She loved Marcus.
Muttering one of her husband’s favorite curse words under her breath, Catherine swung out of the rumpled bed and began searching for her discarded clothes. She loathed the idea of putting on her dirty chemise and the even dirtier traveling dress, but unless Marcus had gone to fetch her things while she slept…
“Oh my,” she said in wonder as her eyes fell upon three very familiar trunks stacked neatly side by side next to a heavy walnut armoire that had been a wedding present from some distant relation now long forgotten.
Heedless of her nakedness, Catherine flew across the room and knelt in front of the largest trunk. It opened easily beneath her prying fingers and her gasp was one of pure delight as the open lid revealed layers upon layers of soft clean chemises, freshly darned stockings, and smartly pressed bonnets. The next trunk held her dresses and the last one her considerable shoe collection. And Hannah told me I over packed, Catherine scoffed. There was, in her mind, no possibility of ever over packing anything.
Selecting a pale yellow walking dress whose simplicity would make it possible to put on without assistance, she dressed herself quickly and efficiently, forgoing the usual layers of undergarments for a simple ivory chemise and matching stockings.
Her hopelessly tangled hair posed a bit of a problem which Catherine solved by ruthlessly tearing a silk ribbon from one of her bonnets and using it to tie her wild curls in a simple tail. It was not the neat and tidy chignon she was accustomed too, but it would have to do. Her cheeks received their usual pinch to bring color to her otherwise pale complexion, and with that she was ready to face her husband.
She found Marcus in the kitchen sitting at the table, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his arms resting idly next to a bowl of half eaten porridge. He looked up when she entered the room and his eyebrows pinched together to form an ominous V over the bridge of his nose.
“Hello,” Catherine said, smiling hesitantly. Butterflies danced in her stomach and her skin felt unnaturally warm as she recalled in blushing detail what Marcus had done to her last night… How his lips had touched her and suckled her. How his fingers had known just the right spots to please. How delicious it had felt to have his body slide over hers and his –
“What do you want?” he asked curtly.
Instantly her butterflies disintegrated into one tight knot of despair and Catherine brutally shoved any errant thoughts of their lovemaking from her mind. It was clear her husband did not share her tender sentiments, and why should he? Was she such a fool that she believed one night of heaven would free them from hell? Marcus wanted nothing from her save an heir, and she could not afford to lose control of her tightly bottled emotions now, not when she was so close to being free of him.
Lifting her chin she clasped her hands in front of her waist and fixed him with a haughty stare. “I was going to thank you for retrieving my trunks, but now I am not.”
“Oh you’re not, are you?” he asked.
Was it her imagination or was he fighting back a smile? She frowned. Marcus did not smile, or laugh, or take joy in anything beyond his bloody ledgers. The man she had fallen in love with was gone and no amount of hoping would make it otherwise. Hadn’t she learned that the hard way? Remain aloof, she reminded herself sternly. Do not allow yourself to care. If you care, he can hurt you and you cannot stand to be hurt anymore.
“No I am not,” she said stiffly. “For you should have fetched my things this evening past so I did not have to go to bed in damp clothes. No doubt I shall catch pneumonia or some other dreadful disease, all because of your inherent laziness.”
“My inherent laziness, hmm?” he echoed and this time there was no mistaking the grin that curved his lips and lifted the corners of his eyes. “I suppose it was my, ah, ‘inherent laziness’ that had you screaming out my name last night?”
“Marcus!” Her cheeks flushed a dull pink.
“What?” he asked innocently.