Windswept Read online

  “Tell me something,” Rhys said, breaking into his thoughts. “Do you really suspect her of involvement with Lord Mansfield’s death?”

  Evan stared at his longtime friend, trying to assemble all the evidence that had pointed to her complicity. None of it seemed very convincing now. “I suppose I did once. Two days ago, I was almost sure of it.”

  Leaning back, Rhys eyed him with interest. “And now you’re not?”

  “I’m not sure about anything anymore.” Evan laid his head against the headboard. “I’m not sure why Catrin saved my life or why she sent Morys packing when he only wanted to help her. I’m not even sure why she explained the situation to you and Juliana, especially when it reflected badly on her.”

  A long silence ensued, punctuated only by the beat of the clock in the hall.

  “If I might venture an opinion,” Rhys said, “it seems that Mrs. Price’s lies and her fleeing the scene are understandable, given her shyness and her lack of experience in dealing with London officials. And I find it hard to believe a woman like her would go to such lengths merely to acquire a family heirloom.”

  Evan stared up at the ceiling, thinking of the ugly bronze object that had caused so much grief. “Yes, well, the chalice is . . . more than that. She thinks she has pressing reasons for acquiring it.”

  “Pressing enough to have a man robbed and murdered?”

  Evan thought of Catrin’s kindness to her servants, her generous spirit, her willingness to put aside her natural reticence when it was necessary . . . like when she’d saved his life.

  That one act had transformed his entire image of her. Or had he had the right image from the beginning? Had he merely allowed his rage at her lie about the chalice to blind him to her true character? The Catrin who’d saved his life was not the Catrin he’d imagined plotting to steal from Justin.

  He turned an unsettled gaze on Rhys, who awaited his answer. “I’m not sure anything in this world could compel Catrin to hurt someone.”

  “Except a threat to your well-being,” Rhys said dryly. “She certainly routed Morys, didn’t she?”

  Evan smiled. “You should have seen that pompous bastard’s expression when she hit him. He never for one moment expected it.” He shook his head. “I never expected it. When I handed her the loaded pistol and told her she’d have to defend herself, she looked as if I’d asked her to handle dog dung with her bare hands.”

  His smile faded. “But she did it to save my life, paying me good coin for the bad I’d given her.” He didn’t remember much about her confrontation with Morys, but he did remember her standing with that cocked pistol, willing to defend Evan to the death if Morys didn’t leave.

  Why had he been so ready to think that Catrin had conspired against Justin? The woman who’d risked her life to save him, who’d shown courage and kindness time and again, couldn’t be part of such a horrendous act.

  “You’re in love with her,” Rhys said, breaking into Evan’s thoughts.

  Evan stared at his friend as the statement thundered in his ears. Was he in love with Catrin? Was love this feeling of being in a permanent state of waiting for her return? Or the crushing ache he’d felt when he’d believed her guilty of involvement in Justin’s murder? Was love what had made their ride from Llanddeusant a torment unmitigated even by his absurd attempts at reciting Latin?

  Or what made him cringe whenever he thought of the difference in their backgrounds?

  “If I am in love,” Evan said morosely, “Fate has certainly played a devilish trick on me. She has wealth and rank and can marry anyone she wants, especially now that she has—”

  Wait, what had happened to the chalice? Evan tried to remember if she’d picked it up, but everything from that time was hazy. She and Morys had discussed it. That was all he’d absorbed. Still, she’d had the pistol, so she would never have let Morys have the chalice.

  “Now that what?” Rhys asked.

  “Nothing. But you see what I mean, don’t you? A woman like Catrin Price with a man of my background? It’s impossible.”

  “Not if she loves you.” Rhys leaned forward. “I would never have thought to marry an earl’s daughter, but Juliana proved that a good woman doesn’t care about such things. And you’ve just been telling me what a good woman Mrs. Price is.”

  “That’s the trouble. Catrin is too good for the likes of me.”

  Henrietta had been a good woman, too, and after witnessing his violent side, she’d recoiled. Still, hadn’t Catrin seen him at his worst that day in her study? Was it possible she could come to love him?

  Evan considered telling Rhys about his fears, but couldn’t bring himself to reveal his dark urges to the man he respected more than anyone. “In any case, I don’t even know how she feels about me.”

  “You could ask her.”

  Evan’s smile faded. God, he’d be devastated if he asked and she spurned him. “I don’t know, Rhys.” He sighed. “But perhaps I will.”

  Rhys took one look at his expression and rose. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t right of me to meddle. I’m becoming as bad as Juliana, tormenting you with questions when all you want is a joint of mutton.” Rhys was back to his light tone, for which Evan was grateful. “I’d best go downstairs and see to getting you some sustenance. Juliana will take a stick to me if I leave you starving.”

  He walked to the door, then paused. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. That Morys fellow came here looking for you and Mrs. Price yesterday.”

  Evan scowled. “What did you tell him?”

  “I sent him on a wild-goose chase. He won’t be back for a while, so don’t worry about him.”

  “Thank you. One of these days I must figure out how many centuries it will take me to repay you and Juliana for everything you’ve done.”

  “Nonsense. You’re a friend. You owe us nothing.” Rhys opened the door and grinned. “I take that back. Give us an autographed copy of your next book, and we’ll be content.”

  Evan managed a smile as Rhys walked out. Then he lay back against the pillow. The muddle in his head was giving him a great deal more trouble than the pain in his shoulder. His thoughts twisted and turned, always returning to one place. Catrin, the woman who’d entranced his soul.

  And yes, the woman with whom he was wonderfully, horribly in love. What was he going to do about her?

  Marry her. That was what people did when they were in love. It was the only way to keep her.

  But did he dare? Even if she’d have him, could he risk seeing his marriage degenerate into one like his parents’, where love was twisted up with explosive violence and loathing? Memories assailed him of his father’s vicious temper and subsequent tearful apologies . . . his claiming to love his wife even though he beat her and their children regularly.

  Father and Mother had both claimed to love each other. Yet what Evan felt for Catrin wasn’t violent. The only time he’d come close to hurting her physically was when he’d thought she was lying, and he’d resisted the urge.

  He couldn’t imagine striking her because she spilled his glass of wine or spent too much on a gown or talked too loudly in church, all things for which his father had beaten his mother. He certainly didn’t want to make Catrin fear his moods and cringe whenever he raised his voice. The idea of Catrin watching him with constant wariness repulsed him.

  And children. Oh God, if he ever had children with Catrin, he’d never hurt them. He’d cherish any child that came of their union.

  For the first time in his life, hope flickered within him. Perhaps he wasn’t like his father. Yes, he’d lost his temper in the past, but he’d never hurt anyone he loved or anyone more helpless than himself. And he especially couldn’t imagine doing so after his near brush with death. Life was too sweet to waste in anger.

  It had made him realize something else, too. He needed Catrin. He wanted her for the rest of his life, and there was only one way to ensure that—marriage. He must ask her to forgive him for his deplorable lack of faith in her earlier.<
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  But first, he would explain what she was taking on if she agreed. It was only fair to let her know of the dark possibilities, of the violence that simmered in his breast. Once before, he’d tried to hide it from the woman he wanted to marry, and that had ended disastrously.

  This time he’d do things differently, tell her everything, even if it meant that she refused him. He only prayed that she didn’t.

  18

  ·s the last slivers of daylight crept in splintered designs across the rich carpet, Catrin paused outside Evan’s room. Should she go in, or wait until she’d heard from a servant that he was awake?

  She glanced down at the simple muslin gown Lady Juliana had loaned her. It hung on her, and Catrin wished she had the curves to fill it out. Despite all she and Evan had gone through, she had this inexplicable need to look beautiful for him.

  Oh well. Evan would have to settle for clean and presentable.

  The sound of footsteps made her whirl to find a maid coming toward her with a tray of food.

  “Good evening,” Catrin said. “Is that for Mr. Newcome?”

  The young woman nodded. “The master says he wants dinner.” She glanced doubtfully at the tray, which was heaped with plates holding bread and cheese and a joint of mutton. “If you ask me, this is too much for a sick man, but the master laughed at Cook when she tried to tell him so, and milady isn’t here just now to set him straight.”

  “I suppose it can’t hurt to offer it,” Catrin said. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to bring it in myself.”

  “Certainly, miss.” The maid handed over the tray, then opened the door.

  As Catrin slipped inside, she found herself suddenly reluctant to face Evan. What would she do if he’d returned to his suspicions? Staring down at the tray, she said, “I waylaid the servant and stole your meal. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Only if you don’t intend to give me any of it.”

  The rumbling amusement in his voice made her look up to see him sitting on the edge of the bed. She dragged in a sharp breath. He looked so wonderful in his breeches and the large shirt covering his bandaged shoulder and arm. Despite everything he’d been through, his color was better, and he smiled at her with such devastating effect she could only smile back.

  As he pushed himself to a stand, her smile vanished. “What are you doing?” She set the tray down and hurried to his side. “You shouldn’t be up yet! You’ll hurt yourself!”

  Laying his free arm about her shoulder, he leaned on her. “I’m really much better. And I don’t want to eat in the bed like an invalid.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You’re not getting me back into that bed just now, Catrin, so don’t even think about it.” He did seem stronger, for he barely put any of his weight on her as they headed toward the table where she’d set the tray. “Besides,” he continued in a husky voice, “I don’t mind struggling out of bed when it allows me to hold you.”

  The tender note in his voice was painfully familiar. She looked up to find his eyes burning with a fire she’d never thought to see again. She couldn’t breathe or move.

  Apparently neither could he, for they’d come to a complete halt. He turned toward her, dropping his good arm from her shoulders to her waist so he could pull her close. When he brushed a kiss to her forehead, she let out a sigh and slipped her arms about him.

  “Catrin,” he whispered. “I’ve been thinking about doing this ever since I woke up.”

  “So have I.”

  He nuzzled her temple. “You haven’t been cursing me for hauling you across the country on the basis of my foolish suspicions?”

  She pulled back to stare at him uncertainly.

  His eyes filled with remorse. “I’ve been the greatest fool. I must have been mad to think you were involved with Justin’s murder. I know in my heart you’d never do such a thing.”

  Relief hit her so swiftly that she erupted into tears.

  Looking stricken, he pressed his lips to her cheek. “Please don’t cry, darling. I’ve made you cry enough. I don’t ever want to make you cry again.”

  Darling. That made her tears flow even more freely. “I’m s-sorry,” she stammered, wiping the tears away. “I just didn’t know what to expect. I feared that once you got better, everything would go back . . . to how it was before.”

  His voice dropped to an aching whisper. “You mean, when I let my stupid anger blind me to what should have been obvious from the start—that you could never commit a crime? When I sat on a horse, holding you in my arms while every step closer to London tormented me? God, it nearly killed me to think I’d never kiss you or caress you or make love to you again.”

  She lifted her gaze to his, scarcely daring to believe his words. “But you were so . . . cold that day. I thought you’d dismissed me totally from your mind.”

  “Only a eunuch could have done that, and I’m no eunuch.” He grimaced. “I don’t know how you can ever forgive me for the things I said and the wretched way I treated you. I didn’t even bother to consider your version of events. Morys recognized one thing, at least. I deserved to be shot for how I behaved.”

  His remorse so touched her that it blotted out her earlier hurt. “It wasn’t entirely your fault. I did lie to you. And it’s easy to see why you might have thought I’d—”

  “No, it’s not easy to see.” His eyes glittered like gems at the bottom of a night stream. “I behaved like a deuced idiot. It was one thing to be angry at your lie, but I carried it too far.”

  His breath came quickly now, as if it took all his strength to speak. “After my tantrum, I should have stopped to consider the absurdity of my accusation, instead of hauling you off like a common criminal. If I’d used half a brain that morning, I wouldn’t have gotten myself shot later and put you in danger.”

  She cupped his face in her hands. “And if I hadn’t been such a coward and told you the truth in the first place, none of it would have happened.”

  “Coward?” His voice held a note of incredulity. “You saved my life! Morys would have killed me if it hadn’t been for you.”

  “Yes, but if not for me you wouldn’t have—”

  “Enough. If it makes you feel better, I’ll lay some of the blame on you, but only so we can forgive each other and put it behind us.” He splayed his hand across the small of her back. “Besides, I can think of a hundred more important things to do just now than fight over who was more guilty of getting me shot, especially since I survived it.”

  The look in his eyes drained the breath from her lungs. Understanding . . . caring . . . desire . . . all shone forth where once there’d been nothing but condemnation and hurt.

  “In fact,” he rasped as his gaze trailed to her lips, “I can think of one very important thing I want to do just now.” Then he brought his mouth down on hers.

  Such a kiss he gave her, sweet and light, like whipped cream, the kind of kiss befitting a vow to abandon the past. She’d almost forgotten how snugly his lips fit with hers. And how easily he could make her blood leap and race.

  He drew back, his eyes wide and wondering. “How could I have ever thought to give this up . . . to give you up?”

  This time when he kissed her, his mouth began a ravening possession that sent wild shivers over her skin. His tongue mated with hers in a mesmerizing rhythm, as if he had an unquenchable thirst for her, as if he sought to find the very secret to her soul.

  She knew she shouldn’t let him kiss her. There was no point to it. He wouldn’t offer her marriage, and even if he did, she couldn’t marry without the chalice.

  But he needs me right now, she told herself as he enveloped her in his scent and taste and essence. I can’t turn him away.

  And she needed him, too, to wash away the terror of the past few days. She strained against him, wanting to feel more of him, and he drew her so close, she could feel his arousal through his breeches.

  “Oh, Catrin,” he murmured against her lips, “you see what you do to me? I’
ve barely left the sickbed and I want you beyond endurance.”

  His words were a splash of cold water, reminding her of where they were and what he’d been through. She drew back. “You shouldn’t be standing like this.”

  “I want to hold you.” He brushed kisses over her cheek. “I need to hold you.”

  “You can hold me while you’re sitting down. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Not yet, anyway. She needed more time with him.

  With a groan, he let her lead him to the chair, but as soon as she had him seated, he tugged her into his lap and buried his face in her neck. “You were right; this is much better.”

  He kissed a path along her collarbone to the cleft between her breasts. Closing her eyes with a sigh, she clasped his shoulder.

  Then she felt the bandages beneath his shirt. By heaven, what was she doing? He shouldn’t even be out of bed!

  “No, Evan.” She pushed his head from her breast. “For heaven’s sake, you’ve only just recovered. You need time to regain your strength. I’ll die if you fall ill again. It nearly killed me watching you languish from that fever.”

  His eyes darkened as he gazed at her flushed cheeks, her half-parted lips, her gaping bodice. “Good God, I don’t know how I’ll wait.”

  She turned her face away for fear she’d burst into tears if he said many more seductive things like that. He leaned forward to kiss her, but she slipped off his lap.

  As he stared at her, his breath coming hard and his eyes gleaming, she planted her hands on her hips. “You should eat some of this food you called for. It’ll help you recover your strength.”

  Apparently sensing the change in her mood, he watched her solemnly. “I’ll eat, don’t worry. But first I have things to talk to you about. Important things.”

  Oh no. Although he’d said he believed her now, he probably still wanted her to tell the constable what she had or hadn’t seen, and she couldn’t bear the thought.

  “We’ll talk after you eat,” she said brightly. “You really should get some sustenance in you.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You certainly want to hasten my recovery.”