Katherine's body was still horribly cold for the early summer, but her insides felt warm, her chest desperately hot. She took in every word of Eward's, absorbed them, tried to make sense of them. Considering their shock value, they were remarkably clear and easily understood, but coming from Eward they held a very different weight.
So many things ran through her mind. She wanted to apologize in return. She wanted to stop him from speaking of the past. She wanted to weep at mention of the deceased Lord Wexley. But most of all, she wanted to express that, despite evidence to the contrary, she felt very much the same. Her mouth was dry and words did not come easily, but, knowing their privacy had little chance of being compromised, Katherine ran one hand back up to Eward's face, cupping his cheek against her palm. "Eward," she murmured, only able to provide the one word before drawing his face to hers and kissing him gently on the lips.