A tremor of arousal slammed through Garrett Stockton and his pulse soared as he stared at the feminine hand fiercely clutching his chest. Lady Kitson’s touch was as explosive as lighted gunpowder to a man who had been at sea a very long time and had only this day put his feet on English soil. The pull of pent-up desire made his body throb, and no amount of deep breathing was helping to curb the ache or the force of it. It didn’t matter that she was a lady and should be treated like one. Like the legends of the sea sirens, she silently called out to him, and his body reacted. It made no distinction between lady and mistress. It only felt need.
That Lady Kitson hadn’t jerked her hand away from him the instant she realized she was holding on to him was testament to her inner strength and keen sense of control. For now, they would both have to endure their vulnerability and not move until the ladies below them were far away. Not that he was in a hurry to shift away from her touch.
His gaze eased up from her soft hand to her beautiful lips, and then to her intriguing eyes. They were a rare and vivid shade of dark blue-violet, and staring straight into his. Her complexion was flawless and the color of pale parchment, except for the bright flush of heat in her cheeks. Bits of leaves and tiny pieces of twigs were scattered throughout her lush, chestnut-colored hair. Long damp strands had escaped from her chignon and framed her face.
Oh, yes, she was a beauty.
Lady Kitson’s fingers slowly relaxed. She gently slid her palm down the buttons on Garrett’s waistcoat until she dropped her arm to her side. His skin pebbled deliciously as he felt every inch of her light caress. It sent a hard throb of pulsating heat directly to his lower body. The madness of what it did to him threatened to overwhelm his control. His hand tightened around the limb above his head. She was making it too easy for him to imagine the hunger of his lips crushing against hers, and the thrill of his hands skimming her bare skin in passion and pleasure, the need to—Garrett swallowed down the primal desires warring inside him, fighting to take control of his common sense.
There were usually two things Garrett wanted to do after his boots touched London soil. His first stop was to visit a mistress and his second was to ride in the park. Today, he’d reversed that order. At the time, he didn’t know why getting on a horse seemed more important. Now he knew. She was standing right beside him.
Seconds continued to pass. The voices faded away. Garrett gave Lady Kitson a nod and slid his knife back into the sheath sewn inside his boot.
“That was close,” she whispered, her breaths sounding as labored as his.
He hoped she didn’t know how close. It wasn’t only the appealing way she looked to him right now that enticed him. He was drawn to the fearless spirit that must have sent her into the tree in the first place, and the inner strength that kept her from panicking while she was there. Whether or not she’d ever admit it, that made her an adventurer, too. And she was obviously as impetuous as the day was long. How else could she have managed to get herself tangled in a tree?
“You were upset I discovered you up here.”
“Yes,” she whispered under her breath as she lightly rubbed the whiplashed skin on the back of her neck. “But in doing so, you saved me. Your skills with a knife are exceptional and appreciated. You knew exactly where to put the blade.”
Garrett shrugged casually. He’d already received gratitude enough from the trace of her hand and the ensuing thoughts it encouraged. He cautiously moved some leaves and took a sweeping glance around the other trees and slopes near them. There were still several people enjoying the late afternoon but none venturing nearby.
“Let’s get you down.” He held out his hand to her.
Without further ado, she took a firm hold of his hand and quickly stepped toward him, but in her haste, one of her boots slipped off the edge of the limb. Her weight yanked her hand off the branch above her head. Garrett instinctively tightened his grip on her hand and caught her around the waist with his other arm, while quickly falling back against the trunk to keep them from tumbling out of the tree. His breath stalled, his heart thumped, and his lower body took a heady jolt of desire as Lady Kitson fell against him.
Garrett’s heart was beating fast against his chest. They had come very close to hitting the ground, but she was safe, in his arms, her lips inches from his. Her breaths were as deep and rapid as his. Neither of them moved.
From beneath long, full lashes, her gaze searched his. Attraction and wanting were pulsating between them. He had no doubt she could feel the distinctive proof of his desire for her. The necessity to act on the tension and danger the moment had created was evident as they gave each other second and third looks. There was an exotic, sensuous atmosphere settling around them. The inviting scent of crushed leaves mixed with the smell of her freshly washed hair. A sheen of moisture glistened lightly across the bridge of her nose. His gaze swept down her face to linger on her lips.
Garrett felt as if all the sounds around them suddenly went silent. There were only the two of them in this space, this park, and this world. His hand pressed firmer against her back, compelling her forward. Her body was solid, but soft against him. Thin but muscled, and warm as the sunshine that flickered through the leaves. His lower stomach and body tightened with need. With his ungloved hand he gently cupped her soft cheek and cautiously let his forearm rest between her breasts. She didn’t flinch. Instead, she relaxed and leaned toward him, her lips moving seductively closer to his.
He could see her features softening. Her dark lashes lowered and her mouth formed a beautiful enticing bow. Garrett bent his head ready to claim her for his own, but just before his lips touched hers, a masculine shout and the harsh snap of leather rang through the air as a carriage rolled by.
Letting out a sighing breath, Lady Kitson moistened her lips. “We almost fell.” She pushed away as she reached up and grabbed an overhead limb to steady herself. Her gaze stayed steady on his. “Thank you for saving me once again.”
Garrett had had a few exciting dreams in his lifetime. A few wild moments, too, but it had never entered his mind that he could one day be in a tree on a sultry afternoon with a lady who would tempt him to forgo civility and kiss her until they were both dizzy. He’d wanted to ravish her. He still wanted to.
He was sure her contemplations had been going in the same direction as his, that she’d felt the same rush of intense desire, but she was being levelheaded. They were in no position for a kiss. But to feel her lips on his, somehow he would have managed.
Garrett strengthened his stance with his feet and legs. “Take hold of my wrist with both hands and don’t let go until you feel comfortable doing so.”
“Stop worrying, Mr. Stockton,” she said softly, grasping his forearm. “I know exactly what to do.”
Garrett wasn’t easily impressed anymore, but the confident lady standing beside him was making a sizable dent in his cynical perspective. Taking him to task was a refreshing change from women who usually wanted to please his every desire.
He bent his knees and lowered her as close to the ground as possible without endangering his position. As soon as she let go of him and her feet touched soil, he grabbed hold of the limb they’d been standing on and swung himself down—too close to the horse. The mare yanked her head a couple of times, nickered, and sidestepped restlessly.
“Easy, girl,” he said calmly, rubbing the animal’s neck with one hand and controlling the bridle with the other. “Nothing’s wrong. Settle down, now.”
“Is she all right?” Lady Kitson asked as she cautiously scanned the park from east to west and then looked around to the other side of the tree.
Garrett continued to pat the mare, but his attention was on Lady Kitson. “She’s fine,” he answered. “Just startled. How about you? Any twisted ankles or wrenched knees?”
Lady Kitson touched the damp tresses at the back of her neck and then brushed the skirt of her dress. “Nothing is hurt other than my pride.” She scoffed out a soft laugh. “In her haste, Miss Periwinkle left with my bonnet, so I am in the park without a headpiece or a companion. Other than those two forbidden things, I am in perfect order.”
Garrett liked the way her straight, slender shoulders moved a little when she talked. She probably wasn’t even aware that she did it, but he was noticing every little detail about her. She was a widow, a mother, yet still there was a wholesome innocence about her.
Though Garrett hadn’t been in London at the time, he knew Lady Kitson Fairbright’s story. The sinking of the Salty Dove had widowed her and two friends, Lady Lyonwood and Mrs. Brina Feld. To their credit, they had overcome their loss and started a small charitable boarding school for daughters and sisters of the workers who’d lost their lives.
Garrett unrolled the horse’s reins from the branch. “I’ll walk with you to meet the governess. You shouldn’t stay here. The ladies who stopped by might return before she does and question you. You would be at a greater risk of ridicule from being alone than being seen with me. I will walk with you.”
She glanced around the park again, obviously still worried someone was close enough to recognize her. “I’m afraid the duke would see both as equally damaging to my reputation.”
Garrett’s mouth twitched sardonically. Her answer was proof that wealth could not equal a title and social standing in Society. Most members of Society believed that Garrett had breached the threshold between gentleman and tradesman after his father had passed. Obviously the duke was one of them.
First sons of a third son were welcomed in Society—as long as they never gave an appearance of having anything to do with what was commonly known as work.
Most of London’s peerage was fine with a gentleman inheriting, buying, or winning at the gaming tables a company as prosperous as Garrett’s, but what kind of gentleman could he be if he actually worked to build it into an empire? That wasn’t what a proper member of Society would do, no matter how far removed he was from a title or how light he was in the pockets. It was far better to be at the mercy of a distant relative for a small house to live in and a meager yearly allowance, yet maintaining social status as a gentleman, than to earn money and prosper oneself.
Garrett’s father, Alfred, had held to that belief all his life and tried his best to instill it in his son.
But he hadn’t.
Barely twenty at the time of his father’s death, Garrett had decided against accepting an allowance from his titled third cousin in favor of seeking his own fortune with a ship his father had won in a gambling match but had never sent to sail. Garrett set out to change that.
The old captain who lived onboard the vessel was happy to have a mission—teaching Garrett the ways of the sea. Because of the sea dog’s wealth of knowledge, garnering contracts to ferry the shipments had been easier than Garrett expected. He learned quickly that smaller ships carried less cargo but reached their destination faster, which pleased traders. Undercutting his competition’s pricing and carrying dangerous cargo was lucrative, too.
He’d taken foolish chances in the first couple of years of his sea life, carrying armaments of varying kinds that perhaps weren’t legally sanctioned but the freights made him a lot of money quickly. Garrett didn’t ask questions when the pay was good. The risks were great, but they had given him enough income to pursue more respectable shipments of wines, fabrics, spices, and all the things that made people comfortable and happy.
Then, Garrett’s only goal was not to return to London as penniless as when he left. Now, ten years later, Garrett had built a burgeoning shipping empire. The hell of it was that some in Society considered that achievement unacceptable for a gentleman.
So be it.
Recriminations or regrets weren’t emotions he wanted to have hanging around. He did what he had to do then, and he would now that he was back in London.
“I won’t leave you unaccompanied in the park, Lady Kitson. I will walk with you,” he said again.
She continued to stare into his eyes. Her caution was real. He didn’t know much about the Duke of Sprogsfield, but the man certainly had Lady Kitson worried.
“My hesitancy isn’t because of you in particular, Mr. Stockton,” she offered. “I didn’t mean to imply it was. It would be any man, I’m afraid. But that said, I do believe you were right in indicating I can hasten an end to this debacle I’ve found myself in by going to meet Miss Periwinkle. If the duke hears rumor of me walking in the park in such a state, I will tell him a gust of wind took off my bonnet and Miss Periwinkle had to fetch it for me.”
Garrett smiled at her. The afternoon air had been as still as sea glass lying on a deserted shore. It wasn’t likely the old duke would believe a puff of wind ripped off a bonnet on this day. But he liked the fact that she’d try to convince her father-in-law otherwise.
“How would you explain being seen with me?”
“With the truth, of course.” She smiled, too. “You saw me at a difficult time and took advantage of me by introducing yourself.”
It was worth coming back to London just for the encounter with Lady Kitson. He had a feeling he wouldn’t feel the need to seek other adventures if she were around. She could give him more than enough to satisfy the wanderlust in his soul.
Fitting his hat onto his head, Garrett chuckled and then said, “Let’s go in the direction you expect Miss Periwinkle to be coming from.”
“Yes. Hopefully, we’ll meet her before seeing anyone we know. If not, it won’t be the first time I’ve not lived up to the duke’s expectations of proper widowhood. It’s just that especially now I don’t want to give the duke any cause to—well, never mind about that.”
Garrett wondered what she’d started to say but thought better of it. They started walking, and after a tug or two on the reins, the reluctant horse fell dutifully in line behind them. A curricle came up over the rise in front of them, but the young man driving it was in too big a hurry to pay them any mind.
“What did you do to garner the duke’s ill favor?”
“I upset his plans by eloping with his youngest son. After that it didn’t take much, I assure you. For a time, all I needed was to have one too many flounces sewed on my skirt or for a bow on the sleeve of my dress to come untied and he would be looking severely at me. He is a very pious and rigid man, and holds everyone to his standards.”
“That must be difficult to accept for someone as independent as you seem to be.”
“Yes, but it’s best for my son,” she answered without looking at him. “For Chatwyn, I’ve learned to stay on somewhat agreeable terms with the duke.”
Garrett looked over at her. She had a troubled, determined expression on her face. More was going on with the duke than she wanted to talk about. She was being prudent again. Still, she’d said enough that he was curious. He wanted to know more about Lady Kitson and her father-in-law.
“I don’t know much about you, Mr. Stockton, but I’ve heard you return to London every year or two, only long enough to break a few young ladies’ hearts, and then you are off again.”
“If that’s true, my lady, it wasn’t my intention. I return to check on my businesses here and see no reason not to enjoy the dinners, parties, and conversations when invited.”
Her eyes held steady on his once again as they walked. “It does seem Society as a whole can’t make up its mind about you. Are you a gentleman or not?”
“It’s a question I hear every time I come back to London. I leave that for others to decide.” He pulled on the reins when the horse wanted to stop and graze. The animal shuddered a couple of times but gave up her protest and continued to clop along behind them.
“You are clever to remain silent on the issue.”
Her eyes sparkled with amusement. He liked the way he felt when she looked at him. It teased him with the possibility they would have another opportunity to explore the desires that had sparked between them when they were in the tree.
Lady Kitson then looked straight ahead, and so did he. They were nearing the area in the park where the family with the three children was playing. Their high-pitched voices rent the air with youthful chatter and laughter. Not too far away from them was a man driving a wagon that looked to be loaded with baskets filled with vegetables. Garrett took it all in. Enjoying the sounds of life was always important to him when he returned to England. Through the greenery of the trees in the distance he could see the western sky melting into calming shades of orange, pink, and dark blue. The sky had grown darker while they walked, but the air stayed heavy with heat.
In the distance, he heard even more shouts from other children playing and, even farther away, the sounds of a dog barking and carriage wheels rolling over the uneven terrain of St. James. He always found the more common sounds of life cheering after so many days on a ship where all he heard was the flapping of sails in strong wind, riggings banging against the mast, and masculine voices.
“What are some of the countries you’ve seen, Mr. Stockton?” Lady Kitson asked when silence between them stretched.
“Turkey, India, the Americas. Too many to mention.”
“According to the maps I’ve seen, all of them look to be very far away.”
Garrett remembered the seemingly endless days and nights he’d spent at sea before land would appear as if it were rising out of the waters. “They are.”
“And what cargos do your ships carry?”
“Silks for clothing, porcelains for tables, and jade for jewelry. Teas, and spices. Horses from Arabia. The East India Shipping Company can’t ship everything the English, the Europeans, and the Americans are hungry for. Smaller companies like mine are needed to help them.”
“I suppose I should be more thankful there are those who make the journeys.” Lady Kitson looked over at him with curiosity gleaming her eyes and curving the corners of her beautifully shaped lips. “You must enjoy your life as a sojourner, Mr. Stockton.”
Garrett chuckled under his breath. Sojourner was the ton’s favorite word for him. That gave the impression he was simply a traveler and hadn’t participated in the work of building his shipping company. Nothing could be further from the truth.
On his last voyage, Garrett had realized the reason he never stayed in London very long was that he didn’t have a home. He intended to change that. He was going to purchase a house in London. Not just any house, but the one where he had grown up. The one that his father had said could never be theirs. Garrett wanted that house. And he didn’t care what it cost him to get it.
“It’s rumored your ships have brought secret artifacts into the country for the Prince to display in his lavish homes.”
Lady’s Kitson’s interest in him seemed genuine, but he gave her a wry grin of doubt. “If it was a secret, it obviously wasn’t a well-guarded one.”
“So, then it’s true,” she said with a breath of astonishment. “You don’t deny that you have sailed for the Prince.”
Garrett sensed disapproval by her tone, but he wasn’t about to make apologies. He couldn’t deny her accusation. His company had brought shipments of the Prince’s plunders to England. Garrett had never met the Regent and had no idea what he did with his bounty. Garrett always worked through an emissary.
He kept a steady gaze on her face as they walked. The side of his mouth twitched with a slight smile. “Do I hear a note of scorn in your voice, my lady?”
Their exchange of looks lasted long enough for him to believe her attraction to him was real, no matter that it was clear she didn’t support some of the things he’d done.
She answered with a feminine shrug, and then, as if to give herself time to collect her thoughts, she scanned the horizon and then to her right and left again. He wondered what made her so skittish concerning what the duke thought about her.
“It’s well-known how carelessly and lavishly the King’s son spends on his homes, for trinkets, gambling debts, and probably other things that only a few are privy to,” Lady Kitson said.
Most everyone knew the Prince had a flamboyant lifestyle. He’d never bothered to hide it. He had an insatiable appetite for many things; food, wine, women, and gambling. He also had a keenness for beautiful and rare paintings and extraordinary art objects. Garrett wouldn’t call the artifacts he brought into England trinkets. The King’s son appreciated his share of oddities, for sure, but he also coveted other countries’ priceless treasures.
The Prince was often vilified in articles and illustrations for his proclivities and his expenditures for furniture, renowned paintings, delicate china tureens, plates, and vases. And more porcelain than even a prince’s house could hold. That was just the start of the plunder he had garnered for his extravagant collections. However, Garrett wasn’t one to judge the way someone else lived his life.
“I have no firsthand knowledge of the Regent’s gambling, but one thing is sure, Lady Kitson: the Prince will not take any of the treasures he’s bought or otherwise collected to the grave with him when he dies. So, in the end, England will be the bountiful beneficiary of a great number of priceless artifacts one day.”
“You know you are saying the end justifies his questionable acts, don’t you? I probably can’t even imagine half the things you have done.”
She stopped walking, looked at him, and laughed softly. The merriment in her eyes and the whispery sound echoing from her tempting lips made Garrett’s heartbeat trip. She was heavenly tempting when she looked at him like that. His desire to catch her up in his embrace and kiss her was strong but also impossible. He probably could have held her spellbound with tales of storms so fierce he wasn’t sure he’d live to take another breath, but he didn’t want to talk about himself or the Prince’s lifestyle. He wanted to know more about her—a widow confident enough to start a charitable school for girls, brave enough to climb a tree, and kindhearted enough to save a butterfly.
“You were telling me about your son earlier.”
“I delight in talking about Chatwyn, but don’t think I don’t know you asking about him is your way of changing the subject.”
He affirmed her statement with a nod. “I would never expect I could fool you about anything, Lady Kitson, and I’m sure having a four-year-old son in the house would be just as adventuresome as sailing the seas.”
“You are probably right about that. Chatwyn surprises me every day. He’s old enough we can now have conversations—on simple subjects, of course, like birds and butterflies. But only for a short time. He doesn’t like to tarry with anything. Especially with his dinner.”
Garrett noticed the way her eyes brightened and her features relaxed contentedly when she talked about her son. “I don’t know much about children, but I would think most boys are that way.”
Lady Kitson looked away from him again and brushed her mussed hair, securing an errant strand behind her ear. The innocent gesture stirred his lower body again. The hunger inside him was as real as the early twilight and humid air. And it was more than just the long absence of a willing woman in his bed. He and Lady Kitson sensed the mutual attraction and the possibilities it would bring. He kept wanting to feel the warmth of her in his arms and the taste of her kisses lingering on his lips.
Garrett had enjoyed the companionship and pleasure of beautiful, desirable women on his travels, but his time with them was always brief. It never included leisurely strolls, inquisitive questions, or long-lingering looks. Certainly not the kind he and Lady Kitson were exchanging. In each country he visited, his main focus was always to secure cargo. He scoured markets, streets, and shops where everything from ordinary clay cups to exotic orchids were on display and could be bought, sold, or bartered. From the time he dropped anchor until he set sail again he was making agreements to fill his ships with things people wanted.
Now it was time to have something he wanted—the house on Poppinbrook Street. And to see Lady Kitson again.
“Perhaps I could—”
“Lady Kitson!”
At the sound of a feminine voice, Garrett turned and saw a petite young woman in a dark gray dress waving frantically at them.
“Thank heavens Miss Periwinkle remembered to bring my bonnet.” Lady Kitson acknowledged her and then turned to Garrett.
A strange sensation rippled through his chest and changed the rhythm of his heart. A masculine possessiveness rose inside him. He wasn’t ready to part her company.
“Thank you for your help, Mr. Stockton. I trust I can count on you to remain a gentleman about this incident and keep my secret.”
“It’s our secret, my lady, and it is safe with me.”
She seemed to adjust her shoulders slightly in frustration because he hadn’t said exactly what she wanted, but then she lifted her chin in acceptance. “Since you have traveled the world, I assume you have knowledge of a great number of subjects. I have a question for you, Mr. Stockton. If you don’t mind?”
That intrigued him. “You can ask me anything, Lady Kitson.”
She held her hands together tightly in front of her. “If you wanted to hide something in your house that you didn’t want anyone else to see, something important. Where would you put it?”
Garrett’s gaze held fast to hers. What did she have that was important enough to hide? Jewels? Money? “That depends. How big is this something I would want to conceal?”
She’d tried to sound casual, but the way her eyes narrowed when she glanced away from him showed that she was serious about this. Garrett wondered what she was up to.
Giving her full attention back to him, she answered, “Rather small, I should think. Letters, documents. That sort of thing.”
That made him even more curious. What kind of documents could a duke’s daughter-in-law want hidden? Property she didn’t want him to know she had seemed the most reasonable thing.
“I’d probably put them in a leather pouch and bind it tightly to keep out moisture. A good place to stash something small is in a secret compartment under the floor. Cover it with a rug and then place a large piece of furniture on top of it. Another good place would be behind a wall of books on a high shelf, or if there are a lot of books in the room you could even cut out the pages and hide the items inside a very dull volume on the chemical sciences.”
Her quizzical gaze connected with his again. “Yes, all of these sound very clever. What about a false-bottomed or secret drawer in a desk?”
“That would work.” He nodded. “But it would probably be the first place someone would look. If you are going to hide something, you need to make it difficult to get to. Usually, people who are looking for an object have very little time. The harder you make it for them, the better.”
“Yes. I see what you mean. Thank you for sharing your insights on this with me.”
Lady Kitson smiled at him and Garrett’s stomach tightened. “Do you need my help with something, Lady Kitson?”
Her lashes fluttered and she took in a deep breath before she spoke. “No, not at all.”
Garrett knew she wasn’t as convinced she didn’t need him as she indicated. He didn’t want to pressure her, but asked again, “Are you sure?”
“Yes, of course,” she responded more confidently. “I was just wondering for no particular reason. Now I really must bid you good day, sir.”
He bowed.
Garrett watched Lady Kitson hurry toward the governess. She stopped and quickly donned a wide-brimmed straw hat, taking time to shove wayward strands of her hair beneath it before making a hasty bow with the ribbons under her chin. She then turned and looked back at him, causing another surge of wanting to tighten in his lower body. He hadn’t expected her to give him any more consideration but was glad she had. He tipped his hat to her and turned away.
He didn’t imagine the way she looked at him. She was as attracted to him as he was to her. Though her words didn’t bear that out, he’d felt it as surely as he could feel the wind in his hair when a storm was brewing at sea. Yet she’d made no indication she’d welcome his attentions.
He couldn’t blame her for being cautious about him. Probably none of the things she’d heard about him would woo a sensible lady. Why would a jewel like her want to get involved with a man who was known for being gone a year at a stretch, or sometimes longer? She had a son and would be looking for stability in a man.
Garrett felt the tug of desire again. His body was eager, but his mind ruled. He didn’t want just any woman. He wanted one who was brave enough to climb a tree and turn down his attentions when he knew she wanted them.
The saddle creaked as he put his foot into the stirrup and climbed onto the back of the horse. He turned the mare around and headed back toward the tree.
Being a rogue had its benefits. Garrett would see Lady Kitson again, and propriety be damned.