problems. You have to work it through. That's what Dr Harper said anyway."
"Mmm." He didn't sound convinced. "Do you really think telling me about some ducking you took when you were four—and which, incidentally, you'd forgotten—is a positive thing to do?"
"I thought so." Caitlin looked dejected. "I suppose I didn't—didn't—"
"Think?" he prompted drily. "Yeah, that about covers it. Oh, Kate, you're not the most tactful counsellor I've known."
Caitlin shifted a little uncomfortably at his words. It was the first time he had called her Kate, and it troubled her more than she wanted to admit. If Nathan had ever shortened her name, he'd made it Cat, not Kate. A word he'd used with malevolent pleasure on occasion.
Nathan's warm breath was on her temple, and she could smell the faint aroma of the wine he'd drunk earlier. She'd been doubtful about him drinking it all, but she hadn't voiced her objections. And at this moment, she could have done with a little Dutch courage herself.
She was uneasily reminded of the problems she still had to face when they got back to England. How would he react when he discovered they slept in different rooms? His attitude towards her was so unguarded at the moment. For all her reticence at the hospital, he'd made it clear he had no problem with regarding her as his wife.
Needing to say something, anything, to dispel the sudden intimacy that had developed between them, Caitlin chose the first words that came into her head. "It's probably because I wasn't trained to be a counsellor. My father wanted an obedient daughter, but I'm afraid I disappointed him, as well."
"Did I say you'd disappointed me?" Nathan asked, his voice softer than she'd ever heard it, and she felt the wave of heat that swept up her throat. "From where I'm sitting, I've got no complaints about your upbringing. I just wish I could remember where we met."
"It was at a party, my birthday party, I told you," said Caitlin hurriedly, feeling the need to loosen the collar of her shirt to get some air. "How—how about you? Don't you remember anything about your childhood? What kind of school you went to? What you did?"
"Mmm…"
He seemed to be considering the question, and she was grateful that his eyes had dropped from her face. But the coolness that brushed her throat alerted her to another explanation. In her haste to cool her face, she'd gone too far.
The realisation that, instead of thinking of an answer, he was seemingly entranced by the swell of her small breasts above the satin camisole horrified her. With shaking fingers, she dragged the two sides of her shirt together and re-fastened the buttons. But not before he had glimpsed her unwilling arousal and the pertness of her nipples against the cloth.
Instead of cooling down, she was now burning with embarrassment. She just hoped Nathan didn't think it had been a deliberate attempt to tease. Dear God, this was proving to be far more arduous than she'd imagined. She must get her emotions under control.
"Don't worry," he said, his words achieving exactly the opposite effect. "No one else could see what I could see. And, believe me, I enjoyed the view."
Which was precisely what she was afraid of, she thought anxiously. He may once have had the right to touch her, but no more. And just because he had aroused her sympathy was no reason to humiliate herself again.
"You were asking about my childhood," he said eventually, perhaps sensing her discomfort, and Caitlin breathed an unsteady sigh of relief. All she needed to do was get things into perspective. She was overreacting and reading things into his behaviour that probably weren't even there.
"Yes," she murmured, grateful for the diversion, and he sighed.
"Unfortunately, I don't remember anything. Except…" He frowned. "You know, I do seem to recall getting a beating. Yeah, my pa used to beat me." He gasped. "How about that?"
His voice had risen as he spoke, and Caitlin put a warning finger to her lips,
"Mmm." He didn't sound convinced. "Do you really think telling me about some ducking you took when you were four—and which, incidentally, you'd forgotten—is a positive thing to do?"
"I thought so." Caitlin looked dejected. "I suppose I didn't—didn't—"
"Think?" he prompted drily. "Yeah, that about covers it. Oh, Kate, you're not the most tactful counsellor I've known."
Caitlin shifted a little uncomfortably at his words. It was the first time he had called her Kate, and it troubled her more than she wanted to admit. If Nathan had ever shortened her name, he'd made it Cat, not Kate. A word he'd used with malevolent pleasure on occasion.
Nathan's warm breath was on her temple, and she could smell the faint aroma of the wine he'd drunk earlier. She'd been doubtful about him drinking it all, but she hadn't voiced her objections. And at this moment, she could have done with a little Dutch courage herself.
She was uneasily reminded of the problems she still had to face when they got back to England. How would he react when he discovered they slept in different rooms? His attitude towards her was so unguarded at the moment. For all her reticence at the hospital, he'd made it clear he had no problem with regarding her as his wife.
Needing to say something, anything, to dispel the sudden intimacy that had developed between them, Caitlin chose the first words that came into her head. "It's probably because I wasn't trained to be a counsellor. My father wanted an obedient daughter, but I'm afraid I disappointed him, as well."
"Did I say you'd disappointed me?" Nathan asked, his voice softer than she'd ever heard it, and she felt the wave of heat that swept up her throat. "From where I'm sitting, I've got no complaints about your upbringing. I just wish I could remember where we met."
"It was at a party, my birthday party, I told you," said Caitlin hurriedly, feeling the need to loosen the collar of her shirt to get some air. "How—how about you? Don't you remember anything about your childhood? What kind of school you went to? What you did?"
"Mmm…"
He seemed to be considering the question, and she was grateful that his eyes had dropped from her face. But the coolness that brushed her throat alerted her to another explanation. In her haste to cool her face, she'd gone too far.
The realisation that, instead of thinking of an answer, he was seemingly entranced by the swell of her small breasts above the satin camisole horrified her. With shaking fingers, she dragged the two sides of her shirt together and re-fastened the buttons. But not before he had glimpsed her unwilling arousal and the pertness of her nipples against the cloth.
Instead of cooling down, she was now burning with embarrassment. She just hoped Nathan didn't think it had been a deliberate attempt to tease. Dear God, this was proving to be far more arduous than she'd imagined. She must get her emotions under control.
"Don't worry," he said, his words achieving exactly the opposite effect. "No one else could see what I could see. And, believe me, I enjoyed the view."
Which was precisely what she was afraid of, she thought anxiously. He may once have had the right to touch her, but no more. And just because he had aroused her sympathy was no reason to humiliate herself again.
"You were asking about my childhood," he said eventually, perhaps sensing her discomfort, and Caitlin breathed an unsteady sigh of relief. All she needed to do was get things into perspective. She was overreacting and reading things into his behaviour that probably weren't even there.
"Yes," she murmured, grateful for the diversion, and he sighed.
"Unfortunately, I don't remember anything. Except…" He frowned. "You know, I do seem to recall getting a beating. Yeah, my pa used to beat me." He gasped. "How about that?"
His voice had risen as he spoke, and Caitlin put a warning finger to her lips,
Similar Books
