Sea Fire (38 page)

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jon’s voice growled from shore, and Cathy turned her head to find him staring at her, alarm and anger combining in his expression. He looked like a tall, bronzed pagan standing there, fists on hips, against the background of white sand and bright blue skies. Clad only in the black breeches, shortened now to the point where they hit him at mid-thigh, he was every inch the arrogant male. Feet planted slightly apart as if he were once again on the deck of a ship, mahogany flesh hair-roughened and stretched tautly over muscles like steel cords, his black hair waving carelessly back from his lean dark face, he was incredibly handsome. Cathy, staring, absorbed this fact, and then, very slowly, smiled at him.

“What does it look like? I’m taking a bath,” she called back pertly. Even at
a distance she could see his jaw tighten. With an impatient oath, he waded into the bay, heading purposefully toward her.

Cathy floated, hair trailing wetly around her, as she watched him approach. When he was just a few feet away, she splashed him playfully. He didn’t smile. Instead, he stood towering over her, his big body almost completely blocking her view of the beach.

“Good God, girl, don’t you have any sense?” he demanded explosively as she just lay there, smiling sunnily up at him. “Not a week ago it was touch and go whether or not you were going to die! And now, the minute my back’s turned, you sneak out for a swim, of all the stupid things! What am I going to have to do, mount guard over you to keep you still?”

“I came out for a bath, not a swim,” Cathy pointed out mildly. Jon’s frown blackened at this non-sequitur.

“I don’t give a damn what you came out for,” Jon said between clenched teeth. “The point is, you’re not to come out at all. I thought that was understood.”

“I’m better now.” Cathy was beginning to feel a trifle sulky. “And I wanted a bath. I felt dirty.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Jon muttered under his breath. Before Cathy had guessed his intention, he swooped, gathering her up in his arms and straightening. She lay cradled against his chest as he waded back toward shore, water streaming from her soaked hair and petticoat, getting him almost as wet as she. He didn’t appear to mind. Suddenly, the absurdity of the situation struck her, and she gurgled with laughter, her hands coming up to teasingly stroke his strong nape.

“Bully,” she called him softly. His gray eyes flashed to her, narrowing on her pale little face.

“You need to be bullied,” he shot back impatiently. “Of all the stupid stunts, this has to take the cake. For your information, there’s a strong riptide in this bay, and you’re not strong enough to fight it. If you’d gone out very far, it likely would have pulled
you out to sea and you would have drowned.”

“Would you have been sorry?” Cathy asked provocatively, her blue eyes gleaming at him from beneath the demure shield of her lowered black lashes. Her hands continued to play idly with the thick black curls at his nape, twining them around her slender fingers, tugging at them. He shot her a quick, penetrating glance, seemingly trying to judge how much seriousness there was in the question. The slight smile on her soft pink lips gave him his answer. She was playing games with him, as she had been ever since she had begun to recover her strength. It was as if she was trying to provoke him into making a confession of his feelings, which he was damned if he was going to do. Love her he might, but he wasn’t fool enough to take the risk of telling her so. Not again. Uncomfortably Jon remembered the words he had uttered that night in the boat, when he had thought her on the verge of death. Every time he thought of the way he had broken down, he felt almost ridiculously embarrassed. If she had any memory of that night at all, he thought grimly, she would no longer have any need to tease him about what he felt for her. She would know beyond the shadow of a doubt, and the knowledge would be a razor-sharp sword poised over his head.

“Well, yes,” he drawled in reply. “You see, I haven’t quite got the knack of handling Virginia.”

“Oh, you!” Cathy exclaimed, exasperated, and pulled his black hair punishingly in retaliation.

O
ver the next few weeks, Jon watched over her like a mother hen, making a ridiculous fuss when she did anything he felt might tax her strength. If he had his way, Cathy thought, annoyed, I’d spend the rest of my life on my back in the shade! Determinedly ignoring him, which was easier by far when he wasn’t around, she at first took daily walks along the beach,
carrying Virginia with her. Gradually she worked up to a regular afternoon swim. Jon had flat-out forbidden her to swim without him, in case she should get caught in the riptide, or get a cramp, but Cathy, tossing her head, refused to bow to his wishes. Not that she openly defied him. If she had, she knew he would find some way of enforcing her obedience to his command. Instead, she operated on the principle that what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him—or her—and while he made his daily forays for food, or to explore the island, Cathy did just as she pleased.

The long days of sunshine and flawless, balmy weather were just what she needed to recover her strength, Cathy thought one afternoon as she lay on the beach with Virginia. The little girl was contentedly sucking on her toe, a habit Cathy had given up trying to discourage, while Cathy herself was laughing at the antics of a pair of land crabs. They scuttled back and forth, battling over a bit of discarded fish, for all the world like two old-world swordists caught up in a duel. Jon had decided to try his luck catching fish in the bay for once. He stood thigh-deep perhaps forty feet away, knife glinting between his teeth as he watched for a silver flash in the deep blue water that would tell him of the presence of a fish. Earlier, he had bragged to Cathy about how he had learned to catch the slippery creatures with his bare hands; when Cathy’s eyes had twinkled, he had volunteered to show her. If she would sit on the beach, and watch, he would catch their supper. So far he had been out there nearly half an hour. He was soaking wet, cursing steadily under his breath, and after several abortive tries, empty-handed. It was all Cathy could do not to chuckle aloud. If she did, she feared he might turn murderous. He had already cast several darkling looks in her direction, which she had returned with bland innocence.

“Maybe all the fish have drowned,” she called to him with a grin, able to restrain herself no longer. He threw her a glittering look over his bronzed shoulder, clearly in no mood for her sauciness. Cathy
chuckled. Standing, she gathered Virginia up in her arms, and started in the direction of the shelter.

“Where are you going?” he demanded, his sharp eyes observing her movement as she had known he would.

“First I’m going to put Virginia down for her nap. Then I’m going to go looking for some gull’s eggs to cook for supper. I fear I’ll starve to death, if I wait for your fish.”

She was laughing at him, her blonde head thrown back and her lovely eyes alight with it. The sight of her carefree mirth went a long way toward soothing Jon’s chagrin. It was a long time since he had seen her looking so well.

“Minx,” he said without heat, abandoning his fishing to come after her, his movements purposeful. Cathy backed, grinning, as he sloshed toward her, his glinting gray eyes promising retribution for her teasing. “I’ll teach you to show a little respect!”

Cathy’s eyes widened to enormous blue pools during this speech, and not because of his words. He was out of the water now, stalking her, his bare brown feet dark against the gleaming white sand. And she was not the only one to notice the startling contrast. Scuttling nearer, so apparently did the larger of the two land crabs. . . .

“Ouch!” Jon howled, leaping a good yard straight up into the air. When he came down, he was holding his foot. A drop of bright red blood welled from the tip of his big toe. He stared down at it, looking so shocked that Cathy went off into paroxysms of giggles. Sinking down into the sand with the force of her mirth, she rocked helplessly back and forth, Virginia clutched to her breast. Jon looked at her, still seeming nonplussed, which made Cathy laugh even more. Speechless, she pointed after the rapidly vanishing crab.

“Damned thing . . . !” Jon muttered half under his breath, watching as the crab disappeared into a hole in the sand. Then his eyes swivelled back toward Cathy.

“Laugh, will you?
” he growled, and advanced on her. His limping gait brought tears of mirth to Cathy’s eyes. Gasping for breath, she could only wait defenselessly for whatever punishment he chose to visit on her. In just instants he stood towering over her, his big body throwing its shadow over her small one. Still Cathy could not control her giggles.

“I’ll wager you planned the whole thing,” he accused, smiling despite himself in the face of her rippling laughter. “You need schooling, my girl.”

With that he caught her upper arms, hauling her mercilessly to her feet. Cathy clutched Virginia frantically, terrified of dropping her. Still she could not hold back the giggles that seemed to have a life of their own.

“Watch . . . Virginia,” she gasped out warningly as he hauled her against his chest. His iron-thewed arm imprisoned her back; she could feel the knife he had replaced in its scabbard digging into her side. Virginia was wedged between them, surprisingly docile in the face of this unaccustomed rough treatment. Jon, thus prevented from coming too close, stared down into Cathy’s small upturned face, his eyebrows trying to frown blackly while his eyes smiled. Cathy’s own eyes were dancing with laughter, he saw, and her face was alight with it. A faint pink color had come up under her skin, making her cheeks seem to glow. Her long hair rippled in deep golden waves down her back; long strands of it, caught up on the gentle breeze blowing in from the bay, rose to caress his face. He looked down at her, and his eyes were caught by her smiling mouth. It was as fresh and appealing as the ripest of cherries, open now as she laughed cheekily up at him, framing her teeth which gleamed in the brilliant sunlight like twin rows of small perfect white pearls. Jon was suddenly consumed with an overwhelming compulsion to taste those sweet lips. It had been so long. . . .

Cathy saw him bend his dark head, and felt her heart give a curious excited flutter. He was going to kiss her, she realized without
any shadow of a doubt, and she was suddenly hungry for it. Shameless to acknowledge that she wanted him, this man who was both the joy and the bane of her existence, lover, tormentor, devil, father to her two children. But want him she did, and he, conceited animal that he was, was probably well aware of it. Her blue eyes deepened almost to purple; her small hand reached up behind his neck to draw his head down. She heard a sharp in-drawing of breath when their mouths met with the heat of an explosion, and was unsure whether it came from him, or was her own.

His mouth devoured hers hotly, his lips and tongue doing delicious things to her insides. Cathy kissed him back without reserve, standing on tiptoe as she held on to him with her hand at the back of his strong neck. Her nails dug into his nape with the force of her passion, but neither of them noticed. Jon’s hands slid down from her waist to fasten intimately on the soft round cheeks of her buttocks, grinding her lower body closely against his. Cathy could feel the iron hardness of him pressing urgently against her, and her toes curled into the sun-warmed sand.

Between them Virginia wriggled protestingly. When that brought no results, she let loose an indignant wail. Cathy seemed to hear the sound from a far distance; only gradually did she realize its source. By then, Jon was already releasing her, his every movement betraying his reluctance. Cathy, staring bemusedly up into his lean face, saw that his eyes were dark with desire. His breathing was labored. He wanted me, too, she realized with a quick flush of happiness. Her lips, slightly swollen from his kiss, smiled tremulously up at him. Her blue eyes shone like stars.

“Virginia. . . .” he said huskily, his eyes never leaving Cathy’s face. Cathy blinked, swallowed, and took a step backward. With Virginia wailing for her supper, now was definitely not the time. But later. . . .

“She’s hungry,” Cathy explained with a self-conscious laugh, suddenly aware of
the way her eyes were eating him. Blushing a little, she glanced quickly down at her squalling daughter. Jon grimaced, and turned away.

“I know exactly how she feels,” Cathy heard Jon mutter under his breath, and smiled a slow, secret smile.

After that, Jon found it almost impossible to keep his hands off her. She was his, his woman despite everything, and he wanted her with a single-mindedness that left room in his head for thoughts of little else. He tried to keep away from her, because just the sight of her slender yet voluptuous body, barely covered by that ridiculously thin petticoat, was enough to set his senses aflame. He could not like leaving her on her own. His knowledge of Cathy was such that he had a lively fear of what scrapes she might get into if he left her long out of his sight. But to be near her was torture of a different sort. Jon compromised, spending many of the hours when he was supposedly off exploring the island for signs of human habitation lying on his belly on top of one of the cliffs overlooking the bay, watching her playing on the beach with Virginia. There he could look, and yearn, but be safely too far away to be unexpectedly consumed by the heat of his own passion. However enchanting her body appeared to him, he had to remind himself—forcibly, if necessary—that she had not yet had time to recover from what he knew only too well had been a hellishly difficult childbirth. It would be criminal of him to touch her as she was, but she was driving him crazy. He couldn’t make up his mind whether or not she was doing it purposely. He rather thought not. There was no way she could know how the least of her smiles could send his temperature soaring skyward, or how the slightest brush of her hand against his body could make his mouth go dry with longing. Being a woman, she could not possibly gauge the strength of his craving for her. . . .