Ignoring the jibe, Cat introduced herself to the animal, talking softly to her and calming her before mounting. As the horse pranced, Cat pulled sharply at the reins, bringing her under control. "Now, let me show you around the plantation."
To her surprise, he let her take the lead, and she urged Beauty toward the edge of the cane fields. When they reached the orchard, she sent Beauty racing between the rows of orange trees. Feeling an exhilaration she had not know since she'd last swung from the rigging, high about the world, Cat was oblivious to all else. But the sound of Ransom's shouts made her slow.
"What the hell did you think you were doing?" The man lashed out at her with such fury that Cat could only blink in astonishment. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
When Cat made no response, he urged his horse closer. "Well?"
"If you can't keep up, then wait for me back at the great house," Cat said, matter-of-factly, and started to turn her horse about.
"Oh, no, you don't," Ransom said, his hands on her reins. "I'm responsible for you, you little idiot, and I have no intention of dragging a broken body back to your aunt."
"Are you saying I can't handle this horse?" Cat asked, looking straight into those angry brown eyes. For a long moment, the two remained where they were, their gazes locked. Then Cat saw something she had never thought to witness: a crack in her captain's facade.
In that instant, Cat caught a glimpse of the Ransom that lay beneath the controlled exterior, a man she longed to know better. But then it was gone. He loosed her reins and shrugged indifferently.
"I can see you are a skilled horsewoman, but I would prefer no more extreme displays."
Frustrated, Cat wanted to call back the man who lay beneath the nonchalant pose, for she sensed something behind his behavior other than a misjudgment of her abilities. Frowning, she sent Beauty into a trot.
They rode through Lord Claremont's property, Cat pointing out the sights, while Ransom explained the finer points of sugar production. Then Cat veered off to her favorite spot, a grove of ancient locusts and wild roses falling in short, natural terraces to a small stretch of beach.
There they dismounted and walked to the edge of the rise, where Cat seated herself, her feet tucked neatly under her. Beside her, Ransom stretched out, leaning on an elbow and looking out over the ocean.
For a long while they simply enjoyed the quiet together as they often had aboard the
Reckless
, and Cat was heartened by the memory of those companionable times. When Ransom finally spoke, it was to ask her more about the island, and Cat responded eagerly.
After explaining, at great length, a fishing technique she'd observed, she waited expectantly. But instead of commenting, he reached over to lift a lock of hair from her cheek.
A hush seemed to fall over them. And when Ransom slid his hand into her hair and pulled her toward him, Cat went without demur, her lips pressing tentatively against his.
It was different this time, Cat thought, as she leaned over Ransom's hard chest. There was no gleam of self-satisfaction in those brown eyes, but a warmth that she hadn't seen since her days as his cabin boy. Sensing a vulnerability in her captain, she kissed him again.
His mood might be different, but his effect on her was the same, for her heart began racing as excitement leapt through her. Lifting her head, she raised herself up to take a breath, which caught in her throat as she looked down at the face that had haunted her dreams.
His lips were still parted as if urging the return of her own, and his eyes were dark with something she did not recognize. It sparked a need in her, and Cat raised a trembling hand to his hair. Who would have thought the strands would be so smooth, so alive?
What little breath Cat had left was knocked from her as he pulled her close and took her mouth with his. The kisses became deeper, longer, more demanding, until Cat moved her tongue against his.
Her heart nearly burst from her chest as she was pulled into a tight embrace and rolled onto her back. The pressure of Ransom's hard body against hers sent new sensations coursing through her, so strong and dizzying that she felt a twinge of alarm. Even she knew that this sort of behavior could lead to things best avoided.
But she was helpless to stop the raging heat and desire. She reached up to curl her hands into his hair as his lips moved along her jaw and up her neck to her ear. She gasped even louder at the appearance of a large, wet, snorting nose.
Cat heard Ransom's low oath as he pushed aside the wandering filly's head, then rose to make sure the horse was properly tethered. But Cat did not lie passively awaiting his return. With a mixture of dismay and embarrassment, she sat upright, trying to tame the hair that had fallen into disarray.
The mood was gone, replaced by relief over the interruption. "I must be going," Cat said, without looking at Ransom when he sat down beside her.
"No, stay," he said, putting his hand on hers, but Cat pulled away with a wry shake of her head.
"You broke the truce," she said softly. "You said you were sorry about the other day."
"Hmm?" Ransom eyed her thoughtfully. "Oh, and so I was. I was sorry I angered you, not that I kissed you."
"I see," Cat said, uncertainly.
"Tell me more of your island," Ransom urged, leaning back once more. And Cat was torn between her desire to avoid his attentions and a yearning to bask in them.
When he made no move toward her, Cat obliged, faltering at first. But soon she was rambling on as though there had been no intimate interlude between them.
She was describing Bridgetown when she noted that the business district "looks like where you have your offices on Windlay." The moment the words left her mouth, Ransom's head tilted imperceptibly toward her, his brow lifted, and Cat cursed her wayward tongue.
"So you've been to Windlay then?" he asked, in a deceptively casual tone that didn't fool Cat. She felt her throat constrict as though she were a rat caught in a trap.
"You've been to Windlay?" Ransom repeated after a pause of deathly silence.
"Why, yes," Cat managed as she pulled at a blade of grass. "I have friends there."
"Do you? What are their names? I know more than a few people on the island."
"Galsworthy," Cat said, plucking the names of long-ago neighbors from her memory.
"Hmm. I'm afraid I've never heard of them."
"I'm not surprised. They moved several years ago," Cat said, wondering why she was so infernally nervous when she used to lie to this man on a daily basis. Before, it had seemed a lark, and she realized with a start just how perilous her adventures aboard the
Reckless
had been.
Perhaps she had been too young and naive to know it at the time, but now she recognized how dangerous this man could be. Despite his careless pose, she felt the menace emanating from him like a physical threat.
"I see," he said softly. "And what did you think of my offices?"
"What?"
"You said you had been to my offices."
"I've never been to your offices," Cat said. "But I had heard that they were on Windlay and that you have a plantation there, too."
"Hmm." Although Ransom seemed to accept her explanation, there was a tension in him that made Cat wary.
How could she have been so careless? At least she had said nothing more revealing... or mentioned the
Reckless
. But the incident proved that she should have done her best to avoid him. It was all too easy to fall back into old habits with this man, especially when he'd seemed more like his former self.
However, Cat laid the bulk of the blame not on old habits, but new challenges. After all, she was used to keeping her head in difficult situations. But her thoughts had been scattered by the intimacies that had taken place here, loosing her tongue and dropping her guard.
And now she didn't know what to do. If she insisted on departing, would that rouse more suspicion? She glanced surreptitiously at her companion, but he appeared untroubled.
"Do you like living here, Miss Amberly?" he asked.
The casual question surprised and relieved her. Perhaps her fears were groundless... "Oh, yes," Cat answered eagerly. "It's a beautiful place, don't you think?"
"Yes." Ransom nodded. "And what of your aunt? Are you happy with her?" His tone was guileless, but his gaze was shrewd, and Cat's concern returned.
"Why, yes, of course, I'm happy with her," Cat said. "Why would you ask such a thing?"
Ransom shrugged. "A young lady as clever and beautiful as yourself might become... bored with cottage life. Back in London, you could be moving in the smartest circles," he said. "Wouldn't you rather be attending the theaters and assembly rooms, dancing till dawn, dining on cut-glass plates, and gossiping over the latest court intrigues?"
"Pooh," Cat said. "It doesn't sound very alluring to me, except the dancing, though I can't imagine continuing until dawn because I would miss my sleep."
Ransom smiled oddly. "Ah, but you could sleep until noon."
"Why, half the day's gone by then! It sounds like a lot of farrago to me," Cat said. "Besides, only the very wealthy live that way."
And I'm penniless
, she did not add.
"Ah, but you are a resourceful young woman. I'm sure you could arrange something," Ransom said, cocking a brow at her.
Cat's eyes narrowed. "What are you insinuating?"
"I'm not insinuating anything," Ransom said. "I merely wondered whether you sought to improve your... situation."
Cat blinked, unable to believe that even he would..." She leapt to her feet. "You conceited bastard,” Cat said, not bothering to watch her language. “And I suppose I am to better my circumstances at your hands, by playing the mistress?"
Ransom's smile only confirmed her charges, and she fought the urge to slap it from his face. "I'll see that the horse is returned to Lord Claremont," she said. "I trust you can find your way."
"No, my love," Ransom said, rising gracefully. "We will ride to the cottage together. Letting an innocent like you out alone among the perils of the world would plague my conscience."
Cat did not respond to the barb from a man who had emotionlessly offered to lead her into a life of disgrace, for she did not trust herself to speak. And simmering beneath her outrage was a vague sense of hurt. How far she had fallen in his esteem from favored cabin boy to faceless female to be bedded and tossed aside.
Her pride stinging, Cat studiously ignored him all the way to the cottage, where she dismounted without a word.
"Cheer up, my love," he said. "I'll be leaving soon".
Cat turned to glare at him. "That's what you keep saying, but I have yet to see you go!"
Stalking away from him, she did not pause until she was inside, the door firmly shut behind her.
***
Ransom watched the subtle sway of Miss Amberly's hips as she marched away in decidedly unladylike fashion and was puzzled, once again, by her behavior. One moment she seemed nothing more than a gently-bred female. The next she was storming off - or describing a fishing practice with amazing precision.
How many women, outside of a fishmonger's wife, paid attention to such things? And she had looked at him as though he would share her interest in the subject, which he did. But how did she know that?
Ransom shook his head. Sometimes an inflection in her voice or a movement of her hands would strike him as familiar, and yet he knew he'd never felt that silken skin beneath his fingers before. He loosed a low breath at the memory.
As with so much about her, the force of his desire for her was surprising, and he'd taken more liberties than he ought from a young innocent. And she
had
seemed innocent, from her tentative touches to her seeming dismay after the intimacies they'd shared.
Lulled into a sense of complacency, Ransom had been more focused on the curve of her cheek and the swell of her breast than her conversation - until she mentioned Windlay.
Then all his suspicions came roaring back.
Ransom hated intrigues, and he was getting a bellyful of this one. If it weren't for a lingering doubt, which had more basis in gut feeling than fact, he would have grabbed her by the throat and throttled some answers out of her right then and there.
Instead, he'd decided to get right to the heart of the matter, with a discreet proposal. If she truly were one of Devlin's harpies, she would snap up a carte blanche offer, wouldn't she?
And yet her righteous refusal had all the hallmarks of a gentlewoman's outrage... except for her use of the word "bastard". Which just brought him back to the same old question.
Who the devil was she?
***
Cat was not surprised to learn that Ransom had availed himself of Lord Claremont's hospitality and was now staying at the great house, but the news did little to improve her mood. When Amelia told her, she jabbed her spade viciously into the dirt as though to prick the blackguard's heart, a futile gesture since the man obviously possessed no such organ.
"Catherine, please control yourself," Amelia said. "If you intend to destroy these seedlings, there's no point in potting them. Perhaps I should have someone else help me."
"No," Cat said, grumbling. "It simply irks me to have that scoundrel so close. And why is he still here? If he has legitimate business, he's certainly taking his time about it. I've never known him to dally this long anywhere."
"Did you never consider that he may be staying here simply to see you?" Amelia asked, with a sly smile.
"Ha! Don't be absurd," Cat said. "The man has never been that interested in any female, and what he wants can be had on any dock."
Cat bit her tongue to prevent any elaboration on that subject, for she had not mentioned his appalling proposition to her aunt. Truth be told, she was none too eager to reveal her own ruinous behavior. Had her willing responses to Ransom's advances given him the idea that she would gladly be his mistress?
Still, his offer had been insulting, and if he cared for her at all, he wouldn't wish such a future for her. A pampered, well-kept woman was no more secure in her place than the lowliest whore, and a fall from favor could plunge any woman dependent on male whims into a life not of her own choosing.