Chapter 29
Catherine continued with her story until it was done. The girl she described, the one who had suffered, no longer existed. She had been changed, but Edward said nothing. He did not need to. And in his silence Catherine found her answer.
It was late afternoon when the main house came once more into view. The sun was making its descent toward the horizon as they walked arm in arm. Each was reassured that their feelings for each other, though undeniably altered by the consequences of their separation, had remained for the most part intact. The childhood friendship had matured and strengthened and would survive. They had almost reached the same terrace where Liam’s life had been forever changed, when Edward suddenly stopped and, placing his hands on her shoulders, turned Catherine to face him.
“Cat, we have known each other most of our lives, and I’m sure you know how much I care for you….” He trailed off as his face reddened to match his hair.
Taking his hand in hers, Catherine led him up the wide marble steps to a small alcove where a decorative wrought iron bench was situated. She sat, beckoning him to join her. Edward might have been older in years, but in all the ways that mattered, she was the mature one, and always had been.
“You are also very dear to me, Edward, and always will be.”
“As you know, I now have wealth and a title…” He faltered and Catherine squeezed his hand, encouraging him as he struggled to find the right words. “I always thought we would make a good match, and though I am already promised, I will gladly break—”
“No, Edward! Say no more, please.”
Stunned by his confession, along with his willingness to be censured for severing his engagement, Catherine was reeling. Edward’s mother had apparently not allowed the inconvenience of mourning to prevent her from securing a suitable wife for her son, but she would not—could not—allow him to forsake the young woman for her. Deep down, no matter how much he professed his love, she knew a part of him would always resent her for it.
“Even if you were free,” Catherine told him, “we both know it would not be possible. Your mother would never permit it, and I would not force you to choose between us.”
He closed his eyes and sighed, acknowledging the truth in her statement. “Nevertheless. I would have been a good husband to you, Cat. You would have wanted for nothing.”
She stared at him, feeling a lump in her throat. Yes, he would have been a good husband, and had circumstances been more favorable, they would have enjoyed a nice, comfortable union. But that was before a dormant part of Catherine had been awoken. As much as she cared for Edward, she now knew something between them was missing. Passion. She never dreamed of Edward the way she dreamed of Rian. Yes, he would have been a good husband, but he would also have been the wrong husband.
“That you are still willing to marry me, even now, is honor enough,” she said with a smile. “Any woman would consider herself blessed to be your wife.”
“And if I were free and if my mother adored you?”
“It would make no difference, Edward. What I feel for you, what I have always felt, is the affection of a sister for a brother. Not that of a wife for a husband. I love you Edward, but I am not in love with you. Any more than you are in love with me. You are my dearest friend, and I hope never to lose that friendship.”
Roughly he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. “I think I always suspected as much,” he mumbled, his lips at her temple, “but I needed to be sure. Please don’t think less of me for doing so.”
Appalled that he would ever imagine her capable of such a thing, Catherine protested, “Of course I don’t think less of you!” The worry that lined her brow was for him alone, and he kissed her forehead, wanting to smooth away her concern.
“Do you like her?” she asked as he released her from his embrace.
“As much as I am able,” Edward replied. “I hardly know her. We have met only twice.”
“Promise me you will be kind to her. After all, she has had even less say in this forthcoming marriage than you.” She gave his chin a gentle shake. “Let her get to know you, and see what a truly remarkable man she has married. Spend time with her, Edward. Talk to her. Discover what makes her happy, as well as what makes her sad.”
“I’ll do my best.” They smiled at each other and slipped effortlessly back into the easy comfort of their friendship. “And you must promise me you will do the same.”
Her laugh was more of a startled squawk. “I doubt I shall ever become a wife.”
This time it was his hand on her chin, and he raised her head until she had no choice but to see the disbelief on his face. “What about Rian Connor?”
“What about him?” Catherine could feel the flush rising as it warmed her neck.
“That’s who you’re in love with, isn’t it?”
“In…love?” She hesitated and bit down nervously on her lower lip. “No, I think you are very much mistaken. I’m grateful to him of course, for all he has done for me, but I’m not in love with anyone.”
“You’re lying, Cat. I can always tell.”
Spluttering with indignity, she pulled free of his grasp and got to her feet. “I think your memory is at fault, Edward. I’m not the same girl you remember.”
“Yes, you are,” he contradicted. “In all the ways that matter. Tell me, if you care nothing for the man, why do you get so agitated whenever his name is mentioned?”
“I do not!” Her denial was vehement, and she stepped away and turned her back on him.
With a hand on her shoulder, Edward turned her back around. “Cat, your face is flushed, you refuse to look at me, and”—his glance raked over her bosom—“you’ll faint if you don’t catch your breath. You can deny it all you want, but you’re in love with Rian Connor. It’s written all over your face.” Catherine’s finger found the errant lock of hair that had slipped free and began corkscrewing it. “You haven’t told him, have you?” Edward asked.
She shook her head as her finger worked double time. Worried that she might actually pull her hair out, Edward stayed her frantic motion with his hand. He was tempted to ease whatever insecurities plagued her, but he was not at liberty to do so. Rian might not have confirmed his feelings for Catherine with words, but neither had he denied Edward’s guess. And it would be presumptuous of him to reveal such a confidence. All he could do was push Catherine in the right direction, and hope she would discover the truth for herself.
“Tell him, Cat. You might be surprised by his response.”
She arched a brow and gave him a skeptical look. “The situation is not as simple as you think. There is a difficulty you know nothing of.”
“Then tell me. Perhaps I can help.” He arched a brow of his own and, as she seemed no longer concerned with her hair, he let her go.
Now she began pacing, her heels tapping a smart staccato across the tiles. Edward watched, saying nothing. He knew from experience she would speak soon enough. Coming to an abrupt stop, Catherine turned and faced him. Her hands were balled into small fists that she held stiffly at her sides. “There’s another woman,” she declared, thrusting her chin out as if daring him to dispute her words.
Unable to disclose that this was a fact he was already aware of, Edward simply said, “And?”
“And? That’s all you have to say? And?” Torn between bafflement and anger at his attitude, Catherine threw her hands up in despair, declaring, “I knew you wouldn’t understand!”
“Come, Cat, this is me, your best friend in the whole world. Tell me what you mean. You never had any difficulty in the past getting me to see your point of view. What is this woman to you?”
“Nothing.” Her voice trembled slightly as the vision of Isabel, wearing only Rian’s bedsheet, suddenly filled her head.
“Then why is she a difficulty?”
“Because she was with Rian before, and she knows him.” Catherine’s voice caught, and she turned her head, feeling a trickle of moisture slide down the side of her nose.
Edward gently pulled her in close so her head was now buried in his shoulder. He understood exactly what she had meant.
“Cat, Cat, hush now,” he whispered, his mouth against her hair. “He’s a grown man, a man of the world. Of course he has known other women.” He began to rock her gently in his arms, moving soothingly from side to side. Catherine gave herself over to the comfort of his swaying, following where he led as her sobs slowly subsided.
“What are you afraid of, Cat?”
She tensed. “That he w-w-won’t want me.”
All her insecurities tumbled out, and she tried to move away, but Edward would not let her go. He had never known Cat to be afraid before, but then he had never known her to be in love before.
“You think he won’t desire you because of his experience with this other woman?” Catherine nodded, refusing to look up at him. “She may have meant something to him once, but I doubt she means anything to him now.”
Her head snapped up and despite the wetness of her eyes, he saw a flash of temper in them, which to his way of thinking was a good thing. An angry Cat was preferable to the helpless, despondent one he had been holding.
“How could you possibly know that?” she growled out between clenched teeth.
Now it was his turn to sound exasperated. “Cat, what do you suppose would make a man such as Rian Connor travel north in the first place? He talked not only with me, but anyone in the village who would give him the time of day, trying to find out all he could about you.”
His words caught her off guard. It was something she hadn’t fully given herself time to consider when Edward first told her he had met Rian. Instead she had allowed herself to become consumed by thoughts of Isabel’s prowess in the bedroom, letting it cloud her thinking.
“Odd behavior for a man occupied with thoughts of another woman, don’t you think?” Edward moved his hands to her shoulders and shook her gently, waiting for her to grasp the significance of his words.
“No.” She pulled away from him. “You’ve not seen her; if you had you would think differently. Any man would.”
The vulgarity he uttered made her cover her mouth with her hand in shock. He closed the distance between them, and stared down at her with a look of barely concealed frustration on his face.
“Do you love him?”
Dropping her hand from her mouth, Catherine looked back at the stranger that had replaced the even-tempered, good-natured man she thought she knew. “I-I-I,” she stammered.
“It’s an easy question, Cat, yes or no.”
“I’m not—I don’t…”
“Come on, Catherine! Tell me the truth.”
“Stop it! You’re bullying me!”
“Do you love Rian Connor?”
“Yes! Yes, I love him! I’ve loved him from the very first moment I saw him. He’s all I think about from the moment I wake until I fall asleep again. And even then I don’t escape him, for in my dreams he’s—”
The realization that she was about to unveil details too intimate to share made Catherine recover her mouth with the same hand she’d used only moments ago. Edward might be a dear childhood friend, but he was also a man. Her face was burning, though whether from fury or embarrassment, she could not say.
“Is he worthy of your love, Cat?” Edward asked in a tone that was now both sympathetic and envious. Afraid her tongue might be possessed with the ability to act independently, Catherine simply nodded.
“Good. I think so too,” Edward told her.
She clutched his arm. “What should I do?” Her voice was hesitant and hopeful all at the same time.
“Trust in yourself, Cat. You cannot continue without knowing if he loves you back, and there is only one way to find out.”
Her mouth had suddenly gone dry and she swallowed, the movement a painful rasp. The truth of Edward’s words continued to ring in her head. There was only one way to find out. She thought back to the first time she had kissed Rian after their tumble down a snowy embankment. And later, when he found her in the library. She recalled the warmth of his mouth against her skin, the feel of his fingers brushing across her bodice, the hardness as he pressed himself against her. He had wanted her then, but that was before he took Isabel to his bed.
Would he want her still?
…there is only one way to find out.
Suddenly everything became clear. She would confront him, tell him how she felt, and then pray it would be enough. Pray that she would be enough. Reaching for Edward’s hand, Catherine twined her fingers with his.
“I’m not sure I know how to tell him,” she confessed.
Edward’s laugh was kind as he raised her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “You’ll find a way, Cat,” he assured her. “You always do.”
Embracing Edward’s unshakeable faith in her, Catherine took comfort in the certainty of his smile. In her mind she saw Rian gazing down at her. Dark hair falling across his forehead, eyes aglow with something more than desire. It was a look that held the promise of something stronger, a feeling that was deeper than physical passion. It was the look of a man in love.
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“I will not be a wife in name only.”
Rian Connor’s proposal of marriage should have been the happiest moment of Catherine Davenport’s life. He is her savior, her tutor in the ways of flirtation, the man she wants for her lover. But two impediments bar the way: the vicious assault that may have ruined her ability to enjoy any man’s touch; and the vindictive woman who will stop at nothing to regain Rian’s affection.
“There can be no turning back once you have given yourself to me.”
One exquisite night of completely mutual pleasure proves to Catherine that with Rian, the physical side of their union will bring only joy. But even her new husband cannot protect her from the diabolical scheming of his former mistress. Delivered into the hands of the madman who once delighted in tormenting her, Catherine is swept back to the place where it all began. And this time, the price could be her future with the man she is finally free to love . . .