Catalina's Caress

by Sylvie F. Sommerfield

  ❧

  Seth stood at the stern rail and watched the paddlewheel churn the water.

  His thoughts were torn between the situation Cat was in and the one in which he had left Jake.

  He worried about how Jake would accustom herself to the abrupt change in her life.

  It would be hard, but as much as he wanted to turn back and help her, he knew Cat needed him much more now.

  He was involved in thought when Charles joined him at the rail.

  "A penny for your thoughts." Charles smiled.

  "There are too many of them. You'd owe me a banker's ransom."

  "Can't be as bad as all that."

  "It's just that I'd like to be in two places at once."

  "Damn near impossible."

  "I know. Charles, this Marc ... Garrison, Cope-land, or whatever the hell his name is."

  "Marc Copeland Garrison," Charles supplied.

  "Whatever. Tell me a bit about him."

  "You mean his situation with women?" Charles asked astutely. Seth turned to him and nodded silently.

  "He's got quite a reputation with the ladies. If he's made as many conquests as he's been given credit for, he must spend the majority of his time in bed. But I suppose one cannot put much stock in rumor."

  "Where there's smoke there's fire."

  "Well he travels about with a lovely Oriental creature called, of all things, China, and, from what I've been told, a bevy of other beauties. Whatever the truth is, the man never lacks feminine companionship."

  "God," Seth murmured. "I wonder how Cat is faring."

  "Cat is an enterprising young woman."

  "But can she defend herself against this rake?"

  "If she chooses to."

  "What does that mean?"

  "Garrison does not rape women; he seduces them."

  "Cat is no fool."

  "Of course not. But she's in a vulnerable position that will require wit."

  "Between men like Travis and Marc," Seth said, "she's in a difficult position. Neither man can be trusted."

  "Well, we can only follow her, Seth. Maybe they'll still be docked in Natchez when we arrive. It is a lovely city, and perhaps Cat will be intrigued enough to want to stay there for a few days."

  "With any kind of luck we just might catch up with them there."

  "Seth?"

  "Yes."

  "What will you do?"

  "What do you mean?" Seth asked, though he knew

  what Charles meant"

  "Should you find them, and find ..."

  "That my sister has been dishonored?"

  Charles nodded.

  "I have brought a rather ornate box with me. It's in my stateroom. It contains my father's dueling pistols. I shall defend my family's honor in the only way left"

  "You will challenge them both?"

  "I shall."

  "I don't know about Travis, he is not known for being honorable. But Marc Garrison, he will fight you and he is no novice with the dueling pistols."

  "Whatever may happen, Charles, I have little choice in the matter."

  "But you have."

  "What choicer

  "Allow Catalina to make her own decisions. It could be that she has already done so and honor has nothing to do with it. She chose to go on this journey of her own free will. She began the game, and maybe she will choose to end it in her own way... without violence, without bloodshed—and without your help."

  "What are you telling me, Charles?"

  "I really don't know. I have found out a lot about Marc Garrison, but none of it has darkened his name. I just have a feeling that fate may have arranged something that has nothing to do with any of our plans."

  "You sound like a mystic." Seth laughed.

  "Maybe so. But I don't want to see either of you hurt."

  "What do you suggest?"

  "If you find them in Natchez, go to your sister first. Find out what is truth and what is rumor. Then abide by her will and save yourself a lot of grief, maybe even a tragedy."

  "And if I don't find them in Natchez?"

  "We will continue on until we do find them."

  "Why do you feel Marc isn't guilty?" Seth asked quietly.

  Charles looked at him, unable to put into words exactly what he felt. He had sought an answer, and had come up with a question instead.

  "Seth, what makes you think he's not?"

  Seth sighed. "I don't know. When he won the Belle from me, it was my foolishness and an honest game. I surely am more guilty than he is, because it is my fault that we are all in this position. Still, I have a feeling that there is much more to all this. I would like ..."

  "What Seth?"

  "I would like to face him and ask him what his intentions were and are. I'd like to know if he meant to damage me, or to reach Cat I'd like to have some answers."

  "Well, let us pray we will find them in Natchez."

  "Yes."

  "Why don't you get some sleep, Seth? It's very late."

  "No, you go below. I'll stay here and think for a while, if you don't mind."

  "All right. Good night"

  "Good night."

  Charles went to his bed wishing he could have said something that would have eased Seth's mind, while Seth watched the waters of the great river pass behind the boat in a white froth of lace.

  He thought of Cat and realized that Charles had been right. Cat had a right to decide the outcome of the situation. He would be prepared to do whatever was necessary, but he would speak to Cat first. Many questions needed to be asked, and he felt that she might have secured answers to them, to the why of Marc Garrison.

  He thought of Jake, of leaving her, and decided that he would make it up to her as soon as he returned home. He began to think of all the fun things they could do, of the places they could go. Why, he thought, I can introduce her to all of my friends, and if Aunt Charlotte and Cat are successful in polishing Jake's rough edges, she might be able to find a good husband and have a good future.

  He began to think back on their meeting and the many confrontations between them. The memories made him smile, and he was surprised to find that he already missed her vivid temper, her poignant little girl's innocence. To him she was a child, a sweet child that needed a helping hand.

  What he had done brought on a feeling of pride, but it also brought the realization that he had rarely done anything for anyone else in his entire life.

  Now he would make up for that by turning the proverbial sow's ear into an enticing silk purse. Jake would be grateful, so would Ben.

  ❧

  Jake leaned both arms against the window sill and stared out into the balmy star-studded night. She wondered where Seth was now and if he was thinking of her.

  Then she took up the book she had taken from the shelf in the library that day. Charlotte had insisted that she read as often as possible, and she was allowed to choose books at her own discretion. She sat in a large chair, her feet curled beneath her, and absorbed the story of Juliet and Romeo.

  Her mind was fertile ground, and the seeds of beauty and romance sprouted energetically.

  She began to dream, to romanticize, and to envision herself as a lovely heroine—as Juliet or Guinevere or Helen. It did not yet occur to her that each heroine was accompanied by a handsome hero—Romeo, Arthur, Paris—strangely enough, all in the image of Seth.

  She contemplated the night and the new emotions that were beginning to stir in her. Charlotte had told her it could be months before Seth returned. She wondered if he would be pleased by the changes in her. Then she thought of her grandfather and felt a twinge of self-pity and of loneliness, longing for her familiar, simple life. It had been so much easier, so carefree; and a part of her still longed to return to it.

  Seth was the only tie that bound her to her new life, and she wished he would return soon. How would she ever know she had succeeded in being what he wanted her to be if he did not assure her of her success?

  Caught up in her dreams sh
e did not hear the knock on her door, nor did she hear it open and close. She remained unaware of Charlotte's presence.

  Charlotte stood quietly by, watching Jake, and a smile touched her lips for she remembered well a young girl's dreams.

  HJake,M Charlotte said softly.

  Jake turned to look at her, and Charlotte was again caught by her delicate beauty that was more evident each day.

  "Can't you sleep?" Charlotte inquired.

  "I'm restless for some reason," Jake admitted. "I just feel..." She shrugged, unable to put words to emotions she could not understand.

  Charlotte sat on a chair near Jake. "There has been a tremendous amount of upheaval and change in your life lately. You cannot expect to be at ease yet. But do not worry about it, Jake. Things will become better as time goes on."

  "Aunt Charlotte?"

  "Yes?"

  "Would it upset you if I went to visit my grandfather tomorrow? I just want to know that he's all right, and that—"

  "And that he misses you as much as you miss him. No, I wouldn't mind. In fact, if I would be welcome I'd like to come along. I would like to meet the man who took on the responsibility of raising a little girl, one who turned out to be as sweet as you are."

  Jake's eyes lit with pleasure. "I would be pleased if you would come. You will like my grandpa. He's kind and wonderful!"

  "I'm sure he is. Shall we plan on going first thing in the morning?"

  "Yes ... please."

  "Then I would suggest you try to get some sleep." Charlotte chuckled softly. "Sophie still finds it quite earthshaking to waken you when you have not had enough sleep."

  Jake flushed, but she laughed. "I think I have made some of Sophie's days miserable. I'm sorry. I shall try to be less—"

  "Verbal?" Charlotte asked. "Don't worry so, Jake. Sophie cares for you, as we all do."

  "Do you think Seth will be pleased with me? I mean ... I don't want him to be sorry he gave me this chance. I owe him so very much. I don't think I could bear to disappoint him."

  "Jake, listen to me. You have done more for Seth than you know. But no matter how much you think you owe anybody, you owe yourself more. If you hadn't had the courage to change your life no one would have done it for you. So stop thinking of what you owe others. Can't you see that just watching you make a new life is reward enough?"

  "No, Aunt Charlotte. I do owe Seth my life, and I would do anything in my power to repay him, anything." Jake added solemnly, "I would die for Seth... truly, I would die for him."

  Charlotte's brow furrowed and she suddenly wanted to warn Jake not to romanticize her friendship with Seth. She feared that along with her first taste of real happiness Seth might also give Jake her first taste of real pain.

  Chapter 22

  At breakfast Catalina had been surprisingly warm with Marc. When she put her mind to it, she could be an entrancing creature and she had thrown herself into the game they were playing. They had met on the battlefield of passion, and had created their own rules for the war that was to be waged, neither knowing the other's ultimate goal.

  Now, with breakfast over, Marc and Catalina were on deck. Catalina deliberately tucked her hand under his arm. The breeze carried the scent of her perfume to him, and her intoxicating nearness made him caution himself for he knew he was treading on very dangerous ground. He was in danger of losing sight of his goals due to the captivating charms of this woman beside him.

  Catalina Carrington was where he wanted her to be, wasn't she? She would be at his mercy by the end of the journey, and he would then throw her to the scandalmongers and gossip carriers. She had fallen neatly into his trap. Why then did he feel like a tiger in a cage, pacing in confinement?

  They stopped by the rail and turned to face each other. Marc braced one elbow on the boat's rail and leisurely admired the remarkable Catalina.

  Her hair, loosely tied with a ribbon, was lifted by the breeze and wisps of sable brown were blown across her cheeks. Her eyes sparkled with an alluring glow, and he was intrigued by his own inability to read them. Her skin was clear and healthy in the early morning sunlight, and he could almost taste the lush softness of her mouth as she half smiled at him.

  "We will dock in Natchez tomorrow?" she asked.

  "Thinking of going ashore?" he replied.

  "Are you telling me I can't?"

  "No. I am merely reminding you of our bargain. It does not include disappearing in Natchez."

  "I do not make bargains I have no intention of keeping." She smiled, but the light in her eyes could have been lit by anger. "I had thought maybe you would escort me ashore, to see the city."

  "Escort you ashore?" He grinned. "And what about your dear family friend, Travis Sherman?"

  "The bargain was struck between you and me. It does not include Travis."

  "That is the last straw. He will not be pleased with the arrangement"

  "Why do you keep dwelling on Travis?" she demanded teasingly.

  Marc shrugged. "I would hate to have to force the gentleman to understand our... situation."

  "I doubt that you would hate it. I think it would give you a great deal of pleasure to tell Travis something like that. You are no gentleman, Marc Copeland, and I'm not so stupid as to believe you are going to act like one. You will most likely savor telling Travis, much as you would savor a gourmet meal."

  Marc was forced to laugh, for the look in her eyes told him that she had read the meaning between his words.

  "You are quite a challenge, Cat," he said softly as he reached out to catch one wayward curl and feel its texture.

  "But you have defeated the challenge, have you not? I am your mistress, I have agreed to your bargain. What more do you ask of me?" The question was asked so gently that he remained silent, still holding the soft strand of her hair between his fingers. He wondered why he again felt that she was as easy to hold as mercury and that he had done no more than scratch the surface of the elusive Catalina. She intrigued him. He could have almost any woman he chose, yet he hadn't been able to think of another one since he had tasted her.

  He had to get a grip on himself before he fell into her silken trap and lost sight of his ultimate goal.

  "I've only seen part of your bargain," he reminded her coolly. "The real challenge comes later, doesn't it? After all"—he grinned—"you still have to prove you're worth a boat like the Belle. Who knows"—he shrugged—"we might both find our contract unsatisfactory."

  He watched anger leap into her golden brown eyes, saw her struggle to retain her composure, knew that she wanted to strike him. He smiled in satisfaction.

  "My dear Marc," she said in a soft and very seductive voice, "we shall see who is unsatisfactory. Perhaps the one who will be unsatisfied will be me."

  She turned to walk away while he digested the insult.

  He walked up behind her and took hold of her shoulders, abruptly drawing her back against him, and he heard her gasp in surprise. He inhaled the delicate scent she wore, felt the silk of her hair against his cheek.

  "Don't push me, Cat, or I'll begin to feel safer in our bargain if we go below and fulfill it now. You force me to believe I might be lacking, and I'd hate to feel so ... insecure."

  Catalina inhaled deeply, forcing control on her body. She could feel the strength of his hands as he held her immobile with little effort. The length of his body pressed to hers stirred her memory and her senses.

  For a moment she was stirred to find pleasure in his arms in the seclusion of his cabin. But she controlled that urge by reminding herself that he was an unscrupulous scoundrel who would use her and discard her. She wanted more from Marc Copeland than that.

  She felt his arm slip around her waist, and he drew her against his side as he moved to her side.

  The last thing Marc could tell Cat was that Natchez was where he made his home. Yet he wanted to take her to his house. The reason for this was something he forced from his thoughts.

  She turned her head and found his intense, though s
omewhat brooding, gaze upon her. But as soon as their eyes met, he chuckled.

  "I think I would like to taste those soft and very inviting lips," he murmured.

  Apprehension traced its icy fingers along her spine, and she wondered if she really had the courage to win this battle. He was taunting her and she knew it, but she had only two choices. She could meet and defeat his challenge or run from him.

  He grinned like a sadistic devil, and she forced her sweetest smile. His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed as they raked over her and finally looked again into hers. The cold steel of his gaze burned into her until she could feel the heat of it stirring within her.

  Her breath caught in her throat as he raised a hand, allowing his long fingers to slowly trace her collarbone, the line of her chin, and the curve of her neck.

  "I said, my very willing mistress, that your lovely mouth looks much too inviting to resist. Do you hesitate, my sweet? Is the bargain done then? Is the Belle still mine?"

  His nearness stirred some strange, pleasurable spark that flickered along the ends of her nerves. But in her eyes he saw no fear, only calm deliberation, before she bent toward him. And the kiss she bestowed upon him, had he not exerted all of his control, would have burnt to ashes his well-conceived plans.

  He masked his surprise and the desire that nestled like a white hot ball, in the pit of his loins.

  "Not bad," he murmured. "Not bad at all."

  She ignored his teasing and placed both of her elbows on the rail.

  "Tell me of Natchez."

  "Natchez. The lady whose father owns half of the boats on the river has never been to Natchez?"

  She turned again to look at him, a flicker of surprise in her eyes at this mention of her father and his wealth. Was this why he was trying to break her will, to defeat her?

  "My father," she said questioningly, "do you know him?"

  Marc was instantly alert. He knew he had nearly made a costly mistake. "I know of him, as every river man does."