“Thank you,” he said quietly, his breath wafting over the sensitive skin below her ear. “For caring.”
“I need you in good health to carry out your portion of the bargain,” she said succinctly, before moving away and turning to face him. “I daresay you’re giving my actions too much credence.”
Could he tell that she was having difficulty breathing, that his nearness caused inexplicable pleasures throughout her body?
Chuckling low, he strode past her and opened the door. She was only halfway through the doorway when he said, “So you don’t want me to kiss you again?”
He was slightly behind her, so he couldn’t see her face. Still she slid her eyes closed and shook her head. She felt his ungloved hand—his fingers strong and warm—cradle her chin and turn her head back. She opened her eyes to find his gaze on her mouth.
“Pity,” he said quietly.
“The first time you kissed me to intimidate me. The second to distract me. What would be your excuse this time?”
“Damned if I know.”
She took immense satisfaction in his answer, but she had no desire to reveal her thoughts. “A gentleman doesn’t use profanity in the presence of a lady.”
“But then, you and I both know I’m not a gentleman.”
She licked her lips, wondering what harm there would be in having one more small taste of him.
Groaning, he released the featherlike hold he had on her and ushered her through the doorway. She could hear the city coming to life, deliveries being made. She waited while he had the coach readied.
He didn’t say anything when the coach arrived or as he helped her climb inside. He held his silence as they traveled through the streets. It wasn’t until they were at her gate that he finally spoke.
“You intrigue me, Catherine Mabry.”
“I’m not certain that’s a good thing.”
“I’m sorry I’m not the man you wish I were.”
“Actually, I give you a good deal more credit for your honesty than you probably deserve.”
“Probably.” He touched the tip of her nose. “I’ll see you tonight.”
She nodded. “Indeed.”
Only when she’d closed the gate behind her did she hear him walking back to his coach. He was a contradiction. Was he a scoundrel? Or was he not?
She no longer knew. More disturbing than that was the fact that she no longer cared.
Chapter 12
Exhaustion claimed her the moment she walked into her bedchamber. Her bed called to her like a siren’s song. It was all she could do to remain patient while Jenny helped her out of her clothing. She wanted to simply rip it off and fall into bed. Dealing with Claybourne was always tiring—and exhilarating. Which only served to make it more tiring.
She had to keep her wits about her at all times, although this morning they’d seemed to settle into a kind of companionship. Perhaps they would become friends and when he married Frannie and they moved more frequently within Catherine’s circle of acquaintances, the blasted earl would at last accept her invitations. Or at least his wife would.
Catherine had been drawn to him that first night—that first ball. But what she felt now ran more deeply. She wanted to know everything about him. Once she knew everything, perhaps she’d no longer be intrigued.
She crawled into bed, yawned, and told Jenny, “Wake me at two.”
She needed to pick up the invitations. And even though Winnie would be appalled, Catherine was determined to send one to Claybourne. If for no other reason than to irritate him. He wouldn’t come to the ball, so what was the harm?
Winnie would never know, and it would give Catherine a sense of satisfaction.
Before she was even finished contemplating Claybourne’s reaction, she was asleep. It seemed as though only seconds passed before someone was gently shaking her shoulder.
“My lady? My lady?”
She squinted. “What time is it?”
“Two o’clock.”
Groaning, she threw back the covers.
“A package arrived,” Jenny said. “I put it on your secretary.”
“A package?”
“Yes, my lady. From Lord’s.”
“Lord’s?” The shop specialized in the finest of accessories. But Catherine hadn’t purchased anything there of late.
Her curiosity piqued, she padded in bare feet across the room to her secretary where she spied the oblong package. She unwrapped it to reveal a gorgeous hand-painted floral glove box. Inside, lying on the puffed satin, was an exquisite pair of cream colored kidskin gloves.
“Is something amiss, my lady?”
Only then did Catherine realize that tears dampened her eyes. How silly. She never wept.