“Hell, what’re we waitin’ for? Let’s get on with it!” Billy said impatiently. A man grabbed the dice, shook them with intense concentration, and released them to roll across the table. They came to rest at Cathy’s feet. With a tremendous effort she jerked both her feet against the dice, sending them flying to the floor.
“God, it was a ten!” the man who had cast the dice mourned, while Billy jumped up on the table beside Cathy. He made her wait as he very slowly drew his arm back. The blow, when it landed, snapped her head back on her neck. She straightened slowly, tears starting in her eyes. Her jaw throbbed with a strange, burning numbness. She was afraid it was broken.
“Try that again, bitch, and I’ll take my knife to you,” he growled. “You won’t be so purty with a slit nose!”
Cathy had enough sense to realize that he meant it. He was a man who enjoyed inflicting pain on others, especially women. It made him feel good.
The game began again at Cathy’s feet. This time she ignored it, staring with intense concentration at the smoky lantern that hung from the ceiling.
“Oh, God, please help me,” she prayed desperately. A tear coursed helplessly down her cheek. Her jaw ached badly, she was mortally ashamed by her nakedness, and, looking at the repulsive men below her, she was conscious of a shaft of mortal fear. Was there to be no escape from these animals? She would welcome the devil himself if he would set her free!
“Is this an open game, gentlemen?”
Cathy’s head swung around disbelievingly at the velvet drawl. Jon! Thank you, God, she thought fervently, not caring about the incongruity of seeing Jon as her deliverer. Her eyes met his with joyous relief, but he looked back at her warningly before ignoring her and walking over to the crowd of men. Cathy suddenly realized that her rescue was very far from being a sure thing. Jon was alone, armed with only one visible pistol, while there were at least a dozen, all armed to the teeth. Still, just the fact of his presence made her feel very much better; she believed that no harm would come to her while he was there to prevent it.
The men turned, as a body, to stare at Jon as he approached them.
“Who the bloody hell are you?” Billy demanded suspiciously, his bushy brows coming together in a menacing frown.
“Name’s Jon Hale. I’m captain of the Margarita, anchored yonder in the bay. Big Jim knows me, don’t you, Jim?” Jon’s tone was easy, but his eyes never left Billy’s.
“Yup,” the barkeep agreed, his brow furrowing. “We don’t see you in here much anymore, Captain. What brings you tonight?”
“I was on my way to visit a certain lady when I heard all the commotion. My curiosity was piqued. Now that I’ve seen the cause—she’s certainly worth the noise. Does she belong to any of you gentlemen in particular?”
Cathy glared at Jon with unfeigned viciousness as his eyes ran over her insolently, lingering with languid appreciation on rosy peaks that quivered at him as she drew an outraged breath. His glance just touched on her swollen jaw before moving away, but the sudden glitter in his eyes reassured her. She had known him long enough to know that it boded ill for someone!
“The wench’s what we’re gaming for!” a voice explained jovially.
“Ah, I see. Well, then, may I join you?” His voice was very calm. As Cathy knew from experience, that deceptive quietness was a mask for fierce rage.
“I dunno.” Billy sounded dubious. “You weren’t here when she came in. I don’t see how as it would be fair to let you take a turn.”
The others nodded with solemn agreement.
“Suppose I buy one of your turns, then?” Jon proposed. “Say, two hundred dollars to the man who sells me his place. Two hundred dollars will buy a cathouse full of whores!”
“Three hundred and you can have my turn!” a man who hadn’t spoken before said.
“Two hundred and fifty.”
“Done!”
Money exchanged hands and the game resumed. The first three throwers rolled a three, a five, and a two, respectively. From their curses it was plain that they knew themselves to be out of the running. Throw after throw was made. Billy rolled an eleven, which stood as the throw to beat. Finally it was Jon’s turn. Cathy held her breath. What would they do if he didn’t win? The possibilities were unthinkable.
Jon picked up the dice, shook them, and let them go almost casually. They landed near Cathy’s feet. She had to strain to see them. It looked like … a five on one, and a six on the other. An eleven!
“We roll again,” Billy growled.
He cast the dice and came up with a nine. Jon threw. The onlookers muttered appreciatively. This was more sport than they’d hoped. Another nine!
“Cast again!” Billy snarled.
“This could go on all night,” Jon answered lightly. “And I for one prefer to get on with more pleasurable matters. Why not let the lady choose her partner?”
“Aye! Let the wench choose!” Those who had lost their chance were eager to prolong the fun. There was nothing Billy could do but agree.
Cathy flinched violently as one of the men clambered onto the table beside her and plucked out the filthy gag. She was running her tongue around her dry mouth when his hand slid familiarly over her buttocks, fondling her intimately and giving her a lusty pinch. She gave a little choked cry and Jon whirled, his eyes blazing murder.
“Well, wench, which lusty stag will ya have? Both are hot for ya, I vow.” Big Jim’s voice brought Jon back to his senses.
Cathy looked first to Jon, her eyes touching on the lean, handsome face, set hard now with tightly reined anger, and then sliding over his broad shoulders and powerful chest, unfamiliar in their formal dress. As her gaze met his she had to bite back a wry smile. How certain he was of her! His confidence showed in his eyes. Well, he had reason. Much as she would have enjoyed discomforting him by choosing the other, she dared not. This was no time for childish games of vengeance. Jon was risking his neck to save her, and she was suddenly conscious of a weak desire to be held tightly in those strong arms. Devil that he was, he spelled safety to her now. He was her only security in a very insecure world.
She barely glanced at Billy. He held his arms up to her as though to lift her down, and she shuddered away. The light from the lantern fell on his outstretched hand, the bite mark she had made a livid circle around the thumb. Jon’s eyes went swiftly from the wound to Cathy’s injured jaw, and flushes of angry color stood out on his cheekbones.
“Choose, wench!”
Cathy swallowed. “I choose him,” she said clearly, nodding at Jon. The men roared their approval, clapping Jon on the back and making lewd jokes at Billy’s expense. Jon responded in kind to the quips, some of his remarks putting Cathy to the blush. But his hands were gentle as his knife cut through her bonds. At the tenderness of his touch Cathy felt an overwhelming surge of warmth for him. He could have been killed as a result of her willfulness. She knew that had he lost, he would have fought to the death to protect her. The knowledge brought a lump to her throat. When her legs and arms were free, she held out her arms to him wordlessly. He reached up to lift her down, catching her around the waist and swinging her as lightly as a thistledown to the floor. With a quick movement he shed his coat, wrapping it around her shoulders to cover her breasts. His arm stayed loosely around her waist as he ushered her toward the door.
“Hold, there, Captain!” Billy cried, watching the two with obvious hostility. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“My friend, if you don’t know without me telling you, I pity the women of this town. They’re in for some mighty poor sport,” Jon answered lazily, turning to face the man as he spoke. The onlookers guffawed. Billy flushed a mottled purple.
“You can’t take the wench away, Captain,” Big Jim told Jon in an aside from behind the bar.
“Nah, she stays!” another of the men cried.
“How is this?” Jon’s voice was deceptively cool. He pushed Cathy casually behind him, and she felt her heart quake. “I won her in fair
play, didn’t I?”
“That’s true enough,” someone chortled. “But you didn’t wait to hear the rules of the game! You didn’t win her outright! You just sort of rented her for a while. Then she goes to Billy, then to Joe, then to Harper, and so on. We was just playin’ for first turn on her, ya see!”
Cathy could see the muscles of Jon’s back tighten beneath his thin shirt. She looked at him anxiously. From her place behind him she could just make out the granite set of his jaw as he looked over the assembled men. Two of them had sidled over to block the exit. Cathy’s hand went to curl instinctively about Jon’s hard forearm. He didn’t respond, but the others in the room saw and were amused.
“The wench is sure hot for you, Captain. Why don’t you take her right here? We’d all like to watch!”
“That’s a right good idea, Captain,” Billy said. “Then we can be sure that you don’t take off with a property that rightly belongs to all of us. If it’s privacy you want, I’m sure Big Jim will be glad to move out from behind his bar.”
Big Jim nodded his agreement. The men began to finger their knives, grinning at Jon openly. He looked them over for a long moment, and beneath her hand Cathy could feel his muscles tensing like a tiger’s for the spring. But then he shrugged and said easily, “With a wench like this, I could bed her in the mud and think myself between the softest sheets.”
The men snickered. Jon swung around, pulling Cathy into his arms. His back was turned to the room and his broad shoulders protected her from the sight of the men. He bent down to nuzzle her neck lustily, then whispered in her ear, “When I give the word, run as hard as you can. There’s a constabulary about half a mile to the west. Tell them who you are and what’s happened. They’ll send you safely back to your father.”
Cathy’s eyes widened endlessly. Why should he actually be helping her to get away from him—unless he thought he would no longer be around to enjoy her?
“What about you?” she whispered tremulously.
“Worried about me, little cat?” The corners of his lips lifted in the ghost of a mocking grin. “Don’t be. I’ve managed to take care of myself quite well for years. Now, enough talk. Just do as I say. Understand?”
Cathy’s eyes met his wonderingly, and what she saw in the gray depths melted the hard little core of defiance that had knotted her belly ever since he had first taken her.
“Yes, Jon,” she whispered.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured in her ear, then his hands were molding her to him as his mouth found hers in a passionate kiss, much to the delight of the guffawing onlookers.
Cathy’s mouth returned the sweet pressure, opening to him endlessly with no thought of denial. Her arms clung tightly around his neck. She felt bereft when he suddenly let her go.
“Now!” he hissed, whirling to take a punch at the men who guarded the door. Caught by surprise, one crashed to the ground, leaving just enough room for Cathy to slip past and out into the street. Her last frightened glimpse of Jon showed him reeling beneath the blow of a hamlike fist as the rest of the men closed on him angrily.
Cathy flew down the street followed by the outraged bellowing of the men in the saloon as they realized that she had escaped. The sharp pop of a pistol cracked like a whip behind her. She ran as she had never run before in her life, lungs aching as she labored for air. But she didn’t head west for the constabulary. She ran for the Margarita, and help.
Six
He is lucky to still be alive,” Dr. Sandoz grunted, stepping back from the bunk. His eyes ran over Jon’s unconscious body, pale and corpselike in the flickering candlelight of the ship’s cabin. “If he were not so strong a man, the loss of this much blood would already have killed him. As it is, he is very weak, and his temperature is high. We may still lose him.”
Cathy bit down hard on her trembling lower lip. Jon mustn’t die, he mustn’t! Especially not as a result of rescuing her from the consequences of her own willfulness! She would never forgive herself. Oh, God, why had she ever been so foolish as to try to escape to a strange city where she had no friends? She had known he would come after her, and had secretly relished the thought. She had wanted to teach him a lesson. … And she had killed him instead! If only she could have brought Harry and the men back faster, before Jon was stabbed—and stabbed—and stabbed.…
“Young woman, are you listening to me?” Dr. Sandoz’s voice broke impatiently into her thoughts. “I am a busy man, with many patients left waiting. I do not have time to waste while you day-dream.”
Cathy flushed, and started to reply sharply. She was still not accustomed to being spoken to so harshly. But she remembered how totally dependent Jon was on this man’s skill, and held her tongue. If the doctor could save him, then she would let the doctor speak to her any way he wished.
“I’m sorry, Doctor. What were you saying?” Cathy’s tone was meek.
“He is going to need constant care for the next several days—maybe even weeks. His recovery depends on two things: his reaction to the high fever that is setting in, and whether or not his wounds become infected. The dressings must be changed every four hours, from now until I tell you otherwise, and the wounds themselves must be sprinkled with a powder I’ll leave with you. And he must also take one of these pills each day” the doctor said, holding up a small glass vial. “Not to follow these instructions would be the same thing as shooting him here and now. Can I rely on you to be his nurse?”
His stern, dark eyes fixed on Cathy. She nodded fervently.
“Yes, Doctor. Of course.”
“You can rely on the crew, too, Dr. Sandoz,” Harry broke in coldly from the foot of the bunk. “We’ll take it in shifts to nurse him. This—lady—has already done enough!”
“I’m going to nurse him!” Cathy glared at Harry, who scowled back at her. “And I’ll make a far better job of it than you and your filthy sailors would, you insufferable little prig! If you had only listened to what I was telling you, instead of trying to drag me back aboard the Margarita when I kept saying that Jon needed help, you might have been able to get there in time to keep him from being hurt!”
“Cap’n set us all to looking for you,” Harry retorted, stung. “How was I to know you were telling the truth? I thought you were trying to trick me into letting you go! Besides, if you hadn’t crawled out the damned window leaving a trail that a blind man could see, you’d be long gone by now and we’d all be happier! And the captain …”
“That is enough!” Dr. Sandoz broke in, his eyes flashing from one to the other. “The rights and wrongs of the situation do not concern me! If you are going to quarrel like children, I will leave now, and not return. And Captain Hale will almost certainly die.”
Cathy and Harry exchanged sullen looks, and apologized to the doctor.
“Very well,” he said at last. “Young woman, I am making Captain Hale’s care your responsibility. I have found that females, through their gentler natures, tend to make better nurses than men. You,” he said, looking at Harry, “can see to it that she is relieved from time to time. I take it that you are in charge of this ship during the captain’s disability?”
Harry nodded wordlessly.
“Bien!” Dr. Sandoz smiled at them both. “Now, young woman …” He proceeded to give Cathy detailed instructions on Jon’s care.
“I’ll be watching you,” Harry said fiercely to Cathy after Dr. Sandoz had gone, leaving behind the promised pills and powder. “And I’m warning you now, that if Jon dies and there is even the remotest possibility that you did or did not do something to cause it, I’ll hang you from the highest yardarm. Lady or no lady. Understand?”
“Oh, go to the devil!” Cathy replied rudely, and was about to enlarge on this theme when a muffled groan from the cause of their quarrel brought her attention back around to him.
“Jon?” Cathy asked anxiously, leaning over the bunk and placing one hand on his dark forehead to see if it felt feverish. It did.
“Captain?” Harry said at t
he same time.
Jon moaned and tossed, his long body thrashing from side to side beneath the piled quilts.
“She’s gone!” he began to mutter. “By damn, she’s gone! In Cadiz, of all places. Den of cutthroats. … Like a lamb wandering in a wolfpack. … Won’t stand a chance! Cathy! Cathy!”
“Hush, Jon, I’m here, and perfectly safe as you can see,” Cathy murmured soothingly, trying to calm him. Her words were unable to penetrate the haze of fever, but Jon seemed to take comfort from the soft touch of her hand as she gently stroked it over his hot brow.
“See what you’ve done?” Harry spoke in a low tone that was vicious nonetheless. “I knew you’d be trouble from the moment Jon brought you aboard. I warned him, but he wouldn’t listen. He was crazy over you, and now you’ve damned near killed him! Witch!”
“I have had just about enough of your insolence and abuse,” Cathy said through her teeth, her temper surfacing through the pall of guilt that weighed her down. She refused to let herself dwell on the one warming part of Harry’s speech—that Jon was crazy about her. Her heart melted at the thought. Was it true?
“Don’t come the fine lady over me!” Harry snapped. “I’ve seen you with him, remember, and I know that inside you’re no better than those women out there walking the streets! You’re dying for what he can give you—it’s obvious whenever you look at him. And then you have the gall to pretend that you hate it! God, deliver me from women!”
“Get out of here!” Cathy’s voice was icy cold and laced with contempt. “I won’t have you in here spewing such filth! If you truly cared about Jon, which you don’t, you’d see that our quarreling will only hurt him!”
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