A Heart's Masquerade (27 page)

At least he wasn't aware of her… yet. Cat was thankful for that and the fact that he had not seemed to guess her secret. For now, she was still an injured cabin boy, but should he wake, she would surely be unmasked.

Her heart started thundering anew. As heady as it was to lie here in his arms, Cat could not bear to face his cold fury again, and if she must do so, she would prefer to be in her boy's guise. Lifting his heavy arm as gently as she could, she made her escape.

***

When Cat opened her eyes once more, the bright light of day was dancing into the cabin. She yawned and stretched, drowsily aware of a sense of well-being that lingered from a lovely dream. With a sigh, she sat up in the chair, rubbed her sore neck, and looked about.

Evidently, she had not been dreaming.

Ransom lay in his bed, his handsome features relaxed in slumber, and she felt that familiar tug on her heart. Rising to her feet, she shook her head at the mess that littered the room. Picking up an empty glass, she sniffed. Rum, and stronger than pitch from the smell of it.

Wrinkling her nose, Cat set it aside. She had never known Ransom to drink to excess.
But how well do you really know him?
she wondered
.
It was a question she did not care to consider.

The stink of liquor, no matter how repugnant, reminded her that she had not eaten since sitting down with Amelia far too long ago. Leaving the captain still abed, Cat headed toward the galley, for even the cook's infamous biscuits would be welcome fare.

Cat found Bert there and greeted her old friend with genuine affection. The two ate dinner companionably, Cat trying her best to recapture her old way of speech and lack of table manners. She thanked the first mate for tending to her injury even as the tried to avoid questions about it.

"They impressed me, sir," Cat said, seizing upon the only excuse she could think of to explain her presence on
The Prize
. "I was laid low by a crack to my skull." She rubbed the back of her head for emphasis, finding the small lump underneath her hair where one of the pirates really had struck her.

Bert muttered a few choice oaths. "Seems a man can't take a drink anymore without someone dragging him off to sea against his will."

"Why, they took me right from behind my cousin Jack's tinsmith shop," Cat said, warming to her tale.

"I thought he was a carpenter."

"Uh, he does a little bit of everything," Cat said. Attempting to turn the conversation away from her, she asked, "What made you go after
The Prize
?"

"Ah, it's a bad business, lad, and that's a fact," Bert said, frowning into his cup. Then, suddenly his head came up. "Say, you didn't happen to see a woman aboard
The Prize
, did you?"

"A woman?"

"A woman," Bert said, with a sigh. "Supposedly, Ben took one the captain fancied, and now he's turning himself inside out thinking she's dead."

Cat nearly choked on her biscuit, prompting Bert to slap her on the back with the admonition, "Easy, lad!"

"I find that hard to believe," Cat finally managed to say as she realized the "fancied" female must be her. But if Ransom was feeling any remorse, no doubt it was over the fact that he couldn't question her further about Devlin.

"Oh, it's true enough and a sad sight to see," Bert said, shaking his head.

"Well," Cat began, her brow furrowed in thought. "How do you know this woman was on Ben's ship?"

"We can't be sure. She was snatched from Barbados, and the captain swears Ben's responsible. But now that his ship has been blown to bits, who knows if she was there or not?"

His words brought Cat bolt upright in her seat. "Blown to bits?"

"That's right, lad," Bert said. "Of course, you were a bit under the weather at the time, but the whole thing went up."

Seeing the shocked look on Cat's face, he shook his head. "Don't waste any sentiment on that lot," he said. "Good riddance, I say, for a bunch of more vicious dogs parading around as men I hope never to see again."

Cat nodded. The crimes of
The Prize
's crew were well-documented, and decent sailors and travelers would breathe a bit easier with it gone. Still, she felt a surge of guilt over starting the blaze that had ended so many lives.

Was Blakely among the dead? The memory of the man made Cat shiver. Even in the light of day, safe inside the familiar wooden walls of the
Reckless
, the thought of him chilled her.

Thank God Ransom had come for her, Cat thought. Whatever the captain's motives, he had saved her, and she was so grateful that she was tempted to rush to his side, shake him awake, and admit to everything. But she no longer trusted Ransom Duprey or her feelings for him, so she remained where she was and held to her guise.

"I saw no such female on board," Cat finally said. And it was the truth. "I expect the lady will appear back home, sooner or later." Or so she hoped.

"You could be right, lad, and I wish you would be," Bert said.

"Speaking of home," Cat began. "I fear my cousin... Jack will think I was murdered. I really must get back to Barbados as soon as I can, him being worried and all. Where are we bound?"

"Should be at Windlay about sunset," Bert said. "I don't know how long we'll be there, but we'd be glad to have you aboard until we can get you home. I'm sure the captain will be heading back to Barbados before too long, if only to see if there's been any news about the young lady." He sighed.

"No," Cat said firmly. She was too old for this life and sought to avoid any more of Ransom's company. "I really need to get home. I think I'll look for passage from Windlay."

"I wish you would stay, lad," Bert said, growing pensive. "I know you would do the captain a world of good. He wasn't the same after you left."

Cat's cup clattered loudly as she nearly lost her grip on it. "I think not," she answered with a wry grimace.

When Bert returned to his duties, Cat wandered the gun deck, where she was greeted loudly and heartily by Joe and Harry, who were eager for gossip from land. They pelted her with questions about
The Prize
, and Cat answered evasively until the two finally gave way. After all, it was bad manners to question a sailor about his past - even yesterday's past.

Cat spent the afternoon dicing with them and trying not to look over her shoulder for the captain. From all appearances, the man had drunk enough to keep him abed for some time, but the captain could not be counted on to behave as others would. He was just as likely to show up suddenly at her elbow, ready to interrogate her.

By the time they anchored off Windlay, Cat was nervous as her namesake and had deserted her friends to skulk in the bowels of the ship where she would not soon be discovered. She emerged only after night had fallen, slipping among the crew on deck like a shadow and joining a group bound for shore.

On the beach, a pig was roasting over the fire, while men from the
Reckless
and several women were drinking their fill of rum. Cat was surprised by the darkness that surrounded the camp, for no telltale lights from the bustling port of Addington could be seen.

She cursed her luck when she realized they were anchored off a different part of the island. The ground rose gently behind the fire into a ridge dark with trees, while the beach ran evenly in either direction into blackness. To Cat, nothing looked familiar.

Spotting Tom dancing a little jig by himself, she asked him where the closest settlement lay. After some confusion, the seaman pointed in the opposite direction. And unwilling to draw attention to herself, Cat quietly slipped away into the night.

***

Ransom dragged himself from his bed around nightfall and let Bert force a meal into him. His movements were stiff and unnatural, as if the very fabric of his being was held together by force of will. He ate quickly, methodically swallowing the food, though it tasted like dust in his mouth, while his first mate rattled officiously around him.

Despite his best efforts to hold them back, the revelations of the night before returned to wrench at his insides. The freshness of both his love and loss threatened to overwhelm him, and he gulped back a groan.

"I dreamed about her last night," Ransom said.

Bert grunted. "You can't look for her in the bottom of a bottle, else you'll drown yourself in drink."

"It was so vivid. I could have sworn she was in bed with me," Ransom said, as the memory rushed over him.

""Well, sir," Bert said. "The only one in your bed last night was you... and Cat, of course."

"Cat," Ransoms aid softly. "Where is he?

"Can't say for sure," Bert said.

"Why not?"

"Well, the boy was in a hurry to get back home, on account of his cousin being worried and all," Bert said.

"You let him go?" Incredulous, Ransom raised his voice though his head pounded in reaction. "I didn't have a chance to question him. He might know something. He might have seen her!"

"No, sir. I asked him, and he was quite certain there was no woman aboard. In fact, he suggested the lady might already be back home," Bert said. "It's a possibility, captain."

"Where the devil are we?"

"Windlay," Bert said. "I didn't know where else to go."

Ransom swore sharply. "I suppose the boy has disappeared into Addington."

"No, sir. We're anchored off the plantation."

"So he's taken off along the beach?" Ransom asked.

Bert only shrugged, as if the cabin boy's whereabouts were of little concern, but Ransom felt otherwise. "His haste to depart seems unwarranted, " he said. "And I happen to be curious as to how our innocent little fellow got aboard Butcher Ben's vessel."

"He said he was impressed, captain."

Ransom snorted. "That lad weaves more tales than a silkworm its thread," he said. "This time I'm not swallowing his stories whole. I want the truth, even if have to choke it out of him."

Rising to his feet, Ransom strode to the door amid his first mate's protests.

It was time to get some answers.

***

The moon was rising brightly over the sea when Cat began to question the wisdom of her decision. The light cast an unearthly glow on a beach that seemed to stretch into infinity, while the palms swayed gently, the soft rustling of their leaves a counterpoint to the breaking waves.

It was one of the most peaceful and beautiful scenes she had ever witnessed, yet Cat felt uneasy, as though she were the only human being on the island. Glancing toward the trees, she remembered all the stories she'd heard about the fierce cannibals who had once populated these lands.

But no one stirred, and Cat wondered if the seemingly endless shoreline led anywhere at all. Perhaps Tom had drunkenly misdirected her. But how could she go back?

To still her panic, Cat waded into the water and let it swirl soothingly around her ankles. Comforted by the rhythmic ebb and flow, she was concentrating on the delightful sensation of sand between her toes when she heard an eerie tapping sound.

It was probably just a leaf hitting the bole of a tree, she thought, yet as she strained to listen, she realized she was hearing the muffled sound of a horse's hooves on the sand. Nervous, she looked for a hiding place, but there was none, and the moonlight now appeared to be alarmingly bright.

"Cat!" Her name rang out in the stillness of the night, and with horror, she realized it was Ransom who approached. She broke into a run, sure the horse would trample her.

But in the end, it was Ransom, on foot, who was her downfall. He caught her around the legs, twisting to take the weight of the fall himself, and the two of them rolled over into the water.

It was not what either of them expected.

Intent on capturing his cabin boy, Ransom was slow to realize that the person he was grappling with was not that young man. But eventually, even through the haze of grief and anger, he realized that the wet body entangled with his own belonged to a woman. Soft, yielding breasts pressed against his chest as he turned against the wave, and his hand traced the outline of a slim waist and curving hips.

Whoever it was shook him off and came up from the water sputtering and sounding exactly like Cat. "What the devil are you doing?" she asked, obviously outraged at his assault.

Disoriented, Ransom rose to his feet and wondered if his mind and body were playing tricks on him. The woman before him certainly resembled Cat, but in the darkness it was difficult to tell. With a fierce grunt, Ransom grabbed her chin, forcing her face up to catch the moonlight.

It was Cat, and yet it wasn't... Ransom had seen this face too many times in his dreams to mistake it, and his gaze roamed hungrily over its features: long, wet lashes over sparkling eyes, gently curved cheeks, and a mouth both dainty and delectable.

It was Catherine. And she was alive.

For a long moment, he simply stared, so stunned that he thought his heart would burst. Then, he lowered his mouth to hers, taking possession with an urgency that could not be denied. He kissed her with a fervor of hope and longing and joy such as he had never known, his fingers caressing her cheeks in wonder. Then he kissed them, too, and her brow, and the corners of her eyes, where tears welled...

With a jerk, he raised his head to look at her, but she turned her face away with a sob. "Can't you just leave me be?"

The question acted like a dash of cold water, awaking him from his daze. This was no dream or vision, but a reality in which Catherine stood before him. Yet she was dressed as Cat. He shook his head in confusion before coming to the only possible conclusion - one that he did not care for in the slightest.

This woman had played him for a fool. Dressed as a boy, she had traveled halfway around with the world with him and a group of grizzled seamen, who remained none the wiser. With a grimace, Ransom remembered his own avuncular behavior, which much have provided her with much amusement. No doubt, she had been laughing up her sleeve at him all along.

"No," he said. "If there's one thing I
don't
intend to do it is to leave you be. I would like some answers,
Cat
, beginning with how the devil you got here."