Within seconds, Catherine filled the frame. Beautiful, proud, tempting. Cautious.
“My lord.” Her voice held a slight quaver. “Mrs. Fox said you were attacked by a thief last night. Is this true?”
He studied her shadowed face, unable to make out her features. “We have yet to determine if the man was a thief. Nothing appears stolen. But yes, I came upon a man unawares in my study.”
She moved farther into the sitting room. Something was wrong with her eyes and her features appeared drawn and hesitant. Without thinking, he limped toward her. “What’s the matter?”
“You’re injured.” She rushed into the chamber. “How badly?”
“A bruise, nothing to worry over.” He tilted her chin up. “Have you been crying?”
***
“Of course not.” Catherine stepped away. She had hoped her bout of self-pity would not be evident by the time she arrived. Except for some sleepless nights over the last several years, she had done an admirable job not wallowing in the fact that she was alone. Every decision—good or bad—was hers to make. The only thing she hadn’t had to worry about was money. With Jeffrey gone, she would have to consider that issue now, too—once she cleaned up this espionage mess he’d left behind.
Since she could not discuss the reason behind her puffy, gritty eyes and her long face, she redirected the conversation back to him. “Besides your leg, where else are you hurt?”
“I am well on the mend, Catherine. No need to concern yourself.”
“Did Grayson send for the doctor?”
“Yes.”
She scrutinized him more closely. He balanced his weight on his right foot and he seemed to be squinting, almost as if it pained him to look upon her. Beyond those two indicators of discomfort, she could detect nothing else.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
Saving my daughter. “I came to check on you.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Did you not just learn of the attack upon your arrival?”
“No, my lord,” she said. “You did not answer my knock this morning. At the time, I thought you needed the rest. However, when I returned later, Lord Danforth said you were unwell and couldn’t receive visitors. He said nothing about an attack, though.”
“If not now, when did you learn of the attack?”
His tone carried an air of interrogation, making her feel as though she had done something wrong. In truth, she had not planned on coming here tonight. But when she’d received his housekeeper’s response to her earlier inquiry, she’d had to come. “I sent a note around to Mrs. Fox, not long ago, asking for news of your recovery. A reply came but thirty minutes ago. Sophie wanted to bring you biscuits to speed up your recovery.”
By slow degrees, she watched the hardness in his features soften and the rigid set to his shoulders ease. On some level, she regretted his transformation. Now that she did not have his cold inquisition in which to focus her attention, she became keenly aware of him.
With his disheveled hair, scruffy face, and loosely tied banyan, he looked disreputable and wholly desirable. She wished they had met under different circumstances, at a time when they could have explored this attraction they held for each other. But their association was caged within the walls of deception, with no way to break the barrier.
He prowled closer, his unwavering crystalline gaze on hers. She held her breath, unsure of his mood and unable to block the memory of her daughter’s screams. She could do this. She could do whatever it took to secure the damned list, protect her daughter, and be rid of her gaolers. She could do this.
No matter how much it broke her heart.
His fingertips skimmed the curve of her cheek. “You have been crying. Why?”
She fought the compulsion to lean into his touch. “Meghan.” The lie fell easily, too easily from her lips.
“Catherine. Cat.” He clasped the back of her head, drawing her forward, into the comfort of his chest. “I’m sorry you had to witness such barbarity. Such things are not for the eyes of innocents.”
Her arms wrapped around his middle. “Why kill her? The babe’s father could have disappeared and never returned.” She burrowed her nose deeper into his silk wrap, absorbing his musky scent and banishing forever the stench of mud and death.
“Perhaps the father could not leave,” he said. “Maybe he had a family and was afraid Meghan would reveal their secret. Could be any number of reasons. None of them acceptable.”
His embrace tightened, and Catherine reciprocated.