Sea Fire (41 page)

He found his shortened breeches, still hanging from the branch where he had left them, and pulled them on. Then he picked up Cathy’s petticoat, lying in a discarded heap not far from where she lay sleeping. Not bothering to dress her, he merely wrapped the garment around her to afford her some protection from the cold, and lifted her in his arms. She opened her eyes as he swung her up against his chest, and murmured something incoherent.

“Go back to sleep,” he hushed her, and when she obediently closed her eyes again, he set off with her along the trail leading to the shelter.

The next morning Cathy
wakened to the sound of Virginia bawling. Still groggy with sleep, she crawled over to the child’s crib, changed her automatically, and then picked the little girl up and set her to her breast. As Virginia suckled greedily, appeased now that she had what she wanted, Cathy’s mind began gradually to function. Memories of the night before returned to her, and she blushed hotly. Her behavior had been nothing short of wanton, she had to admit. Then she smiled. Jon hadn’t appeared to be disgusted by it. In fact, he had taken her as though he couldn’t get enough.

And he loved her! His words seemed to dance through her head. He loved her, he’d admitted it, not once but twice! She felt like singing. All was once again right with her world.

Where was Jon? At the thought Cathy frowned. He was certainly not in the shelter. Perhaps he was on the beach, or fishing in the bay. . . . Impatient now, she waited until Virginia had finished her meal, then lay the child back in her crib. A full belly always made her sleepy. Quickly Cathy pulled the crumpled petticoat over her head, and crawled to the entrance of the shelter. As far as she could see, she was alone.

She crawled outside to make sure. The beach was awash with sunlight, bits of shells sparkling like diamonds among the sand. Flamingos waded in the bay and gulls strutted along the water’s edge, but other than that the beach was deserted. Cathy frowned. She was impatient to see Jon again, to see his face when she told him that she loved him, too. He knew it already, of course. He would have to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to. But last night she had neglected to mention it, and she wanted to say it aloud so much that her throat hurt with the effort of holding it back.

The day lengthened, growing hotter, but still Jon didn’t return. Cathy began to worry about him, knowing that it was ridiculous to do so. Jon was a big, strong man, and he could assuredly take care of himself. Still, as the afternoon melted away, she gathered Virginia
up and walked with her along the trail to the pool. It was the only place she could think of for Jon to be.

He wasn’t there. Cathy retraced her steps, no longer frightened of this particular section of jungle. Last night, she and Jon had exorcised all the demons. She had a gruesome picture of Jon being crushed and swallowed by a huge snake, and impatiently banished it. The creature would have to be as big as a dragon to kill a man as large and muscular as Jon. No, more than likely he was exploring somewhere, or doing something else equally useless. As the afternoon wore on, and Cathy sat disconsolately on the beach with Virginia, she grew steadily angrier. He had better be lying dead or mangled somewhere, she thought furiously, because if he returned in one piece, she was going to kill him!

Jon spent the day at the top of the cliffs, watching Cathy and Virginia from that safe vantage point. He knew that his removal of himself smacked of cowardice, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t face her, and read victory in her eyes, until he had himself well in hand. It galled him to admit that she had defeated him, but defeat him she had. Despite her whoring with Harold—and he refused to call it by any other name—and her bearing of a child that could just as easily be Harold’s as his own, he, Jon, was still mooning over her like a lovesick schoolboy! She was no longer his wife, had no hold on him except the one he himself had given her, and yet he was as bound to her as Prometheus to his rock. If he had any sense left, he would leave her to her own devices as soon as they reached civilization again, and find himself another woman to bed. What was a female, after all, but a hank of long hair, a few meters of silky skin, and a warm wet cave to give a man ease?

Watching Cathy as she moved about on the beach, he could read her growing temper as easily as if he was standing there beside her. Just as he had suspected, now that she had gotten him to admit
he loved her, she expected him to dance to her tune. Well, he might have done it once, but never again! He wasn’t a man to make the same mistake twice. He had loved her once without reservation, with a grand wild tide of feeling so intense that he’d thought he would die when she betrayed him. He loved her still, he had to admit, but he would never be such a blind, besotted fool again.

By the time the sun crept down behind the horizon, Jon had his barriers well in place. He wasn’t going to take any nonsense from the little vixen, and so he meant her to realize. If she thought to rule him now that he had revealed his Achilles heel, then she would have to think again.

When he strolled onto the beach at last, it was almost completely dark. Cathy had crawled into the shelter, and as he entered himself he could see that she was nursing Virginia. She glared at him, her eyes shining like a cat’s through the gloom. If not for the nearly sleeping child at her breast, Jon knew that she would have launched a tirade at him. He smiled mockingly at her, and lay down on the bed of leaves and vines he had fashioned for the two of them to share, stretching lazily at full length, his hands linking behind his head.

He watched her as she finished feeding the little girl, and despite himself felt a tug of tenderness. The two of them made a beautiful picture. Cathy looked like a golden-haired, half-naked madonna, with her thin white garment pulled down to allow the baby access to her breast. She held the child cradled in her arms, rocking gently back and forth, crooning to her. The only thing that spoiled the image of motherly bliss was the occasional dagger-look she shot at him.

Finally Virginia’s mouth fell away from Cathy’s breast, and she slept. Cathy carefully crept across to the tiny crib, and put the little girl in it. For a moment she hovered, waiting to see if a wail would summon her to resume her rocking and crooning. Nothing happened, and Jon could sense Cathy’s attention
swinging to himself. He was right. She crawled across to him, pent up anger emanating from every pore.

“Where have you been?” she hissed, the words no less virulent for being whispered.

“I wasn’t aware that I had to account to you for my movements,” Jon answered coolly, his eyes closing as if bored with the conversation. He could hear Cathy spluttering, apparently at a loss for words. It was all he could do not to grin.

“I was worried about you!” she managed finally.

“Then you shouldn’t have been.” His answer was the epitome of indifference. Knowing Cathy as he did, he could feel her itching to pick up something and hit him over the head. Only the lack of a suitable object, and the sleeping child, saved him.

“You can be sure I won’t be again!” she spat finally, and turning her back flounced away. The effect of this gesture was somewhat spoiled by the confined space available to her, and the fact that it had to be carried out on her knees. Even at the opposite side of the shelter, she was still within easy reach of his hand.

Jon let her sulk for a while, and then, when he thought she was thoroughly enraged, drawled lazily, “Come to bed.”

“No!”

“You weren’t so reluctant last night,” he taunted softly. This brought her whirling to face him.

“That’s just the kind of thing I would have expected a cad like you to say!”

“Do you deny it?”

Knowing she couldn’t, Cathy ground her teeth. Arrogant, mocking devil! She would take him down a peg or two, or die in the attempt!

“No, I don’t,” she said. “But then, last night I wanted a man.
Any
man. You were all that was available, so I had to make do.”

He laughed harshly at
that. Little bitch, she was doing her best to provoke him.

“Liar,” he said softly.

“What about you?” she accused furiously. “Last night you said you loved me!”

The words hovered between them for a moment, flicking Jon on the raw.

“Ah, yes,” he drawled finally. “But you see, last night, like you, I wanted a woman. I would have said the same to anyone.”

She gasped at this blatant insult. Before she thought, she was launching herself forward, her hand swinging back to slap his face with all the force she could muster. The blow never connected. He caught her hand, and, using it as a lever, jerked her forward into his arms.

Cathy fell hard against his chest. The breath was temporarily knocked from her lungs. When she recovered, he had imprisoned both her hands in one of his. His other arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her in place. She was lying full length on top of him, her skirts askew, and his dark mocking face was just inches from her own.

“Brute!” she said, glaring at him.

“Bitch,” he returned equably, and in the darkness she saw his mouth twist in a smile.

“Let me go!”

“Never,” he answered huskily, the word just barely audible. Then, before Cathy had time to ponder his meaning, he was kissing her. The hot contact wiped every conscious thought from her mind. Despising herself, she was helpless against the potent appeal of his mouth. Unable to resist, she kissed him back. When at last he released her hands, they cradled his dark head.

He was gone again when Cathy awoke. She was so mad she wanted to spit. Vile, arrogant bastard! she called him mentally. Last night he
had wrung from her every last drop of response, and all without uttering a single tender word. She should have kicked him where it would have hurt, should have bitten and scratched . . . but what had she done? She had melted in the swine’s arms!

It was early afternoon when Cathy first saw the flutter of white on the horizon. She was playing in the shallows with Virginia, and she lifted the little girl into her arms, straining to see. Was it—could it be—a sail? She stared out toward where it had been, but this time she didn’t see a thing.

Suddenly Cathy saw a shadow fall across the water. It was unmistakably human, and male, and Cathy turned toward it with excited words falling from her lips. For once Jon was around when he was needed. . . . Then her jaw dropped. Facing her was not one but two men, and neither of them was Jon!

Swallowing, Cathy backed, Virginia held tightly in her arms. The man closest to her—a big, burly fellow, dressed in breeches and a vest, with a red bandanna tied around his head—grinned at her, showing a gold front tooth.

“Well, well, hello, pretty lady,” he said amiably, his eyes sweeping over her lightly clad form as if he could see right through the petticoat to what lay beneath. “All alone?”

Cathy shook her head, taking another step backward. Who were these men, and where on earth had they come from? And where, oh, where, was Jon?

“Don’t be afraid, lady. We don’t aim to hurt you,” the man said soothingly, taking a step toward her. “Cute little baby you got there.”

The other man chortled. Cathy licked her suddenly dry lips. She was frightened, not only for herself but for Virginia. These two looked like the scum of the earth. Silently she debated whether or not to risk a scream. It would almost surely bring Jon running, but on the other hand it might provoke the men into taking action. Her dilemma was resolved when the second of the two
men, a little shorter than the first but just as broad, began to move around behind her. With Virginia in her arms, Cathy could not swim to safety, and they were blocking her only other avenue of escape. She was well and truly trapped. Opening her mouth, she screamed to wake the dead. Virginia, startled, began to cry.

Jon was some distance away when he heard Cathy’s scream. He had been to the other side of the island, more to get away from the problems set him by Cathy than for any real need to be there, and had come across a small ship anchored in a shallow cove. He had hidden himself, and watched, caution urging him not to make his presence known until he had thoroughly spied out the lay of the land. And as usual caution paid off. It didn’t take much observation to convince him that the ship was a pirate vessel. Perhaps she had ducked into the cove to hide from a pursuer, or perhaps she had needed to make repairs. He didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. He had to get back to Cathy, and keep her and Virginia hidden until the ship left. It didn’t take much imagination to guess what men such as the ones on that ship would make of Cathy.

Jon was more than halfway back to the beach when Cathy’s scream froze him in his tracks. It was high and frightened-sounding, and it made his blood run cold. All manner of hideous possibilities occurred to him as he set off toward the sound at a dead run, but, as he saw when he burst panting onto the top of the cliffs, none of them had been correct.

Two men, from the pirate ship he had just seen by the look of them, were dragging Cathy out of the bay and onto the beach. One had his hand over her mouth to prevent any further outcry. She was barely resisting. Jon puzzled at that for an instant, then as the man blocking his view of her moved a little, he saw the reason. A squirming Virginia was held tightly in her arms.

Rage rose in Jon like a thick red tide. They dared to manhandle what was his. . . . He would kill them for it! As swiftly and silently as a
panther he moved down the path bisecting the face of the cliff. The two men, intent on their sport, didn’t notice him. Cathy, her eyes huge in her white face, didn’t either.

When they had dragged her some few yards up the beach, one of them wrested Virginia from her, holding the baby carelessly by the arms as he grinned at Cathy. Virginia screamed shrilly, and Jon felt the blood begin to pump hotly through his temple. Surely the bastards wouldn’t harm an infant? But even as he thought it, the man holding Virginia flung her casually to one side. The baby lay where she had landed in the white sand, looking like a small, pathetic doll. She didn’t move, or make a sound.