Those words from Martha’s graveside whispered between them despite Catherine not having opened her lips again.Memories of how fervently she’d spoken them all those years before.
“I appreciate that, Catherine,” Henry replied haltingly.
“Anything for Martha,” Catherine murmured, looking down before glancing back up from under her lashes.
“I could take care of you. I could do that for her.”
Damn his own perfect recall. Her words were too similar, and the memory too uncomfortable. It made Henry shift in his seat, his skin suddenly several sizes too small and the space between them not nearly wide enough.
“To honour her memory, to let her know that you were going to be fine.”
“I’m glad you’re so understanding of my reasoning,” Henry continued, fumbling for something to say as he tried to ensure he was answering their current conversation and not the one he remembered in his head.
“It’s only natural.” Catherine stopped, her smile wistful. “To want a child. I only wish John were of such a mind. I always dreamed of being a mother, you know. Though, with him, I doubt such a thing could ever happen.”
“You could marry me.”
Like nails on a chalkboard, her words filled Henry with a revulsion he fought to keep off his face. She wasn’t offering again. He knew she couldn’t be. It had been grief that she had spoken from those three years past. Grief and grief alone.
But there was no denying the interest in her gaze. The way that her eyes lingered on his lips or the suggestion in her words. At the very least, she was flirting. Henry recognized the look of desire there. He’d seen a much more tempting version just those few nights past with his intended. Although Catherine’s didn’t heat him in quite the same manner.
“I’m certain that needn’t be the case,” Henry tried to reassure her. “Have you told John that you wanted children?”
“Must a woman spell such things out?” Catherine asked with a short laugh. Her tone was almost derisive, but she leaned forward all the same as she asked it, the neckline of her dress bunching just so that the upper swells of her breasts became more visible. It was an artful move. And one that Henry could hardly appreciate.
“Sometimes men are dense creatures.” Henry’s tone was dry, his snort genuine as he kept his eyes from straying where Catherine so very obviously wanted them to.
“Are you suggesting that you need to be led?” Catherine’s lips tilted, the angle coquettish as her cheeks dimpled.
Damnation, he had walked himself right into that one.
“Some men,” Henry answered vaguely. “I think a marriage requires more direct communication at times. I can only hope such will be possible for myself and the future duchess as well.”
Catherine’s smile grew further, and Henry internally winced at how open-ended he had left that.
“If our meeting the other night is anything to go by, it seems we may yet have hope,” he tacked on quickly. It wasn’t too much of a falsehood, after all, if he were considering their parting conversation and how refreshingly blunt she had been.
Catherine’s reaction was slight, just the barest narrowing of her eyes, but Henry caught it on account of how observant his discomfort was making him all the same.
“If one can trust just one meeting,” Catherine said airily. “If I’d gone off of my first meeting with my husband, I’d have been sure I would be living an entirely different life.” Her laugh was short and punctuated with every ounce of sarcasm she managed to keep out of her words. “He was very attentive at first, you know.”
No, Henry hadn’t known. He didn’t want to know now. He swallowed thickly, trying to keep his expression neutral.
“Such are arranged marriages,” Henry offered diplomatically, trying to diffuse the conversational pitfall he’d managed to walk his way into.
“If one marries someone that they aren’t familiar with.” Catherine’s smile shifted yet again, her expression turning a contrived sort of thoughtful.
“Well, yes, if one can afford such a thing and is presented with the opportunity.” Henry and Martha had been a good example of such. A love match.
“One should endeavour to,” Catherine insisted, again looking up at him from beneath her lashes. Her head was slightly tilted, her body held at an angle both alluring and confident in the same breath. Again, she pointed her elbows on her lap towards one another, her shoulders pushing forward so as to display her cleavage to its best advantage.
“I’ve given it quite a lot of thought, you know.”
Lord, save him from such thought.
“If one is to marry, it should be where there is mutual respect. An understanding if you will. Of both minds and goals.You wanting to produce an heir, for example. To do so, you would be best matched with a woman of similar desire – a woman who wants to be a mother.”
As she herself had already stated she did?
