“I told you—my father had headaches.”
“I’ve heard that he’s ill.”
Nodding, she sat up a little straighter and put her hands in her lap. “Yes, he was struck with apoplexy.”
He lowered his arm, so he was no longer touching her. “I’m sorry. That’s quite a burden for you to carry. Shouldn’t your brother be here?”
“My brother doesn’t know. He and Father had a row and Sterling left. I don’t know what it was about. I heard only the shouting. I’ll wager you didn’t know that.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Everyone thinks Sterling is irresponsible, a cad. I’ve thought about writing to tell him, but Father gets so agitated whenever I mention it. But of late, I’ve been thinking about what you said about the previous earl wanting you to be his grandson so badly…what if it’s Father’s deepest desire to see his son once more before he dies, but he’s just too proud to admit it? Will Sterling forgive me if I don’t write him, if I don’t tell him the truth of the situation? Would you do it?”
Her words took him aback, enough so his body had returned to a more normal
state. Thank God. Thank God. “You want me to write your brother?”
She smiled sweetly. “No, of course not. But should I—even knowing that Father doesn’t want me to? If he was your father, would you want to know?”
“I think you have to seek your own counsel on this matter. Do what your heart tells you to do.”
She released a very short burst of laughter, and he sensed that she was amused with herself. Did he know any woman who was as comfortable in her skin as Catherine?
When he killed for her, what inside of her would he also murder? How would his actions affect her? He thought doing anything to change her would be a worse crime, an unforgivable sin.
“Do you know, before the night I showed up in your library, I thought you were a man without a heart?”
“You thought correctly.”
She shook her head slightly. “No, I don’t think so. You’re a very complicated man. I’m not even sure you appreciate how complicated you are.” She skimmed her fingers over his shoulder. “How did you get these scars?”
His body reacted with a swift vengeance. He grabbed her hand, her injured hand. She gasped. He swore.
“I’m sorry.” He brought her curled fingers to his lips and pressed as gentle a kiss to them as he could. “You just really shouldn’t…you just shouldn’t.”
Her eyes widened as though she’d only just fully awakened and realized—
“Oh, good Lord, of course I shouldn’t. I’m in a man’s bedchamber. Oh, forgive me, whatever was I thinking. I shall leave now.”
She came off the bed quickly and hurried to the door. He rolled to the side, away from her, but twisted his head back to look at her. “Catherine?”
She stopped at the door, her hand on the knob, her face averted.
“Tell me you didn’t have your carriage deliver you to my front door.”
She shook her head. “To the park, but I told the driver not to wait.”
“Then give me a few moments to make myself presentable, and I’ll escort you home.”
Nodding, she opened the door and slipped out.
He rolled onto his back and stared at the velvet canopy over his bed. He’d never had a woman in his bedchamber, in his bed, without making love to her. It seemed
inconceivable that he had last night, but what was even more amazing was the immense satisfaction he felt in simply having had her here. It was enough.
Oh, he wanted more, he wanted a great deal more, but what she’d given him was enough.
He loved Frannie, he’d always loved Frannie. But of late, it seemed he was only capable of thinking of Catherine.
