Catherine was nineteen now. He was thirty-three. How many years wouldthey share? Then, as she planted her legs around his hips and took himinside her, he pushed away the thought of parting.

"I can't touch bottom here, Catherine."

"But you're so big," she said breathlessly, "and I'm >o tiny."

That thought took his breath away and for a moment hey both sank beneath the water. She was tiny, and ight. He managed to touch themuddy bottom and push off, directing them back until he could hold tothe log )n which the dock was built.

"Catherine, this was supposed to be a bath."

"Then let me wash you," she said, and proceeded o slosh water over himas she planted her kisses across his face and down his neck.

"Catherine, stop it. You're going to drown us. If you ion't stopright now, I'm going to" -He did, and so did she. And for that moment,drowning didn't seem like a bad way to die. And then she flung backher head and laughed.

"But I don't want you to die, Patrick. I've gone hrough too much tofind you."

She tore herself away and pulled herself to the dock.

"Finish your bath and join me." This time it was Cathrine who stood,dripping in the sunlight, stunning the ? ig man with her beauty.

Patrick ran his fingers over his body, leaned his head ? ack and lifted it, slinging the water away as he fol- owed her onto the dock.

"You're so beautiful, Catherine," he said, catching his fingers in herhair, already drying in the hot sun and curling softly around his roughhand, like the feat hrs on angel's wings.

"No," she said.

"My sister was beautiful. I'must--just" -- "What makes me happy," hesaid, finishing her senence, wondering how she could not know howlovely she was. Her body, colored by the sun to a golden shade soperfect as to be worshiped, her lips begged to be tasted, herperfection demanded that he pay homage to it for one last moment.

Patrick surprised her by lifting her in his arms and walking away fromthe cabin into the woods.

"Your leg," she said.

"My leg says for you not to worry. It's a very happy leg. My entirebody is very happy. Can't you see it smiling?"

"It's sending a message, all right, I can feel it writing messages onmy bottom. Where are we going?"

"Just away from the clearing. Don't want to upset the fish any morethan we already have. They might get carried away and overpopulate thepond."

He hadn't noticed the feeling of apprehension when they were makinglove on the dock, but suddenly it was there. He glanced around.

Nothing. The birds were quiet, the water still. But it was clear that every hour they remained here increased the risk of discovery. He didn't know what to think about Lopaz, but he would have expected thecaptain to go back for reinforcements and return.

Allowing Patrick to remain free was a threat to the Spaniard, and Lopaz wasn't a man to leave himself open to criminal investigation. Granted, the bayous were a maze, but there would be someone who wouldtake on the job of guiding the Spaniard. And sooner or later, Patrickand Lopaz would have to face each other again.

For now, as if she knew what he was thinking, there was a little worryline creasing Catherine's forehead. Her lips were pursed in concern,and she clung to him as if she were afraid that she might fall.

Then they were inside the forest, beneath the moss- hung trees, in aprivate bower of green, shielded from the outside world by gossamerhangings of gray. And he kissed her, wiping away her worries. As always, he felt her eternal sweetness catch fire at his touch.

"You know this is wrong, Catherine Caden."

After a moment, Catherine pulled back and smiled, her finger touching the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"You're full of blarney, Patrick McLendon, but I love you anyhow."

"The test of a true Irishman," he said with a laugh.

Pressing her face against his chest, she let out a painful sigh.

"Oh, Patrick, I love you so. Let's never leave here."

He laid her down on the carpet of pine needles.

"One day, I'm going to cover you with lilies from the pond and diamonds

from the sun," he said, his voice husky with desire.

She lowered her lashes, allowing her gaze to wander down his chest, lower, lower.

"I'd like that, but could we talk about what you're going to do later,

later?"

He moved over her, kissing her face, committing every part of her to memory, as if he knew he might never see her again. Her hands moved

across his shoulders, down his back, catching his bottom and pulling him closer.

"Ah, Catherine," he whispered.

"I wish we could stay here. But even Adam and Eve couldn't remain in

the Garden of Eden forever."

"Maybe they didn't know what they had."

"Maybe they didn't."

And they closed out the world again, loving each other without fear.

He wasn't sure he wanted this to be the Garden of Eden, Patrick

thought, for the Garden of Eden had a snake.

But snakes didn't walk on two feet, and they didn't carry pistols. And

if Patrick hadn't allowed himself the luxury of closing out everythingso completely he would have heard the straw break beneath the stepbehind him.

For a few precious moments Patrick had dropped his guard and focused onloving this woman who had made herself his so completely. He'd begunto believe in the magic.

By the time he heard the flight of the birds, it was too late. He should have remembered the snake!

"Hello?"

Patrick would have reached for a cover to protect Catherine, exceptthere was none. The best he could do was grab his loincloth and meetthe intruder.

"Senor Patrick?"

"Jillico?" Patrick stepped out of the woods and let out a sigh ofrelief.

"Are you alone?"

"I am alone. I will wait by the cabin."

Patrick whispered to Catherine to stay in the woods until he signaledfor her to return.

With stiff, cautious movements, he followed the Indian with whom he'dshared so much, while tying his loincloth and about his waist.

"How did you find us?"

"With great difficulty. I've been searching for days. Then it came to me that the Great Spirits would protect the White Woman, just as youwere protected. I remembered the cabin. The Great Spirits led youhere."

"And Mona?"

There was a long pause.

"Mona is dead."

Patrick wanted to offer his sympathy, but something about Jillico'sstern posture warned him to wait for the man, who in most cultureswould still be a boy, to speak. He was still wearing his nativecostume. Carrying his bow and arrow over his back and a Spanish pistolin his hand, he looked fierce, yet vulnerable.

"And the Sun King?" Patrick asked softly.

"I do not know. After the battle, I buried my sister. He was not there, and he did not return."

"I'm sorry. If it hadn't been for me, none of this would havehappened." Do not blame yourself. Mona saw her own death. She tried to change what was meant to be. I have come here to protect the WhiteWoman, as she bade me do before she died. " "Protect me?" Catherine had disregarded Patrick's instructions,reclaimed her tunic from the bank and now stood beside Patrick.

"Why?"

"I do not know. I only follow her dying wish. Protect the White Woman, she said, for the child she will bear must live."

"But I" -Catherine stopped. She had little knowledge of such things,but enough time had passed without her monthly flow to make his wordstrue. She could be carrying a child, Patrick's child. A laughing blueeyed boy like him, or perhaps a little girl with golden curls. She was caught by the possibility and the future a child promised.

But if she admitted to that possibility, Patrick would certainly sendher back to Petersburg, for the protection of the baby.

"I--I'm not carrying a child," she said with false conviction.

"Perhaps not, but one day you will," Jillico said just as firmly.

Patrick was eyeing her curiously.

"Can you lead us back to Rainbow's End, Jillico? I'm worried about Lopaz. He won't rest until I'm dead, for I'm the only one who canprove he is a thief."

"Yes, I will take you. But we must go now, for if the spirits haverevealed this place to me, perhaps others will come. You may no longerbe safe."

Catherine began to gather up their things. She didn't want to go, buteverything had changed. Their beautiful, private world had beenpenetrated. There was a catch in her stomach as they gathered theirthings and loaded them on the boat Jillico had brought. With a sad heart she watched the cabin until it was out of sight, the pink lilieswinking sweetly through the tree limbs.

Jillico had brought the outside world into their private garden and itwould never be the same again.

They'd been gone from the plantation only a week, and Patrick hadn'tknown what to expect. But the former slaves were busily at work. The house hadn't been destroyed; rather, the progress was amazing. The walls were up, the roof complete and the floors were finished.

Wrapping the upper level was a large porch that circled the house likea collar. The veranda below was larger, reaching out in welcome tothose who came to call.

Catherine, who hadn't seen it when she arrived during the fire, wastransfixed.

"Oh, Patrick, our house. It is our house, isn't it?"

"No! It's just the plantation house." He couldn't say that it wastheir house. No matter what they'd allowed themselves to believe backat the cabin, that was a fantasy. This was real, and reality was thatPatrick wouldn't marry Catherine until he was no longer a wanted man.

Now more than ever he was resolved to send her back to Petersburg whereshe'd be safe. From him. From their desire. From their love.

"Of course it is," Catherine said. She let out a soft sigh and threwher arms around his neck.

"It's ours. You were building it for me, weren't you?"

"I guess I was." Patrick unclasped her arms and stepped away.

"But we can't live in it until my name is cleared."

Just her touch erased his resolve and he couldn't let that happen. She would never be able to restrain herself from showing how she felt. Her spontaneous gestures made their relationship much too obvious. That couldn't be allowed to happen. Not when he'd made up his mind that shewas going back. And Patrick didn't delude himself; once he'd given into her, he'd be powerless to refuse.

Catherine didn't argue. In her mind it was settled, but there was nopoint in arguing with Patrick about their situation before the workers.Instead, she took his hand and walked around the house, examining everydetail.

At the rear was the completed cook house with a fire already burning inthe fireplace. To one side, between the house and the bayou, were theburned indigo fields. Already green shoots were visible between thebrown grass, and the sound of workers' voices echoed down the bayou.

And beyond the patch of sugarcane were workers moving up and down therows with homemade hoes. They were singing as they worked.

"What are they doing, Patrick?"