Cathy sighed.

“To think I didn’t use to like men with hair on their chests,” she murmured dreamily, raising her other hand to slip the shirt off his
broad shoulders. He moved a bit to help her, then rolled back on his side, one hand possessively on her slender hip, an amused smile lighting his eyes as
she discovered the wonders of his body.

Slowly she let her hand trail across his flat stomach, until, on impulse, she leaned down and buried her mouth against his chest. She could feel his heart
pounding against her lips, slow, heated beats that betrayed his need for her. Smiling against his flesh, she slid her hand up his smoothly muscled back,
her sensitive fingers kneading his hungry skin with soft, sure strokes. His breath was coming more rapidly now, ruffling her silken hair as she moved her
mouth across the muscled planes of his stomach and up his chest. Her hand trailed back across his stomach, drifted lower to the belt of his jeans, and then
jerked back, her courage finally failing her.

“Coward,” he laughed softly in her ear, catching her reticent hand and moving it lower. She let out a small gasp of surprise, her widened eyes
meeting his. “Is that all the exploring you’re going to indulge in, darling?” he whispered against her ear, his tongue tracing the
delicate lines. “There’s a great deal more of me to discover.” His hand reached up to cup her chin, his thumb gently stroking her
trembling lips.

Moving over, he replaced his thumb with his lips, kissing her slowly, deeply, with a languorous passion that set the fires in her loins burning more
fiercely. She was barely aware of his hand undoing the buttons of her shirt, pulling back the cottony material and dispensing with the front clasp of her
lacy bra with practiced ease, his hand caressing one soft, aching breast possessively, his sensitive fingertips gently stroking the tender nipple.

“Oh, God,” he breathed suddenly, his voice husky with passion. “I can’t stand these damned clothes any longer!” With an
impatience that bordered on savagery he unzipped her jeans and stripped them from her body, tossing them on the floor with her shirt and bra. His jeans
followed, and then there was nothing separating them but their own determination to wring every last, lengthy ounce of pleasure from a moment long denied.

His lips found one soft breast in the moonlight, his tongue flickering across the suddenly rigid nipple as Cathy moaned, her fingers digging into his
shoulders. His hand trailed up her slender thigh, softly tantalizingly, until he reached the center of her soul-destroying need. She jerked away, startled,
but his sure, gentle stroking first calmed, then overwhelmed her. She arched her hips against his hand, little whimpers of desire echoing from the back of
her throat. The burning fires had turned into a conflagration, one that threatened to destroy her. Her body trembled and shook all over with the
desperation of her need, a need she had never known before. Sin pulled his mouth reluctantly away from her breast and trailed small, damp kisses across her
collarbone, all the while his clever, clever hands were driving her to the edge of madness and beyond.