“All right,” Evan said. “If you think it’s best.”
In seconds, he and the butler were left alone.
Bos turned his back to Evan. “Remove your trousers, sir, if you will.”
Feeling awkward, Evan did so, then sat back in the chair. Propping his leg up on a stool, he pulled his drawers up enough to expose his knee. “I’m ready.”
Bos cupped Evan’s kneecap and moved it around. “Does that hurt?”
“No.”
He pressed lightly on the flesh around the kneecap.
“Ouch!” Evan cried out. “That hurts.”
Bos examined the spot, then straightened. “I would venture to say it is merely a bruise. Its position near the kneecap is what makes it painful for you to walk, but by tomorrow, you should feel more fit. If you had indeed fractured a bone, I believe you would be experiencing pain in an entirely different area.”
It had taken Evan all his effort to keep a straight face during Bos’s cold recitation, but now he ventured a smile. “Thank you.”
“You may don your clothing, sir. I shall fetch the mistress.”
“Wait!” Evan jumped to his feet, quickly pulling on his trousers. “I’d like to apologize. I see that I misjudged you.”
“If you say so, sir.”
“I can see you’re a competent butler, an asset to Mrs. Price’s household.”
Bos stared suspiciously down his long nose. “I certainly hope so.”
Evan reached into his coat pocket. “And I want to offer you something for your services.”
Bos’s face remained perfectly bland. “That will not be necessary, sir.”
“Nonsense. I know it’s customary to offer a vail.” Evan withdrew a sovereign from his pocket and held it out to Bos.
Although the amount was larger than necessary, Bos showed nothing as he took the sovereign. “Thank you, sir.”
“I’d be willing to double that sum if you answer a few questions about Mrs. Price.”
Bos fixed him with a steely gaze. “I beg your pardon, sir.” If possible, his voice was even chillier. “For no amount of money would I be willing to discuss my employer.”
Evan was taken aback. Usually servants delighted in talking about their masters, especially when money was involved. Justin used to bribe maids to tell him what presents their mistresses liked.
“It’s nothing personal,” Evan protested. “I’m just curious about—”
“Then you must ask Mrs. Price yourself, mustn’t you?” His tone was decidedly clipped. And protective.
Obviously Evan had misjudged the situation, though it oddly relieved him to know that Catrin inspired such loyalty in her servants. “I’m sorry if I offended you, Bos.”
The butler merely turned for the door.
“There’s no need to mention this to your mistress,” Evan called out as Bos left, but the butler didn’t even acknowledge the statement.
“Deuce take it!” He’d handled that badly. And when Catrin entered alone, looking anxious, he feared he knew how badly.
She dipped a cloth in cold water. “Sit down.” When he did, she placed the cool compress on his eye. Then she dipped another cloth in a pot of steaming water and used it to cleanse his cut lip, her fingers shaking so badly that he couldn’t stand it anymore.
He caught her hand in his. “Why are you suddenly afraid of me?”
She wouldn’t look at him. “Bos said you asked questions about me and wanted him not to tell me.”
“Only because I’m interested in you and your strange curse.” That was partly true, after all. “You roused my curiosity, then refused to finish the story, so I thought perhaps Bos would tell me.”
“Bos doesn’t know. Only David does.”
“You told Morys, but you won’t tell me?” When she remained silent, he added, “Since Morys mentioned it in front of me, I assumed it wasn’t such a dark family secret. He seemed perfectly willing to talk about it.”
As he’d hoped, his implication that he could always ask Morys had the desired effect. She went to stare out the open door leading to the kitchen gardens.
The moon rose beyond her, encasing her head in a halo. God, he’d never met a woman who intrigued him more . . . or roused his hunger so thoroughly.
She spoke in a monotone. “The curse is chronicled in a diary I found four years ago. It states that if any female descendant of a certain druidess refuses to drink from a chalice she gave her daughter at her daughter’s wedding, then that descendant’s husband will die within three years of the marriage and any sons will be unable to have children. I am one of those descendants.”
At last. She was finally telling him about the chalice. “I assume you refused to drink from the chalice at your wedding. Because you didn’t know about it?” He knew the answer, but had to hear her say it.
“I didn’t know, but even if I had, it wouldn’t have made a difference. My great-great-grandfather sold it years ago.”
That meant it had belonged to her family before it had belonged to Justin’s. “Who was it sold to?”
She stiffened. “That hardly matters, does it? It’s no longer in the family, so the curse is in effect.”
“Yes, but you could get it back, couldn’t you? Then you could put an end to the curse.” He held his breath, waiting to see what she would say.
She was silent a long time. “I tried that, which is why David is so upset. He’d been waiting for me to return from London with the chalice that I thought I’d located. But the man in London who’d promised to sell it to me . . . never showed up. So I was left without a chalice, which means the curse is still in effect. That’s why I refused David’s suit.”
Her words thundered in his ears. She’d never even met with Justin. Justin had been murdered on the way to meet her, and the thieves had stolen the chalice. Then she had come home, and that was that.
It was just as he’d begun to suspect. She’d had nothing at all to do with the murder. Why had he assumed early on that she must be involved, when her explanation made so much more sense?
Because of the missing letter. Still, it had been ludicrous of him to base his suspicions on something so flimsy. The letter could have fallen out in the struggle. For all he knew, Justin had kept it with the chalice and the thieves had taken it. In any case, she wouldn’t have told him about going to London to buy the chalice if she’d had anything to do with the attack on Justin.
God. What should he do now? Tell her the truth—that he had come to Llanddeusant only to find out about Justin? No, he couldn’t. She was already hurt that he wasn’t interested in her scholarly work. He couldn’t hurt her further by admitting he’d lied to her about everything.
He must continue this pretense of gathering material for a book on folk legends, if only for a few days. Then he could leave and get on with his life.
“Now you know all about me.” She faced him. “Now you know why I am considered a poison to men.”
The ache in her voice tore at him. He recognized it well, for he, too, had spent years on the outside of society looking in, always the subject of speculation, rumor, and sometimes hatred. He knew what a vast, lonely world that was.
Sympathy flooded him, so intense that he rose from the chair and went to her. When she dropped her gaze, he slid his arm around her waist. “I don’t consider you a poison.”
Then he took her mouth with his.
8
Ouch!”
Startled by Evan’s cry, Catrin drew back, her surprise becoming concern when he gingerly touched his bruised lip. “Oh no, you’re bleeding again!”
“It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Nonsense, you should sit down and let me put some salve on it.”
That would give her a chance to gather her wits. As he took a seat, she fetched a bowl of salve that she kept for emergencies, and tried not to think of what she’d just done.
She’d let him kiss her again. Thank heavens he’d stopped or she’d have found herself in another disa
strous embrace. She couldn’t bear another of his shattering kisses, not when she’d just lied about the chalice.
If he hadn’t cornered her with questions about the curse, she wouldn’t have had to lie at all. A pox on David for making it impossible to keep the tale secret.
“I don’t need salve,” Evan grumbled.
“Yes, you do. It’ll lessen the swelling and stop the bleeding.”
She smeared the stuff on his lip, but he took the bowl and tossed it to the floor. When she turned to get it, he pulled her onto his lap. Then groaned as she landed on his hurt knee.
“Stop that!” she scolded, wriggling out of his grasp. “You’re hurt, and you’re only making it worse.”
With a rakish grin, he drew her between his legs. “So why don’t you kiss it and make it better?”
As she stared at all the bruises he’d gained “defending her honor” like a knight out of a Welsh legend, a thrill coursed through her. Yet David was right—Evan wasn’t the man for her. He’d seen her half-naked at the lake and thus considered her a loose woman. And now that she’d given in so easily to his first kiss, he meant to take advantage. But she wasn’t what he thought.
“Kiss me, Catrin.” His eyes smoldered with a frightening hunger.
That she desperately yearned to satisfy. “It’ll hurt you.”
“Not as much as holding you and not kissing you hurts me.” He dragged her onto his uninjured knee.
“Don’t,” she said weakly, but he nuzzled her neck, and the whisper of his mouth over her skin sent a wild shiver through her. The only thing keeping her from giving in entirely was the scent of camphor from the salve, reminding her of his injuries. “You mustn’t.”
“Why not?” He nipped her earlobe, stirring her very blood.
Making her despair. “You’re used to women who think nothing of giving themselves to men. You merely see me as a diversion.”
“Damn it, I’m not some smooth-tongued seducer. But I can’t ignore that you’re as attracted to me as I am to you.”
As he tongued her ear, desire shot through her, confirming his assertion. “What I feel . . . for you doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
This was going too far too fast, and in entirely the wrong direction. She tried to rise, but he clamped his arm about her waist to stay her.
“I won’t hurt you. I just want a kiss, that’s all.”
“I know, but—”
He stopped her mouth with his, and this time he didn’t protest the pain. She should tear her mouth away. Leave the room. Stop this madness.
But she couldn’t. Because his lips explored hers without demanding anything, shaped hers with such exquisite tenderness and warmth that it cast rippling waves of heat through her body.
What could one kiss hurt?
So when he ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, she let him tease her mouth open. A groan erupted from him, and he drove his tongue deep, kindling flames in her. The coppery taste of his blood made her hesitate, but he wouldn’t let her withdraw. He caught her head in his hands to hold her still for his kiss.
And oh, what a kiss it was, as enticing as the waters of Llyn y Fan Fach and just as fraught with danger. Yet she slipped into the depths without a thought, letting him plunder her mouth, immerse her in the treacherous waters of seduction.
He hardened beneath her bottom; she softened everywhere. Soon his hands were roaming her waist and ribs, then traveling higher, until his thumbs skimmed her breasts. When at last they touched her nipples, she shuddered from sheer pleasure.
Then berated herself for giving in so easily.
She tried to draw back, but he murmured, “Don’t. Not yet.”
“The servants will wonder what we’re doing.”
“I don’t give a damn. And I don’t think you do, either.”
As he dragged his open mouth down into the hollow between her breasts, her hands crept up to clasp his shoulders. And when his rough tongue swept the upper swell of her breast, she dug her fingers into his muscles.
“I-I should care . . .” she whispered. “I should.”
Yet when he tugged the silk down to bare one breast, then closed his mouth over her nipple, she could no more pull away than plunge a knife through her heart. The sweet swirl of his tongue, the way he flicked the nipple, built the ache in her to a hot, urgent need. As he sucked hard, she clutched his head and gave herself up to that wicked mouth. She wanted it so badly, wanted to feel his mouth there and everywhere. On all her hidden places.
How mad was that? Yet she reveled in the madness, especially when his hand slipped beneath the silk to cup her other breast, kneading and teasing it until she thought she might explode.
“Evan . . . oh, dear Evan . . .” she whispered as she arched back to give him better access to her breasts.
“You are . . . so adorably soft,” he rasped as he filled both hands with her breasts. Then took her mouth again.
This time his kiss was ravenous and showed no sign of pain. She was the one feeling pain, a sharp hunger that gnawed at her most private places, making her ignore the taste of blood and return his kiss with more enthusiasm than sense.
Only when his hand left her breast to move down and slide her gown up her legs did the depths of her insanity dawn on her. She was letting a man seduce her!
It took all her will to drag her mouth from his. “Please don’t do this.”
With a noise half-moan and half-growl, he tried to seize her lips again, but she jerked her head to the side and clamped her fingers around the hand that swept up her thighs. “Evan, you must stop. I don’t want you to . . . I can’t . . .”
“Let me make love to you,” he said in a throaty whisper. “Please—”
“No!” Taking him by surprise, she pushed him back and scrambled off his lap. “I can’t do this.”
He stared at her with eyes glittering as his breath came heavy and hard. “Why not?”
She drew her gown up to cover her breasts. “It’s . . . it’s not right.”
“The hell it isn’t.” He rose from the chair. “I want you. You want me. What’s wrong with that?”
“We’re not married!”
He went very still. “You’re looking for marriage?”
“Yes!” Then she realized that her words contradicted what she’d just said about the curse. “I mean, that’s what I would want, if I could marry. Of course, with the curse, I can’t—”
“Right, the curse.” Did she imagine it or did he seem relieved? He stepped toward her. “So there’s no problem. You can’t marry, and I can’t marry. We’re perfect for each other.”
I can’t marry. The words echoed hollowly in her head, dashing all her hopes.
She’d been thinking of Evan as a suitor. What kind of fool assumed that a man like him would relinquish a prestigious position as a fellow at Cambridge to marry a country sparrow like her?
Somehow she made her voice sound normal. “I know you said you’re not allowed to marry. But surely you intend to marry someday, don’t you?”
“No. Never.”
That startled her. “Why not?”
“I have my reasons.” The clipped words made it clear he didn’t intend to reveal them. “So if neither of us is seeking marriage, then you and I can—”
“I can’t simply leap into bed with a man who thinks no more of it than of eating a fine meal.”
“Good God, what gave you that impression?”
“You said you don’t intend to marry.”
“That doesn’t mean I consider lovemaking akin to a ‘fine meal.’ I intend our . . . friendship to last longer than that.” His eyes glowed obsidian in the candlelight of the kitchen. “And be quite a bit more enjoyable. You and I would make wonderful lovers.” He gave a mocking smile. “It’s quite the thing for widows to take lovers these days, or hadn’t you heard?”
“But I couldn’t! I want . . . I want . . .” I want a husband.
His mouth formed a hard line. “W
hat do you want that I can’t give you? What am I lacking that your previous lovers had?”
“Previous lovers?” she squeaked. This was worse and worse. “I’ve had no previous lovers! I’m a virgin!”
He stared at her with narrowed eyes. “I realize that your husband died on your wedding day, but . . . Are you telling me you and he never indulged yourselves before you were married? Or that in five years of widowhood, you haven’t taken a single lover?”
A blush stained her cheeks. “Never.”
“I suppose I should have realized that. But you’re twenty-five and passionate, and I just assumed—” He lowered his voice to a husky murmur. “Don’t you think it’s long past time you took one? Don’t you get lonely?”
“Of course! But I can’t have what I want: a husband to comfort me at night, children to inherit Plas Niwl and care for my tenants and servants.” I can’t have it with you, anyway. She forced calm into her voice. “And I won’t take a sordid substitute.”
His eyes blazed. “I promise you, lovemaking between us would not be sordid.”
The way he looked at her, as if he could offer her secret delights beyond her ken, threatened to incinerate her misgivings. “You mustn’t say things like that!” She straightened her shoulders. “Just go, Evan. Please, go away and leave me be.”
“Very well, I’ll go. But I’m not leaving you be.” He cast her a dark smile. “You promised to help me with my research, remember?”
“You don’t care about that. You only asked me to help you because you wanted to . . . to . . .”
“To seduce you?” he said dryly.
She nodded.
“I never said that.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “No. Despite what you think, I’d like your help.”
Even if he meant it, she couldn’t give it to him now. It would mean being constantly in his presence, all the while knowing he wanted her, and it was pointless, for she’d never let him make love to her when he didn’t desire marriage.
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