Chapter Seventeen
A couple of hours later, with the linen-covered jewelry coffin containing the parure he’d searched for in hand, Barr paused in front of the door to the guest room where he’d taken Catherine.
For the space of a few heartbeats, he stared at the wood panel through the dark as the long-case clock on the second floor chimed the three o’clock hour.
Then he raised his free hand and rapped softly on the door.
When that didn’t provoke an answer, he pressed the latch and then let himself into the room.
Dark and shadows filled the space, but as he approached the bed, he frowned.
The linens were rumpled, yet the professor’s daughter was not in the bed nor in residence.
Dear God, was she wandering the house, confused about where she was due to the bump on the head?
Concern tightened his chest as he exited the room and pulled the door closed behind him.
Clearly, she hadn’t been in the study, and after the Travers went home, he’d gone up to his own suite to dig through his safe.
Where the devil was she?
Thinking to put the parure back into his suite, Barr made his way back to his rooms. Perhaps he should change his clothes in any event, especially if he needed to go out into the night and the snow to search for her, but when he entered his bedchamber, in the soft glow of the candlelight, he spied Cate lounging in the middle of his four-poster bed with the Egyptian book in her hand, reading.
His gasp gave away his intrusion. “Cate. You are awake.”
“I am.” When she glanced at him, her eyes were clear, and she seemed in possession of all her faculties.
“What are you doing here?” Seeing her in his private space, in his bed, set his imagination soaring. Out of all the rooms in this townhouse they’d coupled in, this suite wasn’t one of them. “For that matter, how are you feeling?”
“I am well enough. My head only hurts slightly, and there is a bump at the back, probably from where I fell.”
“But, you should be resting—”
“I will. Eventually, but I couldn’t calm my mind.”
“Why?”
When she gave him a slow, mysterious smile, his world tilted. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Why?” He’d been reduced to dull questions, it seemed.
“When I woke, I was in an unfamiliar place, and I was a bit frightened, but then Mrs. Travers came in and talked with me, told me what happened.” She set the book aside.
“Then she left me a gorgeous night dress and helped me to change into it.” When she shrugged, he realized what she was wearing.
The night dress in a pale-yellow color edged with lace had once belonged to his wife, but there were no maudlin feelings surrounding that, for clothes were clothes, and it looked entirely different on her than it had on Meredith.
And damn if he wasn’t fully aroused.
“That makes sense, I suppose, but why are you in my rooms?” He’d purchased her a few presents for the day that had been forgotten in the aftermath of her spill, but one of them was a navy gown with a silver lace overlay, and he couldn’t wait to see her in it.
All of that could wait.
“I missed you.” Again, she smiled, and he was lost. “I wanted to reassure you that I was all right because I knew you would worry, consider what happen your fault, when it was the curse all along.” A chuckle left her throat, and it was the most glorious sound.
“Or rather, it wasn’t. Mrs. Travers told me she and her husband invented that bit to bring us closer together.
” This time her smile was blinding in the dim illumination. “Isn’t that adorable?”
“That is debatable.” The remainder of her his heart that was available for sharing flew into her keeping, and quite honestly, that was the safest place for it. “You missed me?”
That admission lodged in his chest and formed blanketed his heart with warmth.
“Yes, of course.”
“Why?” Had this been what he’d been reduced to? A man who couldn’t stop gawking at a woman, standing there with his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and only talking in one-word responses?
“Because you are always uppermost in my mind, and it’s Christmas. I wanted to wish you merry and be the first.”
Oh, God.
“I appreciate that.” Finally encouraging his brain to connect with the remainder of his body, Barr stumbled over to his bureau and put the jewelry coffin on top of it, but while his back was to her, he removed a small ring box from within. “Happy Christmas to you as well.”
“Is my father still here?”
“No.” After bringing the box over to the bedside table, he left it there then began the task of stripping down to his fine lawn shirt and breeches.
For whatever reason, it certainly didn’t feel like Christmas.
On the other hand, there was a glorious joy that slipped through his person, leaving trails of heat behind.
“He was rather ineffectual here, and though he was worried about you, I thought it best to send him home where he was comfortable. If things had taken a turn, I would have sent someone to fetch him.”
She nodded. “Understandable, but will you send a missive to him and let him know I am suffering no ill effects from the spill?”
“Of course. I’ll do it at first light.” As his nerves felt strung too tight, Barr perched on the side of the bed.
He couldn’t touch her, not yet, for once he did, there would no going back, and he wouldn’t stop until he’d made love to her at least twice.
“Are you certain your head is well? Your brain hasn’t been damaged? Can you remember your name?”
A snort escaped as she briefly rolled her gaze to the ceiling. “Catherine Anne Pickwick. Spinster at age nine and thirty, daughter of Professor Arthur Pickwick and Mary Pickwick.”
“Who am I?”
“The Duke of Scarborough, one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen, and collector of rare books.” When she frowned, he nearly threw himself on his knees to plead with her until she smiled again. “Outside of your name of Barrington, I’m afraid I don’t know your surname; you never told me.”
“Combes-Mead.”
“How lovely.” She folded her hands in her lap atop the counterpane. “You were married to…” Again, she frowned. “You never told me your wife’s name.”
“Meredith. Her, uh, name was Meredith.”
She nodded. “And you lost her five years ago.”
“Yes.”
“You have two grown children.”
“I do.”
“And in just the past week you discovered a book of erotic Egyptian prose that you were anxious to have translated, which is how you and I met. And within that week, you fell out of a tree trying to fetch mistletoe, God only knows why.”
He cleared his throat. “Because I’m a fool. In some odd part of my mind, I wished to link a tradition of my past with something—or someone—I’d hoped to secure to my future.” If he stumbled over his words, she didn’t say anything.
“Now that I understand.” When she looked at him, drew her gaze slowly over his person, he shivered as if she’d physically touched him.
“There is nothing wrong with my brain, Barr. Please stop worrying.” She raised a hand and explored the back of her head, wincing as she did so.
“It’s quite tender and there’s a knot, but Mrs. Travers said the metal screen barely broke the skin.
” In the dim light from the candle at the bedside, her pupils were enlarged but not due to the bump on her head.
Pure desire was reflected in those brown depths.
“Can we please move past my accident and talk about the things that truly matter in this moment?”
“Right.” Was she thinking along the same lines as he? Unable to tell, Barr picked up the ring box and pressed it into her hands. “This is for you.”
She frowned. “What’s this?” As she opened the faded, blue linen box, she sucked in a breath as the candlelight caught on the large oval-shaped amethyst surrounded by tiny round diamonds all set in gold. It was a beautiful piece, and he couldn’t wait to see it on her finger.
“A ring.” Could she not see that?
“Now whose brain has been shaken?” When she met his gaze, one of her eyebrows raised. “I mean, why are you giving it to me?”
“Oh.” Heat rose up the back of his neck. There was no more time to hide. “Uh, I would like you to marry me.”
“Marry you.” It wasn’t a question, but there was shock in her expression as she bounced her gaze between him and the ring. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, and if this is out of some sort of misplaced obligation, so help me, Barr, I will walk right out of this townhouse.”
“I believe you would, but you would soon freeze, for it’s snowing and those clothes will provide little protection.” Then he sobered, and feeling far too restless to remain perched on the edge of the bed, he stood to pace the length of the room. “I’ve already bungled it, haven’t I?”
“Truthfully? Yes.” She followed his progress with her gaze. “Why do you want me to marry you? And do bear in mind that I’ve already told you the one condition on why I would ever say yes to a man.”
His spirits tumbled. Did that mean she didn’t feel the same about him? There was only one way to find out. “We’ve known each other for barely a week.”
“This is true.”
“And while I originally hired you on for translation services, there is something burning between us that can’t be denied.”
She nodded. “This is also true.”
Well, fuck me. What did he need to say? And why is this so much harder than it had been the first time ’round?
Finally, he sighed. “I don’t want you in my life merely to relieve carnal urges.”
“Meaning what, exactly?” One of her dark eyebrows rose in challenge. “I need to hear your whole declaration, Scarborough, for I refuse to make it easy on you.”
“That would be cheating a bit, wouldn’t it?” When she nodded, he blew out a breath. “Perhaps it’s just as well. I don’t want to start this next phase with lack of courage.” What to say, though? Did it matter? “Put quite baldly, I’ve somehow fallen madly into love with you.”
Her gasp sounded overly loud in the silent space. “What?”