Gypsy Lady (29 page)

His face expressionless,
Jason said coolly, "Being newly wedded, I wanted to keep her to myself,
and Tamara is rather shy."

Monroe, once over the
initial shock, was positively beaming, knowing as he did how fervently Guy
wished Jason to marry. Clapping Jason on the back, he offered his sincerest
congratulations. "My dear fellow, this is a delightful surprise! Have you
written your father yet? He must be overjoyed that at last you have
married!" The word spread rapidly through the assembled guests that young
Savage was actually in Paris with his new bride, and resigned, Jason accepted
with good grace the wishes that now came his way. The only person who appeared
unmoved by the news was Clarissa; reproachfully she gazed at him, her large
brown eyes saying more than words, and Jason knew with regret that there would
be no meeting tomorrow. D'Arcy having no idea of the real facts surrounding the
"marriage" watched the whole scene with malicious satisfaction, his
only disappointment being Jason's calm acceptance of the situation. And he made
the very bad mistake of taking Jason's reactions at face value, for although
outwardly Jason smiled and laughingly accepted the good-natured teasing,
inwardly he was in a flaming temper.

Knowing he had only himself
to blame, Jason grimly hung on to a semblance of control. Even Monroe's excited
questions about his "bride" did not disturb Jason's icy facade,
although when Monroe insisted that he bring Tamara to the legation ball being
held the following week, he very nearly swore out loud but gave, instead a noncommittal
answer. He should have known that Monroe was going to leave him no way out.

Catherine and Jason were
partaking breakfast outside on the balcony before their morning ride when the
note arrived.

It had become a habit with
them to have breakfast here on fine days, and today was no exception. And
curiously this was the one time of the day they seemed to drop hostilities and
nearly forgot the true situation between them.

Catherine was looking
particularly fetching in a filmy robe of a violet shade that exactly matched
her eyes. Jeanne had not yet dressed her hair, and it had been merely brushed
and tied back loosely with a green velvet ribbon. Opposite her on the other
side of the small breakfast table, Jason lazed on a high-backed chair of
straw- colored silk. He had taken the time to shave before joining her, but
like Catherine he had not yet dressed. His robe was
a deep
rich maroon brocade that made him look exceedingly handsome. His green eyes
veiled as he watched her read the message.

Catherine's slim brows drew
together in a frown as she read, and after a minute she glanced up and with a
silent question in her violet eyes handed him the note. He already had an idea
of the contents, and so the message came as no surprise. Monroe had invited
them for lunch. After scanning it quickly and tossing the note down, he stood
up and flexed his shoulders briefly before saying carelessly, "I trust
your good manners will hold up through the afternoon. So far you have not
embarrassed me by betraying your gypsy background, and I presume you will
continue to act the lady. Monroe will expect a quiet little miss, so if you
keep your tongue from rattling in your head, we should be able to come about
without incident."

Infuriated by the sneering
content of his words if not their tone, Catherine's small jaw tightened, and
she burst out, "You mean to hoax your own countryman? He writes as a
personal friend. Surely you will not parade me before
him
as your wife?"

Jason gave a mirthless
smile. "I really have no choice. Naturally I would prefer not to, but
circumstances are such that at this late stage
not
to
present you would cause more trouble than to continue to pass you off as my
bride. Believe me," he added bitterly, "I wish I had never set eyes
on you, much less said you were my wife!"

"Why
you lop-eared jackass!
Don't you
dare
lay the blame for this
ridiculous situation at my door! If you hadn't been puffed up with such
overweening conceit, none of this would have happened. You have only yourself
to blame!" Catherine spat the words out and, after throwing him a
murderous glare, stormed into the salon.

Jason, his face like a
thundercloud, grasped her arm in an iron grip and hauled her up next to him.
His eyes glittering with suppressed emotion he grated, "Overweening
conceit, eh! Who encouraged me in the meadow, my haughty love, and who agreed
to a trip to Paris for her favors? I think it's time I tasted what I've
bought—don't you?"

Not waiting for an answer, his
mouth found her parted Bps with punishing force, and his arms tightened about
her, crushing her against him. Startled by the sudden eruption of violence,
Catherine made no attempt to free herself until her own temper exploded, and
then she .fought like the hellcat he so often called her.

She managed one well-aimed
blow that caught him painfully across the cheek before he captured her hands
between their locked bodies and muttered against her lips, "Oh, no you
don't! You're not going to claw me this time, my little wildcat. Not this
time!" and then swinging her
up ,n
his arms, he
carried her struggling in his hold into his bedchamber, kicking the door shut
behind him.

Throwing her down into the
silken softness of his bed, he tossed his robe on the floor and slid down
beside her, the warmth of his nude body burning through the flimsy clothes she
wore. Catherine strove vigorously to' elude his embrace, but as her flaring
hands met his hair-roughed chest, a queer thing happened. Suddenly she didn't
want to fight him—she wanted—she
wanted
him to take her— but not
in anger, not like the other times. The slim fingers that had been curved to
claw suddenly spread out and gently caressed his warm skin; without volition,
her hands slowly traveled from chest to his sun-browned, smooth shoulders. All
desire to fight left her.

Unaware or uncaring of her
changed emotions, Jason's mouth buried, itself on hers, and with impatient
hands he freed her firm, captivating body from the concealing folds of the robe
and nightdress. Then when she was naked, he rolled half on her, capturing her
body between
himself
and the bed. His lips left her
bruised mouth and moved with increasing ardor down, her throat, across one
shoulder tasting the sweetness of her skin, and then hungrily back to the honey
of her mouth.

Catherine was caught in a
caldron of seething emotion: her body, unable to control its response to his
demanding lovemaking, opened itself to him, while in a haze her brain fought
against a wanton desire to give in completely. But when Jason touched her
silken triangle, all thought ceased—there was only the feel of his big body
as
he moved within her, his swollen rigidness creating such scalding sensations
that a low moan of anguished pleasure escaped her parted lips just before his
hard mouth settled once more on hers.

This
time there was no physical pain, only pleasure. But in spite of the
overpowering furor rippling through her body, her mind was on shameful fire at
her own actions. With a soft animallike cry of torment, just as Jason attained
the ultimate sensation, she wrenched from beneath him. Unable to control the
tremor that shook him, he spent his seed on the silken sheets. His eyes like
green ice, he snarled an ugly name and breathing heavily rolled over onto his
back throwing an arm over his eyes.

Confused
and uncertain at the abrupt end, Catherine hastily gathered her clothes against
her body and slid to the edge of the bed. Feeling the bed move, she whirled
swiftly to face Jason.

His
face was like carved stone, and in an unemotional tone of voice, all the more
frightening for
its
very toneless- ness, he said,
"Get out! Get out of my sight! And, little
slut"
—he
said the word deliberately—"after you appear as my wife at the embassy
ball, I personally shall see you are on your way back to England! Don't worry
about your virtue any longer—I'd have to be screaming for a woman before I'd
touch you!"

Shaken
by the undisguised venom in his eyes, she fled and seconds later was violently
and disgustingly sick. Jeanne discovered her crouched over the chamber pot, and
after she had gently helped Catherine into a warm, scented bath she murmured,
"Madame must be careful—- it would be dreadful if you were to lose your
bebe!"

Catherine
froze as the new and horrifying thought uncurled like a serpent in her brain.
This morning's sickness was reaction—it
had
to be!
she
told herself
fiercely. Once more in her room, she stood before the mirror and gazed
anxiously at her slim body while Jeanne calmly laid out the clothes she would
wear to Monroe's. Her stomach was as flat as ever, almost concave, and her
small upthrust breasts surely were not fuller? Sickly she realized that even as
she stared Jason's child could he forming itself in her belly.

"Oh, my God!
What am I going to
do?" she cried silently. And the question was still jumping like a hideous
spider in her brain when she met Jason in the salon shortly
thereafter.

Jason noticed she was
distracted and unusually pale, but he put it down to the fact that she realized
she had pushed him too far and was now suitably repentant. Catherine was the
one who had been pushed too far though, and she was numb, incapable of thinking
beyond the alarming possible catastrophe that had befallen her. Even Monroe's
recently leased, very elegant house on the Quai Malaquais made no impression on
her, and throughout the ensuing afternoon she smiled, conversed, and acted
generally like one in a daze. She was silent unless spoken to and then answered
in dull monosyllables. "Yes," she answered to Monroe's question, did
she like Paris? "No," she replied to his query, were they staying
long?

There was an "other
world" look about her, as if she had trouble focusing on what was
happening. Any fears Jason may have had that she would embarrass him vanished,
to be replaced by the irritable suspicion that she was overdoing the shy bride
act. Damn her! She was deliberately creating the wrong impression! He could
almost see Monroe thinking, "Lovely girl—but very definitely a moonling! A
beautiful moonling, but
still.
. . !"

From Catherine's actions it
would appear obvious that he had married merely to stop his father's nagging
and had carefully chosen a young woman who wouldn't interfere with his other
pursuits. It annoyed him intensely that anyone should think so! Why it should
rankle when that had been his original intention was something he preferred not
to answer. Watching Catherine's vague interest, his expression grew bleaker as
the afternoon progressed. He could damn near strangle the little bitch!

Silence filled their
carriage as it sedately carried them back to the Crillon, but once they were in
their rooms all the frustration that had been burning inside him erupted, and
Jason said nastily, "What an actress! If you had studied for the part of a
dim-witted bride, you could not have portrayed it better!"

He might have said more,
but for the first time since the unpleasant scene in his bedchamber this
morning, he really stared at her and absorbed the impact of the stricken look
deep in her violet eyes. No wonder Monroe had been so kind to her, he thought
foolishly.

Angered at the sudden
tenderness he felt, his mouth thinned with disgust at his own emotions. She had
humiliated him the most destructive, degrading way possible to a man, and here
he was tottering on the verge of sweeping her into his arms and whispering
words of comfort! Ah,
diable!
He nauseated himself. He
gave a disgusted exclamation and snapped, "For the love of God! Wipe that
theatrical look off your face! We're private now—the act's over!"

Some of the iciness that
encased her was blasted away by his fiery words. Sensing that for some unknown
reason her actions of this morning and her cool aloofness of the afternoon
irritated him more than any other thing she had done in the past, she stated
calmly, "I'm tired. If you have nothing further to say, I would like to
lie down."

Dumbfounded, Jason stared
at her, and Catherine realized she had for once struck him speechless. Very
much in the manner of a grande dame speaking to an underling, she said,
"Please send Jeanne to me. I think I shall eat a quiet dinner by myself
tonight, so I shall say good evening to you now." And with that, her head
held high, she walked regally out of the room leaving a stunned, baffled
silence behind her.

 
Jason and
Catherine were back to treating one another with frigid politeness and Jason
took to staying out late gambling and drinking heavily, returning only when the
darkness of night fled the golden dawn. Driven to erase the debasing scene with
Tamara from his mind, he promptly bedded a buxom brunette who had been ogling
him since he had first started gambling at the dice tables of the Club Royal.

It had been a welcome
relief to find solace between soft white thighs and to himself and the satiated
brunette,
he proved his expert sexual prowess. More
than one dawn he returned to the Hotel Crillon smelling of her cheap perfume, a
relaxed, satisfied grin on his face. Sleeping most of the day away and spending
his nights elsewhere, he saw little of the gypsy. Deliberately he kept it so.

Tamara shredded his usually
ordered emotions to ribbons; she had tricked him and had committed the maximum
crime-—made him doubt his own masculinity! The sooner he was rid of her the
better, and he vowed that as soon as the embassy ball was behind them he would
put her on the next packet to England. That the sight of her still caused a
sudden, inexplicable ache and a queer desire for the situation to have been
different, he determinedly ignored, violently shoving the unwelcome emotions to
the back of his brain where they lurked waiting to haunt him when he least
expected it.

The late nights, his
excesses with the brunette, and the excellent French brandy* added a certain
exciting rakish- ness to his lean, dark features, and Catherine felt her heart
tighten painfully whenever they did meet. A sudden glance from those hard green
eyes could cause her to
feel
 
precarious
yearnings. Her newest worry disappeared when her body
answered her fears of pregnancy two mornings after the disastrous afternoon at
Monroe's—she did not carry Jason's child. The knowledge should have comforted
her—and it did, in a way.

Left to her own devices,
Catherine wandered through Paris with Jeanne as her companion, and a warm
friendship sprang up between maid and mistress. Jeanne sensed that things were
not right in the marriage of Madame and Monsieur Savage, and while not knowing
the cause of the estrangement, all her loyalties were with her mistress.

Pierre, his sense of
fitness outraged by Jason's behavior, occasionally accompanied them on their
ramblings. It horrified him that Jason should allow the woman posing as his
wife to wander about the streets of Paris without money and unattended except
for one very young maid. Pierre disapproved of Jeanne violently, thinking her too
young and flighty to be a proper lady's maid. Lady's maids and dressers were
middle-aged and prune-faced, not apple cheeked slips of things with dancing
dark eyes. If Pierre disapproved of Jeanne, she returned the favor by deciding
he was too stiff and proper!

On the occasions when
Pierre escorted the two young women, Catherine Was often amused by the frequent
polite battles that raged between maid and valet. If madame wished to visit a
particular section of Paris that Pierre thought improper, he would delicately
steer her away from the notion, only to be brought up short by -Jeanne laughing
at his stuffy attitude. His eyebrows
raised
haughtily
in a manner reminiscent of his master, and ignoring the
scoldings
pelted upon him by Jeanne, he would guide Catherine away. A second later Jeanne
would be
sunnily
trailing behind them, her eyes
dancing with laughter at his pompousness.

Still, Pierre did manage to
entertain them. It was with Pierre that Catherine discovered the delightfully
scented shop of Jean-
Fransois
Houbigant
named appropriately, A Basket of Flowers. And it was here, their eyes wide with
excitement, that Jeanne and Catherine watched Napoleon's empress, Josephine de
Beauharnais, purchase some of her favorite Crème de Rose. Wistfully Catherine
had wandered around the small shop inhaling the fragrances of scents, soaps,
and candles as well as the many perfumes for which Houbigant was famous.

Catherine's wistful face
led Pierre to deferentially request that Jason entrust an. amount to himself
so that he could buy the little objects that enchanted madame.

It was a strange little
trio they made—the beautiful young aristocratic woman, the very lively lady's
maid, and the exceedingly prim gentleman's gentleman. Jason viewed the
resulting friendliness with, a jaundiced eye, but beyond sarcastically asking
Pierre if he was thinking of leaving his service, he left it at that.

As the date
of
the embassy ball drew near, Catherine and Jason both perceived
that their tempers were growing drastically short. Jason took to wandering
unexpectedly into her bedchamber and more than once lounged indolently on her
bed like a lazy panther, silently daring her to object as lie watched Jeanne
dress her. And when they were alone, it was as if he intentionally set out to provoke
her into her losing her temper.

After one particularly
dreadful exchange of sharp words, Catherine didn't think she could stand the
tor- meat any longer. The suspicion had begun to nag her that she was falling
in love with this harsh-faced man who taunted and mocked and thought her a
cheat, a slut and worse! In a deep fit of despair, she considered selling the
jewels he had given her and attempting to find her way back to England and
home. But she had no idea where the moneylenders were situated, and Jason had
promised to send her back to England after the ball. And so, grimly she fought
against the feeling of love that struggled to be born. She would not love him!
She could not love him! One didn't love a man who acted as he had,
And
yet—she would recollect the days "and times when he
had been, so charming, wooing her into forgetfulness. Then with something
approaching anguish, she would feverishly tear the memory from her mind. -

The night of the ball
finally arrived. There had been no appreciable change in their behavior towards
one another. It was only when Catherine, wearing a gown of stark black velvet,
walked into the salon where Jason stood impatiently waiting, that he wondered
rawly how he was going to lei her go. He stared at the achingly lovely picture
she made, her breasts rising like alabaster from the ebony darkness of the gown
and her blue black hair waving softly around her shoulders.

He too was bedeviled with
memories—memories o£ her sudden smiles that could dazzle him blind, memories of
her clear laughter when something pleased her, and most of all the memory of
the softness of her mouth and her slim body. Baldly he acknowledged that he had
never possessed that slender body completely—always she fought him, and except
for the one time at the inn after he had raped her of her virginity, he had
never taken her with the care and tenderness of which he was capable. He'd
meant to, he had meant this time in Paris to be different. But always she
infuriated him to the point that he became an animal and used his body as a
weapon, of punishment.

Jason stood so long staring
at her in silence that Catherine cleared her throat nervously and felt a
betraying blush of hot color stain her cheeks. Then he bowed mockingly and, a
glint in the emerald eyes, he complimented, "You look enchanting, Madame
Savage. Shall we agree, for tonight, to a trace between us?"

An answering hopeful
sparkle in her violet eyes, Catherine murmured, "Please—yes!"

And so, it was a vastly
different young woman Monroe met that evening, and he was promptly intrigued
by the change—in both Savages. For tonight Jason's eyes continually strayed to
the vivacious creature he called his wife, and more than once Monroe caught the
impish smile she flashed at Jason. It was also now obvious why young Savage had
not mentioned her earlier. The gentlemen flocked to her, and more than one
young man exclaimed himself enraptured by her beauty.

Catherine was much in
demand when the dancing began
,.
Jason stayed on the
sidelines, dancing with no other women, and though he talked with various male
acquaintances, his possessive, gaze never lost sight of the slim figure in
black velvet as she was whirled around the ballroom.

Monroe took the opportunity
afforded by Catherine's absence to have a private word with Jason. Under the
cover of the music of a waltz, he said casually, "You know, Jason,
Livingston is a, little worried about the negotiations,"

Jason shot him a
questioning; glance, but the two men were momentarily isolated at the back of
the room. Monroe continued, "Robert is afraid that France is attempting
to defraud us. Barbe-Marbois still has not admitted that Spain has ceded
Louisiana back to France. For all we know we are about to commit the United
States to paying many millions of dollars for a piece of land that does not
belong to the seller."

Jason growled
noncommittally, noting angrily that D'Arcy was soliciting Catherine for the
next dance, and he strode away to sweep his wife from the chevalier's grasp.
His dark head was seen to incline itself towards Catherine's upturned face
several times during the ensuing waltz, and Catherine's eyes were gleaming amethysts
by the time the dance ended. No one was in any doubt that Jason found her
irresistible!

It was a glittering crowd
attending this ball to officially introduce James Monroe to French society,
although he had been the American minister to France some years before. The
women were arrayed in fantastic ball gowns of every hue, and their bright
jewels sparkled in the candlelight. The men too were gorgeous to behold in
their velvet and satin clothes; like peacocks displaying their feathers, they
strutted about the huge ballroom. It was a mixed gathering of
nationalities-—the French, the Americans and several Englishmen, their wives, and
in some cases eligible sons and daughters.

Catherine was enjoying
herself hugely; it was her first ball, and Jason was again at his disarming
best. During a late supper, he had secured a secluded table and proceeded to
flirt shockingly with her, as if they had just met and she was a young woman he
would like to know better—much better! Shyly she returned his banter, frequently
causing him to laugh out loud as she capped one of his more ridiculous
compliments. There was a disturbing expression deep in his eyes as they rested
on her flushed countenance, and as she encountered that look again, her heart
beat so painfully fast she was certain he must see her pulse racing.

It was late, well after
midnight, and Catherine and Jason were conversing with Monroe when the blow
fell. They were standing near the doorway that led to a large tiled foyer where
uniformed servants were helping departing guests into their cloaks and wraps.
The crowd had thinned somewhat, but there was still a large company left.

Perhaps
if they would have been standing anywhere else, the meeting would not have
taken place.

Jason
had just thrown Catherine a particularly warm smile, and she was gazing off
into space, her thoughts jostling one another about. Giddily she tried to still
the happiness that was flooding her body, when a startled gasp made her glance
casually at the party just passing. A woman's scandalized voice uttered,
"Catherine!
What are you doing here?" Ashen-faced,
Catherine stared into her
cousin
Elizabeth's eyes.
Dumbly she noted Aunt Ceci and Uncle Edward just beyond, staring in horrid
fascination.

At
Elizabeth's words, Jason broke off his conversation with Monroe, and in one
lightning glance took in the scene before him. Tamara was standing in frozen
horror, gazing at Elizabeth Markham and her parents, the earl and countess of
Mount. A sudden frown between his brows, he questioned quietly,
"Catherine?"

But
Catherine, all her nightmares cumulating in this one appalling moment, didn't
even hear him. She couldn't move, couldn't swallow,
couldn't
think—she
was unable to do a thing but stare with haunted eyes at her
relatives.

Ceci
broke the growing silence by crying, "Catherine, you dreadful girl! What
are you doing here? Does your mother know you are here? Poor Rachael has been
frantic about you. I knew you would cause a scandal! I just knew it! Oh, I feel
faint—Edward, my smelling salts!"

No
one paid any attention to this last, for it was apparent from the malicious
gleam in her eyes that Ceci was enjoying her big scene too much to end it by
fainting.

Jason,
his voice cold, snapped, "Would you please explain yourself,
madame?"

Ceci
was gathering herself to answer him when Edward Tremayne, his eyes icy, said
grimly, "I believe, Savage,
you
owe
us
an explanation! What is my niece doing with you in Paris? Her
mother is very nearly in a state of nervous collapse, having no idea what has
happened to her daughter!"

Tremayne
turned reproachfully to his
strickened
niece and
asked, "How could you treat Rachael this way, to run off and leave her no
word? Have you no shame?"

Jason
stiffened as if turned to granite. A muscle bunched in his jaw, but otherwise
his face was closed and unrevealing. Evenly he said, "I think we should
discuss this somewhere more private."