Catherine by Raine Cantrell

Author:Raine Cantrell
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781682309483
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2017-01-31T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

At the end of the first week, Greg awoke with the knowledge that he and his lovely widow were dueling their way through the days like a fencing match. On guard, engage, parry and retreat, even a few surprise thrusts were the order of the last few days.

Not that he complained. He was learning to laugh at himself and enjoy Catherine’s mischievous sense of humor as they shared inside and outside chores.

Lord Romeo was still the bane of his existence. The cat seemed to appear at the worst moments, often with what Catherine termed his show of affection. From entwining his body around Greg’s legs to depositing some newly caught rodent at his feet, the cat demanded attention.

Greg stretched and saw that dawn heralded a new day. His stomach rumbled, but even the constant twinges of pain were receding.

Taking stock of himself, he realized that he had never felt better. He had never worked so hard physically, but there was satisfaction with each mastered chore. He fell into his bed each night and slept the sleep of the just.

Of course, he couldn’t deny that having Catherine beside him would have made his stay complete, but he was making great strides in wearing down her considerable resistance.

He was learning to cook. There was a true challenge. He’d set fire to the frying pan, boiled potatoes into hard lumps and roasted steaks that were charred outside and raw inside.

They hadn’t starved as he improved his culinary efforts. Catherine had the patience of a saint. And his pockets were deep to pay for the many meals supplied by Caroline.

At least he could look forward to being served a decent dinner this evening. They were to attend Mrs. Pettigrew’s dinner party with dancing afterward. He couldn’t wait to take Catherine into his arms. Her ankle was healed, so there wouldn’t be excuses why she couldn’t dance with him. And later… He smiled. Later he would take care of the constant ache that had him wishing his tailor had not been so precise in the cut of his pants. He arose with a prayer that no mishaps marred the day.

Apparently the Lord had been listening. He found Catherine’s light, gay mood infectious. For a change Miss Lily wasn’t around while they gathered eggs, and even Lord Romeo disappeared. The cow might have been a stone statue but for the flow of milk, and not one horse tried to nip him when he brought out the feed buckets.

Catherine ironed her gown and his shirt in the parlor while he bathed in the kitchen. He retreated to his room to give her privacy to bathe.

Catherine, struggling with the buttons on the back of her gown, wished Sarah or Mary were there to help her. In more ways than one. She needed to talk with someone who would understand what she wasn’t sure she understood herself.

She rarely wished for finer clothes again, but tonight was an exception. The gown was her best one, worn a few months ago for Mary’s wedding to Rafe McCade.

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