Authors: Fela Dawson Scott
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #Historical Romance, #Romance/Historical
“You vile, scheming bitch,” Blake spat out, his fury complete. All caution fled; only a red haze remained.
Katrina stopped and turned back at his vicious words. What made him so angry? Hadn’t Johnny gotten her message? Why hadn’t Blake known she was alive?
Blake stepped forward, his face so near she could feel his breath on her face. The smell of him intoxicated her, leaving her weak and vulnerable, so much so she started to shake. It happened so fast; she could not think, could not speak. In a daze, she stood silent, unable to believe what she heard as he continued his ugly assault.
“Couldn’t you find some other way out of your marriage? Tell me, Katrina, how did you arrange it all so cleverly? How did you get Mack and Ralph to go along with it all?” Blake snorted in a derisive manner. “I guess with enough gold in their filthy hands, those fucking animals would kill their own mothers. And I’m certain you gave them plenty of what they wanted in the first place. They did mention how obliging you were.”
Blake’s mind snapped, the words poured from him in a torrent. Whether he believed what he spewed at her … he wasn’t certain. No rational thought remained in him, only a deep searing pain, ripping at his heart and soul. He turned to an astounded and mute Trevor and laughed, cruel and vile. “So, my friend, you have found out what a good whore my golden-girl is. I hope you are not terribly disappointed to find out she has been with other men, right down to the vermin crawling London’s docks.”
He turned angry, hate-filled eyes back to Katrina and continued, enjoying the shock and pain mirrored in her eyes. Blake had gone too far to stop, driven mad by the months of torment and grief. It all mixed with the hate and anger — the latter winning out to smother any love he had once felt.
“I am sure those two bastards enjoyed what they did to the unfortunate prostitute, and it is because of her I do not regret killing them,” he said. “It makes my stomach turn to think I originally did it to avenge what I believed to be your death. I was a fool to believe all the bloody lies you fabricated. Catherine told me of your whoring — the long line of men you have been with since you came to me …”
He actually couldn’t bring himself to finish, too speak of what they had shared now tainted. “I should kill you myself for all your treachery, you deceiving little bitch.”
Blake reached out and wrapped his strong hands around Katrina’s throat, the feel of it good, glorious, as his fingers tightened their grip. Trevor stepped forward, his own anger darkening his features.
“Take your hands off her,” warned Trevor, his tone dangerous.
Katrina held her hand up and stopped Trevor before he hit Blake. “No.”
Both men looked at her in surprise and were stunned by the flash of anger in the sapphire depths. She looked directly into Blake’s crazed eyes, her own narrowed menacingly. When she spoke her voice held a note of viciousness.
“If you truly believe me to be a
whoring bitch
; I beg you, squeeze the breath from me until there is no more.” She placed her own hands over his, as if daring him to let her go. The violence inside caused her to tremble uncontrollably, her voice rising until she was screaming at him. “If you think me so vile a creature, for God’s sake, end my life. Be done with me, once and for all. At all times you believed the worst in me and nothing will ever convince you otherwise. So kill me, Blake — kill me! I do not want to live knowing you believe these things.”
His grip tightened with deadly peril, but Katrina made no move, her eyes pleading with him to do it. Blake would never know for certain if he could have indeed choked the life from her, because Trevor jumped him and knocked him away. The two men came together like mighty stags, locked together in battle. Seeing the cold fury between them, Katrina reacted. She ran to the library and retrieved a pistol from Trevor’s desk. There was no doubt in her mind they would kill each other, so she returned and lifted the pistol and aimed it directly at them.
“Stop it,” she yelled, her voice breaking through their heated haze. With a pistol bearing down on them, they parted and faced Katrina, neither misinterpreting the look on her face.
“Blake Roberts, leave this house, now. If your intent was to hurt me, you have done so. You are right to say you are a fool, because I know no bigger one than you, but for reasons you are too thick to comprehend. Now go.”
The urge to take the pistol from her and slap her silly tempted Blake. But suddenly, he felt disgusted with the whole ugly mess, and the sight of her made him feel sick. Without another word, he turned and left, slamming the door behind him. The noise echoed about in the entryway as the two people left inside stood frozen in place, uncertain of what to do next.
Katrina stared at the closed door and, inside her heart, another door shut tight. She felt tired and drained, but most of all, she felt an unbearable emptiness descend upon her. Numb and heartbroken, she walked to the stairs and started up them; but Trevor’s hand stopped her. There were questions in his eyes, but still she said nothing.
Trevor guided Katrina into the library and closed the door behind them. He took the pistol from her hand, gently pushed her into a large chair. He poured some sherry into a glass and pressed it into her cold hands.
“Drink this, Katrina. You are terribly pale.”
It came out more an order than a request, but Katrina did as told, grateful for the burning sensation as it went down.
Satisfied to see a small flush return to her cheeks, Trevor took the seat across from her, his voice sad and strained. “Katrina, I wish you would explain what just happened. I believe I have the right to know. Blake and I have known each other a long time, but I had no idea when I ran into him in New Orleans he knew you. I asked him here, thinking your gentleness would ease the pain present in his eyes. I thought to delight him with the special woman in my life. I guess I played the fool myself.”
“I am so sorry if I misled you, Trevor.”
“It was not your doing, but mine,” sighed Trevor. “Please, I need you to tell me why he thinks you were dead.”
Katrina’s eyes darkened with a sadness that tore at Trevor’s heart.
“What is to explain?” answered Katrina, her voice strained. “Blake believes I am so wicked and depraved I arranged my own kidnapping, agreeing to murder an innocent woman to take my place among the dead. All to be free of a husband and marriage I detest. He’s convinced I am a sluttish whore who sleeps with his friends and brother, or anyone else I wish to coax into my bed. He thinks you are my latest lover and perhaps the father of my bastard child. Blake and I were lovers, but now he seems to loathe my very existence, and I fear nothing I can say or do will possibly change his feelings. He will never believe Jason is his son.”
Katrina laughed strangely, but to Trevor it was a sad and bitter cry of pain. “It’s funny, Trevor — for I have done nothing but love him, when I know I shouldn’t. I fought against all odds, against death itself, just to be with him again. I tried to convince myself I didn’t need him complicating my life, and yet, life without Blake would be empty. Now, when I should return the hatred he feels, I cannot. I love him, and I will never stop. I can no more remove him from my mind than I could my heart and soul from my body. There is no hope for us, but there can never be another man in my life. My only solace is that I have Jason, who is a part of Blake.”
Trevor stood and paced back and forth with angry steps. “How can he believe those things about you? You are all that is good and kind; never have I seen you otherwise.” Kneeling before Katrina, he took her hand into both of his and kissed her palm tenderly. “He must be blind not to see you as you really are. You are perfection.”
Katrina removed her hand, lifted his face to look at her, her reply soft, urgent. “No, I am not perfect. I make mistakes — as we all do, but you and Blake have no right to judge me, one way or the other. There is much neither of you know; secrets I cannot tell.”
“No,” Trevor rejected. Exasperated, he threw his hands up in the air and stood again. “I see tremendous love in your heart for the lowest of persons.”
“I also carry a vile hatred you cannot begin to understand. I thirst for revenge like a person thirsts for water. It drives me, it possesses me. Do not burden me with your angelic talk, for I cannot live with it. I am me — good and bad. And until you or Blake accepts both parts of me, you do not know me.”
Katrina’s nerves were shattered and she could no longer control her emotions, feelings of angry despair scorching her.
“I love you, Katrina,” Trevor confessed. “Stay with me, I’ll can give you everything you’ll ever need in life. Stay, please.”
Standing, her anger subsided in light of his tender declaration. Katrina took his face into her hands and looked up into his startlingly clear, green eyes. “I cannot stay, I cannot love you as you love me. I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, for you have been nothing but kind to me and my son. But Blake is a part of me, he is in my mind, he is in my blood, he is in my heart. Blake Roberts is my very soul — he is my very life.”
“You are right, Katrina,” Trevor agreed sadly. “It just would make things so much easier if you could forget him.”
“Life is never simple.” Katrina’s hurt and pain overwhelmed her. “I want to leave for England, Trevor. I want to go home.”
Startled, he started to object but decided it would be unwise. “When?”
“Tomorrow, if possible.”
Sighing, Trevor nodded. “There is a ship leaving from a nearby island tomorrow evening. We will leave in the morning.”
“Thank you,” mumbled Katrina. “I had better see to my packing. I will see you at dinner, Trevor.”
B
Y THE TIME EVENING
came, Katrina felt weary from head to toe, yet she knew sleep would be difficult to come by. If only her mind would cease reliving every moment of what happened. If she could but blot out her memory, if only for one night, so a peaceful sleep could overtake her. Desperate for relief from the turmoil within, her eyes fell on a crystal decanter sitting on a small table across from where she sat.
Why not? Katrina thought, rising from her chair. She filled a glass with the sweet, red wine and quickly drained it. She took the bottle and glass and walked from her sitting room into the bedroom and sat on the bed. It was a beautiful room, done in lavender and blue, but it held no appeal for her tonight. Her only thoughts were of Blake and how he had looked. Had his shoulders always been so broad, his waist so narrow and lean? His muscles rippled beneath the linen shirt he wore and she ached to touch the fine brown hair revealed by the open front of his collar. Katrina remembered every inch of his sun-bronzed face. It had been so long since she gazed upon it, she wanted to caress it, to feel every line, to feel his eyes, cheeks, and lips. To touch his neatly trimmed mustache and soft brown hair curled at the back of his neck. Despite his violent reaction, he still caused feelings to stir deep within her, the long dormant heat instantly aroused.
“Dear God,” mumbled Katrina, “as he attacked me with his vile accusations and his eyes showed me his hatred, I desired him.”
As she drank, Katrina shouted questions to the silent walls. “What manner of woman am I to feel passion when I should feel anger? Why must I love him? Why can’t I hate him instead?” There were no answers and she chuckled darkly at her own foolishness, setting the empty decanter aside. How easily the fiery liquid had gone down. When she stood, Katrina felt light-headed and giddy. Feeling warm, she crossed the room, weaving slightly, and flung open the double doors to her balcony. A cooling breeze filled the room, soothing her warm skin and gently blew her hair from her flushed face.
She closed her eyes and the liquor slowly relaxed her, her anxiety gone. Katrina removed the silk robe and gown she wore, lifted her heavy mane from her neck to allow the wind to flow over her naked skin.
Silently, Blake stood in the shadows of the balcony, his eyes drinking in the sight of her nakedness. The lamplight cast shadows about the room, bathing Katrina’s flawless skin in gold and bringing out flashes of red and copper in her long tresses. She was perfection. As he watched her a scorching heat flowed through him, stirring his desire, the sudden tightness undeniable. Despite the large amount of whiskey he had consumed, it did not dampen the passion she aroused. Since seeing Katrina, Blake could think of nothing but her, and nothing could stop him from seeking her out.
“I see having a child has not ruined your beautiful figure, little one.” As he stepped forward into the room, Katrina opened her eyes, startled by his sudden appearance. “If I am not mistaken, you are lovelier than before.”
His words were soft and husky, leaving no doubt in Katrina’s mind his reason for being there. Blake’s eyes burned like liquid fire as they roved boldly over her and she made no effort to cover her nudity.
“What do you want?” The question was posed from irritation, but the ferocity was lost when the words came out slurred, the wine numbing her lips and impairing her mind.
With deliberate slowness, Blake closed the doors, his eyes never leaving hers, giving her an answer without words.
Katrina raised an amused eyebrow and shrugged. “I would offer you a drink, but it seems I am out of wine. You will forgive my rudeness, I’m sure.”
“Ha,” laughed Blake, the sudden noise causing Katrina to jump. “You are drunk.”
“As you are, sir.” A giggle escaped and she tried to stop it by covering her mouth with her hand. Turning serious, she glared at him. “I repeat, what do you want?”
Blake moved toward Katrina, pulling off one boot, then the other and tossing them aside. “You know what it is I want.”
“Yes, I suppose I do,” Katrina conceded as he moved closer. “Didn’t you get enough satisfaction in hurting me this afternoon? Or do you wish to twist the knife you plunged into my heart some more?”
He shook his head. “No, that is not what I have in mind at the moment.”
“Please, go away,” she whispered.
“Katrina, I’m sorry. I tried to stay away, yet I find myself here.”