by Bobbi Smith
"But how could he have identified someone as Mitch, when it wasn't him?" Espri was confused.
"It was nigh impossible from his looks," Mabel went on. "The man had been in the water for days. Mr. Jonathan recognized the clothing on the body. We still have it here. Jon brought it home with him. I guess whoever it was who attacked him stole all his money and clothes."
Espri shivered as she imagined that night and Mitch's sense of helpless frustration when he awoke aboard a ship headed for the South Pacific. No wonder he'd wanted to return home so badly. "Mitch certainly has been through a lot during the past year," she said. She was about to say more when a servant boy entered with the trunk containing their belongings.
"Put the trunk here," Mabel directed. "Miss Espri, this is Michael. His mother is our cook, and he helps out about the house. Michael, this is Mr. Mitchell's wife, Miss Espri."
The youth looked up at her, his eyes widening as he took in her dark beauty. He had always thought Miss Catherine pretty, but this lady was much lovelier. "Nice to meet you, ma'am," he stammered self-consciously.
"It's nice to meet you too, Michael. Thank you for bringing up our trunk." She smiled at him warmly.
"Yes, ma'am." He left quickly, anxious to tell all the servants waiting in the kitchen what Mr. Mitchell's wife was like. They were already agog at the news that he'd returned home, and the fact that he was now married, only made things more interesting. They were eagerly anticipating Miss Catherine's reaction upon her return from her outing.
"He's a nice boy." Espri turned back to Mabel.
"Yes, he is. I think you'll approve of the staff here," she remarked.
"I'm sure I will," Espri assured her. She was already impressed with the Williams household.
As Mabel busied herself unpacking the trunk, curiosity got the better of her. "If you don't mind my asking, Miss Espri, how in the world did you meet Mr. Mitchell?"
"The ship he was on sank during a storm and Mitch was washed up on our island."
"He's doubly lucky to be alive, then, and we're certainly glad to have him back."
"I know he's glad to be back," Espri confided as she went to look out the window. "He missed his home very much."
They fell into a companionable silence then, as Mabel continued to unpack the trunk.
"This is a lovely gown," Mabel commented as she unfolded Espri's rose silk gown.
"Thank you. Mrs. Clark, the captain's wife, and I made it during the voyage."
"You did?" Impressed by the design and workmanship, Mabel looked up at Espri in surprise, her respect for Mitchell's wife growing. "You did a wonderful job."
Espri was pleased by the compliment, for despite Mildred's assurances that she was talented with a needle and thread, she had had her doubts. She smiled. "Thank you, Mabel. I have to admit I was worried about how it would turn out. I'd never even seen dresses like that before we boarded the ship."
Mabel blinked, stunned. "If you didn't wear dresses, what did you wear?"
"On Malika, we wear sarongs. Here, I'll show you." Espri found a sarong at the bottom of the trunk and she unfolded it, holding it up for Mabel's inspection.
"That's all you wore?" The woman looked at her questioningly.
Espri nodded. "It's very hot on Malika, and these are both serviceable and practical."
The maid's eyes were twinkling as she answered. "I know now why Mr. Mitchell fell in love with you. As lovely as you are in regular clothes, I can imagine how you looked in that." Mabel eyed the skimpy garment warily. "How do you keep it up?"
"You wrap it securely about you and tie it. It's very simple. I'll wear it for you one day and show you."
"I'd like that." The maid was eager to know more about this delightful woman who'd married into the family. "I'm sure there will be a big dinner tonight. Would you like me to have your rose gown pressed so you can wear it?"
"Yes. That would be wonderful."
"I'll also have Sally come up and style your hair for you. Would you like to bathe?"
"Yes, I would."
"The bathroom is right through here." Mabel directed her to a smaller room off the side of the bedroom.
Espri stared about in amazement.
"It's wonderful, isn't it?" the maid went on. "Mr. Mitchell and Mr. Jonathan had the best of everything installed. We have hot and cold running water . . . the water closet, of course . . . and a shower." She proudly pointed out the tubing that rose above the large tub.
"A shower?"
"Here, I'll show you." Deftly, Mabel turned the knobs and water sprinkled down from the spout above.
Espri laughed happily as Mabel turned the water off. "That's amazing. I can't wait to try it."
"Why don't you go ahead now? I'm sure it will be at least another half an hour before Mr. Mitchell returns from his trip to the office. That should give you plenty of time."
"I think I will," Espri agreed.
"Shall I send one of the girls to help you?"
"No, there's no need."
"I'll be back in just a minute with fresh linens for you, then, and soap."
"Thank you, Mabel."
"You're more than welcome, Miss Espri," the maid declared as she left the room to get the necessary sundries. Within minutes she was back with a stack of soft, fluffy towels, and a bar of scented soap. "Here you are. I'll bring your gown back as soon as it's been pressed." She picked up the rose silk creation. "If you decide you do need me, just pull that cord behind the bedstead." Mabel pointed out the silken bellpull that would summon her from the kitchen area downstairs.
"I will," Espri assured her, marveling at all the conveniences of her new home. Servants . . . indoor plumbing with hot and cold water . . . gaslights . . . glass in the windows and locks on the doors . . . so many rooms and so much furniture . . . on Malika, you were considered rich if you had a hut with a sturdy roof and a comfortable pandanus mat on which to sleep. She was surprised that Mitch had adapted so well to life on the island, for she was certain that he must have found life there quite primitive.
Smiling at the thought of her husband, she quickly stripped off her clothes and hurried into the bathroom, eager to use the shower. Turning on the water, she watched in delight as the water poured forth. Though the flow was not as stimulating as the waterfall on Malika, it was a wonderful change from her limited baths aboard the Providence. Relishing the feel of the warm, silken waters washing over her, Espri stood, enraptured, beneath the shower, her head thrown back, her body arched in sensual enjoyment. It was quite awhile before she roused enough to wash, and then she did so quickly, not wanting to linger too long in the bath for fear of not being ready when Mitch returned. When she'd finished washing her hair, she turned off the water and stepped from the tub, wrapping herself in one of the towels after drying off. Returning to the bedroom, she combed the snarls from her wet hair and was just about to dress when the door opened.
"Espri? Jon's downstairs and—" Mitch broke off in mid-sentence as he caught sight of his wife standing in the middle of the bedroom wearing only a towel. "God, you are so beautiful." Coming into the room, he closed the door behind him and strode purposefully toward her.
Espri smiled as he drew near, and she needed no invitation to go into his arms. "I found your bathing shower to be much like the waterfall at home," she murmured as he bent to kiss her, his mouth slanting possessively across hers.
Mitch's eyes were alight when he broke off the passionate embrace. "You did?"
She nodded, her lips lifting in a suggestive invitation. "You don't suppose . . ."
A flame of excitement flared to life deep within him at the remembrance of making love to her beneath the crystalline cascade on Malika. "Later," he growled, definitely intrigued by the idea but knowing that his brother awaited them downstairs. "Jon's waiting," he told her, capturing her soft, parted lips for one last kiss before releasing her.
Espri's eyes widened nervously at the news. "He's here?"
Mitch nodded. "He's downstairs wai
ting to meet you, my love."
"Oh." She drew a deep breath.
"There's nothing to be worried about."
"I'll only be a minute." She spurred herself to action, pulling on the various undergarments that Mildred had assured her were necessary to wear beneath her gowns.
"Do you need my help?" Mitch watched in fascination as Espri pulled on her stockings and fastened the garters.
"No, I'll be fine." She donned the only other gown she owned, a simple, long-sleeved shirtwaist of deep blue cotton, then tied back her still-damp hair with a single length of ribbon. Meeting her husband's eyes, she told him, "I think I'm ready."
"You look wonderful," he assured her, and with a guiding hand at her waist, he led her from the room.
Jon was sitting in the parlor when he heard Mitch and Espri on the stairs, and he eagerly went forth to meet them. Having been told of Espri's mixed parentage and of her life on Malika, Jon wasn't sure what to expect when he stepped into the main hall. He knew the woman had to be beautiful, for he was certain that Mitch would settle for nothing less than perfection in the woman he took to wife, but he was not prepared for the vision she made as she descended the steps at Mitch's side. The deep rich color of her gown, plain though it was in style, enhanced her dark loveliness and he stood at the foot of the staircase, gazing up at her in silent admiration. Her long, dark hair was parted down the middle and tied back from her face in a sleek, severe style that set off the classic beauty of her features, and her dark eyes met his in open regard, displaying none of the coy artfulness that women of society were so prone to employ.
"Hello, Jon." Espri spoke first, hating the awkwardness of the moment.
Her accent bedazzled him even more, and he broke into a wide grin as he greeted her in his best French. "Enchanté, madame."
Espri smiled. She had taken an immediate liking to this handsome young man who so closely resembled her husband. "It's nice to meet you. I've heard many wonderful things about you."
"And I, you," he replied honestly. "It's a pleasure to welcome you to the family. You are a lovely addition to our ranks."
She flushed with pleasure at his praise. "Thank you."
"Why don't we go sit down?" Mitch suggested. "Do you know when Catherine will return?"
"I would think soon. According to Mabel she's been gone for several hours," Jon remarked as he led the way to the parlor. "I'm sure she'll be thrilled to find that you're alive."
Catherine stood in Roland's office, adjusting the bodice of her fashionable gown, and she frowned when she discovered that one button was nearly falling off. "Really, darling, we must be more careful with my dresses. What would my husband think if he ever found that buttons had been torn off the bodices?"
Roland regarded her hungrily from where he sat behind his desk. "I'm sorry, love, but it had been so long." He let his gaze roam over her, taking in her passion-flushed cheeks and the wild yet attractive disarray of her hair. "You are always so tempting that it's hard for me to keep my hands off of you."
Catherine's eyes were smoldering with desire as she looked up at him. "I know we can never be married, but isn't there some way we can spend more time together?"
Roland's expression hardened at her suggestion. "You know that's not possible, Cat. We've pushed our luck to the limit as it is. What other husband would be as trusting as young Jonathan?" There was derision in Roland's voice as he thought of all the times he'd bedded Catherine since her marriage to Jon.
"You're right, I suppose, but that doesn't make it easier to suffer through his lovemaking when I'm dreaming of you."
"Just don't call out my name in your passion." Roland leered as he imagined Jon possessing her.
"You needn't worry about that. I rarely feel any desire when I'm in his arms," Catherine replied with distaste. "I 'perform' my wifely duties admirably."
"What a pity that Jon doesn't know what he's missing." Roland chuckled as he stood up and approached her, his eyes fixed on the swell of her breasts against the material of her gown. "I know," he rasped, pulling her close and holding her pinned against him.
"Roland . . . no . . . I've really got to get back. I've been gone for hours," she protested as he thrust his hips against her, letting her feel his hard readiness.
"Are you sure, Cat? It may be days before we can be together again. I don't know if I can wait that long. Can you?" He kissed her deeply as his hand sought the buttons she'd just fastened. Deftly, he opened her bodice and slipped a hand within to fondle the soft fullness of her breast.
Catherine knew she should return home, but the urgency of her lover's caresses wiped all rational thought from her mind. When he bent to kiss her breasts, she swayed weakly against him, and he lifted her in his arms and carried her back to the sofa they'd so recently vacated. Roland didn't bother to remove their clothes this time; he merely unbuttoned his pants and, after brushing aside her skirts, entered her. He relished taking her this way, for it made him feel as if he had some influence over Williams. Jon had refused to sell him the shipping company, but he did have complete control over the younger man's wife.
Catherine, on fire with desire for him, was totally unaware of Roland's thoughts. She only knew that she loved him and wanted him and she met his every movement, avidly. They moved together in a rising crescendo of passion until their excitement burst over them in a shower of throbbing pleasure that left them both sated as it passed.
It was almost an hour later when Catherine's carriage pulled up in front of her home. Mounting the front steps regally, she swept into the house and was about to order Michael to bring in the purchases she'd made that day when she saw Jon emerge from the parlor.
"Catherine . . . darling . . . I'm so glad you've finally returned. I have a surprise," he called, gesturing for her to join them.
"Jon." She recovered nicely from the unpleasant surprise of finding him home early in the day. "Your being home is a surprise in itself. To what do I owe this honor?" She went to him and kissed him dutifully. "Do we have . . ." Her breath caught in her throat as she stared in horrified amazement at Mitch, who had risen to come greet her. "Mitch? Oh my God." She swayed visibly. "I thought . . . we thought you were dead."
"No. I was shanghaied. It's taken me this long just to get back home," he told her.
"Thank heavens, you're all right," she lied, cursing his return with all her being. She looked up at her husband with a worshipful gaze, even though doing so irritated her. "Jon was so upset when he thought you'd been killed. It's a miracle that you've come home to us."
"And I've brought along a wife," Mitch informed her, his tone warm and caressing as he introduced Espri to Catherine. "Catherine, this is Espri, my wife."
"You married?" Astounded, Cat turned her attention to the woman she hadn't noticed before. Eyeing Espri with carefully disguised calculation, she studied the perfection of her beauty and decided immediately that she didn't like her.
"Yes. Espri and I met when I was shipwrecked, and I knew I couldn't leave her behind when I left Malika."
"Malika?" Catherine was still numb from the shock of his return.
"It's a small tropical island in the South Pacific," Espri offered, hoping to be friends with this woman with whom she'd be living.
"Oh. So you're Polynesian?" Catherine asked pointedly.
Aware of her implication, Mitch answered for Espri. "Yes. Her mother was an island princess and her father is French."
"How fascinating." Though she sounded interested, Catherine was thinking that this woman was little better than the Chinese women Roland was importing for sale to the cribs. How crude of Mitch to marry someone who probably wouldn't be accepted in the finer strata of San Francisco society. Cat hoped that her own position as a social leader wouldn't be jeopardized by this "native" newcomer. "So, tell me," she asked with what seemed like genuine interest, "how did you two come to meet? We really must have a party to welcome Mitch home and to introduce you to everyone."
Despite the façade she main
tained, Catherine's thoughts were in a whirl. Somehow, she had to let Roland know that Mitch had returned. How could this have happened? Roland had assured her that Mitch had been taken care of. Jon had identified the body. How had he survived? Keeping an outwardly calm demeanor, she carried on a polite conversation, all the while wondering what she would do if Mitch ever found out that Roland had arranged his "shanghaiing" just so she could marry Jon . . .
In disbelief, Roland reread Catherine's brief note. Surely, she couldn't be serious. Mitch Williams was alive and well? Furious, he strode to the door and called for Bill and Joe to come into his office. The men were totally unprepared for the news that greeted them as soon as the office door had been closed.
"I want to know the truth about what happened to Mitch Williams, and I want to know now," he demanded, his tone deadly.
"I don't understand, boss," Bill lied.
"Mitch Williams is back among the living," Roland snarled, turning a fierce, life-threatening gaze on them both. "Now, what happened?"
"It was Bill's idea, Mr. Stuart!" Joe hastened to turn on his accomplice. "He thought we could make extra money by selling Williams to a crimp."
"I see." Stuart's tone was icy. "And?"
"And, since we'd accidentally killed the driver, we just put Williams's clothes on him and threw him in the bay," Joe hurried to explain.
"If he ever finds out who was behind his shanghaiing, you are both dead men. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir." Both men were shaken.
"Good. You're just lucky that his disappearance for the past year accomplished the same thing as his death. Now, get out of my sight," Stuart ordered coldly.
"Yes, sir!"
Roland sat back down at his desk, deep in thought. So far, so good. He was grateful that Catherine had sent him the note to warn him of Mitch's return, but he wondered just how safe he really was. Having been unable to convince Jon to sell him any part of Williams Shipping, his fortune was still in the hands of others, and now, with Mitch back in town, it was going to be harder than ever to keep his illegal cargo a secret. Ordering his carriage brought around, Roland knew he had to meet with Alan right away, in order to devise a new and better way to smuggle the girls ashore without being detected.
