Her suggestion brought laughter to his lips. ‘I’m no libertine, Catherine, and no Puritan either come to that—and I’d much rather dine with you by far.’
‘Really? I’m flattered—but I did see how those ladies looked at you. You are a handsome man, John, and I am sure the ladies adore you.’
‘Devil take it, Catherine! When this journey is over, how am I ever going to regard you as the lady of Carlton Bray again?’
‘Oh, I think you’ll manage very well.’
* * *
A fire warmed the room and the food which they ate in companionable silence was good. Feeling relaxed after the meal, the fatigue beginning to leave her bones and a tiredness wrapping itself around her, Catherine settled back in her chair, watching as John mopped up the last of the beef stew with a crust of bread.
‘You have enjoyed your meal, John?’ she asked as he drained his tankard of ale and set it down on the table.
Wrapped in the timeless lull that had fallen on him following the hot meal, the dim light of the parlour was filled with hazy shadows. Idly John gazed across the table at his companion with a good deal of pleasure, for she was a sight to heat any man’s blood. Her low voice sent a thrill through him and he wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and pull her towards him and crush his mouth down on hers. With her face flushed to a soft pink glow and her eyes two sleepy orbs of emerald green, she was all temptation and he felt the blood pump rapidly through his body.
‘I recall Thomas telling me about your home in Sussex, John.’
He nodded. ‘Inglewood is where I grew up, along with my siblings. It was idyllic—and close to the sea. It was my mother’s family home. I have acquired lands in the Midlands, but I chose to remain in Sussex. The loss of my father and Richard has thrust me to the head of the family, which was something I never aspired to.’
‘And with it the title of Earl Fitzroy. How did that come about?’
‘My maternal grandfather, Simon Fitzroy, acquired the title. The Fitzroys had always been gentry and although my grandfather had himself achieved an earldom by ability and assiduous attention to Queen Elizabeth and being in her favour, he had no real admiration for the aristocracy, not to mention Papists.’
‘Then how did the estate pass to you?’
‘The estate was not entailed and my grandfather was free to do with it as he liked. There was no one else so he passed the estate and title to his daughter’s eldest child, Richard, where he felt it would be best served. Sadly, when Richard was killed at Edgehill, it passed to me. With Thomas’s demise I seem to have inherited another title, that of Lord Stratton.’
‘And your mother?’
‘She is at home with my young sister, Elizabeth. I have two younger brothers—both married with children—one in Norfolk and the other in Kent.’
‘And did they take part in the wars?’
‘They both fought at various battles alongside my father—they were more fortunate and returned home to their wives.’
‘I’m sorry. What a terrible time it must have been for your mother—for all of you—to lose your father and a brother.’
‘Many brave men died—on both sides.’ He sighed, his expression one of melancholy. ‘I have been so preoccupied with the war of late—with fighting battles and keeping the soldiers in my regiment in order—that I have seen little of my family these past months. I will travel down to Sussex when I have delivered you to your father.’
His statement brought a smile to Catherine’s lips. ‘You make me sound like a parcel.’
He laughed, relaxed, stretching his long booted legs out in front of him. His eyes were warm as they met her gaze. ‘It was not my intention to give offence.’
‘None taken. How long do you think it will take us to reach London?’ she asked, taking a sip of her wine.
He acknowledged her question with a bland smile, his eyelids dipping languidly over his dark eyes as he continued to study her at length, musing in rueful reflection over her predicament, for he knew how reluctant she was to become reacquainted with her father. ‘If we continue to make good time, the day after tomorrow. It is a long time since you saw your father. He is anxious to see you.’
‘Just how ill is he, John? Do you think he has taken to his bed?’
‘Probably. But he is not one to complain and the mere fact that he stressed his wish to see you tells me his illness is more serious than he would have me know.’
‘I wonder how Blanche is coping with his illness,’ Catherine mused aloud. ‘She does not have a caring disposition.’
‘She will do her best, I imagine.’
‘I believe the war has cost my father a great deal of money. He did very well for himself in the King’s Customs House as a younger man. It was when he realised that, along with other families supportive of the King, he was expected to lend large sums to him with little expectation of a speedy return that he went over to Parliament. He accused the King of bleeding the country dry with excessive taxes and ignoring the advice of Parliament. He could not condone his plans to bring in outside assistance in the form of French troops—and, more damning than that, to bring over the Catholic Irish, promising them favours if they agreed to fight on his side.’
‘You are right, Catherine. That would not have been tolerated. It resulted in the King’s loss of popularity and prestige. Many Royalists gave up, many compounding with Parliament. Your father did the right thing when he opted to support Parliament.’
‘That is your opinion. There are others who would agree with you,’ she said, her face expressionless, which brought a narrowing to John’s eyes as not for the first time he wondered at her allegiance. ‘My father hoped Thomas would do the same, but Thomas was a staunch Royalist through and through—as you well know. I entered the marriage with reasonable resources. As my father’s only offspring he saw to that. He has land in Berkshire that brings in a tidy sum. When things soured between him and Thomas, I know he regretted the marriage, especially when Thomas beggared himself, handing my dowry over to the King to help fund the war.’
John’s interest was roused. ‘And did you approve of him doing that?
‘In so far as it left me with very little to sustain Castle Bray, no. Oft were the times when I wished I had more.’
‘The wars have ruined many good families throughout the land. Its effects will be felt for years to come.’
‘I agree with you. I am sure I will find everything much different in London. I seem to have been buried in the country without outside companionship for so long that I am out of touch, not only with the country, but my own family.’
‘That may be so, but few women of my acquaintance would know how to run a castle as well as you have done. You were too young to be burdened with so much responsibility. It was an unexpected obligation you could have done without.’
Catherine felt a flush of pleasure rise to her cheeks at the unexpected praise. ‘Yes, you could say that.’ She responded to his obvious concern with more honesty than she might usually allow. ‘I only did what had to be done—like any other woman would have done faced with the same situation. There was no one else.’
‘Thomas loved Carlton Bray. He would have returned had he been able.’
‘Yes, I believe he would. I am sure that if he had been taken prisoner I would have been told. Was it not the case that when officers were captured, on either side, it was normal for commanders to negotiate exchanges of officers of equivalent rank, that they could even be paroled on the promise never to fight again?’
‘Yes, and you are right. If he had been captured, you would have been notified. As it turned out he simply pleased himself—spending time over the border and involving himself in one skirmish after another.’
‘Thomas was not an easy man to live with. He hated it when I questioned his authority, his judgement.’
‘He was like that.
He was not noted for his patience and his temper could often get the better of him. Certainly you, as a sixteen-year-old girl, should not have been given in marriage to him.’
‘I had no choice. I had to marry—as most women do. As a soldier, Father, who lived to fight the war against the King, almost forgot about his daughter tucked away on the Welsh border. Anxious to be rid of me, he forced me to marry a stranger. The thought of marriage and all it entailed was anathema to me. My father called it my duty. That was the moment I knew he didn’t love me. But I knew in those early days that if I did not harden my heart he would destroy me.’
John realised that her marriage to his cousin had hardened her heart not only against life, but against men in general, which was a terrible shame. Looking across at where she sat relaxed in her chair, her face flushed with the heat from the fire and the wine, for a moment he became locked in the spell of her dark, sultry eyes. He could not look away. She was like an innocent temptress, waiting for him, her chest rising and falling as if in anticipation of some excitement. It was not right that a gently reared girl, protected all her young life, should have been married to a stranger, virtually abandoned and exposed to such horror. He felt a deep anger burn inside him when he thought of Thomas’s treatment of her.
‘Had your mother been alive at the time, I assume she would not have sanctioned the marriage.’
‘No, she would not. She would have been horrified at the prospect. Although it would not have made any difference. Father always got his own way. When my mother became ill, he didn’t want her because she hadn’t given him a son. Towards the end she cried a lot—not that she wanted me to know, but I would hear her sobbing in her room. I wanted passionately to be a boy. If I had been, everything would have been different.’
‘Not necessarily. Life can be hard on men also.’
Catherine smiled indulgently. ‘And only a man would say that. I suppose if Carlton Bray had been sequestered, if I could have found the money to pay the fine, it would have enabled me to keep it—not that it matters now it is yours.’
‘You would not have been able to do that without Thomas’s consent and he would never have asked for pardon for backing the King.’
‘But you told me that it’s all over for the King.’
‘I believe it is, but the Royalists cannot simply pay a fine and beg pardon as if there’s no harm done. And consider this. Would Thomas have wanted to return, to live under Parliament’s rule when he fought so hard against it?’
‘No—perhaps he would not. I’m just thankful that I know what happened to him. If I had never found out, my situation would have been dire indeed. I would have been forced to remain his wife for the rest of my life.’
‘Not necessarily. After seven years and without sight or sound of him, you would be free of your vows and able to declare yourself a widow.’
‘I would be free?’ He nodded. ‘Seven years?’
‘That’s the law.’
‘I didn’t know. So—since he has been missing for the past four years—after another three, I would have been able to declare myself a widow?’
‘Yes—and you would be free to marry again if you so wished.’
Catherine grimaced. ‘I cannot think of that now. Indeed, I cannot think of a man I would wish to marry—although I am sure my father will find me one if he has a mind.’
‘I don’t doubt it, not for one minute, but you are of an age to make your own decisions and would be within your rights to defy your father.’
Catherine smiled. ‘You make everything seem so simple. Think yourself fortunate that you are his friend and not his daughter.’ Stifling a yawn, she got to her feet. ‘I’m going to bed. I cannot believe how tired I feel when I have done little but sit in a carriage while it carried me along.’
John accompanied her to the door. ‘If I could make things easier for you, I would,’ he said softly, capturing her gaze. ‘You have done your duty with good sense and remarkable courage.’
* * *
Catherine’s eyes seemed to be caught by his. They conveyed strange things to her, stirring her instincts. He was smiling, but in his dark eyes a glow began, causing her to look away in confusion. Placing the tip of his finger beneath her chin, he turned her face back to his, his face becoming set in lines of smiling challenge. Her instinct told her she must go—yet John was set on delaying her. When he drew her close she had a feeling of helplessness and was aware of nothing else but his overwhelming presence. His eyes held a burning glow of intent, but deep in their depths there was something else she had never seen before, something that defied analysis and made her wary.
‘You are a beautiful young woman, Catherine. Would you mind if I kissed you?’
She stared at him, not having expected this. ‘A kiss?’
‘Yes, a kiss, Catherine. Just a kiss. You might find it pleasurable,’ he said, his eyes fastened on her trembling lips.
‘But it won’t be just a kiss, will it?’
‘How can you know until you have sampled it?’ Reaching out his hand, he caressed her cheek with featherlike fingertips. ‘You tremble. Do you fear me?’
Panic seized her, but she was powerless to escape. She waited for the screaming denial to come from the dark recesses of her mind—of Thomas when he had forced himself on her. But she was determined to quell the intrusion and the trepidation that had arisen and surged within her. This wasn’t Thomas. This was John and he was not forcing her as Thomas had done. He was awaiting her consent. The knowledge stilled her panic. When she met John’s eyes, she knew she did not want to withdraw.
‘It has nothing to do with fear.’
He drew his finger gently down the bare flesh of her slender neck. ‘Then kiss me, Catherine. Just a kiss.’ His expression softened. He seemed to understand more of what was going on in her mind than she had thought. ‘I am not Thomas. I am nothing like him. You will not find kissing me either distasteful or undignified. I will not hurt you. This I promise you.’
He drew her closer, his face poised close to hers, looking deep into her eyes, his warm breath caressing her face. Lowering his head, he covered her mouth with his own, his lips at first gentle before becoming more insistent, parting her own and kissing her slowly, long and deep. She strained to resist the feel of his hands on her body, his mouth on hers, but her weak flesh began to respond and at last she yielded, her lips answering his in mindless rapture.
She became languid and relaxed with sensuality, uttering a moan and a sigh of pleasure. Sensations like tight buds opened and exploded into flowers of splendour, growing stronger and sweeter. His kiss was deep and endless, one that shook her to the core of her being and made her want more. His lips courted hers with a fierce tenderness, moving over them with accomplished persuasion, tasting their sweetness, coaxing them to part, his tongue making a brief, sensuous exploration of the soft warmth within.
Lost in a sea of pure, blossoming sensation, she moaned softly. She felt the hardness of his body pressed close to her own and a melting softness flowed through her veins, evoking feelings she had never experienced before or thought herself capable of feeling. Only one man had touched her in intimacy—Thomas—but his lovemaking had been clumsy and brutal, giving no thought to pleasuring her.
All too soon he withdrew his lips and she caught her breath, gasping, when he buried them in the soft pulsating curve of her throat, before finding her mouth once more. Sliding her hands up his hard chest, she let them rest on either side of his neck, pressing herself closer, feeling the strength in that hard, lean body.
When he raised his head she felt it strange that she did not fear the way he was looking at her—quite the opposite, in fact, for she found herself unprepared for the sheer force of the feelings that swept through her and knew that she was in grave danger, not from John, but from herself. The prospect of letting him kiss her once more seemed not only harmless but irresistibly appea
ling and she was tempted to repeat the action, but something deep inside stopped her.
As if sensing a change in her, John pulled back. The rigid set of her shoulders discouraged further intimacies.
‘Good Lord! You are exquisite,’ he murmured huskily. ‘But I can see I’ve shocked you.’
It was true, he had, but Catherine was more shocked at herself and her own reaction than anything he had done. ‘Yes. This is madness. I must go,’ she whispered, shocked by the force of her feelings. ‘This should not be happening. You should not be doing this. We should not... It is wrong.’ Turning from him, she left, hitching up her skirts and climbing the stairs to the chamber allotted to her.
* * *
John stood and watched her go, having wanted more of her. Hearing her soft moan and her faint inhalation when his lips had caressed hers, he had been satisfied and encouraged by her reaction. Purposefully he had tightened his embrace, feeling her body shudder against his, and he had realised with a surge of desire that her demureness and reserve hid a woman of intense passion. Catherine possessed an indescribable magnetism in abundance, with that unique quality of innocence and sexuality rarely come by. She was a woman with a combination of youthful beauty and an untouched air of shy modesty—despite her marriage to Thomas—yet she had about her a well-bred quality. When she smiled a small dimple appeared in her cheek and her rosy parted lips revealed perfect, small white teeth.
John was enchanted. He thought he had never seen anything quite so appealing or irresistibly captivating as Catherine Stratton. Women like her were as scarce as a rare jewel and must be treated as such, and he was determined that she would not escape him. He wanted her, wanted to fill his mouth with the taste of her, to have those inviting hips beneath him, to have those long, lithe legs wrapped around him.
Resisting Her Enemy Lord Page 6