And yet, how could she prevent it? She would have to go along, travel to the country with him, tolerate him for now.
Until she found an escape.
CATHERINE WAS IN A boat, rocking from side to side, the waves pushing the vessel this way, then back again. It was cool and dark on the boat, and it smelled clean and fresh, like oak trees and pipe smoke. She wondered vaguely if she were on Josie’s ship. Had Josie finally found her family’s lost pirate treasure and bought her own vessel? She’d always said she’d take Catherine away with her when she became a pirate.
Catherine burrowed in more deeply, wondering at the softness of her bed on the ship. And it smelled so good here.
Slowly, she opened her eyes and peered into the darkness. She blinked. It was not the unfamiliar darkness of a ship, but the inside of a carriage with its curtains drawn. The rocking was not waves, but the carriage making its way over the roads.
With a start, she tried to sit, but just as quickly had her arms clasped and her shoulder pressed back down. “It’s all right,” a male voice said. “Everything will be all right.”
Catherine looked up, her eyes adjusting to the gloom, and saw Valentine. She frowned, wondering at his position, then realized she must have been lying on his lap!
She struggled to rise again, and this time he allowed it. As soon as she was up, she squashed herself into the corner of the carriage, as far away from him as possible. “How did I get here?” she stammered.
Valentine adjusted his coat, and she saw that she’d creased it when she’d been lying on him. Dear Lord, how long had she been draped over him like that?
Valentine looked up at her and, seeming to read her mind, said, “You’ve been asleep these last two hours. I tried to wake you this morning, but you were obviously exhausted.”
Catherine cursed silently. This was exactly the reason she had vowed to stay awake. She could stay up practically all night, but no matter how early she went to bed, she found mornings difficult to tolerate and preferred to stay abed as long as possible. When she’d been young and a yell from her father had not wakened her, he’d thrown cold water over her.
“But how did you get into my room?” Catherine asked. “I had the doors blocked.”
Valentine smiled, and she hadn’t seen the expression in so long that she’d forgotten what a nice smile he had.
“You apparently did not realize that the dressing room door opens from the inside. I merely opened it and pushed the dressing table aside.”
“I see.” She looked down in embarrassment. “Catherine,” he said, “I know you do not want to be here. I understand you can’t trust me right now, but I swear by all that’s sacred to me—on my mother’s family ring”—at that he pulled a small box from his jacket and held it out to her— “I will not harm you or lock you up.”
Catherine stared at the box. It was wooden and intricately carved. Another gift? She’d rarely received gifts in her life, and when she did they usually came with a price. She looked into Valentine’s eyes. “What’s inside?”
“Open it and see.” He held the box out to her again.
Still, she did not move to touch it. “And then what? What happens when I open this?”
“I hope you’ll put it on. It’s your wedding ring.”
“But I don’t want—”
“I know. If you don’t want to think of it as a wedding ring, look at it as a symbol of my promise to you.” He reached over with his free hand and opened the box. Inside, the gold ring shimmered with rubies, garnets, and sapphires. “This ring is your assurance of my good faith.”
Catherine stared at him, then back at the ring. Was she supposed to believe the promise he gave her? If she took this ring, did that mean she agreed to trust him?
Tentatively, she reached out and touched it, then withdrew her hand once again. She could not wear this ring! It was too much. She’d never had something so beautiful and so expensive.
But she wanted it. She wanted to see the beautiful ring on her hand, to know someone had given it to her. Someone had thought her worthy of it.
She reached out once more, and the ring glinted in the light like something enchanted. Catherine drew back again. “I can’t,” she said. “I-I cannot wear something like this. It’s too valuable.”
“So are you,” Valentine said, taking the ring from the box. He held out his hand for hers. “If you wear this, it does not mean you accept this marriage. I realize now that I’ve moved too fast with you. I think if we’re given some time alone, get to know each other, you will learn to trust me.”
Catherine listened, and she stared at his open palm, but she did not move. She liked his words, and she wanted to trust him, but she couldn’t help but feel that this was some sort of trick.
And if it were a trick, what then? How was that any different than what she faced now? He would do with her as he pleased, ring or no ring.
“Catherine,” he said, and his voice was soft. She’d rarely heard gentleness in a man’s voice, and it perplexed her. “Give me a chance. Please.”
It was the gentle please that undid her. She knew all too well what it cost a man to say that word. Taking a shaky breath, she slipped her hand into his and allowed him to slide the ring over her finger. It fit perfectly, shining brilliantly, even in the dim coach.
