Catherine’s eyes widened when she realized what she let slip, but there was no backing out now.
Blake gritted his teeth, his emotions played havoc inside of him. “What are you talking about?”
Catherine knew how jealous Blake was of his little darling and the lies easily fell into place. Pleased she had his attention again, she rushed on. “Didn’t the slut claim the fall miraculously brought her memory back?” Catherine awkwardly groped for more, but Blake was too upset to see it. The confusion and pain she read so clearly in his eyes fed Catherine’s courage.
“We were out on a private little fox hunt when we ran into your precious peasant girl, all by herself in the forest. I must say she was an obliging strumpet, Lawrence and Randolph enjoyed her very much. She tried to get me into the fray, but I like men, not whoring little bitches. Why do you think they did not object to Rina marrying Randolph? They were both looking forward to more of the same.”
Catherine’s evil words twisted in Blake’s still tender heart. His mind whirled as he considered beating the depraved smile from her face. It had to be a lie … but why did he have doubts eating at him, gnawing at the last threads of control? He remembered Katrina’s reluctance to talk about what had happened when he questioned her about the accident. He had known she was lying when she denied knowing who chased her and caused her fall. And what about the obvious tenderness and affection Katrina had for David? Did she promise him something to let the Angel go? His own brother had always been there for her — just as his grandfather had.
What else did she keep from him? What other lies had she told? How many other men had heard her whisper words of love into their ears? If she had truly loved him, she would not have married another man. All lies — how could he have been so easily duped by her treachery?
Without another word, Blake turned and disappeared, leaving a shaken Catherine Ramsey standing in the darkness alone. A slow smile curved her lips, and disappointment was quickly replaced with satisfaction, for Blake obviously believed what she said. Why else would he be so upset? Catherine knew she could not battle a ghost, but she had succeeded in tainting her cherished memory. She patted her hair into place and smoothed her velvet gown before returning to the gaiety inside, her laughter drifting on the breeze.
When she disappeared into the crowd, Ryon and David stepped from the shadows, shock and disbelief registered on their faces. By accident they witnessed the whole scene between Blake and Catherine. Neither moved, still unable to understand why Blake believed Lady Ramsey.
Finally, David gathered his wits and turned to Ryon. “Blake believed her lies? Surely, he does not.”
A sad sigh escaped Ryon and he shook his head. “You saw the look on his face, David. I am afraid he did, and poor Katrina cannot defend herself.”
They both knew what Blake had been through. Perhaps in his grief stricken mind it was easier to think Catherine’s lies were true — less painful to hate Katrina than to cope with loving her and living without her. Shaking their heads in dismay, they walked around the gardens, unable to face the party and all its revelers.
THE SHIP SLIPPED FROM the harbor, her sails filled with the early-morning breeze as she skidded gracefully across the glittering blue-green water. The sun inched its way above the horizon to spray its golden rays on the earth below. Blake turned away from the light in annoyance, his hand shielding his sensitive, bloodshot eyes. A moan escaped him at the severe pounding in his head; his mouth felt dry and cottony. Slowly, his mind cleared, bringing with it remembrance of events of the night before.
Catherine’s words had been like a sharp knife plunged directly into his heart. His grief and sorrow devoured her words as truth, allowing no room for reason or trust to enter. Unable to control his fury Blake left the party and ended up on board one of his ships, a bottle of brandy close at hand as he slipped back to his old way of losing himself in drink. He wasn’t certain where he was going, but it truly didn’t matter. Nothing did.
Blake pulled himself up and swung his long legs over the edge of the bunk. He sat a long time, his aching head cradled in his hands as he concentrated on righting his tilted world. A knock sounded at the door and through red-rimmed eyes he watched a young cabin boy enter the room.
“Cap’n said you might be up, sir. Would you like somethin’ t’ eat now?”
Blake nodded painfully and the boy disappeared. Unsteady, he stood, feeling the swaying of the ship beneath his already wobbly legs. Carefully he made his way to the washstand and poured the cold water into the bowl. Blake stripped off his rumpled shirt and washed, feeling somewhat better when he was done.
Soon the boy returned, bearing a large tray filled with good-smelling food. He placed it on the table and turned to Blake. His eyes widened in surprise as Blake straightened from leaning over the washstand. Instinctively, the boy took a step backward, awed by the tall, hard-muscled man looming over him.
Blake let out a laugh at the boy’s startled look and sat down at the table. “What is your name, lad?”
“Thomas, sir,” he replied meekly. “Me frien’s call me Tommy.”
Looking up from his food, Blake smiled. “All right, Tommy, tell me, where is my ship going?”
“You don’t know where we’re bound, sir?” asked the lad, confused.
“No,” Blake replied patiently. “I would not have asked if I knew.”
Looking down, a contrite Tommy answered. “We’re headed for India, sir.” He watched Blake hungrily attack the food before him. “This here is your ship, gov’na?”
Blake nodded and took a drink to wash down a bite of food. Unable to control his childish curiosity, Tommy asked another question. “How many ships do you have?” His voice filled with admiration.
“Too many to count, Tommy. Now, enough of your questions.” Blake tried to make his words stern, but Tommy smiled and scuttled away, leaving Blake to finish his meal alone.
When he had eaten his fill, Blake pulled on a fresh shirt and left his cabin to walk on deck. The wind felt good and cleared his mind of the lingering effects of a hangover. He leaned on the rail, the feel of the sea beneath him and the salty sea air on his face glorious. A sensation he always missed when on land.
When his mind cleared, his thoughts returned to Catherine’s words. “She was sleeping with everyone at court, even your good friends and dear brother … taste for men in uniform — especially a certain lieutenant … an obliging strumpet.”
“You’re a fool, Roberts,” his mind echoed, filling him with rage, hatred. “She was a clever whore, but you could not see it. A bloody fool.”
Blake cursed her memory and himself for being so blind to her true nature. Hatred wove its way firmly into the threads of his consciousness, and as time passed, it filled the empty recesses left by Katrina’s death. Grief and sorrow no longer remained, their haunting agony replaced by bitter betrayal and an ever-present anger. Once he pulled the ring from his finger, ready to toss it into the sea, but instead he replaced it, swearing it would be a reminder of Katrina’s treachery.
As the weeks wore on, the sea in its magical way eased the tension from Blake, and his mood lightened. During the day, Blake learned to empty his mind of all thoughts of Katrina. It was at night her memory would slip unheeded into his dreams. In his sleep, he dared to remember her sweetness — her love. Like a gentle ghost, she haunted Blake, working her sorcery on him, teasing and passionate, leaving him weak and shaken. In these imaginings they made love, just as they had in real life.
Blake saw her beauty as if she really lay beside him. He felt the softness of her skin and touched the silky golden curls of her long mane. He kissed her delicate nose and sensual lips. His hand slid along a curving hip as the other reached to cup a rosy-tipped breast, the nipple taut between his fingers. He could smell her sweet fragrance, always roses, her body molded perfectly against his own hard, muscled one. He could hear her loving words as her breath tickled his ear. Blake felt her warmth as he buried himself deep inside her, b
ringing them together as one, desire taking them to the spiraling heights as only she could.
He would awaken, calling out Katrina’s name, only to find he was alone. It disturbed Blake she could arouse him so, even in death. Would he ever be able to exorcise his golden girl from his mind? No answer came, but he expected none.
Once in India, Blake immersed himself in work at his offices there. It had been some time since he had visited the East, and so much needed to be done. Time helped Blake as he fought to rid himself of Katrina’s memory once and for all, but this exorcism didn’t ease the hatred growing in his heart. Nothing would purge him of the venom, except Katrina herself, and she was gone.
Chapter Twenty-one
LI SMILED, RELIEVED WHEN Katrina came out of Walker’s cabin. She ran to her friend and hugged her, glad to see her safe. But Katrina knew they had little time to rejoice. She sent Li below to get some food while she made her way to one of the skiffs through the melee of fighting. Wasting no time, she uncovered it and found some water jugs to take with them, along with other supplies they might need.
Thinking Li should have returned by now, Katrina carefully made her way back to where she had left her. She paused at the sudden stillness on deck, most of the fighting ended.
“God,” whispered Katrina. “Are we too late?”
She retraced her steps, passing several men who lay dead on the deck. Katrina stopped and picked up a sword and pistol, pleased to find the gun still loaded. A sudden, high-pitched scream startled her and quickened her steps in panic. She looked down the deck and froze.
Men swarmed the deck — not Captain Walker’s crew, but the pirates who attacked them. Walker’s men were rounded up at gunpoint, but everyone’s attention remained on one seaman — Willy.
He stood in the center of the deck with Li in his steely grip, a knife to her throat. His eyes were wild with one leg bleeding badly from a nasty gash. Katrina inched closer so she could hear what he demanded.
“I want the bitch — I want her or this one dies.” Willy screamed at a tall man who looked to be in charge. When he got no response, his hold on Li tightened.
Li choked for breath and she clawed helplessly at Willy’s sinewy arm. The captain of the pirate ship stepped forward and faced him. Katrina saw his mind calculating the risk, trying to decide on a course of action with the crazed seaman.
“Who are you talking about? I don’t see any other woman here.” His voice came out smooth, soothing, but his eyes remained angry and hard.
Willy watched him cautiously, his desperation apparent as he gestured with his knife. “I want that she-cat an’ a boat. She is mine! Do you hear? I’ll make her regret fightin’ me.” He glanced about him and continued to scream out of control, madness consuming him. “Where are you, bitch? Come t’ ol’ Willy or I’ll slit her throat.”
The pirate captain took another step forward, but stopped when Willy turned his attention back to him. “Stay back or I’ll kill her, just like I killed Walker. No one’ll keep me from havin’ her!”
Katrina flinched at this news; Captain Walker had given his life to save hers. She hid the pistol in the folds of her petticoat. Drawing a deep breath, she moved toward Willy, all eyes drawn to her.
“I’m here, you bloody bastard,” she called out.
Willy whirled about and let go of Li. When the other woman fell to the deck, Katrina brought her pistol up and fired. The shot echoed over the silent deck and the ball pierced Willy’s head, a look of surprise etched on his face when he crumpled to the floor dead.
A moment passed before anyone moved. Katrina tightened her grasp on the sword hilt and faced her new enemy, a hoard of pirates now in command of Walker’s vessel.
Trevor Wilde bent over the Chinese girl to see if she was hurt. Satisfied she was all right, merely frightened, he turned his attention to the other woman. As he crossed the deck toward her, he took in every detail. He noted the sword she held in her hand, brandishing it with skill he took seriously. She looked straight at him and he witnessed no fear in her eyes. He had seen few women as beautiful and fewer with so much raw courage. Her chemise and petticoat were worn and ripped, leaving no doubt of what loveliness lay beneath the all-too sheer fabric. Barefoot, with a cascade of golden hair blowing about her shoulders in disarray, she made a tempting picture.
“Trevor Wilde,” the pirate said as he bowed rakishly to Katrina, “at your service.”
The eyes of the whole crew were on her, but Katrina noted only the look in Captain Wilde’s eyes. Had she escaped one lecher, just to be trapped by another? Katrina thoughts were grim, but she stood her ground. She studied him just as he studied her. The man stood tall and lean, dark hair brushing his broad shoulders, contrasted sharply by intense, emerald-green eyes.
“So you must be the precious cargo Walker fought so hard to keep. I should have guessed it would be a woman; he would have done well selling you in Mexico.” Wilde inched closer, but stopped when he was within striking distance of the sword Katrina held. “Why don’t you lay the sword down, I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
Katrina did not move.
Wilde held out his hand and repeated, firmer in tone this time, “Give it here.”
“Go to hell,” answered Katrina, her voice steady and menacing.
Trevor watched her closely. Her arrogance caused anger to stir inside him, mingling with his initial passion for the tempting wench. Together it created a potent mixture, a fire building inside consuming him, blinding him to reason.
“This ship and all on it belong to me now. You had best put the sword down before I lose my patience. I promise you will not be harmed.”
“You lie,” hissed Katrina, her nerves frayed, her legs shaking. She felt hot, feverish as her weakness returned in waves, her legs threatening to collapse beneath her. Seeing the anger flare in the man’s eyes, Katrina rambled on. “You lie, for I see the lust in your look. Are you so ignorant you do not consider rape harmful?”
“I have never raped a woman in my life,” he said, his indignation at her accusation clear in his voice.
“If that is true, you must promise Li and I will not be touched by you or any of your men.”
He stared at her, amazement showing on his face. “And if I don’t?”
Katrina gave her answer, no hesitation, only determination in it. “I will fight you.”
The words came out so matter-of-factly Trevor in no way doubted her. “There are a lot of us, and only one of you. You cannot hold us at bay forever.”
“I will do what I must,” came her reply.
Confused and feeling strangely hurt, Trevor lowered his voice, so only Katrina could hear. “Is the thought of my lovemaking so repulsive?”
“No,” she whispered honestly. “I only wish for the same choices you have. Is it so hard to understand I wish to choose my lover? Just because I am a woman, must I endure every lusting male’s desire to bed me?”
Silent, Trevor considered her question, conflicting emotions playing havoc with his thoughts. Torn between the truth of her words and his first instincts of lust and passion, he felt momentarily off balance.
“God’s Blood,” he swore to himself. “This little bit of a woman makes me look the fool.”
With this epiphany, his anger returned to block out both the lust and understanding. The only thought registered through the red haze now consuming him was no man, or woman, had ever kept him from what he wanted.
Katrina saw the change in his mood, but firmly stood her ground. She knew she could not last long against him, for she felt her strength waning. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she grasped the sword she held with both hands, finding it heavier by the minute.
In a flash, Trevor lunged forward, his own sword drawn for protection. His intent was clear, to disarm the woman, but he had not expected it to be difficult, and most of all, he had not expected the assault she threw at him. He felt shocked as he fought off the slashing sword.
Katrina pressed on, know
ing she had the advantage of surprise. She relied on the last of her strength, her concentration so intense she allowed only one thing to enter her conscious mind — survival. She could no longer feel the pain in her arms and she continued to swing the deadly blade, just as she was unaware of each rasping breath tearing through her burning chest.
A movement caught her eye, and when she glanced to the side, she observed Captain Walker being carried to the deck by two men. A bloodstain covered his belly, and a knife stuck out grotesquely from the deadly wound. Katrina stopped and her guard dropped. She gasped; his death reverberated through her dulled mind.
In seconds Wilde expertly disarmed her, but she merely stood in a daze. The knowledge Walker had given his life in defense of hers left her numb, and sadness twisted deep in her heart. The pirate seized her roughly, but she made no attempt to struggle.
Chin Li twisted away from the man who held her and ran to Trevor, grabbing his arm in desperation. “Please, sir, I beg you do not harm her.”
Trevor’s patience had long since run out, and he turned his anger onto the Chinese girl. “I should beat her soundly for her foolish stubbornness, and if you do not stop whining, I shall beat you, too.”
“Beat her?” Li cried, alarmed. “Beat me if you must, but surely you would not beat a sick woman? It would kill her!”
Something in her voice, the fear in her eyes, made Trevor turn his gaze back to the woman he held firmly in his grasp. For the first time, he noticed the deathly pallor of her skin and the glassy eyes staring blankly at him. His hands could feel her shaking violently, and something told him it was not from fright. A small worry worked its way into his mind and he turned back to the other woman. “What is wrong with her?”
Li blinked at the fierceness in his voice and hesitated. Trevor released Katrina and demanded, “She hasn’t got the plague, has she?” he whispered, suddenly fearful. “Tell me, girl.”
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