Staring up into Garrett's earnest dark eyes, Bridget found herself conflicted all over again. It was so much easier to hold on to her anger when he wasn't looking at her, especially like that.

"What about the princess?" she asked. Not even sure why. Part of her felt like she should care what had happened to her former mistress, but truthfully she felt more guilty than anything. Guilty because she didn't actually care anymore what happened to the other woman.

"She made her own choices," said Garrett. His tone was dismissive, but she could tell from the look on his face that he felt a little guilty too. "Can we talk about this in a room?" His voice turned coaxing. "After a hot bath... I'll have them bring you some fresh clothes... some food..."

A bath, fresh clothes, and food did sound good. She looked down at herself, only now realizing exactly how tattered she appeared. While she'd managed to keep her clothes fairly clean, they were definitely looking worse for the wear. Swallowing down her anger at him, she realized he was right. And she shouldn't turn down his generosity, because she had nothing else to rely on at the moment.

"Two rooms?" she asked, looking up at him a bit plaintively. She needed some space from him, although she shouldn't be asking him for anything right now, did she really have a choice? Despite the slight change in circumstances, he still had all the power because he had all the money and she had nothing but what he decided to give her.

To her relief, Garrett nodded. He didn't seem angry or upset at all, more relieved than anything else. Why would he be relieved unless he truly cared about her staying?

Half an hour later, soaking in a hot bath and scrubbing herself down enthusiastically with a bar of sweet smelling soap, Bridget was still pondering the question of Garrett's true feelings towards her. She'd come to accept that she had feelings for him, because she cared far too much about his feelings for her to continue denying her own, but that didn't mean that he returned them. Of course, from most of his actions the past day it certainly seemed like he did. But what about the days before that?

It occurred to her that part of the reason she was fighting her feelings so hard was because she didn't particularly want to have them for a man who, by all rights, she should hate. Just because he had a good reason, or at least a justifiable one, for maintaining his persona in front of the other men, that didn't excuse the acts he had perpetrated on her. And all the same... she felt like forgiving him. Which made her feel angry at herself.

Still, did she really have any choice in the matter? As she had noted before, Garrett held all the cards, by which she meant the money.

Sighing, she continued to scrub and rinse, scrub and rinse, until she was pink and squeaky clean. It felt as though she was washing away more than just the dirt and grime, but also her recent experiences. As she rose from the tub, for the first time in ages, she felt wonderfully refreshed and clean. Garrett had even had the inn's maids bring her new clothes, which were waiting for her on the bed. It was a beautiful dress, much nicer than anything she'd ever owned before. The dress of a merchant's daughter or even a gentlewoman. The blue fabric was soft against her hands and skin as she slid it over her head and when she looked in the mirror she felt quite beautiful.

If only she didn't feel beholden to Garrett for it.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, there was a knock on the door and she heard him calling her name. Swallowing hard, unsure if she was truly ready to face him, Bridget went and opened the door.

She wasn't the only one who had taken a bath. Clean-shaven, dressed in new clothes, with his dark hair trimmed and brushed back from his face, Garrett looked every inch a young lord, even if he was wearing simpler clothes. He also looked like the kind of man she could easily swoon over, based on looks alone. Knowing exactly how much pleasure he could bring her didn't help her situation, because just looking at him sent a completely inappropriate surge of lust through her body.

"May I come in and set down the tray?" he asked.

Bridget started, realizing that she was standing in the doorway staring up at him. Her cheeks flushed as she hastily moved to the side. She hadn't even noticed he was laden with a tray of food. Now that her attention had been drawn to it, she realized how hungry she was and how good the food smelled.

There were two meat pies, laden with vegetables and spices, and she almost moaned with happiness to have food that hadn't been cooked over a campfire. The pastry was flaky and buttery, practically melting in her mouth. She closed her eyes and just concentrated on the wonderful flavors, thinking this was the best thing she'd ever tasted. The wine was spiced and flavorful, and there was a small piece of sharp cheese for both of them. It was the best meal she'd had since beginning traveling.

"Enjoying?" asked Garrett. She looked up, realizing that she'd almost forgotten his presence in her enjoyment of the food. No. Not forgotten. That wasn't quite the right word. But just relaxed to the point where his presence hadn't been an intrusion. It felt right to be sitting here, sharing a meal with him.

"It's wonderful," she replied honestly. He smiled at her and she smiled back without thinking, too satisfied with the wonderful meal and happy in the warmth and comfort of the inn to do anything else. The smile slowly faded from her face as she remembered she was dependent on him for all of these comforts and if she did not travel with him, she would be on her own and in the street.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

He studied her, his eyes both penetrating and earnest. How truly interested he looked, how concerned.

Bridget looked down at her empty plate as if it might hold the answers. "I have been thinking..."

"About us?" Garrett supplied after a moment of silence, reaching across the table to touch her hand. His fingers curled around the outside of hers, although he didn't put any real pressure on it. The warmth of his palm covered the back of her hand.

"About a lot of things," she said shortly, although she didn't move her hand away. Part of her wanted to, but she didn't want to upset him, not when she was so dependent on his goodwill. And it did feel nice. "But yes, also about your suggestion. I guess... I guess I'm just wondering why you want me to go with you when, if you're the son of a Duke, any woman would be happy to have you once you're home."

"Well, for one, I’m the bastard son of a Duke," Garrett said, although she could see a small smile on his face when she peeked up at him. He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "But yes, there are quite a few women who would be willing to have me anyway, but I want you. I told you how much I admire you. And I've found... I've found I care about you more than I thought would be possible. Despite the circumstances of our time together, I have enjoyed your company and I think I would enjoy it even more in more pleasant circumstances."

"What if I were to want more time to think?" she asked. "You must leave tomorrow, you say, but what if I can't come to a decision by then?"

"If you need more time to think or if you decide you would prefer to make your own way, then I will give you half of the money I carry with me. I'd give all of it to you, but I need enough to see me safely home. You will have enough to make your way back to your family or stay here and make a new start. Or even move elsewhere and make a new start." Bridget looked up at him, completely startled now, and he smiled wanly, naming a sum that left her almost gasping. It would be more than sufficient to do any of the things he said.

"You would really do that?" she asked wonderingly, her surprise overcoming her common sense. He frowned, as if insulted that she questioned his honesty, but he didn't remove his hand from hers.

"Of course. I will not leave you to fend for yourself without any help." He smiled again. "Although, I must confess that I would hope to find that you'd decided to relocate to England, near me."

Despite knowing he was an accomplished actor, an accomplished liar, Bridget found that she believed him. He would not leave her without funds, she would not be punished for not doing as he wished. Something inside of her relaxed, tension flowing out of her with relief, now that she truly felt as if she had options. And suddenly, she found herself feeling much more goodwill towards Garrett than she'd thought possible.

When she'd thought she had no true choice but to go with him or be left alone and penniless, she'd been angry and she had wanted nothing more than to get away from him, despite a few niggling bits of reluctance. Now that she knew she would be taken care of either way, she inexplicably found herself feeling closer to the reverse. Would it be so bad to go with him? Learn more about him?

But there were other considerations as well.

"What if I'm pregnant?" she asked.

Now Garrett took her hand in his, startling her as he pulled it across the table to wrap both of his hands around hers. She stared at him, surprised by the look on his face. It was caring. Almost loving. Adoring. Her heart melted a little.

"Then I would hope even more that you would come to me. I would consider any child of yours a child of mine, for he or she very well might be."

Well that was true enough, but she was still startled at his complete lack of caring that she might be pregnant with another man's child. And his willingness to claim the child as his own. She stared at him as if she could somehow read his intent in his face, but all she saw was sincerity.

"When do you plan to leave tomorrow?" she asked, a little helplessly. Garrett's strong fingers were making little circles on the inside of her wrist, a tickling sensation that sent a little tingle through her body.

"Just after first light," he said, still stroking her wrist. His dark eyes were filled with a kind of hope almost overwhelming to her senses. How could she make a decision with him sitting here looking at her that way?

"May I have tonight to think about it?"

The stroke of his fingers slowed and then he gave her hands a slight squeeze again. "Of course."

Efficiently, Garrett gathered up the remains of their dinner to set outside the door for the maid to pick up. Bridget helping as best she could, now feeling incredibly awkward in his presence. After setting the tray outside he came back, standing so close to her that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes, and she felt breathless at the tension between them. The possibility of a kiss hovered in the air and she felt her lips parting automatically, as if in invitation.

Instead, Garrett brushed his finger over her pouted lips. "I hope you come with me tomorrow, Bridget. But if not, then I will still hope that you will come to me eventually."

And with that he left her, not even giving her the chance to respond. With a few long strides he was out of the room and it seemed as if he took all the air in it with him. Standing alone, Bridget realized she was trembling. She also realized she was disappointed he hadn't actually kissed her. But if she had let him kiss her, what else would she have let him do? She should be disgusted with herself, but her overriding emotion was still disappointment.

With slow, dreamy movements, Bridget undressed and crawled into the sweet softness of the bed, almost moaning with pleasure at the luxury of a real mattress. A softer mattress than she'd ever had in her life, in fact. The pillows were like fluffy clouds. And yet she couldn't sleep, because she couldn't turn off her thoughts, which were all of Garrett.

She had so many questions about him. Why was he still pursuing her? Why was he willing to claim any child she had when he would never know whether or not it was his? Why had he said he wanted to court her, after everything? Why was he willing to give up half his current funds for her? Why did he say he hoped she would come to him eventually even if she chose not to join him tomorrow?

All the questions seemed to have the same answer, it was just one she wasn’t sure she could truly believe.

Maybe he truly cared. More than cared. Was it possibly he loved her? What other reason could there be? Madness perhaps. She giggled a little to herself. Love or madness. Although her father would have said love is a kind of madness. But how on earth had he fallen in love with her? What was there to fall in love with?

Yet he had to care for more than her body. There would be willing women aplenty on the road and at home, especially with a duke for a father. While being born on the wrong side of the sheets might bar him from a certain class of women, all other classes would be open to him. Women who would bring him something other than a child of questionable parentage. None of this made sense unless he truly was in love with her. Honor would be satisfied by giving her money to care for herself. There was no need to practically beg her to go with him unless he truly cared, perhaps even loved her. Not that he'd said the words, but didn't his actions show that it was a possibility at the least?

Bridget rolled around the bed, stretching out her limbs and finding she wished there was another body there to hold onto. A warm, masculine body. She couldn't deny she had feelings for Garrett, too. Confused, conflicted feelings that made her want to do stupid things.

Or perhaps not so conflicted in feelings. It was just that her heart was telling her one thing while her head was telling her another. She supposed what it really boiled down to was whether or not she could forgive him the past in order to consider a future with him. Was she strong enough to do that? Was it the right thing to do?

Pondering these questions in the darkness, Bridget eventually slipped into an exhausted slumber.

*********

It was a good thing he had practically trained himself to fall asleep at need. There had been many times in his life when he'd had to snatch a few hours—or less—of sleep under trying circumstances and in uncomfortable locations. Falling asleep on cue had become almost an art. Still, it had been much harder the night before than he might have liked. Awaiting Bridget's answer, after her penetrating questions showed she was truly thinking about accompanying him rather than just rejecting him out of hand, had given him anxieties that he'd never known before.

In fact, her questions had been more than he'd hoped for at that point. Not that he should have taken her desire for separate rooms as a sign of rejection. In fact, it was completely understandable, but some part of him had wished she craved his company as much as he did hers. Dinner with her had been easy and satisfying. Watching her eat, seeing the enjoyment on her face as she did so, had given him a sense of satisfaction he'd never imagined. The idea of having her there every night, in his home—their home—only increased his desire to have her with him.

He'd awoken this morning with a feeling of dread, a pit in his stomach, knowing it was the end of the rope and she was going to tell him her decision. Would he wait for her, in hopes she might join him eventually even if she decided against accompanying him today? Yes. For as long as he could, although eventually he supposed he would have to move on if she never appeared. But he wouldn't want to.

Her questions had been the first glint of hope for him. He'd practically had to strong-arm her into town and into the inn. That she was thinking about her possible futures, and that one of them included wanting to know how he might treat a babe if she was pregnant, had had him nearly jumping for joy. At least he'd managed to stifle his reaction to just holding her hand, although he'd wanted to do so much more.

Would she come with him, just for the sake of a possible babe? Even so, he would take her on those terms and somehow he'd earn her respect, her love. All he needed was more time.

Dressed for travel, Garrett awaited her presence down in the common room as the sky slowly lightened. If she didn't come down within the next five minutes then he was going to end up knocking on her door; he couldn't contain his nervous energy anymore. Under the table his leg jigged, a habit from boyhood that he had never quite suppressed.

A tingling sensation, as if someone had blown air across the back of his neck, ran across his skin and he looked up at the staircase to see her descending, staring at him. She looked nervous, but otherwise the expression on her face didn't tell him anything and he could feel his gut tightening further.

Holding out his hand, he gestured for her to join him at the table. He preferred not to stand over her intimidatingly when she told him her answer.

Bridget came and sat quietly as the maid immediately brought over the food he had ordered. Seeing her smile at the sight of fresh bread and porridge made some of the ache in his stomach ease. At least he could please her in this way. The table was shaking slightly, due to his nervous leg, and he stilled the action as best he could, clenching his hands in his lap before he could start drumming his fingers on the table.

Across from him, Bridget eyed him almost nervously and he tried to smooth his expression into a mask of blankness. He didn't want to alarm her by scowling, even though that's what he felt like doing as she made him wait.

"I would like the money that you offered, please," she finally said quietly, picking apart the bread with slim fingers.

The air seemed to whoosh out of his body on a single breath, a sigh of resignation for the answer that he'd felt in his heart was coming. And he couldn't blame her. Perhaps with more time he could have convinced her of his good intentions. Given her more time with the man he was inside, the man he wanted to be for her, rather than the man he had been while under cover. Shoulders slumping, he dug into his pouch for the money he'd prepared, already in its own bag in readiness for her.

He slid the pouch across the table and Bridget picked it up, her eyes widening a little at the weight. Glancing at him, she opened the ties to the bag and peeked inside, gasping again when she saw mostly gold instead of copper or silver.

Then she looked up at him almost accusingly.

"This must be more than half."

"I have what I need to travel," he said. Which was true. If he was traveling alone then he needed substantially less. If Bridget had been with him he'd be more inclined to stay in places where she could sleep on a bed, and he'd feed her much better than he would feed himself on his own.

Closing her hands almost protectively around the pouch, she pursed her sweet pink lips at him and he had to remind himself that he couldn't kiss her just because he wanted to.

"Where will you go? Or will you stay here?" he asked, because some part of him needed to know where she was. What she would be doing. Possibly how to track her down again one day.

Looking down at her hands around the pouch of money, Bridget's slim fingers loosened from the leather and stroked the pouch, almost as if she was lost in thought. There was a long silence and he wondered if she would even tell him.

Then she looked up at him again, almost shyly this time, with a slight blush on her face.

"I was thinking perhaps England..."

His heart seemed to thud in his chest. "A particular part of England?"

"I was thinking... perhaps... where did you say your home was?"

His lips were curving into a smile he couldn't even suppress if he wanted to. In a moment she might crush his heart, tell him that he was mistaken, but the way she was smiling back at him right now, this wonderful feeling... he wouldn't give it up unless she forced him to.

"Devonshire. Do you think you might perhaps enjoy an escort? I have to tell you that such an escort may need to travel rather swiftly."

Bridget pushed the pouch of money back towards him. "Perhaps I might contribute some funds to help with the swift travel." The little minx. Garrett was grinning like a loon and he didn't care. Then her expression changed a little. "I would also expect sleeping arrangements similar to last night's... I do not know what I will want at the end of the journey."

But she would give him a chance. She would give him time. And Garrett was not going to waste that.

*******

The trip home took a little less than a month. They traveled very swiftly, although perhaps not as swiftly as Garrett would have on his own but he didn't mind. Every day Bridget became more relaxed with him, more willing to allow small touches to her hands and face. One night, at an inn, he kissed her and she didn't pull away, although she didn't cling to him either. Their lips touched, melded, and he coaxed her tongue to dance with his own.

After that he kissed her good night every night, his body yearning for her, but he always pushed himself back. Forced himself to allow her to control their interactions even though every night he went to bed rock hard and dreaming of her.

Unfortunately they couldn't share much conversation while they were actually on horseback, traveling, because of how quickly they had to go. The most time they truly got together was on board the ship across the channel, which didn't last nearly long enough to suit him. Bridget no longer looked at him with suspicion or distaste.

Sometimes she even seemed to encourage his attentions, allowing him to hold her hand or snuggling against him when he slipped his arm about her waist or shoulders. Their good night kisses had become more clinging and it was becoming harder to force himself away from her at the end of it.

Every day he found his affections for her deepening, everything about her confirming his initial impressions of her. She was filled with light and laughter, even when they were forced to travel swiftly and were unable to truly appreciate the countryside. Wherever they stopped, she found something to enjoy. He made sure they stayed in inns whenever possible, and she always ended up on the good side of the workers there. Hot baths, good food, special treats. Everyone liked Bridget and they did what they could to show it. Not that she was undeserving. One time he found her helping some of the other maids with laundry, telling them stories about life at the French Court while they listened, completely enraptured.

Upon arriving at his father's estate he'd given her the option of not having to meet with his father immediately, but Bridget showed her usual courage and insisted she wanted to. He decided to take it as a good sign, and hoped his noble father would see the same things in her that he himself did.

Perhaps he should have worried more about how well they would get along, he thought to himself sardonically as Bridget reduced his noble father to gasping for air in between guffaws of laughter as she told him about one of the more humiliating instances during their recent travels. It really hadn't been that funny, Garrett thought sulkily. He'd been trying to do a good deed, and perhaps he'd been showing off a little bit, rescuing an older woman from what looked like a threatening situation with a man. The woman had been cornered in the stable yard as the brute raged and yelled at her, a large axe in his hand. When Garrett had stepped in to defend the woman and make the man back off, the woman had ended up turning on Garrett and yelling at him to mind his own business. When he'd resisted her dismissal, still unsure of the man's attentions, she'd used the broom in her hand to chase him off.

And then, of course, once they were inside the inn, the chuckling innkeeper had told him the couple was married and had a similar face-off at least once a week. Usually as a prelude to a thorough bedding.

Bridget had already been in stitches watching Garrett being chased by a broom-wielding woman, but hearing that he had inadvertently interrupted the couple's form of conjugal relations had her giggling for the rest of the week. And she was far too adept at both description and the ridiculous caricatures of his facial expressions. Scowling, he watched as the woman he hoped would be his wife and his father enjoyed themselves thoroughly at his expense.

"Oh, he was always putting his nose in where it didn't belong," the Duke said, when he was finally able to draw breath again. He wiped actual tears away from his eyes. Tears! "Did he ever tell you about the time he tried to apprehend a burglar and knocked his uncle unconscious?"

Of course Bridget started laughing and Garrett couldn't stop himself from a small smile either.

"But you're forgetting the important part of the story, Father," he reminded his grinning parent. "He was a burglar, since he was on his way to steal some of your brandy." Giving a supercilious nod, he ruined his serious face by winking at Bridget, but he didn't mind at all.

The rest of the afternoon was spent with his father regaling Bridget of his various youthful misdeeds. Fortunately none of his half-brothers were in residence or they'd be able to add quite a bit more fodder to the fire. Eventually the Duke called his housekeeper in and asked her to give Bridget a tour of the grounds, giving him and Garrett the chance to talk. That morning he had given his father the papers, and his father had sent out men to take care of detaining the traitors, but his father always liked to have a rundown of the mission from Garrett.

Considering how quickly Bridget had fallen into the affections of the Duke, he wasn't looking forward to recounting their meeting and his subsequent behavior. His father listened with a frown on his face to the recital, in which Garrett didn't spare himself at all. At the end of his summary, Garrett finished with his intention to court Bridget, wed her, and settle down somewhere nearby.

"Of course you can have the lands I promised you, whenever you're ready to claim them," said the Duke with a wave of his hand. "But I think the more important question is whether or not the girl will have you, and if you'll want the lands if she doesn't. I'm rather surprised that she came all this way with you, in fact."

"I thought she'd wash her hands of me too," confessed Garrett. "But she did not and I hold myself unaccountably lucky for that."

"I prefer to think she's just much more intelligent than you and saw through to your better parts, behind your so-called perfect disguise," said his father, his voice completely bland and all the more teasing for it. The dark eyes in the hawkish face flashed with good humor. In many ways, his father was just like him. Though he'd lost muscle over the years and had a bit of a belly, and his dark hair had streaks of grey in it, they could almost be spitting images of each other and Garrett knew his father's expressions as well as he knew his own. The older man was saddened and disappointed to hear how Garrett had comported himself and yet relieved and glad to hear that he was doing his best to redeem his poor behavior. And also guilty about having sent Garrett into such circumstances in the first place.

But it had been the right thing to do and Garrett had done what he needed to do in order to see his brother's murderers hang. And hang they would. He had managed to beat any messengers back to England, because his father happened to know most of the implicated nobles were in London at court, which is where his father would be tomorrow in order to present the documents of proof to the king.

"It's possible, but even then it takes a generous heart to forgive what she's been through," he said quietly.

"Very true," said his father, and the two men sat in silence for a while. "I am still proud of you, you know. Despite some of the things you had to do, despite the fact that you may have even enjoyed some of them, it takes a strong and wise man to admit when he is wrong and to do what is needful to make it right."

Tears sparked in Garrett's eyes, he hadn't realized until just this moment how much he'd worried over the loss of his father's approval. Hearing that his father could still be proud of him buoyed up his spirits and soothed his guilt somewhat, he still felt it keenly, especially every time his thoughts dwelt on Bridget and whether or not they might ever have a future together.

The rest of the evening passed quickly. Bridget returned and certain subjects became unmentionable again. She seemed in high spirits, if not a little introspective after having seen his father's place. Realizing she might be a little intimidated, over dinner Garrett had his father describe the lands that Garrett would be receiving which were not nearly as grand as this. Despite the fact that he would soon be an officially acknowledged bastard son, he was still a bastard son and he would not inherit anything like what his brothers would. Which suited him fine. He had not grown up thinking he would and he much preferred the more modest lands he would soon receive. And Bridget would feel more comfortable there too.

Seeing her now, at a Duke's table, he could tell she was intimidated and nervous. She managed her manners well enough, probably had observed plenty when she'd been serving the princess, but she was not comfortable. As far as Garrett was concerned, the sooner he could get her settled onto his lands the better.

The next day, in fact, he found himself handing over full responsibility to his father and heading out to his new home with Bridget. In the past he probably would have accompanied his father to London. He would have wanted to see the traitors' faces as they were uncovered and arrested. Now his main concern was Bridget and settling her in, doing his best to keep her and that meant that she was his priority. Of course, eventually he would go to London, probably for some of the trials and the subsequent consequences, to stand with his family for Arden, but that was the future. And if he was very lucky, perhaps Bridget would accompany him as his wife.

When they first arrived at the house he could see Bridget was relieved. The house was not nearly as intimidating or grand as the ducal estate. It was a much more comfortable kind of home. In fact, it was the home he had lived in after his mother passed, and he had found it a very comfortable and warm place. The servants, all seven of them, were both competent and loving, and had eased the pain of losing his mother and the shock of discovering who his father was.

The easy relationship he had now with his father had not started that way, but having this place to call home had helped quite a bit. And now it was truly his. A gesture from his father that showed how much he loved his bastard son.

Garrett wondered if Bridget knew yet whether or not she was carrying a child. As far as he knew she hadn't bled while they were traveling, but on the other hand, would she have told him? If she did carry a child, he would have to exert himself to court her faster. Not that he had minded growing up a bastard exactly, but he wanted better for his children than what he had.

The next week was almost pure bliss—or it would have been if he had been getting any kind of physical satisfaction. But still, he truly enjoyed showing Bridget around the house and grounds, watching her befriend the servants, and doing his best to court her. They went riding together, had picnics, looked at the stars, learned about running the house and estate together and separately, and met some of their neighbors. His desire to marry her was soon the worst kept secret in both the household and the neighborhood. And, from what he could tell, Bridget seemed quite happy. He picked flowers for her, bought her little trinkets—which he discovered she preferred over jewels—and new clothes and hats for her. In return, she seemed to throw herself into becoming useful, as if she was determined to be of value to the household and to earn her keep.

He kissed her. Often. As often as he could without bursting his breeches, although he still refrained from pushing her further. He was finally starting to think that she might want him to do more than kiss her, but he didn't want to push it.

And then one morning he woke up tied to his bed.

*******

Bridget couldn't help but laugh at the expressions flitting across Garrett's face. Only one moment of fear, followed quickly by anger, then shock, and finally a kind of blend of confusion, glee, and consternation once he realized there was a naked woman straddling his thighs. At first she hadn't believed Mary, the housekeeper, when she'd been told of how deeply Garrett slept at home. After all, she knew he was the first to rise in the mornings at camp, but apparently in this house he felt safe enough to sleep deeply and late.

"What are you doing?" he rumbled, the sleep quickly washing away from his face and body, leaving a rather angry and aroused looking male behind. Smiling, Bridget stroked her fingers down his bare chest. That was something else she'd discovered this morning—Garrett slept in the nude in bed.

"Whatever I want," she said.

To tell the truth, she wasn't entirely sure what she wanted. His kisses had awakened a fire in her that refused to be put out, but she felt herself pulling away from them all the same. Every time they kissed she felt herself in danger of being swept away, of losing all control and just falling into bed—or against any reasonably comfortable flat surface—with him. And control had recently become very important to her.

At the beginning of their journey she'd asked him for the money he'd promised her for two reasons—to ascertain he'd truly meant his offer and so she didn't feel as if she was dependent on him. Since arriving at his house, she knew she was there as a guest in many ways, but she'd also made herself very useful to the household. The housekeeper was overjoyed to have someone to plan the menus and oversee the running of the whole household. In many ways the poor woman had been doing two jobs simultaneously once Garrett had returned until Bridget had taken some of the load from her. This place was fast becoming a home and she didn't want to leave.

But Garrett had been taking too long about his courtship. In some ways it had flattered her, that he was treating her like a lady and not like he'd already known her body. But the truth was he did know her body and she knew his, and she very much wanted the cravings inside of her satisfied. While they were traveling she'd appreciated the time to get to know him, but she'd thought once they arrived at his house he might push forward a little bit. Do something more than kiss her. But he'd kept his hands and lips in safe areas and she was left with an ache between her legs that only he could satisfy.

When they'd first arrived she might have tried to push harder herself, but her courses had arrived. She'd been relieved at the evidence she was not with child. Despite Garrett's declaration that he would accept any child as his own, Bridget didn't want another man's child that Garrett would accept without ever knowing if it was his. Part of her thought she should tell Garrett, but she truthfully thought he'd try to find his way to her bed during the past week and she would tell him then. Instead he'd done nothing more than kiss her.

The slow courting had gotten under her skin. She'd realized she wanted Garrett. She wanted to be in his life. She wanted to be married to him, and her body desperately wanted to be in his bed again. But at the same time, she hadn't known how to say so. And she wanted to be in control of this, the first time she willingly came to him.

Smiling at her with darkening eyes, eyes filled with need, Garrett tugged at his wrists where she'd tied them to the bed above his head. "You can free my hands and still do whatever you want."

"No." She shook her head, still smiling, as her hand caressed the flat muscles of his stomach, the back of her arm brushing against the velvet soft skin of his erection and making him groan. "I think I prefer you like this."

Although his hands were tied she'd left his legs free, knowing they would be useless to him unless he was going to kick her. Which he obviously wasn't going to do.

Bridget ignored his pleas and commands to free him and began to explore his manhood, taking her time to look at every part of him, from the dark hairs at its base, to the wrinkled sack of flesh underneath, up the veiny root to the bulbous head. It was an inspection she hadn't been able to indulge in before. The soft touch as she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock made Garrett groan and his hips jerked. The rush of power that went through her as she realized that she truly had him at her mercy was intense.

Smiling happily, she lowered her mouth to his cock, giving him one long lick from root to tip, keeping her eyes on him. He'd stopped trying to bargain with her and was now just watching her lustfully, his hands stretched out above his head and secured to the headboard of the bed. Having him restrained and bound like this was highly erotic, and she indulged herself by imagining herself in this position. Shivering a little, she realized part of her quite liked that idea, especially if Garrett were to tease her with his hands and mouth.

Licking around the head of his cock, Bridget enjoyed enacting her fantasy in reverse, teasing him with her lips and tongue, her hand stroking up and down the solid length of his cock. He was hot and hard in her palm, pulsing against her fingers. Sweet fluid leaked from the tip. This was the first time she'd been able to truly indulge in pleasuring a man with her mouth, with no encouragement from the man himself since he happened to be all tied up at the moment. Suppressing a giggle, Bridget took him into her mouth and hummed her pleasure as Garrett bucked beneath her.

She was feeling wanton, eager. The last of her hesitations had swept away as she realized she was in full control of this encounter. She could do whatever she wanted... and she was curious about something. Sucking her own finger into her mouth, she then wedged in beneath Garrett, rubbing it against his own crinkled hole. It had occurred to her that she'd gotten quite a bit of pleasure, however unwilling, from some of the attentions paid to her own rear entry and she'd started to wonder if the same might be possible for a man.

Garrett groaned and bucked as her finger rubbed against the tight entrance, his legs squeezing shut to trap her wrist. Only the very tip of her finger was embedded inside of him, the ribbed entryway squeezing her digit tightly.

"What are you doing?" The tone of his voice was that of a man doing his best to sound commanding, but coming out more desperately than anything else. "Bridget, stop."

"Just relax, it will feel good," she said soothingly. "Isn't that what you told me?" Indeed, she found a certain amount of justice in this invasion of his body, and she knew very well that her small finger could not possibly be harming him.

"Bridget... this is unnatural!"

"I thought so too, but it turned out to be more enjoyable than I thought."

Ignoring his further protests, Bridget used the moments when the pressure of his thighs around her wrist lessened to press more firmly and felt her finger sink into that hot crevice.

"Oh God... Bridget..."

His hips bucked upwards and his legs squeezed together as much as they could before separating again; an action that she recognized from her own body, answering her question. It felt good to him too.

The excitement of penetrating his body motivated her to push deeper inside of him, moving her finger in and out as if it was a small cock, invading his bumhole, her mouth sucking on him as she did so. Did her own bumhole squeeze a man so tightly? If so, she was starting to understand the attraction the men had had with the hole.

Penetrating Garrett in this way was arousing, feeling him writhe and tighten around her finger... she was astonished at the grip he managed with those ridged inner muscles. The look of reluctant pleasure on his face only incensed her further as she pushed back and forth inside of him, enjoying the way his cock jerked in her mouth, the salt-sweet of fluid that coated her tongue as she pleasured him.

His protests had ceased as the muscles in his legs and stomach tensed and released and she realized he must be enjoying the sensation, although obviously he hadn't meant to. Looking up at him, she could see he was no longer watching her. His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was open in a voiceless moan, his arms straining above his head. From the way he was moving, she realized he was going to spend in her mouth soon unless she stopped. Immediately she withdrew her finger and pulled her mouth away with a final kiss to his tip.

Garrett's eyes flew open and he groaned.

"Bridget..." He writhed a bit as she gripped his shaft and stroked, feeling him pulse wetly against her hand, lubricated with her saliva.

"Yes, Garrett?" she purred as she arranged herself above him. Excitement pulsed through her as she pressed the head of his rod to her opening, her folds slick and eager for him. In fact, she'd been wet and ready for him for days, even though he hadn't taken advantage of that fact. Well, it was her turn to take advantage now anyway.

"This isn't... this isn't how I meant to... do this..." He gasped out the words as she began teasing his head, letting the mushroom pop into her and then slide out again, enjoying the fact that both of them were being teased by this maneuver. It felt good to have him sliding around her folds and then to take just a bit of him into her, stoking her fires.

"No, it's how I mean to do it," she said, rather smugly.

For the first time, she was fully in control. The last time she'd been with Garrett she'd been somewhat in control, but she'd also been under the influence of the spirits she’d drunk. Although holding Garrett down with her body had been satisfying, she knew she would never be able to do that with a healthy Garrett. Tying him to the bed, however, served her purpose admirably. Now she was not only able to explore and discover him the way she'd always wanted to, but he truly couldn't do anything to stop her. Oh, she supposed he could kick her, but she knew he wouldn't hurt her. In fact, she'd found he'd won more than her love, he'd won her trust. But she was still going to enjoy this.

Leaning back, something she hadn't been able to do the last time because she'd been holding down his body with hers, she sank fully down on top of him, feeling his length penetrate so deeply into her body it almost hurt. Both of them cried out as she ground down on top of him, her inner muscles clasping that thick rod, her sensitive folds rubbing against his groin as she writhed with the pleasure of having him inside of her again. Pressing her hands against his stomach for balance, Bridget began to rise and fall above him with a slow and erotic pace, her eyes half-shut as she concentrated on the wonderful feeling of his cock rasping against her insides, the delicious friction of his skin rubbing against hers.

Beneath her Garrett's hips rolled as he pushed himself upwards, pressing more of himself against her, into her. It was almost like riding a horse or an ocean wave, and Bridget looked down at him with pleasure filled eyes. Their eyes connected and the intimacy was almost overwhelming. Bridget clenched around him, her thighs tightening around his body as they rolled and rose and fell together, Garrett obviously wanting to be as involved in their lovemaking as she was.

Suddenly she wanted to feel him above her, to feel his comforting weight pressing her down. But that would mean releasing him... still it was her choice to do so. And she knew that, with Garrett, it would always be her choice.

Leaning forward, Bridget began to untie one of his hands as Garrett took the opportunity to nip and lick at her swaying breasts. She moaned as he sucked one rosy nipple into his mouth. As soon as his hand was released, it joined his mouth in touching her breasts, squeezing and pinching at her unattended nipple. The pleasure coursed through her and she writhed on top of him, gasping with the decadent sensations. Even more endearing was that he didn't used his freed hand to try and take control of the situation.

If she'd needed confirmation he was not the man he'd originally presented himself as, that he was the man she'd glimpsed through the facade, this was it. Leaning down, Bridget kissed him, thoroughly, as she began to turn on her side, taking him with her. It only took Garrett a moment to realize what she wanted and his body followed, rolling on top of her, one hand still tied to the headboard. The other cushioned her fall and guided her so that his cock remained inside of her for the entire maneuver.

The weight of him on her was delicious, her legs spread and ankles wrapped around the backs of his thighs. Their lips were pressed together, tongues melding, her hands stroking his shoulders. Lifting her hips up slightly, she flexed around him, feeling the answering surge of his body between her legs

When he pulled away from the kiss and stared down into her eyes, Bridget looked up at him with all the love that she'd finally accepted.

"Make love to me, Garrett," she murmured.

"Marry me, Bridget," he responded, his voice just as low, not to mention somewhat strained.

Widening her eyes in surprise, she couldn't help but laugh. "Is this your idea of a proper proposal?"

"Well," he grinned wickedly at her, revealing some of the roguishness that she knew he possessed. "I promised myself we wouldn't be doing this," he nodded at their conjoined bodies, "until I had made a proposal. And preferably been accepted."

"Does that mean you'll stop if I say no?" she asked, her eyes twinkling merrily as he groaned at the dilemma.

"It might very well kill me to try," he muttered.

"Then I suppose I'd better say yes."

"Oh thank God."

Then his lips were on hers again, drinking in all her sweetness, kissing her almost desperately. The intensity of his kiss took her breath away, just as he began to move inside of her with long, powerful strokes of his body. She moaned into his mouth as he pushed deeply into her, pulling at him with her legs as if she could force more of him inside of her. The desire to have his body melded as closely to hers as possibly was paramount, she writhed against him, under him, for the first time realizing exactly how powerful this primal act could be when ones emotions were fully involved.

While she could never forget the way they had met, nor could she ever condone the methods which Garrett had kept his criminal persona in place with, she could forgive him for them. And she could love him and know he loved her, and they could express that love with their bodies. Movements, pleasures, that had once been completely animalistic now took on a whole new importance as Garrett made love to her, finally fully able to express himself the way he wanted to. He took his time with her, never removing himself from her body completely, but slowing as he needed to, as if he wanted to stay inside of her forever.

They kissed, not just lips, but cheeks, necks, shoulders, stroking each other with their fingers through their hair, down their backs. The pleasure had moved beyond mere ecstasy into an expression of forgiveness, a demonstration of their current feelings and their desires for the future. Considering her introduction to pleasures of the flesh, Bridget was astonished at the difference, and she was glad she had freed Garrett's hand—the other one had also been worked free at some point, although she'd been too involved to notice until she suddenly realized he had both arms wrapped around her—so they could touch and love each other to their heart's content.

Eventually the needs of their body overrode the desire to slow passion, their bodies moving together faster, harder, and Bridget felt that tingling fire in her core begin to coil and pulse. She curved her arms around Garrett's back, her nails digging into his muscular shoulders as she rocked beneath him, pushing her lower body upwards to meet his thrusts. Beneath her ankles, his buttocks clenched as he drove into her, the rate of his breathing increasing as his climax approached. Their kisses became more forceful, less skillful as they moaned and gasped.

The explosion of pleasure from her center rocked through Bridget in fiery waves, so intense she saw white light behind her closed eyelids as she cried out in pure ecstasy. Her entire body bowed beneath Garrett's, every muscle tightening and then releasing as she undulated, screaming with the glorious rapture of a long awaited release. Above her, Garrett continued to pump his hips, bellowing as her body convulsed around him, beneath him, her soft flesh yielding to his, pulling him inside of her. The fluid boiled up from his balls and burst forth, mixing his cream with hers as they clung to each other, locked in a passionate embrace of mutual ecstasy.

Even as the intense climax subsided, every movement either of them made seemed to set off a response in the other, small climaxes of pleasure. They exchanged long slow kisses as Garrett's manhood slowly shrank inside of her, neither one of them eager to release the other. Bridget thought she'd never experienced anything more wonderful than this kind of loving aftermath, a clear demonstration that Garrett wanted her for more than pleasures of the flesh. Although, she thought with a small smile, she had no objection to enjoying those with him as well.

"Tomorrow," he said suddenly, kissing the tip of her nose.

"What about tomorrow?"

"I'd like to get married tomorrow."

Bridget laughed. "Well if you insist."

******

The day shown bright and warm, all the household agreed it was the best possible omen. The bride was beautiful. The groom was grinning like a fool. Later he would have to apologize profusely to his father and brothers for not inviting them, and she would have to write to her parents explaining (in a very edited way) what had happened to her, but on the day of their wedding Bridget and Garrett didn't have a care or worry in the world. Garrett whispered to her, at their hastily prepared wedding feast, that it was the best day of his life.

One year and one day later, when their daughter was born, he amended that statement.