Catriona’s Secret

by Madeline Martin

  She stopped abruptly, then gave a squeal of delight and rushed toward him, not stopping until she had thrown herself into his arms. He embraced her gently despite her firm grip around him and breathed in her delicate floral scent. She still smelled the same, like summer roses fresh in bloom on a sunny day.

  “Geordie.” She eased back and looked up at him, no longer a girl, but very much a woman.

  The most beautiful woman in all the world.

  High cheekbones showed where once her cheeks had been apple round, and he noticed for the first time how full her lips were, how supple. But it was more than just her face, it was her body as well. Her waist nipped in at the middle, then flared out with a swell of womanly hips, and her narrow chest had blossomed into firm, rounded breasts. He was staring. He knew it and yet he could not stop himself.

  But he was not the only one.

  She gazed at him, lost in her own observation. Her mouth parted. “Geordie,” she said his name again.

  Even her voice had lost its childish softness and was now stronger, with confidence and sensual femininity.

  All at once, those four years of separation, the hollow loneliness, the letters having to make do for her absence, they all faded away. Catriona. Cat. His Cat.

  She was all that mattered. And with her, he was finally, truly home.

  2

  Cat knew she was staring. She ought to say something more than his name. But her tongue remained rooted in her mouth, stuck in a tangle of emotions. Geordie was home. Finally.

  She wanted to throw her arms around him again and hold tight to his tall, strong body. And he was strong. Far more than he’d been when she’d seen him last. He’d been a skinny youth with a lanky gait. He certainly was not that boy anymore, and his embrace had been everything her soul needed.

  Only, she could not allow herself to give in to another hug, or the fragile dam holding back her emotions might break. If that happened, the tears might never stop flowing as the whirlwind of the day claimed her. She was with child, made so by a man who was already married. And now Geordie was home. Of all days.

  It was so much. Too much. The worst and the best and completely overwhelming.

  “Ach, go on, the both of you, say something.” Nan nudged at Catriona’s shoulder.

  Geordie gazed down at Cat with eyes she knew well, tender and brown with an edge of pain that never abated. Sad eyes, she’d once thought of them. Eyes to the soul, she now knew.

  At that moment, his mouth lifted in a smile, an expression as familiar as his eyes.

  His embrace, however, had been different. Where once he’d had a thin chest and arms, now his body was a solid wall against her cheek, and his strong arms protective in the most wonderful ways.

  There was so much she had wanted to say. How badly she’d missed him. How Werrick Castle had been different without him. How she’d thought of him every day. How in her darkest moments, she feared to never see him again.

  This man in front of her had taken her aback at how very masculine he had become. No longer a boy, but a warrior. And what must he think of her?

  In the time since he left Werrick Castle, she had grown breasts, and the fit of her gown cradled the outline of a woman’s curves. It made her suddenly reticent to think on how much her own body had changed. He’d noticed it, she knew. His eyes had swept over her when she’d first released him from her embrace. Quick. Assessing. More polite than her own ogling.

  “Come, then,” Nan said, ever one to come to the rescue. “Let’s get some food into you. I’m sure the journey was a long one and without a fine, solid meal.”

  Geordie’s eyes met Cat’s before shifting back to the cook. “None as good as yours, to be sure.”

  “Flattery works on me every time, and you well know it, Sir Geordie.” Nan winked at him and ordered one of the servants to take his effects to Geordie’s room, then led them to the kitchen. She nudged them toward a small table. “Sit there while I go fetch you some pastries that I made earlier. Your favorite—honey. I’m so pleased I decided to make them, as the timing was perfect.”

  With that, she bustled away to fetch the pastries. Cat sat down in the hard-backed wooden chair opposite Geordie. For the first time in four years, Cat and Geordie were alone. He offered a shy smile and her heart immediately went warm.

  “Sir Geordie,” Cat breathed in admiration for her friend. “You did exactly what you said you were going to.”

  He flushed. “I never would have had the chance if you hadn’t recommended me as a squire. If you hadn’t saved my life.”

  His humility was as familiar, and just as endearing, as it had always been. “Papa would never have killed you,” Cat said.

  It was an exchange they’d debated for years, stretching back to the time when Geordie was a boy of only seven. His father, Lord Strafford, had given him as collateral in an agreement with the Earl of Werrick, and then reneged. Doubtless the baron had never intended to make good on his agreement and was willing to sacrifice his spare heir.

  “If you hadn’t made your way to the dungeon when you did, I might be dead now.” His face was more solemn than usual, reverent, and caught at something deep in her chest.

  “In that case, you’re welcome.” It was her usual reply at this point of the conversation.

  Except that he’d been serious when he’d spoken, and her own emotions were roiling just under the surface. And it had been so, so terribly long since she last seen him. Tears stung at her eyes. “Oh, Geordie, I’m so glad to have you home.”

  The tears did come then, slow at first and then harder. Geordie was up in a flash, at her side and pulling her into his strong, comforting arms that were as much foreign as they were familiar.

  She was ruined, and Geordie was home.

  “Come now, there’s no need to cry.” Nan set a plate of pastries in the center of the small table. “He’s home now, sweet girl. And these honey pastries will set the both of you to rights.”

  Geordie backed away reluctantly as Cat wiped at her eyes. The platter on the small table held pastries with a sheen of honey glistening on flaky crusts.

  “You always enjoy these.” Cat gave a little laugh at her own foolish tears. “Or at least you did.”

  “I still do.” Geordie cast an anxious glance at Cat before taking his seat opposite her once more. “Thank you, Nan.”

  Cat nodded to Geordie to silently let him know she had recovered from her bout of tears. In fact, she’d recovered enough for her mouth to water at the delicious pastries. After her daily illness passed each morning, she was always left ravenous, especially for treats like Nan’s honeyed pastries.

  Generally, Nan kept them under tight control, only allowing one per person. Today though, the plate was heaped with them. A celebration indeed.

  Cat and Geordie both reached for one at the same time, then met each other’s gaze and grinned. They were thinking alike, together again already.

  He quickly released the pastry and winked at her as he snatched up a fresh one for himself. Cat bit into the sweet dough. It melted on her tongue and helped allay some of her pressing sadness.

  Nan wiped her hands on her apron. “How long will you be staying with us, Sir Geordie?”

  Geordie cast a hesitant glance in Cat’s direction and swallowed before replying. “Until the king summons me again.”

  Cat’s heart plummeted into her stomach. He had only just arrived. She did not want to anticipate him leaving again. Her heart staggered under the idea of having to resort back to letters that came with less and less frequency; the absence of the companionship they’d shared since they were children.

  He was the foundation of her strength and never had she needed him more than she did now.

  Geordie could not help but notice the shadow that fell over Cat’s face at his statement about returning back to the king’s side.

  “I do not expect it to be soon,” he offered reassuringly.

  She smiled at him, but the expression was tense at the corne
rs, stretching unnaturally at her pretty lips. It was perhaps the most forced smile he’d ever seen Cat give.

  As if understanding the utter failure of her ruse, she dropped the pretense of happiness. “Forgive me. It’s only that…I do not want you to go to battle again, Geordie.”

  “Sometimes we are summoned to court instead.” He bit into his pastry, uncertain what else he might say by reassurance. He knew her well enough to know what concerned her. Men who went into battle did not always return.

  Geordie had been lucky in battle thus far and his skills learned on the border had worked well in his favor. There had been much combat in those four years and there had been many wounds, but Geordie had always survived.

  He’d always won.

  She tucked her rosy lower lip into her mouth and nodded.

  “Cat enjoyed court,” Nan offered. “I hear she attracted the attention of nearly every man there when she went two months ago.”

  Something hot twisted in Geordie’s chest. He could see it too easily: Catriona at court, innocent from her life on the border, blissfully ignorant to the ways of courtly debauchery. A fresh young face, beautiful and alight with optimism. Aye, he did not doubt she was the newest sweet offered at court.

  For her part, Cat flushed.

  Nan gazed between them and wiped her hands on her apron in an old habit, no doubt realizing what she’d said had not gone over well. “I’ve got some pies to get into the oven.” Following her murmured excuse, she quickly fled farther into the kitchen.

  Geordie curled his hand into a fist under the table. The honey pastry in his stomach became thick and heavy, its sweetness in his mouth suddenly cloying.

  Of course, Cat had attracted the attention of the men at court. Undoubtedly, every man had noticed her. Even he had been taken aback by her beauty when he saw her today.

  Now that his shock had worn off, however, he was intrigued by it. How the light played over her hair and turned strands to glinting gold, how the thickness of her dark lashes hid and revealed the beautiful blue of her eyes, the way her full lips pulled back when she laughed to reveal her perfect white teeth.

  She’d always had lovely teeth. Even when they were children. While most of the population was plagued with unflattering gaps and spaces, hers had been even and white. As a result, she had never covered her laughter with her hands. Her joy had been unfettered and free. It was one of the many things that spurred his affection for her.

  “Tell me of everything I’ve missed in the years you’ve been gone.” Cat stretched her hand across the table and grasped his fingers, pulling him from his thoughts.

  He gazed down at their joined fingers, his large and calloused, hers small and warm. The way they fit with one another’s felt perfect.

  “I wrote about the last several years in the letters,” he answered. “There’s little to tell aside from all that.”

  “I do not believe that,” Cat said with a grin. “You’ve become a knight.”

  “The ceremony is not to be discussed.” He winked. In truth, if he were ever to break the vow of silence and divulge the details of his knighting, it would be to Cat. Not that he would, of course, but for the first time since the ceremony, he found himself sorely tempted.

  “You’ve been all over England and even to parts of France,” she pressed.

  He didn’t want to think of the last four years, especially of France, and of battle, and of some of the more horrendous deeds he’d seen done there. “All detailed in my letters.”

  She lifted her brow in that way she’d done as a girl when she knew he was being obdurate. He laughed at that and her grin took on a more natural curve.

  “What of you?” he asked. “What have I missed?”

  Aside from her. Her smile, her laughing blue eyes, the way she ran through the forest with the grace of a deer, and how she tilted her head back when she twirled in an open meadow.

  He’d thought often of her carefree freedom in his many days at camp before and after fighting. Even when his world was cold and gray, bloodstained with battle and he was exhausted to the marrow of his bones, his memories had been lit by Cat and sunshine . He’d fallen asleep to thoughts of her and it filled his heart with a warmth no amount of war or chaos could touch.

  She tilted her head coyly. “I wrote it all down in my letters.”

  Oh, he knew. Every one of those missives had been carefully folded and saved in his bags. On a journey that allowed little space for personal effects, he had always managed to make a place to keep them all.

  “I enjoyed them.” He reached for another pastry.

  Cat’s cheeks flushed. “I enjoyed yours as well. I have all of them still. I confess, I’ve read them over and over again, as though doing so might make up for your absence.” Her brows flinched. “They did not.”

  “I’m here now.” He leaned forward in his seat, closer to her.

  It was bittersweet, this time at Werrick Castle. For he wanted to be with Catriona, to spend their days with one another as they had always done. And yet, he knew he needed the summons from the king if he was to receive a commission from a lord wealthy enough to support him.

  It was what Geordie had spent these four years working toward: a knighthood to establish himself, a commission to build his own fortune, and a home with which to raise a family.

  Only then, when he had secured all of those aspects necessary for life, would he finally be worthy to ask Lady Catriona Barrington to be his wife.

  Cat leaned closer to him, as though drawn by the trail of his thoughts. “I’m glad you’re here now.” She reached out and took his other hand with hers. The connection was instantaneous. Instantaneous and sticky.

  Cat realized she’d taken the hand he’d eaten a honey pastry with and laughed her sweet, tinkling laugh. She pulled away and licked the honey from her fingers.

  Desire slammed into him, hard and without mercy. He’d had many nights where he’d thought of her: kissing her, touching his tongue to hers, slowly undressing her until she lay naked beneath him, her head tilted in supplication. On those nights, he had used his fist to quell the rising need within him. Now, there was no reprieve. He was grateful for the table between them and the length of his tunic covering his very rigid cock.

  “Geordie,” a voice called from the doorway. Cat’s eldest sister, Marin, strode in. “I was told you had returned.” She rushed to him. “Welcome home.”

  Geordie shot Cat a glance, but Cat shook her head. “Bran is not here,” she whispered.

  Marin’s husband had once used Cat to get into the castle by holding a blade to her throat. It was an offense Geordie could never remove from his mind or his heart, no matter how happy the man made Marin.

  “That explains why Bixby hasn’t come out of the shadows.” Geordie winked at her.

  Cat covered her mouth with her hand and gave a little laugh. Bixby was Werrick Castle’s most notorious cat and was best known for finding rats. It had been a joke around the castle how much Bixby had been drawn to Bran upon first meeting him.

  Marin cast them a chastising glance when she approached, having no doubt heard some of their quiet conversation. However humorous it might have been, the jest was not enough to quell the hardening of Geordie’s arousal. So, when Marin opened her arms to embrace him, clearly well-meaning, he practically shrank away. The last thing he needed was his hardness pressing against Cat’s sister as she hugged him in greeting.

  Fortunately, Marin bent over him and embraced him as he sat, saving him from the humiliating event. As disciplined as he’d been with his training and weaponry, he needed to learn to be just as disciplined with his lust. If not, his stay at Werrick Castle in the constant companionship of Cat would prove most difficult.

  3

  Cat’s gaze wandered repeatedly over Geordie’s face. With him distracted by Marin, Cat now took the time to explore his appearance. Some things were very different, like the scar at the edge of his eyebrow, or the slight bump in his nose where it had obviously bee
n broken. And some things were exactly the same. Like how easily he blushed, and how his eyes held all of his emotion.

  She’d waited years to see him again. Not only to catch up on the friendship they’d missed in all that time, but also to celebrate his knighthood. He had succeeded on the path he’d first set foot upon as a small boy, and the incredible feat that made her proud enough to pop.

  And yet, her joy was shadowed by her own fears, ones she had not been able to shake free of since that morning. Was she indeed with child?

  She had the signs, between the illness and the cessation of her courses.

  Marin’s conversation with Geordie fell to the background as Cat tried to remember when last she’d bled. It should have happened since her arrival home. But nay, it had been just before they’d arrived at court and had not occurred since. It was especially disconcerting as prior to this, her cycle had always been predictable, coming at nearly the same time each month.

  And when exactly had the feeling of sickness in the morning begun? Mayhap she had experienced it before. But as she dragged through her memory, she knew the truth of it. The illness was indeed after court, but not until after her arrival back at Werrick. Would a child in her womb have taken so long to make her ill?

  Could it mean anything else?

  Nay, nothing she was aware of. Nothing save the presence of a babe in one’s womb.

  Her stomach rolled with nausea, churning the honey pastry she’d kept down. She hadn’t been able to eat any more than the one. Not when her mind was so full and her heart so heavy.

  “Don’t you agree, Cat?” Geordie was looking at her with happiness crinkling his eyes.

  “Of course,” Cat replied with feigned joy. Geordie would only be at Werrick Castle for a short period of time. She had to savor every moment of time with him she could get.

  “Father is waiting for you in the solar,” Marin said to Geordie.

  “One more first.” He grabbed a honey pastry and bit into it. Marin took one herself and ate it where she stood. Cat, however, did not partake, as the first one continued to roil in her stomach, sloshing about on the changing currents of her emotions.