Chapter 13: I’m Not An Idiot
Catherine’s eyes flashed, “You must think I’m a fool, but I’m not. I know I’ve made mistakes, and I’ve let people manipulate me, but don’t think I’m stupid enough to cry over a man who rejected me. I may be young, but I’m not an idiot.”
Sean stared at her in confusion. Her entire face twitched with hatred and anger. If she was acting, she was a damn good actress.
He sighed and said, “You believe that now, but people don’t change overnight. You feel betrayed and angry, but love can’t be forgotten so easily.”
“I mean what I said,” she said, sitting upright in the bed. “I know you don’t believe me, but time will prove it.”
Sean shook his head. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was talking to a different person. When he’d caught Catherine’eloping, she’d thrown a childish fit and screamed and cursed and spit at him. He’d let his own temper get the best of him and grabbed her by the neck. He stared guiltily at the purpling bruises on her pale skin.
When she woke up, she’d been much calmer, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that she seemed older. What had happened to her?
***
Catherine wiped the tears from her eyes and took a deep, aching breath. She held the air in her lungs until they felt like they’d burst and let it out in a whoosh. Crying about her past life wouldn’t help her in this new one. She needed to put it behind her.
Somehow, she’d been given the opportunity to fix her mistakes, and she vowed to do her best to fix them all. She’d do her best to keep Marco from gaining success or fortune, and she’d get back at Madison and her uncle. She’d take back what they’d stolen from her and restore her stepmother and Samuel to their rightful place in her family’s business and home.
Sean was also a monster, but he was her best chance of accomplishing her goals. If she could play along and figure out why he had chosen to marry her, she might be able to get him to help her. Maybe she could even convince him to let her go.
she tucked her hair behind her ears and stared deep into Sean’s cold eyes. “I’m happy to be Mrs. Blair,” she said. “I know I may not have acted like it before. I don’t have any excuse but my youth. I’m only nineteen, and I let other people manipulate me.”
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A strange expression crossed Sean’s face, and then he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She gasped with surprise, and his tongue invaded her mouth, probing gently and then with
more force. His hands circled her waist, and he pulled her toward him.
Her body softened in his arms, and she kissed him back until her body felt liquid, and her lips felt bruised. He broke the kiss first, pulling back to stare into her eyes. Her breathing came in short, ragged gasps, and she felt her cheeks flush red. His large hands cradled her face, holding her gently but firmly.
His eyes were wild and unfocused, and she shivered with desire. There was something about him that destroyed her self–control–it took everything in her not to grab his tousled hair and pull him back down to her lips. What would he think of her if she did? Would he be pleased, or would he think she was too easy?
“Can I tell you something?” she asked.
Without taking his eyes from hers, he nodded.
She opened her mouth to speak, but her stomach was faster–it gurgled and growled, and she
felt her blush deepen.
“Are you hungry?” Sean asked, his forehead creased with concern.
“Yes, but—” she began.
“We’ll talk later,” he said. “Let’s eat now.”
She sighed, “Okay, you go down first, and I’ll join you in a few minutes.
“”
He’d charged into the bathroom before she’d had a chance to clean herself up, and she felt
uncomfortable and dirty.
“Why?” he asked. “What are you doing?”
She squirmed uncomfortably, “I have to go to the bathroom. It won’t take long.”
He hesitated, and she rolled her eyes.
“Really,” she said. “I know we’ve gotten off to a bad start, but if you can’t trust your own wife to go to the bathroom by herself, we’re going to have a problem.”
He released her, and she hurried to the bathroom. After freshening up, she turned to the sudsy jeans and underwear floating in the large sink. With a sigh, she pulled the jeans from the water and examined the stain–it had faded but not completely–she’d have to work on it later. She twisted the jeans, wringing the soapy water from the fabric, but she had trouble with the heavy material.
She sighed. When she’d lived with Marco, she’d learned how to clean and cook and wash the clothes–things she’d never done in her family home. Over time, her palms had grown callused, and her fingers had grown strong. But now, her hands were smooth and weak again, She gave up on the soggy jeans and dropped them into the tub with a thwack. She went back to the sink and scrubbed at the underwear, running the delicate fabric under cool water. The door swung open and crashed into the wall, and she jumped.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Can’t I have a moment of privacy?”
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Sean’s lips pursed as he took in her soapy hands and the pair of underwear that dangled from her fingers. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Cleaning my clothes,” she answered.
“We have maids and cleaners to do that,” he said.
“It’s not a lot, and I didn’t want to trouble them,” she said, hastily sticking the underwear back into the water.
Sean continued to stare at her.
“Okay,” she said, feeling her frustration rise. “I’ll ask them to do it later. Though I don’t see
what difference it makes.”
Wordlessly, he crossed the room and took her hands in his. He gently moved her soapy fingers under the clear, cold water and closed his long hands on top of hers. As he washed her hands, she noticed how smooth and unblemished his own hands were. Except for the
two small calluses from holding a horse’s reins, his hands were soft.
“You have nice hands,” she murmured.
A low sound like a laugh vibrated in his throat. In the mirror above the sink, his face looked
amused and thoughtful. He dried her hands with the soft cotton towels and then took them
in his again. She let him lead her back toward the bedroom.
As they passed the half–open door to the closet, she smiled and said, “I like the clothes you
got me. Thank you.‘
“They’re not exactly your normal style,” Sean said. “But they fit for my wife.”
“No, they’re very nice,” she said. “And so far, everything fits perfectly.”
Sean’s lip twitched, and he ran his free hand through the back of her hair. The feel of his fingertips on her scalp sent shivers through her body, and she pulled away, embarrassed.
“Who chose the wardrobe?” she asked. “I want to personally thank them.”
“I did,” Sean said.
She froze and looked at him, thinking of the lacy bras and underwear and daring lingerie.
“Everything?” she asked.
He raised his eyebrows and smirked, “The sizes had to be right.”
“Surely some employee could have managed,” she said.
The thought of him in a lingerie store made her squirm. How long had he spent there? Had
he imagined her in each and every corset and bra before buying them?
“Don’t you like what I got you?” he asked.
“Of course I do,” she said, suddenly snappily. “I already said so.”
“Hmm,” he said. “Let’s go eat.”
He led her down the stairs and into the dining room. Flickering candles lined the table, and steaming French onion soup waited in china bowls. He pulled out her chair, and she sat down, inhaling the rich, savory smell. As soon as she finished the last drop of soup, a
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Chapter 13: I’m Not An Idiot
servant whisked away from the bowl and offered her a plate with saucy beef bourguignon
and sautéed green vegetables. She couldn’t finish the large serving and left her fork and knife
on the plate.
“You should eat more,” Sean urged.
“I’m not hungry,” she said.
“You’re very weak,” he said. “You need to eat hearty foods.”
He stared at her long and hard and then gestured for the servants to clear the table. Silently, they cleared the plates away and brought crystal cups of chamomile tea. She gripped the cup with both hands, warming her fingers. She raised it to her face and let the steam drift into her face. When she looked up, Sean was staring at her.
“Do you remember what you promised me?” she asked.
A suspicious look crossed his face, but he nodded.
“You plan to keep that promise, right?” she asked.
His look got worse, “What do you want?”
