He exhaled long and slow. “Yes. Or even in myself.”
Blinking away tears, Natalie twisted around to look at him. She did not know very much about this. But just as her brothers shared similarities in appearance with their father and she shared the good looks of her mother, she presumed it was possible to share other traits as well.
“You will never have any children, then?” she asked.
“I will do what I can to help the tenants and the workers prosper on my father’s properties, but the title will go into abeyance upon my death.” She did not like to hear him speak of his own demise. His words made her overwhelmingly sad.
To think he would never be a father nearly broke her heart. She remembered the gentleness in him when he’d handled Baby Bear.
This was a travesty! No, a tragedy—for God help her, she loved him! She’d fallen in love with Garrett Castleton, the Earl of Hawthorne.
Had she told herself she would feel thusly a sennight ago, she would have been the first to laugh. Well, the joke was on her.
Because she wished for nothing more in that moment than to place her hand in his and promise to love him and to help him for the rest of their lives.
“That is why I could not love you properly this afternoon. It is why I cannot offer myself to you as a proper husband.”
Hecould not love her properly…Did he love her at all? He’d never said so.
Was this merely a handy excuse on his part? A pretext for avoiding the parson’s trap?
“A proper husband.” She repeated his words thoughtfully. The words left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Garrett ran his fingers through her hair and began twisting it into a knot. Reaching down, he pulled something from his pocket, and she felt him slipping the pins back into her hair.
“I could use a new lady’s maid.” She could jest. Otherwise, she might burst into tears. Today had been distressing. And now she felt his lips trailing along her nape. Oh, how he knew her weaknesses!
Garrett settled her hat upon her head. “I would suggest foregoing the jacket.” He sounded far too practical. “I don’t want you fainting from the heat.”
He turned her head so she would look at him again. “And if there isn’t a duke out there waiting for you, I trust there will be some other equally lofty young man who will love you for yourself, who will give you babies and romance and everything you long for.”
He was going to make her angry again.
He could not love her if he was so eager to thrust her uponany other man who might happen along. Very well then. She was not so very needy.
“Well, allow me to thank you then, for introducing me tola petite mort. For I now know what one of my demands will be before I commit to another betrothal.” She pushed herself away from him and donned her boots. Standing, she brushed at her skirt and then offered him her hand.
He stared blankly at it for a moment before grasping it in his and allowing her to pull him up. Once standing, he held out his arm, but she ignored it and walked away from him instead.
Striding through the dense trees, she couldn’t help thinking there was more than one type ofpetite mort. For a small piece of her heart seemed to have died just now. She would not cry. She would not.
GARRETT FOLLOWED HER
Garrett followed her until they came into view of the house. Knowing she was safely returned, he allowed her to stalk off without him.
She’d called him a gentleman on more than one occasion. She could not be more wrong.
In frustration and guilt, Garrett shoved a hand into his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. He needed to clean up and attend dinner as though nothing earth-shattering had occurred.
He’d hurt her, but what else could he have done? He’d been honest. He’d offered himself but done so bluntly. He’d revealed the truth, in case she was under any misapprehensions regarding his situation. She was not. She was not dull of mind. Quite the opposite, in fact.
After rechecking the baggage coach, Garrett located his waistcoat and jacket in the stables and proceeded to the main entrance of the house. Although the sun hung low in the sky, the persistent heat had left the estate unusually quiet. His heart felt leaden. He was covered in sweat and dust.
And she’d let him touch her! The bastard that he was.
He could no longer convince himself his emotions were fleeting. He wanted to make love to her, in truth, but he wanted more. Oh, hell, if he were going to be honest with himself he’d have to admit that he wanted to give her a permanent place in his life, to fall asleep each night knowing she would awaken beside him.
He wanted to show her his home and have her opinions in the rebuilding of Maple Hall. For she would not sit idle while he made all the decisions and then executed them. She possessed an energy that needed a productive outlet. Her father was correct in his assertion that she would make an excellent countess. Ravensdale had not, unfortunately, considered the implications of his daughter becoming the Countessof Hawthorne.
