Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

R ichard did remember that Catherine had told him she was not going to marry for love when he had encountered her on the balcony during that long-forgotten ball. Back then, he had interpreted it as a statement of a naive, gently-reared lady who thought defying her parents' wishes counted as some form of rebellion. But now, listening to her speak and the pain that laced her words, he revised that opinion.

He imagined her as a little girl, scared and alone, enduring parents who yelled at each other, forgot their children's birthdays, and barely knew their ages, likes and dislikes. It must have been difficult having to learn basic survival skills with the help of the servants. The loneliness must have been excruciating, and he marveled at the fact that she had grown into a strongly opinionated woman.

He guessed having to parent your younger siblings yourself could make you strong by default. But the fact that she carried her burden gracefully didn't mean that it wasn't heavy, and he could hear from her voice that some part of her was exhausted from years of carrying a burden that wasn't supposed to be hers.

At least on his part, he had his father's love and attention. If there was one thing the late Duke had done well, it was raising a young boy into a man lovingly even in the midst of the chaos that was his marriage.

The only problem Richard had with the man was that when the woman he called his wife packed up and left, he shattered into pieces, and he couldn't pick up enough of those pieces to somehow be whole enough to care for his children. Instead, his father wallowed in his misery for so long that he turned into a ghost.

No matter how he tried to shake the feeling, Richard believed that his father didn't love him and little Emmy enough to fight the despair and hopelessness that had swallowed him whole.

He had always believed that marriages of convenience, while as cold as stone, were more peaceful and dignified than the so-called "love matches."

To him, those "love matches" produced more traumatized people than the typical arranged marriage, himself and Catherine being prime examples.

Some young friends of his who recently got married swore that their love was one for the ages. Richard was happy for them, but the jaded part of him believed that no matter how much they claimed to love each other, that love would turn toxic at some point, potentially destroying a lot of people at the very core.

This was why he would never marry. That love had destroyed him, and he frankly did not believe there was any decent part of himself to offer any well-bred lady.

But he could offer Catherine empathy, because in his experience, no matter how well he carried a burden, it always felt good to know he was not alone.

"My parents' marriage was a love match—at least at first. But it was a lie. My mother was a beautiful woman, you must have heard. Many of the odes written about beauty were written in her honor. My father made the mistake of thinking that he could capture a butterfly and keep her beauty all to himself. For the first few years, it worked—or it seemed to work.

"We were the perfect family, but then my mother started feeling trapped, far away from the vibrant life she had thought she would enjoy when she became a duchess. She demanded that we move our permanent residence back to London. My father wouldn't have it, so she nagged and sulked, and when that didn't work, she started living recklessly, hoping to force him to bend to her wishes.

"My father granted her that freedom, but what she did with it could only be described as atrocious. I think he always knew that the woman he married did not care for him, but he was too in love with her to see reason. He allowed her to destroy him till there was nothing left of him. So, no, I will not marry for love either. I don't think I would marry at all, actually. I have seen that institution turn brilliant men into shells of their former selves. I would never let that happen to me if I could help it."

When Richard stopped to take a breath, he became aware of a curious sense of emotional nakedness. He had meant to empathize with Catherine. He had not meant to flay open the scarred depths of his soul.

He looked up, half expecting to see the judgment on her face. But when he looked into her eyes, the compassion he saw there soothed a part of him that he didn't realize was smarting.

She took his hand in both of hers, stroking it in consolation. He didn't think she was fully aware of the motion, seeing as her eyes were locked on his face.

At that moment, he appreciated the need for human connection. To be completely understood by someone was a gift he had never appreciated. Gradually, that gratitude turned into something deeper as they held each other's gazes. He sensed the moment when the sexual awareness that always underlined their interactions took over. Her eyelids fell to half-mast, giving her that sleepy-eyed look that was effortlessly seductive.

Richard realized that at some point, they had moved closer to each other, and now he was only a breath away from claiming the succulent plumpness of her sweet mouth. He unconsciously took a deep breath, hoping to calm the fires of desire raging inside him.

But he soon regretted that action because he was assaulted by her scent. She smelled of lilies and something else that was uniquely hers. He leaned forward, a mere second away from claiming her lips, when she abruptly pulled away.

It took a moment for him to realize she was leaving. He reflexively tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her down onto his lap.

He must love torturing himself because being just a few inches away from the sweet paradise between her legs was hell. He started conjugating verbs in Latin. Anything to prevent him from giving in to the almost overwhelming urge to lay her on that sofa and rut within her like an animal.

The look of desire on her face told him that she might not refuse him. But he had to remind himself that she was an innocent, unschooled in the world of desire, and no matter the lure, he did not bed innocents. Even if he did, with the way his desire was raging inside him, he would not be gentle. He would be wild and uncontrolled.

He was panting with the effort to hold back, and he was astonished he hadn't rent the sofa apart with the way he held onto it.

He looked up to see the little minx's eyes fixed on his mouth while she adjusted herself on his lap.

Richard groaned and then seized her mouth, plundering it. Damnation, she tasted even better than he had imagined. He was drowning in need, burning in the flames of desire. He urged her to open her lips, and she did, admitting him into paradise.

He licked into her mouth, their tongues wrestling for dominance. Then he broke the kiss to suck on her neck hard , wanting to mark her as his .

It was only when Catherine pushed away from him did he regain some semblance of sanity. She looked at him with a slight fear in her eyes. It seemed he had shocked her with the rawness of his ardor. He didn't know what devil possessed him to crack the predatory grin that sent her running out of the room.

Even though his thrumming body protested the interruption, he was grateful for it because he had been seconds away from throwing her on the sofa, pushing her skirts up to her waist, and ravishing her till every part of her being had his stamp of possession.

Besides, they had run the risk of being interrupted by a family member—her father, perhaps. Even Emmy. In their passion, they had both forgotten that the library door was unlocked and any one of their relatives could have come looking for them, following their prolonged absence.

Richard had nearly ruined her. He was supposed to be the more experienced one, but even he had been so swept away by the tide of desire that he had actually considered deflowering a virgin under her own father's roof.

He was lucky he was not being challenged to a duel or being forced to marry Catherine. He had been careless, and he might have deserved it. It was strange that he didn't feel the familiar panic when he considered the possibility of being forced to marry Catherine.

But that was a thought he was not willing to examine closely

Catherine Burlow was a threat to his sanity, honor and everything that made him a man, and wise men avoided battles they couldn't win. So he was going to avoid her till his infatuation with her wore off.