More Than Charming (24 page)

He breathed in sharply at her words, bringing his mouth to hers. His lips took possession as his tongue parted hers, sending a tingle through her.

“Catherine.” He rained kisses on her face, her neck. “My God, I can scarcely believe all that has transpired since that night.”

“Mmm,” she murmured, her fingers running through his thick waves.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against her ear. “I could take you right here. Right now.”

She pulled back in shock. “You can’t!” she whispered.

He gave a slow nod. “We’re married now, Catherine. We don’t have to contain our passion.”

“Oh, I don’t wish to contain it, James.”

The relief clear on his handsome face caused an odd flutter in her heart.

“The servants . . .” she went on. “That is, we shouldn’t . . .”

He grabbed her to him once more. “I’ll have you anywhere I wish, love,” he said, trailing kisses down to the swell of her breast. “Anywhere and everywhere.”

She closed her eyes in surrender.

“My lord,” Giles said from the doorway.

Her eyes flew to the door, relief flooding her when she saw that the butler was in the hallway and well out of their view.

Apparently, James wasn’t as relieved as she was. He swore softly and turned his head toward the door. “Yes, Giles.” He shifted to drape his arm comfortably over her shoulders. “What is it?”

The servant entered the room then, his shrewd gaze quickly taking in the scene. Giles seemed pleased to find his master and mistress seated so close together. Catherine had known Giles since she was a child, and it was gratifying to know that the respected servant approved of James’s new wife. But he couldn’t possibly know that James was forced into the marriage. Catherine tamped down that thought.

“Giles,” James said again, breaking through the man’s obvious reverie.

“Yes, um, a letter from your solicitor, my lord,” Giles said, handing the missive to James.

James took the letter and waited for Giles to take his leave. “Oh, and Giles?” he said as the butler turned away.

“Yes, my lord?” Giles answered in an even voice.

“Close the door.”

The butler did as he was told. James set the missive down on the table and turned back to Catherine, his eyes glinting silver. “I’d imagined our trip to town this morning, love.” He came closer to her. “I thought to take you in the carriage.”

“James.” She couldn’t help wondering just how that would have been, though.

“Catherine,” he teased. “Yes. Loving you gently and thoroughly as the countryside rolled on past the window.”

How lovely!

“You no longer feel ill, do you, sweetheart?” he asked.

Catherine blinked for a moment as she recalled her nausea of that morning. The rocking of the carriage caused more discomfort than she’d imagined it could. Thankfully, any trace of her illness was long gone, as she’d come to expect these last few weeks.

“I feel quite well, James.”

“Good.” He wrapped his strong arms around her. “I was worried about you.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that admission, fool that she was. She kissed his chin, his cheek. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

James moved swiftly to capture her lips, apparently pleased to take up where they left off when Giles interrupted them. He did indeed take her in the big wing chair, catching her cries of pleasure as he brought them both swiftly to orgasm.

After he helped her rearrange herself, Catherine couldn’t help but marvel at her attentive husband. Their passion was . . . Well, even in her innocence, she’d never imagined the emotion so linked to the sexual act. She watched him as he read the note from his solicitor. Apparently, he was able to quickly shift his mind from their incredible release to his business matters. Well, it wasn’t as if his heart was engaged.

“I have quite a few papers to review with my solicitor, Catherine.” He folded the note and smiled in her direction. “I’ll see to this tomorrow, however. I don’t wish to leave you alone on our first day back in town.”

She nodded. That was something. Resignation struck her then. “And no doubt I’ll find many invitations to keep us busy in the coming weeks.”

That afternoon she sat in the parlor at a small writing desk placed in front of a beautiful bay window overlooking the courtyard in back of the house. James, planning on that visit to his solicitor on the morrow, was in his study reviewing his ledgers in preparation. She opened the cards, amazed at her husband’s popularity and hers by association. She penned answers to the notes congratulating them on their nuptials, setting aside the invitations to dinners and the like until she could discuss the dates and times with her husband.

She neared the bottom of the pile when one particular note caught her eye. It was written in a lady’s delicate hand and addressed solely to James. From whom could this be? Catherine set the note aside, quite surprised by the prick of jealousy that flared through her. She shook her head as she chided herself. No doubt this was brought on by her condition.

That put her in mind to dash off a note to Dr. Morgan, which she handed to Giles, instructing him to see to it right away. With James sure to be busy with his solicitor, tomorrow afternoon would be ideal for a visit from the doctor.

Returning to her task, Catherine once more perused the letters, pausing every so often to glance at the mysterious note at her elbow. Teatime soon arrived. Giles set a tray laden with tea and biscuits on the table before the hearth, then bowed to her and left the room.

“A bit bogged down with the correspondence, love?” James asked from the doorway a short while later.

She started in surprise, then smiled. “Not too terribly, James.” She came to her feet. “And what of your ledgers?”

He shrugged dismissively. “Just the usual tangles, wife,” he answered easily. “It’ll take a bit to straighten them with the solicitor, however.” He crossed to her and gave her a sweet kiss.

“Are you going in the morning?” she asked him.

“I suppose I must.” His gaze touched on the amount of paper littering the top of the small desk. “My God.” He picked up some of the letters in his hand. “We don’t have to attend all of these functions, do we?”

She laughed at the look of dismay on his face. His dark brows were arched sharply over wide-open gray eyes.

“I daresay you’re quite popular in town, James. We’ve been invited to an inordinate number of functions in the coming weeks. I’ll leave the decision of which to attend and which to forego to you, however.”

He set the papers back down and hugged her, resting his chin on the top of her head. “I would prefer to forego all of them, love, if I believed for a moment we could stay quietly tucked in here at home.”

She closed her eyes and leaned against him. As for her, she much preferred keeping his company to herself rather than sharing him with the society matrons. She straightened, suddenly remembering the missive addressed solely to him.

“James, a letter came for you.” She plucked the letter off the desktop and handed it to him.

“A letter for me?” He looked at it, curiosity stamped on his face. “I don’t recognize the handwriting.”

She nodded as he released her and opened the letter. She watched him as he scanned the contents, puzzled as a dark scowl darkened his handsome features.

“Of all the . . .” He visibly collected himself and managed a small smile. “This is nothing of consequence, Catherine. I’ll take care of this.”

She watched as he crumpled the letter and thrust it into his pocket.
Of no consequence?
Catherine wouldn’t press him for an explanation, not now. They set about sharing their tea and discussing the upcoming evening, neither saying any more about the letter.

She couldn’t put it out of her mind, though. Who had written it? And why had it made James so angry?

*     *     *

Alone in his study after tea, James withdrew the offending missive from his pocket. It was from Priscilla Brooks, Lady Brookdale. The widow wished to have an assignation with him? Apparently, his earlier decline of such an offer was of no consequence to the grasping witch. The lady intimated in her letter that, since he was now a married man, no one need learn if they met for a tryst. Nearly all of the married men of her acquaintance indulged themselves, she informed him in the note. And with a young and inexperienced wife like Catherine Talbot, she had added with a large dose of venom, he must be sorely ready for such an arrangement.

He threw the note into the trash. “That little bitch.”

He withdrew paper and pen and swiftly wrote a reply to her offer. He managed to remain cordial while at the same time allowing no chance that the widow would think him open to such an arrangement. His social aptitude and innate charm gave him the words and nuances to keep from calling her every derogatory name he could think of. As if he would dally with such a woman. As if he would ever betray his wife.

“Not bloody likely,” he growled, pressing his seal into the wax.

He left the letter with Giles to see it delivered and dismissed all thoughts of Priscilla and her distasteful offer from his mind.

That night in their chamber, in a bed nearly as large as the one they shared at Bradford Hall, Catherine cuddled against her husband’s side. James cradled her gently, stroking her hair as she breathed slowly and evenly in slumber. He recalled the amazing passion they’d shared just a scant half-hour earlier. God, she was incredible. She could drive him wild with just a glance, let alone a kiss. And what she did to him with that perfect mouth of hers . . . He’d never felt such passion for another woman as he did for his sweet wife.

That thought brought the distasteful subject of Lady Brookdale’s letter to his mind. How could Priscilla think he’d have anything to do with her? Catherine was everything he could ever want, both in bed and out. She was sweet and kind, caring and passionate. And she loved him.

She shifted beside him and let out a tiny sigh. He brushed the hair from her brow and kissed her there, gently. Perhaps he should rethink this love business. He could easily love Catherine. So easily that it sometimes scared him senseless. Letting out a sigh of his own, he put the matter out of his mind and concentrated on just how wonderful she felt in his arms. He soon fell asleep, a small smile curving his lips.

The next morning, soon after taking breakfast with Catherine, James took his leave. He was off to his solicitor’s office, a thick stack of papers tucked under his arm. Catherine watched him go and thought to begin work on a new project to occupy her time, one meant solely for their residence in town. She’d work on a new fire screen, this one for their chamber upstairs.

The bedchamber of the townhouse was decorated much like the one at Bradford, but with a lighter touch. The huge four-poster dominating the space was of dark wood, and draperies of burgundy and ivory hung at the windows. An Oriental rug in nearly the same colors covered the floor. The mantle of the fireplace was gilded, and Catherine thought it quite a regal touch. Flanked by two ivory wing chairs, the fireplace would benefit nicely from the addition of a fire screen covered with flowers. Catherine thought to place several vases of flowers in the space as well, further softening the masculine room.

As she sat in the parlor that morning tracing a pattern upon the screen, she noted with pleasure that flowers were now placed about that space, as well. Obviously, Giles’s work, and most certainly for her benefit. She recalled seeing no such feminine touches that night she’d called on James after the Markham ball. She smiled as she recalled his surprise at her arrival. Oh, how she’d melted when he kissed her so passionately! Humming to herself, she took pains to carefully sketch the floral design on the screen, mentally selecting the colors to be painted in afterward.

After dining alone for dinner, she sat once more in the parlor, anxiously awaiting Dr. Morgan’s visit. The doctor had sent a note after breakfast, informing her that he would be most pleased to come for a visit that afternoon. He’d been their family physician for years, having seen to her health as a child as well as delivering her little niece. While Catherine trusted the man implicitly, she was more than a bit nervous about what she would do if he confirmed her suspicions about a baby. Suspicions? She was all but certain. What would she tell James?

Would he take a mistress when she grew large? She knew that some men acted in such a manner, although she suspected that her brother and Lord Kanewood had remained ever faithful during their wives’ times of confinement.

But they loved their wives. James certainly desired her at present, but would he cast her aside when she grew too large and uncomfortable for their vigorous lovemaking?

Dr. Morgan arrived shortly thereafter, to her great relief. Giles led the doctor to the parlor, a curious look stamped on his face.

Catherine quickly dismissed the butler and turned to face the doctor. “Hello, Dr. Morgan.”

“Lady Catherine,” the man said with warmth, his blue eyes sparkling. “Or should I say ‘Lady Roberts?’”

Catherine smiled. “I’m pleased you were available to see me this afternoon.”

She sat down on one of the chairs by the fireplace and waved to the man to follow her lead. The doctor nodded as he sat across from her.

“Catherine,” he said with a familiarity borne of long-acquaintance, “I daresay this is more than a social call, yes?”

She glanced nervously at the parlor door, noting with relief that the door was closed tight, then folded her hands in her lap and managed a smile. “I believe you’re too astute by half, Dr. Morgan.”

She quickly explained her symptoms to Dr. Morgan, who nodded thoughtfully as he listened.

“The nausea, the dizziness, are quite indicative, my dear,” he said at last. “And when was your last monthly?”

Catherine blushed as she mentally calculated the time. “October,” she said softly. “Shortly after we were married.”

“Hmm,” the man said to himself. His blue eyes ran over her with a thoughtful glint. “I would like to examine you, if I may.”