Chapter 8
Propped up on one elbow, Catherine watched Rian as he slept. He lay on his back, one arm flung carelessly over the pillow, the other resting lightly by his side. The realization that she had never seen anyone more beautiful struck her. Sleep had been late in claiming them, and the sun was now high enough for daylight to reach the bed, bathing the occupants in its glow. And affording Catherine the opportunity to really look at her husband as he lay quietly next to her.
His face was ruggedly masculine. The severity of his dark brows was softened by the long sooty lashes that rested on his cheek. Catherine lightly ran the back of one finger down the curve of his face, following the strong jaw line and chin, now coarse with stubble. With the tip of her finger she lightly smoothed a path down his straight nose, pausing in the dimple above his top lip before following the outline of his generous mouth.
Thick brown hair curled lazily over his shoulders and Catherine smoothed it away from his skin, her palm lingering on the muscles of his upper arm before sliding across the breadth of his chest. Rian did not stir, so she let her hand rest lightly on his sternum, enjoying the steady rise and fall of each breath. Then, empowered by her own boldness, she continued with her exploration. Hungrily her eyes devoured him, this man who was now her husband and lover, as she softly scraped the tips of her fingers over his belly, boldly following the line of dark hair that disappeared beneath the sheet covering his hips.
“Don’t begin something you may not be willing to finish.”
She gasped, and turned her head to find Rian fully awake and staring at her. She didn’t need to be told her face had turned bright red; she could feel the burn plain enough. “I thought you were sleeping,” she said guiltily.
Rian’s smile was filled with amusement. “Hard to do when your hand is so arousing.”
“And what makes you think I am reluctant to see this through to completion?” she challenged, slipping her hand beneath the sheet and running her nails over his hip, a particularly sensitive place she had discovered quite by chance last night. She felt him jolt under her hand. “After all, I have an excellent tutor.”
The amused look on Rian’s face quickly changed to something else as his body, already stimulated by her touch, came fully awake. Rolling Catherine onto her back in one swift movement, Rian looked down at his wife and murmured huskily, “Then let us see if you are ready for today’s lesson.” Her throaty laugh filled his head as she proceeded to show him how willing a student she was.
Later, after their appetite for each other was sated, Catherine stretched and flung a leg carelessly over his with a contented sigh.
“Happy?” Rian asked as he kissed the top of her head.
“Mmmm, yes, very, although…”
“Although what?”
“Felicity and Liam are going to be very cross with us.” Intoxicated by the scent of her skin, Rian nuzzled her neck, offering an unintelligible murmur in reply, and earning a playful slap on the arm. “Rian, I’m serious!” Catherine protested.
He stopped what he was doing and looked at her. She was serious, although he knew a few moments more and the serious side of her would willingly wait until the wanton side had finished with him. He had known many women in his life but never had he reached the heights of ecstasy that Catherine took him to simply by allowing him to take her there first.
“When Felicity and Liam see how happy we are, they will forgive us both,” he assured her. “You are happy, aren’t you?”
“Of course, I am. How could you doubt it?” Her eyes were wide with disbelief.
“A man needs to be reassured from time to time, that’s all,” he grumbled happily.
“I shall keep that in mind.”
When he tapped her lightly on the thigh, she rolled her leg off him and watched as he got out of the bed and crossed over to the bureau. “I have a gift for you.”
He returned holding a large flat box in his hands, but Catherine was too busy looking at the rest of his body to pay much attention. Sitting up, she pulled the sheet about her and gave him a thoughtful look before asking, “Who is Sophie?”
Rian stared at her, unexpectedly at a loss for words. “How do you know about Sophie?” He felt certain the only two people who knew of Sophie’s existence, his brother and Mrs. Hatch, would not have told Catherine about her. At least not without letting him know of it.
“I am not the only one who talks in my sleep,” Catherine told him. “You didn’t say anything else, just her name.”
The look in his eye told her she had touched a nerve, one that was still raw, and she turned her head away. Strong fingers caught her chin, and Rian made her look back at him.
“Catherine, I will keep no secrets from you,” he said seriously.
“Then who is she?”
He hesitated a few moments, as if trying to decide how to tell her, and hoping she would understand. Although the circumstances were completely different, it felt like he was courting danger, explaining his relationship with another woman so soon after his confession about Isabel. “She was someone I cared for once. Very much.” Catherine could hear the sorrow in his voice. “She was my wife.”
“Was?”
“Yes…she died.”
Suddenly recognizing there were a great many things she did not know about the man she had taken for her husband, Catherine was immediately curious. How long had he and Sophie been married? Had she borne him any children? How had she died? But she stayed her inquisitiveness, and instead threw her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. “Oh, Rian, I’m so sorry. Forgive me for asking.”
He took his time before gently pulling away from her, not wanting to let her go. The strength that flowed from Catherine was like a never-ending pool of cool, sweet water where he would always be able to quench his thirst.
“There, there,” he comforted, seeing her eyes glisten. “It was a long time ago, and I promise I will tell you about her, but please, not today. Today belongs to you.” He watched as she settled back down, blotting her damp lashes with the heel of her hand. The smile he gave her dispelled the somber moment. “Now, I have a wedding gift for you,” he said, placing the flat box on the bed in front of her.
“But…I have nothing to give you.”
He kissed her, slowly, deeply. “My darling, what you have given me has far more value than the trinket I now give to you.”
Blushing, Catherine stared at the item on the bed. The box had an aged look to it, and spoke of being handled by many through the years. “May I open it?”
The glint of excitement in her eyes made Rian laugh. Like most women, his wife was going to enjoy receiving gifts. Almost as much as he was going to enjoy giving them to her. “Of course, how else will you know what’s inside?”
Carefully she disengaged the simple latch and lifted the lid, gasping and opening her eyes in surprise at the treasure nestled on the velvet within. “Rian, I can’t—it’s beautiful—it’s too much—where did you get—Oh Rian!” This last was added with a deep sigh.
“It’s an old Connor family tradition. Something each firstborn son gives to his wife. Would you like to try it on?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak as Rian lifted the necklace from the box and placed it around her throat, securing the clasp firmly. The setting was plain but elegant, not that the stone required anything to enhance its beauty. As big as an apricot, and almost the same color, the canary yellow diamond sparkled, seeming to draw every drop of sunlight that spilled into the room, and reflecting the light back as a deep gold that dazzled the eye. Rian smiled, delighted to see the play of rainbow light that danced on Catherine’s skin as the gem rested between her breasts.
“Perfect,” he whispered. “It’s just perfect.”
“Oh Rian, it’s too much! I can’t possibly—”
“Hush, you have to take it. It comes with me.” He kissed her lightly on the shoulder, watching her face as she tried to make sense of what he had told her.
“What do you mean, it comes with you?”
“Connor family tradition dictates that the firstborn son give this necklace to his bride.”
Ever practical, Catherine arched a brow. “And what if there is no son?”
“Then it falls to the firstborn daughter, who gets to wear it after she has taken a husband.” He reached out and cupped the diamond, feeling the weight of the jewel as it rested in his palm. “Either way, the diamond has to stay with the Connor family,” he finished solemnly.
Sensing he was holding something back, Catherine asked, “Why? What will happen if it does not?”
Rian shrugged. “Something about pestilence and ruin and general ill fortune.” The twinkle in his eyes told her he was teasing.
“All the more reason to keep it hidden safely away, I would think.” Catherine reached up behind her head to undo the clasp but Rian stopped her.
“No, please don’t,” he said gently. “I like the way it looks on you, and it has been hidden away for far too long.” He put his hand against her cheek as she slowly lowered her arms. “Wear it every day or only on special occasions if you wish. It will be returned to the box when you hold our first child in your arms.”
“Why? Is that a tradition also?”
“Yes.” He chuckled, already hearing the regret in her voice at having to give up the necklace. “But if it’s any consolation, you can wear this for the rest of your life.” He slipped onto her finger a ring whose single gemstone, though far smaller, was a perfect match in both clarity and color to the one around her neck.
“They are the same!” Catherine was delighted.
“It is rumored both gems were cut from the same stone.” Rian gave his wife an indulgent look. “And I think there’s enough similarity to give credence to that theory, don’t you?”
Holding up her hand, Catherine admired the ring, which sparkled with as much brilliance as the pendant. “Where did they come from?”
“No one knows for certain,” Rian admitted with a lazy shrug.
His wife gave him a look of mild alarm, “Rian, what if they were stolen by one of your ancestors?”
His chuckle was a deep rumble. “Knowing some of my ancestors, I’d say that’s a strong possibility. I should warn you, rumor has it that the gems are bespelled.”
“Bespelled?” Catherine was intrigued. “You mean like magic?”
He nodded. “Legend says that if either the necklace or ring is worn by anyone other than the intended recipient, then the diamond will curse the false wearer.”
“How?”
“Absolutely no idea,” Rian told her with a devilish grin. “It’s never happened as far as I know, but I rather like the idea of sores and boils erupting in unsavory places.”
“That sounds a little severe, considering the recipient would always be a woman,”
“Very well then, how about warts and unsightly chin hair?”
“Better,” she laughed. “Still, I suspect your curse is actually the result of one of your forebears wanting to keep the jewels together in one place.” She jumped off the bed and went to stand before the mirror, pirouetting first one way and then the other, admiring the way the diamond moved with her.
“As I said, a perfect fit,” Rian murmured.