“Clay—”
A stunning blow caught the side of her head and she was sent flying from his form with a force that took her reeling frame all the way to the floor. Truly panicked, Cat stumbled to her feet, shaking her head to clear the stars that blinded her vision from the impact. She could do nothing for him, she realized, with tears stinging her eyes. He was simply too strong for her, too swamped in the awful clamp of the dream, but she had to wake him, she had to make it end. There was no help but for her to call in Sam.
Fumbling and half crying with haste and confusion, Cat slipped into Clay’s robe and tossed the sheets over his naked form, sure his thrashing would kick them off again but too concerned to worry about the possibility. She barely had her belt secured before she was pulling open the cabin door in quest of Sam, her mouth open to shout.
Her words never left her throat. Sam, Peter, and Ariel all stood in the short hallway, staring at her with eyes that clearly mirrored her state of concern and alarm.
Cat finally spoke. “Sam, I need you.”
Her mammoth friend hesitated a second, his eyes darting to Peter and back. It was Peter who took the first action. He came for Cat, securing an arm around her as he nodded to his wife, who slipped past them both into Clay’s cabin, pain deep in her beautiful powder-blue eyes. Cat frowned in tense bewilderment, thinking only to wrest herself from Peter’s arm. She didn’t need the help of the tiny blonde, she needed to be with her husband herself, with a burly man to give assistance.
“Peter—” was as far as Cat got with her protestations.
He interrupted her immediately and soothingly. “Come on, Cat, let’s go out on deck. Sam will make you a cup of tea and we’ll talk where it’s cool.”
Cat couldn’t move away from Peter. He was a man built like her own husband, a man of the same breed, equipped with the same quiet strength. “I don’t want tea,” she choked out as she was half led, half dragged through the hallway, salon, and galley to the deck doors. “Clay … Ariel …”
“Ariel will handle Clay,” Peter said softly. “And maybe you don’t need tea. Sam—” Peter called over his shoulder. “I think Cat might need a brandy instead.”
Peter didn’t release her until she was seated in a deck chair, and even then he stood over her, a knee bent over the rail preventing her escape. A second later Sam was handing her a brandy, and holding it with her until she had taken the first swallow. Then he took a silent stance behind her, trying to offer support and comfort in his silent way. Peter met Cat’s stricken eyes and began to talk.
“I wasn’t with Clay and Luke and the rest when they were picked up,” he said softly. “I met them all later on Eleuthera. But from the time they were arrested until they did escape, Clay was the one who kept them together, living with hope. He was determined to get away, so determined that he made several attempts to escape before he finally did. They had an isolation cell—a hot pit where a man had only room to sit hunched over with his arms hugging his knees, for punishment. Clay was kept in one for a week once when the guards they bribed failed to come through with the boats.”
Peter hesitated a moment as Cat stared at him in shock. She had always wondered how Clay had survived his exploits unscarred, and now she was understanding the form of the torture he had endured.
Cat licked dry lips. “So now he has nightmares.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. “And Ariel knows how to handle my husband’s nightmares.”
Peter hesitated a second time. “Clay came with Luke to his home on Eleuthera when they succeeded with their escape. He met Ariel there. They lived together for several months.”
Cat wondered how, as numb as she was feeling, that knowledge could riddle her insides with such acute, stabbing pain. Yet, in a way, she did know what hurt so devastatingly. Ariel was beautiful, gentle, sweet, and very wonderful. She wasn’t another woman one could rationally hate or despise.
Her voice was toneless, so toneless. “Is Ariel really your wife, Peter?”
Peter smiled very gently and reached down to take Cat’s hand. “Of course she is my wife. Everything ended between the two of them long ago. She is a very special creature, my Ariel. She always knew that something haunted Clay. That something was you, Cat. We have all known about you for years. Clay always spoke of you. That is why we feel so intimate, as if we have known you all that time too.”
Peter was trying, Cat knew, really trying. But she could feel nothing. She loved her husband, ached for him until she felt her insides cry, but all she could feel on the outside was numbness.
“Why didn’t he come back then, Peter? Why didn’t he return long ago? Why did he leave me thinking him dead?”
“Because it had been years, Cat. He heard that you were doing very well, that you were happy, content with your life. He was never sure if you would be pleased to see him or not, and he didn’t want you taking him back out of pity. He was plagued very badly by the nightmares at first. He never wanted you seeing him like that. But then when he heard that you were getting serious with DeVante, he started to get worried. We’d heard things about DeVante in our various business dealings, and that’s when Clay started checking him out and … well … you know. Jules was up to his teeth in debt. Clay couldn’t stand the thought of your possibly being used or hurt. So he knew then that he had to come back—no matter how you received him.”
“Oh, God,” Cat murmured. His every action had been for her, and yet Ariel could soothe her husband; Clay could put his faith in the tiny blonde but not in her.
It was then that Ariel appeared on deck, slipping her arm around her own husband and trying to smile easily as she faced Cat. “He’s sleeping soundly again, Cat. Go to him now.”
Cat felt silent tears stinging her eyes, but she didn’t cry. She shook her head. “I can’t, not right now.”
Ariel lowered her lashes and bit into her lip miserably. She glanced at Peter, then back to Cat.
“Please, Cat,” she murmured, “he is your husband. He always was. I—I always knew. You see, he loved you so deeply. …”
“Cat,” Peter interrupted his wife. “Ariel is my wife. We love each other very much. Clay is a very good friend—the best of friends—to both of us. The past is over; we all accept that.”
Cat nodded vaguely. They were right, of course they were right, yet she felt nothing but this numbness.
“Please,” Ariel whispered. “Go, be with Clay.”
But she couldn’t; she simply couldn’t.
“Thank you both,” she managed to say. “It would have helped if Clay would have told me himself.”
“He was afraid,” Ariel said. “Things were so unsettled between you to begin with. He wants you so badly, Cat. He didn’t want you further upset by the past and things that didn’t matter.”
Cat nodded again. “Please,” she said, forcing a smile for both the Gruutens and Sam—quiet and yet there in the background. “Please, you all go back to bed. I want to be alone for a while.”
They began to protest, but Cat assured them she was fine, that she would go in shortly. Unhappily, they finally left her.
But she had no intention of going in to Clay, not tonight. She had to think, to feel the breeze of the sea, to seek her answers within the night ocean air. To pray that the terrible numbness would go away.
Cat didn’t sleep at all. She stared out at the endless dark ocean until dawn broke to create colors of gold and blue and magenta from the black of night.
Funny, but she could easily, so easily, close her eyes to her own past. Jules had proved himself to be a corrupt fortune-seeker, ruthless in his methods. His face was already hazy in her memory. She had never really loved him, she had never allowed herself to do so.
Nothing disparaging could be said about Ariel. And the Gruutens were not only Clay’s employees, but his very good friends. They could not disappear from their lives as Jules had.
Ariel wanted Cat to have her husband. In the gentlest of terms, she had always given and did now give Clay t
o Cat.
Because Clay loved Cat.
And Cat loved Clay, so very much. He had once more become her life. But despite herself, despite logic, despite love, Cat just wasn’t sure she could reach out and take the gifts offered her.
He woke with a peculiar feeling of dread, aware that something was very wrong before he even opened his eyes. Reaching a hand across the white expanse of the sheet, he found that she was gone.
Clay hopped quickly from the bed, fumbling hastily into a pair of swim shorts.
He always awakened before Cat. During the day she was walking energy, vitality filled her every movement. It was only natural that she should be a very deep and sound sleeper, taking long to awaken, eyes usually heavy-lidded and sensually endearing with lazy reproach when she was brought from the depths of her sleepy world.
Clay moved like a windstorm from his cabin into the salon, barely glancing at Sam, Peter, and Ariel at the table before rushing through for the deck. A quick and astute gaze informed him immediately that Cat was nowhere to be seen.
He returned to the salon, his feeling of dread finalizing as he found his friends staring at him unhappily and somewhat guiltily.
“What happened?” Clay demanded tensely, hoping against sick hope that he didn’t already know.
Peter didn’t look directly at him. “You were dreaming again. Cat couldn’t snap you out of it. The best Ariel could do was get you back into a sound sleep.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Clay moaned. “Then Cat knows …”
“Everything,” Ariel supplied miserably. “But, Clay, I think she already knew … or guessed.”
“Where is she?”
It was Sam’s turn to look up. “She took a thermos of coffee and lit out in the dinghy at about six.”
Clay turned to leave the salon. Ariel called him back. “I think she’s okay, Clay, she wanted time alone, time to think about things.”
Clay smiled ruefully. “I just want to make sure she’s thinking about the right things.”
It wasn’t difficult to locate Cat. The dinghy wasn’t more than three hundred yards from the Sea Witch II. Without taking time to actually plan out all he wanted to say, Clay dove into the water, stroking furiously for the small dinghy. Ridiculous, but it seemed as if time was of the essence. Every second that passed seemed to increase the gulf forming between them. If he didn’t reach her, he would lose her.
She didn’t seem particularly surprised to see him as his head surfaced from the water, nor did she seem particularly pleased. Feeling absurdly like an awkward teen-ager, Clay smiled and murmured a hello as he trod water beside the dinghy, watching her eyes as she quietly sipped coffee from the thermos top and thoughtfully returned his stare, her gaze seeming to reflect the sea.
“May I come aboard?” he asked.
She shrugged, and waved a hand. Clay hefted himself over the edge, and faced her across the two planked seats.
“Are you willing to share that coffee?” he asked softly.
Cat poured more coffee into the cup and handed it to Clay. She finally spoke. “How are you feeling this morning?”
Clay ruefully shrugged his brows. “Fine, thanks.” He fell silent for a second and then caught her eyes. “I love you, Cat.”
Cat lowered her lashes and accepted the coffee back from him. “I believe you, Clay,” she murmured in return, raising her eyes once more to his. She smiled a little sadly. “I just wonder why … and how. You didn’t love me, you and I both know that, not when we were first married.”
Clay took a deep breath. “I don’t think I knew what love was at first, Cat. And I’m not sure that you did either. But I didn’t marry you because of your father, Cat.” He paused for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice had grown very husky. “I only knew after that first night aboard the Sea Witch that I had to have you; I wanted you to be my wife. But I think I had a lot of preconceived notions about role-playing in a marriage. I thought it was okay for me to be the wanderer. I was the provider—I expected you to be the homemaker. Always there. Then I found out that I was insanely jealous. I did a lot of things to hurt you because I thought I was going to go crazy when I came home that time and found you flirting. I think that was when I discovered how very much I did love you—as soon as I cooled down from wanting to commit murder. The day I went down, Cat, I was thinking about you, about us, how I wanted to come home and tell you all those things, admit that I was insanely jealous, admit that I needed you. I was dreaming of how we could begin to mend all the patches. Oh, Cat,” he murmured with a deep sound that was between a groan and a sigh. “When I knew nothing else, I knew that you existed, somewhere.”
“But you had an affair with Ariel,” Cat interrupted softly.
“Yes,” Clay admitted, deciding that, make it or break it, it was time for complete honesty, time to lay foundations if there was to be anything for them now. “I had several affairs over the years, Cat, but I broke with Ariel when my memory returned, because she is a very kind and gentle lady. Neither of us would use the other when we both knew that my dreams were real. I had a wife, one that I loved very much.”
Cat didn’t reply, she was staring out at the water.
“Cat,” Clay continued very quietly, very gently, “that was long, long ago. Forgotten by all of us. Ariel and Peter are very happy.”
Cat nodded vaguely.
“Damn it!” Fear suddenly caused Clay to lose control. He had to clench his fists to his sides to keep from gripping her shoulders and demanding that she acknowledge him. “Talk to me, Cat, say something!”
She brought her eyes to his and smiled sadly. “I’m sorry, Clay, and I don’t really know what to say. I knew, not as fact, of course, but I did know before last night about Ariel. And I know it’s over. Peter is very comfortable and assured with his marriage. It just hurts, Clay. When you needed someone, it wasn’t me. It was Ariel. And I can’t help it. When I look at her, I imagine you holding her.”
Clay started to speak, but Cat lifted a hand, halting him. “Do you know, Clay, I sat there all those years, unable to let someone else touch me. It was amazing that Jules—for what he was worth—tolerated such an arrangement. And you made me admit that, Clay. You were so pleased to hear that I hadn’t been with anyone else—”
“Cat,” Clay managed to interrupt. “I love you, and yes, I’ve admitted I’m very jealous and possessive. It’s one of those so-called male traits that I’m afraid I can’t help. But no matter what has been, I love you. I would have wanted you still, I would have accepted anything, if I could just be sure that he didn’t hold your heart. I suppose my methods were rather poor, but I didn’t want you taken by DeVante, Cat, and once I was with you again, all my better reasoning went out the window. I had to have you back, no matter what it meant using, force or trickery. Or the Santa Anita.” He fell silent for a second. “Please don’t hate me for being glad I’ve been your only lover, Catherine. It’s like a very special and very sweet present.”
“I don’t hate you, Clay,” Cat murmured, glancing at him with wide eyes. “I love you,” she added huskily, “you know that. It was pathetically easy for us both to discover that fact. I just … oh, Clay, you don’t share anything with me. My lord, I have only a vague notion of what went on all those years, of all that you suffered. It takes you away, Clay. And it leaves little for the future. What do I do? How do I handle the nightmares that plague you? I don’t think I can handle your always needing another woman. …”
He was losing her, Clay thought; he could feel his hands growing clammy with his fear. He wanted to reach out and hold her, to force her into his arms, to remain there. But there was no force for that which was elusive, yours only when given freely. He had to let her come to him. She alone could give them a future, the love he needed, the home he craved.
“There are things we both need to learn, Cat. We’ve started by working together. We need to learn to build a home—together. To love and trust openly, to talk when things need to be said. I very rarely dream
anymore, and a bucket of water over my face will wake me up—although I would just as soon you use such a drastic measure as a last resort. If being around Ariel bothers you, we needn’t see her or Peter again. I’m sure they’ll both understand if I ask them to find employment elsewhere.” He suddenly broke; his fingers were trembling as he clenched them together, a quiver took hold of his entire system. Suddenly he found himself reaching out, taking hold of her shoulders, burning her lips with a fevered and passionate kiss, demanding that she open to his hunger while also imprinting a sweet, giving poignancy that was the depth of his own need. His hands trailed over her shoulders, lovingly feathered her breasts, the sleek line of her shapely spine to the small of her back. He tore from her then, his tongue flaming a final moist trail of wistful need with erotic lightness over the sweet swell of her slightly bruised lips. He stared at her again, holding his grip firm on her shoulders as he felt the trembling assail him anew. “I love you, Cat. You’re my wife, and I need you. I want a home together, a family when we’re both ready. We have problems, but I don’t believe any are insurmountable. If we both love one another and need one another—and it is you I need, Cat, no other woman—we work at those problems. I think we can make it. And I’m more than willing to put in way above fifty percent of the effort because you’re everything I want out of life, you are my life, a part of me, the woman I love who shares a love for the sea and sky and sun we both crave. It’s all up to you now, Cat. If you think you can make it with a man who is admittedly a shade on the domineering side, definitely possessive, and an ex-con of sorts, who is nine out of ten times dripping with seawater, that man will be waiting to take you home. But remember this about him—he loves you. You’re in my blood, I never knew just how much.”
He released her suddenly, and grinned ruefully. “That’s where it stands, witch. You think about it.”
Cat watched in stunned surprise as Clay hefted his frame in a smooth leap back into the water. She brought a finger to her still-tingling lips, thinking of all he had said, assimilating his words and fevered touch.
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