Chapter 7 #2
He growled, striding away from the door and grabbing for her arm as he did.
Again, she tore herself free of him. Her defiance in anger was alluring.
He tried to shut down the maleness within him that wanted to view her through the lens of a potential mate.
He could not deny his attraction to her, but needed to keep his mind clear of that.
I will not allow myself to become bewitched by a pretty pair of eyes. Pretty eyes and perfect bosom. Not to mention a round bottom and… Devil take it!
“Will you come with me to somewhere more private?” he forced civility into his voice.
“Yes, Your Grace,” she replied, as if making a point.
He led her to a small, empty room at the end of the corridor. It held some furniture and a bookcase. A chill oozed into the air from the cold fireplace. Daylight flooded in through tall, leaded windows.
“Now, will you tell me what you implied by that?” she asked.
He looked at her for a long moment, wondering how to broach the subject.
“Those symptoms your aunt and uncle mentioned. The ones your parents suffered from…” he began slowly.
“Yes, though they have abated, thankfully,” she nodded.
“Because I administered a medicine used by my butler…”
“Yes, you said the milk was a cure-all in your household.”
“No, not the—” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “not the milk. What I put into the milk. The juice of the poppy.”
She gaped at him for a moment, open-mouthed.
“You… you drugged me?”
“No! I administered something that your body needed.”
Catherine took a step back, her hand flying to her throat.
“Now, listen to me carefully. How many times have your Aunt and Uncle insisted you take medicine to stave off the illness your parents passed from?”
“Medicine?” she whispered. “N-never.”
Gideon appeared puzzled. “I am under the belief they have been administering the poppy juice in your food and drink. I have seen it work on… others. It induces a dependence and makes the taker suffer intensely if they go too long without it.”
“No, they wouldn’t.” But even as she said it, her voice faltered. “Why would they…”
Her gaze dropped to the floor, unfocused, as though she were seeing something far away. Something she had been refusing to see for years.
“Yes,” she whispered. “They would.”
He exhaled softly. “That is—that is not why I brought you in here. This is not the conversation I wished to have, but, as usual, I have said too much.”
“No.” Her voice strengthened. “I am glad you said too much. I am glad to know it. Oh Lord, when I think what might have become of me if I had not run away…”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back fiercely. There was anguish in her voice that touched him. He stepped towards her, but she backed away, glaring at him behind a raised hand.
“Don’t.” The word came out sharp. “I don’t need comfort, and I certainly don’t want yours. I won’t be used and then cast aside like some... some convenience.”
“I would not do that,” he promised.
“You already have!” she exclaimed. “Or have you forgotten your terms of our marriage so soon?” she finished scathingly.
He sighed. “It was just—”
“And what about what happened in the carriage on the way here?”
A sharp flicker of shame cut through him. He had surrendered to desire—and in doing so, shattered the vow he had made to himself: that this marriage would remain untouched, unconsummated. A… transaction, nothing more.
“There were two people in that carriage,” he underlined.
“But only one was a man with the body and strength of a primitive savage capable of overpowering the other. As I see it, I did not have much choice…”
Gideon gaped. “You had every choice. I am no ravisher!”
They were both growing hot again, voices rising. He fought back control, alarmed at how she was managing to get under his skin and exert such ascendancy over the levers of his soul. No one could manipulate him—he took pride in that. It was never he who should be feeling like a marionette.
“If you are not, then you do a very good imitation of one. Taking advantage of a helpless woman, atop whom you have been thrown by an accident of the carriage. Most men would apologize and remove themselves!”
“I see the facade of timidity is well and truly shredded,” he hissed. “What else have you been pretending at?”
They had inched closer as they spoke and now were mere feet apart.
She was glaring up at him, but her anger made her seem his equal in height.
He felt desire rising in him at the challenge she posed.
There was a certain allure to him in a woman who was innocent, demure, and timid.
But a far greater allure in being challenged, met ferocity for ferocity.
“I… I pretend nothing,” she replied, casting her eyes down as though suddenly reminded of her own previous deference, “I am merely standing up for myself. I learned not to do that at Haventon. The punishment was too severe.”
Gideon clawed his way back from the precipice of a lustful fall into the abyss of desire. He breathed deeply, turned away, and pretended an interest in a porcelain figure upon the mantle.
“I…” he cleared his throat, “I was shocked at how your Uncle treated you. I am even more so now that I understand the depths of his wickedness.”
“Not just Uncle Benjamin. Aunt Nora too. And their oh-so-infallible son, Horatio.”
Gideon turned back, his composure schooled at last. Catherine had seated herself on an ornate chaise, hands wringing on her lap as she stared down at them. Anguish twisted her face.
“You are free of them now, Catherine,” he said, softly, “they cannot reach you while you are my wife.”
“But once I am no longer your wife?” She managed a tentative smile.
He viewed it as an invitation to discuss the status of their marriage. The convenience of it. He refused to be drawn.
The breach is large enough already. I must repair my walls. Today, she almost broke through. That must not happen.
“I cannot change that. Perhaps in the time we have, you can devise some means of protecting yourself from them. Or perhaps by the time we are done, they will have forgotten about you.”
She ducked her head. “If you say so.”
He snapped his mouth closed on a reply.
I will not be drawn. She must be trying to manipulate me. It will not work.
“We are invited to dinner with the Threnthorpes the day after tomorrow,” he announced, formally. “I would ask that you behave as you have done today. As an upright and loyal wife.”
Catherine rose gracefully, lifting her chin and running her hands down the outside of her skirts.
“Of course, Your Grace. I will play my part. Would you allow me a few minutes to compose myself before we rejoin the company?”
Gideon bowed his acquiescence and left the room. He felt a reluctance to leave her and a sense of loss at her suddenly formal attitude. He berated himself for it.
Pure foolishness. You have what you want: a wife who will play the role of a genuine spouse for your needs, but allow you to release her when the time comes.
Some quiet part in him longed for more, but he suppressed the feeling with cold ruthlessness. Catherine was not and could never be his lover.