But he couldn’t bring himself to be so blatantly cruel. Or could he? Somehow, he hadn’t the strength to deny his feelings, for they were as real and raw as they were all those years ago. How strange, for he’d believed he’d placed all these wayward and intense emotions in a dark corner, never to be thought of again. He absently rubbed his chest. His heart ached, yet pounded against his ribcage at the prospect of holding Abbie in his arms again. To follow down that particular path would be a mistake of epic proportions.
He still hadn’t the faintest idea as to why she came here. Garrett had the distinct impression that she was keeping something from him. Later this afternoon when they met, he would demand answers.
Inhaling the crisp January air, he was pleased that it was milder today than it had been in past weeks. They would be able to put some of the horses through their paces outside instead of the indoor exercise paddock. As he exited the wooded area between the Eaton’s property and the hall, Garrett stopped short. Sitting on a large rock was a young woman, completely absorbed in the book she was reading. She wore a heavy wool cloak with matching fur-trimmed hood. Part of her face was obscured, but he could tell she was younger than he first thought.
Even in a sitting position she was a tall, willowy creature with an abundance of freckles. As he observed the young lady absently stroking her chin as she read, an amused smile quirked at the corner of his mouth, for it was a gesture that he often used. Who was she? Did she come from a nearby house? He knew all his surrounding neighbors; none had a daughter or sister of this age. Perhaps she was a visitor. The girl kept reading, oblivious to his presence. There was something familiar about her. He shook his head and continued on his walk.
Garrett’s thoughts turned to Abbie. He must remain detached. Protect his heart. Protect…her. Which meant that he must continue to lie. The oath he had taken all those years ago must remain in place. Because of the curse, his love was a death sentence to any woman, and he cared for Abbie too much to allow anything to happen to her. Better to hurt. Better to lie. Better to let her go. He snorted. Right. Good luck with that, mate.
* * * *
As Abbie marched across the field and through the thin line of alder, beech, and juniper trees separating the two properties, the sprawling Wollstonecraft Hall came into view. The estate was as eclectic as she remembered. Garrett had told her that the front entrance and hall was from the original Tudor style of centuries past, while the Georgian and Gothic wings were more recent additions.
She had only been inside the place once, during an informal dinner party hosted by Garrett’s father, the Earl of Carnstone. Of course Sir Walter had declined, but he’d bid her and Alberta to attend with a chaperone, Sir Walter’s venerable housekeeper, Mrs. Claxton. Abbie had been overwhelmed by the opulence and the size of the estate, and it had struck her that Garrett was far out of her sphere. The son of an earl? Granted, he was a second son, but it became crystalline clear that the daughter of a man who had recently been knighted for his bravery as a soldier might not be an adequate companion to such a formidable family.
Abbie sidestepped an icy puddle. What would she discuss with Garrett? The past? The present? A possible future? Megan? What did she want from him? An apology would be a good place to start. It would allow her to bury most of her hurt and bitterness; at least, she hoped it would. Gazing at Garrett last night, she had the overwhelming urge to embrace him and slap his face, which showed how jumbled her emotions were about the infuriatingly handsome man.
Placing a light to the powder keg of emotions and memories they’d shared may not be prudent. Considering that she had no interest in taking a lover or remarrying, Abbie had acted impulsively in following him to Kent. What if Garrett were to suggest that they indulge in an affair? Would she be strong enough to say no? If the past was any indication, she would throw all caution to the wind. How troubling. She should have thought this through more thoroughly before she had come here. Too late.
As she continued to tread along the path, she caught a glimpse of the stables. Abbie wagered that she would find Garrett there, as it wasn’t quite three o’clock. With a half smile, she headed toward the building. Sure enough, she found him brushing down a magnificent brown stallion. “Garrett.”
He looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Am I late?”
“No. I imagined I would find you here. Are horses still the center of your life, raising and breeding them? You did claim that they would be your future.”
He gave the stallion an affectionate pat, then motioned to one of the stable boys. “Place Patriot in his stall. See there is fresh hay, and give him his special mixture of oats.”
The youth touched his forelock. “Aye, sir. Right away.”
Garrett didn’t answer her question. Abbie sighed and glanced about the familiar structure. How many surreptitious meetings had taken place here? She inhaled. It smelled the same, but she had never minded the scents of a barn or a man around horses. It possessed an earthy element. Masculine. Real. “I suppose the Wollstonecraft horses fetch a pretty penny?”
Garrett gathered up the brushes and curry comb. “It has become a lucrative business. We charge several thousand pounds, as our horses are of sturdy stock with impeccable lines. Well-bred. Beautiful even.”
Abbie smiled. “Much like the Wollstonecraft men.” He turned and stared at her. “Oh, come on, Garrett. Fourteen years ago you would have laughed at my teasing.”
He tossed the grooming tools into a nearby bucket. “I’m not the same man.”
“Fair enough. I’m not the same woman.”
He removed his coat from the hook and slipped it on. “Do you mind if we take a walk? I think it best I not take you to the house today. There would be too many questions. Julian and my father are in residence. And before you become indignant, I’m not ashamed of our past association.”
Abbie fell into step with him as they exited the stables. “Truly? For your parting words relayed the complete opposite.” He frowned and did not answer. Infuriating man. “Last night as I lay awake well into the early hours of the morning, I recalled your recent statement: ‘I never said I didn’t love you.’ But you did say it. Allow me to remind you again that you said the actual words.”
Garrett blew out an exasperated breath. “I lied about a number of things when we parted that summer.” He paused. “I didn’t sleep much last night either. And if I recall, all those years ago, your parting shot was, ‘I hate you.’ We both said things we didn’t mean, unless you did mean it.”
The fact that he admitted he’d lied angered her afresh, but she had known it all along. “I did mean it. I hated you for a long time after we had separated. You hurt me. Very deeply. A permanent scar,” she replied angrily. Abbie stopped walking and briefly laid her hand on his arm. Muscles clenched under her touch. “Oh, Garrett. Why would you lie?” she whispered.
He turned to face her. “To be blunt, I wanted you out of my life. You were a distraction that I did not want or need. You were a threat to my future. To my plans.” He shook his head. “Believe it or not, I am sorry I hurt you. I could have cut it clean between us in a more compassionate manner.”
Abbie did not expect this honesty, and her expression softened as she stared into his beautiful hazel-green eyes. “Thank you for apologizing.”
Grasping her elbow, he steered her toward the rear of the hall. “We can talk privately in the orangery.” He pulled a small ring of keys from his coat pocket and unlocked the door. Heat from the wood stoves hit her immediately, along with the scent of various citrus plants and trees. Garrett closed the door. “Why are you here?” he asked pointedly. “Why, Abbie? Tell me.”
“I would have happily continued on with my quiet life. I had effectively packed away all memories and emotions as far as you are concerned…”
“Obviously, since you married. How soon after we parted?” His tone was rough with emotion, his gaze penetrating.
Abbie glared at him. “You have no right to sound indignant. You tossed me away. Remember?”
Garrett stepped closer and his masculine scent made her dizzy. “How. Soon.”
“Two months after I returned home.” She’d had no choice. It was either marry Elwyn or shame her family with her scandalous affair and be turned out into the streets. “An arranged marriage.”
His thick eyebrows shot up. “Arranged? So you were miserable then.”
“No,” she answered softly. “I adored him.”
Garrett flinched as if she’d struck him, but quickly regained his cool composure. “Did you have children?”
Here would be the perfect opportunity to bring up Megan’s existence, but she wanted to introduce Garrett to her first. Or would the shock be too great? Perhaps she should tell him. No, they had much to sort out first. She carefully crafted her reply so that it would not be a complete lie. “I had no children with my husband.”
“You saw me in Standon. Why didn’t you approach me at the sanatorium?”
Abbie clasped her gloved hands. “By the time I recovered from the shock of seeing you, you had already departed. My late husband was a doctor; he started the clinic. His friend, Dr. Bevan, took over after he passed.” She met his gaze once again. Garrett’s eyes danced with green fire, his freckled cheeks flushed with emotion. She understood his reaction, for it took all her inner strength to make certain her voice did not tremble as she spoke. “Allow me to offer my sympathies regarding your nephew. I volunteer at the clinic, and I assisted with his care before I departed to come here.”