seen him freeze into oblivion lesser mortals who had the audacity to tread on his private domain.
"May I speak freely?" The set of Norton's shoulders, the tilt of his chin, and his penetrating gaze reminded Rutherston so much of a protagonist facing him in a duel that he put his hand up to smother a smile.
"Charles, you always do!"
"Richard, what game are you playing with Catherine? From the day we have arrived, I have been aware of something going on between you two. You're so much more experienced than she is; it would be unfair to take advantage of her—to flirt with her and then discard her. She's a green girl and not up to snuff. I wish you would let her be. Just what are your intentions toward Catherine, anyway?"
Far from being angered by this speech, Rutherston was rather touched that this young cub, whom he held in so much affection, should take it upon himself to be Catherine's protector and beard the lion in his den.
"You may rest easy about my intentions, Charles," he replied, all haughtiness gone. "Any intentions I may have in that direction will be entirely honorable. I give you my word."
All strain left Norton's face.
"Well then, cos , if that's the case, I can tell you now that we have been invited to dine at Ardo House tomorrow." He smiled broadly.
"Invited to dine? And when did we receive this invitation?"
"Only last night, from Tom. I told him that, of course, I should be delighted, but due to unforeseen circumstances you were unable to accept. Naturally, Tom is too much the gentleman to question the goings on of so high and mighty a lord as a marquis."
In mock anger, Rutherston picked up his napkin and threw it at his cousin.
"I was only funning, cos." Norton ducked, his face alight with merriment. "I took it upon myself to accept for both of us. I thought this was one invitation you wouldn't refuse."
And with amicable relations entirely restored between the cousins, Rutherston set his mind to rehearsing what he should say to Catherine on the morrow.
It was in such a frame of mind that Rutherston arrived at Ardo House on the Friday afternoon, three days before Catherine was due to leave for town. He caught a glimpse of her in the garden as he dismounted and threw his reins to a waiting groom.
"You go in Charles," he said and nodded to Norton. "There is something I must do."
Norton glanced in the direction of Rutherston's gaze, and jumping down from his mount, made as if to go with him.
"No, go in Charles, I won't be long." The note of authority in Rutherston's voice halted Norton who remained undecided for a moment before moving toward the house.
When Rutherston came upon Catherine, he saw that she was not alone. She was walking with a lady who was quite obviously pregnant. An infant clung to Catherine's skirts, and in her arms was a robust baby, pulling at her hair and tugging at her chin. As he approached, he heard her mellow laughter, and saw the lady, whom he presumed to be Catherine's sister, bend to say something in her ear, and Catherine turned to face him.
He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. She had never seemed more beautiful or desirable to him as she did at that moment and a wave of tenderness swept over him. He wanted to see her with children in her arms—but the children of his body. He wanted her to be like her sister, with belly swollen with child, but with his seed. He thought of the women who had tried to entrap him with their feminine allures and wondered at so simple a snare as a girl inclining her head to disengage her hair from the clutches of an infant.
His mistresses he had always flaunted as if they had been prime cattle, but Catherine he wanted to cherish as his own private possession. He would never allow her now to belong to anyone but him.
The embarrassment that Catherine evinced on seeing Rutherston was plain for anyone to see. She could only stammer disjointed introductions to Lady Mary before turning away in confusion. Lady Mary was
"May I speak freely?" The set of Norton's shoulders, the tilt of his chin, and his penetrating gaze reminded Rutherston so much of a protagonist facing him in a duel that he put his hand up to smother a smile.
"Charles, you always do!"
"Richard, what game are you playing with Catherine? From the day we have arrived, I have been aware of something going on between you two. You're so much more experienced than she is; it would be unfair to take advantage of her—to flirt with her and then discard her. She's a green girl and not up to snuff. I wish you would let her be. Just what are your intentions toward Catherine, anyway?"
Far from being angered by this speech, Rutherston was rather touched that this young cub, whom he held in so much affection, should take it upon himself to be Catherine's protector and beard the lion in his den.
"You may rest easy about my intentions, Charles," he replied, all haughtiness gone. "Any intentions I may have in that direction will be entirely honorable. I give you my word."
All strain left Norton's face.
"Well then, cos , if that's the case, I can tell you now that we have been invited to dine at Ardo House tomorrow." He smiled broadly.
"Invited to dine? And when did we receive this invitation?"
"Only last night, from Tom. I told him that, of course, I should be delighted, but due to unforeseen circumstances you were unable to accept. Naturally, Tom is too much the gentleman to question the goings on of so high and mighty a lord as a marquis."
In mock anger, Rutherston picked up his napkin and threw it at his cousin.
"I was only funning, cos." Norton ducked, his face alight with merriment. "I took it upon myself to accept for both of us. I thought this was one invitation you wouldn't refuse."
And with amicable relations entirely restored between the cousins, Rutherston set his mind to rehearsing what he should say to Catherine on the morrow.
It was in such a frame of mind that Rutherston arrived at Ardo House on the Friday afternoon, three days before Catherine was due to leave for town. He caught a glimpse of her in the garden as he dismounted and threw his reins to a waiting groom.
"You go in Charles," he said and nodded to Norton. "There is something I must do."
Norton glanced in the direction of Rutherston's gaze, and jumping down from his mount, made as if to go with him.
"No, go in Charles, I won't be long." The note of authority in Rutherston's voice halted Norton who remained undecided for a moment before moving toward the house.
When Rutherston came upon Catherine, he saw that she was not alone. She was walking with a lady who was quite obviously pregnant. An infant clung to Catherine's skirts, and in her arms was a robust baby, pulling at her hair and tugging at her chin. As he approached, he heard her mellow laughter, and saw the lady, whom he presumed to be Catherine's sister, bend to say something in her ear, and Catherine turned to face him.
He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. She had never seemed more beautiful or desirable to him as she did at that moment and a wave of tenderness swept over him. He wanted to see her with children in her arms—but the children of his body. He wanted her to be like her sister, with belly swollen with child, but with his seed. He thought of the women who had tried to entrap him with their feminine allures and wondered at so simple a snare as a girl inclining her head to disengage her hair from the clutches of an infant.
His mistresses he had always flaunted as if they had been prime cattle, but Catherine he wanted to cherish as his own private possession. He would never allow her now to belong to anyone but him.
The embarrassment that Catherine evinced on seeing Rutherston was plain for anyone to see. She could only stammer disjointed introductions to Lady Mary before turning away in confusion. Lady Mary was
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