“Trash or not,” Catherine sobbed, “she is right. I have no claim to Ransom.” She sat up to wipe at her eyes with her sleeve. “All the documents would have Lady Thorpe. That would make her his legal wife.” She lowered her hands to her stomach and raised her pain filled eyes to Alice. “And the child I carry is a bastard.”
Alice opened her arms to her, rocking her when she fell into them. “The Cap’n will take care of all this, you’ll see.”
Catherine tried to recall Ransom’s exact words when he left. He told her he had much to discuss with her. Was Sabrina one of the subjects? Something else he said made her stiffen. He warned her she was safe until he returned. Did he know then that Sabrina would have arrived and she would be forced to leave?
“I won’t stay in this house with her, Alice,” she stated. “I will go to stay in town until Ransom sends for me.” In her mind, she knew he would not, but it would save her the disgrace of being asked to go.
“She can go!” Alice snapped. “I’ll have John take her to the inn and.…”
As Alice went on, Catherine’s head was filled with deep thoughts. The inn. She remembered Martin jesting about how he would hire her. She shook her head as she climbed off the bed. “No, Alice. I am going. I have to see to some things in town, anyway.” She started to pull out the few serviceable items she owned and asked for a satchel.
“The Cap’n ain’t gonna like this,” Alice grumbled. The determination on Catherine’s face must have been enough and Alice relented. “All right, child. Have it your way, but let John take ya.”
Conceding to the request, Catherine gathered her last article just as Alice returned with the satchel. She placed her meager belongings in it and snapped it shut. “Alice, you know there is a chance I will not be returning.”
“What rot! Why the cap’n will—”
“If I do not see you again,” Catherine went on as if she had not been interrupted, “I wish to thank you for all your kindness and . . . for being my friend.”
“You’ll be back. You’ll see,” Alice’s voice broke with emotion.
Nodding seemed to be the best thing to do to avoid arguing. She picked up her case and started for the door. With her hand on the knob, she paused. “I never told him about the child or that . . . I love him, Alice. Please, don’t you.” She waited for Alice to agree. Sighing deeply, she finally did. “Thank you,” Catherine said softly, opening the door.
The first thing she heard was Sabrina’s voice giving orders down the hall. “It may not be pleasant with her here, but please stay and take care of him and his home.” Gazing about the pretty room, she sighed and left before the tears started again.
* * *
Catherine was glad John asked no questions. There was no idle chatter as they made their way to Nyack. She didn’t think she could bear to hear one more person try to change her mind. Didn’t they know this was the only way?
Tension still filled the town as a result of the raid at Devil’s Head. The town’s folk who saw and recognized her smiled warmly. She even overheard one woman point her out to her daughter and proudly announce her as the leader of the petticoat militia.
Despite Catherine’s broken heart, she returned the smiles. The entire episode amused her so she could not resist. Besides, as a result, she might have a future. Without that fateful event, she might find it hard to secure work. Now, because of it, she presented a novelty that might help business.
The wagon slowed in front of the tavern. John jumped down and helped her. He reached for her satchel. “Ya sure this is where ya want ta stay, Mistress?”
Catherine looked up at the weathered sign hanging over the door and nodded. “This is fine, John.” She watched him frown, and rose on her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. She took her satchel from his hand. “Please, don’t worry. I will be fine. I am sure Martin will see to it.”
“If he don’t,” John scowled, “he’ll be one sorry fella’!”
He was ready to follow her inside when she stopped him. “Go home, John,” she told him gently. “Alice might need you more than I.” She saw him scuff his foot to hesitate. “Go on,” she urged, giving him a gentle shove.
John finally complied, but not before grumbling, “He ain’t gonna like this one bit.”
Still outside the inn, Catherine watched the wagon roll away. For an instant she wanted to call after John to wait, but it passed as she anticipated the pain she would face when Ransom returned. She made her way inside.
The tavern was empty at this time of the day except for two men at a corner table. Catherine no sooner came through the door than Martin ran to meet her.
“Don’t tell me ya decided ta take me up on my offer,” he chuckled, leading her to a table. Before she could reply, he asked if she wanted some tea.
“No, thank you, Martin,” she smiled softly. She indicated he should join her. When she was ready to speak, Catherine drew a deep breath. “I would like to work, Martin, if you were serious.”
Martin frowned. “I’d be right proud ta have ya workin’ here, Mistress Kent,” he formally addressed her, “but I don’t think the captain will take kindly to it.”
She lowered her head and folded her hands in her lap. “What if I told you the captain would not care?”
“I don’t think I’d believe that.”
“What I am about to tell you will be common knowledge before long.” She prayed he would not condemn her for her part. “I am not Ran… the captain’s legal wife.” As she told her story, Martin did not utter a sound.
“So I need to earn enough money to return to England,” she said in a mere whisper. “It is the only place I can go after making such a fool of myself.”
She looked up to see his reaction to her tale. After all, she was now no more than a harlot. Living with Ransom without being his wife would brand her for life, especially since she carried his child. Martin kept his head lowered, denying her any clues to his feelings. Finally, he looked up at her.
“All right, Mistress,” he said gently. “I’ll hire ya ta work here for me, and I’ll give ya a room.” Relieved, she frowned when he added, “But if the captain objects, ya can’t stay.”
She nodded, sure there would be no difficulty with Ransom. “He will not object, Martin,” she promised as she thought of her beautiful cousin living under Ransom’s roof. “And you’d better start calling me something besides mistress. After all, I work for you now.”
* * *
Hard work was nothing new to Catherine, but the emotional drain of the day took its toll. By the time she made her way to the bed in her small room, she was too exhausted to even change into her nightgown.
The tavern remained busy during the evening, even though the boats were not running. She suspected word had spread she was there, increasing the trade. She knew most of the patrons came out of curiosity, but Martin wouldn’t care what motivated them, just so long as they kept coming.
Unfortunately for Catherine, the more who came, the harder she was forced to work to keep up with them. At times she thought Martin might run out of ale. She prayed silently he would, but her prayer went unanswered. As the night wore on she realized, despite the variety of men present, not a one made a gesture or comment discourteous or impolite. Unsure if it was because of some warning from Martin, or the presence of John sitting in the corner all night, she appreciated the respect afforded her.
Catherine managed to get through the night rather well. Martin told her not to bother with the clean up. “You are not paying me to leave it,” she told him as she filled a tray with empty mugs.
“I know the captain ain’t gonna want me ta work ya into the ground, whether he let’s ya stay or not,” he declared as he helped her.
After that, they finished the task together and she made her way to her room. Finally, stretched wearily on the bed, she knew the means to see her plans through to fulfillment were within her grasp. Pressing her hands to her stomach, she sighed. All she needed to do was save enough to get her
and the child she carried safely away. Where she would go didn’t matter yet. She would think of some place when she had the funds to move on.
She thought of what she had said to Martin about England. Perhaps she would go there. Maybe not. She closed her eyes, suddenly pleased with her exhaustion. It would keep her mind from thinking about the man she loved.
* * *
Ransom gazed down into a small fire. The guns had been delivered only hours ago, and though he was anxious to get back home, he knew his men were tired. One night would not make much difference, not with a lifetime to look forward to.
He squatted down and allowed a small smile to shape his mouth. He never dreamed he would find a woman he could truly care for, let alone love. After the experiences of his younger days, he was so sure he could never trust a woman enough to lose his heart to her. Yet, a wisp of a woman-child successfully tore down his defenses and reached his heart.
“By the grin on your face, I suspect you’re thinking of Catherine.” Holden dropped down beside him.
Ransom nodded slowly. “That I am.” He threw a small log on the fire to keep it going.
“I’m glad for you, Ran. You’ve more than earned some happiness.”
Ransom settled to the ground. “I don’t know that I would say that,” he grinned, “but at least I finally know how lucky I am she came into my life.”
“It did take a while,” Holden teased.
Ransom chuckled. “You can’t blame me for being cautious. She was too good to be true, so I doubted she was.”
“Yeah, but most of us knew it right off.” Ransom snorted but Holden went on. “You’re usually pretty clever. What took you so long?”
“Fear, I think.”
“You? Afraid? I’ve seen you face odds that would terrify another man. What were you afraid of with her?”
“I was afraid I would love her and she would not return it,” he admitted seriously. “I didn’t know if I could handle her rejection.”
Holden shook his head. “Good lord, man. You’re so clever, how can you not see the woman is crazy about you?”
“She is?” Ransom asked in wonder. He thought of her words declaring her love that night. Was it possible she meant them? Were they more than words uttered in the throes of passion? He glanced at his friend and saw him roll his eyes. “Then I guess I should tell her how I feel.”
“You haven’t told her?” Holden frowned. He was clearly surprised.
“The time was never right,” Ransom defended himself. “We were either arguing or—”
Holden’s laughter filled the camp. “I can’t believe it! The arrogant Ransom Kent is speechless.”
“And the blabbering Holden Blakely is going to sport another sore jaw if he doesn’t shut his mouth,” Ransom snapped, but amusement danced in his dark eyes.
Holden dropped back to balance on an elbow. “Yes, sir, life is good,” he chuckled. “We’re holding our own with the British, we’re enjoying good health, and Captain Kent is in love. What more could we want?”
Ransom sobered. “A guarantee it will go on.”
“There are no guarantees in life, Ran. You know that, but what can go wrong if you have someone special to care for?”
Ransom sighed. “What, indeed?”
Chapter Nineteen
* * *
Something was wrong. Ransom glanced at Holden as he rode at his side. When they shared a look, he knew his friend sensed it, as well.
The moment Ransom could see the roof of the house, he spotted John riding toward them. A personal welcome rarely occurred and it compounded his dread, especially when he saw the concerned look on John’s face.
“What is it?” Ransom asked the moment he drew up before John.
“Alice sent me ta talk ta ya before ya got to the house,” John stated. “It might take a few minutes in the tellin’. Maybe we ought ta dismount.”
“Catherine? Is she all right?” Ransom demanded, refusing to get off his horse if he was needed at home.
“She’s fine, Captain,” John relayed. “But we do have a problem.”
Confused and anxious to hear the news John carried, Ransom dismounted and led his horse to a spot off the road. Holden and John followed. “All right, John, what is going on?”
“Well, Captain,” he sighed, “it all began yesterday with the arrival of that other one.”
“What other one?” Ransom asked, his frown deepened.
“Ain’t no other way ta say it. It’s the lady what was supposed ta marry ya,” John blurted out.
“Sabrina?” Holden groaned. John nodded. “What is she doing here?”
Ransom stared at the ground, afraid he might know. “Go on, John.” He wanted to hear it all.
“Well, sir, she came and said that Mistress Catherine had tricked her inta takin’ her place. Said she was your legal wife no matter who stood in her place ‘cause you was to wed Lady Thorpe and Mistress Catherine ain’t got no title.”
Holden’s groan filled the area, but didn’t match the one inside Ransom. “And what of Catherine? What did she say to all this?”
“Didn’t have a chance ta say nothing. This other one said that she was claimin’ her rightful place and the mistress was nothin’ more than a . . .” He stopped. It wasn’t necessary for John to say the word. The red on his face said it all.
Holden swore and threw up his hands. “And I had to ask what could go wrong.” He turned to face Ransom and frowned. “Ran? Can this Sabrina do that?”
Ransom’s thoughts were so tangled he could not answer. He knew something of the law, but he had no idea where the courts would stand regarding his marriage. It was entirely possible he would lose the woman he loved because he would be legally bound to another. Bracing his head in his hands, he groaned.
“I don’t know, Holden,” he growled. “I just don’t know.”
“Well, I’m not going to let her move in here and displace Catherine,” Holden straightened his spine, “no matter what the law says.”
“Let me talk to her first.” Ransom knew Holden doubted the wisdom of a confrontation, but of the two, he also knew he was the one with the worse temper. “Maybe I can buy her off,” he thought out loud, “or discover what she really wants.” As he headed for his horse, he growled to himself, “Because I know it’s not me.”
The three men rode the final distance to Devil’s Head, clearly in a like mind. Sabrina would have to go and Catherine had to stay. Ransom suddenly turned to John once again, “Where is Catherine?”
John grimaced. “We tried ta talk her out of it but—”
“Where is she, John?” Ransom demanded.
“At Martin’s place,” John replied quickly. “She . . . got him ta hire her.” Ransom’s body tensed.
“Maybe you should let me talk to Sabrina,” Holden ventured, clearly noticing.
With hooded eyes, Ransom shook his head. He would handle this his way. He leaned forward in the saddle and spurred Lucifer to greater speed. When he arrived at the house, he leaped to the ground before the powerful beast came to a halt. With long strides, he made his way into the house.
“Oh, Cap’n,” Alice cried as the door slammed against the wall and he entered.
“Where is she?” he asked, his tone indicating exactly whom he wished to see.
“Probably still abed.” Alice sniffed. “She’s a lazy thing. I’ll say that much.”
Ransom knew she would have liked to say a lot more, but he wasn’t in the mood to listen. The sooner he confronted Sabrina, the sooner his life could resume its natural course. “Which room?”
“End of the hall on the left,” Alice told him with a smile.
* * *
Ransom stood outside the door of Sabrina’s bedroom clenching his hands. He needed to get a grip on his anger before entering or he would not be responsible for what he did. He knew the woman behind the door had treated Catherine cruelly for years. Sabrina kept her from finding any happiness as she reached her womanhood. Abruptly, the thought
brought a smile to his lips.
He should be thanking Sabrina. Because of Sabrina’s selfishness, Catherine had come to him. She became the woman he loved. She was kind and gentle, yet possessed great strength. She was innocent when she came to him. Would it have been so if she had entered London’s society? The answer lay inside the man who knocked on the door, instead of bursting in as he planned to do. Only when he received no reply did he enter.
The room was dark, the drapes drawn against the light of day. Clearly his guest was still asleep. Moving quietly, he went to the window and drew the drapes apart. The room filled with sunlight. He turned to face the woman who could cause him much anguish. He found her awake and watching him.
“So you are Ransom Kent,” Sabrina purred. Her hair cascaded over her shoulder to curl about her bare breast. Her eyes boldly raked him and she smiled. “It is certainly about time we met, considering we are wed.”
“Cover yourself,” he said harshly and turned to present his back. Under different circumstances, he might have admired the pale beauty, but he saw her only as trouble, someone intent on hurting the woman he loved.
He heard her rise and hoped she found something to cover herself. She came up behind him and placed her palm on his back, but he stepped away.
“I take it you are not happy to see me, husband.” Her voice expressed hurt.
“No, madam. I am not,” Ransom spoke coldly. He distanced himself from her before turning. When he saw the way her robe left nothing to the imagination, his lip curled in a sneer. “Why did you think I would be?”
“I thought after having Catherine dumped on you, you might appreciate someone with . . . ahhh, more experience to share your life.”
With one dark brow raised, he glared at her. “Why would a man want a whore when he can have perfection?” he asked cruelly.
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