His face was so close and so very handsome. She could see concern for her in his beautiful blue eyes. His mouth was almost as pretty, the bottom lip a little fuller than the top. Catryn could not recall the last time she had been kissed by a man, and she suddenly craved a kiss.
Orion knew it was a mistake as he lowered his mouth to hers, but the way she had looked at him had been a temptation he could not resist. There had been the glint of want and curiosity in her sea-green eyes, and his body strongly encouraged him to respond. It took but one brush of his mouth over her full, soft lips to tell him that he could be risking a lot just to steal that little taste, but he ignored the warning.
Catryn curled her arms around his shoulders as he kissed her. When he nipped at her bottom lip, she opened her mouth so that he could deepen the kiss. Her body trembled from the strength of the desire that flooded her. He tasted so good, his body pressed against her was a delight, and he even smelled wonderful. She wanted to sit there in his arms and keep on kissing him until the sun rose.
That thought was enough to make a warning bell sound in her mind and she gently pulled free of his hold. “I believe I need to write a message and send it to my father, for we must try to learn if there is Wherlocke blood in my family,” she said as she stood up and brushed down her skirts with shaking hands, knowing it was a ridiculously abrupt change of subject but desperate to get away from the man.
“Have him send an answer to Radmoor, the Earl of Radmoor’s country home, as we will stop there soon.”
“Good night, Sir Orion.”
“Sleep well, Cat,” he said, and smiled at the way her shoulders stiffened as she hurried away.
It had been an abrupt ending to a sweet moment, but he was not surprised. She had not shied away from his kiss but had not shown any great experience, either. It was yet more proof that he should stay far away from her, but he knew he would not be able to. Already he wanted to hunt her down and kiss her again. Licking his lips, he deemed hers the sweetest mouth he had ever tasted.
“There is trouble for you there, fool,” he muttered to himself as he headed back inside, but a part of him refused to heed any advice, actually anticipated running right after that trouble until it was caught.
Catryn sealed the letter to her father and stared at it for a moment. It had not been easy to write. How did one ask one’s father if he had hidden some dark truth from her? She had thought she knew all that was truly necessary about her family but it was evident she had not; her father had to have hidden information from her. He was a scholar, a man driven to find answers, and he would never have ignored any gaps in the family history. Any place where the lines or histories did not connect, he would have noticed and pursued all avenues for an answer until he found one.
After what she had learned of the Wherlockes and Vaughns, she supposed she could understand the secrecy, but not when it concerned his own family. When she revealed her gift—she still had some difficulty seeing it as such—her father should have told her about any connection to the Wherlockes or Vaughns; he would have known just where those odd talents had come from. Likewise when he learned of Alwyn’s gift. He knew that Alwyn’s black hair was something that showed up in the family now and then, so she could not help but think he also knew just where it came from.
A twinge of hurt was hastily banished. She would wait until she heard from him. Her father had never lied to her, and she had no doubt that he dearly loved her and Alwyn. If he had been keeping secrets, he had to have a very good reason. Since he was a scholar, she doubted it was because of some superstitious fear such as what her mother had suffered from.
She sat up straight and frowned at the thought of her mother: There was the reason that he would keep any connection to the Wherlockes or Vaughns secret. Her mother had loved being out and about in London society, and would have known all about those families. She had probably believed everything said about them as well. Catryn had loved her mother dearly, but the woman had been a very superstitious person, and had believed all manner of strange things that had never made any sense to Catryn. Even knowing what she did now, her mother’s beliefs still appeared to be based more on fear and rumor than fact.
“And now I sound just like my father,” she muttered and went to find someone who could see that her letter was posted as soon as possible.
She kept a close eye out for Orion as she accomplished that little chore and hurried back to her bedchamber. It was a bit childish, but she did not want to face him just yet. She was no experienced flirt and she needed time to adjust to the fact that she had just kissed a man she had known for such a short time. Not only kissed him but wanted to kiss him again. That was something she needed to think on before she confronted him again.
Back in her bedchamber, she stood before the tiny mirror on the small dressing table and touched her mouth. It was far too easy to recall the feel of his lips on hers, of his tongue in her mouth. It had been the most powerful thing she had ever experienced outside of the first time she had felt her child move. There had not been one part of her body that had not reacted to Orion’s kiss.
That was passion, she realized. Henry had never shown her that. A brief fumbling in the dark, and discomfort, were all her late husband had ever given her, and those memories were blissfully hazy. He had not even made up for the lack of passion with companionship, rarely being home and, when he was, rarely interested in even sharing a meal with her. It had been a miserable marriage and, although she would never have wished for his death, she could not say she was sad he was gone.
Now she was faced with Orion, a handsome man she doubted any woman could hold on to. A man who had given her a taste of true passion, of what all the happily married women, or widows with daring enough to take lovers, talked about. The talks, whispers, and laughter had always made her feel envious as well as ignorant. She had not fully understood what they were talking about, but she had also wished she could have known what they had.
Here was her chance to discover what those women had sighed over. Orion was attracted to her and she knew it was not vanity that made her think so. No man could kiss a woman like that unless he wanted her, and she had the feeling that she wanted him, too. All she had to do was decide whether or not she wished to take a lover. It sounded so simple, and yet Catryn suspected she was going to lose a lot of sleep before she could decide.
Chapter Eight
“I shall ride up with you, Sir Orion,” said Catryn as she followed him out of the inn.
“No, you shall not,” he replied without even glancing her way.
She scowled at him as he secured their bags on the carriage. The lack of any stiffness or awkwardness during their morning meal had cheered her, allowing her to simply enjoy his company without worrying that they would have to discuss their loss of composure last night. She needed time to privately consider all that he made her feel, all that heat and need, and what to do about it. Stepping out to meet a beautiful day, the sun shining and the air more warm than cool, had only added to her pleasure. Sir Orion’s cold refusal to allow her to ride up on the box with him put an abrupt end to her sense of contentment.
“Why not?” she demanded. “’Tis a fine, sunny day.”
“So it is.” He turned to look at her. “Clear skies and all. A truly rare day in this country. You would be easily seen and perhaps recognized by anyone we might pass upon the road under such clear, bright skies. Now, that would prove to be a lovely piece of gossip for someone to spread far and wide.”
Catryn realized he referred to her reputation, or, more specifically, the utter ruination of whatever good name she had. She felt foolish for not giving more consideration to the risk she was taking, but that embarrassment faded quickly. Her every thought had been about rescuing her son. The few times she had faltered in that single-mindedness had been when the strong attraction she felt for Sir Orion had intruded. The rest of the time she was so caught up in chasing down Morris that she never thought about such things as trying not to
be seen. And, in the end, her reputation was not, and never would be, worth more than her child and his safety.
“I am not well-known within society,” she said, knowing it for the weak argument that it was.
“You are recognizable as a lady of some standing, and I suspect you are better known than you think you are. A description of you would be enough to shake free a memory or two.” He opened the door to the carriage and held out his hand to help her inside. “Anyone seeing you brazenly riding on the box with me, that red hair blowing in the wind, would make it their business to find out exactly who you are. That is especially true since I am not quite the stranger to society that you believe you are.”
She was seated in the carriage with Giles and the door shut before she had time to think over all he had said. “Brazenly?” she muttered. “I would never do anything brazenly. The man has a lot of gall to speak to me like that.”
Giles shrugged as the carriage started to move. “A lady sitting up on the box of a gent’s carriage would be a bit brazen.” He grinned when she glared at him. “And that hair of yours would catch all eyes and be remembered. It is a shame your boy does not have that color hair, for then he would be easily noticed and we would have an easier time tracking him down.”
“No, he has dark hair like his father. Well, darker than Henry’s was, actually.”
“No, you said he has black hair. That sometimes one of your kin is born with it and your father thinks it comes from some ancestor. I was sitting right there when you told my father.”
“Fine then, it is black. Alwyn has black hair.”
“Like mine.”
“Somewhat.”
A lot like Giles’s hair, she silently admitted, right down to those beautiful waves. Her son had the same deep black hair that, when it caught the light just right, one could swear one saw hints of blue in its depths. Just like Giles had and just like Orion had. Catryn was not sure why she was so reluctant to admit to that, since she had already had to accept the fact that her son might be talking to ghosts. Yet it was getting harder and harder to even think of denying that somewhere, back in the history of her family, one of her ancestors had joined their line with one of Orion’s.
“And you are certain there is no Vaughn or Wherlocke in your blood?” he asked.
“I have never heard it mentioned. Just as I told your father. There would be no point in lying about such a thing.”
“I know, although some folk still do, because of what we can do and how it frightens them. But it puzzles me that you do not know, because I thought all your sort knew your bloodlines well.”
“My sort is interested in the line of succession, the one that leads to inheritances of titles and entailed properties. Other little branches are noted if someone did something heroic. Cowards, criminals, scandals, and lunatics are most often just hidden away in the family lore. Most families keep a precise record of their lineage, but I doubt you will find many who can readily speak knowledgably about it for, as I said, the line to the title and lands is all that is seen as important. I know that line for my family very well, but little else except for the occasional tale of some ancestor who could not inherit. However, I have sent a missive to my father asking him to clarify whether or not there could be some connection between our families.”
“That line being important because your boy can inherit?”
“Ah no, he cannot. He is not in a direct line from the one holding the title because I am not a male. My uncle Garrick has four children, and his eldest son, Michael, will inherit from my father. My uncle also has two other sons, so that leaves little chance for Alwyn. Unlike many another title, the Baron of Gryffin Manor title could fall to a daughter, but only if she is all that is left in the direct line. The man who gained the title for the family pushed for that because he had six daughters; but then he ended up with three sons before he died and passed on the title. There has always been at least one son to inherit through the direct line ever since.”
“So this Morris fellow would have to kill four people to make it happen.” He frowned. “No, it would be five. Or maybe six.”
“Sweet mercy,” she whispered, “that cannot be part of his plan. Morris is not a pleasant man, but I cannot believe he would kill so many. I have never sensed that sort of bloodthirstiness in the man, not even when he was having one of his temper fits. And then it would still come down to Alwyn, not any of Morris’s progeny. Morris is not connected by blood to my family, not by one tiny drop.” She shook her head. “How could it work?” And why am I asking a boy of eight? she asked herself.
Giles folded his arms over his chest in a way that made Catryn think of Sir Orion. “Morris wants to marry you. We know that now that you finally told us everything, as you should. That would put any child he bred on you in that line for gaining the title and all it brings, aye?”
Catryn ignored the fact that she had just been chastised by an eight-year-old boy. “He would have to kill my father, my uncle, my three little cousins, and Alwyn.”
“Children die. Children disappear. Old men get sick and die. Fevers have been known to take down whole families.”
The calm, almost cold way the boy spoke those hard truths made Catryn shiver. It was not only that such a young boy could even think of such things but that Giles accepted them as simply a part of life. She could hear that acceptance in his voice. She wanted to weep for the loss of so much of his childhood. The urge to also shake him for putting such horrible thoughts in her head was strong, but she pushed it aside. It was not the boy’s fault and it was also something she should consider, no matter how much she might want to reject it, push it right out of her mind, and never think of it again.
“You had a hard life before you met your father, and that might be why you can even think of such a dark plot. I, on the other hand, have led a very sheltered life in comparison. I fear everything within me is denying that such a crime could ever be committed.”
“It can be, but I am thinking Morris does not have the spine for it. Beginning to think he does not have the wit to plan it out well, either. It was just a thought.” He pulled a book from the bag at his feet and suddenly smiled, as if he had not just been discussing the murder of nearly an entire family. “You could pass the time by reading to me, aye?”
She took the book from him and saw that it was one her father had praised, calling it a well-written account of the Battle of Taunton. “You are very interested in military matters.” So was she, but she did not tell too many people, for it was considered an odd thing for a lady to be interested in.
“Some, aye. Not enough to be a soldier though, I am thinking. Too hard, too dangerous, and too dirty. I am done with being dirty. You talking on that battle the other day made me remember I had this book and was planning to read it. I could read it myself, but it would be slow work.” He blushed. “I am still learning the skill. I had a bit of skill before meeting my father, seeing as Katie did teach us boys some, but it would be a hard slog through a book like that.”
“Katie? Was she one of the women you said occasionally had the care of you?”
“Different women, different times. Katie was the last. She had a little learning and was teaching us, but she mostly wanted us to bring her things we stole. We thought it was needed, that the men she had round did not pay much for the pleasuring she gave them, and since she was letting us bed down in her little room when she did not have a man in, we felt we owed her.” He grunted. “More fool us. She did not need the pittances we brought her and risked our necks for.”
“She had some other scheme?”
“That she did. She was carrying, and had stopped seeing as many men as was usual. It was why we thought she needed the help. Then, after the babe was born, she left the rooms we shared one day and I followed her.” He blushed. “I was afraid she was going to leave the babe, like I was left.”
“But she did not.”
He shook his head. “She went to a tavern, one of the better ones, and met a man
and woman in one of those private rooms. Had the babe stuffed in a bag so no one could see him. I could see they were of a better kind than us, and I had seen her with the man from time to time, but not as one of the ones she pleasured. She gave them that little boy babe and they gave her a heavy sack of coin. Did it all as sly as possible so no one but me noticed she had come in with a bag and left without one. That was when I understood why she had let herself get caught when she never had before. It was her plan all along to sell a babe. It also explained how she had herself a true gent for a while, when she never had before—not of a rank like my father’s or yours, but not some dockworker or the like, if you understand.”
“A younger son. Perhaps a banker or solicitor.”
“Just like that. Think that couple chose the fellow to get her with child. I could see the woman with the man was real pleased by the babe, so I did not try to get the babe back. Also saw that the woman was looking as if she was about to have a babe herself. Thinking that was all for show. Did go to see where they took him, though. Nice house. They slipped inside all quiet like, with the babe still in the bag, and when I went round the next day they were greeting all kind of folk who were happy and congratulating him on being a father now. Saw them a fortnight past in the park. The lady and a young maid were with the boy and he was all plump and laughing, so I let it be. He is better off where he is. The woman still had that look on her face, too.”
“What look?”
“That look that said she was still happy with her bought babe, that she wanted that little boy to be all hers. I could feel it inside her.”
If He's Daring Page 11
