She frowned. “Dependent onwhat?” she said slowly.
He growled, striding away from the door and grabbing for her arm as he did. Again, she tore herself free of him. Her defiance in anger was alluring. He tried to shut down the maleness within him that wanted to view her through the lens of a potential mate.He could not deny his attraction to her, but needed to keep his mind clear of that.
I will not allow myself to become bewitched by a pretty pair of eyes. Pretty eyes and perfect bosom. Not to mention a round bottom and… Devil take it!
“Will you come with me to somewhere more private?” he forced civility into his voice.
“Yes, Your Grace,” she replied, as if making a point.
He led her to a small, empty room at the end of the corridor. It held some furniture and a bookcase. A chill oozed into the air from the cold fireplace. Daylight flooded in through tall, leaded windows.
“Now, will you tell me what you implied by that?” she asked.
He looked at her for a long moment, wondering how to broach the subject.
“Those symptoms your aunt and uncle mentioned. The ones your parents suffered from…” he began slowly.
“Yes, though they have abated, thankfully,” she nodded.
“Because I administered a medicine used by my butler…”
“Yes, you said the milk was a cure-all in your household.”
“No, not the—” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “not the milk. What I put into the milk. The juice of the poppy.”
She gaped at him for a moment, open-mouthed.
“You… you drugged me?”
“No! I administered something that your body needed.”
Catherine took a step back, her hand flying to her throat.
“Now, listen to me carefully. How many times have your Aunt and Uncle insisted you take medicine to stave off the illness your parents passed from?”
“Medicine?” she whispered. “N-never.”
Gideon appeared puzzled. “I am under the belief they have been administering the poppy juice in your food and drink. I have seen it work on… others. It induces a dependence and makes the taker suffer intensely if they go too long without it.”
“No, they wouldn’t.” But even as she said it, her voice faltered. “Why would they…”
Her gaze dropped to the floor, unfocused, as though she were seeing something far away. Something she had been refusing to see for years.
“Yes,” she whispered. “They would.”
He exhaled softly. “That is—that is not why I brought you in here. This is not the conversation I wished to have, but, as usual, I have said too much.”
“No.” Her voice strengthened. “I am glad you said too much. I am glad to know it. Oh Lord, when I think what might have become of me if I had not run away…”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back fiercely. There was anguish in her voice that touched him. He stepped towards her, but she backed away, glaring at him behind a raised hand.
“Don’t.” The word came out sharp. “I don’t need comfort, and I certainly don’t want yours. I won’t be used and then cast aside like some... some convenience.”
“I would not do that,” he promised.
“You already have!” she exclaimed. “Or have you forgotten yourtermsof our marriage so soon?” she finished scathingly.
He sighed. “It was just—”
