"You might recognize the breadfruit," she said as she pointed to a tree with brownish-green round produce. "It was brought to-"
"Yes, a most noteworthy specimen, but I find that my interest in the gardens waning," Ransom said. "Perhaps we should stop for a rest? Those cream pastries your aunt forced on me at tea are weighing heavily on me."
Cat frowned. They were in a remote section, surrounded by trees, and Ransom obviously had noted a worn bench a few feet away. "Certainly," she said. "By all means sit, since your advanced years are wearing on you. I prefer to stand."
Ransom did not take comment on her sarcasm or take a seat, no doubt because of her refusal to join him. Instead, he leaned his tall frame against one of the trees, his brow raised curiously at her obvious discomfiture.
"Your grace," Cat began as she unconsciously began pacing.
"Ransom."
"Your grace," Cat repeated, walking back and forth along the pebbled path. Unfortunately, the speech she had rehearsed well into the wee hours of the morning had scattered like her thoughts. Finally, she halted and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I no longer wish to see you."
"Why?" Ransom asked, his features registering only mild interest.
"Because you do not treat me as a gentleman ought to treat a lady," she answered, wincing at her pious tone.
"You did not seem to find my treatment objectionable," he said, with a sardonic lift of one dark brow.
Ignoring the comment, Cat rushed on, irritated by his apparent calm while she felt extremely uncomfortable. "I'm asking you to no longer call at my home and to cease any attempts to see me. You must stop arranging 'coincidental' meetings in town and stop following me everywhere I go."
Finishing on a firm note, Cat was proud of her recitation until she glanced up. For instead of looking pained or outraged or even discouraged by her demands, Ransom threw back his head and laughed.
"What is so funny?" Cat asked, her eyes narrowing as he shook his head in amusement and stepped away from the tree.
"You are, my love, for accusing me of arranging our meetings, when I have done no such thing. Although I admit to seeing you out on a few occasions, your skill in tracking me down far exceeds my own."
Cat's hand twitched with her desire to wipe the smile off his face. "Are you accusing me of chasing after you?"
When Ransom made no answer, she whirled away from him, but he caught her arm.
"Don't rush off, my love, " he said. "I'm willing to concede that some of our meetings have been coincidental and leave it at that."
"Oh, I don't care what you think," Cat said, pulling her arm away. "I just want you to leave me alone. Do you understand? I don't wish to see you again," she said more softly, dismayed to feel the prick of tears behind her eyelids.
"And what have I done to deserve such punishment?" Ransom asked, his voice silky and cajoling. Dangerous. "How can you be so inhospitable as to consign me to such a cruel fate?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Do you hate me so that you would condemn me to spend my last few days on your island in the company of Lord Claremont?"
Cat was tempted to smile, but she pulled a face instead. "There are many other inhabitants of this island to keep you company, and I know that you have met some of them."
"Ah, yes, the ogre sisters," Ransom said. "The tall one would eat me alive in one bite."
"The Montrief sisters," Cat said her lips twitching. "And Elizabeth is not so bad. In fact, they are both quite kind. It is their Aunt Immaline who is ill-tempered."
"Surely, there are not more of them?" Ransom groaned. "There you have it. You would leave me in the clutches of an ill-tempered creature and an elderly gentleman prone to countless reminiscences."
Cat laughed, her resolve to cut Ransom from her life wavering. She told herself to remain firm even as he poured on the charm. And yet...
"Just when do you plan to leave?" she asked suspiciously.
"I'm committed to my host's ball, I'm afraid. Then I am free to go."
The ball was set for the day after next, and Cat felt her resolve slip another notch.
"You are coming to the ball?" he asked.
"Yes," Cat said, warily. When had he moved so close?
"Oh, there you are!"
Cat stepped back at the sound of Amelia's voice, turning just in time to see her aunt hurrying around a curve in the path. "I stepped outside and didn't see you, so I thought I'd catch up with the tour," she said brightly, her bonnet bouncing over her white curls.
"That would be lovely," Cat said, smiling with relief.
"I'm sure Catherine has been a wonderful guide, but I do know quite a bit more about my life's work." While Amelia chattered, Cat watched Ransom's tall, lean body tower over the elderly lady, his head cocked toward her in what appeared to be rapt attention.
Cat was forced to acknowledge the man's ability to both charm and get his own way far exceeded her own. And her mission had failed abysmally. But if he finally was leaving, then it made no matter, for what could happen in a day's time?
***
Richard Blakely accepted the tray that a maid had delivered without comment, turning his attention to his notes. William Montgomery's continued snubs didn't disturb Richard in the slightest, for the man had provided him with the desired invitation to Lord Claremont's ball.
His report on Catherine complete, Richard would soon be leaving Montgomery's house. He had only one task remaining, and the upcoming party would provide him the perfect opportunity.
It was simple, really. He would make an effort to enlist the girl to Devlin's cause, but if she accepted, it would merely be a bonus. The main thing was to make sure that he was seen talking with her by the only person who would care: Ransom Duprey.
***
Cat held a melon in each hand, gingerly testing their weights, while all around her the voices of the marketplace filled the air with smooth Caribbean accents. A gentle breeze, tinged with salt and a blend of spices, wafted over her, and she smiled, enjoying the liveliness to be found here, surrounded by locals and servants. No doubt, her presence was an oddity, but Amelia was always interested in the latest produce.
"They look deliciously ripe," said a low voice close to her ear.
"Too ripe," Cat said, dismissing the items. Ignoring the leap of her pulse, she tried valiantly to recall her resolve. And without even glancing toward the man at her side, she looked for Isaac, only to find he was not standing in attendance.
"I sent your man home."
"What?" Cat turned to confront over six feet of finely dressed male.
"I told him I would escort you safely home." With a rakish grin, Ransom leaned toward her and took the market basket from her arms.
"How thoughtful," she said. "And who is to protect me from you?"
"You seem quite capable of performing that task yourself."
In exasperation, she let him lead her to the gig, taking a seat beside him as he took the reins. "You can hardly blame me for this meeting," she said, her tone accusatory.
"Can't I?"
"You're the one who sent Isaac away," Cat said, eyeing him askance.
He laughed. "Ah, but a smart man seizes opportunity where he may."
Cat shook her head, but the delightful sound of his laughter was like a balm to her senses. Leaning back against the seat, she took a deep breath and let herself enjoy the ride. Snow white clouds adorned the bluest of skies, but did not obscure a golden sun, and she tilted her head to feel its warmth on her face beneath her wide-brimmed bonnet.
Lowering her lashes, Cat surreptitiously glanced at Ransom, whose brown locks were tousled by the breeze as he watched the road ahead. He was leaning forward slightly, one glossy boot higher than the other, while his long, slim fingers loosely held the reins. Eyeing his firmly muscled thigh, Cat was thinking just how well his clothes fit him when he spoke.
"Do I meet with your approval, my love?"
How did he do that? Cat wondered, fo
r his attention had never left the road. The man must have eyes where his ears should be, she thought, not for the first time.
Ignoring the question, she returned her gaze to the sky. The heat and the clip-clop of the horses' hooves combined to lull her into relaxing her guard. Falling back into an old habit, she began finding shapes in the clouds, and before long she was pointing them out to her companion.
"There's a unicorn," she said suddenly, gesturing to a puff of white.
Ransom cocked his head to the side. "Yes, but she's about to consumed by the lion."
"Oh! Yes, I see him," Cat said with a smile, then sat bolt upright in her seat.
What was she thinking of? This was a game Cat had played many times with her captain, and it was best not to jog his memory too much. Although she had begun to take for granted his failure to recognize her, this sort of negligence could result in her discovery. She shot him a worried glance, but he appeared not to have noticed anything unusual.
"Have I grown a snout?" he asked, and she breathed a sigh of relief. It was short-lived, however, as he directed the gig down a fork in the road that led away from her aunt's home.
"Stop this carriage immediately, and turn around, you... you..." Cat thought of several fitting epithets, all of them unseemly for a lady to utter.
"It's a beautiful day for a picnic, don't you agree?" Ransom asked. His smile was beguiling, but Cat would have none of it.
"What?"
"I'm so sorry that your hearing is failing... and at such a young age, too."
Cat did not acknowledge his teasing. "Take me home right now."
"Calm down, my love. What say you to a truce? I'll behave with the utmost propriety."
Cat tried to remain adamant in the face of his entreaty. But he must have sensed her weakening, for he played his trump card.
"And your aunt's gone to such trouble to make sure we have a delightful repast."
"Rubbish!" Cat said, practically snorting. "I hardly think even Aunt Amelia at her most vague would approve an unchaperoned picnic."
"Well..." His slow grin did something to Cat's insides. "Not possessing your naturally suspicious nature, she probably did not anticipate Isaac's departure."
"Which you arranged," Cat said. "You are incorrigible."
“Ah, here we are, my love," he said as the gig rolled into a locust grove. Ransom jumped down smoothly and reached up to help her, one eyebrow raised in challenge.
Cat hesitated as she looked into his handsome face. "As I recall, you broke the last truce I agreed to by kissing me," she said.
"As I recall, we agreed that kisses were not covered under the truce," he said, his eyes holding a glint that both beckoned and warned her away.
Cat glanced at his outstretched arms, her will wavering. She knew she should not give in, but it was a beautiful day in a beautiful spot with the most beautiful of men. When would she ever have another such as this?
"Promise me that you will take me home whenever I ask, with no argument," Cat said. "Swear on what little honor you possess."
"Done," he answered, with a laugh, and Cat let him swing her to the ground. His hands seemed to linger a moment on her waist, but then were gone.
Together they explored the grove and the beach below, discovering tiny sand crabs and colorful shells, and standing still and silent as a hummingbird moved only inches from them. This was the Ransom Cat knew and loved, a man who appreciated nature and maintained a lively curiosity about the world. He was gentle and witty, and Cat was thoroughly at ease as they wound their from the beach back up to the grove.
"This is a lovely spot," Ransom said. "Have you ever painted it?"
"Oh, no," Cat said. "I never mastered the art of watercolors. I haven't the patience, and I prefer being a part of the scenery to painting it," she said with a grin.
"You have a lovely smile. It's a joy to see," Ransom said. Then, as though unnerved by his own admission, he looked away. "So you were not interested in watercolors. What did capture your attention?"
"Oh, none of the things that were supposed to. I guess I took delight in being different, and I was alone so much that I developed interests unlike those of my contemporaries." Like sailing. She was so close to speaking that words that Cat jerked, pricking herself on the rose blossom she was fingering.
With a low murmur of surprise, she put the injured finger to her lips.
"Here, let me see." Ransom stepped toward her and gently took her hand in its own.
"It's nothing," Cat said and tried to pull away.
He was standing so close she could see the tips of his boots by the toes of her slippers, and her bent head was only inches from his chest. She watched dazedly as his finger lightly traced the curves of her palm. The scent of wildflowers washed over her, and her skin tingled everywhere.
Raising her gaze to his, Cat found there something she had never seen before, something warm and lazy and wonderful. His attention never wavered as he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a lingering kiss inside her wrist, where her pounding pulse was certain to give her away.
A parrot's shriek broke the spell, and Cat snatched her hand from his, wary now.
But before she could protest, Ransom gestured toward the gig. "Let's see what delicacies your delightful cook prepared for us."
Lying neatly atop the basket of food was a faded quilt, which they spread on the sun-dappled grass. Ransom removed his boots, and when Cat glared at him reprovingly, he raised a dark brow as though daring her to do the same.
"Go ahead," he urged. "Surely, you are are not hampered by convention."
Cat gave him a black look, and with a toss of her head, she turned around to strip off her slippers and stockings. She sat down quickly, tucking her bare feet beneath her skirts, to the sound of Ransom's chuckle.
The basket was stocked with ham, leg of mutton, boiled eggs, cheese, rolls, and pastries. Ignoring the lemonade, Ransom produced a bottle of champagne with a flourish. Nibbling at a bit of everything, Cat soon was sated and leaned back on her elbows to glory in the sunlight.
As she felt the effects of the wine, it was hard for her to believe that she used to down rum with the rest of the crew. The memory of her days garbed as a boy made Cat smile to herself. Now she was dressed in a lovely white gauze gown and stretched out on a blanket with only a basket between her and the very same captain she used to toast.
Closing her eyes, Cat might even have dozed, but Ransom spoke softly. "'What is your substance, whereof are you made, That millions of strange shadows on you tend?'"
Cat blinked in surprise, for she’d never heard her captain quote Shakespeare's sonnets. "'Since every one hath, every one, one shade, And you, but one, can every shadow lend,'" she said, reciting the next lines. "My aren't we waxing romantic," she added.
"I beg your pardon," Ransom said, with mock effrontery. "I suppose this is more to your taste: 'There once was an old man from Brennart, who met up with a pretty young tart,'" Ransom began.
But, again, Cat completed the verse. "'She sat on his lap and gave him the clap and then ran away with his heart!'" Cat capped off the bawdy limerick by raising her glass in salute and finishing her champagne to the delightful sound of Ransom's deep-throated laughter.
"Where did you pick up that doggerel?" he asked, but Cat just smiled. Peeking at him under her lowered lashes, she could not help admiring the fine figure he made, lying on his side, his glass held casually between long fingers.
When her heart began pounding in response to the sight of him, Cat knew she had tarried long enough alone with her captain. With a small sigh of regret, she rose to her knees to gather the remains of their meal.
But Ransom's hand on her wrist halted her. "Wait, my love. Your aunt made sure something else was in the basket, a favorite of yours, she said." Ransom rummaged in the hamper, found what he sought, and grinned wickedly.
"Close your eyes and open your mouth," he said.
Lulled by the wine, Cat obeyed, and when she tasted the juic
y sweetness of a ripe strawberry, she groaned in delight.
"Good?" he asked, his voice suddenly husky. His hand caressed her cheek, his thumb delicately outlining her lower lip, and Cat's thoughts scattered.
"I adore them," she managed to answer. "And you?" She did not wait for his reply, but snatched a berry from the basket to hold it just out of reach, laughing as he tried to take it. He finally caught the fruit between his teeth, and her amusement ceased when she found her fingers captive in his mouth, his tongue running over each one in turn.
When he released her hand it fell limply into her lap while she gaped at him wide-eyed. He offered her another strawberry, and as though in a dream, she moved her mouth toward his fingers.
As she bit into the fruit, a drop of sweet juice trickled down her chin, and suddenly Ransom's lips were there, his tongue capturing the errant moisture. Then he took her mouth with his own, and the flavor of the fruit mingled with the taste of him, exploding upon her senses like the burst of a cannon.
Her thoughts scattered and her head fell back, but his strong hand was there to support it. Her own hands slipped over his shoulders to his hair, her fingers threading through the thick strands. She heard him make a sound deep in throat, and then she was lowered down, onto the quilt.
"Catherine," he whispered before burying his face in the curve of her shoulder. Her breath quickened as his mouth moved along her neck and nipped her earlobe. Her breasts against his chest felt tight, as if they were bound again, and her clothing too constricting as she pressed against him.
"Kiss me, love," he urged. Like someone in a dream, Cat obeyed, and heard his low groan. The sound set her pulse racing and emboldened her response.
"You are more delicious than any bounty," he breathed, his words inflaming her further. She heard a soft moan, unsure whether it was his voice or her own, when he began to explore the curves beneath her gown.
"Your skin is like silk," he whispered, his every whisper egging her on. Suddenly, it wasn't enough to know his hands upon her, and she pulled at his shirt, eager to feel the golden skin that she knew lay beneath.
Cat never meant to touch him so intimately. She never meant to allow him such liberties, but the warmth of the wine and the sun and his allure were too powerful to resist. The scent of wildflowers, strawberries, and Ransom filled her senses, her resolve and her modesty disappearing along with his shirt.
A Heart's Masquerade Page 15