Texas Trio Ch. 11-15a

Oh my God!

Becky's amusement dissolved: Catherine looked like she might faint. "Cat, here . . . drink some water."

"Becky– that isn't–" Trying to get a handle on the multitude of objections she should have, Nanny saved Cat from a reply.

"That girl told me she didn't finish your unpacking! Get in here, missy!" Nanny gestured for the maid to follow, ignoring the girls, who finished their tea in silence. Catherine stunned and Becky rather too smug for Cat's liking.

Becky's novel, implausible, impossible suggestion helped Cat not at all. It only served to muddle her further, adding an inappropriately aroused response to her own list of moral failings. Subdued and nearly silent throughout dinner that evening, she said goodnight and went to her room immediately afterward to think.

Seated by the balcony, she assumed the knock at her door to be her younger sister. "Come in!"

Señor Allejandro's entrance surprised her into standing, clutching the neck of her dressing gown closed over her thin silk nightdress.

"Señor, I–"

"Please be seated." Jem took a knee next to the chaise as she sank back onto the silk brocade. "And you really must call me Jem, it is so much more musical on your tongue than that formal address."

She couldn't help smiling at him, despite her confusion. He was so handsome and so sweet.

Jem struggled to keep his eyes off the sliver of ivory skin exposed when Catherine let go of her robe. He glimpsed the upper slope of her breast, and suspected from their previous encounters that if he leaned forward to kiss her, she'd let him kiss there, too, and reach under her gown. . . .

Jem cleared his throat and released Cat's hand to reach inside his jacket.

With a formal flourish and an announcement he'd actually practiced, Jem presented a sage velvet case. "This box and its contents are but a pale approximation of your beautiful eyes, my sweet Señorita. Please accept a small token of my regard for both your beauty and your stimulating company. I hope to have the honor of both for many years."

He bowed his head as he finished, but couldn't help feeling the gesture was merely a sign of cowardice on his part. Catherine's direct gaze sometimes gave Jem the feeling she was viewing his very heart. He'd never been this vulnerable before, the tingle of fear an odd accompaniment to the sweeping pandemic of passion she inspired in every cell of his body.

He folded his hands on the edge of the chaise and watched Catherine unfasten the mother of pearl clasp and lift the lid. Her eyes rounded and flickered to his, then back to the box, as she lowered it to her lap, running her fingertips across the sparkling treasures within.

Catherine had never in life never seen anything so beautiful.

A delicate lacework of gold surrounded the pale peridots forming the choker and earrings. Dozens of small diamonds ringed the teardrop-shaped bobs, but the choker, set with eight large oval peridots, was graced with an equal number of pear-shaped diamond drops, glittering on the case's black silk lining.

Catherine couldn't speak. Her family was well-to-do, of course, and she had her share of fancy gems, but this was in another category entirely. This set was made for a queen, or a duchess, at least, not a simple Texas belle like herself.

Unable to stand the suspense for a moment longer, Jem murmured a question. "Does it not please you? Perhaps something more–"

Catherine unconsciously pulled the box closer to her body, protecting it.

Jem smiled at her possessive gesture.

Cat realized what she'd done and set the case on her lap, reaching out to rest her palm on his cheek in the gesture he was beginning to realize meant so much from her. That hand on his face expressed not only appreciation but tenderness, awareness of him as a man, and recognition of the admirable qualities she saw in him. Catherine's hand made him see their future together, the man he could be with her by his side. He'd never felt so valued nor so loved.

He placed his hand over hers and finally leaned forward. Catherine reached out to him, as receptive to his fervor as he was to her tenderness. With the first feathery touch of his lips on hers, she melted into his kiss, her fingers sliding to his collar while her thumbs delicately explored his jaw, roughened by a day's-end beard. She loved the yielding scratchiness of his face under her hands, the heat of his mouth, the taste of his tongue, parting her lips for his first foray.

Jem groaned against Catherine's mouth and forced himself to straighten, his eyes closed. Sensing some of what he felt, a tiny smile touched her lips.

His golden eyes opened. "Señorita, I must beg your leave. I fear your kindness will make a mockery of my self-control." Jem bent over her hand once more, rising to his feet and bowing again on his way out.

Catherine sat staring at the jewels in her lap for a full five minutes before realizing she'd never even thanked him. They twinkled at her in the lamplight like the green fire of a cat's eyes, and she was suddenly sure he'd chosen them with that in mind, as well. Generous and attentive, Jem would be an excellent lover, she imagined, smiling as she remembered Nanny's physical assessment of his charms. He'd be a wonderful husband, too.

A rush of dismay wiped the smile from her lips.

Jem was a good man.

If she married him, she knew she'd need never worry that his affection might stray. He deserved a woman as honorable as he, one who would come unsullied to his bed, not a woman still enamored of the man who'd taken her virginity.

Catherine frowned down at the sparkling symbols of her own inadequacy. Snapping the lid shut, she rose quickly to her feet.

–:–:–:–:–:–:–:–:– CHAPTER 15 –:–:–:–:–:–:–:–:–

Caught in a storm of unfamiliar emotions, vulnerability chief among them, Jem went back to his suite and found Colt relaxing in the copper tub of the grand marble-encased bathroom. It irked him as though Colt were stealing the privilege, as though he really were a servant instead of Jem's partner in this business, and Jem glowered at him from the doorway.

Colt, sipping a brandy, met his stare steadily. "What's settin' your spurs, Jem? You got that look."

In some corner of his head, Jem knew he was being unreasonable, but he didn't care. He'd had a hard-on for weeks, and he knew damn well something had happened with Catherine to give Colt the smug grin he'd been wearing for the past two days.

"You wanted me to help. I'm helping. You got me into this damn mess, now you're making it harder for me to accomplish what we came here to do."

Colt set the brandy down and stood, grabbing a towel from the brass rail. He didn't answer, irritating Jem further.

"If it wasn't for your sneaking around every night, this whole mess could be settled by now. I'd be engaged, we'd have the wedding you wanted, and we could get our asses back to the ranch, where we should be."

Colt climbed out of the tub to dry his feet and wrap the towel around his hips. "I don't wanna argue with you, Jem and I'm guessing that's all you got in mind, so I'm just gonna keep quiet."

Dripping, he padded onto the dressing room's richly patterned Persian carpet and pawed through the smaller wardrobe, making sure he had a clean shirt to go with the ugly black suit he'd be wearing again tomorrow. He wasn't too happy about the situation, either. He'd rather be on the ranch with Cat, knowing she was safe, making love to her morning, noon, and night, but they weren't there yet.

In fact, he wasn't sure they'd ever get there. Getting a lady like Catherine to agree to their plan seemed unlikely, at best.

Jem grabbed Colt's shoulder. "I'm serious. You have to stop sneaking around."

Colt frowned, spinning to face him. And froze, his frown melting into sheer shock as his eyes landed on Catherine ten feet away. Poised in the doorway beyond Jem with a velvet box in her hand, she looked as stunned as he felt.

Seeing Colt's expression, Jem spun, too.

For a moment no one moved, frozen into a tableau none of them could have imagined an hour ago, least of all Catherine.

She'd come to apologize and return Jem's jewels.

Worried and hesitant, wary of being caught knocking on a man's door in her nightclothes, she paused in the hallway. The muffled voices inside made her think neither Jem nor the Chinese manservant would hear a low knock, so Cat crept in. She meant to call out, but some indefinable quality of the second man's voice stilled her own, luring her unbidden toward the bright lights of Jem's dressing room.

She hadn't yet identified the voice when the huge, nearly-naked "Chinaman" turned to look at her.

With cobalt blue eyes.

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See you in two weeks with Section 5, when Nanny makes a troubling discovery. Thanks again for reading and commenting. PSST– see the stars down there v v v . . .? Don't forget to feed your authors!!

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