From the stateroom, Adam called, “Just what I’ve been craving!”
“I think I can manage from here, Tilburn.” She took the tray from him. “Thank you.”
Cathy’s heart was racing in a way she’d come to recognize as she poured champagne for her new husband and took the glass to him in his bath. He had just finished soaping his wide, tanned chest, and his hand was dripping water as he took the crystal stem.
“Shall we have another toast?”
She couldn’t break away from his gaze. “Perhaps it’s bad luck,” she whispered with a trace of irony.
“No. Let us toast to new beginnings... and courage.”
When they both had swallowed, Cathy stole a glance at him. “Your words are innocent enough, but something in your tone, or perhaps in your eyes, makes me blush.”
“Good.” He lay back in the tub and stared at her. In the satin dressing gown, her breasts appeared fuller than he remembered. “You really do have beautiful hair. It’s a shame to keep it pinned up all day long.”
Her cheeks went pinker. “When I was young, I used to read Little Women over and over again, and my mother thought it was a terrible influence. All that talk of Jo’s independence, you know.”
Adam nodded. “It’s a wonderful book.”
“Have you read it? Truly?”
“I have.” He was charmed by her guilelessness.
“When Mother wanted to get under my skin, she would remark that I probably felt close to Jo because we shared one common mark of beauty: our hair.” She gave him a wry smile. “Do you remember the scene? When Marmee needs to purchase a train ticket to visit their wounded father and there isn’t any money, Jo goes out and sells her hair. I’ll never forget the horror I felt when I first read that scene, when she revealed that all her hair had been cut off! And insensitive Amy exclaimed, ‘Oh, Jo, your one beauty!’” Sighing, Cathy added, “When my mother compared me to Jo, my heart ached, and yet I wasn’t even certain my hair qualified as beautiful. It’s only brown, after all. Quite ordinary, just like the rest of me.”
Adam listened, transfixed, and noticed that she’d sipped the last drop of champagne from her glass. He reached out of the tub for the bottle that sat on a low stool between them and poured. Cathy made no objection.
“Why shouldn’t brown hair be just as rich and glorious as any other color? Yours is anything but ordinary... and hardly your only source of beauty.” Before she could protest, he added, “I’m intrigued by all this talk of Little Women. I thought that Wuthering Heights was your favorite book.”
Cathy’s cheeks burned. “I— I think I will try the caviar.”
“Indeed.” He propped a foot on the rim of the tub and washed it slowly. “While you sort out the food, won’t you tell me your secret? Clearly you have one. I can’t think of a better way to break the ice in this marriage.”
Looking at him, Cathy thought that, for her, the ice had melted rather than broken. “I feel foolish.”
“We’ve all felt foolish.”
“Well...” She took a deep breath. “The story I told you about Wuthering Heights wasn’t true. My mother forbade me to read it and she most certainly did not name me after the book’s heroine. When Elysia and I became friends during the summer ground was broken for Beechcliff, we had long talks at Bailey’s Beach about Wuthering Heights. She told me about the great, tragic love affair between Heathcliff and Cathy, and I began to dream about them and imagine that I had been named for her.”
“Perfectly understandable,” Adam said gently.
“I’ll never forget Elysia quoting that Cathy was ‘a wild, wicked slip of a girl.’ I thought that was the most romantic thing I’d ever heard.”
“But, if you’d read the book, I doubt that you would have wanted to be like Cathy,” he offered. “It’s enough that you share her name. It wouldn’t do for you to be wicked.”
“But you see, I don’t share her name. No one has ever called me Cathy except for you, and you did it only because I told you that story in the teahouse.”
“Do you want me to go back to Catherine?”
“No!” she exclaimed. “I love being Cathy now.”
Adam soaped and rinsed his dark hair, then lay back in the water, his wet, hard-muscled body gleaming in the soft light. The water was cooler and he rather preferred that, just as he preferred Cathy in her more relaxed state. He found himself surprisingly intrigued by her. The whole “Cathy” situation seemed profoundly meaningful, like a metaphor for her real, freer self— locked inside the proper heiress Hermione Parrish had worked so diligently to create.
“What about your brother?” Adam asked suddenly. “What did he call you?”
“Cat.” Her voice was small. “I haven’t thought of it for so long! When I was a little girl, Stephen decided that I reminded him of a kitten...” Tears filled her eyes. “Sometimes, it seemed that Stephen was the only person who truly understood me.”
“No doubt that was true, since he was your brother and understood the workings of your exceedingly unique family. I’ve often wished that I had a sibling to share those bonds with, someone who would completely understand all the complexities of our family history— and the feelings.”
“You and I are both only children now.”
Adam glanced toward Alice, who was stretched out beside the bed, snuffling in her sleep. “Except for that old girl.”
“I like this caviar. Mother never let me have more than one bite. She said it was too salty.”
“Thank God we’re rid of her!” he burst out, and couldn’t resist the urge to laugh. “Now we can all do as we please!”
Then, to Cathy’s further shock, he stood up in the bathtub, water streaming down his powerful body. Her mouth fell open and she emitted a little peeping gasp. “Adam!”
“Are you afraid I’ll drip on the priceless carpets? Get me a towel and dry my back, all right?”
She could sense his amusement but couldn’t think of anything to do except obey. His big body was shockingly fascinating and alluring to her; his strong tapering back was brown as an oak tree, and his buttocks reminded her of the magnificent statues she’d seen in Florence.
“I’m going to lie down and finish my champagne,” Adam said. Carrying the bottle and his glass, he sat down on the bed and let the sheet casually fall over his genitals. Cathy would never relax if he went too fast.
She trailed after him, still carrying the towel. “I think I missed a place—” She broke off when Adam turned and stared into her eyes. “I mean, I was afraid you’d get your pillows wet.”
“Go on, then.” He rolled over and lay with one cheek resting on his clasped hands, murmuring for good measure, “We’re married, you know. You can touch me as much as you’d like.”
“Yes, I know that!” Briskly, Cathy dried him off, from one broad shoulder to the other, then down his back to the base of his spine. It was impossible not to look lower, and what she saw made her feel very nervous.
“That feels good. Would you mind massaging my back a bit? Then I’ll do yours in return.”
Her heart was pounding so loudly she could scarcely hear herself speak. “Certainly.”
The corners of his mouth twitched slightly. “I don’t deserve you, Cathy.”
“Don’t tease me.” The sensation of his utterly male back under her small hands made her tingle. Her palms began to perspire as she worked at his muscles. “I’ve told you a secret, now you’ll have to tell me one.”
“I don’t know if I’ve got one that awful.” Mischief continued to inflect his voice. “All right, I’ll think of a secret while I rub your back.”
“I don’t think—” Panic-stricken, Cathy realized that she was being given an opportunity to restart their marriage, but a wave of terror nearly carried her right out of the stateroom. “I mean—” She could feel Adam’s body stiffening under her fingers. His eyes were still closed. Mustering every drop of courage she possessed, Cathy took another gulp of champagne and whispered, “All right. But I expect a very grand secret from you, my lord. I’ve never let anyone give me a massage before.”
As they changed places, Cathy was blushing madly and taking care not to look at her husband. Once she was lying face-down on his pillows, smelling his heady essence in them, Adam slipped his fingers around the neckline of her dressing gown.
“Let’s slide this down to your waist, all right?” Before she could protest or even think, he’d loosened the satin, freed her arms, and bared the upper half of her body. “Ah. You’re lovely.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, certain that she was anything but lovely and that he was merely being polite. Why couldn’t it be night? “Tell me your secret.”
“I’m trying to think of one horrible enough.” Gently, his big hands fit themselves to her upper back, testing the delicate shape of her bones and the texture of her skin. “Try to relax, my lady.” He felt slowly down to her waist, then gave a soft laugh. “That’s not relaxing. You’re tenser by the moment. Don’t my hands feel at all good to you?” Then, as he inched up her spine and deftly kneaded her shoulders, Cathy gave a little sigh.