Chapter 38

"Patrick, please," Catherine said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Think about what you are doing. You're not yourself. You're talking nonsense."

Patrick paused, blinking at her, and for a moment, she thought she might have reached him.

"Not myself?" he repeated, a strange light in his eyes. "I am more myself than I have ever been. I have never been so sure of anything in my life. You are my destiny, Cathy."

"Listen to me, Patrick," she continued, her mind racing. "If you love me as you say, then let us discuss it rationally. You owe me that much."

She needed to find a way out. And perhaps, if he kept talking, she'd manage to break free from him.

He hesitated, his grip on her loosening slightly. "Discuss it?"

"Yes," she said quickly, trying to buy time. "Tell me everything. I want to know everything."

His eyes softened, and he seemed to relax a little. "I have loved you since we were children," he said, his voice almost dreamy. "I was going to tell you, but then mother… she intervened. She thought Edith was a better match. I never stopped loving you, Cathy! Not for a single moment."

Catherine nodded, forcing herself to smile. "I see. And Edith? How did she find out?"

"She always knew," he said bitterly. "She saw it in my eyes, heard it in my voice. She knows she can never compare to you."

As he spoke, Catherine subtly shifted her position, preparing to break free if she got the chance. "It must have been difficult for you," she said softly, keeping him talking. "To live with someone you do not love."

"It has been torture," he admitted, his grip loosening further. "But now, we have a chance. We can be together. Truly together."

Catherine took a deep breath, ready to make her move. But before she could, Patrick's eyes darkened again, and he tightened his hold on her.

"No more talking," he said harshly. "I cannot wait any longer. I must make you mine!"

She struggled again, trying to free herself, panic rising in her chest. "Patrick, please!"

"Get your hands off my wife!"

Catherine gasped, trying to pull away from Patrick again at the sound of Thomas's strident command. Her heart leaped with gratitude. She had been losing the strength to fight the gentleman.

He came. He came for me.

Patrick jumped violently, swiveling around, startled by the voice. At the same moment, Thomas lunged, pulling Catherine away from the man. She staggered a little before balancing herself, just in time to see Thomas punch Patrick hard in the jaw, sending him sprawling on the ground.

Thomas was on him in a flash, punching him again square in the nose. Patrick groaned as blood started gushing out of his nose and running down his face. Catherine flinched, turning away, feeling sick.

Her husband kicked Patrick hard in the shin, causing the man to double over in pain again.

"How dare you!" Thomas yelled at the prone man on the ground, his face livid with rage. "How dare you touch her!"

He turned around, cursing loudly, his eyes wild. He rushed to Catherine's side, embracing her fiercely.

"Are you all right?" he whispered, his hands on the sides of her face, staring at her intently. "Did he hurt you?"

Catherine shuddered, clinging to him. Tears were streaming down her face. She couldn't stop them. All the energy in her body was draining away now that the fight was over, and she felt like she might collapse.

She managed to shake her head. "No," she whispered.

At that moment, Oliver rushed into the maze, his face contorted. Catherine watched her brother assess the scene with a quick look—Patrick, writhing on the ground, covered in blood, and Thomas consoling her. Her brother's eyes flicked to the front of her gown. She looked down, suddenly realizing it had been ripped in the struggle.

"You bastard," Oliver snarled, glaring at Patrick. "I never liked you! How dare you lay a hand on my sister?"

To Catherine's shock, her brother lunged at Patrick, punching him hard over and over again. When Oliver halted for a second to catch his breath, Patrick whimpered, crying out, managing to escape her brother's punches. He staggered to his feet and fled the maze, limping.

Thomas was removing his jacket and placing it gently around her shoulders. She realized that she couldn't stop shivering. Her teeth were clattering.

"Are you certain you are well?" he whispered, staring into her face, his eyes filled with concern.

She nodded. "Yes," she mumbled. Her heart clenched. "I am so sorry. I am so sorry I doubted you." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I should never have listened to him…"

Thomas squeezed her shoulder, but he didn't say a word. He didn't need to. Just his presence was all the comfort she needed in this world.

She turned to Oliver, who was standing there, shaking as well in the aftermath of the fight.

She ran to him and hugged him fiercely, overcome with emotion. Her brother returned her embrace before pulling away, looking a bit embarrassed. He looked at Thomas.

"I was wrong about you," Oliver said, his voice filled with emotion. "I apologize for doubting you as well. You are well able to look after my sister, Your Grace."

Thomas smiled faintly. "Thank you, Lord Whitley."

Catherine gulped, looking from her brother to her husband and then back again.

"My husband paid off the majority of your debts, Oliver," she confessed, her heart giving a painful thump. "If it were not for him, it would never have happened. I did not win enough money that night to cover it." She took a deep breath, turning to look at Thomas. "And he actually beat me that night. He could have taken my winnings… but he did not."

She stared at Thomas, overcome with emotion. Her heart swelled. She had doubted him, distrusted him, tried desperately to keep her distance from him. She had let Patrick pour poison into her ears.

She had been wrong about her husband right from the start. He was a good man. A loyal, brave, fierce man with a heart as soft as a dove's wing. A man worth giving her heart to. She would never doubt him again.

Thomas shifted on his feet, looking embarrassed. It took all her effort not to throw her arms around him.

Oliver looked stunned. "It seems I have more to thank you for than I thought," he said, slowly walking up to Thomas and holding out his hand. His eyes looked troubled. "I vow to you that I will pay you back everything I owe you."

"You owe me nothing," Thomas reassured him in a low voice, shaking his hand slowly. "We are family. And that is what family does for one another."

Oliver gulped. Catherine turned her face away, scared she was going to burst into tears again.

"Come on," Thomas said gently, putting an arm around her shoulder and gazing down at her tenderly. "I think we should get you home. I do not think you wish to return to the party."

Catherine shook her head vigorously. "No," she whispered, shuddering. She had never desired anything less in her life. Everyone would be talking about her—they must have noticed Patrick's condition and her absence. "I do not want to return to the party."

Thomas nodded. "I know a way we can vanish without anyone seeing us. Follow me." He turned to Oliver. "You too, Lord Whitley. I do not suppose you wish to return to the party any more than we do."

Oliver smiled faintly. "Truer words have never been spoken, Your Grace."

Catherine laid her head on her husband's shoulder, letting him guide her through the maze, out the other side. Then he led her down a narrow path, towards a back gate that led into the mews at the side of the townhouse. When they reached the mews, they stopped.

"Thank you again," Oliver said in a quiet voice. "For all you have done for my sister… and for me." He looked at Catherine. "Our parents really would be proud of you, Sister. And of your husband."

Catherine's eyes filled with tears again. She knew she was extremely emotional in the aftermath of what had just happened, but she also knew that she was prouder of her brother than she had ever been in her life. He had just stepped up, defending her honor, and he hadn't been afraid to give Patrick his due punishment. And he had controlled his gambling habit.

He had finally grown into the man she had always known he could be.

She placed a hand on his face, looking at him tenderly. "Thank you, Oliver," she whispered. "And they would be so proud of you as well."

As soon as they settled in the carriage, Thomas drew her to him, putting his arm around her tenderly. She shuddered, clinging to him. For a long while, they said nothing, just basking in the feeling of being in each other's arms again.

Eventually, he drew away a bit, looking down at her, a quizzical look on his face.

"I should have told you," he said, his face contorting with emotion. "I have been wanting to tell you, but I lacked the courage…"

"Tell me what?" Catherine stared at him, her heart pounding hard. "What is it you wish to tell me?"

"Can't you guess?" he whispered. "I love you, Catherine. I love you body and soul. And I will never love anyone but you."

Catherine gasped, her heart pounding harder. She felt giddy with joy and relief. This was what she had been praying for—that he would tell her he loved her just as much as she loved him.

But she realized now that the actual words had never really been necessary. For he had been showing her how much he loved her in so many different ways, culminating in what had just happened at the party. She just had been too blind to see it, too wrapped up in her own insecurities to truly appreciate what was right in front of her eyes.

She saw it now. It was as if their love was an actual physical presence, sitting between them, surrounded by a bright light.

"Oh," she gasped. "I love you too! I have been so scared to tell you, in case you laughed at me or pushed me away again." She reached out, touching his face. "I was so scared, Thomas."

He gazed at her, his eyes shining with emotion. "My dreams have been answered," he whispered, drawing her to him again, fervently kissing her hair over and over. "I was so scared, as well. Scared that you could never love me, scared that I would lose you, scared that my love for you would be the ruin of me…"

"I told you," she whispered back furiously, reaching up to stroke his face. "I told you that you will never lose me. My loyalty, once given, is forever. My love, once given, is forever, as well." She paused. "I am not your mother, Thomas. I will never leave you. You have my word."

He swore under his breath, hugging her fiercely, kissing her face, her hair, her neck, whispering words of endearment. Catherine's heart was filled with such a ferocious love that she almost felt like it was about to burst out of her chest.

She had never wanted to fall in love. She had fought it so hard and for so long. She knew that he had felt exactly the same. The wonder of it was that they had still found each other and that they had somehow managed to scale the wall of all that separated them and surrender to the love between them.

She shivered. Their love was stronger than all of it. It had always been meant to be. They had never stood a chance before the ferocity of it. Their love was like a life force, unable to be denied.

She knew that he would never betray her now. His grandmother was right—he may have sown his wild oats, but he was a man ready to lay his heart at her feet now. He was a man who had been waiting for his love to walk into his life, to show him that love didn't have to be full of pain, that there was another way.

Just as he was showing her that there was another way. They were showing each other.

Finally, his lips found hers. The kiss was long and tender and sweet. The fiery passion between them simmered beneath the surface as always, but it didn't ignite. This kiss was a vow between them—a promise of the love between them. And she knew that this vow meant much, much more than the words they had exchanged that day in the church.

They started as the carriage slowly drew to a stop. Catherine gazed out the window, feeling dazed. They were home.

Thomas looked down at her, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Shall we tell the driver to just keep driving for a while?" he asked in a soft voice, gently stroking her jawline.

Catherine laughed with sheer delight. "Why not?"

He leaned out, telling the driver just that.

The wheels started turning once again. They settled back in the seat, turning to each other hungrily. The spark was igniting, yet again. And there was simply nowhere she would rather be.