The hours passed swiftly in a flurry of congratulations and dancing, although by evening Cat began to feel she had been claimed far too often by the guests and too infrequently by her husband. Just when she thought she could not endure one more minute with Lord Claremont - or anyone else - Ransom appeared to lead her into the waltz.
By now a blaze of candles lit the room, casting its warm glow on his handsome features. "I can't believe how beautiful you are," he said.
"I could say the same of you," Cat said.
Her husband chuckled softly before leading her through the tall doors to the close-cropped grass outside, where a wide lawn extended into the darkness. The strains of the orchestra's music could still be heard, and light from the open doors and windows played upon the expanse as they danced far too close for propriety, a single shadow in a twilight world.
"What will the guests think?" Cat asked, breathless at the sheer pleasure of being in his arms.
"We're only dancing," he whispered. But then, as though to deny his words, he slowed until they were barely moving, and pulled her against him. Cat pressed her cheek against his chest as they stepped beneath the deeper darkness of a shade tree, the music a soft hum on the breeze. After a time, she felt Ransom's hand upon her hair, and she lifted her head reluctantly.
"We should go in, my love. We may be missed," he said. And yet, neither one of them stirred until Ransom slowly bent his head to hers. The soft pressure of his lips on hers sent warmth surging through Cat, and her fingers trembled as they clutched his waistcoat.
"As you said, we should go on... I mean, inside," Cat said, flustered.
Laughing, Ransom held her in a tight embrace before releasing her. With exaggerated formality, he then presented his arm, which she took with delight. And they slowly walked into the house, leaving the dreamlike world that only they had inhabited for the bright hubbub of the supper gathering.
The festivities ended not longer afterward, presumably so that the wedded couple could retire. Yet when the last visitor took his leave, and the rest of the company took to their beds, Cat and Ransom snuck away to a different gathering.
Slipping out a rear door, they made their way to the beach, where they stood in the shadows for awhile, watching the crew of the
Reckless
celebrate the captain's wedding in their own fashion.
When they emerged to join the gathering, they were greeted enthusiastically, although there was a moment's pause when it was announced that the captain had married his cabin boy. However, Ransom had provided enough libations to make the men more receptive to this development, and they were soon shouting congratulations and bussing the bride.
Bert, totally flummoxed by the news, peered at Cat from under his bushy brows for so long that she finally burst into a peal of husky laughter.
"By the saints, it is Cat," he declared. "Lord love you, no wonder he said there was none like you! Here, let me look at you," he said, taking her hands in his and whistling in approval.
"You do seem like a duchess now, don't you?" he asked loudly, before leaning close. "Now, you stick by him, Cat, for you hold him in these dainty hands," he whispered. Cat nodded in silent agreement, then threw her arms around her old friend.
"Here, now," Bert stammered as she hugged him tightly and Ransom laughed at his first mate's discomfiture.
Toasts were hoisted until Cat swore she could drink no more, and still they went on without her. Bull swung her high into the air, and Tom shouted that
he
would have married her, had he known her gender. Only Harry hung back, seemingly unwillingly to accept that the friend he had shared confidences with was not the same.
"He's such a trickster himself, he's probably miffed that you pulled off a better one," Ransom said, chuckling. "Give him time."
Suddenly, someone piped a tune, and Joe took the bride's hands in a spirited jig. Tom and Bull, two of the few remaining standing by this time, followed. Then Cat was whirling about in Ransom's arms, her heart beating apace.
"Can I lure you away to our marriage bed, my love?" he whispered in her ear. At her breathless nod, they slipped away into the darkness, to the shouts of those sailors still awake.
In the silent house, Ransom swung her into his arms and carried her to his bed, while she giggled with pleasure. "Have you had too much to drink, my duchess?" he asked.
"No," she whispered, before reaching up to kiss him. They undressed each other in the darkness, Ransom with the skill of a lover and Cat with a wantonness for which spirits were only partially to blame. Then they moved together to the middle of the vast canopied bed, clothes scattered about them, and conducted their own private celebration.
***
Ransom watched her sleep with something akin to wonder. Although he knew was acting like a besotted schoolboy, he couldn't help himself.
He could not remember the last time he had awakened beside one of this lovers, for his past relationships were fleeting. Yet holding Cat's slim form filled a need he had never known.
He had seen his share of beautiful, desirable women, as well as some who were passionate, but rarely did those qualities go together, let alone combine with honesty. And yet, Cat was all these things and more: clever and witty, strong and brave, sharing and giving.
Of one thing he was certain: he would never be bored. And he would never want for love or good company, things he had once dismissed, but now cherished. Yet with the recognition of his good fortune came the fear that somehow it would be stolen from him.
Ransom's arms tightened around her, and she sighed sleepily, rolling onto her back to look up at him with those amazing green eyes. How could he not have recognized them? he wondered, shaking his head at his own folly.
"Good morning," she whispered, and Ransom didn't have the heart to inform her of the time.
Later
, he thought, as smiled in sweet invitation and he answered in kind.
***
They spent the next few days entertaining their guests, Cat basking in the warm wishes of her aunt and friends. Although Amelia claimed all were eager to return to Barbados, so the new couple would have some time alone, neither Cordelia nor Lord Claremont seemed anxious to depart. And Lady Ponsonby was more than happy to arrange amusements for the household in the interim.
However, Amelia finally insisted. And despite Cat's sincere protestations and Ransom's half-hearted invitations, the group from Barbados packed their trunks, while Lady Ponsonby left in search of new diversions.
Cordelia was especially reluctant to go. "Say you'll come see me soon," she insisted.
When Cat told her that they might be traveling to England, her disappointment was obvious, though short-lived. "But I could visit you," Cordelia said. "I've never been to England. Oh, Catherine, say you will invite me!"
"Of course."
"And introduce me to all your husband's eligible, titled friends?" Cordelia asked, excitedly.
"I don't know if he has any," Cat said.
"Pooh! A duke must know everyone who is anyone. And in that case, I will forgive you for abandoning me," she said, giving Cat a quick hug.
Cat could not part so easily with her aunt. The carriage was waiting, and still she found it difficult to summon a farewell. At last, she invited her aunt for a walk around the grounds, a pale imitation of Amelia's gardens.
"How can I say good-bye?" Cat asked.
"Don't," Amelia said. "Just say you'll be back to visit."
"I am indebted to you for so much, not the least for taking in a scruffy waif like me," Cat said, while Amelia paused to examine a lilac bush.
"Needs pruning," she advised. "Tell that husband of yours to rouse his gardeners."
Cat smiled at her aunt's words, then gazed into the blue sky above the trees. "Aunt," she said softly. "Do you ever miss the great house, living there, I mean?"
"Good heavens no!" Amelia laughed.
"I was just wondering," Cat said. "It seems to me that Lord Claremont has a... tendre for you."
"Catherine!" Amelia said, obviously surprised. "Or, perhaps I should say, 'your grace'. Oh, that does have a lovely ring to it, doesn't it?"
Cat laughed. "Yes, it does. Thank you for that, too," she said, seriously. "But what about you? Can't I do a little matchmaking?"
Amelia took her hands. "My dear girl, I know that William would marry me in a moment, if only to legitimize our illicit liaison," she said, laughing at Cat's stunned expression.
"But I have no wish to be Lady Claremont," Amelia said. “I would have to live in the great house and entertain, and Snuffy wouldn't let me putter in the garden. Why, that would be no life for me. You see, I'm used to doing things my way."
Cat groped for words, but could find none.
Snuffy?
"Don't worry about me, Catherine," Amelia said. "I'll get alone just fine. I always have. I just want to see you back at the cottage before too long, and with some babies for me to spoil."
***
That night, Cat nestled in Ransom's arms, watching the breeze gently stir the filmy curtains that enclosed the bed. She thought of how often she had lain in bed, dreaming of her captain. Her heart overflowing with the need to tell him - or show him - she rained kisses along his chest until his dark lashes fluttered open.
"Hmm, what's this?" he whispered, drawing her closer.
"I love you, Ransom Duprey," she said, lightly tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertip. "Did I ever tell you about what I learned at the
Cock and Bull
?"
Ransom's eyes widened as he muttered an oath. "I'd forgotten those idiots dragged you there! Remind me to kill both Fields and Williams."
Cat leaned over him, brushing against his skin, and felt his body tense in response. "I met a girl who imparted some interesting information to me," Cat whispered, pressing her mouth to his throat and under his silken hair.
"But I've never had the opportunity to make use of it..." she added. Her voice, husky with desire, trailed off as her tongue dipped along his neck to his finely muscled shoulder.
"Please, go on," Ransom urged hoarsely, his tone showing the strain of his control.
Cat rose above him and smiled seductively. "Actually, instead of telling you, I thought I might demonstrate." She felt the hammering of his heart, and her own raced in reply.
As her head dipped lower, he buried his hands in her hair, and she could hear his sharp intake of breath.
"Just one thing," she whispered. "Don't forget to breathe."
***
The days that followed were idyllic as the lovers spent most of their time in the huge mahogany bed, draped in white gauze, that graced the master bedroom. They ate breakfasts of ripe melons and crisp rolls with honey and jam, lounging among the linens, Cat giggling as something was inevitably spilled.
And she developed a new appreciation for the warm climate. "In England I would have frozen to death spending this much time without my clothes!"
It was not as though they didn't
ever
leave the bed, Cat told herself when she began to wonder if the servants were scandalized. After all, Ransom did show her the plantation and the beauties of the island. It was just that when he pressed his leg against hers under the dining table or she reached out to tousle his hair when they were out walking, they were soon heading back in their room.
Even now, Cat was attempting to avoid the look her husband was sending her from across the table. As she sipped her wine, she sneaked a peek at him, only to see one dark brow cocked in invitation.
"Absolutely not," Cat said, stifling a smile. "I haven't had dessert for days."
"That depends on your definition of dessert," Ransom said, grinning.
Cat laughed aloud, for in truth, she would need little persuading to retire. But just as she was on the verge of capitulating, a manservant appeared to announce a guest.
The words were barely out of the servant's mouth when a man breezed in behind him.
"Aha! Here you are, little one," the stranger said, brushing past the servant to take Cat's hand.
Astonished, she looked into the bluest eyes this side of heaven, covered with the longest, thickest, blackest lashes she had ever seen.
"Mademoiselle Amberly, I presume?" he asked, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
"You are not addressing Mademoiselle Amberly, but the duchess of Worcester, so restrain yourself, Rene," Ransom warned from across the table.
"No!" The gentleman looked astonished as he pulled up a chair.
"Another plate please," Ransom said to the servant in a mild tone.
But when the man had disappeared, Ransom turned once more to his guest with a scowl. "You bastard," he said. "I should slit your throat right now for not telling me the truth."
"But I told you the truth, my friend. I just omitted the minor detail that the woman you were so interested in was the same being that you called Cat, your cabin boy," Rene said, laughing at Ransom's grim expression.
"This, my love, is a living example of the kind of untrustworthy and dissolute profligate to avoid at all costs," Ransom said, introducing his friend.
"We go back a long way, Ransom and I," Rene said, inclining his head toward her husband. He paused to study her soberly and then burst into laughter. "Ah! But it is incredible! To think you had this little beauty under your nose for... how long? Sometimes I wonder if your brains are in your posterior, my friend."
Rene ate with gusto, flirting outrageously with Cat throughout the meal. Later, when the group retired from the dining hall, he continued showering her with compliments, while Ransom watched, seemingly unperturbed.
Brushing aside his flattery, Cat soon had the Frenchman in stitches with a few well-chosen stories of her shipboard escapades.
"How much do you want for her?" Rene suddenly asked Ransom.
"I beg your pardon?" Cat said.
"What makes you think she's for sale?" Ransom asked.
"Ha! It is obvious as the nose on your face that your sailing days are over. You have something else..." For a moment Rene looked serious, but then he snapped his fingers and named a sum.