Island Flame (23 page)

“Would you like me to leave?” Perhaps they had something to discuss that was not for her ears.

“Not at all,” both men assured her at the same time. Jon turned a razor-sharp look on Harry.

Cathy saw that look and crossed quickly to Jon’s side, placing a slender hand on his shoulder and smiling down at him.

“It’s time you had a rest.” Her voice was caressing, partly for Harry’s benefit and partly because she couldn’t help herself. Jon was distracted, as she had meant him to be. His hand came up to cover hers, pressing it down into the hard muscles of his shoulder. Cathy felt a twinge of excitement run through her fingers. Harry watched them resentfully, and then abruptly stood up to go, his eyes hard.

“We can finish this another time, Captain,” Harry said stiffly. Jon flashed him a glinting look as he stalked from the cabin.

To Cathy’s uneasy surprise, Jon said nothing at all when they were once again alone. The silence was heavy as he hobbled across to the bunk and began to undress. A deep frown furrowed his brow and his mouth was tight as he tugged painfully out of his breeches. When he had levered himself into the bed Cathy could bear the ominous stillness no longer. She came to sit beside him, pulling a
pillow out from under his head so that he was forced to lie flat, and tucking the quilts up around his chest. His eyes were fixed on her, broodingly, as she ministered to him. It was stupid, she knew, but she felt absurdly guilty under that dark gaze.

“Cathy.” His hand caught her wrist as she would have turned away. “Has Harry been—pestering—you while I’ve been laid up?”

She knew he must have felt the nervous start of her pulse under his hand, but there was nothing she could do about it. Damn Harry anyway, for putting her in this position! She didn’t want to lie, but on the other hand she didn’t want to cause trouble between Jon and one of his oldest friends.

“No,” she answered coolly, not quite meeting his eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“He watches you like a gull after fish. I don’t like it. If he’s been making a nuisance of himself, tell me. I’ll put a stop to it mighty fast.” With an effort, Cathy smiled at him, hoping to lighten his mood.

“If I were conceited, I’d think you were jealous, Captain,” she teased. Jon’s eyes held hers for a moment as if struck by what she had said. His voice was strangely husky when he replied.

“And if I were, would I have reason?” His eyes burned into hers like hot coals. Cathy couldn’t suppress a tiny shiver of triumph. If he were jealous, and it seemed very much like he was, then he must be far down the road to being in love with her. Jon saw the brief flicker in her eyes, and frowned heavily, his hand tightening painfully around her wrist.

“I said, have I reason to be jealous?” His voice was stark.

Cathy grinned down at him, her eyes twinkling impishly.

“I should let you stew,” she said reflectively. “I think it would do you good.”

Jon’s face darkened thunderously as he glared up at her. His grasp on her wrist tightened so much that she winced.

“Don’t play games with me, my cat,” he warned, eyes menacing her. “You might not like the consequences. I’ll ask once more: have I reason to be jealous?”

Cathy would have been angry at his threat if the disquiet in his eyes hadn’t made her so happy. She pursed her lips, looking down at the floor as though dreading his reaction to what she had to tell him, then bent quick as a flash to whisper in his ear, “No, but I think you are anyway.”

She could see the red come up under his skin as he absorbed the full import of her statement. His eyes flashed to hers as she straightened, their expression both wary and faintly sheepish. Cathy waited expectantly, but he was not yet ready to admit to feeling any tender emotion where she was concerned.

“What I have, I keep,” was all he said. Cathy didn’t really mind. It might take a little time, but one day he would love her and admit it. She felt sure of it. In the meantime, she could wait.

The next day was hot and airless, with the kind of heavy sultriness that presages a storm. It took all Cathy’s ingenuity to keep Jon amused. He was itching to be back in charge of his ship, fretting that Harry would not do a proper job of preparing for the bad weather that seemed to be ahead of them. Tactfully Cathy tried to discourage him, and when that didn’t work she told him bluntly
that he was not yet strong enough to even stand on the quarterdeck. His wounds were healing nicely, but he still tired easily, and his appetite had not yet returned. Cathy scolded him roundly for leaving almost his entire portion of salted pork untouched at midday. He scowled up at her sullenly, like a thwarted small boy, and Cathy had to smile. She was still smiling as she called to Petersham to take the remains of the meal away, and then came back to sit beside Jon who was propped up in the bunk.

“How do you feel?” she asked, her eyes running over him proprietorily. He had lost weight since being wounded, but not enough to mar the splendid lines of his body. His leanness only served to accentuate the strength of his corded muscles.

“Like some puling infant,” he answered grumpily, his eyes resting on the swelling curves of her breasts. Cathy remained stoic under his rapidly warming perusal. Bedding him whenever he wished wasn’t getting her anywhere, she reflected. Perhaps it was time to try a new tactic. Let him go without her for a while, and his affections might suddenly blossom.

Jon, undeterred by her indifference, stretched out a questing finger to follow the trail blazed by his eyes. Cathy slapped his hand away only to find herself dragged across his lap to lie half on him, half on the bunk. His mouth came down to twist across hers hungrily. Cathy returned the embrace for a moment before lightly biting her teeth down on his tongue. Jon yelped, jumping back, his hand going up to test the injured member.

“It’s a pity you’re not as hungry for food as you are for me,” she said lightly. “You might regain your strength sooner.”

“I’m strong enough to tame a vixen,” he grunted, his hands reaching for her purposefully. Cathy did her best to elude him, but she was hampered by her own desires. Eventually she surrendered to greater force of arms, and returned his kisses warmly. But when his hand groped behind her back for the fastenings to her dress, Cathy set it away from her firmly.

“No,” she said. His eyes opened to stare at her.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to,” she told him haughtily, tilting her fine-boned little nose at him. “I’d—I’d rather talk.”

“Talk!” Jon groaned, rolling over onto his back with a pained expression.

“Yes, talk.” Cathy was determined not to surrender to him again, operating on the theory that abstinence makes the heart grow fonder.

“Go ahead,” Jon sighed, crossing his hands behind his head. Cathy wriggled upward until she lay full upon his chest, her chin propped in her hands as she looked at him, her legs between his, so as not to jar his injured thigh. His eyes warmed appreciatively at the method of her conversation, but when he would have kissed her again Cathy held him off, flickering her small tongue out at him playfully.

“Have you ever been in love?” Cathy began when they were settled at last.

“Oh, God!” he mumbled, closing his eyes as if pained. “She wants to talk about it, and I want to do it!

“Many times.” He grinned devilishly, entering into the spirit of the conversation. “And each time lasted about half an hour.”

“Very funny,” Cathy said sourly. “I meant, really in love?”

“When I was sixteen I was totally infatuated with my stepmother,” he answered lightly, his eyes on the ceiling.

“Really?” Cathy asked suspiciously.

“Yes, really,” he replied. “She was twenty when my father married her, a beautiful black-haired wench with flashing dark eyes and all the right equipment. At the time I thought she was the loveliest thing in the whole world.”

“What happened?” Cathy asked a trifle stiffly, not able to control a prick of jealousy. Yet how ridiculous it was to hate a woman she had never heard of before, and for something that had occurred almost twenty years before.

“I was so infatuated that I followed her everywhere. I was just a boy, remember, and I worshipped her like a goddess. She didn’t even know I was alive, I don’t think. I certainly never remember her looking, let alone smiling, at me. I put her up on a pedestal, and never even thought of touching her. Such a thing would have seemed like a sacrilege. Anyway, I followed her to the dressmaker one August afternoon. She went to the dressmaker about twice a week, and usually I just hung around outside until she came out. This time, for no reason in particular, I happened to wander around back and saw her leaving by a rear entrance. Quite naturally, I was intrigued, and followed her. She walked to a little house set well back from the street, and went inside. I didn’t know what to think. In my innocence, I supposed that she must be visiting another dressmaker, or perhaps a milliner, for some reason. After a while, curiosity got the better of my sense of propriety, and I went up to the house and peeped through the windows. My dear stepmother was as naked as the day she was born on the floor of the library, mewling like a bitch in heat, while a man I’d never seen before in my life rode between her thighs.”

“Did you tell your father?” Cathy gasped, fascination overcoming shock.

“Certainly not. He wouldn’t have believed me, anyway. He was in love with her, and thought she was the most perfect creature on earth.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I packed my few clothes and left that night. I couldn’t stick around after that. The thought of what I’d seen made me want to throw up. If I had stayed, I might have killed her.” Jon’s voice was still deliberately light, but Cathy was able to discern the harsh note of remembered disillusion that lay beneath it. She placed a consoling hand on his bristly cheek. He turned his mouth into the palm, then grimaced down at her.

“Save your sympathy, sweet. Although I didn’t think so at the time, I know now that the slut did me a service. I was never that young or that naive again.”

“And—and did you soon fall in love with someone else?” Cathy’s voice was very sweet and a touch wistful. Jon’s eyes glinted down at her.

“Not in the same way. My other loves were all of the type you’re too young to hear about.” He was teasing her, and Cathy twinkled back at him, glad that the harshness had left his face.

“I’d ask you if you’d ever been in love,” he twitted her, “except that you’re just a baby. You haven’t had time.”

“I most certainly have!” Cathy protested indignantly. Then, seeing the sharp look he turned on her, she amended hastily, “Well, I’ve had lots of beaus.”

“I can imagine,” he answered dryly, his eyes moving over the winsome beauty of her face and form. “And did they bring you flowers and kiss your hand?”

“Of course,” Cathy replied with dignity.

“That’s all they did,” Jon muttered under his breath.

“How do you know?” Cathy looked at him flirtatiously from beneath her long lashes, hoping to provoke him to another display of jealousy. She felt cheated when he merely grinned.

“My cat, it was obvious the first time I kissed you. You were totally untouched by man.”

“That’s your opinion,” Cathy sniffed, nettled.

“That’s a fact.” Jon pinched the tip of her nose playfully. “I’ve bedded enough women to know when one has had experience. You hadn’t. Not a bit.”

The tips of Cathy’s ears turned pink with embarrassment. She stared at him reproachfully.

“You make it sound like I’m just one in a very long line.” Her voice was stiff despite her attempt to speak naturally.

Jon looked at her through narrowed eyes. She sounded hurt, and he hadn’t meant to do that.

“Jealous?” he teased to distract her.

“Not at all,” Cathy replied coldly. “I’d certainly never be jealous over you.”

“Good. I hate a jealous woman,” Jon told her cheerfully, and when her eyes snapped at him he grinned and rolled over with her.

“Enough talk,” he grunted, pushing her down into the soft mattress. “I’m hungry. And not for food.”

When Cathy left the cabin some two hours later, Jon was still sleeping peacefully. There went her plan to win his heart by denying him her body, she thought ruefully. He hadn’t even had to force her. His sensuous caresses had set her body afire, and, after that, making love to her
had been as easy as rowing downstream. Oh, well, she thought, shrugging. At least she had enjoyed losing.

The sun was sinking beneath the horizon, its bright orange globe only half visible above the rippling, gold-edged sea. Streamers of pink and lavender clouds curved around it like a pinwheel, making a sunset so breathtaking that Cathy stepped to the rail to get a better look. The deck was deserted except for the officer of the watch, and the silence was broken only by the creaking timbers and the popping of sails. Cathy stood leaning lightly on the rail, drinking in the utter peace of the hour before darkness, not thinking of anything in particular, not even Jon.

“I see he rides you well,” a tight voice jeered behind her. Cathy sighed deeply, knowing who it was before she turned. Harry, of course! Really, she wished he would get over this ridiculous notion that he was in love with her. It was growing exceedingly tiresome.

“Good evening, Harry,” she said coolly, ignoring his taunt.

“Good evening, Harry,” he said, mimicking her well-bred tone angrily. “I’ll wager that’s not how you greet Jon.”

“But you’re not Jon,” Cathy pointed out with a slight edge to her voice. She gathered up her skirts and started to sweep past him, but his hand on her arm stopped her. Cathy stared pointedly down at the restraining hand, silently demanding to be released.

“Let me go, Harry,” she ordered grimly, hoping that she would not be obliged to call for assistance. After Jon’s questions of the day before, it would not take very much to reawaken his suspicions. And if she should be forced to make any kind of commotion to get away from this bumbling ass, Jon would surely hear of it.

“Not yet.” His voice was low, and he was looking at her with half-shamed desire. “I want to apologize for the way I’ve been acting lately. I—I can’t seem to help myself. You’re so beautiful and I love you so much. Just the thought of you in his arms is driving me crazy.”