With everyone supporting her, why did she still feel so frustrated and angry? She was getting what she wanted, wasn’t she?
Catherine’s musings led her to the library. Pausing at the closed doors she huffed out a breath. She would find something happy to read if it killed her.
Catherine pushed into the library, her lips parting in shock as two men turned toward her sudden intrusion. The tension was there immediately, and she felt her face flush with the intensity of his gaze. She could only think of escaping, and began to back out. “Well, what an unpleasant surprise. Pardon me, I did not mean to interrupt. I’m sure you have business to attend to.”
Even though she had directed her comments to Travis, who frowned at her blatant rudeness, it was Merrick who replied, “I do. You know, you might reduce your incidents of unpleasant surprises if you considered knocking before you enter.”
Catherine wanted to reach out and slap that quirked eyebrow, but he was too far away, and she had no intention of getting any closer. She spun on her heel to leave, but Travis stopped her.
“Actually he was here to see you.”
She stopped at the door and turned. “There. You’ve seen me. You’ve done your duty again and assured yourself of my full recovery. I hope you are finished. It is tiresome in the extreme to continually have to release you from self-imposed obligations.” Catherine wasn’t even sure what she said made sense.
Merrick took in the defiant set of her chin and crossed arms. He couldn’t help himself, he grinned.
If there had been a handy object, she would have hurled it at his head. “Why are you grinning like a baboon?” Despite her best efforts, Catherine felt her heart flutter and a frisson of sparks down her spine as he advanced. Nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.
Merrick Sinclair, Earl of Stonewick, and current bane of her existence, dropped to one knee in front of her and grasped her hand.
“I’ve been a complete fool. I think I felt it from the first time I met you, but had no idea what it was. I don’t want an arrangement or a match. I don’t want a duty or to fulfill an obligation. I want a partner. Someone I can come home to, someone to love. I have never felt about anyone the way I feel for you, but I want you to come freely. I love you and want you to be with me because you want to, not because you have to. Catherine, would you let me be the one to love you?”
Catherine didn’t speak. She couldn’t. He could have taken the exact words from her heart. The time to be stubborn had passed, although it did seem to have helped. She closed her eyes and swallowed.
“Yes, “ she whispered.
Travis saw the change in her face, but had been staying a discreet distance and had not heard exactly what Merrick said. Alarmed, Travis crossed the room and started to reach for her.
“Catherine, are you alright? Are you sure this is what you want?"
Catherine smiled at the two men staring expectantly at her. “Yes,” she said to Merrick grinning and with a stronger voice. His response was to stand up and grab her in a possessive hug. She laughed, “Yes, Travis, I believe he’s simply suitable.”
Epilogue
The wedding was a simple affair. Most were surprised, and several, both married and single, were envious. But all agreed they were a stunning couple and very much in love.
Travis provided additional information about the symbol on Grey’s back and cufflink. It represented Agua Regalis, or King’s Water. It was a solution of hydrochloric acid and nitric acid that was the only one known to dissolve gold. Grey’s surety that he was going to make gold, and his vanity at adopting the symbol, had been what helped them make the connection that ultimately led to his downfall. There were no leads to the scrolls, but the group was sure they had not heard the last of them. Jack Westfall was departing for a reconnaissance mission.
That night, Merrick readied himself for his wife, still in her dressing room. “You realize we’ve never availed ourselves of a bed?”
“The Greeks didn’t seem to mind,” she replied as she came from the other room. Catherine could not wait to explore. He was everything she hoped for.
Merrick watched as Catherine advanced. The diaphanous material of her dress hid nothing. He knew his nights would be unforgettable as his lovely wife smiled wickedly and crawled up the bed. Curious, he held himself very still. Her breasts grazed his thighs and then his chest.
“I think I’ve had enough of Greek mythology for awhile,” he murmured has he reached to cup her breasts. Surprisingly she evaded him and kept going. Reaching around behind him she withdrew a leather bound book from under the pillow.
“So, how do you feel about India?”
END
About the Author
The author lives in Ohio with her husband Mike, and their slightly disturbed Siamese cat. In addition to reading and writing, she enjoys ballroom dancing, traveling, and wine.
Coming Next
from
Bailey Griffin and Romance Divine
Another Regency Romantic Thriller!
Tristan was growing increasingly annoyed. He was at the docks on his own business, and had not planned on rescuing scatterbrained women. This was not his problem, but if he was this close, he might as well hear what was going on. It was obvious from the expense of her clothing that she was "quality." Tristan smirked to himself; I guess that depends on what one considers valuable. He was slightly taken aback by his strong reaction to her, but he shook it off. This was an inconvenience for him and was delaying his plans. She was probably a spoilt, pampered, debutant who somehow escaped from her watchful mother’s eye for a bit of excitement. Tristan sighed with weary resignation. He knew his plans were about to be altered as he overheard one of the sailor’s last comment. He knew this wasn’t a good idea.
Morgan felt men moving away from behind her, but was too scared to turn her back on the men in front of her. But her maid’s strangled squeak of fear had her quickly whirling around to face a new threat. Only the finely honed reflexes of the giant now in front of her kept her from being skewered with his broad sword as he maneuvered to place the tip of his sword at the sailor’s throat.
“I think your conversation is done for now.” His voice was low, and he made the statement in a matter of fact tone, but there was no mistaking the threat in his eyes. Morgan suppressed a shiver. Most of the men had scattered on his approach, only a couple of the less intelligent, but determined, remained.
“Now see here, we was just having a little polite parlay with the lady!” one of the larger men protested.
“I see that, and I’m telling you the conversation is over,” said the stranger in a deceptively conversational manner. Even after dismounting from his horse, Tristan towered over the two men.
Morgan held her breath. For a moment, she thought they would challenge him, but his casual confidence and patience gave them pause. Giving her one last glare, the men turned to go, but not without a parting shot, “Yer welcome to her mate, a bit too thin and uppity fer me.”
Morgan opened her mouth to retort, but thought better of it. She turned toward the man at her side and had to tilt her head back to look him in the face. She told herself her heart was still beating fast due to their close call, and was not due to the man in front of her. He was dressed for travel, and his shirt was casually open at the neck, showing an expanse of a bronzed chest beneath the linen. Morgan’s face flamed as she found herself contemplating how he would have looked with his shirt off to get that kind of sun. Exasperated with herself, she finally opened her mouth to thank him.
However, her relief at having the sailors gone was quickly replaced by annoyance when she found herself being scolded like some wayward schoolgirl. She chose to ignore the logical voice in her head that pointed out that any reasonable person might consider his attitude justified.
“Now, would you like to tell me just what the bloody hell you think you’re doing? Do you think this place is for your amusement? Have you lost your mind? ” Tristan hadn’t intended to shout, but her eyes
…. He watched as her mouth tightened (a very kissable mouth), her chin lifted, and she crossed her arms over pert breasts.
What the hell was wrong with him? He was never attracted to the social set, so why was he so easily distracted? He watched her features settle in a haughty expression and felt some of his righteous anger return. But then he noticed her high cheekbones. They were slightly flushed, and he wondered what she would look like with all that hair tousled about her shoulders … after sharing his bed. It was hard to tell its length under her hat. “Get a grip on yourself man!” The sound of his brother’s voice in his head helped ground him a little more. He could see she was about to say something, but was sure, by the petulant expression on her face that it was going to be useless drivel. He just hoped she didn’t swoon or collapse in hysterics. She was just one more spoiled and arrogant English miss.
Morgan gathered herself, “although I appreciate your assistance in the unfortunate situation, I don’t believe I owe you anything but my thanks.” What on earth was wrong with her? Even her maid gaped at her tone and behavior. It was all she despised in those of the ton. Those haughty, entitled, and decidedly snobbish group of people she did her best to avoid. She was used to being around men and holding her own. But this man, for some reason, got her back up. Her heart was racing and her face felt flushed. It must be her recent encounter with the sailors. She needed to retreat and rethink this, but he continued to plow on with more questions that were decidedly none of his business, rescuer or not.
“Did I hear you asking for passage? Don’t you know these aren’t passenger ships? You’re lucky you weren’t hauled off to be sold!” Morgan had schooled her features into one of studied disinterest, but even she blanched at the truth in his last statement. Both of them had forgotten about the maid until she swooned to a crumpled heap at their feet.
But Morgan wasn’t going to give up. She had to help Jack.
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