She was quite a woman, this wife of his, but the possibility still existed she spied for the enemy. He realized he wanted her to be innocent, as innocent as when she came to him. He recalled her fears and wondered if he would have to overcome them each time he made love to her. Or would she honestly admit she had found as much pleasure as he?
He went to the basin, and saw the water she used to wash after he first took her. A knot formed in his gut when he saw her blood. As he took the basin to the window to throw out the evidence of her innocence, he knew the thought of it would haunt him for some time. Her later responses to him were pleasure-driven. He played unfairly with her senses, but he hoped she remembered only the latter.
Ransom returned to the commode and poured fresh water. As he lathered his face, his thoughts returned to the tale she told him. Could she really be the duke’s niece? If so, could that be the link to England he suspected? She was complicated for such a little thing, and he feared his life would never be the same now that she had come into it.
Perhaps the best thing he could do was contact his father. Even though their politics differed, he knew his father would give him the truth about her. It would take time, but he fancied he could find pleasure in having her near while he waited. Of course, he would need to have her watched, but he would gladly pull quite a bit of that duty himself.
While he stood shaving, he noticed Catherine had awakened. She didn’t move, and he suspected she wanted to look at him without him knowing. He continued shaving and contorted his face to scrap off the lather and whiskers. He heard her sigh and wondered whether the sound was one of contentment or sadness.
He turned his head as though to begin the opposite side of his face. In turn, it was to better see her in the mirror. She looked just like the kitten he accused her of being, all curled up on her side, her eyes still heavy with sleep and her lips pursed. She was imitating the distortions he made to shave. When he turned quickly to catch her, he watched a becoming blush cover her shoulders and neck.
“Good morning, madam.”
Catherine wet her lips and tentatively smiled. “Good morning, sir,” she replied, her voice a bit shaky.
He wiped away the last of the lather, tossed the towel aside and made his way toward the bed, He liked the way her eyes seemed to caress his bare chest. “I trust you slept well?”
Lowering her eyes, Catherine nodded. “Quite well, thank you.”
The inane chatter that passed between them was senseless, yet Ransom found he preferred it to the serious words still to come. He sat on her side on the bed and reached out his hand to capture a curl from her cheek. “How do you feel?” He gently moved the backs of his fingers across her skin where the curl had been.
“I am fine, I think,” she said shyly.
“Do you wish to get up?”
She glanced about, obviously searching for something to use as a robe or cover. When she could find nothing, she shook her head. “No. I think I will stay here and . . . and rest a little longer.”
Ransom knew she was naked beneath the covers. The thought stirred him. He wanted to see her in her naked splendor by the light of day. He reached for the edge of the blanket and slowly drew it down.
“Don’t!” she cried, trying to hold on to it. When he kept pulling, she sat up and clutched the edge to her breasts. She reached to hold his wrist. “Please.”
Ransom didn’t try to hide the desire flaring in his eyes. He wanted her to know she aroused him. It would be a perfect test to see if she feared him still. “I would see all of you, Cat,” he announced firmly. “We made some gains last night. There is no going back.” With a jerk of his wrist, he pulled the covers from her.
He hadn’t intended to do more than look at her, but the moment he exposed her body, his thoughts returned to the pleasures they shared. Caressing her with his gaze, he unfastened his breeches.
* * *
Catherine discovered she still feared him, but not as a stranger. She feared him more as her lover. It would not be difficult for him to become a part of her life. In one short night he had awakened cravings she never knew existed. What would he reveal to her about herself if he continued to make love to her?
“You cannot!” she exclaimed and scurried to her knees to grab the blanket. “It is daylight!”
“That it is, my lovely Cat,” Ransom grinned crookedly as he slid his breeches down over his hips. Catherine bolted the moment he removed the only barrier between them. He rolled across the bed and caught her at the door. “As you said, madam, it is broad daylight,” he chuckled. He wrapped his arms about her waist to lift her off the floor. “You can’t be running around dressed as you are.”
Catherine wriggled about, trying to get him to release her, but it was a foolish attempt. Her bare bottom pressed into his groin and she felt the swelling of his manhood. “Put me down!” she ordered sternly, surprised when her feet touched the floor. Anger made her forget her nakedness and she spun to face him.
Before she could utter a single word, his arms trapped her. He drew her tightly against him. With his legs slightly spread, he nestled her exactly where she knew he wanted her.
“There is only one thing you and I do without trouble between us, madam,” he stated. “And I suggest we take advantage of it rather than discuss other business.”
Catherine frowned. Was this his way of telling her he still did not believe her story? Hating the fact he could make love to her even though he thought she lied, she glared up at him. “I would rather we clear this thing between us!” she demanded.
Ransom’s lips twitched. “That is exactly what I plan to do, madam.”
* * *
Holden yawned and stretched out his arms. A thump at his side made him turn. He clutched his head. One eye opened and he groaned as he reached for a mug of ale set before him by the tavern keeper.
“Thought ya might be needin’ that after all ya drank last night.”
Downing the brew, Holden grunted. “Thanks, Martin.”
“It ain’t like ya ta go so deep inta your cups, Holden. Ya got a problem?”
Holden shook his head. “No, just celebrating the captain’s wedding.”
The tavern keeper shrugged. “But he got wed ta that English woman. What ya celebratin’ that for?”
Holden smiled. “'Cause I’m thinking she’s exactly what the captain needed.”
“But she’s English!”
“So are you, you old fool!” Holden exclaimed. “Hell, most of us were born there.”
Martin chuckled. “Yeah, I guess yer right.” He drew a towel from over his shoulder and began to wipe the tables. “If ya think she’s all right, Holden, I’ll pass the word.”
Holden stood and slapped down the appropriate coin. “I’d appreciate it, Martin, and so would the captain.” He rubbed his stubbled jaw and exited the tavern. Then he ambled through town toward the road to Devil’s Head.
At the edge of town, Holden’s attention was caught by a glint of sunshine off something in the general store. He frowned and moved closer to the window. Mary Ellen, the owner’s wife, stood inside cleaning shelves. Holden paused at the window and stared.
“Morning, Mary Ellen,” he greeted when she smiled and waved.
“You be up awfully early, ‘olden. What brought ya ta town at this hour?” she replied. “If you be lookin’ for Timothy, he went huntin’.”
“Actually I was interested in getting something for the captain and his bride.”
“Humph! What ya want ta waste good money on ‘er for?”
Holden quirked a brow. “She’s a fine woman, Mary Ellen. You aren’t upset because she’s from England, are you?”
“Don’t be daft! I’m from Liverpool, ya know.”
“Then what’s got you down on her?” He perched a hip against the counter.
Mary Ellen shrugged. “Guess I don’t fancy ‘er comin’ ‘ere and throwin’ out poor workin’ folks.”
Holden frowned. “What do you mean?”
; “I mean poor Beatrice!”
Holden laughed. “Poor Beatrice never did a lick of work in her life and you know it.”
“But she said—”
“Catherine worked hard to clean up Devil’s Head and make it livable. Bea refused to help and she was let go. That’s all of it. Ask Alice or any of the others. They’ll tell you what a fine woman the captain’s wife is.” Holden glanced toward the window. “Now, I came for a gift, Mary Ellen. What do you recommend?”
She smiled. “Ya say she’s fixed the place up?” He nodded. “Made it fancy?”
“Made it livable and even pleasant.” He watched as she turned to the display. “I want something real nice,” he added. “Maybe something in silver.”
“‘Ave just the right thing, luv,” she stated. She leaned past an assortment of tools and picked up a set of silver candlesticks. “Ya can’t miss giv’n a bride silver,” she beamed and turned to face him.
Holden swallowed hard. “Where ever did you get anything this fine?” he asked, taking one to examine it. He saw Mary Ellen fidget and frown. “You know I would never let anyone know you told me,” he added.
Mary Ellen glanced about and moved closer. “Ya know the Stone family?” she whispered. She went on before he could reply. “Their girls, Betty and Jean, they went down the river ta work for some lady. She paid them with these.”
“Wonder where she got them?” he mused.
“Well, she told the girls she got ‘em from someone sellin’ em at the market in Tarrytown.”
Gazing down at the candlesticks, Holden sighed. “These will be fine, Mary Ellen. Will you wrap them in something?”
“Don’t ya even want ta know what I’m askin’?”
“Wrap them, Mary Ellen,” Holden stated, clearly willing to pay the price.
* * *
With the morning half gone, Ransom appeared in the dining room. He grinned at a clearly surprised Alice. “Have a bath brought up to my . . . to your mistress,” he ordered. Too much remained unsettled between them for him to call her his wife to others yet.
He took a seat and thanked Alice for the plate and pot of fresh tea she placed before him. “Have someone find Holden for me, would you Alice?” he asked when she returned from seeing to his original request.
“Ain’t seen him yet this mornin’,” she commented. “But I’ll see if John knows—”
“No need, Alice,” Holden called from the door. He entered the dining room and took a chair after a glance in Ransom’s direction. “How did it go?” he asked.
Ransom paused over his meal and braced his arms on the table. He knew Holden was referring to the conversation he was to have with Catherine, yet his mind filled with their personal exchange. It occurred to him he had behaved like a young buck last night, and again this morning. For a man who took pride in restraint, he lost all of it with her.
Since discovering the attraction between men and women in his youth, he could not remember craving a woman like he did Catherine. Even though he had taken her within the hour, he knew he could return to her now and desire her again.
“Fine,” he replied after the pause to dwell on his unusual feelings. “She told me an incredible story about being the cousin of the woman I was supposed to wed.” He went on to relay the entire tale.
“And do you believe her?”
Sitting back in his chair, Ransom sighed. “I don’t know,” he told Holden truthfully. “I must admit I want to, but too many lives depend on us to chance trusting her until I am sure.”
Holden frowned deeply. “I want to believe her, too,” he announced. “But I’m afraid I discovered something that might damn her.”
Ransom’s body stiffened. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.
Looking about, Holden stood. “We’d better discuss this in the library.”
Once inside the sanctuary, Ransom stood near the door, his stance one of contained tension. “All right, Holden. What did you find out?”
Holden went to the desk. Ransom saw him unwrap a package. “This,” Holden stood the pair of candlesticks upright in front of him.
Ransom didn’t have to examine the candlesticks. No two pairs could be so identical, especially when they were so unusual. Ransom picked up one and examined the spreading wings wrought in silver. His fist tightened. A lesser metal would have snapped with the power of his grip.
He set the damning evidence down and made his way to the window. Planting his feet firmly, he braced one hand on the frame to remember the first time he saw Catherine. She had stood at this very same window. Not only did she clean this room, he thought, but she found her way into the adjoining one.
His mind struggled to remain neutral. He wanted all the answers before he condemned her, but everything seemed to be pointing to her demise. If she pillaged the supply room, what else did she find?
“What are you going to do about this?” Holden asked.
Ransom knew no one in the house was aware of the contents of the other room except Holden and John. “Do?” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. He sighed and picked up one of the candlesticks. “Why, I’m going to go ask her how it is she came by this.” He headed for the door.
“Give her a chance to explain, Ran,” Holden ventured. “I know you.” Ransom paused at the door. “The cause has become your life, but she is your wife. She may be involved up to her pretty neck, but she could also be carrying your child if I read you right earlier.”
Somehow in his desire for Catherine, he never considered the possibility she might get pregnant. It would be some time before he knew, but he would have to keep it in mind.
“I won’t hurt her,” he said slowly, “but I will have my answers.”
* * *
Catherine’s mind was in turmoil. One moment she wanted to scratch his eyes out and the next she begged him to come inside her. She knew if he would only believe her, she would be content.
A warmth suffused her when she thought of what they did in the wee hours. She had stood naked in his arms, arguing with him, and he had broken down her defenses. By the time he lifted her against the wall to press deeply into her, she’d forgotten why he upset her.
Unfortunately, he reminded her the moment he lay her on the bed afterwards. No sooner did he toss the covers over her than he reached for his breeches and began to ask her more questions. No matter what she replied, he merely listened, never once giving her an encouraging word.
When he was about to leave her alone, he paused at the door and said, “We’ll leave it for now.” There were no endearments, not even a kiss. Once finished with her, he left. Tears welled up, even now, when she recalled the hurt, but it would be senseless to dwell on it. Until he made up his mind about her, she would have to live with whatever he presented. She could fight his logic. She could even tolerate his surly moods, but no way could she deny him if he wanted her.
The memory of Sabrina returned and she smiled. Sabrina didn’t need assistance that night. Even though Catherine misconstrued it at the time, she understood now. Passion was a savage thing. Even an innocent could be made to behave wildly. She was proof!
The door swung open and she gasped lightly, blushing when she saw Ransom. She did not feel ready to face him yet. “Go away. I’m bathing.”
The door slammed and he strode toward her. He stopped beside the table, his eyes hidden beneath a deep scowl. “Would you like to explain this?” He thumped the candlestick down hard on the table.
Catherine winced, then turned her attention to the object. It was one of those hideous candlesticks! She looked up to better see his face as he towered over her. She spied his unspoken accusation, and glared at him. “No, I would not.”
Ransom grabbed her arms and shook her firmly. “Talk, Catherine! Explain how this ended up in town!”
“Why?” she yelled back at him. “You won’t believe me anyway!” She gasped as he yanked her out of the tub. Her wet body fell against him. She sensed the change in the directions of his thoughts.
“Damn you!” he growled and forced his mouth over hers.
Catherine hated him at that moment. He would use her body, despite the fact that he was furious with her. “No!” she cried, turning her head. “Leave me alone! I don’t want you to touch me ever again!”
“I don’t want to touch you,” he rasped and carried her to the bed. He pressed over her before she could roll away. She struggled and he placed his hand on her neck. Catherine froze. “Why did you have to come into my life?” Ransom groaned. His hand slid over her damp skin as he lowered his mouth to claim hers.
* * *
A whimper escaped her throat and he knew she was becoming aroused. Before she changed her mind, he unfastened his breeches and eased into her. In moments, he trembled with the power of his climax. He knew she found no such satisfaction. Disgusted with himself for using her so casually, he rolled off of her as soon as the last tremor moved through him.
Repairing his clothing, he stood without looking back at her. He knew she scurried beneath the covers but he could not trust himself to soften. “That will never happen again, madam,” he said harshly.
It took all of Ransom’s resolve not to return to the bed to prove to her he could take her whenever he desired, whether she wanted him or not. Hadn't he done just that? But what would it prove, except that he could not resist her. He didn’t want her possessing that bit of knowledge.
Acting as if she meant nothing to him, he left her to her own devices. He needed to see Holden and have him make contact with their people in New York. Ransom needed another mission. If he were to keep his vow not to touch her, he would have to get away—and quickly.
* * *
Catherine couldn’t gather the courage to go downstairs for more than an hour after Ransom left her. She donned his robe and glared at the pool of green on the floor. She shivered and knew she couldn’t bear to don the gown again. Too many memories would forever be associated with the dress. She turned away to search her own room for something else to wear.
The Rebel's Bride Page 14
