“My God, you are more beautiful than I remember.”
A cold chill rushed up my spine as my fingers froze on the papers I held. I was so lost in my work, I never heard the study door open and close. My lungs forgot how to inhale air as my eyes slowly sauntered to the edge of the desk to the navy-blue carpet in the room. The fast pounding of my heart increased as my gaze reached closer to the door. I already knew what I would find. The man who consumed my thoughts at night, with his perfectly structured face and body.
My eyes landed first on the brown boots, and continued upward to his long legs dressed in darker slacks. Knots began to tug at my stomach when I reached his chest, so broad and hard. I recalled how small I felt against it as we danced and kissed at the Melon Berry picnic. His soft pink lips were parted, stubble above them and around his chin. Hesitating, I squeezed the reports in my hands, mustering up the courage to look him in the eyes. They were dangerous, cunning, beautiful. I’d gotten lost in them and, Femme Fatale help me, I was still drawn to them.
Finally, my eyes met his, and I found him looking at me as though I were a ghost.
“I needed to see you,” he admitted, his voice gently caressing my body. His eyes held mine hostage. “I needed to make sure you were well, and that your father didn’t require any more assistance.”
If George had sent him, I would personally wring his neck, and the four-day trip would be well worth it.
“I’m fine,” I replied, releasing my death grip on my reports. “My father is very well recovered, so your trip here was for nothing. Aren’t your men reporting back to you?” I asked, in an accusing tone. I knew for a damn fact they were.
“To see you, I’d say the trip was worth it, even if you don’t need anything,” he quipped, his voice rough but laced in soft silk. I broke his gaze and tried to focus back on my work; as if I could. At least I could try to look unaffected by his presence.
I shrugged. “I don’t see why. I don’t require anything from you.”
Garrett stiffened, furrowing his brows. “You don’t require anything from anyone. You have too much pride.”
“And too much work to do. Was there anything else?” Meeting his face again, I strained to keep mine emotionless.
“I missed you, Avie.” I clamped my mouth shut. I missed him too. Everything about him. “We left each other in a very bad way. I never got to—”
“Really, no hard feelings. As you said, I’m prideful. My pride was just pricked a little that day, an unfortunate thing. I assure you, I’m fine.”
“What if I said I’m not fine?” he pressed on. “That you can’t just leave like that.”
I couldn’t take anymore. Not his pleading, nor his apologies. I couldn’t bear to look at him. I wanted him too much, and it hurt.
“If you are feeling unwell, there are two very good, educated doctors here who can mend you.”
Garrett shook his head. “No, they can’t mend me in the way I need mending.”
Locking my eyes on an inventory report, my vision blurred as the heat of his stare took away my ability to read.
His body hovered over the desk, casting more tension in the air. “You can’t leave a man you’ve kissed like that and expect him to be okay.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh please, Garr. You act like it was your first time.”
“It was the first time I’d been kissed like that and felt something.”
I refused to look at him. “I’m fine. Pa is fine. Your job here is done.”
Garrett started to walk toward me in slow, calculated steps. “Not until you accept my apology for speaking to you the way I did.”
“Apology accepted,” I declared, dropping my papers.
He rounded the desk. “You don’t mean it.”
“I do.”
“Do you?” His voice deepened. “Then look me in the face and say it.”
I hesitated but accepted his challenge. Before I could speak, though, Mr. Brooks entered the room.
“My Lady, Mrs. Reynolds asked that I”—he noticed Garrett in the room—“place your flowers in here with you since you spend most your mornings here.”
“You can put them on the table by the fire, Mr. Brooks. Thank you.” Brooks did as he was told and stood there, waiting for me to speak, or to stand guard until Cranfield left. I felt as though he was doing both.
“That will be all,” I said, gesturing to the door. He did as he was told and left the room.
“Already affecting the male species with you being back home?” he asked me, laying the palms of his hands on the desk. His body stood over all my paperwork, demanding to be noticed.
“It’s from my neighbor,” I scoffed. Garrett pushed off the desk, walking toward the daisies that seemed to laugh at me for thinking my brushoff with Ashton would work. Snatching the small card out of the bouquet, he read it out loud.
“’My dearest Lady Barlow, I apologize for my swift and surprising declaration of marriage to you last night.’” His hand tightened around the note. “’Please accept my humble apology of these flowers, as a simple token that I was hasty with my request. I understand the pressing matters you’ve had to deal with over the last couple weeks of being home, and my timing was completely wrong. I’ll come to call in a day or two to speak further of the subject and express my remorse in person.’” Garrett lifted a brow at me, tossing the note away haphazardly, and strode toward me. “You’ve been busy.”
“And you’re still nosy,” I countered. Garrett appeared on my side of the desk, the room suddenly feeling smaller. Standing from my chair, I attempted to regain my space.
“Have to be when one has to keep his interests safe and sound,” he professed, an arm’s length from me. “Don’t you already have an agreement with my brother to be married?”
His body was relaxed, calm; his blank expression the perfect interrogation tactic in any situation.
Placing my hand on the back of Papa’s leather chair, I said, “I already told you, we spoke about it. I didn’t sign my life away.”
He shrugged. “You may as well have.”
“Are we done, Cranfield?” I exhaled, looking at the desk piled with paperwork. “I really have—” Garrett reached for my elbow, pulling me closer to him. Our bodies didn’t touch but I could feel the tension between us. It was heavy and hot, making the back of my neck bead with sweat.
“Don’t call me that,” he growled, his grasp on my body still firm. “Accept my apology so we can move on to better things to talk about.”
I raised my chin in a false confidence, attempting to show he wasn’t affecting my entire body. But she was traitorous and forgetful as she tugged toward him, aching to be wrapped in his arms right now. This man wanted to lose his temper with me and not listen; I didn’t know what to make of him.
I did know one thing—I couldn’t lose my heart and soul to him.
“I already did,” I reminded him, pulling back on my arm. He held onto it, his addictive proximity making me dangerously close to losing control of myself. “How else can I show it?” My voice was weak; I could hear it breaking. The more time I spent near him, the more my walls crumpled to the ground.
He smirked, his eyes smiling. “Don’t ask such a loaded question, Avie.”
I yanked my arm out of his grasp, needing my territory back, but immediately missing the warmth of his touch. “Don’t be crude.”
He took a step closer as I retracted back.
“You don’t need to try and intimidate me with your height,” I sputtered. The corner of his mouth quirked, his gaze boring into me.
“Oh, I’m not trying to intimidate you,” he countered, still moving forward. “You already do that to me with your presence.” Our steps were battling each other; with every one he took, I retreated in response.
“Avie,” he said in a low, husky voice, “look at me.” I shook my head, my gaze remaining locked on the other side of the room. The sun radiated through the windows, announcing the spring weather outside. The prisms off the crystal chandelier soaked in the light, making a beautiful rainbow along the walls and carpet. His fingers brushed my cheek; instantly, my eyes shut tight.