But she did not hold back out of doubt.
There was no doubt—but she did not care.
I am the one who asked for honesty, yet I am the one holding back. That makes me a hypocrite, but nothing good can come from the truth.
The noises of merry-making from the house were receding, absorbed by the trees that surrounded them now. Catherine coughed; the irritation in her throat had been growing all night. Her cheeks felt hot, but there was a distinct chill in the night air. She supposed her trek out to Blackthorn Farm in the dead of the night would have done her chest no good. This was a cold to punish her for foolish behavior.
She still recalled the crushing anxiety, the overwhelming sense of being surrounded by enemies that had driven her to run in the first place.
And what had brought her back.
“Do you… feel quite well?” Aaron asked, concern lacing his words.
“A touch of a head-cold perhaps,” she sniffed.
“Then we should return to the company and the warmth of the house—”
She grabbed at his coatsleeves. “Oh no! Can we not stay out here for a few minutes more? The thought of going amongthe Threnthorpes’ uptight guests again is intolerable. Not to mention how stuffy that old house is.”
He shrugged out of his coat and draped it around her shoulders. She drew it close gratefully, breathing in the scent of him still fresh in the fabric. His arm came around her, pulling her against his side.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Do not. I am simply trying to keep myself warm,” he quipped.
A laugh escaped her despite the chill seeping into her bones. She burrowed deeper into both coat and embrace. But acknowledging the cold seemed to have given it power—her body began to betray her, tremors she couldn’t control, another cough tickling in her throat.
She felt him tense.
Was he thinking of another dose of Mr. McKay’s marvelous cure-all? To postpone the symptoms for a day or a few?
I must confront Aunt Nora and Uncle Benjamin about this. I must look into their eyes when they lie so that I know it. Only then might I be able to put this paranoid fear to bed…
“I think perhaps our evening is over,” Aaron said gently. “Let’s get you home. To bed.”
“I don't want any more medicine!” The words came out sharper than intended.
“Then you'll have none.” His voice was calm, steady. “But let's get you somewhere warm.”
The shivering had become uncontrollable now, rattling through her like she'd never be warm again. But she shook her head.
“N-no. This evening was to secure your agreement with Sir Obadiah. I shan’t interfere with that.”
“You arenotinterfering.” His eyes held hers. “You are more important.”
But his gaze flickered toward the house, uncertain. She could swear she saw it!
That hesitation decided for her. She wouldn’t be the source of his resentment later, the reason his plans fell apart. She straightened, shrugging his coat from her shoulders. The night air hit her like a plunge into ice water.
Catherine resolved that she was not going to be the source of resentment by Aaron. She straightened and shrugged the coat from her shoulders, feeling as though she had suddenly been immersed in icy water.
“Let’s rejoin the company,” she trembled, forcing brightness into her voice. “Impress Sir Obadiah a little more.”
His arms came around her before she'd taken a step, pulling her back against the solid heat of his chest. His head lowered beside hers, and she felt him breathe in the scent of her hair the way someone might inhale the perfume of roses.
“I forbid it.” His voice was low, absolute. “You need protecting from yourself.”
Then he swept her into his arms as though she weighed nothing and strode toward the stables.
