by Linda Ladd
His eyes hardened as the dance drew to an end, well remembering the night in Caitlin's bedchamber when she had proved her expertise at kissing a man. Every nerve and fiber in his body strained with the desire to pace across the floor and wrench them apart. He relaxed somewhat when Francis relinquished the opportunity to kiss her, lifting her hand to his lips instead. The young planter was no lecher like Jamison Tyborn, and Trey felt not a little disappointment that he could not point out such a flaw in Durham's character to Caitlin.
"Captain Cameron? May I have a word with you?" Trey pulled his eyes off his ward and found Marianne McSpadden close by his side. Her green eyes sparkled flirtatiously as she tilted her head at a becoming angle to smile up at him.
"Come dance with me," she said gaily, taking his hand. "And do not worry so. There is no need to watch Caitlin as you do. She finds Francis most charming, and Francis can barely speak in her presence, so besotted with her is he."
Her words did little to lessen Trey's resolve to keep the couple close at hand, but he smiled warmly at her as he held out his arm in a gallant manner.
"'Twould be a great pleasure, milady. I am only surprised that you are not sought by the countless gentlemen about us who eye you with such open admiration."
Marianne blushed profusely, having waited in vain for a very long time for the handsome captain to approach her before she had finally decided to take matters to hand. Throughout the following dance, and although Trey treated his partner with the utmost respect, his gaze strayed relentlessly to the secluded spot near one of the open doors where Francis now sat close beside Caitlin. The fact that he could not see them well added to his impatience, and he welcomed the end of the music.
"I have heard much of your exploits aboard the Anna, Lady Caitlin," Francis said from his spot across the room. He smiled. "But you have rarely mentioned them to me."
Caitlin's eyes left Trey and Marianne to look at Francis. She had not expected him to berate her for her past, and it bothered her that he now did. She stared at him, wondering if he would show his true character, for indeed, in the last few days she had found him almost too good to be true.
"I will not apologize for what I have been," she said after a moment. "I would be aboard the Anna now if I had a choice."
Francis laughed. "I would not blame you for that. Father always complains that I am all too willing to leave the plantation to the overseer and sail on our merchant ships. It is hard for him to understand my love of the sea since he thinks only of the land."
"Then you must understand how I feel," Caitlin said quickly, and Francis nodded.
"I do, and I, like Marianne, rather envy all the exciting things you have done. Although I can understand why Captain Cameron had to stop your illegal activities," he added quickly.
Caitlin's eyes hardened slightly at the mention of her guardian's name, and Francis noted the slow flush that rose to stain her delicate cheekbones. He misunderstood the reason for it and took her hand.
"He does it for your own good, you know, and I can only feel gratitude, since it is he who has brought you into my company."
His eyes were sincere, winning a smile from Caitlin. "I detest him," she said. "You are by far the most kind of the gentlemen whom he has suffered me to meet."
Her words brought a flush of pleasure over Francis's boyishly handsome face.
"You cannot know how such words please me," Francis answered, reaching out to lay his hand on hers. "I hope you will accept my proposal of marriage. I have already taken the liberty of entreating the same of Captain Cameron."
Caitlin found that she was enjoying his kindness and polite manners after all the weeks of being ordered about by Trey. She looked at the young man closely, thinking him most attractive if indeed she had to go through with a marriage. If he were as nice as he seemed, perhaps she could even grow to love him. She looked down to where his hand touched hers, aware that his touch did not send tremors over her flesh as other long brown fingers were prone to do. She shook her thoughts away, wondering if she could survive the lack of freedom a husband would surely bring with him, even someone as nice as Francis Durham
"And what would you expect of me if I were to become your wife?" she asked, searching his face, afraid of what he might answer.
"I would only want to make you happy, if it is in my ability to do so."
His answer pleased her, but she felt it only fair to warn him.
"I must tell you that I am not well versed in the accomplishments that gentlemen expect from their wives," she told him. "I hate to sew or collect flowers and such, and …" She took a deep breath, knowing her next words would probably shock him. "And I hate wearing dresses like this one. I had worn men's breeches all my life until Captain Cameron made me stop."
She had anticipated correctly. Francis looked notably astonished at first. But, then, to her surprise, he leaned back his head and laughed.
"'Tis most unusual, I will admit. Father would be most scandalized by such an admission; as for me, you can wear what you want. I intend to ply the seas in our merchantmen, and I would welcome you at my side."
Caitlin was not quite sure she believed him, although his eyes seemed guileless, but his mild reaction to her less than docile remarks was a far cry better than she was likely to receive from any other man. Francis Durham seemed a more suitable husband with each passing moment.
For some time, Trey had been observing the two from where he stood among Richard and a group of gentlemen guests, but at the sight of their heads leaning close together, he excused himself and wended a path toward them. Caitlin was not aware of his approach, and she was startled by the deep timbre of his voice at her shoulder.
"I have need to speak to my ward, if you please, Mister Durham," he said tersely, and Caitlin stiffened.
"I prefer to stay here with Francis," Caitlin replied coldly.
Trey's face grew hard, and Francis stood at once, certainly not ready to annoy the man who would decide the fate of the delectable lady with whom he had fallen most hopelessly in love.
"I have need to give my regards to Marianne and Sir Henry, Lady Caitlin. But I hope you will promise me another dance very soon."
"I will promise you all of them," Caitlin said with a smile, feeling rather well disposed toward him all of a sudden, despite, or perhaps because of, the dark scowl on the handsome captain's face.
"Do not attempt to anger me," Trey said tightly after Francis had bowed to Caitlin and moved away.
Caitlin laughed mockingly. "I do not have to attempt such a thing. Whatever I do angers you."
Trey ignored her jibe, smiling stiffly as an elderly couple passed nearby, both of them eyeing Caitlin's angry face curiously. He sat down on the small divan beside her, where Francis had been, not used to the unchained feelings roiling around inside him.
"You really should make an attempt to meet other gentlemen here. You have not left Durham's side," he told her in a far sharper tone than he had intended.
"Well, I certainly didn't have him shackled to my bloody leg," Caitlin retorted, becoming incensed herself. He attacked her this time for no good reason, and she would not stand still for his bad temper.
I told you not to curse, dammit," Trey said, the control he had exercised slipping several notches. Caitlin raised one brow in elegant censure, and Trey's teeth clamped shut.
"What do you think of Durham?" he asked stiffly.
"I like him very much, and find him much better company than you, so if you will get on with what you have to say, I intend to seek him out again."
"Ladies do not seek out gentlemen. They wait to be approached by them. Do not make the mistake of throwing yourself at Durham, or he might lose interest."
Caitlin's words were frigid.
"He does not seem to be losing interest. In fact, he has already asked me to marry him, and you will be heartened to hear that I am considering him most seriously."
"You have only met the man a few days ago, how can you be ready to accept him
?"
"There is just no pleasing you, is there?" Caitlin hissed furiously, not caring that several guests nearby turned to look at them. "First you are furious for my not being interested in some fat slob or grotesque lecher, and now you are angry that I have found a man to my liking! You are impossible, and I think I will choose Durham just to be rid of you! Perhaps once you sail away and leave me in peace, I can be happy again! At least Francis doesn't berate me for everything I do and say!"
She jumped to her feet, moving away in an angry rustle of silk and lace, while Trey sat rigidly on the divan and watched her find her way back to Francis, who stood waiting for her across the room. He bridled in silent rage as Caitlin flung him a defiant look before leaning close to Francis to whisper in his ear. Trey's face grew red; he had never felt so frustrated, nor so ridiculous. The girl hated him intensely, yet he could not take his eyes away from her or erase her from his thoughts. It was as if he were bewitched, caught in some web of enchantment from which he could not fight his way free. He watched grimly as Caitlin was led to the dance floor again, deciding he would have to agree to her marriage to Durham, and quickly, before she drove him completely mad.
Chapter Twelve
Like a pall of heavy smoke, silence hung over Trey and Caitlin as they drove the northern road to Windsway. The interior of the carriage was dim, lit only by a single candle in the small interior lantern. Trey's face was set in hard lines as he watched Caitlin. She sat across from him, her eyes fixed on the full moon that hung in white majesty against the velvety night sky. She appeared calm and content, in contrast to Trey's inner conflict, as he admired the play of the flickering light over her delicate profile.
He had spent an endless week watching Caitlin being wooed and touched by Francis Durham, until he had endured enough and cut short their stay in Bridgetown by several days. Caitlin had not seemed to mind his abrupt decision to depart, and, in truth, nothing seemed to bother her since the eager young planter had begun to court her. Despite the tedious comments from all involved about the wonderful compatibility of the couple, Trey had not yet inscribed Francis Durham's name on the certificate of marriage that he carried in his coat pocket. The nuptial banns had been posted and the legalities of the union had been handled by Sir Henry, and all assumed that Durham would naturally be Trey's choice for the groom. The wedding date was three days hence, and Richard had remained in Bridgetown to escort the priest to Windsway for the ceremony.
Caitlin moved, bringing Trey's eyes to her as she tucked a wayward lock of fiery hair back into the heavy coil at her nape. Trey stared at her, his fingers nearly trembling with the desire to lean forward and touch her. Several hours of being so close to her, the warm scent of lavender teasing his senses, had worked unmercifully against his willpower.
More than once he had spread the marriage contracts before him, ready to affix the young man's name to them and be finished with it, but instead the quill had remained poised in his hand until he'd thrown it aside, unwilling to take the last step forever binding Caitlin over to another man. He mocked himself over his own foolishness, aware that such a delay served no good purpose. Caitlin had to marry one of the islanders upon the Queen's express command, and Durham would be that man. The others had been out of the question from the beginning. Trey took a deep breath of resignation, wondering if she had truly fallen in love with Francis Durham.
Across from him, Caitlin sorted through similar thoughts, her serene countenance at direct odds with her nervousness over her rapidly approaching wedding day. During the last week, she had searched her heart concerning Francis, hoping she might truly have a chance for happiness in a marriage of convenience.
Despite the fact that Trey had dogged their every footstep during their stay at the governor's mansion, Francis had been most attentive and kind, and in no way patronizing and arrogant like the big man across from her. She glanced at him through long lashes, only to find his intense blue regard on her with a most unsettling look. She looked quickly away. She berated herself for the increased cadence of her heart, knowing he considered her only a burden to be rid of as soon as possible. He had told her as much many times, had he not? It infuriated her that his presence continued to affect her, and any slight recollection of their one embrace never failed to initiate fierce longings deep inside her. The few kisses Francis had stolen on the rare occasions when their sharp-eyed chaperon wasn't breathing down their necks had been pleasant enough, she thought sadly, but they did not make her knees grow weak as Trey Cameron's had done. She did not understand it at all, especially since he had seemed to feel little when he held her.
Angrily, Caitlin shook her traitorous thoughts away, deciding in that moment that she would be glad when she was married to Francis and away from Trey Cameron. Although Trey had once told her that her preference would be taken into consideration, he had not asked her, and she was determined to make sure he knew how she felt, especially since he did not seem to like Francis overly much. She steeled herself, looking at him as the carriage turned into the palm-lined avenue that led through grassy lawns to the portico of Windsway.
"I know you have not asked me, but I would like you to know that I have found Francis Durham most acceptable as a husband. I have thought on it a long time, and I feel I might find happiness with him, where I know I would not with any of the others."
She waited expectantly, hoping he would nod and agree, but to her surprise, his brows hunched together. When he didn't respond, Caitlin became alarmed, appalled to think that he might consider one of the others.
"You are going to choose him, aren't you?" she asked anxiously, and the worry in her voice irritated Trey.
"I have not reached a firm decision as yet," he said flatly, watching Caitlin's face pale to white before flushing hotly as a deep-rooted rage mushroomed in her breast to burst forth in furious words.
"Well, I have, damn you! It's my life we are talking about! And the Queen said I was to have my choice! You said so yourself!"
Trey's muscles turned to stone, frustration and suppressed desires fighting a battle with his composure as the carriage came to a stop. He was being cruel and unreasonable with her, and what was worse, he knew it but could not stop himself.
"I will consider your feelings, of course," he said very low. "But there are other considerations I must review, not just your attraction for the man."
Caitlin lost all ability to control her volcanic temper then, and it exploded into a full-scale eruption. Her voice was shrill with fury.
"You may consider all you want, you big wooden-brained idiot! But I will marry no one but Francis! And you cannot make me! I would rather die than marry any of the others!"
Trey watched, feeling the shame of his own actions, as she flung open the doors and scrambled to the ground. He climbed out after her, looking grimly after her as she ran across the lawn toward the cliff-walk. The moon was bright, making it easy to see her, and he started in the same direction. He had been the cause of her distress, he knew, and the time had come to let her go. He would have to let her marry Durham, and he would tell her that now.
Caitlin ran to the sandy path that wound down to the beach, fighting the tears that were burning her eyes, wanting only to get away from Trey. She wanted time alone where he couldn't torment her. The thought of spending her life with one of the horrible men he meant to choose for her sent her cold with horror, and she increased her speed.
The moon hung over the bay, strewing a wide shimmering trail of diamonds to the starry horizon. When Caitlin reached the bottom of the cliffs, she stopped only long enough to kick off her shoes. She panted from the exertion of her flight, her eyes on the masts of the Glory silhouetted against the moon.
She hurried across the fine white sand until the cool water rushed up over her bare feet, wetting the hem of her gown. She looked longingly toward the ship, needing desperately to see Christian, to talk to him. Her loneliness was an ache in her heart, and her teeth caught at her lower lip. Her dejected expression beg
an to change, however, as a new thought hit her full force. Why couldn't she go to him? She was an expert swimmer, and she and Christian had often swum to the outcroppings in the bay. They lay farther than the ship!
She smiled, her fingers going to the buttons of her bodice. She would sneak aboard in the darkness, and perhaps she could even free him, she thought, suddenly excited. An escape would end all talk of a marriage. She tugged at her dress impatiently, stepping quickly out of it, then pulled loose the ribbon ties of her petticoats. When she wore only her batiste chemise, she plunged into the surf, determined that she was through with Trey Cameron and his orders. She would take her fate into her own hands, and let him try to stop her!
Trey was halfway down the cliff when he saw her. His eyes sharpened and held on the dark figure entering the waves, and he took the rest of the descent at a run. She had said she would die first, and Trey knew that if indeed she meant to take her life, it would be to the sea that she would go. His heart pounded with fear as he jerked off his boots and coat, his eyes riveted on Caitlin's bright hair glinting in the moonlight.
Once past the first breakers, Caitlin swam toward her goal with strong, even strokes, feeling free of spirit again. The dark and turbulent water did not frighten her, her only thought to be with Christian again. She was totally unprepared when Trey reached her, his large hands turning her easily. She cried out, struggling impotently as the cresting waves took them a good distance back toward the beach.
"No!" she screamed, trying desperately to twist out of his grip as a second wave crashed over their heads. When her feet touched the sandy bottom, she tried to stand, but it was not to be, for Trey lifted her up against his chest, sloshing with her into waist-deep water. Caitlin fought his tight grip, her voice nearly obliterated by the rushing surf.
