Checkmate, My Lord

chapter Seventeen


The outer door to Sebastian’s bedchamber closed behind a reluctant Danforth. After watching Sebastian succumb to the effects of a concussion, the viscount had not been keen on leaving. Sebastian had spent the last half hour convincing the agent that his efforts were better spent in London, tracking down their enemy, than playing nursemaid.

Sebastian propped his bare feet atop the sitting room’s ottoman, unhappy to realize the laudanum the doctor had prescribed was wearing off. Much to his relief, his nausea had dissipated; however, a dull throb continued to batter his brain, lower back, and behind his left knee.

His assailant had known what he was about. With three swift and violent strikes, he had incapacitated a seasoned agent, who knew a score of ways to kill a man—when not in his cups.

Tilting his head back, he gave in to the bone-deep weariness that had invaded his body. For someone who was rarely sick and never tired, his current condition put him in a sour mood. That Catherine had not bothered to check on him all day had nothing to do with his present foul temper. Nothing at all.

He closed his eyes and the relief was instant. The candlelight glowed bright enough to be a nuisance, and he still had a difficult time focusing. Once the muscles in his face relaxed and the tautness in his shoulders eased, he allowed his mind to wander. Allowed it to seek a source of calm and tranquility. Most times when he performed this exercise, he would find himself standing at the bow of a fast-moving ship, heading toward the sunrise, the rejuvenating buff of a sea breeze sliding along his skin.

But not this time. This time, his mind moved inexorably to Catherine, to her mischievous brown eyes and honey-gold hair. To her full, berry-red lips and her petite, God-blessed figure he had yet to fully explore.

Last night, when he found her sitting on the hearth rug, brushing her hair and eating bits of cheese, a feeling of completion had overcome him. Images of them making love beneath the countess’s canopied bed, sharing a steaming tub of water, and idling away hours on the balcony while admiring a moonless night drenched his mind.

He had wanted to make love to her so badly last night, but could not break free of the secrets he was sworn to keep. Caution had been his bedmate for many years. So far, discretion had never let him down.

Even so, he had nearly given in to her plea for information. Had nearly unloaded everything he knew of her husband. How brave he’d been. How he’d saved so many lives. How devastating Ashcroft’s death had been for him. But all those confessions would lead her to the Nexus, exposing his agents to unforeseen perils. Something he would never do while chief, and never allow her to do.

He prayed she had not become involved in his war with Latymer. In her single-minded attempt to seek justice for her husband’s murder, she might inadvertently have stepped inside Latymer’s web. He’d learned long ago that what lies within one’s heart is often hidden behind the best defenses. But, as he told Danforth, he would rule nothing out. For all he knew, Latymer could have sent her to him in London. A fraud from day one.

His lungs released a shuddering breath, and the distinctive urge for oblivion returned. He toyed with his drink, his mouth watering. Then he made himself recall his vulnerable state last night and pushed it away. He would not endanger those beneath his charge for a few hours of numbness. He eased up from his chair, stretching his back and testing his injured leg.

With more hobble than stride, he made his way over to the bank of high-ceiling windows and peeled back one of the drapes. He was grateful to see the onset of evening approaching. Swirling hues of pink, orange, and yellow rode low on the horizon, bringing an otherwise dismal day to a gracious end.

He wondered how Catherine’s meetings with the craftsmen had gone and if she had stopped by the McCarthys’ to offer whatever solace she could. Regret weighed heavily on his mind. He should have been with her. Neither task was hers to bear alone.

Then a more insidious thought crept inside his mind. Had she helped him with estate matters for some reason he had yet to understand? No, she had been dealing with his tenants long before Reeves’s request. Sebastian rubbed his aching head.

A low knock sounded at the bedchamber door and then an exchange of words ensued. Seconds later, his valet appeared in the sitting room doorway. “My lord,” Parker said in a near whisper. “Mrs. Ashcroft is here to see you.”

The mere mention of Catherine’s name made his body tense with anticipation. She came. Sebastian slowly turned toward his valet, his heart hammering inside his chest. “Show her in.”

Parker eyed Sebastian’s attire. “Sir, perhaps you’d like to adorn yourself of a neckcloth and trousers first? Stockings, too?”

No need to whisper around me any longer, Parker,” Sebastian said. “The pain is down to a tolerable ache.”

Very well, my lord.” He hesitated. “And the other?”

For his valet’s sake, Sebastian tightened the sash holding his banyan closed and made sure all his manly parts were discreetly covered. “This will do.”

Parker nodded and disappeared. The next several minutes seemed an eternity while he waited for his staff to escort Catherine above stairs. Why had she chosen this moment to check on him? Why not hours ago when her cool palm could have soothed his splitting head?

Sebastian stretched his neck first one way, then the other, and rolled his shoulders. The exercise relieved some of his tension but failed to calm his heart. Then he heard the light tread of feminine feet coming down the corridor.

Seconds ticked by, each holding a decade’s worth of time. He longed to see her, yearned to feel her body pressed to his. Through the haze of his need, he recalled his promise to Danforth. “I will keep my wits about me.”

Notwithstanding his imminent departure back to London, he had to maintain a level of emotional distance until he either absolved her of any involvement with Latymer or confirmed a connection. Yearning and longing had no place in their dalliance.

The door closed in the other chamber, and Sebastian’s chest rose high on a deep inhalation. His jaw ached from the pressure of his clenched teeth. And then he noticed the first hint of a feminine silhouette approaching the open doorway.

Within seconds, Catherine filled the frame. Beautiful, proud, tempting. Cautious.

My lord.” Her voice held a slight quaver. “Mrs. Fox said you were attacked by a thief last night. Is this true?”

He studied her shadowed face, unable to make out her features. “We have yet to determine if the man was a thief. Nothing appears stolen. But yes, I came upon a man unawares in my study.”

She moved farther into the sitting room. Something was wrong with her eyes and her features appeared drawn and hesitant. Without thinking, he limped toward her. “What’s the matter?”

You’re injured.” She rushed into the chamber. “How badly?”

A bruise, nothing to worry over.” He tilted her chin up. “Have you been crying?”

***

Of course not.” Catherine stepped away. She had hoped her bout of self-pity would not be evident by the time she arrived. Except for some sleepless nights over the last several years, she had done an admirable job not wallowing in the fact that she was alone. Every decision—good or bad—was hers to make. The only thing she hadn’t had to worry about was money. With Jeffrey gone, she would have to consider that issue now, too—once she cleaned up this espionage mess he’d left behind.

Since she could not discuss the reason behind her puffy, gritty eyes and her long face, she redirected the conversation back to him. “Besides your leg, where else are you hurt?”

I am well on the mend, Catherine. No need to concern yourself.”

Did Grayson send for the doctor?”

Yes.”

She scrutinized him more closely. He balanced his weight on his right foot and he seemed to be squinting, almost as if it pained him to look upon her. Beyond those two indicators of discomfort, she could detect nothing else.

What are you doing here?” he asked.

Saving my daughter. “I came to check on you.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Did you not just learn of the attack upon your arrival?”

No, my lord,” she said. “You did not answer my knock this morning. At the time, I thought you needed the rest. However, when I returned later, Lord Danforth said you were unwell and couldn’t receive visitors. He said nothing about an attack, though.”

If not now, when did you learn of the attack?”

His tone carried an air of interrogation, making her feel as though she had done something wrong. In truth, she had not planned on coming here tonight. But when she’d received his housekeeper’s response to her earlier inquiry, she’d had to come. “I sent a note around to Mrs. Fox, not long ago, asking for news of your recovery. A reply came but thirty minutes ago. Sophie wanted to bring you biscuits to speed up your recovery.”

By slow degrees, she watched the hardness in his features soften and the rigid set to his shoulders ease. On some level, she regretted his transformation. Now that she did not have his cold inquisition in which to focus her attention, she became keenly aware of him.

With his disheveled hair, scruffy face, and loosely tied banyan, he looked disreputable and wholly desirable. She wished they had met under different circumstances, at a time when they could have explored this attraction they held for each other. But their association was caged within the walls of deception, with no way to break the barrier.

He prowled closer, his unwavering crystalline gaze on hers. She held her breath, unsure of his mood and unable to block the memory of her daughter’s screams. She could do this. She could do whatever it took to secure the damned list, protect her daughter, and be rid of her gaolers. She could do this.

No matter how much it broke her heart.

His fingertips skimmed the curve of her cheek. “You have been crying. Why?”

She fought the compulsion to lean into his touch. “Meghan.” The lie fell easily, too easily from her lips.

Catherine. Cat.” He clasped the back of her head, drawing her forward, into the comfort of his chest. “I’m sorry you had to witness such barbarity. Such things are not for the eyes of innocents.”

Her arms wrapped around his middle. “Why kill her? The babe’s father could have disappeared and never returned.” She burrowed her nose deeper into his silk wrap, absorbing his musky scent and banishing forever the stench of mud and death.

Perhaps the father could not leave,” he said. “Maybe he had a family and was afraid Meghan would reveal their secret. Could be any number of reasons. None of them acceptable.”

His embrace tightened, and Catherine reciprocated. Air hissed between his teeth, and he jerked away.

What’s wrong?”

Nothing,” he said through stiff lips.

Liar.” She tugged on the end of his sash, pulling the tie free.

He backed up, securing his wrap. “What are you about?”

You have another injury you failed to mention.”

The doctor has already seen to it.”

What is it?”

She saw him weighing his options, no doubt considering whether to brush off her question with a vague response or put an end to this line of query with the truth. From her perspective, the decision took much longer than it should have.

A contusion,” he said finally.

She frowned, having never heard the term.

Bruise,” he clarified. “A rather unpleasant one.”

Is it the same on your leg?”

He nodded. “Thankfully, my assailant did not shatter my knee.”

Oh, Sebastian.” She reached for his hand, and her chest clenched when his fingers grasped hers in return. “Where else?”

He released a long, heavy sigh. “Concussion.”

She peered at his head, seeing nothing amiss. “Where?”

Are you this motherly to everyone?”

Only to those who insist nothing is wrong. Point, please.” When he did nothing but narrow his gaze on her, she said, “Your attempt to stare me into submission will not work. That particular tactic ceased intimidating me many years ago.” She waved toward his head. “Where did he bash you?”

Rather than point to the location, he grabbed her wrist and lifted her hand to his hair. He carefully guided her fingers through the soft strands until she reached a large bump three inches above his left ear.

She sucked in an astonished breath. “Goodness, my lord. Why are you not abed?”

He closed his eyes, seeming to take comfort from her caress, although she did not touch the painful lump again.

Hearing you say my name is so much more preferable than ‘my lord.’”

Heat rose into her cheeks. “Why do you always evade my questions?” Recalling his other injuries, she stepped around him, her fingers tracing down his nape.

For the same reason you’re keeping the true source of your tears from me.” His luminous gaze followed her progress.

His wide shoulders filled her vision, and she once again experienced a sense of her own delicacy while standing next to him. With a feather-like touch, she skimmed her fingers down his back, circling the lower portion. “Is this where he hurt you?”

She heard him swallow. “Yes.”

May I see?”

Over his shoulder, he said, “You might find more than an ugly patch of skin.”

She hoped so. Retracing her path, she memorized each silk-draped sinew before gripping the neckline of his banyan. With her eyes riveted on her hands, she drew the shimmering cloth off his shoulders. Something desperate and raw raked along her every nerve ending, making her hands tremble and her breaths shaky.

Once his upper arms were free, the silken wrap, secured by his sash, drooped over his bottom, revealing a long black bruise that ran perpendicular to his spine. It had to be six inches long and about two inches high. The visual evidence of the violence he’d endured and suffered alone forced her pleasurable thoughts to the wayside. “Sweet Lord.”

Further speech was impossible, for her throat had closed around that simple, inconsequential phrase.

It’s nothing,” he said in a rough voice. “I hardly know it’s there.”

Fury replaced the ache in her heart. “Well, I know it’s there.” She reached around and freed the sash again. The length of cloth released, and his wrap melted in a pool of emerald silk at his feet.

Her heart hammered in her ears, nearly deafening in its ferocity. He was magnificent. Smooth angles and firm ridges. Taut skin and rippling muscles. Without moving a single inch, he stole her breath.

Have your look, Catherine.” His blue-gray eyes pulsed with fire. “Because in ten seconds, I’m going to show you why that was a dangerous decision.”

His masculine perfection befuddled her mind so badly that it took her several precious seconds to work through his warning. When she finally did, she dropped to her knees and bent to inspect yet another injury. He stood with most of his weight on his right leg, his left leg cocked to provide a measure of balance but little else.

Similar to his lower back, a large bruise covered the underside of his knee. This one looked so much worse. Rather than a perfect outline of a geometrical shape, the bruise on his leg spread out in all angles like a slow-moving cancer. Her fingers hovered over the area, but she dared not touch. “What type of weapon causes this kind of damage?”

He shrugged. “Some type of cudgel, I suspect.”

She sat back on her heels. “You’re rather nonchalant about your attack.” Her gaze sharpened. “Does this sort of thing happen often?”

Nine. Ten,” he said, ignoring her question. “Time’s up.” The rich timbre of his voice held both promise and foreboding.

As he angled his body around, Catherine’s eyes grew more and more round with every new inch revealed. Magnificent. All the adjectives she’d used to describe his body thus far were like defining the Crown Jewels as a set of pretty baubles.

Pretty did not come close to describing his baubles.

He held out his hand. “Come with me.”

Catherine glanced from his hand to his smoldering eyes to the pulsing length of his erection. And there her attention remained, fixed on the delicate smoothness of his flesh straining to accommodate his building arousal. Engorged veins lined the underside of his staff, leading to a round, velvety tip that pointed toward his navel. From there, she followed a slender line of dark hair down to his thick base, which led back to pulsing veins and straining flesh.

In all her years of marriage to Jeffrey, he had never been so blatant, so confident with his bare form. Catherine’s mouth felt suddenly dry, and that’s when she realized her jaw hung open. She closed her mouth so fast that her teeth clicked together.

He crouched down in front of her, the action causing him to wince. “I am inviting you into my bedchamber, Catherine. Do you accept, or must I persuade you?”

She was certain he could hear her heart pounding. What started out as a seduction to save her daughter was progressing into far more dangerous territory. She could no longer feel the guilt or the shame, only the hunger of her body. “Both?”

Bracing his hand on the floor, he leaned forward, sliding his nose alongside hers. The caress of his breath fanned over her lips, compelling hers to part. His kiss was warm and passion-filled, making her body tingle in glorious places and her heart sing with anticipation.

Are you persuaded now?” His words were low, seductive.

Unable to open her eyes, she nodded. “Oh, yes.”

Look at me.”

She blinked her eyes open, surprised by the heavy weight of her lids.

Do you recall the terms of our affaire?”

A sharp ache pierced her chest. “Of course.”

Then you recall that I will be returning to London in a few days.”

The ache spread to her throat. “You have nothing to worry about, Sebastian. I understand that our time together is ephemeral.”

His eyes hardened for the briefest of seconds, then he blinked and their glowing intensity returned. Catherine accepted his hand, and they strode into his bedchamber, one sporting nothing but the perfection of his bare flesh and the other draped in mournful black linen. The contrast was startling and evocative.

The moment she stepped into his bedchamber, Catherine’s senses sharpened. Candles flickered around the room—candles she didn’t recall seeing moments ago when Parker had let her in. The air was redolent with Sebastian’s special scent.

She gathered in a long breath, savoring the delicate woodsy bouquet. The mix of musk and violet suited him much more than the popular sandalwood or ambergris, known for their bold fragrance.

His thumb smoothed over the backs of her fingers. The tender caress drew her attention to the solid warmth of his hand while he guided her toward his massive curtained bed. Like most things in this house, the earl’s bed bespoke privilege, wealth, and an appalling flair for the vulgar. But in this instance, the ceiling-to-floor sapphire hangings, with their silver embroidered cuffs and their plush folds, compelled rather than repulsed.

He stopped near the side of the bed and cradled her flushed cheeks. Bending close, he kissed her forehead and then skimmed his mouth over hers. “I am going to do unspeakable things to you in that bed, Catherine,” he breathed against her lips. “If you have thoughts of fleeing, now would be the time.”

The only place I wish to flee is deeper into your arms.”

The pressure on her cheeks tightened infinitesimally, and his nostrils flared around a shuddering breath. “Then come, my sweet.”

At his urging, she carefully curled her arms around his back, sliding her trembling hands up the satiny planes of his shoulders. He was so large. So solid and strong. Yet his hands explored her body with a gossamer touch, with a skill that left her aching for more.

She pressed closer, delighted and aroused by the evidence of his desire. Every inch pulsing against her stomach was for her, for want of her. The realization was exhilarating. Tormenting.

She shouldn’t want him so much. Every act between them was nothing more than a link to a greater betrayal. They both had secrets, underlying motives for igniting their passions. And he would soon be gone.

The knowledge that he would leave her behind, as her father and Jeffrey had done, sent a bolt of realism straight through her heart. That flash of insight was all she needed to start mentally erecting a familiar barrier, one designed to keep her heart intact and her sanity in place.

Turn around, please,” he whispered.

She swiveled around, and he began working on the fastenings of her gown. All the while, she continued building her protective wall, stone by stone. However, this particular barrier proved more challenging than past ones. The brush of his fingers along her back and the warmth of his lips pressed against her nape distracted her from her task.

Her gown sagged and then billowed to the floor. She evaluated her barrier and groaned. Large clumps of mortar dripped from the seams, and stones sat haphazardly within each row, leaving dangerous gaps. Cool air kissed her burning flesh, and Catherine scrambled to hold up her quivering wall.

His hands skimmed down her arms until he laced their fingers together. “Relax,” he said against her temple.

From his vantage point, she knew he had full view of her nudity, especially when she tilted her head back to rest on his shoulder and arched her arms around until she could clasp her hands behind his neck. With her breasts jutting forward and her bottom snuggled against his rigid length, she felt both vulnerable and luxuriant. His hands caressed their way over her quavering stomach to her swollen, tender breasts. She closed her eyes and tracked his movements with her sense of touch alone.

Beautiful.” He closed his hand over her aching breast, adding the slightest bit of pressure to her ruched peak. A stab of need sliced through her body, lifting her to her toes.

So responsive.” He squeezed again, this time harder, compounding the torturous move by ravishing her mouth.

His tongue slid inside with a thoroughness that made her legs squeeze together. She wanted to hold on to this moment for as long as possible. She wanted to experience a man’s need and have him assuage hers. She wanted to feel alive again.

Breaking the kiss, he threw back the covers and climbed into bed. He reclined against the mound of pillows, lifting one knee and holding out his hand in invitation. A shiver raced along her bare flesh, having nothing to do with her state of undress and everything to do with his sultan-like pose. Rippling muscles, smoldering steel-gray eyes, raw desire. The erotic combination stole her breath.

His hand lowered. “Take your hair down for me.”

The breath she had been holding whooshed from her body. She wasn’t used to such blatant commands. They made her feel uncertain and shy, beautiful and bold.

Straightening her spine, she lifted her hands to her hair and began pulling out pins. He followed the unfurling of every long lock with such intensity that her attempt to appear seductive and unhurried began to fray.

When she finally located the last pin, she breathed a sigh of relief as she swept her mass of blond hair over one shoulder. “Anything else, my lord?”

His nostrils flared. “A good deal more, I assure you, madam.”

He lifted his hand again, and Catherine noticed it was no steadier than hers. She swallowed back the last of her trepidation and accepted his assistance. Once she had scaled the high bed, Sebastian guided her into position. She nearly balked when she realized he wanted her to mount him. Never had she assumed such a place of power with Jeffrey.

Perceptive as always, he noted her hesitation. “Do you mind?” he asked. “I’m afraid my knee won’t hold up to the traditional way.”

He radiated so much power and strength that Catherine momentarily forgot his injuries. “Not at all. What of your head wound?”

I will be careful.”

He tugged on her hand, and Catherine followed his summons. With her knees framing his hips and her hands entwined with his uplifted ones, she knelt above him, taking in the surreal image of Sebastian beneath, gazing up at her as if she were his entire world. Power surged through her, and she lowered her starving cleft until it rested on the warm girth of his erection.

Fire shot up her spine and her muscles clenched tightly. Even though he had not penetrated her yet, her body was on the cusp of a mind-shattering release. She rubbed her slick flesh against his hardness, the exquisite friction making them both moan their approval. She increased the pressure and her pace, nearly flying out of her skin every time her sensitive nub connected with his staff.

Are you through torturing us, madam?” he asked in a desire-clogged voice. Not waiting for her answer, he said, “Kiss me.” Releasing her hands, he let his arms slide around her back, nudging her down.

Their lips met, and Catherine lost herself in their feral kiss. It was wild and exciting and unlike anything she could have imagined. And then she felt him at her entrance, probing, seeking, needing.

She adjusted her position, and he eased inside, filling her with a fullness that made her blood sing and her heart thunder. Bracing her hands on his chest, she had the odd thought of how small they looked against the breadth of him.

He grasped her hips and lifted her high, to the point of nearly releasing him from her channel. Then he encouraged her to sink low once again. On and on it went, their languid pace increasing as the scent of desire flooded their senses.

Come with me, Cat.”

She closed her eyes and searched inward for the tiny spark that would ignite her release. But it remained stubbornly out of reach. Her legs quivered from her exertion, sweat dampened her brow. “I’m t-trying. Can’t quite—”

Hold on,” he commanded.

With barely enough time to comply, Catherine clung to his shoulders while her world upended itself and then she was staring up at the sapphire canopy above his bed. “Sebastian, your knee!”

Forget it,” he said. “Prop those beautiful legs up and meet me halfway.”

Power surged inside her, and Catherine’s hips flexed. She kissed his chest, his neck, his mouth, all the while meeting him with a confidence that surprised her. This is where she belonged, within the cage of his arms, beneath the power of his body. Here, she did not want to be strong, did not want to be in control. At least, not yet.

He hit the spark, and Catherine lifted her hips, pressing closer and closer. No longer pumping a rhythm, only seeking repletion. Greedy in her purpose and not caring a whit.

The spark ignited, sending Catherine into beloved white light.

Their mingled cries of pleasure echoed through the chamber. Within seconds, an unnatural silence settled around them. Their harsh breaths the only indication life existed after such a fierce loving.

All too soon, he peeled his body off hers, kissed his way down to her breast, and then drew her nipple into his mouth. His actions were languid, not meant to arouse, but simply enjoy. When he’d had his fill, he rolled onto his back, bringing her along.

She stiffened in his arms, afraid she would hurt him. “Perhaps it would be best if I did not crowd you.”

Perhaps,” he said, keeping his eyes closed. “But I prefer that you stay right where you are.”

Unwilling to argue about something she wanted anyway, she carefully molded her body around his and rested her head against his chest. She listened to the chaotic beating of his heart until it calmed to a normal rhythm.

And that’s when the first tears gathered. She came here to seduce the earl for a scrap of paper, while her daughter slept beneath a canopy of evil. There was no way to get through this intolerable situation without someone getting hurt, either physically or emotionally.

However, she tried not to fool herself where Sebastian was involved. Affaires were commonplace for him. Pleasurable while they lasted, but he likely gave them little thought once they ended.

After his breathing deepened and his hold slackened, Catherine waited a full twenty minutes before easing out of his bed and dressing. She wended her way down the broad staircase, bracing herself for the appearance of a wide-eyed servant. To appease Cochran, she would search the study again tonight and, tomorrow, the library. She pushed the study door open and held her breath. The room was empty. Dark.

She ran to Sebastian’s desk and lifted the ink blotter to see if any more names had been added to the sheet of paper she found there a few days ago. The list was gone. “Blast,” she whispered.

The realization that she would need a light to continue her search struck terror in her heart. She took precious minutes to see if her eyes would adjust to the gloom. Although she could see a little better, it wasn’t enough.

She located one of those lovely Argand lamps on Sebastian’s desk, but discarded the notion of lighting it. From what she’d read, they provided the same amount of illumination as six candles. Catherine only needed the light of one.

Unable to locate a taper anywhere, Catherine swallowed her fear and lit the lamp. Golden light flooded the room, momentarily blinding her. She glanced at the crack beneath the door and rushed to retrieve a throw from the chaise longue to place in front of it.

The clock on the mantel mocked her with its incessant passage of time. Perspiration dampened her skin. She searched his desk, his bookshelves, and any other drawer she could find. Nothing.

Recalling the hidden compartment in her writing box, she returned to his desk and bookshelves to poke, push, pull anything she could get her hands on. Still nothing.

Frustration seethed beneath layers of fear and desperation. She whirled in a wild circle, seeking some other source for secreting away valuables. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

She drew in a ragged breath, grappling with a sense of defeat and utter relief. Pulling herself together, she extinguished the lamp and replaced the throw on the chaise. She stood in the gloom-filled study, hesitating. Her gaze lifted to the upstairs bedchamber, where a handsome, complicated earl slept in a halo of repletion. Repletion she had given him.

Shrugging off the maudlin thought, Catherine opened the tall paned doors leading out to the garden, closing them behind her. She made her way down to the stables to fetch Gypsy, ignoring the burning sensation in the back of her head. She could not worry about a pair of searing steel-gray eyes watching her, not when she was busy repairing the ruins of her wall.