“You looked exhausted, mum,” Hannah observed, her wide set brown eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You did not go to visit your cousin in Edinburgh, did you? You went to him instead. Oh mum, why would you do such a thing?”
Under normal circumstances Catherine would regale Hannah with tales of her journey over steaming cups of hot chocolate, but not tonight. Tonight she just wanted to crawl into bed and never come out again.
“Please draw a hot bath,” she said tiredly. “And begin packing my things. I will be returning to London in the morning.”
“London?” Hannah repeated, her plump lips parting in dismay. “But you have only just arrived here, mum.”
“Yes, and now I wish to return to London,” Catherine said, more sharply than she had intended.
Hannah’s face fell, and her shoulders drooped as she walked away after mumbling a quick ‘yes mum’.
Catherine had never been so short with her maid before. She hesitated, uncertain whether to go to Hannah now or later, before deciding she was in no shape to make amends. Tomorrow would serve just as well to apologize for her atrocious behavior, after she had had a good night’s sleep and her emotions were back where they needed to be: locked up tightly where no one – least of herself – could get to them.
She slowly climbed the winding staircase and went directly to her room. Adjacent to the master bedroom it was her favorite room in the entire mansion, mostly because it was the only room that showed a female influence. She had designed it herself, choosing shades of blues for the walls and cheerful yellows for the curtains.
The room had been decorated with the intention of becoming a nursery, and Catherine’s mouth fell into a flat line of regret as she perched on the edge of the bed to unlace her boots. What plans she and Marcus had had together. First to marry, then to raise a family and live happily ever after. How simple everything had seemed then, when their hardest decision had been how many children to have. He had wanted four, she six. As long as they are all girls with blue eyes and golden hair, we shall have as many as you want, he always used to tell her.
How na?ve I was, she thought with a bitter smile. Na?ve and hopelessly foolish, to think fairytales came true. Now she knew the truth of it. Fairytales existed to soothe fretful children. They were not real, and they certainly never came true.
When her bath was drawn she slipped readily into the hot water. Her body ached in places it had not ached in for three years. Marcus had always been so considerate after they made love. He would draw her a bath and carry her to it, washing her body and rubbing away any lingering soreness from their arduous lovemaking. Often he would climb into the tub with her and she would languish against him as his hands became intimately reacquainted with the places they had just touched. Before the water grew cold he would carry her back to their bed and lay her down ever so gently, and his lips would press against her –
Stop it, Catherine ordered herself fiercely. She sat upright in the tub and her skin puckered where it met the cool air. Stop it right now. Marcus does not love you any longer. You will think of him no more.
Hannah reappeared to fold a towel beneath her head so she could recline all the way back in the claw foot tub, but flitted away in an angry huff before Catherine could thank her. Forcing herself to draw in a deep, calming breath she closed her eyes and relaxed down into the rose scented water, letting it glide in a silky caress over her knees and shoulders. Within minutes, she was fast asleep.
Lips traced a tantalizing path down her neck and between her breasts. They closed around her nipple and drew it into a hot mouth with a tongue that swirled and teeth that nibbled. Catherine writhed beneath the delicious onslaught and arched her spine, offering herself with the wild abandon of one who desperately craved more.
She was rewarded with hands that swept down her body to her thighs, before they slid between her knees to pull them gently apart. She yielded easily to the quiet pressure and when a finger slipped into the soft velvet core of her she couldn’t help but moan. The first finger was joined by another. They began to slide in and out in a sensual rhythm that had her crying out before her mouth was captured and devoured with bold, sweeping strokes.
Fire licked through her, burning her from the inside out, and she began to move in wild, mindless abandon… spurred on by the crude, naughty, utterly imaginative things her lover was whispering huskily in her ear as his fingers continued to plunge and stroke.
It was too dark to see the face looming above her but she knew who it was. No one had ever touched her like this, kissed her like this, loved her like this but her husband. A throaty moan shot up from the depths of her throat as she hovered on the brink of surrender. The fingers inside of her intensified to a frenzied tempo that had her hips bucking and begging for more. She cried out her lover’s name as release washed over her like a wave, sending her spinning into dark, tumultuous waters.