NOTE: Texas Trio was my first-ever novel-length erotica, which I'm revising and posting here a few chapters at a time. There's an actual story to back up all the naughty bits, so it will be more fun if you start at the beginning! Thank you so much for the hearts, stars, comments, and emails—they make all the work worthwhile!
Love- Stefanie
--:--:--:--:--:--:--:--:-- CHAPTER 8 --:--:--:--:--:--:--:--:--
Cat waited patiently at the kitchen door, not wanting to alarm the servants by invading their territory. She couldn't believe she was doing this for the man her awful Uncle Harrison intended her to marry, whether she herself wanted a wedding or not.
On the other hand, she'd been chock full of unlikely behavior lately... and all of it began five weeks ago, when she woke to find a blue-eyed burglar standing over her. Torn between shock at her own wanton ways and constant torturous arousal at the memory of Colt's body against her, Catherine had tried not to think of him at all.
She'd repeated the vow silently, dozens of times, and failed just as often, despite the passage of days whispering she'd probably never see him again. Up until two weeks ago, it had seemed like thinking of Colt was all she did. At least it had been an escape from the anxiety of awaiting her uncle's mysterious houseguest .
After dozens of Uncle Harry's horribly explicit threats, by dinnertime on the appointed evening, Catherine had resigned herself to being at least temporarily tolerant of her unknown suitor. She'd gone to meet him with a pasted-on smile, a heavy heart, and her sister's welfare firmly in mind. Instead of a lout like Monsieur Louis or another vapid scion of some wealthy family, however, Cat had been astounded to discover a twist of fate had provided her with a surprisingly charming, well-read, shockingly attractive dinner partner. How her cretinous uncle managed it was almost beyond imagining, until Catherine recalled the quiet, well-mannered man she thought he'd been... before the death of her domineering Aunt Frannie freed the tyrant.
In the two weeks since Señor Alejandro's arrival, Catherine had spent a few hours every day with the handsome South American rancher, and she had yet to find anything truly objectionable about the man. His manners were perfect and his speech refined. They walked in the garden, took a buggy out to look at the new houses going up along Broadway, or rode around the public square on Twentieth Street just to see who was doing the same.
Going against all convention, Catherine had declined every invitation and call she received since Señor Allejandro came to stay. She knew she was causing an upsurge in Galveston gossip, but getting to know a person when you were separated socially by dance cards and managing mamas or brandy and cigars wasn't practicable. She might be forced to wed this man, after all, and she'd like to know what she was getting into.
What she'd learned so far seemed promising: Señor Allejandro liked some of the same things Catherine did, and wonder of wonders, he was merely amused by her choice of reading material. He'd actually read the Henry James novel she used to shock potential suitors into revealing themselves, but he merely questioned Catherine's interpretation of its ambiguous ending. Maybe South American men were less constrained, Cat thought curiously.
Her chief reservation about her suitor was his own reserve. "Big Jim" was often quiet, more inclined to listen than to tell stories of his own. It was a welcome change from the young men she knew, but she'd noticed Señor Allejandro often turned the topic when asked about his parents or his past. He was especially quiet around her uncle, too. Catherine didn't know how to interpret his silences, but she suspected he was hiding something, and that suspicion prevented her from trusting him. It also allowed her imagination occasional reign to return to Colt, regardless of whether he intended to return to her.
Standing outside the kitchen doorway that morning, she frowned without knowing she did so. Perhaps Colt had altogether forgotten about her. Perhaps asking her to run away with him hadn't been a sincere proposal on his part; maybe returning to see her a second time had been just a lark for him. Catherine knew she wasn't the type to inspire instant devotion. Nanny said she'd grow into her looks, and while Catherine hoped that was true, she couldn't depend on ever turning into a femme fatale. Right now, she had to be satisfied with nicely put-together, well-coifed, and erudite...
as if that ever mattered to a man!
So maybe her impact on the blue-eyed burglar had been less striking than the impression he'd left in her mind.
Cat gave her head a hard shake and smoothed her skirts.
Today was for getting to know "Big Jim" better. Cat's lips curved in anticipation. She'd enjoyed their stimulating conversations, but she
loved
the way he looked at her. She'd been forced to drop her own eyes more than once, so he wouldn't read the desire written there. It was indecent to lust after a man one had so recently met, potential spouse or not. Her intended had been a perfect gentleman so far, but Catherine hoped this picnic would offer him the opportunity to kiss her, and she wanted him to take it.
She flushed and came to a precipitous stop in the hallway, arranging her face into a proper greeting. As shameful as it was, she wanted to know if Señor Alejandro's kisses had the power to arouse her the same way her absent burglar had.
She sighed again, straightening as Cook pushed the big door open, picnic basket in hand.
"Thank you, Cook." She smiled prettily and Cook grinned in reply. The staff loved Miz Catherine. She and Miz Becky-- the minx-- had always been kinder than the strict, unsmiling Matthews.
"You have fun, now, Miz Catherine."
Cat got one fleeting glimpse of a man who must be Jim's valet as Cook retreated into her domain. From the black queue at the nape of his neck, he appeared to be a stoop-shouldered hulk of a Chinaman. Cat had never seen a Chinaman that big, but maybe it was just the position in which he sat. She shrugged and put both the strange valet and her romantic burglar out of her mind.
Hot on Cook's heels, Nanny scurried from the kitchen. "Don't you think o' goin' anywhere without a chaperone, Miz Cat!"
Catherine raised her eyebrows. "Nanny! Of course I'm not!" She paused, letting her eyes fall to the picnic basket as she began fiddling with the lid. "I was about to send for Jenny."
Nanny squinted, studying Catherine, innocently toying with the basket over her arm. Nanny had cared for more than one adventurous young lady-- she knew all the tricks. "I don't think so, Miz Cat. I'll go get Mary-Ann."
Cat's eyes snapped up to Nanny's face. "But-- "
Nanny shook her head. "No, suh, Miz Cat. Mary-Ann's goin' witchoo."
Cat pursed her lips until Nanny was well out of sight.
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An hour or so later Catherine and her suitor were seated in a secluded glade on the bank of a stream outside town. The horse had been given a drink and a handful of hay to keep him busy, and Cat and Jim were "strapping on the feedbag", as he'd kidded her in his exotic Spanish accent. Mary-Ann was curled up on the rear seat of the carriage, where she'd fallen asleep less than a mile from home. Cat's penchant for listening in on the servants when they thought her mind was elsewhere could be extremely useful sometimes. For instance, she'd recently overheard a rumor that Mary-Ann had spent every night this month spooning with one of the stableboys.
Jem watched Catherine unpack their lunch, thinking Colt was right; there was an indefinable quality about the woman. At first glance, he hadn't seen the world-class beauty Colt described: she was very pretty, and her eyes were stunning, but since then, she'd grown on him. By the end of their first few hours together, Jem wasn't sure he'd have used any less glowing terms than his smitten partner.
He'd been entranced to discover his prospective bride was a well-read, insightful, curious scholar, despite her uncle's obvious disapproval. Jem had been forced to split himself between his honest opinions, what he really wanted, and the image he deemed necessary to maintain for Matthews' benefit. He didn't want to alienate the man: Matthews needed to believe he and Jem were birds of a feather. So, he'd tried not to show the wild enthusiasm he felt during most of their conversation. Still, he'd begun to think this venture would be more difficult than anticipated in many ways, and the days since that first meeting had done nothing to alleviate his concern.
