Day Fifteen
Midnight
Stifling a groan of frustration, Arabel rested her forehead against her bedroom door.
Come to my room . . .
The heated promise of that soft order still beat inside her, stirring the embers of desire that burned in her belly. That burning had simmered there for ten years, occasionally flaring when an unbidden dream brought him back to her . . . only to wake in the morning to find him once more gone and to sob into her pillow until the longing and loneliness eased away.
Now, Garrick was here. No longer a dream but flesh and blood—and more. More confident, more powerful, more hungry . . . for her.
When she’d been in his arms before, that powerful feeling of being loved completely had brought her more joy than she’d imagined possible. She’d given her body, but she’d loved with her heart. In those precious moments, she knew she’d been loved in return.
Then it had stopped, and she’d been devastated.
But she’d thought time had healed her heart. Hadn’t she moved on, found another man who wanted to marry her? Hadn’t she finally come to peace with Garrick’s ghost?
But the last fortnight had proven her wrong. Oh, so very wrong!
Since this afternoon, being in his arms again was all she could think about. He’d spun a web of tantalizing images that had her once again longing to be with him. The memories flooded back with such force that she could actually smell his masculine scent surrounding her everywhere she went, could taste him again on her lips and feel his hard muscles beneath her fingertips as the solid weight of his body pressed so deliciously down onto hers.
She could have that again, if she let herself. For one more night, he could be hers, just as he’d once been.
With a deep breath of determination, she threw open the door—
And froze.
Garrick stood in his doorway, casually leaning a shoulder against the frame as if patiently waiting for her. He wore only a pair of breeches, and she couldn’t help raking her gaze over him. Beneath broad shoulders and bracketed by sculpted biceps, the hard muscles of his chest gave way to a ridged abdomen dusted by a trail of hair that disappeared down beneath his waistband. Further below, muscular thighs outlined breeches so form-fitting that it was almost as if he wore nothing at all. A merciless urge gripped her to press her body against his, to mold her softness against his hardness and place a delicate kiss right there in the center of his chest. To brand him with the heat of her lips and mark him forever as hers.
When her gaze slowly lifted back up his body to meet his, her breath lodged in her tightening throat as his dark eyes returned her stare, intense and gleaming even in the shadows.
“This . . .” She swallowed. Hard. In the silence of the sleeping house, her whisper sounded like a shout. “This means nothing.”
He didn’t reply. Neither did he move, except to shift his hips against the frame just far enough to cross his arms over his chest.
“I’ve not forgiven you for leaving,” she made clear, although her resolve was undercut by the breathy tremble in her voice. “I don’t think I ever will.”
His expression remained impassive as he stood silently, listening but not answering to either challenge her or accept blame.
“And it certainly doesn’t mean that I’m letting you back into my life.”
The only movement he made was a deliberate lowering of his eyes to trail his gaze over her as she stood there in the slant of moonlight that fell through the tall windows fronting the stairs. Goosebumps blossomed across her skin everywhere he looked, and she shivered, thankful that in the shadows he couldn’t see her nipples as they puckered achingly beneath the cotton night rail.
She forced a haughty sniff. “This doesn’t even mean that I like you.”
At that, he arched a brow. Then held out his hand in silent invitation.
Her belly twisted into knots. She stared at his outstretched hand, hesitating to take it. But this was what she wanted, what she’d always wanted—Garrick returned to her. So she inhaled a deep, shaking breath and slipped her hand into his.
He led her into his room and closed the door behind her with a soft click of the lock.
Her heart leapt into a fierce tattoo, and the deep breath she’d taken just moments before now panted from her. All of her trembled when he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss to her palm.
The heat of that soft caress flamed up her arm and down into her breasts. As if he knew the effect he had on her, he slowly trailed his lips down her wrist and along her forearm to her elbow, tracing the path of heat.
“You are beautiful, Arabel,” he rasped in a hoarse voice, lifting his mouth from her arm in order to claim another hungry look at her. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, inside and out.”
He cupped his palm against her cheek, and she closed her eyes at the intensity of his words. With the heat of his body seeping into hers as he shifted closer, she could almost believe that he’d never left her. That they’d still planned on marrying and spending the rest of their lives together.
He slid his hand across her cheek to comb his fingers through her hair. “So much ferocity in such a beautiful lass. Fiery hair and a spirit to match, with untamed wildness in her heart.”
Her mouth tugged into a nervous smile at that, then she inhaled sharply when she felt his lips brush against hers. Soft caresses, slow nibbles, then a daring sweep of his tongue across her bottom lip . . . With a sigh, she parted her lips and allowed him to slip inside, to explore the depths of her desire.
Even this kiss was tender and slow. Her heart jumped in sudden panic as she realized what he’d planned for tonight—not a passionate encounter, but a savoring. As if attempting to make up for all they’d missed during the past decade apart.
But he couldn’t! Because savoring meant far more than a simple satiation of the frustrated lust rising between them. It meant unleashing feelings best kept hidden.
“Garrick,” she whispered, his name a soft plea as she stepped back.
But he pursued, cupping her face between his hands and lowering his head to claim her mouth in a hungry, yearning kiss that left her weakened knees shaking. “I’ve dreamt about this night for ten years,” he murmured against her lips. “I thought I would never see you again. But then you were here . . . only now a woman in full, sure of herself and her desires.”
Despite the way his seductive words made her eyes sting with unshed tears, Arabel nearly laughed. Tonight, she was anything but sure of herself! But she knew what she wanted, and she opened her mouth beneath his to return his kiss and increase the need and hunger between them, to tease their passion into a wildfire that demanded release. She pressed herself against him and wrapped her arms around his neck, daring to writhe her hips against his hardening erection—
He stepped back from her arms, stopping the kiss and leaving her gaping at him. There would be no rushing; he was making certain of it. Her chest squeezed hard, as if it knew how endangered her heart was. Because a night of slow, tender intimacies with Garrick could destroy her the way that uncontrolled flames of passion never could.
A whimper for mercy fell from her lips, but he gave her no quarter, gently caressing his thumb across her bottom lip as his dark eyes stared down into hers. Every slow stroke was an unbearable torture.
“There have been other women in my bed,” he confessed quietly.
Of course there had been. A man like him . . . Still, a piercing stab of jealousy ripped through her.
His thumb slowly looped up to trace the outline of her lips. “Yet no one but you has ever been in my heart.”
A tear escaped down her cheek. He slowly lowered his head to kiss it away.
“Stay with me tonight,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her temple as she rested her forehead against his chest and struggled to find her way through the fog of desire that had engulfed her. “And let me prove to you how much I still want you, how much I still care.”
But not love.
She should have been glad of it, should have been relieved . . . What she felt instead was a hollow, aching loss. Nodding as hot tears swelled at her lashes, her voice choked by the knot tightening in her throat, she placed her lips where she’d longed to kiss him—in the center of his chest. Right over his heart.
“Arabel,” he whispered and lifted her chin to kiss her. His mouth captured hers, molding against hers and plunging his tongue between her lips in a steady rhythm of relentless thrusts that left her breathless and weak.
When she finally tore her mouth away to gasp for breath, his lips trailed down her neck. He tongued the indentation at the base of her throat where her pulse raced, sending an electric jolt flying through her.
“I’ve waited years to be with you again.” He unfastened the handful of buttons at her neckline and let the night rail billow open, then slipped his hand beneath to cup her breast against his palm. “And tonight, I’m going to savor you,” he promised as he kneaded her fullness, his thumb strumming over her taut nipple. “Every last delicious inch of you.”
She moaned softly as his fingers increased their teasing, arching her back to press her breast harder against his palm. The heat of his large hand seeped into her chest, then all the way down between her legs, where it flamed into a fierce throbbing that demanded release. She knew then that she’d been lying to herself and that she’d never truly moved on. Only Garrick could make her body burn with the intensity he lit inside her, while also melting her heart with his tenderness.
“Yes,” she breathed, pushing the night rail off her shoulders to bare her body to the shadows. And to his dark eyes that prickled heat beneath her skin everywhere he looked.
He sucked in a mouthful of air between clenched teeth, as if the sight of her pained him.
“Garrick?” she breathed softly. Sudden doubt clutched at her heart.
He murmured, “Dear God, you are so beautiful . . .”
All her worries vanished, until there was only him. Until she knew only the mix of warm affection and tingling excitement he blossomed inside her.
He dipped his head and captured her breast in his mouth, to suckle gently at her while his other hand continued to tease at her nipple, gathering it into an impossibly hard point. He knew exactly how to alternate sharp pinches with soothing caresses to give her the most pleasure, while his mouth drew her deeper into its moist heat with a hard sucking that left all of her shaking.
She gasped when he pulled back on her nipple even as the suction grew harder, until it slipped free of his lips with soft pop.
But he gave her no time to enjoy the pulsing sensation throbbing through her, because he trailed his mouth further down her front, lowering himself onto his knees. He kissed the softness of her belly and paused in his downward path only long enough to swirl his tongue inside her bellybutton, giving a low chuckle when she shivered from ticklishness.
“Tell me you missed me, Arabel,” he cajoled softly as he buried his face against her belly. “As much as I missed you.”
“I missed you,” she whispered as another tear slid down her cheek. “So very much.”
His hands went to her ankles. “What did you miss? Tell me.”
“The sound of your voice.” Goosebumps covered her bare flesh as his hands moved steadily upward, his thumbs stroking along the insides of her legs in a tantalizingly erotic pattern. “The way your laugh rumbles through me when you’re holding me.”
His fingers reached her bare thighs and stilled. “Did you miss my hands on you, caressing you like this?”
She bit back a moan, and her own hands went to his head, to cradle him against her as she leaned over and placed a tender kiss on his temple. “Yes.”
“I missed touching you.” His hands slipped up her inner thighs, coming to rest at the crease where they joined her pelvis. But his thumbs—oh those wicked, wicked thumbs! They continued to move slowly upward until they stroked between her legs, lightly grazing against her soft folds. “I missed the way you trembled beneath my hands, how you’d lose your breath in those little pants that proved how much you enjoyed it.”
His thumbs traced back and forth along her cleft in teasing circles that fueled the throbbing just beneath his fingers rather than soothed it away. Then he delved deeper and touched the sensitive nub buried in her folds. A sharp gasp tore from her. When she managed to catch her breath again, it came just as he’d described . . . in shallow, rapid pants that made her heart race even faster. How well he knew her most intimate secrets, even now.
“I missed giving you pleasure, Arabel,” he rasped as he nuzzled his cheek against her lower belly.
She grew wet and aching as he continued to swirl his thumbs against her. The pulsating tingles grew more intense with each flick of his thumb, yet somehow never quite at the right spot, never quite hard enough to soothe the need building inside her. A whimper of frustration fell from her lips.
Knowing what her body craved, he slipped his thumbs into her folds and spread her wide. Then he lowered his mouth and claimed her.
She moaned with pleasure. Her fingers dug into his hair as his tongue thrust into her core and ripped her breath away. He did it again and again, plunging into her with wet little noises that were the most erotic sounds she’d ever heard, coiling the throbbing ache impossibly tighter.
“Garrick,” she cried out. The swirling thrusts came in a wonderfully erratic rhythm that kept her off balance and forced her to cling to him. Writhing herself against his mouth, she shuddered as a wickedly delicious sensation engulfed her.
He eased his sweet torture just enough to allow her to catch her breath, then closed his lips around her aching bud and sucked. The soft sensation pounded through her with the force of cannon fire, and a second cry tore from her, a deep and throaty wail of joy as her folds quivered against his mouth in sweet release.
Her legs went boneless, and she sank slowly toward the floor and into his arms. He murmured tender words against her bare shoulder, but she heard none of them as she clung to him, lost in the pulsating pleasure he’d given her.
He lifted his head and kissed her breathless lips. “I’ll give you more, if you’ll let me.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. As he slowly lowered her, he kissed her with such raw affection that she shuddered. Surely, if he could kiss her like this, if he could touch her so tenderly and bring her such joy, then he must feel something for her beyond lust. There must be love still lingering inside him, even after all these years.
She clung to that hope of love to keep the nervousness at bay when he moved away to strip off his breeches. Then he returned to her, placing kisses across her hips, belly, and breasts before finally claiming her lips as he slid up over her. She trembled with anxious excitement at the sensation of his naked body touching all along hers, and when he took her hand and slid it down between them, to invite her to discover for herself how much he wanted her, hot need flared inside her.
Her fingers gently explored him. She’d forgotten exactly how wonderful he felt, how steely hard beneath and velvet smooth on top. How thick his girth as her fingers wrapped around him and stroked, how heavy he hung in her other hand as she cupped his bollocks against her palm and gently squeezed.
He gave a low growl of pleasure as he rose up on his forearms to give her more room to work her hands on him. Growing impossibly harder and larger beneath her fingers, his erection jumped against her hand when she rubbed her palm over the smooth head and the drop of moisture clinging to his tip, smearing it over him until he grew slick.
“I want you, Arabel.” He settled into the cradle of her thighs and guided his hard length against her. “I’ve never stopped wanting you.”
Her heart ached at the emotion darkening his face. “Garrick,” she whispered, running her fingers through the silky hair at his nape as his handsome face blurred beneath her tears. “I love—”
He shoved his hips forward and plunged inside her, in one smooth motion fully sheathing himself in her tight warmth to the hilt.
A sharp pain pinched inside her, and she gasped, unprepared for having him inside her so quickly, filling her so completely. But as he began to move and she relaxed, the discomfort melted rapidly into pleasure. Her body remembered his and welcomed him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and joined his rhythm as she arched up to meet each thrust of his hips, each one taking him deeper inside her.
She abandoned herself to the joy of being in his arms, of simultaneously being vulnerable beneath him while also bringing him such pleasure that a soft groan fell from his lips at each plunge and retreat. Only because she loved him could this joining be so exquisite; only with Garrick could it feel as if they were melding not only bodies but also souls.
Panting with exertion, he hooked his arm beneath her right knee and lifted her leg to her chest. That small shift of their bodies brought him even closer and impossibly deeper. As the flames licking at her toes sparked a wildfire that threatened to consume her, she moaned with pleasure.
“Dear God,” he rasped out. “You’re so tight.”
“Because there’s only ever been you,” she whispered.
With a groan, he captured her mouth beneath his as his hips gave a plunging swirl, one born more of possession than passion.
The emotion she felt inside him surged into her with an intensity so fierce that she broke. A cry tore from her as she clenched around him, then released with a breath-taking shudder. A wave of exquisite pleasure washed over her, then another and another, and she could do nothing more than cling to him and let the euphoria carry her away.
“Arabel.” Her name was a plaintive growl on his lips as he thrust deep once more and held himself there. She felt him jerk inside her, then a rush of warm liquid. He rested his forehead against her shoulder, his teeth clenched as he strained between her thighs to empty every drop of himself inside her.
She clung to him, never wanting to let go. And the tears finally came.
* * *
“Arabel,” Garrick murmured, his heart breaking when he saw her tears. The bliss he’d found with her vanished, instantly replaced by concern. He shifted to lie beside her and gathered her into his arms. That was when he saw the blood on the coverlet, as if he’d claimed her innocence a second time. Ten years for her—Damnation, he should have realized . . . Guilt flared inside him, that in his desire for her he’d caused her pain. “I’ve hurt you. I’m so sorry.”
She shook her head, her eyes closed and refusing to look at him.
He tenderly brushed the tears away, then placed a soft, reassuring kiss to her lips. But the shaking sigh that came from her only twisted his gut tighter. Arabel in tears. This was nothing like he’d planned tonight to be. Of course, he hadn’t planned on spilling himself inside her either, which could never happen again. But his desire for her had been too great, the pleasure of being inside her too overwhelming, and he’d lost control before he could slip from her warmth.
But tears . . . Good Lord, was she already regretting giving herself to him?
“What is it?” he pressed gently. He leaned over her and brushed a ginger curl away from her forehead, coaxing her to open her eyes. The watery green depths glistened in the faint light from the dying embers in the fireplace. “Tell me.”
She swiped a hand at her eyes. “It isn’t you.”
He arched a brow, not believing her.
“Not like that, I mean.” She touched his cheek. “You were wonderful.”
He wasn’t certain he believed that either, since the only man she’d ever been with had just brought her to tears. But he knew one thing for certain. Arabel was in his arms again, right where she belonged.
“Everything is going to be all right,” he whispered, soothingly caressing his hand along her side.
She choked out, “How can it be?”
Before he could stop her, she slipped out of bed.
He sat up and watched as she snatched up his dressing robe that he’d earlier flung across the chair when he’d been debating what to wear tonight, like some green pup before his first tryst with a woman. The cashmere robe draped over her petite frame, hanging nearly to her ankles.
She tied the belt, then faced him. “A decade since . . .” She raked a hand through her disheveled hair that fell in a tangled cascade of fire down her back. “But has anything really changed?”
“Everything has changed,” he half-growled.
He crawled off the bed and yanked on his breeches. As he finished buttoning the fall, he crossed the room to the fireplace, where he reached for the poker to stir up the fire, but only to keep from reaching for her, to carry her straight back to bed and make love to her until she realized what he already knew. That they were fated to be together.
“I’m engaged to another man,” she explained, exasperation trembling in her voice. “You’re planning on leaving as soon as you can. And we’re still fighting over my family.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He stabbed at the coals. “And I don’t give a damn about your family. Or their choice in husband for you.” This was their second chance, and he refused to let history repeat itself.
When she didn’t respond, he leaned back on his heels and glanced over his shoulder at her. The anguish on her face nearly undid him.
“Why . . .” She drew a deep breath to ask the question he knew was coming. The one he’d been dreading. But Arabel was nothing if not predictable in her doggedness. “Why do you hate my family so much?”
His gaze fixed solemnly on hers. “Because they took you from me.”
“They didn’t. It was you who left.” She choked out the aching whisper—“You abandoned me.”
His head snapped up, and he rose to his full height. “I didn’t abandon you.” He set the poker aside and clenched his hands as he stared at her, refusing to look away. “I would never abandon you, Arabel.”
Her eyes glistened. “But you did. You wanted me to elope with you, but when I didn’t, you left. You left me here.” She swallowed down a sob. “And I never saw you again.”
As he moved slowly toward her, his chest squeezed until he could barely breathe. This conversation had been ten years in coming, yet he didn’t find any relief now that it had arrived. Revealing the truth of that night would only hurt her.
But if they had any hope of a future together, then they had to put to rest all the ghosts from their past.
“Your family made me leave,” he explained quietly, trying to keep the old bitterness from his voice. “They told the land agent to take care of me, to make certain that I didn’t have any ideas about stealing a Rowland daughter.”
Her lips parted in surprise, but she remained silent, trying to take in all that he was telling her.
“Your family wanted me away from you and the highlands. So MacTavish and two of the grooms beat me up until I was half dead, and then some more for good measure.” He ran a fingertip along a faint scar on his chin and over another at the corner of his left eye. “They gave me these, right before they tied me up and threw me onto the back of a wagon headed for the coast, where I was impressed onto a ship bound for Spain. When it put in anchor near Margate three days later to take on supplies, I jumped overboard and swam ashore to England.”
She didn’t move, not even to breathe, as her gaze remained locked with his.
“I had no money, no friends, no way back to the highlands,” he answered. “I thought I’d lost you forever. Worse, I blamed you for telling your family about me, for setting them on me that night.”
“I didn’t,” she breathed out, so softly his ears couldn’t hear her. But his heart heard every word. “I never told anyone about us. I didn’t know what . . .” Her voice cracked, unable to put into words what her family had done to him. “Oh God, Garrick, I’m so sorry.”
She lifted a trembling hand to his cheek. He took it in his and brought it to his lips to kiss her fingers.
“It doesn’t matter now,” he assured her quietly. “And it didn’t matter then, because by the time I had enough money to return to the highlands, I assumed you’d already married Ian Campbell. So when I had the chance to join the army, I took it. I never gave Scotland another thought.” He sucked in a steadying breath. “But I never forgot you, Arabel. Not one day.”
The flood of emotions flitting over her beautiful face was heartbreaking. Guilt, regret, grief . . . most of all, there was stunned betrayal. She’d trusted her family, and since inheriting Highburn, she’d dreamt of reclaiming its past glory. How would she ever come to terms with this, the family she treasured harming the man she’d loved?
“I had no idea why you’d left.” A single tear slipped down her cheek, glistening in the firelight. “If I had known . . .”
“I know.” He gently wiped it away with his thumb. “But everything has changed for us now,” he repeated. “If we’re brave enough to seize it.”
Her eyes darted to the mussed bed, and she mumbled shyly with a touch of embarrassment, “I thought we already did.”
Not even close. He wanted so much more with her. He wanted a future, a home, a family . . . He wanted her love. “You can start by telling your family what you want for your life, what you’re planning for Highburn.”
When she hesitated to answer, Garrick knew that she hadn’t yet reached the point where she was willing to completely defy her mother. But he took comfort in the fact that she didn’t leap to argue the point, because Arabel always came to a person’s defense, even when it wasn’t deserved. At least she’d taken a step toward her own freedom, albeit a small one.
But a much larger step needed to be taken.
“And by breaking off your engagement.” His resentment of Murray made him press the point. “Because of your family’s urging, you’ve become engaged to a man you don’t love, who doesn’t love you. One for whom you hold no passion.”
Indignation darkened her face. “What makes you think that?”
“Because I know who you do feel passion for.” He leaned over her, bringing his face close to hers and grinning smugly. “Me.”
Her mouth fell open, their earlier argument and that night ten years ago both forgotten, just as he wanted. “Oh, you arrogant English—”
His arm went around her waist and yanked her against him. His mouth captured hers, silencing her.
He kissed her fervently as his hands tore loose the tied belt and opened the robe. When a low moan of arousal poured from her instead of the cutting insult she’d been about to level, a rush of victory poured through him. He lowered her to the rug, not bothering to return to the bed to make love to her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and welcomed him into the cradle of her thighs.
“My sweet Arabel,” he murmured in a hoarse voice, roughened with emotion. His body sank into hers and claimed her as his, now and forever.