She felt his mouth on her breasts, lips, and his tongue teased her nipples until she groaned, a muted, strangely incoherent sound. At the same time his hands moved lower.
She was flushed and shaking from the recurrence of these same wild and thoughtless emotions... thoughtless! No. Like a flash of brilliant lightning she knew—she loved him. Despite everything, she was in love with him. And she wanted him to love her. Could she ever capture the mercurial Marc Copeland? She wanted to try.
He felt her surrender and slipped into the melting heat that emanated from her.
His fingers stroked gently . .. firmly ... rapidly ... until she forgot who she was and who he was and strained her body upward against him.
"Catalina," he half groaned, as with silken body and bold seeking hands she stirred to higher heat the fury of their passion.
His tongue traced patterns on her flesh, sending tingling shudders through her with its feathery touch. Lower and lower he moved, nipping gently at her flesh with his teeth until she wanted to scream. Gentle hands parted her thighs, and suddenly she felt the piercing heat of his seeking tongue and her hands caught at him, tangled into the thickness of his hair to urge him on. Suddenly he was above her and her body arched in shock as, with a deep thrust, he embedded himself in the depths of her.
As he began to move, inexorably and steadily, her body quivered with delight. Her breath came in short gasps and soft moans escaped her. Prisoners of unexplained enchantment, they moved together, her slim body arching to meet his driving thrusts and her hands moving over his body, digging into the muscles of his back, sliding down to his hard muscular hips to urge him to even deeper possession. Each was hungry for fulfillment, each aware of the other's needs. Giving and taking, they rose higher and higher until his mouth was all that silenced her cries of ecstasy as they soared to the pinnacle and beyond, clinging to each other.
The pale golden glow of the candelabra on the table some distance away put the area of the bed in partial shadow.
Marc gazed down on Catalina, caught by the magic the pale light wrought on her skin.
No woman had been able to hold him after their first mingling, but despite the completion he felt, he had an urge to embrace her, to keep alive the amazing emotions they had shared, to hold her captive in his arms for as long as possible.
He still refused to see that the moment would come when he would relinquish her willingly. He called what they had shared by the lesser name of passion, but Catalina was instinctively wiser. She knew this man would be the only one who would be able to reach the part of her that completed her being.
She recognized love for what it was, and in the same moment recognized his firm resistance to such an acknowledgement. As her thoughts tumbled into place she found that she believed what he had said about Seth. But she again began to wonder why he had deliberately taken the boat from Seth and why he had seduced her. Both acts were connected to some ultimate purpose, and she also knew only Marc could explain it.
Could she mold this passionate beginning into something deeper? Could she change the purpose that seemed to drive Marc to destroy her and Seth into an aim which would permit the construction of some more promising thing? She didn't know. She only knew she was going to try, for the alternative was to let Marc crush her heart and to walk away from the ashes of what could have been.
Marc was as entangled in disbelieving thoughts as Catalina. Permanent commitment to this woman, to any woman, was not part of his plan. He was angry that only part of his mind seemed to be listening. The rest was swirling in a confusion matched only by the violent sensual reaction of his body.
There was no room for love in his plans! Love! He thought in angry wonder. Now where the hell did that thought come from? She had a delightful body which could drive him to the pinnacle of passion, but that was not love and he damned well didn't intend to let this go any further than sensual completion.
He had accomplished what he wanted. He had heard her soft sounds of ecstatic surrender. He knew he could reach her again and again, until the walls of her resistance crumbled and she was totally at his mercy. Then and only then would he cast her aside and witness the total destruction of Catalina Carrington.
For now he would sink into the pleasure of her warm, soft, and delightfully rounded body. The night was young, and he intended to enjoy it to the fullest.
He paid no attention to his wounded craving for vengeance, which warned him that standards of battle had been raised and that the first skirmish had gone to the one intended to be the victim.
His hands gently stroked her body, savoring the petal softness of her skin and the way she trembled beneath his touch.
For Catalina there was no denial left. There was only the need to find the path that would lead to Marc's well-guarded heart. If that required total surrender, she would take that chance. Success would bring happiness; failure, the loss of all she was. Yet she instantly made her decision. The goal, if she could reach it, would be worth the battle.
His eyes sparkled in the half-light and she could read nothing in them but the pleasure they had shared.
Would she ever read more there?
She raised both hands to enclose his face between them.
"Who are you, Marc Copeland ... what are you? You torment me in every way possible. You have said such terrible things to me, and yet I feel so alive in your arms." She whispered the words.
"Then why can't that be enough?" he replied as he kissed her cheeks, her eyes, and then let his lips brand her throat and shoulders with soft feather-touch kisses that made her shiver. "Why do you listen to all those questions that don't need to be answered?"
"Is that always enough for you, just the moment?"
"Why notT
"Because when I look into your eyes I do not see a man who lives day by day and takes only what chance provides."
"Just what do you see?"
"A paradox... a puzzle."
He laughed softly as he nibbled gently at the curve of her shoulder, and his arms drew her to him again. "If I'm a puzzle you are the key," he answered more truthfully than either of them knew. "It's so simple, Catalina," he murmured as his mouth sought hers again, "so very simple."
She was caught again in the splendor of the white-hot flame that engulfed them as his mouth sought a response... and found it.
She moaned with pleasure as his hands moved over her body softly, light as a butterfly's touch. He proceeded at a studied pace to caress her, sending her emotions spiraling upward.
She became abandoned, but was not shocked by the wildness that overcame her. The sound of his soft laugh mingled with her purring sighs.
The night lengthened and the candles sputtered and died ... and Catalina slept in his arms.
❧
In the small hours of the morning the gentle rocking of the boat and the brilliant white moonlight wakened Catalina. She lay very still, intensely aware of the form beside her. It was the first time she had ever wakened with someone sharing her bed, and she found the experience disconcerting.
She turned her, head to look at Marc, to study his face. In repose, he seemed much younger. She studied him at her leisure, gazing at the firm straight mouth softened with sleep, the long thick lashes that lay on his bronzed cheek. Gently she placed her hand on the broad expanse of his chest, sliding her fingers in the mat of dark hair.
His body lay bare to her gaze. He was magnificent, like a sleek lion, muscular and superbly conditioned. His belly was flat and hard, his hips were narrow.
Something wild and tempestuous stirred deep within her. Slowly and very gently, she let her hand follow the length of his body to rest on his hip. Caught by the turmoil within her, she could not help but view his body with wonder.
She had never been so conscious of anything as she was of his latent strength. Memories of their love-making flooded her. As they tingled through her, she closed her eyes.
If she had had to choose a man to belong to, could she have chosen a better on
e? Yet he carried some deep dark secret, and a part of him blocked her out. She wanted more from him than to share this one night, but she knew her desires and his were worlds apart. She had no idea of what he expected to achieve by trying to force her body into total submission. He was aiming for some goal she could not see. But she had a goal of her own. She only wondered if she had the courage to seek it as devotedly as he pursued his.
He was playing a game with her, a game with rules she didn't know. But she began to create a game of her own. She had yet to devise the rules, but she would.
She would have a man she could share the rest of her life with ... or a man who would use her and one day leave her to a fate she could hardly contemplate.
Entangled in thought, she had allowed her hand to venture farther and she found it hovering... wanting to touch ...
She inhaled deeply and was about to withdraw her hand when his closed over it and forced it to its original destination.
Her eyes lifted to his in shock as she felt the heat in his loins surge.
"Don't stop now, sweet," he said softly. "So far it's been most exciting."
Her decision must be made. She could cringe before him and be his victim until he was finished with her, or she could reach for more than one night's passion. Her hand did not resist him, but became possessive as she pressed against him, her eyes glowing with acceptance.
His breath caught in his throat, his blood surged in his veins. Almost fearing that he was dreaming he reached to draw her head down to his. Her skin was warm and silky smooth and her intoxicating fragrance encircled him. His mouth eagerly took hers and their bodies strained together hungrily.
She found herself returning his fierce fevered kisses, and she clung to him, giving herself wholly to his passion. When she felt his manhood against her, gently searching, she moved to accept him.
He luxuriated in the intimate moment. Her kisses were full and inviting, flaming under his lips, as her tongue warred with his, penetrating his mouth with a heated desire that matched his.
Marc began to move, trying at first to be gentle, but the violence of their passion consumed them both in a thunderous storm.
Catalina's eyes widened as sensation after sensation rippled through her and they dissolved in mutual fire.
The utter completion they knew was something Marc had never experienced before. She had been a tigress, demanding and passionate.
As he held her and they regained their equilibrium, unwelcome thoughts filled his head.
She was where he wanted her to be, and she would be here for as long as he wanted her to be.
But a subtle nagging voice chuckled softly in his inner mind, saying that when the time came to rid himself of her it was going to prove difficult....
Chapter 19
When Catalina opened her eyes the next morning she found Marc gone from the bed. She had no way of knowing that before he had left he had stood near the bed, watching her, a puzzled frown on his face.
Before dawn he had arisen, amused at himself. Why should it bother him if everyone on the boat knew she had spent the night with him, had welcomed him to her bed? That had been part of his plan. But—he shrugged—he could see to that in time.
Now Catalina rose and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She had to organize all the thoughts that had become tangled in her mind during the night. She had to have a plan to follow. Marc was a very clever man, and he certainly was not set on any permanent involvement with her. To say the least, she admonished herself. He had asked her at their first meeting to be his mistress. That was proof enough of his opinion of her. His mistress . . . mistress. She pondered this for a few minutes; then a small smile played across her lips. It would be a dangerous game and if he ever found out her motives ... She shuddered at the thought.
She sat on the edge of the bed and brushed her hair while she tried to mold her thoughts into something firmer than the fragile threads they were now."
"After all," she muttered, "it was his idea. He must have some motive for this and for making Seth lose the boat. Somehow I've got to find it out."
A light rap on the door brought her from the depths of her thoughts.
"Yes?"
"Miss Carrington, Mr. Copeland would like to know if you would join him in the dining room for braekfast."
Catalina inhaled deeply and dredged up all the courage she had. "Would you please take Mr. Copeland a message?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Tell him it is imperative that I speak to him first. Please ask him to come to my cabin just for a moment."
"Yes, ma'am," the weary voice replied, and she heard departing footsteps.
Her heart thudded painfully, and she was so nervous she could not sit still. She wanted her appearance to suit her proposal so she remained dressed only in a very revealing shift and let her hair fall about her.
She gripped her hands before her as visions leapt before her eyes. Her parents—worse yet, Aunt Charlotte. What in God's name would they think of her should her plan not work? What a gamble it was. If she failed she would pay first with Marc's laughter, then with her own shame for the rest of her life. For a moment her courage failed and she began to tremble. Just then the door swung open and Marc stood before her. His brows were drawn together, and if she hadn't known better, she would have thought he was worried. But she couldn't allow herself to think that Not yet... but maybe someday.
"Catalina, what's wrong?"
Her act began when she smiled as seductively as she could and moved a few steps toward him.
"Why must something be wrong?" she said. "You left so soon I hadn't time to talk to you."
"We can talk over breakfast."
"Not about the subject I have in mind."
Marc had been impatient when he had found her well, but his impatience died as he finally began to pay close attention to the warm look in her eyes and the even warmer look of her half-dressed body.
He stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and leaned indolently against it.
"You're a crafty little kitten, and Fd love to know what's going on behind those beautiful eyes. What's on your mind, Cat?"
She had never been so nervous or frightened in her life, but she controlled her face.
She could not see past the shuttered look in his eyes, but if she had, she might have been more than surprised.
He thought of her, warm and soft against him, and of the feel of her soft mouth parting beneath his. His eyes sought the throbbing pulse at the base of her throat, a most tempting spot. He wanted to press his mouth to it. Then he reminded himself that Catalina was a very dangerous creature.
"I want to discuss an offer you once made me."
"An offer?" He was puzzled.
"How terrible that after last night you don't remember," she whispered as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed.
It rushed to his mind, the casual offer he had made only to hurt her, to belittle her.
"I remember, my sweet," he said in a deep firm voice. She smiled, for the first point was hers.
Her eyes scanned him brazenly, and she noted the small flame that touched his eyes. She had seen the look before.
"I could repeat some of the words to you just in case you might have forgotten. I believe you offered me the very unique position of being your mistress."
"I did that." He chuckled. "I think I remember your answer. I believe you told me I could go to hell."
"You've forgotten a woman's prerogative," she said softly, and was more than satisfied by the slight stiffening of his body and the visible effort it took to retain his smile.
"There was another part to the bargain."
"I'm going to have to watch this slipping memory of mine. Do me a favor and remind me again."
"If I'm not mistake the second part of the bargain was the Belle."
"I see," he replied softly. Now he moved from the door and walked slowly toward her. He was certain she was up to something and that the Belle was only a small part of it.
But what did she have to gain? An alarm in the back of his mind told him to be more careful, but the sensuous delights she seemed to be offering drew him like a magnet.
Catalina turned partially away from him as he drew close to her, the flame within his eyes brighter now. She licked her dry lips, but did not move.
He stopped beside her, and his hand reached up to gently push a lock of hair from her bare shoulders, then lingered to caress her flesh gently.
"So now you bargain with me?"
"Yes."
"Just what kind of bargain do you have in mind, Cat?"
"Why do you ask me? You made the first one, why can't we just stick to it. Surely you must have thought it fair at the beginning?"
"The beginning," he murmured. "At the beginning I wanted a mistress in return for a boat. If I'm not mistaken you were, to say the least, insulted. What has made you change your mind?"
"I told you, you forgot..."
"I know," he interrupted with a small laugh, "a woman's prerogative."
She turned and looked up into his eyes, and he was shaken for the first time by the intensity of her gaze.
"So do we make a bargain, Marc," she said softly. "Are you willing to gamble again?"
"A boat... against all you have to offer? I can only come out the winner."
"Then you agree," she whispered, hoping he couldn't feel the way her body trembled.
"Yes, I agree. Tell me, do we have a time limit on this little ... arrangement?"
"It will last until we get to Memphis," she answered. Then I will go home and our agreement will be terminated."
"In that case"—his voice lowered and his arm slid about her, drawing her to him—"I think we ought to seal this bargain."
"As you wish," she murmured as she melted against him and her arms encircled his neck.
Any reservations Marc had were driven off by a searing kiss.
Catalina felt the strength of his arms about her, and prayed silently her gamble would work. If she failed, she would lose all to him.
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