"I cannot marry you, Lucian."
He had expected her denial, though he had hoped. "Once you declared your love for me and I foolishly ignored it. Do you still love me, Catherine?"
Her lips trembled with her answer. "My love for you grows in strength with each day. I will always love you, Lucian."
Her words reassured him. He had known, known deep inside, that she still loved him, but he had needed desperately to hear her admit her love.
"Then why refuse my offer of marriage?"
"I wish I could make you understand the importance of your speaking with my father."
"Enough about your father," he said, raising his voice in annoyance.
"I cannot. You cannot. You must settle this matter or it will forever linger between us and one day rise up and tear us apart as it once did. You will never forget I am Abelard's daughter."
He grabbed her shoulders tightly and gave her a gentle shake. "Who you are matters not to me any longer. I will never, never send you away from me again. I was foolish, blind to my own emotions. I love you, Catherine. You are my life and we will never be separated again. Now, damn it, marry me!"
She forced herself to focus on the importance of what she was about to do. Her decision had been made solely with Lucian in mind. As she had sought to help her father, she now sought to help Lucian.
Bravely she raised her chin. "You must speak with my father first."
He set her aside and stood, so irritated by her continued stubbornness that he feared if he kept her beside him he'd throttle her out of anger. "I have heard all I intend to hear about your father."
Catherine petulantly raised her chin higher and crossed her arms over her breasts.
Her silence and surly actions annoyed him all the more. "You had the proof of your father's guilt in your hands. His signature proved him a monster. What more did you need?"
"I needed my father to admit his guilt, for without his words I would believe no paper."
"Bloody hell, Catherine, did you bother to ask him when you returned to England?"
Her answer surprised him. "I did."
"And?" He waited, hands on his hips, anger in his eyes.
She struggled to stand. He offered no help, knowing she would refuse him. When she was finally upright, her hands braced on her hips, mimicking him, her head tilted high, she answered him. "You will need to ask him yourself as I did."
Fury raced through him. He glared at her and Catherine thought in that one moment that he might just raise his hand to her. She winced, expecting his attack.
His eyes narrowed and his tone turned icy. "Never, ever think that I would dare to raise a hand to you. I am not the monster your father is."
With that he stormed off toward the stables.
Catherine sighed and her eyes teared. Weariness seeped through her and she shivered. She'd had enough of this bickering over the past. If only her father would come after her.
She drew her head up abruptly, her thoughts racing. The idea, taking form, developed immediately into a full-blown plan. She smiled and giggled with the delight of a schoolchild and hurried off to the house.
"Zeena," she called with excitement, running inside and peering into each room she passed.
She rushed up the steps and down the hall, as fast as her condition would allow, finding Zeena in the second floor sewing room.
"Zeena, I need your help," she cried, collapsing into the chair beside the startled woman.
"The baby?" she questioned anxiously, and stood.
Catherine waved her concern away. "No, the baby is fine and not due for a few months yet. I need your help in getting a letter to my father."
Zeena raised a brow. "I cannot betray Lucian's trust, especially where the marquis is concerned."
"Not even if Lucian will benefit from my intentions?"
"Do not play games with me, Catherine. If you wish my help, then honesty is the only way you shall receive it."
Catherine debated entrusting Zeena with the information she had learned, worried that she would relate it to Lucian.
As if reading her thoughts, Zeena spoke. "We do not know each other long, but trust is something we share. Trust me, Catherine, before more people suffer needlessly."
o0o
Lucian sat in the metal tub, the hot water easing his sore muscles after the exhausting ride he had taken earlier in the afternoon. He rested his head back on the rim, watching the sunset through the open louvered doors of his bedroom.
His hard ride had tired his body, but not his mind. In the last seven years he had established a reputation for striking fear and obedience in the hearts of man. His name was synonymous with evil. Though the tales it generated were exaggerated, they were not entirely unfounded. He had done what was necessary to survive and he would do what was necessary to make Catherine his wife.