Catherine was in her cabin one evening a week later, charting their course. She hadn't been to see Nathan since their evening of love making but thoughts and images of him kept intruding, breaking her concentration. They would be arriving at the island in a little over a week. She guessed it would probably take another week for the Themis to arrive, it being a bigger and slower ship. She threw down her compass, giving up for now. She pulled on her frock coat and climbed the steps to the deck. Emerging top side, she stared up at the stars. The vastness of the sky while out at sea never ceased to amaze her.
She spoke briefly with a few of the crew before heading back down. She made her way through the passageways until she came to Nathan's cabin. She hesitated before alerting the guard to her presence. Just being near to him set her senses reeling. She could feel that tingling again in her belly and her breathing came a bit faster. She resolutely took a few steps forward and the guard turned to her suddenly alert.
"It's alright Simms, it's just me. How has he been?" she asked.
"Typical prisoner, ma'am. Moody and quiet," he replied.
"Let me in, please."
She walked in and as Nathan looked up at her she could see the surprise in his eyes. "Hello Mr. Kincaid. How are you this evening?" she asked him in a teasing voice.
"What do you want? Feeling amorous?" he asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
"Actually, yes I am, but that's only because I'm near you. You seem to have the most peculiar effect on me," she said with a smile. She approached him. "Now don't tell me you didn't miss me, not even a little," she pretended to pout.
"Don't act so coquettishly. It doesn't suit you," he sneered.
"Do you wish to spend the remainder of the voyage in irons, Mr. Kincaid?" she asked sternly. "As you already know it would be a very uncomfortable way to spend the next week and a half." She paused and trailed her finger along his throat. "Although I must admit, you're quite enticing when bound and helpless," she said, her eyes suggestively sweeping over his body.
He tolerated her touch, his eyes blazing with anger. "What do you want? Why are you here?" he demanded.
"Can't a captain come to check on her prisoner?" she asked innocently.
"As you can see I'm still alive and relatively healthy, so you may go now," he stated.
"Have your meals been sufficient?" she asked.
His meals had remained meager after his dinner with her and he was constantly hungry, but he wasn't going to admit that to her. But he also wasn't going to lie, so he remained silent.
She chuckled quietly. "I assume they have not. You would need to eat quite heartily to maintain such a strong body, I would imagine. Would you care to dine with me again? I usually don't indulge in such a feast as we had last time but it can be arranged if you wish."
"I would rather starve than spend another evening in your company," he said defiantly.
"Now you're insulting me. I thought we had a rather delightful evening. I know I certainly enjoyed it." She looked at him for a moment. "What if I promise to behave this time? I will wear a most demure dress, with undergarments, will eat with utensils, and will not serve any grapes," she said with an inviting smile.
He only scowled at her, furious for making reference to the things that had weakened him.
"Shall we say tomorrow night around seven? I will send a guard to escort you," she rose to leave.
"What if I refuse to go?" he asked.
"Then you will spend the remainder of the voyage in irons, in the brig being fed only bread and water. As much as I hate the idea of that beautiful body suffering, I will not be denied what I want," she said, her voice carrying an unmistakable threat, as she exited the room, closing the door behind her.
Nathan stood and paced the small room, running his fingers through his hair. How was he going to tolerate another evening with her? He hated everything about her, what she believed in and what she stood for. So why couldn't he resist her? Why was it, the moment she had walked in the room just now, all he had wanted to do was throw her on the bed, tear off her clothes and make love to her? Perhaps if she had meant what she said about behaving, he would be able to resist her. He lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He would just have to wait and see.
Catherine returned to her cabin and began looking through her wardrobe. She had told Nathan she would wear a demure dress, but she wasn't sure if she actually owned one. She found several low cut velvet ones, but nothing that could be considered demure. She went into her bedroom and pulled a trunk out from under her bed. It was covered in dust and she hadn't opened it in over a year. She flipped back the lid and began to dig through the contents. She pulled out a pale blue silk gown that was several years old but should do. It wasn't really demure by a proper lady's standards, but by hers it was.
She quickly undressed and pulled the gown over her head. As with all her dresses it laced up the front and as she pulled the laces tight she knew that it would be suitable. The neckline was low but not wide so the fullness of her breasts was minimized. It had a high neck in the back and elbow length sleeves. She wiggled her shoulders in the garment, wondering how women could stand to wear something so restrictive every day, and with a corset! She pulled off the dress and put her regular clothes back on before making her way to the kitchen to order tomorrow night's meal.
The next evening at six thirty, Nathan was told to dress for his dinner with the captain. He reluctantly put on his dark blue formal velvet suit, combed his hair back, securing it with a ribbon and waited until seven.
Catherine was dressed and waiting for him when the guard announced their arrival. Nathan was surprised to be admitted immediately, expecting to be kept waiting again.
"Good evening, Mr. Kincaid," she greeted him.
He took in her gown and even though some women would blush wearing it, he guessed that for her this was the height of conservatism. "Good evening, Miss Veleslav. You look very nice this evening."
"Thank you," she replied. "I'm surprised you remember my last name correctly. Most people mispronounce it almost immediately."
"I make a point of remembering people's names. I've found it makes them feel good," he said dryly.
"Remembering my name is not the only way to make me feel good," she replied with a wicked smile.
"I am only here to have a decent meal for a change, so if we could please refrain from any suggestive conversation, I would greatly appreciate it."
"Why would you appreciate it? Would you find suggestive conversation too much to resist?" she said provocatively, stepping close enough to him that her skirts brushed his legs.
He stepped away from her. "Please don't stand so close to me," he said coldly.
"Why not? You don't like me close?" she asked softly.