“And you…” The Duchess of Wesley turned to Quin. “Take her home, make sure all is well, and come back. We have much to discuss and organize.”
Quin nodded, his expression utterly unrepentant.
The Duchess of Wesley tapped her lips, thinking. Then, “I’ll bid you good afternoon, sweet Catherine. I’m ever so happy.” She spoke grandly, then bustled out of the room, calling for the butler and a maid.
“And so it begins,” Quin murmured. He turned to Catherine. “Are you at peace with what my mother suggested, truly? Because you know I will kidnap you and take you to Gretna Green tonight if you wish.” He pulled her in tight against him, kissing her lips softly.
“Is that an option?” she asked playfully, then leaned into his kiss.
“It’s a very viable option.”
Catherine kissed him for a moment. “No, let’s make this as scandal-free as possible. I keep thinking of my grandmother. She wouldn’t wish for any more talk. It will only be to our benefit and to our children’s too. No questions asked.”
Quin sobered, studying her eyes. “Say that again.”
“What part?” Catherine teased.
“Our children! Good Lord, Catherine. I can’t go there. But I want a little girl who looks like you, and we shall name her Trouble.”
Catherine swatted at him. “We shall not name here anything like that.”
“A nickname then.” He kissed her.
Catherine pushed away. “Then hurry up and let’s get this figured out so we can start on that…” She nibbled his lip.
“I’m tempted to start right now, but if I do, I won’t let you out of my sight ever again, so that might not be conducive to our plans.”
“Pity, that,” Catherine said, baiting him. “Take me home. I need to tell my grandmother. She will be quite pleased. She’s always liked you.”
Quin studied her with a fiery regard, but he took a step back as if needing the distance to cool his body.
“If I must.”
“Thankfully, it’s only temporary.”
“If I have anything to say about it,verytemporary.”
Thirty-two
For to tempt and to be tempted are things very nearly allied… Whenever feeling has anything to do in the matter, no sooner is it excited than we have already gone vastly farther than we are aware of.
—Catherine the Great
Catherine peeked into her grandmother’s room, her heart soaring at the welcome sight. The evening sun was beaming into the room with a gold and orange hue that illuminated her grandmother’s form sitting in the chair and holding a small teacup in her petite hands.
“Ducky?”
Catherine couldn’t restrain the tears that spilled down her cheeks at the sound of the woman’s voice calling her pet name. “Yes,” she blubbered, sniffing back the tears.
“Don’t be like that. I’m well, see?” Lady Greatheart gave a somewhat shaky gesture to herself, and then sipped her tea.
“I’m so glad.” Catherine stepped into the room and approached her grandmother, taking a seat beside her. “You’re improving so much.” It seemed as if every time she saw her, she lost her composure, but it was just so powerfully relieving to see her grandmother, to hear her voice.
“I’m too stubborn to die. God doesn’t want me yet. He knows He has to deal with me in heaven forever, so He’s biding His time till I get there,” her grandmother answered with a hint of her usual pluck.
Catherine reached out and grasped her free hand, holding it gently and savoring the touch, letting it feed her soul.
“So, how was your afternoon?” Lady Greatheart asked, her tone still weak but growing stronger by the day.