Her gaze followed his movements. She backed along the bed until she came up against the wall. “You swore you would not touch me again,” she reminded him.
He allowed a small grin to lift the corners of his mouth. “I lied.”
“You miserable bastard!” she cried. “I would never have come with you had I known—”
“Take off your clothing, madam,” he interrupted and drew off his shirt to toss it aside.
“I will not!”
Ransom paused with his hands on the fastenings of his breeches. He anger surfaced. “You are my wife, madam,” he declared as he stepped closer to her. “You tried to make me look a fool on the deck of my own ship and I will not tolerate it.”
“I’m sorry,” she quickly told him.
“It is too late for apologies.”
“I will not disobey your orders again, I swear it!”
“Then take off your clothes.” He moved closer still.
“I told you I will not challenge you again before your men!” she cried out desperately. Her eyes were drawn to the white vee of flesh he revealed with the opening of his breeches.
He swiftly captured her with his arms. “You look as if I’m going to punish you, my fiery wife,” he growled. “When in fact I am going to make love to you.”
She pummeled his chest. “You cannot!”
“Yes, woman! I can!” He released her and stepped back enough to slip his fingers behind her gown to quickly tear open all the buttons and push the gown down to her waist. Enraptured by the glory of her full breasts pressing provocatively against her sheer chemise, he didn’t see her swinging her fisted hand.
“Damn!” he roared, his cheek throbbed the instant she hit him. “You have pledged to honor and obey me!” His hands pushed her back until he had her pinned to the wall. His body held her there.
She brought her hands to his chest and tried to push free, but all she managed to do was excite him further as she rubbed against him. “I never pledged to you!” she panted. “I was unconscious!”
Images of the first time he saw her brought a painful ache to his chest unexpectedly. She suffered so much to come to this land seeking a new life. Did he have the right to add to her pain? Catching the spark of defiance in her eyes, he grinned. In a husky voice he spoke, “You are conscious now, madam. Pledge to me your vows and I will release you from this night.”
She shook her head so fiercely her hair came lose of its pins. “Why are you doing this?” she lamented. When Ransom made no comment, her chin dropped so low her brow pressed to his chest. “Just leave me alone,” she whispered. “You never wanted me from the start and you do not want to keep me now.”
Ransom thought of his feelings for her and how they seemed to be changing. He wanted her to belong to him. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew he could not stand the thought of her making a life with another. “What if I told you I did,” he said gently, running the back of his hand over her cheek.
“Did what?” she muttered.
“What if I told you I did want you, Cat?”
His hands fumbled with the rest of her gown. She raised her head to glare at him. “I would not believe you.”
Her words cut deep, but he refused to lose his temper. He sighed. “I do want you.” He arched his hips tightly to hers. “This is the proof.”
His hardness pressed against her and she groaned. “We speak of different wantings.”
He searched her face for any softening, but could find none. Hoping he could ignite the passion she once reveled in, he slowly moved his hips so she could feel his heat. Her breathing became shallow and her eyelids lowered.
“I cannot yet deal with the things you want, Cat,” he moaned and pulled her sheer chemise away to move his mouth closer to her breast. “But I must deal with mine.”
Chapter Fourteen
* * *
Ransom gazed down at the woman asleep in his arms. She had fought him until he broke down her defenses. Then she turned to him with a passion as fierce as his own. He knew she hated surrendering, especially since he gave her no hope yet for a future together.
He thought of all he knew about her and realized he wanted her to be innocent of any intrigue. In truth, he wanted her to remain his wife. As he heard her cry out his name when he brought her release, he was filled with the desire to have her beside him forever.
Thoughts of his life with Catherine led to thoughts of children. Holden had mentioned the possibility, but Ransom had not seriously considered it until this moment. Slowly, he lowered his hand to caress her flat stomach. Did it already hold his son or daughter? Not once did he attempt to withdraw from her to spill his seed safely outside her body.
Was it possible he had wanted to claim her from the start without realizing it? And if so, why her? There were many women willing to surrender to him, especially when he was still one of society’s favored sons, but he wanted no ties until this shy beauty came into his life. A smile touched his lips. Not shy any longer. In the last few weeks, he had watched her change from a frightened child to a feisty and passionate woman.
He could not help but wonder about Catherine and what she told him. Was she truly born of good family, albeit a lesser son, or was she the product of a desperate nation, trained to serve her country at all costs? It occurred to him he could only find the truth in England.
His stomach growled and he grinned. He’d forgotten her request for food, but then, so had she. Gently, he slipped his arm from beneath her shoulders, laying her carefully aside. He rose, grabbed his breeches and made his way to the door. Checking to be sure she still slept, he opened the door and left.
When he returned with a tray she had not stirred. He set a small railed table beside the bed, placed the tray there, and sat next to her. He was anxious to watch her expression when she awoke.
“Catherine,” he called softly. He reached out his hand when she did not respond and ran it over the bare shoulder showing above the blanket. “Wake up, Cat.” He shook her gently and she stirred. “I have brought dinner.”
Her eyes fluttered and she sighed, stretching. The blanket slipped to reveal one firm, rounded breast. He could not resist bending closer to kiss the rosy tip. A sound like a purr escaped her throat. He grinned to himself when she arched to get closer.
“Forget dinner,” he growled and stretched out at her side. “I have found something better to feast upon.”
His words and deeds must have penetrated her fogged brain. She gasped. “What are you doing?”
Knowing she was trapped between him and the wall, Ransom leisurely ran his hand down over the curve of her hip. “We have spent enough time together for you to know.”
She peered over his shoulder at the tray of food. “Don’t you wish to dine?”
Reluctantly, he nodded and sat up to reach for a loaf of bread. “That, too.” He broke off a chunk and lavished it with blackberry preserves before handing it to her. She began to eat so quickly he was sorry he didn’t think to feed her sooner.
As he prepared a similar piece for himself, he turned just in time to see a small dollop of the thick, sweet jam slide from her bread to fall on the curve of her breast. She lifted her hand to scoop it off but he stopped her. “Let me,” he grinned crookedly.
Before she could stop him he lowered his mouth to the tasty treat. His tongue swept away the sticky spot and returned to be sure not a trace remained. “T-thank you,” she stammered when he lifted his head.
“My pleasure.” He took a bite of his food, obviously pretending it was her. Her eyes closed as she turned a warm pink. “I thought you were hungry,” he commented innocently when she did not resume eating.
“I am!” she squeaked. She stuffed a bite into her mouth so quickly the bread broke in two. “Ohh,” she moaned when one large chunk rolled down the valley between her breasts. Her eyes rose immediately to his. “You mustn’t,” she breathed.
Ransom gazed at her. “Why not?” He reached for the blanket she held tightly to her. “It
seems it is the only thing we do well together, my dear. And we do it so very well.” While he spoke, he moved closer to her.
“Please, don’t,” she begged softly. “It seems so wrong.”
Bracing his arm across her thighs, Ransom frowned. “How can it be wrong?” he asked. “We are wed. We both enjoy it, I think.” He watched her lower her head shyly. Cupping her chin in his palm, he raised her face so her eyes met his. “Tell me you truly do not like me to touch you and I will stop.”
“I cannot,” she sighed and turned her head to avoid his touch.
“Then tell me why it would be wrong for us to make love.”
She faced him squarely. “Because you are making me go away and . . . and you hate me.”
Ransom knew he shouldn’t be surprised she thought he hated her, but he was. Had he really been so rough on her that she thought that? Rising from the bed, he turned his back to her and raked his hair off his brow.
“I’m not sure what I’m going to do with you, but I do not hate you, Catherine,” he stated after a moment of thought.
“You do!” she cried, gaining her feet none-too-gracefully with the blanket dragged about her. “You blame me for the marriage you did not want!” He walked as far from her as he could within the confines of the cabin. “If you had not decided to . . . to take advantage of me as a . . . a woman, I would already be gone.”
Ransom winced at the truth. He did not intend to send her to Devil’s Head in the beginning. “But I did,” he finally said. “And I will continue to do so,” he added as he turned to face her. “You see, my dear, you are quite delectable. I would be a fool not to take my full husbandly rights while we are wed.”
Catherine stiffened her spine. She glared at him. “I do not care to be ill-used by you or any man.” A growl rumbled from his throat, but she did not cease. “You must release me from this marriage farce.”
With long strides, Ransom stood before her. She flinched, but held her ground. “No, madam, I will not,” he snarled. “You belong to me, and I keep what is mine.”
“But you don’t believe me!” she cried brokenly. “You care naught for my feelings or for me as a person. I am no better to you than a whore who—”
“Stop it!” he roared. He grabbed her arms to haul her to him. “You ask too much too soon,” he told her harshly. “There are many questions I cannot answer, but one thing I can assure you, I do not think of you as a whore.” His arms circled her and he caressed her back, pushing away the cover. “I think of you as a passionate woman, Catherine. My woman.”
His mouth claimed hers. With a deep groan, she gave up the battle temporarily to wrap her arms about his neck. Her cover fell to the floor, followed by his breeches.
Ransom knew she did not wish to lose herself in his arms, but he was determined to make her want him. He had set his mind to discover the truth about her, but first he wanted to ensure she would be there when he was ready to declare himself, one way or the other.
As he lifted her to lay her on the bed, he felt a sticky pull on his chest. He glanced down between them and grinned when he spotted the forgotten morsel stuck to each of them. “It looks like we will dine after all, madam,” he teased, sliding his body over hers until he had them both covered with the sweet confection.
* * *
The Ebony moved up the dark waters of the Hudson with Ransom at the helm. He guided her closer to her hiding place. The mission had gone perfectly, the needed gunpowder delivered. More than that, he came to grips with what he needed to do about his personal life.
For almost a week he had basked in the arms of his wife. She was more enchanting each time he went to her. They never spoke of anything consequential, if they spoke at all. At times, it was a gentle exploration shared, at others a fierce, savage mating in near frenzy.
Shaking off the effect those memories held, he thought of the times she spent on deck. After the first day, she convinced him to let her spend some time above. He was hesitant, but he finally conceded. To his surprise, she immediately won the hearts and respect of his men with her kindness and gracious acceptance of them.
“I’ll soon be sailing for England,” he announced to Holden when he joined him on the bridge.
Holden stared at him. “You’re mad! They’ll arrest you before you get both feet on English soil.”
“I will go through Ireland,” he explained. His mind was made up. “I should have no trouble once I cross into England as the viscount.”
“And what about Catherine?” Holden reminded him.
Ransom sighed heavily. “She is why I have to go,” he admitted. There was no need for him to explain his motivations, yet he wanted to. “She has come to mean something to me,” he revealed. “I have to be sure of her if we are going to have any future.”
“Is that what you’re going to tell her?” Holden asked, apparently pleased with Ransom’s effort toward his wife.
“No. She knows nothing about the trip, and I don’t want her to. It’s better if she remains ignorant of the purpose, just in case—”
“You don’t really think she’s involved in any British plots, do you?”
After the week they just shared, Ransom was convinced of her innocence. But there was still the episode of the candlesticks she refused to explain, along with the mystery of her supposed cousin. “I don’t want her to be anything but what she claims, but I cannot rest until I am convinced.” He sighed. “We have worked too hard to see it all fail because I was thinking with the wrong part of my body.”
Holden chuckled. “I must remember to thank the lady when this is all over. I never thought I would see the day you became as randy as the rest of us.”
Chuckling deeply, Ransom nodded. “It seems I, too, must thank her. I never knew what I was missing.”
* * *
The Ebony was secured in her new location and dinner that night at Devil’s Head became a festive occasion. Ransom, gallant and attentive, brought one blush after another to Catherine’s face. She could hardly eat in anticipation of the night ahead.
If nothing else, the voyage they shared had broken down the barriers between them in the bedroom. Ransom swept her off her feet every chance he got, rendering her mindless with his lovemaking. Every time she made an effort to talk to him, he turned the tables, and kissed her so deeply her mind became a blank.
She thought about the evening they began with a dinner of bread and jam. She felt his hand on her arm. “What?” she asked, swallowing with difficulty when she realized she had not been listening.
Ransom smiled at her. “I wanted to know if you would miss me when I am gone,” he said, his voice a velvety whisper.
She tipped her head in an attempt to seem vaguely interested. “Where are you off to this time?”
“England.”
Catherine gasped and spun in her chair to face him. “You cannot!” she declared. “The war and . . . and—You cannot!”
Ransom shrugged. “I have to, my dear.” He glanced at Holden, then went on to explain. “You will be quite safe here. I am leaving Holden to watch over Devil’s Head.”
“No!” Catherine exclaimed, shoving back her chair to stand. “You’re leaving him to watch me! You’re going because you still think— Oh!” she cried and threw down her napkin to race from the room.
For long moments, Ransom and Holden sat in silence until the slamming of a door made them both cringe.
“I thought you weren’t going to tell her,” Holden broke the silence.
“I wanted to see her reaction.”
“Well, you saw it, and she’s got her sails up now,” Holden commented unnecessarily. “You could have handled that with a little more diplomacy.”
“Why?” Ransom demanded. “She is my wife. She will do as I say.”
“She might obey you, Ran, but she doesn’t have to like it.”
Ransom recalled the first night on the Ebony. He demanded she pledge to him and she refused. Arching a brow, he stood. Before he left, she was going to.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said as he made his way to the door.
Holden chuckled. “Good luck, my friend.”
Ransom nodded. “Thanks,” he sighed, “I think I am going to need it.”
* * *
Catherine couldn’t keep still, she was so furious. He would risk his life because he still didn’t trust her, even after all they had shared. “Damn you!” she seethed, punching one fist into the palm of her other hand. “Don’t you know I love you.”
She froze in mid-stride, stunned by her own words. She moaned aloud as she sank into the nearest chair. It was true. She had fallen in love with him. She began to cry softly. How could she have been so foolish? He wanted her, perhaps even cared a bit, but if he thought her a threat, he would discard her like so much trash.
The door to her room opened, but she did not look up. She knew who it was. “Leave me alone,” she spoke softly.
“I cannot,” he replied. At her side, he reached out his hand to cup her chin but she whirled away from him.
“Do not touch me ever again!” she cried. “It is all over! When you return I will be gone and you will not have to . . .”
Ransom towered over her, his face black with rage. “You will not be gone! You will be here waiting for me!” She shook her head stubbornly. “I will take you with me unless you swear to stay.”
At the thought of being confined with him all those weeks, Catherine’s shoulders slumped. Should he decide to release her and leave her in England, she would want to die. “I swear,” she murmured. Tears of defeat fell.
Tenderly, he covered her damp cheeks with his hands. “And will you swear to our vows, Catherine?”
She was confused. He would sail with every possibility of disregarding her when he returned, yet he wanted her to pledge to him. Could he want her to be telling the truth? Could he be seeking her past to offer them a future? Lifting her head, she let her heart shine in her eyes.
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