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Chapter Eleven
Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul, but I do love thee! And when I love thee not, chaos is comeagain.
—Shakespeare,Othello
Nicholas stepped fromthe tub, listlessly drying himself. The bath had chased the chill from his bones. He’d spent the day visiting tenants and recording a growing list of needs throughout the park. He hoped Brownlee returned soon. He needed to talk with the man, and the sooner, the better. He could not fathom why Brownlee and Daniel had allowed things to become so neglected. He understood that his father had been battling health issues. But Daniel? What had preoccupied him? Catherine?Damn!He brusquely looped each frog on his banyan and marched across the room to their shared sitting room. Had she loved Daniel with equal distraction?
He yanked open the door and stopped, immobilized by the scene before him.
The fire, diminished to embers, glowed brightly enough to illuminate Catherine. She lay sprawled, for there was no other word for it, on the sofa. He swallowed over the lump in his throat, his cock stiffening, and moved cautiously forward. Dear God in heaven, how was he to resist? Her burgundy locks spread upon the cushion in a halo. Her face serene, she was the visage of an angel.
But her body! Oh, her body made a mockery of that thought. It would tempt the devil himself. He stepped closer. The translucent fabric draped over perfection. Mesmerized, he watched the slight rise and fall of her breasts. His breath reached for syncopation.
He moved nearer, needing to feel her breath against his, needing to smell her essence. He stumbled, cursing silently lest he wake her. He bent and picked up a leather-bound book, squinting to read the title.Coelebs in Search of a Wife. He almost laughed aloud. He had not read the book, did not read tripe, but his Catherine was a romantic at heart.
She whimpered in her sleep, rolling onto her side, raising her arm over her ear as though to block out his thoughts. Did she know he was standing here drinking her in? She was so incredibly beautiful. In the eyes of the law, she now belonged to him. But would she ever truly be his?
Muttering at his asinine lamenting, he laid the book on the table at the end of the sofa. He might not be the husband of her dreams, of his own dreams for that matter, but he could not let her spend the remainder of her wedding night on this uncomfortable sofa. Her day had been miserable enough, and he was to blame for that. He slipped his hands under her warm, lithe body and lifted her against his chest. She snuggled closely. He inhaled deeply, pressing a kiss to her head. Jasmine. Would he ever smell that without thought of her?
The door to her bedroom was ajar, so he moved easily into her chamber and gently laid her upon the bed. She mewled when he let her go. His body screamed in response as memories of his Cat at the folly tumbled through his mind. Nicholas leaned in for a last kiss, brushing lightly against her lips. She would never be his, and he needed to accept that sooner rather than later. Yet he did not resist when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him tight.
“Oh, Nicholas.” Her tongue slipped into his mouth, nursing his yearning to have one last moment.
He groaned. Catherine. Four long years. She was supposed to be his pot of gold waiting for him at the end of a dark and dismal rainbow. He took her in, tasting, assailing her with his desire, alternately soothing her and trying to swallow her whole. Her body responded, bucking, her eyes still closed.
“Catherine.” Her name came out more growl than warning.
“Mmm, Nicholas.”
She squirmed beneath him, and he could take no more. Yanking at the fragile fabric, he positioned himself.
“Tell me you want this.”
“Mmm” was her only answer as she tugged at his robe.
He entered her abruptly, then caught himself, recalling the pain he’d caused her at the folly. He lay still, trying to regulate his breathing so he could proceed with caution. She pushed her hips against him, and he was lost. Blind need would dictate this night.
Withdrawing slowly was sweet agony, sinking back in intoxicating. Catherine moaned, encouraging him by rubbing her hands up and down his back. He repeated the ploy, then lost control, pummeling mindlessly. She squirmed beneath him, adjusting, stroking and sobbing in turn. He was at his peak, ready to release, but she had not yet gone and he could not leave her behind. He reached between them and rolled that precious pearl. Her body responded immediately, and the last of his restraint left. He pumped as she milked, their cries mingled in pain and ecstasy.
I love you.It was all he could think as her softness, her warmth, encased him.I love you despite what you have done to me.He pressed his forehead to her neck, choking back the pain.
*
Catherine curled intohim, and he did not have the stamina to disengage and go to his room as he ought to. Her regulated breathing soothed him into a shallow sleep, during which he surfaced throughout the night to the scent of jasmine and the lingering musk of sex only to drift off again.
Now he lay restless. First light could not be far away. He stretched his arm, then rested it gently across her shoulders, stroking her softly, not wanting to wake her but needing to touch her. He had thought of nothing but her since he’d left for the continent. Surely they could overcome the years in between.
He nuzzled her glorious mane, his body’s interest reigniting. She murmured, running her hand down his chest, then rolled from him, drawing her knees up and pulling the covers over her shoulders. So much for rekindling passion.
Nicholas eased from the bed. He needed to think. That was impossible when he was near Catherine. He grabbed his robe and stepped into the adjoining room. Pulling it on as he strode through the now darkened area, he headed straight for his chamber. Someone had stoked the fire, as embers still lit his room well enough for him to locate the brandy decanter and a glass. He moved to the door, entering cautiously into the hallway. No moon shimmered to light the way. It did not matter. He knew every corner of this house.
Descending the stairs, he went down the hallway he’d come through earlier in the evening. When he’d been heavy with despair. Did he now hope? He shook his head. He was always a man of reason, yet he could make no sense of his emotions. The girl bewitched him. No, thewomanbedeviled him. For she was every inch a woman and twice as lethal as the girl he’d left behind.
He stopped before reaching the servants’ corridor to the kitchen and faced the door. Just a door. Just a study. It might be Pandora’s Box, but after what had happened upstairs tonight, he must face reality. It was time. For both their sakes. Perhaps he owed it to Daniel too. Nicholas felt, for a certainty, that the truth lay beyond this door.
It was easy to locate the large desk in front of the window. He put the glass and decanter down on it. It took him a few minutes of fumbling to illuminate the room. He cursed his idiocy for not doing so in the faint light of his chambers and carrying the lantern with him. It seemed he’d left all sense back on the continent. What had he been thinking to take Catherine while she’d slept? Would she even remember their joining? That perfect moment of coming together?
A hint of honey wafted in the air as the flame blossomed. He grabbed the candlestick, sweeping the room with its light. The study was a pigsty—piles of books, stacks of paper, and discarded rubbish. It was a miracle he’d not gone ass over tip when he’d come in. Clearly the servants had not touched anything in months. He wiped a finger across the books on the desk and rubbed the thick dust between his thumb and forefinger, his nose tickling in response. It seemed nothing had been disturbed since Daniel’s death. Nicholas fought the shiver that threatened. He was no stranger to death. He certainly would not be unnerved by his brother. In life or death.Ah, Daniel, what were you about?
