Chapter Twenty

They slipped out the back of the stables and headed toward one of the less-utilized paths. The trees were dense and the trail overgrown making it difficult to walk side by side. Nonetheless, leading the way, Garrett reached behind and grasped her hand firmly. When they came to a small clearing, she walked abreast of him.

The meadow, covered in wild flowers, promised peaceful privacy. Hand in hand, they stepped off the path and picked their way into the blossoms until they found an inviting patch of grass. Garrett wore only his shirtsleeves, having removed his jacket and cravat much earlier while working, so he had nothing to lay on the ground for her to sit upon. Natalie stood before him in her full riding habit.

“You must be uncomfortably hot.”

It was ill mannered of him to make such a comment. It was also ill mannered of him to appear in his own state of undress—shirt unbuttoned, lacking both his jacket and cravat. But she would not be offended.

Without answering, Natalie pulled off her hat and tossed it to the ground.

And then, from beneath her lashes, she sent him a knowing look. Such an enticing combination of sweetness and fire! Taking hold of her shoulders, Garrett turned her so her back was to him. He inhaled deeply, experiencing an unusual need to steady himself. He could not imagine another woman in the world making him feel the way he did now.

She stood unmoving as he pulled out each jeweled pin securing her coiffure. As though opening a gift, he watched in awe as blond tresses tumbled down her shoulders and back. Still, neither spoke. In this moment, they would communicate with touch, only with touch.

When he’d removed all the pins, he tucked them into his pocket but did not release her. Instead he reached his arms around to unbutton the jacket she wore over her habit, pulling her against his chest. Her feminine curves melted into him. “Ah, Natalie.”

She tipped her head back, her breaths more labored than they had been before. Her eyes closed, and a tear escaped. Garrett caught it with the side of his thumb. “What is this?” Whispering, he did not wish to break the spell which had taken hold of them both.

Natalie shook her head.

The skin along her face shimmered, fragile as a butterfly’s wings. He caressed her cheeks, her chin, and then his thumb trailed along the seam of her lips. When they parted, the velvety warmth of her tongue sent a surge of heat through him.

Garrett allowed her to taste and caress the tip of his thumb until she tugged on him with a sweet sucking motion. If this continued, he would embarrass himself, and quite likely her as well, within minutes.

And yet, he was not dissuaded. He peeled her jacket off and tossed it to the ground where her hat already lay.

Familiar with the workings of such feminine contraptions, he deftly undid the fasteners of her dress. She stood, unmoving with her head bent forward. When he pushed the sleeves down her arms, the dress caught at her elbows. He paused only long enough to place kisses on her bared shoulders.

All his intentions to avoid succumbing to this need, this hunger for her, had fled. He could not stop himself.

Freed from the heavy garments she’d worn, the plump mounds of her breasts drew his gaze, just visible beneath her chemise and pushed up by her stays. Hungry to see every inch of her, he pulled her hands downward causing the habit, as well, to join the other clothing on the ground.

“Does that feel better?”

Natalie nodded silently. Where was the bold girl of a few evenings ago? She truly was an innocent.

And then she said, “Will you untie my stays, please?”

Ah, there she is.

Unwilling to release her, he turned her to face him, still within his embrace. Reaching around, he undid the tight laces with surprisingly shaking hands. She took a deep breath as the garment loosened.

It, too, was destined for the ground.

She stood before him, now, in her very thin chemise, stockings, and a pair of half boots.

With both her hair and her body unbound, she was all grace and womanly curves. Gloriously female. Garrett would love her, but he would not take. He could not take what he wanted so badly.

But he would give her the passion she desired.

He would show her some physical love.

The grass was dry. There hadn’t been rain for over a week. Kneeling before her, he unlaced her boots and pulled them off. He wanted her to be comfortable. He removed his waistcoat and then reached over his head and pulled off his shirt. Spreading it on the ground, he laid it out to protect her from the dirt and grass. He then lay down and beckoned her to join him.

They now lay, side by side, facing each other.

Pressed against one another from head to toe, he finally lay siege to her lips.

He teased, he explored, he tasted. And then she was with him. With her hands clutching at his hair, she pressed herself into him, arching to be closer. He fought the urgent need to rip open his breeches and take her innocence for himself. Everything else be damned.

Natalie fought the tears threatening to spoil this moment.

He was leaving.

This ought not to make her feel as bereft as she did. Although she had known of him, she’d only really known the man, Garrett Castleton, for less than a week.

So why should his leaving upset her so?

When she’d returned from her ride and found him in just his shirtsleeves, offering his hand to assist her off her mount, she’d kept her dignity and forced herself to endure a polite goodbye. For she’d seen it in his eyes—the resignation. His decision to walk away.

But he had not.

And now she lay on the ground in only her chemise! Practically naked! Pressed against his bare chest. He still wore his breeches and boots, but his arousal pressed into her.

She would not contemplate what this meant. Or what they were doing.

She only wanted to feel.

Let tomorrow take care of itself. She’d not known it, but she’d waited for this her entire life. Blood roared through her head as she caressed the smoothness of his back. Sliding her hand downward, she explored the sinewy paths of his muscles.

“Natalie.” He shuddered, removing his lips and lowering his head.

Oh God, his mouth on her skin felt like heaven. She wanted to be closer. He gave her a gentle nudge, and she found herself on her back, looking up at the sky.

Pulling away, he gazed down at her. Desire flared hot in his eyes. But there was also tenderness there. “Do you trust me?” His voice came out raspy and hoarse.

“Why?”

“I’m not going to make love to you, but I will show you something beautiful if you will allow it.”

He’d already saved her from herself more than once. “I trust you, Garrett Castleton.”

With that, one of his hand drifted downward to the edge of her chemise. Without looking away from her face, he grasped the hem and slid it upward. The summer breeze touched her knees, her thighs, and her most intimate of places.

Still, Garrett lay beside her, staring straight into her soul.

His hand grazed over the bone at her hip and then around her navel. The swirling caresses gathered a warmth to pool at her core. She squirmed and gasped, but he did not stop his exploration. Sliding past her rib cage, he then cradled the underside of her breast. She squirmed some more and then moaned as his fingertips pulled and teased its rosy tip.

Unable to help herself, she arched into his touch. She could no longer return his gaze. Torn between a tortured longing and acute embarrassment, she closed her eyes and focused on the sensations of his touch.

And then his mouth took the place of his hand, hot, demanding, wet. Embarrassment forgotten, she let her knees fall apart. She needed him to touch her there.

He would not disappoint.

A longing swept through her, so intense as to be almost painful. But it was an excruciatingly good sort of pain. She pushed into his hand, reaching for him. Suddenly, she understood so very much. This was why a woman would want intimacy with a man. She wanted him to put himself inside of her.

Such a revelation!

Everything he did created a frenzy of wanting, of needing, of craving. When she felt something slip inside, she pushed forward and demanded more. He touched places that had never been touched, moving in a rhythm as natural as the tide. She was so close. Her head tipped back, and she gasped for air. Slowing for a moment, he stretched her wider. Natalie thrust her hips off the ground as she reached for completion. His thumb moved as well, rubbing and massaging, building within her an even more exquisite hunger.

And then the wave crashed, and all of her senses came to life at once. Roaring sounds, flashes of light, the fragrance of grass, and the taste of passion. As though falling, she shuddered and let go of everything. And when she landed softly back into reality, her satisfaction still pulsed as it slowed and then drifted away.

Awareness returned when warm lips tasted hers. Garrett had long since stilled his hand. He’d been kissing her face and murmuring endearments.

She lay back and relaxed, utterly boneless. She ought to have been embarrassed when she opened her eyes to see him staring down at her. But she was not. She simply gazed back at him, feeling closer than she’d ever felt to any person in the whole world. He now rested his head on his hand, propped on one elbow, still lying on his side.

His other hand remained partially inside her. Tenderly, he removed his fingers but left his hand on her hip, in a slow, loving caress.

He looked rather satisfied with himself.

Which perplexed her as she knew he’d not found his own release.

“What was that?” she asked sleepily, in awe.

“The French call it la petite mort.” He smiled and leaned down to place his lips upon hers. Speaking into her mouth, he said, “The little death.”

Natalie kissed him back, openmouthed. “And now, I am still here. I must be reborn.” She felt reborn, no longer a girl but a woman. Twisting and writhing, she stretched like a cat. He removed his hand and pulled her chemise down to cover her. As he moved to sit up, she could not help but ask, “What about you?”

Garrett shook his head. “I will be fine.” It was then Natalie sensed a change in him. Sitting back from her now, he rested one arm upon his knees and looked away from her, off across the meadow.

His easy smile had disappeared. As though fighting a battle within himself, he grudgingly spoke his next words. “I will marry you if you feel ill-used. But I know it is not something you or your family want.” He forced his gaze to return to hers. “I haven’t much to offer, but what I have is yours, if you wish.”

She had not felt ill-used.

Not until he chose to speak to her with all the romance of a mallet!

His words hit her like a bucket of ice water. The closeness vanished. She suddenly, ridiculously, felt alone and exposed. He’d gone from lover to stranger in the blink of an eye.

She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he’d hurt her.

“Have I fallen so low, then?” she asked, with as much disdain as she could summon while sitting on the crushed grass in her chemise. “That I am to consider a proposal, a boorish and grudging proposal, from one such as you? From the Earl of Hawthorne, no less?”

Scrambling to her feet, she gathered her stays about herself. If only she could simply walk away from him. But she was unclothed, and she could not make herself presentable without assistance. “Help me with this,” she commanded. “And don’t look at me like that, as I’m not about to say ‘please’ or any other such nonsense.”

She clenched her fists at her sides, her fingernails digging into her palms, as Garrett tugged at the laces of her stays. How had he expected her to respond? Nearly shaking in her anger, she barely noticed when he gathered her dress from the ground and brushed the grass from it. Without a word spoken, he dropped it over her head. She pushed her arms into the sleeves, and he fastened it as well.

“I do apologize,” he said. “I had not thought my proposal would be such an offense to your dignity.”

Natalie wanted to put her face in her hands and weep. What a stupid, stupid man! Oh, how she hated him!

“Perhaps, my lord”—she would not look at him—“it was not the proposal itself, but the manner in which the gentleman presented it.” She snatched up her jacket and hat and would have stormed off if only she could locate her boots.

Oh, where were they? She glanced around to no avail.

“Looking for these?” Garrett had a sad little smile on his face as he dangled her half boots by their laces in front of him.

When she went to grab them from him, he seized her wrist and stepped toward her instead. “You know it is not what you want.” He pulled her close and held tight to her as though she were a child in need of comfort. “You are just recently free of an unwanted betrothal.”

Natalie did not know what to say. Should she tell him she loved him? Did she? Upon such short acquaintance was it even possible? Or had the furtive glances and seductive stares they’d exchanged throughout the previous two seasons begun all this long ago?

Could she attach herself to a man judged to be a pariah by society? A man who carried tainted blood? A sob escaped her.

She did not want to cry.

“I do not feel ill-used by you,” she said. “I think you an honorable man.” He could have taken her completely. She’d offered no resistance and probably would not if he chose to do so now.

She felt his lips move, pressed upon the top of her head as he spoke. “I know you want a love match. I know you wish for a family. It is not possible.” He pulled her down to the ground, into his lap.

“My father was not just an evil man, but a mad one. Something was broken inside of him. As a youth, there were times when I thought he ought to be locked away from other people. But he always returned to his own strange type of normalcy, and all seemed settled.” He rocked her as he spoke. “He could be violent, and he could be oddly tender. There were periods when he would work in his office, drafting bills and documents for Parliament as though the fate of the world rested upon his shoulders, and then there were other times when he would not come out of his bedchamber for days. As a boy, I was terrified of him.”

Natalie understood. “You are fearful that his disease could appear in your own children.”

He exhaled long and slow. “Yes. Or even in myself.”

Blinking away tears, Natalie twisted around to look at him. She did not know very much about this. But just as her brothers shared similarities in appearance with their father, and she shared the good looks of her mother, she presumed it was possible to share other traits as well.

“You will never have any children then?” she asked.

“I will do what I can to help the tenants and the workers prosper on my father’s properties, but the title will go into abeyance upon my death.” She did not like to hear him speak of his own demise. His words made her overwhelmingly sad.

To think he would never be a father nearly broke her heart. She remembered the gentleness in him when he’d handled Baby Bear.

This was a travesty! No, a tragedy—for God help her, she loved him! She’d fallen in love with Garrett Castleton, the Earl of Hawthorne.

Had she told herself she would feel thusly, a sennight ago, she would have been the first to laugh. Well, the joke was on her.

Because she wished for nothing more, in that moment, than to place her hand in his and promise to love him and to help him, for the rest of their lives.

“That is why I could not love you properly this afternoon. It is why I cannot offer myself to you as a proper husband.”

He could not love her properly…Did he love her at all? He’d never said so.

Was this merely a handy excuse on his part? A pretext for avoiding the parson’s trap?

“A proper husband.” She repeated his words thoughtfully. The words left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Garrett ran his fingers through her hair and began twisting it into a knot. Reaching down, he pulled something from his pocket, and she felt him slipping the pins back into her hair.

“I could use a new lady’s maid.” She could jest. Otherwise, she might burst into tears. Today had been distressing. And now she felt his lips trailing along her nape. Oh, how he knew her weaknesses!

Garrett settled her hat upon her head. “I would suggest foregoing the jacket.” He sounded far too practical. “I don’t want you fainting from the heat.”

He turned her head so she would look at him again. “And if there isn’t a duke out there waiting for you, I trust there will be some other, equally lofty young man who will love you for yourself, who will give you babies and romance and everything you long for.”

He was going to make her angry again.

He could not love her if he was so eager to thrust her upon any other man who might happen along. Very well then. She was not so very needy.

“Well, allow me to thank you then, for introducing me to la petite mort. For I now know what one of my demands will be before I commit to another betrothal.” She pushed herself away from him and donned her boots. Standing, she brushed at her skirt and then offered him her hand.

He stared blankly at it for a moment before grasping it in his and allowing her to pull him up. Once standing, he held out his arm, but she ignored it and walked away from him instead.

Striding through the dense trees, she couldn’t help thinking there was more than one type of petite mort. For a small piece of her heart seemed to have died just now. She would not cry. She would not.