He stopped walking. “Could you tell Julian this before you leave? He’s taking it rather hard.”
“Your brother?” She remembered him from the dinner. He was thirteen years older than Garrett. Had a different mother. Abbie had found him imperious and standoffish all those years ago, yet Alberta held him in high regard. “Of course, if you wish it.”
“How long are you staying?”
“It hasn’t been decided yet.”
Garrett started pacing again. “Nothing has changed. Regardless of past regrets and past lies, I still believe in the curse and still believe it best to stay clear of any romantic entanglements. I’ve managed to achieve it thus far. If you came here to see if there is still something between us, you’ve made a wasted trip.”
Blast this inflexible man! She should have known he still held to the curse. Stubborn as ever. “Alberta informed me that Riordan was married at the hall mere weeks ago. Apparently he is not as committed as you are to an old family tale of woe.”
He halted and scowled. “Woe? Try death. Generations of women. Rows and rows of tombstones. Shall I take you to the cemetery?”
“You’ve already taken me there, more than once if I recall.” Abbie stepped before him, removed her glove, and cupped his whiskered cheek with her bare hand. A roll of warmth moved through her. Garrett closed his eyes, rubbing against her palm as if savoring her touch. “Enough about death and curses, at least for today. Kiss me, Garrett. See if the spark is still there. If it is, come by Alberta’s tomorrow afternoon at one o’clock and I will prove you wrong about your curse.” He started to speak, but she shook her head. “No reply. Just kiss me.”
He was so blasted tall that he had to lean down. But he captured her mouth with his and the room, with all its trees and plants and their exotic scents, faded away. All that existed was them. The contact seared, and Garrett groaned and pulled her close, deepening the kiss.
Hungry. Desperate. On both their parts. Abbie grabbed fistfuls of his long ginger hair. As soft and silky as she remembered. His probing tongue swirled about every inch of her mouth. She gave the same in return as she slid her hands up and down his muscled arms. He was much broader and more solid than she remembered.
His large hands grasped the sides of her head, holding her still while he plunged deeper. Abbie could not stop the husky moan from leaving her throat. This was even more intense than when they were young. Garrett slid his hands down her sides, then reached behind to clutch her rear, bringing her in tight against his prominent erection. Tears shimmered in her eyes. He still wanted her. After all these years. Probably as much as she wanted him.
Garrett broke the kiss and stepped away from her, stumbling as he did. “Tomorrow, one o’clock. You can show yourself out.” With a sweep of his greatcoat, he left the orangery.
Abbie was numb, stunned into shocked silence. She wasn’t done speaking to him. Typical. The room slowly righted itself, but her heart would never recover. How bold to demand he kiss her. But she’d always been far too bold in his presence. Garrett still cast a spell over her. Still affected her. Abbie could not allow this to happen. He’s pulling me back in.
God help her, she loved him still.
Chapter 6
Garrett couldn’t continue this pattern of sporadic sleep and restless, erotic dreams. It was all because of Abbie. His well-ordered life had been upended. His emotions were a tangled mess, his heart aching with regret, but also with a stark yearning. All because of Abbie.
He admonished himself for his spineless exit from the orangery yesterday afternoon. The kiss had torn him in two, and because of it, he never got a chance to ask more questions. To find that the passage of time had not dampened his attraction for her was a harsh admission. Though Garrett had made it clear he was not interested in anything romantic between them, the kiss had proved he lied to himself. Again. He wanted her like he wanted to take his next breath. What in hell was he to do next?
Snow flurries swirled about him as he marched toward the Eatons’ residence. The cold wind whipped about his face and he pulled his wool muffler tighter about his neck to keep the stinging cold from penetrating his exposed skin. Garrett didn’t bother with a hat in most situations, but he wished he had today, since his long hair kept blowing across his line of vision.
A small gatehouse sat at the end of the small drive leading to the Eatons’ modest manor house. Along with the rest of the property, it was in a shocking state of disrepair. Garrett mentally added it to his calendar for the spring. He didn’t mind helping his neighbors, either with supplies or labor when required.
Since the sky was overcast, a beam of light reflecting through the small window of the gatehouse caught his attention. He halted. Voices. How strange. Thieves perhaps? He listened, and was shocked to hear a young woman speaking.
“One day soon we will marry, Jonas. You do know what it means?”
What in the hell? Garrett was tempted to barrel into the gatehouse, but curiosity got the better of him. Didn’t hold much with eavesdropping, but he wanted to see where this conversation was going before he responded.
“Yes. Bert was married to my brother,” Jonas replied.
“Were they happy?”
“Happy enough.”
“So will we be, I promise.” There was a pause. Then the young woman continued, her voice shaking with emotion, her tone earnest. “You are not simpleminded, Jonas. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
“But in town—”
“I don’t care what they say, all that matters is what you and I think. You do love me?”
“Yes, I do, Meg. You’re pretty and nice to me.”
“Pretty? Hardly. I’m too gangly and tall.”
“Not to me. I think you are perfect.”
A smile quirked at the corner of Garrett’s mouth. Jonas, you sly flatterer. For a young man with many emotional and intellectual limitations, he handled himself well. Confident. Sure. But who was the young woman?
“I want you to kiss me, Jonas. Not like a sister, but how a man kisses a woman. You are a full-grown man. Kiss me.”
Right. That was more than enough. It was time to put a stop to this clandestine encounter. Garrett jiggled the handle. Locked. The audacity of the young woman! She had lured poor, unsuspecting Jonas, who was too handsome for his own good, to this private spot to seduce him. Lifting his leg, Garrett gave the door a solid kick and the rusty hinges gave way. Pushing the door aside, he stepped across the threshold and found the lass sitting on Jonas’s lap, kissing him enthusiastically. Jonas, for his part, returned the kiss with equal ardor. They broke apart at Garrett’s appearance and Jonas stood, causing the girl to slump to the dirty floor. Her bonnet went askew and a ringlet of fiery red hair tumbled across her cheek.
Good God, it was the young chit that he’d seen yesterday sitting on the rock reading a book. The brazen seductress.
“Oh, sorry. Here, Meg.” Jonas grabbed her arm, hauling her to her feet while she sputtered and brushed the dust from her cloak.
The young woman was more of a girl, or somewhere between a girl and a woman. And, in Garrett’s book, she was far too young to be kissing a twenty-four-year-old man. “Who are you?” he demanded.
The lass straightened her bonnet and met his gaze. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened as if in shock. A look of fright spread across her features. What did the girl think he was going to do, harm them in some way?
When she didn’t reply, Jonas said, “Garrett, this is Meg. She’s staying with Bert and me.”
Garrett’s eyebrows knotted in puzzlement. What? No one said anything about… He looked at the flustered girl more closely. The red hair, the hazel-green eyes. Jesus. No. His stomach dropped clear to his toes at the insane direction his mind wandered. “Your name?” he barked.
“You’d best speak to my mother, Mr. Wollstonecraft,” she murmured. The girl blinked and l
ooked away, turning toward Jonas as if for comfort. In response, he placed his arm about her shoulder. And her mother had to be…Abbie. Bile rose in his throat and his head spun.
“Both of you, leave this gatehouse. At once.” He turned and ran toward the residence, his heart pounding frantically. The girl knew who he was. Damn it all, was she his? Garrett’s confused brain scrambled to do the math. If so, she’d be around fourteen, close to fifteen—far too young to be kissing a man ten years older. Red fury clouded his vision as he pounded on the front door. The housekeeper, Mrs. Claxton, opened it, but he pushed right past her. “Abbie!” he yelled, his deep voice reverberating through the hallway. “Abbie!”
She emerged from the parlor, a puzzled look on her face. “Garrett, what’s wrong—”
He clasped her elbow and dragged her back into the room, slamming the door shut with his boot. “Is. She. Mine?” His voice dripped with fury.
Abbie paled. “You’ve seen her?”
“Yes. I ask again: Is. She. Mine?” he hissed through gritted teeth.
Tears shone in Abbie’s eyes. “Yes. Megan is your daughter.”
He moaned and covered his face with his hands. My God, he had a daughter. A daughter. All these years… He’d had no idea. No inkling. His insides churned like a ship caught in a vicious storm. Megan. What a beautiful name.
“I…did not want you to find out like this. I wanted to reveal it gradually,” Abbie stuttered.
His emotions ran the gambit from agonized shock to raw anger. “How could you not tell me?” he roared.
Abbie frowned. “After the way we parted? You sent me away. Said you never wanted to see me again. I hated you. Why would I tell you? I never even told my parents who the father was. I refused. There were a lot of tears and recriminations. Our relationship to this day is strained. I haven’t seen them in years.” Abbie gulped deeply. “They made it plain they were ashamed of me. Called me a harlot and accused me of being immoral for indulging in a scandal with a sinful man. They arranged a marriage with a family acquaintance.” Her words came out in a heated, emotional rush. A tear trickled down her cheek and she dashed it away. “It was either marry Dr. Elwyn Hughes or be turned into the streets. They would have done it, as my parents are exceedingly pious.”
Garrett could not stop himself from grasping her upper arms and giving her a shake. “You should have come to me. I would have married you. Do you hear me? I would have done the right thing.” His voice rose with each word, not necessarily with anger, but with an aching pain that cut straight to his heart.
“After all you said about the curse? Not wanting anything to do with me or any woman? I had been humiliated and hurt enough. Be damned if I would show up on your doorstep only to be rejected again. I had too much pride. I still do. Yet here I am. I couldn’t stay away.” Her eyes flashed with a mixture of resentment and sadness.
Garrett learned his forehead against hers. “Damn you,” he whispered fiercely. “For upending my life. Damn you for not telling me.”
“The complete arrogance. You upended mine. Thank God Elwyn was a decent man who loved Megan as if she were his own. We decided that we would tell her about you when she turned sixteen. But then Elwyn died of a heart ailment. I thought perhaps I would never tell her. What purpose would it serve? Then you appeared in Standon.” Abbie exhaled a shaky breath. “Fate. It is fate. I knew then that you must be told. Despite the way we parted, you deserved to know.”
He pushed her away, sick to his core. “I deserved to know the moment you discovered you’d conceived. Talk about arrogance. How could you do this to us? You did not have to go through this alone.”
“I did not go through it alone. I had Elwyn. He stood by me. Besides, you made your feelings perfectly clear. The truth is that I didn’t want you in my life, nor did I wish you to be Megan’s father. Think about it: we were no more than children. We acted recklessly. Not once did we take precautions or even discuss that there could be consequences. Never did you say the words: ‘If you become pregnant, contact me.’ Not. Once. So to hell with you.”
He stared at her, surprised at how deeply the words sliced at his heart. “But you tell me now? I am to be a prisoner of your whims? To hell with you.”
Flame crackled to life in her brown eyes. She marched toward him until they were merely inches apart. Her redolent wildflower scent surrounded him, making him dizzier than he felt already. “How dare you.” She poked him in the chest as she had many years ago. “It was my body, my decision. I decided what was best for me and my unborn child. Do I marry a kind, generous, older man who promised to give a good home to me and my baby, or do I choose a stubborn, cruel, young man who cannot even acknowledge his feelings? Who clings to an ancient curse in order to keep his emotions at bay?” Her voice rose with each sentence. No doubt the entire household could hear them. “Your daughter lives. I am alive and well. No curse has taken us. We are the proof that the curse does not exist. Chew on that salient bit of truth.”
Could she be right? Damn it all, he couldn’t think straight. Clings to an ancient curse in order to keep his emotions at bay. Surely he wasn’t that much of a cruel jackass. The emotions swirling between them were suffocating. He pushed her away once again. “Stop bloody poking me. I didn’t like it then; I like it even less now.”
“It’s either that or I kick your stubborn arse,” she yelled.
The anger between them boiled with intensity. All the poisonous thoughts that they’d kept bottled up the past several years rushed out in a furious wave. “Why not slap my arrogant face as you did before? Do I not deserve it? Besides coming here to reveal the truth about my daughter, you came here to yell and rail at me. And to punish me for turning you away. To rub my face in what I’ve missed these past years.” Garrett took a step closer. “In what you have denied me.”
She crossed her arms and her frown deepened. “You think me so petty that I would come all this way to exact revenge? You do not know me at all.”
No, he didn’t know her. They had spent most of their secret meetings making love, not talking and becoming acquainted. “And you don’t know me if you believe that I would not have taken responsibility for our actions. I would have. In a heartbeat.” Christ, his eyes welled with tears. Be damned if he would shed them. “I would have loved my daughter as I loved you. I was not even given the chance.”
Abbie turned away. The anger rushed out of the room with an audible whoosh. Exhaustion took its place. It felt as if he’d been put through a wringer. No doubt Abbie experienced the same, going by the slump of her shoulders.
“Where did you see her?” Abbie asked, her voice subdued.
“I caught her and Jonas in the gatehouse, kissing. Very ardently, I may add. In actuality, I found Megan…your…our fourteen-year-old daughter—she is fourteen?” Abbie turned to face him and nodded. “I found her sitting on Jonas’s lap, kissing him far more enthusiastically than she should. He is twenty-four, and, from what I observed, reacted physically, as a young man would to a passionate kiss. It was plain to see, as he had removed his coat.”
Abbie’s hands flew to her cheeks. “Oh, no.”
“I heard the conversation. She said she loves him, that in a few years they will be married. She can’t be around him. Can’t be anywhere near him. Surely you must agree.”
A knock. The door opened and Megan peered in. She had removed her bonnet and her long red hair fell to her shoulders. Garrett stepped away from Abbie. God, his daughter. The resemblance in their physicality was stark indeed, including the eye color and abundance of freckles. But he could see Abbie there as well, in the shape of the face, the jawline, the contour of her mouth. His heart tumbled at the sight of her. “I heard yelling. Is he upsetting you, Mama?” Megan glared at him accusingly.
“The conversation became a little…emotional. I am fine. Come in, Megan. Come meet your father.”
The girl glowered at him, a m
ulish expression on her face. No doubt as stubborn as both her parents. She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. “My father died close to two years ago.” Yes. Stubborn. Already he adored her. “I am sorry, sir, but I will not call you Father.”
Garrett nodded. “I understand.” He did, but her matter-of-fact statement hurt nonetheless. “Your mother told me Dr. Hughes was a good man. I’m heartily glad he was in your life, and thankful he was your da. I certainly don’t wish to take his place, but I would like us to get to know each other.” He removed his glove and held out his hand. “I am Garrett Wollstonecraft. It is nice to meet you, Megan Hughes.”
Unshed tears glittered in Abbie’s eyes as she watched the exchange. Hell, he felt like crying as well. Megan took tentative steps toward him. He did have an imposing physical presence, and he certainly didn’t want the lass to be afraid of him. She slipped her slender hand in his. “Hello, Mr. Wollstonecraft.” Her tone was cool, but polite. Perhaps it was the best that he could hope for under the circumstances.
Garrett clasped her hand with both of his. “When you are comfortable, call me Garrett. Will you?”
She shrugged, clearly flustered. The awkwardness between them was noticeable. And because of it, it was best he made his exit. He released Megan’s hand and slipped his glove on. “I should make for home. I need to inform the family of these developments.”
“Yes, of course,” Abbie murmured.
“If you will allow, I would like to return tomorrow morning in order for us to continue our conversation.” Abbie nodded. “Then I will see you about nine o’clock.” He bowed slightly, then exited the room, though his legs trembled with each step he took.
A daughter. He had a daughter. Elation mixed with trepidation. He still could not accept the fact that Abbie never told him. Perhaps her reasons were sound. Maybe they would make sense once he wrangled control of his wayward emotions. They had parted all those years ago on a sour and bitter note. They were far too young and irresponsible. But they both were going on thirty-three years of age. Far past time to admit wrongs, and perhaps time to examine everything he had ever believed in.
Scandal with a Sinful Scot Page 7