When he finally raised his eyes to hers, she saw the truth. There was not the slightest shadow of doubt that he wait…forever if need be.
She looked away to hide the tears that burned. Her soul was being torn apart between two men. Two men who were so different. Galen could offer her a life to which she was accustomed to, yes, but Jonathan would show how to live it with passion.
She sighed. This marriage was inevitable. So why did she fight the fates? She squeezed her eyes tight. She fought for whatever moments she could have with Jonathan. She fought for the smallest hope that she had a choice.
She still spoke no words, but she knew Galen was intensely aware of her inner turmoil, though she was certain he knew not the cause.
They walked in silence through the gardens. Catherine pressed the velvety rose petals to her nose and inhaled their heady fragrance. She dared not look at him for fear she could crumble under his gaze.
“Do you wish to visit the port before the ball?” he asked.
Catherine shot him a sidelong glance, shocked. Is it possible he knows?
He smiled. “That was a foolish thing to ask. Of course you already have everything you need.” Galen looked straight ahead, taking a deep breath. “Those merchants have quite the life, have they not?”
Catherine stiffened. “Whatever do you mean?” She feigned boredom, while her heart pounded mercilessly against her chest.
“I wonder how they become accustomed to having no place to call home, what with their travels from port to port.” He paused, looking lost in thought. “I could only imagine none of them have families, save perhaps the bastards they undoubtedly leave behind.”
Was this idle chat merely a coincidence? Jonathan’s words flooded her mind. They are free to go, but they have chosen to stay. That makes them family. She bit her tongue. As for bastards…No. She dismissed the possibility from her mind. Not Jonathan.
“She shrugged. “Who is to say ‘tis not the perfect life for them?”
Galen stopped mid stride and grasped her shoulders, gently turning her to face him. “What of you, Catherine? Would you find a life with me as your husband not so perfect?”
She could feel his desperation, but how could he speak of the rest of her life when she was not even certain of this moment?
“You need not answer that now, Catherine.” He took her hand in his and led her back to the castle.
At the doors to the great hall, he turned to face her. For a moment, neither said a word.
Galen was the first to break the silence, his voice thick with defeat. “I shall take my leave, Catherine. I must see to my men.” He kissed her gently on her forehead. “Until tonight.” He backed away a step or two, his gaze lingering before he turned and walked away.
Chapter 25
Good. Eryn stood quietly inside the hallway listening. Nobody is home. Bryce usually was gone, but unfortunately her new housemate rarely left and was fast becoming an obtrusive part of the décor. It had only been a week and already it was too crowded with the three of them living in the big house.
Eryn bounded up the stairs two at a time thinking of what she would like to be doing. Maybe I’ll soak in the tub. Or maybe I’ll pull out that yoga DVD I picked up… “Oh!” She pulled up short just inside her bedroom door. “Geez, you scared the hell out of me!”
Brandi lay flat on her stomach across Eryn’s bed with a bag of pretzels and a book open in front of her.
“I had no idea anybody was home. Where’s your car?” Eryn asked.
“Does Bryce know about this guy?” Brandi continued to turn the pages, not bothering to look up.
Eryn’s heartbeat sped up again as she realized what Brandi was referring to. With a few quick steps, she reached the bedside and ripped her journal from Brandi’s hands and slammed it shut.
“That’s private, damn it!” Her jaw ached, she was biting down so hard. “And it has nothing to do with Bryce. It’s just a story idea I had. There is no ‘guy’.”
Good one, Eryn. Eryn chided herself. Never mind the fact that you’ve never written a thing in your life.
“Hey, it makes no difference to me if you’re seeing him or not.” Brandi rolled over onto her side and leaned on her elbow. “I can keep a secret.”
Brandi’s gaze completely unnerved Eryn. She could be calculating and Eryn couldn’t risk having her get any ideas. Casually, Eryn opened the journal and pretended to be reading her entries. “Listen, like I said, it was an idea I had and I didn’t want anyone to know about it until I had something more substantial to show.”
On second thought, I could be a budding author. Maybe it’s a hidden desire of mine. Eryn smiled at her creativity. Then, like the journal wasn’t a big deal anymore, she tossed it on a chair out of Brandi’s reach.
“So, what were you doing in my closet, Brandi?” She kicked off her shoes and made for the closet to put them away, wanting to see for herself what else Brandi had gone through.
“I was going to borrow a dress for tonight. There’s a party at The Slam.”
Eryn rolled her eyes. A newly-opened nightclub, The Slam catered to a younger crowd, where money, music, and drugs blended seamlessly. Oh yeah. Perfect for Brandi.
“That sounds like fun.” Eryn’s voice was calm and sounded interested, but inside she fumed. She had kept her journal wrapped in a towel in her running bag that was tucked in the corner behind some bags of clothes headed for the thrift store. Not typically the place one would look for a cocktail dress. Everything had been pushed aside. Brandi didn’t even care if she was discreet about it or not.
Eryn grabbed the first dress in her sight. “How about this one?” She held up an emerald green halter dress with a neckline that plunged to the navel. Eryn hated that dress.
Brandi’s expression hadn’t changed, but Eryn pushed on. “This is a great cut for you and the color would be fabulous against your skin.” After another moment of no response, Eryn added, “You’d definitely turn heads.”
That seemed to snap Brandi out of wherever her thoughts were going. Her vanity was too deeply embedded to ignore a comment like that. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” She finally got off the bed, not caring that the bag of pretzels had overturned, spilling crumbs onto the bed cover.
Eryn didn’t care either. She just wanted to get Brandi out of her room.
Handing the dress to Brandi, Eryn went back to the closet and grabbed matching shoes and put them on the floor in front of Brandi who was now standing in front of the mirror. “See? Perfect match.”
Brandi was now fully focused on herself, engrossed in her image.
“Okay,” Brandi said, apparently satisfied. “I’m going to take a hot tub before I get ready. What about you? You want to sit in the jacuzzi?”
Yeah, right, Eryn mentally rolled her eyes. I can’t even be in the same room as you. She mustered a smile. “No, I think I’m going to do some yoga. Do you want to join me?” She knew she was safe with that one. Brandi and yoga? Never.
Brandi snorted. “Yeah, right. That’s for granola junkies and tree huggers.” She draped the dress over her arm. “My idea of relaxation is a cocktail and a hot tub.” She turned to leave.
Not quite out the door, Brandi turned. Eryn’s skin bristled with Brandi’s smug smile and parting words.
“By the way, Eryn, you’re not a very good liar.”
Chapter 26
Tonight, Galen vowed, he would make certain Catherine knew how much he loved her, how much he wanted her for his wife. She would give him the answer he has waited so long to hear. Galen drank deeply from the tankard before filling it up once more. It would serve him well to be bold tonight.
The door swung open and Sara breezed over the threshold, not bothering to wait for an invitation to enter.
Galen scowled at her over the top of his tankard. It appeared she intended to be noticed tonight for she had chosen to wear a scarlet red gown with bell sleeves and a square-cut neckline. The laces that ran across the front of the bodice pushed
her small breasts upwards enticingly.
She stopped close enough for him to look down upon her. Coyly, she batted her eyelashes and thrust back her shoulders.
Galen shook his head. “Nay, Sara. ‘Twill not work. Not now, not ever.” Not bothering to hide his annoyance, he set his tankard onto the table and crossed his arms across his broad chest. “Say what you will and be gone.”
With one blink, her eyes changed to anger and defiance. “Galen, it troubles me to tell you this, for I know you do so love my sister.” She paused a moment before going on. “I thought it would be best for you to know that the merchant has just arrived to attend the ball.”
Only a tightening of his jaw revealed his emotion. He favored her with a stony gaze. “The merchant, you say?” He turned away and busied himself with the fastening of his belt. “He is of no import to me.”
Sara was silent for a moment, eyes narrowed, and then she shrugged. “Be that as it may, I did not wish for you to be caught unawares.”
Every muscle in his body tightened. He was angry with this merchant, but more so with this meddling chit standing before him. He knew she had something to do with the merchant’s appearance tonight, for Catherine would not have invited a commoner. She would not dishonor her father or him by extending such an invitation.
Quelling the pain that ripped through his gut, he glared down at Sara. “Your concern is touching.”
Satisfaction spread across her face as she turned to leave. “Oh, and I might say” she said before slipping into the hallway, “that he looks even more handsome than usual this night.”
His long strides swallowed the gap between them and he pushed the door closed behind her. His hand gripped the handle, turning his knuckles white with rage. Slowly uncurling his hand, the rage that burned hot gave way to icy chills. He looked at his palms. They were strong, with the ability to wield a sword with ease, warrior hands that would crush an enemy. But now they were of no use for he felt Catherine slipping through his grasp.
Laughter drifted in through the window behind him, drawing him to it. He stood there, gripping the sill, not even noticing the brilliant colors splashing across the sky as the sun made its descent. Torches lined the walls of the courtyard, the flames dancing in the fading light, but the brilliance was blurred by the tears stinging Galen’s eyes. His heart twisted in sadness. There was nothing he could do. With the merchant here within the castle walls, Galen would be expected to treat him as a guest.
“Would that I could throw him out myself,” he said through clenched teeth.
He walked to his bed and picked up his sword. He slowly unsheathed it, his practiced eye admiring the newly-sharpened blade. After tonight, he thought, he would suffer the merchant’s presence no more. He returned his sword to its sheath and belted it around his waist. He would find Catherine before she found the merchant. Flinging open the door, he walked resolutely toward the stairs, his footsteps echoing off the walls.
≈
“Enough. Enough.” Catherine pushed Emelie’s hands away, suddenly impatient with the fussing. “How could it be that he is here?” She found herself quite breathless with excitement after Sara’s announcement. “Certainly he would not be so bold as to come uninvited?”
“Well, ‘tis of no matter,” she answered herself.
Catherine bit her lip. This could prove to be complicated, she thought. To have Jonathan so close and to not be with him would be unbearable. But, would she not be expected to dance with a guest? But of course! By her father’s decree, all in attendance must be made welcome. She brightened at the thought and her stomach fluttered in anticipation. Perhaps they could slip outside unnoticed and he would hold her in his arms, cup her face in his hands, and place his lips upon hers…
“Milady, it is time.” Emelie stood at the door.
Blinking a few times, Catherine cleared her thoughts. “Yes.” She took a deep breath and pressed her hand to her stomach. “Yes, it is. I…I am ready.”
Her steps hastened once she emerged from her chambers. She could scarce believe he was here.
“Catherine!” Galen’s voice echoed off the stone walls.
She stopped at the top of the stairs, pleading silently. Not now! Please, not now! She bit back her shame, for she had forgotten Galen the moment Sara spoke Jonathan’s name. She took a deep breath and turned, hoping her smile would hide her impatience.
“Why Galen, I expected you to be in the hall. I fear I am already late.” She smoothed her dress to help hide her trembling hands.
“Catherine.” His eyes swept the full length of her. “You look radiant.”
She was uncertain of what to say. An awkward moment of silence stood between them until he broke it. “I wish to have a dance with you this night.”
At one time such a request would not be necessary. There would have been an understanding that he would be at her side. But tonight that had changed.
“Of course, Galen!” Catherine reached out and squeezed his hand. “But now I really must greet my guests.”
As she turned to go, he grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him. He ignored the small gasp that escaped from Catherine.
He brought his lips close to her ear. “Your ‘guests,’ Catherine? Do you not mean one guest in particular?” His grip was firm, almost biting. “He will not do for you, milady,” he said through clenched teeth. “He is a mere merchant. He cannot give you what I can.”
Frightened by the harshness of his voice, she looked into his eyes and saw the desperation and anger that simmered beneath the surface. How did he know Jonathan would be here? She herself had heard only a short time ago.
When she gently touched his cheek, she heard his breath quicken. “I do not know what you are talking about, Galen,” she lied. Never before have untruths been told between them and it hurt her more than she could have imagined.
He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his face, closing his eyes, absorbing her warmth.
“Please, no,” she breathed. She pulled away quickly and ran to the stairs, not daring to look back.
From the bottom step, Catherine searched the faces of the guests milling about. Her pulse quickened at the sight of Jonathan, standing patiently, looking about with mild interest. He seemed not to notice the giggles and coy glances from the young ladies as they brushed by him. Had she not remembered his easy stance, had she not dreamed of him every night, she would not have known it was him. The red undershirt with slashed sleeves revealing a shock of gold fabric was a dramatic contrast to the velvet black doublet, fitted tight against his waist. The doublet blended seamlessly with the black breeches that clung to his long, muscular legs. His flowing mane of hair was held at the nape of his neck with a leather thong. His mannerism and confidence would rival any nobleman she knew.
When he turned his focus in her direction, his eyes blazed gold, and his smile challenged the sun.
Catherine’s legs felt utterly useless when he looked at her that way, and so she just stood there, unable to move.
But he was there in an instant, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “You take my breath away, Catherine.”
As you do mine, she wanted to say, but she did not trust herself to speak. She had not realized how she ached to hear his voice.
The spell was broken by a sound at the top of the stairs. She looked over her shoulder to see Galen watching the two of them, his jaw tightly clenched.
Her heart gave a lurch of anguish and she closed her eyes to the assault of guilt. She abruptly pulled away from Jonathan. “I am sorry, Jonathan, I cannot…“
“Hush,” he said, placing his finger to her lips. “You can. We choose from here,” he said, tapping his chest. “This is your choice.
The decision weighed heavily against her. By turning her back on Galen, she risked pushing his patience too far. She sought reassurance in Jonathan’s face, but he was looking past her, up the stairs.
With his lips pulled into a tight line, Jonathan’s slight nod reflected acknowledg
ment of Galen’s place in her life, but he made it clear, without question, he would not relinquish his position by her side tonight.
Jonathan did not have to touch her for Catherine to feel his protectiveness, and a delicious warmth weakened her. She would follow him anywhere. Like a thief, she would steal whatever time she could with Jonathan and later make amends to those she offended.
Jonathan tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and led her to the hall, not giving Catherine the chance to look back at Galen. Of that she was glad, for she knew the hurt and fury in Galen’s eyes would be too much for her to bear.
She smiled pleasantly at the other guests and ignored the whispers and stares that followed in their wake.
“I can hardly believe that you are here, Jonathan.” Catherine fingers curled tighter around his arm.
“How could I not be here, after your invitation?”
Catherine stopped walking and turned to him. “Invitation?” She blushed. “I did not…I mean, Sara told me…”
“Do you not wish me to be here?”
She saw a flicker of uncertainty in those beautiful eyes. She wanted desperately to touch him, to soothe the furrow of his brow, and to trace the soft line of his face.
“Nay, you are indeed most welcome here,” she said softly. “In truth, there is nothing I could want more.” And that was the truth of it, Catherine thought, no matter what had brought him here.
Music filled the air as the musicians began to play. Amidst the ever-growing number of stares, she placed her hand in his and they began to dance.
≈
Galen paused at the entrance to the hall, searching for Catherine. There she was, laughing so freely, something he rarely saw her do. His jaw clenched until it ached and he damned himself for allowing this to happen.
“It appears you are incapable of keeping our fair lady’s attention, Sir Galen,” Lord Oakley said.
Galen stiffened and instinctively he grasped the hilt of his sword.
Lord Oakley sighed loudly. “Must I take care of this for you?”
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