Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Catherine’s world narrowed—melted away to become nothing more than the press of Edward’s lips against hers, the heat of his body as he pulled her closer and the clutching of his fingers at her waist.

Her mind was reeling, overwhelmed by the sensation of his mouth moving against her own, vaguely registering the hardness pressing against her thigh. It sent a desperate ache of desire through her, one far more intense than anything she had experienced before.

This was madness, she knew and yet she was powerless to resist—even if she wanted to.

Edward’s kiss was demanding, possessive. It stole her breath and reason in equal measure. Catherine’s hands, which she was quite certain had been meant to push against his chest in surprise, were now clutching at his lapels—drawing him even nearer. A soft moan escaped her throat as Edward deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing the seam of her lips until she parted them, granting him access.

The cool stone of the fountain pressed against her back, providing a stark contrast to the heat building within her. Edward’s hands roamed her sides, tracing the curve of her waist through the silk of her gown. Each touch sent sparks skittering across her skin and it ignited a fire low in her belly.

Catherine felt as though she were drowning—lost in a sea of sensation. The scent of pine that clung to him, the taste of him on her tongue, the solid warmth of his body against hers… it overwhelmed her senses. It left her dizzy and breathless, her knees weak.

She knew she ought to push him away—that this was beyond improper. But she could not bring herself to end this moment.

Finally, the distant sound of laughter penetrated the haze of desire that was clouding her mind. With a gasp, she tore her lips from Edward’s and her hands moved to his chest to create some distance between them—though an unsettling emptiness immediately took hold of her.

“Edward,” she panted, foregoing his title. Her voice was husky and sounded unfamiliar to her own ears. “We cannot… not here…”

Edward’s eyes were dark with passion as he searched her face. For a moment, Catherine thought he might ignore her protest and kiss her again. A part of her—a far larger part than she cared to admit—hoped he would, and her cheeks heated up.

Instead, Edward stepped back and ran a hand through his hair. “Forgive me,” he said roughly. “I… I should not have done that. It was unforgivably forward of me.”

Catherine’s hand flew to her lips. They were still tingling from his kiss. “My Lord, I…”

He did not let her finish. Instead, he shook his head. “We should return to the ballroom,” Edward said, his tone suddenly formal and quite cold. “Emily will be wondering where we have gone.”

Before Catherine could even begin to find the words to respond, Edward had turned, and he was striding back toward the manor. She watched him go, her heart racing and her mind muddled with shock. She had to admit that there was a part of her that wanted to call him back—to throw caution to the wind and lose herself in his embrace once more. That same part of her wildly regretted pushing him away.

Still, the more rational part of her knew that it would be folly. That nothing further could ever happen between them, no matter the effect he had on her senses.

Catherine took a deep breath, in an attempt to steady her racing heart, before she smoothed her skirts and patted her hair. She could only hope that she did not look as thoroughly ravished as she felt. With one last glance at the fountain, now forever etched in her memory as the sight of the most earth-shattering kiss she had ever experienced, she made her way back to the ballroom.

Edward took care to avoid her for the rest of the evening and it was a relief when the night came to an end. It was Emily who came to call her—exhaustion etched upon her young face despite the radiant smile she wore.

“Oh, Miss… cousin Catherine,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “Was this not the most delightful evening ever?”

Catherine hesitated. “It was certainly… something,” she finished lamely, though Emily did not seem to notice that she did not share her enthusiasm. “I met so many people and I danced, and the food was delicious, and everything was so beautiful,” Emily continued, stifling a yawn.

“Though Edward said we must go at once. I think he’s had his fill of social engagements for the evening.”

Catherine could feel her cheeks growing hot at the mere mention of Edward’s name and she nodded quickly. “Yes, yes, of course,” she mumbled. “Let us go at once.”

Emily grinned brightly and the two women made their way to the carriage, where Edward already stood waiting. His hand was warm when he helped her in, though Catherine made a point of it to not to look into his eyes. In truth, she was far too nervous to allow herself to do so. Her body still thrummed with awareness and her heart skipped a beat when he sat down next to her once more.

His hard thigh was warm against hers and she could not help but allow her mind to drift to the other hardness she had felt earlier when they’d kiss. His hands rested on his knees and the sight of them reminded her how they felt upon her waist, and how they had brushed against her breasts ever so slightly.

She turned her head, fixing her gaze on the passing landscape outside the carriage window—though truth be told, she saw little of it in the darkness. Whenever the carriage drove over a bump in the road, Edward’s thigh shifted slightly against hers, filling her with a mad desire to reach out and touch him—to reignite the passion they had shared by the fountain.

What if he regretted it? What if it had meant nothing to him? Perhaps, for his part, it had been nothing beyond a moment of weakness.

As the carriage pulled up to Wessex Manor, Catherine felt a pang of disappointment. The night was over, and with it, perhaps, any chance of recapturing the magical moment she had shared with Edward.

He helped Emily from the carriage first, then offered his hand to Catherine. As she stepped down, their eyes met—and Catherine felt her breath catch at the intensity of his gaze.

“Good night, Miss Winslow,” Edward murmured as she passed him, his breath warm against her ear. “I trust you found the evening… educational.”

Catherine froze at this, heat rising to her cheeks—the memory of him pressing her against the fountain suddenly fresh in her mind once more. “Indeed, My Lord,” she managed to reply, though she did not have the courage to look back at him. “In fact, it was most… illuminating.”

A deep chuckle drifted toward her, and Catherine lowered her head—rushing toward the manor and hastening her steps up the grand staircase. Only once she was in the sanctuary of her bedchamber, did Catherine finally allow herself to fully process the events of the evening. She touched her lips and closed her eyes. She could still feel the phantom pressure of Edward’s kiss and it sent a moist warmth to the apex of her thighs.

How had this happened? How had she gone from fearing him, to melting into his arms so quickly?

She slowly pulled the blue dress from her body and folded it before yanking a nightdress over her head. The nightdress felt rough against her skin, in a not entirely unpleasant way, as she paced the length of the room—far too conflicted to even consider sleep.

What did it mean? Would it affect her position in the household? What did Edward feel when he kissed her?

A soft noise in the hallway caught her attention and she froze, straining her ears to listen. There it was again—the sound of footsteps approaching her door. Her heart began to race.

Could it be…?

Without a conscious thought, Catherine found herself moving toward the door. She pressed herself against the wood, her heart pounding wildly in her chest as she strained herself to hear.

“Catherine…” Edward’s voice, muffled by the wood—but unmistakable—reached her ears. “I… damn it all, what am I doing?”

Catherine’s hand flew to her mouth in an attempt to stifle a gasp. He was there—just on the other side of the door. Was he going to knock? To come in? Should she open the door herself?

She could hear him moving at the other side of the door and Catherine closed her eyes as she imagined his hand hovering over the door handle.

Catherine’s heart was pounding so loudly that she was almost certain that Edward must be able to hear it. Her hand hovered over the doorknob.

What would he do if she opened it? Would he still hold back, or would he take her, make her his—as fully as she now suddenly realized she wanted him to?

There was a soft thud—as if Edward had rested his forehead against the door. Catherine mirrored the action on her side, closing her eyes and imagining she could feel his warmth through the wood.

Oh how she wished he would open the door.

Catherine’s breath caught in her throat at this. She wanted nothing more than to throw open the door, to tell Edward that she too felt that impossible pull toward him—that desire that sent every logical thought racing in the opposite direction.

Catherine’s heart sank as she listened to the retreating footsteps. Only when she could no longer hear them did she allow herself to step away from the door and collapse onto her bed.

She stared up at the canopy, replaying the kiss they had shared until she drifted off to sleep.