Catherine cast a disbelieving eye on Patrick.

"Do you love Isabella?"

"Of course not. She was just kind to me at a time I needed help."

"So was the man" -- "But you didn't" -- "No, Patrick. You are the onlyman who ever made love to me. You're the only man I ever loved or everwill love. Promising to marry a government official was the only way Icould send someone to New Orleans to find out the truth about you."

"Did he?"

"I don't know. When nobody had heard of Patrick McLendon I gave up andlet him know I was with the Weatherbys. I hoped that when he came he'dhave word of you. But he didn't. We were to be married, but Icouldn't go through with it."

"So you ran away from him."

"No, I ran to you."

They reached the cabin and Patrick sank wearily to the floor. He took Catherine's hand and held it, looking into her eyes. "And what youfound is a pirate, a murderer, a man with a price on his head. And no matter how much I want it to be different, I don't know that I can everchange that, my love."

"Of course you can. We'll force Captain Lopaz to tell the truth. And Charles--Charles will help us clear your name. I'm certain of it."

"Perhaps," Patrick said softly, allowing himself to cling to that hopefor one more brief moment.

"Perhaps."

The next afternoon when he woke from the nap Catherine insisted hetake, she was not in the cabin. He sat up in panic, listening to thesound of movement in the water beyond the cabin.

Someone was coming.

He came to his feet, took the pistol beneath the mattress and slippedquickly to the door so that he could see the dock. At first he saw nothing except the ripples of water rocking the water lilies like fairyboats. Then he saw her, rising from beneath the water like some watersprite, lifting her hands in supplication to the gods.

She laughed and whirled around.

"Catherine! What are you doing?" He limped toward the pond, concernmasking the pain of walking with his full weight on his leg.

"I'm bathing, Patrick. Come and join me."

"But there are snakes, alligators. I insist you get out at once." He knew he was practically growling at her, but fear pushed all logicalthought away.

"Nonsense, Irishman. Don't worry. This is a magic place." She swirled around again, her fair skin shimmering in the water, her hairspread out around her like a circle of fire.

"Catherine, please, come out of the water. I can't protect you if" Hecouldn't finish the thought.

"But you don't have to, I'm already protected--by your little people.

Don't you see them? "

She was the magic, the enchantment. The little pond filled with pinkwater lilies was her throne, and if there were no little people there,there should have been. All his life Patrick had blithely referred tothe power of the leprechauns, but he'd never believed in their power.

For the first time, in the middle of a swamp, he was suddenly caught upin the bewitchment.

She was right. There should have been snakes. They hadn't seen any.

There should have been alligators. There'd been none. Someone should have come for them. No one had. They'd been swept up in a fantasy andhe was powerless to stop what was about to happen.

She suddenly disappeared beneath the water, surfacing at the end of thedock where he stood, and held out her hand. When he took it in his he knew that he was caught in her spell.

She was nude. Water streamed down her body, across her breasts anddown her legs. Patrick could only stand completely bemused as hefollowed the course of the rivulets. Her breasts were even more beautiful, pert, announcing her arousal with the tightly beaded littlepink nipples. Between her legs the thatch of strawberry-colored haircaught the sun and glistened with droplets of water.

"Catherine, I"

"You're going to love me, Patrick, now and forever."

"Not here," he said hoarsely, "someone might come."

"No one will come, Patrick. We're being watched over."

She loosened the ties of his loincloth and let it fall to the dock.

Then she drew him down beside her, her heart shining in her eyes andher love warming the fingertips that began a slow exploration of hisface.

"My Irishman with the laughing eyes needs to learn to laugh again."

"I'm afraid that man is gone forever."

"No, he's had an evil spell cast over him. My love will free him. Mylove will be his anchor and his shining star, just as those laughingeyes have been mine."

No power on earth could have stopped Patrick from loving Catherine.

Her lips touched his lips, slyly moving across his cheeks, and pullingback. Then she looked at him, her breath caught in the wonder of themoment. He placed his hands on both sides of her face and pulled herlips down to meet his, gently parting them, joining them in such sweettorment.

This time he laid her on her back, coming to his elbows over her. Her hands were exploring his head, the back of his neck, his shoulderblades. He could feel her heart racing, like some wild thing caught upinside her chest, frantically trying to free itself to touch his ownfluttering captive.

As her hands continued their quest, Patrick felt as though he'd beensketched with lines of heat. As the lily pads had rocked beneath theripples of waves set off by her cavorting in the water, she was pressing , "You're going to love me, Patrick, now and forever."

"Not here," he said hoarsely, "someone might come."

"No one will come, Patrick. We're being watched over. She loosened the ties of his loincloth and let it fall to the dock. Then she drew him down beside her, her heart shining in her eyes and her love warmingthe fingertips that began a slow exploration of his face.

"My Irishman with the laughing eyes needs to learn to laugh again."

"I'm afraid that man is gone forever."

"No, he's had an evil spell cast over him. My love will free him. Mylove will be his anchor and his shining star, just as those laughingeyes have been mine."

No power on earth could have stopped Patrick from loving Catherine.

Her lips touched his lips, slyly moving across his cheeks, and pullingback. Then she looked at him, her breath caught in the wonder of themoment. He placed his hands on both sides of her face and pulled herlips down to meet his, gently parting them, joining them in such sweettorment.

This time he laid her on her back, coming to his elbows over her. Her hands were exploring his head, the back of his neck, his shoulderblades. He could feel her heart racing, like some wild thing caught upinside her chest, frantically trying to free itself to touch his ownfluttering captive.

As her hands continued their quest, Patrick felt as though he'd beensketched with lines of heat. As the lily pads had rocked beneath theripples of waves set off by her cavorting in the water, she was pressing herself against him, fanning the flame dangerously high,until there was no longer a space where he ended and she began. Theywere one perfect entity, moving together.

A thread of guilt moved fleetingly through his conscience, thendisappeared into the wonder of what they were building together.

Her little pants had changed into deep moans of plea sure that heldnothing back. Whatever Catherine felt, she expressed. Whatever she wanted, she took. And the shattering of that sensation burst into aball of fire that seemed to meld two bodies into one jolt oflightning.

It sliced through them, setting off waves of such joy that Patrickcouldn't hold back a roar of appreciation. He knew that he was laughing once more, that his life was, for this moment, complete.

He was no longer the bastard, the outcast, the pirate. He was Catherine's love and that was enough.

Chapter Fourteen.

Q^y^^Q la trick loaded the pistols and placed the gunpowder in strategic spotsaround the cabin. The longer they stayed, the more likely it was thatsomeone would find them, and he intended to be ready.

But he soon learned that any unexpected movement, no matter howcarefully made, frightened the coveys of birds that fed by the bayouinto frantic flight. Patrick and Catherine had their own lookouts,ready to notify them of intruders. Thus reassured, he found himselfrelaxing.

At first he felt great guilt over having made love to her, anddetermined not to allow it to happen again. He pleaded pain from hiswound. Fine, she'd responded, she'd make love to him. He reminded her that her mother wouldn't approve of her forwardness. She reminded him that her mother had never approved of her forwardness and that hadn'tstopped her before. He warned her that they might conceive a child.

She simply began to glow and he was lost in the warmth of that joy.

Three days passed, three days of quiet, three days of happiness such ashe'd never known, three days of loving Catherine, without regrets,without restraint.

And nobody came looking for them.

At night he slept, fitfully, in snatches that seemed designed to drivehim wild when he'd wake and find Catherine in his arms, holding him,her hair spread across his chest. He was aware as he'd never been of her softness, her trust, the way she came to life at the slightesttouch of his hands on her body.

And touching her was part of the happiness he'd never allowedhimself.

He stopped asking himself what he could give her, how he could justifytheir being together. Questions wouldn't change anything and they'dcome too late. He was intoxicated with Catherine, drunk with feelingsthat bubbled and fermented inside his mind and body.

And although he refused to think that far ahead, the aftereffects wouldlikely be just as gut wrenching.

For Catherine there was nothing wrong about being together. To her,they were already married and there could be nothing sinful about thewonder of their lovemaking.

For Patrick it was so natural, so right, that he allowed himself to belulled into the same kind of dreamlike state of insanity. While theywere here, they could forget what lay behind and what was waiting aheadof them.

He'd worried about using the pistols for hunting, but the sound of hisshot hadn't brought anyone to their secret place, and they had toeat.

Along with birds and one plump rabbit he shot, they caught fish and picked wild berries. One afternoon they discovered a vine of tomatoesthat must have grown from where the occupants of the cabin had thrownthe seed. That night, with the wild onions from the forest, Catherinemanaged a fine stew.

Patrick, in his loincloth, had turned into some wild- looking heathen,his hair falling across his shoulders like one of his Celtic ancestors.The leg was healing; each day supporting his weight came more easily. And gradually hebegan to come back to full strength.

Patrick knew it was time for them to go. They were becoming tooclose.

The longer they stayed the harder it would be to go. But for once in his life he found himself delaying. He justified that delay by sayinghe didn't know exactly where they were or what they might walk into,but in the back of his mind was the fear they might not be able to getout. That, and the admission that he didn't want to go.

Still, it was time he checked out, in the daylight, the bayou on whichtheir cabin was built. Before he allowed Catherine to leave their safe haven, he wanted to examine their route. There were thousands of miles of waterways crisscrossing one another, intersecting and joining andpeeling off again. He knew they could travel for days and never bevery far from where they'd started.

He wasn't certain what he was looking for, but he couldn't start backto Rainbow's End without making certain that he knew the generaldirection. Having left the village in the dark, and in pain, he wasn'tcertain that he knew where they were.

As he'd anticipated, he left Catherine pouting because he refused totake her with him.

"If something happens to you, what will I do?"

"I'm only going back to the point where this stream intersects withanother. I have to make plans to get us back, and I don't have anyidea where we are."

"Then I'll come, too. If you get lost, we'll get lost together. I don't want to be apart from you, Patrick, ever again."

But it was more than checking the bayou that drove Patrick. He needed to pole the pirogue. He needed to test his strength. He needed to be alone, away from Catherine so that he could focus on what they weregoing to do.

"No, Catherine. Stay here. I'll be back by noon. I promise."

And he'd left her, standing in the doorway with her eyes targeted onhis back with such force that her gaze seemed to burn little spotson his skin as he poled the pirogue through the water lilies and away.

As always the bayou seemed alive in the silence. Birds sang, watercreatures skated across the surface, and the trees along the bankseemed to absorb the sound, closing out the world beyond the cabin.

From the position of the sun he could tell that he was going north.

The tributary he was following eventually joined a larger body of waterthat, by checking the sun, he guessed was running east and west.

He poled the boat west for a time, checking for signs of the Indianvillage, some point of reference from which to start. But time was passing, and in order not to leave Catherine unprotected, he turnedback. Even knowing where he'd come from, he almost missed the waterwaythat led to the cabin.

As their refuge came into sight, so did the figure cavorting in thewater, frivolously cavorting, he thought, remembering her earlier angrycharge. Disregarding his cautions about snakes and gators, Catherinecontinued to bathe in the pond. She firmly believed that it was amagic pool, protected by his leprechauns, and nothing he could saywould dissuade her.

She had no soap, but the sensual expression on her face told of thepure delight she felt in letting the water flow through herstrawberry-colored hair. So intent was she in her frolicking that shedidn't know Patrick was watching until he spoke.

"A creature from the sea," he said softly.

"The sailors always talked about the mermaids, but I never thought tosee one."

"Patrick, join me. I wish you would join me."

He looked at the water with anticipation. Up to now, he'd stayed awaybecause of the wound on his leg, but it was almost healed, and a realbath was appealing.

"All right, let me tie up the boat." He fastened the pirogue andlifted himself to the dock, where he unfastened his loincloth and stoodlooking down at her with eyes of love.

"I do say, Mr. McLendon, you are a fine figure of a man."

"I'm glad you approve." He slid into the water, holding on to the poleholding up the dock.

"Oh, I'm not certain I approve. I think I'd better check you out."

She paddled over toward him, her hair pooling out around her, hersun-kissed face beaming with joy. An aching tingle began in him evenbefore she touched him. An anticipation of what was to come. Would it always be like that, only a touch and they'd be together?