Dangerous to Hold (43 page)

“Yes?” she said cautiously.

He looked up at her. “Actually, I saw them some time ago. I should have said something sooner, I suppose, but I got caught up in setting a trap for David. I’ve pursued every avenue open to us for a divorce and there isn’t one. We have to live with this marriage, Cat.”

He was very grave, and though her heart had given a leap at his words, it gradually returned to normal. “What did your solicitors say?”

He told her in as few words as possible, and at the end of it, a silence fell, not an empty silence, but a charged silence that eddied with strong undercurrents.

She understood at once where his difficulty lay. It was more than a question of their own personal wishes. If Marcus did not have an heir of his own body, Helen and her children would forever go in fear of discovery. Penn could not inherit, and neither could Tristram, or their children. If the truth ever came out, the scandal would crush Helen. She could not, would not allow that to happen. She, Catherine, had to give Marcus a son.

She said, “In that case, I suggest we make the best of it.”

He said, “I promise I won’t make undue demands on you. There might be long periods when we would choose to be apart. There is no shortage of Wrotham properties and houses. Perhaps you could choose one of them and make it your principal residence.”

Every word he uttered seemed to hammer home a lance that was embedded in her heart. She didn’t know why she was so surprised. He had never told her that he loved her, and even if he had, she supposed she had forfeited that love by what must seem to him one betrayal after another.

Rising slowly, she walked to the window. “I would never do anything to hurt your family,” she said. When
she was sure she had command of herself, she turned to face him. “What have you told them about me?”

“The truth, or as close to it as I thought advisable.” He was watching her closely. “I told them that I fell in love with you in Spain and that we married. They know you were an English girl who was with British Intelligence. They believe that when you returned to England you kept your identity a secret because you were still working for British Intelligence.”

“And when I became Catalina again? How did you explain that?”

“I told them that we were setting a trap for someone from those days whom we believed wished to kill us both.”

“The Spanish vendetta?”

“I made use of it, yes. Only Penn and Helen know the truth about David. I’ve also told them that we now know the rumor about the Spanish vendetta was false, and that’s why you can go back to being yourself.”

“And what are we going to tell the world?”

“Exactly what I’ve told my family. Yes, I know it’s going to cause a sensation, but there’s no way around it. It will be a nine-day wonder, then something else will come along for people to talk about. In fact, I’ve taken the bull by the horns and talked to Melrose Gunn about publishing our story in
The Journal
once we leave London.”

The thought of becoming an object of raging gossip should have made her writhe, but she couldn’t seem to care one way or another. She felt numb, as though she had ingested a powerful narcotic that was slowly paralyzing all her faculties.

“I can’t do anything for the moment,” she said. “There’s too much to do here.” She knew that she was very close to tears, and she waited, for a moment, before continuing. “
El Grande
wants to see you before you go. Did you know he is going home to Spain to take up his life there?”

He had risen to his feet and his face, which was pale before, was now starkly white. “No, I didn’t know,” he said softly. “But I think it’s for the best.”

“Of course it’s for the best! I’m happy for him, very happy for him.” She pressed her fingers to her brow. “He should be back shortly. Would you excuse me? I have so much to do. Please,” she looked around distractedly, “help yourself to the sherry while you wait.”

“No need,” he said, and started for the door. “I’ll find my own way out,” and he left her staring at a closed door.

His teeth were clenched so tightly together that his jaw ached. He wasn’t aware that he was taking great strides until he felt a searing pain in his thigh and he began to limp. As he passed his carriage he saw a knot of people walking toward him.
El Grande
was out in front and he was walking with the aid of a cane. Marcus reminded himself that
El Grande
was using that cane because he had saved Catherine’s life. He was also a man of God. He’d spent the last three years with the monks at Marston. In fact,
El Grande
hadn’t done a single thing to deserve the hatred that burned in Marcus’s breast, except force him into a marriage with a woman whose heart could never be his.

When the two men came abreast,
El Grande
was smiling. Marcus tried to do the same. Carruthers and Amy stopped a few feet away and tactfully admired a robin that was perched on the branch of a rowan tree.

Marcus said, “I never did have the chance to thank you for saving our lives.” He came under a scrutiny that made him suddenly ashamed, and he went on in a more conciliatory tone, “I don’t know what brought you back to Heath House that night, but whatever it was, I will always be grateful.”

“What brought me back,” said
El Grande
, “was that while I was waiting it occurred to me that you might have formed the wrong idea about Catherine and me. There was something in your face that night that troubled me. That’s what brought me back. Or”—he paused—”you might say it was destiny.”

Marcus reminded himself that he’d done his duty. He should shake the man’s hand and go. “The wrong idea?” he said, baring his teeth. “Oh, there’s nothing wrong with
my ideas. I don’t think I shall ever forget the sight of you, unarmed, riding hell-bent to Catherine’s rescue.”

El Grande
cocked his head. Carruthers and Amy were forgetting to be tactful and had edged closer to eavesdrop on the conversation.

El Grande
said, “And I shall never forget the sight of Catherine shielding you with her body while that murderous swine leveled his pistol at her heart.”

“She shielded me with her body? That was a damn fool thing to do!”

“Wouldn’t you have done the same in her position?”

“That’s different.”

“Why is it?”

Because he loved her.

Amy came up to them at that moment. “What are you saying to Robert?” she asked none too civilly.

El Grande
put an arm around her shoulders and smiled down at her. “Lord Wrotham is thanking me for saving Catherine’s life,” he said.

The hostility in her eyes faded a little. “Well, I hope he thanked Catherine for all she did too. When I think of her out on that heath, with a murderer pursuing her—and Marcus no help to her—I could just die.”

“Amy,” chided
El Grande.

Marcus was looking at them both as though they were invisible. Things that had hovered at the back of his mind were coming back to him. He remembered that chase on the heath and telling Catherine many times to leave him, but she refused. And in those last few moments when he’d been trying to hang on to consciousness, there was something else. He’d heard David’s voice, and Catherine saying something in reply, but what had really registered was the bloodcurdling yell from
El Grande
as he’d ridden to their rescue.

What had David said, and what had Cat said in reply?

You first?

Better me than Marcus.

Carruthers clapped him on the shoulder, startling him back to the present. “Wrotham, where are your manners?” he said. “Aren’t you going to wish the lucky couple
long life and happiness? They’re to be married in Spain.”

The lucky couple? Amy and
El Grande?
He must have misunderstood. Then he saw the love shining in their eyes and, as with Catherine, the truth struck him like a thunderbolt.

“Oh, my God!” he said. “What have I done?”

He did an about-face and made for Heath House, uncaring of the pain in his thigh or the astonished questions that followed him. He burst into the house calling her name. In the study, he found the French doors ajar and he pushed through them and took the path to the heath.

He found her sitting on a bench that overlooked the pond near where that last scene with David had played itself out. Beyond calling her name, he didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything. The swift walk back to her had taken its toll and he felt as weak as a kitten. As he came up to the bench and waited for his breathing to even, she stood up.

A glance told him that this was not the iceberg he’d left only a few minutes ago. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were vividly blue.

She said, “Do you know what my sister said to me just before you arrived?”

He shook his head.

“She told me not to hide my heart from you.”

“Please don’t,” he wheezed. “That is, please don’t hide your heart from me.”

“Fine. Don’t say you didn’t ask for it.”

It happened so quickly, he didn’t see it coming. She gave him an almighty shove and, as he staggered back, he reached for her to steady himself, and they both went toppling into the pond.

He came up spitting.

She came up spitting fire. “You are the most uncouth, ungrateful, ungracious man I know,” she yelled. “I was worried sick about you, and you waited two weeks before you came to call.”

“That was because I thought you didn’t want to see me. Why didn’t you come to me?”

She ignored this moot question. “And another thing, I’m not ashamed of what I did. I was an agent. I was sworn to secrecy. I was good at my job until you came along. What did you think—that I would take one look at you and forget my duty to my friends and country?”

“You’re right, that’s exactly what I thought,” he said.

There was only two feet of water in the pond and they’d done no more than come up on their knees. They were so intent on each other that they hardly knew where they were or that the temperature of the water was arctic. Marcus didn’t even feel the habitual throb in his thigh.

She pounded him on his chest with her index finger. “Well, you were wrong. I take back every apology I ever made you. I never betrayed you. If I betrayed anyone, it was myself and my own principles.”

“Did you apologize?” He put his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t remember. None of that matters now.”

“Oh no!” she said scathingly. “All that matters to you is the succession. All you care about is producing an heir to protect your family.”

“The succession?” He looked at her blankly. “I don’t give a damn about the succession! Besides, I’ve taken care of all that. I’ve made things right for Helen and Penn. The succession is quite secure.”

“Really?”

“Really!”

She couldn’t keep her temper at boiling point when he was so reasonable. He was more than reasonable. He was looking at her with an odd light in his eyes.

She sniffed. “The only thing I truly regret is that I forced you to marry me. Marcus, I’m sorry. I wish I could undo the wrong I did to you. To my dying day, I shall always regret it.”

The hands on her shoulders tightened, and the look in his eyes had turned fierce. He gave her a shake. “Sorry? Sorry?” he roared. “Good God, woman, if you had not forced me to marry you, how would I have found you again? I’m not sorry. I would have searched the world for Catalina and would never have found my Cat of the glorious flame hair.”

“Marcus.” She gulped. “What are you saying?”

“I love you, you idiot. I’ve loved you from the moment I opened my eyes in that small priest’s cell and saw your face hovering above me. I loved you when you were Catalina. I loved you when you were Catherine, and I loved you when I thought you were plotting against me. Now, do you think I might have the words from you?”

“Oh, Marcus,” she said, leaning into him. “I don’t know why I love you. You’re utterly impossible.”

“Call it destiny,” he said. “From the very beginning I was your destiny and you were mine.”

Tears welled in her eyes,

“What is it?”

“I was thinking of our very first kiss and how I went and spoiled it. Don’t you remember? I bit your lip and pretended that you had tried to ravish me.”

“Then let’s do that kiss over,” he said.

Their lips met gently, sweetly, then in the space of a single heartbeat, they clung together so that not even a shadow could separate them.

E
LIZABETH
T
HORNTON
holds a diploma in education and a degree in Classics. Before writing women’s fiction she was a school teacher and a lay minister in the Presbyterian Church.
Dangerous to Hold
is her eighth historical novel. Ms. Thornton has been nominated for and received numerous awards, among them the Romantic Times Trophy Award for Best New Historical Regency Author, and Best Historical Regency. She has been a finalist in the Romance Writers of America Rita Contest for Best Historical Romance of the year. Though she was born and educated in Scotland, she now lives in Canada with her husband. They have three sons and two granddaughters.

Ms. Thornton enjoys hearing from her readers. Her e-mail address is
[email protected]
or visit her at her home page:

www.elizabeththornton.com

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