by Anne Stuart
“You think it would be like that?” His voice was slow and deep and his face was unreadable.
“I know it would. You’d get tired of coping with me, and some day, sooner or later, someone like Joyce Whatever-her-name-was will show up and you’ll be off.”
“You have a lot of faith in me,” he said lightly, his hand gently smoothing a strand of hair away from her brow.
“Don’t do that!” she cried desperately. “Leave me alone, please. If you don’t...” She let the sentence trail.
“If I don’t?” he prompted, his voice deep and infinitely tender.
“If you don’t,” she continued weakly, “you’ll only break my heart. And I couldn’t bear it.” Burying her face in her arms, she gave in to the tears that had racked her body the previous night. As she lay. there she could feel his hazel eyes watching her, feel his warm, soothing presence beside her on the bed. But he made no move to comfort her, merely waiting until her sobs slowly died away.
“As I see it,” Sin’s voice said slowly, consideringly, “we have two options. Taking as given that I’m not about to let you go back to Washington, that is.”
His reasonable tone was enough to make her raise her damp face curiously. “Why not?” she asked in a husky, tear-drenched voice.
He had moved to the other side of the bed and was leaning against the pillows. “Because I’m not,” he replied shortly. “I want you here with me. So my options are simple: I can either kidnap you and keep you on my yacht, or”—he gave her a devastating smile—”we can get married.”
The world seemed to spin about her. “I don’t consider that amusing,” she snapped.
“I wasn’t planning on amusing you,” he replied easily, it’s very simple to get a marriage license on St. Alphonse. We could be married this afternoon and then take off on Tamlyn for a honeymoon. Away from telephones and old flames and other distractions. What do you think?”
Cathy sat bolt upright, straightening the terry robe primly. “I think you’re out of your mind,” she announced firmly. “Why in the world would you want to marry me? You aren’t in love with me.” There was still enough foolishness in her that she hoped he might deny it.
He leaned back meditatively. “I don’t know,” he said dreamily. His eyes met hers suddenly, and Cathy felt a tightening in her stomach at the desire that blazed there. “I do know that I want to be with you. I want to make love to you, morning, noon, and night. You were made to be loved, Cathy, and you’ve spent far too much of your life celibate.”
“That’s not enough of a reason to get married,” she said quietly. “Simple sexual attraction isn’t enough. We could sleep together without getting married.”
“Who said there was anything simple about sexual attraction?” he countered. “And there’s more to it than sex, my love. I want to protect you, take care of you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Nonsense. You’re far too vulnerable. How you could have gotten this far in life and still have remained so innocent is beyond me.” He shook his head in amazement. “And though you’re one of the toughest ladies I’ve ever met, you still need me.”
“To protect me?” she repeated skeptically. “I don’t think that’s reason enough.”
“What about this?” Before she could divine his intention, he had moved across the bed and caught her in his arms, his mouth crushing hers with a ruthless, demoralizing passion that was as soul-destroying as it was efficient. Part of her knew very well he was doing everything he could to turn her into a quivering mass of desire in the shortest amount of time. She knew it, and was helpless against it.
He moved his mouth a fraction of an inch away, keeping his arms securely around her. Not that she was about to try to struggle out of his embrace, she thought dizzily. “Marry me,” he whispered.
“No.” She shook her head, and his lips caught hers, gently teasing her into opening her mouth.
“Marry me,” he said again, his tongue tracing her upper lip.
“No.” The sound was definitely weaker. One hand released its hold on her waist and cupped her soft breast.
“Marry me.” He had moved her robe aside, and his tongue swirled around the rosy-tipped peak. A small, quiet moan of surrender emitted from the back of Cathy’s throat.
“Yes,” she whispered.
* * *
Chapter Sixteen
* * *
Cathy went through the wedding in a dream. She had dressed in the cream linen suit that Meg had rushed out and bought her, squeezed her feet into the matching shoes that were half a size too small, and stood in front of a tall black civil servant with her sister and Charles to one side and Sin, tall and somber and sinfully handsome, on the other. His voice had been low and deep and sure as he repeated the simple vows, Cathy’s tone was a thin, reedy sound. What am I doing, she demanded of herself as she held out her hand and felt the thin gold band slip over her finger. Am I out of my mind?
Doubts had assailed her immediately. The moment she had whispered “yes” Sin had pulled away from her and rolled off the bed. “I feel like I’ve been waiting centuries,” he’d said, shrugging into a forest-green polo shirt. “I can wait a few more hours. Besides, if we’re going to get married this afternoon I have a thousand things to do.”
Dropping a kiss on her bewildered forehead, he had vanished from the hotel room.
And this was the first time she had seen him since he had seduced her into agreeing to his crazy proposal. Standing tall and straight in front of the justice of the peace, with no chance for Cathy to come up with the hundred and one objections that had flooded her mind since he’d left her.
Even Meg had seemed strangely preoccupied, chattering at a breakneck speed that allowed Cathy no time at all for reflection or even confidences. All the while her dark eyes were troubled. Now as she stood next to her, holding the small bouquet of gardenias Sin had bought her, the troubled expression was still there. Out of the corner of her eye Cathy watched Charles reach out and pat Meg’s hand in a reassuring gesture. He looked slightly grim around the mouth too, and Cathy’s doubts increased tenfold.
Too late. “I now pronounce you man and wife,” the justice announced. In a daze Cathy felt Sin’s lips brush hers, followed by Charles and Meg, the doubts erased from their smiling countenances.
“I’ll call Pops for you,” Meg promised. “Leave it to me. He’ll probably raise holy hell, but then, that’s his usual style.” She hugged her again, tears bright in her eyes. “God, I hope you’re happy, Cath.”
“Now, now, we don’t need tears, darling,” Charles chided genially, and Cathy couldn’t tell if the geniality was forced or not. “I thought you loved romance.”
“I just want to make sure Cathy’s happy,” Meg wailed, casting a fulminating glance at Sin’s bland exterior. “And you’d damn well better know what you’re doing,” she informed her new brother-in-law.
Sin took this veiled threat in good part. “I do,” he said simply, his arm moving to encircle Cathy’s waist. She looked up at him, belated surprise and the return of her doubts clouding her expression.
“Well, shall we see the happy couple off, Meg?” Charles tried to inject a note of normalcy into the proceedings. “There’s a bottle of champagne chilling on Tamlyn. I suggest we go toast the marriage and then let these two get off on their honeymoon.”
“Sounds good,” Sin agreed easily, taking her arm in a lightly possessive grip and guiding her toward the door. She tripped, and his grip tightened. “Are you all right?” The concern in his warm hazel eyes momentarily banished every doubt that had assailed her.
“I’m fine,” she managed. “I’m not used to these shoes.”
“It’s bad luck for a bride to trip on her wedding day,” Meg broke in before Sin could respond. “That’s why they’re carried over thresholds.”
“I guess we didn’t get off to a very good start then,” Cathy said with a shaky laugh. Sin’s body seemed curiously tense beside her, and she wished
she could shake this sense of impending doom.
“We’ll make up for it,” Sin promised firmly, smiling down at her, and the warmth in his eyes melted her misgivings. When he looked at her like that she would do anything for him, even something as abysmally stupid and short-sighted as rushing into marriage.
Smiling back at him, she slipped out of her tight shoes and handed them to a bewildered Meg. “We need all the luck we can get,” she murmured. “I don’t want to tempt fate again.”
And barefoot, she went with Sin out into the blazing tropical sunlight.
She had changed out of her linen dress and put on slim-fitting designer jeans and an oversized white cotton tunic that emphasized her tan while merely hinting at the ripe young curves beneath its billowing lines, and then joined her new husband on the deck as they sailed out of the harbor. They hadn’t talked much, Sin being involved in the navigation of the yacht and Cathy being stricken with sudden, tongue-tied shyness. They had reached the tiny cove on the uninhabited island south of St. Alphonse in just under five hours, and right now the delicious odor of broiling steaks wafted in the open cabin door. Sin had insisted on taking care of dinner that night, brushing aside her offers of assistance with gentle determination. So that all she could do was sit barefoot on the bed she’d soon be sharing with her new husband and wonder if she’d gone out of her mind.
“Do you want some wine?” he called out cheerfully as he worked on the salad. “Or a drink of some sort?”
“No, thank you,” she replied politely enough, leaning her head out of the cabin door for a moment. The small dimensions of the main cabin seemed dwarfed next to Sin’s height. His back was to her, the faded jeans tight across his hips and clinging to his long, long legs. The western-style shirt hugged his broad shoulders, emphasizing the latent power they contained. With a sigh, Cathy moved back into the cabin, leaning up against the bulkhead. Why? she asked herself one more time. And with a sudden, blinding clarity, she knew.
You ‘re in love with him, she accused herself silently. Of all the stupid, idiotic, blind fools! You’ve been in love with him for days—weeks—and you never even noticed. No wonder you were so eager to be talked into a loveless marriage. Because on your side there was more than enough love. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
And when had all this madness started? Once she realized the depth of her hopeless infatuation, the rest was easy. She’d been attracted from the first. But she’d been blinded by her lingering pain over Greg and a fear of new commitments, fighting the attraction with every ounce of her strength and stubborn will. But it had done her no good to fight.
She’d fallen in love with him the night he followed her out of the French restaurant in Georgetown and held her trembling, miserable body against his comforting warmth. And it had taken her another month to realize it! Well, she had never been noted for her wisdom in love. Witness Greg Danville.
Not a flicker of pain, she noticed with grim satisfaction. She was over him completely—at least loving Sin had accomplished that. But would the cure be worse than the illness? She had a wretched feeling that it might be.
“Dinner’s ready.” He was standing in the doorway, filling it completely. He even had to duck his head to move inside. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she lied, looking at him with new eyes. “But I’m not really hungry.”
“You should be.” Taking her hand, he pulled her from the bunk and drew her out into the main cabin. “Have you eaten anything all day?”
“I had a sandwich sometime around noon.” She failed to mention she’d left more than half of it behind on the plate. The little booth was set with white damask, silver candlesticks, and Waterford crystal wineglasses. A trace of humor penetrated her abstraction. “Do you usually travel with all this fancy stuff?” she queried, slipping into her place.
“Wedding present,” he replied succinctly. “Meg didn’t want us to use the same tin plates we’d used all the way down here.” He placed a perfectly cooked steak in front of her with a flourish. The salad to her left was a work of art, with thinly sliced avocados spiraling around the outside. She looked up at him suspiciously.
“You told me you couldn’t cook,” she accused him after she took a tentative bite of the steak. It was perfect.
“When did I say that?” he demanded, surprised. “I love to cook.”
“You told me that the first day I met you. When I said the men should fix lunch.”
“Oh, that.” He smiled wickedly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I only wanted to rescue you from an embarrassing situation. You were forced to admit you couldn’t sail, and I didn’t want you to feel any worse than you obviously already did.”
“Rescue me?” she echoed. Despite the feeling of helplessness it connoted, the notion was very pleasant indeed. Stop that, she ordered herself sternly. He’s just got a Sir Galahad complex, and you’re a damsel in distress. It’s lucky he doesn’t know how distressed you are, and all because of him.
Surprisingly enough, she was hungry. After devouring her steak, she finished her salad, three rolls with butter, and almost half a bottle of champagne. Sin leaned back and watched her eat, with a light in his hazel eyes that was disturbingly tender. He was fast proving her undoing, Cathy realized hopelessly. And she knew without question that however miserable she’d been after Greg, it was nothing compared to the devastation Sin’s eventual desertion would wreak.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
She forced herself to meet his eyes candidly. “I was wondering how long we’d be married,” she said lightly, and had the dubious satisfaction of seeing the good humor vanish from his face.
“That’s up to you,” he said noncommittally.
“You’ll let me go?”
A not entirely pleasant smile lit his tanned face. “Jumped at it, didn’t you? No, I won’t let you go. Not right now, at least.”
“Then when?” she pursued it.
“Cathy.” He leaned across the table and brushed her face with a gentle hand. “You agreed to marry me. Why all the doubts?”
She jumped like a frightened rabbit, pulling away from the caress as if burned. “Just nervous, I guess,” she said shakily.
His eyes surveyed her for a long, speculative moment. “All right.” He rose slowly to his full height, towering over her in the tiny confines of the cabin. Without another word he began clearing the table with an economy of movements. Cathy opened her mouth to offer to help him, then shut it again. If he did the dishes himself it would be longer before he turned his attention back to her. And she wasn’t quite ready for the full force of that gaze.
Leaning her arms on the back of the bench seat, she stared out at the inky water beyond the porthole. “Do you mind if I go out on deck?” she asked suddenly.
Sin’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Of course not. As long as you don’t jump overboard and try to swim for it. I wouldn’t take kindly to a runaway bride.”
“Where would I run to?” she asked in a low voice as she climbed the three short steps to the deck.
Once alone in the inky blackness, she took three long, deep breaths. The water was all around her, still and black, with a wide trail of moonlight cutting across it to the beach several hundred yards away. She could hear the quiet sounds of the water lapping on the hull, the soft breezes ruffling the palm trees on the shore and jiggling the hardware on the masts. Cathy sat cross-legged on the bench seat, drinking in the cool, sea-tanged night air, reveling in the deserted stillness, the calm and peace that surrounded her. For a moment she could almost forget the inexplicable mess she had landed herself in. Married to a man who didn’t love her, a man whose presence sent her heart pounding and her pulses racing.
He moved so quietly she accepted his presence before she was completely aware of it. One strong, tanned hand reached out with a brandy snifter.
“I don’t think-” Cathy began.
“Take it.” The order was gently spoken, but an order nonetheless. “You need it. It’s bee
n a long, long day, and you didn’t sleep much last night.”
She took a tentative sip of the brandy, letting it burn its way down. He was so very close. She could feel the heat emanating from his body, smell the enticing male smell of him. Like a magnet she could feel her body being pulled toward his, and the idea panicked her.
“Let’s go for a walk on the beach,” she said suddenly. “It’s such a pretty night and—”
“No.” The word was quiet but inexorable.
Cathy swallowed once, twice, and took another sip of her brandy. “What about a swim, then? It looks like a lovely beach, and I love swimming at night.”
“No.” He leaned back against the cushions, his eyes glittering in the moonlit darkness.
“But it’s early and I-”
“No.” His voice was calm and implacable. “Finish your brandy, Cathy.”
“I—I don’t think I want it,” she said nervously, getting to her feet and edging out of his way. She half expected him to catch her, but he made no move to impede her escape. “I think I’ll go below and—and find something to read. I’m not at all tired, and reading always helps me sleep.” The words came out breathlessly and far too fast. Sin had the indecency to laugh at her lame excuse, but he let her go without moving.
* * *
Chapter Seventeen
* * *
The main cabin was no escape, and the small room she would soon have to share with Sin was even worse. Cathy whirled about her in panic, wishing now she had jumped overboard. She didn’t want... she couldn’t...
Sin moved slowly down the steps, lithe and graceful as a jungle cat, despite his height. Placing the brandy snifters on the tiny counter, he turned to face her in the small confines of the cabin. There was a look of intractable purpose in his face as he moved slowly toward her.
