A Heart's Masquerade (28 page)

"Why should I tell you anything when you've proven that you won't believe a word of it?" she demanded, lifting her chin.

"Try me," Ransom said, crossing his arms over his chest.

She sighed, but lifted her chin to speak. "I was attacked from behind in Amelia's gardens," she said, raising a hand to rub at the back of her head. "I awoke to the stench of
The Prize
and the warm greeting of a Mr. Blakely, with whom I believe you are acquainted," she added in a snide tone.

"So Devlin was behind it?"

"Well, yes," Cat said, blinking as if in surprise. "Blakely kept referring ominously to his 'superior.' He also said my cousin Edward had a hand in it, although how he is tied to Devlin, I have no idea."

"Blakely didn't say?"

"No," Cat answered. "We did not have a lengthy conversation, thankfully."

She shuddered, and Ransom’s annoyance was overwhelmed by fear and concern. His hand shot out to grasp her arm. "They didn't hurt you?"

"No. You came in time." she said, softly. "Thank you for that."

Ransom's relief was so intense that he felt weak, his arm dropping limply back to his side. His mouth was dry when he managed to speak again. "You escaped when the
Reckless
arrived?"

She nodded. "He left me alone, but I had the knife you gave me, and I found some clothes that enabled me to turn back into Cat."

Ransom's anger at such duplicity was overwhelmed by other emotions when he thought of her swinging to the ship, dodging gunshots. For that matter, memories of her racing up the ratlines of the
Reckless
made him cringe.

"Why take on the disguise in the first place?" he asked, horrified by all the dangers involved.

"My cousin Edward was trying to kill me, so I had to run away at once," she said, with a shrug. "I could think of nowhere to go but to Amelia's and no way else to get there."

"So you tricked everyone aboard into believe you were a lad."

"I wouldn't say tricked."

"Your friend Harry would. And Bert... He'll die of shame when he finds out he befriended a female," Ransom said, shaking his head. "And the infamous 'birth scars' that explained your excessive modestly... You had an answer for everything."

But his initial outrage was fading, for the more he recalled, the more amused he was by her masquerade. The irony of it all suddenly struck him, and he looked at her, really looked at her, warmth and tenderness filling him as he took in the figure he remembered.

The hair was somewhat longer, and that absurd coat, now a soggy mess, sagged from her shoulders. But it was Cat, albeit a bit bedraggled, and he wondered how he could have failed to make the connection.

The odd feeling of familiarity that had so often plagued him was clear now, and he couldn't help admiring her ingenuity. Faced with a threat that would send most women into a faint, she had seized control of her future and sailed through innumerable perils, without complaint.

Clever. Courageous. Caring. Looking at the face that was well known and yet new, Ransom realized that the cabin boy he had cared for was the very same woman he loved. And she was here and alive, and he had been given an opportunity to make things right. Heedless of all else, he reached out to seize that chance for happiness.

"Let's go back now," he said softly.

He well recognized her expression of suspicion. "Why should I go anywhere with you?" she asked, arms akimbo.

Several answers occurred to him, but he voiced the one that rose first and most urgently to his lips. "Because I love you," he said, simply. "I love you more than life itself, for when I thought you were dead, I did not see the point of going on."

At that moment, all his fears concerning this most dangerous of emotions fell away, and he held out his hands, offering up his heart, his hopes, himself. And to his immense relief, she did not refuse him.

With a sob, she threw her arms around him, and Ransom pulled her tightly to him, burying his face against her neck. For a long moment, he simply held her, afraid that she would somehow disappear again, whether as Cat or Catherine.

But soon the feel of her against him sparked new sensations, and desire, long thwarted, hammered in his blood. He tugged at her soggy coat, and Catherine was revealed to him. The thin fabric of the shirt clung like a skin to her full breasts, while the breeches left no curve of her long, slender legs to the imagination.

"And I thought you were a boy," he said, marveling.

"Since than I've...filled out."

"And beautifully, my love," he said.

Suddenly, both her costume and her masquerade became far more appealing than the demure gowns worn by gentlewoman. And suddenly, Ransom realized that there need no longer be any pretense between them.

Lifting her face to his, he took her mouth with a slow deliberation that made his intention clear, and the wet clothes were little barrier as he pulled her close. "I want you, Cat," he whispered, though the nickname sounded odd in this context. "I've wanted you so long... Can you feel how much?"

"Yes," she said, gasping.

"What is it, love?"

She blinked at him, her expression fraught with passion. "I'm having enough trouble breathing," she said. "Don't ask me to talk."

Ransom laughed against her cheek as the outspoken sailor and the beautiful woman merged into one. "Sorry," he said. "No matter what happens, you must not forget to breathe."

The coat made a damp bed on the sand, the water lapping not far away played a gentle rhythm, and the scent of sea and exotic blooms and Catherine filled his senses. He'd made his home here in Windlay because he'd always thought it a sort of paradise. Now he was certain. It was paradise. And he was home.

Slowly, surely, he took his time, stripping away Cat's exterior to reveal the woman beneath. The moonlight shown upon each swath of skin he exposed, lending an unearthly glow to her limbs. And he explored every inch, being careful of the dressing on her leg and lingering over all of the sensitive spots - until she demanded more.

Considered a skillful lover, he had learned how to maintain control even in the most intimate moments, but her ingenuous eagerness played havoc with his restraint. She pulled at his clothing, ran her hands over his body in abandon, and dug her nails into his back.

And when she cried out his name, Ransom Duprey finally lost himself.

Chapter Eighteen

Ransom kissed the head that lay against his chest and curved his arm protectively around the lithe body intertwined with his, more than a little daunted by the powerful feelings this slender being brought forth. Idly running his fingers over her arm, he paused and frowned.

Cat blinked up at him sleepily. “What is it?"

"The scar on your arm. Is that from the cut you received when you saved my life?"

"Now you admit it! At the time you weren't very grateful," she murmured.

"I was grateful," Ransom said. "But I don't like to owe anyone."

"Or care for anyone."

"That, too," he said, grudgingly. "It comes hard for me, but not you. Love pours from you like light."

Cat examined her arm and frowned. "Does it bother you? My scar, I mean," she said.

Ransom shook his head, for she was perfect in every way. "No. I just wish you hadn't been hurt," he said, his voice turning rough with emotion.

"Good," Cat said. "Because I'm sure to have another on my leg. If I keep this up, I'll have more marks than Bull Marston."

Ransom laughed, but her casual mention of future injuries made him uneasy. She had faced far too many dangers in her young life, and he wanted to keep her safe now. His arm tightened around her as he remembered her cousin, who had reached halfway around the world to do her harm. He vowed to attend to that one - and Devlin - as soon as possible.

At this moment, the threats seem far away, but Ransom knew it was unwise to tarry here with few weapons and no clothes. "Idyllic though this spot may be, we should be gone before the sun rises," he said softly.

When he smiled down at her, Cat felt such a surge of love for him, she slipped her arms around his neck to hold him tightly. The ocean, the palms, the stars above, and the man with her made her never want to leave.

"Then again, maybe we should remain awhile longer," he whispered in her ear as she pressed against him. But instead, he helped her to her feet, and she shook the sand from her clothes before donning them quickly.

Then she plopped back down on the beach to watch Ransom at her leisure. It had been a long time since she viewed those broad shoulders shrugging into a shirt, and the moonlight added a certain grace to his movements that sent her pulse racing. Or perhaps it was her more intimate knowledge of that body which made her heart beat faster.

"Do you want to know a secret?" she asked.

In the midst of tugging on his boots, Ransom eyed her askance. "Don't tell me there are more mysteries lurking in your past." But then he leaned close to run a finger along her cheek. "Tell me all your secrets, my love," he whispered, in a voice that sent shivers dancing over her skin.

Cat swallowed hard. "I used to love watching you dress and... undress," she confessed.

Ransom lifted her chin, his expression all heat and passion. "You have my permission to indulge in that pastime as often as you wish. But for now... are you ready to go?"

At her nod, he whistled several times, bringing a handsome black stallion from the trees straight to his side. Swinging onto the animal's back, he easily lifted Cat in front of him and gave the powerful steed its head.

The next few moments were a blur while they galloped along the beach. As Cat clung to him, she remembered the last time they rode together, when Ransom saved her from Edward. It was hard to believe all that had taken place since that fortuitous meeting.

Leaning her head back against his shoulder, Cat savored this moment, with the wind in her face and her captain at her back. No matter what lay ahead, she would always have the sea and the stars, the memory of Ransom's wet body, and this wild ride.

The horse covered the ground quickly, and they soon saw the dim glow of the bonfire that signaled the privateer camp. But Ransom veered away from the beach up a gentle slope into the tall locusts.

Only then did Cat realize they were headed toward Ransom's plantation. And she stifled a gasp of surprise at the size of the place, warmly beckoning, as they moved onto a wide avenue lined with trees.

She was still blinking dazedly when they rode along the side of the house to the stables in the rear. Ransom gave the horse over to the hands of a sleepy boy and led her along a graveled path to the kitchen compound. There the silence was broken by the sound of Cat's stomach growling, and giggling like errant children, they began hunting for food.

"Bananas!" shouted Ransom in triumph, emerging from the buttery, waving a large bunch. Cat leaned back against the brick bake oven and dissolved into laughter. Dressed in sandy, rumpled clothes and clutching the fruit as if it were a great prize, he looked more a common thief than the confident captain of the
Reckless
.

Apparently, Cat wasn't the only person to hold such a view, for a sturdy woman in a robe and kerchief appeared in the doorway carrying a lantern in one hand and a rolling pin in the other. She had a decidedly menacing air about her, and Cat was quickly silenced.

But Ransom was undaunted. "Mrs. Banks," he said, greeting her warmly.

"Your grace!" she answered, lowering her makeshift weapon. "Begging your pardon, but I heard the noise and saw the light. Thought it might be one of those lazy bondmen stealing the food from our very mouths."

"We were just searching for a bite to eat," Ransom explained, his charm quickly working upon the older woman.

"Well, well, let me get you something then! It's a sad day when a duke has to rummage among the leavings in his own kitchens," she said. She roused a house boy to fetch some eggs and ham from the smokehouse, placed some cold muffins in front of them, and began bustling about.

If she was surprised to realize that her master's companion was a female, Mrs. Banks did not show it.  In fact, Cat thought she heard the woman mutter under her breath, "Now maybe we'll see some little ones around here. About time, too."

"What's that, Mrs. Banks?" Ransom raised a brow, while looking slyly at Cat.

"Simply mentioned how I'd like to live to see your children, your grace," the cook answered, without apology or embarrassment.

"So you have said many a time," Ransom said. "And finally, your wish may soon be granted, for the beautiful Miss Amberly, whom you see before you, is going to marry me before the week is out."

Cat choked on her muffin.

"Oh, happy day!" Mrs. Banks cried, clapping her hands.

Ransom sat back, grinning.

Cat could only gape in astonishment as the man, who had once advised his cabin boy never to marry, blithely extolled the virtues of the wedded state to a rapt Mrs. Banks. Although there was much she wanted to say, Cat dared not speak in front of the older woman, so she ate without comment.

After Mrs. Banks's exit, Cat attempted to reason with Ransom over his abrupt announcement, especially since he had not consulted her. But all her protestations at the hasty plans fell on deaf ears. In his infuriatingly confident manner, Ransom claimed that he would procure the necessary license and make all the arrangements.

To Cat's argument that Amelia should attend the ceremony, Ransom said he would send for her. And he assured Cat that Amelia, Lord Claremont, Cordelia, and anyone else she wished to come could be here in a few days' time.

"But you can't just drag everyone from their homes," Cat said.

"Why not? This is my home when I am in these waters," he said. "I've not the patience to sail to the family seat. Though I would like to take you there someday."

"What family seat? Where?" Cat asked, feeling an odd sort of dismay. Only noblemen had such residences, but surely Ransom didn't intend to continue
his
masquerade any further. The time had come for truth between them.