For one moment her eyes blazed, glinting gold in the green depths, before she turned her head away. ‘I doubt that, although he can insist all he likes. My father cares not who he hurts, or how many, as long as he gains his own selfish will. I am a widow and no longer beholden to him. I did not seek marriage to Thomas. I did not want it. I make no secret of the fact. It turned out to be a travesty, a hollow pretence. In time I will go to Wilsden, with or without my father’s blessing.
He smiled. ‘Good. I see your mind is made up. Tomorrow I intend to take a look at the estate. Will you accompany me? You are familiar with the tenants and the land. I would like to gain some understanding of Carlton Bray before I leave.’
‘Yes, I would be glad to.’
‘Thank you. Now, will you come inside?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ll stay here a while. You go. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight—and—Catherine?’
She lifted her head. ‘Yes?’
‘I may call you that?’
‘Yes. I would like that.’
‘My name is John.’
After excusing himself, John turned from her and walked away and wondered why fate should have brought them together at this time. He thought long and hard about what she had told him and he was caught somewhere between concern and tenderness. He remembered the deep bitterness in her tone when she told him of her desolate years since her marriage to Thomas—they were the kind of images that were familiar to him, images of his own rejection by a father who had favoured one son above the other. Never would he forget the despairing feeling of rejection that had once turned his own life into a living hell.
It was Catherine’s father who had brought him to a better understanding of his life and encouraged him in his military duties. How confused, alone and threatened Catherine must have felt when Thomas had brought her to Carlton Bray and left her alone while he had gone off to war—but she was resilient and had survived better than most young women would have done.
He couldn’t understand why he was drawn to his cousin’s widow in a way he had never been to any other woman, but there was nothing he could do. Meeting her had had an effect on him. Her pale features and those incredible green eyes amid the mass of deep golden hair had drawn him like a magnet. Already he was looking forward to riding out with her on the morrow.
* * *
The following morning dawned fine, with a cold breeze that carried the scent of the hills and shredded clouds that scurried across the sky. Standing there in the cobble yard in front of the stables, Catherine could smell damp hay and horseflesh, old leather and manure, an earthy, though not unpleasant, odour. She was securing the girth on her horse when she saw John striding towards her, the folds of his long black cloak falling from his broad shoulders. The high riding boots he wore seemed to emphasise the muscular length of his legs. Catherine hardly noticed anything going on around her, her attention entirely focused on him.
As her thoughts raced, he looked at her and smiled. In that moment she noticed again the startling, intense blue of his eyes, and again she thought how extraordinarily attractive he was. Her heart suddenly leapt into her throat in a ridiculous, choking way and she chided herself for being so foolish. He was, after all, a stranger to her. He looked at her searchingly, his deep, dark gaze missing nothing. She noted the look of unconcealed appreciation on his face as he surveyed her breeches and doublet beneath her cloak.
‘I see you are ready to ride out,’ he said, taking his horse from the groom who had saddled it upon his instruction. ‘It’s a fine day to take stock of things. Where do you suggest we start?’
At the sound of his voice Catherine experienced a rush of feeling, a bittersweet joy in view of all that had occurred the previous day. Before he had come to Carlton Bray she had felt a loneliness deep inside, but his just being there sent a message of warmth. ‘I thought we might ride by some of the farms and head up to the hills—if that’s agreeable. You will be able to meet some of the tenants.’
His smile curled and his lips lifted slightly at one corner. ‘That would be perfect,’ he said, hoisting himself up into the saddle. ‘Lead on. I am entirely in your hands.’
Catherine thought that although he hadn’t meant it to sound provocative, she interpreted it that way, causing her cheeks to redden with embarrassment. As if he had read her thought, his smile deepened and, laughing softly, he kicked his horse into action.
They were soon on their way, clattering across the drawbridge and leaving the castle behind, riding at a brisk gallop across countryside Catherine knew so well. They rode west, to the high hills, stopping at farms and cottages along the way. She was unaware that her hair, fastened back in the nape of her neck and left to hang free down her spine, was a hundred different shades and dazzling lights. Her eyes were sparkling like emeralds, bright with energy, and her senses drank in the intoxication of it all as they rode through wooded river valleys and on to the moorland uplands.
Catherine appreciated having a companion to ride with. She found her eyes drawn to John constantly, noting the authority, the strength held in check as he handled his horse. So many conflicting emotions swirled inside her, fighting for ascendancy. When he had appeared on the battlements the previous night, she had enjoyed talking to him and he had occupied her thoughts afterwards for a long time. Now, as she stole glances at him along the way, he was more attractive than ever and the need to be even closer to him was more vivid than before. Watching him, she was entranced, hardly breathing, as the sun came out from behind a cloud and a shaft of silver light settled on him.
Sensing her gaze, he turned his head and regarded her curiously. She saw the deepening light in his eyes, the long, silken lashes, the thick, defined, black brows, and wanted to touch him as one touches the feathers on a bird’s wing. Immediately she turned her head away, realising that, before he had come, there had been a vast emptiness in her life that she did not want to admit to, like a clock that has stopped ticking.
* * *
After they had been riding for a couple of hours, they stopped at a village inn to partake of a bite to eat. They were conspicuous as they entered the inn. At John’s presence, heads turned and people flattened themselves against the wall to let him pass. The landlord knew Lady Stratton and word had got around that Lord Fitzroy had arrived to look over his inheritance. He made them welcome, bringing out bread and cheese and lashings of butter and light ale to wash it down.
They ate in companionable silence, watching as people came and went on their journeys.
‘I suspect you’re going to miss all this,’ John remarked, having eaten his fill and relaxing back on the settle and drinking his ale.
‘Yes. I love it up here in the hills. I’ll remember it always.’ She looked across at him. ‘As you have seen, there is much to do on the estate. I know you have your own properties in Sussex and I struggle to think how you will work this estate, there being a great distance between them.’
‘I agree it will be difficult fitting this estate into the scheme of things. I can’t live in two places at once so I’m going to have to give some thought to what is to be done. The war has taken many of the people who worked for my family in Sussex. If the war is indeed over, now the Royalists have been beaten, then I shall employ an efficient bailiff and a number of able assistants to run the estates. It will be a full-time job and the interests of the tenant farmers and production will be my prime concern.’
‘You mean you will actually ride about the fields and supervise the work and inspect the ploughs like a menial,’ she said, unable to resist teasing him.
‘If I have to. I am not above hard work.’
She laughed, taking a swallow of her light ale. ‘Then have a care. Your neighbours and fellow aristocrats will no doubt consider it unseemly and highly eccentric to see you labouring along with your workers.’
‘And I will not care a fig what the gentry t
hink, for the welfare of those who live and work the estates are important—which, I imagine, is how you see things.’ There was a suggestion of mischief in his eyes. ‘I do not see you as a defenceless female. A woman who has kept a castle and an estate running single-handedly for six years, who has gone through what you have and can still lift her head with spirit in her eyes is not one jot helpless—or defenceless. You are not afraid of getting your hands dirty when there are things to be done—however menial. Am I correct?’
‘Yes, you are. Everyone has had to work extra hard over the past six years to get things done.’ She looked into his eyes, trying to read his expression. There was a moment’s silence and she discerned an admiration and a growing respect in his gaze.
‘I salute your courage and your boldness, Catherine Stratton. You are undeniably brave, beautiful and one hell of a reckless woman.’
She gave him a grim look. ‘Courage? Oh, no. Courage is something one finds when there is nothing left to fear. I haven’t quite reached that point.’
His eyes softened. ‘That’s a cynical truth you’ve had to discover too early in your life.’
‘Everything I have done has been sincere and there have been times when I risked everything to keep people safe when Parliamentary patrols came. Every step I have taken has been thought out and often agonised over for hours. But there have been many times, like today, when I could saddle my horse and take to the hills to put things into perspective and think about the future. Now I know that Thomas is dead I can think ahead. What kind of reception I will receive from my father I shall have to wait and see.’ She raised her tankard. ‘Let us hope for better things.’
‘Speaking of taking to the hills...’
‘Yes?’
‘There’s a picturesque lake up there. I thought you might have taken me.’
Catherine stared at him in horror. ‘A lake... I...’
John chuckled softly at her confusion. ‘Yes—it’s one Thomas and I used to swim in often as boys.’
‘You did?’ She had a horrible idea where this was leading. There was a knowing, wicked gleam in his eyes.
‘Do you ride up there often?’
‘Yes—I mean—no—sometimes.’
‘You did—yesterday morning.’ He looked at her, his lips curved as he enjoyed her sudden confusion.
‘Did I? Oh, yes—I remember.’
‘Strange that I should have been there at the same time, yet we missed each other. Did you like what you saw, Catherine?’ His voice was low, provocative.
Catherine flushed scarlet. ‘No—I don’t know. Do you normally go swimming in the middle of November? The water must have been freezing.’
‘I swim at any time and anywhere when there is somewhere to swim. It’s invigorating. You should try it some time.’
‘But—you knew I was there?’
He nodded. ‘Not at the time—otherwise I would have saved your blushes.’
‘Then when?’
‘When I heard you follow me back. I’m a soldier, trained to detect when I’m being followed. When I saw you ride into the courtyard, I knew it was you. Do you swim, Catherine?’
‘No, I don’t.’
He laughed out loud as the shock registered on her face. ‘Worry not. I’m not in the least offended that you were watching me.’ He turned to her, his face alight with humour. ‘But if there is a next time, if you let me know you are there, I will teach you how to swim.’
She scowled at him. ‘There won’t be a next time. You’re enjoying my discomfiture, aren’t you?’
‘Enormously.’
‘You could have spared my feelings and done the gentlemanly thing by not mentioning the incident.’
‘I could—but where’s the fun in that? Now in which direction shall we ride next? To the lake, perhaps?’
‘No. I’ve decided that the lake is off limits.’
* * *
Returning to their horses to begin their return journey to Carlton Bray, John took her arm as they crossed the yard. The fabric did nothing to lessen the warmth of his skin against hers. If anything, it added the awareness of sensuality she felt emanating between them. In that moment, when all her senses seemed to be heightened nearly beyond endurance, she knew she was more of a woman than she had ever been. Mentally, she was aware of her own growing maturity, experiencing all of a woman’s physical needs and longings and desires for the first time in her life that could only be matched by one man—this man—John Stratton.
Her heart was touched by the warmth of the bond developing between them. She smiled softly as she was forced to acknowledge the pleasure that she found in his company and conversation and the disturbing sensations that heated her body when they were together.
Chapter Three
Catherine descended the stairs to the hall. No one looking at her would know how she gritted her teeth and steeled herself for the journey ahead, refusing to betray the trepidation she felt on reaching her destination and seeing her father for the first time in five years.
Conversation between John and Will Price ceased when she appeared. When she stepped into the range of John’s vision, it was evident he could not believe the beautiful and well-groomed lady was the same young woman who had gone about the business of the castle in male garb. Attired in a dark green woollen dress with a white lace collar and a travelling cloak sitting loosely on her shoulders, her wonderful mane of golden hair arranged in a chignon at the back of her head and delightful curls flirting with her cheeks, she seemed the very spirit of virtue and moved with all the poise, grace and cool dignity of a queen.
She moved to stand close to John, tilting her head as she gazed into his handsome visage from beneath eyebrows delicately sweeping like a winged bird. A bloom of rosy pink heightened her high cheekbones. The firelight gave her hair a rich warm hue and the faint scent of rosewater on her skin was intoxicating. A leisurely smile moved across John’s face as his perusal swept her.
‘You see, John,’ she said, pulling on her kid gloves, ‘I can look like a lady when I have a mind. I did consider riding all the way to London, but, should my stay turn out to be extensive, I must take enough clothes and things I might need while I am there. Unfortunately, I don’t have a maid so I will have to make do. My baggage has been taken out to the coach so I am ready to leave when you are. I trust the escort we have riding with us are well armed. I should hate to be set upon at any time and rendered helpless by outlaws.’
‘My dear Lady Stratton, when were you ever helpless?’ John laughed. ‘And God help any outlaw if they should dare attack you.’
Seeing the amusement in his wickedly dancing eyes and infuriating grin, she swallowed the flippant reply she might have given him and said instead, ‘Have you broken your fast?’
John felt his pulse leap and the blood go searing through his veins at her nearness and the coyness of her little smile as she demurely lowered her eyes. He nodded. ‘Will and I had breakfast together.’
‘Good.’ She shifted her gaze to the new steward of Carlton Bray who was taking on his new position with much enthusiasm. ‘I think we have covered everything, Will, but anything else you need to know you only have to ask Miles.’
Trying not to show how sore her heart was at leaving Carlton Bray and all those who had depended on her since her marriage to Thomas, and swallowing down the constriction in her throat, she went out to the waiting coach. The four men who had accompanied John to act as escort were already mounted. Climbing inside the coach, Catherine sat arranging her skirts while John strode to his waiting horse. She watched and was not surprised when he hoisted himself into the saddle with ease and agility.
Daylight had just broken when the small party of riders and the large leather travelling coach with a domed roof left Carlton Bray Castle, heading east towards London. A grey mist swathed the land and hawthorn berries hung heavy in the hedgerows. Catherine had
spent time instructing Will Price on the running of the estate and expressing her gratitude to him for being willing to take it on. She was confident that she was leaving matters in reliable hands and that he would manage it well.
The only view to be had of the passing countryside was to be seen out of the door, which had a leather curtain suspended from an iron bar, raised for the time being. Catherine was alone, her gaze never straying from the passing scenery which was familiar to her, having ridden the fields and byways many times. The poorly sprung coach rumbling and swaying over the uneven roads gradually lulled her senses and she closed her eyes, letting her thoughts take her where they would.
* * *
Well armed with swords and pistols, they had kept their eyes open for footpads and the like—desperate men had taken to the roads following the wars. Fortunately the first part of their journey had passed without mishap. When dusk began to fall they stopped at a coaching inn serving the needs of travellers for food, drink and rest. The men who accompanied them were happy to pass the evening in the main room while John ordered supper for himself and Catherine to be served in a small private parlour.
Other patrons were milling about and Catherine’s gaze strayed to three women seated on a settle at an angle to the fire. They were young and pretty and made no attempt to conceal their attraction for John. They stared, openly appraising him, and Catherine saw how their eyes followed him with feminine interest and speculation. Aware of their interest, John returned their stare with bold and obvious pleasure. Smiling broadly, he bowed to them before taking Catherine’s arm.
‘Come,’ he said. ‘We’ll dine in style—alone, I hope.’
‘I’m flattered,’ Catherine remarked. ‘I admit to being quite ravenous, yet the idea of eating in the main body of the inn crammed with strangers is unappealing. I’ll enjoy your company, John, but I’ll understand if you’d prefer a more accommodating female companion.’ She was unable to resist the impish response.
Resisting Her Enemy Lord Page 5
