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Ruth laughed as she splashed bathwater up over one of her youngest charges at Crawley Hall. At two years of age, Thad was already a charmer, and his cheeky grin had captured her heart the moment he’d toddled through St. Agnes’s front door with his hand locked in that of his big sister, Clara. The pair had been living off scraps of food for weeks since their mother had died, and she’d known she would bring them to Crawley Hall with her from the moment she’d first seen them. She rubbed soap on the washcloth she held, and smiled at Thad.
“No more arguing, Thaddeus Nelson,” she said in a voice she’d meant to be no-nonsense, which was anything but. “I’m going to wash behind those ears whether you like it or not.”
Thad shook his head and giggled, making it impossible for her not to laugh with him. Leaning forward, she glared at him fiercely. His eyes widened and she laughed as he folded his ears down so she could clean the dirt off him. Gently she washed his skin, and in another moment, she had the back of his dirty neck covered with soap bubbles.
“How in heaven’s name did you get so dirty, little man? You look like you’ve been rolling around in the stable yard again.”
She arched her eyebrow at him, and Thad just giggled before his small hands hit the water to send it flying all over the front of Ruth’s blouse. Laughing, she rinsed him off then lifted him from the tub and rubbed him dry with a large towel. The back of her neck tingled, and she absently reached up to rub her nape.
The moment she did so, she saw Thad’s gaze shift to a spot past her shoulder. She turned her head, and the sight of Garrick sent her reeling. At a loss for words, she just stared at him. With one shoulder pressing into the door frame, his nonchalance was that of a man accustomed to getting his way. He was devastating, and her heart pounded wildly in her chest as his vivid blue eyes met hers.
He looked just as handsome as the first time she’d seen him. Only today he looked leaner. Older. She swallowed the derisive laughter bubbling up in her throat. She was the older one. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. What was he doing here? Beside her, Thad stuck one hand out of his towel and tugged at her arm.
“Mama. Play.” The child’s demand interrupted Ruth’s preoccupation with Garrick’s presence, and she immediately turned back to Thad.
“No my darling. It’s time for supper.” She shook her head. “Let’s go get dressed, shall we?”
Her hand gripped the edge of the bathtub for leverage in standing when fire seared her middle as Garrick lifted her to her feet. His familiar scent wafted over her, and she closed her eyes for a brief moment, remembering other times his hands had been wrapped around her waist. Moments when she’d been unbelievably happy. Reality set in, and she shuddered. This wasn’t the past.
“Thank you, my lord.”
She didn’t even send him a glance over her shoulder, but his fingers tightened at her waist for a brief instant before he released her. He had never liked it when she was so formal with him. With Thad’s hand in hers, she led the small boy from the bathroom, all too aware that Garrick was following.
What did he want? She knew Marston and Garrick’s uncle had been charged with Tremaine’s murder. She’d been relieved to read that in the paper, but beyond that, she’d refused to read the gossip columns or anything else that might have mention of Garrick. The thought of it had been too painful.
As they moved along the corridor toward the room Thad shared with several of the other younger children, she saw Dolores hurrying toward her. The older woman glared over her shoulder at Garrick.
“Simmons told me his lordship was here,” her friend said fiercely. “I thought you might need help with Thaddeus.”
So it hadn’t been Dolores who’d let Garrick have the run of the house. Never in a hundred years would she have guessed Simmons would let Garrick into the house. She frowned and nodded toward her old friend.
“Thad, go with Dolores.” She bent over to kiss the boy’s cheek. “I’ll tuck you in at bedtime.”
The boy smiled at her and nodded his head before he turned toward Dolores. As the child toddled away pulling her maid with him, her heart expanded with love. He was such a sweet boy. A familiar sensation tickled the back of her neck, and she darted a glance over her shoulder at Garrick.
“I’m not sure why you’ve come, my lord, but whatever you have to say would be best said in the library.”
She didn’t wait for him to answer her, but hurried forward and down the stairs into the front hall. As she reached the foyer, she heard the sound of voices coming from the main salon. The sound grew muted as Simmons closed the doors to the room. She paused a few feet into the vestibule to send the man a hard look. Her longtime butler had the grace to look uncomfortable as she glared at him.
“Do we have visitors, Simmons?” She prayed he would answer yes. It would give her time to gather her wits.
“Yes, my lady. They’re friends of Lord Stratfield’s.”
The man’s response made her look over her shoulder at Garrick, who was standing at the foot of the stairs watching her with interest. Why would the man bring friends with him? Perhaps donors for St. Agnes’s. No, he and his sister had Caring Hearts to support. Damn him. Frustration and fear coursed their way through her veins as she gave Simmons a brief nod and turned away to walk down the hall to the library.
She’d had Crawley Hall’s large library converted into a schoolroom. The large number of volumes that had come with the house served as a resource for the older children in their lessons and a source of solace for her in the middle of sleepless nights. The room was empty, and she hastily crossed the floor to stand behind the large desk the local tutor used when he came two days a week to provide lessons to the children. As she faced Garrick, her heart skipped a beat at the dark look on his handsome features.
“You have a son.” There was a demand for an explanation in his statement that annoyed her.
“All the children here are mine to care for and love.”
“The boy called you mama,” he bit out. Something akin to jealousy swept over his features. It alarmed her. Why had he come here?
“Thad is an orphan, like his sister, Clara,” she snapped. “But they’re as much mine as if I’d given birth to them. Not that it’s any of your concern.”
“I see.” The short statement was filled with an emotion she refused to define.
“Perhaps you should tell me why you’re here, my lord,” she said coldly.
“I told you the last time we were together here at Crawley Hall that I wanted you to call me Garrick,” he growled as he crossed the room to brace himself on the desk as he leaned across the furniture that separated them. “That hasn’t changed.”
“As you wish, Garrick,” she said in a detached voice that gave her a small measure of satisfaction. “Why are you here?”
“I imagine you’ve heard that Marston and my uncle are being charged with Tremaine’s murder.”
“Yes.” She didn’t dare say anything else. The less said the better, particularly when she was so relieved that he’d been vindicated. She also didn’t want him asking her about the alibi she’d given him.
“Before I came here, I visited my uncle. I asked him if he’d told Tremaine about my condition.” He eyed her carefully as if waiting for a reaction from her. When she didn’t respond, he grimaced. “Beresford said he’d told Tremaine about my birth defect almost four months ago over one too many glasses of brandy.”
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. She was. When she’d read that terrible accusation in the Town Talk, she’d been horrified and humiliated for him.
“I’m not.” His quiet statement startled her, and she stared at him in surprise. He cleared his throat. “I’m glad it was Beresford and not you that betrayed me to Tremaine.”
A knot developed in her throat as she watched him straighten upright. His vivid blue eyes locked with hers as he studied her for a long, quiet moment. The intentness of his gaze set
her on edge.
“I want to know why Tremaine was with you that day in the orphanage.” The demand caught her by surprise.
She stiffened, and her heart skipped a beat before it slammed into her chest. The air vanished from her lungs as she fought to gather her wits. As she struggled to breathe, she noted the arrogance in his demeanor. His posture said he intended to have an answer. With as much aplomb as she could muster, she shrugged.
“He offered to be my patron, and I accepted.”
“Don’t lie to me, Ruth.” His voice was quiet.
“I am not lying.” She glared at him. It was the truth. Tremaine had made an offer and she’d accepted. She’d simply omitted the fact that the bastard had been blackmailing her into accepting his proposal. Garrick studied her carefully, and the look in his eyes made her tremble. He was up to something.
“There’s more to it than you’re admitting,” he said as he narrowed his gaze on her. “In fact, I have a strong suspicion Tremaine was blackmailing you, just like he was me.”
“Even if that were true, the man is dead. He can no longer blackmail anyone.” She fought to maintain her composure so her features revealed nothing.
“Then you admit he was blackmailing you.” The look of triumph on Garrick’s face made her nervous.
“I didn’t say that,” she protested with a shake of her head. “What could the man possibly blackmail me with?”
Garrick quickly circled the desk and caught her by surprise as he towered over her. Although he didn’t touch her, he might as well have done so, the way her body was responding to his. Every part of her was on fire, humming in a way that only happened when he was near. It was a sensation no other man could arouse in her. She swallowed hard and took a step back. He followed. One hand going to her throat, she stared up at him, her eyes fixating on his sensual mouth. The memory of his lips caressing her in the most intimate of places made the knot in her throat swell even larger threatening to cut off her breathing completely.
“Tell me what he was blackmailing you with, Ruth.”
“I didn’t say he was blackmailing me,” she said in an effort to come up with something that would divert him from the truth. She couldn’t bear for him to discover that she’d been protecting her own secret.
“I think I know what he was holding over you, Ruth, but I want you to tell me.” He leaned into her, his mouth so tantalizingly close.
Dear Lord, surely he didn’t know how she felt about him. She forced herself to forget everything but the need to hide the truth from him. He’d already broken her heart when he’d hidden his true age from her. She couldn’t bear it if he learned that she’d been hiding her own secret. Her heart would break all over again if he learned she was in love with him.
“What is it you want from me, Garrick?” she asked with a quiet serenity she didn’t feel. Her composure seemed to startle him, and he narrowed his eyes.
“I want to know why you let me believe you’d betrayed me to Tremaine.”
“As I recall, the only thing I said to you was that I was free to see whom I wished,” she said.
“And yet you knew I believed the worst when Tremaine told me he knew that I have only one ballock.” There was a grimness about the statement that said the memory of that moment hadn’t left him.
“Would you have believed me if I’d said otherwise?” She shook her head. “You chose to believe what you wanted.”
It was the truth. She’d seen his condemnation in his eyes the moment he’d found her in Tremaine’s arms. Even if she could have told him the truth that day at the orphanage, Garrick wouldn’t have believed her. His expression lightened as if she’d said something that pleased him. She frowned. Why did she suddenly feel as though she’d revealed something she shouldn’t have?
“And my alibi. What made you willing to openly declare that you were my mistress when it meant you’d be ostracized?”
“You were innocent.” She shrugged slightly. “I’d already made plans to move to Crawley Hall. I had nothing to lose.”
“Nothing except donations to St. Agnes’s.” His husky response made her flinch. A mistake.
His lips brushed against hers like a gentle breeze. The faint touch held a delicious hint of seduction in it. She shuddered, suddenly feeling light-headed. Dear Lord, she’d taught him well. That hadn’t been a kiss. It had been a declaration of war on her senses.
The raw, male scent of him washed over her, and she struggled not to let her body melt into his. God, he smelled so wonderful, and the low sinful sound of his voice was wreaking havoc on her sensibilities. He was on a mission, and she knew it was her surrender. She’d known it from the moment she’d seen him standing in the bathroom doorway upstairs. She closed her eyes to relish this last moment with him. It would have to last her a very long time.
“I want to know why you did it, Ruth. I want to know why you publicly admitted you were my mistress.” It was a command, and his expression warned her that capitulation was the only thing that would satisfy him. He cupped her face in his hands, and his touch sent a wild tremor racing through her. “Would it be easier for you to answer me, if I said I love you?”
His words made her sway on her feet. It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t be in love with her. He was infatuated—convinced they could overcome the twelve years between them. But she knew better. When he was in his prime, she would be a doddering old fool. In a few years, he’d regret being with her. He’d leave her, and she refused to bear the heartache of his leaving.
The pain she’d lived with over the past two weeks had been far greater than anything she could have imagined. To experience something worse wasn’t a risk she was willing to take. Panic welled up inside her as she met his blue eyes. Whenever he looked at her like that it always took her breath away. Now wasn’t any different. Brushing his hands aside, she took a quick step backward.
“I don’t know why you came here, my lord, but—”
“I came here to ask you to marry me, Ruth.”
His words stunned her. A confession of infatuation was one thing, but this? The thought of marriage shot a bolt of horror through her. A long-term liaison would be scandalous enough, but marriage? Impossible. How could she possibly agree to marry him? She was almost old enough to be his mother.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m far too old for you,” she snapped. “Even if I were foolish enough to agree to such a mad proposal, you’d be neglecting your duty.”
“My duty,” he growled.
“As head of your family you’re required to produce an heir. I’m too old to bear you a son. You need a younger wife.”
Defiantly, she glared at him. Courtesans never married, any more than younger men married women who were too old for them. They glared at each other for a long moment, the silence between them thick with tension. Garrick’s eyes had turned dark blue with anger, but she didn’t care. He was acting like a spoiled schoolboy who’d been denied something he wanted. She turned to walk away from him, but his hand flew out to grasp her arm and force her to look at him. Eyes narrowed, he gave her a slight shake.
“This isn’t about age at all, is it, Ruth?” His mouth thinned with anger. She gasped at the ferocity of his statement. “It’s about fear.”
“What?” she exclaimed as she tried to twist free of his grasp.
“Fear.” He emphasized the word with a force that sent a shiver down her spine. “Every man you’ve ever known has left you, just like your father abandoned you.”
“My father has nothing to do with this.” Her mouth went dry as a tiny voice in the back of her head called her a liar.
“He has everything to do with it. Your age isn’t the real problem. It’s your fear that I’ll abandon you, just like your father did you and your mother.” The harsh words held a ring of truth in them and it terrified her.
“My lifestyle makes it inevitable that my lovers and I are destined to quit each other. You’re no different.” Her voice sounded hollow in her ears.
“I won’t leave you, Ruth,” he said firmly. “I’m not your father or any of your other lovers. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
She stared up at him, unable to respond. Garrick’s assessment of her was frightening. What he’d said about her father was so close to the truth that words failed her. He knew her far better than she knew herself. Her father’s refusal to visit her mother on her deathbed had always troubled her deeply, but looking back, she realized it had been more painful than she’d ever allowed herself to admit. She’d felt abandoned and all alone after her mother died. There had been no one to turn to, and she’d done what was necessary to survive. She wet her lips with her tongue, and Garrick growled softly.
“I know you love me, Ruth. You wouldn’t have sacrificed yourself by giving me an alibi otherwise.”
“I don’t,” she said hoarsely. Even she could hear the words for what they were. A lie.
“I don’t believe you. Say it. Tell me that you love me.”
He pulled her into his arms, staring down at her. Oh God, what was she supposed to do? He’d said he wouldn’t leave her. Could she believe him? She squeezed her eyes shut as she took a leap of faith.
“I love you, Garrick,” she whispered.
In the next instant, his mouth devoured hers as he crushed her against him. The kiss demanded her complete surrender, and she willingly succumbed. Every inch of her was on fire as she melted into him. She was certain she was making a mistake, but at this precise moment she didn’t care. All that mattered was his touch and how it made her feel. Young. Alive. Desirable.
Loved.
Even now it was hard to comprehend that he really loved her. Her lips parted to give him access to her mouth, and a soft whimper escaped her as his tongue teased hers in a familiar dance of seduction. She’d missed him so much. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought it possible that she could give her heart to a man. But she had with Garrick. His kiss deepened until she was deaf and blind to everything around her.
Pleasure Me Page 34