Page 31 of Courting Catherine
“Behave,” Suzanna murmured, and smothered a smile. “Go ahead, Aunt Coco.”
They sat in silence, with only Coco’s voice murmuring over the crackle of the fire and the moan of the wind. Trent’s mind wasn’t clear. It was filled with the way C.C. had fit in his arms, with the sweet and generous way her mouth had opened to his. The way she had looked at him, her eyes clouded and warm with emotions. Emotions he had recklessly stirred in her.
Guilt almost smothered him.
She wasn’t like Marla or any of the women he had coolly romanced over the years. She was innocent and open and, despite a strong will and a sharp tongue, achingly vulnerable. He had taken advantage of that, inexcusably.
Not that it was entirely his fault, he reminded himself. She was, after all, a beautiful, desirable woman. And he was human. The fact that he wanted her—strictly on a physical plane—was only natural.
He glanced over just as she turned her head and smiled at him. Trent had to fight down a foolish urge to lift her hand to his lips and taste her skin.
She touched something in him, damn it. Something he was determined would remain untouched. When she smiled at him—even when she scowled at him—she made him feel more, want more, wish more, than any woman he’d ever known.
It was ridiculous. They were miles apart in every way. And yet, with her hand warm in his as it was now, he felt closer to her, more in tune with her, than he’d ever felt with anyone.
He could even see them sitting together on a sunny summer porch, watching children play on the grass. The sound of the sea was as soothing as a lullaby. The air smelled of roses climbing up the trellis. And of honeysuckle, growing wild where it chose.
He blinked, afraid his heart had stopped. The image had been so clear and so terrifying. It was the atmosphere, he assured himself. The candles flickering, the wind and lightning. It was playing games with his imagination.
He wasn’t a man to sit on the porch with a woman and watch children. He had work, a business to run. The idea of him becoming involved with a bad-tempered auto mechanic was simply absurd.
Cold air seemed to slap him in the face. As he stiffened, he saw the flames of the candles lean dramatically to the left. A draft, he told himself, as the cold chilled him to the bone. The place was full of them.
He felt C.C.’s shudder. When he looked at her, her eyes were wide and dark. Her fingers curled tight around his.
“She’s here!” There was both surprise and excitement in Coco’s voice. “I’m sure of it.”
In her delight, she nearly pulled her hands free and broke the chain. She had believed—well, had wanted to believe—but she had never actually felt apresenceso distinctly.
She beamed down the table at Lilah, but her niece had her eyes closed and a faint smile on her lips.
“A window must have come open,” Amanda said, and would have bolted up to check if Coco hadn’t hissed at her.
“No such thing. Sit still, everyone. Sit still. She’s here. Can’t you feel it?”
C.C. did, and wasn’t sure whether she should feel foolish or frightened. Something was different. She was certain that Trent sensed it, as well.
It was as though someone had gently closed a hand over her and Trent’s joined ones. The cold vanished, replaced by a soothing, comforting warmth. So real was it that C.C. looked over her shoulder, certain she would see someone standing behind her.
Yet all she saw was the dance of fire and candlelight on the wall.
“She’s so lost.” C.C. let out a gasp when she realized it was she herself who had spoken. All eyes fixed on hers. Even Lilah’s lazily opened.
“Do you see her?” Coco demanded in a whisper, squeezing C.C.’s fingers.
“No. No, of course not. It’s just...” She couldn’t explain. “It’s so sad,” she murmured, unaware that tears glistened in her eyes. “Can’t you feel it?”
Trent could, and it left him speechless. Heartbreak, and a longing so deep it was immeasurable. Imagination, he told himself. The power of suggestion.
“Don’t close it off.” Coco searched desperately for the proper procedure. Now that something had actually happened, she hadn’t a clue. A flash of lightning had her jolting. “Do you think she’ll speak through you?”
At the opposite end of the table, Lilah smiled. “Just tell us what you see, honey.”
“A necklace,” C.C. heard herself say. “Two tiers of emeralds flanked by diamonds. Beautiful, brilliant.” The gleam hurt her eyes. “She’s wearing them, but I can’t see her face. Oh, she’s so unhappy.”
“The Calhoun necklace,” Coco breathed. “So, it’s true.”
Then, as if a sigh passed through the air, the candles flickered again, then ran straight and true. A log fell in the grate.
