Bluestocking Bride (7 page)

"Catherine," he said thickly against her hair, "let me take you to my room." One arm slipped around her shoulders and he made to pull her toward the door, but something inside her resisted. She froze, her eyes dilating in fear. She looked up to see him watching her, the desire naked in his darkening eyes.

It came to her then that
Rutherston
had planned from the beginning to seduce her. She felt dizzy with nausea, knowing that he had done this to her deliberately. Gathering her reeling senses together, she wrenched violently away with all her strength and stood, shoulders heaving, trying to control her breath.

"Catherine." He reached for her, his voice thick with emotion.

She took a step backwards, and what he saw in her face halted him.

"You plotted this," she hissed between clenched teeth. "Didn't you?" She could not stop the catch in her throat. "You knew I would come thinking you were not here!"

Her voice broke, and
Rutherston
reached for her again.

"Don't touch me!" Her voice betrayed all the desperation she felt, and
Rutherston's
hands dropped to his sides.

"Catherine, listen to me, I beg you."

"I see it all now!" She was livid with anger, and hardly paused for breath.

"I should thank you for teaching me a salutary lesson. In my ignorance, my blindness, I had supposed that you and I were becoming friends. I see now that the easiness with which I allowed you to converse with me was, in your eyes, a mark of my impropriety, or worse—depravity." She despised herself for the quaver in her voice and the obvious trembling in her limbs.

"Catherine, you don't understand. If you would only calm yourself and give me time to explain! It is not as you think!" He longed to take her into his arms again, to soothe her, but her whole demeanor warned him not to make the attempt.

Catherine went on as if he had not spoken.

"I should thank you, my lord, for teaching me something about myself." At this point she hesitated, but gathered herself as if to take a fence. "I have discovered a new side to my nature of which I have been in ignorance till now! That I have it in me to conduct myself like a . . ." she cast around in her mind for the worst word that she could think of, "a
whore,
is more than I can comprehend. It is an unpalatable truth which fills me with shame! But you wanted me to discover that
truth,
didn't you, my lord? Didn't you?" Her voice rose in her agitation.

"Catherine, please don't say these things. You must know they are not true." He saw that there was no placating her.

"Love!"
She almost choked on the word. "How well you led me on, my lord! Passion!
The glory of men and a stumbling block to every woman of delicacy!"
Her voice shook with scorn. "I should have paid more attention to my Greek lessons,
then
eros
might never have taken me by storm!"

It was all he could do not to smile, and with a great effort of will he managed to keep his face grave.

"Catherine!" He put out his hand in an appeal. "Let us forget what has happened here and begin again."

"You wanted to punish me, to disgrace me in my own eyes! Well, you have succeeded, my lord, better than you know!" Her voice broke on a sob and she turned to run, but at the door she looked back at him, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I hope that I shall never see you
again,"
and she wrenched the door open and was gone.

But she returned almost immediately, clutching the bodice of her gown. She advanced upon him, her eyes downcast and her cheeks flaming furiously.

"Mrs.
Bates . . . I cannot . . .
the buttons," she finished lamely as she turned to present her back to him.

Rutherston's
eyes gleamed with laughter, but his lips remained firmly pressed together as he now lightly did up the gaping gown and Catherine adjusted her bodice.

"Thank you," she said at last without turning, and with her head held high, she stalked out of the room.

When she had again closed the door upon him,
Rutherston
was moved to speak.

"Not at all, Miss Harland.
But I do not believe that the pleasure was all
mine
." And he remained for a few minutes longer looking thoughtfully at the closed door. It was the first tongue-lashing that Lord
Rutherston
had ever received from a woman in his life, and the experience had not been in the least objectionable.
Quite the reverse.

In the following week,
Rutherston
discovered that he could not put Catherine out of his thoughts. She was an innocent, and he had all but seduced her.

What had been begun in a spirit of revenge had soon become, for him, a sport, a mere flirtation. He had not meant it to go so far. He had meant only to pierce her bravado and impress upon her that she could not fence with him and come off unscathed. But when he had felt her surrender so readily to his advances, her warm body clinging to his, passion had flared to a red-hot heat, and his one thought had been to possess her and damn the consequences.

When he had soothed her in his arms as she had resisted his lovemaking, he had murmured that he would marry her on the morrow if she wished it, and he had meant it. Did she know that she could have held him to it, or hadn't she heard, or cared, or what? He was forced to conclude that Catherine discounted every word that he uttered. She had taken his measure as a gentleman and had found him wanting. The thought was not palatable to one who held himself in such high esteem.

He considered just what it was that drew him to her. He enjoyed her lively discourse, although they never seemed to agree on a single subject. She spoke her mind forthrightly and never gave the least sign that she was overawed by his superior rank, or knowledge, or prowess in any field. Nor did she go out of her way to court his favor—quite the reverse. If he had shown half as much attention to any of the debs at
Almack's
as he had shown to Catherine, they would be setting their caps at him, he knew. But Catherine seemed to be ignorant of the honor he had done her in singling her out.

He determined that when next he saw her he would begin by apologizing for his ungentlemanly behavior. What he would say after that would depend on Catherine's response. Somehow he must find the words to soothe her ruffled feathers, but he did not think she would be in humor to hear what he intended for their future. That declaration required a calmer, more receptive Catherine.

But for the rest of that week, Catherine proved to be elusive. She was not to be found in any of the places where
Rutherston
might have expected, in the normal course of events, to have met her, and he was annoyed to find himself expending so much time in useless occupations that now held no pleasure for him, and consuming so many bland dinners, when his own French chef was ensconced at
Branley
Park eager to tempt his appetite.

It was with studied nonchalance that he remarked to his cousin, Mr. Norton, over breakfast one morning that he hoped all went well with Miss Harland, since she had not graced any of the Breckenridge assemblies for a full
se'ennight
. Mr. Norton gave
Rutherston
his full attention.

"Which Miss Harland?" he demanded.

"Miss Catherine Harland, of course," snapped

Rutherston
impatiently, thinking his cousin a fool.

"Ah, I see," said Norton knowingly. "Then I have found you out,
cos
, since you failed to notice that
neither
of the Misses Harland has been in company of late."

Rutherston
was nonplussed, and instinctively assumed his most aloof manner.

"You can come down out of your high ropes," Norton went on, not in the least put out, "and take that devilish look off your face. I am quite willing to tell you why Catherine and Lucy are keeping to
Ardo
House, Tom tells me they have company, the eldest girl, Lady Mary, and since the girls are leaving next week for town, they want to spend as much time with their sister as possible."

"Then why didn't you say so in the first place?" asked
Rutherston
with asperity.

"Because I don't believe that that's the real reason Catherine is absenting herself."

"Oh? Pray continue. What do you think, cousin?" There was a forbidding note in
Rutherston's
voice.

Mr. Norton now became a trifle uneasy, but decided, in all conscience, that he could not keep silent on a matter of such importance.

"I think that Catherine is grasping at this excuse
so's
her Mama won't get wind of the fact that she's trying to keep out of your way."

"And what makes you think that Catherine—Miss Harland —is keeping out of my way?"

At any other time, Norton would have kept his own counsel. His cousin could be a devil when his temper was roused, and he had often seen him freeze into oblivion lesser mortals who had the audacity to tread on his private domain.

"May I speak freely?" The set of Norton's shoulders, the tilt of his chin, and his penetrating gaze reminded
Rutherston
so much of a protagonist facing him in a duel that he put his hand up to smother a smile.

"Charles, you always do!"

"Richard, what game are you playing with Catherine? From the day we have arrived, I have been aware of something going on between you two. You're so much more experienced than she is; it would be unfair to take advantage of
her—to
flirt with her and then discard her. She's a green girl and not up to snuff. I wish you would let her be. Just what are your intentions toward Catherine, anyway?"

Far from being angered by this speech,
Rutherston
was rather touched that this young cub, whom he held in so much affection, should take it upon himself to be Catherine's protector and beard the lion in his den.

"You may rest easy about my intentions, Charles," he replied, all haughtiness gone. "Any intentions I may have in that direction will be entirely honorable. I give you my word."

All strain left Norton's face.

"Well then,
cos
, if that's the case, I can tell you now that we have been invited to dine at
Ardo
House tomorrow." He smiled broadly.

"Invited to dine? And when did we receive this invitation?"

"Only last night, from Tom.
I told him that, of course, I should be delighted, but due to unforeseen circumstances you were unable to accept. Naturally, Tom is too much the gentleman to question the goings on of so high and mighty a lord as a marquis."

In mock anger,
Rutherston
picked up his napkin and threw it at his cousin.

"I was only funning, cos." Norton
ducked,
his face alight with merriment. "I took it upon myself to accept for both of us. I thought this was one invitation you wouldn't refuse."

And with amicable relations entirely restored between the cousins,
Rutherston
set his mind to rehearsing what he should say to Catherine on the morrow.

It was in such a frame of mind that
Rutherston
arrived at
Ardo
House on the Friday afternoon, three days before Catherine was due to leave for town. He caught a glimpse of her in the garden as he dismounted and threw his reins to a waiting groom.

"You go in Charles," he said and nodded to Norton. "There is something I must do."

Norton glanced in the direction of
Rutherston's
gaze, and jumping down from his mount, made as if to go with him.

"No, go in Charles, I won't be long." The note of authority in
Rutherston's
voice halted Norton who remained undecided for a moment before moving toward the house.

When
Rutherston
came upon Catherine, he saw that she was not alone. She was walking with a lady who was quite obviously pregnant. An infant clung to Catherine's skirts, and in her arms
was
a robust baby, pulling at her hair and tugging at her chin. As he approached, he heard her mellow laughter, and saw the lady, whom he presumed to be Catherine's sister, bend to say something in her ear, and Catherine turned to face him.

He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. She had never seemed more beautiful or desirable to him as she did at that moment and a wave of tenderness swept over him. He wanted to see her with children in her arms—but the children of his body. He wanted her to be like her sister, with belly swollen with child, but with his seed. He thought of the women who had tried to entrap him with their feminine allures and wondered at so simple a snare as a girl inclining her head to disengage her hair from the clutches of an infant.

His mistresses he had always flaunted as if they had been prime cattle, but Catherine he wanted to cherish as his own private possession. He would never allow her now to belong to anyone but him.