Page 38 of Scandal with a Sinful Scot

He gathered her in his embrace and kissed her hard. As always, it turned fierce, then gentled, until they were playfully nibbling on each other’s lower lips. “Do tell. Your favorite music, books, do you like to dance? What is your favorite color, dessert?”

“I adore Mozart,” Abbie whispered. “Books by Dickens and nonfiction books of English history. I haven’t had much opportunity to dance; I long to learn the waltz. I adore all shades of purple, hence the reason I loved the flowers you brought me, and I am mad for multitiered cakes slathered in sweet butter frosting, along with scones with whipped cream and strawberry jam.”

Garrett laughed. “At the tearoom tomorrow, I will ensure we order cake and scones.” He nuzzled her neck. “I will teach you the waltz. Though I haven’t attended many balls through the years, that is one dance I do know.” Reluctantly he released her, but Abbie slipped her arm through his and cuddled in close, laying her head on his shoulder again. He banged the roof of the carriage and it moved forward.

Having her close like this, he would make damned sure they stayed out for the entire afternoon. Never had he felt as happy and content as he did at this moment.

* * * *

At five minutes before midnight, Abbie stealthily made her way to the rear entrance of Alberta’s home. It was utterly exciting to be meeting Garrett secretly like this. She gathered her wool cloak about her neck as she stood in the doorway. For a brief moment, doubt overcame her feelings of exhilaration. What happened to her conviction of remaining discreet, even judicious with her emotions? No matter what happened tonight, she must cling to her vow of remaining cautious. It was her only defense against being hurt once again.

Earlier today she had said to Garrett, “I did not come here looking for this, not really.” But to be honest, deep down she ached for it. In the years that she’d been married to Elwyn, she’d never stopped loving Garrett. Because of it, she had not been free to give her heart to her kind and thoughtful husband.

The decision she’d made years past, of not revealing who the father was, had affected far more lives than her own. Garrett’s and Megan’s. Garrett’s family. Her own parents, instead of supporting her, all but cut her from their lives. Their initial rejection had hurt. But Abbie took solace in knowing her life with Elwyn had given her the peace and contentment she needed. A chill curled about her heart. How selfish she’d been, but what other options did she have pregnant at eighteen?

Abbie had decided it would be prudent to settle on an approximate date of departure. This visit could not continue forever, even though Alberta encouraged her and Megan to stay until the middle of February. Winter travel was tedious, but more than anything, Abbie felt she must set boundaries that aligned with her oath of vigilance as far as Garrett was concerned.

The unmistakable sound of thundering horses’ hooves brought her out of her diverse thoughts. No more regrets. The past lay behind her, and all that Abbie wanted was to live for today and guardedly look to the future. Garrett’s silhouette took shape as he came into view. The moon’s illumination cast him in shadow, and with his greatcoat billowing behind him he had the appearance of a mysterious highwayman. Pulling up on the reins, Patriot halted before the entrance, snorting and whickering. Abbie closed the door behind her as gently as she could.

Garrett outstretched his arm and she reached up and clasped it. With a smooth motion, as if she weighed nothing at all, he pulled her up behind him and she slipped her arms about his slim waist. “Hold on,” he said. Clicking his tongue twice, he sunk his heels into Patriot’s flanks and the stallion set off at a gallop.

The wind whipped about them, and Abbie’s heart hammered with excitement, not only for being nestled against Garrett’s tall, imposing frame, but because of the speed of the horse. This would be her life with Garrett: exhilaration, passion, and endless love. With her eyes burning with unshed tears, she laid her head against his back and held him tighter, never wanting to let go.

They arrived at the hunter’s hut in mere minutes. Garrett slid off Patriot, then held out his arms. Clasping her about the waist, he held her aloft and slowly allowed her to descend along his body. Sparks ignited everywhere they touched. With a wicked smile he released her, then tied the reins to a tree, giving Patriot an affectionate pat on the neck. “Shall we go inside?” he asked.

Abbie nodded as Garrett opened the door. The tiny stone hut, complete with rough-hewn wood beams, was cozy and warm, as a fire blazed in the hearth. She stepped across the threshold. Garrett followed her in and closed the door behind him. In a swift motion he removed his coat and gloves, tossing them to the nearby armchair. Then he assisted her in removing her cloak.

A large chaise longue, decorated with a quilt and pillows, stood against the far wall. It certainly appeared able to accommodate the both of them. Along the opposite wall were a writing desk, a chair, and a cabinet. Above the desk, there was a shelf with various books. A pile of chopped logs sat by the hearth. “I admit it is rustic.”

She turned to meet his gaze. “I adore it. You went to a good deal of trouble.”

After lighting a candle, Garrett moved to the cabinet and opened it. Inside were various decanters, glasses, and covered dishes. “I wasn’t sure if you even drink spirits beyond wine and scotch, so I brought a few selections. Also water, biscuits, cheese, and fruit. Would you care for a drink? I have the Mackinnon single malt scotch, sherry, brandy.”

“I find sherry cloyingly sweet. But I will have the Mackinnon single malt.”

“A girl after my own heart,” he laughed. Then he grew serious. “Damn it all, Abbie, you’ve always had it.”

This honest side of Garrett was a welcome development. Years ago, it had been obvious that he kept the majority of his emotions under tight rein. The sporadic moments she thought of him through the years, she’d chalked up his reticence to youth and immaturity. For it could not be that he didn’t love her. There was one truth that she had taken from their indiscretion: no matter how cruelly he’d denied it, the love between them was genuine.

Abbie stepped closer. “You always had mine, Garrett. Full possession. I tried to offer it to another.”

He clasped her upper arms, and she gazed into those beautiful hazel-green eyes. “And I’m bloody glad you were unable to do it. Selfish of me, but then I’ve always been selfish where you are concerned.”

“Yet you pushed me away,” she murmured.

“And you never told me you were pregnant with my child,” he admonished gently.

“It will always be between us. Scars, as you said.”

“We’ve apologized, cleared the air, but yes, Abbie love, the scars are permanent. Instead of picking at them, it is to our mutual benefit to embrace the fresh start you spoke of.”

Abbie caressed his cheek, trailing her fingers across his rugged jawline. Heavy whiskers outlined the contours of his chin. He laughed. “I should have shaved before coming here.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Shall we have that drink?” he asked, giving her a wink.

He wore a white shirt open halfway down his impressive chest, and a pair of tan breeches, and high boots. “No,” she said, her voice low. Abbie unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it apart. She sighed longingly at his muscular torso. “I have waited years for this. I’d rather we made love. Immediately.”