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was happy in
his own skin and it showed. Well before the appointed hour was over, he stood
in the drawing room, and contemplated the
Geneva
on the side table. She used to enjoy a secret glass with him. Would she still?
      He didn't
have long to wait to find out. He had not been waiting more than ten minutes
when Catherine appeared. Her appearance took his breath away. Her hair cascaded
down her back like a waterfall of burnished silk, the flowers above each ear a
pale contrast.   The dress he had chosen
and left for her in her room was a perfect foil for her dark loveliness. It
shimmered in the lamplight and caressed her body like a lover. Brook's body
stiffened, his manhood stood to attention and pressed against his pantaloons.
She was every man's desire.
    He bowed, elegance personified. "My love,
you are everything a man could wish for." He spoke the truth. She was everything a man could hope for.
"My body aches to taste you, to fill you and to make you mine. Are you
ready to eat?"
      She
stared and then to his amazement, she giggled.
    "Eat food? Oh yes my lord, I am famished.
Shall we?" Catherine blushed as she held her arm out to him.
    So is
she saying she wants nothing else? Or she may eat other things, as in me? He was not sure he dared ask. Instead he
escorted her into the dining room and seated her at a table set for two. The
lights were low, the atmosphere intimate.   Brook knew with certainty, how he wanted the night to end. With him
buried deep inside her, hearing her murmurs of surrender, and her cries of
completion. If only.
    "As am I. But do we both yearn for the same food?"
    ***
    Catherine heard his riposte and her body
responded with a surge of heat that made her nipples harden. There was no way
she could let him know how she reacted to him. For many years now she had
schooled herself to deny her reaction to his presence. Now, it was nigh on
impossible to show those feelings. Especially as her mama had schooled her that
no lady would ever be foolish enough to express her emotions in public, or to a
man. So here she was all these years later, with the man she had loved so much
that she had denied him as her husband rather than subject him to the shame her
father had heaped on them.
    “I do not know, my lord," she said, hoping
her composure was enough to carry her answer. “Perhaps we will see…later."
    Catherine allowed him to lead her to the dining
table and seat her. He walked to the sideboard where a series of chafing dishes
were set out.
    "It is a simple meal, shall I serve
you…" he paused . "Food?"
      Argh , was he determined to keep her nerves on
edge ?
    "That, my lord, would be perfect." She
rested her hands on her chin and stared at him as he filled two plates with
food. "You can serve me at any time."
    Brook stood over her. He put the plates on the
table, removed her hands and took her chin in his hands.
    "Serve, or service?" he asked.
    Her jaw dropped. What did he say? Did I hear aright? How can I answer that? She did
neither, but turned her attention to the food on her plate. He chuckled and
once more she itched to hit him. Brook Fredericks was much too annoying for her
peace of mind.
    She looked at him, saw the twinkle in his eyes
and wondered how best to answer him.
    "That, my lord," she said at last,
proud of how steady her voice sounded, "is a question best answered later.
After you have told me what you want of me."
    He bowed, but to her chagrin his eyes were full
of laughter.
    "Catherine, what I want is you. All of you, with me in every way possible. Eat your
food."
    How could she, after a declaration like that?
She picked up her cutlery and did her best. Ten minutes later she admitted
defeat.
    "Brook." The time for formality was
over. "Tell me, I need to know. What is going to happen?"
    He put down the wine goblet he was holding, and
stared at her, his eyes dark with something she could not define.
    "In truth, Catherine, I do not know the
outcome. But now? All I can say is , it is