A Stranger at Castonbury

by Amanda McCabe

  The blanket still wrapped around her seemed to abrade her sensitised skin with its texture and she shoved it away. Jamie reached down to help her, stripping the coverings away until she lay bare beneath him. She raised her leg and used her foot to push his own blanket all the way off before she wrapped her thigh around his waist. At last they were skin to skin, their bodies together. His chest slid over her breasts, raising her nipples to hard, sensitive points. She moaned and wrapped her other leg around him so he could not escape her.

  Wrapped in the unreality of the storm, they were free.

  Her head fell back as his lips trailed a ribbon of hot kisses down her throat and over her bare shoulder. She arched up into him and felt the heavy heat of his erection against her hip. He wanted her too, as much as she wanted him.

  ‘Jamie,’ she whispered. ‘Amado.’

  ‘Catalina,’ he groaned. ‘Catalina, how I have missed you.’ His tongue traced lightly on the soft curve of her breast. His fingertips circled one of her nipples just before he rose up above her and closed his lips around it hard, drawing it deep into his mouth.

  She sobbed out incoherent Spanish love words, until slowly his mouth drew away and he breathed a light caress over her pebbled flesh.

  ‘Open to me again, Catalina,’ he whispered. She felt his hand against her thigh, moving softly closer and closer to where she longed for him to touch her damp core. ‘Open to me.’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered, and her thighs parted at his coaxing caress. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move with the ache of her desire for him. His fingers delved ever so lightly along the opening of her womanhood, teasing her.

  ‘Please!’ she gasped, arching her back.

  ‘Do you want more, Catalina?’ he said roughly. ‘Just as I do?’ He knelt between her legs and slid one long finger deeply inside of her. His touch curled, seeking that one small spot that had always made her cry out. It still did, and she called his name as the fiery sensations shot through her.

  ‘You’re so wet,’ Jamie muttered. ‘And tight. Has it been a while?’

  She nodded. ‘Since—since the last time we were together.’

  He went very still above her, as if her words surprised him. She feared he might draw away from her, ask her about the years they had been apart—but this was no time for words.

  She reached out and ran her fingers lightly along the hot, taut satin of his erection. She felt the tracery of veins there and pressed her touch harder to the pulsing head, just as she remembered he liked. His breath drew in sharply and he seemed to grow even harder in her hand.

  ‘Don’t leave me,’ she whispered. ‘It’s been too long.’

  ‘Oh, Catalina,’ he groaned. ‘I could never leave you.’ He kissed her again, deeply with the force of unstoppable need. It had been much too long.

  Catalina welcomed his kiss joyfully and wrapped her legs around his waist as she felt the tip of his manhood slide against her. He thrust inside her, one exquisite movement at a time. She held on to his shoulders, his skin damp against her hands, and closed her eyes as she felt him joined with her again at last.

  She opened her eyes and stared up into the grey heat of his gaze as he slowly moved within her. The pleasure of being with him again spread through her like the lightning outside, quick flashes of heat, delight that built and built until it was too great to contain. It thundered in her mind, and everything vanished but the feel of his skin against hers, the movement of his body inside hers. She heard his low moan and cried out in answer.

  ‘Catalina!’ he shouted as his body arched above hers. ‘Catalina.’

  ‘Jamie, amado.’ She fell back into their nest of blankets, weak and still filled with the bright glow of pleasure. It was all even better than her memories and dreams.

  Jamie collapsed beside her, his head on her shoulder, and she gently reached up to caress his damp hair. This moment was perfect, and Catalina knew that no matter what came after she would always have this.

  Jamie slowly sank down into the blankets by her side. His arm came around her waist, holding her close as their breathing slowed and the air grew chilly around them again. Catalina could feel dark, exhausted oblivion encroaching on her, but she didn’t want to slip away into sleep. Not yet. She wanted to hold on to this moment with Jamie as long as she could.

  She rolled onto her side and studied him in the light from the fading embers of the fire. He looked relaxed and sleepy, and so very young. The austere lines of his face were softened, burnished by the firelight. His hair was tousled, tumbling over his brow.

  His hand rose lazily and caressed gently over her shoulder.

  ‘We should go back to the house,’ she whispered.

  Jamie shook his head without opening his eyes. ‘Not until the rain stops. We have time yet.’

  Time before the real world closed in on them again—but not much. Already Catalina could feel its sands running out around her. She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes to listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

  ‘What happened in Spain, Jamie?’ she asked quietly. ‘After—after you thought I died.’

  The hand that caressed her shoulder paused for a tiny second before its rhythm resumed, just as soft and careful as before.

  After a long moment, he said, ‘That is a tale that is quite dull, I fear. It should wait for another day.’ He sat up, and Catalina watched as he knelt by the fire to stir up its dying embers. The long, lean line of his naked back gleamed in the light. Catalina drew the blankets up around her, and she knew he would tell her nothing today.

  ‘But what happened then is why I cannot condemn Miss Walters, as my family would do,’ he said quietly. ‘She made a terrible mistake out of desperation, and she is paying for it now. She will pay for it in her soul for the rest of her life, knowing that she did such a thing.’

  Catalina couldn’t bear seeing the stark pain in his eyes. ‘Jamie, whatever you did in Spain, whatever happened, it is past.’

  ‘Is it?’ Jamie shook his head. ‘We carry our past with us wherever we go, Catalina. Surely you and I know that better than anyone. It’s why I cannot condemn Alicia Walters.’

  ‘But what she did to your family...’

  ‘Was not entirely her own doing,’ he said. ‘Do you remember a man called Hugh Webster?’

  Catalina shuddered at the mention of that name. It was a name she had not heard in so long, but she remembered him. The horrible panic she had felt when he grabbed her. ‘Of course I remember him, the vile man.’

  ‘It was he who concocted the scheme of setting up Alicia as my widow at Castonbury,’ Jamie said. ‘He who had taken my lost signet ring. She began because she was desperate to protect her child, but he forced her to continue. And now he has disappeared.’

  ‘Webster?’ Catalina cried, appalled. ‘But what has happened to him? How could he have done such a thing and just vanished?’

  ‘That is what I am trying to discover. And Alicia has agreed to help me. Once Webster has paid for his crimes, I will help her start over somewhere away from here.’

  Start over. Somewhere with him? Did he truly care about Alicia? She had seen how they greeted each other at that house....

  No. She shook her head. She had no right to be jealous any longer, no matter who he cared about or what he did. She had to put all that aside, to forget everything that had happened. At least for now. One day he would have to tell her what happened in Spain.

  ‘I want to help you,’ she said quietly. ‘I know we can find Webster if we work together.’

  ‘Catalina, no,’ Jamie protested. ‘The man is clearly mad. I won’t put you in danger.’

  ‘I would be in no danger, not with you,’ Catalina argued. ‘Webster did terrible things, both in Spain and here. I want to see him stopped, just as you do. I know I can help.’

  ‘We can talk about all this later,’ Jamie said, and Catalina recognised the stubborn set of his jaw. He would not argue with her, yet he would stand very firm.

 
But she was as stubborn as him. ‘Yes, we will assuredly talk about it later,’ she insisted.

  A rueful smile touched his lips. ‘It’s late now, Catalina. You should rest a little longer. The rain will surely stop soon.’

  Catalina nodded, suddenly realising that she was indeed very weary. So much had happened, her mind was spinning with it. ‘Only for a little while. We must be back at Castonbury before it grows too late.’

  ‘I will keep watch,’ he said, and she knew he would keep his word. She lay back down on her side facing the fire and let its warmth and heat wrap around her.

  As sleep closed in on her mind, she felt Jamie tuck the blankets over her and she smiled. For the first time in a very, very long while, she felt safe....

  * * *

  Catalina’s slender body was relaxed and warm in the circle of his arms, her hair falling like a skein of dark satin across his chest. He ran his palm gently over her hair, along the curve of her back. She shivered against him in her sleep and he drew her closer.

  They were as close as a man and woman could possibly be, their bodies wrapped around each other after the heated rush of sex, yet it seemed like she was still a thousand miles away from him. His Catalina—more elusive than ever. He had almost thought he was drawing her close to him again, that they were almost as they had been in Spain—able to read each other without even speaking. Then she had pulled away from him again.

  Ever since he had first glimpsed Catalina across that camp in Spain, she had intrigued him, drawn him in with just one glance from her dark eyes. Talking with her had only made him want to know more and more, craved her presence, within the spell she wove with her smile and her touch.

  And his memories of their lovemaking, memories he had treasured on so many lonely nights, were as nothing compared to the reality of tonight. The reality of being with her, touching her, feeling her against him. Never had he felt as he had this afternoon, when his body had joined with Catalina’s, and he had opened his eyes to see that she really was there beneath him, her head arched back, her lips parted. That reality was beyond pleasure, beyond merely satisfying his body’s cravings. Beyond just the two of them, Jamie and Catalina, at that moment.

  He had thought his heart would burst with the joy, the triumph of holding her again.

  Now, with the cold night closing around them and her sleeping next to him, he could see that she was still not his. She said she could not truly be his wife. She pushed him away and he didn’t know why. His family wanted him to marry but his Catalina had come back to him. No matter what she said, he couldn’t be free of her nor she of him. They were married. The only thing that made any practical sense was to acknowledge that and learn to make a new life together.

  Catalina murmured in her sleep and he closed his arms around her. He had to make her see sense, that was all. Yet he could tell she had lost none of her Spanish stubborn spirit, that in fact it had grown over the years. She was determined to do what was right as she saw it, but then so was he.

  He owed Catalina for all she had suffered in the years since they parted. He had to make it up to her somehow, to make sure she was cared for. He only needed a plan to make her see that, to make her let him help her. His proud Spanish lady.

  Jamie tightened his arms around her and he breathed in the sweet scent of her hair. For just a moment he let himself feel the exultation of being here with Catalina again, his beautiful, lost Catalina, and forget everything else. Holding her there in his arms, he let himself find the first restful sleep he had known in years.

  * * *

  Catalina slowly drifted up from the haze of dreams. She couldn’t remember what her visions were while she slept, but she somehow knew they were sweet because she felt peaceful and content as she hadn’t in so very long. Smiling, she stretched out beneath the rough wool blanket—and then she felt a large, warm hand at her waist.

  And she remembered everything. Jamie and their lovemaking. How strong and sweet and perfect it had been, just like in her memories. She rolled onto her side and studied his face in the dying light of the fire.

  His dark hair was rumpled over his forehead, and asleep he looked so much younger. The sharpness of his features was relaxed, his wariness and watchfulness gone for the moment. Catalina felt as if she was seeing him as he must have been long ago, before the horrors of Spain and the burdens of his family had descended on him.

  Before he married her.

  Filled with the longing to give him back that lost peace, that idyll, Catalina leaned towards him and softly pressed her lips to his. Jamie moaned as he woke up to her kiss, and she felt his hand gently caress her cheek, the loose fall of her hair. She drew back to look deeply into his eyes, those beautiful grey eyes, and let herself have this too-short, eternal moment with him.

  ‘Catalina,’ he whispered, and claimed her lips again in a fierce, desperate kiss.

  She needed him so much, and in that kiss she could tell he needed her too. Through the blurry haze of desire, she felt his hands close around her hips and he shifted their bodies so that she lay on top of him. His tongue traced the curve of her lower lip, softly, teasingly, before he slid inside.

  Catalina moaned at the taste of him, so familiar and yet so strange at the same time. His kiss trailed away from her lips, over her cheek and along the curve of her throat. Jamie touched the tip of his tongue to her bare shoulder and then blew on it lightly until she shivered. That wild, yearning feeling inside of her expanded until she thought she might burst with it all. He did that, only Jamie.

  He traced the edge of his teeth gently along her shoulder, making her shiver again, before he pressed an open-mouthed kiss on the soft spot where her shoulder met her neck. He drew the blanket away from her body and his hand traced the edge of her waist and her abdomen, lower and lower, sliding aside the cloth until she was bare to him.

  Catalina tilted back her head and stared up at his face, chiselled and half shadowed in the firelight. His grey eyes glittered in the darkness, and his lips curved in a smile that made her smile too. This was her Jamie, the man she had married. The man she had missed.

  She traced a light touch slowly up his chest and felt the strong, hard heat of him. He was so very alive under her caress, so wondrous. And he made her feel as if she was coming back to life too, after she had felt so cold and numb for so long. And she was intoxicated with that feeling, with being with him again at last.

  She felt his stomach muscles tighten as her hand slid lower and lower. The tips of her fingers brushed his erection and she felt him harden even more.

  ‘Catalina...’ he said tightly, but he didn’t move under her touch. He just watched her closely with those jewel-like eyes.

  Catalina smiled, and slid her palms up over his chest and touched every inch of him. Full of wonder, she traced a soft caress over his strong shoulders, down his corded arms, her fingertips fluttering over his chest. He seemed thinner than he had been in Spain, leaner, harder, but she was still fascinated by every inch of him, by being close to him.

  Yet even as she let herself fall deep into that swirling pool of desire for him, she knew how dangerous it could all be. She couldn’t afford to forget how much lay between them now, a gulf of years and memories. But for this one moment, surrounded by the rain and the firelight, she could forget—with Jamie.

  She closed her eyes and arched closer to him. Every breath she took, full of the scent of him, seemed to draw him to her even more. She pressed her parted lips to his bare chest, and tasted the warm, damp salt of his skin. She could feel his heartbeat against her, fast and frantic, echoing her own. She let the tip of her tongue swirl around his flat nipple.

  Jamie let her explore, let her feel her freedom. She curled her arms around him and traced her touch down his spine to pull him closer to her. Her hands moved down, down, slowly, teasingly, until her fingers curled over his hard buttocks.

  And then his control shattered. ‘Catalina,’ he groaned, and his hands closed around her waist. Catalina laughe
d and wrapped her legs around his hips. He kissed her, so hard and hot, so full of raw, burning need. She arched her hips up tight into his and the blurry haze of sexual need closed around them, and she held on to him as she fell down into it.

  What was it about this man that made her feel that way? She didn’t know, and at the moment she didn’t care.

  ‘Catalina.’ His mouth slid from hers to kiss her jaw, her shoulder, to linger on that sensitive spot on her neck. When she sighed and let her head fall back to the blankets, he reached up to touch her soft, aching nipple.

  ‘Catalina, you are so beautiful,’ he whispered. He traced the tip of his tongue along the soft underside of her breast, teasing her.

  Catalina reached up to tangle her fingers in the rough silk of his hair and held him against her. Finally, as she murmured wordless entreaties, he gave her what she longed for and took her nipple deep into his mouth. As his tongue swirled around it, his fingers caressed her other breast, gently, expertly. He rolled and stroked the nipple until she cried out his name.

  His mouth traced a ribbon of kisses on the soft skin between her breasts, and Catalina reached out blindly between their bodies to unfasten the front of his trousers. He sprang into her hand, hard, hot, the veins throbbing under her touch, and she felt a surge of triumph that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. In this, as always, they were together.

  She ran a slow, caressing touch up the full length of him, then pressed closer as he moaned. His finger lightly traced her womanhood before sliding deep inside of her. The rough friction of his touch against the soft wetness made her cry out. Her back arched up from the blankets and her eyes closed as the feelings washed over her.

  His thumb rubbed hard against that tiny, hidden spot up high inside her, and it felt as if white-hot sparks raced through her.