With two quick strides, Garrett grasped her upper arms. “Tell me about Aidan. Tell me everything. How bad is it?”
Worry and concern were clear in his eyes. Abbie would tell him the truth. “Bad. He was going through the worst of the withdrawal before I left the village. I offered to stay, but Gethin and Cristyn thought it best that they be the ones to be the main caregivers. I fetched fresh water, cloths, broth, whatever they asked, but I was not in the room after the first few days.” She sighed. “I heard the screams. Tormented dreams, Cristyn said. Pain. It is a terrible thing to come off such poison. Gethin was right to send you home. You would not have wanted to witness it.”
Garrett released her and started to pace about. He always did it when agitated. Nothing had changed there. “You’ve seen others in this condition? Did they recover?”
“Yes. The vast majority have stayed off the opium. I have great hopes for Aidan. He is a Wollstonecraft, after all. He will come through this, I’m certain.”
He stopped walking. “Could you tell Julian this before you leave? He’s taking it rather hard.”
“Your brother?” She remembered him from the dinner. He was thirteen years older than Garrett. Had a different mother. Abbie had found him imperious and standoffish all those years ago, yet Alberta held him in high regard. “Of course, if you wish it.”
“How long are you staying?”
“It hasn’t been decided yet.”
Garrett started pacing again. “Nothing has changed. Regardless of past regrets and past lies, I still believe in the curse and still believe it best to stay clear of any romantic entanglements. I’ve managed to achieve it thus far. If you came here to see if there is still something between us, you’ve made a wasted trip.”
Blast this inflexible man! She should have known he still held to the curse. Stubborn as ever. “Alberta informed me that Riordan was married at the hall mere weeks ago. Apparently he is not as committed as you are to an old family tale of woe.”
He halted and scowled. “Woe? Try death. Generations of women. Rows and rows of tombstones. Shall I take you to the cemetery?”
“You’ve already taken me there, more than once if I recall.” Abbie stepped before him, removed her glove, and cupped his whiskered cheek with her bare hand. A roll of warmth moved through her. Garrett closed his eyes, rubbing against her palm as if savoring her touch. “Enough about death and curses, at least for today. Kiss me, Garrett. See if the spark is still there. If it is, come by Alberta’s tomorrow afternoon at one o’clock and I will prove you wrong about your curse.” He started to speak, but she shook her head. “No reply. Just kiss me.”
He was so blasted tall that he had to lean down. But he captured her mouth with his and the room, with all its trees and plants and their exotic scents, faded away. All that existed was them. The contact seared, and Garrett groaned and pulled her close, deepening the kiss.
Hungry. Desperate. On both their parts. Abbie grabbed fistfuls of his long ginger hair. As soft and silky as she remembered. His probing tongue swirled about every inch of her mouth. She gave the same in return as she slid her hands up and down his muscled arms. He was much broader and more solid than she remembered.
His large hands grasped the sides of her head, holding her still while he plunged deeper. Abbie could not stop the husky moan from leaving her throat. This was even more intense than when they were young. Garrett slid his hands down her sides, then reached behind to clutch her rear, bringing her in tight against his prominent erection. Tears shimmered in her eyes. He still wanted her. After all these years. Probably as much as she wanted him.
Garrett broke the kiss and stepped away from her, stumbling as he did. “Tomorrow, one o’clock. You can show yourself out.” With a sweep of his greatcoat, he left the orangery.
Abbie was numb, stunned into shocked silence. She wasn’t done speaking to him. Typical. The room slowly righted itself, but her heart would never recover. How bold to demand he kiss her. But she’d always been far too bold in his presence. Garrett still cast a spell over her. Still affected her. Abbie could not allow this to happen. He’s pulling me back in.
God help her, she loved him still.
Chapter 6
Garrett couldn’t continue this pattern of sporadic sleep and restless, erotic dreams. It was all because of Abbie. His well-ordered life had been upended. His emotions were a tangled mess, his heart aching with regret, but also with a stark yearning. All because of Abbie.
He admonished himself for his spineless exit from the orangery yesterday afternoon. The kiss had torn him in two, and because of it, he never got a chance to ask more questions. To find that the passage of time had not dampened his attraction for her was a harsh admission. Though Garrett had made it clear he was not interested in anything romantic between them, the kiss had proved he lied to himself. Again. He wanted her like he wanted to take his next breath. What in hell was he to do next?
Snow flurries swirled about him as he marched toward the Eatons’ residence. The cold wind whipped about his face and he pulled his wool muffler tighter about his neck to keep the stinging cold from penetrating his exposed skin. Garrett didn’t bother with a hat in most situations, but he wished he had today, since his long hair kept blowing across his line of vision.
A small gatehouse sat at the end of the small drive leading to the Eatons’ modest manor house. Along with the rest of the property, it was in a shocking state of disrepair. Garrett mentally added it to his calendar for the spring. He didn’t mind helping his neighbors, either with supplies or labor when required.
Since the sky was overcast, a beam of light reflecting through the small window of the gatehouse caught his attention. He halted. Voices. How strange. Thieves perhaps? He listened, and was shocked to hear a young woman speaking.
“One day soon we will marry, Jonas. You do know what it means?”
What in the hell? Garrett was tempted to barrel into the gatehouse, but curiosity got the better of him. Didn’t hold much with eavesdropping, but he wanted to see where this conversation was going before he responded.
“Yes. Bert was married to my brother,” Jonas replied.
“Were they happy?”
“Happy enough.”
“So will we be, I promise.” There was a pause. Then the young woman continued, her voice shaking with emotion, her tone earnest. “You are not simpleminded, Jonas. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
“But in town—”
“I don’t care what they say, all that matters is what you and I think. You do love me?”
“Yes, I do, Meg. You’re pretty and nice to me.”
“Pretty? Hardly. I’m too gangly and tall.”
“Not to me. I think you are perfect.”
A smile quirked at the corner of Garrett’s mouth. Jonas, you sly flatterer. For a young man with many emotional and intellectual limitations, he handled himself well. Confident. Sure. But who was the young woman?
“I want you to kiss me, Jonas. Not like a sister, but how a man kisses a woman. You are a full-grown man. Kiss me.”
Right. That was more than enough. It was time to put a stop to this clandestine encounter. Garrett jiggled the handle. Locked. The audacity of the young woman! She had lured poor, unsuspecting Jonas, who was too handsome for his own good, to this private spot to seduce him. Lifting his leg, Garrett gave the door a solid kick and the rusty hinges gave way. Pushing the door aside, he stepped across the threshold and found the lass sitting on Jonas’s lap, kissing him enthusiastically. Jonas, for his part, returned the kiss with equal ardor. They broke apart at Garrett’s appearance and Jonas stood, causing the girl to slump to the dirty floor. Her bonnet went askew and a ringlet of fiery red hair tumbled across her cheek.
Good God, it was the young chit that he’d seen yesterday sitting on the rock reading a book. The brazen seductress.
“Oh, sorry. Here, Meg.” Jonas grabbed her arm, hauling her to her feet while she sputtered and brushed the dust from her cloak.
The young woman was more of a girl, or somewhere between a girl and a woman. And, in Garrett’s book, she was far too young to be kissing a twenty-four-year-old man. “Who are you?” he demanded.
The lass straightened her bonnet and met his gaze. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened as if in shock. A look of fright spread across her features. What did the girl think he was going to do, harm them in some way?
When she didn’t reply, Jonas said, “Garrett, this is Meg. She’s staying with Bert and me.”
Garrett’s eyebrows knotted in puzzlement. What? No one said anything about… He looked at the flustered girl more closely. The red hair, the hazel-green eyes. Jesus. No. His stomach dropped clear to his toes at the insane direction his mind wandered. “Your name?” he barked.
“You’d best speak to my mother, Mr. Wollstonecraft,” she murmured. The girl blinked and looked away, turning toward Jonas as if for comfort. In response, he placed his arm about her shoulder. And her mother had to be…Abbie. Bile rose in his throat and his head spun.
“Both of you, leave this gatehouse. At once.” He turned and ran toward the residence, his heart pounding frantically. The girl knew who he was. Damn it all, was she his? Garrett’s confused brain scrambled to do the math. If so, she’d be around fourteen, close to fifteen—far too young to be kissing a man ten years older. Red fury clouded his vision as he pounded on the front door. The housekeeper, Mrs. Claxton, opened it, but he pushed right past her. “Abbie!” he yelled, his deep voice reverberating through the hallway. “Abbie!”