WindLegends Saga 9: WindRetriever

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Authors: Charlotte Boyett-Compo
gently licking at it and planting tender nibbles along the column of her throat. He held her to him, not ever wanting to let her go.
    "Catherine," he sighed. "My Catherine."
    It was a goodbye, she thought, hearing that lost and helpless tone coming from the very depths of her husband's being. She felt the prickle of tears behind her eyes and as he spoke her Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 39
    name once more, her entire body began to shake with sobs.
    "Catherine?" he questioned, feeling her trembling against him. "Sweeting?" He pulled out of her and tried to turn her toward him, but her quakes began in earnest and he heard her first hitching explosion of crying. She buried her face in his pillow and would not let him turn her over.
    If Conar had any doubts that Catherine knew what he planned to do, they were dispelled at that moment. Angrily he wondered who had dared tell her and thought fleetingly of Yuri. Her shudders wounded him and at that moment if he had had Yuri's throat in his hands, he'd have strangled the warrior.
    "Catherine, don't," he pleaded with her. Her wracking sobs were growing louder and more forceful. "Please don't do this." He stroked her back, her head, begging her not to cry. "You'll make yourself sick, sweeting."
    "I love you," she cried into the pillow. "I'll always love you, Conar."
    He closed his eyes, hating himself at that moment. He had never wanted to hurt this woman. Not ever. By loving her, he had. He closed his arms around her and didn't know what to say.
    "When......when," she sobbed, "were....you...going...to...tell....me?"
    His felt his heart breaking all over again. Idly he wondered how many times a human heart could shatter before it was impossible to put it back together again.
    Catherine jerked out of his arms and spun over, facing him, staring at the pained expression on his face. "When, Conar?" she demanded. "Just before you sailed back to Rysalia?"
    He looked at her tearful face, red and puffy from her crying, and all he saw was condemnation in her shining eyes. He saw the first faint glimmer of dislike hovering there. He lifted his hand to touch her cheek, but she batted it angrily away.
    "Did you mean for this happen?" she hissed at him. "One more fuck for old times sake?"
    He flinched at her vulgarity. "That wasn't what this was."
    "No?" she shot back. "What was it, then?"
    "You asked me to …," he started to say, but her fury lashed out at him with enough force to stun him.
    "And you always do what a woman wants of you, don't you, McGregor?" she yelled. "Far be it for you to deny so many so much!"
    He reached for her, but she flung herself out of the bunk. He sat up. "Catherine, please. It wasn't like that."
    "Did you love me even a little, Conar?" she asked, tears flowing down her flushed cheeks.
    She held up her hand and made the minuscule measure between thumb and index finger. "Even this much?"
    "I love you with all my heart, Catherine!" he exploded. He came to his knees on the bunk.
    "With every breath I take I love you."
    "Even when you were screwing Rachel Stone?" she shouted back at him. The moment she said it, the moment she saw the guilty look cross his face, she knew. She had only had suspicions before that moment, but with the lowering of his eyes, she knew. "You bastard," she spat at him.
    "It WAS her."
    He looked up, stared at her, knowing then who the culprit had been who had told Catherine of his betrayal. He reached out a hand to his wife. "You have to understand. I...."
    "You what?" Catherine whispered. "You had to have her? You needed her?" Her mouth twisted with scorn. "You were afraid to make love to me for fear of hurting your child?" Her voice lowered. "Tell me, Conar, is she better at it than me? Did she please you more?"
    Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 40
    "No!" he snapped. "You've got it all wrong. She was just ...."
    "Handy," Catherine spat at him. "Handy and available." She stooped down and picked up her slippers. "Well, she'll be at Abbadon

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