Eden's Spell (20 page)

He was massaging her back, absently, but his fingers felt so good. They eased away the last of her pain; she felt that she had never been cramped and miserable and sick.

He looked down at her, down at the fine lines of her profile against the pillow, the sweep of lashes. The wild mass of fire-colored hair tangled out all around her. Something inside of him quickened, and he wondered himself just what it was about one woman, one special woman, to so effect a man. To make him feel more than laughter, more than tears, more than love. To move a heart, lost in itself, and touch again so deeply all the finest things he thought that he had buried.

There was no rhyme or reason; in defeat, he made the admission. He just knew that he did love her, that he wanted to be with her, to share with her all that life might bring their way.

“Katrina …” His forehead knotted in a frown as he searched for the words. “Katrina, you can't play with the Al Stradfords of this world. All right maybe I did use you; maybe what I did was even worse—”

“Ummmm …” she mumbled out.

He closed his eyes, squeezing his temples fiercely between his fingers. “But, Katrina, I never meant to hurt you, so help me. I never meant to use you. Katrina, I love you.”

She didn't respond. He pulled his hands from his head and twisted around to view her again.

“Katrina?” He shook her slightly; all she did was clench more tightly to her pillow and sigh softly.

Oh, hell! His great confession—and she'd slept right through it. He shook his head; and then had to laugh at himself.

He rose and pulled the covers tightly around her. He paused, very tenderly kissing the top of her head, and then, whimsically, the tips of her limp fingers.

“I do love you, babe,” he said very softly, then left her.

When Katrina awakened, her head was pounding like a set of hammers against twin anvils. With a great effort she opened her eyes, trying to force them into focus.

Jason was standing at the foot of her bed.

“Oh!” she cried, sitting up; then, realizing that she was undressed, pulling the covers to her chest. “Oh, Jason! I'm sorry; I overslept. School! Did you eat? I'll make your lunch; we'll get going.”

“Mom!” Jason shook his head, frowning. “It's Saturday.”

“Oh.” She let her head crash back to the pillow.

“Mom?” She felt a shift in the bed and knew that Jason had perched worriedly by her side. “Can I get you anything? Want some water, an aspirin?”

“Good morning!”

The next voice that accosted her was anything but gentle. It was disgustingly, sickeningly cheerful, and all the worse because it belonged to her brother-in-law.

She groaned deeply and burrowed beneath the sheets, letting out a miserable “Frank! What are you doing here?”

More weight plopped onto the other side of the bed. He tugged lightly at the sheet, bringing it down just below her eyes. His own were darkly mischievous, causing her a moment's heartache, so like James's they were.

“Trina, you look quite pathetic.”

“Thank you kindly, brother dear!” she retorted. Her own voice hurt her head. “Oh, God! What did I do to deserve you this morning?”

“Hey, that's unkind! But I assume that you're paying for a multitude of sins. I thought you might want to sleep this morning.”

“So you woke me up.”

“No, so I came by to take my favorite nephew fishing.”

“Don't let him flatter you, Jason. You're his only nephew.”

“Can I go, Mom?” Jason asked excitedly.

“Yes.”

“Thanks!” She felt Jason's kiss. “I'll go throw a few things in the ice chest, Uncle Frank!”

“You do that, sport!”

Frank hadn't moved. Slowly, carefully, Katrina opened her eyes. His still carried a hint of deviltry, but there was empathy in them, too, so much so that her eyes quickly filled with tears.

“Oh, Frank!”

“Hey! It's not that bad!” he told her softly. “Your headache will go away.”

“It's not that. It's your mother, Frank! Oh, she saw everything that was going on. What must she have thought?”

“Katrina! If my mother felt anything, it was concern for you.”

“Concern! No, no! I hurt her, Frank. I—”

“Trina, my mother loved James. With all her heart. She'll never forget him. But she loves you too. She thinks the world of you, and she has since you were a little kid. Katrina, I loved James too. With all my heart. He was my older brother, my idol, the sun, the stars, and the moon all rolled into one. Katrina, I'd admit, if you'd have run off like a spark a month after he died—or even a year—I'd have resented it. But, Kat, in October it will have been five years. That's a long time to be alone, to live like a cloistered nun.” He shook his head, searching for words. “Katrina, don't you see? You're not just an appendage of James to any of us! Not to Dad, not to Mom, not to me. We care about you. And we want you to be happy.”

She groaned softly. “Last night didn't make me happy. It made me sick and miserable.”

Frank chuckled softly. “Yeah, well, you do deserve it. What were you doing, wolfing down martinis like there was no tomorrow? You scared me silly.” He lightly chucked her sheet-covered chin with his knuckles and grew more serious. “Don't get me wrong, Katrina. I have a sense of brotherly protectiveness you won't shake easily. That's why I dragged Mike Taylor out when you disappeared with Mr. Charisma.”

Startled, Katrina twisted to stare at him. “You! No! He was out with that brunette.” She paused, flinching, remembering how kind Amy had been to her. “He was on a date himself.”

“Oh, not really,” Frank said cryptically. He kissed her forehead. “I'm going. Get some more sleep.”

He straightened; she gripped his hand suddenly. “Thanks, Frank. I love you.”

“Love you too.” He gave her hand a squeeze. A second later the living-room door slammed shut; she winced and closed her eyes again, relieved. But sleep wouldn't come to her; eventually she rose and made herself coffee and miserably sipped it.

Impatient with herself, Katrina slipped on a bathing suit and cover-up, grabbed her mask and fins, and headed for the beach. The reef might well be her salvation.

Her footsteps wavered as she walked past the pool and Mike's lab. But there was no sign of life there, and she hurried on by.

Katrina stepped out into the water. She rinsed her mask and secured it to her head. She slipped into her flippers and swam out to the reef.

It was just what she wanted: peace and serenity, fan coral waving in its ghostly dance, brilliant yellow tangs darting around it. A big, ugly grouper passed her, eying her curiously. Far below her, hugging a sand spit, a manta cast its glorious body along with graceful ease. She heard only her own breath, a wind that passed through the snorkel.

It was a beautiful world, but a treacherous one too. It had taken James from her.

Yet she hadn't turned away from the island or the reefs. Why had she turned away from life?

Something snagged at her flipper. Startled, Katrina swung around. Mike was behind her.

She surfaced, ripping her mask from her head and treading water. He rose beside her, tearing his own mask away.

“What are you doing out here?” she cried out, angry and defensive, and not at all ready for another battle of wits.

“Looking for you,” he told her bluntly. “I wanted to see how you were.”

“I'm fine. I just—I just want to be alone!”

His features, well defined with his hair sleeked back, grew tight. “Ah, yes, the solitary Mrs. Denver!”

“If you'd just leave—”

“Leave you alone? Sorry. I'm a believer in lost causes. I like a challenge. The more you fight me, Mrs. Denver, the more I'll be around. I'm a sore loser.”

“And what are you expecting to win, Captain?” she retorted.

“Why, the spoils, of course, that which the victor is always supposed to take.”

Katrina slipped her mask back into place. “Captain, there isn't anything you haven't already had. Now, if you'll excuse me?”

She started back to the shore.

He followed.

She didn't know why she was so determined to lose him, but it was a feeling that was a little bit desperate. She didn't head for the beach; she headed for the mangrove roots to the north of it. Reaching them, she crawled carefully among them, sometimes in the water, sometimes out of it.

But he caught her anyway, so suddenly that his hold unbalanced her and she fell into a foot of water between two long roots.

And before she could get up, he was next to her, locking one long muscular leg over her lower torso, bracing her waist with an immovable arm.

“What do you want?” she demanded, her heart sinking. Surely he could feel the tension in her, see the pulse that beat so furiously in her throat, sense his effect upon her.

He smiled, very slowly and languorously.

“I came to see how you were feeling about my proposal.”

“What proposal?”

“My marriage proposal.”

She laughed nervously. “I barely know you. And I'm not at all sure I like what I know.”

“I beg to differ. You know me very well. And you damned well liked every bit of getting to know me.”

She hissed out something inarticulate, but her attempt to escape his hold was fruitless.

“I thought you were against brute force.”

“Only when it's some other brute.”

“Why are you making a mockery out of—”

“Marriage? I intend no mockery.”

She started to laugh again, determined to be as hard as he. “All you care about is your damned drug and your stinking research!” A look of pain flashed quickly across his features, but she convinced herself she had imagined it. “It can't be love, Captain,” she said scornfully. “And you can't even come up with anything flattering, like—”

“Ah, yes! Mad desire. But then, I've told you that mad desire is my main aim. I've tasted the forbidden, golden fruit, my love, and can't quite forget it. My fault, of course. But I really take such things to heart, Mrs. Denver. You were living like a vestal virgin, and my stinking research brought a halt to it all—so totally, it seems, that I changed you completely. Now you're ready for anything in pants!”

“Oh!” She couldn't move, so she made a wild attempt to bite him, but he crawled over her, securing her wrists with one of his own, barely allowing her to keep her head out of water.

“You're ever so concerned about your reputation. The little coral princess, sworn to celibacy to honor a dead man. But it would be far more honorable to marry one man than to run around with a score of them, wouldn't it?”

“Let go of me! I swear, I will have you court-martialed!”

“Yes, you keep making that promise,” he said impassively. “I think you should accept my solution to your problems.”

“I haven't got any problems! Or at least I won't once you're off my island!”

He just shook his head, sighing. His one hand was free beneath the water, and he used it, stroking her ribs which were bare and susceptible to his touch and the lull of the water.

Then his fingers were feathering lower, rimming the band of her bikini, far too low on her hips.

“Stop it!” she raged.

His fingers went lower, around to the base of her spine, then back again. The bikini slipped against the force of his hand. He had such easy access….

Then his fingers were between her thighs, touching her so that she gasped, shooting her through with liquid heat. He smiled, having found the warmth and proof of arousal that he desired. And he used that proof, moving his touch in a subtle rhythm.

“Quit it, Mike!” she gasped in a plea.

It got her nowhere, not really. Her bikini shifted back into position, but his arms were suddenly around her; his face, strained and intense, was over hers.

“Why? Why do you keep lying to me?” he demanded in a thunderous, frustrated voice. “And, by God, worse still, why do you keep lying to yourself?”

He didn't expect an answer; she couldn't have given him one. His mouth covered hers, searching, tender. His arms were so gentle around her, his kiss so cajoling, so caressing, his tongue a stroke of love and power that filled her….

“Katrina! Katrina! Oh!”

She knew the voice. It came out of a fog. Then it struck her with crystal clarity. It was Nancy's voice. Nancy Denver's voice.

“Oh, no!”

She tore away from Michael; this time he instantly let her go. He was already on his feet, ready to help her to hers.

But she ignored his outstretched hand: She was staring with horror at the beach. Frank's motorboat was pulled up there, and he and Jason were busy securing it high on the sand.

Nancy was in cutoffs and a shirt; they had obviously gone to the mainland to pick her up and take her fishing with them. And she had obviously seen the bodies in the sand, and worried.

And now, across the thirty yards between the sand and the mangroves, she was smiling at Katrina very ruefully.

“See you at the house!” she called gaily, and turned away.

“Come on,” Mike began.

Katrina slapped his hand away with a vengeance. “I want to die!” she shouted at him. “I'm not drunk and I don't have a hangover and I want to die anyway!”

“Katrina.”

She staggered to her feet and burst into tears. For James. For her mother-in-law. For herself. And for the man she just couldn't allow herself to have.

“No! Leave me alone! I beg you, leave me alone!”

He stared at her for a long moment, hands on his hips, silver eyes cold.

“The offer still stands, Katrina.”

“What offer?” she choked out.

“Marriage—if you ever come up with the courage to accept it.”

He strode past her, heedless that he had left his mask and flippers in the waves. Katrina sank back down into the water.