He muttered something incoherent and then grasped her hand and pulled her urgently toward the door. As he led the way up the stairs, Catherine could feel her heart starting to pound with a familiar thump. She had often felt this way when she’d climbed up into the hayloft and met David for their clandestine couplings. It would be strange to actually use a bed instead of having to fight for a comfortable place amongst the straw.
He opened the door to the master suite so hard that it banged against the wall as he pulled her inside. At this point, Catherine was starting to find it impossible to catch her breath, the excitementbuilding to a crescendo within her. Her heart was pounding to the point that she was surprised it didn’t threaten to leave her chest entirely.
But before things went any further, she wanted to make sure she was prepared for the hectic night to come because something told her that she wouldn’t be getting much sleep.
“Give me just a moment.”
She put a hand on his chest and quickly made her way to her chamber, where she quickly took the pins out of her hair and shook the long strands free. After that, she added a few more drops of her perfume to her wrists and behind her ears. Giving her cheeks another healthy pinch, she nodded her head and rushed back to the master’s chamber.
“I’m ready now,” she cooed softly.
And was met with a decided snore.
The baron was sprawled out on the bed, one of his boots off and the other still clinging on while he was thoroughly passed out on top of the coverlet.
Rats.
Chapter Five
The next morning,Benjamin woke with a splitting headache and a curse ready on his lips. His mouth felt as though he’d been chewing on cotton and he wasn’t sure he could move without emptying the contents of his stomach.
He groaned and immediately regretted the action because something abruptly took a hammer to his ever-loving skull.
What the hell…
He must have drunk himself into a stupor for his head to feel this fuzzy and his body to act as though he’d been imbibing for a week instead of just a single night. Damn, but he was getting too old for this.
The worst part was that he vaguely recalled mention of consummating his marriage vows and yet, he was pretty confident that he’d never gotten that far.
Unfortunate.
Perhaps not all was lost. Once he could sit upright without the room spinning and keep something down in his stomach, he intended to seek out his bride and humbly apologize for his failings. If she was willing to share his bed, he certainly didn’t want to risk her ire and cause her to despise him.
He’d had enough animosity directed at him for his actions. The idea of starting out his union with the same hatred from Catherine wasn’t something he was particularly looking forward to tackling.
Catherine.
He allowed the sound of her name to float through his consciousness and abruptly, he found his spirits starting to lift and his current malaise beginning to clear. She really was a remarkable woman, if not a bit young and rebellious at heart. He admired that part about her, however. He often had the same stubborn streak in his veins.
They truly were a good match.
He sighed, thinking of her intention to strike back at Mrs. Dove-Lyon. He fully intended to support her in her quest, but the longer he thought over his altered circumstances, he had to admit that the lady had a particular skill when it came to bringing two people together for the greater good. He’d heard of the Black Widow’s abilities for years, had witnessed the way she’d whisked Beatrice into the arms of that blasted Scotsman. And yet he had felt the happiness swirling around them at Gretna Green. He’d detested it at the time, not realizing it had been jealousy instead of hatred. But now he recognized those fiery emotions for what they were. He was angry that she had found love when he’d been only playacting in an effort to strike back at her rejection.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. For as long as he lived, he knew he would never be able to forgive himself for how he’d treated his stepsister, as well as his late wife. But that was a burden he would have to carry on his shoulders. He didn’t intend for Catherine to suffer in the same manner. He just prayed that her child would be safely delivered, and although he wasn’t the blood father of the babe she carried, he looked at this as a second chance to make things right with his black heart.
Ringing for one of the footmen, he ordered a tonic to soothe his stomach and hopefully rid his head of the terrible pounding going oninside of it.
Two hours later, Benjamin was confident he could make his way downstairs and intercept Catherine without making a complete and utter fool of himself. At least, not this morning. He had no idea what sort of mood he’d been in the night before. Sadly, he couldn’t remember much but the missed opportunity.
It was already past the lunch hour, but he found Catherine in the sunroom taking some tea. She held a book in her hands and looked like a fresh peach, ripe for the plucking, in her coral dress. Her dark hair was gathered in an array of lovely ringlets about her forehead and ears—those delicate lobes that he should like licking with his tongue.
He cleared his throat, more as a reminder to calm his baser urges rather than to announce his presence, but she glanced up at him. Without a smile, her face a careful mask of composure, she lowered her novel and said, “Good day, my lord.”
Oh, dear. This was worse than he’d thought. A flash of memory intruded and he distinctly remembered a moment of desire in those remarkable blue eyes of hers. And yet this morning, there was nothing to indicate that she found him appealing in the least. It was as if he were any other man whom she had decided to entertain for a platonic interlude.
Making his way farther into the room, he sat down across from her and murmured, “Good day.” When there was an awkward silence, he resisted the urge to tug at his cravat. Spying the book, he latched on to a neutral topic. “What are you reading?”
She shrugged and glanced at the title. “The Romance of the Forestby Ann Radcliffe. I doubt it’s something you might have ever selected for yourself.”
