Page 48 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke
‘How long have you been courting?’
‘Is this an interrogation?’ she asked in an exasperated voice.
He liked the fact that she showed every emotion without care. It was so damned refreshing to speak to an honest woman. Then why did he not trust her? Because caution had been beaten into him as a child and later relearned in his youth. He no more knew how to trust than he knew how to love.
‘If you must know, we are not courting. He is not even looking for a wife. He is a friend.’And what she had with him was just sex. The comparison hit John hard.
‘Do you want to be his wife?’
‘Stop this.’
Yes, then. If she would not answer, the answer must be yes.
He felt sick. Yes, he was selfish. He did not wish any other man to steal away this precious woman. He wanted her all to himself. But he was not spoilt. All the most important things he had wanted in his life he had not had, and now she was added to that list.
He turned away to put his coat on, trying to get a grip on this obsession he felt for her. He felt angry and annoyed, and betrayed again.
Her hands slipped about his midriff without warning, he had not heard her move, and then her cheek pressed to the back of his shoulder.
Ridiculously he felt like weeping, and then he realised he had not shed a single tear over his grandfather’s death, he had barely mourned at all. But he wanted to cry over this woman, who had been waiting here for him for a quarter of his life when he had not even known she was waiting. Not only was she passionate, selfless and giving, but she was also a survivor, as he was, and lonely, as he was. In so many ways they were the same, and yet in so many others they were entirely opposite and poles apart.
‘You may drive me home on Sunday if it is so important to you,’ she said against his back.
He felt something warm and fluid in his chest. The emotion constricted his lungs and stole his breath as he let her hold him and let himself feel the reassurance she offered. This woman he had assumed was a fragile English rose had more courage than him.
‘If you want me too, Katherine,’ he said, without turning. ‘If you do not, I will not force you.’
His gaze looked outwards, across the land that was his. Land that stretched for miles. Was he spoilt, to have everything except what he most wanted – the ability to love this woman and make her his wife?
‘I wish it.’
God alone knew why.
10
Loitering among the gravestones and crypts in the churchyard, suffering inane conversation, John waited on Katherine’s appearance.
Her parents had already gone, as had half the village. The other half it seemed only stayed to indulge him.
John had initially waited beside the clergyman, his hands clasped behind his back, so he would not be tempted to throttle the man. But then those left had huddled into groups and drawn him into conversations.
He was not in the mood to talk. He was too distracted, and not only by thoughts of Katherine. Wareham had turned up. Late. To make an entrance. The whole congregation had turned when the door had opened to let him in. Then the whole congregation had turned to look at John. Clearly Wareham had made no secret of his dismissal.
John had ignored them and looked back to the front, very aware of Katherine talking quietly with the children in the small chapel at the side of the church.
When Wareham had left he had smiled at John, hatred shining in his eyes.
It reminded John of the day his grandfather had given John’s mother that same look, now immortalised in John’s recurring dream.
John had smiled back just as viciously. Let the man fret and squirm, John was not ready to move yet, he wanted more evidence to ensure Wareham could not claim the incorrect totals had been made in error.
However, after Wareham had walked away John sent his grooms to follow, and to fetch others to watch Wareham once they knew where he was staying. John wanted to be able to find the man when the time came to make the charge.
John sighed.
He longed to go into the church and drag Katherine out. He was bored of the obsequious company of local society, and her reverend.
When she finally did appear, though, John was a little shocked to face the paragon of virtue again. Last time he had seen her she had allowed him indecent privileges, now she looked as pure as snow once more. It seemed she could hide her emotions as capably as he could when she wished to.
