He was, she realized, but there was another emotion in his eyes. One that she couldn't read.

With twice as many males as females present, Ca.s.sie was able to sit next to Grey and opposite both her cousins. She asked them question after question about the family. Their parents were well, and George, the brother who'd been only a baby when Ca.s.sie last saw him, was now a student at Oxford and planning to follow his father into the church. The three of them ate and laughed and sighed happily over the apple currant tart.

When Lady Costain rose to signal the end of the meal, she said, "Rather than separating the males and females for port and tea, I suggest that perhaps Catherine and her cousins might like time together to talk since they have much to catch up on."

Ca.s.sie, feeling awkward, glanced at Grey. After he gave her a slight nod, she said, "I'd like that very much if it's agreeable to Richard and Neil."

They said they'd like nothing better, so the St. Iveses were escorted to the library, where both port and tea were available. Feeling reckless, Ca.s.sie poured three gla.s.ses of port and settled down in front of the fire with hers.

Her cousins sprawled opposite, visibly fatigued from their long journey, but deeply content. Richard remarked, "I noticed Lord Wyndham called you Ca.s.sie. Do you prefer that to Cat?"

"Either will do. I haven't been Cat in almost twenty years. I rather like hearing it again." Cat had been a happy, mischievous child. Very different from serious, haunted Ca.s.sie, but both of them were real. "Do your parents know about me, or are they in Norfolk?"

"They're in London, but we didn't tell them," Richard said. "I know Kirkland slightly and he gave me the information about you so I could choose how to handle it."

"Kirkland," she said wryly. "I should have known. Why didn't he tell your father since they were both in London? I'm sure they know each other."

Neil grimaced. "About ten years ago an imposter showed up. It was very painful for the family, especially my parents."

"Someone was impersonating me?" she asked, startled. "Why?"

"Not you. Paul, since he was the heir to St. Ives," Richard explained. "Like Paul, the imposter had your mother's dark hair, and he looked quite a bit like Paul. Like a St. Ives. And he'd gathered enough information about the family to be moderately convincing, too."

"If only it had been Paul," Ca.s.sie said sorrowfully. "But I'm sure I was the only survivor." Tersely she described the fire and how she'd been saved by her nurse, Josette. The story hadn't seemed suitable to tell during a celebratory dinner.

"At least it was quick, not months of misery in a dungeon waiting for execution," Neil said, repressed savagery in his voice. "Your family's deaths changed everything and not just because Father inherited the t.i.tle."

"Though going from the vicarage to St. Ives Hall was a considerable change, and not always as amusing as one might think," Richard observed.

Neil gave a nod of agreement. "If your family had died of fever or smallpox, it would have been tragic but could be considered G.o.d's will. Being murdered because you were English in the wrong place at the wrong time was utterly, infuriatingly wrong."

"We both wanted to go into the army and kill Frenchmen," Richard said bluntly. "But since I'm the heir, I accepted that my responsibilities lay in England."

"So I got to be the dashing hero," Neil said with a grin. "I'm a captain in the Life Guards."

"To be fair, he's probably better at mayhem than I."

"I look better in the uniform, too," Neil said smugly.

Ca.s.sie laughed at the brotherly teasing. "Tell me more about the imposter. How did you find he wasn't Paul?"

"My mother had always doted on Paul, and she embraced him wholeheartedly. She wanted him to be Paul. My father wasn't so sure," Richard explained. "He'd never expected to become Lord St. Ives and he was shattered when your family was killed. But he'd had ten years of being a lord by the time the imposter showed up. He found that he liked it. So when he had doubts about the imposter, he wasn't sure if they were genuine, or if he didn't want to believe for selfish reasons."

"My father said his brother was the most honorable man he knew," Ca.s.sie said softly. "No wonder he was torn. How was the imposter exposed?"

"I could see that Richard had some of the same conflicts as Father," Neil said. "It was easier for me since I wasn't the heir and didn't have as much to lose. Faux Paul was fairly convincing, but I didn't have the sense I'd ever known him before. He felt like a stranger. After I talked it over with Richard, we started setting traps. Pretending we remembered doing things with him that never happened and the like. He was good at being evasive, but eventually we had enough evidence to support our belief that he was a fraud and we presented it to our parents."

"Mother didn't want to believe us," Richard said, continuing the story. "Father frowned and called Faux Paul in and demanded he take off his shirt."

Ca.s.sie blinked. "Why?"

"Apparently when Paul was very small, before you were born, he fell against a piece of jagged wood and was badly injured. He almost died and was left with a huge scar on one shoulder. Few people knew about that, but of course my parents did."

Fascinated by the story, Ca.s.sie asked, "Did Faux Paul try to escape?"

"Very briefly, but Richard and I were both there," Neil said grimly. "I pinned him down and cut off his shirt. No scar. That was enough to convince even my mother."

"What happened to him?"

"We conducted a family court right there," Richard said. "His name was Barton Black and he's actually a first cousin of ours. His mother was a b.a.s.t.a.r.d daughter of our grandfather, who seems to have been a l.u.s.ty old goat. When Barton learned of the deaths in France, he began studying the family. When enough time had pa.s.sed to blur memories, he showed up and claimed to be Paul."

"I think this is one cousin I'm glad I haven't met," Ca.s.sie said, bemused. "What did the family court decide?"

"My father hadn't known about Barton's mother, and he thought she and Barton had been treated very shabbily. He made Barton sign a detailed confession with all of us as witnesses, then said he could go free." Richard laughed. "Barton was a cheeky devil. Said he wanted to leave England for warmer climes and asked for the fare to Botany Bay because he'd heard there were great opportunities there."

"Father agreed and we escorted him to the docks and put him on a ship. We'll not see him again." Neil grinned. "I rather liked him even if he wasn't Paul. But you can see why when Kirkland said Catherine St. Ives was alive, Richard decided to look you over before we told our parents. Since I was in London, he roped me into coming."

"You'd not have forgiven me if I hadn't asked," Richard pointed out.

"You had no doubts of my ident.i.ty?" Ca.s.sie asked curiously. "Twenty years is a long time. Two thirds of our lives."

"You had the hair," Neil explained. "Also, Kirkland said he'd known you for years. Since you'd never announced yourself to the family, it didn't seem as if you were after anything."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Richard said, his voice low and laced with pain. "Did you think we didn't care?"

Ca.s.sie looked down at her port and realized that she'd drunk it all. She rose and poured more, topping up her cousins' gla.s.ses as well.

When she resumed her seat, she said, "I was an orphaned child in France, lucky to be alive. My English life seemed very distant, no more than a dream. With a war going on, it wasn't a simple matter of writing a letter. By the time I was old enough to return, too much time had pa.s.sed. I didn't think anyone would remember or care who I was."

"You should have known better, Cat," Richard said. "I meant what I said to the Costains. You were like a sister. How could you imagine Neil or I would forget you?"

As she gazed into her wine, she realized there was another reason. "I needed to believe that ... that your family was well and happy," she said haltingly. "If I'd found that one of you had died, I wouldn't have been able to bear it."

Neil leaned over to give her shoulders a brotherly squeeze. "We were well and happy, Cat. But we would have been happier to know you were alive."

"What have you been doing all these years?" Richard asked. "Did you marry? Have children? How have you survived?"

She hesitated, wondering how much to say. But Richard and Neil were family. They deserved some truth. "I've spent much of my time in France, but I return to England regularly. I do work that the British government considers useful."

"You're a spy," Neil said with dawning understanding. "d.a.m.n, Cat, but you always were the gamest girl I ever knew!"

"I think I better understand why you didn't write us," Richard said soberly. "The work you've been doing must be very dangerous."

Ca.s.sie shrugged. "There was no reason to disrupt your lives, and if something happened to me, you wouldn't have the pain of losing me a second time."

"Actually, you had a very good reason to let us know you were alive, Cat," Richard said. "Didn't you know that you're an heiress?"

Chapter 39.

"An heiress?" Ca.s.sie echoed, startled. "My parents' marriage settlements would have specified portions for each child of the union, but surely that went back into the St. Ives estate after our deaths were reported. Why would there be any money due to me?"

Neil grinned. "You tell her, Richard. You're the one who spends all the time with the estate lawyers and bankers."

"For my sins." Richard rolled his eyes. "You're still eligible for your portion since you are alive, but that's just the beginning. Your mother had a substantial fortune, and the settlements divided it equally among her children. Since you're the only surviving child, her entire fortune comes to you, along with your portion from the St. Ives estate."

Still doubting, Ca.s.sie said, "The Montclairs were well off, but I a.s.sumed all their wealth was confiscated by the French government during the revolution."

"Perhaps. I have no information about that," Richard replied. "But since your mother married an Englishman, her fortune was transferred to England, where it's been growing very nicely ever since."

"We St. Iveses are businessmen at heart, you know," Neil said with a grin. "We're much better at making money than the average aristocrat."

It was more than Ca.s.sie could grasp. "So now I can afford to buy myself a cottage by the sea."

"You can buy a castle by the sea if you like," Richard a.s.sured her.

Ca.s.sie shook her head, having trouble grasping the magnitude of this news. "I never thought I'd live long enough for money to matter. My expenses have always been reimbursed by the people I work with, so I've had salary to spare." There was no point in buying clothing or jewels when she could almost never wear them. "I've never worried about the future because I never expected to make old bones."

"Enough of that nonsense, Cat," Neil said, his voice stern. "As a soldier during war, there are any number of ways I might come to a premature end, but I jolly well intend to retire as a crusty old colonel and live till I'm ninety. There's no point in a.s.suming one will die young."

Ca.s.sie had a.s.sumed that. But now she was discovering reasons for living.

"Enough talk of death," Richard said. "Cat, come back to London with us. My parents will be overjoyed to see you."

Leave Grey? Leave Summerhill? But she must, and soon. Stalling, she said, "I must think about it. This is all so sudden."

"The world turned upside down," Richard agreed. "Bring Wyndham along. He should meet your family. I'd like to get to know him better. See if he's good enough for my almost sister."

"He's just returned to Summerhill and he won't want to leave again so soon."

Her cousins nodded with understanding, then began to fill her in on family news of the last couple of decades. She felt as if a bright, shiny new world was being created right before her very eyes.

It would replace the bright world she'd glimpsed here that could never be hers.

By the time Ca.s.sie and her cousins ran out of conversation, the rest of the household had retired. When she became too weary to continue, Ca.s.sie hugged them both good night. "I'd forgotten how wonderful it is to have a family."

"There's nothing more important," Richard said as he released her so Neil would have his turn. "Now that we have you back, you'll never lack for family again."

"Do return to London with us, Cat," Neil added. "I'm leaving for Spain by the end of the week, and I feel like we still have years of conversation to catch up on."

"I'll consider it." With a last smile, she returned to her room, feeling lightheaded from all the port she'd drunk. She'd never forgotten Paul and Anne, her true brother and sister, but she should have remembered that she had other brothers as well.

A crack of light showed under the door of her room, so a maid must have left a lamp for her, and perhaps a fire to warm the chilly night. With a sigh, Ca.s.sie realized she must ring for Hazel to help her out of her gown.

She stepped into her room and was unsurprised to see that she was not alone. Grey was lying stretched out on the bed, his hands folded under his head and his gaze on the ceiling. He'd shed his boots and coat and was all lean, pantherish power, his hair golden and his masculine frame etched by firelight.

When she entered, he turned his startling dark-rimmed eyes to her. "You're going to leave, aren't you?" he asked quietly.

She closed the door and leaned back against it, her decision made. "Yes."

"I can see how much it means to you to have a family again. Your cousins seem like good fellows. Nonetheless..." In one smooth movement Grey was off the bed and across the room to stand an arm's length from her. "Don't go, Ca.s.sie. Please."

She wanted to walk into his arms, hold him and never let go. She wanted to learn ever deeper mysteries of his soul, to be intertwined as closely as two humans could be.

But she couldn't. "It's time for me to leave, Grey," she said, fighting to keep her voice steady.

"Why?" he asked fiercely. "Don't you think we could have a good life together?"

"I don't know. Neither do you." She shook her head. "You've been free only a few weeks. We've been together constantly ever since, facing danger and sharing pa.s.sion. I've been the one constant as you've reentered the world. But that's not a good enough reason to marry." She made a sweeping gesture that encompa.s.sed her surroundings. "You don't need me anymore, Grey. Everything you really need is right here at Summerhill."

"I'm not asking you to stay because I need you, but because I want you," he said gravely. "Does that make a difference?"

She shook her head again. "Desire is powerful, but it shouldn't be allowed to overcome judgment."

"No? You think this is so easily dismissed?" He moved forward and trapped her against the door with a searing kiss. His hands slid over her with heat and promise, bringing her body to yearning life.

Resistance and judgment vanished as she gave herself to the pa.s.sion that bound them. They drew together, writhing with the need to join, yet too impatient to undress.

Breathing harshly, he drew her green satin gown up till it crushed around her hips. Then he delved into moist silken heat with unerring skill.

She gasped, pulsing against his hand. She wanted to melt into him. Equally she wanted to tear off his clothing. Mayhem won and she yanked his shirt from his trousers so she could slide her hand over the taut warmth of his belly.

When she found hot, hard flesh, his whole body jerked and a low moan escaped him. He ripped open his trousers while she raised one leg and wrapped it around his hips. When he sheathed himself inside her, they merged with panting breath and fierce rightness, male and female finding wholeness together.

"Catherine," he breathed hoa.r.s.ely as his hands tightened on the perfect curves of her derriere. "Cat. Ca.s.sie!" He shattered, tumbling into the abyss and taking her with him. She bit his shoulder to stifle her cries as he filled and fulfilled her, dissolving the pain that had shaped her life and leaving only sensation.

Yet it wasn't enough. Not when pa.s.sion faded and left her with gasping lungs, weakened muscles, and regret.

She might not have made it across the room if he hadn't half carried her. Once they were standing by the bed, he deftly unfastened the ties and hooks of her satin gown. As he removed her layered garments, she wondered if the gown could be saved.

She supposed it didn't matter since she could now buy any gown she wanted as a replacement. But Ca.s.sie was the product of too many years of frugality to not care if a beautiful garment had been wantonly destroyed.

And she was too much a product of danger and deception to give herself entirely to a man who wanted her now, but would not want her forever. That was the crux of it, she realized, as she slipped under the covers, then watched him strip off his clothing.

He was beautiful, all hard muscles and strong planes. He was a man who loved and liked women, and when the pa.s.sion that joined them now faded, he would find fresh pa.s.sions elsewhere.

Grey wouldn't be unkind. He'd do his best to keep his affairs hidden from her to protect her feelings and her dignity. But she'd know. An expert spy was impossible to deceive about a matter so close to her heart.

In a year or two, when the fractured parts of his character had healed into a new shape that couldn't yet be known, he might be ready to find the next Countess of Costain. She'd be a beautiful, sophisticated virgin who would be content with what he had to offer, and perhaps enjoy the freedom to take lovers of her own after pa.s.sion faded and they had the heir and the spare his position required.

But Ca.s.sie the Fox would never be such a woman. She had no desire to share. She must leave now, before she was too deeply in love with him to leave.