‘I’ll leave you now to get some sleep.’ His voice sounded so coolly matter of fact that he might have been addressing a complete stranger, not the person with whom he had just shared an all too brief but exquisitely intimate episode. ‘There’s no need for you to rise early. We do not need to leave here until mid-morning.’
Determined not to give way to tears that could serve no useful purpose, Katherine waited until, without so much as a backward glance or a gentle word of farewell, he strode from the room. Then she lay and stared at the canopy above her head, at a complete loss to understand why he should have called a halt to an occurrence that innate feminine wisdom assured her he had been enjoying every bit as much as she had herself. Yes, he had done so before, she reminded herself, on two quite separate occasions. Somehow, though, this time had been different. For all his threat of reprisals, he had been gentle from the first, swiftly extracting a response that—God forgive her!—was all too swift in coming.
Ashamed though she was to admit to it, she could no longer deny that when in Daniel’s arms self-restraint and morality were all too easily forgotten, swept aside by a rapidly increasing yearning demanding fulfilment. Just the touch of his hand had the power to affect her like no other man’s had done before. But so it had been from the very first, on that bitterly cold January day, when they had collided with each other in the doorway of that inn and he had prevented her from falling.
How strange that she should recall the incident now; recall too that his touch had put her forcibly in mind of her father’s reassuring, protective hold. Yet there had been nothing paternal in the hands which had caressed her so gently not so very long ago, and honesty prompted her to admit that she was glad of it.
Drawing her eyes away from the lace-edged canopy, she glanced about the tastefully decorated chamber, clearly recalling its owner’s parting words after they had dined together. ‘You may rest easy tonight, petite. This part of the house is entirely private. Be assured too that, although the bed you sleep in is indeed mine, no man has yet been invited to share it with me.’
Although Josephine might have spoken no less than the truth, Katherine was brutally aware that one might well have been sharing it this night if Daniel hadn’t possessed the strength to call a halt before their mutual passion had taken them to a point beyond which there was no turning back.
For her sake, and most especially for his, it must never occur again, she thought determinedly, little realising that below, in the room which functioned as both dining and sitting-room, Daniel’s feelings on the matter were vastly contrasting and that he was equally determined that it should.
His appetite having deserted him, he had managed to consume very little of the delicious supper the housekeeper had kindly brought to him, and he rose from the table, taking both bottle and glass over to a comfortable chair.
Scant compensation, he mused wryly, studying the bottle for a moment before refilling his glass. All the same, it would need to suffice for the present, though there were times, he was forced to admit, when he wished he might forget that he was born a gentleman. And never more so than tonight!
Yet, deep down he knew he had done the right thing, the only honourable thing, he reflected, leaning back against the soft fabric of the chair. No, he could never have reconciled it with his conscience if he had taken advantage of the situation in which they now found themselves. For all that she could match his passion with her own, she was a highly moral young woman. Furthermore she trusted him. How could he betray that trust, even though he now felt quite certain that she wasn’t indifferent to him? When he did make her his own, and he would eventually, it would be on their wedding night and in his own bed, not in a room in a Normandy bawdy house. To have done so would have been to cheapen what he felt for her, and take cruel advantage of her vulnerability, not to mention her innocence.
No, there was not a doubt left in his mind now. Although at the beginning of this venture he might possibly have experienced no more than the desire to take her to his bed, that had swiftly changed. Katherine was the woman with whom he wished to spend the rest of his life. They were so right for each other in every way—almost kindred spirits. But first there was still that one huge barrier which needed to be demolished: somehow he must find a way to rid her of those foolish notions that she had allowed herself to believe in an attempt to protect herself from future hurt. He could not have her fretting unnecessarily, believing the worst every time he might be delayed in returning home, as most assuredly she would, unless he eradicated those fears completely and forced her to face the truth. Now was certainly not the time to make the attempt. Once they were safely back in England, once this foolish escapade was behind them, he would storm the citadel of her fears. In the meantime he must continue to maintain that control over his desires and emotions, which during the past couple of days he had succeeded in doing reasonably well, even though it had meant for the most part attempting to ignore her very existence.
‘Ah, mon cher!’
Josephine, smiling at him from the doorway, effectively brought his musings to an end, and he even managed to return her smile, as she settled herself on the floor at his feet.
‘I shall keep you company for a little moment. You have been up to see Mademoiselle Katherine and have assured yourself that she is well, no?’
Katherine’s welfare had been the first thing about which he had enquired on his return to the house. ‘Yes,’ he muttered, as memory stirred. ‘And all I received for my pains was a hairbrush thrown at my head. Damnable little termagant!’
Josephine’s gurgle of laughter was infectious, and Daniel found it impossible not to smile too. ‘Ah, yes, your Katherine certainly does not lack spirit.’
He stared down for a moment into the large brown eyes twinkling up at him, before transferring his gaze to the contents of his glass. ‘What makes you suppose that she is my Katherine?’
Full lips curled into a knowing smile. ‘If she is not already, then I suspect that it is your intention to make her so. And I am very happy for you, mon cher, even if it does mean that I have lost you.’
The small hand resting lightly on his knee did little to ease his frustrations, and brought vividly to mind a very satisfying interlude they had enjoyed the previous year. ‘What makes you suppose that you have lost me?’ The husky timbre of his voice betrayed clearly enough his mounting desire. ‘Katherine as yet has no right to place demands upon me.’
‘Her affection and her trust give her the right, my friend,’ Josephine countered, before rising to her feet. ‘I think you know that I could happily lie with you again. But I shall not. Even a woman in my profession has her pride. I have never yet shared my bed with a man who has left it regretting that he had been there.’
Daniel regarded her in silence for a moment above the rim of his glass. ‘And what makes you suppose that I would?’
‘Perhaps you would not until you had to face your Katherine again, and saw the hurt in her eyes, for she would know. She is no fool. Unless I am very much mistaken, she already suspects that you and I have found pleasure in each other, but she did not know you then. But she cares for you now. Do not hurt her needlessly. It would be better by far for you to face her with a clear conscience in the morning, so I shall place temptation out of reach.’
With a rueful smile curling his lips, Daniel watched her leave. ‘You’re a damnably astute woman, Josephine Carre,’ he murmured, before returning his attention to the only solace he would receive that night, and finishing off the wine.
Chapter Eleven
‘What the hell do you suppose you’re doing?’
Katherine, who had been