Catalina's Caress (40 page)

❧

Catalina could not lie down, nor could she seek sleep. Her fear for herself was still secondary to her concern for Jacob and Shawna. Sure that they would be killed when the wedding was over, she furiously tried to think of some way to save their lives.

Midnight had passed, but Catalina had lost track of the time. She stood by the window and watched the moon rise higher and higher in the night sky.

Then the lock clicked and the door opened and closed before Catalina realized there was another person in the room with her. She turned and a soft sound involuntarily escaped her when she met the hot gaze of Simon Gere.

❧

As soon as Catalina and Travis had left and the lock had been turned again, Jacob tossed the ropes aside and rose silently from his chair. Shawna sat up, a pleased smile on her face for she had played the game well. Marc would like that, and in her very tiny world that was all that mattered. She watched Jacob move silently to the door and listen, then waited patiently for him to tell her what she must do next.

But Jacob did not know how to escape. Catalina had come and gone. He was sure the visit had been arranged to convince her that they were still alive, but he had no way of knowing where Catalina was being held.

His chances of escaping with Shawna were slim, but if he had to search this huge house, they were nonexistent. Even if he did manage to get out, it would take some time to dodge his pursuers and get to Marc. Still, he was worried about what these men might do with Catalina before he could get back with help.

Jacob was sure of one thing, however. The darkest hour was just before dawn, and that was also the time the guards would be sleepiest. Their alertness would be at its lowest He decided to wait a few hours before making his attempt.

❧

"Sit down, Miss Carrington. You needn't worry about my touching you. I would kill a Carrington or a Garrison, but never find pleasure with one."

"Garrison?"

"Did Travis not tell you that is your lover's real name? Marc Copeland Garrison."

"No he ..." Suddenly the name Garrison brought another swift memory. Marc had referred to Lorelei as Lorelei Garrison; then he had said her married name was Thatcher. Lorelei Garrison! She was amazed at the pleasure this gave her. The lovely woman whose house they had shared was related to Marc—she was not his mistress.

And the masculine room in which they had slept, could it have belonged to Marc? Could that be his home as well? Then, with all his secrets and plans for vengeance, why had he made a special point of taking her to his own home?

Simon stood watching her. He had to admit that Travis and Marc had excellent taste in women. She was a beauty.

Catalina's attention was again drawn to Simon when he crossed the room.

"I have been thinking that it would be appropriate to tell you why you have been a partner, albeit an unwilling partner, in my plans."

"I have never met you," she declared. "Why should I have played a part in your plans?"

"Because you were a means to an end, an end I had in mind long before you were born. Since my plans are almost concluded, and since neither you nor I can sleep, I felt you might want to be told a ... ah ... bedtime story." He laughed softly.

"You hate Marc?"

"I hate all the Garrisons—and the Carringtons since they chose to stand together against me."

"But why, why? As far as I know my father never mentioned your name ... or the Garrisons'. We've no connection to you. What do you hope to gain from all of this, and why have you joined forces with a man like Travis Sherman?"

"Travis Sherman is a tool, a very useful tool," Simon answered. "Sit down," he commanded.

Wanting to know why she was being forced to marry Travis when he had just been labeled a tool in a far larger plan, Catalina obediently sat.

Simon walked to the window and looked out. For some time he was silent and deep in thought.

"We were young together—Pierce, Joseph, and I," he began. "They were brilliant, as I was. If we had remained together, we could have ruled the world."

Catalina remained silent, for it seemed to her that Simon Gere was in another time and place.

"We used our wealth well in those days. We bought whatever we desired ... and whoever we desired. But they were weak, and each let a woman come into his life. I tried to warn them that women could be bought and paid for and discarded. But they chose to marry— both of them. The women sapped their strength, their brilliance, and they became weaker and weaker. They refused one profitable deal after another until I was forced to the wall. I needed them to join with me so I could extend my power. There would have been no limit to it. I could have—" He stopped suddenly and turned to look at her. "Do you have any idea what money and power can do? You can control lives, worlds. I could have had all that, but they refused to back me. They said I was mad for power. They let me fail, and I almost lost everything. But I remembered ... I remembered. I fought back and regained some wealth, but always I remembered. By then they had children, and my vengeance would be richer because I could hurt them more.

"I learned of a business deal they were both involved in. It cost me a lot to insure its failure, but I made it look as though Joseph was responsible for that. And eventually we made the death of Marc's father look like suicide, made it look as though Joseph had ruined him.

"That turned Marc against your family, just as I'd planned. The Garrisons would destroy the Carringtons, and I would eliminate the survivor. Travis was a convenient tool, he was the catalyst I needed to push Marc along in case he became weak like his father. I Wangled your money before Travis, and he rose to the bait." Simon's smile was like that of a death's head. "It seems I shall have to give you to him for a while to satisfy his ... needs. But rest assured, one day the Carrington money—the Garrison money—will all be mine, and so will the power that goes with it."

"And after you have all that, you'll reach out and destroy Travis?"

"Loose ends must be eliminated or they come back to haunt one. Never leave an enemy at your back. He will kill you. Travis Sherman is a conceited fool—and he's expendable now that I have the last of these two families in my power."

"Marc ... what will you do to him?"

"Ah. Young Mr. Garrison. I'm afraid, now that he's served his purpose, he is expendable. Despite what Travis believes, he will eventually come for his friends . .. and for you. It seems he's cursed with the same weakness as his father."

"Weakness? Love, loyalty, friendship. You consider them weaknesses?"

"They are unnecessary burdens that some feel they must carry. With them holding one back, nothing truly important is ever achieved."

"Wealth and power."

"They are one and the same." He chuckled.

"But you didn't answer me. What do you plan to do to Marc?"

"Why, my dear," he said softly, "the very same thing that Travis did to your brother. It will all be over in a very short while."

"Marc will not be that easy to kill," she said with as much conviction as possible. "And I will never be used by Travis Sherman. I'll find a way to escape him. You will not destroy your enemies so easily, but you don't understand that. You're so eaten up by the diseases of greed and hatred that you're hollow inside. Maybe you were always hollow. Maybe that's what my father and Marc's father saw in you. Maybe that's why they avoided you. But they've gifted us with something special, neither of us will surrender easily. You can kill—but you can't destroy that. So you see .. . you've really failed."

For a moment she thought he was going to strike her. She saw him as he was and she had told him so, as two friends had many years ago.

Seeing what hatred had created, she suddenly wanted to face Marc just one more time, to be able to say she loved him, to let that love wipe away the hatred and vengeance that had been in him. At that moment, she would have given her soul to have held Marc in her arms.

"I bid you good night, Miss Carrington. It is useless to talk to you. You are like your father, filled with stupid ideals. You and your lover will pay for them."

"Thank you," Catalina said softly.

He turned away, and after he was gone Catalina found that she was weak and trembling and her body was slicked with sweat. She had never before been in the presence of such complete wickedness.

She felt tired, and for the first time knew a smothering fear. As she lay upon the bed, despite the sweating she shivered. She drew a blanket about her, closed her eyes, and fought to hold onto the dream of Marc. With it in mind, she fell into a restless sleep.

❧

Jacob remained silent as he watched the moon rise higher and higher. Shawna was in a dreamlike state.

For hours he had heard no sound, and he prayed that the alertness of their guards was sapped by weariness. He walked to the door and knelt to look through the keyhole. The two guards were still there, but both were still. He couldn't tell if they were asleep or not, but now was the time....

He walked back to the bed and stood near Shawna; then he reached out to touch her lightly.

"Miz Shawna," he whispered.

Shawna opened her eyes and sat up. She was about to speak when Jacob touched her lips with his fingers.

"Yo talks quiet, Miz Shawna. Ah doan wants de people out in de hall to know we's awake."

"What are you doing up so late, Jacob?"

"Miz Shawna, yo gots ta do sumthin' impotant fo' me. We's got ta' get out of here. Mistah Marc, he be waitin' fo' us."

"All right. What do you want me to do?"

"Can you gets up real quiet like?"

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up, her wide eyes on Jacob as if she were a child following the careful instructions of a teacher. There was no worry in Shawna's mind, no sense of danger. She would do whatever Jacob said because he was her only connection to Marc, and Marc was her only connection to the world.

With a gentle hand, Jacob guided her away from the bed until she stood a few feet from the door, where the light would fall if the door was opened. He prayed Shawna would understand and not be startled by his request.

"Miz Shawna," he said in a low whisper, "yo gots ta take off yo dress."

He waited in breathless suspense to see what her reaction might be. If he had terrified her, she might be of no use to him. Worse yet, she might draw the attention of the guards.

"Why?"

"Because I needs fo' ya ta just stan' dere an' look real pretty so dose men kin see yo belongs to Mistah Marc. When dey does dey gwan to let us go, and I'll takes ya back to de boat."

This explanation was quite acceptable to her, and without question she removed her dress and Jacob placed it on the bed. She would need it soon if his plan went well. If it didn't, she might never need it again.

He looked at her and saw what the two guards would see if they opened the door—a rare beauty with the innocent look of the untouched. Her wide eyes and delicate body would draw the undivided attention of any man.

"Now yo jus stan' dere Miz Shawna and fo' gawd's sake doan look at me. You jus' look at de door. Do yo unnerstan' me, Miz Shawna ... jus' look at de door."

"All right, Jacob. Is this another game?"

"Yessum... yessum, it be jus' a game."

"Okay," she replied. She stood where he told her, and fixed her attention on the door.

Jacob moved so that he would be behind the door when it opened. He sucked in his breath and held it, then reached down, jiggled the knob, knocked very lightly on the door, and waited.

The two guards were in a state of suspension, almost overcome by sleep but struggling to remain awake. Still, they didn't really believe they had to be alert. After all, the doors were locked.

When they heard the gentle rustling of the door and the light knock, they couldn't quite believe their ears. They exchanged glances. The soft rapping came again, and yet again.

"You suppose one of them got loose?"

"I don't see how. What about the girl that was drugged? Do you suppose she's wandering around."

"She was a little... strange. She might get into some trouble in there."

"Maybe we'd better go and check. The old man will have us shot if we let anything happen to them."

They rose and moved stealthily toward the door. One reached into his pocket and removed a key which he slipped into the lock.

Within the room, Jacob heard the key turn and he knew this would be his only chance for freedom. If he failed, there would be no other. He reached out and gently rapped on the door again.

The knob turned and the door was pushed slowly open. The two guards stood, in open-mouthed awe, mesmerized by the eerie vision that met their gaze.

Shawna stood in the path of the light from the hall. She wore a smile, but it was not that or her beauty that drew the men into the room; it was her state of undress. The guards took the few steps Jacob needed.

His strength was more than a match for the two of them, and the element of surprise was an advantage. He reached out two immense hands, caught the side of each man's head, and knocked their noggins together with a solid thud. Then he caught each man by the back of the collar before he had a chance to hit the floor.

Silently Jacob let the unconscious men slip to the floor. Then he stepped over to Shawna whose eyes had widened with fear. She looked as if she were about to scream.

"Miz Shawna, please," he begged softly, "doan yo cry or scream please. Ah'm gwine to take yo to Mistah Marc. Yo wants to go see him doan yo?" Jacob had never been quite so scared in his life. Between the danger in this house and his uncertainty of Shawna's behavior, he was thoroughly shaken.

"Cum on, Miz Shawna ... please," he begged.

Very slowly Shawna extended a hand to him, and he grasped her delicate fingers.

"Now yo cum with me, li'l miss. Ah'm gwine ta take yo where dey can' hurt yo any mo'. Yo'all cum wit' me. We can't save no one but us right now, and I'm still not sho' we's gwine ta do dat yet. So yo cum wid me, li'l miss. Ah'll tak' yo home."

"Home," Shawna whispered. Then she smiled, a confident child's smile. "All right, Jacob. Let's go home. I want to see Marc."