Gypsy Lady (44 page)

"Playing
the tease again?" he asked in a black velvet tone. His hand was lightly
running up and down her bare arm, and she was unbearably conscious of the
sheerness and flimsiness of the chemise she wore for sleeping. It barely
covered her
breast,
and a tremble of hunger- hunger
for his body to take hers—sped through her veins as his eyes dropped and almost
caressingly rested on the faint outline of her nipples against the material.

But
if she felt desire, she also felt anger—anger at her uncontrollable weakness
for him and anger that no matter what she did it was wrong! Her eyes searched
his closed face, noting the ominous tightening of his jaw and the faint muscle
that jerked in his cheek. In a low voice that was shaking with sudden, fierce
anger, she spat, "What is it you want, Jason? When I respond, I'm a slut.
When I do not, I'm a tease. Just tell me what role I should play to suit
you!" she finished nastily.

Jason's
mouth thinned in anger as fierce as hers, and his hand tightened painfully
around her arm. "Look," he said levelly and with effort, "we have
got to have a talk. And right here is not the place or the time. And whether
intentional or not, sitting outside your wagon clad as you are at this time of
night was an open invitation to any man. I'm sorry," he added
sarcastically, "if I misread your actions."

"Why
are you sorry?" she shot back just as sarcastically as he. "You never
have been in the past."

She
tore her arm from his grasp and turned around to climb back inside the wagon,
but his hands, closing around her shoulders like vises, whirled her back to
face him. "Damn you! You're the most obstinate, hot-tempered shrew I've
ever met. There seems to be just
one
way
that we can communicate," he said grimly. Then before she understood his
meaning, he reached down and picked up a blanket that had been lying near the
front wagon wheel. Stupidly, she stared at it and puzzled, she asked "Is
that where you've been sleeping?"

His
voice hard, he snapped, "Yes! Every night, rather like the faithful dog
protecting his mistress!" He gave a harsh laugh at his words and jerked
her along with him as with fast, long-legged strides he dragged her away from
the sleeping camp.

Suddenly
aware of what he intended, she said breathlessly, "Jason, let me go! Let
me go back!"

He
gave her an angry look.
"Hardly!
We have only one
way of talking and—I feel like
talking."

Hidden
from the wagons by the trees and the underbrush, he stopped abruptly and threw
the blanket down on a soft carpet of pine needles. Making one last effort,
Catherine threatened ridiculously, "I'll scream!"

"No,
you won't!" he said tautly. "Your mouth will be much too busy!"
And pulling her to him, his lips closed down purposefully over hers. This time
he wasn't taking no for an answer!

Weak
with a sense of inevitability, Catherine let his lovemaking drug her into
passion—she wanted him, so why pretend otherwise? No longer did she fight
against the aching swirl of hunger that bit into her loins, almost like a pain,
and when Jason pulled her down onto the blanket and removed her chemise, she
offered no resistance. Dimly in one small part her brain she knew that
afterwards she would hate herself as well as Jason, but then desire exploded in
her veins, and she could no more have denied him than she could control the
spasm of sheer animal need that spread like fire into every fiber of her being.
Blindly her mouth sought Jason's, and her hands were as bold and brazen in
their caresses as his.

Tantalizingly,
she ran her fingers down his chest, each finger leaving a trail of flame and
slowly, slowly, she reached lower across his flat stomach to his groin. Jason
stiffened at her first light touch, and as her hand hovered teasingly he
groaned, "For God's sake, kitten!" Roughly he pulled her hand down
where he wanted it. Then, as if to punish her effrontery at teasing him, he
played with her nearly driving her wild as his mouth and hands followed
remembered hollows and curves until at last he slipped a knee between her
thighs, spreading her legs. His hands and fingers probed
deeply,
creating such a sweetly agonizing ache that Catherine thought she would die of
wanting if he didn't take her soon. Feverishly, her body straining, she let him
know what she wanted, and then when her lips were opening to plead, he took
her, his mouth on hers cutting off the small purr of catlike satisfaction she
gave as at last he slid into her body, his bigness almost hurting her.

As lie moved within her,
the exquisite sensation of his body on hers, the coarse hair of his chest
crushed into the softness of her breast, his hands beneath her tight buttocks
controlling the tremors that shook her, his mouth hard against hers, Catherine
was conscious of nothing, only la- son, and he took her into a world of
intense, blazing contentment his name reverberated through her entire body like
a quivering bowstring—Jason, Jason,
Jason!

Then as she drifted back
into this world, his hands still gently caressing and his lips nibbling
teasingly at the hollow of her throat, as if from a great distance she heard Him
say with an undercurrent of laughter, "You little wildcat! Did you have to
claw up my back?" Then nuzzling her smooth shoulders, he murmured,
"Hmmmm, kitten, I've missed you so. You're in my blood like a fire.
But," he added regretfully, "I'd better get you back before one of
the
guards
stumbles over us—or worse, someone
unfriendly to lovers decides to decorate his scalp belt with our hair.
And," he continued grimly as he pulled on his pants with swift, controlled
movements, "the guard who has this section had better have a good reason for
not discovering us."

A slight sound behind them
made Jason whirl, automatically crouching, the knife Catherine hadn't noticed
appearing as if by magic in his hand. Her eyes wide, she rolled swiftly and
instinctively out of his way, taking the blanket with her. A sudden low laugh
from Jason caused her to look up
sharply, and there—not
more than two feet away, his face expressionless—stood Blood Drinker!

For a moment the tall
Indian stared eloquently at Jason and then like a shadow was gone. Her cheeks
crimson in the moonlight, Catherine asked mortified, "Was he there the
whole time?"

A wide smile slashing his
face Jason, shrugged.
"Probably!
Blood Drinker
is the best man I've got, and no one can make a move without him knowing it.
But don't worry, kitten," he teased audaciously. "He's very discreet,
and his sense of what is seemly is very nice. Knowing him as I do, more than
likely he averted his eyes, ignored your ladylike cries of pleasure, and made
certain no one interrupted us—no one, friend or foe."

Embarrassment flooded her
body, and furious at Jason's unconcerned lightheartedness, she fumbled around
in the darkness searching for her discarded chemise. Finding
the
garment she pulled it on hurriedly. Ignoring Jason's broad-shouldered body she
walked stiffly towards the wagon, outrage apparent with every step she took. Jason's
low laughter taunted in her ears as she climbed
inside,
and it did nothing to cool her temper. Lying down in the soothing darkness of
the interior of the wagon, she felt her cheeks bum with remembered shame. And
the thought of having to face the Cherokee tomorrow made her wish fervently
that the ground would open up and swallow her. How could Jason treat it so
casually?

The
next morning Catherine was unduly subdued, so quiet and withdrawn that Jeanne
was moved to
asked
solicitously, "Is madame not
feeling well?"

Blood
Drinker happened to walk by just then, arid Catherine, her face suddenly
flaming bright red at the suspicion of a smile that twitched at the corners of
his chiseled lips, snapped in a tight little voice, "No! And mind your own
business!''"

Considerably
startled, for madame was notoriously sunny tempered, Jeanne immediately
withdrew into reproachful silence, deciding that this long journey must be
beginning to wear on her mistress's nerves. A happy gurgle from Nicholas
distracted Jeanne's attention, and she forgot about Catherine and her queer
mood entirely.

But
Catherine couldn't dismiss the events of the last night so lightly, and grimly
she climbed up on the seat, her mind filled with a hundred pictures of Jason
and Blood Drinker suffering the most .hideous excruciating tor- tares her
fertile imagination could devise. But as the morning progressed and she had to
face Blood Drinker time and time again, her embarrassment faded, if not her resentment.
After Blood Drinker had ridden by her wagon, several times, slowing each time
to ask Sam a trivial question supposedly at Jason's request, her eyes narrowed
in suspicion, and when the wagons halted at noon for a brief rest, determinedly
Catherine sought Jason out

She
found him shortly, seated astride & rangy chestnut. One long leg was hooked
casually over the saddle horn, his white shirt was opened nearly to the waist,
and his hat was pushed rakishly towards the back of his head. He was busy
roiling a long, slim cigar and diverted for a moment, she watched, fascinated
by the motions of his long fingers. His task finished to his satisfaction,
Jason lit the cigar. Then with the smoke curling fragrantly in his nostrils, he
slanted an eyebrow upwards in question at her presence, and Catherine felt her
heart swell foolishly with love. What a silly goose you are, she scolded
silently, and in a stern voice said, "I want to talk to you."

His
expression quizzical, Jason replied, "So talk. I'm not stopping you."

Her
violet eyes smoldering, she gritted, "Is there any special reason why
Blood Drinker should be asking Sam a multitude of needless questions? Barely a
mile goes by that he isn't riding up to ask some silly question!"

A
twinkle in his green eyes, a grin turning up the corners of his mouth, Jason
stared down, his eyes traveling leisurely over her, noting with undisguised'
amusement the rapid rise and fall of her bosom as she waited for his answer.
Finally, when she was on the point of stamping her foot with rage, he took the
cigar from between his teeth and studying it intently said slowly, "After
last night, I figured you'd be a little uncomfortable around Blood Drinker, and
I decided the quickest way for you to get over it was to have to face him—
frequently!"

"Thank
you very much! Your kindness and thoughtfulness is overwhelming," she said
with stiff politeness.

All
trace of laughter gone from his eyes, they locked with hers for a minute before
he added, "You might not appreciate my methods, kitten, but I do what I
think is best. He's important to me, and I don't like there to be strained
relationships between people who are necessary to me. Understand?" There
was no hiding the thread of steel that ran through his quietly spoken words,
and Catherine glared impotently at him a minute longer before turning on her
heels and stalking back to her wagon.

Blood
Drinker did not pay any more visits to Sam, but that gave Catherine little
satisfaction. Jason had proven his point, and she acknowledged fairly that he
was not one to belabor it. Unfortunately, she was in no mood to find pleasure
in his virtues—
if
he
had any, she tacked on mentally.

The
remainder of the day passed swiftly for Catherine. Not because there was any
particular change in the usual daily routine and not because of any noticeable
change in the terrain, but because she had a great deal to think about. Memory
of Jason's lovemaking last night caused a blush to stain her cheeks more than
once during the day,
but it was those murmured
words he had spoken afterwards that troubled her thoughts. With all her heart
she wanted desperately to read more into what he had said and done. But
afraid—almost terrified—of making a mistake or misreading the motives behind
his actions, she finally put down his words as those any man would say to any
woman in the aftermath of passion.

As
for his hungry assault on her body—well, she told herself bitterly, he hadn't
loved her the first time he'd taken her, so what made the difference this time?
It was a long journey and he'd been without a woman—that was all there was to
it! Firmly she held on to that thought and promised herself silently that, no
matter what, she wasn't putting herself in any situation that would allow
another confrontation with him! Her body betrayed her mind every time,
answering the passion of his touch too swiftly for her to control it. Even now,
viewing last night from a distance, she knew he had only to reach for her and
the hard-won restraint she put on her emotions would crumble like ancient
parchment.

But
as if that night had somehow lifted a barrier between them, Jason began to
seek her out and to display that' charm of his that twisted her heart, and
tenaciously she fought against it Her face stony and for the most part averted,
she ignored the flashing smile that was often directed at her. She pretended
not to hear him when he spoke to her and exasperated him with her icy
composure. His snapped questions received only monosyllabic answers.