Loving Katherine (18 page)

Her face sobered. “Roan…how can they do that? I mean, with one man after another?” Engraved on her memory was the pure intimacy of the acts of marriage she had explored with this man. That another man should touch her or look at her as he had was beyond her comprehension. She shivered and her eyes were vulnerable as she lifted her gaze to meet his.

The smile curving his lips grew tender and he reached to clasp her fingers within his wide palm. “Kate, there’s no way to compare what you’ve been doin’ with me to what you’re talkin’ about. There’s women who find themselves with nowhere to go and nobody to look after them. Some of ‘em end up with a handful of nothin’, instead of bein’ dealt four aces. I reckon they just do the best they can.”

Her eyes grew dark, and she squeezed his hand. “I couldn’t.”

“No, I don’t believe you could, Katherine. You’d scrounge and scrape and make do somehow, if you had to eat dirt. You’ve got gumption, and that’s the truth.” He scooted his chair closer to her and draped one long arm around her. “You belong to me, Kate. You got any idea how proud that makes me feel?”

Her eyes widened at his words. “Why I declare, Mr. Devereaux. You are becoming more of a Southern gentleman with every mile this boat travels.” she teased. “I don’t mind belonging to a gentleman tonight, I suppose.”

“I used to be a Southern gentleman,” he told her. “Suppose you can settle for a gamblin’ cowhand for tonight?”

She frowned her brow. “The cowhand I can figure. Where’d the gambler come from?”

“After the show, I’m goin’ to escort you to the cabin and spend an hour or so dealin’ a hand of cards.”

She sat up straight in the chair. “I can’t watch? You’re going to tuck me in bed and sit around and play cards?”

“Don’t get all huffy, Katherine,” he said quietly. “It’s not called playin’ cards when there’s money involved. Then it gets to be serious gamblin’, and I don’t need you lookin’ over my shoulder. Matter of fact, I’d feel better if I knew you were locked up in our cabin, safe and sound.”

Only a burst of music from the two men on the stage stopped her from the quick words she yearned to speak, and she swallowed them as music filled the cabin. The fiddle twanged in time with the piano, and the agile fingers of the pair began to play a tune in fine style. Katherine glared at Roan’s smiling face, his attention caught by the music and the three garishly dressed women who had appeared on the raised stage at the end of the cabin.

Their gowns were scarlet and royal blue, with sequins and ruffles in abundance, and their hair was piled in curling profusion, falling in ringlets down their backs. They posed and pirouetted in time to the rollicking tune, finally breaking into song. The lyrics were simple, repeated often and sung with vigor, and soon the entire crowd of gathering passengers joined in.

Without a moment’s pause, the music swung into another song, and the women onstage went through a series of dance steps, lifting their skirts to expose trim ankles and rounded calves as they circled the small area. The audience clapped with enthusiasm at the final flourish of skirts, then listened with rapt attention as the three took turns singing ballads to their eager public.

For an hour they performed—singing, dancing, telling small singsong jokes that set their audience to laughing with a delight Katherine did not share.

“They’re just on the edge of being—” She was lost for a word to describe the nature of the humor she was being exposed to.

“Naughty?” Roan supplied.

She shrugged. “It just isn’t as shiny as I thought it would be,” she admitted in an undertone. “They look sort of…used up, don’t they?”

Roan smiled at her. “You’re growin’ up, Kate. All the women in the world aren’t at one end of the scale or the other. There’re those in the middle. Not upstairs doxies, but certainly not ladies like yourself. Just a few steps up or down, whatever the case may be, makin’ do with what talent they got.”

“It’s full dark,” Katherine said suddenly, looking through the doorway to where the night sky was barely visible over the upper railing of the boat. The floor beneath her feet vibrated with the muffled engine’s rhythm. She sensed a moment’s sadness as she thought of the daily routine of the women who had performed, and the innocent joy she’d felt disappeared. “I think I’m ready to go to bed.”

“Let’s go.” Roan rose without hesitation and grasped her arm, leading her to the nearest doorway and out onto the narrow deck. “It’s about time for the serious gamblin’ to start anyway. Let’s get you safe and sound for the night.”

“You’re determined to do this, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “I’ve spent a lot of hours on riverboats, Kate. Most of them makin’ money.”

Her mouth opened and she halted abruptly. “You’re a gambler?”

He moved her ahead, nudging her with his arm around her waist, catching her as she stumbled. “Only when I know there’s money to be made.”

“Well, I never—” She walked across the threshold of the cabin and waited while he lit the lamp on the wall. Her skirt billowing around her, she flounced onto the edge of the bunk and watched him.

“We’re gonna run low on funds, Kate, and I don’t want to hear about your money,” he told her, stanching the words she was about to spout in his direction. “Now just behave yourself for a while and wait in here for me.”

“What if you don’t win?” Her eyes snapped her indignation as she taunted him.

His smile was quick and laden with promise as he tipped his hat and backed out the door. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I never lose.”

“C
an’t tell if that’s your heart thumpin’ or the paddle wheel hittin’ the water.” His muffled words buried against her breast, Roan voiced his thoughts. Shifting his head just a bit to the left, he grunted contentedly, his mouth opening, allowing his lips to close over a particularly succulent piece of flesh.

“I don’t think I’m even speaking to you, Devereaux.”

“Hmm…hush, Kate. I’m tryin’ to figure this out.”

“I know exactly what you’re trying to do and you might as well know right now—” Her squeal of surprise and his chuckle of amusement were simultaneous. Sliding up her body to claim her mouth for his own, Roan halted her scolding midway. His arms tucked her snugly against him, and his hands roamed at will down the length of her slender back, settling on the curve of her backside.

“This isn’t going to get you anywhere, you know,” she grumbled against his mouth.

“Already got me right where I wanted to be.” His announcement was smug, his words teasing as he nibbled at her lower lip.

“I have an aversion to gambling.”

He sat up, his hair tousled, his brow drawn into a frown of disbelief. “Well, I’ll be double damned! Is that what this’s all about? You’re mad because I won a few hands of
poker last night?” Rising from the bunk, he stalked to the small square window on the outer wall of the stateroom. Magnificently naked, his body rippled with the play of muscles, his back sloping from the solid width of his shoulders to the narrow measure of his hips. The length of his thighs, tightly drawn and thick with the strength of a horseman, drew her eyes, and she focused on the scarred expanse above his right knee.

“I’ve never seen your wound before,” she whispered. A tenderness she could not conceal washed the words with a warmth that cleansed his anger.

He turned quickly, attempting to hide the evidence of his injuries and surgery from her sight, and she cried out her objection as he gathered up his pants from the floor.

“No! Don’t hide from me, Roan.” She moved quickly, crossing the narrow space between them, her arms reaching to hold him. Then he was in her grasp, and her shuddering breath was hot against his chest. She slid like a slender wraith the length of him, her arms and hands swift against his flesh, until she knelt before him, bending to press her mouth against the purpled scars wreathing his thigh. The flesh was mended now, but the pain of the mending was apparent to her and she groaned within herself at the suffering he had experienced.

His hands tugged at her, gripping her shoulders as he murmured her name. “Kate, come on, honey. It’s all right. Only gives me a little trouble now and then. Kate!”

But she would not be soothed. Her mouth opened as she touched the most severe scarring with the tip of her tongue. Then, tracing the line of knotted scar tissue where stitches had pulled flesh to cover the gaping wounds, she delivered damp kisses and tender touches of hands and fingers to his leg. Bending almost double before him, she bowed as a supplicant, unaware of the clenched jaw and glittering eyes of the man she had married.

“You’ve seen it before, Katherine,” he said gruffly.

She shook her head, her hair brushing against his knee. “No…only in the moonlight and from a distance. I didn’t know—” She clasped his knee between her palms and rubbed the flesh with gentle movements, shaking her head, ignoring the tears that flowed without ceasing. Then with a final brush of her lips, she leaned back, her legs folded beneath her, and looked up to meet his gaze.

“You were hurt dreadfully, weren’t you?”

He grasped her hands and lifted her to stand before him, molding her hips beneath his palms, only the fragile fabric of her gown between them. A mocking smile curled his lips as he drew her closer. “I reckon the surgeons did as much damage as the shot they dug out of me. ‘Course, by the time they got to me, it was pretty loaded with pus and dead flesh. Your pa did his best, but there’s just so much a man can do with no doctorin’ skills and nothin’ to do it with.”

She wiped her eyes with quick swipes of her fingers and cleared her throat, sniffing the tears out of existence. “I’m glad he did what he could for you. He said he owed you for dragging him from the battlefield in Virginia. He told me you saved his life.”

“I guess we were even then, Kate. Didn’t matter who did what anyhow. We all just did the best we could. By that time we’d begun to wonder what the fightin’ was all about anyway.” His voice held a tinge of bitterness and she hugged him tightly, as if she would gather to herself the harshness of his memories.

“Did you ever wonder how things happen to be, Roan?” Her voice was muffled against him, and he bent to bury his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet, early morning scent of it.

“Yeah. I’ve often wondered if Charlie knows. You know, he told me to look him up after the war. Told me he’d have a horse for me. Said he’d train one special.”

She laughed, a silent movement of her shoulders and a quiver of her breasts against his stomach. “And you got the special one I’d worked with instead.”

“You were pretty mad at me, weren’t you, Kate?”

“I guess so. You took her away from me. With a few little whispers and some tugging on the reins, you had her going in circles for you. When you got on her, I almost hoped she’d dump you in the dirt.”

He laughed, a sound of muted triumph. “Nah…by the time I got on that sweet little filly’s back, she knew we were goin’ to be just right together. I just had to sweet-talk her a little and coax her into likin’ me.”

She lifted her head and eyed him with new knowledge. “Is that what you did with me, Devereaux? Sweet talk and coaxing and whispering promises in my ear?”

He shrugged indifferently, trying without much success to hide the grin fighting to curl his lips. “I’ll have to admit, you’re one fine filly, Kate. But the sweet talk and the coaxin’ weren’t just to nudge you into my blankets.”

“No?” She waited, willing to be persuaded, hoping for the reassurance of his words of…what? Love, perhaps? No, not Roan Devereaux. He wanted. He might even need. But the words of deeper emotions would not come easily to that wide, mobile mouth. He would give her assurances, tell her how much he was drawn to her curving female flesh. He could make her think she was almost beautiful, in the depths of the night, when his hands made magic against her skin and his mouth gave her pleasure beyond her wildest imaginings.

“No. You’re my wife, Katherine. I needed you like a man needs his woman. You drew me like a bee to a honey tree right from the first, and you knew it. You saw me cuttin’ my eyes at you every chance I got. I knew I was bound to lay claim to you one way or another if I stuck around.”

“Is that why you left?”

He nodded. “I was wantin’ you more than was good for either one of us, Kate. But then I couldn’t do it. You know damn well I didn’t get very far before I turned around and came back.”

“A good thing you did, too. Did I ever thank you?”

He shook his head. “Nope, never did. I figured gettin’ you to marry me was thanks enough. And look what it got me.”

He held her away from him and his gaze traveled down the length of her, from the shadowed tips of her lush breasts to the pink toes curling against the wide planks of the cabin floor. Beneath the gown, she felt a flush paint her flesh. She lifted her hands to push against him and felt the curling brush of hair enfold her fingers as they pressed against his broad chest.

Against the soft flesh of her belly, his arousal made itself known, and she caught a breath at the evidence of his need for her. For her. Not for just anyone, but for Katherine Cassidy. No, Katherine Devereaux…his wife. She leaned against him, her thoughts of turning away set aside. Later, she could dress and prepare for the day. Later, she could find her way to the cabin where breakfast would be served. Later, she could think about seeing to her mares. For now, there was a man who deserved the assurance of her love. For if he could never tell her the words, it would matter little to her. She would lavish upon him all of the love her heart held, until some of it would surely overflow and take seed within his own being and there be nourished until it bore fruit.

Her hands framed his face and her mouth formed the sounds of love he’d learned to listen for. He bent to meet her lips. For now, he could forget the suspicions festering in his fertile mind. He could ignore the faint pangs of hunger nudging at his stomach. He could even put from his mind the string of horses he must tend to within the hour. Katherine was here, waiting, willing and warm against his hard,
rigid frame; and there was nothing in the world more important.

The string of mares and yearlings trailed behind Roan. He looked over his shoulder as he kept his mount to a trot, grinning while he watched the animals tugging and pulling at the restraint of their lead ropes. The side-wheeler had drawn tightly to a bank and dropped the wooden plank from deck to ground. They would only be there for a couple of hours, he’d been warned by the captain, and with those words still ringing in his ears, he’d headed for the edge of the small town where they’d moored.

A grove of trees beckoned from a half mile or so ahead. He quickened the pace of the mare beneath him, anxious to allow the horses an hour of exercise before they were once more tied in place in the stern of the boat. The yearlings were feisty this morning, he thought with a satisfied grin, and he kept check on their frollicking behind him. The packhorse had been left behind, content to stand on three legs and rest in the humid morning air.

Katherine had argued a bit, wanting to come along, but his time was limited, he’d told her, and she’d have to change clothes and saddle up. Besides, she’d been wanting a bath, and the captain had assured him that a tub was available, with two strong deckhands to deliver it to their cabin forthwith. His smile widened as he thought of her pleasure in the warm water and leisurely splashing she was so fond of.

So intent on the yearlings with their scampering about at the end of their lead ropes, he missed the stealthy figure of a man who had been watching him for just such an opportunity for two days. Even now, Abel Sloan slouched on the seat of a wagon he’d rented at the livery stable, clutching the reins and ambling along on his trail as if he were heading for his own spread of land. Only the intent stare from beneath lowered brows gave away the malice he held like a finely
honed weapon against the man exercising the small herd of horses beneath the grove of oak trees.

Somehow the bath wasn’t nearly as enjoyable as she’d expected. The water was nicely heated, the soap was fragrant, and the cabin was warmed by the morning sun streaming through the small windows on the outside wall. Katherine had peered out anxiously before she climbed into the metal tub, estimating the eye level, should anyone on the riverbank be looking toward the windows. Finally satisfied, assured of privacy, she’d shed her gown and climbed into the warm water, relishing the scent of lilacs as she plied the soapy cloth over her body.

It was quiet. Only the far-off cries of children and the thump-thump of the engine at rest stirred the air. An occasional call from another passenger broke the silence. But the voice Katherine’s ear was attuned to was absent, and she moved restlessly within the close quarters of the tub.

“I should have gone with him,” she murmured, squeezing the water from the cloth and hanging it over the rolled edge of metal. Her fingers searched out the bar of soap and clutched it firmly, leaning over the side to locate the wrapping paper. She knelt in the water, folding the precious fragrance in the flowered covering that had contained it since the bath in the hotel in St. Maria.

Katherine smiled, remembering the diffident expression on Roan’s face as he’d presented her with the soap and the new towel. She rose, rubbing her hair with the thick, soft fabric, her memories filled with the pleasure of his thoughtfulness.

“Decided you could use somethin’ a mite softer than that old feed bag you were usin’,” he’d said gruffly.

Her smile widened and she shook her head vigorously, the long strands of dark hair flying about her. Her brush was already laid out and she reached for it, bending from the waist to scoop her hair into one hand. With brisk strokes,
she eliminated the snarls, then her fingers snaked through the strands, braiding quickly.

Naked, she surveyed the cabin. Roan’s neatness had extended to her belongings; her pants and shirts were piled in a tidy stack on a chair, fresh from the hotel laundry in St. Maria. She snatched the topmost pants and reached into her saddlebag for fresh undergarments. Not the fragile beauties Roan had bought to go with her dresses, but the practical cotton drawers she’d made. A camisole top came to hand and she pulled it on, buttoning it quickly, tucking it into the elastic-banded underwear she’d donned. Her slim boy’s pants were next and then the flannel shirt.

The mirror across the cabin reflected her slender figure and she blinked as she recognized herself in the almost unfamiliar getup. “Three days dressed like a lady and I’m forgetting what I really look like,” she grumbled, tugging her boots in place.

The long braid fell down her back, making a damp line down her spine. She grabbed the hat she’d stashed in her saddlebag and punched it into shape before placing it squarely atop her head. A quick look around assured her of her readiness, and she unlocked the cabin door, pulling it closed behind her. The key turned in the lock and then dropped into the pocket of her pants, her index finger stuffing it all the way to the bottom, lest it work its way out and be lost.

A deckhand approached and nodded, looking her over with unveiled curiosity. “Ma’am? Are you going ashore now? Cap’n says we only got a little better than an hour till we push off.” His eyes roamed the length of her, pausing on the slim-fitting boy’s clothing she wore, coasting over the fullness of her bottom and down the slender legs.

Katherine tilted her chin and viewed him with narrowed eyes, defying his assessment with one of her own. “Mr. Devereaux has taken my mares out for exercise, and I intend to join him. Can you direct me?”