Catalina's Caress (16 page)

❧

Marc sat across the table from China. It was covered by an immaculate white tablecloth, on which fine china settings were placed, and crystal that reflected the light from the chandeliers. He had just looked toward the dining-room doorway for the tenth time, and China was worried. This woman had had more of an effect on Marc than he would admit. That was evident for each time he looked at the door his eyes registered disappointment.

China's greatest value to Marc was her ability to keep her face from revealing any judgment of him. He also relied on her to give him answers he needed before he voiced certain questions.

"She has not entertained him in her stateroom," China said quietly.

Marc's eyes flickered back to her, filled with questions.

"Shawna spent much of the afternoon with her. She likes her."

Marc laughed softly. "Shawna likes everyone."

"Marc, Shawna is like a child. Sometimes children see clearer than grown people whose viewpoints have become jaded by emotions and occurrences."

"This time she's wrong, China. Catalina Carrington is deceitful and spoiled—a little rich girl who is as unscrupulous as her father. She just hides behind a pretty face."

"You find her attractive?" China said, but as she watched Marc's face she found her answer. She knew without turning around that Catalina had entered the room and that her appearance was having a devastating effect on Marc.

Then, as if suddenly remembering that China was watching him, Marc's face froze into an unreadable mask. But it was too late. China knew quite well the turbulence in Marc had been stirred to new heights by Catalina's appearance. She also sensed that this woman was more at his mercy than she realized.

China began to wonder if she should not have a private conversation with Catalina, at least enough of a conversation to find out about her relationship with Marc. He had, so far, refused to share that information.

She still felt as she had at the beginning, that the truth was something Marc didn't know. It seemed to be just out of his reach, and she didn't want to see him hurt anymore, nor did she want to see Catalina suffer for something she'd had no part in.

As Catalina and Travis stood framed in the doorway, Marc suddenly felt he would not be able to take his next breath. She exuded a sense of delicate beauty that reached out with unseen tendrils to coil about his nerves and draw them taut as bowstrings.

Her hair, drawn back severely, left her face open to his hungry gaze, and he could actually feel the silk of her skin on the tips of his fingers. He imagined that he was touching her features, perfect and finely boned, as he looked into eyes touched to gold-amber flame by the glow of the chandeliers. Her cheeks bloomed with delicate color, and the soft curves of her lips would entice the most controlled of men into wanting to taste their tantalizing softness. She was smiling a half-smile that intrigued him. He wondered what she was thinking.

Her gown was cut simply, but its crimson velvet material enhanced her exposed shoulders and drew his eyes to the soft curves of breasts which seemed to swell from the lace trim of the low decolletage. The bright velvet gown made her sable hair seem even darker, yet it reflected the glow of the light and made him remember well the thick satiny feel of her tresses in his hands.

Marc totally ignored Travis until China's soft voice came to him from what seemed a long distance away.

"He is quite handsome, this Travis Sherman. They make a very attractive couple."

Travis was indeed striking, but China felt the coldness within him. A much better judge of the baseness in some men than Marc would ever be, she trusted her instincts. Travis Sherman was a man to be watched carefully.

China was aware also of the current that seemed to draw Catalina's eyes to Marc. She noted her sudden intake of breath and the unconscious parting of her lips as if she had whispered his name. Obviously she had not, for Travis did not react as China knew he would if Marc's name had been on Catalina's lips.

Catalina had stepped into the room, feeling that she was capable of handling anything that might occur. She let her gaze roam across the large elaborate dining salon. It was familiar to her, for her father had often taken her to see the
Belle
being built.

It was a long salon, designed to rival the most beautiful ballroom in New Orleans. The chandeliers were aglitter with reflected light, and the tables were set to accommodate those with the finest taste and the most demanding palates.

Catalina felt pride and satisfaction in what her father had built, and then her eyes met Marc's. She silently groaned and tried to tear her eyes away, but they refused to obey. Instead, they seemed to absorb him.

He was recklessly handsome, his firm, almost sensuous mouth flexed and the intensity of him reminiscent of a cat or a wolf—of strength ready to explode. Despite the black dinner jacket and the froth of white lace at his throat and cuffs, his body was that of a well-tuned animal with long and supple muscles, sinews that flexed and stretched and rippled.

Marc rose slowly and began to move toward them, the sureness of his stride setting Catalina's nerves on edge. Despite her determination to hate him, she had to admire his sensual grace.

"Good evening, Mr. Sherman ... Miss Carrington," he said, and the velvet in his voice inflamed her. It was accompanied by a knowledgeable smile, and she watched him as his eyes raked over her in blatant admiration. "How lovely you look tonight, Miss Carrington. You grace my salon. Would you care to join us?"

Catalina was about to refuse when she saw the woman at Marc's table. China. The idea of meeting Marc Copeland's mistress was intriguing. She did not question her curiosity or fear she would be unwelcome.

"Catalina?" Travis questioned, hoping she would decline. His plans did not include spending any part of the evening with Marc Copeland. But his hopes were dashed as Catalina responded in a voice as cool and smooth as Marc's.

"We would be delighted, Mr. Copeland."

Marc stood aside and bowed slightly to let her pass him. Then he stepped between Catalina and an angered Travis to follow her to the table from which a narrow-eyed China watched them approach.

Catalina meant to be cool and aloof in the presence of Marc's mistress, but as she drew near her, she was aware that she had never seen anyone of such delicate and electrifying beauty. She wanted to dislike the woman, but in honesty she could well understand how Marc could be intrigued.

"China," Marc said with aggravating sweetness, "this is Catalina Carrington and her ... friend, Travis Sherman."

Catalina smiled through gritted teeth. If she had had a knife she would have plunged it, to the hilt, into his breast because of the casual way he had implied that she and Travis were more than friends.

"Good evening, Miss Carrington ... Mr. Sherman." China smiled pleasantly. "Please sit down. I have ordered wine."

Marc held Catalina's chair and "accidentally" let his hand brush her shoulder after she sat down.

Emotions raged through her, emotions so turbulent that she was afraid someone would read them on her face. His touch, like fire, had sent fingers of flame through her.

But he moved away, to all eyes heedless of her response. In truth, his matched hers and he was silently cursing himself for letting her affect him so.

The wine came and the four were silent as it was poured. Then Marc raised his glass to offer a toast, and his eyes glittered with dangerous humor as he spoke.

"To all kinds of friendships," he said. "Productive ... and unproductive."

Catalina stared at him over the rim of her glass, longing to sneer at him, to strike him. It was his smug, self-satisfied expression that riled her. Her thoughts were venomous, but her smile dripped sweetness. She did not intend to allow him to see that any barb he'd used had annoyed her in any way.

She raised her glass to touch his with a soft clink; then she drank half the glass in one quick swallow. On her empty stomach, the wine was potent and a challenging glow appeared in her eyes.

They spent a bit more time with China and Mare; then Travis suggested they return to their table for dinner and Catalina quickly agreed. She was somewhat disturbed because China had not been the kind of woman she'd thought her. Instead, China was quiet, polite, and Catalina was well aware that her dark eyes missed nothing. This was something Catalina would have to consider.

After Travis and Catalina had ordered, Catalina positioned herself so she could look across several tables at Marc. He seemed to be enjoying his dinner with China, for he bent close to her to talk and they laughed often. Distracted, Catalina did not notice how often Travis filled her wine glass.

"Have you asked any questions of the crew?" she asked him. "Or any of the passengers? Has there been any sign of Seth?"

"I've hardly had time to do that, Cat, but I will."

"I've talked to one of his... lady friends," she responded. "Of course she denied any knowledge of Seth. Oh, Travis, someone on this boat must have seen something, even if he—or she—doesn't realize it."

"Cat, for God's sake. I have said I will talk to every member of the crew of this boat. If there are any answers to be found here, we'll find them. Now, let's relax and enjoy our dinner."

"I'm sorry, Travis, I'm just so ..." She shrugged and reached for her wine glass again, to calm her nerves. All of her tension was not, to her deeper distress, due to worry over Seth. Some was caused by the pair who sat together so intimately on the other side of the salon.

Travis smiled as he emptied their second bottle of wine and ordered a third. He watched Catalina's eyes glimmer from the effect of the wine, and he began to think of the pleasure awaiting him.

❧

Willie moved down the semi-dark hall very slowly, prepared to get away quickly should anyone question him. But that was unlikely for most of the passengers were having dinner. He finally stopped before the door he wanted and knelt before it.

He took a thin piece of metal from his pocket. It was four inches long and had a small hook on the end.

Slipping it between the door and the doorjamb he manipulated it for several seconds, until he heard a soft click. He smiled to himself and stood. Then he reached for the handle, turned it, and the door swung open.

Willie glanced up and down the hall. Then he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

"
T
he dinner was exquisite." Catalina laughed. "And I have most certainly had too much wine. I'm slightly inebriated. I would really like to go to my stateroom, Travis."

"One more glass before we ... sleep."

"No, no really, I don't think I should have any more."

She rose, and Travis had no choice but to stand. Catalina wavered for a moment. Then, with Travis's hand on her elbow, she walked from the dining room.

As Marc watched a scowl drew his brows together. His mouth was a firm line of ill-concealed anger. She was laughing, going with the man to share his bed for the night. He wanted to put his hands around her slender throat and squeeze until she begged ... until she spoke the truth ... until she ... He turned to face China again, not wanting to see them leave.

"I wonder," China said thoughtfully.

"Wonder what?"

"If things truly are the way they appear."

"Don't doubt it, China."

"Then why did she deny she's his mistress?"

"What?"

"I said, why did she tell Shawna that she is not his mistress. Surely it is obvious to all, and she must know that he booked passage in adjoining rooms. Yet she denies it. For the short time she was at our table I sensed—"

"China, I'm in no mood for female intuition. Stop trying to see things that aren't there because you don't approve of what I'm doing."

"Marc ... what are your plans for her?"

He smiled at her over the rim of his glass. "Let the lovers enjoy tonight. Before they can do so again I intend to rid the
Belle
of one Travis Sherman. After that"—he chuckled—"we shall see how we can add to the illustrious Catalina Carrington's reputation."

He tossed off the last of his drink and then rose before China could offer anymore arguments. He was already in more difficulty than he cared to admit.

"I'm going up on deck for a smoke before I go to bed. Good night."

"Marc..."

"Good night, China." He reached down to touch her cheek. "Stop worrying about me, and for God's sake, China, she doesn't deserve one minute of your thoughts. She just isn't worth it. Eventually you're going to see the truth. In the meantime, just be there. All right?"

China put her hand over Marc's and her eyes glowed with affection. "As you were always there. I'm sorry, Marc. I just don't want you to make a mistake that will hurt you. You have been hurt enough."

"Good night," he said again. Then, ignoring her pleading look, he turned and left the room.

China watched Marc's broad shoulders until he was gone. Within moments of his departure, she rose and returned to her cabin.

Marc climbed the steps to the top deck. As he did he took a long thin cigar from his breast pocket. He placed it between his teeth, then paused to strike a match against the rail. Turning his back to the breeze, he lit the cigar and then tossed the match overboard. There were no other people about so he walked to the stern of the boat, folded his arms on the rail, and watched the huge paddle wheel slowly churn the water into white froth.

The night was warm, and the moon, full and golden, seemed to be resting on the water. It sent a path of light across the river, dappling it with mellow gold.

No matter how hard he fought her, how deliberately, Catalina slipped within the barriers and touched him. The scent of her perfume spun webs of remembrance, and he could almost taste the soft moistness of her lips. Again he held her cool sensuous body in his arms, tangled his hands in the thick sable shadows of her hair.

White smoke curled past his narrowed eyes as he fought his inability to blot out the vision that leapt into his mind—Catalina writhing in passion in the arms of Travis Sherman.