Virginia Henley (9 page)

In spite of her dejected mood, she had carefully hung her gown in the wardrobe. It was one of her favorites and there would be little satisfaction venting her spleen on the delicate creation. Cat had put on her nightgown and crawled into bed determined that tomorrow she would be on her best behavior, no matter the provocation, and tonight she would indeed have sweet dreams!

As Cat hovered on the edge of sleep, she heard a faint scratching at her bedchamber door.

She licked her lips. “
We
are not a perfect fit, however. My ear only reaches your heart.” Impulsively she pressed her ear against his chest and felt the slow, steady, powerful beat within.

“There is no
you and me,
Hepburn. There will never be anything between us other than hostility and hatred.”

 

In the morning, when she awoke, the details of her strange dream were still with her. She was thoroughly disgusted with herself. How could she possibly have been attracted to him, even in a dream? The very idea repulsed her. He was the most odious, loathsome male she had ever met, and she vowed to avoid the vile devil like the plague.

Since she had little desire to visit Hunsdon Hall today, she decided to go riding. Both she and Jasmine would benefit from a good gallop. She put on the hunter green riding dress and a starched white ruff. She twisted her hair into a French knot and secured it with ivory pins and pale green ribbon. She couldn’t understand why Maggie had allowed her to sleep late. She usually drew back her curtains at the first light of day, then helped her to dress.

As soon as Cat opened her bedchamber door, the tantalizing aroma of fresh-baked scones met her nostrils.
It’s May ... perhaps the strawberries are ripe.
She ran lightly down the stairs, found the dining room empty, so followed her nose to the kitchen. She swung open the door and stopped dead on the threshold. Patrick Hepburn was holding court before Mrs. Dobson and Maggie.

“Oh, yer lordship, ye make me so homesick for Seton.”

“Perhaps I’ll smuggle you aboard and make off with you, Maggie.”

“Damnation!”

The exclamation made Patrick turn to look at her, and she suddenly went icy cold as she stared at the scratch on his cheek.

His eyes were amused as he touched his face. “Just a cat scratch. No permanent damage.”

“Too bad! A scar might improve your looks.”

Catherine stared at him in horror. She had heard his thoughts as clearly as if he had shouted the words.
Dear God, can he read my thoughts? Am I still caught fast in my dream?

She realized immediately that she was awake and chided herself for being fanciful. Nevertheless, she could not dispel the strange sensation that she was caught fast in something ephemeral, like the gossamer silk threads of a cobweb.

“I can see that I disturb Lady Catherine, so I’ll be off.”

“Please don’t delude yourself,” she said sweetly.

“Thank you for the hares, Lord Stewart.” Cook bobbed a curtsy.

“It was my pleasure, madam. My deerhounds are forever on the prowl for game. Just last night they brought me a rare bird—”

“Good day, Lord Stewart.” Their eyes met in a challenge of wills, and again she heard his thought:
I don’t dismiss so easily!

He left through the kitchen door, as familiar with the house as if he had always lived there.

Maggie gave Catherine a long look of speculation. “Now, there’s a
real
man for ye.”

“Not for me, thank you. At last I realize why Mother married an Englishman.” Cat gave a delicate shudder and changed the subject. “Is it my imagination, or do I smell strawberries?”

“It’s no’ yer imagination. We had a huge basketful, but the wee laddie polished them all off,” Maggie said fondly.

“Wee laddie? He’s a bloody giant! How could you give him all our strawberries?” She recalled his gargantuan appetite from last night. “Never mind; I’ll have one of your lovely scones instead.”

“A chance is a good thing.” Maggie and Mrs. Dobson exchanged a merry glance and went off into peals of laughter. “I suppose we couldn’t resist mothering him.”

“I have a similar urge. I can hardly resist smothering him!” Cat settled for bread and honey. “Thank heaven he is back from hunting. The woods will be safe once more.”

Before she made her way to the stables, her glance traveled over Hunsdon’s lovely garden. She blushed as her eyes rested on the copper beech tree.
That’s where I behaved so wantonly.
She assured herself that it had only been a dream.
What about the scratch?
her inner voice persisted.
A coincidence,
she concluded.

Cat decided that she would ride through the woods to a glade where bluebells grew in great profusion. The scent of the wild hyacinths coupled with their vivid color had drawn her every May since childhood. Once upon a time she hadn’t been able to resist picking handfuls of the lovely blooms with the sticky stalks, but as she grew older she realized it was better to leave them growing so they would reproduce and be there forever.

As Cat rode through the trees she talked to Jasmine, her white palfrey, as if the animal could understand her. She praised her and patted her neck, never doubting that the little horse knew she was loved. “I shall tether you to a tree before we get to the glade, Jasmine. You might be tempted to nibble the bluebells and I fear they may be poisonous.”

Cat dismounted and tied her reins to a young oak. She could see the heavenly color of the glade through the trees and breathed in the heady fragrance with appreciation. As she approached the sunny clearing she saw someone, and when she got closer, Cat realized that it was Robert Carey. She opened her mouth to call out his name but stopped as she realized that he was not alone. Robert was talking with someone she could not see. She concealed herself behind some mulberry bushes in case his companion was Patrick Hepburn. If it was, Cat intended to withdraw quietly before they spotted her. She watched Robert sink to his knees.

Then she saw a head emerge from the sea of bluebells and the distinctive burgundy-colored hair told her it was Liz Widdrington.

“I couldn’t wait to have you beneath me again.”

Cat not only heard Robert’s words clearly, she heard their underlying intensity and knew immediately that this was a romantic tryst. She was both shocked and fascinated, for though she had a vivid imagination, she had little experience in sexual matters between men and women.

Cat was well aware that she should not be here watching and listening to such a private and intimate interlude, but if she moved they would undoubtedly hear her as clearly as she could hear them. On the other hand, if she remained perfectly still, though, it was unlikely they would see her, since her hunter green riding habit blended with her surroundings.

“It feels deliciously wicked making love outdoors,” Liz said.

“I’ll make you feel wicked before I’m done, sweetheart.”

“Undress me, Robert; I want to lie naked in the flowers.”

How flagrantly reckless she is!
Cat wondered if this was what being in love did to a woman and she suddenly envied her. She heard Liz’s abandoned laugh and realized how irresistible it must be to a man.
She’s a widow. Robert isn’t the first man with whom she’s lain.
Once again Cat felt envious.

“Open for me, that’s a good girl. Now wrap your legs high about my back.”

Cat’s eyes widened as she watched two long, slim limbs arise from the carpet of bluebells and Robert sink down between them.
She isn’t a good girl at all; she’s decidedly bad, and he can’t get enough of her!

If their conversation had been prurient before, the noises they now made were positively erotic. Cat blushed hotly, and suddenly she became aware of the feel of her undergarments brushing against her breasts and her thighs.

“That’s it, stay with me, sweetheart,” Robert gasped as their gyrations became almost frenzied.

Liz’s cries reached a crescendo and were followed by a long moan of pleasure.

Cat found that she was almost panting.
They copulated before my very eyes!
All was now quiet, as the couple lay spent. Cat wondered if she could make her escape without being detected. Then she heard Robert’s voice. “Will you marry me, Liz?”

Liz’s voice was languorous. “Darling, I thought you’d never ask.”

Cat felt her insides begin to melt.
Ahh, he proposed and she accepted. What a lovely bride Liz will make.
She sighed, thinking how romantic it had been to make love in a glade of bluebells. Quietly, she withdrew from the mulberry bushes and with great care made her way back to Jasmine.

As she rode home she realized that though she had been shocked initially, she had received a valuable education this morning. One thing she had learned was that both male and female gave and received pleasure when they mated. The idea thrilled her.

When she returned, she took Jasmine to the Hunsdon stables and asked one of the grooms if he would put her in their outdoor paddock for the rest of the day. She went home to change her clothes. The day had turned almost sultry and she definitely needed something cooler than velvet. Her cheeks felt flushed, but that might not be from the weather alone, she decided.

Cat chose a cambric dress in a shade of peach. Embroidered brown silk pansies with amber beads at their centers were scattered upon its bodice and sleeves. She took down her hair and brushed it, then tied a peach satin ribbon about her head to keep her abundant tresses from her face but allow dark curls to cascade down her back. She critically surveyed her appearance in the long mirror and decided she looked far too young with her hair down, but before she had a chance to change it, she glanced through her window and saw Arbella Stuart walking up from the river. Cat hurried outside to meet her on the path.

“Bella, I know I invited you, but I never expected that you would actually come to Richmond. Is everything all right?”

“Everything is marvelous.” Arbella was breathless with excitement. “I couldn’t wait to talk and thought it best to come upriver so we could be seen returning to Whitehall together.”