Physical work would be just the thing to get through the day ahead of her, so she dressed in some of the things Alice had given her when she arrived. At the moment, she didn’t feel like the lady of the manor. Why pretend to be?
With her hair wrapped in a severe knot at the nape of her neck and her attire as plain as she could make it, she squared her shoulders and made her way to the stairs. Shame suddenly filled her for the ease with which she surrendered to Ransom. He hated her—yet, she allowed him to use her because he had taught her about passion and desire too well.
She had already started to return to her room to shed threatening tears when she heard her name called from below. Swallowing her anguish temporarily, she turned with as much dignity as she could muster to see Holden at the bottom of the stairs.
“Alice has some food saved for you, m’lady.” He spoke kindly to her as he reached out his hand to coax her to come down.
Slowly, she found herself descending until he took her hand in his. “I am not hungry, Mr. Blakely,” she said, her tone chilled.
He smiled gently. “I was Holden before today, m’lady.” He tucked her arm in his.
“And I was Catherine before I went up those stairs last,” she reminded him.
“Then come have tea with me, Catherine,” he pleaded.
Needing some kindness, she nodded, but stopped just before they reached the open door to the dining room. She looked about the room and heard Holden sigh. She looked to him for an explanation.
“He’s gone down river for a few days.”
She nodded slowly and entered the room, but paused when he called her name. “Yes?” she replied, gazing back at him.
“Nothing, Catherine,” he sighed and waited for her to sit. “Let’s just eat.”
Catherine frowned, but remained silent. She didn’t wish to speak, either.
Chapter Thirteen
* * *
Tranquility filled Catherine’s life at Devil’s Head after Ransom left. Her days were productive and serene. She planted more of the garden and worked with Alice to salt a nice catch of shad and perch Holden brought in. The late spring days were also perfect for airing the large house.
Keeping busy was exactly what she needed to prevent herself from thinking about the man she had married. From the moment they had met, she knew him to be complex and domineering, but in the days following, she had discovered other things about him—things that could prove troublesome.
He was terribly loyal to his friends and his country. She knew part of his distrust of her hinged on that loyalty. In listening to others speak of him, she knew his word mattered more than his life. Therein lay her need not to think of his parting words.
It was easy to declare her pleasure with his decision not to touch her again as they parted. She was angry, but in the moments after she retired, her thoughts filled with what they had shared. Tender and thoughtful when making love to her, Ransom had taught her more than she ever could have dreamed. When she recalled his touch, she fairly trembled with the memory. If he had kept his word to her, she would never again know such ecstasy.
Thinking about him before sleep was not a wise thing for her to do. Both nights she awakened craving him and his touch. She found herself reaching for him in the twilight before waking. If he could make her such a slave to desire in one short day, what would she be like after a year or more together?
Repeatedly, she reminded herself it would be better if he stayed away from her, but she knew she lied. She would find herself thinking of him at odd times during the day, worrying about him. Could it be she was beginning to care for him?
Deciding it would be foolish to care for a man who hated her, Catherine set her mind to building a wall between them. Perhaps, if she shunned him enough, he would tire of her and release her from her vows. After all, she never truly made any. Due to the circumstances, the marriage was performed without her knowledge or consent.
Thoroughly convinced she could remain aloof, Catherine heard a call in the yard below and hastened to the window of Ransom’s room where she was changing sheets. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest when she heard the deep familiar voice of her husband.
She sighed. All her declarations to remain distant from him evaporated with just his appearance. Her only hope was that he would be stronger than her. Ready to race to her room to change, she realized it would be a mistake. She straightened her shoulders, moved back from the window, and returned to her chores.
* * *
Ransom saw her appearance at the window, but pretended he didn’t. As she disappeared, he relaxed the tension in his shoulders. She had been on his mind the entire time he was away. Even as he spoke with his contacts in New York, images of her shimmered in the recesses of his mind.
Several times during his conversations he was tempted to reveal what he suspected about her, yet he found he could not. She was his problem, so he concentrated on the continuing debate over who bore the responsibility for the war, the hawks in Congress or Mr. Madison. Since no one could prove it either way, the argument had no conclusion and just gave him something to fill his mind.
He was thinking it might not have been wise to return to the house with her so heavily in his thoughts. He was considering a return to his ship when Holden appeared at the door.
“How did things go?” Holden asked.
“Troops are moving closer to the city,” Ransom announced. He decided Devil’s Head belonged to him and he would stay if he chose. “They’ve reportedly ravaged a good part of the coast and moved inland.” He headed straight for the library. Once there, he took a seat behind his desk, placed his feet upon it, and crossed them at the ankles. “I think we’d better start plans to move the Ebony to a safer haven.”
Holden shrugged. “They won’t find her there in the marsh. She’s well hidden.”
“That’s true, but she could be lost to fire if they get close enough to set up any guns on the shore.” Holden nodded, plainly seeing the wisdom of getting the ship out of harm's way. “She would be as good as sunk if she can’t sail out.”
“How long do you think we have?”
Ransom leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He slept poorly while gone and was tired. “I think we’d better get her out as soon as you round up the crew.”
“Most of the men are in Nyack as we speak.”
“Then we can sail on today or tomorrow’s afternoon tide.”
“Want to tell me why you’re so anxious to get out of here?”
Ransom sighed. He opened his eyes. “The British have defeated Napoleon.”
Without asking, Holden went to the table and poured two glasses of brandy. He handed Ransom one, then drank his.
“So that’s the end of England fighting on two fronts.”
“Yes. Now they can divert all their men and arms against our cause.” Ransom swallowed some of his drink. “With their added forces soon to be available, the only chance we’ll have to stop them is at sea before they land.”
“Then it has begun in earnest.” Holden was solemn.
“Not yet, but soon,” Ransom replied. “For now we have a rendezvous to deliver some powder, then we wait and see.”
“What about Catherine?” Holden reminded him. “Want me to pick a few men to watch her?”
Ransom frowned and took another swallow. Thoughts of other men watching her did not sit well. “No, she’s coming with us.”
Holden choked on his drink. “But you said she could be a British spy! How can you risk showing her something you’ve spent years keeping secret?”
“I said she is coming with us and that’s the last I want to hear about it,” Ransom snapped. He rose quickly to his feet. From the door, Ransom shouted for Catherine. She came into the foyer moments later. Her chin was raised with a pride clearly as fierce as his own.
“You desired my presence, sir?” she asked, her voice cold and clipped.
Ransom’s hands fisted at his sides. “Prepare to leave, madam,” he stated, his own
voice filled with authority.
Catherine nodded curtly and whirled to take the stairs to her room. She never once paused or revealed her feelings. As Ransom watched her depart he desperately wanted to follow her. Did she know how gracefully her hips swayed as she took the stairs? Was she purposefully teasing him with what he swore he didn’t want? Forcing himself to turn away from the sight of her, he saw Holden smiling.
“What is so funny?” Ransom demanded.
“Not a thing, Captain,” Holden said, shaking his head. “Just can’t help but wonder why you want such a vengeful woman along with you.”
Ransom wondered the same thing. Whatever possessed him to place himself on the horns of a dilemma? Thoughts of her at Devil’s Head with other men enraged him, but he reined in his possessive fury. “Mind your own business, Holden,” he snarled. “I know what I’m doing.”
Holden scratched his head, nodded, and left.
* * *
Catherine wouldn’t look back as Holden helped her into the small boat. She knew she would miss Devil’s Head. It really was a lovely house, but it wasn’t meant to be hers. From the first she knew the entire escapade could go wrong. She only wished she’d declined Sabrina’s idea in the beginning, or fled before Ransom consummated their marriage.
As long as she lived, she knew she would remember every moment they were together. There would never be a time when she would close her eyes and not conjure visions of him. In their short time together, she had gathered a myriad of memories. Even now she could clearly see him shaving, his torso bare. She could feel the coarse texture of his shoulder length black hair if she tightened her hand. He would forever be a part of her, she realized, and lowered her head to hide threatening tears.
“Get under way, Holden.” Ransom said as he stepped into the small craft. She kept her eyes averted even though she sat near where he stood.
The scow was pushed away from the dock, but it did not seek the swifter waters. She noticed it hugged the shore, but with so little knowledge of sailing, she remained quiet. All she really cared about was getting it all behind her. She could no longer stand to be with Ransom and not share his bed.
After only minutes, the craft veered. She lifted her head. They seemed to be moving into the reedy depths of a marsh. With no memory of her arrival, she assumed it was part of the journey. Glancing about, she lifted her eyes to peek at Ransom. He scowled fiercely and a shiver went through her. He looked like he could kill.
Catherine frowned. She glanced about the small boat. The only people aboard besides herself and Ransom were Holden and one other she did not know. It occurred to her that Holden was fiercely loyal to his captain and friend. If Ransom planned something terrible for her, would Holden stand by him?
Her imagination began to run rampant in the silence of the marsh. One more look at Ransom’s dark countenance convinced her he was about to kill her. Fear overruled logic and she stood, ready to leap out of the boat.
“Sit down!” Ransom roared the instant the boat rocked. He reached out and grabbed her arm, hauling her thrashing body into his lap.
She struggled fiercely. “I will not let you kill me!”
“Kill you?” he snarled and secured her in the circle of his arms. “I will only kill you if you don’t sit still!”
It took a moment for his words to penetrate, but eventually they did and she stilled, feeling foolish. She had allowed her imagination to get the better of her. “I am all right now,” she murmured softly and drew a steadying breath. “You can let me go.”
“No one is going to harm you, madam,” he stated firmly and lifted her to the seat across from him.
Now that her emotions were back in control, she turned her head to look at him. He appeared to be searching for something. As she strained to see, a ship loomed out of the verdant growth, a ship as black as night. Even the sails tied to the masts were black!
“Are you a . . . a pirate?” she asked without taking her eyes from the ship.
Holden chuckled, and Ransom scowled at him. Suddenly, both men broke out in laughter. The sound frightened Catherine. With his hair tied back and his black clothing, she asked again. “Well, are you?”
The small craft came up beside the black ship. Ransom, still chuckling, drew her to her feet and stared down at her. “At this moment, madam, I wish I were.” She frowned in confusion. “Hell, why not,” he said and yanked her to her feet. Before she could object, he hoisted her over his shoulder and climbed the ladder to board.
“Put me down!” she cried.
“Quiet, wench!” he roared in more laughter and swatted her bottom playfully. Aghast, she hid her face from his staring crew.
“Don’t worry, men,” Holden chuckled. “He hasn’t quite lost his mind. That’s his wife.” Catherine’s head rose to glare him to silence, but he went on. “And he’s only been married a short time.” His comments brought the expected round of laughter and ribald comments that made her gasp, but seemed to have little impact on Ransom.
“Put me down,” she ordered when they went below deck. To her surprise, Ransom set her on her feet in the center of a small cabin. “How dare you—”
“This is your cabin while we are at sea, madam,” he interrupted, all evidence of his humor gone. “You will not leave it unless I give you permission to do so.”
“And you will not enter here without my permission!” she snapped caustically, wanting him to know she did not recognize his authority.
He glanced over his shoulder at her when he paused at the door. His eyes raked her insolently. “You have no authority on this ship, madam, and even less over me.”
Was he warning her? She watched him dismiss her as he left. What a fool she had been to hope that after one glorious night they might have a future. Ever since he had taken her to his bed, he had treated her as an inconvenience.
Sighing, she decided the fault was hers. She had surrendered too easily. Biting her lip to still a quiver in it, she took a chair. There was no sense bemoaning the past. She would simply have to live with whatever course he set for her, and wherever he was taking her.
* * *
The ship rocked like it was in motion. Catherine’s eyes opened and she sat up. She must have fallen asleep. She rose from her chair and made her way to a narrow window. With the cabin in the stern, the path of the ship could be seen in the spreading wake.
They were out of the river. Only the hint of a coastline could be seen on the horizon. She must have slept for some time. Her stomach grumbled and she felt the pangs of hunger. For a moment, she recalled Ransom’s words to remain in the cabin, but she was hungry. If he forgot her, she could starve.
She ran her hands back over her hair to ensure it was neat and in order before she went to the door. She decided not to obey him in this instance or any others to come. He clearly planned to be rid of her. She owed him no allegiance.
There was very little activity on the deck when she stuck her head into the fresh air. Several men were off to one side of the deck working a pile of ropes and a few more seemed to be stacking something beneath a tarp.
Cautiously, she stepped out. She could not see Ransom anywhere. With her new resolve, she made her way toward the nearby rail. The sun was beginning to set and she paused to enjoy the beauty of it as it turned the sky shades of pink. She felt peace in the glory of the sunset. Sighing heavily, she leaned on the rail.
“I thought I told you to remain below,” Ransom’s deep voice declared from behind her.
She remained at the rail, but clutched it for support. “I am hungry and came to find something to eat.”
Ransom could almost feel her withdrawal. It enraged him, especially after what they had shared. She might well be the enemy. But what right did she have to spurn him?
Reaching out his hand, he took her arm and pulled her about to face him. “Go back to the cabin. I will have food sent.”
“I can manage without your hands on me!” she snapped and yanked her arm from his grip.
Ransom knew his men watched the little tableau. To maintain his supreme influence over them, he could not afford to let this wisp of femininity get away with defying him. Clenching his jaw, he stooped to sweep her into his arms. Immediately, she kicked and yelled, but it only served to amuse him.
“That’s enough!” Ransom roared. He found it difficult not to laugh when her jaw snapped shut. He stepped back and located Holden. “Take the helm, Mr. Blakely. I have some important business to see to.”
He knew the sound of laughter from his crew mortified Catherine. It became evident when she lowered her head, but the moment they were out of sight, she resumed her struggles.
She punched him soundly on the shoulder. “Release me, you rogue!”
“First I am a bastard, then a pirate,” he chuckled. “Now I am a rogue. Who better than I to play the parts.”
Catherine cried out when he dropped her onto the bunk. She scurried to the far edge, obviously expecting him to join her. Instead, he turned to walk to the door. He grinned at her silence. He suspected it would cease with his next action. At the door he threw the bolt. Turning slowly, Ransom took a moment to stare at her.
Catherine sat up and swung her legs to the floor. “You have locked the door from the wrong side.”
He determined that actions would make more of an impact on her than words. Making sure she still watched him, he leaned to draw off one high black boot.
“I thought you were going to get me s-some dinner,” she stammered, obviously reading the intent in his smoldering eyes.
“And I shall.” He tossed the second boot aside. “Just as soon as we settle who gives the orders on this ship and who takes them.” His hands worked at the buttons of his shirt.
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