Chapter 3
The horse Catherine was riding covered the ground with ease, flying hooves gobbling up the terrain as they galloped steadily onward. A light breeze pulled her hair free of its restraining ribbon, making her long tresses stream behind her. Summer had arrived in all its glory and was promising to stay awhile. Wildflowers bloomed everywhere and the trees were thick with their canopies of green, leafy growth. It was a good day and Catherine felt her spirits soar, buoyed by more than just the outdoors. Edward’s visit had provided a valuable bridge for her memories, but she had questions he could not answer. Wanting to make certain she did not cross paths with Felicity and Liam making their way to Pelham, Catherine slowed her horse to a canter and then to a sedate walk. Giving the animal its head, she allowed it to wander where it chose, while she gave the same freedom to her thoughts.
Though she had confessed her love for Rian to her childhood friend, and made a promise to share her feelings with Rian, her courage had waned with Edward’s departure. How disappointed he would be to see her vacillating, quite incapable of keeping her promise, not to mention the dreadful way she had been treating Rian since his return. But Edward did not know all the details regarding the night of Felicity and Liam’s celebratory ball for Oakhaven’s tenants.
Catherine would never forget the ecstasy of Rian’s kiss, or the humiliation of finding him practically in bed with his former mistress the following morning. It was easy for Edward to brush off Isabel Howard as being of little consequence, but he couldn’t tell her that Rian held no regard for his former lover. If Isabel no longer claimed Rian’s affection, then Catherine needed to hear it for herself. From Rian’s own lips, and that wasn’t going to happen if she kept hiding herself away at Pelham Manor.
Emily was right. The situation could not go on indefinitely and it was fast bordering on the absurd. It needed to be resolved one way or another. Rian had made the first move by sending Edward to her, and Catherine was astute enough to know the reason why. But though she loved Edward, and he would always have a special place in her heart, she was not in love with him. Marriage to him had never been her idea, and when she’d sent Edward away, Catherine had made her choice.
She was stronger since the attack that had taken her memory, both physically and emotionally, although Rian had no idea just how much progress she had made. His last image of her had been that awful morning when the pain of his betrayal had made her want to curl up and die. It had been Emily who helped her to consider what she had seen in Rian’s bedroom from a completely different perspective. While it was difficult to stomach the thought of him being with Isabel, she was now willing to admit that perhaps there had been mitigating circumstances. Emily had told her quite plainly that Isabel would not hesitate to use trickery and deceit in order to get what she wanted. And she wanted Rian.
The question was, did Catherine want him more?
She closed her eyes and was instantly transported back to that night in the library. Recalling the touch of Rian’s fingers caressing her neck before gently dipping into the valley between her breasts sent a shiver down her back. She remembered only too well his hunger, and how desperately her own body wanted to appease that hunger. The situation wasn’t complicated at all. Refusing to acknowledge it had been the complication, but now she felt as if a huge weight had been lifted by the sheer simplicity of deciding on a course of action. Rian was alone at Oakhaven. There would be no better time to find out if he was the answer she was searching for.
The sun was making its descent toward the horizon when Catherine topped a small rise and gazed down at the Connor ancestral home. She was near the spot where she and Rian had taken a tumble in the snow, and she had kissed him. Cushioned amongst the lush velvet greenness of the surrounding land, the house sparkled like a jewel, much the same way it had back then. Only this time it was the rays of the setting sun reflecting off the windows that made it glitter instead of bright white ice crystals. And the house was still as beautiful as ever.
Quickly she made her way to the stables, and slipping from the saddle in the courtyard, she handed the reins to one of the younger stable boys. After getting over the shock of seeing her riding unaccompanied, he touched his fingers to the brim of his cap and smiled warmly at her in greeting before leading her borrowed horse to an empty stall. Catherine stood for a moment, her senses drinking in the sights and sounds and smells of the courtyard. It was as if the weeks at Pelham suddenly dissolved, and she had never been away. She entered the house by way of the kitchen door, pausing quietly for a few moments to savor the comforting aromas of the constantly bustling room. It was her maid Tilly who saw her first, announcing her presence with an earsplitting shriek.
“Miss Catherine!”
Immediately every head swiveled in her direction, and Catherine found herself enveloped by a pair of wiry arms as Tilly hugged her with a strength that almost took her breath away.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes there’s no mistake, lass,” Mrs. Hatch said, coming to her rescue by disengaging the maid’s near stranglehold. An unexpected lump rose and lodged itself in the back of Catherine’s throat. She swallowed, realizing how much she had missed the motherly housekeeper.
“I’ve missed you too.” Catherine kissed her on the cheek. “All of you,” she added, looking at the faces gathered around the big kitchen table. She was rewarded by a sea of smiles before Cook good-naturedly scolded everyone back to their chores, while clearing a place at the table and bidding Catherine to sit.
“And what has happened that you feel the need to slink in through the kitchen door?” Mrs. Hatch inquired, folding her arms beneath her ample bosom.
“I wasn’t slinking! I just came from the stables and thought I would save my legs by not walking all the way around to the front of the house. Besides”—Catherine glanced up at the housekeeper—“I wanted to see you before anyone else, and thought I might find you here.”
“Little minx!” the older woman declared with a chuckle. “Ah well, no matter. ’Tis a blessing to have you back, lass.”
“Thank you. Have I missed supper?”
The housekeeper examined Catherine’s appearance, allowing just the smallest hint of disapproval at the sight of her hair swinging freely about her hips. “No, and there’s just enough time for you to go tidy yourself up a bit,” she reprimanded gently. “I’ll make sure an extra place is set.”
Catherine was almost at the door that would take her out of the kitchen and into the main part of the house when Mrs. Hatch stopped her, her tone cautious. “Miss Catherine, you do know that Master Rian is here alone, do you not?”
She turned back around, feeling the weight of every stare from Cook and Mrs. Hatch to the pot boy and the scullery maid. All of them holding their breath, waiting to see what she would say. Catherine did not disappoint. “Not anymore, he isn’t.”
A short while later, her face and hands washed, her hair tidied, and the worst of the creases brushed out of her skirt, Catherine entered the dining room. She had been surprised at how quiet the house was with Liam and Felicity gone, but she still managed a sigh of relief to see Rian had not yet come down to dine. A quick glance at the table told her Mrs. Hatch had obviously been distracted as there was still only one place setting visible. She was carrying an extra set to the table when a familiar voice stopped her.
“Hello, Catherine.”
Immediately the beat of her heart quickened, and she thought she could hear a faint swooshing as her blood flowed more rapidly, rushing through her veins. She had not realized how keenly she had missed that rich, warm timbre until now, nor the effect it had on her. Not daring to look at Rian, afraid doing so would make her drop the plate she held in her hands, Catherine forced herself to ignore him as she carefully placed it on the table. Then, and only then, did she permit herself to turn her head and gaze toward the open doorway.
She opened her mouth to speak, to return his greeting, but no sound came out. Instead her vocal cords chose now, the most inopportune of all moments, to become paralyzed. In trying to clear her throat, she took in a mouthful of air the wrong way, and embarked on a spectacular coughing fit. Pouring some wine in a glass, Rian handed it to her. She gulped the contents greedily, making him raise his brows in alarm.
“Slowly, slowly,” he admonished as he gently patted her on the back. “Too fast will do more harm than good.”
Gratefully Catherine handed him back the half empty glass; her throat felt raw but at least the aggravating prickle had now subsided. “Thank you,” she croaked, doing her best frog imitation.
Rian handed her the handkerchief from his pocket. Without thinking, Catherine wiped her eyes, and then blew her nose, loudly. She folded the square of linen and put it in the pocket of her dress. Pulling a chair out from the table, Rian motioned for her to be seated. “I must admit I’ve never seen that particular shade of puce before,” he teased, making her blush even more.
“I’m sorry; you took me by surprise, that’s all.”
It was true. Even though Catherine wanted him there, had expressly journeyed to see him, she had been momentarily stunned by the intensity of her own feelings at seeing him. And his expression said she was not the only one taken by surprise. Now she glanced at the open doorway, wondering how quickly she would be able to sprint through if her plan went horribly wrong. Her glance did not go unnoticed.
“If you are expecting Liam and Felicity to join us, then I must disappoint you.” Rian filled his wine glass. He tipped the bottle in her direction, but Catherine shook her head. The remaining half-full glass would be more than enough, if she decided to drink it.
“I know they are dining at Pelham this evening.”
“And you have chosen to dine here, with me?”
The idea that Rian might not actually want to see her had never occurred to Catherine, but something in his manner now had her considering the possibility. What if his feelings toward her had already changed? What if she had played the role of reluctant maiden just a little too well? Perhaps he had grown tired of her attitude. Unease suddenly rippled through her, leaving a trail of anxiety in its wake. “If you prefer, I can leave you to your solitude. I don’t think anyone would mind if I dined in the kitchen.”
“I would prefer it if you stayed. I dislike eating alone.”
“Oh, I thought you would be used to it.”
He looked at her shrewdly for a minute. “I am, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Though he kept his voice low, Catherine thought she detected a hint of despondency.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out the way it did,” she apologized with a smile that made his stomach flip. “But then everything I say to you always seems to come out wrong, and I don’t understand why. I have the words in my head and they make perfect sense there, but then on the way to my mouth they get all jumbled up.”
“Perhaps you are trying too hard.” He sipped his wine, content to admire the curve of her cheek, the charming scatter of freckles across her nose, the sweep of thick, dark lashes whenever she lowered her eyes. “Would you prefer to dine alone?” he asked perversely.
“No, in fact this couldn’t be better.”
“And why is that?” He sounded more than a little dubious.
Taking a deep breath, Catherine jumped in with both feet. “It seems to me that we have been avoiding each other.”
The sound that came from across the table could not be mistaken for anything else but incredulity. She risked a glance and the expression on Rian’s face made the heat rise in hers. “Pardon me,” she mumbled. “I should say it is I who has been avoiding you, and for too long. It’s time we talked, don’t you agree?”
Rian could only nod, his mind a whirlwind of things he wanted to say to her, but Catherine was not the only one who was afflicted with words tumbling out in the wrong order. Thankfully they were both saved by the arrival of dinner, although Rian had to wonder if the kitchen staff knew something he did not. The evening meal was usually cold fare, but tonight Cook had added a dish of freshly boiled potatoes to go with the cold leg of lamb.
“Hungry?” Rian asked, picking up the carving knife.
Their meal was a curiously silent affair, unless the polite offer and equally polite refusal of more meat and vegetables counted as conversation. Catherine knew it did not, but she had been hungry and did not want to risk any exchange between them being punctuated by a growling stomach. Finished with her meal, she waited for Rian to speak, but when it became apparent that he was going to follow her lead, she put her elbows on the table, rested her chin on folded hands and said, “Rian, we do need to talk.”
Rian drained his glass, pushed back his chair and got to his feet. “Come,” he said brusquely. “I think a more comfortable setting is needed.”