“Would you like to elaborate on that conclusion?”
“No.”
“I don’t think it is very fair that you won’t tell me about him. If it is relevant to our search, I should know about it.”
“It isn’t relevant.”
“I insist you tell me.”
He turned towards her. “No.”
Before she could say anything, however, she saw, outside the carriage, a sight that made her heart constrict.
Forster House.
Before she could stop herself, she had rapped on the roof of the carriage. Before it had even come to a complete stop, she was out of the carriage, looking over the great green expanse that led down the hill towards the dwelling.
She soaked in the sight of the old house. The gabled roofs and the gray stone were the same as ever—even the paddocks in which she had kept her pony were still there. She still felt ownership over it. As she gazed down on its pretty hedgerows, one thousand memories flooded back at once.
“Goddamn it,” she heard John say beside her, “I am sorry, Catherine, I should have told the coachman not to take this road. Marcel knows not to, but the hack driver…”
She hardly heard his words. She just sucked in the old sight, vaguely aware that some mixture of tears and rainwater were running down her face. She didn’t know which was which and she didn’t care. She was mesmerized, transfixed, broken, by the sight of this house.
And then she was in John’s arms. She realized, too late, that she was sobbing.
He held her up, even as her knees gave out. His grasp on her was firm.
“Catherine, I’m so sorry,” he said, into her ear, stroking her hair, not forcing her to move, even though the rain slid down into their clothing, wetting their hair, soaking everything. “I’m so sorry.”
Finally, once they were well and truly soaked, he directed her back into the carriage. They pulled away. She didn’t watch the house recede. She couldn’t bear to watch it fade away again.
In the carriage, he pulled her onto his lap. She cried into his shoulder, letting the image of the old house soften behind her eyes while he comforted her. She should care, she knew, that last night he had humiliated her, that she shouldn’t show such weakness to him, but his arms felt so good around her that she couldn’t resist his embrace.
He held her until she quieted, murmuring reassurance into her ear. Somehow, she felt her anguish slipping into desire.
She kissed him first and he returned it, gently, as if uncertain of whether they should really proceed.
Catherine was sure, however, that she wanted him. When she reached for his cravat, however, he said to her, “Not here. We’ll be home soon.”
A minute later, they pulled up in front of Edington Hall. He led her through the front entrance, through the great hall, and then up the stairs to his bedchamber.
Catherine had never been in his bedchamber before. It was handsomely appointed, as all the rooms in Edington Hall were, but it still held an air of boyishness. She realized, with a jolt, that he hadn’t moved into his father’s rooms. This room was still the one he had used as the heir.
She turned around and saw him lock the door. Finally, he turned around.
“You’re all wet,” she said.
“So are you.”
Quickly, he peeled off her dress. While she saw to her stays and chemise, he took off his boots and over things, until he, too, was wearing nothing.
She marveled, as she had been unable to in the dim light of the study, at the magnificence of his bare form.
The sight—his powerfully formed thighs, the smooth planes of his chest, the way his muscles flexed with his smallest movements—almost made her forget about the sorrow that had just cut her so deep.
Despite her sadness, she wanted him. No, not despite.Becauseof her sadness, she knew that she wanted him. That she could still want him so much when she felt this way—it proved that she would never stop wanting him. The only thing that would stop her pain would be more of him. To be closer to him.
He pressed her gently onto the bed. There, he brought his mouth to hers, kissing her neck, and then her breasts, and then between her thighs. When his tongue reached inside of her, she gasped, the pleasure clouding out all other sensation. But she wanted more. She needed to be closer to him.
