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“Hmff.” Catherine made a grunt of protest. “You still didn’t need to be so hard on me.”
Jason’s fingers moved to her sore, swollen buttocks and gently traced the welts he’d made. “By the sounds of things, I should have been harder. Considering the state of your butt, you’re very contrary, little girl. Do you need another spanking?”
Both of Catherine’s hands flew to her bottom and she rolled onto her side away from him.
“No!” she protested, appalled. “No more spankings.”
Jason sighed and wrapped both his arms around her, pulling her in close to him, holding her head against his chest.
“If I was any sort of decent disciplinarian I’d put you in the corner to reflect on your behaviour, but I’m not going to do that. Instead, I think we both need cuddles after the day we’ve just had.”
“You’re not the one with the stinging butt,” Catherine grumbled, but she snuggled into him anyway, grateful for the strength of his arms around her, needing his comfort.
“No,” he agreed. “But I need cuddles anyway. I spent all afternoon worrying about you, remember?”
Catherine relaxed in his arms, letting his gentle touch calm her down and soothe her spirit. She was a hothouse of emotions and they were mingling with the pain and leaving her a mental wreck. But slowly, as Jason’s strong hands traced circles over her body and their breathing synced together, the thoughts and emotions whirling through Catherine’s mind settled themselves down and sorted themselves out and she knew, with perfect clarity, that the apparition she had seen leaning over the bank looking down at her was something to do with the reason she was here. It was something to do with her dream. But she didn’t want to tell Jason. Not yet.
Slowly, her hands began to roam over his body, her fingers exploring the little crevices she’d never touched before. She slid her hands up under his t-shirt, following the narrow line of dark hair up his torso and spreading out into a smattering across his chest. She focused on the change in texture between the hair and his smooth skin, rubbing his body in a swirling motion. A tingle started in her fingers, where they touched his skin, and spread through her hands, up her arms. Into her core.
“Jason.” She whispered his name.
“Mmm?” he asked. But she couldn’t continue. She couldn’t tell him what was on her mind. How could she describe how happy he made her feel? How could she put into words the way she felt right now? So calm. At peace.
“I’m hungry.” That much was true—she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and although it had been late and leisurely, it was also hours ago. As if to back up her claim, her tummy rumbled noisily and Jason chuckled.
“So I hear.” He sat up, disentangling himself from her, and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up. “I’ll get us something to eat then, yeah?”
Slowly, with difficulty, Catherine manoeuvred herself around so she was sitting up. It was awkward with her sore knee and her burning backside, but eventually she found a spot that worked, propped a pillow under her knee to support it, and waited for Jason. She could hear him clattering around in the small kitchen. She didn’t bother putting on any clothes. Jason had already seen her butt anyway—and covering it up with clothing would be painful. So she tugged the hem of her shirt down to cover her belly as much as possible, and covered her legs with a blanket to keep the chill off them.
It had obviously been an apparition, the man she’d seen leaning down on her. She hadn’t imagined it, she was absolutely certain about that. But if everybody out there searching for her insisted they didn’t see anyone else, it couldn’t have been a hunter. Knowing that Carly had seen something when she’d been lost, too, was a relief, in a way.Or maybe we’re both crazy,she thought cynically, then instantly brushed that thought away.No, she told herself firmly.I’m not crazy. I know what I saw. And I know what Carly saw. We both saw the same thing: a man. A man neither of us know. I just need to figure out why.
It didn’t take long for Jason to finish putting together a plate of food. Before she’d even gotten herself properly comfortable, he returned and sat down on the bed carrying a tray laden with sesame seed crackers, seaweed rice crackers, a selection of gourmet cheeses, salami, and sliced ham, bunches of red and green grapes, and glasses of water.
“There’s more champagne, but water is more important right now,” he said as he said down next to her. “Do you want to eat here, or outside?”
“In here, I think,” she said. “I’m not wearing pants, and my butt hurts too much to put any on.”
Jason grinned. “Bare-assed—just the way I like it.” Then he winked. “But there’s nobody here, it’s just us. You can come outside pants-less if you want to.”
Catherine grumbled, only half under her breath. “You’re supposed to be giving me sympathy,” she said, pouting.
But Jason only chuckled. “You deserved it,” he said. “Why would I be giving you sympathy?”
“You’re mean.”
Jason leaned forward and kissed her nose. “No, not mean. Strict, maybe, but not mean. And not even strict, really. Nowhere near as strict as I could be, and you know it.”
Catherine shook her head. “Nope, mean. Very mean. Now come and sit beside me and feed me. I’m hungry.”
CHAPTER10
The man was hairy, with a big, shaggy beard. Unkempt. His coat was dirty, unbuttoned down the front, flying wildly at his sides as he hurried through the pouring rain, a shovel in one hand and a metal box in the other. He stopped at the base of a tall tree and dug the spade into the dirt frantically, throwing it into a pile behind him erratically, not taking any care to keep the loose soil from falling back into the hole.
After a few minutes of digging he fell to his knees, broken. His shoulders shook as he sobbed. Rain pelted down on his back, but he didn’t react. He just crouched there, desolate. She watched as he gently placed the box into the hole and carefully filled it in, painstakingly patting down the mound of dirt. Whatever it was he’d buried, it was clearly heartbreaking for him.
He crouched beside the gravesite—if indeed it was a gravesite—for a long time, not moving. Not caring about the storm, oblivious to the wind and rain soaking his coat through to his skin, the raindrops dripping off his hair, mixing with his tears. Dirt covered his fingers.
His wail was low and mournful, a keening cry so anguished that Catherine’s heart broke for him.
