Gypsy Lady (52 page)

The next
week was a great strain for her—the sound of an approaching rider would make
her drop whatever she was doing, check that her knife was secure, and fly
through the house, Jason's long rifle clutched menacingly in her slim hands.
The second occasion when she met her husband thus, he cocked an eyebrow
amusedly and murmured,
"
Do you know how to use
that thing?"

Scarlet-faced,
she admitted she wasn't
positive,
but
she thought she grasped the idea! Hiding his laughter commendably, he proceeded
to spend the afternoon showing her the finer points of priming the rifle and
testing her marksmanship. She was an apt pupil, displaying a gratifying
facility for learning quickly. It had been an agreeable afternoon, and Jason's
expression, as they walked together towards the house, was content. Basking in
the beam of his approval, Catherine was radiant. On the following morning when
Jason returned unexpectedly, she was made even happier when he said,
"Don't worry about Davalos anymore—as we guessed he's on his way to Mexico.
He crossed the Sabine River three days ago, apparently heading for
Nacogdoches."

"Are
you certain? How do you know?"

He
shot her a sardonic look. "You really should have more faith in me, my
love. Did you think I just let him ride away to hide and wait for me like a
coiled snake? Davalos has had two of my men on his trail ever since he made the
mistake of showing up. You should know by now
that very
little escapes
me!"

For a
moment, anger at his insolence warred with relief in her breast, but relief
won out,
a delightful
smile lighting up her entire
face. Dazzled as always by that smile and unable to control himself, Jason
snatched her into his arms and kissed her soundly.

The
threat of Davalos still nibbled at the edges of her mind, but she was so taken
up with the blossoming rapport between herself and her husband that she pushed
thoughts of the Spaniard to the back of her mind. She was young, and she had a
son and a husband, and while he had never said he loved her, her heart cried,
he must— he
must!

Oh,
how she longed to admit out loud that she loved him and have him tell her the
same! For in spite of their increasing closeness, she was never certain exactly
how he felt about her. He was considerate with her, and there was hardly a
night that his warm, hard body didn't possess hers. But then, she had never
doubted his desire for her body. But was that all that drove him into her arms
at night? Wasn't there something more?
Please,
dear God, let there be
more!

The weeks following
Davalos's departure were pleasantly tranquil. Catherine spent many of those
days with Jason, accompanying him as he rode to and from the various tasks that
needed his attention.

The
"little missy," as she was called—dressed in slim- fitting breeches
and a white linen shirt, her hair braided and hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat
and looking more like a slender boy than the wife of the master—became a
familiar sight to the men in the fields, as well as to their wives and
children. Catherine was everywhere, taking a keen interest in every facet of
Terre du Coeur. The small lumber mill Jason had started fascinated her as much
as the exciting and potentially dangerous work of branding and culling those
fat cows that grazed in the sloping valleys. And yet, the news that Sam's wife
was having her seventh child or that Horace's youngest was down with a fever
would take her quickly to the houses of those who needed her help. Without
being overbearing or appearing the haughty lady of the manor, she became very
much the lady of the manor indeed.

Jason,
an odd smile on his handsome face, watched all this with amused pleasure. More
times than not, it was Catherine's presence that was wanted in time of domestic
crisis. For both, the days were busy, and yet there was always time for Nicholas;
and that young gentleman —with two loving parents to dote on him—grew exceedingly
smug.

One
morning, Jason commented on it, saying with an undertone of laughter, "If
we don't want a real terror on our hands, we'd better get busy and provide him
with several brothers and sisters to share his glory. After all, he might grow
up to behave with my arrogance."

Catherine
shot him an uncertain smile. She
never never
knew
exactly how to take those remarks of his. Any thought of more children made her
achingly remember those ugly words he had thrown at Elizabeth. And yet there
was the possibility that she might already be carrying another child.

After
Jason left, she had another attack of the nausea that had appeared lately in
the mornings. Quietly she admitted to herself that she was definitely
expecting. She couldn't be much more than two months pregnant and decided it
must have happened that night Jason had made love to her in the woods and Blood
Drinker had discovered them. Gloomily she wondered if, when Jason was apprised
of her condition, he would cease making love to her until after the child was
born, or until he felt it was time to breed her again. The thought was
distasteful, and her heart shriveled a little. Well, she decided sturdily, if
that's the case, my lady, you had better find it out right away. Tell him at
once.

The
opportunity came sooner than she expected—that very afternoon in fact. It was
another one of those hot, muggy days, and the morning sickness had left her
feeling apathetic and looking wan. At lunch she listlessly pushed her food
around on her plate, and Jason, preoccupied with other thoughts but having
noted her paleness, watched her intently for some minutes before asking,
"Aren't you feeling well?"

Because
the thought was paramount in her mind, she said flatly, "I'm going to have
another child!" Whatever she had expected his reaction to be, it hadn't
been for him to stare at her blankly and say, "Oh," as if it didn't
matter to him in the least.

But
Catherine had chosen an unwise time to fling the news of her pregnancy at him.
They were still groping towards one another, neither quite certain how the
other felt, and while Jason welcomed the coming of a second child, if it was
what Catherine wanted, it was an added complication. And there was Davalos.
Jason was more worried and concerned about Davalos's unexpected arrival than he
revealed—not for himself but because of the possibility of danger to Catherine
and Nicholas—to everyone at Terre du Coeur.

Nettled
at his lack of surprise or pleasure or any emotion at all, she glared at him
and jumped up from the table. "Is that all you have to say?"

He
eyed her consideringly as she stood at the end of table, her dawning anger
apparent from the set of her lips. From her reactions he guessed she was not
happy about the second child and that made his temper rise. What the hell was
he to do about it now? Angry and a little hurt at her attitude, he said the
worst possible thing he could.

His
face expressionless and his eyes hooded, he answered coolly, "What should
I say? You're young and healthy, and I've certainly done my share to insure you
became pregnant. You were bound to breed sooner or later."

Fury
and sick dismay tangled in her throat and throwing him a look filled with
loathing, she fled. Throwing herself face down on the bed, her eyes aching
with unshed tears, she bleakly admitted to herself that all her fears had been
real. He only wanted a brood mare—all his acts of kindness had been merely to
disarm her. Her hand clenching into a white fist, she thought about what a
bloody fool she was! She actually believed he had changed. Thank heaven, she
had not let him see how badly he had tricked her, nor, her breath caught in her
throat, how much she loved him—still, in spite of everything.

The
sounds of nearing hoofbeats drifting in through the opened doors that led to
the veranda made her sit up suddenly. Her face tight with apprehension, she
flew across the room and grasping the railing, she looked down at the two
riders leisurely approaching the house.

It
was not Davalos, but they were strangers to her. No—she recognized Pierre's
slim form riding behind the tall, loose-limbed man who was in the lead. The
man's face was hidden by the wide brim of his hat, but his clothes, as well as
the fluid grace of the thoroughbred he rode, bespoke wealth.

Racing
back inside, she took a quick glance in the mirror, straightening her
lemon-colored gown automatically and nervously pushing a stray tendril of hair
underneath the heavy coronet of braids. Her cheeks and mouth were pale, and
hurriedly she bit color into her lips and pinched her white cheeks until they
bloomed rose. Then with a haunted look in her violet eyes, she started
downstairs.

Pierre,
she knew, had stayed in New Orleans at Jason's request. Jason had told her that
Pierre had grumbled and complained so at the constant moving around that Jason
had felt a holiday would do the little man
good
. He
had set no time for Pierre to return, but as Pierre was of the mind that Jason
could not do without him, Jason had said, with a grin, that when Pierre had
decided that Jason had muddled through long enough without him he would suddenly
appear at Terre du Coeur just as if nothing had happened. And it would seem
Jason's estimation of his valet was correct. She knew one person who would be
extremely glad of the little man's arrival—Jeanne. Despite words to the
contrary, she had been greatly disappointed when she discovered that Pierre was
not at the plantation, and Catherine had then wondered if perhaps Jeanne felt
more for the stiff, very proper manservant than she would admit.

Smiling
briefly at the thought, her hand on the dark oak railing, she hesitated on the
landing, and from the reassuring murmurs coming from the downstairs veranda,
she gathered that these unexpected men were friends. Well, she told herself, if
Pierre was with them they were bound to be.

She
was halfway down the stairs when Jason, his face wearing a guarded smile,
strode inside. The stranger, now hatless, followed him. Instantly, she noted
the similarity between them. They both had tall, lithe bodies, even though
Jason was taller and broader-shouldered. The man's hair was as Indian black as
Jason's, but his temples were silvered.

Jason
caught sight of her standing there, and she really didn't need his, "Ah,
Catherine, come down and meet my father, Guy," to know the man was Jason's
parent.

Guy's
head snapped up at Jason's words, and for the first time she saw his face
clearly. Yes, she could see a resemblance between them, but what reverberated
through her startled brain was the strange awareness that Guy's thin, rakish
features reminded her vividly of Adam. Before she could begin to gather her
scattered wits, Guy was climbing the stairs, two at a time, smiling charmingly.

Grasping
her hand he said, "My dear! You have no idea how happy I am to meet you. I
hope you'll forgive me for intruding upon you this way, but I just couldn't
possibly stay away. I have longed for Jason to marry, and I so wanted to
welcome you to the family."

Responding
to the undisguised warmth in his voice, like a flower to sunlight, she returned
his smile, deciding instantly she was going to adore this handsome father-in-
law of hers.

Together,
they descended the stairs, watched by Jason. His sarcastic smile deepened when
Catherine said, "I'm very happy to meet you, too! Jason has told me very
little of his family, and I assure you that you are not intruding."
Throwing her husband a defiant glance, she added, "It's definitely dull
with just Jason and me here, and your company is most welcome."

A
malicious gleam in his eyes, Jason broke into the obvious rapport between them
by saying, "But things are not
dull!
You
have yet to meet your grandson, Nicholas, and even more
exciting,
Catherine is expecting our second child. You see
how eagerly I follow your advice."

Guy
looked uncomfortable, and Catherine's eyes went dark with pain. With apparent
relish Jason went on, "Yes, my little wife, I never told you but it was my
father who so earnestly advised me to marry and er—ah—breed him some
grandchildren was the phrase, I believed he used."

"Now,
Jason—" began Guy in a troubled tone.

But
Jason cut him off saying harshly, "You two seem so taken with one another,
I'll leave you to become further acquainted. You will no doubt agree on my
vices and have a pleasant time tearing my character to shreds. I'll leave you
to it—I have
work
to do!"

Dismay
breaking over Guy's face, he made an attempt to speak, but Catherine
interrupted tightly. "Yes, I think that's an excellent idea. You've
performed the introductions, so there's no reason for you to linger, is there?
I'll enjoy visiting with your father and showing him his grandson. I hate to
disappoint you, but I'm afraid we'll be much too busy to waste time discussing
your lack of character."

Jason's
mouth
thinned,
and an ugly gleam flickered in his
green eyes. "Do that!" he snapped and flung himself out of the house.

Guy
turned to Catherine, his consternation plain. "My dear, I am most
sincerely sorry if I have chosen an inconvenient time!"

Smiling
brightly, her eyes glassy with unshed tears, Catherine laughed, "Don't be
silly! I can't tell you how much it means to me to have you here. Do you plan
to stay long?"

Taking
his cue from her, Guy answered lightly, "I shall stay until that
bad-tempered son of mine throws me out!"

The
following hours were some of the most enjoyable Catherine had spent at Terre du
Coeur. Guy was plainly delighted with Nicholas, and almost shyly he commented
on her condition. His being so sincerely happy that she was to bear another
child touched her. And as the long afternoon passed, she found herself drawn
more and more to this polite and thoughtful gentleman.

He
flattered her gently on the changes she had wrought throughout the house
saying, "What a difference you have made here! I especially like the
feeling of coolness and serenity you have achieved with your choice of colors.
Before the house always struck me as drab, but now! . . ."

By
unspoken agreement, they did not mention Jason's behavior, and Guy with years
of practice at his disposal made Catherine relax and feel she had known him forever.
She had been dreading dinner, but now with Guy to act as a buffer between
herself
and Jason, she was able to face the meal with
acceptance, if not tranquility. Dinner went surprisingly well—Guy being urbane
and Jason, his
dark face
closed and shuttered, at
least making a pretense of politeness. Catherine was notably silent, smiling at
Guy's witticisms but saying very little. Frequently she felt Jason's hard gaze
on her face, and her heart shook as she thought of the hours ahead when they
would be alone.

After
dinner, the three of them settled down comfortably in the sitting room, the men
with glasses of whiskey and brandy, Catherine with a fragile china cup filled with
tea. The two men had been discussing the situation in New Orleans, and
Catherine's thoughts wandered aimlessly until Guy's words attracted her
attention.

"How
much longer do you expect to remain at Terre du Coeur this year? I know
Claiborne gave you a year's leave, but he wants you back in New Orleans
somewhat desperately. He's coping admirably so far, but he needs all the
support he can muster and not just politically."