Chapter Five
The next morning, Benjamin woke with a splitting headache and a curse ready on his lips. His mouth felt as though he’d been chewing on cotton and he wasn’t sure he could move without emptying the contents of his stomach.
He groaned and immediately regretted the action because something abruptly took a hammer to his ever-loving skull.
What the hell…
He must have drunk himself into a stupor for his head to feel this fuzzy and his body to act as though he’d been imbibing for a week instead of just a single night. Damn, but he was getting too old for this.
The worst part was that he vaguely recalled mention of consummating his marriage vows and yet, he was pretty confident that he’d never gotten that far.
Unfortunate.
Perhaps not all was lost. Once he could sit upright without the room spinning and keep something down in his stomach, he intended to seek out his bride and humbly apologize for his failings. If she was willing to share his bed, he certainly didn’t want to risk her ire and cause her to despise him.
He’d had enough animosity directed at him for his actions. The idea of starting out his union with the same hatred from Catherine wasn’t something he was particularly looking forward to tackling.
Catherine.
He allowed the sound of her name to float through his consciousness and abruptly, he found his spirits starting to lift and his current malaise beginning to clear.
She really was a remarkable woman, if not a bit young and rebellious at heart.
He admired that part about her, however.
He often had the same stubborn streak in his veins.
They truly were a good match.
He sighed, thinking of her intention to strike back at Mrs. Dove-Lyon.
He fully intended to support her in her quest, but the longer he thought over his altered circumstances, he had to admit that the lady had a particular skill when it came to bringing two people together for the greater good.
He’d heard of the Black Widow’s abilities for years, had witnessed the way she’d whisked Beatrice into the arms of that blasted Scotsman.
And yet he had felt the happiness swirling around them at Gretna Green.
He’d detested it at the time, not realizing it had been jealousy instead of hatred.
But now he recognized those fiery emotions for what they were.
He was angry that she had found love when he’d been only playacting in an effort to strike back at her rejection.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. For as long as he lived, he knew he would never be able to forgive himself for how he’d treated his stepsister, as well as his late wife.
But that was a burden he would have to carry on his shoulders.
He didn’t intend for Catherine to suffer in the same manner.
He just prayed that her child would be safely delivered, and although he wasn’t the blood father of the babe she carried, he looked at this as a second chance to make things right with his black heart.
Ringing for one of the footmen, he ordered a tonic to soothe his stomach and hopefully rid his head of the terrible pounding going on inside of it.
Two hours later, Benjamin was confident he could make his way downstairs and intercept Catherine without making a complete and utter fool of himself.
At least, not this morning. He had no idea what sort of mood he’d been in the night before.
Sadly, he couldn’t remember much but the missed opportunity.
It was already past the lunch hour, but he found Catherine in the sunroom taking some tea.
She held a book in her hands and looked like a fresh peach, ripe for the plucking, in her coral dress.
Her dark hair was gathered in an array of lovely ringlets about her forehead and ears—those delicate lobes that he should like licking with his tongue.
He cleared his throat, more as a reminder to calm his baser urges rather than to announce his presence, but she glanced up at him. Without a smile, her face a careful mask of composure, she lowered her novel and said, “Good day, my lord.”
Oh, dear. This was worse than he’d thought.
A flash of memory intruded and he distinctly remembered a moment of desire in those remarkable blue eyes of hers.
And yet this morning, there was nothing to indicate that she found him appealing in the least. It was as if he were any other man whom she had decided to entertain for a platonic interlude.
Making his way farther into the room, he sat down across from her and murmured, “Good day.” When there was an awkward silence, he resisted the urge to tug at his cravat. Spying the book, he latched on to a neutral topic. “What are you reading?”
She shrugged and glanced at the title. “The Romance of the Forest by Ann Radcliffe. I doubt it’s something you might have ever selected for yourself.”
Benjamin’s mouth kicked up in the corner. “On the contrary. The only reason that book is in this library is due to my insistence.”
She lifted a curious brow at that. “Indeed? You don’t strike me as the type to read a romantic novel.”
He rubbed his thumb absently along his lower lip, his focus temporarily dipping to the shadowed valley of her breasts. “You will come to find a lot about me in the coming years, my dear. We share the same roof.”
Her expression looked as though she’d encountered something unpleasant, her nose wrinkling slightly, but the way her skin flushed under his regard told of a different reaction from her body. “Of course.”
She picked up her book as if in silent dismissal, but he wasn’t quite ready to show his proverbial hand and leave the table just yet. “Do you not believe in fairy tales yourself, Catherine?”
It was the first time he’d addressed her so informally and he quite liked the way her name rolled off of his tongue.
Her eyes widened slightly, as if surprised he had addressed her so informally, but then she quickly concealed her reaction by scrunching up her nose again.
“Not in the real world, no. But they are fun to read.”
“What if I could bring them to life for you?” he asked softly. “What if I could become the hero you want?”
She was captured, ensnared by his hooded gaze.
He was exuding the same charm she’d fallen under the night before.
It was dangerous. And enticing. Too many conflicting emotions that she couldn’t dare name.
But she could answer his question truthfully.
“Do you believe that when you married me, I was a damsel in need of rescuing? Because I can assure you, I would have found my own way.”
“It’s an unforgiving world.”
A simple statement that carried a wealth of meaning.
She set the book aside. “I realize that my options would have been limited, but I would have not asked for anyone to sacrifice themselves for me as you have apparently done. It sticks in my craw to think I’m anyone’s charity case when I acted out of desperation to gain my parents’ notice. ”
As Catherine had spoken, her temper had begun to rise.
She didn’t know if it was a combination of lust mixed with the frustration she continued to feel, but she certainly hadn’t meant to reveal her true reasons for entertaining David’s attentions and finding herself carrying his bastard.
She must not have been thinking clearly.
This pregnancy was obviously affecting her mind.
“Excuse me.” She got to her feet, intending to leave and spare herself some of the embarrassment that was flooding her face. She could feel the warmth suffusing her cheeks.
Before she could go, a strong, gentle hand encircled her wrist. “I have found that there is nothing wrong with the truth.” The baron’s breath tangled with her hair, causing gooseflesh to travel down her upper arms. “Don’t be ashamed to express your innermost thoughts to me.
I will not judge you for your actions. I am the last person who should do so. ”
Catherine relaxed slightly in the face of his own admission.
She slowly turned and faced him. He was standing close, almost too close, because she was immediately reminded of the position they had been in the night before.
It would not be a struggle to lift her face and touch her mouth to his and resume where they’d left off so abruptly.
Her body had been aching for him, her skin anxious for the touch of his hands on her skin.
Just having his hand on her wrist caused a flurry of butterflies in her midsection.
Suddenly, she realized that it wasn’t just nerves she was feeling.
With a gasp, she put a hand to her abdomen.
His brows drew together in a frown. “What is it?”
Rather than reply, she took his hand and placed it where she’d last felt the slight flutter. Standing in silence, she waited with bated breath until her patience was rewarded with another light movement.
“The baby is moving,” she noted in awe. It was the first time the life growing inside of her actually felt… real. Before, she’d only thought of it as the consequences of her actions, but now she realized it was a living thing growing inside of her. It was quite astounding.
She looked at the baron’s face to gauge his reaction and found his cheeks had turned rather pale. “Is something wrong?” she asked in alarm.
“No. It’s just—” He had to stop and gather himself before he could speak again. “I remember feeling the same sensation with—”
He didn’t have to say anything more for her to understand. Her heart instantly went out to him. Whether or not he claimed he deserved her kindness, she couldn’t resist offering it when he looked so visibly torn. She tentatively raised her hand and laid it on his cheek. “I’m sorry.”
His focus burned into her and she could feel the heat starting to return with a dark swirl through her chest.
“Thank you,” he said huskily. “That means a lot. It’s nice knowing that someone… cares.”
She smiled. “I wouldn’t be much of a wife if I didn’t.”