Surrender The Night (23 page)

“Rachel, why is the pantry so bare? I know you’ve been sending baskets to some of the ill miners, but usually we have plenty to spare.”

Rachel was busy sorting grain and seemed not to hear. When she’d finished the small pile, Katrina covered her hand with her own. “What’s wrong, Rachel? Am I not a member of this family, too?”

Rachel set her bowl aside. “Aye, lass. I just dedn’t want to worry you when you have so much else to thenk upon.” Rachel drew a deep breath, then rushed on, “Our supplies are dwendlen’ ’cause John es paid based on production, and the ores they can reach es almost gone. And we
th the cave-en . . . Besides, weth what corn costs ’cause of those rascally millers and farmers, we can’t buy much on what John maakes.”

Due to poor crops and heavy taxation the price of co
rn had risen sharply in the past two years, Katrina knew. But she’d not realized straits were so dire. “But what of the share from Carrington’s land? Isn’t Jimmy still helping him farm?”

‘ ‘Jimmy quit helpen’ hem some weeks ago. He doesn’t want to do anytheng but carouse weth that
worthless Hennessy—by daay.”

Rachel looked away, but Katrina, too, knew what Jimmy did by night. Unlike many families in the area, the Tonkins disapproved of smuggling. John and Jimmy had had many arguments on the subject, but Jimmy, stubborn hothead that he was, refused to quit his noctu
rnal activities. Katrina made a mental note to speak with him. He probably had no idea how bare the larder was. And whether his gains were ill-gotten or not, they would still keep starvation at bay. Her own meager hoard left from her employment had long since been spent on necessities.

“Don’t worry, Rachel.” Katrina patted Rachel’s hand. “We’ll manage.” A knocking came at the door on the words. Katrina almost jumped out of her skin. Her eyes met Rachel’s.

“I’ll go. You staay here.”

But Katrina rose. “No, I’ll go with you.”

Rachel opened the door; Katrina’s held breath escaped slowly through her lips. So the day of reckoning had come. At least she need no longer dread it. She stepped forward when Rachel would have slammed the door in Devon’s face.

“No, Rachel. I’ll see him.”

Reluctantly, Rachel stood back, but Katrina noted that her eyes widened when Devon stepped into the cottage. Even dressed in simple riding breeches, he had an overpowering presence. Never had the cottage seemed smaller or more rustic. Rachel worried with the edge of her apron, her eyes glued to Devon’s handsome face with what Katrina could only wryly describe as awe.

“Go on with what you were doing, Rachel. I’ll call if I need anything.
Come into the parlor, my lord.” Katrina preceded Devon into the small room and sat down on a chair.

He seated himself on the settee and stared at her for so long that she had to control the urge to flee those roving, hungry eyes. Where was the anger, the hatred that had blasted her three days ago? This Devon was much harder to deny. This Devon was the one who haunted her, waking and sleeping. But never, ever, would she let him know that.

When he smiled invitingly and patted the spot next to him, she shook her head. “I’m fine here, thank you. What may I help you with?”

His smile slipp
ed. “Don’t you think this formality is a bit ridiculous under the circumstances?”

“No. We’re strangers to one another, my lord. We only ever had one thing in common, and have not even that any longer.” Katrina looked away to control her misting eyes. Actually they’d had two things in common, but he’d not hear of the babe’s loss from her.

“Why so sad, my dear? We could have that, and much more, if you weren’t so blasted stubborn.” His teeth snapped together as if he regretted the harshness. He leaned forward and took her hand. “Katrina, I’ve come to apologize for my . . . behavior a few days ago. The shock of seeing you, when I’d searched so hard, was too much for my composure.”

Katrina’s eyes jerked up from her lap to meet his. She’d expected acrimony, not apology. The old Devon would have demanded a hearing instead of pleading for one. Was this change genuine, or yet another of his chameleon mood switches designed to charm her? Those mellow, gold-flecked brown eyes made her feel as if he bathed her in warm brandy.

The analogy fortunately recalled a memory of a night long ago, when a demon in man’s flesh stole her very will. “Apology accepted. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’ve chores to tend to.” She made to rise, but he jerked on her hand and pulled her back onto her seat.

“That’s all you have to say to me? After two years? After leaving me without even a missive to reassure me that you were well?”

“Actions speak louder than words, sir.” She tried to pull her hand away, but he tightened his grip until her fingers ached.

“Meaning that you cared not a whit for my worry, or my pain, I collect. Cared not how many nightmares I had over what could have happened to you in that cursed brothel.”

His voice had gone dangerously soft. Instead of quailing as in the past, however, she flung back her head and boldly met his eyes. Those gold sparks were flashing like frustrated fireflies seeking an outlet.

“No more than you cared for my pride, or my shame. As for what happened to me, that’s none of your affair. An . . . illness I soon recovered from.”

This time his anger was overt when he snapped, “Damn you, I have a right to know!” When she raised an imperious eyebrow, he changed his tactics. “Very well, you can tell me later. But one thing you must admit.”

He dropped her hand to lean forward and tightly grip his knees. ‘ ‘Confess, Katrina. It’s your pride that suffered far more than your morals. That’s why you left, and that’s why you treat me to these sullens now.”

“And that, my lord, is why we parted, and why we can never mean aught to one another again. To wit, if you really believe that pride drove me away from you, then you understand me not at all. I, however, understand you all too well.”

“I question that, but you dislike what little you know, obviously.”

She didn’t deny it. “So you see, we have no foundation on which to build. Now please, leave me be.
...”
She stood on the words, but ended on an oof of surprise when he snatched her hand and pulled her onto his lap.

They groaned simultaneously as her soft hips met his hard thighs. Devon clasped his arms about her waist and turned her so that one of her breasts crushed against his chest.

He said huskily; “Tell me truly now, Katrina mina, that we’ve no foundation to build on.” He tipped her chin up with one hand, but she closed her eyes so she didn’t have to see that hungry look that made all her feminine instincts feel ripe for the picking.

Morality and sensuality warred as Katrina savored, despite herself
, the feel of him. So hard he was, so reassuring, so masterful. How very easy it would be to give in and play the harlot. Just once more. But he was like an opiate; once would never be enough.
....

Only picturing her father’s serene face gave her the courage to say evenly, “We’ve nothing, Devon. No mutual respect, no shared values, not even personal liking.” He went so still that she finally had to open her eyes. His cheek twitched as his thick black lashes lowered. She sensed that she’d hurt him.

She wanted to call the words back, but she’d paid dearly for the distance two years of separation had gained her. Nevertheless, when he set her carefully on her feet, she stayed rooted, her eyes locked on his pale face. She didn’t dare tell him that she respected many of his qualities—his breeding, his strength of will, his intelligence, his humor, his loyalty to his name and to Billy.

Their moral codes, however, were continents apart. As to whether she liked him . . . no, the feelings he stirred in her were much too powerful to bear such a mediocre name. How could hatred and love wear the same face? It was not hatred that led her to open her mouth for a retraction. However, in that instant, he looked at her, and she forgot the need to comfort in the primitive urge to flee. Did he really despise her so?

He rumbled hoarsely, “Then since I’m so lost to virtue, I’ve naught to lose in allowing my instincts free rein, have I?” He took a stride toward her, but she hastily backed away. He stopped, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Leave me. We shall continue this conversation later.” The words seemed tom from him.

Katrina needed no second urging. She began to edge toward the door, eyeing him as she would a salivating wolf.

“You’ve not seen the last of me, my virtuous little hypocrite. You’ll have many opportunities to prove how steadfast your morals are. Do you find the prospect appealing?”

Her heart pounded too hard in her throat for an answer. Devon stalked her retreat, and they were both in the hall when the front door abruptly opened. Katrina looked over Devon’s shoulder and slumped in relief.

Will froze at the sight of Devon, then carefully shut the door behind him. “Do you need my help, Katrina?”,

Devon whirled at the sound of his voice. Katrina couldn’t see Devon’s face, but from Will’s expression dislike was being exchanged in full measure.

“So, here is the good doctor,” Devon purred, nodding toward the leather satchel Will carried. ‘ ‘How delighted I am to meet you at last. Tell me, did Katrina make a good patient?”

At Will’s flicker of surprise Devon added, “Oh, you were described to me well enough. Will Farrow. Your name will be forever emblazoned upon my memory as the man who stole my woman. And took considerable trouble to cover his tracks.”

Will set his satchel down on the small table next to the door. “Not well enough, apparently.” He leaned against the closed door, raking Devon up and down with a disdainful blue gaze. “As to the rest of your little homily, the type of patient my betrothed has made is none of your concern.”

Katrina shut her eyes at Devon’s shocked intake of breath. Then she opened them to send a frantic plea to Will, but his gaze was locked on Devon. “Lesser men, I’m afraid, rarely understand the nobility of medicine. Particularly men of such dubious character that they earn the name Demon.”

Katrina saw Devon collecting himself for a lunge. She did then the only thing she could, even knowing that her actions would ultimately inflame Devon further. She leaped forward, pushed him aside, and stood beside Will to take his arm.

“Hello, Will. What an unexpected pleasure. We didn’t expect you before supper.” She gave him a flirtatious glance.

Katrina felt Will control a start of surprise, but his smile was warm and unaffected. “The injuries from the cave-in are healing nicely I’m happy to report.” He sliced a glance at Devon. “Besides, I learned of the new arrival and thought you might need my company.”

My protection. He didn’t say the words, but all three heard them reverberate.

Devon asked hoarsely, “Is this true, Katrina? Are you really betrothed to this . .
.this
...”

Katrina’s head lifted proudly. “Wonderful man? That’s none of your affair, Devon. What difference does it make? I am, in any case, lost to you.”

Devon took a half step back. His teeth gritted together for a moment, then the tormented expression left his face. “Doubtless you are correct, madam. Your affairs”—he emphasized the word—“are no longer my concern. You are, in any case, beneath me.” He strode toward the door with the majestic strides he’d learned in knee breeches. When they moved aside, he carefully opened the door and snicked it shut behind him.

The sounds of his retreating footsteps faded. Firm, con
trolled—definite.

Katrina swayed, almost faint. But not with relief. Dear God, why couldn’t she feel vindicated at least? This was really the end. He was gone for good this time. Devon, come back, her heart cried, even as her mind knew this ending had been inevitable. She began to slump as her lungs labored for air.

Will shook her arm. “Katrina, what’s wrong?”

I’ve sent away the only man I can ever love. The knowledge was clear to her in that moment as never before. There was no other explanation for this pain that made her feel her back would break because it had not been able to bend.

Will’s touch was suddenly repugnant. She flung his arm away and fled down the hall toward the kitchen, swallowing sobs.

“Wait, Katrina!” Will strode after her, but stopped when she whirled and flung him a glare made more poignant by the glittering tears.

“Don’t you
ever
interfere so in my life again. I owe you my respect and gratitude. And nothing else!” She spun back around to continue her headlong flight to the haven of her room. Every step seemed to pound the words deeper into her brain:
beneath me .. . beneath me .. .

A short distance away Devon drew his winded, lathered stallion in. He stared blindly at his cozy little manor, wondering vaguely how he’d arrived so soon. He recalled nothing of the headlong ride, or even that he’d almost lost his seat when his stallion caught his hoof and stumbled.

L
ost to you, lost to you
... He couldn’t bear the echo of those words any longer. He dropped the reins to cup his hands over his ears, but he still couldn’t block them out. Pressure built in his head until he wanted to scream.. How could she call another man wonderful, promise him the lifetime he’d yearned for? Deceitful bitch. Even as he thought the words he knew them untrue, but that only increased his anguish.