He tore his mouth from hers. “I love you. I adore Frannie, but I love you desperately, Catherine. You’re courageous, bold, and you challenge me at every turn. You’re willing to risk everything for those you care about. Your willingness to sacrifice knows no bounds. I am so unworthy, but if you’ll marry me, I’ll see that you never regret it.”
His heartfelt declaration had tears running along her cheeks. “You are the most worthy man I know. You’ve got a bit of the devil in you, and a bit of a saint, but you’re everything I could ever wish for in a man, in a husband. The answer is yes. Gladly.”
He was kissing her again, and she felt the fire building between them. She wondered if she could sneak him up to her bedchamber so she could give him a proper answer.
The door suddenly burst open. Catherine simply looked back over her shoulder to see Sterling standing there, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression formidable.
“Catherine, you assured me the blackguard wouldn’t take advantage. I assure you, sir, a wedding is in order here.”
Catherine looked at Claybourne. He smiled down on her.
“As soon as it can be arranged,” he promised.
24
It was late, long past midnight, when Luke walked the familiar back hallway of Dodger’s. He and his friends had gambled there, drunk there, commiserated there. In a way, it was Feagan’s dwelling—simply fancier, cleaner, better smelling.
Luke stopped at the open doorway that led into Jack’s sanctuary, not surprised to find Jack sitting behind his desk going over his books—not checking Frannie’s figures so much as relishing all he’d gained. More than any of them, Jack loved his coins.
Luke cleared his throat. Jack glanced up, and for a heartbeat, Luke thought he saw joy in Jack’s eyes before he shuttered his emotions.
“You haven’t stopped by in a while,” Jack said, leaning back insolently in his chair.
“I had no desire to be here.”
“I can hardly blame you for that, I suppose. What brings you here tonight?”
“I’ve asked Lady Catherine Mabry to become my wife. She’s consented to granting me the honor of being her husband.”
Jack’s eyes widened slightly, before he once again gained control of his thoughts. It wasn’t like him to reveal so much, and now he had—twice.
“I thought you loved Frannie.”
“I do. But I love Catherine more deeply.” And differently. He’d come to realize what he felt for Frannie was the love of a boy for a girl and what he felt for Catherine was the love of a man for a woman. When he’d thought of taking Frannie to bed, he’d never felt any fire, probably because he’d never truly contemplated anything beyond sleeping together, spooned around each other as they’d slept as children. But where Catherine was concerned, he could hardly go fifteen minutes without thinking of falling into bed with her—and sleeping was seldom on his mind.
But these were realizations that he could no longer discuss with Jack. There was now a part of his heart and his soul that he might never again be able to share with his long-time friend.
“Damn,” Jack muttered.
Luke arched a brow. “That seems an odd reaction—even from you.”
“I have to build Bill a hospital. We wagered”—he shook his head—“it doesn’t matter.
Congratulations. Shall we drink to it?” He stood up, reached for the bottle—
“No.”
Jack looked back at him.
“I’m not drinking much these days.”
“I am.” Jack poured whiskey into the glass, then held it aloft. “To your health and happiness as well as Catherine’s.”
He downed the contents in one gulp.
Luke remembered that it was Jack who had given him his first taste of whiskey, rum, and gin. It was Jack who had taught him how to cheat at cards, how to pick pockets without getting caught. Jack who had assured him when he was a small, frightened boy cowering in the alley that everything was going to be all right, that Jack wouldn’t let anyone hurt him. In spite of his flaws, of which there were many, Jack had never abandoned Luke. Never.
“I’ve come to ask you to stand with me,” Luke said quietly, “when Catherine and I marry in two weeks.”
