Gypsy Lady (49 page)

It
was like a dream or a figment of her imagination to wake and find him bending
over her, a sadly rueful smile on his mouth as his fingers gently caressed her
face. Wonderingly she gazed up at him, stunned by the tenderness that blazed
briefly in the green eyes then disappeared. That sudden, barely glimpsed
emotion prompted her to say in a low voice, "Jason, once you asked me to
help you make something of the situation in which we found ourselves. I'm
asking you now to help
me!
I
cannot bear to go on as we are. And if you cannot or are not willing to try,
then
at least let me go!"

A
part of him snarled silently, "Go? Where?
To your
lover?"
But with the memory of what had just happened vivid in his
mind, he bit back his jealousy.

Seating
himself on the bed beside her, he reached for her hands and lightly holding
them, said thoughtfully, "I was willing then, and nothing has changed my
mind since. Others in our position have found themselves married to complete
strangers and have managed to survive and even obtain a measure of happiness. I
see no reason why we can't manage the same."

A
tremulous smile curved Catherine's lips. "I wonder if all those countless
others had tempers such as
ours?
"

With
a sudden grin mitigating his harsh features, he said lightly, "Probably
not! But we both know how easily ours erupt, and perhaps knowing that we can
be more understanding
in the future." Honesty compelled
him to add, "If I had listened to you earlier and waited at least until I
had a semblance of sanity, we wouldn't have come to blows. This time, I must
take the blame entirely—although the provocation was great!" For a moment,
a teasing glint danced in his eyes but then it vanished, and he asked
abruptly, "How
could
you
keep our son's, birth a secret from me?"

Catherine
searched his face a long moment before saying painfully, "I never thought
to see you again, and for all I knew you were divorcing me. I thought it best
for all our sakes. But I would have told you at Belle Vista if you hadn't been
so overbearingly positive that Nicholas wasn't yours." Watching the
stoniness that crept into his face, she gave a tiny sigh and added doggedly,
"Jason, I have as much pride as you do, and you accused me of unspeakable
things! I could no more have told the truth then, than I can deny now that
Nicholas is your son."

His
mouth taut, Jason forced a smile and, releasing her hands, stood up. "I
haven't yet thanked you, madame, for my son, and I do so now. Perhaps it's as
well that events turned out as they have today. Certainly, I mean to become
better acquainted with Nicholas and,"—his voice dropped intimately and the
gaze that lingered on her lips was openly amorous,—"I have every intention
of making myself
extremely
agreeable to his mother!"

With a growing sense of
elation, Catherine watched Jason leave the room. He knew Nicholas was his son,
and the secret burden of guilt she had carried at hiding that knowledge from
him slid from her like a lead weight.

Feeling
curiously lighthearted, she dressed for dinner that night, taking special care
with her toilet. An application of rice powder helped to conceal the worst of
the bruise on her cheek, and a series of cold compresses reduced swelling of
her lip, if not the tenderness.

Carefully,
she chose a low-necked gown of greenish bronze silk and watched critically as
Jeanne dressed her hair in a cluster of tiny curls on the top of her head. A
sprinkling of delicious scent from Houbigant's, and she was ready to face her
husband.

Her
heart thumping in galloping rhythm with the pounding of her blood, she
descended the curving white staircase and walked to the large salon. As she
opened the door and entered, her emotions vacillated between something
approaching rapture and the quelling fear that she had dreamed that scene in
the bedroom.

But
she hadn't. Looking more relaxed and confident than she could ever remember
him, Jason walked to her side eagerly as she stepped into the room. He was so
heartbreakingly handsome in his scarlet jacket, his face rising darkly from the
whiteness of his ruffled shirt, that Catherine felt her breath catch in her
throat.

Throughout
the ensuing evening, he treated her with a courtesy and gallantry that swept
away every unpleasant remnant of every argument they had ever had. By the time
they had eaten and he escorted her up the stairs, Catherine was certain he
could feel the tremble of antici
pation that raced through
her body. But as they reached her door, he bowed politely and gently pushed her
into the room—alone! For several stunned seconds, she stared at the closed
door, and her bewilderment increased when a minute later the door to
his
room shut quietly.

Thoughtfully,
she allowed the waiting Jeanne to undress her and brash the curls from her
head. Jeanne's ministrations were soothing, and only when the long, shining
locks were spread about her shoulders like a mantle of black satin, did Jeanne
desist and ask permission to retire. A moment later, Catherine was alone, her
slim body barely covered by a thin, clinging night gown of soft, flame-colored
silk.

The
room was lit by only a few candles, and, her heart pounding, Catherine waited
for the twin doors that separated their rooms to open. Surely, now that he
knew she was alone, he would come. But as the minutes passed, she reluctantly
realized that Jason was not seeking her bed tonight. Feeling chastened and
definitely frustrated, she climbed into bed, her thoughts busy with this,
his
latest incomprehensible deed.

Sleep
came eventually, but no answer did she find for his actions. And it was with
rampant curiosity lurking in her eyes that she joined Him for breakfast.
Remembering sickly how swiftly his mood could change, she almost expected to
be met by the cold, haughty stranger who so infuriated her. But Jason's smile
was warm and caressing as he seated her at the table, and as they ate, he kept
a flow of pleasant conversation running. At the end of the meal, as if he had
done
It
for years, he dropped a casual kiss on the tip
of her nose before he left for the fields.

Greatly
puzzled, she stared after his retreating back. What was he up to now?
she
wondered. The thought was to be repeated almost hourly
in the following days, until suddenly it dawned on her that Jason was letting
her
set the pace of their ripening intimacy. The idea
was intriguing in the extreme, and, at first hesitant, she tested the theory
in little ways.

After
a few more days, she was positive it was true. If she wanted for his company,
all she had to do was murmur, "It's boring just staying here by
myself
all the long day."

Instantly
a smile lurking at the corner of
his
mouth, Jason would reply,
"Have the cook pack a basket and
join me today.
It's
hot work, but you might enjoy watching us instead of
Nicholas."

And
so they spent many agreeable hours together, Jason stopping at noon for a
long, private tête-à-tête with his wife in some secluded glen where they ate
the excellent lunch prepared by the cook. Then, replete from the small feast,
he would rest his dark head in her lap, and companionably they would talk of
little things. So it went. Whatever she wished seemed to be Jason's chosen task
for the day. She had only to hint she would like his help or advice with this
or
that,
and without hesitation he would throw himself
wholeheartedly into whatever was her whim.

It
was Jason who when asked, pointed out that the heavy oak desk in her room would
look better in his study, and Jason who found the feminine, delicate desk that
took its place at the far end of her room. And it was Jason who unearthed the
small well-sprung open carriage for her use, and Jason who, controlling his
scathing retorts with admirable restraint, taught her to drive the spirited
horses that pulled it.

The
days were passing in an excited haze for Catherine, and each day she grew
bolder, going so far as to turn up her waiting lips for his kiss on those days
she did not accompany him. The first time she offered her mouth, he hesitated
only a moment, then kissed her much more deeply than she had expected. When her
eyes widened with surprise at the warmth of the kiss and she made to draw away,
he kissed her again—a hard kiss that left her feeling as if her heart was
lodged somewhere in her throat. From that morning on, without waiting for her
to make the first move, he would kiss her a lingering goodbye, a curious smile
breaking the harshness of his features. Sometimes she had the disquieting
feeling he was secretly laughing at her, but with a defiant toss of her head,
she continued to walk cautiously the path they were now traveling together.

Jason's
undisguised delight at his son added to the growing bubble of happiness that
was swelling inside Catherine. Those times when together they watched some
particularly astonishing or amusing feat Nicholas accomplished, their eyes
meeting each other's with warm enjoyment, Catherine thought her heart would
burst with joy. The house seemed to radiate a growing happiness, and her light-hearted
laughter, often followed by Jason's deeper rumble of amusement was heard
frequently.

There
were only two dark clouds on her horizon. First, she was still uncertain of his
feelings for her—his words to Elizabeth often haunted her happy dreams as she slept
alone in her bed. And sleeping alone was the second cloud of discontentment.
She wanted her husband, and she wanted him in her bed! Sometimes she tortured
herself with the thought that he no longer desired her that way. Miserably she
tossed in the empty bed, her body on fire for his hard male form. How she
wished he would kick open those doors that divided their rooms and with his
breathtaking lovemaking overpower the last divider between
them.

One
night, before dressing for dinner, she glared at those closed twin doors and
flounced down resentfully on her dressing stool. Suddenly, her eyes narrowed in
thought. If he wouldn't come to her, then she would go to him!

She
took a long time selecting a simple but provocatively fashioned gown of
lavender silk to wear for dinner and an even longer time deciding on a negligee
for bed. Finally, after she had nearly discarded every item of sleep- wear she
owned, she chose an intricately pleated gown of deepest rose.

A
satisfied smile on her lips, she laid it reverently on the bed and had Jeanne
do no more to her hair than thread a wide velvet ribbon of darkest fern green
through it. She dismissed Jeanne for the evening and with determination in
every step, she met Jason for dinner knowing she was looking her most enticing,
for the lavender gown clung lovingly to her slender body and her breasts rose
alluringly from the bodice. More than once she saw him glance at the slimness
of her hips, and his gaze seemed to burn whenever it rested on the soft rise
and fall of her bosom. She was at her most provocative, leaning into him
seductively when he offered his arm as they walked to the dining room, and with
a thrill she felt the slight tenseness that invaded his body at her nearness.
He wanted her! She was certain of it, and with a gleam of mischief hidden in
the violet depths, she proceeded all evening to tempt him.

As
the evening progressed, she breathlessly watched the sensuous curve to his lip
grow more pronounced and the fires that flickered in the hooded eyes burn stronger.

A
dozen times, she thought he would smash anything in his path and sweep her into
his arms, and a dozen times, he checked the involuntary movement. Feeling
rather like a kitten playing between the claws of a tiger, she teased him. But
none of her shy, uncertain wiles seemed able to drive him beyond the rigid
control which he placed on himself.

It
was only when she was preparing to climb the stairs alone to her lonely room
that he gave any encouraging sign. Usually he escorted her to her door, but tonight
he made no move to accompany her; uncertainly she waited, not wishing to leave
him alone downstairs, but too embarrassed to ask him to take her to her room.
Her uncertainty was apparent, and with a hard smile hovering around his full
lips, Jason murmured, "I trust you can find your way tonight?"

Unable
to hide her disappointment, she said, "Aren't you coming now, too?"

Impassively
he answered, "For some reason, I find the thought of my bachelor bed
unappealing, and not wishing to upset the harmony that currently exists between
us, I think I had better stay here for a while."

"Oh!"
she said blankly, but driven by the thought of the lovely rose negligee lying
on her bed, she asked shyly, "Will you be long? I—I—" The words died
in her throat, and unaware of the unspoken plea in her big eyes, she stared at
him mutely.

He
set his glass down very carefully and walked over to her, deliberation in every
stride. Slowly, giving her every chance to escape, he drew her into his arms,
his mouth finding hers as if he were starving for her. For endless seconds,
they were locked together, Catherine nearly mindless with happiness, and then
he thrust her from him and pushed her swiftly toward the stairs saying tightly,
"I'm not a boy to be teased and then denied. If you stay one minute
longer, I'm afraid—yes, very definitely afraid—I'll tip those skirts of yours
up and take you right here on the stairs!
Good night!"

He
turned to stalk angrily back into the salon, and gathering every bit of
boldness she possessed, she blurted, "I'm
not
teasing!"

Jason
stiffened and spun to face her, a fire leaping into his green eyes. Suddenly
her knees felt weak. They stared at one another, and then he said deliberately,
"I'll be up in a few minutes. If you want me, I'll be in my room!" Then
he strode away from her.

The
blood racing in her veins, Catherine sprinted up the stairs and with trembling
hands practically tore the dress from her body. Leaving it in a crumpled heap
near the bed, she hastily slipped the rose negligee over her naked body. She
stared at herself apprehensively in the mirror, and her eyes widened when she
saw how transparent the gown was. Her small coral-tipped breasts were clearly
defined, as was the dark, shadowy triangle between her, legs. Suddenly unsure
of herself, she nearly changed her mind. Then she heard the click of Jason's
door as it shut, and, with a fluttering in the region of her stomach, she knew
she would have to open those hateful doors that separated them. Nervously, she
waited, changing her mind a dozen times.

Jason
had made it clear that any move to change their relationship would have to be
made by her. Wobbling slightly, Catherine walked toward the twin doors. For a
second she hesitated. Then taking a deep breath, her head thrown up bravely,
she flung open the doors.

The
room was dark except for a wavering flame of soft light from one single candle
near Jason's bed. Unaware of the increased transparency of her gown caused by
the brighter light from her own room, she stood uncertainly in the doorway, her
body appearing bathed in a rosy hue, her long black hair rippling like silk to
her small waist.

A
movement by the bed caught her attention. Peering into the shadowy blackness
,-
she watched frozen, unable to move, as Jason rose up
slowly from the bed. He had been lying there casually relaxed, his narrowed
eyes revealing the only sign of tenseness. As Catherine made no further
attempt to cross the intervening space, he walked leisurely up to her, his eyes
lighting with gentle mockery.