Island Flame (19 page)

“Jon,” she warned in a shaky voice. “You’re too weak for … for.…”

“I know.” He looked up at her appealingly. “I just want you beside me. I sleep better that way. I have nothing else in mind. I promise. If I try anything, you have my permission to slap my face and get up.”

“Well …” Cathy wavered.

“Please,” he said softly.

“Oh, all right,” Cathy capitulated with a sigh. “Just as long as you remember. If you start to … to. … Well, I’ll get up.”

“I won’t,” he promised, and watched as Cathy slid off the bed to lock the door.

He said nothing as she slowly came back to stand beside the bunk, a faint flush staining her cheeks. Knowing the cause of her sudden confusion, he grinned.

Cathy turned her back as she slowly unfastened her gown. She undressed down to her last petticoat, feeling absurdly shy. Now that Jon was awake and aware, she was regaining some of her former reserve with him. Don’t be a fool, she scolded herself, feeling a blush creep over her cheeks as she turned back to face him. The blush deepened as his eyes rested hungrily on her scantily covered bosom. His mouth crooked teasingly as the warm gaze traveled gradually up to her face.

“Blushing, my cat?” he mocked gently. “There’s no need. I have seen you in less, you know.”

Cathy forced herself to meet his gray eyes, determined to downplay her ridiculous embarrassment if she possibly could.

“I know,” she managed evenly. “But that was … was different.”

The stutter in her last words dismayed her. That too-knowing grin was making her even more uncomfortable.

“Because then I took your clothes off and now you’re doing it?” Jon guessed astutely. “Well, never mind, sweet. Consider it your duty to humor a sick man.”

“Oh, hush,” Cathy said, annoyed.

“I will,” he promised, seeing that she was about to turn away. “Come to bed. Please.”

Cathy glared at him, but then broke into a reluctant smile as she pretended to cower away.

“You really are impossible, you know. I’ve a good mind to have Petersham take care of you from now on.”

“Petersham lacks your—er—skills. Come to bed.”

Cathy frowned at him severely, then gave up. The dratted man was really beginning to get to her, she thought vexedly as she slid into the bunk on his uninjured side. She would have to watch that she didn’t grow too fond of him. That would mean only heartbreak.

But despite her reservations she allowed him to draw her close against his side, her head snuggling cozily into his shoulder of its own accord.

“Go to sleep,” he murmured, his arm tightening around her.

And to her surprise, she did.

Seven

W
hy did you run away?” The question, asked in a carefully offhand manner, caught Cathy by surprise. She stared down at the playing cards she held for a long moment before replying.

“I should think that was obvious.” When she looked up at last, she found Jon’s eyes fixed on her intently. He frowned, as if considering her answer, then shook his head.

“Not to me.” His hand of cards lay forgotten on the quilt beside him. Cathy sighed. Plainly he was not to be distracted from the subject.

“You must have known that I’d try to escape if I could. Heavens, you act as if I’d done you some grievous wrong! You’re not my father, brother, husband, or even fiancé, you know. You’re the pirate who abducted me and forced me to … to. … Well, I was and am under no obligation to stay with you.”

“Are you saying that you ran away because your pride obliged you to do so?” Jon frowned at her thoughtfully. Cathy sighed again, not feeling adequately prepared to cope with the conversation. But she resolved to do her best to make him understand her position, without giving away the ambiguity of her own emotions at the present time.

“Jon, I don’t think you realize the enormity of what
you’ve done to me. I was brought up to be a lady. A lady does not—uh—uh.…”

“Make love?” he interjected, smiling a little. Cathy tilted her chin at him haughtily.

“… does not allow a man to take liberties with her person before marriage. You raped me brutally—not once, but many times. Of course I was going to run away from you the first chance I got!”

“So you’re telling me that you ran away because you couldn’t stand me making love to you?”

“Raping me!” Cathy corrected sharply.

“Call it what you will.” Jon dismissed the nomenclature as unimportant. “Is that why you ran away?”

“Yes!” she answered, relieved to be done with the subject at last.

“You are lying to me, my cat,” he chided. “You like the way I can make your body feel. You can’t hide it from me. I know.”

Cathy flushed bright crimson under his penetrating gaze. How had she ever gotten involved in such a conversation, she wondered desperately. More important, how was she ever going to get out of it without revealing to him more than she meant to?

“You’re very conceited, Captain, if you think that,” she managed, not quite meeting his eyes. She could not, for the life of her, control the betraying redness of her cheeks.

“So I’m back to being Captain, am I, when you’ve called me Jon very nicely for the past two weeks. Very well, if that particular subject displeases you, we will return to another.” Jon’s voice was sardonic. “Tell me, my cat, since the damage to your virtue had already been done, wouldn’t it have been wiser to wait until I was ready
to let you go? Why run away, and put yourself in such danger? Good God, you’re not going to try to tell me that you weren’t glad to see me when I walked into that hellhole! Hosannas sang out of your eyes!”

“I was glad to see you, I admit.” Cathy bit her lip. “But the circumstances were unusual.”

“Agreed.” Jon said nothing more for some time, his brow furrowed as he mentally worried the subject like a dog with a bone.

“You went for help.” The words sounded like an accusation. Cathy just managed not to squirm uncomfortably, staring down at the cards in her hand as if fascinated by them. This was the point she had been dreading ever since he began the conversation.

“Would you prefer that I hadn’t?” she countered defensively.

“No, I confess I like living.” Jon paused, intent on the small face that was carefully averted from him. “Cathy, look at me.”

Unwillingly her eyes lifted to his. His regard was frankly speculative, while hers was wary.

“Why did you go for help? If you dislike my lovemaking so much, you had the perfect opportunity to be rid of it—and me—forever. I even told you where the constabulary was located! Why didn’t you take advantage of it?”

Cathy met his probing eyes defiantly. If he was waiting to hear her confess to an undying love for him, he’d wait for a long time, she vowed. Anyway, it was nothing like that!

“I’m not like you, Captain. I couldn’t just stand by while you were murdered!”

“Is that it?” His eyes were beginning to take on a mocking
glint. “Or is it that you’re—ah—growing fond of me?”

“Don’t be more conceited than you can help!” Cathy snapped angrily. “You’re twice my age, and not at all my type! I infinitely prefer gentlemen to rampaging pirates!” His words had flicked her in a vulnerable spot, and Cathy was determined to hide it. “Anyway,” she continued, bouncing the ball back into his court. “Why did you come after me? After all, as you said, there were plenty of women in Cadiz who would have been happy to share your bed! So why not just let me go? Could it be that you’re—ah—growing fond of me?”

Deliberately she aped his words, wanting to prick him as he had her. Jon’s eyes glinted at her.

“I have a very simple answer to that, my sharp-clawed little cat, and one that you would do well to take heed of: What is mine, I keep.”

“And am I yours?” she asked, her blue eyes sparkling up at him provocatively.

“For the moment, yes.” Then it was Jon who seemed anxious to drop the subject. He picked up the cards he had let fall and attempted to teach Cathy the intricacies of the game of veinte-un. Cathy allowed the conversation to lapse, but kept it carefully in the back of her mind to ponder over at her leisure. Was it possible that her fierce pirate captain was beginning to fall just a little bit in love with her? The thought warmed and excited her in a way she hadn’t thought possible. If Jon were to love her, she mused, she’d have him just where she wanted him—at her feet! And from time to time she might even relent and let him kiss her. But no more. Captain Hale still had much to learn about the correct way to woo a lady! She grinned at the thought of her lusty pirate captain being
forced to content himself with the chaste pecks grudgingly permitted in polite society. He wouldn’t like that at all! Well, perhaps after he had suffered sufficiently she might relent.…

“You look like a very smug little cat who’s just finished off a big bowl of cream,” Jon observed laconically, breaking her out of her reverie. “Care to tell me what you were thinking about?”

“Veinte-un, of course,” Cathy replied pertly, wrinkling her nose at him. Her fantasy vision had restored her good humor. “What else?”

“What else indeed?” he asked enigmatically, and then turned his attention back to the cards. The subject was finally allowed to drop.

Once restored to consciousness, Jon was a difficult patient. He was mocking and irritable by turns, chafing at his inability to get out of bed or perform any but the simplest chores for himself. He flatly refused to let Cathy feed him again after that first time, but he had to let her cut up his meat for him before he could fork it into his mouth. This annoyed him considerably and he took it out on Cathy, throwing barbed remarks at her like darts as she helped him. Cathy managed to stifle her natural impulse to tell him to go to the devil, knowing that his helplessness grated on him like a sore tooth. Even though it occasionally cost her an effort, she used sweet reason when she dealt with him, pointing out that if he wanted to be shaved and bathed, either herself or Petersham would have to do it for him. He submitted with bad grace to her ministrations, which he grudgingly preferred to Petersham’s.

He was acting just like a spoiled child, as Cathy told
him hotly when he sulkily refused to let her change the dressings on his wounds. His nostrils flared angrily at this description, and angry color seeped high into his cheekbones. He opened his mouth as if he would hurl abuse at her, but then with a wry grimace closed it again, and let her change his bandages and give him his pill. Later he kissed the inside of her elbow penitently. Cathy glared at him, sighed, and forgave him.

Under Dr. Sandoz’s supervision, he had been just barely manageable, but once the
Margarita
was back again on the high seas he was at his autocratic worst. In deference to Petersham’s sensibilities, Cathy had persuaded him to allow himself to be attired in the nightshirts he despised. He gave in to her grudgingly, then complained about how uncomfortable he was in the pesky things until Cathy longed to tell him to be naked and be damned. The only way she could handle him at all was to threaten to turn him over to Petersham’s tender mercies. This he refused to hear of. He wanted Cathy at his side constantly, reading to him, playing cards or chess, talking, or even just sitting there. She was only able to get away for a scant fifteen minutes or so each day while he very reluctantly napped.

“You’re looking pale, Cathy,” Harry said to her with concern late one afternoon as she joined him on the quarterdeck. The
Margarita
had been at sea again for over a week. Today the ship was moving briskly through gently rolling waves, a sharp sea breeze at her back. Cathy took a deep, invigorating breath of the salty air before replying.

“I must confess that I’m feeling a little pale.” She laughed, her blue eyes twinkling up at Harry roguishly. “Jon’s like a child. He demands constant attention.”

“You’re not much more than a child yourself,” Harry
answered sharply, his eyes cloudy with disapproval. “If I’d known from the first how young and sweet and—and everything you were, I would never have let Jon have you. He was a brute to take advantage of your innocence!”

Harry’s unaccustomed frankness took Cathy aback. Of course, she had realized that he was aware of the unorthodox nature of her relationship with his captain, as indeed every man aboard ship must be. Her constant presence in Jon’s cabin was enough to make it plain. The captain was a lusty man, and before he was wounded there was nothing in the world to stop him from taking her. Still, it was not a subject that was easily discussed. Cathy blushed a little, but her answer was wryly honest.

“You couldn’t have kept him from—well, doing what he did. And as you see I’ve survived, and will continue to survive. One day, when I’m back home again, this will probably seem like a tremendous adventure.”

Cathy smiled whimsically as she spoke, thinking that it was not likely that she would be going home again for a very long time. Jon showed no disposition to rid himself of her at any time in the near future.

“The other hostages were freed in Cadiz,” Harry told her abruptly.

“I know.” Cathy’s smile widened. “I heard Jon tell you to see to it the day I ran away.”

“So, that’s why you did it! I wondered, you know. By then, it was too late to. … Well, it was just too late.” Harry broke off, color suddenly staining his cheeks.