Chapter 4
Rian sensed Catherine’s hesitation as he turned and walked away. In his mind’s eye she faltered as she allowed nerves to get the better of her, before she thrust out her chin and followed him. Of course she would follow him. She had come to Oakhaven for a reason. A reason that required being alone with him. And who was he to disappoint her? He headed for the library, pausing at the doorway so she could enter first. The blush on her cheeks did not go unnoticed. No doubt Catherine was recalling what had happened between them the last time they were in this room. He saw her glance up as she passed by, the look in her eye asking if he also remembered. It was something he would never forget, but he was better at masking his emotions than she was.
She refused the offer of a glass of sweet wine, which told him the discussion they were about to have was serious. Of course, it was serious. She had waited until Liam and Felicity had left before confronting him. He just didn’t know if, by the time they had finished talking, his heart would be broken. Rian deliberately sat in the same chair he’d used to kiss her that night. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as Catherine took the seat opposite him.
“How much of your memory has returned?” he asked. He kept his tone neutral, waiting for her to set the mood between them.
“There are pieces that are still lost to me,” she answered, “but I believe a great deal is now restored, and I seem to recall more every day.”
“Do you know who left you like that, barefoot, practically naked, beaten and—”
“No,” she said. “That is still lost to me. I seem to be able to recall most of my life, save for this past year. That remains something of a shambles, although I am confident that eventually even that memory will return.” From the way she avoided looking at him, Rian suspected she dreaded the prospect.
“Tell me all that you do remember.”
He watched as she composed herself, hands folded together neatly in her lap while she put her thoughts in order. Rian could swear a gentle hum was audible as she rearranged her mind to accommodate his request. But the pucker between her brows also told him she hadn’t been expecting him to ask such a question. In fact, he guessed that she hadn’t been expecting him to set the tone of their conversation at all. She was the one who’d said they needed to talk, but now she seemed uncertain whether to allow him to dictate the direction of their exchange.
Rian narrowed his eyes slightly as he stared at her. He knew Catherine well enough to take an educated guess at what troubled her. She was worried she would lose her resolve, and not have the confidence to say what she needed to. She was just going to have to trust him.
“Well, for a start,” she said, deciding to answer him with a wave of her hand at the books surrounding them, “I can tell you which of these are my favorites as well as those I detest.” Her unexpected laugh was a sound full of summer skies and green meadows, and Rian felt himself lifted. He smiled at her and she leaned forward, the change in his expression making her bold. “But I don’t think it is my literary taste that interests you. Tell me what is it you really want to know?”
His answer was given without hesitation. “Everything about you.”
“Everything?”
“All you can remember…every detail.”
And so Catherine spent the next hour introducing herself to him. Although he had already been privy to two accounts of her life, the written report of the investigator he’d hired and Edward Barclay’s narrative, listening to Catherine speak of her childhood made it seem as if he was hearing it for the very first time. Her voice filled every part of him, and her words glided gently across his skin as he quickly became lost in the spell of her storytelling. He paid attention to the intonation of her speech, which started out shyly, but then moved with a joyful, tumbling quality as she opened up and shared confidences with him. Now he understood what Liam had meant about hearing Catherine’s true voice. Her accent was a reflection of the hills surrounding The Hall, where she’d grown up. Her words a softer, sweeter version of the local accent. She filled her own story with all the nuances and inflections that ink marks on parchment failed to convey. Everything she told him was unique to her perspective. No matter how close their friendship, Edward Barclay could not possibly know her feelings on those matters most personal to her.
Hearing Catherine recall her life, Rian was quietly astounded by her calm acceptance of all that had befallen her. She left nothing out, made no excuses, no attempt to justify the cruel twists and turns that had shaped the path of her life: her mother’s death at an early age, her father’s inconsolable sorrow and subsequent drinking, the loss of her home to pay creditors after his fatal fall from a horse. The only time Rian felt she was being untrue was in her recollection of her father’s death. The sense of falseness was not in the details of the accident itself, but more in her emotions as she spoke. It seemed as if the only way she could articulate the details of the incident was to distance herself. Recount the day as if it had happened to someone else. It told Rian she had not yet come to terms with her father’s death, and its aftermath.
“I can even tell you the name of the boy who first kissed me in the hay barn.” She finished with a silvery laugh he found captivating.
“Edward.” It slipped out by accident and he cursed under his breath seeing her look of surprise.
“Yes, it was Edward. I forgot you had met him.”
“Did you enjoy your visit with him?” He tried to make it sound as if she had been visited by an elderly uncle or some equally distant relative. Not someone who held so important a place in her life as Edward Barclay.
“Yes, thank you. It was wonderful to see him again.” The genuine pleasure in her voice made him instantly jealous. “And kind of you to send him to me.”
“It was nothing.”
“No, it meant a great deal to me.” She leaned toward him, her hands clasping the arms of the chair as she turned serious. “May I ask you a question?” He tensed, wondering if she could sense the battle raging within him. Every time she opened her mouth, he fully expected her to tell him that it was over between them. Something that had barely begun would be given no chance to flourish. He wasn’t sure how he would react once the words fell from those perfect lips. Not trusting his voice enough to reply to her question, he answered with a curt nod of his head. “How is it that you knew to go to Edward?”
“Excuse me?” Momentarily flustered, Rian decided he would be better served if he stopped letting his mind wander. He would need no warning when Catherine decided to destroy his world, and it would serve no purpose if he had one.
“Edward,” she repeated.“I was asking how you found him.”
“Ah well, credit must be given to Stuart Collins, an investigator I hired.” Seeing her brows rise, Rian understood he had just widened her circle of acquaintances with the introduction of another. He told her it was Stuart who had first discovered where she was from, and Stuart who had suggested he make the journey north. He did not fail to notice that she narrowed her eyes slightly at the investigator’s idea, and he wondered what he would say if she asked him why the suggestion was made in the first place. Or worse, why Rian had acted on it.
“So it was Mr. Collins who told you to seek out Edward?”
Rian shook his head, and swirled the brandy in his glass. “Not directly. Meeting Edward was no more than a fortunate happenstance, but one I admit taking full advantage of.”
He proceeded to relate the circumstances by which he had crossed paths with Lord Barclay. His tale did not take as long as hers, and he did not try to conceal his frustration with the local populace who refused to talk about her family until they were sure of his intentions. A wistful smile played on Catherine’s lips as she sat listening.
“You know exactly what I mean, don’t you?” Rian said, waving a finger at her as he talked about the tight-lipped locals.
“Oh, aye, lad, we knows ’ow to mind our business, and when t’open shop!” She tapped the side of her nose with a forefinger. Rian couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
“They’re good people,” Catherine told him.
“Yes, they are.”
“May I ask you another question?”
“You may ask me as many as you like.” He got up and replenished his brandy.
“Why did you feel you had to look for my family?”
“Because I needed to know if anyone had been searching for you.” Rian paused. “Or still was.”
“And if there had been?”
“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “It was a bridge I did not have to cross.”
“I have no family left, not anymore,” she told him softly.
“I know.”
For a few moments neither of them spoke. And then, as if deciding the conversation was in danger of becoming far too gloomy, Catherine perked up. “What else did Edward tell you about me?” she asked, and the sudden playfulness of her tone said she was eager to hear any secrets her childhood friend had revealed.
“Well, for the sake of truthfulness, he never did say he kissed you,” Rian confessed. “That was more of a lucky guess on my part.”
She clapped her hands together. “I knew he would not tell! I made him promise, and he kept his word. After all these years.” She shook her head in mild disbelief, and her voice softened. “Did you like him? Oh, I so want you to like him, Rian.”
“Yes, it’s hard not to. He’s a very personable young man.” Jealousy pricked his heart as he wondered why his opinion was so important to her. “Did Edward tell you…anything, Catherine?”
Did he tell you that I love you? Did he tell you how clearly he saw through me? Can you not see that for yourself?
She paused before saying, “He told me a great deal, and the rest I remembered.”
“Did he know why you left your home?”
“No. That he didn’t know. I was already gone by the time he returned from burying his own father, and the reason is as much of a mystery to him as it is to me.”
Rian was relieved. The thought had crossed his mind that, for reasons of his own, Edward might have withheld some knowledge from him when they talked. Something he might prefer to reveal to Catherine in private. But the young man had not done so.
“Unless my memory returns we will never know why I abandoned my home.”
Rian said nothing. There was nothing he could say. It would be wrong of him to selfishly declare his gratitude for whatever reason had compelled her to leave. If she had not, she would not be here now, with him. He swallowed down his brandy and let the burning fire punish his throat.
“Edward confessed he was betrothed.” Good Lord, had the fiery redhead kept anything to himself? “And he offered to break his engagement should I wish it.” Catherine’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“Did you want to accept his offer?”
Rian wasn’t sure how he managed to get the words out as his heart, squeezed so tightly by unimaginable envy, was barely able to beat.
“I am still here, am I not?”
“That’s not what I asked,” he chided in a husky rasp.
She dropped her eyes and looked down at her hands, which had resumed their demure position in her lap once more. “No, as generous as it was, I did not want to accept his offer.”
“Why not? You have known him all your life. Who would make a better husband?” Rian knew that the rest of his life was going to pivot on her answer, and he suddenly felt as if he had stepped into quicksand and was slowly being pulled under.
Catherine snapped her head up and stared at him, hard. Her earlier doubts rushed in again, making her believe she had waited too long before coming to him. Was it possible that he no longer wanted her? Why else would he ask such a thing? A voice in her head told her to leave. Get up from her seat with as much dignity as she could muster and simply walk away. Away from him. But the voice in her head didn’t appreciate fate’s sense of humor. Rian sat between herself and the door, and she knew him well enough to know he would not allow her to leave without giving him an answer.
“A husband I was in love with.” She sounded almost insolent, and actually raised her chin as if daring him to contradict her.
“I beg your pardon?”
Catherine’s eyes were dark in the low library light. She couldn’t believe Rian was going to make her repeat herself. At some point in the last few seconds she had unconsciously moved her hands from her lap to the arms of the chair, and her fingers now gripped the furniture with enough strength to turn her knuckles white as she spoke.
“I want a husband I’m in love with, and that is not Edward,” she said, taking care to enunciate clearly and avoid the possibility of any misunderstanding.
The claw that was compressing Rian’s heart flexed and loosened its grip. “But you do care about Edward?”
“Of course, and I always will.” The insolence was replaced by conviction. “That will never change.”
“And are you always going to allow him to call you Cat?”
Her unexpected peal of laughter diffused the tension between them. “He always has, ever since I was a little girl, and you find it extremely irritating, don’t you?”
“What makes you say that?”
“The look on your face when you say the word Cat is quite horrifying.”
“I find it a difficult appellation for you.”
“Edward will always see me as Cat no matter how old I am or what changes my life may bring, just as you will never see me as anything but Catherine.”
“True enough,” he admitted grudgingly, “but I think Catherine suits you better.”
“I would ask you to allow Edward this small indulgence. He has his own burdens to bear.”
Rian frowned. To his mind the affable redhead was too young to have much in the way of burdens. Seeing his expression, Catherine softened her tone.
“It’s awful to have such a joyous occasion marked by death,” she reminded him. “And speaking of awful, did you get to meet his mother?”
The unexpected spitefulness of her tone was a door opening to a darker side of Catherine. A side that Rian found totally at odds with the young woman he had come to know. Whatever Edward’s mama had done to hurt Catherine, the wound ran deep.
“No, I did not. Edward said she was visiting his betrothed.” He paused, waiting to see her reaction.
“Wanting to be certain she knows her place, I’ll wager.”
“Surely not. She is, after all, his mother’s choice.” A slight frown appeared. “Did Edward not tell you that?”
“Yes, he did, but it doesn’t mean her life will be any the easier for it. She’ll have her work cut out for her.”
“You make his mother sound like quite the Tartar.”
Edward had more or less admitted that his mother had the upper hand in almost every aspect of her son’s life, but Rian found this sudden display of open hostility in Catherine fascinating. It occurred to him that perhaps there was another reason Edward called her Cat.