nothing to assuage the dread crawling in her stomach. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I must return home.” Unfolding her body, she rose from his lap. “I cannot shake this feeling that something is wrong.”
The moment she had arrived, she’d conveyed her conversation with Silas to Sebastian. Although disturbed by the news, he had not been surprised by her gaoler’s revelations.
Sebastian pushed out of the cushioned high-back chair to stand beside her. “I have men watching over your family.” He slid a large, warm hand around the side of her neck, his thumb smoothed across her cheek.
“The last time I experienced this kind of unrelenting anxiety,” she said, “I found Sophie stuck in a tree with a feral dog prowling beneath.”
His other hand came up to frame her face and then he kissed her. A long, slow, achingly tender kiss. A kiss that wove soft fingers of longing into the midst of her fear.
Lifting his head, he said, “Then it is a sensation not to be ignored.” He moved away and began tucking in the tail of his shirtsleeves.
“What are you doing?”
“Coming with you.”
“I thought we were to carry on as before—at least for another day or two.”
He grasped her hand and towed her from his bedchamber. “It’s always best not to draw undue attention, that is true. However, your gaolers cannot fault me for seeing you home.”
Fifteen minutes later, they guided their horses down the path connecting their two properties. With unerring accuracy, Sebastian guided them along the same route she’d taken since the onset of their affaire. He even selected the narrow deer path she preferred, rather than forging down the wider track that skimmed along the edge of a thirty-foot ridge. In the daytime, she enjoyed the view such a path provided. At night, she liked something a little more stable. “Have you been following me home?”
“What gave you that impression?”
Did the man never provide a direct answer? “Your familiarity with a route others would pass by without notice.”
“I might have ventured along this path a time or two.”
She narrowed her eyes on his back. “Still don’t trust me with your secrets, my lord?”
He threw her a heavy-lidded glance over his shoulder. “The same could be said of you.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “I have told you every detail of Cochran’s plan—at least, what I know of it.”
He whipped his big, black horse about, making Gypsy toss her head in annoyance. “I’m not speaking of Cochran’s plan.” His blue-gray eyes caressed her features with a thoroughness that left her breathless and exposed.
She lowered her gaze to Gypsy’s mane, afraid he saw too much. “Pray enlighten me, sir.”
Silence reigned through the dense woodland for several uncomfortable seconds. Then he said, “Some secrets are best left unrevealed, don’t you think? Enlightenment can sometimes complicate an uncomplicated situation.”
He definitely saw too much. The back of her throat ached with unshed tears. Had she really allowed herself to hope? To think that their time together had burrowed beneath his skin and taken hold, as it had hers? Stupid, stupid, lonely widow.
“Wise as always, my lord.” She squared her shoulders and then met his gaze. “Perhaps we should carry on.”
He hesitated but a moment before turning toward Winter’s Hollow again. If Sebastian’s pace was somewhat faster than before, Catherine dared not remark upon it. One reminder of their agreement in a five-minute time span was more than enough.
They spent the rest of their journey in contemplative silence, a circumstance both painful and welcome. Once they reached the edge of her garden, they dismounted and tied off the horses. Grasping her hand, he led her along the garden wall, pausing several times to listen. Then he circled around to the east side of the manor. All the while, his gaze never stopped moving, never stopped searching. The closer he maneuvered them to their destination, the more focused he became.
Rather than continuing on to the front entrance, he stopped at the corner, pressing them up against the rough stone of the manor. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
He squeezed her hand in warning and then peered around the corner. When he shifted back, his gaze sought hers. “Do you trust me?”
The planes of his face appeared cast in granite and his beautiful eyes had transformed into spheres of ice. She nodded, afraid to speak.
He lifted their clasped hands and kissed the tips of her fingers. “You mentioned once that Silas greets you in the hall each night.”