“Shhhhh,” Mrs. Hatch whispered, seeing him open his eyes as she cleaned and wrapped his arm. He gave her a grateful smile before slipping back into sleep. Liam may have been her obvious favorite, but he had long suspected the housekeeper kept a special place in her heart that belonged to him alone.
As quietly as she’d entered Mrs. Hatch left, but she was not surprised to find on her return a few hours later that Rian was gone. Catherine, sleeping peacefully, had finally relinquished her claim on him.
Chapter 17
While his brother had been wrestling with Catherine and her demons, Liam had not been idle. He made inquiries as promised, but could find no reports or rumors of anyone searching for a young woman fitting Catherine’s description. And that he found very unsettling.
“It’s the damndest thing, Rian, but you would have supposed that someone, somewhere would know she was missing. Every avenue I have pursued has resulted in a dead end. I simply cannot find a living soul who knows a thing about her.”
“Or one who will admit to it,” Rian observed quietly. He was now more certain than ever that anyone searching for Catherine would be the person responsible for her abuse.
A week had passed since he had carried her into the house. Dr. MacGregor had been seriously concerned at the violence she had shown as a result of her feverish episode, and had prescribed a course of treatment that kept his patient sedated for the greater part of each day. His intent was to make sure she got enough rest so her body could heal itself, and, from all accounts, his method was having the desired effect. Catherine was recovering so well that Dr. MacGregor had given orders for her to be weaned off the sleeping draughts. However, the physician was not the only one concerned over Catherine’s behavior during her illness. Until he knew how much she might remember about all that had passed between them, Rian thought it best to keep his distance. She would, no doubt, be mortified to discover she had spent so much time in the arms of a man she had no connection to. So he left her care in the more than capable hands of Mrs. Hatch, Tilly, and Dr. MacGregor.
Now as he looked across the dining table at his brother, he could sympathize with Liam’s frustration. “Trouble yourself no further with the matter,” he instructed, pausing to refill his wine glass as they ate supper.
Liam merely grunted. This was a mystery and he was not overly fond of mysteries. Still, even if his inquiries had brought forth results, Catherine was in no condition to be moved. Dr. MacGregor had been most forceful in his instructions regarding her care.
“We shall just have to wait until Catherine can solve the riddle of her own past,” Rian said, thanking his brother for what had turned out to be an exercise in futility. “And you have other things you had best be thinking about this close to your wedding day.”
Liam opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he was going to say was disrupted by Tilly, who came bursting into the room.
“Sir!” she exclaimed, looking at Rian. “Mrs. Hatch said to come fetch you right quick. She’s awake, and asking for you!”
Before Liam had time to react, his brother was already out of his seat and taking the stairs two at a time. Seeing Mrs. Hatch standing outside the master suite, Rian calmed himself. “Has she said anything?” he asked.
“Only asked to see the person who brought her here,” she replied, placing her hand on his still bandaged arm. “But you must not tire her, Master Rian. She’s still very poorly.”
“Of course, I understand.” He paused a moment before asking, “Does she remember anything?” They both knew he was referring to the events of a few days ago, not what had occurred prior to Catherine’s arrival.
“She hasn’t said, but I suspect you will know soon enough.” Offering him a motherly smile, the housekeeper opened the door.
The first thing Rian noticed was how pale Catherine looked as she sat propped up against the pillows. It was a healthy paleness, if such a thing was not a contradiction. The last time he had seen her, most of her body had been flushed with fever, and it was something of a shock not to see the high color staining her skin. But he was relieved to note that the savagery which had possessed her at their last meeting was no longer present. Narrowing his eyes, he continued his perusal of her.
The swelling about her mouth was considerably reduced. The once-purple bruises mottling her skin had turned to varying shades of yellow and green which, unfortunately, did little to improve the pallor of her face. As he had suspected, the swelling of her eye had lasted only a few days, and he was pleased to see it now opened quite naturally. Dr. MacGregor had told him that, as far as he could discern, there appeared to be no permanent damage to either the eye or the rest of his patient’s face. Good news indeed.
He waited for the slightest sign of discomfort, prepared to excuse himself, but Catherine gave no indication she was embarrassed to see him. If anything her brows pulled together in a manner he could only describe as quizzical curiosity. Deciding she had no recollection of what had happened during her fever, he crossed the room and seated himself in the chair that had been placed by the side of her bed.
Her eyes were the most incredible shade of blue he had ever seen. The same iridescent color that had amazed him the first time he looked into them. She raised her hand and fussed with the neckline of the nightgown she wore, as if wanting to draw his attention to it. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He recalled all too clearly how she had felt in his arms wearing absolutely nothing at all. No matter how she was dressed, nothing would ever erase that from his mind. Perhaps it was a good thing that only one of them had retained the memory, although he thought he saw a glimmer of apprehension cross her face, but it was gone so quickly he couldn’t be sure if it had been real or his imagination.
Giving what he hoped was a welcoming smile, Rian asked, “How are you feeling?”
She said nothing, her frown intensifying as she searched his face. What she was hoping to find, he could not say. Her gaze was penetrating, but revealed no flicker of recognition. Rian felt himself relax. It would seem a benevolent God had clouded her memory of the past few days. With a barely audible sigh she dropped her eyes, leaving Rian with the feeling he had somehow disappointed her. He was not the person she had been hoping to see.
She gave a furtive glance at some spot behind him, over his shoulder. Catherine might not have been embarrassed, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was comfortable in his presence. Getting to his feet, Rian fetched another chair and placed it on the other side of the bed. “Mrs. Hatch, would you be so kind as to join us? I think your patient would be more at ease if you were close by.” He waited until the housekeeper had settled herself before continuing. “I understand you asked to see me.”
Catherine swallowed nervously before answering him. “Yes…I am told”—her eyes flicked to the housekeeper—“that I owe you my life, and I wanted to thank you. I am in your debt, sir.”
Her voice was low and husky, and it sent a hum through Rian’s veins that he had not felt in a very long time. It was the same feeling that had surged through him when she’d grasped his hand and asked for his help. He was surprised to find the sensation repeating itself, becoming stronger now than when he’d first experienced it. Seeing that the young woman before him was waiting for some type of acknowledgment, he pushed the feeling aside.
“There is no debt owed,” he said, brushing off his part in her rescue, “but can you tell me what happened to you?”
“What happened?” She sounded hesitant, unsure, and the tips of her fingers involuntarily brushed the corner of her mouth.
“You were injured, quite badly.” Rian was aware of how difficult this conversation was going to be, and he kept his tone gentle. “Do you recall how you were hurt, or anyone who would wish you harm?”
Catherine shook her head. “No…I cannot.”
Rian glanced at the housekeeper, noting her frown of concern.
“Then can
you tell us”—he gestured to himself and Mrs. Hatch—“what you do remember?” Although there was a chance the memory could be upsetting, Rian thought it was a risk they had to take. “Anything at all,” he added.
Looking lost and vulnerable in the big bed, Catherine frowned. Her slender fingers plucked at a loose thread in the cover and she was silent for so long that Rian wasn’t sure if she understood what he was asking. Perhaps English was not her native tongue, although he had not detected an accent of any kind in the few sentences she had uttered.
From across the bed, Mrs. Hatch reached for Catherine’s hand, and began to pat the back. “There, there lass, you take your time,” she said, encouragingly.
Her eyes downcast, Catherine did not look at either of them. Instead she seemed to want to focus on the loose thread. Rian was about to rephrase his question when she spoke.
“I cannot remember…anything.” Her voice was a tremulous whisper, and her answer, while disappointing, was not unexpected.
“’Tis of no great importance,” Rian said, telling himself he was guilty of expecting too much, too soon. “I’m sure you’ll feel better after you have rested some more, and if you remember anything you can always tell Mrs. Hatch if you prefer.”
“You don’t understand,” she said, a raspy huskiness filling the space between them. “I don’t remember anything…anything at all.”
An incredulous look appeared on Rian’s face as the full impact of her words registered.
“Nothing? Absolutely nothing?” he repeated, dumbfounded.
She shook her head slowly and wiped at the tears that now spilled down her cheeks.
“What about your name, lass?” Mrs. Hatch asked. “Do you know your name?”
Rian held his breath, waiting to see if she could repeat what she had told them before. He could almost see the fog that clouded her mind, and her struggle to find a way through it.
“Catherine!” she burst out with obvious relief. “My name is Catherine.” A look of wonder filled her face, and this time she gave a small laugh as she wiped at her tears.
After giving Mrs. Hatch a hopeful glance, Rian turned back to the girl in the bed. “It’s a very nice name. Tell me, do you also recall your family name?”
She tried, but sinking back in the pillows, she shook her head. “I don’t know.” Her hand curled into a fist, and she beat it weakly on the counterpane. “I should know it, but I cannot remember.”
Concerned by her growing agitation, Rian instructed, “Don’t vex yourself, Catherine. It will all come back to you soon enough. You just need to be patient.”
Wanting to offer a small measure of comfort, he placed his hand on top of hers, strong fingers covering her small fist. It was meant to reassure her that all would be well, but she snatched her hand away as if his fingers were a hot iron that burned her skin.
Rian’s eyes narrowed and he tried to read beyond the panic that was clearly etched on her face. He told himself he had made a mistake. He had misread the expression in her eyes, and he chastised himself for seeing something that had not been there. It was not like him to make such an error, especially not where women were concerned. But he could not deny the message Catherine’s reaction had just sent. His touch repelled her. A strange dilemma when he considered how, a few nights ago, she clung to him as if her very life depended on his touch. But then delirium had her firmly in its grip, and she could not be held responsible for actions she could no longer remember.
“My apologies,” he said, quickly withdrawing his hand. “I did not mean to distress you.”
Catherine shook her head, puzzlement replacing the look of panic. “Indeed, I know you did not,” she told him, “and I do not know why I behaved in such a rude way. I apologize for my ill manners.” Her confusion deepened. “Is it possible that we know each other?”
“Why, do I seem familiar to you?”
“I can’t say.” She was clearly frustrated. “But I feel a certain familiarity, as if I know you, or at least I ought to, but…who are you?”
The bewilderment he had seen in her face only moments before disappeared, and he found himself once again held fast in her steady, unwavering gaze. A rush of feeling came over him. Not the protective urge he had felt before, although that was still very much present; this was something else. A yearning he thought suppressed long ago had awakened.
“My name is Rian Connor.”
Catherine repeated his name, letting the syllables dance on her tongue as if hoping the act of saying it aloud would be a key to a door she could unlock. Rian found he very much liked the way it sounded in her voice.
“Are we married?”
The question was asked openly, with no deceit or guile, and it startled both Rian and Mrs. Hatch. He swore under his breath, and the sudden rush of color to the housekeeper’s cheeks told him his profanity had not escaped her ears.
“Bless you, child,” she said, coming to Rian’s rescue, “we may not know who you are ourselves, but I can assure you, you are not wed to Master Rian.” She patted Catherine’s hand, which, Rian noticed, was not pulled away. “You wear no ring, but do you think you are married?” Mrs. Hatch asked.
“I-I d-don’t know,” Catherine stammered. “I have nothing to base the feeling on, but no, I don’t think I am married.”
“Then why ask such a question?” Rian watched in fascination as a dark pink flush rose from below the neck of the nightgown to color her face.
“It was the only explanation that seemed possible,” she said, looking him in the eye.
“Explanation for what?”
“The intimacy I feel between us.”
“Oh my!” Mrs. Hatch gasped as her face turned a shade similar to Catherine’s.
Looking decidedly worried, Catherine hurried to explain. “What I mean to say is I feel as if we are accustomed to one another, but in a private way.” The huskiness of her voice sent a delicious shiver down Rian’s spine, something he knew he would like to feel again, only under very different circumstances. “But surely I would remember such a detail, would I not? I mean had we been married and enjoyed the intimacy of a husband and wife…” Her voice trailed off and though her tone did not change, the flush on her cheek deepened. Rian found it very becoming. “Do we know each other, Mr. Connor?”
Afraid that he might let another profanity slip, Rian broke eye contact with her. It was a few moments before he could speak without danger of upsetting his housekeeper. “We do share a history,” he acknowledged, “but it is very recent in nature and, although what occurred between us could be described as intimate by some, it would not be the word I would use.”
“And what word would that be?” Catherine asked him.
“Exhausting,” Rian replied, bluntly.
“Oh…I see.”
Her face fell and she looked crushed, and mentally Rian kicked himself for his poor word choice. He had disappointed her again, and he did not know why that weighed on him, but it did. He braced himself for more questions, wondering how much detail he should offer regarding both her actions and his during her state of delirium. Catherine, however, had apparently decided not to pursue the matter any further, but the smile she gave took a great deal of effort to produce.
“I am truly grateful to you, Mr. Connor, for the kindness you have shown me. I don’t know how I will ever be able to thank you.” Her words were polite, and exactly what was expected from a young woman of breeding. A wall of good manners was something she could hide behind. And she was not the only one who could do so.
“You have a long way to go before you are truly well, but once you are, it will be all the thanks necessary,” Rian told her.
He had embarrassed her after all, but she had raised the question of intimacy not he. Did she remember being feverish? Perhaps she did, and that was why she was now shutting him out. Should he try to explain what had happened between them
? What would he say? He watched as Catherine pursed her lips.
“I think Miss Catherine needs her rest now,” Mrs. Hatch said, bringing their meeting to a close. Rian was amazed at how easily his housekeeper now referred to her charge. As if the girl in the bed were already family.
He nodded and got to his feet, giving Catherine a respectful bow. At the door, however, he paused and looked back at her. She was leaning forward, supported by the housekeeper’s arm as Mrs. Hatch plumped the pillows behind her. Feeling the weight of his gaze, Catherine raised her eyes to meet his, and the look she gave him said there was no need for him to worry over what to tell her regarding her feverish episode. She might not recall the details, but she remembered enough to know how she felt. Especially about him.
Chapter 18
Alone once more, Catherine allowed herself to give in to the fear that had been slowly building. It overwhelmed her, reducing her to a sobbing, frightened child. This time she did not try to hide her tears, but she did not want anyone to know, least of all the kind woman who was taking care of her, just how terrified she truly was. Her mind was a fog of shadowy images. One by one they slipped away, leaving behind nothing but a gaping void, and the echo of mocking laughter.
Her world had become this room and the only four people she now knew. Mrs. Hatch, the young housemaid Tilly, Dr. MacGregor, and Rian Connor. But according to all their accounts, she had known them only a matter of days. So who was she? Burying her face in the pillow and using it to blot her tears, Catherine made herself examine the few things she was certain of.
She placed Mrs. Hatch, Tilly, and the kindly doctor in one group, instinctively sensing that everything they told her was true. She had not known them before being brought to this room, and though she was certain she had never been in this house before, a vague feeling told her she knew what it was to sleep in such a grand bed with fine linens and embroidered covers. If they had asked her, Catherine was sure she could give a rudimentary outline of the responsibilities of the mistress of such a house. Though how she came by such knowledge was a mystery. But know it she did.
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