A Heart's Masquerade

by Deborah Simmons

  "They impressed me, sir," Cat said, seizing upon the only excuse she could think of to explain her presence on The Prize. "I was laid low by a crack to my skull." She rubbed the back of her head for emphasis, finding the small lump underneath her hair where one of the pirates really had struck her.

  Bert muttered a few choice oaths. "Seems a man can't take a drink anymore without someone dragging him off to sea against his will."

  "Why, they took me right from behind my cousin Jack's tinsmith shop," Cat said, warming to her tale.

  "I thought he was a carpenter."

  "Uh, he does a little bit of everything," Cat said. Attempting to turn the conversation away from her, she asked, "What made you go after The Prize?"

  "Ah, it's a bad business, lad, and that's a fact," Bert said, frowning into his cup. Then, suddenly his head came up. "Say, you didn't happen to see a woman aboard The Prize, did you?"

  "A woman?"

  "A woman," Bert said, with a sigh. "Supposedly, Ben took one the captain fancied, and now he's turning himself inside out thinking she's dead."

  Cat nearly choked on her biscuit, prompting Bert to slap her on the back with the admonition, "Easy, lad!"

  "I find that hard to believe," Cat finally managed to say as she realized the "fancied" female must be her. But if Ransom was feeling any remorse, no doubt it was over the fact that he couldn't question her further about Devlin.

  "Oh, it's true enough and a sad sight to see," Bert said, shaking his head.

  "Well," Cat began, her brow furrowed in thought. "How do you know this woman was on Ben's ship?"

  "We can't be sure. She was snatched from Barbados, and the captain swears Ben's responsible. But now that his ship has been blown to bits, who knows if she was there or not?"

  His words brought Cat bolt upright in her seat. "Blown to bits?"

  "That's right, lad," Bert said. "Of course, you were a bit under the weather at the time, but the whole thing went up."

  Seeing the shocked look on Cat's face, he shook his head. "Don't waste any sentiment on that lot," he said. "Good riddance, I say, for a bunch of more vicious dogs parading around as men I hope never to see again."

  Cat nodded. The crimes of The Prize's crew were well-documented, and decent sailors and travelers would breathe a bit easier with it gone. Still, she felt a surge of guilt over starting the blaze that had ended so many lives.

  Was Blakely among the dead? The memory of the man made Cat shiver. Even in the light of day, safe inside the familiar wooden walls of the Reckless, the thought of him chilled her.

  Thank God Ransom had come for her, Cat thought. Whatever the captain's motives, he had saved her, and she was so grateful that she was tempted to rush to his side, shake him awake, and admit to everything. But she no longer trusted Ransom Duprey or her feelings for him, so she remained where she was and held to her guise.

  "I saw no such female on board," Cat finally said. And it was the truth. "I expect the lady will appear back home, sooner or later." Or so she hoped.

  "You could be right, lad, and I wish you would be," Bert said.

  "Speaking of home," Cat began. "I fear my cousin... Jack will think I was murdered. I really must get back to Barbados as soon as I can, him being worried and all. Where are we bound?"

  "Should be at Windlay about sunset," Bert said. "I don't know how long we'll be there, but we'd be glad to have you aboard until we can get you home. I'm sure the captain will be heading back to Barbados before too long, if only to see if there's been any news about the young lady." He sighed.

  "No," Cat said firmly. She was too old for this life and sought to avoid any more of Ransom's company. "I really need to get home. I think I'll look for passage from Windlay."

  "I wish you would stay, lad," Bert said, growing pensive. "I know you would do the captain a world of good. He wasn't the same after you left."

  Cat's cup clattered loudly as she nearly lost her grip on it. "I think not," she answered with a wry grimace.

  When Bert returned to his duties, Cat wandered the gun deck, where she was greeted loudly and heartily by Joe and Harry, who were eager for gossip from land. They pelted her with questions about The Prize, and Cat answered evasively until the two finally gave way. After all, it was bad manners to question a sailor about his past - even yesterday's past.

  Cat spent the afternoon dicing with them and trying not to look over her shoulder for the captain. From all appearances, the man had drunk enough to keep him abed for some time, but the captain could not be counted on to behave as others would. He was just as likely to show up suddenly at her elbow, ready to interrogate her.

  By the time they anchored off Windlay, Cat was nervous as her namesake and had deserted her friends to skulk in the bowels of the ship where she would not soon be discovered. She emerged only after night had fallen, slipping among the crew on deck like a shadow and joining a group bound for shore.

  On the beach, a pig was roasting over the fire, while men from the Reckless and several women were drinking their fill of rum. Cat was surprised by the darkness that surrounded the camp, for no telltale lights from the bustling port of Addington could be seen.

  She cursed her luck when she realized they were anchored off a different part of the island. The ground rose gently behind the fire into a ridge dark with trees, while the beach ran evenly in either direction into blackness. To Cat, nothing looked familiar.

  Spotting Tom dancing a little jig by himself, she asked him where the closest settlement lay. After some confusion, the seaman pointed in the opposite direction. And unwilling to draw attention to herself, Cat quietly slipped away into the night.

  ***

  Ransom dragged himself from his bed around nightfall and let Bert force a meal into him. His movements were stiff and unnatural, as if the very fabric of his being was held together by force of will. He ate quickly, methodically swallowing the food, though it tasted like dust in his mouth, while his first mate rattled officiously around him.

  Despite his best efforts to hold them back, the revelations of the night before returned to wrench at his insides. The freshness of both his love and loss threatened to overwhelm him, and he gulped back a groan.

  "I dreamed about her last night," Ransom said.

  Bert grunted. "You can't look for her in the bottom of a bottle, else you'll drown yourself in drink."

  "It was so vivid. I could have sworn she was in bed with me," Ransom said, as the memory rushed over him.

  ""Well, sir," Bert said. "The only one in your bed last night was you... and Cat, of course."

  "Cat," Ransoms aid softly. "Where is he?

  "Can't say for sure," Bert said.

  "Why not?"

  "Well, the boy was in a hurry to get back home, on account of his cousin being worried and all," Bert said.

  "You let him go?" Incredulous, Ransom raised his voice though his head pounded in reaction. "I didn't have a chance to question him. He might know something. He might have seen her!"

  "No, sir. I asked him, and he was quite certain there was no woman aboard. In fact, he suggested the lady might already be back home," Bert said. "It's a possibility, captain."

  "Where the devil are we?"

  "Windlay," Bert said. "I didn't know where else to go."

  Ransom swore sharply. "I suppose the boy has disappeared into Addington."

  "No, sir. We're anchored off the plantation."

  "So he's taken off along the beach?" Ransom asked.

  Bert only shrugged, as if the cabin boy's whereabouts were of little concern, but Ransom felt otherwise. "His haste to depart seems unwarranted, " he said. "And I happen to be curious as to how our innocent little fellow got aboard Butcher Ben's vessel."

  "He said he was impressed, captain."

  Ransom snorted. "That lad weaves more tales than a silkworm its thread," he said. "This time I'm not swallowing his stories whole. I want the truth, even if have to choke it out of him."

  Rising to his feet, Ransom strode to
the door amid his first mate's protests.

  It was time to get some answers.

  ***

  The moon was rising brightly over the sea when Cat began to question the wisdom of her decision. The light cast an unearthly glow on a beach that seemed to stretch into infinity, while the palms swayed gently, the soft rustling of their leaves a counterpoint to the breaking waves.

  It was one of the most peaceful and beautiful scenes she had ever witnessed, yet Cat felt uneasy, as though she were the only human being on the island. Glancing toward the trees, she remembered all the stories she'd heard about the fierce cannibals who had once populated these lands.

  But no one stirred, and Cat wondered if the seemingly endless shoreline led anywhere at all. Perhaps Tom had drunkenly misdirected her. But how could she go back?

  To still her panic, Cat waded into the water and let it swirl soothingly around her ankles. Comforted by the rhythmic ebb and flow, she was concentrating on the delightful sensation of sand between her toes when she heard an eerie tapping sound.

  It was probably just a leaf hitting the bole of a tree, she thought, yet as she strained to listen, she realized she was hearing the muffled sound of a horse's hooves on the sand. Nervous, she looked for a hiding place, but there was none, and the moonlight now appeared to be alarmingly bright.

  "Cat!" Her name rang out in the stillness of the night, and with horror, she realized it was Ransom who approached. She broke into a run, sure the horse would trample her.

  But in the end, it was Ransom, on foot, who was her downfall. He caught her around the legs, twisting to take the weight of the fall himself, and the two of them rolled over into the water.

  It was not what either of them expected.

  Intent on capturing his cabin boy, Ransom was slow to realize that the person he was grappling with was not that young man. But eventually, even through the haze of grief and anger, he realized that the wet body entangled with his own belonged to a woman. Soft, yielding breasts pressed against his chest as he turned against the wave, and his hand traced the outline of a slim waist and curving hips.

  Whoever it was shook him off and came up from the water sputtering and sounding exactly like Cat. "What the devil are you doing?" she asked, obviously outraged at his assault.

  Disoriented, Ransom rose to his feet and wondered if his mind and body were playing tricks on him. The woman before him certainly resembled Cat, but in the darkness it was difficult to tell. With a fierce grunt, Ransom grabbed her chin, forcing her face up to catch the moonlight.

  It was Cat, and yet it wasn't... Ransom had seen this face too many times in his dreams to mistake it, and his gaze roamed hungrily over its features: long, wet lashes over sparkling eyes, gently curved cheeks, and a mouth both dainty and delectable.

  It was Catherine. And she was alive.

  For a long moment, he simply stared, so stunned that he thought his heart would burst. Then, he lowered his mouth to hers, taking possession with an urgency that could not be denied. He kissed her with a fervor of hope and longing and joy such as he had never known, his fingers caressing her cheeks in wonder. Then he kissed them, too, and her brow, and the corners of her eyes, where tears welled...

  With a jerk, he raised his head to look at her, but she turned her face away with a sob. "Can't you just leave me be?"

  The question acted like a dash of cold water, awaking him from his daze. This was no dream or vision, but a reality in which Catherine stood before him. Yet she was dressed as Cat. He shook his head in confusion before coming to the only possible conclusion - one that he did not care for in the slightest.

  This woman had played him for a fool. Dressed as a boy, she had traveled halfway around with the world with him and a group of grizzled seamen, who remained none the wiser. With a grimace, Ransom remembered his own avuncular behavior, which much have provided her with much amusement. No doubt, she had been laughing up her sleeve at him all along.

  "No," he said. "If there's one thing I don't intend to do it is to leave you be. I would like some answers, Cat, beginning with how the devil you got here."

  "Why should I tell you anything when you've proven that you won't believe a word of it?" she demanded, lifting her chin.

  "Try me," Ransom said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  She sighed, but lifted her chin to speak. "I was attacked from behind in Amelia's gardens," she said, raising a hand to rub at the back of her head. "I awoke to the stench of The Prize and the warm greeting of a Mr. Blakely, with whom I believe you are acquainted," she added in a snide tone.

  "So Devlin was behind it?"

  "Well, yes," Cat said, blinking as if in surprise. "Blakely kept referring ominously to his 'superior.' He also said my cousin Edward had a hand in it, although how he is tied to Devlin, I have no idea."

  "Blakely didn't say?"

  "No," Cat answered. "We did not have a lengthy conversation, thankfully."

  She shuddered, and Ransom’s annoyance was overwhelmed by fear and concern. His hand shot out to grasp her arm. "They didn't hurt you?"

  "No. You came in time." she said, softly. "Thank you for that."

  Ransom's relief was so intense that he felt weak, his arm dropping limply back to his side. His mouth was dry when he managed to speak again. "You escaped when the Reckless arrived?"

  She nodded. "He left me alone, but I had the knife you gave me, and I found some clothes that enabled me to turn back into Cat."

  Ransom's anger at such duplicity was overwhelmed by other emotions when he thought of her swinging to the ship, dodging gunshots. For that matter, memories of her racing up the ratlines of the Reckless made him cringe.

  "Why take on the disguise in the first place?" he asked, horrified by all the dangers involved.

  "My cousin Edward was trying to kill me, so I had to run away at once," she said, with a shrug. "I could think of nowhere to go but to Amelia's and no way else to get there."

  "So you tricked everyone aboard into believe you were a lad."

  "I wouldn't say tricked."

  "Your friend Harry would. And Bert... He'll die of shame when he finds out he befriended a female," Ransom said, shaking his head. "And the infamous 'birth scars' that explained your excessive modestly... You had an answer for everything."

  But his initial outrage was fading, for the more he recalled, the more amused he was by her masquerade. The irony of it all suddenly struck him, and he looked at her, really looked at her, warmth and tenderness filling him as he took in the figure he remembered.

  The hair was somewhat longer, and that absurd coat, now a soggy mess, sagged from her shoulders. But it was Cat, albeit a bit bedraggled, and he wondered how he could have failed to make the connection.

  The odd feeling of familiarity that had so often plagued him was clear now, and he couldn't help admiring her ingenuity. Faced with a threat that would send most women into a faint, she had seized control of her future and sailed through innumerable perils, without complaint.

  Clever. Courageous. Caring. Looking at the face that was well known and yet new, Ransom realized that the cabin boy he had cared for was the very same woman he loved. And she was here and alive, and he had been given an opportunity to make things right. Heedless of all else, he reached out to seize that chance for happiness.

  "Let's go back now," he said softly.

  He well recognized her expression of suspicion. "Why should I go anywhere with you?" she asked, arms akimbo.

  Several answers occurred to him, but he voiced the one that rose first and most urgently to his lips. "Because I love you," he said, simply. "I love you more than life itself, for when I thought you were dead, I did not see the point of going on."

  At that moment, all his fears concerning this most dangerous of emotions fell away, and he held out his hands, offering up his heart, his hopes, himself. And to his immense relief, she did not refuse him.

  With a sob, she threw her arms around him, and Ransom pulled her tightly to him, burying his
face against her neck. For a long moment, he simply held her, afraid that she would somehow disappear again, whether as Cat or Catherine.

  But soon the feel of her against him sparked new sensations, and desire, long thwarted, hammered in his blood. He tugged at her soggy coat, and Catherine was revealed to him. The thin fabric of the shirt clung like a skin to her full breasts, while the breeches left no curve of her long, slender legs to the imagination.

  "And I thought you were a boy," he said, marveling.

  "Since than I've...filled out."

  "And beautifully, my love," he said.

  Suddenly, both her costume and her masquerade became far more appealing than the demure gowns worn by gentlewoman. And suddenly, Ransom realized that there need no longer be any pretense between them.

  Lifting her face to his, he took her mouth with a slow deliberation that made his intention clear, and the wet clothes were little barrier as he pulled her close. "I want you, Cat," he whispered, though the nickname sounded odd in this context. "I've wanted you so long... Can you feel how much?"

  "Yes," she said, gasping.

  "What is it, love?"

  She blinked at him, her expression fraught with passion. "I'm having enough trouble breathing," she said. "Don't ask me to talk."

  Ransom laughed against her cheek as the outspoken sailor and the beautiful woman merged into one. "Sorry," he said. "No matter what happens, you must not forget to breathe."

  The coat made a damp bed on the sand, the water lapping not far away played a gentle rhythm, and the scent of sea and exotic blooms and Catherine filled his senses. He'd made his home here in Windlay because he'd always thought it a sort of paradise. Now he was certain. It was paradise. And he was home.

  Slowly, surely, he took his time, stripping away Cat's exterior to reveal the woman beneath. The moonlight shown upon each swath of skin he exposed, lending an unearthly glow to her limbs. And he explored every inch, being careful of the dressing on her leg and lingering over all of the sensitive spots - until she demanded more.

  Considered a skillful lover, he had learned how to maintain control even in the most intimate moments, but her ingenuous eagerness played havoc with his restraint. She pulled at his clothing, ran her hands over his body in abandon, and dug her nails into his back.