A Stranger at Castonbury - By Amanda McCabe Page 0,66
from her. Now that he was at home with his family, perhaps he felt the folly of wartime romance. Perhaps this letter was only his final apology, his goodbye.
Suddenly a noise out in the garden interrupted her thoughts. For an instant she remembered the man she had glimpsed running through the garden at the party and her hand tightened on the letter, crumpling it.
Then she saw the tall, lean figure moving through the moonlight and relief rushed through her. Jamie—of course. She was meant to be meeting him here, after all.
‘Catalina,’ he said as he climbed the steps to the folly. He stopped by her side, not touching her but close. ‘You came.’
‘Of course,’ she said. She couldn’t stay away from him, even when she knew she should. She saw him glance at the letter in her hand.
‘You received it, then,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ Catalina answered quietly. She slowly reached out with her free hand and gently brushed her fingertips over his cheek, the scars there. He grew tense, yet he didn’t draw away. He swayed closer, as if against his will, and suddenly she ached for all he had suffered. All they had both suffered. ‘I am sorry you were hurt.’
Jamie shook his head. ‘I deserved it. I never should have been there in the first place, as you tried to tell me. I thought I was protecting my family, my country. But in the end that belief was false, an illusion. Like so much else.’
Like their marriage? Had that been an illusion too? Sometimes Catalina was sure it must have been; real life was harsh and cold, never that beautiful. But then sometimes, when he stood close to her as he was now, she thought it had been the most real thing ever.
‘War is a terrible thing,’ she said. ‘It takes everything we believe about ourselves and strips it all away. It’s hard to tell what is real and necessary and what isn’t. You did what you felt you must do, and you paid a price for it that no one should have to.’
‘But you have paid that price as well, Catalina,’ he said roughly. ‘And that is the damnable thing. That is what I can’t forgive myself for. When I thought you were dead, that I could never explain or make it up to you...’ His words broke off as he shook his head.
Catalina’s heart ached as if it would break all over again. She moved closer to Jamie and reached up to take his beautiful, damaged face in her hands. ‘I am alive! We are both alive, and we can hear each other now. That’s the important thing, Jamie, mi corazón. Tell me whatever you want now, and I will hear and understand.’
Rather than talk though, Jamie curled his hands around her bare arms and pressed her back against the cool marble column. He held her there gently, but Catalina knew she couldn’t break away from him. His body was so close to hers, she could feel every inch of his warm hardness against her, and she wanted to press even closer. To curl herself up in him and never be apart from him again.
It was the most bittersweet longing. She tilted back her head to stare at the stark lines of his austere face in the chalk-white light, as if she could memorise him.
‘Catalina, Catalina,’ he said, and she could hear an echoing longing in his voice. ‘I only ever wanted to make you smile, to make you happy, but instead I ruined everything. Yet I can’t stay away from you. Why do you make me so insane?’
Catalina shook her head, her thoughts spinning madly. He made her insane. He took her out of herself until she no longer knew what to do.
‘Jamie, I...’ she whispered. She stared up into his eyes, until with a groan his head swooped down over hers. His lips met the soft curve of her neck, and her knees grew weak at the touch of his kiss. His arms tightened around her, holding her up as she fell.
‘Jamie,’ she gasped, and his mouth came hard over hers to catch the sound.
His tongue slid over hers and she met him, passion for passion. She twined her arms around his neck and wound her fingers through his hair. He lifted her high against the column and she wrapped her legs around his waist as her skirts fell around them to bind them together.