Emily Price Post For a moment, Catherine could barely comprehend what the man had said. And then, in a rush, it came to her and she sprang to her feet. “Lord Tristram, are you suggesting that I am the one who struck you on the head?” He looked her in the eyes, then turned away. “I considered it.” “You considered it? You thought, even for a moment, that I am capable of—of—” Catherine slid to her knees beside the sofa. A lifetime of training kept her back straight when she wanted to bow forward under the weight upon her shoulders. “If you weren’t too injured to be traveling on these roads, I’d tell you to leave.” “And I would rather not abuse your hospitality.” He sounded so sad, she levered herself back onto the sofa and faced him. He gazed down at his hands clasping his knees. “I have been wrestling with this for hours. To take your kindness and then think something so heinous is unconscionable.
