Hours to Cherish (17 page)

A soft choking sound escaped Cat; she reached for Clay’s hand, but he stopped her, holding up both of his own. “They say, Cat, that amnesia has certain comparisons with being hypnotized. If you know right from wrong, you know it no matter what. And that was one thing that I did know. Luke and his crew were wrong, and they were headed for trouble.”

“Oh, lord,” Cat breathed. “Why didn’t you do—”

“Do what?” Clay interrupted impatiently. “Ask to get off the boat in the middle of the ocean?”

“No, of course not,” Cat murmured.

“I hadn’t been aboard long before we were picked up,” Clay continued. “But long enough to know I was with good men, even if their racket was bad.” He fell silent for a moment, tapping his long fingers against his cup. “None of that really matters now, Cat. What does matter, is that I could never forget you. I didn’t know who I was, but you filled my dreams. I knew you were a link with my past. But I spent years being haunted and still not knowing. …”

“Oh, lord,” Cat murmured miserably. “How … how long were you held? How did you get away? When did you remember who you were?”

“I was held for four years,” Clay said, with only a touch of rueful bitterness. He didn’t mention that there had been unsuccessful attempts at escape. “We escaped with the help of a few guards receptive to bribery. The first thing I remembered with any certainty when we escaped was that I had been a diver. I convinced Luke we could do much better salvaging than smuggling, and he turned out to be a magnificent assistant.”

Cat felt ill. Her coffee felt as if it were churning in her stomach. So much of his life wasted, his youth, so much pain and bitterness. And she had had nothing to give him when he did return, not even the simply courtesy of pleasure in seeing him alive.

But he had come back into her life, like a sea storm, and there were still so many things she didn’t understand. Too much lay between them for them simply to start over.

“You escaped almost three years ago, Clay,” Cat said. “And you know very well who you are now.”

Clay hesitated. “Yes. I’ve known who I was since about two months after the escape.”

Cat felt her fingers tighten. Her entire body felt cold and tense. Three years. He hadn’t come back to her in all that time.

“Cat,” Clay said quietly. “I couldn’t come waltzing back the way I was. I had too many scars at the time, mentally and physically. I had nothing—absolutely nothing. And I didn’t believe you’d be particularly happy to see me. Our marriage hadn’t been the best,” he said dryly, “and you’re a bit of a legend in the islands, my love. From everything I heard, you were living a very happy life.”

Cat swallowed. “So why now, Clay? And why all the trouble with the race, and bribing me out here?”

He grinned crookedly. “Because there’s only one way ever to get you to listen, Cat. And that’s to pound things into your skull or beat you at your own game.” He hesitated again. “If I had thought you were really happy, I wouldn’t have interfered in your life. But DeVante isn’t what he appears—”

“Clay,” Cat interrupted, “I really don’t see any reason to drag Jules into this. I feel rather shabby about Jules as it is. You did manage to rudely remove him from the picture—”

“Damn it, Cat!” Clay hissed. “You’re still missing a big point to this discussion. When you don’t want to listen, you simply don’t hear!”

“You’re right! I don’t want to hear you malign Jules!” What was she doing, Cat wondered, creating an argument over a man who no longer mattered? But it did all matter, because she was still so uncertain. Clay was sitting here telling her that he loved her, had loved her, but how could she trust those words when she barely knew her husband anymore, when so many years had passed? When he was freely admitting that only the hearsay of her impending marriage to another man had brought him back? What had he been really doing all that time, and had their lives taken such separate roads that they could never really meet again?

Clay stood suddenly, thoroughly irritated. “The past is over, Cat. The present is our problem, and our future. I’ve promised to set things straight for you with DeVante—if that’s what you want. But what I want to do, Cat, is give our marriage a chance. I’ve had lots and lots of time to mull over the problems we had and I know full well I was often at fault. But the first thing you need to fix anything, Cat, is commitment. And a willingness to try—knowing that things won’t be perfect but that they can be worked through. Are you with me, Cat?”

Cat quailed slightly at the power and intensity of her husband’s words. She knew that she loved him; last night had taught her that she had never stopped loving him. That love was the factor that had kept her from ever fully giving her heart again. But loving and living together were different things. She wanted him, she wanted their marriage to be a real one, but she was afraid of him. He was a man who demanded so much, and yet kept so much of himself back. He was, essentially, a stranger. Seven years was a long, long time.

“I don’t know,” she faltered, staring at her cup rather than at him. “Clay, we really don’t know one another anymore. …”

He stooped beside her, catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face to his as he gently brushed the skin of her cheek. A small grin twitched at the corners of his lips. “I’d say we were doing just fine,” he teased. Then his voice became abruptly harsh. “Were you sleeping with DeVante, Cat?”

“Come on, Clay,” Cat protested, attempting to twist her chin from his grasp but failing. “That can hardly be any of your business.”

“Answer me, Cat,” he snapped.

“Don’t start this—”

“Answer me!”

“All right! No!”

His grip eased and his tone lightened, but only slightly. “I’m glad, Cat. Maybe that’s not particularly fair, but I’m glad. I can’t promise you I’ll ever be completely fair, Cat, not if you believe in total liberation. I want to give you everything you deserve, Cat, respect for your intelligence, the right to work beside me. But I also want a wife. I want you to be there for me. I want a normal home. I want dinner and I’m more than willing to help with the dishes. Do you understand what I’m saying, Cat? It might not be the in thing today, but I believe in a little differentiation between the sexes. I’ll never lie to you, I’ll cherish you, love you, support you, and protect you. But I’ll break your neck if you ever lie to me again, or if I ever come across you near another man. Those are my cards, Mrs. Miller, dead flat on the table.” He released her chin, standing again. “Think about all that while you make up your mind, Cat. And you can also start thinking about our time out here as a trial period. Because I want your things in my cabin before Sam returns.”

“Clay!” Cat blurted in a strangled voice. She really hadn’t had a chance to say anything, to think anything. There was so much to assimilate. He had lost so many years in prison, and what she felt was sorrow, shame, and confusion. There were things she wanted to make up to him, but he didn’t want anything from her out of obligation. He wanted love and commitment, and he had her love, although he didn’t really know, but could she risk the commitment of his demands? He admitted it wasn’t fair, but he had been glad she hadn’t been sleeping with Jules.

But where had he been sleeping? And was he willing to give the total fidelity he demanded?

“Clay,” she murmured again, “I need time—”

“You take your time in my cabin,” he said abruptly. “I’m not sending Sam off the boat again to seduce my own wife. And I’m not playing games. We’re not going to play this as a whimsical affair with you deciding you do and then don’t. You’re great at that, Cat. A little torture, and then a giant step backward. Because you’re not sure of what you want. Well, I’m going to be sure for you. You’re a very healthy, marvelously sensual creature, Cat. You’ll never convince me that you don’t want to sleep with me, you never could. So save us both some trouble. Transfer your things to my cabin.”

He was shaking, Clay realized, at the same time he was realizing he was a fool. What in God’s name was he doing? The sure way to raise defiance in Cat was to command. What if she denied him now?

He turned abruptly on his heels to leave her before she could realize he was anything but adamant and forcefully determined. If she fights me, he thought sickly, I will have to fight her back. She has to believe me. …

“Clay!”

Her voice, stilted and tight, stopped him. He turned back to her, noticing that her emerald eyes were wide and her face was pale beneath its golden tan. But she sat very straight, her chin lifted.

“Who is Ariel, Clay?” she asked.

He hesitated for only a fraction of a second. “I told you, Cat, Ariel is Peter’s wife.”

Cat watched as he exited to the deck, pulling the smart French doors closed behind him. She was shivering, and the day was hot. She had wanted him to talk, and he had talked. But she was still so lost, so unsure.

He had definitely laid his cards on the table. His list of demands was very straightforward! But could even last night change the distance that lay between them? They were both older now, more mature, aware that the greatest passion was not the only ingredient necessary for a marriage.

He seemed so sure! Cat thought. So positive of all that he wanted, so positive it could work out.

Too damned sure. He was already back to ordering her about.

But was what he asked too much? He was a bit of a chauvinist—and frankly willing to admit it with little apology. Yet was that so terrible? He was ready to give so much; he just wanted her to be a wife. And if he were a man she wanted to change, could she possibly love him?

Cat idly began to clear away the breakfast dishes, mechanically cleaning the galley. What kind of choices was he giving her? Demanding that she share his cabin, while still promising to straighten things out with Jules if that should be her ultimate desire?

He doesn’t know that I could never go back to Jules now, she thought, which was good. Clay had come back into her life and had overwhelmed her. She didn’t want him knowing the extent of the power he wielded. Her independence was still very precious. And even though her heart was willing her to be the wife he desired, he had to know that she would never be a sweet, docile creature waiting to jump at his command.

Oh, lord, she thought, I do love him, but if he wants me in his cabin, he’s just going to have to learn to ask nicely.

If I could only really understand him! she mused miserably. He tells me about the time he has lost, but I can’t really envision what it must have been. All those days, night, weeks, months, years—lost! And when it was over, he didn’t trust my capacity to give, he couldn’t come to me for help.

That hurt, it hurt badly. Had their marriage been that bad? Cat wished that she could somehow tell him now how deeply she had loved him, how she too had realized all the mistakes she had made when it had been too late to rectify them. But she couldn’t tell him, not when he still held himself back. He told her things, but he had yet to share his feelings, to explain the three-year gap in which he had known his identity and rebuilt his fortunes without bothering to inform his wife he was still alive.

He was a different man from the husband she had known. She would have to tread warily, learn to know him again before offering the love he demanded. A certain holding back on her part would be simple survival. She couldn’t bear losing him again. He had suffered hell, and she had also suffered a hell of a different kind.

“And who the hell does he think he is?” she muttered aloud suddenly, remembering that he had cunningly taken her in the boat race, forced her hand with a ridiculous debt, picked her bedroom door lock, made her appear a wanton fool before Jules, and to top all else, had hurled her to the floor.

“The hell if I
will
jump at any of your commands, Clay Miller!” she muttered again in a hiss, drying and stowing away the last dish. He might be a different man, she thought irritably, but certain things about him hadn’t changed a bit!

The sound of activity from the deck alerted her to company from the starboard side. Cat dropped her dish towel and hurried out the cabin doors.

Freshly filled air tanks for the day lined both port and starboard sides of the
Sea Witch II
. Their flippers, masks, weights, and regulators were also ready and waiting. Clay had been busy. Cat noted all this quickly, then turned her eyes toward the
Sea Enchantress
pulled alongside them. Sam was in the process of leaping back to the
Sea Witch II
and Clay was taking his place aboard the
Sea Enchantress
.

“Mornin’, Mrs. Miller!” Luke called out from the helm of his craft.

“Good morning,” Cat called back, attempting a smile but frowning instead, her eyes narrowed on her husband’s departing form.

Clay must have sensed her scrutiny. “I’ll be right back, Cat We’ve sonar equipment on the
Enchantress
. Peter picked up something large last night and I want to check it out.”

The
Sea Enchantress
roared into full motor before Cat could reply, her eyes on the bow until she lost sight of the occupants. The mysterious Ariel had appeared on deck. And Cat had had a view of the boat’s bow long enough to see her softly smiled greeting to Clay and the tender light in Clay’s eyes as he gently replied.

“You listening to me, Cat?”

“What?” Cat started as she realized Sam had been talking to her.

Sam eyed her suspiciously, but decided against questioning her distraction. “They weren’t expecting the sonar to be much help, not with all the wrecks that are down there. But you should have seen it, Cat, a blip as big as the sun.”

Despite herself, Cat felt a surge of adrenaline through her system. “So they think we’ve found it?” she demanded. “Really, Sam?”

A wide white grin broke out across Sam’s leathered face. “The way Peter sees it, missy, we just might have. That galleon was a mighty big ship when she sailed the seas. And that husband of yours has a lot of faith in your theory about the
Santa Anita
being out here.”

Cat lightly lifted a brow at Sam’s tone. It was reproachful. Cat knew that Sam had fully accepted Clay’s return. Sam had always thought that the sun rose and set on Clay. He didn’t say anything to her, but Cat was aware that Sam thought she should have welcomed Clay back from the beginning with open arms and no holds barred. She couldn’t help feeling a marked resentment. Sam had been her teacher, friend, and mentor since childhood, yet it seemed as if he were cheerfully willing to hand her over to the devil and expected her to appreciate it!