“No!” Catherine snapped, spurred by the mention of what she knew to be poppy juice, “I do not know that I have ever had that stuff until I came here!”
Aaron frowned. “I assure you, you did. I am rather… familiar with the signs.”
Catherine pushed him to arm’s length but stopped, her fingertips resting upon his chest. She was unable to break free further. Unable to push him out of arm’s reach. She licked her lips as he took a step toward her. Instead of contact fromfingertip to chest, now her hand was flat against the slabs of muscle that wrapped him. Her lips parted at the sensation of tightly controlled strength. Power held in check by an even greater power—sheer will.
“You are unwell, and I promise to take care of you,” Aaron whispered, his voice hypnotic.
“But I do not know if I can trust you…” she whispered back.
“You can trust me to selfishly protect my own interests, which are not served by a sickly wife,” he answered calmly but with a cold voice, “you can trust me not to abandon you or harm you. I am a gentleman and take the duty of a gentleman more seriously than those who have known nothing else.”
It felt as though he were pressing towards her. He didn’t seem to be moving, but her arms bent with the force of his magnetism, allowing him to move closer. Her breathing amplified as though she were expending real effort keeping him at arm’s length. Her fingers flexed, unable to stop herself from feeling his flat, muscular chest. She allowed them to trail down, savoring the feel of him. The utter masculinity.
“Have you known something else?” she murmured, suddenly.
It was as though a bubble had burst.
Abruptly, the real world came crashing in on them. Aaron stepped away, looking away from her and then back. His hair fellover his narrow, dark eyes. It was pure suspicion, mirroring the sudden feeling that overwhelmed Catherine.
He is hiding something. I was right! I am not safe!
“No. Of course not.”
Panic seethed through Catherine’s veins. She backed away from him, glancing at the door. Terror gripped her, oddly out of proportion to anything that had physically taken place. She knew it, but couldn’t break free of the assault of sheer panic that suddenly held her in a vice-like grip.
Aaron’s face changed, transforming to one of concern, and then her head was spinning. The room went dark.
“McKay, a second small draught is called for,” Gideon said as he lowered Catherine gently onto the canopy bed.
“At once, Your Grace.” McKay withdrew quietly.
Gideon opened the chest at the foot of the bed and retrieved additional blankets. He spread them over her with careful hands, tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear, then sank onto the chair beside her.
Bronze hair spilled across white linen, framing a porcelain face of haunting beauty. For a long moment, he simply watched her sleep.
“I wish I could be free of you. I do not particularly like being vulnerable to anyone…” Gideon whispered, “Attachment is weakness. It seems I need a wife to secure the investment of the Quakers, though. What am I to do?”
Her eyelids fluttered, and she stirred in her sleep. Without thinking, he soothed her, cooing wordless sounds and stroking her brow until she rested more peacefully. Her skin was naturally pale, though now a touch flushed with the effects of the poppy juice dependence. Her features were perfectly feminine. Radiantly beautiful.
“You are drunk, brother!” came Aaron’s voice behind his shoulder.
Gideon shut his eyes, as if darkness alone might banish the apparition. It always found him like this—when his guard was lowered, his strength spent.
“You should never be Duke.Ishould. I would never have allowed a woman to stand between me and my ambitions.”
“I defeated you,” Gideon muttered, pressing his eyelids tighter still. “I am Duke—and you are dead.”
A cool breath of laughter brushed his ear. “I will always be the son Father chose. You will always be the exile he tolerated.”
Gideon opened his eyes and found himself looking into Catherine’s.
“Who were you talking to?” she asked, sleepily.
“Myself. A bad habit,” Gideon lied.
“You said...Aaron...” Catherine murmured, but sleep was already drawing her back into its embrace.
I must keep my distance from her from this point on. She is too dangerous and might just discover all.
