"Now, Celia," said charles, " you know we've been through this difference of opinion many times before. No need to subject our guest to it. I see you and Christie have moved to a first-name basis, Randall. That's excellent. We've never been overly fond of too much ceremony here at Windreach. You must call me Charles, and I presume I may address you as Garrett?"
"Garrett it is, Charles and I should be pleased if your charming sister would also address me so, though I'm afraid my upbringing commands me to limit the return of familiarity I bear her to "Miss Celia" - if that is acceptable to you, dear lady?" said Garrett, flashing the spinster an utterly charming smile.
The effect on Aunt Celia was immediate. Christie had never seen her beam with such complete approval. It was clear that, with only a few words and a smile, he had completely captivated the old girl. Christie shook with contained anger. In the space of a few minutes he had dispensed with the formal barrier she tried to keep erect between them, countermanding her known wishes under her family's nose. Oh but Christie had some choice words for him, if and when they might ever find themselves alone together again. She ached to tell him a thing or two and wipe that smug grin right off his handsome face! But right now, to preserve decorum, she could only smile benignly as she spoke, forcing the syllables of his first name as she addressed him.
"You might also be interested to know ... Garrett.... that in order to sit astride a horse, I long ago took to the wearing of boy's breeches. I take it that doesnt shock you either?"
Garrett's grin was maddening as he replied, " Why, not at all, Christie. I imagine it might even afford you considerable protection to go out riding unescorted, should you so choose. Disguised as a lad, you would be infinitely safer, I'd guess. Am I right? Do you venture forth on solitary rides in safety?"
"Yes, of course." said Christie, throwing him a menacing glance. "But here, within the boundaries of Windreach, I have little to fear. The plantation is well-known in the environs and few dare to trespass without permission. Occasionally, one needs to be careful of wild beasts, though. Why, only this morning, Thunder and I ran into one of the most dangerous predators we've ever seen," she continued, sipping her wine causally. "No harm came to us, though. As with most wild things, its roar was worse than its bite."
"Christie," said Charles, " what sort of animal was it? You never mentioned ....."
"It wasnt worth mentioning, father. As you can plainly see, I am safely here, in a single piece, no different than when I rode forth. As for the nature of the beast, suffice it to say it was one I had never seen before, large and ferocious to look upon, but hardly worth my care in identifying more closely."
She cast Garrett her sweetest smile. Then, looking about to find the dinner nearing completion, she added, " I'm finding it a bit warm and stuffy in here, Father. May I suggest we have the coffee and sweets served out on the terrace where the air is cool?"
"A superb idea!" answered Charles. "Celia, would you be so kind as to inform Langston of our change of plans? Christie, show Garrett to the terrace while I fetch some of those new cigars my tobacconist made for me - from our own tobacco, Garrett. I noticed you indulge in the habit. Would you care to try one? I assure you, they are excellent."
Garrett had risen from the table, following his host's lead and was taking Christie's arm.
"It would be my pleasure, Charles. Shall we find the terrace, Christie?"
Nodding, Christie suddenly found her heart thumping as she walked with him beside her. Tall though she was, he towered above her, and there was something about his nearness that stole away all her confidence of moments before and caused danger signals to go off in her brain. What was wrong with her? Only a short while ago, she was wishing for this very opportunity , to be alone with him so she might tell him off properly, and now the very thought of being alone with this man set off wild spasms of giddy apprehension. She swallowed hard to dismiss a particular image from her mind, for she had just - once again- imagined briefly how his arms had felt about her this morning. Oh, damn! Who was he to cause this behavior in her?
On the terrace, she found the cooler air an aid in recollecting her wits as she turned to face him.
"Garrett, indeed! "Christie, indeed!" "Charles" "Miss Celia" oh, of all the arrogant, insufferable gall! Who do you think you are, taking over this way?" she fumed at him. Turquoise eyes smoldered to a deep sea green in her anger. "All right then, Garrett! I can tell you my mind lust as easily on a first-name level. If you dont stop harassing me with your ill-conceived ideas of humor - at my expense - I'll ...
"You'll what?" Garrett queried in a half-mocking, half-menacing tone. "Call your father? You forget, sweet, it is as his invited guest that I am here. Now, you wouldnt want to trouble dear Daddy, would you, Christie darling?"
"Garrett Randall, it is quite obvious that my father is unaware of the true nature of the womanizing scoundrel he has mistakenly invited to his home, and business or no business, I intend to see that he soon finds out and when he does, we'll have seen the last of you, sir!"
"And just what will you tell him, my dear? That I'm someone you - uh - ran into while out riding and that you just happen to know I find you desirable as a woman, that you've already felt my arms around you while your lovely warm body almost yielded to my ...."
A soft shriek escaped coral lips as Christie raised her hand to strike him but a hand with an iron grip forestalled the action, bringing her raised arm swiftly down to her side while his other arm caught her to him in what, to Christie's dismay, was now threatening to become a familiar posture. For the second time that day, she found herself enveloped in this man's overpowering embrace. She again felt his hard mouth covering her own as he wasted little time in using his tongue to explore its virginal recesses.
Frantically, she struggled against him, but again in vain. Then, suddenly, she began to feel his hand moving softly up and down her back and shockingly, over her buttocks, and while he pinned her own straining arms to her sides, his hand caressed her heaving breasts. This shot a hot current through Christie. She felt a curious sensation in her loins and suddenly her whole body felt on fire. Furthermore, and to her complete despair, she suddenly felt she didnt want him to stop. With a moan, her arms went limp, no longer struggling and when he released his hold on them, they stole up around his neck.
It was then that he released her mouth, and looking directly into her mesmerized eyes, he whispered hoarsely to her "And how will you tell him of your own desires, dear Christie? I've found you woman enough to have them now, but are you woman enough to handle them?"
Just then, footsteps were heard coming from the drawing room, and Christie tore herself away from him and frantically sought to compose herself.
"Ah, here we are, Garrett. Sorry I took so long but I found I had mislaid these beauties, and Celia had to help me find them," said Charles. "Oh, my sister asks that you excuse her for the remainder of the evening. She's weary from an unusually full day and has retired early."
In a low voice whose shakiness only Garrett noticed, Christie returned, " That was probably an excellent idea Aunt Celia had, Father. I'm afraid I find myself no less exhausted than she this evening. It must be all the fuss we've been involved in to ready things for the ball. Please make my apologies to the servants for not staying for the coffee and sweets. I, too, would like to retire early. If you will excuse me, Garrett?" She threw him a complex look that was part venom, part bewilderment, and part fright. Then, kissing Charles gently on the cheek, she bade them both a good night.
Chapter Four
Reaching the haven of her bedchamber, Christie paused for a moment, leaning against the door she had just closed hastily behind her. There, in the darkness, she closed her eyes and tried to still the trembling that possessed her whole body.
"Oh God." she thought, "he's the most awful, detestable man I've ever met. taking advantage of me like that - the liberties he - " But she couldnt finish because as she thought the words, she suddenly r
ealized it wasnt Garrett Randall's actions themselves, which so troubled her; it was her own disturbing sensations that he engendered, the treacherous way her body, even now reacted when she thought of those big, broad arms holding her, that magnificent mouth taking hers. She was frightened of teh responding desire she now knew herself capable of as she continued to picture him making love to her half-willing body.
Such thoughts and emotions were truly new to her, for Christie was completely innocent of men. Oh, there had been the few half-stolen pecks on her cheeks and lips on the occasion of her seventeenth birthday party - Bruce Carlton and Beau Richardson having been the chief instigators, followed by several other brash young hopefuls she found buzzing around her lately; but Christie's interest in the opposite gender in no way extended to these lads, for she was accustomed to the company of men - men such as her father and Barnaby Rutledge and Timothy Ryan, the taciturn old Irishman who was her father's head groom and trainer - mature men who had something to say beyond idle conversation when a woman talked with them. Such men, when they were presented with her sweet young company, treated her as if she had something to offer besides her curving body and stunning face. But Garrett Randall represented an entirely new equation where men were concerned. How did
he come to wreak such devastating havoc on her?
Suddenly, she moved to light some of the candles in the sconces and candelabra in the room and then proceeded to do something she had done only once before, and that had been several years ago. First, she began to remove her clothes, a difficult task without Merrie's help. Then, stripped down to only her thin chemise, she opened the wardrobe and stood before the full-length mirror inside it.
She was, as Aunt Margaret was fond of reminding everyone, "tall for a woman," some five feet, seven inches in all. A good measure of her height had always belonged to long coltish which, before they developed into the well-shaped limbs she now examined, had at one point threatened to pose an ever-lengthening, gawky threat to her achieving the grateful proportions regarded as comely in a woman.
Her thoughts drifted back to the time when she was fifteen or so, when she had surreptitiously studied her scantily clad, leggy shape in the long, oval mirror in her mother's old bedroom, sneaking in there after her morning bath; then too, she had been wearing only a chemise, hastily donned when Almeira had been called downstairs after helping her from the brass tub. Almeira would never have countenanced a young lady of that age studying herself half-naked in a mirror; such unseemly and wanton vanity would be felt by her strong Celtic mores to have been highly improper, if not indecent. So Christie had stolen the brief respite from Almeira's ever watchful eyes to run to Jennifer's old room to survey herself in the magnificent gilt-framed glass there. The act had been half-impulse, half-planned, for only the days before, she had overheard Aunt Celia mention to her father at breakfast, her concern over his daughter's mushrooming height.
Only fifteen and already a head taller than all the other young ladies we know. I tell you, Charles, it worries me. How's she ever to catch a husband if she towers over all the young men who might come to call? And those legs! I mean, it's going to be a miracle if she turns out looking like anything at all."
At this, her father replied, "My dear Celia, we could have guessed she'd be a lanky one ... I, myself, am six feet, two inches without my boots and Jennifer was not a short woman and she had the longest, loveliest legs in the county ...."
He had broken off here as Christie had burst into the room, exclaiming , "Good morning, Father, Aunt Celia.. I'm starving."
This remark had resulted in yet another worried sigh from her aunt, who also felt her niece had an appetite one could hardly call ladylike! Christie had then commenced to demonstrate this in no small way, methodically heaping several delicious looking morsels on her plate, all the while pretending an absorbing interest in the food to avoid giving either of her table companions any indication she'd heard what had been said about her appearance. but she had heard it, and it had suddenly caused a concerned frown to mar her normally smooth brow.
"Too tall to catch a husband! What if Aunt Celia had been right?" she had wondered. Not that Christie had been about to worry herself over the marriage game frenzy she had noticed was a mainstay of activity among her cousins, Melissa and Belinda, and all the other young ladies she knew who were about her age. She had already regarded the artful male-attracting behavior of those females and their mothers as something in which she would never take part. There were some small advantages to being raised without a mother; and lacking the live-in presence of an older female to worry and cluck over her marriageable qualities, she had been unprepared for Aunt Celia's remarks and their sudden effect on her. Not being able to "catch a husband" was one thing, that state of affairs called marriage being, in her view at the time, years away, but the idea of being inherently unattractive! This was a newly disturbing notion, and she had wondered why it should suddenly concern her when she had never troubled herself about her looks before.
So it had been with such thoughts in mind, then that she had taken the opportunity the following morning, to appraise herself in the long mirror. What she had found there, was indeed unsettling. Her eyes, which had always seemed a trifle too large for the rest of her face, dominated her features. Her mouth, perhaps wider than classical perfection would have it, lent her an aura of sensuality, which was in no way in keeping with her nature at that age, but which held the promise of one day spelling trouble in the message it could communicate to any man who looked at her. Her small, well-defined chin completed the facial image reflected back at her that day. A heavy, tumbling mass of sun-streaked hair, inherited by the way of her mother's Saxon ancestors, framed her features. She remembered feeling her father right in stating it was a beautiful face, not in any adherence to common standards of beauty, but in the way Charles had once said it commanded the onlooker to take notice of a certain near-wildness and individuality, instantly communicating the ethereally unusual. At the least, there was a regal bearing there, combined with a haunting allure that seemed at total odds with the rest of what she had so carefully scrutinized in that moment.
The frame on which her head rested was indeed ... different. Beginning with her long, tapered neck, her eyes had moved on to inspect overly slim arms, a thin bony torso, and a pair of legs ever so long and lean. The body she had then found herself examining had been nothing like the one she had chanced to glimpse in prior years when she had caught her reflections in some woodland pool or stream while out riding Thunder. When, she asked, had all those extra inches been added? Why, if it had not been for the tiny waist which was indented sharply between a too-narrow chest and appallingly skinny hips, she'd have had no shape at all. It was all straight up and down. The slightly budding breasts which peeped out from beneath the thin fabric of her chemise were of no help, although they had just begun to form and might be expected to become fuller in time. But the rest! Was there no remedy, she had thought, for all those planes and angles?
The sounds of Almeira returning upstairs has sent her scurrying back to her own room, but not before uttering quick maiden's prayer that somehow she might grow some curves. Not for snaring a husband, that couldnt have concerned her less ... but for her! She had grown up with the knowledge that her mother had been the most beautiful woman in Virginia ... everyone always said so ... and she had all long just naturally assumed that she would be beautiful like her, too, one day. It had been a comforting notion that a small female child had taken to sleep with her at night all those long, lonely years of childhood when most of the other comforts of having a mother had been so sorely missed. She might not have had a mother's presence as other girls had, but she had a mother's legacy of beauty to look forward to, hadnt she? Oh, why had Father to be so tall?
But now, as she stood before her wardrobe mirror, Christie knew her adolescent worries about her figure had been unnecessary. Slowly, she slipped her chemise over her head and looked at her nude body. A still-slend
er form now supported the alluring curves of a perfectly shaped woman. Her always narrow waist now seemed even tinier in comparison with the curved roundness of breasts which were high and firm; and below the waist a pair of slenderly curved hips gave way to a set of long stemmed, shapely legs, entirely graceful, no longer gawky. It was a body to tempt any man, and Garrett Randall couldnt be blamed for responding more readily than most. What she had hoped to gain some insight into, however, was the reason for this body's reaction when she had been near Randall. Something had too account for the very definite physical responses he had aroused. Shouldnt there be some visible physical evidence of what had caused her to feel that way? But as much as she examined her image in the mirror, no answers came. So she climbed back into her chemise, and blowing out the lights, crept quietly to bed and went to sleep.
Chapter Five
Mid afternoon, a few days later, Christie found herself saddled with a social obligation she had been unable to avoid. Shortly after the noon meal, as she had been about to change her clothes to go riding, Langston had announced the arrival of "some young people for Miss Christie." Asking him to show them to the terrace, Christie had grabbed the piece of embroidery she had been working on for the past six months ..."playing with" ... might have been a more apt phrase, for it was a piece Aunt Celia could have finished easily in a weekend ... and hurried out to greet her guests.
On the terrace, she found Rebecca and Aaron Kingsley, their cousin Bruce Carlton and Beau Richardson, all dressed in riding attire.
"Ah, here she come!" said Bruce, rushing to take her hand as she stepped through the doors. "Looking more beautiful than ever, I might add."
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