Catalina's Caress

by Sylvie F. Sommerfield

  Catalina could only let out one muffled cry of protest before his mouth lowered to take hers.

  She struggled valiantly, but his greater size made all her efforts ineffectual. He found her struggle just a little too exciting as she writhed against him, so as abruptly as he had grabbed her, he pushed her away from him.

  She staggered back a step or two, her anger returning. Drawing herself erect, despite her ragged breathing she spoke coolly. "What do you want for the title to the Southern Belle?"

  Marc chuckled. "I don't think you have enough money to buy it back. Maybe I should talk to your father instead."

  He saw her face go pale and her hands clench into fists, and he knew he had struck a very vulnerable spot. It did not take him too long to put two and two together. He was pretty sure now that her father still didn't know the truth; she had come to see that he never did. He had another pawn on his chessboard .. . and he meant to use it.

  Catalina reached into the small bag she carried and withdrew the pearls. Marc quickly realized that they were of uncommon beauty and probably worth a small fortune. He cocked an eyebrow and gazed at her in silence.

  "I have enough," she said coldly. This necklace alone is is worth more than what Seth lost. It was fifty thousand dollars, wasn't it?" She said the words with such scorn that Marc could feel her antagonism across the room.

  "Your brother lost this boat," he reminded her calmly.

  "I know that, but the sum of money was fifty thousand dollars."

  "That," he said firmly, as if he were explaining the facts to a child, "was before he signed the title to me. Now, if you want it back, you'll have to pay the price of the boat... that is, if I remember well, a little over two hundred thousand."

  Catalina's mouth opened in shock and her eyes widened at his words.

  "You can't mean that! That's robbery!"

  "That's the chance you take when you gamble," he declared calmly. "He lost, I won. If you want the boat... pay for it." He watched her hands tremble as she slowly put the pearls back into her bag.

  "I take it you don't have that much?"

  "Why can't you be reasonable?"

  "But I am reasonable," he stated. "I have something you want; it has a price. If you can't pay it... well"— he grinned as he let his gaze rake over her body—"I suppose we could come to some kind of agreement— use some other terms."

  It took a minute for his words to register, but when they did Catalina reached a new plane of fury.

  "You are truly unbelievable. You are the lowest form of life. How dare you suggest that I... I..."

  "You overestimate yourself," he said, his smile broadening. "I never suggested that you do anything. Besides"—he eyed her critically—"you're a trifle small. I imagine you wouldn't be exceptional in bed. Of course, you might change my mind. We could talk it over."

  She was nearly choking on the combination of his insults and her desperation.

  "I'll find you the money."

  "Of course ... you just need to speak to your father. He has an unlimited supply. After all, he's accumulated a lot of other people's."

  Tears sprang to Catalina's eyes, which only succeeded in making her angrier. She refused to cry before this monstrously heartless swine.

  "You want your boat back that badly?" he asked softly.

  "Yes," she replied hopefully.

  "I'm in a position to make you a bargain."

  "A bargain?" she queried suspiciously.

  "Do you want to listen?"

  "Yes."

  "Come aboard my ship. Share my cabin for three days as my mistress. After that, I'll return the signed deed to you."

  He watched the murderous glow appear in her eyes, and knew if she had a pistol she would have shot him. But before she could put words to her rage, he stepped aside and opened the door.

  "You have a week to think it over. If you're not here by then"—he shrugged—"I shall continue with my plans for my boat. Good night, Miss Carrington." He chuckled. "Sleep well."

  Catalina lifted her chin defiantly. She still hoped that Travis would lend Seth the money he needed. If he did, she would laugh in Marc Copeland's face and tell him what she truly thought of him. She swept past him and was not amused to hear his soft chuckle.

  Marc stood near the rail and watched her enter her carriage. He thought of how rewarding it would be to use and discard Catalina Carrington. It would make the taste of revenge even sweeter. In so doing, he would destroy the two things Joseph Carrington held dearest, his daughter and his son—and at the same time.

  ❧

  Marc was still deep in black thought when his attention was drawn to a carriage that had stopped at the foot of the gangplank.

  He expected no visitors, but then he was almost always prepared for the unexpected. That sixth sense of his had protected him many times.

  He recognized Travis Sherman at once, and wondered what was so important it brought him here so late at night. Then another thought occurred to him. How did Travis Sherman know he'd find him aboard the Southern Belle? If he didn't, just who was he planning on visiting? Which Carrington ... and why? He didn't trust any of the Carringtons, and he most certainly didn't trust any of their friends either. He knew a great deal about Travis Sherman, and thought him a very appropriate friend for people like the Carringtons.

  He met Travis at the head of the gangplank the moment Sherman stepped on the deck.

  "Travis.'' He acknowledged the man's greeting with one word. "What are you doing down here?"

  "Had some business in New Orleans and thought I'd drop by to share a little of your excellent brandy while I was here." Travis laughed.

  Marc doubted that this was a casual visit, but he would wait until Travis got around to telling him why he had come. Travis's motives were always self-oriented. Marc was certain this man wanted something from him ... and he was reasonably sure of what the something was. He began to wonder just how close Travis Sherman and Catalina Carrington were.

  They are two of a kind, he thought, and he decided that she had probably used Travis for reinforcement in case she failed to get what she wanted.

  They went to Marc's quarters, where Travis accepted a glass of brandy.

  "Always knew you were a smart one," he said, "but getting the Southern Belle from the Carringtons is quite a feat. I always thought the old man put a lot of store in her. He sure as hell paid a lot of money to have her built and outfitted like this."

  "I'm sure you know exactly what he paid for it." Marc laughed.

  "I do."

  "And I'm sure you knew how I got it before you came here," Marc added quietly. "Just what do you think you can accomplish that she couldn't?"

  "She?"

  "Catalina Carrington.''

  "So she's been here already. I thought I'd be able to stop her from doing anything so foolish. Maybe," Travis said shrewdly, "she still doesn't have any idea that you hate the Carringtons so badly you can taste it."

  "Nothing personal... just business," Marc replied.

  "Business ... you conduct business over a card table?"

  "If it's necessary."

  "Why was it necessary? You could have tried to buy the boat from the old man. You know, Marc, I've an idea there's a whole lot more behind all this than just a gambling debt."

  Marc smiled and shrugged, but he had no intention of opening any doors to the past.

  "I'd like to buy her from you," Travis stated quietly.

  "What makes you think I want to sell her?"

  "You can make a hell of a profit. I know you got her for a song."

  "Well," Marc said amusedly, "there's profit... and then there's profit."

  "What was the debt?"

  "Fifty thousand."

  "I'll give you a hundred—double your money."

  "No."

  "Just like that... no thought?"

  "No thought, just no. I've no intention of selling her."

  "A hundred and fifty."

  "No."

  "You
're crazy."

  "And you're anxious," Marc declared coolly. "What's in it for you, Travis, the hand of the Lady Carrington? I don't think you'd part with a hundred and fifty thousand if you didn't stand to get something for it."

  "Catalina is not the kind of woman you buy."

  Marc chuckled derisively. "Every woman is the kind of woman you buy. They have different prices that's all. I have a hunch 'Lady' Carrington's price is high . .."

  "You've bought too many. You don't know the difference anymore."

  "If your business is over," Marc said stonily, "I've got a lot to do tomorrow and I'd like to get some sleep."

  Travis rose. "Marc, think over my offer. You're asking for a whole lot of trouble. Carrington won't sit still for this. I can save you a lot of grief."

  Marc watched Travis through narrowed eyes as another piece of the puzzle fit into place.

  "Your magnanimous offer almost overwhelms me. But I can handle my own troubles. Tell 'Lady' Carrington you didn't succeed."

  "She didn't send me."

  "Of course not... but tell her anyway."

  "You can be a hard bastard, Marc."

  "I've had a lot of good teachers."

  "My offer still stands."

  "Forget it. Oh, by the way, when you see 'Lady' Carrington again tell her my offer still stands."

  "What offer? When did you talk to Cat?"

  "Cat? Very appropriate name. Just tell her what I said, she'll know what I'm talking about. Tell her anytime she wants to discuss my offer she knows where to find me."

  "You're a fool, Marc, a fool who's making a lot of enemies."

  "At least I know my enemies. It's harder to know friends."

  "Maybe you don't know all your enemies. You're careless enough to antagonize the Carringtons. They're more powerful than you know, and they happen to have a lot of friends."

  "You among them?" Marc asked casually.

  "Of course."

  "I have a hunch you expect to do a little 'buying' of your own."

  Travis's face flushed and his look revealed his hatred.

  "I told you, Cat isn't the kind of woman you buy."

  "And I told you, you're a dreamer. She has her price too... and I might just have what she's willing to bargain for."

  "You do anything to hurt Cat," Travis warned coldly, "and you might find the Mississippi very deep and very cold."

  "I'll keep that in mind."

  "You do that."

  Travis set his glass down and left, not closing the door too gently behind him. Marc gazed at the door meditatively. All the plans he had made over the past eight years were working with well-oiled precision ... why, then, did he feel this aggravating twinge of regret. He knew what he wanted to do, and nothing was going to stop him. He would destroy Seth ... then he would bring Catalina to her knees... and after that, he would kill Joseph Carrington.

  Chapter 3

  Catalina sat in the dark confines of her carriage, seething with an anger that made her tremble. Never had she been subjected to such blatant insults or to such an evil and malicious man.

  He does not have one grain of honor in his entire body, she thought miserably. Yet she could still feel the heat of Copland's gaze as it swept over her. It had set her skin afire, as if he had touched her in some sensual way, and remembering that sensation did not soothe her anger.

  His soft taunting laugh when she'd passed him, that had been the coup de grace. Did he really believe she would subject herself to him! Not even to save her own life would she do that.

  As her anger became more controlled, her fear for her brother mounted. She knew this episode could quite possibly destroy the fragile relationship between him and her father. If that happened, the choice Seth might make caused her to know a moment of real terror.

  She would have to think of some way ... she would have to! But how? Marc Copeland held all the cards at the moment. Still, the game was not over yet, and Catalina was not one to give up easily. She would think of a way. She had to.

  Catalina had slipped away from home in the middle of the night and had gone to Captain Lahey, the master of the Silver Queen, one of her father's fastest boats. She had traveled downriver, after sending a note informing her parents that a sudden emergency had called her to the sick bed of a very dear friend.

  Once the boat had docked in New Orleans, she had gone to the home of her dowager aunt, Charlotte McNeil. Her aunt had seemed to believe her story, so she had waited until Charlotte had gone to bed and then had sent a surprised servant for her carriage.

  It was now after midnight, and she entered the house as quietly as she possibly could. She tiptoed down the hall to the room she had been given, then breathed a sigh of relief when she closed the door behind her.

  The gravity of her situation increased her anxiety. How could she sleep when she knew a man like Copeland held her brother's life in his hands? She paced the floor restlessly, annoyed by the fact that her thoughts kept returning to the arrogant and very suggestive smile on Marc Copeland's face.

  Why, she wondered, did this man want to damage her brother and her and the rest of her family? Why? He had deliberately created this situation and she had to know what had set him on this path.

  She worried about what had happened between Seth and Travis. Had Travis seen fit to lend Seth the money he needed to redeem himself? God, she thought, two hundred thousand dollars! It was a fortune.

  She began to undress slowly, then sat before her dressing table to brush her hair. Her hand stopped in midstroke and she gazed into her reflection.

  Her cheeks were pink, and the small red mark at one corner of her lips suddenly brought to mind the feel of Copeland's hard mouth against hers. Her body tensed at the memory of the strength in the arms that had held her, the feel of his body as it had pressed against hers. Then she slammed the brush down on the table, upset with her body's heated response. It was frightening.

  She walked to her bed and slid beneath the covers, but after some time she reluctantly acknowledged that she was not going to find sleep very easily ... if she could find it at all.

  ❧

  Travis walked up the steps to the McNeil home. It was a modest two-story dwelling built for Charlotte by her brother because Charlotte was independent. She refused to live with anyone or in someone else's house.

  He knocked on the door, and it was opened by a slim Creole girl.

  Travis had known where Catalina would go since Charlotte was her only relative in New Orleans, with the exception of several cousins she did not like.

  "Good morning." He smiled and took off his hat. "Is Miss Carrington up yet?"

  "Yassuh, she be up. She be havin' breakfast in her room."

  "Would you tell her that Travis Sherman is here to see her please?"

  "Yassuh ... come in please."

  She led him to a small parlor where he waited impatiently for several minutes before Catalina appeared in the doorway.

  Try as she might, and though she knew that Travis might be Seth's only salvation, Catalina found it difficult to suppress her response to him when he rose and approached her. She didn't want to dislike this man; Seth needed him. And she didn't want to distrust him because of a feeling she could not even name.

  "Mr. Sherman."

  Travis stopped beside her. His smile was warm.

  "Catalina, I've asked you many times to call me Travis."

  Travis." She smiled hesitantly.

  "You know why I'm here."

  "Yes, I do. Seth came to you?"

  "He did. Seth and I have been friends for some time. Who else would he turn to for help?"

  "And?" she questioned quietly.

  "Do you doubt that I would want to help him?"

  "Want... but can't?" she responded.

  "No. Want and tried."

  "I don't understand."

  "Catalina, why did you go to see Marc Copeland last night?"

  "How did you know that?"

  "Because I was there right after you
. I don't know what you said or did, but Copeland refused any offer I made. I tried to buy the Southern Belle back, for any price."

  "And he refused to sell it?"

  "Yes. He refused. He also said something very strange."

  Catalina moved away from Travis to sit on a straight-backed chair near the window. Travis watched, enthralled by her graceful movements and the way the light from the window glazed her skin.

  "What did he say?" she asked softly.

  "He said that I should remind you that his offer still stands. What did he offer you?"

  Catalina stood frozen like an alabaster statue. Damn him, she thought, to have enough nerve to say such a thing. Did he truly believe she would stoop so low? Did he think that saying such a thing to Travis would frighten her into trying to keep him quiet by acceding to his wishes? Well, he had judged his victim wrong this time. There had to be a way out of this dilemma.

  Travis watched her, wondering where her mind drifted.

  "Catalina, there must be a way to best this scoundrel, and if you will allow me I will do whatever it takes to insure that he doesn't succeed in what he's attempting."

  "There has to be a way to get the boat back before my father finds out. If not, Seth will be destroyed by this. Oh, that man is a monster!" she cried.

  "If he won't sell it to me, then what do you suggest? Maybe Seth should go to your father and tell him the truth, just make a clean breast of it. Wouldn't your father understand? Surely with his wealth the money can't mean that much."

  "You don't understand. Under any other circumstances that would be true, but..." She was hesitant to voice words that might damn her brother, but she went on, speaking with all the control she could muster. "For the past three years Seth has seemed to lose control of himself. It's ... it's almost as if he is afraid. He has drunk and done ... other things to the extent that Father is thinking of cutting him off."

  These were not the worst words Travis could hear. With Seth gone, Catalina would be the heir to the Carrington fortune.

  "Seth is ... weak," she continued helplessly. "I am almost afraid of what he might do."

  "And," Travis added, "you think of him as your responsibility?"