by Amelia Grey
“What are you going to do?”
“This.”
His fingers moved over her and her breaths suddenly became short and raspy. He stroked her pearl of desire in a soft, slow circular motion. The tingle was frantic. She had never felt anything so intense in her life. Her hips started moving with his hand. Faster. Harder.
The sensation built inside her so quickly her whole body suddenly exploded with sensation. She jerked and shivered as she cried out with pleasure. John covered her mouth in a searing kiss.
What she felt was too powerful to understand. His hand stopped and he cupped her. He held her tighter, softening the pressure on her lips, and on her core.
When the shuddering stopped, she gasped. She held him tighter for a wild moment thinking she could keep him forever in her arms. She wanted to ask him not to leave her. She wanted to ask him to marry her, but she knew she couldn’t do that.
She pushed away from him, suddenly heartsick that a man who could make her feel so sensational didn’t love only her.
John removed his hand from beneath her clothing and helped her pull down her skirts.
As her breathing calmed, she said, “I don’t know what you did to me, but I’ve never felt that intense before.”
He smiled. “Do you feel calmer and more relaxed?”
Satisfied but not content.
She nodded and asked, “Did you—did we—do what I think we did?”
He smiled as he readjusted himself in the seat and in his trousers. “No. You are still very much a virgin and I’m still very much—ah.” He looked down at the bulge between his legs. “Let’s just say you needed an emotional release and I provided it.”
“Thank you.” She moistened her lips and added, “But what about you? Are you—?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll manage.”
He laughed and gently pulled her into his strong arms. She laid her head on his shoulder and she buried her face into his neckcloth. He seemed to know just when she needed his strength. The meeting with Mr. Beechman had drained her, and it felt so wonderful to be held in John’s comforting arms.
She understood now how a woman could love a man so much she would trap him into marriage. But Catherine realized she loved John too much to do that to him.
“You’re not crying, are you?” he asked as he caressed her back and shoulders.
She raised her head and looked into his eyes. “Certainly not. I’m not going to cry, but I am sad about what happened to my father and that he and my mother never had a chance at happiness.”
“And how do you feel about your grandfather?”
“A man who admitted he wouldn’t let my mother marry his son, a grandfather who looked at me, and I’m sure recognized me, but wouldn’t acknowledge me? I don’t know.” She shook her head, and then said, “You do think he recognized me, don’t you?”
He caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I don’t know, Catherine. Maybe. Maybe he’s too mixed up about the past to realize exactly who you are.”
“He did seem a little touched in the head at times, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“My mother must have been devastated when she heard my father had been killed.”
“I’m sure she was, but she married Patrick Reynolds and was happy, wasn’t she?”
“As far as I can remember; I was so young when she died.”
“You didn’t tell Mr. Beechman you thought you were his granddaughter. Why?”
“I realized when I was looking at him, listening to him, that I would receive no pleasure or pain from telling him. After all these months of wondering and wanting to know the truth, the only thing I feel is relief that I know what happened. Comfort knowing my father didn’t abandon me and my mother.”
“Then you have the answers you sought and you can get on with your life.”
She nodded, not even wanting to think about getting on with her life because that would mean without John in it. He now had no reason to continue to pursue her as she’d asked him to, but she couldn’t bear to think about that right now, not after what just happened between them.
“I think Mr. Beechman knows who I am, but he can’t admit it. I’m not sure he ever will.”
“Perhaps old age has destroyed his mind,” John offered.
“Or maybe he’s slowly going mad because of guilt.” She pondered both their comments for a moment before adding, “I’m going to come see him again and try to get to know him.”
John looked surprised. “Are you sure? His mind seemed a little unstable to me.”
“To me, too, but he is my grandfather. Maybe one day I’ll have the strength to tell him that a part of his son still lives. Do you think that would help him or hurt him?”
His expression softened again. “I don’t know, Catherine, but I think it’s admirable you want him to know. And I believe it’s the right thing to do.”
The coach stopped and Catherine pushed out of John’s arms and straightened her dress.
“Thank you for all your help, John.”
His gaze held fast on hers. “You know I don’t want gratitude.”
“I know.”
“I’ll get out first and make sure no one is around. You wait here.”
John stepped out of the coach, but Catherine knew he was really stepping out of her life.
HE’D NEVER DONE that before. Pleasured a woman and not received satisfaction at the same time. But for the first time that he could remember, it hadn’t been important to him to be pleasured. He was only thinking of Catherine.
That was new for him, too.
John leaned back against the softness of the carriage bench and propped his booted feet on the opposite seat. He folded his arms behind his head and stared out the window.
Catherine was good at hiding it, but he knew her emotions had been running away with her. Sexual release was the most satisfying feeling there was. Not finding her father left her unfulfilled; he knew pleasing her that way would comfort her.
And it had.
He’d watched her face, heard her sounds of surprise, wonder, and pleasure. He knew it had been good for her and that made him feel so blasted good. And he’d left her pure, well almost, for her wedding night. He felt damn good about that, too.
A sharp pain stabbed through him. He didn’t like to think of Catherine marrying anyone. He didn’t even like the idea of another man kissing her. Oh, hell—who was he trying to fool? He didn’t even want anyone holding her hand when they were dancing.
So what was he doing allowing his friends to talk him into a race he didn’t want to ride in and risk losing the right to pursue her? Racing horses no longer held any desire for him. He was angry that he’d allowed himself to be talked into it. He wouldn’t give her up even if Westerland should somehow win.
Then he’d be considered a man without honor. What a hell of a mess. He’d allowed himself to be caught up in the moment and the challenge. He wouldn’t lose anything to Westerland.
Especially Catherine.
What was he going to do? The race had already appeared in the wager book at White’s. Men had already started betting on the outcome. His friends had money on the race.
He had to think of something. There had to be a way he could get out of this damnable race with his honor still intact and Catherine his.
Twenty
“As distance shows a horse’s strength, so time reveals a man’s heart.” The wager book at White’s is filling up quickly as another race has been planned between the Earl of Chatwin and the Marquis of Westerland. But this time it is not money these two gentlemen seek to win. They are racing for the honor of pursuing the hand of Miss Reynolds.
Lord Truefitt
Society’s Daily Column
CATHERINE HEARD VICKIE calling her name before she burst through Catherine’s bedroom door waving a sheet of newspaper in her hand.
“You won’t believe this,” Victoria said as she plopped down on top of Catherine’s bed and fell
back, spreading her arms wide, laughing.
Catherine rose from the stool in front of her dresser and looked at her sister as if she were crazy. “What on earth has happened?”
“This!” she exclaimed as she rose to a sitting position on the bed. “It’s absolutely delicious. Lord Chatwin and the Marquis will be having another race, and you’ll never guess what the prize is.”
“Prize. It’s usually money that they race for, isn’t it?”
“Mostly, but this time, my dear, you are the reward!” She laughed again. “Oh, nothing could be more wonderful than this.”
Catherine felt a pounding in her head. “What are you talking about? They can’t race for my hand. Let me see that.”
Victoria handed over the paper, and Catherine quickly read Lord Truefitt’s column. This was outrageous. She read it again thinking it couldn’t possibly be true, but it was. And Vickie was smiling like a cat that had just eaten a bird!
“Oh, no,” Catherine whispered earnestly. “How could John do this to me?”
Catherine’s mind went wild with thoughts. How could he do this after the way he helped her find her grandfather, after the way he’d touched her so intimately he reached her soul. She loved him deeply. How could he hurt her so? She had to remember he didn’t love her. She could accept that, but she didn’t want to believe he would be willing to give her up in a horse race.
Vickie kicked her feet happily as she sat on the edge of the bed and said, “Why are you looking so distraught, Catherine? This is the most wonderful news.”
“For whom?” Catherine asked as her hands closed into fists, crumpling the paper, feeling anger, hurt, and stinging disappointment. “Certainly not me. What is wrong with you, Vickie? How can you think this is good news? I’m not a prize to be won.”
“I will admit that when I first read it, I thought, how can they do this to me?”
“You?”
“Yes, me.” She stood up and walked over to the dressing table and looked in the mirror. “After all the work I’ve put into matchmaking for you. I couldn’t believe they decided to take it upon themselves to settle your fate without my participation.”
Vickie was unbelievable.
She turned back to Catherine. “But after thinking about it, I realized that I’ve played Lord Chatwin’s and Lord Westerland’s game so well that I’ve outmaneuvered both of them. I knew this must be Lord Chatwin’s doing. The Marquis is not smart enough to think of something as delicious as this.”
Vickie continued to talk, but Catherine turned away and stopped listening. There was a ringing in her ears and a heaviness in her heart. All she could think was how could John have done this to her? She thought she knew him, but she didn’t know him at all.
After their secretive outing yesterday they had talked, laughed, and danced last night at a party with no awkwardness between them. If he didn’t want to pursue her, why didn’t he just tell her? Why go to this elaborate scheme of horse racing?
Did he think this would be the best way to say good-bye without having to come right out and tell her? John could just see to it that he lost this race, and then he would be honor bound to stop pursuing her.
Her heart broke.
“But then I thought this is the best thing that could have happened to you,” Victoria was saying. “The attention this will attract will be the biggest event this Season, maybe the biggest event since they outlawed dueling.”
“Vickie, this is unacceptable.”
“No, no, my dear. Everyone will think I had something to do with this, and it will be evidence of my matchmaking skills. Mamas all over London will want to seek my skills, and after I have you safely betrothed, I can take my time and choose only the best clients.”
Catherine strained to understand Victoria. “This is about me. Not you. I don’t want anyone racing for the right to pursue me. I won’t allow it,” she finished firmly.
Victoria looked confused. “But what do you mean? This will be a legal race between two titled gentlemen. You have no say in it.”
“Watch me,” she said, firmly knowing she had to do something but not knowing what to do. “If they race, I won’t have anything to do with either of them.”
“Of course you will,” Victoria said as calmly as if they were talking about the weather. “There aren’t that many eligible titled gentlemen. You certainly didn’t win over Lord Dugdale. But we don’t need to worry about that now. You will have to accept the pursuit of the winner. Because that is what will be best for you. Now finish dressing. There will be much discussion about this at the parties tonight, and we don’t want to miss one delicious moment of it.”
IT TOOK CATHERINE the rest of the afternoon alone in her room, but she finally came up with a plan of action. She would not just stand around and allow this travesty to happen. Not without having her own say in the matter.
One moment she would think she never wanted to see John again, and the next she couldn’t wait to see him so she could tell him how outrageous this race was. And then at other times her love for him would rise to the surface of her heart and overflow, and she would think that there had to be a reasonable explanation for why he was doing this.
Perhaps he’d been coerced some way. Maybe the Marquis had called him a coward. Many things had entered her thoughts, but John was the only one who knew the answer.
The first party of the evening that she and Victoria attended was a nightmare for Catherine but a celebrated affair for Victoria who readily accepted accolades for Catherine’s popularity.
Catherine was ill suited for such acclaim. Some of the young ladies looked at Catherine with disdain while others swarmed around her to ask questions about how she felt about the two most handsome bachelors in London racing to win pursuit of her hand. Catherine detested every minute of it and excused herself from the crowds as often as she could.
There were only two people she wanted to talk to.
And as soon as she and Victoria walked into the second party of the evening, Catherine saw one of them. She made a hasty exit from her sister and followed Lady Lynette to the retiring room that had been set aside for the ladies.
Catherine waited outside the door for Lynette and when she came out asked, “Lynette, might I have a word alone with you?”
“Yes, Catherine,” Lynette said with excitement in her expression and her voice. “I’ve been looking for you all evening. I’m dying to find out what you think about the horse race for the pursuit of your hand. Let’s find a place where we can have privacy.”
They walked down the corridor, peeking into rooms until they found a cupboard that was lighted but empty.
They slipped inside, and as soon as the door was closed, Lynette said, “Now tell me how it feels to be the most sought-after young lady in London.”
Catherine took a deep breath and answered, “Absolutely terrible.”
“What? Why? You have an earl and a marquis wanting your hand.”
“No, they don’t want me, they each want to win over the other. I will not be their prize, and I need your help to accomplish that.”
Lynette looked puzzled. “What can I do?”
“I’ve decided that I’m going to join Lord Chatwin and the Marquis in the race. I’m going to beat both of them, and then not have anything to do with either of them ever again.”
“What!” Lynette exclaimed. “You can’t do that. They’ll never let you be a part of it. It’s a gentleman’s race.”
“What are they going to do to me? Will they forcibly remove me from the starting point?”
“I don’t know. They might.”
“I think not.”
“But even if they let you join them, how could you win? You don’t have a horse, do you?”
“No. Not a very good one, but I’ll hire the best horse I can find. Someone with a winning horse will come to my aid. I’m an excellent rider and I know how to make an animal give his best. I will join this race and prove to them what a ridiculous idea it is that they’ve
come up with.”
Lynette’s eyes glimmered in the glow of the lamplight. “I don’t believe this. It is just too delectable for words. Let me see, how shall I start Lord Truefitt’s column. . . . ‘You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink,’ or perhaps I should start with ‘When a horse comes to the edge, it’s too late to draw rein.’ ” Suddenly Lynette stopped and clamped her mouth shut. Her green eyes widened with fear. “Oh, dear, what did I just say?”
Catherine was aghast. “I think you just told me you’re Lord Truefitt.”
“No, no I didn’t say that.” She opened her reticule and pulled out a handkerchief and delicately dabbed at her forehead with a trembling hand. “No, I might have misspoken and implied it, but I never said I was Lord Truefitt.” She looked up at Catherine with horror glowing in her green eyes. “Did I?”
“Lynette, it’s all right. I am your friend. I will never discuss this conversation with anyone.”
Lynette remained quiet.
Catherine laid a comforting hand on Lynette’s gloved arm. “I have trusted you with my information, and now you must trust me to keep your secret. You have my word I will.”
“I’m not really Lord Truefitt, but I know who she is. I work for her.”
Catherine smiled. “I love it that Lord Truefitt isn’t even a man. How ingenious of the lady, whoever she is, to write under a man’s name.”
Suddenly Lynette giggled a wonderful, feminine-sounding laugh that Catherine wouldn’t have thought Lynette capable of because of her large frame and loud voice.
Catherine laughed with her.
“I’ve said way too much,” Lynette said after their laughter. “I will get her in trouble and me, too. We’ll both lose our jobs if anyone discovers who we are. You understand that, don’t you?”
“I understand and no one will hear it from me. Even my sister thought it was Lord Chatwin who told Lord Truefitt the truth about what happened to us in the park that morning I rode his horse. I let her assume that and didn’t tell her it was me who told you. Your secret is safe with me.”
