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  One voice suddenly rang out above the others, “What of payment with a kiss?” Shouts of approval welled up from the crowd.

  His smile broadened as he raised his voice to be heard, “A fine payment, indeed.” His eyes now focused on the one who stood on her toes in order to be seen. “But as tempting as that is, my good woman, these lips are for another.” A mix of laughter and groans of disappointment rippled through the air.

  Catherine’s eyebrows arched. A merchant with scruples? She might not be well versed in what happened between men and women in the bedchamber, but she was not so naïve as to be unaware of what occurred when the merchants came into port. She had heard stories of late night gatherings and most questionable behavior. Could this man be different than the rest? Could he possibly be loyal to only one woman?

  Mirroring her thoughts, the villager beside Catherine leaned toward her and said, “Whoever his mistress is, she must be awfully good for a toss in the hay!”

  Catherine turned sharply to face her, her eyes narrowed. “You dare speak to me in that manner?”

  The crowd fell silent as Catherine’s words cut through the gaiety.

  The woman’s face drained of all color and her eyes widened, her hand flying up to stifle her quick inward breath. Stumbling backwards, she dropped into a deep curtsey.

  “Forgive me, milady!” Her voice quivered. “I meant no disrespect!”

  Like a ripple through water, the other women curtsied and quickly stepped back, distancing themselves from Catherine, some managing to slip away. Catherine’s scathing look raked those who remained. No one dared look at her - save one. And now Catherine met his gaze, her chin set, challenging him.

  His eyes held hers briefly before his gaze traveled down the length of her, clearly enchanted by what he beheld.

  “Milady,” he said, bowing deeply. “You grace me with your beauty.” When he looked at her again, his eyes sparkled with a light that shone like the brightest stars in the night. Their depths were as intense as their color rich, amber with flecks of gold adorning the borders. They beckoned her to come closer.

  A chill ran the length of Catherine’s spine, causing her to stiffen. Blinking several times, she could not stop the way the noise of the village or brightness of the sun dimmed when her eyes locked with his. This stranger reached out and enveloped Catherine without so much as touching her. Her pulse quickened and her skin tingled as if his fingertips traced the very curves of her body. She caught her breath as her body responded in a way she didn’t understand, tightening in some places, weakening in others.

  The sound of Emelie clearing her throat finally broke Catherine’s gaze. She looked around at the village women who stood unmoving, staring, waiting in anticipation.

  Catherine squared her shoulders and stepped closer, ignoring the whispers that followed in her wake. Uncertain if her knees would continue to hold her were she to look at him again, Catherine instead tried to focus on the jewelry, brushes, trinkets, and fabrics that lay before her.

  Be not a fool, Catherine! Remember who you are! She was legendary for the number of her potential suitors who called on her, all of whom she rebuffed. This was partially due to their boorishness and partially because Galen, her companion since childhood, intimidated them. His size and possessiveness was enough to send them scampering away.

  Not one man has ever done so much as to give Catherine pause, let alone enrapture her in the way she was experiencing right now. Why was this man so different?

  She gave into her curiosity and let her gaze wander upward. Her eyes touched upon his trim waist and moved their way up to his broad chest barely concealed by the shirt that clung to his wide shoulders. She nervously licked her lips as she imagined sliding her arms around his bronzed neck, kissing the strong line of his jaw. She closed her eyes abruptly and clenched her jaw hard.

  Fabric, she chided. Look at the fabric. Not him.

  Eyes still held tight, she said, “I could not help but notice your magnificent fabric.” Her words were strained, struggling against the tightening of her throat.

  She opened her eyes to the fabrics that lay before her and gasped in astonishment. For the moment all else was forgotten. The fabric was truly something to behold. There were layers of brilliant, vibrant colors glowing in the sunlight, with textures so soft and shimmering, like nothing she had ever felt before. The rich-colored fabrics of blood red, deep green, royal blue, and pale lavender glistened under her touch. She could almost feel what it would be like to be wrapped in a dress made from such exquisite material.

  “Magnificent,” she whispered.

  “Milady recognizes fine quality.”

  She looked up and met his eyes that were studying her so intently. Control slipped and her pulse quickened. She fought to focus once again on the fabric spread out before her. She looked to the sky. By the saints, how can one shiver when it is so impossibly hot in the sun?

  “Might I suggest the jade? It matches your eyes.” His voice was soft. Though the other women still lingered around them, he spoke to her as if she was the only one in his world that mattered.

  She chided herself for being weak. It was so unlike her to allow her feelings to have free rein. This situation in which she found herself truly chafed her to the core. Taking a deep breath, she tried to look at him again, this time with cool assessing eyes, free of emotion.

  He stood with his hands on his hips with an impossibly contagious smile curving his lips.

  Her resolve faltered as an unfamiliar feeling of surrender muddied her thoughts. Like a caged bird, her heart fluttered desperately in her chest, rising to her throat. She struggled to maintain an impassive expression as a battle raged within her. How could this merchant, with one look, take away her control? Ire gripped at her now as she realized this man who stood before her was not even trying to win her favor, that just his presence alone caused her body to betray her mind.

  “Milady?” His voice was questioning.

  Oh, how this one made her feel so vulnerable. Her soul felt naked under his gaze. Somehow he managed to erase the line between their social classes. They were man and woman, not lady and merchant.

  Fighting the urge to settle herself in his eyes again, her gaze flickered here and there, focusing on nothing in particular. She wanted to press her hands to her ears to shut out the pounding of her heart.

  “Yes, yes. Of course. I would like the jade. All that you have.” She felt the words rushing out. “Have it delivered to Elderidge castle.” Catherine fumbled in her purse and held out a stack of coins, horrified to see her hand shake ever so slightly. She still refused to look at him.

  The merchant glanced at Catherine’s maid questioningly.

  Emelie, who had been staring at him unabashedly, giggled. “May I present the Lady Catherine, sir. Daughter of Lord Roberts.”

  Once again his eyes took in Catherine’s entire form, but unlike the lust she saw too often in other men’s eyes, this man held open appreciation, sincerity, and genuine interest in something other than her wealth.

  “The fair Lady Catherine. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” He bowed low. “I am Jonathan.”

  His eyes spoke words not heard, but felt, as they penetrated to her soul. She sensed that not only did he understand the way she was feeling, but that he was drawn to her as she was to him.

  She released a breath of impatience as she continued to hold out the coins, her control sorely tested.

  He lifted his hand to take what she offered. Though she steeled herself against further assault of unbidden feelings, she was unprepared for the sensation of his touch as he took the coins from her hand. A shock like a lightening bolt sent a flame through her body, and she recoiled in surprise, swallowing hard. How could she be such a fool? She was not some commoner who crumbled at the feet of a man! So why was it that with a simple look, an innocent touch, this man had the power to take all that away?

  Jonathan smiled.

  And she shivered. Again. Oh, that smile shal
l surely be my undoing.

  He turned around and called to a man not far off.

  For the first time Catherine took notice of the men working behind Jonathan who were organizing, sorting, and tending to his ship. In sharp contrast to Jonathan’s refined and confident presence, the crew was haggard and weather-worn. A certain camaraderie flowed in and out of their conversations, but it was clear Jonathan was the master.

  “Will there be anything else, milady?” Once again, he turned to address her. His brows arched with encouragement and perhaps a bit of hope. “You have only but to ask.”

  “No.” She shook her head, suddenly wishing she was anywhere but where she stood. “Nothing.” It unnerved her that she couldn’t trust herself, yet she made no attempt to stop him when he reached down and placed her hand in his. Ivory white against bronzed skin met with a sizzling burn. Time meant nothing to her as she watched him bring her hand upwards, his lips branding her knuckles with a mere whisper of a kiss.

  “Perhaps then, we shall meet again?” His easy smile triggered a fluttering in her stomach.

  Catherine withdrew her hand quickly and stepped back, bumping into Emelie. “I doubt that. Good day, sir.”

  Walking quickly through the marketplace, Catherine hardly noticed the other merchants and villagers. She walked past those calling her, waving perfumes, gems, and cloths. She rubbed the place on her hand where Jonathan’s lips kissed her. The softness with which he held her hand, the tenderness of his kiss upon her skin, the warmth that spread through her body as he looked at her, fogged her thinking. This is madness. ‘Tis a blessing Galen is not here to see me falter this way.

  She sighed. Galen had been her champion since they were children, swearing an oath of loyalty to her when they were but eight years old. How could she be so shallow as to already forget the devotion he had shown her this morning? He had been so pleased when he presented to her a small sapphire brooch with diamonds circling the gem.

  Catherine trailed her fingers along the contour of the brooch that was now pinned to her dress. Solid like the gem, Galen had been her rock, her pillar of strength, and as close to her as if he were her own brother, but for months now she knew his affections for her were growing far deeper than that. Everyone expected them to wed, being as close as they were, and they should have by now, but it was Catherine who begged to wait. She was still waiting for that spark, the telltale sign that love was true. She wanted the same kind of love that permeated the castle when her mother was alive, a soul-searing love that bound together her mother and father. Theirs was a love that knew no bounds. And yes, they had shared lust, too. Catherine’s mother never hid her shivers of desire when Lord Roberts brushed his lips against her cheek or atop her hand. Much like the desire Catherine, herself, felt today with…

  A ripple of uneasiness swept through Catherine as she realized her mind refused to dismiss this merchant. She shook her head. At this moment she was no different from the women in the village. The same heated desire ran through her blood as did theirs, only she needed to escape those eyes and the touch that would have her stay.

  “Enough!” Catherine said, shaking her head.

  “Milady?” asked Emelie, running along at her side, trying to keep up with Catherine.

  “Nothing, Emelie.” She released a ragged sigh. “I have had enough for today. Let us fetch our horses.”

  “There you are, Catherine!”

  Catherine turned to the sound of Galen’s voice. Relief washed through her. Galen’s presence would make it easier for her to control her wandering thoughts, so she did not object when he put his hands around her waist and drew her to him. Catherine felt Galen’s strong arms through his tunic as he held her close. She tensed with agitation, finding herself wondering if the merchant’s arms were as strong. She simply could not help but compare the two men - Galen so fair with his blond hair framing high, strong cheek bones, a slender nose and strong chin, serious eyes, and lips that promised passion; the merchant, with dark locks that flowed freely, softer, yet oh-so-masculine features, and laughing eyes that showed no trace of regret, sadness, or pain.

  Galen held her at arm’s length and searched her face. “Catherine! Is anything amiss?”

  He knew her only too well. She forced the thoughts of Jonathan back and mustered a smile.

  “No, of course not, Galen.” She rested her forehead on his chest, hiding her face. “I merely wish to go home.”

  He lifted her chin. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You are certain you are well? Has anyone upset you?”

  The memory of Jonathan’s eyes hung in her mind as she looked back at Galen.

  “Really, Galen, I am well,” she said, pushing herself from his arms. “I believe I have spent far more time in the sun than I should have.” Hooking her arm through Galen’s, she tugged him in the direction of the horses. “I have arranged for my purchase to be delivered to the castle, so we need not dally here any longer.”

  “But I am here now. I will fetch your goods myself.”

  “No!” she said quickly.

  Galen’s raised eyebrows invited an explanation from her.

  She thought quickly. Had he any knowledge that another man filled her senses the way Jonathan had, he would put an end to it. It would take but one word from her and Galen would see to it that the merchant maintained a fair distance from her, but no such hint passed her lips.

  “Emelie will fetch it.” She turned to her maid and gestured in the direction of the ships. “Quickly, Emelie,” she hissed.

  “Wait but a moment, Emelie.” Galen turned to Catherine. His words were deliberate and measured. “I shall accompany Emelie to make certain that your purchase is handled properly. These merchants cannot always be trusted.”

  Catherine’s mouth went dry as she squirmed under his gaze. She knew that her eyes, nay, her entire body, was betraying her. The heat in the air was palpable as a bead of sweat trickled agonizingly down her spine. It helped her not that Emelie’s own face had gone pale, her lips pressed into a thin line.

  “Aye, that would be best,” Catherine whispered.

  “I pray you wait for us here, then,” Galen said.

  He looked at her a moment longer before turning and motioning for Emelie to lead the way.

  Catherine could not still the frantic beating of her heart as she made her way to her horse. She would not wait. She could not face Galen until she could once again gather her wits. Feeling like a coward, Catherine mounted her horse and spurred the mare homeward, anxious to once again be safe within the castle walls.

  Chapter 3

  God, what a long week, Eryn thought, as she stretched her arms to link her fingers behind her back. Almost like some supreme being shoved a few extra days in just for laughs. She had spent the better part of the week taking pictures of the board members of World Commerce Bank, editing and re-editing until she was satisfied with the results. All of them were far wealthier than anyone she knew. Also more pompous than anyone she knew. Their air of superiority filled her studio, making Eryn grimace at the stench.

  She could never understand how people thought money could make one person superior to others. In her opinion, money had become a wall that separates one human from another, drawing the line between the Haves and Have-Nots, never giving the Have-Nots the chance to prove themselves as worthy or lovable a human being as the Haves. It gave everyone the excuse to ignore each other and not get involved.

  Though jobs like this corporate photo shoot paid her well, she preferred the simplicity of the average person, the innocent child, the spontaneous event, and capturing life in action. Given the choice, that would be her world, but it wasn’t. She lived in Bryce’s world, filled to the top with corporate royalty.

  He led. She followed.

  He fit in. She didn’t.

  Tonight she would have no reprieve. In less than twelve hours, their house would be filled with the banking elite, puffing on their expensive cigars, boasting of their latest acquisitions, bemoaning the pl
ight of the world between bites of caviar.

  She sighed. Maybe she would invite Brandi when she saw her later this morning. If anyone could shake up a party, it was Brandi. Outspoken, brash, playing it just like it is. Brandi definitely had her own way of doing things.

  But now, this moment was for Eryn. The beach was her temple. Her runs were her meditation.

  Reaching high above her head, she stretched her arms, shoulders, and back, releasing the tension that seemed to have found a permanent place in her life.

  She set herself in motion, feeling the firm sand at the water’s edge give way easily to her strides.

  It had been dark when she slipped out of bed that morning, too early for Bryce to be up. She liked to be on the sand at the precise second when night struggled for control one final time before shrinking silently behind the growing strength of the day.

  Now as she began her run, the sun was peeking over the horizon, reaching its rays towards the few people who walked the beach and the surfers who dotted the early morning waves. Eryn liked the solitude at this time of day, the unobstructed view down the beach, and the soft lull of the ocean.

  Her puffs of breath kept pace with her steps, carrying her further down the beach, away from the life that waited for her just a few streets away. She closed her eyes as she ran. She’d learned to trust her instincts, to sense rather than see. She felt a rush of anticipation as she dared herself to take a few more steps in her darkness. Feeling her feet hit softer sand, she opened her eyes to see that she had strayed from her straight line. She looked behind her to see her footsteps in the wet sand, her trail zigzagging, and then heading up past the water line. “Geez, I’m glad nobody was watching me,” she laughed, checking around to make sure.

  Her run slowed to a walk and her smile dimmed as she looked down the stretch of beach that lay before her. Something about it stopped her, even though the wet sand ahead was empty, save for sandpipers pecking for crabs and a few seagulls swooping in disorganized formation. The hair on the back of her neck prickled at the eerily familiar sensation and her brows pulled together hard.