for I got rid of the only sidesaddle I had years ago.”
“Because your wife passed away?” She regretted the words the moment they came out. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to…” she was flustered, her face warm with embarrassment.
“Do not worry. I have mourned Clarissa, my wife, and am at peace with her death. You may speak about her if you wish. It will not cause me pain, I assure you.” Despite the polite smile that curved his lips, there was a guarded wariness in his face that said there was still a twist in his heart at the mention of his late wife.
“You loved her very much.” Helen saw it in his eyes, the way the sadness there formed dark shadows. Losing someone you loved often left a stain upon the soul.
“She was my friend. Not many men are fortunate enough to have wives who lay claim to their hearts and their minds, not just as lovers but also as friends. It’s a loss not easy to recover from. I mourn the way we used to talk late into the night and ride together on lazy afternoons.” He gave a little shake of his head, as though to dispel the creeping melancholy. “We were happy when many around us were not so fortunate. I’ll likely never know that sense of joy again.”
Helen bit her bottom lip, pain clamping its vice-like claws on her own heart, threatening to rip it asunder. Gareth was a wounded man still, no matter that he believed he’d moved on. Everything about him was becoming clearer, he was desperate to feel, to live again, and using her, even as a temporary companion, must be one way in which he was trying to find solace. She did not feel pity, but rather it filled her with compassion.
With false cheeriness, he gestured to the stairs. “Would you like to go and change into a riding habit?”
“Yes. I shall only be a moment,” she promised.
Once Helen was properly attired for riding, they left the house and approached the building next to it. It was a small but well-kept stable with four stalls for the four horses he owned. They were all matching bays with tall heads and long, lean legs, nothing like the draft horses she’d ridden as a child.
Even though she didn’t want to cause him distress, she still wanted to get to know him. If she were to stay here with him, she’d have to understand him better. “If you no longer miss your wife, why haven’t you remarried?”
How could this man, so blessed in looks and fortune, not find another wife, one who would delight in pleasing him? Gareth smiled, though it was little and pained. His eyes moved from the horse to her. She read the truth there. Clarissa couldn’t be replaced and he hadn’t wanted to try.
“I got used to Clarissa’s absence after a few years, but I’ve become restless. Nothing eases me anymore, nothing gives me peace.” He spoke softly, more to himself as though the revelation was one he’d never dared to voice aloud. His confession was like opening a book, the pages revealing a glimpse of his secrets. She craved to read more of his soul, to come to know him the way he knew only himself.
Helen wished to comfort him, so she put a hand on his arm. “Try to love again. Love settle’s a person’s heart.”
He shook his head. “No. Love destroys. It rips you clean in two and devastates you. I would never go looking for that again.”
Gareth looked at her, her blue eyes gazing at him in pity. Did she not know what she was asking of him? Love was hard to find, hard to earn, and hard to keep. He reached up to tug one of her curls playfully, wanting to rid his mind of the thoughts she’d put there. His actions made her wrinkle her nose in disapproval. The urge to hold her was too strong to resist. He tugged her into his arms, relishing the feel of her body flush against his.
She was growing ever more receptive to his kisses. He let her mouth guide his, let her explore his chest, his arms, his back before she locked her hands around his neck. Her fingertips brushed the back of his neck and stroked
“Because your wife passed away?” She regretted the words the moment they came out. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to…” she was flustered, her face warm with embarrassment.
“Do not worry. I have mourned Clarissa, my wife, and am at peace with her death. You may speak about her if you wish. It will not cause me pain, I assure you.” Despite the polite smile that curved his lips, there was a guarded wariness in his face that said there was still a twist in his heart at the mention of his late wife.
“You loved her very much.” Helen saw it in his eyes, the way the sadness there formed dark shadows. Losing someone you loved often left a stain upon the soul.
“She was my friend. Not many men are fortunate enough to have wives who lay claim to their hearts and their minds, not just as lovers but also as friends. It’s a loss not easy to recover from. I mourn the way we used to talk late into the night and ride together on lazy afternoons.” He gave a little shake of his head, as though to dispel the creeping melancholy. “We were happy when many around us were not so fortunate. I’ll likely never know that sense of joy again.”
Helen bit her bottom lip, pain clamping its vice-like claws on her own heart, threatening to rip it asunder. Gareth was a wounded man still, no matter that he believed he’d moved on. Everything about him was becoming clearer, he was desperate to feel, to live again, and using her, even as a temporary companion, must be one way in which he was trying to find solace. She did not feel pity, but rather it filled her with compassion.
With false cheeriness, he gestured to the stairs. “Would you like to go and change into a riding habit?”
“Yes. I shall only be a moment,” she promised.
Once Helen was properly attired for riding, they left the house and approached the building next to it. It was a small but well-kept stable with four stalls for the four horses he owned. They were all matching bays with tall heads and long, lean legs, nothing like the draft horses she’d ridden as a child.
Even though she didn’t want to cause him distress, she still wanted to get to know him. If she were to stay here with him, she’d have to understand him better. “If you no longer miss your wife, why haven’t you remarried?”
How could this man, so blessed in looks and fortune, not find another wife, one who would delight in pleasing him? Gareth smiled, though it was little and pained. His eyes moved from the horse to her. She read the truth there. Clarissa couldn’t be replaced and he hadn’t wanted to try.
“I got used to Clarissa’s absence after a few years, but I’ve become restless. Nothing eases me anymore, nothing gives me peace.” He spoke softly, more to himself as though the revelation was one he’d never dared to voice aloud. His confession was like opening a book, the pages revealing a glimpse of his secrets. She craved to read more of his soul, to come to know him the way he knew only himself.
Helen wished to comfort him, so she put a hand on his arm. “Try to love again. Love settle’s a person’s heart.”
He shook his head. “No. Love destroys. It rips you clean in two and devastates you. I would never go looking for that again.”
Gareth looked at her, her blue eyes gazing at him in pity. Did she not know what she was asking of him? Love was hard to find, hard to earn, and hard to keep. He reached up to tug one of her curls playfully, wanting to rid his mind of the thoughts she’d put there. His actions made her wrinkle her nose in disapproval. The urge to hold her was too strong to resist. He tugged her into his arms, relishing the feel of her body flush against his.
She was growing ever more receptive to his kisses. He let her mouth guide his, let her explore his chest, his arms, his back before she locked her hands around his neck. Her fingertips brushed the back of his neck and stroked
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