I love you. … The three little words were all he had craved. All she had been so afraid to give until he had come to tier with that fierce savagery she had finally understood.
“Clay … oh … Clay!”
He raised himself above her, smiling as her soft slender leg moved against his, offering the sweetest of surrenders and invitation.
A gasp, a sigh, a whisper of luxurious pleasure broke from her as her body shuddered with the pulse of his passion finally surging into her, filling her, joining fire to fire and climbing to rhythmic heights. Cat was dizzy as the world became just the two of them, and yet within that world she was achingly aware of every sensation: the rough hair of his thighs grazing hers, the hardness of his chest, the taut grip he held upon her arms unless he released them to touch her breasts, to bring his hands beneath her to cradle her buttocks and press her ever closer to the driving rotation of his hips.
“Cat …” he murmured, meeting her eyes as his voice caressed her. And then, as his body shuddered with the final strong courses preceding ultimate ecstasy, he whispered, “I love you. …”
She felt his words. They filled her as sweetly as the warmth that swamped her with the seeds of their mutual release. They held her as they clung to one another, slowly descending back to earth, temporarily satiated and savoring the delicious glow of love’s aftermath.
For many minutes they were still. Then Cat shifted to curl against him, running her fingers wonderingly over the damp hair that curled crisply over his chest. She was startled when he gripped her fingers.
“Did you mean that, Cat?”
She lifted herself up on an elbow and smiled into his eyes. “Yes,” she said softly.
He lifted an eyebrow. “That wasn’t just because you discovered you’re no longer enamored of Jules?”
Cat hesitated. “Clay—I … I knew I would never go back to Jules long ago. I just couldn’t see your condemning him out of jealousy. I really thought you were wrong, and that the only way to make you see it was to prove it. But I was the one who was wrong, I had to find out the hard way. Oh, Clay! I am so sorry—”
“Hush!” Clay murmured. “We’ve both been very wrong. But maybe we’re on the track to both being very right. We still have a lot to learn about each other, Cat. And we both need to learn to trust!”
“But, Clay,” Cat whispered. “How did you know about Jules?”
Clay shrugged. “I checked up on him, my love. And I know several islanders well enough to have a man watched.”
Cat bit her lip uneasily, but Clay chuckled. “The grapevine is also great—if you learn how to listen to it!” He smiled, brushed a kiss on her lips, and rolled across the bed to pounce lithely to his feet.
Cat frowned. “Where are you going? We were finally making a little headway.”
Clay chuckled softly. “You were the one telling me we had people coming on board! And you’re right—one of us needs to at least say hello when we have guests right outside the boundaries of our bedroom. Personally, I’d just as soon stay here.”
“Oh, lord!” Cat gasped, her body, from face to toes, flushing scarlet.
“What?” Clay demanded quickly, his brows raised.
“Outside our door? Oh, Clay! I—oh—”
Clay burst into deep laughter. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said, lips twitching as he assured her. “You are a vocal little sea witch, but I promise, your sweet words and murmurs were for my ears only!”
He turned for the shower and Cat threw a pillow after him. “How dare you laugh at me!” she charged, but she was laughing herself because her aim had been very good and the pillow caught him right on his well-formed rear.
Clay spun back, a brow lifted in vengeful indignity, but his lips still twisted in a grin. “Watch it, witch, or we’ll see just how much I will dare!”
Undaunted, Cat sprang from the bed and raced past him.
“Hey—I have to shave!”
“Which will take you a while! I just want to hop beneath the shower and rinse off! Two minutes.”
Five minutes later Clay was eyeing her dryly as she briskly toweled her skin to a pink glow. “Okay,” he muttered, snatching the towel from her and twirling it to flick it against her buttocks. “Out of my way—I’m a busy man and you have nothing to do with the evening but loaf!”
“Ouch!” Cat protested, lifting her chin as she sailed past him indignantly. “And what do you mean, I have nothing to do but loaf? I can think of several things I could usefully do.”
“Don’t bother to think of any of them, my love. Because you’re going to stay right in here tonight—and tomorrow—and take it easy.”
Cat lifted her brows in rebellious inquiry. “Why?”
“Have you forgotten today already? Have you forgotten what almost happened?”
Cat swallowed uncomfortably. He hadn’t forgotten, and even though they had talked and admitted many things between them, he was still a little angry but also concerned.
“I’m really all right, Clay.”
“You’ll make me a happier man if you’ll stay put and take it easy for the remainder of the evening. I’ll have Sam bring you a tray later, okay? I’ve got to discuss a few things with Peter and I’ll—I’ll be late. Have yourself something to eat and then just rest—please?”
Cat nodded slowly, and then suddenly laughed.
“What’s so amusing?” he demanded with a little growl.
“You—you’re telling me I need rest, but I don’t think the time we just spent together could actually be classified as rest!”
Clay grinned in return with a little shrug. “I guess not, but that’s all the more reason I want you rested now. When we are together, you won’t have to worry about being too tired!”
“Typical, typical male!” Cat laughed. But as he grimaced and scooted into the shower, she shrugged with a little smile and slipped back into bed. She really didn’t mind listening to him at all when his words were laced with concern and love.
She yawned suddenly and realized that he was also right. She needed some sleep, she was very, very tired. And now, contentedly tired.
She was sound asleep before Clay finished his shower.
She was glad she had taken Clay’s advice. She slept until noon the next day and awoke feeling marvelous. He appeared in the cabin just minutes after she opened her eyes, smiling devilishly as he sat at her side with a breakfast tray crammed with cutlery, cups, and food.
“Thought you might be starving,” he offered.
“I am,” Cat admitted, stretching luxuriously with a happy smile.
“Breakfast for you, lunch for me,” Clay said, pouring them each coffee. He lifted his eyes innocently to hers. “And then … well, do you feel rested?”
“Oh … very …” Cat murmured gently, her voice sweetly throaty, yet entirely guileless. And then they both started laughing, and they ate their meals like young lovers, buttering one another’s toast and pausing between bites just to touch or to kiss.
They spent a wonderful afternoon together, making love, talking randomly, drifting into dozes together, waking up to make love again. The sun was streaking fast westward when they realized that the sounds of cooking and conversation were rising from the galley and kitchen.
“I think we’d better get out there!” Clay laughed.
“Ummm …” Cat agreed.
Again they squabbled over the shower; again Cat won first dibs. She grew silent as she went quickly through her drawers for clothing, and Clay watched her from the shower door with an ear-to-ear grin.
“Cat—I can read you like a book! You’re already worried about going out there because you’re sure everyone will know what we’ve been up to! And you’re turning the most delightful shade of pink again! Relax! We are married, remember?”
Cat allowed her hair to fall over her face, shielding her eyes, as she quickly stepped into another cool cotton halter dress. “Yes,” she said softly, “I remember.”
Cat heard the soft click of
the shower door closing and turned to the mirrored wall cabinets to hastily draw a brush through her hair. Then, before she could allow her nerves to keep her locked in the cabin for the night, Cat breezed out of the door and down the short hallway to the main salon.
Luke and Billy were conspicuously absent, but Cat remembered that they had gone to stake the claim for the Santa Anita. Sam was in the middle of the preparation of a delicious-smelling dish he worked on over the galley’s gas stove. Peter Gruuten, the tall, handsome German, sat beside his wife at the vinyl-covered booth surrounding the lacquered table. The three were chatting amiably away.
It was the first good look Cat had had of Ariel, yet all her previous assumptions had been correct.
Ariel was very, very pretty. She was a petite woman, her delicate face and fragile hands very feminine. Her hair was a stunning natural blond, a shade that complemented an almost ethereal blue in lovely almond-shaped eyes. And as she noticed Cat and glanced up, a smile formed on her lips that was as lovely and beguiling as her features. But her brows were knit in a frown of concern.
“Catherine!” she murmured, rising from her husband’s side as all conversation stilled. “Sam has been telling us what happened. My lord! How awful for you! Are you okay?”
After the wonderful day she had spent, Cat had to think a minute to realize what Ariel was talking about. “Fine, thanks,” she murmured quickly, accepting the blonde’s tiny hand and wondering at the woman’s sincerity, as they hadn’t really met before.
Sam glanced up from his steaming pot, smiling. “She must be just fine, Ariel! She’s been locked up in there plenty long with Clay.”
Cat felt a flush creeping along her flesh, but she couldn’t really take offense. Sam always had a carefree air about his broad white smile that was impossible to resist.
“You leave her alone!” Ariel chastised with a touch of steel in her soft voice. For all her tiny size, Cat thought with admiration, it was obvious that Ariel held her fair share of authority. She smiled again at Cat. “If you’re absolutely sure you’re okay,” she said brightly, “it’s time we break out the champagne! In honor of Mrs. Cat Miller! Oh, Cat! I never thought I might be in on something as spectacular as the discovery of the Santa Anita!”
The enthusiasm and victory that had been Cat’s the morning before were returned to her as she was kissed by both Sam and Peter, and hugged by Ariel. She was treated to the visions of the sparkling dreams in their eyes, and rained upon by the exuberance of their congratulations. Was it possible, after all the trauma the previous day had wrought after the triumph of discovery, that she could once more feel so on top of the world about the quest into the sea? That she could enjoy the fellowship of other salvage divers … Peter … Ariel?
Though she barely knew the two, they were a breed who lived with and for the sea, respected her, loved her, and the camaraderie she shared with them was spontaneous.
And yet still, as the initial toasts quieted, Cat found herself watching Ariel. Why? she wondered. It was very apparent that she and Peter were happily married. They touched one another often, a special gentleness touched their eyes when they looked at each other. Both Ariel and Peter appeared very, very comfortable. They, like the others, seemed totally oblivious to the regularities surrounding Cat and Clay’s relationship. Everyone knew she and Clay hadn’t seen each other in years, yet they behaved as if everything were perfectly natural and normal.
Are things natural and normal? Cat wondered. How could they be? She believed now that Clay did love her, and she had no intention of pretending to either him or herself anymore that she didn’t love him.
They had touched upon a few of their problems, they were learning to accept certain things as one another’s nature. Age seemed to have granted them both the wisdom that although you didn’t change a man or woman you loved—and if you loved one, you didn’t really want to change him or her—but that an understanding of what really hurt the other could make one think carefully about his or her actions, talking and explaining, thinking before acting.
Yet had they come far enough? They were treasure seekers now, questing for magic, groping and fumbling toward one another. Was that enough to form a real life together without being haunted by the past?
Cat found herself taking a turn at the bouillabaisse pot, her thoughts turning inward as she stirred the concoction of seafood, and she was unaware that she had withdrawn into her own world until she was tied back to reality by the soft sound of Ariel’s voice.
“Are you really okay, Cat? That must have been a really terrible experience.”
Cat smiled. “I really am fine, thank you.”
Ariel took a sip of her champagne, lashes lowered as she stared at the rim of her glass. “You’re a very remarkable woman, Cat,” she said quietly. “Clay always said you were.” She hesitated a moment, then her beautifully opaque eyes turned up to Cat’s, wide with a strange poignancy. “Be good to him, Catherine,” she said very softly, “that man loves you so very much.”
Ariel lowered her lashes instantly, as if regretting her words. When her eyes rose once again, the strange look was gone. She laughed. “I’m holding up dinner! Peter! Why don’t you come over and lend us your gourmet tastebuds?” Ariel took a sip of the broth herself, blowing carefully at the liquid in the spoon.
Her husband appeared next to the girls, smiling at each as he took the spoon. “More pepper?” Ariel queried.
“Nein, nein!” Peter replied, shaking his head and touching his wife’s cheek with a gentle finger. “Garlic. We need a pinch more garlic!”
“You’d think he was Italian!” Ariel laughed. “He loves garlic in everything.”
Clay made his appearance at that moment, casually dressed in form-hugging jeans and an open-necked short-sleeved cotton shirt. Cat found herself staring at her husband and thinking that he had a marvelous inborn talent for looking ruggedly and casually sexy, dressed and undressed. Clay was a fastidious person, she knew, yet other than that, he gave little thought to appearance. Part of his charm was that total self-assurance that had nothing to do with ego.
“Just make sure you keep eating the garlic right along with him, Ariel!” Clay laughed, approaching their threesome. “That way neither one of you will ever notice!”
Cat noted that tender light in Clay’s deep eyes as he addressed Ariel, but she had little time to think about it because his arms slipped around her waist and he rested his chin on her shoulder, looking into the pot as his fingers laced over her abdomen. “Smells good,” he murmured, then nuzzled the bare flesh of her shoulder, sending her little chills with the warmth of his breath and the velvet of his voice as he added, “but then, you smell delicious. …”
“Maybe we should have had this party tomorrow night!” Peter laughed, slipping his broad hands over his own wife’s shoulders as he and Ariel both gave Cat and Clay benignly understanding smiles.
“Maybe all four of you had better break it up!” Sam called from the salon. “Mon,” he complained with mock seriousness. “I’m not taking off with any of you anymore until I have me a wife to bring along too!”
General laughter followed his comment, and Clay announced that they would eat immediately.
The champagne seemed incredibly effervescent that night, the food amazingly delectable. It was a very wonderful time, Cat thought, even as she occasionally mulled over Ariel’s strange words and behavior. What was it that puzzled her so? Cat wondered. Ariel and Peter were very, very happy; just very good friends to Clay. It was natural that Ariel should worry about a man she knew like a brother. It’s a pity that I don’t really think that, she thought to herself, then forced herself to take her mind off her pinpricks of unease. It wasn’t so terribly hard. She sat beside her husband, enjoying his casual touch, that of a long-attuned lover.
We’re friends tonight, she thought, and that awareness made her very happy. Usually, tension was static between them, but tonight she could appreciate being with him, the masculine clean scent that was his
, the crisp feel of his shirt, the comfortable hardness of his thigh beside hers, the clean look of his freshly shaved jawline. And when she was tempted to reach out and touch his bronzed skin, she felt freely able to do so.
It was interesting to listen to the conversation that flowed around the table. For the first time Cat felt that she was receiving an insight into her husband’s life—the years that were lost to her. Peter talked about the trials of turning to salvaging from smuggling—legitimate piracy, as he called his new vocation, and told of Clay’s patience and exasperation as he attempted to set them all straight. His crew loved Clay, Cat thought, they were a free breed, driven by nothing but the wind, yet they gave him their love and loyalty.
She also learned that the actual crew was much larger. When the barges and cranes were brought out to begin bringing up the Santa Anita’s treasures, she would meet another group of ten.
Cat was surprised to learn that Ariel was a Bahamian national by birth. “I’m surprised that you of all people are surprised!” Ariel laughed. “I was born on Eleuthera. A community of German descent has been thriving there for several centuries. You know as well as I do, Cat, that many Europeans made the islands their homes years ago!”
Thinking of her own tiny cay with its mixed nationalities, Cat had to agree.
When the meal was completed, they moved languorously above deck. Cat noticed that a Bahamian patrol boat was anchored near them, and she glanced at Clay. He gave her a grim nod, but said nothing. She understood that they were now under the government’s protection.
But she didn’t have long to think or ponder. The mood had been set for the evening, and that mood was celebration. Cat was to learn where Clay had learned his prowess with the guitar when Peter retrieved his own instrument from his cabin and insisted on doing harmonies with Clay. Ariel, who informed Cat that both men had taken lessons from Luke, had taken a few lessons herself on flute from Billy. Before long the sea air rang with a freewheeling calypso beat, and Sam and Cat were left to be the hysterical audience as the threesome sang old tunes with their own brand of new, delightfully bawdy lyrics.
Hours to Cherish Page 18