Chapter 8

Chapter 8

It was ages before Catherine finally succumbed to a fitful sleep—one in which she soon found herself traversing the library again, only this time Lord Wessex was not standing next to the bookshelf. Instead, he was seated on the chaise, with a book in his hands.

“What have you done?” he growled when he looked up to see her and Catherine hesitated. “My Lord…”

As she spoke, the chaise disappeared and then suddenly he was gripping her again. Only it wasn’t in anger, and Catherine found herself melting against him as his lips searched hers, his tongue forcing her mouth open and his hands exploring her curves, and his hardness again pressed against her.

She jumped when a thunderous knock echoed through the library, causing Edward to fade away. The knocking continued and with a jolt she sat up in bed, her blankets clutched to her chest. She shifted uncomfortably, her face flushing as she remembered the dream, but the repeated sound of the knocking allowed it to dissipate.

Someone was at her door.

“Who… who is there?” she called out, her voice trembling. There was no response, only the sound of a key turning in the lock. Catherine's blood ran cold. She leapt from the bed, her nightgown swirling around her ankles as she backed away from the door.

The heavy oak door swung open with a creak, revealing Edward's tall figure silhouetted in the doorway. His face was shrouded in shadow, but Catherine could feel the intensity of his gaze upon her. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with an ominous click.

At once, the intimate dream returned, and her face flushed. “My Lord,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. “What on earth are you…”

“Quiet,” he barked before striding toward her. His eyes flickered dangerously in the dim candlelight. “I need to know, Miss Winslow. You need to tell me. How much did you read? What do you know?”

Catherine retreated hastily until she found her back hitting the wall and she pressed herself against it, her heart thundering in her chest. Edward loomed over her, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body. His scent—pine and something distinctly masculine—enveloped her, making her head spin.

“I…” she began, licking her suddenly dry lips. Edward’s gaze dropped to her mouth and his eyes darkened slightly. “I read about… there were just notes,” she whispered. “Notes about official things and then a day that seemed… something seemed to happen…”

She broke off, her gaze suddenly fixed on his lips too. A muscle ticked in Edward's jaw. “What?” he pressed, his voice low and dangerous.

Catherine took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze steadily. “I know nothing more, My Lord. What I read... it was none of my business. I should never have opened that journal, and I deeply regret my actions.”

Edward's eyes narrowed, searching her face for any sign of deception. “You expect me to believe that? That you have the journal of my youth before you and you were satisfied with the mundane?”

“It's the truth, My Lord,” Catherine insisted, her chin lifting slightly in defiance. “I have no right to pry into your personal affairs, regardless of my... curiosity. And I am sorry…”

Edward slammed his palm against the wall beside her head, making her flinch. “Curiosity?” he snarled. “Is that what you call it? Invading my privacy, violating my trust?”

Catherine's heart raced. He had stepped even closer to her, and she could feel her body reacting to his proximity. "I made a mistake, Lord Wessex. One I deeply regret. But I assure you, I read nothing beyond what I've told you.”

“And why should I believe you?” Edward demanded, leaning in closer. His breath ghosted over her cheek, sending shivers down her spine and she felt a warmth forming in the apex of her thighs, her womanhood throbbing with sudden, forbidden desire. His voice was gruff, low. “How do I know you're not lying to me right now?”

“Because I have no reason to lie,” Catherine retorted, her own anger flaring. Anger, she told herself silently, was far safer than whatever other confusing feelings he elicited in her. “What good would it do me? I've already admitted to my transgression. If I had read more, why wouldn't I simply tell you?”

Edward's eyes flashed. “Perhaps you're hoping to use the information against me. To blackmail me, or to sell my secrets to the highest bidder.”

Catherine gasped, indignation burning in her chest. “My Lord, no! I would never…”

“Wouldn't you?” Edward interrupted, his voice cold. “Everyone has a price, Miss Winslow. What's yours?”

"Not everyone is as cynical as you, My Lord," Catherine shot back, impulsively pressing her hands against his chest. His heart was racing, and his skin was warm beneath her hands, and she felt her knees weaken. “I believe in honor, My Lord… and integrity,” she promised weakly, but a bitter laugh escaped Edward's lips.

“Honor? Integrity? Rich words from a woman who reads private journals.”

Catherine flinched as though he'd struck her. “That was a mistake,” she said, her voice low. “One I will regret for the rest of my life. But it doesn't define who I am.”

“Doesn't it?” Edward challenged. He placed his other hand on the wall, effectively caging her in. “Tell me, Miss Winslow, who are you really? Because if we are truthful, I’d have to admit that I don't know you at all.”

Catherine's breath caught in her throat. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, feel the ghost of his breath on her own lips and his heart racing beneath her palms. She let out a soft gasp when she felt the same hardness she’d felt earlier in the library press against her thigh and a blush rose to her cheeks.

Could it be that he was not unaffected by her either?

“I am exactly who I have always been,” she muttered, attempting to force her voice to remain steady. “A governess… who cares deeply for her charge and wishes to do her job well.”

Edward’s eyes searched hers, his gaze intense. “And is that all you wish to be? Just… a governess?”

His hands moved slightly, brushing against her shoulders and she dropped her hands to her sides, pressing hard against the wall in an attempt to keep her knees from buckling. Catherin e swallowed hard, fighting against losing herself in his eyes. “What else could I be, My Lord?”

For a moment, something flashed in Edward's eyes—a hunger that made Catherine's breath hitch. But then it was gone, replaced by cold fury once more.

“Nothing,” he said, his voice harsh. “You could be nothing more. You're right about that, at least.”

The words stung, and Catherine felt tears pricking at her eyes. She blinked them back furiously, refusing to show weakness. “Then why are you here, Lord Wessex? If I'm nothing to you, why does it matter what I read or didn't read?”

Edward's jaw clenched. “Because this is my home,” he growled. “My family. My past. And I won't have some... some upstart governess prying into matters that don't concern her.”

“Upstart?” Catherine repeated, incredulous. “Is that truly how you see me?”

“How else should I see you?” Edward countered. “You're an employee, Miss Winslow. One who has grossly overstepped her bounds.”

Catherine's anger flared anew. “And you haven't, My Lord? Bursting into my room in the middle of the night, manhandling me, hurling accusations?”

Edward's eyes flashed dangerously. “I am the master of this house. I can go where I please. And do… what I please.”

“Of course,” Catherine said bitterly. “How foolish of me to forget my place.”

They glared at each other, the air between them crackling with tension. Catherine was acutely aware of Edward's body, so close to hers. Despite her anger, she couldn't help but notice the way his shirt strained across his broad shoulders, the strong line of his jaw, the fullness of his lips...

She shook her head, trying to clear it of such dangerous thoughts. “My Lord,” she said, her voice tight. “Please… if you would leave…”

Edward didn't move. If anything, he seemed to lean in closer. “Not until I'm satisfied that you're telling me the truth.”

“And how do you propose to determine that?” Catherine challenged. “Will you stand here all night, interrogating me?”

A muscle ticked in Edward's jaw. “If that's what it takes.”

Catherine let out a shuddering breath. “My Lord, please…” she begged. “I… I have told you everything, I do not know what it is that you want from me…”

Edward's gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes. “I want…” he began, then stopped, shaking his head. “I want to understand why you did it. Why you betrayed my trust.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught Catherine off guard. For a moment, she saw past the anger to the hurt beneath. It made her heart ache.

“I didn't mean to betray you,” she said softly. “I was... curious, yes. But more than that, I wanted to understand.”

Edward's brow furrowed. “Understand what?”

Catherine hesitated, then decided honesty was her best course. “You, My Lord. This house. The sadness that seems to permeate every corner. I thought... I thought if I knew more, I might be able to help somehow.”

Edward stared at her, his expression unreadable. “Help?” he repeated. “You think you can help? You think you can waltz in here and fix everything with your... your kindness and your pretty words?”

Catherine flinched at the bitterness in his tone. “That's not what I meant…”

“No?” Edward interrupted. “Then what did you mean, Miss Winslow? Please, enlighten me.”

Catherine took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. “I meant that I care, My Lord. About Emily. About... about you. Is that so hard to believe?”

For a moment, something softened in Edward's eyes. But then the wall slammed back down, his expression hardening once more. “Care?” he scoffed. “You don't even know me, Miss Winslow.”

“I know enough,” Catherine insisted. “I know you're a good brother, that you care deeply for Emily. I know you're intelligent and well-read. I know you carry a burden that weighs heavily on you. And I know... I know that despite your best efforts to hide it, there's kindness in you.”

Edward's breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly. For a heartbeat, Catherine thought she might have gotten through to him. But then his expression closed off once more.

“You know nothing,” he said coldly. “You see what you want to see, Miss Winslow. Nothing more.”

Catherine's frustration boiled over. “And you?” she challenged. “What do you see when you look at me, My Lord? Just a servant? Just someone to order about and accuse?”

Edward's eyes flashed. “I see a woman who's far too curious for her own good,” he growled. “A woman who doesn't know her place.”

“My place?” Catherine repeated, incredulous. “And where exactly is that, Lord Wessex? Beneath you?”

The moment the words left her mouth, she realized how they could be interpreted. A blush crept up her neck as Edward's eyes darkened, his gaze sweeping over her in a way that made her skin tingle and sent images to her mind, images that sent her heart racing.

“Careful, Miss Winslow,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You're treading on very thin ice.”

Catherine knew she should back down, should apologize and try to diffuse the situation. But something in her refused to yield. “Am I?” she challenged. “And what will you do if it breaks, My Lord? Terminate me? Send me away?”

Edward leaned in closer, so close that Catherine could feel his breath on her lips. “Is that what you want?” he murmured. “To be sent away?”

Catherine's heart raced. She knew she should say yes, should end this dangerous game they were playing. But the words wouldn't come. Instead, she found herself whispering, “No.”

Something flashed in Edward's eyes—triumph? Desire? Before Catherine could decipher it, he spoke again. “Then what do you want, Miss Winslow?”

The question hung between them, loaded with unspoken tension. Catherine's gaze dropped to Edward's lips, then back to his eyes. She knew what she wanted—what her body was screaming for. But she couldn't say it. Wouldn't say it.

“I want…” she began, then faltered. “I want you to trust me.”

Edward's expression darkened. “Trust is earned, Miss Winslow. Not given freely.”

“Then let me earn it,” Catherine pleaded. “Give me a chance to prove myself to you. My Lord, please… I have nowhere else to go. I will not betray your trust again. I swear.”

For a long moment, Edward said nothing. He simply stared at her, his eyes searching hers for... something. Catherine held her breath, afraid to move, afraid to break whatever spell had fallen over them.

Finally, Edward spoke. “And how do you propose to do that? Earn my trust?”

Catherine swallowed hard. “I... I don't know,” she admitted. “But I'm willing to try. If you'll let me.”

Edward's jaw clenched. He leaned in even closer, his lips nearly brushing her ear. “Be careful what you offer, Miss Winslow,” he murmured, his voice sending shivers down her spine. “You might find yourself in over your head.”

Then, without warning, his lips pressed against hers—his tongue coaxing her mouth open before dueling with hers. Catherine let out a soft moan as her hand moved to explore his chest again before moving up his shoulders and wrapping her arms around his neck.

His hardness pressed against hers firmly, and a hand moved to cover the supple softness of her breast. Catherine returned his kiss with fervor, her body aching for him. Her breath quickened when his finger trailed a path down her stomach before brushing over the apex of her thighs through the material of her dress.

Shyly she moved her own hand to the top of his trousers before just barely brushing against the hardness of his manhood.

Then, just as quickly as he had kissed her, he let her go—his expression pained.

“Sleep well, Miss Winslow. See me in my study tomorrow morning. Urgently.” he muttered before rushing out of the room—leaving her a weak puddle of desire against the bedchamber wall.