by Gayle Wilson
There was a small silence from the figure hidden in the shadows on the other side of the desk. Raven certainly couldn’t tell her he had stood for hours in the darkness of the street below, looking up at the window he knew to be hers.
“I’m sorry. You needn’t answer that,” Catherine advised suddenly, realizing where he must have spent the night.
“I told you that you might ask me anything, and that I’d never lie to you. Those rules have not changed.”
“You don’t have to explain. I’m quite capable of imagining that part of your itinerary on my own,” she said coldly.
“Forgive me, Catherine, if I’m wrong, but you seem somewhat annoyed that I’m home. Shall I find some other business to call me away? I promise not to interfere in whatever flirtation you’ve undertaken to keep you entertained.”
He wondered with sharp, cold jealousy if shehad found someone in the month he’d been fighting to live, desperately determined, despite his body’s infuriating weakness, to return to her. To fulfill his vow.
“Flirtation?” she repeated softly, thinking how different the image called up by his choice of words was to the nightmares she had been living with.. “I haven’t been engaged in a flirtation.” She could hear the bitterness in her voice and knew that Raven was astute enough to detect it, too.
“Then youmust have been bored,” he said teasingly.
“I thought you were ill. I have been imagining…” She paused, angry that she’d admitted what he’d accused her of.
“I instructed Reynolds to keep you informed. I’m sorry if you’ve been distressed. It was never my intent to worry you.”
“Of course,” she said. All her concern had been for naught. She’d thought he was dying, and instead he had been arranging for the satisfaction of the carnal needs he had never even bothered to hide. “I apologize for interrupting your solitude.”
“You sound almost angry that I’m not lingering at death’s door. I told you I’m accustomed to taking care of myself.”
“Yes, of course,” she said calmly, sure now that he was belittling her concern for him. She was beyond anger. As he’d reminded her, he had never given her a reason to believe he needed or wanted her. “I should have known that you’ll never need anyone’s care. Especially mine,” she said.
She turned and left the office, and despite the fact that she’d managed to have the last word, it was not a very satisfying one. Raven was back and that, too, had turned out to be far less satisfying than she had been imagining.
Raven took a deep breath and then expelled it. He didn’t seem to be very adept at courtship. Of course, he’d never before undertaken to make a woman love him. He knew far more about iron and steel, about coal and mining, and far too little about courting a woman like Catherine.
Despite the knowledge that he’d badly mishandled this morning’s reunion, eventually he allowed a slight, controlled smile, still safely hidden by the surrounding darkness. She had worried about him. Sometime between the routs and the balls and the rides in Hyde Park with the elegant Reginalds and Geralds, she’d worried about her inconvenient husband. In spite of the fact that Raven had never wanted Catherine’s concern, would have rejected it had she expressed it, there was something very satisfying about that thought.
It was another chip on his side of the table, added to the two that had given him hope through his illness: she was already his wife, and somewhere, an ocean away, a fragile, indomitable old woman was sending up powerful prayers on his behalf.
The odds are definitely not in your favor, Catherine, my darling, Raven thought, allowing his small smile to widen.
Chapter Nine
Catherine managed to avoid any prolonged contact with her husband for the next several days. Raven was apparently occupied catching up on the correspondence that had arrived in his absence, spending hours closed up in that confined office.Her social calendar was really quite full; she made sure of that.
She saw him once in the front hall. She had been on her way to a drum, and he had bowed to her as she passed him in the foyer, as if they had been the merest acquaintances. Again that small smile had played briefly over his lips, but at the spark of anger she couldn’t quite prevent from leaping into her eyes, he had made an effort at controlling his amusement and had made his very proper bow. As if she were a stranger instead of his wife. She’d taken satisfaction in knowing that, arrayed as she’d been in a new and daringly cut gown of bronze satin, she had looked her best. The fury that had resulted from that encounter had carried her through the next day, righteously determined not even to think about her husband, who was, she thought, probably busy planning his nextconvenient visit to his mistress. Whoever she was.
Catherine listened to the gossip that flowed, around her with a great deal more interest since Raven’s return, knowing that if hehad brought his demirep up to town, she’d be certain to hear of it. Someone would maliciously let it slip, but so far she had heard nothing and could only speculate on Raven’s taste in women. An activity she found herself engaged in far too frequently for her own peace of mind.
Using Edwards as his messenger, Raven had asked her to arrange another dinner party and had even suggested this time some of those who should be invited. The invitations had already gone out, and she was sitting at a small table downstairs discussing the menu with the butler one morning, little more than a week after her husband’s return, when he entered the room.
Under the observant eye of her majordomo, she couldn’t retreat and was forced to endure the quick touch of Raven’s lips against her forehead that he employed as his form of greeting. She even managed to smile up into those crystalline eyes, which clearly revealed that their owner was well aware of her true reaction to his almost paternal kiss. So different, she thought with regret, from the last time he’d kissed her.
She lowered her gaze to her list of instructions, trying to hide the pain of that memory from his discerning eyes. He greeted Edwards with his accustomed familiarity, and then, unbelieving, she heard him dismiss the butler. Anticipation tightened her stomach, and she fought to control her breathing.
“I wanted to talk to you,” he said. “I hope I haven’t interrupted something that can’t be finished at a later time.”
“Perhaps you should have asked thatbefore you sent Edwards away,” she said challengingly. She glanced up from her pretended contemplation of her list, believing she had her emotions well in hand.
“I’m sorry,” Raven said. “Would you like for me to call him back and postpone our discussion until later?”
“No,” she admitted, deliberately directing her attention again to her list. “It really doesn’t matter. There’s nothing here that can’t be dealt with later. I simply like to have everything organized and every eventuality planned for.”
“No surprises,” he suggested. She could hear the smile in his voice, but knew that if she looked up, his face would be controlled. “You don’t like surprises.”
She did glance up at that. “No, I don’t suppose I do. Not about a dinner party. But you don’t leave anything to chance, either. You don’t seem to like surprises any better than I.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said, and he did smile then. “After all, I married you.”
“And I surprise you?”
“Almost constantly.”
“Because we’re from such different backgrounds.”
“Perhaps you’re right. I had begun to think, however, that it was because you are not what I had expected your particular background to produce. You’re not the typical product of your class, Catherine.”
“I don’t understand,” she said truthfully. “If I’ve failed in some way to live up to what you require, you have only to tell me.” She could feel the blush creeping into her cheeks. She had not really expected his censure for her foolish actions concerning Amberton at this late date.
“You haven’t failed my expectations in any way. On the contrary, you’ve far exceeded them.”
“Then you’re not angry with me?” she asked, daring to hope that what had happened because of her foolishness in allowing Gerald to trick her might finally be forgiven if not forgotten.
“No, I’m not angry. As a matter of fact, I had thought, since I’ve been back, that I had done something to make you angry, but I can’t decide what it was.”
Apologized for kissing me. Put it down to blood loss. Brought your mistress up to town. Ignored me. The true reasons for her anger ran fleetingly through her head, but she couldn’t admit to any of those, so she was left at a loss, an unaccustomed loss for someone usually so quick-witted in awkward social situations. And this one was very awkward. What did a wife say to a husband she was madly in love with when he admitted that he would seek her embrace only if giddy from a loss of blood?
“Catherine?” Raven asked softly.
“I’m not angry,” she lied. There was really nothing she could legitimately chide him with. He had followed the rules of their agreement, with one very memorable exception. She was the one who wanted this marriage to become something they’d never agreed to, something he’d never indicated he wanted. Her fingers touched the list she’d been discussing with Edwards before Raven had interrupted. This was the only role he wished her to play in his life. He had certainly denied her any other.
“I don’t think you need be so concerned with this. The dinner is still several days away,” he said, taking the list from her hand and putting it firmly to the side. He pulled out the chair across the small table from where she was sitting and sat down in it. Her eyes must have expressed her surprise, because he smiled at her.
“Play cards with me,” he said.
“What?”
“Cards. Whatever you played with Amberton that night. Whatever game he beat you at.”
“Piquet,” she answered unthinkingly. And then she asked, shaking her head, “Why should we play cards?” It was the middle of the morning. She had a luncheon engagement that she wasn’t even dressed for. And Raven always spent his mornings busily engaged with his business affairs. And now…
“Because you lost that night. And that loss resulted in an unpleasant situation for you. I don’t intend for that to happen again. Not if I can help it. I told you I’m very good with numbers. I thought I might teach you a few tricks.”
“An unpleasant situation for me?” she asked pointedly, thinking of what Gerald had done to Raven.
His lips tightened slightly at her reminder, but he admitted, “And for me, if you will.”
“I didn’t mean for you to be hurt,” she said, meeting his eyes. It was the most honest thing she’d ever said to him.
“I know. That was my own stupidity. Edwards told me you really were quite concerned while I was away. I’m sorry Reynolds didn’t do a better job of reassuring you.”
“I told you to write,” she whispered.
“Yes, you did. Is that why you’re angry?”
“I’m not angry.”
“Liar,” he said, and she remembered the last time he’d accused her of that. Her eyes fell before the certainty in his, but he ignored her lie and began to deal out their hands very professionally onto the small table.
“You have to calculate your odds,” he said. “Not only with the play, but with the discards. Especially with discards,” he advised. “Show me your hand.”
He put his fingers over hers, which had automatically picked up the cards from the pile before her. Again their callused warmth left her breathless, causing strange sensations to move uncomfortably, yet enticingly, through her lower body. As if, she thought in wonder, as if he were somehow touching her there.
As his patient instruction continued over the next half hour, she found herself watching his hands, so dark and beautiful. Graceful. And his mouth.
“Think, Catherine,” he commanded, and suddenly she came back to reality, back from the image of his hands moving against her body with the same sure skill with which he touched the pasteboards scattered between them.
She glanced at her cards, trying to remember what he’d told her, trying desperately to do the calculations in her head. She was a very good card player normally, but she had always relied on her instincts and luck. The things he had told her, while she was still in some condition to listen, had made a great deal of sense. Raven was, as he had claimed, very good with numbers. Taking a deep breath, she selected what she hoped was the right discard for the situation he’d set out and put it on the table.
“Brilliant,” he said.
She looked up to find him smiling at her.
“You really are a very fine player,” he continued. “I can’t imagine how you managed to let Amberton beat you.”
“I was thinking about how angry you’d be if you discovered I’d gone upstairs with him,” she said truthfully. “My mind wasn’t on the game at all.”
“Never play cards if you don’t play to win. And that takes concentration as well as skill.”
“I know,” she said.
“And I would have had no right to be angry with you. We have an agreement.”
“I know,” she said again, but she was afraid the bitterness had shown through despite her ready agreement with what he’d said.
“And I’m not easily angered,” he added.
“It’s a good thing,” she answered, finally smiling at him. “I must be a sore trial to your patience. Getting you stabbed and then having the nerve to worry about you. What inexplicable behavior from your wife.” She knew she was challenging him.
“Inexplicable, perhaps, only to me,” he offered softly. “I told you that I’m unaccustomed to anyone worrying about my well-being. I honestly didn’t know how to react. I hope you’ll forgive me for not dealing with your concern any better than I did the morning of my return.”
“You made fun of me,” she accused. “For worrying about you. And I thought I had just cause. I didn’t have any way of knowing that you’re indestructible.” His laughter was quick and soft, and she felt her lips move upward in an answering smile.
“I didn’t intend to make fun of you,” he said, taking her hand. “I intended to reassure you that I was all right. I’m sorry it came out wrong.”
His hand was warm and hard and incredibly strong, like the man himself. And feeling that strength, she again felt very foolish for worrying about him. He did seem indestructible.
“Will you forgive me for that, too?” he asked.
I’d forgive you almost anything, she thought, her eyes still on her small hand resting in that strong dark one. “Yes,” she whispered.
Raven’s fingers tightened briefly over hers, a quick squeeze, and then he released her. He rose from the table, and she looked up in surprise.
“Are you leaving?” she asked. She was a little disconcerted by how strong her sense of disappointment was.
“I have work to do,” he said, smiling down at her. “Not all of us are persons of leisure in this household. Someone must make the money to pay for all that folderol you manage to purchase every month. Reynolds says we shall soon have to wheel in your bills in a barrow.”
Since she had spent almost nothing in the month he’d been away and very little since his return, she knew he was teasing her.
“Liar,” she said in answer, and when his slight smile widened, she felt her heart turn over.
“Be careful or I’ll become a slacker and let our fortunes go to rack and ruin. I’ll spend the time I should be working playing cards with my wife or some such shocking activity.”
“Should I worry?” she challenged, smiling back at him.
“As you please, Catherine. I’ll never chide you for that again. As a matter of fact…” he said, and then he paused, looking down into her eyes. And he was no longer smiling. “I found the idea that you’d worried about me quite pleasant. Far more pleasant than I could have imagined it might be.”
His tone was too serious for the discussion they’d been having, and she had no answer for what he’d just suggested. She f
inally began to breathe again, and then he reached down to touch her neck, his fingers moving slowly upward to a spot behind her ear. She had no idea what he was doing, but her head tilted automatically to lean against his hand. She wasn’t even aware that her eyelids had dropped in response to his touch.
“Did you lose this, Catherine?” he asked. She opened her eyes as he removed his hand from her earlobe. “Your ear seems a strange place to keep something this valuable.”
His fingers turned over as gracefully as a magician’s, as if practicing some sleight-of-hand, to reveal on their outstretched tips a large blue gem. Its light hue was thrown into prominence by the dark gold of his skin. She blinked at the sudden, almost magical appearance of a stone that size. His hand, she was sure, had held nothing at all when he had first touched her.
“What in the world? Where did that come from?”
“Out of your ear?” Raven suggested helpfully.
“No,” she denied, laughing. “That is certainly nothing I’ve ever seen before in my life.”
He held it before her like an offering. The jewel caught the light in a strangely glowing way. Not like the glitter of a faceted stone. It was truly like nothing she’d ever seen before.
“Perhaps you should take a closer look. Just to be certain you don’t recognize it,” he said.
Catherine tore her gaze away from the pale depths of the gem to find the same compelling blue echoed in Raven’s eyes, surrounded by their sweep of long dark lashes and his golden skin. Her breath caught and a blaze of some sensation, powerful and sensuous, moved through her stomach and then lower, searing deep and hot into areas of her body she’d never been so conscious of in her entire life. Intimate and seductive, the feeling burned and curled, and she wanted her husband in ways she’d never dreamed she could even think about a man. In response to her body’s unbelievably physical reaction, she quickly glanced back at the stone resting on his fingers, trying to hide whatever might have been revealed in her eyes.
Her hand was very pale compared to the one she touched in order to pick up the gem he held out to her. To give her trembling fingers something to do, she lifted the stone to catch the light pouring in through the tall windows of the small salon and became aware for the first time of the pale streaks that marked the center of the orb she held. Like a star caught in the perfect blue of the sky that surrounded it.
