by Rose Gordon
Suddenly Andrew’s bewildered face turned to one of pain, as if he’d been sucker punched. “And if the gossip were true?” he choked out.
Brooke’s eyes narrowed. Did he even know what she’d heard? How much of that gossip was he trying to own up to? Even if what she'd heard was true and he technically was a bastard, did any of it really matter to her? True, she had decided earlier she was going to stop at nothing (or nearly nothing, for the time being) to win a marriage proposal, and accept, naturally, which would then lump her into the gossip, but did any of these claims really change her true feelings for him?
In a split-second she had her answer. No, none of what she heard last night would change her opinion of him. She didn’t care about his mother’s activities. Whether she’s a recluse or a woman of ill repute, it mattered naught to her. She’d learned in her short time in England that a lot of women kept company with men who were not their husbands. Did it truly matter anymore how wild his father had been? He was dead now. As for Andrew’s schooldays, they were of no account to her.
Brooke locked her eyes with Andrew’s. “Even if what I heard last night were true, I have no call to change my previous opinions.”
Andrew looked relieved, but only momentarily. Then his face took on a grim look and white lines formed around his mouth. “Then you must not have heard it all,” he said dully.
“I heard plenty of damning gossip,” she snapped, trying not to smile at Andrew’s look of surprise at her word choice.
He quickly recovered his features. “May I ask what you heard?”
“You may ask,” Brooke said sweetly, “but I shan't tell you.”
Andrew’s face turned a fraction darker, which caused Brooke’s smile to dim. Glancing at the watch pinned to her bodice, she said, “You have exactly one minute to clear up whatever you think you must. After that, I shall never speak of this again.”
Before Brooke knew what was happening, Andrew started talking at breakneck speed. “My parents had a spat soon after their wedding. I don’t know why. It ended up with him packing her away in Essex to a country estate he owned. Nine months later I was born. Some question my parentage because of his absence, including at times my father. I don’t believe there is a question. I look identical to him at this age.
“My parents never reunited, nor did my mother ever have any other children. My father was a drunkard and a gambler, who died in a duel eight years ago. My mother became a recluse, she comes to London rarely and our relationship is strained at best.”
Andrew’s face took on a contemplative look as if didn’t know what to say about his relationship with his mother. With a shake of his head he muttered, “I guess you’ll hear this at some point anyway. The reason for our strained relationship is we had depended on each other so greatly when I was young. However, when I started school and I was mocked because of her past and our close relationship, I decided to cut all ties with her in order to have an easier time.”
Brooke nodded. All of this she’d heard about, but his explanations made sense. Every last one of them. “I heard those rumors last night, however, your detailed explanations, or at least the ones you were able to spew in sixty seconds, makes the rumors pale in my mind.”
“You don’t care about any of it?” Andrew asked uncertainly.
“Not one whit,” she said with a simple smile.
Chapter 20
Andrew felt relieved and on edge at the same time at hearing Brooke’s words. She wasn’t going to render their relationship void because of some trivial, and if he said so himself irrelevant, gossip. Some London Ladies would run screaming as fast as their slippers would carry them at just the hint of gossip, but not his Brooke, she didn’t turn a hair.
At the same time, unease was quickly creeping in. She wasn’t going to let gossip taint their relationship, but he was going to singlehandedly destroy it within the next few days.
After finding what he considered the perfect picnic spot, Andrew stopped his horse and dismounted. “I should think this spot will do for our purpose,” he said, looking around.
The spot he’d chosen overlooked a small lake, actually it was more of a large pond, but that wasn’t important. A few surrounding trees that offered both shade and seclusion. The area where the picnic blanket would be laid was made of a thick green carpet of grass. It would be absolutely perfect for eating and maybe a few other activities…
His mind snapped back to present when he heard Brooke clear her throat. “Right,” Andrew clipped. He walked over to where Brooke was still seated on her horse and reached his hand up to help her down.
“Thank you, my lord. I began to despair that I was going to have to sit upon Bluebell and eat her oats with her while you enjoyed our picnic alone.” Her voice was light and full of humor.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I was just scouting out the best place for our picnic and it slipped my mind that you were waiting.” That sounded lame even to his ears.
“It’s all right,” Brooke assured him. “I just have a feeling that what’s in there,” she said, pointing to the picnic hamper that Andrew had taken off his horse and was now holding, “is better than what’s in there,” she pointed to the saddlebag where Bluebell’s apples and oats sat.
“I assure you, what’s in here is much better,” Andrew said, giving the hamper a little swing. “Shall we?”
“Yes,” Brooke affirmed, then placed her hand on his proffered arm.
Andrew laid out the blanket and made sure to position it the best he could to be out of view for anyone who might happen by. He intended to ruin her, but he didn’t want to do it today.
Once the blanket was in perfect location, Andrew began to unpack the hamper. He pulled out two cheese wheels, some bread, strawberries, a few pieces of chicken, a bottle of lemonade and two glasses. Finally, the hamper was emptied and he looked to Brooke to take a seat, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking around her surroundings.
He knew what she saw: a little area that had a wall of trees on three sides, and only a little grassy stretch then the banks of the lake, pond, or whatever, on the fourth side. They were so secluded even their horses couldn’t see them. Andrew thought she might panic. “If this won’t do, we can move,” he offered, hoping she would refuse.
“No,” Brooke said breathlessly. “I have no objections to where we eat. I was just admiring the beauty of it.” She waved her hand to indicate that she was taken with all her surroundings.
What a relief, Andrew thought. He did not want to move, this was the perfect spot to steal a few kisses, and he was looking forward to stealing as many as he could. He might even try to do more than just steal a few paltry kisses if she’d let him. He’d like to run his hands through her hair again, or perhaps somewhere else, too.
Andrew forced his mind away from such lustful thoughts before his body gave him away. First, he needed to get her to sit down. “Would you like to take a seat,” he invited, patting a spot on the blanket right next to him.
Brooke took a seat next to him. But not too close, he noted. That could be fixed. He smiled at her when she stiffed because he scooted so close to her their thighs were touching.
“Can I interest you in some chicken?” he asked, reaching behind them to grab two pieces of chicken.
“Thank you,” she replied automatically and licked her lips, but didn’t reach out to grab one of the offered pieces.
Andrew registered her reluctance. “It’s just us; you don’t have to be so formal as to cut it.”
Her face lit up and he let out a little chuckle accompanied by a wide grin. When Brooke grabbed the piece of chicken and bit a huge chunk out of it, Andrew let out a shout of laughter and shook his head. “You’re something else.”
“I have no idea if that is an insult or a compliment, coming from you I shall assume the worst,” she managed in between bites of chicken, “but I forgive you,”
“Have no fear; it was not an insult in the least,” Andrew said jovially. “I would
be afraid to insult a woman who can tear apart a piece of chicken so savagely. It’s no longer a mystery to me as to why the colonies won their independence. If the country is full of people like you, England never stood a chance.”
Brooke laughed. “No, the real reason England lost is it was too hard for their soldiers to shoot straight with their vision impaired by their wig powder and spiky hats falling in their eyes.”
Andrew laughed at her jest. He had never understood wearing a silly wig or even hair powder. He had never attempted to, and felt no shame in that. Thankfully, the trend had started going out by the time he reached his majority, however, there were still a few who felt the need to wear a wig or powder.
“You don’t powder your hair, why is that?” Brooke asked curiously.
He shrugged and took the chicken bone from her and put it by the basket. “I’ve never felt the need. Some feel that it allows them to be seen as older and wiser if their hair is white, whether naturally or because of powder. I personally, do not put much stock into that idea. And on a personal note, I find the wigs and powders to be annoying, hideous, and smell of a very foul odor.”
Brooke giggled. “A foul odor?” she asked him while she licked the chicken juice from her fingers.
“Yes, most of the powders used are held in place on the hair by fat, pig fat to be exact,” Andrew stated and took satisfaction when she curled her pretty lip. “Let’s not talk of this any longer. I hate to see how your lips react,” he said in a husky voice. “I would much rather they be used for other purposes besides sneering and curling up in disgust.”
“Oh,” Brooke said in surprise.
Andrew leaned closer to her. His face was now less than an inch from hers. He noticed she swallowed as he reached up with his right hand and ran his fingers along her jawline. Brooke’s lips parted and her eyes grew round with wonder as he continued to rub her jaw with his thumb while starting to gently massage her neck at the same time. “Does this feel good?” Andrew asked huskily.
“Yes,” she gasped in reply.
He closed that last bit of space between them and his lips took hers. He kissed her slow and gentle, taking time to enjoy the feeling of her lips on his. His left hand took hold of the other side of her face and began to touch her jaw and neck the way his right hand had.
Slowly, Andrew sought to deepen their kiss and ran his tongue along her lips until she opened her mouth. When she let out a short gasp, Andrew let his hands fall from her face and onto her shoulders, where he rubbed them in small circular motions with his thumbs.
“Is something wrong?” he panted, when she suddenly pulled away from his embrace.
Brooke’s look of confusion did not change when she said, “No.” Nor did her look change when she looked down and took notice of his hands on the front of her shoulders, with his thumbs tucked inside of the top of her gown.
“Do you want me to continue,” he asked hoarsely, praying she’d say yes.
Brooke didn’t say yes, nor did she say no, she just gave a single nod.
Before she could change her mind, Andrew took charge of her mouth again. This time it was not as gentle, it was more demanding and intense; as if he were afraid she would slip away at any minute.
Her hands grabbed onto his shoulders and slid slowly up and down his arms, inspecting every bulge and plane as they went. Her action reminded Andrew of what he wanted to do. His hands left her shoulders and went to her side. He could feel her soft body under her gown. He'd hoped she didn’t wear a corset, and was pleased to learn she didn’t. His hands slowly glided up and down her ribs several times before moving higher.
Brooke flinched and let out a little shriek. “It’s all right,” he assured her quietly. “I’ll only do what you want me to, nothing more.” The words were spoken, and he meant them now, he just hoped he could keep that promise in a few minutes.
Brooke needed no more convincing and pulled his head back down to hers. This time it was her turn to be in control of their kiss. Andrew groaned and he rolled her onto her back. He carefully ran his thumbs along the sides of her soft breasts; as she relaxed more under him, his caresses got bolder.
Andrew heard her let out an excited sigh when he ran his thumbs under and around the sides of her breasts. “Do you like that?” he asked between kisses.
“Yes, oh yes,” she breathed.
He had certainly gotten lucky with Brooke. Not only did her body respond to his, but she openly admitted to enjoying his kisses and touches.
As his lips went back to kissing hers, his hands went to work on the front of her gown. It didn't take him long to learn the bodice of her gown was too high for him to be able to free her breasts just by tugging it down. If he did, it would rip. His hands roamed while his brain tried frantically to think of another way to expose her chest to his thirsty eyes. He reached up to her shoulders and found that her sleeves were not very tight. If he were able to slip them over her shoulders and pull them down a bit, he could free her breasts.
Brooke offered no resistance when Andrew grabbed her sleeves and started pulling them down from her shoulders. She gasped when his lips left hers and began to kiss her cheeks, then her jaw, and finally down her neck and along her collarbone.
His hands were still working on getting the sleeves down and revealing her breasts, but her shoulders were bare and his lips ached to kiss them, then they did. He gave them slow, gentle, lingering, open mouth kisses.
Brooke let out a soft sigh, her head rolled back and her eyes closed.
Andrew worked her gown down far enough that given only a little jerk, her breasts would be bared for him. He moved his lips from her shoulder up to the sweet hollow of her neck. He kissed her there with an open mouth, running his tongue in the depression. When she let out a gasp and arched her back from the sensation, he gave her gown that little jerk it needed.
Andrew was torn between feeling rather proud of his maneuverings and too lust fogged to care. His eyes connected with her wonder-filled brown eyes before lowering. His gaze traveled from her eyes to her swollen ruby lips then descended to further down her body. When his gaze settled on her chest, he blinked.
Chapter 21
Brooke had been lost in the moment, so taken with Andrew’s kisses and caresses, she hardly registered that he was trying to get her gown down. Not that she was completely unaware, mind you; she did know that he had gotten her shoulders bare. Maybe she didn’t know at first, but when he started to kiss her there, she knew.
When he gave her gown a jerk though, her daze started to rapidly fade. But to be honest, his confused face complete with blinking eyes brought her all the way to reality.
Trying her best to suppress a giggle, born equally because of his confusion as much as her own mortification, she said, “I um…ah…as you can see,” She took a breath. How exactly does one say that they bind their breasts?
Andrew’s face was one of complete bewilderment. “Why on earth did you bind your breasts?” he asked flatly, without regard that he had just asked her a question about a topic no gentleman should speak to an unmarried lady about.
He's so confused his brow didn’t even arch, she thought with a smile.
Absolutely nothing on this Earth would make her tell him the real reason, which was because they were rather small, so small in fact, that even corsets that were meant to push them up did not help. At least if she bound them, she could add as much padding to them as she felt necessary with no chance of it being revealed that she stuffed or just how small they really were. She knew her mother and sisters knew she stuffed, but she desperately hoped Papa didn’t. She honestly doubted Mama and her sisters knew exactly how much of her bosom was rolled up linen though.
“Well, you see, in their natural state, my,” she gestured to her chest, not being as brave as he was to say the word, “do not quite fit this gown appropriately, so I had to bind them to make them fit.” She’d let him draw his own conclusion, and if it were the wrong one—which was likely—that was his own faul
t.
Andrew nodded. Then his face took on a bright smile that Brooke would have bet her life meant that he assumed the wrong reason for the binding.
Their eyes locked and Andrew swallowed so loudly that it sounded more like a gulp. Then wordlessly, he started running his hands along the top of her bindings.
“What are you doing?” she asked shakily, her eyes growing wide and terror starting to form in her chest.
“Removing it of course,” he said with a devilish smile.
She could tell he really meant to do it, but now she didn’t want him to. Had she not been wearing it when he tugged her gown down, she may not have cared, but now that her mind was no longer clouded by lust, she was nervous and rather embarrassed. “No,” she said quietly. “I think it would be best if we headed back.”
Andrew’s face fell, but he nodded and said, “As you wish.”
Together, they righted their clothes as best they could and packed up the picnic hamper in silence.
Andrew helped her onto her horse then mounted his own.
“I had a pleasant picnic,” Brooke said after a few minutes, trying to eliminate the uncomfortable silence that was choking them.
“So did I.”
Brooke felt the conversation had already run into a dead end. She’d hoped they could use that as a way to talk about ordinary things on the way home, but he'd not taken the bait.
After a few minutes of riding in silence, Andrew interrupted her thoughts. “How do my kisses rate?”
Brooke’s head snapped in his direction. “What are you talking about?” she asked tersely, although she had a good idea. She noticed Gateway and Andrew had spoken briefly before he came and sat next to her, but she would have never dreamed Gateway would tell Andrew about their conversation. She groaned. Of course he would, that was just Gateway’s personality. He liked to stir up as much turmoil as possible without a second thought to how it would affect anyone else. He was such a jacknapes.