“No, Your Grace.” McKay’s tone was as firm as he dared to his mistress.
Catherine studied him. His manner was too smooth, his denial too neat. “Perhaps Sally was mistaken,” she said, forcing a smile.
“Perhaps, Your Grace.” He bowed his head, offering no further words, as though drawing the conversation to a close and expecting Catherine to leave.
But she was not convinced.
Sally had no reason to lie to me. She could have been mistaken, I suppose. Or Mr. McKay could be hiding something.
But if so, was he hiding it at her husband’s command? Protecting him out of loyalty?
Either way, she had gained nothing but more questions.
That evening, Catherine dined with Aaron in the candlelit dining room. The fire glowed low, and silver gleamed upon the table.
“Your friend Isabella seemed quite taken with Everdon,” Aaron declared as the soup course was served.
Catherine sipped her wine, smiling her thanks at the servant who had served her. Aaron’s words were ordinary, the kind of conversation expected at the dinner table. She found herself wanting to be drawn into that ordinary conversation. It was comforting and warm. There could be no mystery or fear in such a conversation. In such a reality.
I could just let it go. Forget the past. Focus on the present and the future. I may never have my questions answered.
And while they remained unanswered, they would eat her alive from the inside. Better to forget.
“I was present one of the first times they met. It was in the gardens here at Caerleon. Now that I think of it, there were signs even then.”
“Everdon is a rogue, but he has a good heart.”
“A rogue?”
“As a bachelor, he is fond of gambling, drinking, and… other sports. But he will settle himself to the domestic life for the right woman.”
“As you have done?”
Aaron’s eyes seemed to glitter like blue flames in the candlelight. She wanted to gaze into them all night. For a moment, they stared at each other. She felt her cheeks grow hot, her bosom rising and falling. To stare at each other after the intimacies they had shared was intensely exciting.
She could not gaze into his eyes andnotremember the pleasures he had given her, could not forget that they were alone in this room and that the door could be locked.
Time passed. A clock struck the half hour.
She was sure she had heard it strike the hour a few moments before. Had they been silently staring for half an hour?
“Yes,” he said finally, “I never thought such a life would appeal.”
“But it does?”
“Does it appeal to you?”
“Oh, yes,” she found herself replying enthusiastically, the words involuntarily torn from her.
She attempted to disguise her blushes in the wine glass and took too much. She coughed as the acidic liquid caught the back of her throat. Aaron rose, hurrying to her side with a linen square.
“I think perhaps I should move my seat closer, lest you choke during dinner,” he said with a smile.
“That would not be disagreeable,” she replied, checking her front for any staining drops of wine.
“The servants will wonder at it,” he murmured, returning to move his chair to a place at Catherine’s right hand, then his soup and cutlery.
He is kind and gentle. Would it be so bad? Can’t I just take pleasure in this?
