her at being able to eat as much as she wanted. Their fortune had been so slight that meals had been meager of late, and she’d been forced to convince Martin that she wasn’t nearly as hungry as he was so that he might have a fuller belly. For the first time since her father died, she was able to worry only about herself, about what she needed. Her stomach grumbled again, and Helen eyed the stack of toast thoughtfully before quickly snatching another piece and adding it to her plate.
This strange sense of comfort and ease made her less and less willing to fight against Gareth and his desires. If she liked what happened in the meadow, she would probably like other things he might do to her. Well, if she was being truly honest, she hadn’t just liked it. She’d reveled in it. It might be worth it—his physical pleasure traded for food and clothing. A cold thought struck her. Was she no better than the type of women she’d feared she would become? Surely not. Gareth didn’t treat her like she was that sort of woman, but still… Helen shook her head slightly to rid herself of that unpleasant thought and turned her attention back to the food.
Gareth read his letters as he ate, seemingly oblivious to her study of him. She thought perhaps her mind had exaggerated the marble carved features of perfection on his face, but they were just as she had remembered. The sunlight played with his hair, revealing a hint of chocolate brown amidst the rich russet. His hands were large and strong, the fingers deftly breaking the seals of his letters. Those were the same hands that had brought unspeakable pleasure to her only a short while ago. A delicious little shiver ran through her at the memory.
When Gareth finished his breakfast, he bid her a good day with a genteel bow, lifting her hand to press his lips on the inside of her wrist. Her pulse jumped at the intimate contact.
She was fascinated by him, like a helpless minnow spying its first shiny lure in the stream. Helen wanted to follow him, to see where he would go and what he would do. Would he want to kiss her or pleasure her again? Gareth was halfway out the door when he paused and Helen bumped into his back. He looked over his shoulder at her as though surprised to find her so close.
“You mean to follow me, Helen? I do not expect you to. You are free to go about the house and gardens as you wish.”
Helen frowned. Was he dismissing her? Did he mean to leave her alone while he went about his day? The thought saddened her. Perhaps she was not a good companion and he would soon tire of her. As a twin, she craved companionship, and didn’t like too much time alone. She didn’t need to be speaking to someone every minute of the day, but she liked another person in her presence. Perhaps Gareth was the opposite and did not wish to have her around.
Her unhappy silence affected him enough that he reached out for her arm and tilted his head to indicate she should accompany him.
“Come along then. I’m off to the stables. It is a fine day for riding.”
“You have horses?” She was all smiles again, memories of her youth flooding through her. They’d once owned a pair of stout draft horses, and she and Martin used to ride them in the summer.
“Of course I have horses, my darling. How do you think my coach brought you here?”
He was teasing her, she could see it in his eyes. She liked it when he was playful. He must feel something for her, however small, if he joked with her. One of Martin’s boyhood friends used to tug her hair, and her mother said that men often treated the women they liked in such a fashion.
“Do you know how to ride?”
“I do, but not sidesaddle, I’m afraid,” she admitted. Her father hadn’t bothered with teaching her the niceties expected of gentle bred ladies, at least when it came to riding. Since her mother died when she was a child, she’d been without the feminine guidance that would have taught her such things.
“That is well,
This strange sense of comfort and ease made her less and less willing to fight against Gareth and his desires. If she liked what happened in the meadow, she would probably like other things he might do to her. Well, if she was being truly honest, she hadn’t just liked it. She’d reveled in it. It might be worth it—his physical pleasure traded for food and clothing. A cold thought struck her. Was she no better than the type of women she’d feared she would become? Surely not. Gareth didn’t treat her like she was that sort of woman, but still… Helen shook her head slightly to rid herself of that unpleasant thought and turned her attention back to the food.
Gareth read his letters as he ate, seemingly oblivious to her study of him. She thought perhaps her mind had exaggerated the marble carved features of perfection on his face, but they were just as she had remembered. The sunlight played with his hair, revealing a hint of chocolate brown amidst the rich russet. His hands were large and strong, the fingers deftly breaking the seals of his letters. Those were the same hands that had brought unspeakable pleasure to her only a short while ago. A delicious little shiver ran through her at the memory.
When Gareth finished his breakfast, he bid her a good day with a genteel bow, lifting her hand to press his lips on the inside of her wrist. Her pulse jumped at the intimate contact.
She was fascinated by him, like a helpless minnow spying its first shiny lure in the stream. Helen wanted to follow him, to see where he would go and what he would do. Would he want to kiss her or pleasure her again? Gareth was halfway out the door when he paused and Helen bumped into his back. He looked over his shoulder at her as though surprised to find her so close.
“You mean to follow me, Helen? I do not expect you to. You are free to go about the house and gardens as you wish.”
Helen frowned. Was he dismissing her? Did he mean to leave her alone while he went about his day? The thought saddened her. Perhaps she was not a good companion and he would soon tire of her. As a twin, she craved companionship, and didn’t like too much time alone. She didn’t need to be speaking to someone every minute of the day, but she liked another person in her presence. Perhaps Gareth was the opposite and did not wish to have her around.
Her unhappy silence affected him enough that he reached out for her arm and tilted his head to indicate she should accompany him.
“Come along then. I’m off to the stables. It is a fine day for riding.”
“You have horses?” She was all smiles again, memories of her youth flooding through her. They’d once owned a pair of stout draft horses, and she and Martin used to ride them in the summer.
“Of course I have horses, my darling. How do you think my coach brought you here?”
He was teasing her, she could see it in his eyes. She liked it when he was playful. He must feel something for her, however small, if he joked with her. One of Martin’s boyhood friends used to tug her hair, and her mother said that men often treated the women they liked in such a fashion.
“Do you know how to ride?”
“I do, but not sidesaddle, I’m afraid,” she admitted. Her father hadn’t bothered with teaching her the niceties expected of gentle bred ladies, at least when it came to riding. Since her mother died when she was a child, she’d been without the feminine guidance that would have taught her such things.
“That is well,
Similar Books
