Scandal with a Sinful Scot(16)

He took it, and warmth flared in his eyes. Oh, my. No cool standoffishness there at all. Alberta had placed her name on the outside of the note, and he reacted at seeing it. Alberta was indeed correct in surmising that there was something between them. What a development. He met her gaze. “Thank you.” Tensbridge opened the note and scanned it with them still standing there. A small smile formed at the corner of his mouth as he folded the note and tucked it in his jacket pocket.

They entered the parlor, and Abbie was struck by its coziness. A fire blazed in the large stone fireplace; the furniture was modern, as were the colors. Instead of the usual burgundy or dark green, this room was done in creams and different shades of blue, from the walls to the large rug. A blue floral settee sat at the front of the room, a marble-top table in front of it. Surrounding the table was a circle of plush, blue bergère chairs, ideal for conversing. On the table sat a huge silver serving tray, complete with a three-tier stand loaded with all manner of sweets. Also on the tray were a silver teapot, china cups and saucers, small plates, and linen napkins. The butler and a young footman stepped forward to take the ladies’ coats, hats, and gloves.

“Would you do us the honor of pouring, Mrs. Hughes?” the earl asked.

“Of course,” she murmured, not used to being in such august company. Hopefully her hand would not shake. Once seated, she commenced pouring while the men loaded their plates with various treats.

“Go ahead, Megan. Take what you want. May I call you Megan?” the earl asked.

She nodded, then tentatively reached for a plate and laid four small frosted cakes on it. “My lord, are you related to the authoress of Frankenstein, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley?”

Abbie was shocked that Megan had started the conversation. She took a quick glance at Garrett, and he met her gaze and held it, heat simmering in his eyes. Then he slid his gaze to his daughter and he smiled, pride clearly reflecting in his handsome face.

“As a matter of fact we are, albeit distantly,” the earl replied. “She is my fourth cousin; her mother, Mary Wollstonecraft, was my third. Alas, the branches of the family are not close. However, she did send me signed copies when it was first published. Have you read it?”

Megan smiled and nodded. “At school, my lord. I liked it.”

“What did you like about it?” Tensbridge asked.

Megan paused, as if forming her answer. Abbie could not be more proud that she was holding her own with an earl and a viscount. “The science at the core of the story. It makes sense, using an electrical current. It makes it believable and all the more shocking. I know it is thought of as a gothic horror, but I found it to be a tragedy. I felt sorry for the monster. He only wanted to be loved.”

“Well said.” Julian nodded.

“Yes, a good description of the book. Would you like a signed copy of your very own?” the earl asked.

Megan turned toward her on the sofa. “Could I, Mama?”

“Yes, you may.”

Megan looked at the earl. “Thank you very much, my lord.”

“Excellent. We will locate one tomorrow morning; I’m not sure what library it is in.”

Megan’s eyes widened. “You have more than one library?”

“We do,” Garrett replied. “I can give you and your mother a tour of the hall, including the libraries, after tomorrow’s breakfast.”

Megan glanced at Garrett, then looked away. “Thank you, sir.”

To give Garrett credit, he didn’t let the conversation end there. “Do you ride, Megan?”

Abbie could tell Megan was all nerves talking to her…father, more so than with the earl or the viscount. Her daughter nodded while shoving a piece of chocolate frosted cake into her mouth. She swallowed, then said, “My father owned a couple of horses. He bought me a mare for my twelfth birthday. I ride her when I can, when I am not away at school.”

At the words “my father” a pained expression flashed across Garrett’s face and regret— and perhaps guilt—stabbed Abbie’s heart. She had denied Garrett of being the one to gift her with a horse. Yes, but with good reason. Under the dire circumstances, Abbie made the only decision that she could. An unmarried young woman who found herself with child had few options.

Garrett cleared his throat. “We have the finest stables in Kent. In fact, I breed horses. There is a particular sweet mare who would like to make your acquaintance. Perhaps tomorrow afternoon?”

Megan looked to her, and Abbie nodded encouragingly. Make an effort, Megan. Please.

“Thank you, Mr. Wollstonecraft. I would like to ride.” Again, a cool response. It would have to do.

Polite conversation broke out, the earl questioning Megan about her home and school and Julian asking her about Standon and Hertfordshire in general. Through it all, Abbie felt Garrett’s intense gaze on her. She dared not meet it, for every emotion churning inside her would be clearly visible if she did.

“There is a portrait of your grandmother, Moira, in my study. I will show it to you tomorrow,” the earl said to Megan.

“Oh, may I see it now, my lord?” Megan said, her eyes alight.

The earl stood. “Of course. Come with me.”

The viscount stood as well. “I have a note to reply to. I’ll see you all in the morning.” He bowed and followed the earl and Megan out of the room.

They were alone. Abbie was flustered and shakily placed her empty cup and saucer on the table.

Garrett rose and sat next to her on the sofa. “Think of the years we have wasted.”

All the compassionate emotions she’d been feeling dissipated. “And that is my fault, I suppose?” she snapped.

He clasped her hand, his thumb brushing across her knuckles. Her insides tumbled at his touch. “I say again: You should have come to me.” She bristled, about to retort, when he said, “But would I have handled the situation in a mature manner? At eighteen I was impulsive, wild, not in control of my emotions. My father would have insisted on a marriage had you shown up at our door. I would have agreed. But would I have grown to resent you? Would I have even allowed myself to love you and Megan, or would the specter of the curse have destroyed it all?”

“Hasn’t it destroyed it all anyway? You keep yourself hidden away in the stables, avoiding life. Avoiding love. To what end? To die alone?” she cried.

“You sound like my blasted father,” Garrett barked. “It is my choice to be alone, just as it was yours to marry a stranger. I don’t regret my decision.”

Abbie pulled her hand from his, sick to her core. So much for placing bitter thoughts aside. Damn him and his stupid curse! “And I don’t regret my decision. Did I think of you while my husband made love to me? Not once. I had completely erased you from my mind.” Abbie did not like the spiteful turn this conversation was taking. Hurt obviously still lurked on both sides.

Garrett frowned. “You lie.”

She did, a little. At first she’d thought of Garrett, but time had dissolved him into mist and memory. “With all the many women that came after me, I will guess you did not think of me once. Why would you? I was merely the first in a long line of willing women succumbing to your charms.” How petulant of her, but she did not care.

He shook his head. “There haven’t been as many as you imagine, but the ones I have been with paled in comparison to you. None of them came close. You were always there, haunting me with every thrust, every kiss. You haunt me still.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Garrett.” She did not know what else to say, although the thought of him with other women, however few, cut deep.

“Do you truly believe that I did not think of you out there, somewhere in the world, lying in another man’s arms? Moaning softly as you did with me? Urging him deeper, faster, as you did with me? Scoring his back with your nails as you cried out?” He clasped her arms and brought her closer. Their mouths were inches apart. “You said that you adored him, this man you married. Did you love him as you did me? Tell me the truth. Did you find the idyllic ecstasy we found in each others’ arms? Tell me.”

Abbie trembled. She couldn’t lie. Not about this. “I did not love him. I wanted to so very much—if any man lived who deserved to be loved, it was him.” A gulping sob left her throat. “Elwyn knew about you; I told him everything. He was well aware that I still loved you, but he told me he was grateful for the affection that I did show him. He was wonderful and kind and I couldn’t love him.” Tears trickled down her cheeks. “I enjoyed his lovemaking; we had a steady physical relationship up until he became sick, a year before he died. Elwyn was affectionate and giving. No, I did not find the ecstasy that we had shared, but I found something else. Constancy. A generous soul, a man who loved me unconditionally, accepted me, flaws and all, and did—”

Garrett covered his mouth with hers. The kiss was demanding, fierce, and desperate. He ran his tongue along the seam of her lips and she opened for him. With a ragged groan he took possession, exploring every inch of her mouth. The kiss was tender, then wild. Everything she remembered, only heightened. The flame that had simmered on low flared to life as he deepened the kiss. One of his hands grasped her breast, and she groaned in response as his stroking thumb made her hardened nipple ache. “I want you, Abbie. I never stopped. Never.”