A movement caught Grace’s eye, and she was no longer distracted by the view. She knew it was him even though he had a hat pulled low over his face. No one else had that build; no one else made her pulse race at the sight of him; she started to walk towards the figure. He might be wonderful to look at, but it did not lessen the increasing feeling of anger she felt at his appearance.
He looked to be weeding an area near the lake and did not acknowledge Grace’s approach. She knew he had seen her; his posture had stiffened, but she continued towards him. She would not be intimidated by his unwelcoming actions.
Harry noticed her almost as soon as she walked through the archway. He would normally have been proud at the expression of awe on her face, but today he forced himself to avoid her, so her presence made him turn away from her and carry on with his work.
He should have known she would seek him out, but he had tried to avoid meeting her. The thought of her climbing into the carriage on Saturday and the subsequent conversation with the head staff had bought home that he was playing a dangerous game that he needed to stop.
Grace stopped when she reached his side. “You promised we could work together,” she said quickly, not being able to stop the disappointment sounding in her voice.
Harry closed his eyes and sighed before turning towards her. “I thought it best.”
“Best for whom?” Grace asked.
“Best for us both. I have a job to do,” Harry responded harshly. He noticed the immediate flush on Grace’s face but ignored it.
“And I thought I could help,” Grace said.
“I needed to do something else; I have other priorities,” he said, his tone not changing.
Grace looked into Harry’s eyes; he looked nothing like the man she had enjoyed an afternoon with only a few days ago. She was not aware of what had happened to affect the change, but she was not going to lose her contact with him or the gardens without a fight. “I could still work,” she insisted. “I thought you were ill.”
Harry’s chest tightened at her words. No one worried about him, but her frown betrayed the concern she had felt. “I’m fine,” he responded. “I need to get on.”
“Can I help tomorrow?” Grace asked. She would put off Mr Workman if she had to; she needed to be near Harry. The feelings surprised her; it was no longer about being in the garden but about being with him. The feelings of panic at the thought of not being able to work with him, being comfortable with him, nearly overwhelmed her.
“No.”
“Why not?” she demanded. She could stamp her foot in frustration at his attitude.
“This isn’t a game!” Harry snapped. “Do you want me to neglect my work until you tire at playing at gardeners? I have a job to do, and I intend doing it; now run along and leave me alone!”
Grace flinched at Harry’s words and cursed the tears that sprang into her eyes. “I never thought it was a game,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. It was wrong the way she was putting a member of staff under so much pressure; she knew she was abusing her position, but she could not stop herself. She had to be able to help; she had to be able to be with him.
Harry gripped the fork he was holding; he had never felt so much like a beast in his life, but he had to maintain it for both their sakes. “Go back to the hall, Miss Johnson,” he said, but his tone was gentler.
Grace could not speak. She looked at Harry, seeing the firm set of his lips and the deep frown over his thunderous eyes. She turned and started to walk away. As soon as she was no longer facing him, her tears fell. She was not made of stern stuff like her sisters; she was the gentle one and, although she could be strong, she was no expert in dealing with such intense emotions that were completely new to her and causing turmoil by coursing through her body.
For the first moments she walked she wallowed in self-pity, but then anger started to bubble to the surface. She did not deserve to be treated in such a way: she had always been polite in her requests; she had only wanted to help him never get in the way or cause delays. She was experienced enough that he would not have to redo work he would task her; her experience meant she could help, only he was pushing her away. Grace paused; she was not finished here.
Grace turned and faced Harry: it did not matter that her face was tear-stained; she was going to say what she felt. Probably for the first time in her life she would not worry about the consequences. “You are not the man I thought you were,” she started, putting her hands on her hips. “You have used me ill and just expect to cast me aside when you aren’t in the mood; well I won’t have it!”
In other circumstances Harry would have laughed at her outburst, but he was being torn apart inside at the expression on her face and the tears visible on her cheeks. He sighed; she did deserve some sort of explanation, but he could not tell her the truth. “I apologise, but I cannot change who I am.” Little did Grace realise there was a lot of meaning in those words.
“I need to help in a garden,” Grace said, her anger subsiding. “I am happiest when I am surrounded by plants. Please let me help.”
Harry groaned in frustration, “Why will you not listen?” he said. “It isn’t appropriate.”
Grace flared up again. “Who are you to say what is appropriate for me and what isn’t? How dare you or anyone else dictate what is in my best interests!”
Harry became angry. “You’d better get used to people telling you what to do! If your hoity toity friends get wind of your spending time with the likes of me, they will soon have something to say about it. The rumour is you are here to find a husband, so you’d better focus your attention on that; you won’t find one in amongst the Sweet Williams!”
Grace blinked; for the first time something struck her. She had done exactly that: she had found the husband she wanted among the Sweet Williams, and now he was trying to push her away. She loved him. Without a doubt she knew it. She had probably known it for days but had not acknowledged it. How could she openly acknowledge something that would have her father pulling his hair out? Harry was about as far from a titled gentleman as she could get. It was ridiculous; there is no way anyone would accept her feelings for the Head Gardener, but it was true. It had happened quickly, she acknowledged; but she knew without a doubt he was the perfect man for her. No matter what happened or what uproar it caused, he was the man she wanted.
What his feelings were she was not so sure, but she needed to know. She took a breath; she needed to find out, and she needed to do it now. Waiting would mean her courage would desert her. Grace stepped towards him, reacting to instinct. If she was wrong, the level of embarrassment she would feel would result in her begging Rosalind to send her away.
“A husband,” she said, slowly approaching Harry, a small smile on her face. “I’d like to find a husband,” she continued, with Harry warily watching her every move. “I want one who loves me for who I am; I want one who will work alongside me, who I will feel happy and safe with. Do you know anyone like that?” she asked. She stopped in front of him, watching him closely.
Harry felt his throat go dry; all he could do was shake his head. No, he did not know anyone she described.
Grace smiled again and stepped forward, so she was closer to Harry. He was standing very still, watching her like a rabbit watches a fox. “That’s a pity; I was hoping you knew of exactly who I’m referring to,” she said, allowing her fingers to trail along his arm. She flushed deep red, but her natural embarrassment did not stop her.
Grace looked up at Harry’s face, and her heart lifted when she saw that his eyes were closed and his chin set, his jaw covering gritted teeth. “Nothing to say Harry?” she asked, pushing him for a response while hoping that her ploy would not backfire. She had never been close to anyone in such a way before let alone thrown herself at someone as she was doing; if he rejected her, she had no idea how she would recover.
Harry breathed deeply. He would never have imagined such a graceful, gentle creature could openly torture him. He had to gain control
. “Please don’t do this,” he whispered.
Grace stepped forward until she was almost touching him. He was so much taller than she, but she raised herself on her toes, so her breath would be felt on his cheek. “Do you really want me to stop, Harry Long?” she asked, her voice as quiet as the breeze.
Harry nodded without opening his eyes; he knew if he did he would be lost. He was barely keeping control now. “Please don’t do this,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “I need you to leave and return to the Hall. I want you to go now.”
Grace faltered, but then gave one last push; for years afterwards she would blush at the thoughts of what she had done, but he was the man she had fallen in love with so quickly and hard it almost took her breath away. She had to act or regret it for the rest of her life. “I don’t believe you,” she whispered. “I think you like me as much as I like you; in fact, I think you want to take me in your arms and kiss me.”
Grace could not have uttered another word if she had wanted to. As she said the words ‘kiss me’, she was scooped into his arms and his mouth was on hers. If she had been expecting gentle kisses, she did not betray her surprise. She had pushed him beyond gentle; his mouth was hungry, desperate to take hers, and he did.
She wrapped her arms around his neck: she did not need to do it for support; he had lifted her off her feet, but she wanted to feel him even closer. She knocked the hat off his head and buried her hands in his hair. He groaned and she pulled tightly, enjoying the resulting deepening kiss.
Harry was lost; he had never kissed anyone with such force or passion in his life. He should have treated her like the lady she was, but he would have exploded if he had not have been able to kiss her as if she were his. Her bonnet was discarded; he ripped the pins from her hair and, all the time, she returned his kisses.
Eventually Harry slowed his kisses and pulled away slightly from Grace. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t ever say that,” Grace said quietly. “Not about kissing me anyway.”
“I should have been stronger; I should have sent you away,” Harry said, slowly releasing her.
“No!” Grace said, clinging to his neck. “I will not let you spoil this moment, Harry! I have never behaved so brazenly, but I will never regret it.”
Harry groaned. “You are not brazen; it is my fault. I encouraged you when I should have stopped it all sooner. We cannot do this.”
Grace kissed him on the lips, but he did not respond. “It is my fault, and I feel very bad; I need you to make me feel better,” she teased, kissing him between every word.
Harry closed his eyes, “Grace, you don’t know what you’re saying; you don’t realise what we are risking,” he groaned out.
Grace paused: it was the first time he had used her name; she pushed his words aside. “Say that again,” she said.
“Say what?” Harry asked, opening his eyes and looking at hers, which was a mistake. Her green eyes were sparkling, and her hair was in gorgeous disarray, framing her face.
“Say my name,” she whispered.
“Grace,” Harry said, his voice hoarse; he was unable to resist her.
Grace smiled. “It sounds special when you say it,” she said with a blush.
“You are special,” Harry said.
“I feel different with you; I don’t feel reserved and uncomfortable when I’m in your company. You make me feel as if I can do anything,” she said. It was true: he might be only a gardener in most people’s eyes, but he had treated her in a way she wanted to enjoy from that day forward. His background would never trouble her; she would just have to think of a way to convince everyone else to trust her judgement.
“With the determination and anger you faced me with today, I have no doubt you can,” Harry said with some amusement.
“Harry?” Grace said.
“Yes?”
“Shut up and kiss me,” Grace said and pulled her arms tighter around his neck.
Harry needed no further encouragement. He knew he was doing wrong; he knew it would have to end, but just at that moment he wanted to enjoy her. His kisses this time were gentler, more exploring, and he was encouraged when Grace moaned against his lips.
Eventually he released her. “Grace, we do have to stop,” he said, more in control. “We are in a wide open space; if anyone sees us, you are ruined, and I am cast off.”
“They wouldn’t cast you off!” Grace said with indignation.
“Of course, they would,” Harry responded, but his tone was resigned rather than angry.
“Come with me!” Grace commanded, bending to pick up her bonnet, which had been knocked off as unceremoniously as Harry’s hat and then grasped his hand. They might not be behaving appropriately, but she would never risk Harry losing his livelihood.
Harry shook his head; he really was playing with fire, but he bent to collect his own hat and left the fork at the side of the lake to follow Grace up the incline.
She walked through the archway that led into the orchard area and walked to the far end away from both the entrance archways. The edge of the orchard led onto fields, with a boundary of rough grass separating the two areas. Grace stopped when she was at the corner of the hedge and sat down amongst the rough area.
“What are you doing?” Harry demanded.
“Making sure we aren’t seen,” Grace said, looking at him with a coy smile. “I don’t want to return to the hall just yet.”
Harry groaned but sat down, wrapping his arm around Grace and lifting her onto his knees. He did not wish her to get dirty. “We can’t do this, you know,” he said, gently chastising while at the same time feeling the happiest he had ever felt. She wrapped her arms around his neck once more, her nose touching his, and he could look deep into her eyes. He did nothing to help his resolve, which faltered each time she looked at him with her sparkling eyes and smile that seemed to light up her face.
Grace smiled, “But what if we want to?” she asked.
“Grace you are an intelligent young woman,” Harry said with a frown. “Everyone is aware you are here to marry a title; you should not be spending time with me. I don’t want to be the one who ruins your chances of a good marriage.”
“I never sought a title,” Grace said quietly, although she could not discard the knowledge she would be expected to marry higher than a gardener.
“You are expected to; everyone knows it,” Harry insisted.
“I wish people would stop trying to arrange things for me! No one ever asks what I want! It doesn’t matter what the subject is: I’m just expected to accept whatever has been decided for me without complaint,” Grace said indignantly. “Well this time, I know exactly what I want and that is to be with you and more than that, I want to be kissed by you.”
Harry chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest. “In that case, who am I to argue?” He should have done the decent thing and let her go, but he could not resist her. She was a mixture of shy charm and fiery anger; he supposed not many people saw that in her. Later he would worry about what they were doing; for now he was going to enjoy her kisses.
Chapter 9
Grace awoke with a smile the morning after her kisses with Harry. She had only returned to the hall when it was obvious that any longer away from his staff and Harry’s absence would be commented on. She had forced a promise out of him that he would meet her in the rose garden before breakfast.
She sat up in bed; there was no time for delay if she was to return to the house before she normally breakfasted. Grace paused when she saw the vase of flowers placed on her dressing table. She did not know how he managed it, but there was a fresh spray of flowers: Dianthus of course. They were a mixture of pinks, some being as deep as the blush that spread across Grace’s face as she thought of the man who had taken the trouble to arrange something so special for her.
Grace quietly stepped down the stairs; there were staff about as always, but she wanted to leave the property without drawing unnecessary attention to herself. Following the line
of the house, she hurried through the gardens until she reached the Rose Garden. Her heart-rate increased; she did not think he would let her down a second time, but she could not avoid the truth that she had persisted until he had finally agreed he would meet her. Harry had been reluctant, voicing his fears, but she had kissed him into submission. There was always the worry that, once he left her, his sense of doing the right thing might have returned, resulting in him not meeting her as agreed.
She wandered along the pathways in the rose garden until she reached the most secluded path and breathed a sigh of relief. He was there. She smiled to herself; he might have been meeting her for a clandestine rendezvous, but he was still tending to his plants.
Grace paused; she knew without a doubt what she wanted: it had struck her yesterday like nothing else ever had. She had acted in ways that would make her blush for weeks to come but, although she knew he liked her, she was still lacking in confidence in approaching him. She did not have the fire of anger to make her act as she had done yesterday, so her natural reserve came to the fore.
Harry turned; he had been listening out for her: he was always listening out for her. He saw her falter, her slight smile showing her nervousness. He placed his shears down and took one step towards her. “Good morning, beautiful,” he said quietly with a smile that lit his eyes.
It was the encouragement Grace needed, and she ran into his arms, laughing quietly. “You came,” she said, after welcoming him with kisses.
“Of course,” Harry said. He did not mention the tossing and turning he had undergone throughout the whole of the night, trying to convince himself to stay away whilst at the same time longing to be with her. As the day dawned he finally accepted she was worth the risk of losing his livelihood, his home and probably his good name.
Eventually, when they parted, Grace pulled Harry to one of the benches. It was secluded and meant they would not be seen by anyone passing through on the main pathway. “How long can I delay you?” she asked, fully aware he had responsibilities.
Grace: A Regency Romance (The Four Sisters' Series Book 3) Page 9