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Nicholas’s heart plummeted to his stomach, its leaden weight pulling him down. She had left him, truly left him. Remorse entwined with the shame.
“…so I do not expect her back until dinner.”
“I beg your pardon?” He held his breath.
“She took a picnic with her, my lord. She always stays away for a good length of time when she does that.”
Nicholas exhaled, his spirit soaring erratically, a pendulum swinging to the far side. He could have kissed the man. She had not left. She’d taken a picnic. Nicholas strode to the entrance hall, going directly to the buck. “We both know where she is, don’t we, old man?” he said, feeling an odd congeniality with the stuffed animal. Sudden doubt crowded the room.Please let her be there.
*
Catherine sat onthe steps of the folly, leaning back against a pillar. The fragrance of roses tickled her senses, taunting her with the beauty of life. The lake shimmered, incandescent in the morning sun. There was so much for which to be grateful. So many people in this world never knew her comfort or the splendor of her surroundings. Yet she could not seem to draw peace from them today.
She leaned over and pulled at a rose petal, pressing its softness to her nose, closing her eyes as she inhaled its sweet perfume. Where to now? The wind stirred the trees, but no answer moved with it.
“Catherine?”
Nicholas stood at the base of the stairs. His eyes, catching the reflections of the sun and the lake, twinkled a startling blue. Oh, how she loved those eyes. He placed a foot on the bottom step and then paused, his forehead creasing in concern. She could not look away, but she would not help him out. Was there truly anything left to say?
“The girl…,” he said, then looked up, taking a deep breath before returning his gaze to hers. “The maid. She was forward…I did not invite…” He ran a hand through his hair. “It was nothing…hell…I mean, nothing happened.”
She stared past him at the lake, memories rising from its depth, as she digested his words. “We played here so much as children.” She could see them there, romping and shouting with no adult to tell them to do otherwise. They had had so much freedom. It had all been so simple then.
“Remember when I was six and the three of you put me in a barrel and told me I was Moses floating down the river? ‘Have no fear,’ you shouted, ‘you will live with royalty!’ I cried out when the cask filled and the water reached my chin. Our brothers stood laughing on the shore, but you jumped in, swimming to my side. You grabbed me as the barrel submerged, treading water, holding up my face. It wasn’t until that moment that Daniel and Laurence ceased their snickering enough to realize something had gone wrong. They swam out and made quite the show of saving me.” She met his gaze again. “But it was you, Nicholas. It has always been you.”
His eyes washed a pale blue, pooling with moisture. Did he feel as she did? The hurt, the longing, the hope?
“You never forgot that moment on the lake,” she continued. “You hounded me for years to learn how to swim. I was too afraid. Until the yearning to feel your arms around me outweighed my fear of the water. Then I allowed you to teach me. But only so you would hold me.”
He stood still. Was he appalled by her wanting? By her blatant need?
“You are under no obligation,” she began.
“Hush,” he said, taking the stairs two at a time, then sitting by her side. He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his mouth. “Hush,” he repeated.
Her heart pounded relentlessly, suffocating her chest. Did he not want to hear her words? Did he desire conciliation? Or did he just wish to stop her from humiliating herself further?
“I want you, my love,” he said.
She melted at the words as he kissed her hand again and again. He pressed it against his heart, staring at her, his gaze penetrating. His eyes darkened, and he leaned in, kissing her with a ferocity that was unnerving and exhilarating. Suddenly nothing mattered but them. Not family, not doubt, and certainly not the maid. She nipped him, wanting to swallow him whole.
He growled and scooped her up effortlessly into his arms before pushing through the doors of the folly. He strode purposefully, smoothly laying her down on a settee. He stood still, staring down at her, pensive and intense. Then he dropped to his knees, grasped her hands, and held them tightly in his. “Tell me, Catherine. Tell me the truth about your love.”
She freed a hand, tracing her fingers down his sharp cheekbone, following the line to the dent in his chin. Her dream. Her man. She replaced her finger with a kiss on his cleft, then lay back against the bolster, drinking him in.
“The truth is I love you. I always have. I always will. God forgive me if it’s sinful, but I cannot lie. It is you, Nicholas. It has always been you.”
Not a sound followed her confession. Was he regretting her emotion? Did he wish to somehow undo their union? She hated that doubt was swiftly creeping back in between them.
“You unman me,” he finally said gruffly.
She sighed in relief as he rose and lay upon her, his weight the comfort she sought. He inhaled deeply, then kissed a path from her neck to her mouth, softly, gently, and oh so tenderly.
He stopped and propped himself up on his elbows. “No more lies between us. Or half-truths. Promise me. Give me your word.”
She couldn’t give her word. Not yet. She released her breath slowly through her mouth. He deserved her honesty. Full disclosure. It wouldn’t serve anyone to hide anything anymore. Her vision blurred. Dear Lord, why did it have to be her to tell him?
“Is it so hard to guarantee?” His voice softened with sadness.
