“She wouldn’t let me open the door,” the man apologized, not wanting to be thought neglectful in his duties. “She—she closed it with her own hand.” His face colored as he realized how disrespectful he was being. “Her ladyship, I mean,” he muttered hastily.
Rian was uncertain if the man’s demeanor was due to witnessing Isabel performing a menial task unaided, or if this was his first brush with a volatile temper in a member of the fairer sex. “They can be quite unpredictable when you get them riled,” he said, deciding on the latter.
“Strong too,” the man observed, having firsthand knowledge of just how much strength was required to make the heavy door rattle so.
“Indeed,” Rian agreed.
The impulse to race up the stairs to Catherine’s room and learn for himself what had happened was forestalled by Mrs. Hatch. She had remained in the hallway, only a few feet from the closed bedroom door, and had witnessed for herself Isabel’s dramatic departure. Now the housekeeper counseled patience. If, as she suspected, Rian was the subject of whatever discourse had taken place, Catherine’s temper might be such that seeing him would only agitate her further. It was good advice, but he did not return to the drawing room until he had been assured that the encounter had not reduced Catherine to tears.
“You’re sure she’s not weeping or upset?” he asked the maid who had taken in Felicity’s flowers, and was now retuning empty-handed.
“Oh, she’s upset,” the girl had told him with a smile wise beyond her years, “but she’s not weeping, sir, nor do I think she will be.”
With no other choice, he returned to the drawing room to wait for Mrs. Hatch. It was frustrating not knowing the nature of Isabel’s personal questions, or any answer given by Catherine in response. What had been said was a mystery, and would most likely remain so as far as Rian was concerned. Mrs. Hatch had refused to divulge anything that Catherine may have told her, telling him it was up to Catherine to share any or all of the conversation if she so wished. He’d given the woman his most ardent, penetrating stare, but she was not moved.
“That look didn’t work when you were a lad,” she reminded him with a shake of her head. Abashed, Rian apologized. “I’m not saying the lass hasn’t been affected by the meeting,” she said, offering him what sympathy she could, “but only time will tell how much.” Her mouth pulled into a tight line of concern. “Tis a shame you had not already taken the lass to Oakhaven. All of this unpleasantness could have been avoided.”
“What’s done is done,” Rian said with a grimace, “and that I cannot change, but I can take steps to ensure it will not happen again. How soon can Catherine be ready to leave?”
“Would first thing in the morning suit?”
He smiled. It would suit very well indeed.
Now it was close to midnight, and, as he had on almost every night since her fever broke, Rian sat by Catherine’s bedside listening to the even rhythm of her breathing. She rolled onto her side, brows pulling together, lips compressed as pain flared briefly. Her body was still healing, and it would take some time before it was completely well, if it ever was. The thought suddenly occurred to Rian that Catherine might never be comfortable lying on her back. A sudden heat spiking in his groin brought to mind a very particular instance where such a position might be required. But no matter. He was an experienced lover with no qualms whatsoever about being the one to adopt a supine position. He ought to have been shocked by such a thought, but he wasn’t. Instead he welcomed the opportunity to acknowledge the part of him that recognized how much he wanted Catherine to be a part of his life. Had wanted her since the first moment he’d seen her.
But would she desire him in the same way? Her behavior toward him during her fever told him yes. She might not be able to articulate her passions, and might even try to keep them repressed, but there was no denying the need that had been kindled. He knew that flame, once lit, was never truly doused again. It would be up to him to show her she had nothing to fear. To make certain her future was not tainted by the ugly specter of the past. He would need to earn Catherine’s trust, make her see him as more than a rescuer from a watery grave. Gently he picked up the hand that lay on top of the covers, admiring the slender fingers resting in his palm, grateful that, in her sleep at least, she did not pull away from him. Taking advantage of the fact she was ignorant of his presence, Rian carefully raised her hand and pressed his lips against the soft skin.
“No matter what horrors are hidden in your past,” he whispered to the sleeping girl, “trust me with your future, and I promise I will always keep you safe.”
And when he felt her hand move, slender fingers curling around his own, he told himself it wasn’t his imagination creating the answer he yearned for. Catherine applied enough pressure to tell him she heard his words…and would hold him to his vow.
Resolve
Corsets and Carriages
Part Two
The exciting continuation is available for preorder now!
“I am not so naïve that I don’t know what happens between a man and a woman when they are lovers.”
In the sanctuary of Rian Connor’s magnificent ancestral estate, Catherine Davenport struggles to remember who she was before he found her wandering practically naked on the docks of London. She has little memory of the vicious attack that brought her there, but she can’t deny the feelings Rian awakens in her. In danger of losing her heart to a man tormented by the dark secrets of his own past, Catherine questions what an innocent like her has to offer such an experienced man of the world.
“You have no idea what you are doing to me—how much I want you, how much I need you!”
On the night of his brother’s wedding ball, Rian proves exactly how much he wants his beautiful young protégé, only to be lured by his former mistress into committing the ultimate betrayal. For Isabel Howard will stop at nothing to do away with Catherine and destroy her future with the man they both desire above all others…
Meet the Author
Carla Susan Smith owes her love of literature to her mother, who, after catching her preteen daughter reading by flashlight beneath the bedcovers, calmly replaced the romance book she had “borrowed” with one that was much more age appropriate! Born and raised in England, she now calls South Carolina home where she lives with her wonderfully supportive husband, awesome son, and a canine critique group (if tails aren’t wagging then the story isn’t working!). When not writing, she can usually be found in the kitchen trying out any recipe that calls for rhubarb, working on her latest tapestry project or playing catch up with her reading list. Visit her at www.carlasmithauthor.com
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