tray and then moved out of sight, making himself comfortable behind her. A bit of rustling occurred before she felt the first tentative tug on her hair.
After a few experimental strokes, he asked, “Am I hurting you?”
Catherine closed her eyes in ecstasy. “Not in the least.”
He started at the bottom and worked his way up with a patience and dedication to the task that surprised her. When he finished one section, he would begin the process all over again. His big hands were so deliciously gentle, always soothing a hurt, rare though they were.
Once he had dispatched all the knots, he replaced the comb with a soft brush. Long, even strokes, followed by long, gentle caresses. The rhythmic action lulled her into a semiconscious state, easing away her tension. Soon, her body sagged into a more natural curve.
He draped her hair over one shoulder, leaving her other one exposed and vulnerable and aching for attention. “Better?” he whispered.
She nodded. “I’ve never enjoyed a hair brushing more. Thank you, my lord.”
He kissed the side of her head and then rested his cheek there while his arms snaked around her middle. The movement brought her back flush against his chest. Warmth, security, and a desire-filled serenity flooded her body. Today, she had walked in the footsteps of evil. Tonight, she sat in a halo of heaven. Heaven suited her so much better.
She rolled her head to one side, as if she could snuggle farther into the cocoon of his embrace. “I’ve never seen the sunken garden from this vantage point. It’s quite stunning.”
“Thank you,” he breathed against her temple. “Of all Bellamere’s gardens, the sunken is my favorite.”
“So I’ve heard,” she said.
He tipped his head to the side to see her face. “What exactly did Grayson tell you?”
“Who said I received my information from Grayson?”
His arms tautened.
“Someone might have mentioned you would hide in the garden to evade your father.”
“Someone should not be telling such tales.”
Catherine heard the steel underlying his words. “Please don’t be upset. It was an idle comment, nothing more.”
His hold loosened. “I’m not angry. Where my father is concerned, I have many conflicting feelings.”
“As do I,” she said. “Many times as a child, I wondered why my father bothered having a family at all. The Navy seemed to be all he ever needed. Or wanted.”
The rhythmic brush of his thumb against her bare arm helped smooth the jagged edges of her memories.
“Mine was bent on turning me into the perfect earl.”
“How old were you when your father died?”
“Twelve.”
“A child.”
“One who grew up rather fast.” He released a long breath. “My father knew he was dying and wanted to make sure I was ready to take over the earldom. Had he explained that in the beginning—no matter how difficult—I would have spent far less time in the garden and more time at my desk.”
She covered his hand. “He would be proud of the man you are today.”
“Perhaps,” he said.
“Disappointing my daughter is one of my greatest fears,” she whispered.
He tugged her face around to meet his. “You’re a good mother. No, a wonderful mother,” he said. “Yes, you might get it wrong a few times along the way, but Sophie will never doubt she is loved. That’s a mistake you will never make.”
She smiled, then leaned in to press her lips against his. He did not push for a more intimate kiss, but seemed to enjoy the slow exploration, the affirmation of their past hurts, as much as she.
Ending the kiss, she said, “Thank you.”
His eyes softened. “If that is how you express your gratitude, I will try to come up with nice things to say more often.”
Catherine wanted to curse when her cheeks heated. They lapsed into a companionable silence for several long minutes.
Then, he asked, “Are you thinking of Meghan?”
She shook her head. “Not at this precise moment, but she is not long from my thoughts.”
“I should have forbidden you to join us on the search. It was no place for a woman.”
“Nor a man,” she said. “Besides, I am not so easily commanded, my lord.”
In a slow, deliberate motion, he smoothed his hand up her stomach and between her breasts, his fingers skimming across her left nipple. Her back arched and she pressed her head against his shoulder. His hand continued its erotic journey, not stopping until his devilish fingers cradled the exposed side of her neck. “I am forewarned.”
As was she. His thumb urged her chin up, and Catherine came to the uncomfortable realization that