by Bobbi Smith
"But it's really not necessary," she protested, feeling helpless.
"It most certainly is," Mildred put in, her eyes aglow as she observed them together. What a fine couple they made, Mitch so dark and handsome and Espri so lithe and beautiful. "Now, relax."
Obediently, Espri looped her arms about Mitch's neck, and his grasp tightened at her innocent gesture. When Mildred left the room before them, Mitch glanced down at his wife.
"Ready?"
Espri was so enthralled by the piercing, passionate look he gave her that she only nodded.
Mitch had told himself repeatedly that he would take his time with her and not press her in any way, yet he couldn't resist the opportunity to steal a quick kiss. His head dipped; his mouth hovered briefly over hers, giving her time to reject him, before his lips claimed hers in a searing, possessive exchange.
Espri had been hoping that he would kiss her, and her heart soared at the touch of his mouth. She knew she shouldn't respond, that she should keep herself aloof, but it was no use. Her desire for him was as strong as ever. The revelation dazed her, and she stared up at him, mesmerized, when he broke off the embrace.
Their gazes locked in a heated, unspoken exchange, and Mitch would have kissed her again, had not the sudden remembrance of Mildred waiting in the companionway forced him to suppress his need for Espri. "Mildred . . ." Smiling in apology, he hurried from the room, holding his wife close.
The day was a glorious one, the sun high and warm in the cloudless sky, the wind brisk yet comfortable. Espri relished the secure feeling of being in Mitch's arms again, and she was sorry when he reached the foredeck, where seats had been arranged for her outing.
"Thank you, Mitch," she said delightedly as she settled in next to Mildred.
He gave her a roguish grin as his gaze raked over her, leaving no doubt in her mind about his enjoyment of their brief intimacy. "You're welcome."
Her pulse was racing from his lusty look, but as the reality of her situation returned, she silently berated herself for her continuing desire for him. She wouldn't love him! She wouldn't!
"I'll be back for you later. Mildred." He nodded to the captain's wife before striding off across the deck.
Mildred watched him as he walked away, and she gave a deep, heartfelt sigh. "He's such a handsome man, Espri. You are so lucky."
"I am?"
"Of course. He's very devoted to you. I can tell he loves you very much." The older woman gave her a knowing look. "Why, when I think about that night you were injured and how worried he was."
"That was guilt, Mildred," Espri declared, suddenly bitter at the memory of that night. "Not love."
"Don't be silly," her friend chided. "Why would Mitch feel guilty?"
"Because we'd had an argument that night," Espri said tightly.
"All couples argue," Mildred said dismissively. "The first several years of marriage are always the most difficult. He loves you, Espri, of that I'm certain . . . and he wanted your baby."
Her last statement shocked Espri. "He wanted the baby? How do you know?"
"He told me so. He was crushed by your miscarriage, and one of the first questions he asked the doctor was whether or not you'd be able to conceive again."
"He did?" Espri's eyes rounded in surprise, and some of her rancor died.
"Absolutely." Mildred patted her hand. "Did you think he didn't want the child?"
"Oh, it's all so complicated." Espri sighed, wanting to speak of her feelings, yet not knowing where to begin.
"Why don't you tell me about it? Maybe I can help," Mildred urged.
The younger woman nodded slowly. "I think I do need to talk, but I don't know how much help you can be. You see, Mitch really doesn't love me."
"Balderdash!" Mildred snorted in the first outburst of temper Espri had seen her display.
"No, it's true. We've been together almost since he was first washed up on Malika, but he has never told me that he loves me. He never intended to marry me or take me with him." The words came out in a rush of torment.
"What are you saying? Why don't you tell me everything from the very start," Mildred encouraged gently.
"It began several months ago, when he was shipwrecked. I took care of him and we . . . we became lovers." Espri paused, expecting condemnation from Mildred, but there was none. The older woman's expression was sympathetic. Sensing that she truly did understand, Espri continued. "But while we were close, I learned that Mitch intended to leave Malika as quickly as he could and that he had no desire to make any commitments. That was when I decided to end our relationship. I loved him, Mildred, with all my heart, but I couldn't go on, knowing that he meant to leave me at the first opportunity."
"I understand." Mildred nodded. "Go on."
"Well, a month or so after I stopped seeing him I discovered I was going to have the baby." She sighed. "My father and Father Papin, the missionary, insisted that Mitch marry me and . . . here I am. He didn't do it out of love for me. He did it because of the child." Espri paused dejectedly. "And now I don't even have the child to offer him."
"You think he doesn't want you anymore just because you miscarried?"
"Yes," Espri answered numbly.
"You're wrong. I'm certain that he loves you."
"No. He's just feeling responsible for me since the accident."
"Quite the contrary. I think your tragedy upset him so much that he finally realized just how much you really mean to him."
A flicker of hope flared within the depths of Espri's soul, and her eyes filled with tears as she admitted the truth. "I love him so much, Mildred, but I'm so afraid."
"Oh, my darling." Mildred hugged her quickly. "Why don't you give him a chance to prove his love to you? Mitch is not like the men you've grown up with on the island. As I was telling you earlier, in the white society, things are not always as they seem."
"I want to." Espri turned haunted eyes to her friend. "But what if he doesn't love me? I don't think I could stand it."
"He does," Mildred insisted. "Wait and see. And remember, the loss you've just suffered affects him as much as it affects you but in a different way."
Holding her breath, Espri gave Mildred a quivering smile. "I will try it."
"Good," her friend answered happily. She felt positive that they would work things out.
The discussion with Mildred had altered Espri's perception of Mitch. Searching the deck for him, she observed him covertly, allowing herself to again see him as the man she loved—the man who was now her husband. Exhorting herself to go slowly, she hoped that Mildred was right, that there truly was a future for them.
Chapter 22
San Francisco
Outside the Williamses' mansion the street was crowded with carriages as guests arrived to attend the lavish ball being given by Jonathan and Catherine. In less than a year, Catherine Chamberlain Williams had gained a reputation for being the most innovative and entertaining of hostesses. Her popularity was so great that invitations to her galas were greatly prized.
"Darling," Catherine drawled to Jonathan as she stared at her reflection in her full-length mirror. "How do I look?"
Jonathan turned to look at his wife as he shrugged into his coat. "You look ravishing, as usual, but . . ." He surveyed the low-cut, turquoise taffeta gown with its innovative slim-line skirt approvingly; then he took in the single strand of diamonds that graced her throat and frowned.
Always desirous of his complete admiration, Catherine was disturbed by his expression and she wondered what had caused his displeasure. "Is something wrong?" she asked quickly.
"No. Nothing is wrong. I just think something is missing." He walked to his armoire and took out a jeweler's case. "I had not planned to give this to you until our first anniversary, but I think it should grace your loveliness tonight."
Catherine took the box from him and opened it, gasping in astonishment at the exquisite necklace and matching earbobs within. "Jon . . . they're beautiful."
"Not n
early so beautiful as the woman who will wear them," he said gallantly as he took the diamond necklace from its velvet-lined case. Moving to stand behind her, he released the clasp on the necklace she was wearing and then placed his gift about her neck. When he'd completed that task, Jon bent and pressed an ardent kiss to her bared shoulder. "Thank you for all the happiness you've given me, darling."
Suppressing a shiver of distaste at his touch, Catherine casually moved back to the mirror on the pretense of putting on the earbobs. "These are magnificent. Thank you."
"You're more than welcome." Jon smiled, glad that he'd pleased her. "Shall we join our guests? I'm sure they're eagerly awaiting your arrival so they can remark on what new fashion trend you're introducing tonight."
Catherine laughed with pleasure and turned to face him, her eyes brightening in anticipation of the envious stares she knew she'd be receiving from the other women. "I'm glad you enjoy entertaining. I do love it so."
"My darling, I am yours to command," Jonathan assured her. "I find great satisfaction in your successes and will always back you in any endeavor."
She went to him then, willingly, and kissed him, knowing that by teasing him a little before the party she would have his undivided attention all evening. "I'm now ready to face our guests."
A stunned, admiring hush fell over those assembled as Jon appeared at the top of the wide curved staircase with his trendsetting wife on his arm, and a smattering of applause greeted their descent.
The handsome pair greeted their guests cordially as they made their way down the hall to the ballroom. Then, with a single gesture, Jon indicated that the music should begin, and the lilting strains of a waltz soon filled the air. Taking Catherine in his arms, he led her skillfully about the floor, drawing appreciative glances from all who, by courtesy, allowed them the first dance.
Standing to one side, heavy with child, Susan Stuart held her husband's arm possessively and sighed. "Catherine is so gorgeous."
"That she is," Roland agreed blandly, his expression noncommittal though inwardly he was wishing he were the man entitled to squire the lovely Catherine about the floor.
When the waltz came to an end, everyone applauded their graceful display; then the ball really began.
"Look, darling. Roland and Susan are here." Catherine pointed them out to Jon. "Let's join them, shall we?"
"Of course," he agreed, taking her arm and leading her to the other couple.
"Good evening, Jon . . . Catherine." Roland shook hands with his business partner.
"Roland," Jon replied. "Susan, you're looking lovely tonight."
She blushed prettily as she demurred. "Thank you for being such a gentleman, Jon, but I'm well aware of my size."
"The months have been flying by, haven't they?" Catherine remarked coolly.
"Yes, and the doctor insists that this be my last social event for the year."
"Well, I'm glad you came," Jon assured her gallantly.
"I'd like to talk over some business dealings with you later, Jon, when you have the time," Stuart interrupted, not wanting to hear about babies and confinements. He found his wife's pregnancy tedious, and could hardly wait until the child was born. The sight of her swollen, misshapen body disgusted him; he'd be relieved when she finally delivered. Thank God, Catherine hadn't done anything so foolish as get with child.
"That'll be fine," Jon was agreeing. "We have yet to greet our other guests, but as soon as I can break away, I'll meet with you in the study."
"Good." Business dispensed with, Roland turned to Catherine, and bending over her hand in courtly fashion, he said, "Mrs. Williams, if I may have the honor?"
"Of course you may," Catherine said quickly, and she stepped onto the dance floor, leaving her husband at Susan's side.
Roland whirled her away into the dancing couples, thrilled to have her in his arms, held close to him. "My God, Catherine, that dress is positively sinful."
She laughed throatily. "Why, Roland! My husband thought it quite intriguing."
"Ah, but your husband doesn't know how I'd like to strip it from you and take you right here in the middle of the ballroom floor!"
Again she laughed. "I don't think I can arrange the ballroom floor, but perhaps later . . . in one of the less frequented rooms . . ." She let the sentence trail off and felt the instant response of his body.
"Don't tease me, Catherine. As you well know, I am not a man who appreciates being taunted."
She feigned an innocent look. "But darling," she protested, "who said I was teasing?" The thought of making love to Roland under her own roof, with his wife and her husband nearby, fascinated and excited her. How stimulating it would be to be so illicit!
Roland growled low in his throat. "Don't tempt me!"
"I'm not tempting, I'm inviting. Do you think we'd be missed a little later? It's been days since we've been together and I need you, Roland."
His body tensed as he imagined himself deep within the hot, silken confines of her lovely body. "We'll manage—somehow." The music ended, and not a moment too soon as far as he was concerned. Escorting her back to Jon, he smiled leisurely. "Your wife is as graceful and charming as ever."
"She is a treasure." Jon gave Catherine a tender look. "Darling, I think we should mingle. I'll speak with you later, Roland."
"Until then." He nodded and Catherine knew his answer was meant for her.
The evening passed in a whirlwind of dancing, drinking, and eating. The sumptuous buffet Catherine had arranged provided enough delicacies to please even the most discriminating gourmet—consommé à la bonne femme, cantaloupe, fried mountain trout, pigeon pie, roast lamb with mint sauce, asparagus, watercress salad, apricot tarts, charlotte russe, and assorted gâteaux and bonbons—and everyone ate accordingly, not hesitating to compliment their host and hostess on setting such a grand table.
Midnight found Susan seated along the side of the ballroom in the company of the other matrons, while Roland stood in the now-deserted hall, deep in conversation with Alan Harris.
"It's true," Alan insisted, draining his glass of champagne nervously. "He was there day before yesterday."
Roland stiffened at the news. "And?"
"And it seems to me that he might just be getting a little suspicious."
"Does he have any reason to be? Every angle's been covered, hasn't it?" Stuart demanded.
"Yes. There's no way he could find out anything unless he's there when a shipment of our 'merchandise' arrives. The manifests are all altered on board so there can be no possibility of discovery through the paperwork."
"We'll just have to make sure that he's never in the warehouse when the merchandise arrives." Roland leveled a piercing glare at his colleague. "Do you think you can handle that?"
"I'm not sure. You two are dealing together, but the company is still his, you know."
"I know; believe me, I know." For a moment Stuart was lost in thought. "I'm meeting him later and I have a proposal that I hope he'll accept. If he does, we will have the solution to our problem."
"Really?"
Roland nodded. "I've acquired enough capital to buy him out, and that is exactly what I intend to do."
Alan pondered that for a minute. "What if he won't sell? I mean, the company has been in his family for generations. He might not want to part with it."
"I'm not saying he has to get out entirely. I just want to own a controlling share of the company so I no longer have to keep up this subterfuge." His eyes were glittering as he thought of the riches awaiting him once he gained complete control of Williams Shipping.
"Well, let me know how it goes. I'll be anxious to hear." Harris smiled ferally then, as a thought came to him. "There is a shipment due in at any time. Could be here tonight or tomorrow. I've left word that I'm to be notified as soon as it arrives. Would you like to join me in inspecting it?"
Roland masked his feeling of distaste over Alan's obvious lust. "No. I'm afraid young Chinese girls aren't my style, but feel free to samp
le whatever merchandise you want as long as you don't permanently damage it."
Alan nodded, his eyes glowing feverishly as he anticipated the arrival of the ship. They were interrupted then as Laura and Catherine stepped out into the hall.
"There you are." Laura came forward to kiss her husband's cheek. "I've been looking for you."
"You have?" Alan looked at her questioningly.
"Yes, darling. I'd love to dance . . . please?" She gave him a pleading look.
"Of course, my pet," Alan answered smoothly, and he escorted her from the hall, leaving Catherine alone with Roland.
She cast him a heated glance from beneath lowered lashes. "Well, Mr. Stuart, have you been enjoying yourself?"
"Don't flirt with me, Cat," he gritted out, his gaze lingering on the daring swell of her breasts above the low-cut bodice.
"Meet me in the study in fifteen minutes. We won't have much time, but it will be a delightful challenge, don't you think?" She was heady with a feeling of sensual power.
"You're really willing to risk everything?"
"Only for you, my love. Only for you," she told him throatily as she walked away to rejoin her guests.
Roland returned to his wife's side and doted on her tenderly. Susan was such a trusting woman that he knew she would never miss him when he went to meet Catherine, and if she did, it would never occur to her that he might be with another woman.
Catherine drifted gaily among her guests, finally locating Jon.
"Darling, we haven't danced for hours," she complained prettily as she drew him from the group of men he was speaking with, and Jon, ever susceptible to her charms, followed her gladly onto the floor.
"You've missed me, have you?" he asked good-naturedly as they glided about.
To all those looking on, they seemed the perfect couple, he tall and dark, she slender and fair—and obviously in love with each other. Little did anyone suspect that Catherine was alive with a frenzied desire to meet with Roland in a few minutes.
"Abominably, but I know I shall have you all to myself later, when our guests have gone." She gave him a smoldering look and Jon smiled in response to her unspoken invitation.