Page 60 of The Earl's Forbidden Governess
He turned slowly, his face eerily calm. The stillness was unnerving, like the calm before a storm. “This… all of it… this is the truth? And yet… you stayed here all these years… and I trusted you?”
Samuel nodded, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “I… am sorry, My Lord. I... I’m so sorry. I know it doesn’t change anything, but I’ve regretted my actions every day since.”
For a moment, Edward remained still, his eyes boring into Samuel. Then, with a roar of rage that seemed to shake the very foundations of the manor, he lunged at Samuel, his fist connecting with the butler’s jaw with a sickening crack.
Samuel stumbled back, crashing into a bookshelf. Volumes tumbled to the floor as Edward advanced, his face contorted with fury. “You bastard!” he bellowed, raining blows upon Samuel, who simply stood there, accepting the punishment. “They trusted you! We all trusted you!”
Catherine cried out, her heart racing as she watched the violent scene unfold. “Edward, stop!” she pleaded, attempting to pull him away. Her hands grasped at his shirt, feeling the trembling tension in his muscles. “Please, you’ll kill him!”
Her words seemed to penetrate the fog of Edward’s fury. He staggered back, chest heaving, knuckles bloody and raw. Harper slumped to the floor, his face a mess of bruises, blood trickling from a split lip.
“Get out,” Edward growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Get out of my sight before I finish what I’ve started.”
Samuel struggled to his feet, using the bookshelf for support. “My Lord, I...”
“OUT!”
The bellow echoed through the room, causing Catherine to flinch. Samuel stumbled toward the door, pausing for a moment with his hand on the knob. “I truly am sorry, Lord Wessex. For everything.”
As Samuel’s footsteps faded down the hallway, Edward collapsed into a chair, his head in his hands. The fight seemed to have drained out of him, leaving him looking older and more vulnerable than Catherine had ever seen him.
She approached cautiously, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. She could feel the slight tremor running through his body, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil within.
“Edward,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but we need to focus. Isabella is still a threat.”
Edward looked up, his eyes haunted, rimmed with unshed tears. “Isabella. My God, I almost married her. The woman who orchestrated my parents’ murder.”
Catherine knelt beside him, taking his hands in hers. His knuckles were scraped and beginning to swell, warm beneath her touch. “But you didn’t. And now we can stop her, make her pay for what she’s done. Your parents deserve justice, Edward.”
Slowly, Edward nodded, some of the old determination returning to his eyes. “You’re right. We need a plan.”
Catherine looked at him earnestly, then leaned forward to take his hands. “Samuel…” she started, and he shook his head at once. “Edward, he… he can help.”
“Fine,” he bit out at last—reluctantly walking out of the house to call the man back, scowling when he learned that he had not quite left the estate. The butler entered warily, his face swollen and bruised, but there was a look of grim determination in his eyes.
As night fell, casting long shadows across the study, a plan began to take shape. Edward paced the room, his energy seemingly restored by the prospect of action.
“We’ll invite Isabella here tomorrow,” he said, his voice steady and authoritative. “Under the guise of discussing wedding plans. Harper, you’ll confront her with the letters, get her to incriminate herself. Catherine and I will be hidden, along with the authorities.”
Samuel nodded grimly, wincing slightly at the movement. “And then I’ll face the consequences of my actions.”
Edward’s jaw clenched, a flicker of the earlier anger passing across his face. “We’ll deal with that after Isabella is brought to justice. One monster at a time.”
As Harper left to make the necessary arrangements, Edward turned to Catherine. The soft lamplight cast a warm glow on his face, softening the hard lines of anger and grief. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow will be... challenging.”
Catherine hesitated, suddenly unwilling to be parted from him. “Edward, I... I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
Their eyes met, a current of unspoken longing passing between them. Without a word, Edward pulled her into his arms, his lips finding hers in a desperate, passionate kiss. The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them, clinging to each other in the face of all they had endured.
They stumbled toward Edward’s bedchamber, hands frantically pulling at clothing. Buttons popped and fabric tore, but neither cared. As they fell onto the bed, Catherine gasped at the feel of Edward’s skin against hers, warm and alive.
“I’ve missed you,” Edward murmured, trailing kisses down her neck. His hands roamed her body, rediscovering every curve and plane. “God, how I’ve missed you.”
Catherine arched into his touch, all thoughts of propriety forgotten. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “Edward, please...”
Their lips met in a fervent kiss and Catherine let out a low moan when he pressed into her warmth. His skin burned against hers as their hands explored each other, their tongues dueling in a needy kiss.
Catherine threw her head back against the bedding as their hips moved rhythmically against each other and she cried out when he collapsed on top of her, both of them utterly spent.
