Chapter 9 Feeling
FEELING
Feeling particularly amenable, Garrett turned to lazily regard Natalie. She was a child in a woman’s body, a spoiled debutante. He ought to treat her as one.
Except that he wanted her. And if he were honest with himself, he’d wanted her since the moment he first laid eyes upon her in London nearly two years ago.
But who was Lady Natalie Spencer, really?
The spoiled chit who’d spurned him in London, or was she this new minx?
Flirtatious and innocent? Likely, she could not answer these questions herself.
Her actions were brash and inappropriate for a young unmarried woman of the ton.
And yet, she did not seem to lack moral fortitude.
She merely seemed to be too curious for her own good.
And, although scoffing at the concept earlier that day, Garrett was now unbelievably considering the unfathomable notion of marriage to her.
Not only to satisfy his physical needs, but to satisfy her father, and also to help smooth the path of rebuilding the Hawthorne earldom.
Was this all incredible luck on his part or a gilded trap? Good God, he must be foxed!
“And how did you spend your day, my lady?” he asked, perhaps condescendingly. “I understand the ladies were to travel to Bath for the day. Did you purchase a new bonnet, or perhaps a bright new ribbon or two?”
“Both, to be certain,” she said, oh, so casually, glancing at him sideways.
“You are recovered from your…ah…injury?” She appeared adorable and alluring this evening, shy, even, after last night’s debacle.
A rosy pink blossomed on her cheeks as she seemed to struggle to meet his eyes.
When she did so, she could only hold his gaze for a moment before once again finding her food fascinating.
Garrett winced at the remembered shock and pain of the night before. “We can thank the Almighty that such injuries pass quickly and leave no permanent damage.” Or he wouldn’t have spent the day riding about on a horse, that was for damn sure.
The afternoon had been enjoyable and enlightening.
Upon examining the efficiencies Ravensdale’s steward had incorporated into the irrigation systems, the earl proffered a large jug of fine scotch.
Following a visit to the last tenant’s farm, the gentlemen’s pace slowed considerably.
In fact, they stopped several times on their way to refill flasks from the jug the earl’s assistant transported on the back of his nag.
By that time, the men were conversing on numerous topics such as horses, cards, gambling, agriculture, philosophy, or women.
Garrett found his own thoughts constantly returning to an impetuous young lady.
Dared he even consider her father’s suggestion?
The more scotch he drank, the more confused he’d become.
When Lady Natalie had first appeared in society, Garrett had known her for a woman he could never pursue.
She’d represented all he’d spurned for most of his adult life.
And why would such a woman even consider him?
The financial security he could provide came along with a tarnished title.
Lady Natalie needed neither. And so, he’d contented himself with admiring her from afar.
And then she’d become engaged to the Duke of Cortland.
But now she was not.
In fact, it seemed she was no longer off limits at all.
Their brief encounters over the past two days had awakened something inside of him.
She amused him and yet, somehow managed to affect him sexually.
Would he ever want more from her? His immediate instinct to the threat of a leg-shackle had always been to flee.
Being tied to one woman for life was, in a word, terrifying.
Garrett had never desired steady companionship from anybody, let alone a woman.
But as today progressed, a voice in his head contemplated the hare-brained idea planted by Ravensdale.
He could have her in his bed every night.
As she had shown the previous night, she yearned to explore her sensual nature.
Under the right circumstances, of course, Garrett would be more than pleased to assist her in this endeavor.
He would introduce her to all manner of carnal experiences.
He’d hastily dismissed visions of the lady beneath him, or possibly riding him, as soon as he’d begun conjuring them.
Physical arousal and riding horseback were not conducive to one another.
Her conversation did not bore him.
In fact, he found bantering with her—well, amusing. Although he’d spent a great deal of his life seeking pleasure, he could not recall any woman who entertained him as much with simple conversation. This thought muddled his mind a bit.
Marriage to Lady Natalie would include the full backing of the Earl of Ravensdale.
Although he’d planned upon undertaking the rebuilding of the Hawthorne earldom alone, the road would be smoother with the public endorsement of one of the ton’s wealthiest members. It was not the wealth that mattered so much as the power and influence the Spencers carried.
He could have her in his bed every night.
Oh, yes, he’d already considered this fact. He pictured her as she had been last night on her knees, in her nightclothes. He remembered the soft feel of her breast in his hand.
Now, sitting beside her, his senses buzzed. She’d been in his thoughts all day. She was becoming something of a possibility. For now, though, he simply wanted to touch her.
He reached his hand over to her lap and grasped her tiny wrist. She did not startle as he thought she might, but he felt her breathing quickene.
Each of them continued conversing with the people seated around them as though nothing whatsoever were untoward.
Her skin felt like the petal of a rose. Her hand, fragile and delicate.
After several minutes, Garrett began rubbing the underside of her wrist. Her pulse raced beneath his thumb.
Natalie was certain the other guests must be aware of the emotions boiling up inside of her!
The instant his hand possessed hers, it encompassed all her awareness.
Her entire being suddenly focused on the feelings he created with a simple touch, a light caress.
The more he held her hand, the more her body felt drawn toward him.
Like a physical hunger, his nearness enflamed and yet overwhelmed her.
As though underwater, Natalie turned her head and watched Hawthorne converse with Lord Malmsteen.
Fully distracted by her own inner turmoil, she comprehended none of their conversation.
She then glanced around at the other guests near her.
Not one had the slightest clue that the man beside her was seducing her with just the touch of his hand.
And yet she felt as though she were turning to liquid, as though her bones were melting.
Did Hawthorne know of the havoc he created inside of her?
Of course, he must! Unwilling to sit docilely while her heart raced madly, she shook the slipper from her foot and edged it over to Lord Hawthorne’s.
Most conveniently, he’d exchanged his boots for buckled shoes this evening.
In a daring move, she pressed the arch of her foot onto the top of his ankle.
As she did so, both of his eyebrows rose at once.
His foot felt hard; his ankle felt hard.
She knew from the previous night that his legs were hard all over.
He was not a soft man in any way whatsoever.
Her foot rose slightly when Lord Hawthorne lounged backward and stretched his legs out in her direction. He’d done this intentionally! He was making it so that she could explore his person more thoroughly with the tender sole of her foot. The expression on his face remained impassive.
Feeling the need to participate in the conversation somehow, Natalie met Lord Hawthorne’s eyes innocently.
“What did you think of my father’s irrigation system?
Do you not think it clever that he extended the canal to transport loads of coal right through the village?
Oftentimes, I am amazed by the feats of man. ”
Lord Hawthorne appeared surprised by her comment.
Perhaps he was as distracted by her touch as she was by his, for he took a moment to absorb her words.
Natalie knew her father’s estate covered a tremendous amount of land, and the system designed and implemented was quite impressive.
She had paid attention, even as a girl, to what sustained her family’s wealth.
“It is inspiring.” His answer referred to the canal, and yet a zing of awareness shot through her. “Water in Great Britain can be either a blessing or a curse. When managed properly it can, for the most part, be the former. Even so, the powers of nature cannot always be contained.”
Like passion. Like whatever was building between the two of them.
Still holding his gaze, Natalie explored his stocking-covered ankle with her foot.
“Before my father took over the earldom, many of the fields often flooded. Under his management, the lake was constructed and the channels dug out in order to contain the water.” She grimaced and added, “It is most effective—most of the time, anyhow.”
“An admirable system,” Garrett declared. “An excellent model to be considered.” He grazed her palm with the tips of his fingers. “Do you swim in the lake?”
His voice sounded low and gravelly. Heat spread from her chest to her thighs. Were they really discussing water? And swimming?
Natalie swallowed hard before answering.
“Yes. There’s a beach on the south side.
Sand is brought in every two or three years.
Father made it a point that we all learn.
” She removed her foot and ran the V of her toes down the back of his ankle.
“He knew of too many needless drownings and did not wish to lose any of his children thusly.” But Natalie did not want to discuss her father. “Do you swim, my lord?”
He smiled at her with the sensuality she’d always noticed before.
“I manage to stay afloat.” Likely he did better than that.
“I didn’t learn to swim as a boy. I learned after I’d reached my majority—in the ocean while visiting a…
friend. My friend’s late husband’s estate extended along a few miles of both hazardous and swimmable beaches. The process was humbling.”
Just then, Lady Natalie’s mother stood and invited the ladies to join her in the drawing room. The announcement shattered their private cocoon of intimacy. Natalie reluctantly slid her foot back into her slipper. When she went to withdraw her hand from Hawthorne’s grasp, his fingers tightened.
For a moment, a hunger burned in his eyes as she glanced over at him. She stared back boldly before dropping her gaze to their hands. His grip loosened suddenly.
She stood on shaky legs and followed the ladies out.