With her head pressed back against Jon's shoulder, she didn't notice the sudden tightening of his mouth or the grimness that came into his eyes as she nestled into him like a small, trusting kitten. He didn't speak, but then she didn't feel like talking either. Relaxing against the hard muscles of his chest, she looked with interest toward the city which was to be her home.

Charleston was a thriving seaport, a bustling southern town dependent for its sustenance on the ocean's proximity. Ships from all over the world were at anchor in the harbor, come to trade spice or rum or textiles for Charleston's most profitable export: cotton.

Cathy took a deep breath of the sweet air, enjoying the feel of the sun which shone warmly down even at the end of February. Jon had been born in this town, had spent his boyhood here. Despite the bitterness of his memories, Charleston was his home. Cathy was determined to make it her home, too.

She protested when Jon began to carry her back down to his cabin again. She could have watched the activity in the harbor all day. But when he insisted, she gave in with good grace. As he said, Charleston would be around for a long time. It wouldn't disappear if she went in for a rest.

Jon went ash.o.r.e while Cathy napped. He was still gone when she awoke. To her surprise, Martha had accompanied him, leavingPetersham with Cathy. It was after dark before they returned to the ship.

Martha bustled in first, her arms loaded with packages. Jon followed, similarly burdened. Cathy sat up in the bunk, her eyes widening with astonishment. Her eyes flew to Jon's face. His eyes met hers steadily, then a slow smile curved his mouth.

"I couldn't take my wife ash.o.r.e dressed in a quilt," he explained simply, dropping the bundles on the bed. Cathy looked from the packages to her husband and back, speechless. Jon continued: "And I like the idea of a naked baby even less.Ithink you'll find everything you both will need in there."

A nod indicated the packages. Cathy's fingers flew to open them while Martha beamed at her. There were three dresses, all sized to fit a very pregnant lady, in lovely yellow and palest green and peach. Petticoats and underwear designed specifically for an expectant mother were in another box. Cathy held up a pair of drawers with an elasticized middle panel made to expand as her bellydid, her eyes quizzical as they turned on Jon.

"You didn't pick these out," she accused, half laughing at the idea. Jon grinned.

"Imust admit thatIdidn't," he said. "Nor didIselect the unG.o.dly amount of infant paraphernalia without whichIhave been a.s.sured no child can be adequately cared for. Martha did. You must thank her."

"Captain Hale told me to get what.i.thought you both needed," Martha said, defending him stoutly. "And he paid the bills. Which is more than a lot of gentlemen would have done."

"Iam unmanned," Jon murmured satirically in response to Martha's unexpected championship. Cathy smiled at him, and at her nanny. She caught at Martha's arm, pulling the woman down so that she could plant an affectionate kiss on her cheek,then turned to hold out her arms unselfconsciously to Jon. Red washed up under the swarthy skin of his face, and he looked undecided for a moment before Martha's expectant look forced him to bend rather stiffly toward her. Cathy's arms closed tenderly about his neck, and she brushed a soft kiss against his firm mouth. Under her touch his lips parted, hardening, and his hands moved convulsively as though he would crush her to him, belly and all. The sound of Martha discreetly clearing her throat in the background brought him to his senses. He pulled away, his breathing perceptibly harder. Cathy smiled at him tremulously. His eyes lingered on her face for a long, disturbing moment before swinging away.

"If you ladies will excuse me . . ." he said rather jerkily, turning on his heels. Cathy stared at him, her eyes warm, admiring the powerful swing of his tall body as he left the cabin. Martha had to speak to her twice before she managed to tear herself away from a rapt contemplation of the closed cabin door. The older woman's eyeswere knowing as she watched her mistress lovingly unwrap the tiny infant apparel, but she refrained from mentioning what she had seen. It was plain as the nose on Miss Cathy's face that she was head over heels in love with the captain. As for him, well, men were better at hiding their feelings. Still, Martha smiled contentedly as she helped Cathy pack away the baby's things.

By the time Cathy was dressed in the yellow gown, her hair fixed in a demure style as befitted a young matron, andher and the baby's new things were safely packed in theseachests , it was mid-morning. Jon had been striding about the deck for an hour, impatiently sticking his head in the door from time to time to demand testily what in blazes was taking so long. Cathy smiled at him, but Martha was less forbearing. She shooed him away firmly, saying that a lady's toilette was an intricate business and that a real gentleman knew this and adjusted his schedule accordingly. Jon clenched his jaw, but knew better than to retort.Aseasoned warrior, he had been in enough battles to recognize defeat. He retired with reluctant grace, leaving Martha in command of the field.

At last Cathy was ready. Jon was summoned to carry her to a waiting boat, and two sailors were told to take care of the luggage. Their jaws sagged when they saw the towering mound of trunks and packages, but they nodded valiantly in response to Jon's terse instructions as to how they were to convey them to the house. Jon picked up Cathy, one arm supporting her shoulders and the other beneath her knees. She held on to his neck carefully, smiling at him as her head rested against his shoulder. The scent of her freshly washed hair drifted to his nostrils, and he half closed his eyes. Only Martha's impatient hustling movements behind him kept him from stopping to press his lips to the fragrance's source.

When Cathy saw exactly how she was expected to get from the "Margarita's" deck to the small boat bobbing far beneath on the surface of the water, she balked. There was no way that she was going to sit in the sling Jon had devised and be lowered over the side. If she fell, she would fall all the way to China. If nothing else could be arranged, she would much prefer to take her chances with the ladder. Martha agreed with Cathy wholeheartedly. Shemisliked the look of the contraption herself.

Jon coaxed, cajoled, and ordered. Cathy refused to budge. Finally he lost his patience and dumped her bodily into the sling, still handling her as gently as he could in deference to her condition. Cathy, seeing there was no help for it, allowed him to tie her in, then closed her eyes and clung hard to the attached ropes as she was suspended over the side. A pulley lowered her carefully, and a sailor caught her at the other end, but Cathy was white by the time the operation was completed. She had always had an irrational fear of heights.

Once Cathy was safely aboard the punt, the operation proceeded speedily. Martha was lowered in the same fashion, screaming as she was suspended over the blue waters of the bay. Less care was taken to catch her than Cathy, and by the time Martha was safely installed on the wooden seat her skirt was thoroughly splashed. She muttered direly as Jon climbed down the ladder and jumped lightly aboard. Luckily the water was as smooth as satin. The journey to sh.o.r.e was completed without a hitch.

Jon had hired an open carriage and given it instructions to await them at the dock. He proposed to take Cathy toWoodham while Martha followed in a second carriage with the baggage. The ride should take no more than an hour, and then they would be safely home. n.o.body would have to move again unless he or she wanted to.

This partly mollified Martha. She agreed, with an air of injured dignity, to wait for the luggage and to watch over its safe bestowal. Jon, inwardly blessing his father for not having endowed him with a nanny, swung up into the carriage beside Cathy and nodded to the driver to move off.

Cathy leaned her head back against the upholstered seat, drinking in the sights and sounds around her. As they moved over the cobbled streets, they pa.s.sed avenue upon avenue of small shops, with wooden signs hanging out front advertising everything froma millinery to a tooth-drawer. After the child was born, Cathy antic.i.p.ated, she would spend many a pleasurable afternoon in making the acquaintance of the local boutiques. Jon caught her hand as they drove out toward the residential section, and Cathy turned to look at him, surprised. Lately he had not been given to gestures of affection.

"I bought you something else, yesterday," he said, continuing to hold her left hand while he drew a small box from the pocket of his coat. As Cathy stared at him he drew the wedding ring from her finger. He held it briefly in his clenched fist,then opened his hand to let it fall carelessly over the side of the carriage. Cathy gasped as the small golden circle was left behind in the road,then turned on Jon indignantly. He thrust the box at her.

"Open it," he ordered brusquely, and Cathy took the box from him. When she hesitated to open it he nipped up the lid with his thumb. Cathy blinked bemusedly at the glitter of jewels inside. There were two rings; a diamond solitaire flanked by two smaller sapphires, and a plain gold wedding band. She looked from the rings to his face, her eyes questioning.

"My wife wears my rings," he explained sardonically, and when Cathy continued to stare at him he frowned at her impatiently.

"Put them on."

She made no move to obey, so he caught up her left hand and slid the rings onto her unresisting fingers. The gesture took her by surprise, and she felt an absurd knot of tears rise in her throat as the long brown fingers slipped the rings onto her slender white ones. It was almost as if they were getting married again, without the twisted emotions that had made a mockery of the real ceremony, and Cathy's unguarded eyes as she raised them to Jon's reflected her feelings.

"Jon, I . . ." she started to say, but something in his face made her think better of the confession she had been about to make. Instead, she decided to use this chance to protest her total innocence again. "I really didn't know that you were in prison. I certainly never would have had you beaten, or starved. Please believe me.

Jon's eyes narrowed coldly on her face.

"As I think I told you before, the subject is closed. There's no need for you to make ridiculous attempts to appease me. I have accepted the fact that we are married, for better or worse, so you have no need to fear that I'll exact some sort of vengeance on you for your actions. You're perfectly safe."

The sneering tone of the last words stabbed Cathy to the quickShe took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that started to her eyes.Imust not cry,Imust not, she told herself fiercely, willing back the tears that seemed to flow on the slightest provocation in these last weeks of her pregnancy.

"Christ, you'll try anything, won't you?" Jon muttered fiercely, looking away from the suspicious glitter in her eyes.

"Of course I will," Cathy retorted angrily, his contempt stiffening her spine. She tilted her chin at him haughtily. "Being married is a dull business.Ihave to do something to liven it up!"

"You b.i.t.c.h!" Jon swore under his breath. Cathy's mouth tilted in a satisfied smile. Two could be nasty, she thought vindictively. If he thought that she were willing to play doormat, he could b.l.o.o.d.y well think again! She made up her mind to give back what she got.

The remainder of the ride pa.s.sed in almost total silence. Only the steady clopclop of the horse's hoofs on the dirt road sounded in the air. Finally, Jon roused himself from the black study he was lost in to indicate a certain lane to the driver.

"We're here," he said laconically to Cathy.

Cathy satup, willing to ignore what had pa.s.sed between them in her eagerness to see her new home. The lane curled between two rows of tall oak trees. Sloping green fields fell away on either side. In the distance Cathy could just make out the misty outline of a two-story brick house. As they drew closer she caught her breath. It was beautiful, a stately mansion with soaring white columns guarding the entrance. A veranda ran the length of the house, and a leaded-gla.s.s fan light curved over the oak front door. Shallow steps led up to the veranda. Magnolia trees with their wavy white blossoms flanked the steps on either side.

The carriage halted on the circular drive just in front of the house. Jon made a move as though he would jump down, but was arrested in the act as a woman came out to the edge of the porch to stand staring down at him. Jon stared back, his face curiously hard, and got out of the buggy with calm deliberation.

"Good morning,Isobelle ," Jon said, his voice expressionless. Cathy's eyes went from her husband's broad back to the fashionably dressed woman on the porch. The woman was very pretty in a black-haired, flashing-eyed kind of way, and her figure in the low-cut silk gown was voluptuous. But tiny lines marred the skin of her face, and her red mouth had a petulant droop. She was quite old, Cathy saw, even older than Jon. The merest glimmer of a suspicion as to who she might be began to lurk in Cathy's brain.

"Jon," the woman nodded in reply to his greeting. Her bold eyes ran over his tall form in a way Cathy didn't care for. They had widened appreciatively as they came back to linger on his face, and Cathy bit her lip. "You've changed, my dear."

"So have you,Isobelle ," Jon answered, his voice tight. Remembering Cathy's presence at last, he turned to lift her from the carriage, holding her very carefully in his arms. Cathy flashed him a poisonous look. He smiled slightly at the anger smoldering in her eyes.

"And who have we here?"Isobelle's eyes narrowed as they ran over Cathy's round shape. Cathy regarded the woman haughtily. Her possessive att.i.tude toward Jon was irritating in the extreme.

"This is my wife," Jon said coolly, carrying Cathy with easy strength as he began to mount the stairs. When he was on the second one from the top he paused. "Cathy, this isIsobelle .My stepmother."

Cathy's suspicions were confirmed. This, then, wasthe woman Jon had adored as a teen-ager, the one who had so cruelly disillusioned him by her betrayal of his father. Much against her will she murmured something polite, which the woman didn't even bother to answer.

"Cradle-s.n.a.t.c.hing, Jon?"Isobelle asked provocatively. "Or a case of needs must?"

Jon's mouth tightened at the woman's cattiness, and Cathy felt a blush heat her own cheeks. Like it or not, that last remark was too close for comfort. But she'd be boiled in oil before she would let Jon's stepmother guess her discomfiture. She summoned a polite smile, and kept it firmly glued to her lips as Jon continued up the stairs and across the porch.Isobelle followed them intothe hah .

"When a man sees something as lovely as Cathy, he takes whatever steps are necessary to stake his claim to it immediately. Or has it been so long that you've forgotten,Isobelle ?"

Jon's reply wasnegligent, but that it stung the woman was evident from her suddenly heightened color. She started to retort, but bit back the words asPetersham came hurrying into the hall from the back of the house.

"Ah,Petersham ," Jon said evenly, "I wondered if you had somehow gotten lost. I see my-uh-instructions were not carried out."

"I'm sorry,Cap'n , but she insisted on staying.Said she wanted to meet the bride."Petersham's eyes were apologetic as they met Cathy's. She smiled at him.

"Of course I wanted to meet your wife, Jon,"Isobelle trilled with a.s.sumed gaiety. "After all, I suppose she'll be my step-daughter-in-law. I shall have to introduce her to my friends. WhenPetersham showed up this morning with some ridiculous story about you wanting the house for your family, I knew I had to see this for myself. It's so hard to picture you as a family man."

"Well, now that you've seen that I am, indeed, a family man, perhaps you'll excuse me. My wife hasn't been well, and she needs to rest.Petersham , have you prepared a room?"

"The master suite,Cap'n ."

Jon started to turn toward the stairs, butIsobelle caught at his arm. Cathy glared at the woman icily, but Isobelle ignored her, smiling archly up into Jon's face. Cathy was conscious of a sudden, shocking urge to rake her nails over that artfully painted face.

"I'm taking a house in town, Jon. You must call on me after you get your wife settled. We can discuss old . . . times."

"I may do that,Isobelle . I suppose you have taken the house slaves?"

"They were mine."Isobelle shrugged, her hand with its scarlet nails stroking his sleeve. Cathy gritted her teeth at the intimacy of the action. 'Your father gave them to me just before he died. You're lucky to get the house. After all, you never came home."

"No, I never did, did I?" Jon answered coldly,then turned away. Cathy's arms tightened around his neck as he started up the stairs with her.Petersham was right behind them.

"You are welcome to make use of the carriage outside to take you into town," Jon said over his shoulder toIsobelle .

"You're too kind, Jon dear," the woman purred in reply. "Don't forget to come and see me. I know how . . . lonely . . . a man can get when his wife is in an interesting situation."

Cathy gasped audibly at this blatant invitation. Jon's jawtightened, and he slanted a look down at the indignant girl in his arms asIsobelle left.

"You're not to go to see her," Cathy told him in a blunt undertone, not wantingPetersham to hear but unable to keep back the words.

"Are you giving me orders, wife?" Jon's eyes were suddenly glacial as they looked down at her. Cathy nodded, her blue eyes still burning with resentment overIsobelle's boldness.

"Don't," Jon said softly, his tone edged with cruelty. "Remember that you're very much on sufferance. You have no right to question my actions, now or at any other time."

Cathy stared at him, the pain his words caused stabbing at her chest like a knife. Her chin lifted defiantly.

"I wouldn't dream of questioning your actions, husband." Cathy stressed the last word in mocking imitation of the tone Jon used when he uttered "wife." "But on the other hand, you must not question mine. Remember,what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander."

"I wouldn't stake my fife on it," Jon answered grimly. 'You just might lose."

Petershamcame around him and opened the door into the master suite, thus averting a quarrel. Cathy glared at her husband resentfully as he placed her carefully in the middle of the big four-poster. His eyes gleamed with a stony implacability down into hers as he straightened up from the bed.

"I trust you'll be comfortable here." Jon's voice was distant, and Cathy knew that the words were said more forPetersham's benefit than hers.

"Certainly," she replied with equal coolness, determined not to be outdone at the game of polite disinterest. A spark flared in Jon's eyes at her tone, and that warning muscle began to twitch in his cheek. Before he could respond with the rage that seemed dangerously near the boiling point, however, Petersham spoke from his place by the window.

"Cap'n, that Martha woman is here with the rest of the things. Do you want me to see to them?"

"I'll do it. I have to go back into town anyway, and I'll bring them in on my way. You stay with Miss Cathy until Martha gets up here, and then you can go see what's left of the stables. If I remember my fathercor-rectly , there won't be much."

"We aimingto stay here for a while,Cap'n ?"Petersham asked quietly.

"For a while," Jon said shortly, and strode from the room without another glance at Cathy. She bit her lip so hard, in her effort not to call afterhim, that it bled. He had to go back into town, he'd said-to see that woman, no doubt! He was a l.u.s.ty man, and she knew for a fact that he hadn't had a woman in months. If he went to that woman she would never forgive him, she fumed. But then, a little voice inside her head mocked, she would probably never know. Who was there to tell her?

Suspicions ate at Cathy like cancer during the next ten days. Jon was hardly ever home, and when he was he was curt and preoccupied. Cathy could not be certain that he was seeingIsobelle , or any other woman for that matter, but it was more than likely, as she silently acknowledged. There was nothing to stop him, after ail. Although she was his wife, he was not bound to her by the usual ties of love or even guilt. He would do just as he d.a.m.ned well pleased, she thought dismally, and if she didn't like it she would just have to learn to lump it!

The only thing that kept her from being totally convinced of his infidelity was the steady influx of slaves into the estate. There was a possibility that he was legitimately busy, spending his time seeing to the seed and fertilizer and human labor force needed ifWoodham were once again to become a successful cotton plantation. That this was Jon's plan she learned fromPetersham. The captain had decided to take up planting, which the little valet found hard to understand, and when Master Jon did something he went all out. Why, he,Petersham , wouldn't be surprised if they had a b.u.mper cotton crop by next summer!

Cathy was patently uninterested in cotton. She was cross, and tired, and if she were honest she would admit that she was missing Jon. She longed for the baby's birth the way a jailed convict longs for freedom. Once her body was her own again, she vowed, she would have no scruples about using it to get what she wanted: the love of her husband.

Martha was appointed housekeeper for the time being, and she was growing more and more hara.s.sed. Unused to dealing withslaves, she was deeply suspicious of them, and refused to let any of them near Miss Cathy. She was sure they were all plotting rebellion, and would slit the girl's throat if given the chance. The constant upheaval caused by this att.i.tude did nothing for Cathy's serenity. When she was on her feet again, domestic organization would be another problem she would have to deal with.

The weather remained warm and sunny through the first day of March. Then a gentle shower broke the monotony, its soft pattering noise against the closed windows lulling Cathy into drowsiness. She had felt strangely lethargic all day, and the burden she carried seemed even heavier than usual. Which was normal, she supposed, as the child was due any day now.

Jon had looked in on her that morning, inquiring with a cool politeness about her health.Hehad been dressed for town, and Cathy had eyed his handsome form with smoldering resentment.Hewas responsible for her discomfort, and he wasn't suffering one bit! She scowled at him, refusing to speak, and he had looked her over with bland disinterest before according her a mocking bow and proceeding on his way.

As she ate her dinner, propped up against a mound of pillows in the enormous bed, Cathy stared moodily at her engagement ring, the brilliant stones reflecting the light of the candle near the bed. Jon was a swine, she thought bitterly. Even now he might be with another woman, kissing her, making love to her. Cathy's whole body burned with jealousy. If Jon had been present she would have taken great pleasure in slapping that bronzed face.

Savagely she speared a piece of chicken with her fork, pretending it was Jon. As she bit into it with grim satisfaction her eyes widened. A rush of water spread over her legs, wetting the covers and mattress. What on earth . . . ? She stared down at her lower body with amazement. She had wet herself! Then the truth dawned. It was her time. The baby was coming!

She looked around for the bell that was supposed to stand on the bedside table. It wasn't there. Between Martha and the confused house slaves, nothing was in its place. But she had to have help. She tried calling out, but her voice echoed thinly and she knew it wouldn't be audible beyond the confines of the room. Gritting her teeth, she swung her feet to the floor and eased out of bed. She no longer had to worry about doing something that would force the arrival of the baby. It was on its way of its own accord!

Her legs were shaky from the weeks she had spent in bed, but she managed to drag herself across to the door by holding on to the furniture. The first pain hit her as she was stepping into the hall. She bent double, gasping, but it was gone almost as soon as she felt it. That wasn't so bad, she thought, heartened. Maybe childbirth wouldn't be the ordeal she had feared.

Her room was three doors away from the stairs. She made it to the top, hanging on to the banister as she looked down. She didn't dare attempt it. A fall might kill both herself and the child.

"Martha!" she called. Her voice was pitiably weak. She tried again. "Martha!"

The door to one of the rooms off the hall opened and Cathy could see the cozy glow of a lamp illuminating a filled bookcase. The study, she surmised, and opened her mouth to call out again just as Jon stepped into the hall with another man.

"Thanks very much for stopping by, Bailey," Jon said, shaking the man's hand.

"It was a pleasure, Captain Hale," the man replied.

Cathy tried to draw back into the shadows of the upper hallway, not wanting to call attention to her predicament with a strange man present, but another pain struck and a tiny moan escaped her.

Jon glanced almost casually up the stairs, his face freezing with disbelief as he saw Cathy doubled over at the top.

"My G.o.d!" he breathed, and came up the stairs two at a time. Cathy felt his strong arms go around her with almost womanly gentleness. She tilted her head back, trying to smile at him. The effort was contorted by another pain.

"It's . . . I'm having the baby!" she gasped, when the spasm had receded.

Jonnodded, his face white beneath its tan.

"I'm going to lift you," he said, his voice very calm. "You don't even have to put your arms around my neck. Just relax. You'll be all right."He lifted her with infinite care, then bore her swiftly back along the hall to her bedroom. Gently he lowered her to the bed,then strode back to the open bedroom door. His bellow for Martha shook the house to its rafters.

Fifteen.

Cathy was in labor for almost twenty-four hours. As the night wore on Martha saw that the delivery would be difficult, and sent word down to Jon asking him to summon a physician. (It was the custom for babies to be delivered by female members of the expectant mother's household.) The message was unnecessary. Jon, white and shaken by the sounds that emanated from behind the closed bedroom door, had already done so.

The low moans were bad enough, but Cathy's occasional piercing screams were well-nigh unbearable. Jon broke out in a cold sweat, and had to be physically restrained byPetersham and one of the new hous.e.m.e.n from rushing upstairs and bursting into the room where his wife was enduring such agony.