Her hand tightened on the curtain. “It was no threat,” she murmured. He told her she would serve him in his bed. Perhaps she was wrong for her part in the charade, but she didn’t think her sins sufficient to spend the rest of her life paying for them.
The curtain fell back into place as Catherine turned to take stock of her assets. They were pitifully few. The only thing she had of any value was the ring he placed on her finger when she was unconscious during their wedding ceremony. Slowly, she went to the dresser where she kept it.
It was heavy and richly appointed with a magnificent emerald. She knew of its considerable value, yet she didn’t think it truly belonged to her. Since it represented a farcical marriage, she could not lay claim to it. He might contact the authorities and report it stolen.
She sighed heavily. There was no choice. If she wanted to make good her escape, she needed the ring. Perhaps she could give him a promissory note for it when she left her letter. Surely someday she would be able to repay him for it. She needed to gather a few things from the kitchen to ensure her immediate survival. She would store them in her room until she left.
“Tomorrow,” she whispered. “Tomorrow I will slip away.” With luck—and it was time for her to have some—she would be well away before anyone realized it.
* * *
Everything was ready. She had food and a flask of water. Her meager clothing was tied in a bundle, except for what she would wear. She finished the letter she would leave for Ransom and frowned as she reviewed it. No matter how she attempted to make it sound like she had not meant to take part in the deception, she came off as guilty as Sabrina.
Hanging her head, she realized she should have gone to her uncle instead of letting Sabrina tempt her with thoughts of a future of her own. She’d been terribly foolish believing she could come to a new land to find a new life, especially since she knew it was based on lies.
Catherine slid the letter into an envelope with his name scrawled across the front. She may have been willing to live a lie, but she was not a thief. She squeezed the ring tightly in her palm, closed her eyes, and let regret fill her. It was a fool’s errand from the start, but she should be glad to get away relatively unscathed.
She drew a deep breath and dropped the ring into the envelope. She would make it on her own. She wanted nothing to obligate herself to him. When she left, she would be releasing them both from the travesty.
Tired from the long day and night before, she knew she needed to rest to make good her escape. Soon everything would be behind her. This time, when she faced a new life, only she would be responsible for it. She blew out the candle and climbed into her bed, wondering where she would be sleeping the next night.
Sleep claimed her quickly, but once again she was restless. She tossed about. She could hear yelling and wondered if she was dreaming about the hellish night her ship went down. The shouting grew louder and pressed into her sleep.
She sat with a start. A terrible commotion filled the house. She tossed back her blankets and ran to her door, wondering if the house was under attack.
She eased open the door to make her way to the stairs. She could have sworn she heard Holden’s voice shouting orders, yet she was sure he had sailed with Ransom. Again his voice rang out. She gasped. Not only was he there, but something was terribly wrong.
Unmindful of her attire, she raced down the stairs, stopping only when she saw Holden. He stood in the opened door and spoke to a disheveled Alice, who responded immediately to whatever he said. He turned to yell out into the night, but she couldn’t hear what he said. Slowly, she made her way down several more steps.
“In here! Hurry!” Holden shouted, his voice filled with apprehension.
Several unknown men dragged something into the house. At first she thought it might be some sort of bundle, then she heard a moan filled with pain. It was Ransom. His pant leg had been cut away and a white bandage circled his thigh. It was soaked with blood. Gasping, Catherine covered her mouth to prevent a scream.
Holden turned toward where she stood. “Don’t faint on us, Catherine,” he ordered. “We have no time for hysterics.”
Catherine’s head snapped up and she glared at him. “Bring him upstairs at once,” she demanded. “And be careful.” The men immediately obeyed her. As she turned to follow, Holden’s hand fell to her arm. She yanked free to see to her husband as she glared at him and snarled, “I do not faint.”
Chapter Nine
* * *
Catherine instructed the men to settle Ransom carefully on his bed. He was not conscious, and she worried the wounds were more extensive than what she could see. She helped Alice lift his thigh to brace it in a cradle of blankets while Holden gave orders to the men to see to Ransom’s ship. The moment they left, she glanced at Holden.
“What happened?”
“We were attacked,” Holden replied. He stood near enough to help, should he be asked. “Everything was going well when a cannon shot hit the railing near where he was standing.”
“D-did it hit him?” she asked, unable to keep her voice from quivering.
“No, but a piece of the splintered rail embedded itself in his thigh. He wouldn’t let anyone near him to help until after we beat off that damned ship.”
Catherine swayed, imagining the pain he must have been enduring. “Was . . . was anyone else hurt?”
“Two others, but not badly,” he told her as Alice cut away the bloody bandage. “We made our rendezvous and he remained at the helm until we settled offshore to await the night before he would let anyone pull the wood out of his leg.”
While he spoke, Catherine helped Alice draw back the bandage. It was hard to tell how much actual damage there was because of the severe bruising and swelling. Alice probed the wound, drawing a moan from Ransom even in his unconscious state. Catherine had to bite her lip to keep from retching.
“I’ll help,” Holden told Catherine. He took her by the arm to lead her away.
“No.” She pulled away from him again. “I will see to him, Holden.” She drew a deep breath, shared a glance of understanding with Alice, and began to bathe his torn flesh. “I owe him that much, at least.”
“I need some boilin’ water,” Alice announced. Catherine turned to go for it, but Alice added, “No, you stay. Holden, can you get it?”
“I’ll be right back,” he called from the door.
“Get some brandy, too,” Alice ordered before he could disappear. Without stopping her ministrations, Alice spoke softly to Catherine. “Why was ya leavin’?” she asked.
Surprised Alice was so astute, Catherine sighed. “How did you know?”
“Ya shouldn’t have taken only half a loaf of the fresh bread. A whole loaf I wouldn’t have missed ‘cause I don’t count ‘em, but half I noticed ‘cause I knew no one had eaten yet.”
“I will be more careful next time,” Catherine said softly.
“There ain’t gonna be a next time.”
Catherine picked up rags and tattered bandages as she spoke. She frowned. “There has to be. This isn’t right . . . or fair to either him or me.” She stopped near Ransom’s head and could not resist smoothing his wind blown hair from his brow. “He will hate me so much when he knows, I . . . I do not think I can stand it.”
“Why?” Alice asked. “You two don’t really know each other. What difference would it be if he’s mad, so long as you ain’t here ta see it?”
For long moments Catherine considered the question. “Because he did not deserve any of this. He was made to marry for family honor, then was played false by me. He won’t want me when he finds out.” Alice turned her head and grinned. “So don’t tell him.”
“What?” Catherine gasped, unable to believe Alice would join in the duplicity.
“I ain’t never seen him so alive as since you came here.” Catherine sniffed. Alice chuckled. “I ain’t said happy, just alive.” When she finished bathing the wound, Alice moved to Catherine’s side. “And I think you have a fond
ness for him, even if ya say otherwise.”
Large, tear-filled eyes rose to look at the older woman. “I . . . I just wanted someone . . . to care for me . . . and to have someone for myself,” Catherine admitted. “I never meant to . . . hurt him or make him angry. I swear it, Alice.”
“I know, child,” Alice sighed and slipped her arm about Catherine’s shoulders. “But think about stayin’. He really is a good man. And maybe you can both find what you’re lookin’ for.”
The door opened and Holden returned clutching a bottle in one hand and a kettle of steaming water in the other. Alice took the water and poured some of it into a basin beside Ransom’s bed.
A warm robe dropped about Catherine’s shoulders. She glanced back to see Holden had placed it there.
“Thank you,” she shyly said. A blush touched her cheeks at the reminder she had been running about in her nightgown. She eased her arms in the sleeves and frowned—the robe belonged to Ransom. She rolled up the sleeves before tying the belt.
“He’s going to be fine,” Holden told her gently. “He’s pulled through worse.” She shivered at the thought and Holden smiled. “Thank you for caring for him, Catherine,” he said. He turned and left before she could deny it.
* * *
Catherine checked once more to see if there were any changes in Ransom’s condition, but he was still unconscious. She tenderly touched his brow and was pleased there was no sign of fever. Alice told her his deep sleep was only his body’s way of mending, but she hated it. Seeing him so vulnerable was not healthy for her own emotions. It made her soften toward him.
She made her way to the window and gazed out over the river. Her mind was filled with the confusion of her thoughts. He frightened her. He was a powerful man used to dictating to those around him. She was a constant reminder of something he likely felt he had no control over, yet he wanted to take her to his bed.
Would he use the marriage bed as a form of punishment? Did he think to dominate her—or seduce her? He seemed driven, like a man possessed by demons. She didn’t understand him, but she knew she would never be able to deny a charming or gentler Ransom if he ever showed her that side—if he even possessed such a side.
She could give in to his demands, she decided, if it meant a future at Devil’s Head. Perhaps if she became an obedient wife, he would not bother her too often. In return, she could have the home she found herself already fond of and the friends she had always wanted.
In time, she might even come to care for Ransom. He would likely be interesting to talk to, she thought, with all his adventures. He might even come to respect her for her intelligence. She was well read. Life could be rather pleasant if he did not press her for emotional responses. Remembering the way she felt when he touched her so intimately, she closed her eyes. Maybe she could even get used to that—with a little effort.
She had pondered what Alice had said and decided she would stay. There was nothing elsewhere for her, nowhere to go. If she wanted to have a place to call home, she would simply have to work for it and, if that meant playing the role of his wife in all ways he wanted of her, she would do so.
Catherine leaned her brow against the cool pane. Life was strange indeed. Everything she ever dreamed of could be hers—and all because of a lie.
* * *
Ransom’s eyes opened. It took him a moment to figure out where he was. Then he remembered what had happened. He tried to move his leg off the pile of linen beneath it, but a burning pain shot through it and into his body. Everything came back. In silence, he clenched his teeth until the worst of the pain eased. When his breathing evened, he turned his head slightly to see Catherine standing near the window.
She was so deeply in thought, he knew she had no idea he watched her. Her hand twisted in her skirt, leaving him little doubt she was troubled. He ignored her mood and concentrated on her physical form.
He suspected it was late evening by the lack of light coming through the window. Shadows concealed her profile, but the light from the lamp behind her illuminated her hair. He wanted to unbind her braid and see it spread over her shoulders. He pictured her clothed in only her glorious mane and the impact on his body made him groan.
Catherine whirled about and moved quickly to his side. “Ransom?” She spoke softly. With his eyes closed, he waited to see what she would do. She reached to gently touch his chest and cried out when he grabbed her wrist.
He didn’t mean to let her know he was awake, but when her hand pressed to his bare chest, the shock her touch sent through him necessitated his reaction. Even injured and weak, he wanted her. Unable to bear the look of fear on her face, he closed his eyes and shoved her hand away.
“Call Holden.” He heard a small sob escape her throat as she fled, but he had neither the energy nor the desire to investigate it. Having kept him at bay, he felt it only fair she suffer, too.
* * *
Holden entered the room and smiled. “So, you’ve decided to rejoin the living,” he proclaimed.
“I must be living,” Ransom groaned. “I don’t think I’d hurt like this if I were dead.”
“Bad, huh?”
Ransom sighed heavily. “No, not that bad. I just hate to be confined. You know that.”
Holden sat on the side of the bed. “Yeah, I know, but cheer up. This time you have a pretty lady to take care of you. That can’t be all bad.”
Ransom dropped his arm across his eyes as he thought of his reaction when Catherine touched him. “What was she doing in here anyway?”
“Taking care of you,” Holden explained. “Just like she has since we brought you in the night before last.”
Ransom lifted his arm and glared at his friend. “Where was Alice?” he asked, wondering why Catherine would care for him when he had been such a bastard to her.
“Running the house and seeing to the chores, like she should be.” Holden rubbed his jaw to cover a grin. “Guess Catherine decided that, as your wife, it was her responsibility.”
“Not likely,” Ransom snorted, but he could think of no other reason. After a moment’s silence he tried to sit up, but found he needed Holden’s help. His injured thigh was too painful to bear any weight. “And what have you been doing to pass the time?” he asked when finally sitting upright in the bed.
Holden explained about the repairs of the ship and the arrangements with their man in New York to deliver the rest of the guns. “I also informed him we would be unavailable for a few weeks.” Ransom frowned fiercely. “I knew you would have gone if orders came in and I didn’t want to argue with you. It’s too late to worry about it now.”
Holden’s actions were those of concern and Ransom appreciated them—and his friend—even if he resented being unable to decide for himself. “And how do you suggest I pass the damnably boring time between now and then?” he snapped.
Holden grinned devilishly. “Oh, I think you’ll find something . . . or someone to occupy your time. After all, you did want to hurry home, remember?”
Ransom remembered, all right. His body hardly let him forget his last moments at Devil’s Head. He doubted he would ever feel that degree of need again, but it had passed with the excitement of battle and, ultimately, his wound. Still, a certain enjoyment might be gained by baiting his bride and seeing if she responded.
“Perhaps a few weeks at home could be pleasant,” he stated, clearly amused with the situation. Thinking of several things he could do to ruffle Catherine’s feathers, he sighed. “Have Alice send me up something to eat. I need to get my strength back.”
“Want me to have Catherine bring it in?” Holden asked.
“No, not yet. I’ll give her tonight. The rest of the nights will be mine.”
* * *
Catherine paused outside Ransom’s door. Her nerves were on edge yet she could not ignore his summons. She had refused to take care of him since he awoke the day before. Alice saw to his meals, and she supposed Holden took care of his more personal needs. Regardless, she certainly enj
oyed the reprieve. Unfortunately, it seemed to be over.
She tapped lightly on the door, then heard him bid her entry. “You wanted to see me?” She stared across the room in an attempt to avoid looking at him.
“Yes. Come in and shut the door,” he ordered. She swallowed hard and complied, but without enthusiasm. “Come here,” he called, pointing to the side of the bed when she glanced his way.
This was going to be more difficult than she imagined. He remained undressed beneath his covers. She knew she blushed, but hoped he did not notice. She stood beside the bed, yet he did not speak. She felt the need to fidget to cover her frayed nerves, but decided to use conversation instead. “W-what did you want to speak to me about?” His mouth quirked and she knew he had seen her blush. She hoped he didn’t realize the cause.
“Sit,” he ordered.
She turned to locate a chair but he reached out to take her hand and pull her down beside him on the bed. Her eyes widened in surprise. “I prefer to s-stand,” she stammered. He did not release her. In an effort to avoid his bared torso, she had no choice but to look at his face.
His dark brown eyes were hooded, as if he wanted to keep his thoughts a secret. His mouth seemed firm and hard, but there was a touch of amusement there. Several days' worth of coarse stubble darkened his already sun-tanned skin, giving him even more of a sinister appearance.
“I prefer you sit,” he stated firmly. She nodded tersely and he released her hand. “I want to thank you for seeing to me in my illness.”
“You do?” she challenged in relief.
Ransom cleared his throat and nodded. “Yes. Alice told me it was you who stayed with me, and I thank you.”
Catherine started to rise. He gripped her skirt to keep her beside him. She relaxed slightly, but turned to present more of her back to him. “I . . . I felt it . . . it was my responsibility.”
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