by Cheryl Bolen
“As always, you are right, Ambrose. I cannot marry her.” Gareth sighed heavily.
“I knew you would understand. Well, I must return to Bath, but come and find me when you have returned Miss Banks to her brother.”
Helen scrambled away from the doorway and ducked around the corner, avoiding Mr. Worthing as he passed by. When he was gone, Helen exhaled slowly, her body shaking as she absorbed the depth of Gareth’s words. He was sending her home. He didn’t want her. Well, if he was going to treat her that way, she wouldn’t stay here anyway. She squared her shoulders and walked into his study.
Gareth was sitting at his desk when she came in. He glanced up briefly, the look momentarily soft before it sharpened and cooled.
“Ahh Miss Banks, I’m glad you’re here.” His tone and manner were all wrong. He hadn’t called her Helen. A heavy stone hit the pit of her stomach, echoing hard and painful. She placed a hand on her abdomen as a wave of nausea hit her like a physical blow. His coldness was more cutting and crueler than anything she could have imagined. She wanted to say his name, remind him of what they had shared. But she knew it wouldn’t matter.
“My coach will take you home tomorrow morning. I will speak to Mary. She can arrange for your new clothes and other items to return to Bath with you.”
The world began to fade at the edges, and a sharp ringing clouded Helen’s ears. She had never been the sort of woman who fainted, but at the moment, she felt perilously close to it. She knew what he was going to do, but hearing him say it hurt like nothing before had in her entire life. Helen stumbled to a nearby chair and collapsed into it. Gareth started to come over to her, but she waved him away.
“Please, do not trouble yourself.” She managed a few deep, slow breaths, mastering herself. This should be no worse than the duel…but it was, because death would have ended her fear. Now, the panic and pain would subside into an aching despair once he sent her away. She wasn’t sure how long she sat slumped in the chair before she found the energy to move. Helen stood up and looked him in the eye. How right he’d been to say love was pain. Now she understood. To love was to hurt.
“Thank you, sir, for your kindness. But I shall not trouble you further. I will not take a thing from this house which I did not bring with me. Our arrangement was the settlement of my brother’s debt. I see that after last night, you feel I have paid that account in full.” She wanted to demand that he ready the coach now. She wanted to scream, to yell, but her heart was breaking. She could almost hear it shattering like glass on stone.
She loved him. She loved Gareth Fairfax. The cold-hearted duelist had seduced her. She’d lost her virginity, her heart, and her hope in only one day as a prisoner of his paradise. The sooner she left, the better. Time would be the only remedy available to heal her, and with a sinking feeling, she worried it wouldn’t be enough.
His eyes flashed with fire. “I insist you take the clothing. They would be of no use to me.”
Shame tore through her at his words. She lashed out. “Wouldn’t they?” Let him give his next woman her clothes. She couldn’t bear to feel the silks on her skin and think of him. No, she needed never to touch them ever again.
“Just what are you implying, Helen?” Her name on his lips only fanned the flames of her anger further. Now he would call her by her name? Her hands fisted at her sides as she fought to stay in control of her sudden flare of temper. It bit at her inside like a vicious dog.
“I think you know exactly what I’m implying,” she shot back.
His face was turning a dark red with anger. “I know you need more clothes, and I want you to take them!” he snapped.
“How dare you pity me? How dare you!” she shouted, her voice sharp with hurt and anger. Her entire body was shaking with rage.
“Pity?” He marched over to her, glowering at her, but confusion lit his eyes.
“What else could it be but pity? You’ve stolen the only thing I had left, my dignity. No man will touch me now. You’ve ruined me.” She was venomous, harsh, and cruel, but she had to protect herself. If there was one thing she’d learned in the past several months, it was that no one else would ever take care of her besides herself.
He made as though to grab her, but she jumped back and fled the room. Tears blurred her eyes as she ran down the hall and out into the gardens. She tripped over a low cut rose bush but caught herself before falling and hurried to the garden gate. Her left ankle stung and her skirts were torn from the thorns but she didn’t stop. The rain pelted her skin, cold and thick, as it started to soak through her clothes. Above her, the skies were lowering with heavy rain. The deep blue of the clouds was dark and ominous, a fair reflection of her ravaged soul. Her heart thundered against her breast as though trying in vain to escape the crushing despair of her body as she struggled through the archway. Again she was caught by the momentary spell of leaving Gareth’s world to enter the wild, untamed land beyond. A distant growl from the sky heralded a deepening of the storm, but she didn’t care.
Let it pour, let it drown me. I don’t care anymore… It was a devastating truth for her to realize that the reason she drew breath existed no longer. How did one recover from such a shock to the heart and soul? The chill of the water on her skin was icy, and a shudder racked her as she forced herself to keep moving.
“Helen!” Gareth was at the door of the house, calling after her.
She darted into the meadow. Her gown hung heavy as the hemline absorbed the water from the high grass. The thick blades whipped and stung her skin through the waterlogged gown that clung to her shins. She paused only a second to get her bearings. The sloping hills were a pale gold brown with the heavy rain and dark gray clouds hung low in the sky.
“Helen, wait!” Gareth shouted again. He was closer, but she didn’t look back.
She started running, pulling her gown up above her knees as she tore through the grass. Thunder rumbled, the earth vibrating with its fury. She was halfway through the meadow when Gareth caught up with her. He lunged for her, catching her at an awkward angle, and they both fell. He rolled, taking the brunt of the fall as they went down before he moved and put her beneath him. Helen was trapped, his arms and legs pinning her down. His face was dark with his fury, his brown eyes shadowed with desperation.
“Let go of me!” She strained to hit him.
“No.” His tone was hard, edged with desperation.
She felt his hard length against the wet fabric of her gown, and even in her anger, she still wanted him. Helen freed one arm and tried to hit him again, he caught her wrist and trapped it at her side. The cold, wet grass shifted beneath her as he moved fully on top of her. His free hand dug at her gown, pushing it up. She squirmed, her legs trying to kick out, but his knees forced her legs apart.
“Don’t you dare!” She clawed at his chest, but he wasn’t going to stop. His mouth sought hers, but she turned her head away in defiance. If he kissed her, she’d give in and make love to him. His lips fell to her neck, rough and hot as he sucked on her skin. She felt his hands bunching up her petticoats.
“Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll stop,” he growled.
“I…” she weakened beneath him, wanting him no matter how furious she was with him.
Gareth rubbed his hips against hers, and with one hand, he loosened his trousers.
“Go on, Helen. Tell me what it is you really want,” he purred, freeing her trapped wrists.
She bit her lip so hard she drew blood and then started tearing at his clothes, desperate to get closer to him, to feel his hot skin on her own cold flesh.
“You. I want you,” she ground out.
Gareth didn’t wait a second longer, he pushed his way inside, taking her, claiming her, and she gloried in the soreness mingling with her aching desire.
Helen arched her back, taking him in deeper with a low moan, unable to prevent anything else. Her eyes burned with tears as she fought her feelings for him. How could she yearn to stay with him when she would never mean
anything more to him than this? Yet she was determined to enjoy these last few minutes with him, feeling alive for the last time in a way she knew she’d never feel again.
The rain fell harder and harder, the thundering skies responding to Gareth’s savage possession of her. As her body quaked in reaction to him, she stopped caring that he was using her. She would use him back. She turned her head, her one free hand catching his chin and pulling his mouth to hers. He grunted against her lips, adjusting himself as he thrust even harder into her. Their bodies moved together in a frantic symphony of sighs, sliding limbs, and whispered words of encouragement. One of his hands slid down to her bare thigh, slick with rain. His fingers dug into her skin as he pulled her leg tighter against his hip. Their heavy breaths and harsh grinding merged as they climaxed.
*
Gareth gasped loudly as he came inside her. She continued to move beneath him, taking her pleasure for a moment longer before her body shuddered along with his. He kept her trapped beneath him. She would not escape again, not yet. Her head fell back into the grass, wet strands of her gold hair spilling out around her. Her breasts rose and fell with her heavy breathing. Gareth saw the two tempting peaks beneath the wet gown and nearly came a second time, wishing he could see them as he had last night. He rocked back slowly, still fully inside her.
A flicker of guilt shot through him. He shouldn’t have done this—not so soon and not after he’d resolved to send her away. Finally, he forced himself to pull out, rolling over onto the grass next to her as he fixed his trousers. Her creamy white legs shook, raindrops coating her bared limbs. A few small scrapes marred one of her ankles.
“You’re hurt,” he murmured, reaching for her ankle. He wanted to cuddle her into his lap and carry her back to the safety of his bed where he could tend to her cuts.
“I’m fine.” She jerked out of his hold, refusing to glance his way.
He watched as she tried to fix her torn petticoats and pull her gown down. She sat up, her entire body vibrating as her eyes looked straight ahead at the sloping hills in the distance.
She wiped tears and raindrops from her cheeks. Her face, once so open and easy to read, closed up like a castle’s portcullis dropping down, the heavy iron sinking deep into the soil, sealing him outside forever. The passion they’d recaptured was slipping away, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was losing her—truly losing her—and it scared him out of his mind. With Clarissa, God had taken her. But Helen was leaving because he was a damned coward and a fool.
Without looking at him, she stood up, wobbling once before she spoke.
“I will be gone from here as soon as Mary can have the coach ready. Do not attempt to stop me.” Her last words were cold and firm. He did not want to know where she could find such coldness within herself. He hadn’t thought her capable of it. Maybe his mercenary treatment had put it there. By sending her away, doing what was best for her, he had turned her cold, just like himself. The thought left a bitter sting in his mouth.
Gareth didn’t respond. He let her walk away, but his eyes followed her hungrily, desperately memorizing the curves of her breasts and hips, so clearly outlined by her drenched gown. He bowed his head as he forced his thoughts elsewhere to ease the pang of his breaking heart and the renewed lust in his groin. There was no crueler torture than loving and wanting a woman he could not have. He dared not get up until she was well out of sight, back in the safety of the gardens, so he would not be tempted to make love to her again. By the time he made it back to the house, he saw not a single servant except Mary. The moment he stepped inside to escape the rain, she was there, glaring at him.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he growled.
She continued to glare, her gray eyes throwing daggers. “There is a gentleman in the parlor. He wishes to speak with you.”
“Gentleman? What gentleman?”
“He would not give his name sir, but he and Miss Banks are two sides of a coin if I ever saw one,” Mary declared.
Gareth’s stomach clenched in irritating knots. Of course Martin Banks would choose now to show up and rescue Helen.
“I’ll see to him directly. Thank you, Mary.” He growled and left her standing by the door, no doubt still scowling at his backside. He didn’t bother to change into dry clothes, he was too tired and frustrated to care about his appearance. He burst into the parlor, sending the door crashing loudly into the wall.
“Banks?” he snapped. He wanted to be done with this, to put distance and time between himself and this awful situation. The room seemed to be empty. He turned around, finding himself face-to-face with Helen’s twin brother, a cocked pistol aimed at his chest.
He wasn’t afraid. Martin would either pull the trigger or he wouldn’t. Gareth was already dead inside. Losing Helen had destroyed him.
“Where is my sister?” Martin, a man Gareth had sworn could care less about Helen, now had a heroic glow of determination in his handsome face. Gareth saw his eyes were just like Helen’s, his nose and lips were so like hers yet more masculine where hers had been delicate and feminine. They were truly as Mary had said, “two sides of a coin”. It would be hard to deal with this man when all Gareth saw was Helen in his every feature.
“Where is she, Fairfax? I know she’s here.” Martin’s finger tightened slightly on the trigger.
“She’s probably in her chamber, packing her things. She is leaving.”
“You’re damned right she is.” Martin shoved Gareth into one of the tall-backed chairs and bent down over him. “I ought to blow you to hell for what you’ve done to her.” Martin’s voice was soft but black with hate. “You’ve compromised my sister. She should have been able to make a good match or find a post as a governess. But no! You took advantage of a sweet and caring woman whose only weakness was her kindness. You’re a damned bastard, and I will see you dead over this.” He jammed the muzzle of his pistol into Gareth’s chest, his hand shaking slightly with his anger.
“What about you, you coward? She fought your duel for you, even managed to graze my bloody arm. You’re lucky she gave herself away before I decided to fire my shot. And need I tell you that you’ve done a poor job of caring for her?”
“What the devil do you mean?” Martin spat viciously.
Gareth plowed ahead, anger emanating from him.
“When I brought her here, it became immediately clear that the girl was half starved and had no proper clothes. To my horror, I discovered she’d been abstaining from food to feed you, and that the two of you were barely getting by. It was your duty to care for her. Family should mean something to you.” Gareth delivered his verbal blow to a stunning effect. Martin’s pistol lowered half an inch as he processed Gareth’s words.
“Was my duty?” Martin replied suspiciously.
“I’ve compromised your sister. I mean to rectify the situation however I can. I want to keep her safe and cared for. If I thought I deserved her, I’d marry her, but I don’t. She’s too good a woman for me, but I’ll be damned if I don’t make sure she’s goes without food or decent clothes again.” He meant it with every violent beat of his heart and ragged breath as he faced her brother down.
“Helen doesn’t need you.”
Gareth’s gaze was thunderous. “She may not need me, but she certainly doesn’t need you, either. You’re starving her and running her into the ground with your gambling. If she’ll let me, I can give her the life a woman like her deserves.”
“She’s not going to marry you. Helen would only marry a man who loved her.” Martin didn’t even flinch at Gareth’s blazing glare.
“I love her enough that losing her will drive me mad, but I know she won’t have me. And I’ve destroyed her future and will do what I can to make amends. There can only be me or spinsterhood, and given your proclivity to gamble, she will likely be dead from starvation in a fortnight if left with you.”
Before either man could speak further, Helen materialized between them. The look of hurt and betrayal in h
er eyes made his blood freeze in his veins. Shame flamed his face and he looked away for a brief instant.
“Helen…” Gareth started, but the words withered on his lips as he saw her. An agonizing maelstrom of dark emotions played across her face. It struck him numb with dread. She’d heard what he’d said, that she was destroyed and her brother couldn’t care for her. The damned fool didn’t even handle his sister being compromised properly. The Banks twins were a disaster if left to take care of themselves.
Helen forced her brother’s pistol to point down at the carpet. “Martin, we are leaving. Now.” Helen’s voice was different, harder. Her brother didn’t argue. He let her pull him away from Gareth, who made no move to follow. He remained in his chair, listening to the rumble of thunder from both the skies and within his soul.
CHAPTER FIVE
Helen and her brother rode down the muddy lane away from Gareth’s house. The horses kicked up puddles, and for a long while, the only sound was the splashing and the patter of rain.
She’d donned her brother’s stolen clothes once more, wanting to take only what she’d brought. Helen had no need for Gareth’s charity. Mary had insisted they take a pair of Gareth’s horses, with instructions on how to return them once they’d reached Bath.
“How did you find me, Martin?”
Martin’s cheeks reddened as though embarrassed. “After I had the maid pick the lock on my door, I found my extra breeches and overcoat were missing. I was ready to panic when I received a note from Rodney Bennett. I went to see him immediately, and he told me everything about the duel. It seems he felt responsible for you falling into Fairfax’s clutches. The hard part was finding Fairfax’s house. I had to walk the second half here after I got a ride from a farmer in his cart.”