Scandal with a Sinful Scot

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Scandal with a Sinful Scot Page 6

by Karyn Gerrard


  Breaking the kiss, he took her hand and they scrambled into a clean, empty stall. One of the horses whickered at their proximity. The groom and the stable hands were having dinner in the servants’ quarters. They didn’t have long. Garrett closed the gate as Abbie laughed and laid on top of the straw.

  There would be no time for the exploration of past encounters. No slow removal of clothes, caressing bare skin, kissing her in the sweetest of places. Instead they desperately tore at the fall of his trousers while rucking up her skirt. Garrett slipped his hand between her legs. So ready for him. Such a passionate lass. Gripping his stiff shaft, he entered her with a powerful thrust, causing her back to arch as a husky moan escaped her lips. “Shh, love. We’ll spook the horses and bring out MacAdam and the lads. We would be quite the discovery.”

  She laughed throatily as she lifted her hips to meet him. For a brief, joyous moment, he imagined the two of them doing this for the rest of their lives, until they were too old and feeble. But this joining had a tinge of sadness, for it would be the last. Abbie cried out, and he quieted her by kissing her. Then his climax peaked. Garrett shook, shuddered, and held her close to his heart as they rode the wave of passion together.

  After they calmed, they set their clothes to right. “When can I tell my father you will be by to see him? I know Brighton is a bit of a journey, but we have plenty of room for you and your father. The earl will accompany you, will he not? Our fathers should meet. I was thinking of a Christmas wedding. I always wanted one. To wear a white fur-trimmed cape decorated with lace and silk snowflakes.” She stared off dreamily. “Though my father is only a knight, he can well afford a decent wedding. Oh, Garrett. I cannot wait!”

  He froze. Wedding? Jesus, they were only eighteen. When this began, he had honestly believed they could part as friends. Yet his feelings for her had deepened into love. It didn’t bear thinking about. He would not allow it. Not with the curse. Garrett could never reveal his true feelings, or reveal the fact he had already placed her at risk. He must protect her at all costs, even if it meant breaking their hearts in the process. It was best this way. “There will be no wedding.” He stood, fastening the last buttons on his trousers.

  Abbie stared up at him incredulously. “But there must be. After what we’ve done…”

  He shrugged. “No one else knows about us. And if you tell your father, I will deny it.”

  Her shocked expression turned to hurt and it cut him deep. He was not cruel; he was brought up to be the opposite. “How could you?” she exclaimed.

  “This was a summer dalliance, nothing more. We will never see each other again. Besides, there are many women out in the world to enjoy. You were merely one in what I imagine will be a long line. I will think of you now and then, but otherwise, not at all.” He paused. “You should thank me. The next man to get between your thighs will find you well broken in.”

  Abbie jumped to her feet and slapped his face. Her hurt had turned to anger. Good. He wanted her to be furious enough to walk away. “I told you last night that I loved you; I laid my heart bare.” She searched his eyes as if looking for any sign of a decent human being. “Do you love me?”

  With the question posed before him, he knew deep in his soul that he did love her, most desperately. Hurting her like this was destroying him, as if part of his soul had blackened and broke away. He rubbed his cheek, for she packed quite the wallop. But he would never marry, and after this would never allow any woman close enough to capture his heart. “No.” The denial stabbed deep and would no doubt leave a permanent scar. Garrett deserved to be damaged from this, for he never should have allowed their love affair to progress this far.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said fiercely. “Not after the way you held me, loved me. Kissed me. You lie. Pushing me away will not lessen our feelings.”

  “In time you will forget,” he replied dismissively. Inside, his gut was twisting into knots.

  “You are a miserable beast.” She poked him in the chest; fire came alive in her lovely brown eyes. “It is because of this stupid curse you told me about, isn’t it?”

  “The reason hardly matters. I do not love you. That is reason enough.” He stepped away from her. “The curse is not stupid—it is as real as you or I.”

  Fury danced in her eyes. “One day you will be sorry you lied and pushed me away. You will regret denying the love that exists between us. I pity you. And I hate you.”

  He had been a miserable beast. God, how magnificent she’d been, standing up to him, toe-to-toe, poking him in the chest, calling him on his lies. And he more than deserved that slap in the face.

  They were lies, all of them. Garrett detested lies and liars, yet he had easily deceived Abbie; it sickened him to have done it. Moreover, he was so damned weary of lying.

  He’d hurt for a good while after she’d departed for Brighton. But as with most tragic events, time had lessened the pain and made the memories fade into the haze of past regrets. He remained determined to forget her, and thought that he’d succeeded for the most part. What a fool.

  The mantel clock chimed twice. Two in the morning. He couldn’t bloody well sleep. Why in hell had she appeared in his life again? She never gave him an adequate answer. To torture him? He could act as he had all those years ago: as an arrogant ninny denying what existed between them. Truthfully, he didn’t have the strength to deny his feelings. God, would he have to act out this scenario again?

  Perhaps he could convince her that too much time had passed; they had changed, and were not the same green adolescents they once were. He should try to convince her to leave him in peace. But now that he’d seen her, how could he ever be at peace again?

  It had crossed his mind briefly, when Alberta Eaton took possession of her late uncle’s home, that Abbie may turn up at some point. He had no idea if the women had been in contact and had no desire to inquire about it. Abbie’s appearance answered that particular question.

  She had seen him in Standon? What were the odds? Could it be fate? Abbie saw it as a sign; was it possible? How could he dismiss it? For she was correct: if he believed in the curse, he surely believed in fate. Damn it all, the curse. He must remain true to his convictions and make it clear that there cannot be anything between them.

  If she even came here looking to reignite their brief but intense passion. How arrogant. Perhaps she’d arrived to visit Alberta and nothing more. It would be a solid blow to his ego, but it would also be a relief.

  Regardless, there would be no tranquil sleep tonight. She wished to talk. Lots to discuss. Garrett should hear her out; it was the least that he could do. He owed her that much, and more besides. Damn her for upending his quiet life. For causing his heart to beat. For making him feel. Garrett threw back the rest of his scotch, stood, and poured himself another.

  It would be a long night.

  Early the next morning, Garrett readied himself for a walk, hoping it would clear his head. He’d managed a couple hours of restless sleep, but it was full of heated memories and reliving over and over the horrible way in which he’d ended the most passionate episode of his life. He had no idea how to proceed here. Logic stated that he push her away a second time.

  But he couldn’t bring himself to be so blatantly cruel. Or could he? Somehow, he hadn’t the strength to deny his feelings, for they were as real and raw as they were all those years ago. How strange, for he’d believed he’d placed all these wayward and intense emotions in a dark corner, never to be thought of again. He absently rubbed his chest. His heart ached, yet pounded against his ribcage at the prospect of holding Abbie in his arms again. To follow down that particular path would be a mistake of epic proportions.

  He still hadn’t the faintest idea as to why she came here. Garrett had the distinct impression that she was keeping something from him. Later this afternoon when they met, he would demand answers.

  Inhaling the crisp Januar
y air, he was pleased that it was milder today than it had been in past weeks. They would be able to put some of the horses through their paces outside instead of the indoor exercise paddock. As he exited the wooded area between the Eaton’s property and the hall, Garrett stopped short. Sitting on a large rock was a young woman, completely absorbed in the book she was reading. She wore a heavy wool cloak with matching fur-trimmed hood. Part of her face was obscured, but he could tell she was younger than he first thought.

  Even in a sitting position she was a tall, willowy creature with an abundance of freckles. As he observed the young lady absently stroking her chin as she read, an amused smile quirked at the corner of his mouth, for it was a gesture that he often used. Who was she? Did she come from a nearby house? He knew all his surrounding neighbors; none had a daughter or sister of this age. Perhaps she was a visitor. The girl kept reading, oblivious to his presence. There was something familiar about her. He shook his head and continued on his walk.

  Garrett’s thoughts turned to Abbie. He must remain detached. Protect his heart. Protect…her. Which meant that he must continue to lie. The oath he had taken all those years ago must remain in place. Because of the curse, his love was a death sentence to any woman, and he cared for Abbie too much to allow anything to happen to her. Better to hurt. Better to lie. Better to let her go. He snorted. Right. Good luck with that, mate.

  * * * *

  As Abbie marched across the field and through the thin line of alder, beech, and juniper trees separating the two properties, the sprawling Wollstonecraft Hall came into view. The estate was as eclectic as she remembered. Garrett had told her that the front entrance and hall was from the original Tudor style of centuries past, while the Georgian and Gothic wings were more recent additions.

  She had only been inside the place once, during an informal dinner party hosted by Garrett’s father, the Earl of Carnstone. Of course Sir Walter had declined, but he’d bid her and Alberta to attend with a chaperone, Sir Walter’s venerable housekeeper, Mrs. Claxton. Abbie had been overwhelmed by the opulence and the size of the estate, and it had struck her that Garrett was far out of her sphere. The son of an earl? Granted, he was a second son, but it became crystalline clear that the daughter of a man who had recently been knighted for his bravery as a soldier might not be an adequate companion to such a formidable family.

  Abbie sidestepped an icy puddle. What would she discuss with Garrett? The past? The present? A possible future? Megan? What did she want from him? An apology would be a good place to start. It would allow her to bury most of her hurt and bitterness; at least, she hoped it would. Gazing at Garrett last night, she had the overwhelming urge to embrace him and slap his face, which showed how jumbled her emotions were about the infuriatingly handsome man.

  Placing a light to the powder keg of emotions and memories they’d shared may not be prudent. Considering that she had no interest in taking a lover or remarrying, Abbie had acted impulsively in following him to Kent. What if Garrett were to suggest that they indulge in an affair? Would she be strong enough to say no? If the past was any indication, she would throw all caution to the wind. How troubling. She should have thought this through more thoroughly before she had come here. Too late.

  As she continued to tread along the path, she caught a glimpse of the stables. Abbie wagered that she would find Garrett there, as it wasn’t quite three o’clock. With a half smile, she headed toward the building. Sure enough, she found him brushing down a magnificent brown stallion. “Garrett.”

  He looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Am I late?”

  “No. I imagined I would find you here. Are horses still the center of your life, raising and breeding them? You did claim that they would be your future.”

  He gave the stallion an affectionate pat, then motioned to one of the stable boys. “Place Patriot in his stall. See there is fresh hay, and give him his special mixture of oats.”

  The youth touched his forelock. “Aye, sir. Right away.”

  Garrett didn’t answer her question. Abbie sighed and glanced about the familiar structure. How many surreptitious meetings had taken place here? She inhaled. It smelled the same, but she had never minded the scents of a barn or a man around horses. It possessed an earthy element. Masculine. Real. “I suppose the Wollstonecraft horses fetch a pretty penny?”

  Garrett gathered up the brushes and curry comb. “It has become a lucrative business. We charge several thousand pounds, as our horses are of sturdy stock with impeccable lines. Well-bred. Beautiful even.”

  Abbie smiled. “Much like the Wollstonecraft men.” He turned and stared at her. “Oh, come on, Garrett. Fourteen years ago you would have laughed at my teasing.”

  He tossed the grooming tools into a nearby bucket. “I’m not the same man.”

  “Fair enough. I’m not the same woman.”

  He removed his coat from the hook and slipped it on. “Do you mind if we take a walk? I think it best I not take you to the house today. There would be too many questions. Julian and my father are in residence. And before you become indignant, I’m not ashamed of our past association.”

  Abbie fell into step with him as they exited the stables. “Truly? For your parting words relayed the complete opposite.” He frowned and did not answer. Infuriating man. “Last night as I lay awake well into the early hours of the morning, I recalled your recent statement: ‘I never said I didn’t love you.’ But you did say it. Allow me to remind you again that you said the actual words.”

  Garrett blew out an exasperated breath. “I lied about a number of things when we parted that summer.” He paused. “I didn’t sleep much last night either. And if I recall, all those years ago, your parting shot was, ‘I hate you.’ We both said things we didn’t mean, unless you did mean it.”

  The fact that he admitted he’d lied angered her afresh, but she had known it all along. “I did mean it. I hated you for a long time after we had separated. You hurt me. Very deeply. A permanent scar,” she replied angrily. Abbie stopped walking and briefly laid her hand on his arm. Muscles clenched under her touch. “Oh, Garrett. Why would you lie?” she whispered.

  He turned to face her. “To be blunt, I wanted you out of my life. You were a distraction that I did not want or need. You were a threat to my future. To my plans.” He shook his head. “Believe it or not, I am sorry I hurt you. I could have cut it clean between us in a more compassionate manner.”

  Abbie did not expect this honesty, and her expression softened as she stared into his beautiful hazel-green eyes. “Thank you for apologizing.”

  Grasping her elbow, he steered her toward the rear of the hall. “We can talk privately in the orangery.” He pulled a small ring of keys from his coat pocket and unlocked the door. Heat from the wood stoves hit her immediately, along with the scent of various citrus plants and trees. Garrett closed the door. “Why are you here?” he asked pointedly. “Why, Abbie? Tell me.”

  “I would have happily continued on with my quiet life. I had effectively packed away all memories and emotions as far as you are concerned…”

  “Obviously, since you married. How soon after we parted?” His tone was rough with emotion, his gaze penetrating.

  Abbie glared at him. “You have no right to sound indignant. You tossed me away. Remember?”

  Garrett stepped closer and his masculine scent made her dizzy. “How. Soon.”

  “Two months after I returned home.” She’d had no choice. It was either marry Elwyn or shame her family with her scandalous affair and be turned out into the streets. “An arranged marriage.”

  His thick eyebrows shot up. “Arranged? So you were miserable then.”

  “No,” she answered softly. “I adored him.”

  Garrett flinched as if she’d struck him, but quickly regained his cool composure. “Did you have children?”

  Here would be the perfect opportunity to bring up Megan’s exis
tence, but she wanted to introduce Garrett to her first. Or would the shock be too great? Perhaps she should tell him. No, they had much to sort out first. She carefully crafted her reply so that it would not be a complete lie. “I had no children with my husband.”

  “You saw me in Standon. Why didn’t you approach me at the sanatorium?”

  Abbie clasped her gloved hands. “By the time I recovered from the shock of seeing you, you had already departed. My late husband was a doctor; he started the clinic. His friend, Dr. Bevan, took over after he passed.” She met his gaze once again. Garrett’s eyes danced with green fire, his freckled cheeks flushed with emotion. She understood his reaction, for it took all her inner strength to make certain her voice did not tremble as she spoke. “Allow me to offer my sympathies regarding your nephew. I volunteer at the clinic, and I assisted with his care before I departed to come here.”

  With two quick strides, Garrett grasped her upper arms. “Tell me about Aidan. Tell me everything. How bad is it?”

  Worry and concern were clear in his eyes. Abbie would tell him the truth. “Bad. He was going through the worst of the withdrawal before I left the village. I offered to stay, but Gethin and Cristyn thought it best that they be the ones to be the main caregivers. I fetched fresh water, cloths, broth, whatever they asked, but I was not in the room after the first few days.” She sighed. “I heard the screams. Tormented dreams, Cristyn said. Pain. It is a terrible thing to come off such poison. Gethin was right to send you home. You would not have wanted to witness it.”

  Garrett released her and started to pace about. He always did it when agitated. Nothing had changed there. “You’ve seen others in this condition? Did they recover?”

  “Yes. The vast majority have stayed off the opium. I have great hopes for Aidan. He is a Wollstonecraft, after all. He will come through this, I’m certain.”

 

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