Gypsy Lady (60 page)

Rapidly,
Jason helped Blood Drinker saddle a horse and watched him as he efficiently
packed all he would need in one slim bedroll, which was then strapped securely
behind the saddle. Unemotionally, the two men shook hands. After looking long
into Blood Drinker's face, Jason said finally, "Take care of yourself, my
brother. On your return, if we are not here you know where to find us. I will
wait two moons from now, and if you have not come back to Terre du Coeur by
then, I shall come after you."

Soberly,
Blood Drinker nodded, knowing full well that if Davalos did not die by his
hand, he surely would by Jason's. A second later Jason watched as horse and rider
disappeared into the forest, and then with a curious reluctance he entered the
cabin.

He
glanced at Catherine, but she appeared to be sleeping; not wishing to wake
her, he went back outside. There were a variety of tasks that had to be done,
and in spite of no sleep the night before, Jason tackled the work with grim
determination. By keeping busy he was able to hold back the tormenting thoughts
that buzzed like enraged hornets at the edge of his mind. Proficiently,
he
double- checked the horses, frowning a moment at the
skinned knees of the gelding Catherine had stolen, but the animal seemed well
enough; and so he set about storing the saddles and other equipment in the tiny
lean-to next to the side of the cabin. The water trough needed filling, and there
had to be water for the cabin. Both tasks took a considerable amount of time,
for they entailed several trips to the blue lake, and the sun was high overhead
as he chopped down and dragged a few small trees to the back of the cabin and
began to chop them into good-sized logs for the fireplace. He stacked some of
the wood in the front of the lean-to and carried the remainder into the cabin.
He would risk a fire at night.

Catherine
was staring blankly at the ceiling when he came inside, his arms filled with
wood, but she barely acknowledged his presence as he moved about the cabin,
storing what food supplies he had brought with him in one of the two cupboards
near the fireplace. She hadn't noticed them earlier, and as he continued to
work, ignoring her, she began to watch him.

The
stubble of black beard on his face gave him a decidedly raffish appearance,
but Catherine judged that it did nothing to detract from his attractiveness. He
looked tough and capable in his buckskins, and she was comforted by the knowledge
that now she could indeed stop worrying—no matter what, Jason would see to it
and would not allow anything else to harm her. Fair-minded, she didn't blame
him solely for what had happened. The abduction could have happened without
Jason having had any warning of Davalos's presence on his land. That it hadn't
happened that way—that Jason had not seen fit to tell her
why
she wasn't to ride out that morning was what she
held against him. Yet, she had already admitted to herself that she had been
almost equally at fault. How much grief could have been spared them if only she
had taken heed of his commands that morning! She gave a tiny sigh of deep
regret, and hearing it Jason turned to look at her, his eyebrows rising
quizzically.

"What
was that all about?" he asked.

Twisting
her head in his direction, she admitted truthfully, "Oh, I was just
thinking that if I had stayed in the house that morning how differently things
might have worked out."

He
shot her a queer glance, one that seemed combined with anger as well as
remorse, and his slowly spoken words caused her eyes to widen in surprise.
"Don't blame yourself! I've cursed myself a thousand times a day since it
happened for not telling you Davalos was in the area. I should have told you
immediately. There is nothing I can ever do or say to make up for what you
suffered because of my arrogant, misguided, overbearing actions."

Nearly
speechless at such a handsome confession from him, Catherine faltered,
"Are you—are you saying you're
sorry?"

A
crooked smile curving his mouth, he squatted down in front of her and taking
one of her limp hands between his two warm ones murmured, "Is it so
surprising for me to admit I made a terrible error in judgment? Or so shocking
for me to apologize for the pain and discomfort you've had to bear because of
my conceit?"

"Conceit?"
Astonishment was plain in
her tone.

He
nodded. "It was exceedingly conceited of me to be so confident that I
could foresee what Davalos would do."

Catherine
stirred uncomfortably. This bearded stranger with the beguiling green eyes and
soft voice confused her, and she was further dismayed by the warm, reckless
surge of blood that raced through her body at his kindly impersonal touch. She
had expected angry, violent recriminations and had been instinctively,
mentally bracing herself for the fury she was certain would erupt. Jason,
furious and enraged, she was halfway prepared for, but this quiet- spoken,
almost gently apologetic man, threw her into confusion. Swallowing with
difficulty, she stammered, "It— it—wasn't
all
your fault."

Jason
bent his head and studied the finely shaped hand he held in his long brown
fingers, unconsciously caressing the smooth skin. Suddenly he raised his head
and stared into her shadowed eyes. The icy expression in the green eyes was
uncomfortably familiar, as was the tight look about his mouth and, Catherine
felt a pang of sorrow that she was infinitely more familiar with this cold look
of anger than the almost tender expression of the moment before.

"No,
it
wasn't
all my
fault!" The words were spoken harshly, but at the stricken look that
crossed Catherine's face, he sighed heavily and muttered, "This is no time
for us to be arguing. Forget I just said that!" With a forced teasing
glint in his eyes he added, "I prefer you be up to lashing back at me when
we fight! Right now, looking at you, I feel like I've just crushed a month-old
kitten with my booted foot."

Pity
was the last thing she wanted from him. Her badly bruised pride couldn't stand
it, and she snapped, "Don't let
that
stop
you!"

He
grinned at her angry retort, his teeth very white in the black-stubbled face
and almost tenderly crooned,
"Ma petite sorcière."

She
shot him a fulminating look, knowing he had called her a little witch, and then
with a bewildering change of attitude she said plaintively, "I'm
hungry."

His
laughter rang out in the small room, and an instant later Catherine watched as
with surprising efficiency he fixed a quick meal of thick chunks of bread, some
dried meat, and a slice of hard, yellow cheese.

It
was not perhaps the diet for an invalid, but Catherine ate it quickly despite
finding it very dry. Having observed her determined attempt to get it down silently
Jason handed her a tin cup filled with clear, cool water, and thankfully she washed
down the bread and meat with it. He was scowling when she finished, and taking
the heavy white plate from her hand, he set it on the table and said, "I
don't suppose that was the best meal for someone in your condition. Before it
gets dark tonight I'd better set a few snares." Grinning down at her, he
mocked, "I may not compare with the chef at Terre du Coeur, but I think I
can manage to cook a fairly tasty stew or broth, provided we have fresh
meat!"

Catherine
was dependent upon him for everything, and she thought she would die of
embarrassment that first night when despite her protests he gently sponged down
her filthy and bruised body with warm water heated
In
a huge black kettle over the glowing coals of the fireplace. Her dirty,
bloodstained garments were tossed in a pile in the coiner, and as
professionally as a nurse, he tore one of his dean linen shirts into rags for
her more private use and gowned her in another one. The soft linen shirt felt
blissfully gently against her aching body, and, her face still flushed from
his most intimate ministrations* she sank down gratefully once again on the
bed.

Jason's
face had been stony as.
he
had tenderly washed the
grime from her slender body,, There had been no passion in his touch, and
lovingly as a mother, he tacked the blanket of the freshly remade bed about
her.

It
was only after Jason had. made Catherine as comfortable as he could that he
asked her for details of her ordeal, Bui Catherine couldn't speak of it—not
the rape
₉
nor the man she had killed,. At his gently probing
question about her escape, she turned her head into the pillow and in a tight
little voice said. "I don't want to talk of it."

Jason
sighed and let her' alone. Later would be soon enough to learn the exact extent
of her calamity. All he wanted now was for her to rest and regain her health.
He didn't want to think of the lost baby, and he was overwhelmingly thankful
that at least they had Nicholas and that Nicholas was safe and loved at Terre
du; Coeur. For a moment he smiled—with a set of doting grandparents at his
every beck and call, young Nicholas was going to be even more of a. handful
when they finally did return home.

True
to his word,
the
next morning, having
caught
a
young deer in one trap he
had set the night before,
he did
fix a
thick, tasty broth that Catherine found delicious. And like an eagle with only
one newly hatched young
In
its
nest, he watched her appetite closely, making sure she
ate
every mouthful put before her.

As
much as it was possible under the circumstances, Jason cosseted Catherine
greatly during the next few days„ He scanned her face anxiously for any sign of
fever or infection, and as none appeared, a little of the load of guilt and
fear for her which he carried hidden inside, lightened.

He
hardly ever left her alone. Those short
times
in
which he absented himself were needed to replenish their water supply, to see
to the welfare of the horses, and to check his traps for game. He would
accomplish
those
tasks and return
immediately to the cabin as If he feared some ham could come to her
In
his absence. And twice each day, once before dawn and
again just at dusk, he left her long enough to carefully stalk the entrance of
the valley to make certain there were no signs of Davalos. He was taking no
chances on being surprised again. Most of his time, though, he, spent lounging
in the open doorway of the cabin, his gaze fixed unseeingly on the skyline
where
the
tall, darkly green trees met the blueness of the clear skies
..
Whether he was bored or impatient, Catherine couldn't tell from his
expressionless face
,.
Definitely, he was not in the
mood for any idle chatter, and kindly,
If
impersonally, he saw to her needs, but that was all. Despairingly, she longed
for her son, for Terre du Coeur, and her mother, for Jason had told, her she
had arrived, but most of all for this enforced intimacy to be over.

They
seldom spoke to one another, their conversation consisting usually of Jason's
cart questions of her wants and Catherine's tired, monosyllabic answers. Both knew
there were subjects that needed desperately to be discussed between them, but
like war-scarred veterans arming for one last terrible battle, they waited,
Catherine gaining strength each day and Jason's face growing harder and bleaker
as each night passed. On the third day, he let her get up from the bed awhile,
but when she showed signs of becoming tired, he harshly ordered her back to the
bunk. Inclined towards weepiness and not knowing why, she had immediately burst
Into
tears, shocking both of them. Instantly, Jason's
arms had closed around her shaking body, and seating himself on. the bed, his
broad shoulders propped against the wall, he had held her tenderly next to his
own hard, warm body, his lips traveling urgently over her tear-stained face and
his voice shaken and husky with emotion as he soothed, "There, my little
love, don't cry so. I shouldn't have snapped at you, but you're such a
stubborn, willful little cuss that sometimes you drive me mad. Hush now. I'm a.
brute, and when you are well you shall have any revenge you want."

Hiccuping
back & sob, she had looked up into
his
face, catching such a look
of tender remorse on his face that her mouth fell open with astonishment. It
must be her illness, she finally decided
,.
She was
hallucinating, for surely Jason wasn't looking at her
lovingly?'