Blue Velvet

Nine

"She's been hit." Beau's expression was dazed and incredulous. "They've shot Kate!"

Daniel was kneeling beside them in seconds. "She couldn't be hit. They were aiming deliberately high. Even if we'd been standing the bullets would have been over our heads. The sons of bitches just wanted to scare us." He tensed. "Unless one of the bullets ricocheted."

"What the hell difference does it make how it happened?" Beau asked fiercely, his golden eyes wild in his pale face. "Look at her. They've shot her, dammit!" Oh, dear God, a wound in the temple. It must be serious. What if she died? What if he'd lost her even before they'd really belonged to each other? The thought filled him with such panic and fury he found himself trembling like a child lost in the dark. It was dark. The entire world would be dark now without Kate. "She can't die, Daniel. I won't let her die."

Daniel was bending closer, his keen gaze raking the area of the wound. "Don't lose your cool. She doesn't appear to be having any trouble breathing. It's difficult to tell with all that blood but the wound doesn't look like a puncture. She may have been cut by a flying splinter." He frowned. "We need more light. I don't want to move her until we're sure." He called over his shoulder to one of the crewmen hovering close by. "Get me a lantern and a first-aid kit, Jim."

"She's not going to die," Beau repeated, his voice harsh with desperation. "There are too many things I have to give her. She's never had anything. I've got to show her how much she means to me."

Daniel's dark eyes were gentle. "You can't buy everything, Beau. Kate's not going to let you subsidize her. She's too independent."

"She's going to have to let me." He gently tucked a lock of hair behind Kate's ear. "What's the use of having anything if I can't give to Kate? All my life I've had my dear loving relatives and so-called friends clawing and fighting to get their hands on a few shekels of the Lantry Trust. Money's never given me anything I really wanted, but it will now. Because it means I can keep Kate safe and comfortable." He tried to clear the thickness from his throat. "And happy. God, I want Kate to be happy."

"How do you know that money will bring her any more happiness than it has you?" Daniel asked quietly. "I wouldn't say Kate has any materialistic tendencies. On the contrary." The seaman was at his elbow now handing him the dark blue metal box with the red cross on it. "Now we'll see how serious the wound really is. Hold that lantern closer, Jim." He opened the first-aid kit and took out a gauze pad. With infinite care he brushed the blood away from Kate's temple. He didn't look up as he gave a slight sigh of relief. "It's okay. It's just a cut, not even a very deep one. She probably wouldn't even be unconscious if the splinter hadn't struck such a sensitive area as the temple. She should be coming to any time now."

"Are you sure?" Beau looked up, his expression strained and haunted. "She's so damn still."

"I'm as sure as I can be. I'm not a doctor, but I've had quite a bit of experience with wounds."

Yes, Daniel would know, Beau realized, almost dizzy with relief. She was going to be all right. "Thank God!"

Beau was angry with her again, Kate thought uneasily, his voice was harsher than she'd ever heard it. Even through this hazy half-waking mist she was aware of the tension that was vibrating through him like a violin string strung too taut. Her head was throbbing with a dull aching pain. Why was that? She tried to think but everything was a muzzy blur. Oh yes, she'd been struck on the head in the warehouse when they'd burned the cocaine. But that seemed such a long time ago. Why did it still hurt? No, it couldn't be that. The machine gun. She stiffened as memory swept back to her. The ship, the chase, Beau's voice telling her not to argue and go below, the explosive strafe of bullets.

Her eyes flew open. "It wasn't my fault."

"Kate!"

She was too intent to notice the hoarseness of his voice. "It wasn't my fault," she insisted. "I didn't have time to go below." Her brow creased in a cross frown. "Not that I probably would have done it anyway. You have no right to give me orders."

Daniel chuckled. "What did I tell you? Independent as hell."

"She can be as independent as she likes as long as she's all right." Beau's gaze was devouring her in the lantern light and there was such an expression of tenderness and thanksgiving on his face that she caught her breath in wonder. Beau couldn't be angry with her and still look at her like that. "Are you in any pain?"

She shook her head, her eyes still held by that beautifully glowing tenderness. "No, I'm fine. Is everyone else unhurt?"

Daniel nodded. "You were the only casualty. Can you get up?"

"Yes, of course." She made a motion to lever herself upright, which was immediately quelled by Beau's arms tightening about her.

"Lie still," he ordered tersely. "You're sure it's safe for her to move, Daniel?"

Daniel shrugged. "I don't see why not. I told you it's not much more than a scratch."

"Then I'm taking her down to the cabin. Send Jim down with that first-aid kit, will you?" He was standing up with her still cradled in his arms. He drew her protectively close. "I'll take care of her from now on."

Daniel got to his feet and stood facing him. "Any idea where we go from here? Santa Isabella?"

"I haven't decided," Beau said, turning away. "I'll get back to you later. Just get us as far away from Castellano as you can before I get over being thankful she's alive and start wanting to collect a few scalps. I never want her to set eyes on that blasted island again as long as she lives."

He was moving swiftly, carrying her. Her ear was pressed to the silky shirt covering his chest and she could hear the beating of his heart. She felt deliciously fragile in that possessive embrace. Too fragile. It was much too easy to relax and let Beau take charge and she mustn't give in to that momentary weakness. "I can walk. Just let me down and I'll be fine. I wasn't really hurt."

He glanced down at her and his face lit up with a smile so beautiful it warmed her heart. "I know you can, but I don't want to let you go yet. Indulge me a little, sugar."

What was a little independence when he was smiling at her like that? "Okay," she said, nestling her cheek closer to the vital cadence of his heartbeat. She closed her eyes and the steady metronome soothed her into a dreamy lassitude as he carried her down the stairs and laid her carefully on the yielding softness of the bunk. His hands were deft and swift as he undressed her and slipped her beneath the covers. She was so lost in that deliciously languid haze that she scarcely heard the soft knock on the door or Beau's invitation to enter.

She felt Beau's hand brush the curls back from her forehead. "Hey, wake up. You can't go to sleep until I've bandaged that cut." The mattress sank beneath his weight as he sat down and she opened her eyes to see him taking the first-aid kit from the slight, wiry crewman. What was his name? Jim, that was it. Then the crewman wasn't there anymore and Beau was bending over her with that same wonderful smile curving his lips.

"This may sting a little," he said as the gauze touched her temple. She inhaled sharply. The antiseptic did sting and it was more than a little. "Damn." His growl was rough with concern. "I'll be through here in just a minute. Hold on, sugar." He was as good as his word and soon the cut was clean and neatly covered with a small square bandage. "That should do it." He closed the first-aid box and fastened the snap lock. "Now you can go to sleep." "I can?" She was gazing up at him uncertainly. "Aren't you coming to bed?"

He shook his head. "Later maybe. I want to stay awake awhile and make sure you didn't get a concussion when that splinter hit you." His hand ruffled affectionately through her curls again. "I don't know why I'm so worried. You've obviously got a cast-iron skull. It would have to be considering the punishment it's taken lately."

"You could lie down beside me," she said wistfully. Strange how easily you could become used to strong gentle arms holding you lovingly.

He was shaking his head again. "I'm too bushed to risk it. It's been quite a day. I'll just sit here until you go to sleep. I have to go up and talk to Daniel later about our next destination, but 111 drop in and check on you periodically through the night. You won't be nervous alone?"

She shook her head. "I'm used to it. Compared to the rain forest, the Searcher is a small planet that has experienced a population explosion."

Beau's grasp tightened. Her entire life must have been a forest of loneliness. Not anymore. He was never going to let her be lonely or vulnerable again. "It slipped my mind that your alter ego is Sheena, the jungle girl." His gaze met hers with sudden gravity. "What shall I tell Daniel about Santa Isabella? Do you want to drop in on Julio and Brenden before we move on?"

"I'd like that very much but it's up to you." She met his gaze steadily. "It's your decision."

"Oh, yes, our bargain. I believe I'm getting exceptionally tired of discussing our bargain." He shrugged. "In any case I'll have a special courier pick up your carousel from Julio and deliver it to you at our next port of call if we don't stop at Santa Isabella." Her face lit up. "It's safe, then?" "Of course it's safe. You should know I'd never let anything happen to something that was so special to you." He paused. "Then you're leaving our destination up to me?"

She shrugged. "It doesn't matter where we go. One island is pretty much like another in the Caribbean." She suddenly frowned. "I have to warn you I may prove something of an albatross around your neck. There aren^’t many ports where a woman without papers is welcomed with open arms. You might be better to go on alone."

"Oh, yes, your nonexistent passport. Well, we'll just have to do something about that, won't we?" He was playing with her fingers and he looked down at them absently as he spoke. "And as I have a fondness for this particular albatross, I have no intention of going on alone." A smile curved his lips. "I don't have your rain forest training, you see. I'd be lonely."

"Would you?" That admission of vulnerability from strong self-assured Beau brought with it a melting tenderness and a breathless spring of hope. "I wouldn't think you'd ever be lonely."

"I've been lonely all my life." He looked from her hand to her eyes. "That's why I need you to stay with me. You promised once you'd take care of me. It amused me at the time, but it doesn't now. I need you to take care of me, to guard me from that loneliness. Will you do that?"

Oh, she wanted to. She wanted to give everything to him. She wanted to nurture, protect, and love. Oh yes, above all, love. "Yes, I'll do that," she said softly. She tried to smile but found her lips trembling. "Isn't that the primary duty of a mistress? You'll have to coach me on all the nuances of the role, I'm afraid. But I learn most things quickly."

His face darkened in a troubled frown and he opened his lips to speak. Then he closed them again and once more looked down at her hand he was holding. His thumb rubbed absently at the smoothness of the nail of her index finger. "We're going to have to talk about that," he said. "But not tonight. You need a good night's sleep to get over that whack you took. We'll discuss it tomorrow. There is one thing you should know." He still wasn't looking at her. "The situation has changed now. I've found I'm not as strong as I thought I was where you're concerned. I wanted to play Galahad and Lancelot for you. Hell, I was even willing to try for that wimpy Ashley Wilkes."

"Ashley Wilkes?" she asked, puzzled.

"Gone With the Wind." Then, as she continued to look at him in bewilderment, "You missed that too?" His grin was gently teasing. "That's one classic you'll have to read. The lady author had the good taste to write about the glorious South. I may even make you memorize a passage or two." The smile faded. "Well, I'm not Galahad or Ashley Wilkes and I can't pretend to be anything but Beau Lantry." His lips twisted. "And he's a pretty selfish bastard. I'd like to be self-sacrificing and martyrish and all that bull, but it's just not in my makeup. Do you understand?"

"No, not at all. I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

He muttered a frustrated curse beneath his breath. "It's just that you're so damn vulnerable," he said harshly. "And you're so god-awful impulsive I'd go crazy worrying every minute what trouble you were going to jump into next. You may think you're a cross between Susan B. Anthony and Joan of Arc, but you could have been killed up on that deck tonight, damn it." He ran his hand through his hair distractedly. "For that matter you could have been killed any number of times in the last days."

"So could you," she protested. "That's different," he said with a royally arrogant lack of logic. "I can take care of myself." Then as he saw the indignation begin to smolder in her eyes, he shrugged helplessly. "Lord, I did it again. Look, I know you've had to be independent and you've done a hell of a good job raising yourself." He lifted her hand and kissed the palm. "You're a beautiful person, Kate. It's just that I'm not going to be able to stand by and watch you fight your battles all alone." His drawl softened to velvet urgency. "I nearly went crazy when I saw that blood running down your cheek. It scared me, sugar. I don't think I've ever been that frightened in my life." He drew a deep breath and a hint of steel appeared beneath the velvet. "I can't let that happen again. Wimpy Wilkes can go drown himself in his mint juleps for all I care."

Her clear blue eyes were wondering. "I hope you know what you're talking about, for I certainly don't."

"I know you don't," he sighed. "I sound like a first class passenger on the Disorient Express." He put her hand down and patted it. "Forget it for now. We'll talk about it in the morning. I shouldn't have said anything to upset you. I've probably given you more of a headache than you had already."

"You didn't upset me." He'd confused her, touched her, filled her with hope. "And I don't have a headache. I want to talk right now."

"No," he said firmly. "Go to sleep." Suddenly his eyes flickered gold with mischief. "Would you like me to sing you a lullaby?"

"Would you?" she asked, intrigued.

"Only if I was feeling particularly sadistic. Unfortunately, I can't carry a tune and I've been accused of sounding like a howling bloodhound on the trail. No, upon weighty consideration I think it would be far more relaxing if I told you a bedtime story. Would you like that, little girl?"

"Yes, I think I would." She couldn't remember anyone ever taking the time to perform that cozy little ritual. She settled back more comfortably against the pillows and gazed up at him eagerly. "What story are you going to tell me, Beau?"

"Well, I was considering Dr. Zhivago, but that's a little heavy going for a soporific." He tucked the sheet more firmly under her chin. "So I think we'll go for Gone With the Wind. Okay, sugar?"

He was so beautiful. His smile was that warm lopsided grin that tugged at her heart and his eyes… "Gone With the Wind sounds fine."

"It's just as well that I start inundating you with the glory of the South anyway. Now let's see, where shall I start? Once upon a time there was a magnificent plantation called Tara and living within its stately portals was a lovely Southern belle whose name was Scarlett O'Hara-"

"But who was Ashley Wilkes?" she interrupted.

"Hush, I'm coming to that. He's not the hero anyway. "

"He's the wimp, right?"

"Right. Now Scarlett was a very spoiled, strong-willed lady who had a yen for our boy Wilkes, who was equally hung up on his cousin Melanie.

The knock on the cabin door was soft and unobtrusive but it aroused her immediately. She sat bolt upright in bed and then snatched the sheet that had fallen to her waist and hugged it to her chin. She glanced instinctively at the smooth unrumpled pillow next to her own. She hadn't really expected to see Beau's bronze head there. She had a vague memory of drifting off to sleep some time after the burning of Atlanta. She'd been conscious of Beau once again tucking the covers around her, then lips as soft as orchid petals brushing her forehead. It had all been so lovely- Beau's half-cynical rendering of his tale of the Southland, the rich low murmur of his drawl, watching the vivid flickering expressions on his lean mobile face. Lovely.

The knock was repeated a little more insistently this time. Beau wouldn't knock, he'd stride in with that royal air of dominance she'd become so accustomed to. She'd been drowsily aware of him coming in several times during the night to check on her as he'd said he would do. "Come in."

Jim, the seaman who'd carried the first-aid kit down to the cabin the night before, had a different burden this morning. He bustled briskly into the cabin carrying a round metal tray with a napkin draped over its contents. "Good morning, Miss Gilbert. I've brought you a bite of breakfast. Mr. Lantry says you're to eat everything on the tray." He set the tray carefully down on the bedside table. "He'd like you to join him and Captain Seifert on the deck as soon as it's convenient. The clothes you were wearing last night have been freshly laundered. I'll bring them right down." He grinned. "I didn't want to chance juggling them with that tray of food. I'm not known for being particularly dexterous. I'd probably end up by having to wash them again."

"I appreciate your laundering them the first time, Jim," she said with an answering smile. "You didn't have to. I could have done it myself. I'm not used to being waited on."

"No trouble," he said breezily as he turned and strode back to the door. "You did us quite a favor springing us from the inn last night. Turnabout is fair play, as they say."

As the door closed behind him, she swung her feet to the floor and wrapped the sheet more tightly around her, tucking the folds beneath her arms. Some favor, she thought wryly as she removed the red-checked napkin covering the tray. They were just lucky that no one had been really hurt on deck last night. She had meant well, but perhaps Beau was right about her impulsiveness. Well, she wasn't going to waste her time in gloomy retrospection when the sun was shining so brightly through the porthole and Beau was waiting for her on deck. She'd savor every moment to the fullest as she'd always done.

And she'd start with this breakfast of bacon and eggs and homemade biscuits that were light as a feather and absolutely heavenly. It seemed that she hadn't eaten in a century or so and it was no chore at all to obey Beau's instructions to eat every bite. Come to think of it, she hadn't eaten much in the last few days. She'd had breakfast on the Searcher day before yesterday and a little stew at Consuello's cottage before they'd started for Mariba.

Beau couldn't have eaten very much either and he must have appreciated his breakfast as much as she was appreciating hers now. What did he like to eat? she wondered curiously. There were so many things they had yet to learn about each other. The intimacy bred by danger and their explosive physical union had brought them so close it seemed amazing she didn't know the little mundane things about Beau. Well, they'd have time to learn all the things they needed to know now. She couldn't hope that Beau's passion for her would last forever, but from what he'd said last night, he did feel something for her other than desire. Perhaps if she worked very hard and developed the sophistication and poise he was accustomed to in his women he'd begin to feel a little of the love that was beginning to possess every atom of her being.

Forty-five minutes later she gave her glossy curls a last pat and tucked the soft white cotton shirt more firmly into her jeans. She made a face at the reflection in the bathroom mirror. Spick and span she definitely was, but sadly lacking in romance or glamour. Much more cousin Melanie than Beau's Scarlett O'Hara.

Still, when she reached the upper deck and saw Beau leaning indolently against the rail idly talking with Daniel, she didn't feel like sweet wholesome Melanie. She felt as hopelessly romantic and lovesick as any Juliet, Heloise, or Guinevere.

Beau must have changed sometime during the night, for he was wearing close-fitting pale beige jeans. His chocolate brown shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbow made his bronze hair shine even more in contrast. His eyes were more dark hazel than gold today though and there were dark circles beneath them. Hadn't he slept at all?

He frowned disapprovingly as she came toward them. "You've taken off your bandage."

"It got wet in the shower." So much for her spick-and-span allure. All he'd noticed was the lack of that dratted bandage. "I didn't need it anyway. The cut will be better without it." She breathed deeply of the clean salt air. "No self-respecting wound would dare not heal in surroundings like this. Cobalt sea, sapphire sky, and the sunlight…" She trailed off searching for a phrase that would describe the sparkling iridescence that was singing through her. "It must have been a morning like this when Noah realized the earth was reborn and sent out his dove."

The frown on Beau's face was superseded by amusement. "First she compares you to Charon and now Noah, Daniel. When she gets to Methuselah you'd better think seriously about shaving off your beard. Evidently it's not projecting the kind of virile image a stud like you would like to present to the world."

Daniel didn't appear equally amused. "Playing ferryman to a bunch of lovesick animals sounds, a hell of a lot more appealing than what you had in mind for me," he said with a scowl. "It wouldn't even be legal, damn it. It takes all sorts of special seaman's papers to be qualified for a job like that."

"Then we'll have to move on to plan two," Beau said grimly. "It's got to be legal. If we get someone on board with the right papers and it takes place in American waters…"

Kate was looking from one to the other in bewilderment. "What's this all about? I must have missed something along the way."

"Yes, Beau, tell her what it's all about," Daniel said silkily. "After all, it does concern her. In a minor way of course."

"Shut up, Daniel," Beau growled. "You're not making this any easier." His expression was grave as he turned back to Kate. "We have a small problem. Last night when I came back up on deck to talk to Daniel I had to make a decision about where we were going."

"Yes?"

"I made it. We're about a half-day's journey from our destination now."

"And that is?" she asked, puzzled.

"Santa Isabella." He paused. "First."

"First?"

"Then we're going to continue on to Norfolk, Virginia."

"Virginia!" she echoed. "But that's the United States. Immigration will never let me in without a passport."

"I decided I was tired of batting around the Caribbean. I want to go home," he said quietly. "And you're coming with me just as you agreed."

"But I can't without a-"

"We'll get you a passport, but it may take time to track down your papers. That's why we're stopping off at Santa Isabella. We need to get all the information out of Brenden we can regarding your birth and the possible whereabouts of your mother. In the meantime I'm not willing to sail around aimlessly like the Flying Dutchman waiting for the lawyers to come up with something."

"Then you'll obviously have to go without me," she said, trying to smile.

"The hell I will," he said softly. "Not when there's a way that I can have it all. Daniel can fix it."

Fix it?"

"Right now we're anchored a mile or so off the coast of Lanique, a U.S. possession. That means we're in American waters. Since Daniel isn't qualified to do the job himself he's going to go ashore, find a justice of the peace or some other official and bring him on board the Searcher." He took a deep breath. "To marry us."

"Marry?"

"Marry," he repeated, a trifle nettled. "You obviously view it with very little enthusiasm."

"A very intelligent lady," Daniel said promptly. "Let's forget you ever had this latest attack of insanity, Beau." He made a face. "If it ever got back to Sedikhan I'd played Cupid for love's young dream, it would totally ruin my reputation."

"We're not going to forget it," Beau said grimly. "We're going to be married today. Once we're ashore we'd have all sorts of problems tying the knot without papers for Kate. The minute we're married, she's automatically an American citizen and has the protection of both the Lantry name and the Lantry conglomerate. We'll still have trouble with Immigration but it should simplify the whole process enormously."

"That's a pretty drastic solution," Kate said dazedly. "Isn't there any other way around it?"

Daniel opened his lips to speak, but Beau gave him a quelling glance and said quickly. "There's no other way. You made me a promise and this is the only way you can keep it." His lips twisted. "You needn't be so apprehensive. Even conventional marriages seldom last more than a few years these days. It's not as if it has to be forever."

No, it wouldn't be forever, she thought dully. It would only be a convenience in order that Beau could have her at his disposal for as long as it suited him. She mustn't let those words hurt so much.

"I know that," she said quietly. "I was just thinking that in time you may consider it to be more trouble than it's worth."

"I rarely regret any decision I make, regardless of the consequences," he said with a curiously bittersweet smile. "I'll consider it worth it, Kate. You'll do it, then?"

"If that's what you want."

"Very docile," he said mockingly. "Is our Kate so tame now?"

"I don't think I'm particularly meek," she said, meeting his eyes steadily. "I just believe in keeping my word."

"And so do I," he said, his expression softening. "Remember that, Kate. So do I."

His mood was changing from moment to moment with lightning rapidity, she thought dazedly. What did he actually want from her? She'd agreed to what he'd said he wanted, but she was still aware of the current of leashed restlessness and discontent behind that mocking facade.

"Hop to it, Daniel," Beau said. "I want to get it over with as soon as possible." He shrugged. "We'll be married in your cabin. It's as good a place as any."

"No!" Kate said. She'd never thought much about weddings, certainly not her own wedding, but she was experiencing an odd repugnance at the idea of a hurried ceremony rattled off in the confines of Daniel's cabin. The vows they were going to speak may not have any importance to Beau, but they did to her and she wanted to be surrounded by beauty when she said them. "Up here on deck, in the sunlight."

There was a flicker of understanding and tenderness in Beau's eyes. "Why not? Then we can have the entire crew as witnesses. We're going to need all the documentation we can scrounge together."

"I'm on my way," Daniel said, turning away. "I'll have to go down to my cabin first and get my captain's papers and the credentials Clancy provided to prove how respectable I am these days, A justice of the peace isn't precisely the type of official I'm accustomed to using my powers of persuasion on."

Kate took a step forward and placed an impulsive hand on his arm. "You don't really mind, do you, Daniel?"

Daniel's impatient gaze traveled from her hand on his arm to her troubled face. "You bet your sweet…" He stopped abruptly as he met her eyes. He was silent a long moment before he smiled with surprising gentleness. "I'll live through it." He patted her hand. "I'll not only be best man, I'll even make the supreme sacrifice for the occasion."

"What's that?"

He glanced ruefully down at his naked muscular chest with its curly thatch of auburn hair. "I'll put on a shirt." He turned away. "But don't expect anything else from me. Enough is enough!" He was almost to the door leading below deck when he abruptly turned around again. "Well, maybe one more thing. You're going to need a ring for the ceremony. I know Beau never wears one. Do you have one, Kate?"

She shook her head.

He was taking a large ring of Florentine gold off his right hand. "Use this one." He tossed it to Beau. "It's my lucky ring though. I want it back."

Kate studied the ring. It was obviously very valuable, aside from the fact that it was fashioned of pure gold. The workmanship was exquisite and the design on the surface very unusual. A rose in full bloom pierced by a sword. "Lucky?"

Daniel nodded. "It was given to me by a powerful Sedikhan sheik I did a favor for once. I didn't know it at the time, but wearing it put me automatically under the sheik's protection. That particular symbol is recognized throughout Sedikhan." His lips twisted. "The revolutionaries I told you about stole the ring after they captured me. When they sold it in the bazaar the buyer took it to the sheik and he contacted Donahue. Together they traced it and that led them to me. After six months in the hellish hotbox I was ready to believe the ring wasn't only lucky but pure magic."

"I can see how you would," Kate said. Magic. This marriage could certainly use any magic as well as luck the ring could bring them. "Thank you for letting us use it, Daniel."

"My pleasure." He disappeared down the stairs.

When she looked back on that strange ceremony it was all a jumble of flickering impressions. The movement of the ship beneath her feet, the clear warm sunlight bathing everything in its radiance, the crew in attendance, their faces surprisingly solemn. The thin, graying justice of the peace, Mr. Carruthers, with his sweet smile. Daniel, dressed in his cutoff jeans but with a pristine white shirt buttoned to the throat with endearing circumspection, the exotic gold ring being slipped on her finger. Beau's voice low and oddly husky as he repeated the prescribed vows, her own voice, faint and far away. It was all vaguely dreamlike until almost the very end when Beau turned to face her.

"I'd like to say something," he said softly. "You're probably not aware of it, but it's become very popular these days for a couple to make their own vows. I think it started back in the sixties with the flower children." He smiled gently as he took her hand in his. "I never thought I'd be tempted to follow their example, but here goes." He paused for a long moment and when the words came, they were distinct and clear with a jewellike richness.

"There are only a few qualities I've ever discovered worth holding onto when I've found them in this tired old world of ours. They are honesty, fidelity, and a loving generosity of the spirit. I've found all of them in you, Kate." His clasp tightened and his golden eyes were liquidly brilliant as they held hers. "I promise to give you my own honesty and fidelity in return. I can't promise to give that same generosity of spirit. That particular quality is so very rare it's almost priceless and I don't know if I even possess it. I will give you my strength to protect you, any knowledge and experience I've acquired through the years, and my friendship." He drew a deep shaky breath. "They aren't gifts I give lightly. Will you accept them, Kate?"

"Oh yes." She was so moved she could hardly get the words past the tightness of her throat. "I wasn't expecting this. I don't know what to say in return."

"Nothing," Beau said simply, turning back to Mr. Carruthers. "You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know. Let's get on with it."

"There's only a few more lines," the justice said gruffly, hurriedly bending his head over the Bible in his hands.

She scarcely heard the final words that completed the ceremony. She felt as if she were wrapped in the golden warmth of the words Beau had spoken. So beautiful. No words ever had such shining beauty and Beau's gentle kiss at the end of the ritual was also gravely beautiful.

She was vaguely conscious of Beau thanking Mr. Carruthers and an envelope exchanging hands. Then Daniel was inviting them all down to his cabin for a drink before he had the justice taken ashore.

Beau shook his head. "I'm afraid you'll have to excuse us. I need to talk to Kate." He turned to Kate. "Will you come down to the cabin with me?"

She nodded dreamily, barely conscious of his hand on her elbow propelling her away from the others and down the stairs. The door of the cabin closed behind them and she turned to face him, her eyes still glowing with that soft misty luminance. "What did you want to speak to me about?"

"What?" he asked bemusedly. Then he shook his head as if to clear it. "Do me a favor and don't look at me like that, okay? I had no intention of doing anything but talking when I brought you down here."

"And now?" she asked softly, moving a step closer.

"Now I want to throw you on the bunk and have my wicked way with you."

"I didn't find your way at all wicked before," she said, a little smile tugging at her lips. "I found it very enjoyable. Are you planning on doing it differently this time?"

"Certainly." Beau's eyes were twinkling. "Variety is definitely the spice of life, particularly when it pertains to doing 'it.' " The humor faded from his face. "Listen to me, I'll have you with your clothes off and lying in that bed in a couple of minutes and that's not why we're here. I have to tell you why we went through that ceremony up on deck just now."

"You've already told me," she said, smiling lovingly at him. Her hands began to unbutton her white cotton shirt. "I understand perfectly. You want to go home. I've never really had a home, but I understand the pull is very strong. If that's where you want me, then that's where I'll go." She'd go to the penal colony on Devil's Island if he'd only look at her again as he had on deck while he'd said those beautiful vows. "And you needn't worry that I'll take advantage of you. Whenever you want it dissolved all you have to do is tell me and I'll go away." The words were very hard to get out but they must be said. "And while we're together I'll try not to forget the marriage doesn't really exist. I promise I won't be a Xanthippe."

His eyes were fixed on the lush cleavage revealed by her bra as she shrugged out of her shirt. "Dissolved? What do you mean dis-" He broke off. "Who the hell is Xanthippe?"

"She was Socrates's wife." She was struggling with the back fastener of her bra. "She was very bad-tempered. Socrates said that by living with her he learned to get along with the rest of the world." "No wonder he was so willing to drink that cup of hemlock," he said absently. He inhaled sharply as the fastener was at last released and she slipped the straps down over her arms and tossed the bra aside. "Why do I get the impression that you're trying to seduce me?"

She stepped still another step closer and began to unbutton his brown shirt. "Perhaps because I am," she said serenely, her naked breasts swaying and heavy against him. The sensitive tips brushing against the cool smoothness of his shirt were already burning and peaking with the readiness that was surging through her entire body. "I've read a few books on the subject. Aggressiveness on the part of the female at times is a very welcome variation." She grinned up at him mischievously. "And you just told me that variety is the spice of life." She pushed the fabric of his shirt apart and rubbed her breasts against him. "You've been the aggressor every time so far. I want my turn."

"Nag, nag, nag," he growled, a dark flush mounting to his cheeks as he instinctively leaned forward to meet the thrust of those tantalizing nipples. "You may not be familiar with women's lib as yet, but heaven help us poor males when you are, Xanthippe."

She slipped the shirt from his shoulders and drew it with painstaking slowness down his arms, brushing against him with every breath and every movement. She could hear his breathing begin to grow labored and the pulse in the hollow of his throat was leaping crazily. How wonderful to know she could have that effect on him. But she wanted to do more, she wanted to give him so much pleasure that he'd be dizzy with it. She loved him so very much. How had it grown so quickly to fill her entire life? Perhaps if she could bring him enough pleasure he would love her, too, if only during the moments of passion. "Have your wicked way with me, Beau. Please."

He shuddered but not with cold. His flesh against her own was burning hot. "Perhaps we could talk later," he said, his palm splaying over her jean-clad bottom. "I think I've lost my train of thought anyway. I think it was going to begin with something about how I realize that you don't know me all that well and how unfair it was of me…" He drew a deep breath as he jerked her hips forward so that his iron-hard arousal was pressed boldly against her. "Oh hell, you do know me, at least in the Biblical sense. What's one more time?"

One more time. The phrasing made her vaguely uneasy but only for a moment. She was having trouble thinking at all through the haze of heat that was beginning to surround her. Beau's hands were working swiftly at the fastener of her jeans and she was suddenly confused about who was seducing whom. "What about my turn?"

"Sometime when I haven't been without you for a century or so," he said thickly. "But I'll be magnanimous and let you help." He pushed her away. "It will be quicker if we both take off our own clothes anyway." He patted her bottom briskly. "Hurry."

She tried, as much as fumbling fingers and curious eyes could hurry. She wanted to watch him as he undressed with that swift athletic economy of movement. She hadn't gotten a chance to look her fill that morning at the pool. He was all power and lithe supple muscle, his buttocks hard and tight, the line of his thighs and calves developed to whipcord toughness. She slipped her tennis shoes off and left them with the rest of her clothes as she stood and gazed at him admiringly.

"You have very nice legs," she said dreamily. "Is that from skating?"

He glanced up from slipping his own shoes off, his lips twitching. "Thank you. I suppose that exercise had something to do with my marvelous physique. You, on the other hand, have utterly fantastic breasts and I'm quite sure you did nothing at all to deserve that boon." He shook his head with mock mournfulness. "Most unfair." He took her hand and led her to the bunk. "However, I'm sure that a little well-directed calisthenics can only improve them. Let's see, shall we?"

"Whatever you like," she said, her lashes demurely veiling the mischief in her eyes. "I wouldn't want to be accused of being uncooperative. You've already convinced me I'm a nag."

"Whatever I like," he repeated softly. "It will be what you like too, Kate. I promise." As she would have sunk down upon the bed he stopped her with his hand on her arm. "No, not that way. Something different, remember?" He sat down on the edge of the bed and drew her down on his lap. "Something beautifully, excitingly different."

It was already different. The hardness of muscle and bone against her cushioned softness, the flickering heat in Beau's golden eyes, the urgent arousal pressing against her thigh. Different.

"It's always been beautifully exciting, Beau," she said laying her head confidingly on his chest. His heart was pounding erratically against her ear, but his hand was infinitely gentle as it stroked her curls. "It's as if you're giving me wonderfully precious gifts every time."

His laugh was a husky chuckle beneath her ear. "You've certainly got an original way of expressing yourself." He ruffled her hair. "It's definitely mutual, little Sheba. It would be highway robbery to charge you one hundred twenty talents for this." He was swinging her around to face him, positioning her legs on either side of his hips on the bed. "Though I'll industriously endeavor to prove I'm worth every single talent." He drew her close, his hands rubbing up and down on her back in lazy circles. "Isn't this nice?" he whispered in her ear. "I can touch almost every part of you." He made a minute adjustment and he was suddenly pressing against the center of her womanhood. "And you can touch me."

Her hands clutched spasmodically at his shoulders. "Yes, very nice," she said faintly. Nice wasn't the word for it. She had never felt more vulnerable in her life and there was a liquid burning that was becoming a throbbing ache deep within her. "Do you suppose we could get on with more in-depth touching?"

"When this is so sweet?" His drawl was boyishly playful. "And we haven't even started your exercise regimen yet." One hand cupped her bottom, retaining the contact while the other hand moved to her shoulder and pushed her body backward so that her spine was arched and her full ripe breasts were offered temptingly. "That's better," he said. "Now just keep that position, sugar. Do you feel the tension? Maintaining the tension is very important in any exercise curriculum, you know."

"No, I didn't know," she said faintly. "And yes, I do feel the tension." The position was almost unbearably erotic. The slight strain of the muscles in the small of the back and hips, the vulnerability of her open thighs and Beau's almost blinding sensual gaze on her breasts. "Beau?"

"You want more?" His bronze head was bending with maddening slowness until his lips were only a breath away from the pink crest of her breast. "So do I." His lips enveloped her nipple with teasing delicacy while his hand dropped from her shoulder to her other breast and began a rhythmic massage that caused a shudder to ripple through her. "Keep the tension, love," he muttered, his tongue licking the pink aureole teasingly. "It will make it better for you. I want it to be so good for you, Kate."

She was trying but it was becoming increasingly difficult when each muscle and bone in her body felt as if it were melting away like molten lava. Her breath was coming in little gasps and she instinctively tried to clench, hold, but there was nothing.

"Not yet." Then as her back arched in the tension he was demanding, his lips and hands accelerated their rhythmic pressure. "That's the way." His voice was a low velvet croon. "Sweet, soft Kate." His hands dropped away from her breasts to slide around her, one cupping her buttocks, the other at the small of her back, arching her even more. "Now, we'll do a little of that in-depth touching you were talking about. But slowly, very slowly." His lips enveloped her breast with strong suction while his hand on her bottom began to push her slowly forward. His hand arching her back prevented her from thrusting forward and wresting control from him. A little, then a little more, hotness, fullness, but never enough. Her breasts were heavy and swollen, his tongue and teeth an aching torment. He was moving so damn slowly! She felt herself clench around him trying to hold him, invite him, entice him. She heard him gasp and give a low shaky laugh. "Oh, that was sweet. But don't do it again, love. I don't think I could take it."

"What do you think about me?" she said, closing her eyes as his hand lazily caressed her back before resuming the pressure against her bottom. "I can't stand this!"

"Yes, you can." His lips switched to her other breast to give it equal homage. "We're almost home, Kate." He suddenly pushed hard and strong and was filling her completely. She gave a low guttural moan of infinite satisfaction. "What a lovely sound." His breathing was becoming labored. "Let's hear it again." He jerked her up and forward and this time her gasp was a keening cry of need.

He lifted his head from her breasts and wrapped his arms around her. His lips were buried in the curls at her temple. "Oh, Lord, this is wonderful. I never knew anything could be so fantastic. And it couldn't with anyone else." His hands were caressing her naked back with loving gentleness. His lips covered hers and his tongue thrust deep and probing. He raised his head and drew in a deep breath as if his lungs were starved of oxygen. "Only you, Kate. Only with you."

He didn't wait for her to answer, his hands were on her hips, moving her, thrusting, penetrating so deeply it made her gasp. It was so wild and sweet and hot that she moved from peak to peak with scarcely a breath in between. It was unbelievable that any sensation this exquisite could be sustained for so long but somehow Beau accomplished the impossible. It seemed an eon later that the final peak was reached and they collapsed back on the bed in a state of euphorically languid exhaustion.

Sleep followed as inevitably as a rainbow after a sunlit storm. Gentle sleep, held securely within strong possessive arms. So wonderful to be held so lovingly with her ear pressed to Beau's heart, hearing the steady vital cadence and knowing she could make that metronome erupt into rapid explosive-ness at a single touch. But not now. Now it was enough to know they had all the time in the world to enjoy that magical intimacy. Beau had looked so tired and strained up on deck. He needed to rest. Her arms unconsciously tightened around him. Rest, love, while I guard you from the world. Lay down your arms. Sleep, and I will shelter you from all loneliness and…

"Kate, wake up."

She was awake. She was just enjoying being stroked with such affectionate tenderness. She opened her eyes drowsily. He was sitting on the side of the bed completely dressed, no longer vulnerable but still every bit as beloved. Still, she felt a little ripple of disappointment. "I wanted to take care of you."

"What?" He frowned. "I think you're still half asleep. We'll be docking in Santa Isabella soon and we need to talk."

He handed her a white toweling robe that looked vaguely familiar. Oh yes, she'd worn it that first night on the Searcher. It seemed such a long time ago. Docking so soon? They must have slept for longer than she'd thought. The rays streaming through the porthole of the cabin were much longer and weaker now. It must be quite late in the afternoon.

"You said you wanted to talk before," she said, giving him an impish grin as she slipped her arms into the sleeves of the terry robe and tied the sash about her waist. "We never appear to get around to it, do we? Something always seems to interfere. First, the Guardia, then my wound, then-"

"We've run out of time," he interrupted with a soberness that made her vaguely uneasy. "We have no choice now." His smile was mirthless. "I wish to heaven we did."

She moistened her lips nervously. "So talk. I'm listening."

He stared at her helplessly as if wondering where to begin before letting his breath out in an explosive sigh. "Oh hell, there's no use beating around the bush. As soon as I get the preliminary immigration red tape out the way, I'm sending you to Briarcliff to Anthony and Dany."

"Sending-" Her eyes were wide and shocked in her suddenly pale face.

"You'll be much better off with them. There are things they can give you, things you deserve to have." He was speaking rapidly, his gaze fastened somewhere over her left shoulder. "They're great people and you'll learn to love it there."

She shook her head dazedly. "We've talked about this before. I told you there's no possibility I'd go to Connecticut. I thought you understood that."

"I understand that you don't know what's good for you," he said gruffly. "You'd rather wander around the world as my mistress because of that blasted streak of independence. Well, you're my wife now. You have a claim on me. There's no reason for you not to take advantage of a few of the fringe benefits."

"Isn't there?" she asked dully. The shock was ebbing, leaving only pain. "I thought you said the marriage was for your benefit. Does that mean you're going to go sailing off on your merry way as soon as you put me on a plane for Briarcliff?"

"No!" The denial was swift and immediate. "I told you the situation had changed. I'll be around. Do you think I could just let you go now that I know how trouble seems to follow you?"

He'd be around. Of course he would. He couldn't let his little waif wander around without his protection. He'd promised to give her his strength, knowledge, and experience. But she mustn't think of those gravely beautiful words. They hurt too much. After all, he hadn't promised her love. She hadn't dared wish for that and he'd been very careful not to promise her anything he couldn't deliver. He was too honest for that. But not too honest to use a little subterfuge to get his own way. Her gaze slipped away from his face. "You lied to me." Her eyes were stinging with tears she refused to let fall. You weren't honest with me, Beau."

"I know it," he said harshly. "Do you think I don't? It was necessary. It was for your own good, damn it."

"Who gave you the right to decide what was good or bad for me?" Her voice was shaking. "Who the hell gave you that right, Beau?"

"No one gave it to me. I took it." His gaze at last returned to her face. "And I'd do it again, Kate. If it meant keeping you safe, you can bet there'd be absolutely no question about it." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Now, for God's sake, be sensible."

"Sensible!" Oh, Lord, her voice was close to breaking. She was so close to breaking. She had to get rid of him. Pity was already the paramount emotion he felt for her and she'd be damned if she'd add fuel to that pity by dissolving into tears. She carefully steadied her voice. "I'll try to be sensible, Beau." Her smile was shaky. "Ill have to think about it. You'll have to give me a little time."

"Kate." His hand reached out impulsively as if to touch her hair but paused in midair. "Oh, hell!" he said with soft violence. He stood up. "You'd better get dressed. We should be docking any time now." He was striding swiftly toward the door. "I'll see you up on deck."

The door slammed behind him and her pent-up breath released in a rush. She had a little while now to let the pain flow over her and come to grips with it. She mustn't cry though. Her eyes mustn't be red when she joined him on deck. She'd just sit here and soon she'd be strong enough to face him again. See, she was better already. Her throat wasn't nearly as tight and if she kept her mind perfectly blank she'd be able to keep it that way.

Unfortunately for her excellent intentions, her gaze fell on the strange and beautiful ring still on her finger. The rose and the sword. Pure magic, Daniel had called it. But the magic hadn't lasted very long, had it? Her hand cradled the ring lovingly, not even aware of the slow desolate tears that began to rain down her cheeks.