Catalina's Caress (3 page)

❧

Catalina paced about the cabin. She had waited nearly a half-hour. Now she was certain Marc Copeland was the inconsiderate and ignorant boor she had thought him.

She had come to beg if necessary, and she carried a magnificent double strand of perfectly matched pearls to offer the man if all else failed. She sat down, doing her best to control the fury that could preclude achieving her purpose. She couldn't afford to shout angrily at Copeland. The sound of approaching footsteps drew her to her feet again, and she turned toward the door, her hands clenched together in front of her to still their trembling.

When it opened and Marc stepped inside, they stood facing each other with only the width of the eight-foot cabin between them. Catalina's first impression was that Marc Copeland was the most flawlessly handsome man she had ever seen.. . and that he was also dangerously wicked.

Marc's reaction paralleled hers. He saw before him a woman of unusual beauty. But he was not about to forget that beauty often provided a shield behind which evil flourished.

He found himself swimming momentarily in gold amber pools—wide and deceivingly innocent eyes.

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, folding his arms across his chest

"So," he said softly, "at least the old gentleman has good taste in his ladies. You are a beauty, my love, but if you have been sent here to dissuade me from turning this boat into a gambling palace, you can go back and tell old Carrington that no matter how inviting a tumble in bed would be with you, it won't get him anywhere."

Catalina gasped, momentarily shocked by this obvious insult. Then she reacted in a flash of wild and brilliant rage.

In three or four long strides, she crossed the space between them and struck Marc as hard as her strength would allow.

"You are a deceitful, cheating, insulting beast of a man, and I loathe you. A woman of any sensibility would be insulted by your touch."

Marc's realization of who she might be was as abrupt as the slap had been, and he reacted like a coiled snake that has been trod upon. He whipped out both hands and grabbed her, slamming her against the length of his body. His arms pinning both hers to her sides, he crushed her close until she gasped from breathlessness and anger.

"Let me go!" she demanded.

In response, Marc favored her with an insinuating smile that spoke volumes about the position in which she found herself. There was not a hair's-breadth between their bodies and her face crimsoned at the feel of his lean hard frame against hers.

He spoke softly. "I do believe I'm being honored by the presence of the elusive Catalina Carrington. My, my," he taunted, "if I had known how delicious you were, I would have made every effort to meet you first instead of your brother. You would have been much more fun to ... handle than he was. Although I have the feeling you would not have been as easy... or would you?"

Moments ago, Catalina had thought she could not be angrier, but now she literally shook with the murderous rage that filled her.

"You are foul scum who preys on the defenseless. If I had a gun, I would take great delight in shooting you."

Marc chuckled. "Anger becomes you. Your eyes look like storm clouds, and your mouth . .. soft.. . inviting," he murmured.

Catalina could only let out one muffled cry of protest before his mouth lowered to take hers.

She struggled valiantly, but his greater size made all her efforts ineffectual. He found her struggle just a little too exciting as she writhed against him, so as abruptly as he had grabbed her, he pushed her away from him.

She staggered back a step or two, her anger returning. Drawing herself erect, despite her ragged breathing she spoke coolly. "What do you want for the title to the
Southern Belle
?"

Marc chuckled. "I don't think you have enough money to buy it back. Maybe I should talk to your father instead."

He saw her face go pale and her hands clench into fists, and he knew he had struck a very vulnerable spot. It did not take him too long to put two and two together. He was pretty sure now that her father still didn't know the truth; she had come to see that he never did. He had another pawn on his chessboard .. . and he meant to use it.

Catalina reached into the small bag she carried and withdrew the pearls. Marc quickly realized that they were of uncommon beauty and probably worth a small fortune. He cocked an eyebrow and gazed at her in silence.

"I have enough," she said coldly. This necklace alone is is worth more than what Seth lost. It was fifty thousand dollars, wasn't it?" She said the words with such scorn that Marc could feel her antagonism across the room.

"Your brother lost this boat," he reminded her calmly.

"I know that, but the sum of money was fifty thousand dollars."

"That," he said firmly, as if he were explaining the facts to a child, "was before he signed the title to me. Now, if you want it back, you'll have to pay the price of the boat... that is, if I remember well, a little over two hundred thousand."

Catalina's mouth opened in shock and her eyes widened at his words.

"You can't mean that! That's robbery!"

"That's the chance you take when you gamble," he declared calmly. "He lost, I won. If you want the boat... pay for it." He watched her hands tremble as she slowly put the pearls back into her bag.

"I take it you don't have that much?"

"Why can't you be reasonable?"

"But I am reasonable," he stated. "I have something you want; it has a price. If you can't pay it... well"— he grinned as he let his gaze rake over her body—"I suppose we could come to some kind of agreement— use some other terms."

It took a minute for his words to register, but when they did Catalina reached a new plane of fury.

"You are truly unbelievable. You are the lowest form of life. How dare you suggest that I... I..."

"You overestimate yourself," he said, his smile broadening. "I never suggested that you do anything. Besides"—he eyed her critically—"you're a trifle small. I imagine you wouldn't be exceptional in bed. Of course, you might change my mind. We could talk it over."

She was nearly choking on the combination of his insults and her desperation.

"I'll find you the money."

"Of course ... you just need to speak to your father. He has an unlimited supply. After all, he's accumulated a lot of other people's."

Tears sprang to Catalina's eyes, which only succeeded in making her angrier. She refused to cry before this monstrously heartless swine.

"You want your boat back that badly?" he asked softly.

"Yes," she replied hopefully.

"I'm in a position to make you a bargain."

"A bargain?" she queried suspiciously.

"Do you want to listen?"

"Yes."

"Come aboard my ship. Share my cabin for three days as my mistress. After that, I'll return the signed deed to you."

He watched the murderous glow appear in her eyes, and knew if she had a pistol she would have shot him. But before she could put words to her rage, he stepped aside and opened the door.

"You have a week to think it over. If you're not here by then"—he shrugged—"I shall continue with my plans for my boat. Good night, Miss Carrington." He chuckled. "Sleep well."

Catalina lifted her chin defiantly. She still hoped that Travis would lend Seth the money he needed. If he did, she would laugh in Marc Copeland's face and tell him what she truly thought of him. She swept past him and was not amused to hear his soft chuckle.

Marc stood near the rail and watched her enter her carriage. He thought of how rewarding it would be to use and discard Catalina Carrington. It would make the taste of revenge even sweeter. In so doing, he would destroy the two things Joseph Carrington held dearest, his daughter and his son—and at the same time.

❧

Marc was still deep in black thought when his attention was drawn to a carriage that had stopped at the foot of the gangplank.

He expected no visitors, but then he was almost always prepared for the unexpected. That sixth sense of his had protected him many times.

He recognized Travis Sherman at once, and wondered what was so important it brought him here so late at night. Then another thought occurred to him. How did Travis Sherman know he'd find him aboard the
Southern Belle
? If he didn't, just who was he planning on visiting? Which Carrington ... and why? He didn't trust any of the Carringtons, and he most certainly didn't trust any of their friends either. He knew a great deal about Travis Sherman, and thought him a very appropriate friend for people like the Carringtons.

He met Travis at the head of the gangplank the moment Sherman stepped on the deck.

"Travis.'' He acknowledged the man's greeting with one word. "What are you doing down here?"

"Had some business in New Orleans and thought I'd drop by to share a little of your excellent brandy while I was here." Travis laughed.

Marc doubted that this was a casual visit, but he would wait until Travis got around to telling him why he had come. Travis's motives were always self-oriented. Marc was certain this man wanted something from him ... and he was reasonably sure of what the something was. He began to wonder just how close Travis Sherman and Catalina Carrington were.

They are two of a kind, he thought, and he decided that she had probably used Travis for reinforcement in case she failed to get what she wanted.

They went to Marc's quarters, where Travis accepted a glass of brandy.

"Always knew you were a smart one," he said, "but getting the
Southern Belle
from the Carringtons is quite a feat. I always thought the old man put a lot of store in her. He sure as hell paid a lot of money to have her built and outfitted like this."

"I'm sure you know exactly what he paid for it." Marc laughed.

"I do."

"And I'm sure you knew how I got it before you came here," Marc added quietly. "Just what do you think you can accomplish that she couldn't?"

"She?"

"Catalina Carrington.''

"So she's been here already. I thought I'd be able to stop her from doing anything so foolish. Maybe," Travis said shrewdly, "she still doesn't have any idea that you hate the Carringtons so badly you can taste it."

"Nothing personal... just business," Marc replied.

"Business ... you conduct business over a card table?"

"If it's necessary."

"Why was it necessary? You could have tried to buy the boat from the old man. You know, Marc, I've an idea there's a whole lot more behind all this than just a gambling debt."

Marc smiled and shrugged, but he had no intention of opening any doors to the past.

"I'd like to buy her from you," Travis stated quietly.

"What makes you think I want to sell her?"

"You can make a hell of a profit. I know you got her for a song."

"Well," Marc said amusedly, "there's profit... and then there's profit."

"What was the debt?"

"Fifty thousand."

"I'll give you a hundred—double your money."

"No."

"Just like that... no thought?"

"No thought, just no. I've no intention of selling her."

"A hundred and fifty."

"No."

"You're crazy."

"And you're anxious," Marc declared coolly. "What's in it for you, Travis, the hand of the Lady Carrington? I don't think you'd part with a hundred and fifty thousand if you didn't stand to get something for it."

"Catalina is not the kind of woman you buy."

Marc chuckled derisively. "Every woman is the kind of woman you buy. They have different prices that's all. I have a hunch 'Lady' Carrington's price is high . .."

"You've bought too many. You don't know the difference anymore."

"If your business is over," Marc said stonily, "I've got a lot to do tomorrow and I'd like to get some sleep."

Travis rose. "Marc, think over my offer. You're asking for a whole lot of trouble. Carrington won't sit still for this. I can save you a lot of grief."

Marc watched Travis through narrowed eyes as another piece of the puzzle fit into place.

"Your magnanimous offer almost overwhelms me. But I can handle my own troubles. Tell 'Lady' Carrington you didn't succeed."

"She didn't send me."

"Of course not... but tell her anyway."

"You can be a hard bastard, Marc."

"I've had a lot of good teachers."

"My offer still stands."

"Forget it. Oh, by the way, when you see 'Lady' Carrington again tell her my offer still stands."

"What offer? When did you talk to Cat?"

"Cat? Very appropriate name. Just tell her what I said, she'll know what I'm talking about. Tell her anytime she wants to discuss my offer she knows where to find me."

"You're a fool, Marc, a fool who's making a lot of enemies."

"At least I know my enemies. It's harder to know friends."

"Maybe you don't know all your enemies. You're careless enough to antagonize the Carringtons. They're more powerful than you know, and they happen to have a lot of friends."

"You among them?" Marc asked casually.

"Of course."

"I have a hunch you expect to do a little 'buying' of your own."

Travis's face flushed and his look revealed his hatred.

"I told you, Cat isn't the kind of woman you buy."

"And I told you, you're a dreamer. She has her price too... and I might just have what she's willing to bargain for."

"You do anything to hurt Cat," Travis warned coldly, "and you might find the Mississippi very deep and very cold."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You do that."

Travis set his glass down and left, not closing the door too gently behind him. Marc gazed at the door meditatively. All the plans he had made over the past eight years were working with well-oiled precision ... why, then, did he feel this aggravating twinge of regret. He knew what he wanted to do, and nothing was going to stop him. He would destroy Seth ... then he would bring Catalina to her knees... and after that, he would kill Joseph Carrington.