To the Grave by Carlene Thompson Page A

?”
    â€œOh, definitely.” Catherine snuggled closer to James. “I just love you so much, I’m bothered that another woman knows you better than I do.”
    â€œPatrice might know me better in a superficial way, but she doesn’t know my heart.” He kissed the top of Catherine’s head. “You’re the only woman who’s known my heart, my soul.”
    Catherine felt as if her own heart squeezed tight as deep and passionate love for this man washed through her. She ran her open hand down the side of his face. “Oh, James, when I think of what could have happened to you last night if you’d been closer, in the cottage, if one of those Molotov cocktails had hit you—”
    â€œBut I wasn’t in the cottage and nothing happened to me. You have to stop thinking what if, what if. ”
    â€œHow can I when you came so close to being hurt or…”
    â€œOr killed?” James pulled her closer. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I need to be more careful. Going to the cottage where Renée was murdered a week ago was downright stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking—not reasonably. But I promise you, I won’t be so careless again.” He paused. “And the same goes for you, Catherine. You heard Eric say he didn’t think someone was throwing those cocktails as a prank. Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence that I was at the cottage when they were thrown. Maybe someone has it in for me, too. And my obvious love for you—our relationship—might make you a target, too.”
    â€œBut I hardly knew Renée,” Catherine said vaguely, her mind focusing on his phrase “my obvious love for you.”
    â€œWe don’t know what’s going on here, sweetheart,” James said. “We don’t know why Renée was murdered or why someone might have been trying to hurt me last night.” He looked piercingly into her eyes, his jaw hardened, and his voice deepened. “You don’t know what you mean to me, Catherine. I can’t stand the thought of someone taking you away from me. If I lost you…”
    â€œIf you lost me?”
    â€œI can’t even think about it. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
    â€œI’ll be careful,” Catherine said gently. “I promise.”
    After a moment, James’s face relaxed and he smiled and he pulled her on top of him, wrapped his arms around her so tightly she could hardly breathe, and pressed his lips to hers with tender, then growing, demanding passion.
    *   *   *
    Two hours later, James slept peacefully. Although Catherine had dozed after their lovemaking, she’d awakened a while ago and couldn’t go back to sleep. Instead, she lay on her side, looking at the moonlight touching James’s exposed chest and abdomen like a caress. He looked like the men in designer underwear ads, she thought, muscular and perfect. He could give David Beckham a run for his money, she thought. Telling him so would probably only embarrass him.
    Earlier, he’d said “my obvious love for you.” He’d said, “I can’t stand the thought of someone taking you away from me.” Playing over the words in her mind thrilled her almost as much as hearing him say them to her.
    Catherine reached out and lightly ran her fingers over his chest. God, how she loved him. How she wanted to make up to him for all the hurt Renée had caused. If only she hadn’t caused so much hurt he never wanted to try marriage again. Catherine knew many people found him cold and formal. Maybe she was the only person who knew just how sensitive he really was beneath the imperturbable façade. Maybe she was the only person who knew how deeply he could be hurt and how difficult it was for him to recover from hurt and disappointment. James was not a resilient man. He didn’t easily forgive or forget. In