by Lauren Smith
Sing my little thrush, please sing to me. She was beautiful, she was perfect, and he would have to let her go. That brother of hers would eventually show up, and Gareth would have to deal with him when the time came. Damned if he knew what to do with Martin Banks. The fool might still insist on the duel, now over Helen’s honor. What a mess he was in. His eyes strayed to Helen, and her easy smile made all of the problems with his choice to have her fade. She was worth the trouble. He knew he could not keep her for long. Ambrose’s words came back to him. He was ruining her for her brother’s debts. Debts she shouldn’t have to pay, and he’d destroyed all chances of her making a good match. On the field after the duel that hadn’t mattered to him, in fact he’d relished the thought of hurting Banks by saddling him with a sister who would never make a match. But now…now he saw he was only hurting Helen, a brave, innocent woman who didn’t deserve any of this. Yet there was no way to undo the damage he’d done.
Marriage was out of the question. He had nothing to offer her besides his name and his body, and he knew only too well that a woman like Helen would need his heart to survive a marriage. For him, it was seduction, plain and simple. He had no right to anything else. He’d lost his right to love a long time ago. God would not give him a second chance, not after blessing him with Clarissa. That sort of love, he was sure, came only once. He had his turn and lost. Helen was nothing more than a cruel reminder of what he could never have.
CHAPTER THREE
Helen spent the remainder of the day exploring the house, reading in the expansive library, and being spoiled by the numerous cooks in the kitchen, who were more than delighted to let her taste pies, pastries, and other dishes they were preparing. Gareth had to leave on a business related matter but had assured her he would return in time for dinner. Helen found the house felt empty with his departure at first, but Mary soon distracted her with activities. She was allowed to play freely on the pianoforte in the music room, she was encouraged to explore the gardens, and she was positively forced to try on gown after gown once they arrived late in the afternoon from Bath. About halfway through the day, Helen was sure this was an elaborate and wonderful dream, and that eventually, she would wake to find herself back in Bath, ever watchful of her brother and their meager finances.
Once Mary had finished fitting all of the new gowns, she left Helen to her own devices. The day was still clear and fine and the warm sun was setting in the western sky as Helen entered the gardens once more. She found a stout tree near the garden wall and decided to climb it to better see the sunset. Climbing was something more suited for a young child, not a woman of one and twenty, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Here, she was free to do as she wished, to eat, to play, to laugh, even to climb. In this private world, she had been swept away by the sense of timelessness. She could do whatever she wanted, and at the moment, she planned to climb a tree to get a better glimpse of the reddening skies beyond the gardens.
Returning to her chamber, she quickly donned her brother’s breeches and shirt. It was the best attire for climbing. Her new white muslin gown would have been completely ruined. Helen shared her brother’s athletic build and found it easy to grasp the lowest branches and hoist herself up. The bark was rough beneath her palms, but she ignored the sting of the minor scrapes on her sensitive skin. By the time she stopped ascending, she had a fair view of the sunset over the garden wall.
The sun was now a crimson apple hanging low on the horizon as though waiting to be plucked. Thick beams of gold light tickled the waving grasses of the meadow, deepening the emerald colors. It was that one hour of the day so often missed during the bustle of activity, when the world seemed frozen in that golden span of time. A hush descended over the land, bird chatter was quieter, and no breezes whipped the branches or grass. There was only a soft silence, like when a mother puts her babe to sleep in the late afternoon. The air was filled with the promise of what night might bring, yet the flurry of activity for the evening had not begun. It was a sacred time.
“How the devil did you get up there?” Gareth’s voice boomed.
Helen jerked, nearly falling from the branch she balanced on. She glanced down, seeing him at the base of the tree, looking up at her. Ten feet separated her from Gareth and the ground. It was no great distance, really.
“I climbed, of course.” She laughed at his look of surprise, her heart sliding down from her throat and back into her chest as she steadied herself again. “How did you find me?”
His brows drew down into a slight frown. One of the gardeners saw you come out here in your brother’s clothes. He was worried you were planning to leave, so he kept track of where you went.
This time, it was she who frowned. “You’ve had your servants watching me?”
“Well…” He glanced away, guilty. “Not really. I merely told them you were not to leave the grounds without me. It was more the fact that you were walking around in breeches that got the man’s attention, rather than my order for him to keep an eye on you,” Gareth answered.
“Oh,” she exhaled. It did make sense. She’d jumped to conclusions about him and had been wrong—well, not entirely—but still wrong enough to feel the uncomfortable weight of her own guilt at making such suppositions.
“Shall I call the head gardener for his ladder?”
She sighed. “No, I can get down. I just wanted to see the sunset.” Her eyes once more returned to the peach colored skies aflame around the setting sun. She could have stayed there forever, watching the slowly changing colors, forgetting every worry that hung heavy on her soul.
The tree gave a little shake and branches whispered around her. She glanced back down to see Gareth climbing up toward her. He balanced himself at the fork of the large branch she was sitting on and the base of the tree. He tested the branch to see if it would hold his weight. There was a single moment, when he raised his eyes to her face, that she saw something in his expression that gave her a little shiver. Desire and contentment tinged with desperation as he gazed upon her, as though she were a great prize held high above his reach. No one had ever looked at her that way. She knew enough women who would have used that look to their advantage, but her first instinct was to go to him, to kiss away the sorrow in his eyes and the tightness of his mouth. Even though he’d ruined her, she couldn’t resist him.
When he was satisfied the tree would hold him, he opened his arms to her. Without thinking, Helen slid over to nestle herself back against him as they watched the sunset together.
“How was your day?” His warm breath stirred the curls of hair dangling against her neck.
“Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. It has been so long since…” She caught herself.
“So long since what?” His lips pressed lightly against her cheek. She shut her eyes, wishing she could tell him, but shame kept her quiet.
“Tell me, Helen.” Her name on his lips weakened her resolve to remain silent.
Silence fell between them as she hesitated. He didn’t press her to speak. He simply held onto her, as though they had countless hours to simply exist together in the same sphere, a single word unneeded. It was this sense of comfort he created that made her able to trust him with the vulnerable truth of her situation.
“It has been so long since I had a day where I could do as I wished, not have to save my food so Martin could have more, not have to mend yet another tear in my only shawl, not have to fear the whispers and societal slights against me and my brother at the assembly rooms. A day where I could be myself.” She felt the telltale burn of a blush, but she couldn’t stop it.
Gareth, whose hand had been rubbing up and down her back, stilled the movement. For a breathless moment, she feared he’d move away.
“How long has your brother been losing money at the tables?”
“For nearly three months. He only waited a month after our father died before he started frequenting the gambling hells. We started out with so little. He claimed he could win enough to keep us well situat
ed in Bath. We had only just moved here a few weeks after Papa died. We took a pair of small rooms with a low rent, but Martin said we needed more. That’s when he began haunting the card tables.”
Gareth’s hands rubbed her hips, the touch soothing, rather than erotic. “I take it he never listened to you when you asked him to stop.”
“No. The first few times he returned with his pockets empty, I fought with him. Our rows were terrible, and we said unforgivable things to each other. After that, he started slipping out after I retired to bed each night. I knew what he was up to, of course. In the mornings, his eyes were red and his clothes rumpled as though he’d slept in them. It was so obvious, but there was little I could do to stop him.” Helen’s voice broke as raw, painful emotions ripped through her.
Gareth said nothing and his silence worried her. Would he cast her out? Now that he knew the truth? He caught her chin, turning her face towards his. His eyes were warm and compassionate as he breathed two words.
“My darling…” He kissed her softly, sweetly. “I’m so sorry.”
It was just the sort of kiss she had thought would be her first, one full of emotion where heat was secondary. Yet there was passion behind the tenderness. She could feel it in the depth of his lips and the warmth of his arm that encircled his waist.
Gareth finally broke the kiss, but he rested his forehead against hers, keeping her close as though he didn’t desire to separate himself from her. “We should get down. Mary will be angry if we are late for dinner.”
He climbed down first and held out his arms for her to jump. The invitation to give herself to him was beyond compelling. She resisted, climbing down the last few branches on her own until she saw the hurt in his eyes. Hesitating, she studied his face. His expression was so different than before. Pleading glimmered in his eyes, and she let herself surrender to him, allowing him to help her down the last branch to the ground.
Mary kidnapped Helen the moment they were both inside.
“Look at the state of the pair of you! Covered in leaves and heaven knows what else,” she chastised, but Helen thought she saw a glimmer of a smile on Mary’s lips.
“We’ve been climbing trees.” Gareth flashed Helen a conspiratorial grin.
“I can see that, sir.” Mary retorted. She plucked Helen’s arm off his and took her to her bedchamber, muttering under her breath about trees “being a gardener’s concern”. Helen bit her tongue to stop from laughing.
“Now, let’s get you cleaned up and into a proper evening gown.”
Mary helped her wash up and change. Helen wore a fine burgundy evening gown with short sleeves. It had a very low neckline, which Helen kept tugging up until Mary caught her.
“Let the gown be, my dear. You have a fine figure, show it to your advantage.”
“But it’s dreadfully low,” Helen whispered in a scandalized tone.
Mary raised a wicked eyebrow.
“Yes it is.”
Helen’s cheeks heated but she realized it wouldn’t matter. At this rate, she’d likely not be wearing the gown past dessert. She hadn’t forgotten the incident in the meadow earlier that day and the promise that had lingered in Gareth’s eyes. Tonight he would seduce her, fully and completely. It was inevitable and she saw little point in fighting it, especially when she knew she wanted it just as badly as he did. She was quickly becoming addicted to the ecstasy of his touch.
Mary handed Helen a gold shawl that matched her fair hair and propelled the girl into the hall. Mary watched her go on to the dining room alone. She knew Helen was an innocent young lady, and soon her master would pluck the ripe fruit that the child was unknowingly offering, but she did not pass judgment. She had known her master since he was a babe in the cradle, and he had a kind heart and a gentle soul.
These past few years, he’d fallen from a good path. But from the moment that Helen passed through the doorway, he’d been changing. Mary was not a gambling woman, but she would wager that before all this was over, her master would do right by the girl. It was clear he was exceedingly fond of her, and she was already twining him about her finger without even realizing it. Gareth Fairfax just might be falling in love again. Perhaps there would be another wedding and another baby to fill the house. Mary let out a wistful sigh, smoothed her skirts, and headed in the direction of the kitchens.
The dining room glowed beneath the evening sun, which gilded everything in its path. The effect was like something from a fairy tale dream. Helen couldn’t believe how beautiful the light was as it illuminated the table and the feast which had been laid out before her. The abundance of food was startling. She hadn’t seen so much since…well, ever. After months of watching her finances, to see such luxury, the food too much for two people, her smile faltered.
“Surely we don’t need this much…” she briefly closed her eyes before opening them. “I didn’t speak to you this afternoon about my situation in order to provoke such lavish treatment.”
He eyed her seriously. “Nothing here is wasted, I assure you. Now, come and sit by me.”
Gareth gave her a small smile when she crossed the room. The warmth of his hands seeped into her bare skin when they brushed her shoulders as he seated her. Despite her worry about his subdued manner, she managed to eat the delicious dish of duck she’d been served. She sipped her wine, knowing that too much of it gave her dreadful headaches in the morning, but she felt the fortification of a little bit of spirits might help her relax tonight.
To her delight, the dessert served was raspberries. She speared one with her fork, but as she raised it up, she noticed Gareth watching her with heavy lidded eyes. He was lounging back in his chair, one hand lazily holding his glass of wine, the other stroking circles on the crimson tablecloth. Like a lazy lion, he seemed content to watch his prey flounder and panic, wondering how he would strike. She slowly slipped the raspberry into her mouth, swallowing hard as she forgot to chew.
“There are better ways to eat those.” His voice was smooth as velvet and dark as night. It cast a spell on her, slowly drowning her in the thick sensuality of the look that accompanied his words. The world around them seemed to darken and then fade, leaving them alone in the decadent dining room. She was all too aware his intentions had nothing to do with the proper consumption of raspberries. It was a game, and she wanted to play.
Helen slowly lowered her fork as he leaned forward in his chair to pluck a raspberry from his plate and slip it into his mouth. She watched his lips consume the berry and a swell of heat rose below her waist. She’d had those lips on her skin before and couldn’t help but wonder what they’d feel like on other parts of her skin. She flushed with desire at the images even her innocent mind seemed to conjure. His mouth upon her breast, teeth scraping over a sensitive peak while his fingers played between her legs…
“Here let me…” he said, taking another raspberry and holding it out to her. She leaned forward, her lips parting to take the fruit from his fingers. The pads of his fingertips lingered at her mouth for a long moment before she moved back. Helen took another berry and held it out to him, eager to return the intimate gesture.
Gareth’s lips took the fruit, but he caught her hand before it could retreat. He sucked the raspberry juice from her fingertips. The feel of his tongue on her fingers drew a soft sigh of pleasure from her as her body flamed to life. He continued to hold her wrist as he sucked each of her fingers, one at time, into his mouth. The look of satisfaction and hunger mixing on his face only made her hotter. It was as though he loved the taste of the berry juices on her skin and nothing was more satisfying than licking it from her flesh.
“Come closer to me.”
Helen slid her chair over to his and he leaned into her, offering another raspberry. Only this time, as she swallowed it, he ducked his head and licked a wicked line up her neck and nibbled her ear. He leaned deeper into her, curling one arm around her waist as he embraced her. The combined sensations of swallowing sweetness and the feel of his hot tongue dancing u
p her throat lit a fire between her legs. A heavy, sharp ache slashed between her thighs, shooting upward. The sensation was almost painful and she couldn’t bear it another second. Instinctively, she tried to pull away, to restore some control to herself, but his grasp on her waist wouldn’t let her move. Gareth offered another berry. She took it almost greedily, and again he laved her throat, this time nipping her below her ear. A stinging shiver shot straight down her spine like she’d been struck by lightning. The hairs on the back of her neck and arms rose, and she trembled with the force of her heightened arousal. Helen couldn’t breathe. Wetness pooled between her legs, and she started to shake. If he did that again, she’d lose her mind and her body.
Gareth released her hand and stood up.
“Should we retire to the drawing room?”
Helen managed a nod and took his offered arm. There were no servants in the halls as they walked, but someone had come in and lit a fire in the fireplace. There were two chairs and a loveseat. Helen watched Gareth for a clue as to where she should sit. He sat down on the loveseat, removing his black waistcoat. His white shirt molded to his muscles as he moved. She watched, desperate to see the skin beneath the shirt and feel the muscles move beneath her palms. What would it be like to put her hands to his flesh? To touch the source of such pleasure, such erotic sin, that she could scarcely breathe or think?
Gareth caught her staring and put his hand on the empty part of the seat next to him, patting it once. His silent command was clear. Helen knew she should have chosen the nearest chair. But damn the man, she wanted to be near him, to touch him, to let him touch her. She was quite close to begging him to make love to her. The ache was stronger every minute she spent in his presence.
Helen sat down on the edge of the loveseat, her hands clinging to her shawl as though it would give her strength. As though sensing her use of the fabric as a shield, Gareth reached out to her shoulder, coiling his fingers into the silk shawl. He slowly pulled it away from her, and she felt every inch of the cloth as it slid over the bare skin of her upper back. He dropped the shawl to the floor, out of reach, and then slid a few inches closer, gazing deeply into her eyes.