A Stranger at Castonbury(43)
He bent to pick it up, and a hint of her sweet perfume rose from the soft folds. She would surely be missing it later, in the chilly rooms of Castonbury.
He had to return it to her—and to find out what she had been looking at out here that had startled her so....
Chapter Eleven
Meet me in the garden folly at midnight, Catalina, I beg you. I must talk to you. J.
Catalina stared down at the note in her hand, which had been slipped under her door soon after they returned from the Assembly Rooms. Jamie’s bold, slashing black handwriting stood out in the candlelight, luring her to follow its words.
She sighed and looked out of her chamber window. She couldn’t see the folly but she knew it was out there, waiting for her. Those brief words and that one kiss between them could not be the end. She knew that. There was too much between her and Jamie to be so easily finished.
She had to meet him. There was so much unsaid between them, so much she didn’t understand.
She picked up the shawl that had been handed to her by one of the footmen as she left the Assembly Rooms, the same shawl she had lost in the garden. The soft cashmere folds were cool, but she imagined she could smell the lingering essence of his cologne there. She quickly wrapped it around her shoulders and slipped out of the bedroom door.
The house was empty and silent, everyone tucked up in their own chambers for the night. No light shone beneath Lydia’s door, so Catalina hoped the girl had gone to sleep without staying up to read her horrid novels. The corridor was lit only by a few flickering sconces, which seemed to make the portraits on the walls peer down at her disapprovingly as she slipped past.
Catalina ran down the stairs and out the front doors, praying the heavy wood wouldn’t slam behind her. The wind had died down, leaving the night still and silent. She followed the glow of the moon to the gardens and along the pathway that led to the folly. It glowed a mellow, pure white in the darkness.
She tiptoed up the shallow stone steps and past the pillars into the small, cool, domed space. A statue of Cupid holding his bow aloft stood in the middle of the round room, and for a moment she feared he was the only one there. Her heart sank and she suddenly felt so very alone.
But then Jamie appeared from the shadows and her heart soared again. He had shed his coat and his waistcoat was unfastened, revealing the bright white linen of his shirt, the loops of his loose cravat. He was surely the most beautiful sight she had ever seen, like a god of the night.
‘Catalina,’ he said, and his voice was rough with some hidden emotion. He moved slowly closer to her, his booted footsteps echoing in the carved dome above them. ‘You came.’
‘I—of course I did,’ she whispered. She couldn’t stay away, not from him.
And suddenly his arms slid around her, drawing her tight against him as she clutched at his shoulders.
‘How I’ve missed you,’ he said. ‘What you said at the Assembly Rooms—it can’t be the end for us. Not when the truth of so much lies between us.’
Catalina shook her head and bit back a sob. She had thought the same thing, yet how could they speak rationally when simply being near him made her feel so much? He freed so very many emotions and passions that she had hidden and denied for so long. Ever since she had lost him.
Losing him once had nearly destroyed her. How could she bear it again?
Jamie seemed to sense all those things she couldn’t say, for he pulled her even closer, and his mouth came down on hers. He didn’t rush or push her; he wasn’t harsh with her, that had never been Jamie’s way. But his mouth opened over hers, his tongue tracing her lips as he sought to quench his burning desire for her. Catalina opened to him, letting him in. Her body remembered his kiss at the Assembly Rooms and craved yet more and more.
Yes—this was what she had longed for, the sensation of every rational thought flying out of her and falling down into pure, burning need. Just as Jamie had always made her do.
His hand slid down her back as he deepened the kiss, and the shawl he had wrapped around her fell away from her shoulders. The night air washed over her, but she only felt it for an instant before it was replaced by the heat of his touch.
His hands slid under the curve of her hips and he lifted her up high against his body. He swung her around until she was braced against the low marble banister that ran around the folly. She clasped her knees to either side of his lean hips and arched into his body.
His lips slid over her cheek and down her neck as she arched her head back, his tongue swirling lightly in the hollow at the base of her neck where her pulse pounded out a frantic beat. It had always felt like this when he touched her, as if something dark and secret deep inside of her reached out to the darkness in him.