Gypsy Lady (40 page)

Steeling
herself for the argument that was to come, she laid her cloak carefully on the
bed and turned to stare at Adam's uncompromising, stiff back. Quietly she
asked, "What do you suggest we do?"

Suspiciously,
he glanced over his shoulder. "Will you listen to reason?" he queried
gruffly.

A
tiny smile quivered at one corner of her mouth. "Yes. I'll listen to
reason—but I can't promise I'll obey you."

She
seated herself on the edge of the bed like a good child about to receive a
lecture, and her air of forlornness pulled at Adam's heart. Crossing swiftly to
her, he knelt and grasping her hands in his said earnestly, "Kate, you
must believe me when I say I would never force you to leave my home. I can't
tell you what a difference it has made having you to run the house for me and
how much I look forward to arriving home knowing you are there. I didn't
realize how much I missed you. But"—he paused deliberately—"you are
married to Savage, and I doubt if there is anything you can do to change that.
You have no reason to divorce him! And you are carrying his child. You can't
pretend or ignore the fact that what happened, happened. Nor can you deny the
child his birthright."

"You're
certain it will be a boy?" she asked lightly, and Adam frowned.

"Don't
try to change the subject—you know what I meant."

She
nibbled at her bottom lip uncertainly and asked curiously, "Adam—you saw
him. Does he look like the type of man who would take back an erring wife
without question?"

Adam,
his memory of the harsh-faced, flinty-eyed stranger vivid in his mind, was
compelled to answer truthfully, "I don't think it will be easy—but we
should try to mend things between you."

"How?"
she cried despairingly. "You saw how furious he looked. I mean less to him
than an unnecessary slave! It's only pride that motivates him. How can you wish
me to spend the rest of my life with him?"

Gazing
into her distress-filled eyes, Adam sighed heavily. "Very well, Kate,
we'll let it be—for now. But this state of affairs cannot continue
indefinitely. And," he added quietly, "today we were lucky. Have you
considered that we may have mutual friends and that it is extremely possible
our paths could cross when we least expect it?
That, God
forbid—
some unsuspecting hostess might try to introduce you to your
husband? What a lovely surprise that would be!"

Catherine
nodded unhappily. "Adam, please, I know all your arguments. Don't let's
talk about it now. Let's go home and let me think. After the baby is born,
perhaps then we can settle the problem."

"Kate,
the problem is not going to evaporate! The longer you wait, the harder it's
going to be."

Adam
left it there. He knew his sister rather well. If he leaned too hard she would
dig in her small heels and mulishly refuse to budge. Little donkey, he thought
affectionately.

They
left early the next morning for Natchez, and Catherine did not take a normal
breath until New Orleans was several miles behind them. Any moment she expected
Jason's thunderous voice to freeze her in her tracks, and she was never so
thankful to see Adam's home than she was on the night they returned. It was
truly like returning home, for she loved Belle Vista. The property had been
given this name because it was situated on a high bluff overlooking the
Mississippi River and the lowlands of Louisiana. Most of his property lay in
Louisiana, but like the majority of the Natchez plantations, the home was on
the east side of the Mississippi—being at a higher elevation, it was
healthier. The swampy lowlands were the source of much of Adam's wealth but
were also excellent breeding grounds for mosquitoes, and malaria was
a
common illness during the
summer.

Catherine
was attracted to the house, though it was smaller and less pretentious than
some in the area. It had been in a predictable bachelor state when she arrived,
but with Adam's uncertain support—"Damnit, Kate, I think this room looks
nice as it is! What do you want to change it for?"—she had made Belle
Vista as elegant and comfortable as any of the other magnificent homes that
looked down on the muddy Mississippi River below.

That
night, glancing fondly around her large bedroom at the pale green walls, the
soft champagne-colored rug and the airy curtains hanging at the wide windows,
she gave a sigh of satisfaction. Adam might have objected at first, she
thought, as she drowsily snuggled down between lavender-scented sheets, but
even he must admit the house was more becoming since she had taken it in hand.

Catherine
was exhausted after the long trip, and a low, nagging backache wouldn't let her
sleep. She had noticed the ache off and on all day but had put it down to the
strain of the trip. After moving about uncomfortably for what seemed like
hours, she decided she might as well arise. Wrapping a robe about her
cumbersome bulk, she padded barefooted down the wide staircase to Adam's study.
It wasn't too late, not much past midnight, but Adam had retired early. She lit
a candle and poked hopefully at the smoldering embers on the hearth. Reviving
a spark she tossed on a few small pieces of wood and knelt awkwardly in front
of the fire.

Almost
hypnotized by the wavering glow of the fire, she stayed there motionless in front
of it for some time, her mind blank. But gradually, insidiously, the thought of
Jason began to curl around the edges of her mind until without warning the
memory of his cold stare leaped to the front of her consciousness.

How
angry he had looked, she thought tiredly. But hadn't she expected him to be
angry? Well yes, she admitted silently. A woman doesn't leave her husband of
one day without being aware that his first reaction would be anger.

Moving
uncomfortably, the pain in her back increasing with every moment, she forced
herself to try to look at the estrangement between them objectively. Maybe Adam
was right. Perhaps she should let him see Jason and if possible
effect
a solution. Logically she knew Adam was right, that
she was being stubborn and foolish not to set aside pride and in essence forget
she had ever overheard that ugly conversation.

If
only, she thought painfully—if only she didn't love him! If only her emotions
were as uninvolved as his obviously were, then perhaps they could manage a life
together. She would have her friends and lovers discreetly on the side, the
same as her husband. They would become polite strangers to one another, polite
strangers who just happened to share a name and a house. Probably not even a
house, she decided cynically. Jason would more than likely bury her somewhere
in the country while he continued his rakish existence. Dismally she came to
the conclusion that except for necessary visits to produce heirs, he would
prefer to forget he had a wife.

She
might have been able to accept such an arrangement—it was a common one among
many of her station —if she hadn't foolishly fallen in love with her unwilling
husband. And loving him as she did, she wouldn't have been able to hide her
feelings from him for long.

By nature
Catherine was a warm, generous creature, and sooner or later her love would
have been obvious for everyone to see. She couldn't have borne Jason's amused contempt
for a woman who was
so
unsophisticated and naive as to
wear her heart on her sleeve. Oh, he would be kind to her, she sensed. But that
very kindness would shrivel something inside her. Perhaps in time she would
have become as hard and brittle as those brazen, sophisticated women who
seemed to enjoy their many adulterous liaisons conducted under their husband's
bored and often indifferent eyes.

No!
Never!
she
cried silently. Better to do as she had.
Better to cut him completely from her life than to year by year watch her love
destroyed and her pride trampled upon.

A
sharp, tearing pain deep in her bowels jerked Catherine from her unhappy
thoughts, and before she had time to catch her breath, another one, harder and
longer than the first, struck her again. Not the baby, she thought helplessly.
The baby wasn't due for almost another month. Surely her time wasn't yet. But
then another stab of pain tore through her body, and she knew that due or not
her child was coming.

Suddenly
she remembered how she had resented her unborn baby and had guiltily half-hoped
she would miscarry. Now, a fervent, silent plea crossed her mind. Please, God,
let the child be well—
please!

Struggling
to her feet, panting a moment from her exertions, she braced herself while
another spasm racked her body. She gave a small cry of protest. The contraction
over, she leaned weakly against the chair wondering how she would rouse the
house. Suddenly the door opened, and Adam, his black hair ruffled, a pistol in
one hand, stood staring at her.

"My
God, Kate, what are you doing down here? I thought I heard someone moving about
and came to investigate. You're damned lucky I didn't shoot you!"

Unable
to speak, in the grip of another contraction, she stared speechlessly. Then,
the pain gone for the moment, she gasped, "I'm having my baby!"

"My
God!" cried Adam, horrified. Crossing the room in two strides, he scooped
her up and flew up the stairs, taking the steps three at a time, all the while
bellowing at the top of his voice for the servants.

"Damnit,
where is everybody?" he muttered distractedly as he laid Catherine on the
bed.

The
next hours were chaotic, but Nicholas St. Clair Savage, impatient to be born,
thrust himself into the world barely three hours after Adam had laid Catherine
on the bed. It was a fast, hard birth, and Catherine, agonizing over the
well-being of the child, fainted from sheer relief when the tiny, perfectly
formed, squalling bit of male humanity was placed in her arms.

Nicholas
was born tiny, but in the next months he grew and gained in size and weight
until by the time he was four months old he had overcome any ill effects of his
premature birth. With an adoring mother, a doting uncle, and the entire staff
of Belle Vista at his small command, there was little reason for him not to
enjoy this new world in which he found himself.

After
his birth, Catherine seemed to find the world an enjoyable place in which to
be. She blossomed, her smiles more gentle and her movements more assured and
confident. Her figure regained its slim shape, almost unchanged, but her face
revealed the biggest transformation —the bones seemed more finely drawn, her
eyes had an added depth.

She
was a woman now, and as she and her son lazed away the spring months, sitting
under the huge magnolia trees that clustered near Belle Vista or relaxing
quietly on the cool, wide gallery at the front of the house, her beauty
intensified.

Even
Adam was startled by the dazzling creature
who
now
inhabited his home. Watching her laughing down at her green-eyed son, her long,
curly hair as lustrous as a raven's wing, her complexion tinted apricot by the
warm sun, her lips like ripe cherries and eyes that gleamed like shining
amethysts, he was a little bemused.

After
much argument, Catherine had finally convinced him that her decision was the
right one, and brother and sister had settled down as if the tenor of their
lives would remain unchanged. Together they had written Rachael of her
grandson's birth, and both had expressed the desire that she join them in
Natchez.

Catherine
especially wanted her mother nearby, if not at Belle Vista, at least
established in a town house in Natchez. It was as if the birth of her own child
gave her an insight into what Rachael must have suffered when

Reina
had stolen her and Adam, and she knew the urge to renew and seal the bond of
blood that linked them. There was no reason for Rachael to remain in England
alone, not when both her children made their lives in America and wanted her to
join them. Catherine wrote as much.

It
was her third letter to her mother since the night she had disappeared, and in
both of her earlier missives she had pleaded with Rachael not to divulge her
whereabouts if Jason sought her out. Rachael had done as Catherine requested,
returning vague replies to the duke of Roxbury's letters inquiring after his
nephew's missing wife. But reading Catherine's last letter, her tender heart
twisted for both Jason and Catherine—so young, so proud, and so
stupid!

This
last letter made no reference to Jason, but Rachael's mind was filled with his
image as she read of his son's birth; and she was extremely thoughtful for many
days after the letter's arrival.

As
Catherine had written, there
was
nothing to hold her in England, and because she was relatively affluent, she
need have no fears of being or becoming a drain on her children's resources.
She was able to take care of herself, thank you! And while the idea of living
with Adam and Catherine sounded like heaven, she was wise enough to know that
it would be best if, before the novelty of the three of them together under the
same roof wore off, she found herself a neat, tidy little house in the nearest
town.