Catherine allowed the man to draw up her chair. She felt the unwelcome caress of his fingertips as he slid them across her shoulders before hebacked away.

"I look forward to hearing you sing this evening. Your songs bringgreat enjoyment to this dreary assignment I've been posted to."

"Oh, haven't you always been here?"

"No, I preceded your arrival by only a few days. It seems fate has placed us together."

Pharaoh poured wine into the glasses, delaying his duty as long as he could before withdrawing.

"And where were you before, Captain?"

"Originally? Madrid. Most recently, the settlement at Pensacola in the southern Spanish territory."

Cat took a sip of her wine and put her glass down once more. Her inaudible sigh told the captain that he was going to have to move slowly if he intended to gain the information he was certain she had.

"Tell me about New Orleans," she was saying.

"Have you been there?"

"Yes. New Orleans is a wicked, wicked place, senorita One of the more

interesting places to visit is the Slave Theater."

"Slave Theater? You don't mean something like a slave market, doyou?""No, this is an actual theater. The wealthy planters of Santo Domingo had little to entertain themselves and they trained some of theirslaves for the stage. During the revolt they came to New Orleans withthe man who owned the theater. Unfortunately, he was killed by theAmerican on whose ship they traveled."

Patrick. The man was talking about Patrick."You're certain," she said tentatively, "that he's dead?""I was there. Just as I'll be there when the pirate Stone is captured.

Once I've put him in prison, I'll take you to New Orleans. With him onthe loose, even reaching the city is a risk. ""Is he that wicked?""He is a very cruel man. I'm told he is a frequent guest, here, senorita. I guess you must have seen him when he was here."

"Me? Oh, no. Captain. I'd be scared to death of the man. Besides,I've heard he's left the river." She put on a frightened face."Have you seen him?""I don't think you'll have to worry, Miss O'Conner. I've been sent here to capture him. It's only a matter of time before one of mypeople will locate him.""Really? I thought all these people looked out after each other."

"When the purse is big enough, all loyalty is forgotten, my dear."

In spite of her plan to remain impassive, Lopaz's certainty alarmed her and a frown creased her brow. There was a cruelty about her supper companion that simmered just below the surface.

Across the table, the captain studied Miss Cat O'Conner curiously. He didn't believe for one minute that she was Isabella Angel's niece.

Isabella's manner and bearing were impeccable, but they had beenlearned. This girl's refined upbringing was genuine, yet she, too, wasfascinated by Stone.

All women seemed to be fascinated by the criminal element. In Lopaz'scountry the wellborn females wore veils and attended hangings wherethey pelted the criminals with rotten fruit. But Lopaz would havewagered that this girl was more sheltered. She could barely disguiseher distaste for him, but her interest in Stone was obvious.

"Stone is an evil man, my dear. You mustn't allow yourself to bedeceived by his appeal. If he wants a woman, he takes her. It matters not that she is promised to another man."

"Really? I hadn't heard that."

"I recall one incident," Lopaz fabricated, trying to strike fear in thegirl, "when Stone coveted the wife of a wealthy planter. He eventuallystole the man's wife and his land. In disgrace the Spanish noblemanwas forced to take his wife and return to Spain."

"But you're here now, Captain," Cat said, trying not to let his wordsupset her, "and you will protect us, won't you?"

Something about the man's boastful manner told her that his story aboutPatrick was meant to intimidate her.

In spite of his present activities, Patrick was an honorable man. She could attest to that. He would never have allowed himself to dallywith another man's wife.

Catherine would have pursued the matter, but Pharaoh brought theirfood, after which the captain turned the conversation away from Stoneto tales of New Orleans, and his hope to return to his former positionof authority once he'd completed his assignment to take the pirate intocustody.

But Captain Lopaz was growing weary of the charade. He intended to do more than protect the runaway bride. If he couldn't charm the information he needed out of her, he'd get it another way, after he'denjoyed her virginal young body.

When thick sweet coffee was finally served, Cat tried to excuse herselfby saying that it was nearing time for her performance. Just as she was poised to make her escape they were interrupted by a messenger whoappeared at the table.

"Captain, come quick. There is a man at the dock who has news of the pirate. He reports that the Natchez have taken Stone into theswamp."

Captain Lopaz stood eagerly.

"Can he guide us?"

"So he says."

"Ready the men while I say good night to this lovely lady."

Catherine felt her heart twist. Someone was going to lead the Spaniardto Patrick. No! Not if Catherine could stop them. Not if Catherine could get to him first.

"Surely you won't depart at night, Captain. How will you ever find aman in that swamp in the darkness? It isn't safe."

"I appreciate your concern," the Spaniard said, stretching himself withpride.

"I will be quite safe."

"Yes," the messenger agreed.

"We go into the swamp with one of the Indians, a Natchez. He escorts us to a place where the slaves are hiding. There we will find the pirate."

"But," Catherine continued, taking the captain by the arm, "why notwait until morning?"

For a moment the captain was torn, reluctantly planting a moist kiss onCatherine's hand before turning away.

"Good night, senorita. I will return triumphant and we will resume ourevening."

The captain was not out of the house before Cat was seeking Pharaoh inthe kitchen.

"Please, Pharaoh, you must help me, quickly."

"Of course, Miss Cat What do you need?"

"A guide. There must be someone in Natchezunderthe-Hill who knows where Stone and the slaves are hidden."

"Why would you wish to know?"

"Because, because" -She searched her mind for a reasonable answer, thensettled for the truth.

"I know you won't believe this, but I came here to find Stone. His real name is--oh, it doesn't matter. But Captain Lopaz has found anIndian who has agreed to lead him into the bayou to find Stone. I have to get there first, to warn him."

Pharaoh studied the girl, convinced that if he refused to help hershe'd likely dash onto River Street and be kidnapped by the firstsailor she asked to take her into the swamp. Yes, he knew where theslaves were hidden, he'd given many of them directions to Stone'sburgeoning plantation. But to tell this girl? He couldn't take a chance.

"Just let me tell Miss Isabella, den I'll get word to him myself. You go on with your singing."

Catherine breathed a sigh of relief. Pharaoh knew where Stone's stronghold was. He knew how to reach Patrick.

"No. I must come with you. I must! Get me some men's trousers, a hatand a frock coat. I won't slow you down, I promise. Trust me,Pharaoh."

Though Isabella voiced strong opposition to Pharaoh's plan, the blackman reluctantly agreed to let Catherine come along. Before the Spanishgarrison had readied itself for travel, Cat and Pharaoh were poling apirogue down the Mississippi and into one of the bayous that was almosthidden from view by brush along the water's edge.

Instantly they were in another world, a quiet, foreign world of silentmovement, swishing water and biting insects. At one point Pharaohpulled to the bank and instructed Catherine to cover her face with mudas protection from the swarms of vicious winged creatures.

It seemed as if they'd followed the twisting waterway for hours when aflight of birds overhead interrupted the silence. The ground rumbledwith the footsteps of frantic animals in flight, as they suddenlyparted the brush, jumping the waterway at its narrowest and plunging inwhere they were forced to swim.

"What's happening, Pharaoh?"

"Don't know.

"Pears the animals dey spooked over something." He sniffed. For some time he'd thought he smelled the remains of a campfire. Now he was beginning to understand that the strong odor of fire wasintensifying.

"Are you certain you know where you're going?" The unrest of the animals was beginning to affect Catherine's already tenuous controlover her fears. "Yes, miss. You just set there still and quiet.Likely dey already knows we's coming."

"You mean Stone is close by?"

"Stone, or one of his kind. I been hearing they signals. Pray it'sStone."

But it wasn't Stone who surrounded them the moment the dugout beacheditself on land, but a circle of Indians, as wary and uncertain as theircaptives.

Neither Pharaoh nor Catherine could decipher their excited chatter. A certain amount of awe, mixed with apprehension, seemed to dictate theirmovements as they argued over what they ought to do. Catherine finallydetermined that it was her they were concerned with. She heard the phrase White Woman repeated over and over. At last they could see thelight of a fire in the clearing ahead.

"I'm here to see Stone," Catherine repeated as firmly as she dared asthey reached a clearing in the forest.

"And who are you?"

The woman who stepped into the light was like a shadow, dark and beautiful. She gave the illusion of movement yet she remainedabsolutely still. She was like the earth, giving the appearance ofsolidity when it shimmered beneath the weight of Catherine's lightstep.

"I am Cat O'Conner."

"Cat--she comes on cat feet, in fire. Yes. I am Mona. We have expected you. Please come."

Behind the woman great smoke was belching into the sky, chased greedilyby orange flames. The world seemed to be swirling as the fire racedacross a low- growing field, reaching the black water, then beinglifted by invisible air currents that bent the scraggly plants with itsforce.

"What do you mean, expecting me?"

"You're the White Woman. We knew you'd come. You are welcome."

"I'm white, yes, but I don't understand. Where is Patrick?"

"Patrick? Who is Patrick?"

"Patrick--Stone. The pirate called Stone. I've come to warn him."

"You've come to warn me of what?"

The deep weary voice that asked the question wasn't laughing. It wasn't even laced with the amusement she'd remembered from all those months ago. But it was Patrick, her Patrick, his face smudged withsoot, his golden hair hanging in damp curls against his furrowedbrow.

"Tell me, boy, warn me of what?"

"This is the second time you've called me a boy, Patrick McLendon. Are you blind?" Catherine pulled the felt hat she was wearing from herhead and turned her face toward the light, toward the man she'd come sofar to find.

He stood, looking at her, allowing his eyes to record and understandwhat he was seeing. This muddy-faced person was a woman--no, not awoman, but the woman he'd dreamed about, the woman he'd carried insidehis head for months.

Patrick told himself he was tired. For most of the day he'd beenoverseeing the burning of his diseased fields, separating them fromthose not yet infested by the caterpillars.

It was at dusk that the flames had gotten away from his men and racedtoward the river. He was tired, hallucinating again. He was seeingwhat he wanted to see, not what was there. For a moment he allowed the hunger in his eyes the freedom to see and believe, then forced thatweakness away.

"No," he protested sharply.

"You can't do this to me again. You're not Catherine. You can't be. She's in Petersburg. This is a trick."

The brush parted at that moment as a wild hog charged into theclearing, screaming her rage at having her habitat upset. Catherine's nerves, already on edge, shattered completely and she began to laugh.

For a moment Patrick stared at her in disbelief. It was Catherine, hisCatherine. He'd recognize that laughter anywhere. While the screeching pig disappeared into the night, he opened his arms inwelcome.

As she flew into them he swung her around, shouting joyfully.

"Ah, Catherine, darling'. The first time I saw you, you weresurrounded by pigs. Do you always travel in such strange company?""No stranger than a man who's friends with the little people."And then he kissed her, muddy face and all.Once he'd tasted, satisfied himself that she was real, that this was no dream, he slipped his arm around her shoulder and turned to Pharaoh.

"How did you get here?"

"Not now, Patrick," Catherine interrupted.