"Well, we won't be staying here long. I know this hellhole. Cat is not going to disembark here. We'll stay on board until it's time to leave tomorrow night. I have plans for the two of us for this evening, and they do not include anyone else. Do I make myself clear?"
He moved away from Marc, who remained still for a moment watching him. Then Marc's eyes narrowed and his mouth twitched in a controlled smile. "We shall see, my friend, just how easy it will be to change your plans."
Marc went to China's cabin, where he found her and Shawna.
"We're docking now," he said. "Can you get someone to carry some letters for me?"
"Jacob?"
"All right. Shawna, run and get him, will you?"
Shawna left immediately, and Marc dropped into a chair and propped his boots on a nearby table. He folded his hands behind his head and grinned amiably at China, who laughed softly in return.
"When you look like that I know you are very satisfied with yourself," she said. "I also know you've been up to something that is either illegal or immoral."
"China, you wound me," he replied, a hurt expression on his face. "You've a very suspicious nature."
"Hardly, I just know you. What are you up to now, Marc?"
"I'm going home for a day or so," he said quietly.
She looked at him levelly for a few minutes. "I take it you are not going home alone?"
"I'm taking Catalina with me."
"And Travis Sherman is just going to let you walk off this boat with her? I hardly think so."
"You have no faith, China my girl. Mr. Sherman is going to be busy—extremely busy. In fact, he is going to be so busy he just might not make it back before the Belle leaves. Yes ... I think he's going to have a long eventful stay in Natchez."
Before China could speak again, Shawna opened the door and Jacob followed her into the room.
Marc swung his feet to the floor and reached inside the breast pocket of his jacket, withdrawing two sealed envelopes.
"Jacob, I want you to take these to Mrs. Thatcher."
"Yassuh," Jacob replied. He took the letters and stuffed them inside his shirt.
"You remember my sister well, Jacob. I don't want them in anyone's hands but hers. She'll send a closed carriage and you will ride back with it."
"Yassuh."
"And, Jacob, I don't want you to talk to anyone. That slip with Miss Carrington was a mistake. Just remember what I told you about keeping the past a secret."
"Yassuh, I 'members. I makes one mistake wif da young miss, but I doan do it nebber again. I keeps ma mouf shut, yassuh, I keeps it shut from now on."
"Thanks, Jacob. Now get going. I want that carriage back soon."
Jacob left, and Marc turned back to Shawna and China. "I know you're putting Willie ashore and that Nina will be leaving the boat. And I don't want Travis to find his way back to the Belle."
"I'm quite sure Charlene will be glad to help you there." China smiled. "She is more than pleased with Mr. Sherman."
"Good. Give her a good price and tell her to make damn certain the Belle sails tomorrow night without him."
"Shawna," China said, "go and tell Charlene to come to my cabin in a half-hour."
When Shawna was gone, China turned again to Marc who knew she wanted to speak with him, alone.
"Your sister will not be pleased."
"She won't say anything," Marc replied. "She's always a lady, barring her tempers of course. She may not like it, but she won^j do anything to harm me."
"Why are you doing this, Marc? You can accomplish your goal without taking her to your home. You could leave her in Natchez-under-the-hill. Surely"—China's voice softened—"she would pay dearly, in one night there, all the debts you imagine the Carringtons owe."
Marc looked momentarily into China's eyes, then away. How could he tell her that the thought of leaving Catalina in Natchez-under-the-hill was repugnant to him? How could he tell her that he had a driving urge to show Catalina his home, to have her in his bed. To make love to her in a place he loved, in a place where he had spent happy hours. He couldn't, so he said nothing.
❧
Travis stood in the shadowed doorway and watched Catalina for several minutes. She stood at the rail, in the brilliant sunshine, and her beauty was breathtaking.
He had seen Marc with her, had watched her laugh as she gazed up at him, and her gesture had revealed more to Travis than she could have imagined. He hated Marc now.
Travis walked through the door and across the deck. He was standing beside Catalina before she realized he was there.
"Cat?"
She spun about and for a moment her smile faded. Then she caught herself and smiled again. But she recovered too late, and Travis's hatred of Marc rose within him like a black flood. He forced a smile.
"It looks like a very promising day."
"Yes," she replied. "It's lovely."
"It's a shame we're pinned to this boat for almost two days. I hope to pass some of the time in your company."
"Travis, I... I'm going ashore."
"In Natchez-under-the-hill! Surely not. Surely someone has told you what a terrible place this is. It is no place for a lady."
"Well, it seems"—she turned from him to look again at the high bluff towering over them—"we are going to visit friends of his—up there."
Travis looked up toward the bluff, his eyes registering an emotion Catalina would not have understood if she had noticed it. He was smugly confident. "So he'll take you to meet his friends."
"Yes, I believe so," Catalina replied coldly, wondering why she should be defending Marc. "In fact I believe there is to be a dinner of sorts tonight."
"Catalina, what is happening? When we boarded this boat we knew what kind of a man Marc Cope land was. We both had our suspicions." He reached to touch her arm. "What of your brother, Cat? Have you forgotten this man could be responsible for whatever might have happened to him? My God, do you believe the lies he's been telling you? Cat, I won't let you go with him."
Aware only of the dominant emotion guiding her, Catalina was not about to be pushed into anything.
"I'm not a child, Travis. I shall do what I please. I'll not be told where I can and cannot go."
"You are going to make a fool of yourself and you will disgrace the Carrington name. Can't you see that he wants to bring shame and dishonor to the Carringtons?"
"Travis, I..." Her temper was rising and she was about to lose it.
"Catalina?" It was a gentle speaking of her name, and relief swept through her as she turned to see Marc.
He stood in the doorway, one broad shoulder braced against the frame, his arms crossed. There was a smile on his face, and Catalina could only gaze silently at him, aware that he was devastatingly handsome and maddeningly arrogant.
"The carriage is here, Cat," he said softly. "I can see you've been ... detained. I'll send someone back for your things."
"Stay here with me," Travis cautioned in a lowered voice. "You cannot trust him."
"And she can trust you?" Marc laughed. "Why don't we let the lady make her own choices, as she seems prone to do? Cat?"
Catalina looked from Marc to Travis, then back to Marc. Travis's eyes begged her not to go. Marc's face was impregnable—it told her nothing and asked her nothing. His half-smile taunted her to keep her bargain or run.
If she stayed with Travis, she would never know whether Marc could learn to love her. She would never know whether she could have been victorious or not.
"I'm sorry, Travis," Catalina said quietly. Then she walked past Marc, unaware of the satisfied smile he gave Travis as he turned to follow her.
Chapter 25
Marc handed Catalina up into the carriage, then climbed in behind her; and they started through the streets of Natchcz-under-the-hill. It was on low ground, and was often pervaded by yellow fever, whereas the town was higher up.
Catalina looked up through the small square windows of the carriage. Within a radius of a few miles
she noted at least a hundred houses of masterly design. The people of Natchez knew the value of a raised house with the upper floor, the main one, set high to catch the pure air and to escape dampness, and they favored broad porches for the hot afternoons.
They soon left upper Natchez and rode along the bluff. As they approached Marc's house, Catalina's eyes widened at the almost breathtaking beauty of Garrison Hall.
She turned to look at Marc, and saw that he was lost in a different world as he gazed at the place. Was he wishing he had such a home? He was a riverboat gambler, but did he aspire to a different world, one more gracious and gentle than the one in which he existed?
After a few minutes Marc became aware of her scrutiny, and his protective mask reappeared.
"These friends of yours ..." she began.
"What about them?"
"Have you ... I mean ... have you told them?"
He knew what she meant, but he refused to make it easy on her. He again caught himself searching for motives. Did he want to continue to push her to see how far she would go to stand by her word, or did he want to embarrass her? Or maybe he wanted to see if this puzzle fit any other part of his life.
He continued to gaze at her and watched, fascinated, as her cheeks flushed and he could see her eyes glitter with anger.
"Told them what?" he smiled.
"You know very well what I mean. Why do you pretend!"
"That you're my mistress? Well, I've told Mrs. Thatcher ... Lorelei..."
Catalina's face went pale and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. Inhaling deeply, she sought control.
"Mrs. Thatcher?"
"She is the young lady who lives at Garrison Hall. Her name was Lorelei Garrison. Her husband, Rodger, is a very charming man. They're a lovely couple and they've been close . .. friends for a long time."
"You actually told her I..."
"Well, since you're going to share my bed, I'm sure she would have found out sooner or later."
"You are truly an unmitigated scoundrel!" Catalina snapped, aghast at the position he had forced her into.
"You needn't worry about Lorelei, she is a very discreet woman. She's smart enough to keep her thoughts to herself."
"Why must we spend the night here?" she cried. "Can we not return to the boat?"
"Why so shy, love?" He grinned. "I thought you might enjoy a little more comfort."
"Ohhh," she groaned through gritted teeth. "You talk about comfort and drag me to the home of people you have calmly told that we are... are sleeping together! How can you be so callous, so contemptible."
"Why, Cat, I didn't know you'd be so upset If you want to call off our bargain we shall have separate rooms and your reputation will be saved."
She closed her eyes for a moment and her body swayed with the carriage. Why couldn't he see what he was doing? Why didn't she just deny the bargain and return to the boat? But she knew the answer. He might win this day, this contest, but she would win the war.
She opened her eyes and they met his deep penetrating green ones. She smiled. "No, I do not want to return to the boat. Let's go on to Garrison Hall and meet your friends."
If he was surprised, he said nothing, but she was aware of the furrowing of his brow and the narrowing of his eyes as he reached for the answer to Catalina Carrington.
❧
Lorelei Garrison Thatcher had taken the envelope from Jacob's band. She had known the huge man all her life.
"What's my brother up to now?" She smiled warmly at Jacob, who stood before her hat in hand. "Why didn't he come home?"
"Ah doan rightly know, Miz Thatcher. He jus' toP me bring dis letter to you. Den I wuz to jus' wait fo' a carriage."
"A carriage. For Marc?" She laughed. "Don't tell me he's suddenly developed a fear of old Natchez-under-the-hill? He was never afraid to chase any petticoats down there."
"Ah... no, ma'am. De carriage hain't fo' Mister Marc. It's fo' de young miss what cum on de boat wif him."
"Young miss!" Lorelei's eyes sparkled. "You mean he's bringing a young lady home? Good heavens, has somebody finally caught my elusive brother?"
"Miz Thatcher... yo best read de letter."
Lorelei looked at Jacob curiously. "Come in," she said, and she began to tear the envelope open while preceding Jacob into a small sitting room, where she sat down.
Within moments she was grateful that she was sitting.
The letter was four pages long, but before she reached the second page her eyes had widened and she was registering shock. It grew with every word she read. When she had finished the letter, she dropped her hands into her lap and gazed up in profound amazement.
But Lorelei had known her brother too long, had watched him commit more than one deed of mischief. She did not always believe what she heard ... or saw.
Her eyes changed from amazement to shrewd curiosity.
"Jacob, do you know what's in this letter?"
"No, Miz Thatcher."
"This Miss Carrington, is she pretty?"
"Yessum, she be right pretty."
"So he's brought his vengeance here," she said thoughtfully. Then she added, almost to herself, "But I think there is more to it than that. He could have taken his revenge anywhere." She remained deep in thought for so long that Jacob began to shift in discomfort. "Well, we shall see what he's about," she said softly, "but I think my dear brother must have a problem ... yes, and I think the problem has a pretty face. Go back with the carriage, Jacob. I shall send some notes to the friends he wants to invite. This should prove more than interesting."
When Jacob had gone Lorelei went to her room and, seating herself at the desk, wrote several short notes. Then she rang for a maid and instructed her to have them delivered at once. That done, she sat near the window and watched for the arriving carriage.
She thought of the brother she loved so deeply and of the angry bitter days they had spent in the rooming house in Natchez-under-the-hill after their father's death.
She knew his bitterness had been forged by their disgrace due to what had happened, knew how his shame had hurt him. Now he wanted the daughter of the man he felt was guilty to taste that same shame. Lorelei had never been so sure of Carrington's guilt, yet Marc had refused to listen to her. He had seen her homeless, with ragged clothes, and very frightened, and he had battled his way back, facing all that could be thrown at him, yet shielding her.
Her husband had come to her when the tide of her fortune was at its lowest ebb. He had made her feel safe and secure, and she had loved and married him. Marc had asked them to live at Garrison Hall because he was away more than he was home, and he wanted the house to be cared for. Out of sympathy, Lorelei and Rodger had agreed.
Now he was bringing here the woman whose father, he felt, was responsible for their tragedy. But what was his real reason for doing this? If he wanted revenge, if he wanted to embarrass her, he could accomplish that anywhere. What did he want from this woman?
Lorelei's mind continued to struggle with these thoughts; then, suddenly, she became very still and a small smile tugged at her lips. Perhaps, Marc had run across a problem he could not deal with. Perhaps this woman had touched him in a way he had least expected and he wasn't sure of how to handle the situation.
"One bedroom prepared ... his," she murmured. Slowly her smile turned to a soft laugh. She was eager to meet Catalina Carrington.
❧
The carriage came to a halt and the door swung open. Marc stepped out, then raised a hand to help an awestruck Catalina descend. Catalina had been used to luxury, but this was the most beautiful edifice she had ever seen.
The servants, to their surprise, had been cautioned by Lorelei to remain silent and to welcome Marc and Catalina as visitors. Marc was amused to see the strain that caused for many were servants he'd rehired; they had worked for his family when he was a child.
When the pair stood in a large white-and-black tile entrance hall, Catalina slowly turned about to absorb her surroundings. A larg
e spiral staircase curved up gracefully several feet from them, and she was about to remark on its beauty when a woman appeared at the top.
As she watched the woman descend, her heart was wrenched. She was lovely, and if she was another of Marc's mistresses, then Catalina's battle would be more difficult than she had ever expected.
She caught a glimpse of Marc as she turned her head and wished she hadn't.
His smile was warm, his eyes appreciative. Indeed, he seemed to have forgotten her as he walked to the bottom of the steps.
The woman's smile widened as she neared the foot of the steps and her descent quickened. Catalina heard her laugh softly as she extended both hands to Marc, who took them, then drew her into his arms.
He held her close, rocking her in his embrace, and though he did not speak, Catalina could sense his strong emotion. She studied the woman closely.
She was slightly taller than Catalina, and her deep auburn hair was gathered so that it cascaded from the crown of her head nearly to her waist. Pulled back severely from her forehead, it enhanced her wide amber eyes and flawless complexion. She had an excellent figure, softly curved breasts, and a slim waist. All in all she would be harsh competition for any woman.
"Lorelei, my sweet, you look marvelous," Marc said as, grasping her hands, he stepped back to look at her. She smiled up into his eyes warmly.
"I have missed you. What kind of deviltry have you been up to?"
Marc chuckled and drew her with him to Catalina's side.
"Lorelei, I want you to meet a very lovely lady who is going to be our guest tonight. This is Catalina Carrington. Cat, this is Lorelei Garrison Thatcher."
"How do you do, Miss Thatcher," Catalina replied, and Lorelei knew by her stiffly formal attitude that she was upset. But why? Unless ...
Lorelei smiled warmly. "Mrs. Thatcher."
"Mrs. Thatcher," Catalina repeated, not sure that she should believe there was a Mr. Thatcher.
"Do come in and make yourself comfortable. I shall ring for something. What would you like—coffee, tea?"
"Brandy," Marc replied.
Catalina's Caress Page 27
