Page 31 of The Earl's Forbidden Governess
Catherine’s breath caught in her throat at this. She wanted nothing more than to throw open the door, to tell Edward that she too felt that impossible pull toward him—that desire that sent every logical thought racing in the opposite direction.
Catherine’s heart sank as she listened to the retreating footsteps. Only when she could no longer hear them did she allow herself to step away from the door and collapse onto her bed.
She stared up at the canopy, replaying the kiss they had shared until she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 15
Edward paced the length of his study, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The blasted ball—and that kiss— had stirred up feelings he'd long thought buried, and at the center of this maelstrom was Catherine Winslow.
He paused at his desk, his gaze falling on the leather-bound journal he hadn't touched in years. With a trembling hand, he reached for it, running his fingers over the worn cover. How long had it been since he'd last put pen to paper, pouring out his thoughts and fears?
As he opened the journal, a memory flashed unbidden in his mind—Catherine, her eyes wide with shock and guilt as he caught her reading these very pages. Catherine, dressed in her nightdress, weak in his arms as he kissed her.
Edward closed his eyes, remembering the softness of her lips, the small gasp of surprise she'd made. It had been a moment of madness, born of anger and frustration, but it had awakened something in him he thought long dead.
And now, after tonight...
His mind drifted to their encounter by the fountain, the way Catherine had melted into his arms, returning his kiss with a passion that matched his own. He could still feel the curve of her waist under his hands, still taste the sweetness of her mouth.
A groan escaped him, and he slammed the journal shut. What was he doing? He was the Earl of Wessex, for God's sake. He had responsibilities, duties. He couldn't afford to be distracted by a pair of green eyes and a quick wit.
And yet...
Edward threw the journal across the room in a sudden fit of anger. It hit the wall with a dull thud and fell to the floor, pages splayed open like broken wings.
He sank into his chair, burying his face in his hands. How had he allowed this to happen? How had this slip of a girl managed to breach the walls he had so carefully constructed around his heart?
For years, he had lived in a state of suspended animation, going through the motions of life without truly living. And now, Catherine Winslow had awakened him, bringing color and warmth back into his world.
He was not quite sure how he was meant to feel about it.
Before he could stop himself, Edward found himself on his feet, moving toward the door. He knew where his feet were taking him, knew he should turn back, but he couldn't seem to stop.
He paused outside Catherine's door, his hand hovering over the knob. This was madness. He should return to his room, forget this foolishness. But instead, he found himself turning the handle, easing the door open as quietly as possible.
The room was bathed in soft moonlight, casting a silvery glow over Catherine's sleeping form. Edward's breath caught in his throat as he gazed at her.
She lay on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek, dark hair spilling across the pillow. Her face, usually so animated in conversation, was peaceful in repose. Long lashes cast shadows on her cheeks, and her lips were slightly parted.
Edward moved closer, drawn by an irresistible force. She truly was beautiful, he realized. Not in the conventional, society-approved way of someone like the fair ladies of the ton, but in a way that was different. Special.
What would it be like, he wondered, to truly be with her? To allow himself to desire her without holding back, to love her openly and without fear? To wake up each morning to those green eyes and that quick smile?
The thought both thrilled and terrified him. Love had brought him nothing but pain in the past. His parents' love for each other, cut short so brutally. His own budding feelings for Isabella, shattered by tragedy and suspicion.
Could he really open himself up to that kind of vulnerability again?
As if sensing his presence, Catherine stirred in her sleep, murmuring something unintelligible. Edward froze, suddenly aware of how inappropriate his presence in her room was.
What was he doing? This was madness, pure and simple.
He backed away, his heart pounding. He had to leave, now, before he did something truly foolish.
Edward slipped out of the room, closing the door as quietly as he'd opened it. He leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart.
This couldn't continue. He had to put a stop to those feelings before they spiraled out of control. For Catherine's sake as much as his own.
Lost in his thoughts, Edward made his way downstairs. He needed air. He needed to clear his head.
