Part 20 (2/2)

”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 rus.h.i.+ng upstairs and bursting into the room where his wife was enduring such agony.

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