A Stranger at Castonbury - By Amanda McCabe Page 0,57

erection. She felt the tracery of veins there and pressed her touch harder to the pulsing head, just as she remembered he liked. His breath drew in sharply and he seemed to grow even harder in her hand.

‘Don’t leave me,’ she whispered. ‘It’s been too long.’

‘Oh, Catalina,’ he groaned. ‘I could never leave you.’ He kissed her again, deeply with the force of unstoppable need. It had been much too long.

Catalina welcomed his kiss joyfully and wrapped her legs around his waist as she felt the tip of his manhood slide against her. He thrust inside her, one exquisite movement at a time. She held on to his shoulders, his skin damp against her hands, and closed her eyes as she felt him joined with her again at last.

She opened her eyes and stared up into the grey heat of his gaze as he slowly moved within her. The pleasure of being with him again spread through her like the lightning outside, quick flashes of heat, delight that built and built until it was too great to contain. It thundered in her mind, and everything vanished but the feel of his skin against hers, the movement of his body inside hers. She heard his low moan and cried out in answer.

‘Catalina!’ he shouted as his body arched above hers. ‘Catalina.’

‘Jamie, amado.’ She fell back into their nest of blankets, weak and still filled with the bright glow of pleasure. It was all even better than her memories and dreams.

Jamie collapsed beside her, his head on her shoulder, and she gently reached up to caress his damp hair. This moment was perfect, and Catalina knew that no matter what came after she would always have this.

Jamie slowly sank down into the blankets by her side. His arm came around her waist, holding her close as their breathing slowed and the air grew chilly around them again. Catalina could feel dark, exhausted oblivion encroaching on her, but she didn’t want to slip away into sleep. Not yet. She wanted to hold on to this moment with Jamie as long as she could.

She rolled onto her side and studied him in the light from the fading embers of the fire. He looked relaxed and sleepy, and so very young. The austere lines of his face were softened, burnished by the firelight. His hair was tousled, tumbling over his brow.

His hand rose lazily and caressed gently over her shoulder.

‘We should go back to the house,’ she whispered.

Jamie shook his head without opening his eyes. ‘Not until the rain stops. We have time yet.’

Time before the real world closed in on them again—but not much. Already Catalina could feel its sands running out around her. She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes to listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

‘What happened in Spain, Jamie?’ she asked quietly. ‘After—after you thought I died.’

The hand that caressed her shoulder paused for a tiny second before its rhythm resumed, just as soft and careful as before.

After a long moment, he said, ‘That is a tale that is quite dull, I fear. It should wait for another day.’ He sat up, and Catalina watched as he knelt by the fire to stir up its dying embers. The long, lean line of his naked back gleamed in the light. Catalina drew the blankets up around her, and she knew he would tell her nothing today.

‘But what happened then is why I cannot condemn Miss Walters, as my family would do,’ he said quietly. ‘She made a terrible mistake out of desperation, and she is paying for it now. She will pay for it in her soul for the rest of her life, knowing that she did such a thing.’

Catalina couldn’t bear seeing the stark pain in his eyes. ‘Jamie, whatever you did in Spain, whatever happened, it is past.’

‘Is it?’ Jamie shook his head. ‘We carry our past with us wherever we go, Catalina. Surely you and I know that better than anyone. It’s why I cannot condemn Alicia Walters.’

‘But what she did to your family...’

‘Was not entirely her own doing,’ he said. ‘Do you remember a man called Hugh Webster?’

Catalina shuddered at the mention of that name. It was a name she had not heard in so long, but she remembered him. The horrible panic she had felt when he grabbed her. ‘Of course I remember him, the vile man.’

‘It was he who concocted the scheme of setting up Alicia as my widow at Castonbury,’