Chapter 12

"Iam glad you managed to find your way home today," the Duke drawled, gazing at Catherine steadily over his glass of brandy, crossing his legs. "I was slightly worried you might end up on the other side of the hill and halfway to London."

Catherine raised her chin, her heart beating hard, looking at him. It was the first time she had seen him since their encounter at the lake today. She had managed to avoid him for the rest of the day, going in the opposite direction if she heard his voice or footsteps, making quite a few hasty retreats. She felt rather like the mouse must feel when trying to evade the cat.

But she couldn't avoid him forever, of course. They were the only two people rattling around this huge house—apart from the servants. Mrs. Gray had told her he was expecting her for a pre-dinner drink in the parlor at five sharp. The housekeeper's firm tone told her it wasn't a request.

And so now here Catherine was, sipping her brandy, a drink she had never much cared for, trying to make polite conversation with her husband across the room while ignoring the burning look in his eyes whenever he addressed her.

"You should not have worried," she replied, taking a sip of her drink. She placed it down on a side table. "I am very good with directions. I was never in danger of becoming lost."

"And yet, you told me that you took a wrong turn today," he mused, tapping his chin with his fingers, looking amused. "That is strange."

Catherine took a deep breath, ignoring him, before picking up her glass again. She wriggled in the chair. When was the dinner gong going to sound?

The air in the room was thick. She supposed it must be the heat.

His eyes lingered on her in a speculative way. "Why did you not join me for a swim?" His eyes were alight with amusement. "I could see you were hot. You were very… flushed."

Catherine snorted, trying to ignore the inference that she was flushed because of seeing him in all his bare-chested glory, dripping with water. That had been the reason, of course, but it was probably safer that she deny it.

"Of course, I was flushed," she huffed, raising her chin higher, meeting his gaze directly. "It was a hot day, and I had been walking for a long time."

He laughed. "You still have not answered my question," he pointed out, leaning forward, his blue-green eyes piercing. "Why would you not swim?"

She gaped at him. "Because it is not proper for a lady to swim in a lake like that. You should know that."

"Since when have you cared about propriety?" he teased. "You dressed like a boy and entered a gambling hell. I would think that a quick dip in a lake on a hot day would be a walk in the park for you after that lark."

Catherine's lips twitched. "I have been known to swim when the heat gets unbearable," she admitted. "Well, I did it one time. It was glorious."

He laughed with delight. "Tell me more."

He settled back into his chair, sipping his drink, his eyes holding hers.

Catherine picked up her own drink, taking a deep gulp. He was making her a bit nervous, and she was drinking faster than she normally did. Resolutely, she put the drink down, looking at him.

"What do you want to know?" To her annoyance, her voice was slightly breathless.

"Everything," he said, grinning at her. "Simply everything. I am certain your escapades must be riveting."

Catherine blushed. "Well, it was years ago…"

"I am certain you can still remember the details." He smiled. "Go on."

"It was just before my debut," she began, pursing her lips. "My brother and I were staying at our country estate. I was trying to sleep, but it had been an unbearably hot day, and I was tossing and turning…"

"It is always so very hard to sleep when it is so hot," he replied in a soft voice, grinning.

She ignored that. "I could not stand it," she continued, smiling at the memory. "I was dripping in sweat. The sheet was soaked. So I climbed out of my bedroom window and ran through the gardens to the lake near the house."

"Go on," he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers.

"There was no one around," she said, her heart skipping a beat. "It was past midnight, so I knew I was safe." She hesitated, her blush deepening. "So I stripped and dived into the lake."

He raised an eyebrow. "Stripped? You mean you took off everything?"

Catherine tossed back her head. "Well, yes. It was so hot! And I knew that my maid would question why my chemise was wet the next day if I left it on." She shrugged. "It seemed the most sensible course of action."

The Duke laughed with delight. "And so it was." He paused. "What did the water feel like?"

"Heavenly," she admitted, shivering at the memory. "Just heavenly. As if I was slipping into silk."

There was a heavy silence. The only sound in the room was the clock ticking on the mantelpiece. He was gazing at her in an odd way.

"Like slipping into silk," he repeated, his voice deepening. "Yes, it is just like that when you delve into water on a hot day." He paused. "I can just picture you diving and swimming beneath the moonlight, like a selkie slithering through the water."

"A selkie?" She tilted her head to the side, her voice curious. "What is that?"

"A selkie is a creature of folklore," he explained in a soft voice. "A magical creature. She appears as a seal in the water, but when she climbs to the shore, she transforms into a woman and sheds her seal skin which she lays at her feet."

Catherine laughed. "I would not mind being a seal! I love the water. Perhaps I truly am a selkie and have simply forgotten where I placed my seal skin, so I am now forced to stay on the land."

"Just like the legend," the Duke said in an amused tone. "It is a sad tale. A man watched a selkie climb ashore, shedding her skin, and when she was not looking, he stole it from her."

Catherine raised an eyebrow, taking another long sip of her brandy. "He stole it? But why?"

"Because he did not want her to leave," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "He had fallen in love with her, you see, and knew she would disappear back into the sea if he did not hide her skin from her."

Catherine frowned. "He forced her to stay with him?"

"He did," the Duke replied, smiling slightly. "He was dying of love for her and could not bear to let her go."

"I have a feeling this tale does not end well," Catherine drawled, raising an eyebrow.

"No, it does not," he confirmed. "She lived as his wife for many years, bearing his children, but always yearned for her life beneath the sea." He paused. "One day, she found her seal skin where he had hidden it. It was old and shriveled. She knew at that moment he had betrayed her."

"What did she do?" Catherine whispered.

"She left him," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "She slipped on her skin again and dived into the water, never to return. His heart was broken."

"His heart deserved to be broken," Catherine said in a hard voice. "She did not choose him. He made her stay with him." She looked away. "The story proves that you cannot force someone to act against their nature. They will always struggle to be free again."

Their eyes met and locked. Catherine felt a frisson all the way down her spine. She reached for her glass of brandy again, finding with dismay that it was empty. She jumped to her feet.

The Duke looked amused. "What are you doing?"

"I am feeling restless," she stated, her heart thumping. "I need to do something."

He laughed softly. "You could play the pianoforte in the corner. It is just gathering dust."

Catherine made a face. "I am a poor player." She shrugged. "But I suppose it would pass the time until the dinner gong sounds."

She walked over to the instrument and sat on the stool, feeling awkward. She couldn't sit there talking with him for a moment longer. With every passing moment, she felt herself being further drawn in, as if he were throwing a long thread of web, reeling her in towards him.

"Any requests?" she asked in a falsely cheery voice.

"None," he said, crossing his legs, one arm slung over the back of the sofa, staring at her in amusement. "Play what you will."

Catherine put her fingers on the keys, gritting her teeth. She hadn't lied when she told him she played poorly. And it had been months since she had last sat down to play the pianoforte. It would probably sound like the screeching of a cat abandoned on a high roof.

Finally, she thought of something she could play that might actually sound like music. Focusing fiercely, she started to play, feeling as stiff as a board. It wasn't exactly flowing.

She was concentrating so hard on not missing a note that she didn't realize he had gotten up and walked across the room until she sensed him behind her. She frowned but kept playing, trying to ignore him.

Suddenly, she jumped. He had put his hands on her arms, sliding them down so that they rested on her wrists. She felt his warm breath on her neck. She stopped playing, her hands hovering over the keys, her heart pounding hard.

"You look so adorable when you play," he whispered slowly. "Did you realize that you stick your tongue into the inside of your cheek when you concentrate?"

"No," she croaked.

His hands were caressing hers now, turning them over, stroking one finger at a time. It was a strangely pleasant sensation. She closed her eyes briefly, fighting for control.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was a strangled moan.

"You do not want me to stop," he whispered. "Do you?"

In response, she suddenly took the hood of the instrument, drawing her hands out of the way, and slammed it down on his hands.

He yelped, glaring at her. "What was that for?"

She got up, smiling at him sweetly. "I am not the selkie. You cannot hide my skin from me."

His jaw dropped.

Catherine suppressed a laugh before hiking up the skirt of her gown and hurrying to the door. She looked back at him. He was still standing at the pianoforte, rubbing his fingers. His eyes were fierce.

"I will take my dinner on a tray in my chambers," she said in a lofty voice. "Good evening."

She walked away, down the long hallway, smarting from the encounter.

The audacity of him!

She felt a stab of anger.

He wasn't playing fair. He had agreed that this would be a marriage of convenience, and yet he just couldn't seem to help himself. She supposed that dallying with a female was second nature to a rake like him.

Thank the Lord; Beatrice would be visiting the day after next. Catherine had received a short note from her dear friend in the afternoon. The visit would be a welcome distraction from the whirlwind in her mind.

And after Bea's visit, the Dowager Duchess was coming to stay for a couple of days. Catherine breathed out a sigh of relief. It wasn't going to be just the two of them for much longer.

There were only so many ways she could avoid him, after all.