Chapter 14 #2
"Sweet?" Dean's frown deepened. "Darling, I don't think--" he shook his head. "If you're thinking of playing matchmaker--"
"I was thinking we should invite them over for supper on Sunday. He's due to examine me anyway. Two birds, one stone." Kissing him on the lips, she wriggled out of his arms and went to put her robe on. "I'm starving."
He stood there staring after her, his frown deepening. Grabbing the jacket he had shed, he marched after her.
"Catherine, dammit. No interference."
"It's just supper. If they happen to hit it off, then it's all good."
He caught her arm and spun her around when she cleared the threshold. "My sister has been married three times."
"And needs a chance at happiness. Look at us. Don't you want the same for her?"
He narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't use that look on me. It's not going to work."
"Let's go have supper." Going on her toes, she used something else on him, her touch designed to make him lose all train of thought. By the time she lifted her mouth from his, he had no idea what the hell they had been discussing. The woman was lethal.
*****
It came as no surprise that he let her talk him into the dinner party for his sister and the doctor. The only thing he was absolutely firm on was that she would not be doing anything more strenuous than putting flowers on the table, and even so, she was not allowed to cut them.
"Let the gardener do it, that's his job."
"He won't know which ones I want!" she protested in exasperation.
"So, tell him. The man has been doing this particular job for more years than I care to count. Surely he knows one bloom from the other."
"This is getting ridiculous."
"You're not going out there picking flowers." His tone was implacable and she knew she would not be able to move him. "We can always do without a centerpiece if it comes to it."
So, she had handed over the task to William. And the housekeeper had agreed to come early in the morning to prepare the meal.
"The only thing you have to do is take it out of the warmer," Mrs. Bent told her. "I will also set the table."
"And look pretty at the dinner table," Catherine muttered, looking at him sharply.
"You do it so well." Unperturbed by her dark expression, he swooped in for a kiss. "I love you."
"Don't think that's going to work." But she sighed and he knew he had won.
He also knew it was irrational for him to keep trying to make certain she was safe, but he could not help it.
He still had it in the back of his mind that she was risking her life to bring their child into the world.
Whatever part he had to play in keeping her alive, he was going to play it.
Now watching her play hostess to his sister and Eric was a revelation.
They had not done much entertaining because of the fact that she was pregnant, and he thought it was too taxing for her.
But now he marveled that she pulled it off so flawlessly.
She kept the conversation alive and her vivacious presence ensured that there was no lack of a suitable topic.
And she was right, he thought with a sigh.
Eric and his sister were hitting it off.
To his surprise, Irene looked almost beautiful.
For the first time, he noticed she had cut her hair short, the chic bob emphasizing her high cheekbones. She was also wearing more makeup than usual. And the dress she had on flattered her angular frame.
He wasn't the only one noticing. Eric was charmed by her, leaning over to murmur in her ear.
He caught his wife's smug look and lifted a brow at her.
He still wasn't sure this was a good match.
His sister had a lousy track record when it came to men.
Besides, Eric was a friend as well as his wife's doctor.
He would hate to see that relationship fall apart.
The man had a specific and very important job to do; Dean certainly did not want him distracted.
He was also struck by the difference in the dinner party.
His wife had made it informal. The centerpiece, with its full bloom of gorgeous pink, red, and white roses interspersed with sprigs of baby's breath, daisies, and oleanders, scented the air pleasantly.
He recalled dinner parties at the manor and how different they had been.
They withdrew to the small blue and white salon where he ordered her to sit while he and his sister got the raspberry truffle and coffee and tea for her.
"Catherine is chafing at the restrictions you've put on her," Irene murmured as they stepped into the pristine black and white kitchen.
"She can chafe all she wants; that's the way it's going to be. Grab the cups, will you?"
She did so and turned to watch as he poured coffee and prepared the tray.
"It's strange to see you like this."
"Like what?"
"Content, almost domesticated." She grinned as he threw her a dirty look. "Happy." Her voice turned wistful.
"I am." He placed napkins on the tray. "What's up with you and Eric?"
She shrugged, turning aside to get some water. "I like him."
"I sense it's more than that. I want you to be careful."
She turned back to face him. "You think I'm frivolous and careless."
"No," he corrected. "I think you were forced into marriages by my parents. I don't want to see you hurt."
Her expression softened. "Thanks. I have no intention of jumping into anything right now. I happen to like my life and thanks to you, my life is fulfilled."
Dean studied her face and realized that she looked happier than he had ever seen her.
"Keep it that way. Shall we?"
*****
"They look good together," she murmured later that night after he had made love to her for what seemed like hours. She was sprawled on top of him, one shapely thigh thrown over his, her heart still racing.
"I warned her not to jump into anything too quickly."
Lifting her head, she frowned at him. "She's an adult."
"Precisely," he said mildly, eyes amused. "Which means she should be able to make her own choice and not have you running interference."
She pouted, causing him to brush his lips on hers.
"I just want her to be happy. Like we are."
He wrapped his arms around her. "I don't think that's at all possible."
"Why not?" she asked with a frown.
"Because," he began thoughtfully, his eyes darkening.
"We are an anomaly. For some unknown reason, we were thrown together and the match is something I can hardly explain.
I have seen it before, of course, with some members of my club, but experiencing it is far different. " He touched her cheek gently.
"My parents, grandparents never loved each other. For some reason, I got lucky. I don't deserve it, but I've been gifted with a woman who's the most wonderful person in the world. I cannot expect my sister to have that too."
Catherine stared at him and for several minutes she could not speak. So thick was the lump that had lodged inside her throat.
"Dean," she whispered, tears gathering. "I love you so much."
"I think I love you more, darling," he whispered as he gathered her close.
*****
The euphoric feeling of being pregnant was brought to an abrupt halt when she reached the end of her first trimester and had alarm and fear arrowing inside her.
She started spotting. She woke up suddenly that Sunday morning and felt the wetness between her thighs. Her scream had her husband rising in panic.
He had called Eric immediately and the doctor had made haste coming over.
"It's easier for me to come to you," Eric said.
Now he was here and the anxiety was escalating as he made his examination. Catherine had always been a woman of faith, but it was wearing thin the longer the examination went on. She clung to Dean's hand, fingers digging into his palm.
"What the hell is going on, Eric?" Dean demanded, unable to bear the look on his wife's face any longer.
"Spotting is perfectly normal during the first trimester." Eric snapped off his surgical gloves with a smile. "The fetus' heartbeat is strong."
"So there's nothing to worry about?" Catherine held her breath, her fingers making grooves in Dean's flesh.
"I want you to take a week off from work and just rest. I want to make certain everything is as it should be. I want you to stay in bed," Eric told her.
"I'll make sure she does."
"Are you sure there's nothing to worry about?" Catherine asked anxiously.
"Would I lie to you?" Eric chided gently. "I made a promise to both of you that we're going to see this through." He patted her arm. "And I happen to be the best in my field. Trust me."
*****
"What the hell are you doing up?" Dumping the tray unceremoniously on the side table, Dean rushed forward to scoop her into his arms and carried her back to bed.
"I'm perfectly fine and had to go to the bathroom.
" She settled back on the pillows. "You don't have to police me every single minute.
I'm staying in bed, even though I'm bored out of my skull.
I've been watching soap operas! And--and cheering on this--this idiot on the talk show who's convinced that his baby mama is cheating on him.
" She glared at him. "Don't you dare laugh. "
"I brought you some ice cream."
"Mint chocolate?" she asked hopefully.
"Double," he promised. "And a muffin. Mrs. Bent made raspberry cinnamon just for you." He wrinkled his nose as he handed her the tray. "Really, darling? Your cravings are getting weirder each day."
"No comment." She grabbed the freshly baked muffin and inhaled it deeply. "I'm stuck in this bed for the rest of the week and intend to get something out of it. And the good news is, I'm not bleeding."
He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned in to kiss her on the forehead. "That's wonderful news. I love you despite the weird cravings."
"You'd better. Now leave me alone to enjoy it."