‘You are rather harsh on the male sex, Catherine,’ John remarked.
She glanced at him directly. He lounged back in his chair, his arm stretched across the back, his hand idly turning the silver wine goblet in his fingers. His expression was thoughtful as he listened with interest to what she had to say. ‘It was not my intention to give offence.’
‘None taken,’ he said, smiling, ‘but you have just damaged my ego beyond recall. How about you, Edward?’
‘I think what my daughter was trying to say is that she has no intention of being owned by any man. Is that not so, Catherine?’
‘Yes, Father.’ She held his gaze, defiant but respectful. ‘That is exactly what I meant. Although I must make it quite plain that I believe it is a wife’s duty to be an asset to her husband in every way, but that there must be respect and consideration on both sides.’
‘It sounds quite mad to me,’ Blanche quipped.
‘Sane, I think,’ John countered, an amused glint in his eye.
‘I don’t doubt her sanity, John. It is simply that with ideas such as those, a woman is in danger of becoming eccentric and developing undesirable characteristics.’
‘If you mean she is capable of taking care of herself, then I admire her for it.’
‘You do? I am surprised. Were Thomas still alive I am sure Catherine would have cause to eat her words. He was not a man to be gainsaid.’
‘And you would know that, would you, Blanche?’ Unable to suppress a smile, Catherine glanced across the table at John. Having listened to the altercation between herself and Blanche, his face was a pleasantly smiling mask that hid all thoughts. But she was certain the glint that flashed into his eyes was one of congratulatory triumph.
* * *
Later, when her father had been taken to his room and the house was quiet, Catherine donned her cloak, too restless to think of sleep. Perhaps it was her unpleasant altercation with Blanche that made her so wide awake, or her meeting with her father, but she knew sleep wouldn’t come just yet. With a walk on the battlements at Carlton Bray denied her, a walk in the garden would have to suffice.
Stars blazed in the dark sky like diamonds against black velvet and the full moon shone brightly over the gardens, while a cool breeze caressed her skin and stirred her hair. She had removed the pins and it hung in soft waves about her shoulders. Walking slowly along the winding paths, she breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the cold air. Coming to a stone bench which she used to sit on as a child, she did as she had done then, only this time without her mother. She stared at the shadows the towering trees cast over the lawns, thinking that she should be happy to be back home, where everything was familiar to her and held so many precious memories of her mother. Yet an inexplicable heaviness weighed on her heart.
It didn’t help, either, that her thoughts kept returning to that devastating kiss John had given her. His strength and his virility made her feel so very feminine for the first time in her life, his earthy sensuousness so very desirable. Perhaps he hadn’t been as affected by that embrace as she had been. He was a soldier, the kind of man who would have known many women on his adventures. In no time at all he would have forgotten about it entirely. Yet she couldn’t forget.
Sensing that she wasn’t alone, she looked across the lawn and saw the figure of a man coming towards her, his footsteps almost soundless on the thick carpet of grass, then he was directly in front of her. A thrill of excitement tingled along her nerves. How strange that he should appear when she was thinking of him. He had an indefinable brand of swagger and strength and a charming air of mockery and yet admiration in his bold eyes. It was a look that made her heart tremble. He stopped in front her.
‘What are you doing out here? I thought you would be abed at this time, that you would be worn out after the journey.’
‘I needed to get out of the house for a while.’ Getting to her feet, she began to walk slowly along the path, away from the house. John fell into step beside her. ‘So much has happened today. I’m tired, but I don’t feel like going to bed just yet,’ she said softly. ‘I’m trying not to think of anything but being back here—at Oakdene—to reminisce. Don’t you feel like going to bed either?’
‘Not yet. I saw you leave the house so I thought I’d come and keep you company. If you want company, that is.’
Turning her head, she smiled at him. ‘I welcome it—providing it isn’t Blanche.’
He laughed softly. ‘She hasn’t changed—still the same. Outspoken and forthright.’
‘And extremely vexing. I haven’t seen James. She told me not to mention him to my father, which I thought odd. I’m to meet him tomorrow.’
‘I am truly sorry for the way she spoke to you at supper. It was totally inappropriate under the circumstances.’
‘I expected nothing less from her. She’d already paid me a visit earlier to tell me of the close relationship she’d had with Thomas—not in the least penitent. My father must have a will of iron to withstand her constant carping.’
‘Nevertheless, you do not appear to be unduly disturbed by the closeness that existed between Blanche and Thomas. Most young ladies of my acquaintance would be scandalised by such a relationship.’
Catherine’s eyes narrowed and she glanced at him sharply, her cheeks flaming suddenly, for she was stung by the irony and what she considered to be an underlying note of reproof in his voice. For the first time a constraint had come between them. ‘Then the young ladies you speak of must be exceedingly dull company, who no doubt spend their time talking of tedious matters like the state of their health and the clothes they wear. I am not like that.’
‘It wasn’t a reproach, but I am beginning to realise you are quite uninhibited.’
‘That is a natural characteristic of mine. Perhaps I should not have silenced Blanche when she was giving such a vivid account of my character, for then I think you would know me a little better.’
‘So there is some truth in her description of you,’ John remarked, stifling a grin at the complete absence of contrition on her lovely upturned face and jutting chin. ‘You are a stubborn and disobedient woman, whose whims must be humoured at all cost.’
Catherine looked at him sharply. ‘She never said that.’
‘No.’ He laughed. ‘I thought I’d add my own impression.’
Her unabashed gaze locked on his. ‘I see. Then allow me to add a little more and you will learn that some of my pastimes at Carlton Bray were considered by my neighbours to be quite shocking.’
‘I would?’
‘Yes. I hunt. I fish. I wear breeches like a man—which you already know—and ride about the countryside like a gypsy—which would drive my father to distraction if he knew the full extent of my decadence. I also speak my mind—which you are aware of—for since I had no one to answer to I did not feel that I have to curb my tongue. I do not feel the need to apologise and nor am I ashamed of what I am or what I do, so if this does not meet with your approval, then it is just too bad.’
John cocked a sleek black brow, a merry twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes. ‘I do believe you are trying to shock me, Catherine,’ he said calmly. ‘But there is nothing about your character that I do not already know.’
‘You can read my mind?’
‘You might say that. In fact, I am beginning to feel heartily sorry for your father. You appear to be quite a handful.’ He chuckled. ‘There’s little wonder he was eager to marry you off at sixteen.’
Catherine glanced at him. His face was in shadow and he looked at her appreciatively as they strolled slowly along the path. For a moment she forgot her outburst and wondered what it would be like to love and to be loved by such a man as this. His manner was of complete assurance—and a cynical humour twinkled in his eyes. There was also a dangerous, cool recklessness about him and a distinct air of adventure.
‘Aren’t you shocked
by my unseemly behaviour, John?’ She met his eyes and saw they were teasing and suddenly he laughed outright, a deep, rich sound, and she relaxed.
‘Not in the least. It is part of your make-up that I like about you—regardless of what Blanche says.’
‘She makes it obvious that she resents my presence here. I shall try my utmost to keep out of her way—which will be difficult, I know, inhabiting the same house. Tomorrow I will spend some time with my father—if she will permit me to see him alone.’
‘You must insist.’
A companionable silence fell between them. Catherine was reassured and comforted by his presence. She shivered slightly as she felt the full force of his masculinity, his vigour, the strong pull of his magnetism wrap itself about her. Her rampaging emotions and imaginings where John was concerned were of a personal nature and were beginning to disturb her greatly.
Ever since he had come to Carlton Bray she had tried to ignore them, but they invaded her mind constantly, beckoning, like mischievous imps playing a teasing game, flitting to and fro when she was least expecting it. He had established himself firmly in her thoughts and she was becoming painfully aware of him as a man, of his blatant sensuality, and of the excitement that coursed through her with his every glance and each spoken word.
His face was all shadow and planes in the moon’s glow. He was so tall, so handsome. She felt a hollow ache inside as he gazed down at her. Reaching the end of the path, she paused and turned to him. She lifted her face and he gently touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers, looking into the liquid depths of her eyes.
‘You are incredibly lovely, Catherine. I wonder if you have any idea how lovely you are.’
His voice was soft and melodious. Catherine stood very still, barely able to breathe, yet she was trembling inside. They were so close. She caught her breath, wanting him to draw her into his arms, to breathe in the scent of his flesh, for him to hold her close, to feel the hardness of his body. The warm trickle of a familiar sensation ran through her, a stirring she had felt before when he had kissed her. But they had agreed it wouldn’t happen again, that it had been a mistake. His hand curved round her cheek. As she gazed into those fathomless dark eyes, a curious sharp thrill ran through her as the force between them seemed to ignite.
‘I know we said we would not repeat what we did at the inn, Catherine, but I suddenly find myself regretting my words. Would you mind if I kissed you again—just to see if it’s as wonderful as I remember?’
Unnerved and thoroughly confused at the way things were going, Catherine shook her head. She knew she should refuse, but was so entranced by the moment, by his presence, that she couldn’t if she tried. He was smiling, calmly watching her from beneath lowered lids, but Catherine felt he was alert and that unfettered power struggle beneath his calm was about to be unleashed. His tone was perfectly natural, as if he were merely asking her to take a stroll with him, but its very ordinariness caused a feeling of panic and the mystery of the unknown to flow through her. Strands of hair drifted over her face which he drew back and tucked behind her ear. She saw the deepening light in his eyes and the thick, defined brows and wanted to touch him as one touches the soft flesh of a newborn babe.
‘We shouldn’t,’ she whispered her objection, but did not pull back. She was breathing faster as his lips came close and she braced herself for some physical assault.
‘We should,’ he countered.
Stunned into quiescence, Catherine stood and tilted her head and remained completely still as his lips settled on hers. They were soft and surprisingly cool as they brushed lightly against her closed mouth. A jolt slammed through her as they began to move on hers, thoroughly and possessively exploring every tender contour. With a feeling that this was all wrong, half-stifled, her head reeling, she found herself imprisoned in a grip of steel, pressed against his hard, muscular length, her breasts coming to rest against his chest. There was little she could do to escape and, as her own desire began to stir, she had no wish to.
His lips increased their pressure, becoming coaxing as he slid the tip of his tongue into the warm sweetness of her mouth. She gasped, totally innocent of the sort of warmth, the passion he was skilfully arousing in her, that poured through her veins with a shattering explosion of delight. It was a kiss of exquisite restraint and, unable to think of anything but the exciting urgency of his mouth and the warmth of his breath, she felt herself falling slowly into a dizzying abyss of sensuality. His hands glided restlessly, possessively, up and down her spine and the nape of her neck, pressing her tightly to his hardened body.
Trailing her hands up the muscles of his chest and shoulders and sliding her fingers into the crisp hair at his nape, with a quiet moan of helpless surrender she clung to him, devastated by what he was doing to her, by the raw hunger of his passion. Inside her an emotion began to sweetly unfold, before vibrantly bursting with a fierceness that made her tremble.
John’s mouth left her lips and shifted across her cheek to her ear, his tongue flicking and exploring each sensitive crevice, then trailing back to her lips and claiming them once more. His kiss became more demanding, ardent, persuasive, a slow, erotic seduction, tender, wanting, his tongue sliding across her lips, urging them to part. She became lost in a wild and beautiful madness, with blood beating in her throat and temples that wiped out all reason and will. When she moaned softly beneath the sensual onslaught and opened her mouth and kissed him as deeply and erotically as he was kissing her, he groaned with pleasure at the sweetness of her response.
When at last he lifted his mouth from hers, his breathing was harsh and rapid, and gazing up at him Catherine felt as if she would melt beneath his scorching eyes. Slowly she brought one of her hands from behind his neck and her fingers gently traced the outline of his cheek, following the angular line of his jaw and neck.
‘Well,’ he said, his voice low and husky, recovering more quickly than Catherine. Her face was bemused, her eyes unfocused, her soft pink mouth partly open. ‘I think you enjoy being kissed.’ When she did not immediately reply, he grinned and murmured, ‘Surely I cannot have rendered you speechless.’
‘It certainly took my breath, and, yes, I liked it very much,’ she confessed, still drifting between total peace and a strange, delirious joy, while at the same time a feeling of disquiet was creeping over her as her mind came together from the regions of the universe where it had fled. Without logic or reason she was drawn to John Stratton as to no other and she experienced a moment of terror when she was with him, for the sheer magnitude of her feelings threatened to overwhelm her. She felt weak, vulnerable, suddenly at his mercy and standing on the threshold of something new. He was essentially worldly, emanating raw power that was an irresistible attraction to any woman. She was stimulated by him, he excited her and he exuded an element of danger that added to the excitement.
But this was not just another adventure and if she entered into any kind of commitment with him then there would be no escape.
Chapter Five
Releasing his hold on her, John gently cradled her chin with his hand. In the pale glow of the moon she was very lovely, with the dreamy, faraway look in her eyes and the passion his kiss had aroused in her softening her features. With the darkness of his eyes glowing with passion still smouldering within their depths, they looked intently into hers.
‘You have the body and mind of a clever woman, Lady Stratton, but in worldly experience you are still a child—and I thank God for it.’
‘I’m not such a child, John. I have been married, don’t forget—and I do know the difference between right and wrong. I should regret what we have just done, rebuke myself, and if you were a gentleman you would forget all about it.’
John let out a long sigh and quietly and without emotion said, ‘What you ask is impossible. It happened and neither of us can erase it from our minds. And now I think you should return to your chamber and go to bed. Th
e hour is late. It’s been a long day.’
In a daze of suspended yearning and confusion, Catherine hesitated as his eyes held hers in one long, compelling look, holding all her frustrated longings and unfulfilled desires, everything that was between them there. That one kiss had been too much and too little, arousing deep feelings she did not fully understand. What had happened between them had been a sudden overwhelming passion, heightened by the intensity of the knowledge that it shouldn’t be happening.
‘Come,’ John said, taking her arm. ‘I’ll walk with you back to the house.’
They walked in silence for a few moments, giving them both time to bring a calmness to their minds.
At length, Catherine said, ‘You are close to my father. That is obvious. He speaks well of you.’
‘I respect him. He is a grave man, bowed by the troubles and those of the country. And if he has faults—what man has not? It is not for me to judge him.’
Catherine inclined her head and said no more, half envying this certainty and respect for a man who had kept her at arm’s length all her life. After a moment, her thoughts turning to Thomas, she said, ‘I don’t know what I would have done if Thomas had come back. I could not bear the thought of living with him again—being married to him.’
‘I know you didn’t find marriage to him palatable. I also know of few well-bred ladies who married for love—but in many cases it comes with marriage.’
‘Not in my case. Did you see him before he died?’
‘No—I arrived in Newcastle too late.’
‘How did he die? Was he ill—wounded?’
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