Seven Wicked Nights (61 page)

What was their secret? How did the earth sleep so soundly through the cold of winter and never fail to arrive fresh and hopeful the next spring?

Cat leaned forward and placed the flowered, braided wreath atop her head. She had to tell Jamie the entire truth, to make him understand.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He watched her, waited. She cleared her throat, found only the simplest words. “I was with child.”

He froze. He was stone. He was ice. He was solid oak.

“A few weeks after you left, I discovered I was increasing.”

“My God, Cat.” The words were as much sigh as sound. “What… Why…?”

“It was not meant to be.” Her throat hurt. She could say no more, so she shrugged.

The green glen held its breath. Everything hushed around them. Pressure built in her chest. Cat undid the top button of her riding jacket. She took a deep breath.

This memory was not one that would just disappear. A baby had grown within her womb. A life had flourished. Had been lost.

“A child.” Jamie brushed his hand over his face. He appeared pale, stricken. “How did I not know this?”

How did
he
not know this? She wanted to laugh. He’d been
gone
.

“Why did no one inform me?” he pressed again. Something wild lit his eyes. She knew that feeling. The tangle of beauty and loss and confusion.

“It was early, and I did not make the news known.” She had feared word of the babe would bring Jamie home, when his wife could not. And in the next breath, she had feared even a child would not make him return.

He reached out to touch her. His hand hovered over her knee, then pulled back. “Was there pain?”

“Some.” The heartbreak had been worse. The feeling of being emptied out, the unnameable grief. Even now, tears prickled her eyes with their sharp thorns. She blinked them away.

“Do you think…? Could my absence have caused…” He cleared his throat.

“I was never ill. The doctor said I should have been ill, had the babe been healthy.”

She could only glance at him beneath her lashes. “I’ve never told anyone, Jamie. Not even my brother.”

There was so much shame wrapped up in that time. So much failure. Still, she could not understand why this had happened to her. What had she done to deserve such a sad fate? She told herself it was natural. She told herself many women experienced the same thing. But it only helped a bit. She had cherished that baby.

She had failed as a mother. Failed as a wife. Failed as everything she had been raised to be. Lost everything she had most hoped for.

T
HE TALL OAK SIGHED
with the wind. Jamie stared at the play of shadows across the glen.

Cat had been with child. He’d almost been a father.

Joy and pain and disbelief knotted within him. So many years ago…the babe was long from this world, a distant memory to the ancient oak. But it was new to him.

He’d almost been a father and not even known it.

With a hard motion, he scrubbed a hand through his hair, felt the pull of his roots against his scalp. He did not know how he should feel. How did one manage such news? A baby. His child.

He dropped his hand, hammered a hard fist against the earth. Dammit, he should have been there. He never should have stayed away so long.

“I wish I had been there with you.” His voice was quiet. The same quiet one uses in a house of God. The hot knife of loss made his chest ache. Made his breath tight.

“Yes.” Cat said the word on a swallow, as if she could not hold it back.

She’d always wanted children. Had often talked of the large family they would have together. And she’d gone through the loss of the baby alone. “I am so sorry.”

She did not look at him. Simply removed the braided wreath from her hair and turned it in her hands.

He wanted to scoop her up. To carve out her sorrow and bear it himself. She had carried this burden alone for too long.

“Thank you for telling me.” He contented himself with pulling her back against his chest. He buried his face in her hair, smelled the hope of late-summer roses. “One thing I know to be certain, you deserve to be happy.”

He hoped he could be the man to make her happy. He’d done so once. Certainly he could do so again.

He would do his damndest to try.

Chapter Seven

L
ATER THAT AFTERNOON
, Cat received a note from Jamie requesting the honor of her presence at dinner that evening. She took her time with bathing and dressing. Discarding gown after gown, she chose a dress she knew would delight her husband. Cut low off the shoulder, the elegant peacock blue silk shone against her pale skin while a satin sash emphasized her waist. Long earbobs of sparkling sapphires were her only adornment.

Something had changed between Jamie and her that afternoon. Something she did not expect. It was as if she had removed a corset and breathed deep, full breaths. She had not recognized the burden her secret pregnancy had been.

Turning this way and that, she checked her appearance in the long mirror. Excitement curled low in her belly, tingled up her spine. When was the last time she had dressed for a man? She had forgotten the naughty thrill of it.

Jamie waited for her. Jamie, who desired to have a future with her again.

Jamie, who wanted her in his bed.

Her hands shook as she pulled on her long white gloves. She was a fool to do this, to allow him back into her heart.

So true a fool is love.

She took a deep breath and went to meet her future.

He was standing in the drawing room, as handsome as ever. His dark hair was swept back from his forehead, his tanned face clean-shaven and relaxed as he considered a portrait of his mother. Soft shadows settled beneath the hard edges of his cheekbone and jaw, under the curl of his lower lip. A tumbler of amber liquid, brandy most likely, dangled from his fingers.

Turning at her footsteps, Jamie swept his gaze over her. His impossibly blue eyes met hers. He smiled and something hot pulsed through her blood. It felt true and easy, the smile she gave him in return.

Her husband put down his drink and crossed the room to bow over her hand, as courtly as any suitor. “I am humbled before your beauty, Lady Forster. You steal my thoughts like fine wine.”

“You flatter me, Lord Forster.”

He straightened, but did not let go of her hand. “No, I would like to flatter you, but I cannot recall the simplest bit of poetry.”

She warmed under his praise. “You just saw me this afternoon.”

“Not all of you.” His gaze landed on the full tops of her breasts where they pressed up against the tight bodice of her gown.

Men were too easy. But oh so enjoyable.

“Cat.” The sound of her name rumbled out from deep in his chest.

“Jamie.”

“I am going to take you to my bed tonight.”

A jolt of pleasure shot down to her feet and made her toes curl. “So certain of yourself, are you?”

He flicked his gaze up to hers and stepped forward. Touched her with the heat of his body, with the spicy scent of his shaving powder. “I will make you mine again, Cat. And I won’t let you go.”

Her breath caught in her throat, trapped by the heated look in his eyes. She did not doubt his intentions. But what did
she
want?

She wanted to be taken, to be ravished, to be made his.

She wanted sovereignty, independence, unequivocal control.

Cat tossed her head, placed her hand on the sharp angle of his jaw. “I am hungry, Jamie.”

His eyes flared at her words, then dropped into a sleepy, sultry look.

Yes. She would not forget her power over him. “Take me to dinner.”

He cleared his throat. Arched a dark brow. “Is that all you are hungry for?”

With a coy lift of her bare shoulder, she dropped her hand and turned away from him. “We shall see.”

Jamie caught her arm in his and led her into the dining room. Everything was aglow with candles, though the sun had not yet completely set. Her husband seated her by his side at the head of the table. This would be an intimate meal, then, without the length of the table between them as was customary.

She did not mind.

As he sat, Jamie’s coat strained across the shoulders. She did not mind this either. It gave him a rather virile air, as if he could not be contained by civility. She recalled the sight of his chest, unclothed and golden, the curve and heft of his muscle.

He must have noticed her looking, for he chuckled. “I suppose my attire is hopelessly out-of-date.”

She glanced up at him, into his smiling eyes.

“Might you consult with me if I send for a new wardrobe?” he asked.

“Of course.” She took a sip of wine and felt warm everywhere. “What of your valet? Surely he would have an opinion.”

“I haven’t had a valet for years. Frank, the head footman, has been dressing me since my return. I thought I might hire him on.”

No valet? Cat studied him more closely this time.

Jamie laughed again. “You appear shocked, dear wife.”

“Who dressed you if you had no valet?”

“I dressed myself.”

“And there were no mishaps?” Quietly, the footmen served the first course of white soup.

Jamie tilted his head playfully. “I would not say that, exactly. Though the worst of it was no fault of any valet. It was simply a great misunderstanding.”

Cat smiled. It was so easy between them tonight, as it used to be. “Do tell.”

“I was in the French West Indies, on an island called Martinique. It had been a long, windless sail from Morocco and I was impatient to stretch my sea legs. I went for a walk into the hills and stumbled upon a waterfall for bathing.”

“Bathing out of doors?”

He nodded. “Fresh water was a boon I never passed by. And this waterfall was beautiful, higher than the mast on our ship. The water fell into a pool rimmed with rocks and ferns. As I was completely alone, I quickly divested myself of my clothing and jumped into the pool.” He shook his head as he remembered. “It was heaven.”

Cat could picture Jamie, naked and tan and wet, surrounded by a tropical lagoon. Goodness, she would like to have seen that.

“I wish you had been there.” He winked. “I thought of you. What I would like to do to you.”

“Strangle me, you mean?”

He reached across the table and touched her cheek. “I never stopped desiring you, Cat.”

Her pulse leapt and tumbled. “Alas, I was here in Nottinghamshire.”
Where you left me.

“I would take you anywhere you wished to go. If you want to see the world, I am your escort.”

“I like my comforts too much for exotic travel.”

“Then I will take you somewhere you will be treated like a queen.”

Two footmen entered and served their pheasant. Cat assumed Jamie had requested this dish, it being her favorite. The sauce had an unusual color to it. Jamie watched her taste it.

Her brows lifted with the spice on her tongue.

“I supplied Cook with a special curry powder.” He watched her take another bite. “Is it to your liking?”

“I have never tasted a flavor like it.” She swallowed another bite. “I find it quite invigorating.”

“Yes, it is that.” Jamie smiled at her.

Whether it was the spices, the wine, or the effect of his smile, she felt most languid and awake at once. An unusual combination. “You were in the lagoon…” she prompted.

“Yes. I swam around a bit, sunned myself on the rocks, and otherwise forgot about the world. Then I decided it was time to return to town and discovered I had a great problem. My clothes were nowhere to be found.”

“No.” Cat put her fork down.

“I am very serious. My boots were where I had left them, but my trousers and tunic were gone.”

She laughed at the image.

Jamie laughed too. “I did not know what to do. I could only assume someone had sneaked by while I was swimming and stolen my things. But I could not understand why they would leave my boots, which were worth far more than my linens.”

“What did you do?”

“What could I do? I pulled on my boots and went in search of my clothing.”

“Unclothed.”