to. But thinking of Cray was nearly as bad. Poor baby, how he must be missing her! Her heart constricted as she pictured him crying for her, not understanding why she wasn’t there. As soon as they had boarded the Tamarind , she had dashed off a quick note to Martha, explaining what had happened as concisely as she could. She knew that Martha would care for Cray as well as, or better than, she could, but still that didn’t help. Her arms ached to hold him, and her eyes filled with tears as she imagined his bewilderment at the sudden changes in his life. He wouldn’t understand what had happened to her, or Jon. He would think they had abandoned him!
And then, too, there was her father. Cathy greatly feared that the shock of hearing what had befallen her would kill him. She could only trust that Mason had broken it to him gently, and try to put it from her mind. At present, a mere two days from the coastof Spain, there wasn’t a thing she could do for anyone except herself.
It was on a sunny day in early November that the Tamarind dropped anchor at La Coruña. Cathy had dared to get out of bed for just long enough to peep out at the harbor. From where they lay in a line of ships docked close to the wharf, she could see the town through the porthole. It looked very gay and colorful, with brightly dressed men and women milling with donkeys and pushcarts as they tried to market their wares to the people just getting off the ships. Cathy opened the porthole slightly, unable to resist the lure of the scene. Immediately the sweet smell of bananas and mangoes reached her nostrils, while the sounds of laughing, Spanish-speaking voices assailed her ears. It was almost evening, yet the sun was still a bright yellow ball above the horizon.
“You’ve been playing me for a fool, haven’t you, Cathy?” Harold’s ominously lowered voice behind her sent her spinning guiltily about. He was regarding her in a way that boded no good, his small eyes made even smaller by anger and his loose mouth for once clamped into a tight line. Cathy could find no words to answer him. She was well and truly caught out. Only an hour ago she had moaningly told him that she was too sick to even think of getting out of bed, much less sally forth to explore the town.
“You haven’t been sick at all, have you?” he continued in that frightening voice. “What you thought to gain, I don’t know. All your little pretenses can’t change the fact that you’re my wife, however much you may dislike it. And I’m sick of being the butt of jokes from every man on this ship. I intend to take what I married you for, now.”
“You mean my money?” Cathy sneered, realizing that the showdown had come. In a way, it was a relief to let her loathing show at last. Harold’s ugly face grew uglier at her taunt.
“I mean your body,” he corrected crudely. Cathy’s chin came up as he moved toward her, her muscles tensing for fight or flight. If Haroldthought that bedding his sweet little bride was going to be a pleasure, then he had better think again!
“I’m going to make you very sorry that you tried to trick me, my dear,” he promised in a guttural tone as he continued to advance.
“You mean succeeded, don’t you?” Cathy dared recklessly, uncaring of how she was infuriating him. Her eyes cast surreptitiously about for a weapon as she spoke.
“Why, you little bitch, you’ll pay for that!” Harold bellowed, incensed, and leapt for her. Cathy dodged nimbly to one side. His reaching fingers caught the fragile silk of her tangerine wrapper as she twirled away, tearing it down the back from neck to waist. Cathy let it drop to her feet and then kicked it aside as she sprinted toward the door. Harold, cursing under his breath, was right behind her.
“You’re going to be sorry,” he told her as he caught her by her flying hair, winding it hurtfully around his fist as he pulled her back to him. “I’m going to teach you a lesson once and for all.
And then, too, there was her father. Cathy greatly feared that the shock of hearing what had befallen her would kill him. She could only trust that Mason had broken it to him gently, and try to put it from her mind. At present, a mere two days from the coastof Spain, there wasn’t a thing she could do for anyone except herself.
It was on a sunny day in early November that the Tamarind dropped anchor at La Coruña. Cathy had dared to get out of bed for just long enough to peep out at the harbor. From where they lay in a line of ships docked close to the wharf, she could see the town through the porthole. It looked very gay and colorful, with brightly dressed men and women milling with donkeys and pushcarts as they tried to market their wares to the people just getting off the ships. Cathy opened the porthole slightly, unable to resist the lure of the scene. Immediately the sweet smell of bananas and mangoes reached her nostrils, while the sounds of laughing, Spanish-speaking voices assailed her ears. It was almost evening, yet the sun was still a bright yellow ball above the horizon.
“You’ve been playing me for a fool, haven’t you, Cathy?” Harold’s ominously lowered voice behind her sent her spinning guiltily about. He was regarding her in a way that boded no good, his small eyes made even smaller by anger and his loose mouth for once clamped into a tight line. Cathy could find no words to answer him. She was well and truly caught out. Only an hour ago she had moaningly told him that she was too sick to even think of getting out of bed, much less sally forth to explore the town.
“You haven’t been sick at all, have you?” he continued in that frightening voice. “What you thought to gain, I don’t know. All your little pretenses can’t change the fact that you’re my wife, however much you may dislike it. And I’m sick of being the butt of jokes from every man on this ship. I intend to take what I married you for, now.”
“You mean my money?” Cathy sneered, realizing that the showdown had come. In a way, it was a relief to let her loathing show at last. Harold’s ugly face grew uglier at her taunt.
“I mean your body,” he corrected crudely. Cathy’s chin came up as he moved toward her, her muscles tensing for fight or flight. If Haroldthought that bedding his sweet little bride was going to be a pleasure, then he had better think again!
“I’m going to make you very sorry that you tried to trick me, my dear,” he promised in a guttural tone as he continued to advance.
“You mean succeeded, don’t you?” Cathy dared recklessly, uncaring of how she was infuriating him. Her eyes cast surreptitiously about for a weapon as she spoke.
“Why, you little bitch, you’ll pay for that!” Harold bellowed, incensed, and leapt for her. Cathy dodged nimbly to one side. His reaching fingers caught the fragile silk of her tangerine wrapper as she twirled away, tearing it down the back from neck to waist. Cathy let it drop to her feet and then kicked it aside as she sprinted toward the door. Harold, cursing under his breath, was right behind her.
“You’re going to be sorry,” he told her as he caught her by her flying hair, winding it hurtfully around his fist as he pulled her back to him. “I’m going to teach you a lesson once and for all.
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