enjoy little sleep while beneath Sebastian’s roof. She had made a mistake in accepting his invitation to stay. Such temptation so close at hand was far stronger than her meager will. She wanted one more night in his embrace, one more evening where she felt womanly and strong and cherished. One more evening to love him.
Catherine threw back her head and stared at the ceiling. How? How had she managed to fall in love with a man burdened with every trait she despised? Why couldn’t she have found a nice gentleman like Mr. Foster? Someone who would spend his entire life in service to the residents of Showbury and be happy about it. Gentle. Predictable. Boring.
She released a huge sigh while her gaze traveled around the rose and lemon bedchamber. So different from the countess’s cream and gold silk-draped chamber. And a good deal safer. But the more modest-sized room made her feel caged and restless. She strode to the door leading out to a small balcony and thrust it open. A gentle summer breeze whipped through her loose hair and caressed her burning cheeks. The air was redolent with the lush scent of roses.
The clouds had finally moved on, leaving behind an ebony sky sprinkled with diamonds. Two hours ago, one would never have known such perfection rode above the thick veil of evil. Meghan McCarthy’s youthful face surfaced in her mind’s eye, and Catherine clenched her teeth against the sadness. Through no fault of her own, the young woman had become embroiled in the machinations of ambitious, greedy men.
Sebastian and the others had speculated that a disguised Cochran had made secret trips into Showbury, looking for clues to Jeffrey’s whereabouts and learning the landscape. Somewhere along the way, Meghan had caught Cochran’s eye.
Catherine leaned against the iron railing, absorbing the innocence of Sebastian’s moon-kissed gardens. Her gaze touched on every hedge, every blooming flower, every gnarled limb. When she reached the sunken garden, a man emerged from beneath the canopy of a small, multi-stemmed tree, his face uplifted, his gaze luminescent and focused on her. Sebastian.
Catherine’s fingers curled around the top railing, the metal cool and solid. Her heart thumped an erratic tattoo in her ears, but not loud enough to drown out the single word echoing in her mind. Go. Go. Go!
Not stopping to think, to consider the consequences, she swung around and rushed through the bedchamber, having no care for her dishabille and bare feet. She stormed through the mansion as if outrunning logic and good sense. She ran until her lungs heaved and her muscles ached. She ran until she came face-to-face with her heaven and her hell. “Sebastian.”
He gave her no time to catch her breath. He framed her face in the cradle of his hands and closed his mouth over hers. She curled her arms around his back and met his fierceness with a passion that bordered on desperation. He tasted of warmed sugar and of green tea and mint. He tasted of home.
She broke off for a much-needed breath. “Sebastian.”
“Mmm-hmm.” His magical lips continued their assault down her throat.
“I don’t want you to go.”
He froze, and Catherine winced. Where had those words come from? She had intended to beg him to make love to her, not declare such fruitless yearnings. “I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have said—” She swallowed back the damning words and stared at his chest in mortification, waiting for him to deliver his painful reminder.
Sebastian curled his finger beneath her chin and nudged her face up. “It occurs to me that this is Saturday.”
What an odd thing to say when she’d just made a fool of herself. “Yes, what of it?”
“That’s four days until Wednesday.”
“Now that we have established that you know the days of the week and their proper placement, perhaps you could tell me why that’s important now.
“The timing is important, my impatient one, because it means I’m not going anywhere for four days.”
“But you told Lord Helsford to report to you in London.”
He nodded. “After Wednesday.”
Vexing man. “I don’t understand the significance of this time frame.”
“You wound me, madam,” he said. “The end date of our affaire approaches. Does that fact not hold some importance in your heart?”
Catherine studied his tender expression and the playful curve to his mouth. Something had changed in him during the short time they had been apart. Something significant.
“What are you about, sir?”
His lips twitched. “Whatever can you mean, dear lady? The notion that you may have forgotten our pleasurable arrangement calls