"Yes, of course, of course!"

"Then it will be a simple matter to obtain an annulment. It will be expensive and lengthy but it can be done."

Horror washed through her. "No, no! Please."

"I don't want to stare at the light under your door each night, wondering what you're doing in here. By God, it is too much to be shackled to a wife who must fuck herself because I am too frail to-" His voice broke and his face mottled red. "I want you gone!"

"I'll go away. Quietly. I'll make no trouble."

"That's not good enough. I don't want you carrying my name. I don't want the reminder of my own failures." He sneered. "I don't want you using the title of Lady Blayne to contract a fine marriage after I am gone."

The intensity of his rancor towards her was shocking. She felt as though she'd been kicked in the ribs. "Yes, you have a legitimate grievance against me. I know it. I admit my sins. But if you seek an annulment, you will hurt everyone who is associated with the Blaynes. Do you want that?"

"I don't care! I loved you, Catriona! You were just an ill-bred little commoner, but I loved you as you were and I made a lady of you. But you, you damned ungrateful chit! You never loved me."

"That is not true-I loved you! I still love you, but you will no' let me love you now."

He shook his head. A strange light came into his eyes. "No," he said, firmly, resolutely. "You never truly loved me. If you did, you could never shame me over my weakness."

"I never tried to shame you. I have tried to love you. You turned away from me."

"How could I do aught else? You used to be such a delicate, dainty girl. Innocent." He leaned back and swept his hand down her body. "Look at what you have grown into!"

Oh, mercy, what could she say? She loved sensual pleasures, she had become accustomed to indulging in sweets, rich foods and rich wines. Too accustomed.

"You don't look like a wife."

A sob escaped her.

"You look like a damned courtesan! Ripe for fucking!" The vivid coloring of his face intensified. "Don't you think I see how men look at you? How those looks turn to pity because everyone knows your husband is too much a bloody invalid to avail himself of your bonny charms!"

She gaped at him. For several moments, there was no sound in the chamber except for her pounding heart beat and his angry breathing.

"No one thinks that. You've deluded yourself into believing something that is no' true," she said.

"They also see that sultry glint in your eyes-"

"There's no glint in my eyes."

"Of course there is. You burn with it, day and night. Your eyes smolder with desire. Reminding me of how badly you need a good hard fucking and how I shan't ever be able to give it to you."

"You can no' really be so bent on dissolving our marriage? You'll ruin the both of us; you'll ruin the whole family."

"I don't bloody care! I have been shamed, deeply shamed, and I'll have my damned revenge on all of you."

She gaped. "All-"

"You! And my mother-damn her. She pressed me into this hell of a marriage."

"You do no' mean that. You're just hurt and angry."

"No, I am not just hurt an angry. I am surer of this than I have been of anything else in my life. I only hope I can manage to do it before my heart gives out and makes you a perfectly respectable widow."

The future flashed before her, the scandal and shame. Then something occurred to her. "Too much time has passed, surely?"

"You're a virgin. A physician will attest to that."

"Your mother will fight you on this. She won't want the scandal. And she loves me! She won't let you treat me like this!"

"Ah, yes, mother loves you so well. So well, she had to buy you off your parents. And your papa was only too happy to oblige!"

His words cut straight into her heart. "You have never done any business without her hand there to guide you. How will you manage?" The last flew past her lips before she thought and terror caused her to scramble backwards on the mattress as his eyes began to bulge. His face mottled darker splotches of red, with shades of magenta and purple. He clamped his hands to his head and emitted a harsh, choking sound. He gagged and she thought he would vomit.

But then he went rigid, his body arching as though he had developed tetany. She leapt to her feet and shoved a hand under his waistcoat to feel his heart. He pushed her away with a gurgled snarl and stumbled backwards onto the bed. She jumped onto the mattress, yanked back the coat and felt his heart. The organ pumped rapid and hard, and she slumped back away from him in relief.

His body twitched. Sunny froze. Tremors wracked him. His whole body arched, as taut as it could possibly go. He bucked again and again. With his eyes bulging, his mouth open, his teeth clenched as his breath came in short spasms, loud, harsh hisses, he scarcely looked human.

Her heart slammed against her chest. Pound! Pound! Pound!

His frame bucked harder, harder, harder.

Then he went limp.

Sunny stared, frozen in horror. Queasiness rose in her, shaking her with hot chills that went straight to her bones.

She sucked in a scream then raced to her bellpull.

Sunny came to herself, the stones cold and damp against her knees and legs as she knelt on the floor of the roof. She gagged, and vomit flooded up in her throat, too quickly to swallow back. She hadn't realized...

"Bend!" James' voice broke through the last of her memory-induced daze. His hand was like iron on her neck, forcing her head down.

She didn't resist but bent forward and down, slapping her palms to the cold stones to balance herself. Her midsection convulsed and she gagged and coughed and spewed everything inside her up and onto the stones. Nothing remained in her stomach, but her body continued to convulse painfully for several moments.

Then it was over, and she panted with the wind cooling the beads of sweat on her face. "My selfishness..." She gulped for breath. "My lack of love. It killed Freddy." She swallowed against the taste of acrid bile. "Now do you no' see how wicked I can be?"

James massaged the back of her neck. "You didn't kill him, Catriona. Freddy killed himself with bitterness. His cold, selfish heart finally gave out."

Chapter Twenty-Three.

A slight shaking woke James. The odor of sweat tinged with fear filled his senses, and beneath that was the more beguiling scent of jasmine. He tightened his arms around the soft, feminine body beside him and found Catriona's bare flesh still damp with perspiration.

Catriona moaned, a low, distressed sound.

He put his lips to her cheek.

She didn't open her eyes but emitted another distressed moan, more lingering than the first.

Her agitation tore into him. He'd fallen asleep with her words of the night before echoing round and round in his mind.

How she had been hurt!

Not just by Freddy but by them all.

He pressed his cheek to hers. Should he wake her from her tormented dreams? Or should he let her sleep? She had been so exhausted , he had barely been able to help her strip off her soiled, sweat-soaked chemise before she had collapsed into the bed.

He wished he'd been able to get her to drink some wine but she had closed her eyes and refused to rouse. The purple shadows around her eyes had alarmed him, and he had given up and lain beside her, drawing her clammy form to his body for warmth. But also because he'd felt an urgent need to wrap his arms around her and shield her.

She had been so hurt!

So hurt.

The words repeated in his mind. Kept repeating.

He was still in a shock of sorts. His heart aching.

He had never imagined that even Freddy could be so cruel.

And to such a warm, loving woman.

Freddy should burn in hell for all eternity and good riddance.

Catriona muttered in her sleep. James' heart wrenched.

I must ensure that she is never hurt again, that she shall never feel want or need again.

Her trembling subsided, and he released a slow breath. She seemed to be sleeping more deeply.

The clock chimed six times.

He recalled his impassioned words to her last night, about caring for her more than any other person in the world. Such words had been impelled by finding her there, poised to throw herself from the roof.

He did not regret his words.

He'd meant them. Perhaps-in that moment after having found her so near the roof's edge, having been afraid that she would fall-or throw herself over the edge to her death-perhaps he had spoken in too dramatic, too impassioned a manner. Of course he had. He always made such a Shakespearian fool of himself when under her influence.

However, he did care for her more than any other person.

After the shattering confessions and intimacies she had shared these past weeks, how could he help but care deeply for her?

But it wasn't love. He would never love anyone again. Not like he had once loved her. Back when she had been Sunny.

He would keep Catriona, discreetly, of course. Probably in the country. Maybe even in the highlands. Maybe he would find her a grand castle and keep her stashed away. He would visit her at times when he could be hers completely. Meanwhile, he would find, court and marry a suitable woman of his own class. Some wide-eyed nineteen-year-old heiress with the right political connections. A proper virgin.

Family honor would satisfied.

He would respect and honor his wife.

He would spoil and adore Catriona. He would cherish her, protect her. Her every need would be satisfied. She would never have to suffer the strain and stresses-and let it not be forgotten, the constraints-that came with being a proper Society hostess.

It was all going to turn out fine. He would ensure that it did.

He frowned. So, why then did his stomach keep twisting?

James awoke again, sitting up with a start. The sound of retching, ugly and harsh, echoed in the chamber. He bolted from the bed and found her on her knees, her head over the chamberpot.

H He knelt and swept her hair out of her face, then held her as the tremors wracked her.

But nothing was coming up.

Of course. Sunlight filled the room. It was late morning. She'd had nothing to eat or drink in hours.

He released her shoulders then caressed her back with slow motions. "Easy, easy, sweeting."

She coughed then gagged softly. He sat on his haunches and , pulled her close, caressing her back as she continued to gag. "Easy, easy, my love," he crooned.

He had never crooned in his life. Not even to a horse or a beloved hound. But with a sudden sense of what would calm her, he crooned now.

Her body convulsed but less intensely. And she had stopped gagging.

"That's it, love, that's it," he said.

She moaned.

"It's all right. It's all right now."

She swallowed deeply, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Freddy..."

He understood from something in her tone. She wasn't addressing his cousin, thinking herself with him. She was speaking of her tormented dreams. She had seen Freddy's death throes in her dreams.

"It's all right now, love," he repeated, smoothing her lank hair off her sweat-dotted forehead. "How often does that happen?" His heart contracted. His voice had broken. "How often do you wake like that?"

"Often enough," she said, hoarsely.

"Do you ever see him now?"

"No, I haven't seen him for some time. On the roof last night, for a moment I thought I heard him calling me. But that turned out to be you."

He made a sort of gasp, an odd choked sound that forced itself out as he remembered his frustration when he had shouted her name, sure that the next instant he would see her slip over the edge. "Indeed, you did hear me calling you."

"You were very angry with me." Her voice was small, sad. Contrite.