It was a beautiful day: sunny and warm, but with enough of a breeze to make it comfortable for riding. Giles picked one of their favorite short rides from summers past: one that led them along the cornfields and into a small wood that was the boundary between Whitton and Squire Kirkman’s. They enjoyed several easy canters across the fields, and then dismounted and led their horses through the wood, enjoying a companionable silence. When they reached their destination, an old and familiar fallen tree, Clare laughed.
“I confess I had forgotten about this place, Giles,” she said as she handed her reins into his outstretched hands and sat herself down on the moss-covered trunk.
Giles tied the horses and sat next to her.
“This has always been one of my favorite places on the estate,” said Giles.
Clare gazed around. It was an almost perfectly circular clearing, surrounded by tall oak trees with one gap through which the sun poured in a shaft of light.
“It is almost magical.”
Giles covered Clare’s hand with his. “It feels like something akin to magic to be here with you, Clare. To have you as my wife.”
“I hope I can be a good wife to you, Giles,” she said almost in a whisper. Her hand was still under his, and she was very conscious of his thigh pressing against hers. She glanced up at him, and it was as though she saw him for the first time: the glint of green in his eyes, the pulse beating in his tanned neck, and the combination of both strength and tenderness that made up the curve of his mouth.
Giles reached out, removed her riding hat, and smiled as her blond curls sprang free. He brushed his hand through them and moved even closer. Clare’s breathing quickened with a small, sharp intake of breath, and Giles leaned down and placed his lips on hers. It was a gentle kiss, like all he had given her, but longer. When she did not shrink from him, Giles pulled her into his arms and sought to deepen the kiss by teasing her mouth open. It was everything she had hoped for from him that summer years ago, and she responded eagerly. Yet almost immediately as she felt herself beginning to enjoy the embrace, she felt herself becoming scared. Her passionate feelings for Justin had only led to confusion and pain, both physical and emotional. The only experiences she had had with physical love were with a man who alternately loved her until she died again and again in his arms, and then hated her. How could she trust her body’s responses again?
Giles could feel the point at which she drew back. It seemed to be at the exact moment she began to relax into him and respond to his kiss. For a few seconds, there had been a warm and willing woman in his arms, and then a passive statue.
Clare did not have to say a word, for Giles let her go instantly.
“I promised I would not rush you, Clare, and I will keep my promise.”
“I did not ask you to stop, Giles,” said Clare, feeling like she had failed him.
“You did not have to, my dear. I know you would allow me to kiss you, Clare. Perhaps even allow me to make love to you. But I want more than your passive acceptance.”
Although Giles spoke patiently and lovingly, Clare felt terrible. She didn’t know how to explain her feelings to him, for she barely understood them herself. She was a passionate lover, she had been with Justin. But that part of herself terrified her. Logically, she knew that Giles was not Justin; that he would never treat her like her late husband had. But logic and reason didn’t seem to make her irrational fear go away. It was physical attraction, and her newly discovered capacity for sensual enjoyment that had led her into her disastrous marriage. Those feelings seemed dangerous and destructive, and she was not sure she could open herself up in that way to anyone again. And yet, if she could not, she was cheating Giles of everything he wanted and deserved in a wife.
“I am so sorry, Giles” was all she could think to say to him.
He patted her shoulder. “It is all right, Clare. We have all the time in the world.”
* * * *
Giles took every opportunity in the next few weeks to express his affection in ways that Clare could accept. He knew, almost to the second, just how long she would remain responsive to his kisses and just when she would pull back. He would think to himself that he was lucky to be a naturally patient man and one for whom passion was only a part of love. An important part, of course, but not one that would cause him to lose control with Clare. He had loved her for a long time, and he would for a long time to come. He had great faith that she would come to respond to his undemanding love. If not tomorrow, then soon.
In the meantime, he was happy to watch Clare begin to look and act like her old self. By the end of a month, she had regained all the weight she had lost the last two years. But although she wanted to begin learning the ways of the house, Giles insisted that she let Mrs. Stanton remain in charge for a little while longer. “I want you to enjoy this summer, Clare. To pretend that the last two years never happened.”
She and Giles and Sabrina rode and picnicked, and when Andrew More arrived for his visit at the beginning of August, he was amazed at the transformation.
“You look wonderful, Clare,” he exclaimed as he got down from his chaise. She put out both her hands to grasp his, and he marveled that the wraithlike Lady Rainsborough had been transformed into a healthy-looking young woman whose blond curls had been bleached by the sun and whose dresses were no longer hanging off her. Andrew pulled her into his arms and gave her a friendly hug.
“Now, Andrew, who gave you permission to embrace my wife,” said Giles with mock anger. “And is your only greeting for her?”
Andrew released Clare and turning to his friend, pounded his shoulder. “I see you have wrought something of a miracle, Giles,” he said. “Marriage to you seems to have been just what Clare needed.”
Sabrina, who was beside Giles, wondered when Andrew would remember her presence. She had enjoyed the last few weeks, for summer at Whitton was always her favorite time of the year. But although Giles and Clare were not enjoying a typical honeymoon, and she was included in most of their activities, she could not help feeling a third wheel at times.
Maybe her brother did not have the perfect marriage yet. But he was married to the woman he had loved for years, while she seemed likely to end up the spinster aunt to her brother’s children when they began to come along. She had been looking forward to Andrew’s visit, hoping that during their time together she could determine whether there was any feeling for her on his part or whether it was all her own fantasy, and here he was, ignoring her.
Andrew was very well aware of Sabrina. Indeed, although his delight at seeing Clare was genuine, his hug was as much a way to keep from embracing Sabrina as it was a spontaneous gesture of affection for Clare. It was very hard for him to keep his feelings for Giles’s sister under wraps, but he had schooled himself well, and turned to her at last, giving her a quick smile and a friendly greeting.
Sabrina’s heart sank. Nothing had changed. Andrew was still acting the friend of the family role he always had. Perhaps it wasn’t a role. Just because she could sense what her twin was feeling did not mean she could intuit another man’s reactions, Sabrina scolded herself. She wanted Andrew to want her. So much so that she had likely deceived herself and built little nothings into something. But she kept the smile on her face and welcomed him to Whitton and directed the footman to bring his bags up to the west wing where she had given him the bedroom he had always occupied.
“You know we keep country hours here, Andrew,” she said, “but we have moved dinner back an hour so that you will have time to rest and freshen up before you join us.”
“Thank you, Sabrina. You have always been the most thoughtful hostess.”
* * * *
And that is what she remained for the next few days: a most gracious hostess. Andrew should have been grateful. After all, the more polite distance there was between them, the easier it was for him to ignore his feelings for Sabrina. But in London they had become a little closer to one another, had, he thought, started to become friends, not
just through their relationship to Giles. He thought Sabrina had come to appreciate him for himself and his efforts on Clare’s behalf. But perhaps now that Clare was safely married to her brother, she was no longer interested in a barrister who worked so closely with criminals.
So be it: he could be as polite and distantly friendly as she.
* * * *
Giles, who had watched Sabrina move from disapproval to admiration of Andrew in London, couldn’t help but notice her behavior. Not that there was anything untoward about it: she was friendly and always appeared as though she was enjoying Andrew’s company. But as her twin, he could tell that she was unhappy in some way, and so one afternoon when Andrew had gone off to the village and Clare was taking a nap, Giles joined his sister in the garden where she was directing the gardener.
After she finished, he put his hand on her arm and said, “Come, sit down with me, Brina.”
They strolled over to the oak bench and watched the gardener and his assistant fill their basket with flowers for the house. As they moved out of earshot, Giles asked his sister if anything was bothering her.
“Why no, why do you ask, Giles?”
“Because you have been so damned friendly to Andrew.”
“Shouldn’t I be, Giles? He is our friend, after all,” Sabrina responded, keeping her tone light.
“Brina, I know you too well not to sense when you are unhappy about something. I had thought in London that you and Andrew had gotten to know one another better. That perhaps ...”
“Perhaps what, Giles?”
Giles could feel the effort it took to keep her tone even.
“That perhaps you and Andrew had discovered you would like to be more than just friends.”
“Andrew certainly does not seem to want more than a polite acquaintance, Giles.”
“And what do you want, Brina?”
“Oh, I’ll admit it, Giles. To you, because you know me too well for me to lie. I have always been interested in Andrew, ever since his first visit here. And I have never met anyone else who was as attractive to me. Then, when I saw him with Clare and at the inquest, my ... feelings for him became even stronger. But it is ridiculous for me to think of him that way. He is oblivious to me, after all.”
“He certainly has never shown you any more attention than would be expected from a friend of the family,” mused Giles.
“No, he hasn’t,” agreed Sabrina with a despondent sigh.
“On the other hand, Brina, he is a younger son. He is four times removed from the title and most unlikely ever to inherit. And to the horror of his family, he spends his time among the lowlife of London. He would be unlikely to consider himself an eligible suitor for the Lady Sabrina Whitton, daughter of an earl and someone who has a substantial portion.”
Sabrina sat silent for a few moments. There was a murmur of bees, humming in and out of the herb garden, and the air was redolent with the scent of mint and thyme. She felt relaxed for the first time since Andrew had arrived. Maybe Giles was right. She had never thought about it from Andrew’s perspective before. She had never thought of his position as an obstacle. Andrew was so naturally superior to his older brother that she couldn’t imagine him thinking that any woman would prefer a titled bore to him, the quirkily intelligent and committed younger son. But men had a strange sense of honor, she reminded herself. Honor seemed more important to them than love, a very odd concept for a woman to appreciate.
“I never really looked at it that way before, Giles,” she finally responded.
“Mind you, Sabrina, I am not saying he does care. I don’t know that. But I would not be at all surprised if he considered only a friendship appropriate with you. I am not sure this helps at all,” said Giles, smiling sympathetically at his sister.
“Maybe I need to show a little more of my feelings, Giles. What would you think of such a match, if it were to come about?”
“I would be very happy for you both, Sabrina. Andrew is the only man I can think of who is a match for you.”
“Then wish me luck.”
Chapter Twenty-four
It was easier to declare one was going to be more open than it was to do it. Andrew seemed to have created a very effective distance between himself and Sabrina. He was always polite and friendly, but also emotionally removed. But only from me, thought Sabrina, as she watched Andrew and Clare for the next few days. They had become fast friends and were obviously very comfortable with each other. All the warmth that Andrew kept from Sabrina was turned on Clare.
One afternoon, dressed in old clothes, the four of them went over to their old favorite fishing spot. It was a warm day, and Andrew and Giles gave only perfunctory apologies as they took their jackets off and rolled up their sleeves. Sabrina quickly and efficiently baited her own hook as Giles had taught her years ago, but Clare was still as repulsed by the task as ever. Before Giles had a chance to help her, Andrew stepped in and did it for her.
“There you are, Clare. Just drop your hook into the water, and you’ll forget what’s wriggling at the end of it.”
“I am still quite hopeless at this,” said Clare with a laugh. “And I wouldn’t know what to do with a fish if I caught it anyway.”
“Do you remember that awful trick Lucy pulled years ago?” Sabrina asked.
Clare blushed. She remembered it very well, that feeling of helplessness before outright cruelty.
“I hope I would be able to act differently now,” Clare responded quietly. “I believe I have changed a little over the years.”
There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence as all busied themselves finding a place on the bank of the stream, while thinking about Clare and her late husband.
Giles broke the silence first, for Giles did not like to think about Justin Rainsborough or how he died. He understood Clare’s action; a part of him applauded it. But mostly he couldn’t contemplate either how she had lived with him or how she had escaped him.
“Do you suppose that old pike is still around, Brina?" he asked. “Remember how we used to spend hours trying to catch him?"
“I seem to remember that I was the only one ever to hook him,” bragged Andrew.
“Hooked, but not landed,” Giles reminded him.
“I couldn’t help it if my line broke! I hope this time you have given me a strong enough line, Giles.”
“Are you suggesting that I gave you an old line on purpose, Andrew?" said Giles, with mock outrage.
“Oh, hush, you two, We won’t catch anything if you keep making such a racket,” Sabrina demanded.
They all settled down. Clare was sitting next to Andrew, and Giles and Sabrina were standing a few feet away. They were at a point in the stream where the water had collected into a deep black pool before spilling over a rocky ledge. Under the ledge on their side was a spot protected by reeds and overhung by an old willow tree. That was where the big fish was believed to spend his time, and all of them had tossed their lines in that direction.
Giles felt something first, but all he had caught was a small trout. “You would most likely have been the old pike’s dinner, so you might as well be our lunch,” he said as he tossed the fish into his creel.
The sun warmed their shoulders and necks, and the onyx water looked like it was hardly flowing. They were all in that semi-mesmerized state that utter relaxation can bring, when Sabrina’s sudden gasp startled them.
Her pole was bent almost in half, and she had almost lost it in the sudden, powerful tug.
“My God, Sabrina, if you don’t have him, you must have hooked some sort of monster,” exclaimed Giles.
Andrew walked slowly to her side, speaking calmly and rhythmically, almost chanting encouragement and instruction.
“That’s right, Brina, let the pole down a little. Let him feel some slack. Not too much, or he’ll slip the hook. That’s right, Brina, that’s right.” Sabrina was too intent on landing her fish to take it in, but her mind must have registered it, for later she remembered that Andrew had call
ed her by the name only Giles used.
“Now, keep that pole up and move back a little from the bank. Yes, yes, there he is.”
They could see the water churning as the great fish came closer to the surface. Clare was standing now, too, as intent as the others on the struggle, but the more the old giant attempted to escape the hook, the more sympathetic she became to him, the more she silently wished him well, not Sabrina. She knew what it was to be caught like that, and she wouldn’t wish it on anyone, even a fish.
The pike turned and swam for the opposite bank, and Sabrina thought her arms might separate from their sockets. She was drawn inexorably toward the bank.
“Don’t move in, Brina, move back,” shouted Giles.
“I can’t help it,” she exclaimed, amazed at the power at the end of her line.
The pole wasn’t bent, but almost level with the ground, for she didn’t have the strength to lift it.
Andrew quickly stepped behind her and putting his arms around her waist, said: “I’ve got you, Brina. Now pull him in.”
She wasn’t sliding anymore, so she could put all her concentration into lifting the pole. Slowly she pulled it up, but not enough to bring the pike to the surface.
“I don’t think I can do this,” she gasped.
“Do you want to land him on your own, or should I help?” Andrew asked, his face close to hers, his breath against her neck.
“Grab the pole, Andrew,” Sabrina cried without even thinking, and letting go of her waist and pulling her into him, Andrew reached around and put his hands on the pole. Together they lifted and all at once, it seemed the old fish rose out of the water, dull pewter turned to silver in the sun.
As the pike rose, Andrew felt himself rise as he was pressed even closer to Sabrina, and he prayed that she was too intent on her struggle to become aware of his arousal.
The pole was bent double again, and Andrew prayed aloud that the line would not snap as he and Sabrina slowly moved backward, pulling the fish with them.
Sweet Awakening Page 25
