her hips and legs. He kissed her again, the meeting of mouths softer than before, as though he sought to maintain the intimacy of that moment—their closeness and the isolation they found together in the meadow. He held her against him and Helen breathed in his scent. Sandalwood, leather, and something uniquely belonging to him, intoxicating as an opiate. The breeze moved the grass around them like waves of an emerald sea. For a brief moment, Helen thought they were the only two people in this paradise, and that no world existed outside.
“Do I still frighten you?” Gareth asked, his tone teasing as he stroked her cheek.
Helen, spellbound by the sensations he’d created in her moments ago, was speechless for a second. She leaned into his caress, unable to deny herself the pleasure of his touch. She could not escape him, and she was beginning to want to stay. But a part of her still feared him, the way he made her want things she knew she could never have, like happiness with a man like him. She remembered the fire in his eyes as he demanded the debt be paid. He would claim it—claim her—and that did frighten her. What would happen when he was done and she’d been foolish enough to let herself fall for him?
“I believe you will always frighten me,” she admitted. But it was a different sort of fear, not one of harm to the body, but devastation to the heart.
His laugh was low and rough. “You present me with a challenge then. I shall spend our time together wooing you into trusting me.” He fingered one of her loosened curls, wearing a boyish smile. “I rather like you, Helen.”
She bit her lip, the words I rather like you, too hung on the tip of her tongue, unspoken.
He got to his feet, brushing grass off his breeches. “Should we return to the house and see if Mary has breakfast ready?”
She wobbled for a few seconds as he pulled her to her feet. Her legs trembled, still reverberating with the memory of what he’d done to her and how her body had reacted. Echoes of pleasure still worked their way through her in little flushes and the twitching of her inner muscles. He held out an arm, which she leaned on, grateful for the support.
The house was abuzz with the flutter of servants when they returned. Maids were dusting shelves and polishing candlesticks. Footmen were stretching their legs by running errands at Mary’s bidding. She stood in the main hall, issuing orders better than a British General. Gareth nodded in greeting as they passed her on their way to the dining room. She smiled, brief but warm, before dashing off to chastise a clumsy footman who’d tripped on the edge of a carpet and spilled the basin of water he’d been carrying.
The table was decorated with plates of fruit, eggs, kippers, and various jams for spreading on a stack of warm toast. Helen’s stomach growled at the sight of food. Even though she’d stuffed herself on cookies an hour ago, the sight of these new dishes renewed her hunger. Over the last few months, she had survived on small portions of bread and water, just to be able to get by. She’d taken to giving her brother the larger share of whatever meals they could afford. Gareth pulled out a chair for her next to his own seat at the head of the table. Helen reached for the nearest piece of toast but froze, remembering her manners. Gareth had not yet made a move towards the food. His eyes were scanning a stack of letters brought in by a servant. He glanced up, noticing her stillness.
“Do not wait for me. Please eat.” He smiled warmly at her. She had to stop herself before she smiled back. He was a different person from early this morning. Then, he’d been a haunted, troubled man, burdened by anger and frustration. Now he seemed…kind. Even in the meadow, his touch had been soft, insistent, too, but not brutal…not like what she’d expected.
Helen filled a plate with a balance of fruits, eggs, and toast, enjoying the variety. There was a flare of excitement in
“Do I still frighten you?” Gareth asked, his tone teasing as he stroked her cheek.
Helen, spellbound by the sensations he’d created in her moments ago, was speechless for a second. She leaned into his caress, unable to deny herself the pleasure of his touch. She could not escape him, and she was beginning to want to stay. But a part of her still feared him, the way he made her want things she knew she could never have, like happiness with a man like him. She remembered the fire in his eyes as he demanded the debt be paid. He would claim it—claim her—and that did frighten her. What would happen when he was done and she’d been foolish enough to let herself fall for him?
“I believe you will always frighten me,” she admitted. But it was a different sort of fear, not one of harm to the body, but devastation to the heart.
His laugh was low and rough. “You present me with a challenge then. I shall spend our time together wooing you into trusting me.” He fingered one of her loosened curls, wearing a boyish smile. “I rather like you, Helen.”
She bit her lip, the words I rather like you, too hung on the tip of her tongue, unspoken.
He got to his feet, brushing grass off his breeches. “Should we return to the house and see if Mary has breakfast ready?”
She wobbled for a few seconds as he pulled her to her feet. Her legs trembled, still reverberating with the memory of what he’d done to her and how her body had reacted. Echoes of pleasure still worked their way through her in little flushes and the twitching of her inner muscles. He held out an arm, which she leaned on, grateful for the support.
The house was abuzz with the flutter of servants when they returned. Maids were dusting shelves and polishing candlesticks. Footmen were stretching their legs by running errands at Mary’s bidding. She stood in the main hall, issuing orders better than a British General. Gareth nodded in greeting as they passed her on their way to the dining room. She smiled, brief but warm, before dashing off to chastise a clumsy footman who’d tripped on the edge of a carpet and spilled the basin of water he’d been carrying.
The table was decorated with plates of fruit, eggs, kippers, and various jams for spreading on a stack of warm toast. Helen’s stomach growled at the sight of food. Even though she’d stuffed herself on cookies an hour ago, the sight of these new dishes renewed her hunger. Over the last few months, she had survived on small portions of bread and water, just to be able to get by. She’d taken to giving her brother the larger share of whatever meals they could afford. Gareth pulled out a chair for her next to his own seat at the head of the table. Helen reached for the nearest piece of toast but froze, remembering her manners. Gareth had not yet made a move towards the food. His eyes were scanning a stack of letters brought in by a servant. He glanced up, noticing her stillness.
“Do not wait for me. Please eat.” He smiled warmly at her. She had to stop herself before she smiled back. He was a different person from early this morning. Then, he’d been a haunted, troubled man, burdened by anger and frustration. Now he seemed…kind. Even in the meadow, his touch had been soft, insistent, too, but not brutal…not like what she’d expected.
Helen filled a plate with a balance of fruits, eggs, and toast, enjoying the variety. There was a flare of excitement in
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