One step ... another .. . another. She held her breath as she came close to the bunk. Slowly she removed the gun from her bag and bent forward to nudge him into wakefulness.
But before she could touch him a hard muscular arm came around her, pinning her arms to her body, and a large hand covered her mouth. She tried to scream and fight but both attempts were futile. She was most thoroughly caught against a body that felt as solid as granite. To make it worse she heard a soft amused chuckle and then a deep seductive voice spoke near her ear.
❧
Marc had heard the first sound made when she had turned the handle of the door. He had immediately thought an assassin had been sent. He'd slipped from the bed, covered his pillows to make it look as though someone was still sleeping. Then he had moved behind a nearby chair to wait.
When the dark cloaked figure had entered, he would have struck, had not the scent of her perfume told him immediately who this shrouded intruder was.
He had moved close behind her and just as she'd bent over the bunk he'd caught her against him with one arm and covered her mouth with his hand.
"And I thought it was going to be a lonely and uneventful night Welcome aboard. It's about time you came to your senses. This promises to be a very warm night."
She struggled and sputtered in anger, but, behind his hand, all that came out was a muffled sound of resistance.
"I'm going to let you go, but before I do, let me warn you. No screaming, unless, of course"—he chuckled— "you want all of New Orleans to know you are here with me. Are you listening?"
She nodded.
"No screaming?"
Again she shook her head, this time negatively. He released her mouth slowly, almost expecting her to scream, but she remained silent. Then he turned her around to face him.
It was impossible to see his face, but she was sure of one very startling thing, he was naked.
"I'm going to light a lamp," he warned. "Don't think you can make it to the door before me. I know the cabin, you don't."
"I... I won't... only ..."
"Only what?"
"Put on your clothes."
She heard his soft laughter, and her face burned with a combination of embarrassment and pure rage.
"You come into my bedroom in the middle of the night so I can only believe you have more delightful ideas about entertaining me. Why should I bother to dress?"
She heard him moving about and then the clink of the glass chimney of a lamp. She squeezed her eyes shut as light flooded the room. Again she heard his tormentingly evil laugh. Cracking her eyes open slightly, she found him with one hip braced on the edge of his desk, his foot swinging indolently back and forth. He had put on his breeches, but that was all. The taunting smile on his lips and the glitter of laughter in his eyes incensed her even more.
"Now, my dear lady, can I attribute this nocturnal visit as a desire on your part to share my very willing favors?"
"You are damned arrogant!" She snapped. He was completely unprepared when she raised her hand from the folds of the cape and the small derringer pointed at him. "I could easily shoot that smile from your face."
His eyes became wary, but the smile remained. He did not move and appeared to totally disregard the gun.
"It wounds me to think you didn't come to share the night with me. I thought our mutual attraction was what had drawn you here."
"Mutual attraction," she spat out furiously. "I find you a disreputable rogue and I'd die before I let you touch me!"
"Then might I ask," his voice dripped with casual amusement, "why you disrupted some very pleasant dreams?"
"Where is my brother? What have you done with him?"
This was the last thing Marc expected. He had been prepared for threats or vindictive anger.
"Your brother? The last time I saw him was across a card table."
"You're lying!"
Marc stiffened and his smile faded. His eyes took on a cold glint and he stood erect, causing Catalina to step back a step or two.
"I'm not in the habit of allowing people to call me a liar. I have not seen your brother."
"He left my aunt's home with the sole intent of coming here. That was just after dinner. Are you trying to convince me he never arrived?"
"I don't recall trying to convince you-of anything. You're the one who came here remember?"
He had moved closer to her as he'd spoken and she had been so caught by the dark scowl and the breathless effect he was having on her that she hadn't realized how close he was until his hand whipped out and struck the gun from her grasp, sending it rattling across the floor. She gave a startled cry and started after the weapon. But he caught her wrist, and the force of his grip as he pulled, combined with the forward motion of her body, slammed her against his hard frame.
He then gripped her other wrist and pulled her arms behind her back. She was effectively caught against him.
"Let go of me, you brute," she demanded.
"Sorry, my dear, but I've a strong inclination toward self-preservation. Besides"—he laughed—"I much prefer the position we're in now."
She writhed and struggled, glaring at him furiously, but succeeded only in exhausting herself and becoming breathless in the process.
Besides the glow in his eyes had changed in its intensity as her body began to create havoc with his. His gaze now seemed to smolder as it moved over her. To Catalina, it felt like a physical caress.
"Stop staring at me and let me go." She tried to put more authority into her voice but she knew the attempt was less than effective.
"Are you by chance frightened of me... or of yourself?"
She looked up into his eyes and saw a smiling warmth there. A multitude of strange and unwelcome emotions came over her, but, to her surprise, fear was not one of them.
"I'm certainly not fool enough to think I can fight you physically. I suppose"—she held his eyes with a stubborn gaze—"I am somewhat at your mercy. I can only hope you might have developed some sense of honor since we first met. Or is rape not beyond you?"
His eyes sparked with anger, but his lips curved in a half-smile. He deliberately tightened his arms about her, and his voice was suggestively smooth.
"Are you so sure it would be rape ... that you would not be more than willing?"
His loins pressed intimately against her, and despite her renewed rage she was aware of the hard masculinity of him.
She stiffened at the subtle humor in his voice.
"Tell me," he said with casual softness, "shall we put it to the test... or are you really afraid?"
The barb stung, for at this moment she was touched for the first time with a premonitional fear of something unknown.
It was as if he did not hear the storm in her words, only the uncertainty. His eyes were heated now with a real need she could not help but understand.
He stood towering above her, tall and bronzed, and for a long moment there was a silence in which Catalina could hear her own heart begin to pound. Beneath his touch she had felt herself begin to tremble.
Her lips were parted and her breathing was ragged, then her eyes half closed as he bent his head. His parted lips found hers in a kiss that stirred something volatile in both of them, forging them together, and time seemed to hover, motionless, in this moment preordained like the blending of sand and sea.
It was enough to sap their resistance, this strong intoxicating nectar. His mouth savored hers with a growing urgency that was echoed in her as her mouth opened and her tongue flicked against his teasing, taunting... accepting. The heat of his kiss flooded her senses until a raging desire consumed the last of her will and she lost the reins of her self-control.
The awakening pleasure deep within her was strong with the promise of fulfillment of the hunger that seemed to ravage her. Warm strong fingers expertly loosened and discarded clothing, and she watched with half-closed eyes as if she were not a participant but an onlooker. She was mesmerized by the glistening bronze of his body as he li
fted her in his arms and carried her to his bed.
All her resistance and strength were sapped as he enclosed her in a strong embrace and his open mouth took hers again. She found herself molding to his frame and moaning softly under the expert touch of gentle hands. She forgot all her darkest intentions as his lips brushed her hair, her cheek, and then nipped lightly at her ear. She closed her eyes as his searing lips traced her throat and shoulders.
Slowly, tenderly, he leisurely aroused her, stroking her breasts and then her belly. She was filled with a warm tingling excitement.
The kisses, begun gently, turned savage and fierce as their mouths slanted across each other in mutual impatience. His lips, hot and wet, seared her breasts, and his teeth lightly nibbled the soft flesh of her belly.
She gasped, panting, breathless and pliable beneath his caresses as time seemed to hover on the brink of eternity.
Marc was unaware yet that all his grim intentions were floundering like sandy rock beneath the raging waves of an angry sea.
He had tried to hold his passion in control, wanting to use it to batter her pride when it was over, to reduce her will to ashes, but he was caught in his own trap. His body was afire as it had never been and he was sinking in the scented beauty of her.
His eyes were aflame as he lowered his weight upon her, parting her thighs, and, the sound of her rapturous sigh echoing in his ears, pressed himself deep within her.
An indescribably beautiful expanding bloom of joyous pleasure sent a splintering feeling pulsing through her. She arched against him with a fierce passion that matched his, and a wild ecstasy surged through them fusing them. They moved together as one, the thunderous beats of their hearts blending in a drumming tempo. Both had lost touch with reality, and their world careened crazily beneath rhythmic strokes. With fierce naked abandon they possessed each other, spiraling up to breathless heights and then tumbling into the oblivion of completion.
For a long moment they clung to each other as if caught in a deep trance, neither wanting to break the spell, knowing already what lay beyond it. But the sweet taste of passion turned bitter in both as reality intruded mercilessly.
Catalina was struck by disbelief and dismay. His words had been true. There was no way she could say rape when she knew how willingly she had succumbed to his touch. She closed her eyes and wept at her body's betrayal.
Marc looked upon himself condemningly as well. He could not let the soft touch of the woman in his arms destroy all his well-laid plans. His every sense urged him to take and hold this fragile offering of something rare and valuable while his mind resisted these leanings. He had planned too long, hated too long, to let go so easily.
In a moment, that caused him more struggle and frustration than he could ever admit to her, he donned his armor of self-defense and the eyes he raised to hers were filled with all the assurance and self-control he could manage. He smiled, a knowledgeable I-told-you-so smile that struck her like a physical blow.
She gasped and closed her eyes, turning her head away as if she could deny the reality of what had happened. But her body would not deny the feel of his hard body.
"Let me go," she whispered raggedly.
"Running away again?" he chided. "Why not just face the truth of what you want?"
She choked on the anger slowly boiling to the surface. It filled her like a brilliant and painful explosion.
"If this is a sample"—he laughed—"in a few weeks I might just be willing to turn the Belle back over to your brother."
"Damn you! I didn't come here to sell myself to you. I came to find Seth."
"You needn't cling to that story anymore." He chuckled. "It was a good excuse to come, but we both know this was the real reason. Now that we're done with the excuses and the preliminaries"—his voice lowered and his eyes gleamed suggestively—"we can concentrate on the pleasures we've only just tasted."
"You are a vile-minded person!" she shrieked, and doubling her fists, she pushed against his chest. "I would like to leave," she grated as coldly as she could manage, considering her body was forming arguments she refused to acknowledge.
"Why leave so soon?" he questioned, a touch of teasing humor in his voice. "It's a long and beautiful night and I have something... you want. Who knows"—he shrugged—"maybe one night would be enough to get what you want."
"You know where my brother is?" she cried triumphantly.
"No. I told you I don't, but I still have the Belle."
Now it was her chance to turn the tables and bring to an end any hold he had on Seth or on her.
"You have the Belle... and you may keep her. Neither Seth nor I will give you any hold over us. Keep the boat and know that you have failed in whatever it was you tried to do."
He was taken by surprise upon seeing her assured hold over herself and the glow of satisfaction in her eyes. He had misjudged her strength. But it was a mistake he would never make again.
In a quicksilver move she escaped his hold and leapt from the bunk snatching at her clothes. She dressed in haste, refusing to acknowledge his presence as if he were no longer of any account. Then she flung her cloak about her and nearly ran from the cabin, slamming the door behind her.
Marc rose from the bunk and walked to a corner to retrieve the derringer. He picked it up and looked at it. Then he smiled and tossed it into his desk drawer.
"We're not finished yet Catalina Carrington. Oh no ... we're not finished yet."
Chapter 7
Catalina pulled her cloak about her. Her body shook with the effort it took to control her fury and the strange inexplicable pulse that beat through her body like a resounding hammer.
She could not explain to herself the deception of her body. How had she let him reach a place she had shared with no man before. She bit her lip and closed her eyes letting the tears she had held in for so long score her cheeks with hot rivulets.
Damn him! Damn him! How could she have let this happen? And why could she not force the memory of those moments from her mind, erase the feel of his touch when he had possessed her... first with gentleness, then with wild sensuous pleasure.
As she stepped out of the carriage she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. She wanted no one to see the tangled profusion of her hair. She had tried to compose herself as best she could, angrily wiping the tears from her face. The last thing she needed now was the multitude of questions she knew she would face from her aunt. Charlotte would be more than difficult to fool. It would be best, Catalina decided, to get to her room before her aunt knew she was home.
She gave orders that the carriage and horse were to be cared for as silently as possible. Then, taking the back steps, she breathed a sigh of relief when she had safely climbed the dark stairway and closed her bedroom door behind her.
She poured some cool water from the pitcher into the bowl on her wash stand. Then she stripped off her clothes and vigorously washed her face and her body as if she could wash away Marc Copeland's touch.
But the tingling warmth of his caresses remained on her flesh and in her mind. She put on her nightgown and robe, then brushed her hair free of tangles.
She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. She gazed at her bed for several moments, then decided against making the attempt. Instead she made her way down the stairs to the empty kitchen, hoping a cup of steaming tea would calm her nerves.
She had just put the kettle on when her aunt's voice came from the doorway.
"Well, it's about time you're back. I've been waiting for hours. Did you find Seth?"
"Mr. Copeland said Seth never arrived there."
"You believed him?"
"He was lying through his teeth."
"Did it take you this long to learn Seth wasn't there?"
"I tried to... talk Mr. Copeland into telling me the truth. It was useless. He is an unmitigated scoundrel. Oh, Aunt Charlotte, I'm so frightened for Seth. What do you think could have happened?"
"Maybe we are jumping to conclusions. Could the man ha
ve been telling the truth? Seth might have changed his plans when he left here."
"I told Mr. Copeland that we no longer cared whether he had stolen the Belle or not. That neither Seth nor I intended to let him use it to bully us into anything."
"I imagine he was not too impressed with that."
"He was ... upset," Catalina answered thoughtfully.
Charlotte had not failed to note Catalina's condition. Her niece was tense and upset, and the look in her eyes was one Charlotte had never seen in them before,
Catalina paced about like a caged tigress, twisting her hands together and trying unsuccessfully to control emotions she had not tasted before. Charlotte listened, allowing her to talk some of her tension away. Then she urged her to drink her tea and try to get some sleep. But she herself was already making a plan of her own, a plan whose first step entailed seeing and talking to Marc Copeland.
❧
Charlotte tiptoed into Catalina's room just after eight in the morning to make certain that Catalina still slept. She had no intention of waking her. Charlotte's plans did not include Catalina.
Her carriage awaited her, and when she sat back in it, she contemplated what she would say to this rogue who had so disrupted Catalina's life.
Marc had just toweled himself dry and was putting on his pants when Charlotte's presence was announced.
"A Madame Charlotte McNeil, sir."
"Charlotte McNeil," Marc said. "Do I know her, Tony?"
"She's related to the man who once owned this boat," he replied.
Marc lifted his white shirt from the bed and shrugged into it. As he buttoned it he smiled at the young man who had delivered the message.
"I'm curious about what she might want. Either she'll be shouting for my head for last night's delightful crime or the young lady has kept her silence and this is a social visit. Bring the lady to me and then ask China to join me." China's opinion of all new acquaintances was very important to Marc.
"Aye, sir."
Catalina's Caress Page 7
