Gypsy Lady (50 page)

"Hmmmm,
and to what do I owe this honor?" he teased.

But
Catherine's tongue was trapped to the roof of her mouth, and she was
overwhelmingly conscious that beneath the green silk robe his lithe body was
naked. His amused gaze traveled lazily over her still form, his eyes lingering
on the darkness between her white thighs. Suddenly his amusement fled,
replaced by a hard, urgent taut- ness.

Grasping
her shoulders, he roughly pulled her to him and in a husky voice muttered,
"You came to me this time, but if I make love to you tonight, that damned
door might as well not be there for the protection it will afford you in the
future."

Mutely,
she returned his searching stare, her senses swimming with delight at the feel
of his hands on her. Her thoughts were dizzy with expectation. She wanted him
so badly, so badly she was almost shaking with desire, and almost angrily she
snapped, "Oh, shut up, Jason!"
Then melting against
him, she whispered, "Shut up and make love to me!"

A
muffled laugh greeted her demand, and then she was caught up in his arms, his
mouth capturing hers as he carried her eager body to the waiting bed. This
time, it wasn't Jason's hands that tore the gown from her body but her own, and
she needed no prompting to wind her soft, silken arms around his strong neck
and to thrust her slim body close to the muscled hardness of his. She was
hungry for him, and in every way she knew, she let him know it, her hands
exploring him with growing confidence, even as his mouth and hands skimmed the
alabaster smoothness of her body. Jason, as if to punish her for not coming to
him sooner and for keeping the doors shut between them, played on her senses
like a master on an exquisitely fashioned instrument, his caresses driving
away her natural reticence.

His
mouth like a trail of fire traveled slowly down her neck onto the firm,
upthrust breasts that seemed to beg for his touch, and all the while those lean
fingers were moving sensuously over her flat belly to the beckoning softness
between her legs. A moan broke from her lips when at last he touched her there,
and as his fingers entered and began to move in rhythm with her writhing body,
Catherine was engulfed in pleasure. But she wanted more, and demandingly she
beat out a tempo of desire on his broad back until with a smothered laugh he
muttered, "All right, you little devil!
All right!"
He thrust himself deeply between her legs, his laughter gone, and his body
nearly shaking from the fierce emotion that tore through him as Catherine's
rising passion met his. Crushing her body next to his, his mouth burning
against hers, he deliberately held back, deliberately intensifying the pleasure
he gave, until Catherine was almost mindless with ecstasy. Only after he felt
her body convulse with fulfillment, did he allow his own body to explode with
pleasure.

Satiated
and cradled in
his
arms, Catherine ran her hands lovingly over
his
face, exploring with soft finger tips the contours of his beloved features. His
eyebrows felt coarse and her fingers slipped down
his
nose—ah, in her mind she could see the proud boldness of it. Then she touched
his
mouth—sensuous
mouth! Almost compulsively her fingers traced its outline.

He
was smiling, she could feel it in the
darkness,
and
remembering how he could drive her into incoherent, blind passion, she blushed,
glad there were no lights to reveal her embarrassment. There were no words
between them, but as if sensing the constraint that so often sprang up
afterwards, Jason pulled her closer, and her soft body molded itself
unconsciously to the leanness of
his
.
Capturing her wandering fingers in one hand, he kissed the tips lightly and
murmured, "I never thought you were going to open that damned door! And I
didn't know how much longer I could hold out. It's regrettable to admit, but if
you hadn't come to me tonight, I'd have resorted to sheer male dominance and
forced you to accept me." Laughing softly he said, "It was thoughtful
of you to pander my ego."

Catherine
stiffened, but Jason rolled over, trapping her beneath him, and nuzzling her
ear whispered, "Kitten, Kitten, don't fight me now. We've come such a long
way,
let's not ruin it merely because I can't resist
teasing you." Since fighting him was the least thing in the world she
wanted, her arms closed around him tightly, and both forgot everything but each
other as the fires of desire began to roar once more.

From
that night forward, their relationship took another bend, and there were few
nights that didn't find them locked in each other's arms, their young bodies
saying what words could not. And there in the darkness together, each night
Jason taught her more and more ways to give pleasure and showed her all the
ways a man can please a woman.

Nearly
blind with joy, Catherine looked forward to each day with increasing happiness,
laughter bubbling through her veins. Soon, soon, her blood seemed to sing, soon
he'll admit he loves you, and you'll be the happiest woman in the world! Only
occasionally did she let uncertainty creep into her thoughts, and she longed
for the day she could ask Him why he had said those hateful words to her
cousin. Deliberately she blotted out any hint that Jason might
have
meant those words and that he was now only insuring that she produce another
child. But then without warning, the increasing quiet happiness of their days
was shattered.

It
had been another hot morning, a muggy morning, and Catherine was feeling the
heat more than a little. Even the coolness of the white linen gown did nothing
to alleviate the stickiness that seemed to form in the steamy air. She could
feel her hair curling damply at her temples, and she wished fervently for the
black clouds that would herald a thunderstorm to appear on the horizon. It
would be muggier afterwards, but a shower would cool things off momentarily.

She
was seated on the downstairs veranda in a cane- backed chair, idly staring out
over the green lawn at a series of white smoke puffs that drifted lazily over
the darker green of the pine trees, when Jason and the crew that had been busy
clearing a section of land near the north end of the plantation galloped up.

There
was a grim cast to Jason's mouth, and after dismounting, he threw the reins to
one of the man and barked, "Get those horses around back and yourselves as
well. You know what to do."

Startled,
Catherine watched as the men quickly rode towards the stables. With long,
hurried strides, Jason mounted the steps, and seeing her sitting there, he
snapped, "Catherine, get inside and stay there!"

Stung,
she drew herself up stiffly and said haughtily, "Well! I beg your
pardon!"

His features
relaxed instantly, and he said softly, "Kitten, don't argue with me. This
is important. Just do as I say."

Her
anger evaporating, she obeyed him immediately. She had barely entered the house
when the wives and children of the workers came streaming across the patio, and
for a second, she stood staring, completely at a loss. One of the wives, Sara,
explained, "We always come up to the big house when trouble is expected.
It's easier to defend this one place and Mr. Savage always has plenty of supplies
on hand for whatever emergency may arise."

Everyone
but Catherine seemed to know exactly what was expected of them. Sudden,
inexplicable fear drove her to see that Nicholas was safe, and after a
distracted look at the women, she ran upstairs to check on him. Nicholas was
sleeping soundly, and Sally, sitting by his crib, her eyes wide with alarm, was
vowing to protect the sleeping child with her life if need be. Unable to remain
still, Catherine ran back downstairs. Jason, a long rifle slung over his shoulder
and a pistol shoved into his waistband, was pacing the hall as she came down
the staircase, and she couldn't help asking nervously, "Is it
Indians?"

"No.
I damn well wish it were. Listen, kitten," he said seriously, "I
don't expect there to be too much trouble, and the men are armed and in their
places. But if there's any shooting you and Nicholas stay upstairs and away
from the doors and windows.
Promise?"

Her
throat tight, Catherine nodded dumbly, but she knew if there was any danger she
wanted to be at Jason's side—not locked upstairs with a group of weeping women
and worrying about what was happening to him!

At
the sound of approaching riders, Jason grabbed her and pressed a hard kiss on
her mouth. Then pushing her urgently in the direction of the stairs, he stepped
outside. Stupidly she stared after him and with a whimper of fear—for him, not
herself—she flew across the hall and peeked outside.

A
troop of about thirty Spaniards, their uniforms limp in the heat, were gathered
at the front of the house, and at the head of the hard-bitten column sat
Davalos. An unpleasant smile on his thin lips, he greeted Jason.

"So,
amigo,
we meet again."

Not
by so much as the flicker of an eyelash did Jason acknowledge the words. He
stood in the center of the wide veranda, partially concealed by the deep shadow
of the overhanging roof. His voice expressionless, he inquired, "What do
you want, Davalos?"

Davalos,
his grin widening, started to swing from the saddle, but the ominous click of
several hidden rifles, their hammers made ready to fire, caused him to sink
slowly back into his seat, his black eyes searching to discover where the enemy
lay concealed.

Softly,
Jason said, "You ought to know better than to try to catch me by surprise.
The borders of my land are wide, but I knew within minutes when you crossed
onto Terre du Coeur. I expected you weeks ago. What took you so long? Gathering
nerve to face me?" Jason taunted. "Afraid I would kill you on sight?

Thinly,
Davalos muttered, "Your hospitality is slender, I think."

"You
think right,
mon ami!
I
would suggest you continue on your way. There's nothing at Terre de Coeur for
you—not even the courtesy one would ordinarily offer. I don't like snakes in my
house!"

Davalos
stiffened,
his
expression ugly, and unconsciously his hand dropped to the pistol at his side.
The click of the hammer of Jason's rifle and the slow, steady swing as it
followed Davalos's hand made Catherine blanch with sudden horror. Oh, God!
she
thought, don't let Jason get killed! And with grim
determination she ran to Jason's study and snatched up a rifle from the glass
case, her hand shaking as she loaded the powder and checked the flint. Then,
she sped back to her observation post, noting that nothing had changed in the
seconds she had been gone.

She
took in the scene carefully, the only thought clear in her mind being that if
Davalos shot her husband he wouldn't live long to enjoy his triumph. With her
rifle aimed at Davalos's chest, she waited tensely for someone to break the
nerve-stretching silence.

A
sudden sharp laugh from Davalos made her fingers tighten painfully around the
trigger, and she leaned forward to hear the Spaniard's low, furious words.

"Very well,
amigo!
You
win again, but you cannot always be prepared, and
who knows—the next time I appear, you might not be ready! You are lucky this
time, but it will not always be so. Terre du Coeur is a long way from New
Orleans, and you would be wise to remember it!"

Smiling
tightly, Jason conceded the truth of his words. "You're absolutely correct,
but don't threaten me too much, Bias, or I'll shoot you down like the damned
dirty dog you are and take my chances with the authorities. It would make an
interesting trial—my men testifying against yours. I wonder which the jury
would
believe?
But it would make little difference to
you because you would be dead, wouldn't you?" Jason mocked.

Bias's
face grew darker with impotent fury. His teeth bared in a feral snarl, Bias
growled, "You are lucky, my friend,
this
time. Don't let me catch you unawares in the
future!"

Sick
inside, Catherine knew intuitively that if Davalos had come upon the men as
they labored in the fields or
when she and Jason were at
the house alone except for the servants, there would have been a very different
ending to this meeting. They
were
lucky this time! And with a hard knot of premonition in her breast, she watched
the column of Spaniards wheel and ride away. They would be back. She knew it!