Gypsy Lady (23 page)

As
they conversed, each probing the other, he was surprised at the intelligence
she displayed and particularly her avid curiosity about Louisiana. A smile
lifting the corner of his mouth, he asked, "How is it you are so interested
in my country?"

And
without thinking, she replied, "My brother is there. He inherited an
estate, near Natchez, from my father."

She
could have bitten off her tongue for those impulsive words, but he appeared
unaware of the slip, although one black brow rose in surprise, and he asked
dryly, "An estate?"

Moistening
her suddenly dry lips, she returned brightly, "What else would you call
land inherited?"

"It
would depend on the size. Most of our land is measured in square miles, and we
call them plantations. Did your brother fall heir to a plantation?" he
teased.

Her
eyes very big and innocent, and not all in pretense, she said in an awed tone,
"Square miles? You mean thousands of acres?"

"Mais
oui!"
he laughed. "I myself have never ridden to my
north boundary, although my grandfather has frequently. He enjoys surveying
his domain."

She
regarded him curiously. He was obviously a young man blessed by a kind fate. He
possessed a handsome face, wealth, a charming manner, and was so carelessly
sure of his possessions that he couldn't be bothered to ascertain the extent of
the land he owned. What arrogance!

Jason
had been diverted by her artless questions, but now his gaze rested for a
moment on her face, before
wandering leisurely over the exquisitely formed
body barely hidden by the black robe. A slow, lazy smile widened his mouth; he
knew how easily that robe could be discarded, for hadn't he given it to her
with just that in mind? The memory of her smooth, satin flesh caused a tingle
of anticipation between his legs, and through suddenly heavy- lidded eyes, he
judged the extent of her disarmament.

Catherine, unaware of his
change of mood, leaned languidly back into her chair. She was warm, fed, and
Jason had seen to it that she had drunk freely of the potent rum punch he had
served after dinner. Right now she was sleepy, and the
memory
of the shocking events of the night were
hazy in her mind. Filled with a
sense of well-being brought on by the strong liquor, she wanted nothing more
than her bed—which was precisely where Jason wanted her, tool

She was drifting on a cloud
of numbness when he unhurriedly lifted her and gently deposited her relaxed
body on the huge bed. With sleepy eyes she noted the flickering fire and tried
to remember if her bed had always been this big. Too bemused to ponder it
further, she gave a sigh and burrowed down into the welcoming softness.

Jason, watching her
movements as he swiftly stripped, smiled to himself. She would have plenty of
time to sleep in the morning, while he met her late protector. Right now, he
meant to relieve the ache between his legs!

She noted the movement the
bed gave as he lay beside her, but still in her pleasant, hazy state, she
viewed his intrusion into her bedchamber as part of the dreamlike trance. It
was only when he began to slowly remove the robe that her euphoria vanished.
Remembrance was instantaneous, and she made a convulsive dive away from him.

Laughing deep in his
throat, he easily held her prisoner, whispering, "Easy, easy, little cat.
You'll find it's useless to fight me when my mind is made up."

Catherine stared up at the
green eyes and the full mouth that hovered near hers and resignedly accepted
her fate, knowing it didn't matter how hard she fought—Jason would win in the
end. Besides, what did it matter, now? She had nothing else to lose. He'd seen
to that, she thought bitterly.

Leisurely, he explored her
body, seeming to take immense gratification from the feel and taste of her
silken
skin as his hands and mouth moved knowingly over the hollows
and curves that so intrigued him. Vainly Catherine fought the insidious waves
of pleasure that rippled through her, but his mouth was warm and demanding, his
touches tender and experienced as they caressed her flesh; and with a
shuddering sigh, she blindly turned her face up for his kiss and almost
compulsively put her arms about his neck. Eagerly he took her mouth and pressed
her lengthwise next to his hard, sun-browned body, his hands skimming lovingly
over her back and curved buttocks, pulling her closer against him. She felt the
faint prickle of the black hair on his chest rub on her nipples, and when he
pressed nearer, she was shocked to feel the heat and hardness of his desire
push insistently into her belly.

He felt
her move involuntarily against him and said in a thickened voice, "Touch
me, little one. Feel it."

Deftly,
he guided her hesitating hand and gave a deep groan of pleasure as her small
palm closed around him. Her touch seemed to inflame him, and hungrily he kissed
her, his tongue searching the sweetness of her mouth, his hands moving with
increasing urgency down to her thighs; and Catherine was gripped by an intense
desire to feel his body take hers once again. She arched her hips, as if
seeking his entry, and he, sensing her readiness, covered her slender body with
his and gently penetrated her.

He
moved on her slowly, savoring the feel and sensations of her beautiful body,
and unconsciously Catherine began to move with him, a low moan escaping from
her as he continued to kiss her ears, neck, and mouth, while his body thrust
deeply into hers, making them truly one. Unable to think clearly, she twisted
wildly beneath him, her hands running frenziedly up and down his back as her
body met his, time and time again, until a huge burst of feeling seemed to
explode within her, and she felt his big body shudder with the intensity of his
release.

Catherine
was stunned by the abandonment with which she had responded to his touch. In
spite of everything, he had aroused her, made her aware of the enjoyment a man
could give a woman, and gave her an inkling of the power of her own body. And
now, he seemed curiously reluctant to leave her, as if he would never tire of
her, and his lips gently brushed her forehead and nose, traveling lazily down
to her mouth, kissing her thoroughly.

It was then, as they lay
together, that Catherine first noticed the gold and emerald band on Jason's
arm. But it, like the events of the night, seemed like something out of a
dream, and she didn't question its oddity any more than she questioned Jason's
finding her at the gypsy encampment. To her, at the moment, it appeared
logical that the strange young man who had literally spirited her away from
safety and taken her virginity would wear such a savage and barbaric piece of
adornment—it was part of him and as such she never gave it another thought. And
with Jason's insistent mouth wandering over her body, she was not in any state
to think clearly.

Finally, regretfully, he
slid from her and gathered her close to his warm body, her head against his
gently heaving chest, her hair tickling his nose. One hand possessively
caressing her hip, he dropped a kiss on her head saying, "Hmmm,
petite
,
I can see I will get little done with you around. It is a good thing, I think,
that we did not meet earlier."

Catherine, her eyes heavy
with sleep, her brain drugged by the rum and a multitude of new emotions, only
snuggled deeper into his embrace. She felt his chest rumble with soft
laughter, and she moved resentfully away. She was exhausted and only wanted to
sleep. Later, she'd worry. Much later!

Jason woke suddenly. The
room was in darkness, but instinctively he knew dawn wasn't far. For a moment
he lay there, the faint smell of burnt candle wax in his nostrils, uncertain
what had awakened him. A second later, he discovered that not only was the
little gypsy- no longer nestled warm against him, but she wasn't even in the
bed! Then, hearing a small noise, as if someone unfamiliar with the room had
stumbled in the inky blackness, a frown creased his forehead. What the devil
was the wench up to now?

"Tamara,
get back here!" he commanded. Silence greeted his words. The minutes
passed like years, and both remained motionless; Catherine, frozen as she stood
near the door, felt her heart pounding with thick, painful strokes. Abruptly
the silence was broken as giving a muffled curse, Jason swung out of bed and
lit a nearby candle, while Catherine, knowing the chance to escape was
disappearing rapidly, gave a cry of dismay and whirling about raced for the
door that led to the stairs and safety.

But
she hadn't reckoned with Jason's distrust of the innkeeper, and she had been
too drowsy last night to notice when Jason locked the door and for good
measure placed a stout chair against it. With frantic hands she tugged the
chair far enough away to allow her slim body to squeeze behind it, casting an
apprehensive glance over her shoulder as she did so. Fear made her unusually
clumsy, and even as her fingers closed on the key, Jason, stark naked, the gold
band on his arm gleaming dully, hurtled through the bedroom doorway. In her
haste, the key slipped from her fingers, falling with a clatter onto

fee
wooden floor. Aware she
had lost her chance for flight, she turned and faced him defiantly, her head
held high, her violet eyes staring unflinchingly into his.

Seeing
her predicament, Jason slowed his step and completely unconcerned with his own
nakedness, took in Catherine's attire with amusement. She was wearing a pair of
his yellow nankeen trousers, turned up several times; a white, linen shirt,
many sizes too large; and a brown satin jacket that hung nearly to her knees.
Barefooted, the black curls in artless disarray framing her white face, she
stood like a wild creature at bay against the door.

Setting
the candle down after that first amused appraisal, he ignored her and threw
some wood on the coals that glowed dimly on the hearth. Then he casually sat
down and turned to stare at her once more.

Catherine,
keeping her eyes carefully averted from his body, was very conscious of his
nakedness. His narrowed stare was unsettling, and she gave a nervous start when
he asked in a harsh voice, "And where do you think you're going?"

Righteous
indignation brought her simmering temper blazingly to the fore, and angrily,
hands on her hips, she advanced upon his relaxed body. "You have no right
to question me. I'm leaving, and where I'm going is none of your business. You
can't keep me here, and if you don't unlock the door instantly, I shall scream
this inn down!" She didn't dare do such a thing, but told herself
consolingly,
he
didn't know that!

For
a moment, they glared at one another; then, just as Catherine began to fear he
had called' her bluff, he shrugged his shoulders indifferently and rose from
his seat. Arrogance in every movement, he kicked the chair from the door and
after unlocking it, stepped aside, a sardonic look on his face as he motioned
for her to leave.

Puzzled
by his easy compliance, she threw him a wary glance before turning stiffly
towards the unlocked door. She had barely turned her back on him when he moved
like a hunting panther, one hand striking out to crush the startled cry she
gave as his other arm closed around her waist. Holding her tightly against his
chest, he lifted her from the floor, and as her kicking heels drummed against
his shins, her hands clawing "to break his bold, he calmly carried her
back into the bedroom and threw her face-down on the bed.

She
managed a muffled scream of pure rage before he brutally shoved her face deeper
into the soft feather mattress. Then tearing loose the silk rope pull from the
canopy, he captured her wildly striking arms and tied them tightly behind her
back. Catherine tried to free herself from the suffocating pressure of the
mattress against her face as Jason held one knee painfully on the nape of her
neck, and she fought for air; from somewhere above her, he snarled, "I'll
keep you as long as I please and where I please. When I no longer desire you,
I'll let you know! Until then, you'll stay where I want you!"

When
her arms were tied, he suddenly flipped her over onto her back. Then holding
her prisoner between his legs, one hand held over her mouth, he reached up and
shook the pillowcase free and gagged her with it. Her violet eyes burned almost
purple with rage at his savage, coldblooded action. His chest was heaving
slightly when he finally rose from the bed. Then grasping the long- bladed
knife, which was never far from his side, he approached the bed once more, and
for the first time Catherine actually feared for her life. His face hard, his
green eyes narrowed, he cut another length from the mangled bed pull. Then
glancing at Catherine's rigid form, he methodically slashed away every scrap of
clothing she wore, as she waited icily calm and certain that any moment she
would feel that cold blade slide fatally into her body.

But
murder wasn't on his mind, for when he had her naked, he quickly roped her
ankles together and tied them securely to the end of the bed. Satisfied, he sat
back on his heels and grinning down into her blazing eyes, said ruefully,
"I shouldn't have tied your legs together,
chèrie!
But
then, I suppose
it's
best, for if I started to make
love to you this morning, I would be late for the duel with Clive."

Shock
at his words drove the anger from her eyes, but Jason, yawning hugely and
intent upon getting dressed, never noticed. And in silent, confused fury, she
watched him as he moved about the room.

Jason
was almost completely dressed when the sound of voices coming up the stairs
caused him to carelessly throw the blankets over her, leaving only her tangled
black hair and violet eyes showing. Then he walked without a backwards glance
from the room.
Laying
helpless, she heard him open the
door and speak to someone. Then, the sound of rattling crockery assailed her
ears, and she guessed rightly that Pierre, acting as butler, must have entered
with breakfast. Pierre wasn't alone, for she heard a different male voice
complain, "I say, Jas, this is a devilish hour to be up. Why
are these blasted things
always held at dawn! Someone should
make it the fashion to meet at a more civilized hour—say an hour before
afternoon tea."

Jason
laughed. "Mmmm, the next time I issue a challenge, I shall insist upon it,
my friend. Have you and Harris eaten?"

Harris
spoke up hastily, "Nothing for me.
Afterwards!"

But
Barrymore, his blue eyes filled with excitement said, "I'll have some of
that excellent ham, if you don't mind. Ignore
Tom,
he's always a glum fellow until a duel is over. Never knew such a
fusspot!"

Catherine,
listening to their lighthearted conversation, felt sick with apprehension. Oh
God, what if Tom saw her! But maybe, she thought hopefully, not expecting her,
he wouldn't recognize her, and it had been more than a year since last they had
met. She should be grateful Jason hadn't had her join them for breakfast, and
she thought wryly that the only good thing to come from her abortive attempt to
flee this morning was the fact that he wasn't at this moment showing her off as
his latest mistress! She moved uncomfortably under the blankets, the silk rope
cutting into her tender wrists and ankles, while the gag nearly choked her. How
long before he freed her? How long did it take to fight a duel?
she
wondered despairingly. She might be here for hours before
Jason returned, unless, she thought hopefully, he'd leave instructions for his
valet to release her. But then, she decided, she didn't like the idea of
another man seeing her so helpless. Jason was bad enough!

Her
thoughts were extremely unhappy as she
lay
there,
honesty compelling her to admit that the present situation was her own fault.
Unfortunately, it was cold comfort, and she wondered wretchedly if Rachael
already missed her from the house. How long did Jason intend to keep her? If
only he'd release her soon, there was a chance

she
could return home and
smooth Rachael's anxious questions. Her thoughts shied away from the memory of
Jason's rape and his later lovemaking; just now she wasn't ready to peer too
deeply into her own emotions concerning him. At the moment all she wanted was
escape and a chance to recover
herself
and view
objectively the entire incident.

She
realized it was quiet in the other room, and correctly assuming the three men
had left for the meeting with Clive, she wondered for the first time the reason
behind the duel. It wasn't like Clive to expose himself to possible danger, and
he must have been hard pressed not to have avoided the coming confrontation.

Pierre's
entry into the room scattered her restless thoughts, and warily she watched him
as he walked across the room. He cast
her an
extremely
curious look but then began to pick up the torn and ripped clothing, muttering
to himself as he did so. That he was eaten up with speculation was obvious, but
it was equally apparent Jason mast have given him explicit instructions
concerning her, for while he glanced frequently at her still form, he addressed
no conversation her way and for the most part seemed to ignore her.

Idly
Watching
Pierre as he
opened
the
wardrobe
and began to remove
Jason's remaining clothes, Catherine wished she had known earlier of the coming
duel. To es
cape
from the valet,
she
decided,
would
have
been
an
easy
task. But when she had wakened
this
morning and seen that Jason still slept heavily,
it had seemed such an excellent chance to escape. If only she
hadn't
had
to light
that blasted, candle and root through his clothes to find something to wear!
Balefully she glared at the pile of feminine clothes Jason had tossed on the
chair last night. Why couldn't she have remembered them? Probably, she told
herself
viciously,
because she was too busy feeling
sorry for herself to notice much of anything. So, instead of snatching up one
of the dresses almost under her fingertips, she bad lost costly minutes
putting on his clothing. And even then, she hadn't followed her instincts and
fled from the inn, but with Clive's blackmail threat in mind, had proceeded to
search feverishly through Jason's belongings for the map Clive wanted so badly.
She only took a few minutes, but it was long enough for Jason to grumble
in" .his sleep; and even
though
she had hastily
blown out the light and made to escape, she
had unfortunately stumbled over a chair in the darkness, and its noisy
scraping along the floor had alerted Jason to her position.

If
only she hadn't wasted that precious time searching for something Clive wasn't
even positive existed, she thought bitterly. But it had seemed so logical;
Jason was sleeping soundly, and she was already here, in his room, so why not?
How stupid she had been not to think that he'd wake and catch her! The
unpalatable knowledge that she owed this present situation to her own stubborn
foolishness made her squirm under the covers, and she fought against a sudden,
childish desire to cry. Her arms were beginning to ache, and determinedly she
turned her reproachful thoughts away from herself and focused on Pierre once
more. Numbly she watched as he folded and packed Jason's clothes and personal
objects in a large leather-bound trunk, and abruptly, the purpose behind the
valet's precise movements leaped through her startled brain.

In
her rapid search through the two packed trunks in the room, she hadn't grasped
their significance. But now it was obvious that Jason was in the process of
preparing to leave, and surprisingly, her first emotion was curiosity about his
destination, before the ominous thought occurred to her that he might be
planning for her to go with him. Almost ill with anxiety, she told herself
staunchly not to be a goose! Jason would release her when he returned. He had
only acted as he had to teach her a lesson, to satisfy his bruised male pride.
Not, pray God, because he intended to keep her indefinitely.