Gypsy Lady (61 page)

Dropping
a light kiss on her enchanting nose, he murmured, "Better now?"

Suddenly,
Catherine flashed him the wide, devastating smile that always left him feeling
slightly lightheaded. Slowly, his mouth widened into an answering smile, as
they both sat apparently entranced, staring at each other. Then after a quick,
hard hug, he put her into the bed.

The
next day, she was allowed up for a longer period of time, but it wasn't until
the sixth day that he let her dress in the clean breeches and shirt he had
packed for her. He still made her rest for part of the day, but that night
after dinner, eaten for the first time together at the wooden table, he allowed
her to join him as he stood in the doorway watching the setting sun.
Instinctively, without conscious thought, his arm dropped around her slender
shoulders, and he pulled her close to his side, lightly brushing a kiss across
her forehead. Cuddled next to her husband's big body, she watched the red and
then gold light fade from the sky, wishing with all her heart that somehow this
moment of precious togetherness could last forever. But with the sun having
gone down, the night grew chill swiftly, and Jason, feeling the slight shiver
of cold that shook her body, turned her gently back into the cabin.

With
so many days spent in bed lately, she eyed the bunk with distaste, and pouring
herself a cup of coffee from the pot that stayed warm at the edge of the
leaping fire in the fireplace, she sat on one of the chairs and asked brightly,
"It's too early for bed and as I'm much too awake to sleep—well, what
shall we do?"

Jason
sent her a mocking smile and realizing the implications of her innocent
question, she blurted, "Oh, I didn't mean
that!
I—I just meant I wasn't sleepy, and I didn't want
you to pack me off to bed like some tiresome child."

An
unholy gleam of amusement in his green eyes Jason teased, "I'd
never
put you to
bed
like a child."

She
ignored the challenge and hastily swallowing a gulp of the hot coffee, promptly
burned her tongue. Resentfully, as if it was his fault, she glared at him, and
yet not really spoiling for a fight, she suddenly smiled and asked, "Tell
me about this cabin. How did you know it was here?"

He
poured himself a cup of coffee and took the chair opposite from her. Briefly,
embellishing it slightly for her entertainment, he answered her question. They
talked quietly for some minutes, then from out of nowhere, her elbows resting
on the table, her chin propped in her hands, Catherine asked abruptly,
"Jason, what did you find out there? I know it's not Cibola, but you did
find something."

Startled
in the act of raising his cup to his mouth, he glanced at her sharply. Then
with a curiously deliberate movement he set the cup on the table and parried,
"How do you know that? I never said so."

An
unladylike snort greeted his statement. "You found something. You must
have! Davalos had to have some reason for deciding that you had the knowledge
he wanted. And," she guessed shrewdly, "
that
gold and emerald band you wear holds some clue to what Davalos is after."

Slowly,
Jason ran one hand along his bearded jaw and in a resigned tone of voice, said,
"The band holds no clue. It was merely a trinket I desired." For no
reason at all he added, "It's one of a pair or rather—it was."
Ignoring Catherine's widened stare, he continued, "I had a friend once,
named Phillip Nolan, and together we three, Nolan, Blood Drinker and myself,
found a treasure—not a large one—and certainly not Cibola."

Like
a child being promised an exciting bedtime story, Catherine breathed, "Go
on."

A
tired sigh escaped him, and leaning his head back against the wall Jason stared
upwards, only he wasn't seeing the ceiling—he was seeing the hot, searing sun
of the high plains of Comanche territory. And suddenly the memory of that time
came back so strongly it was as if he were reliving it.

He
could see again the tall, towering wall of the Palo Duro Cayon and feel again
that shaft of amazement that had knifed through him when he had first laid eyes
on that soaring pyramid that rose high above the canyon floor. He tried to
convey the immensity of it all and instead lost himself in the telling of
it—of his own emotions and Blood Drinker's; of Nolan's knowledge that it was indeed
an Aztec temple they had found; and finally of the discovery of the hidden
cavern and the taking of the twin gold bands.

He
was so caught up in the tale that it was with reluctance that Jason came back
to the present. And Catherine
held spellbound by
his
words, probed, "Did you ever go back?"

Flatly, his face hard,
Jason snarled, "No! Why, when I have a fortune of my own, should I loot
for more?"

Dismayed at the tight anger
that flared in his eyes, she stammered, "I—only asked! There's no need to
bite off my head!"

"Forget it! It
happened long ago, and whether or not Nolan ever went back I don't know—or
care!" Cynically, he smiled at her rapt interest, reminding himself that
she wasn't much older than he had been at the time they had stumbled across the
canyon, and his expression softened.

Seeing that, Catherine
asked cautiously, "Was it Nolan's gold band, do you think, that alerted
Davalos?"

His eyes hard again, Jason
retorted, "Probably. Davalos always was an avaricious creature. And Spain
has never recovered from the shock of discovering that Texas is not another
Mexico! I'm quite certain there are still a vast number who believe more Aztec
cities of gold are out there, just waiting to be plundered!"

Catherine gave a deep sigh.
"How I wish I were a man! It seems totally unfair for you to have all the
adventures."

Jason grinned at the
reproachful regret in her voice and gently teasing, asked, "Wasn't being
abducted by me adventurous enough for you?"

Bitterly, unthinkingly the
words burst from her. "It was horrible! How can you possibly compare
something that rained my whole life with the excitement of seeing what you have
seen?"

Watching his face freeze,
she could have wept with frustration at her own careless destruction of the
fragile peace between them!

Time passed
slowly after that night, and by the time they had been at the cabin nearly two
weeks, Catherine was greatly recovered and growing more and more short-tempered
at the enforced closeness. Deter- mindedly she had brought up the subject of
leaving, but Jason seemed in no hurry to return. Driven by exasperation she
had demanded to know how much longer they would remain, and he had given her a
lazy grin, inquiring lightly, "Why the apparent hurry? I won't eat you!"

Eyeing
him suspiciously, she asked, "Won't everyone be worried about us?"

He
hunched a shoulder indifferently. "A few days one way or the other won't
make much difference to them."

"How
cruel you are! I want my son, and Rachael must be mad with anxiety. If not for
me at least for them— let us return soon!"

A
curious glint in his green eyes, his lean cheeks and firm chin now covered by a
short black beard, Jason pulled her down on him as he lay resting on the bunk.
Pressed against his chest, her face inches from his, Catherine glared into the
face of the man—the man, she knew with despair, whom she loved regardless of
every cruel thing he had done to her. And anger, fed faithfully every day, was
the only weapon she had against the powerful pull of attraction that existed
between them. Some days though, she didn't have to deliberately whip up a fury
against him—some days, like today, it was easy to hate him and his lazy
arrogance.

"Let
me go!" she spat, fruitlessly struggling against the iron-muscled hands
that held her captive. He smiled indolently at her efforts and with studied
insolence dragged her beneath him, his mouth moving with tantalizing confidence
over her features.

"Why
do you fight me so? I'm beginning to suspect you're fighting yourself as much
as me, and I wonder why?"

Outraged
and terrified at the closeness of his body, her frantic attempts to escape
increased, but with ludicrous ease he stilled her thrashing body beneath his,
certain that at any moment she would melt against him as she had done so many
times in the past. Unfortunately, Catherine was finding it appallingly simple
to resist him, for at his touch there was not the remembered thrill nor the
wild uncontrollable heat of desire—only panic, sheer horrifying panic. Trapped
in Jason's arms, he suddenly, in her mind, became Davalos—and all the
debasement and wretchedness of that despicable rape came flooding back. Like
an untamed savage animal, she fought, her eyes wide with terror, and in a voice
filled with loathing and fear, she screamed, "Don't touch me! Oh God,
please don't!"

Jason
was at first skeptical of her attempt for freedom, but the undisguised look of
fear in her wide, violent eyes and the tremor of sheer panic in her voice
convinced him that something beyond her usual stubborn resistance was driving
her to fight him. He let her go instantly and frowning watched as she
scrambled away to nearly cower in the corner. She was shaking with delayed
reaction, and clutching her arms across her breasts, she stared back at him.
"I'm—I'm—sorry," she stammered. "I—I—just don't want you to
touch me that way."

Still
frowning, a lock of black hair drooping rakishly over one eye, Jason glared at
her baffled. Heavily he said, "Catherine, this has got to stop! I have no
intention of raping you every time I want you. Nor do I desire to live in a
state of constant warfare! It's time you grew up and faced the fact that, like
it or not, we're married—and I'll be damned if I'll live platonically with you!
I don't know what maggot has got in your brain, but will you please tell me
what I've done
this
time to arouse such
antipathy? You've been in an odd state since before Davalos abducted you, and
will you please, for the love of God, tell me why?"

Incoherently,
she muttered, "The baby."

Sighing
exasperatedly, he brushed back the unruly lock of hair and regarded her
impatiently as she huddled like a beaten animal in the corner. Finally he
asked, "The baby you lost?"

Dumbly,
she nodded.

"What
the hell does that have to do with the way you froze me out at Terre du
Coeur?"

Angered
at his obvious stupidity, she burst out, "I won't be your brood mare! Go
find someone else to play that role! I heard what you said to Elizabeth that
morning in Paris. You never wanted to marry me but, why in God's name, if all
you really wanted was someone to present you with a string of brats, didn't you
choose
her?"

His
eyebrows
raising
in haughty disdain, Jason replied
with distaste, "Do you know what you're saying? I certainly do not, and I
don't think you do, either!"

"I
heard you, I tell you! You said I should do very well to bear your sons, but
you had no further use for me beyond that."

Truthfully,
for he had long since forgotten that scene with Elizabeth, he stated angrily,
"I have no idea what you're talking about.
If
I ever said such a foolish and disgusting thing to your tart
of a cousin, it was merely to discourage her from inflicting herself upon
me!"

On
her knees, her hands clenched into fists, her small breasts heaving with
emotion, Catherine exclaimed, "I don't believe you! You were forced to
marry me, and you, in your usually arrogant fashion, decided I would suit your
purpose."

Jason's
face was tight, and he growled thickly, "I think I should clear up one
misapprehension you appear to be laboring under.
No one
could have forced me to marry you if I didn't
want
to. You could have been the daughter of the king
of England, but if it hadn't been my own choice— my own free choice, I might
add—nothing could have compelled me to marry you!" Jason was now as angry
as Catherine, and breathing heavily, he bit out, "I would like to point
out further that no one held a sword at my back. If you will remember,
I
suggested we marry! I could have
spirited you back to England and made different arrangements just as
easily."

At
his words, a feeling of fierce joy swept through Catherine's body, but she had
let the thought of that conversation with Elizabeth cloud her mind for so long
that she could not easily release it. "You only wanted a brood mare. You
said so to Elizabeth!"

A dangerous gleam in his
green eyes, Jason spat, "Disabuse your mind of that notion!"
Viciously he added, "If I had wanted a woman for that, I wouldn't have
chosen a skinny-hipped slip of a flighty baggage! Elizabeth would have been
much more fitted for that role—she has nice full hips if you will
remember."

Hurt, Catherine taunted,
"Then why, if I'm so unsuitable, did you marry me?"

His lips thinned with fury,
Jason moved swiftly. Yanking Catherine to her feet and shaking her soundly, he
shouted, "God knows! It certainly wasn't for your sweet temper!"
Controlling his own temper with difficulty and responding as always to her
nearness—to the desire to sweep her stubborn, slender body into his arms and to
forget all the anguish and hurt they bedeviled each other with—he was suddenly
aware of the real reason behind all his fury, and softly, with stupefaction, he
said, "I love you, Catherine. I've loved you, I think, from that moment is
France when we were in the coach traveling to Paris . . . I awoke, and there
you were, staring out the window, planning God knows what, but I knew in that
instant I wanted more from you than just your body—and I planned
then
to
have more than just your body!"

Distrust fought with
dawning, hopeful joy, and the bitter struggle was obvious in the confused,
violet eyes that stared up at him. She had lived with the need to have him say
those words for so long that just now they were nearly incomprehensible to her.
Bewildered and uncertain, but wanting desperately to believe him, some of the
tensions left her body, and she sagged against him. His next words, however,
made her stiffen as he said slowly, wonderingly, "Maybe I didn't love you
when I took your virginity, but I know before we left England that you were so
deeply embedded in my bones that it was unthinkable that I leave you
behind."

"Lust," she
stated dully, convinced that that had been the only emotion that had driven
him, but Jason shook his head. "I don't think so, my little love—but who
knows what it is that first attracts a man to a certain woman? Maybe it was
lust, I just don't know. But it didn't stay lust, not beyond that first
time—no, I don't think even then that it was lust. If it had been, once I'd
possessed you it would have been satisfied, and I would have had no fur
ther
use for you—certainly I wouldn't have taken you to France!"

Jason
was at a loss for further words, and finding himself in this queer situation,
he was uncertain how best to proceed. The glib professions of love, used by him
so frequently in the past to woo women into his arms and bed, dried up on him.
Here, in this most important moment, he was as fumbling as a youth. Perhaps,
because for the first time he meant those tender words of love, it made them
hard to speak aloud, and Catherine's attitude was definitely not encouraging.
She stood dumbly accusing in the circle of his arms, apparently unmoved by his
revelations, and a bit impatiently he shook her. "Didn't you hear me? I
love you, willful, stubborn brat that you are!
I love you!"

It
was his impatience that finally convinced her, for Jason would never be a
humble lover, and with a great sigh of blissfulness, she leaned against him.
Her throat tight with tears of happiness, she choked, "Oh, I love you,
too! I thought I'd die sometimes if you didn't love me!"

A
queer, tender smile on his face, he murmured, "Couldn't you tell, minx? A
man doesn't act as I have if he doesn't love a woman. Why did I marry you? Why
did I ship that damned horse Sheba to Terre du Coeur if it wasn't for you? And
why was I eaten up with jealousy when I saw you with Adam? My God, kitten, if
you only knew the torment you've put me through. Every time I thought that at
last we were growing closer, you turned into a little wildcat and nearly clawed
my eyes out!"

Gathering
gave a watery chuckle and pressed closer as his mouth moved tenderly over the
black curls until he found her ear and bit it gently. His breath warm on her
neck, he muttered, "I can never think straight when you're in my arms.
Didn't you know that every argument we ever had could have ended instantly, if
all you would have done was melt in my arms as you are now?"

"That's
not true! You were hateful to me at Belle Vista when I did," she accused
reproachfully, a warm light in her violet eyes.

His
muffled laugh, as he buried his head in her curls, made her shiver with
anticipation. "Kitten, I was so wild with jealousy, I damned near
strangled you then! You have to remember, I hadn't a clue where you were for
over a year, and I was certain Adam was your lover."

"Adam?"
Catherine questioned curiously, for while

Jason
had mentioned her mother's
arrival,
he had been reluctant
to reveal Adam's arrival and the subsequent story of his parentage. Regretfully
he pushed her away, but after seating himself on one of the chairs, he pulled
her down onto his lap and gently explained that
her
brother was also his brother!

Astonishment
made the smilingly slanted eyes go nearly round with wonder. But unable to
brood in the face of her newly found happiness—and as it had happened long ago—she
applied herself to the far more agreeable task of showing her extremely
appreciative husband how much she loved him. Cradled in his strong arms, she
found it easy to speak of her love and to tell why she had acted so
outrageously those many times. It was a time of confession for both of them,
but not every hurtful incident could be spoken of—Catherine couldn't bring
herself to tell of Davalos. And so it was not a time of complete joy for her.
Even as with greedy, eager hands she clutched these minutes in Jason's tender
hold, she knew that as long as what had happened with Davalos lay unspoken
between them, they would never know total, encompassing joy. Resting her head
on Jason's broad chest, her hand played restlessly with the fringe of his
buckskin shirt, and grimly she fought to say the words; but they were locked
tightly in her chest, and no matter how hard she tried, they wouldn't come out

Unaware
of her struggle or of the reason behind it, Jason dropped a feather-light kiss
on her bent head and murmured, "I do love you, Catherine. You are mine!
You always have been—only you were too stubborn and willful to admit it. I knew
it that night as I watched you dance before me in that red dress at the gypsy
camp. I remember thinking at the time: little witch this is the last time you'll
flaunt yourself before strangers. From now on, you'll dance only for me, and
only I shall see those flawless charms you display so enticingly!" He
added with an unwilling laugh, "I was jealous even then at the thought of
your possible lovers."