He squeezed her breasts once more, feeling her nipples through the fabric of her dress. He caught them between his fingers and closed in on them. Kate gasped and threw back her head, her dark hair swinging back over her shoulders. Harrowby watched her face as he rolled her nipples between his fingers once more. Her moist lips parted, her eyes closed. That look of abandoned ecstasy sent a flare of pure male satisfaction through him.
Leaning in, he pressed his lips to her throat, stroking the soft skin roughly with his tongue, glorying in the feel of her arms wrapping around his head to keep him there. Her slender fingers raked his scalp, pulled at his hair before diving down into his shirt to stroke his shoulders. Seemingly dissatisfied by what she could reach, she huffed and pressed her arms between them to work the buttons on his shirtfront.
Shoving his hand up under Kate’s bunched up skirts, Brand found bare skin above her stockings. He stroked her thighs feeling the flesh quiver beneath his hands. His hands continued to burrow under her pantalets until he cupped her bottom in his palms. She was not a soft woman. Her legs and bottom were firmly muscled and he enjoyed feeling the strong clenching of those muscles as he hands pressed along.
“Please.” The ardent plea in Kate’s voice told him that she was his for the taking. He could have her right there in his office in a moment. Harrowby might even take her right there in the chair, prop her up on the desk or toss her on the floor ravishing her with all the mad lust that was roaring in his veins. And he wanted to.
By God but he wanted to.
Drowning in passion as she was, it took Kate a while to feel Brand’s withdrawal. Sure enough, however, she became aware that his roving hands had stilled. Though he was still panting, his posture had become stiff once more. A cry of denial rose silently from her. How could he? Was it just her who was lost like this?
Despair welled up irrationally in her and Kate fell against Brand’s broad chest in defeat. She could hear his heart beating wildly, feel the trembling of his limbs, the brushing his lips across the top of her head but still he had the control to stop. His arms came up around her shoulders and Kate sank into the strength of his embrace, taking comfort in those strong arms before she pushed back and climbed off his lap with a sigh.
Her eyes raked over him, his posture relaxed as he leaned back in the chair, his shirt askew, blond hair mussed. Like a man who just rolled out of bed. An ache burned through her chest, longing and sadness smoldering together. Or perhaps frustration. He had pushed her to a point Kate had never been before, rendering her to a mindless puddle of lust. It was dizzying, unshakable.
Not that she had wanted to shake it, but it wasn’t like her to leap from a little playful seduction to complete loss of control so quickly. Against her own morality, Kate knew that she would have surrendered without a second thought if Brand had chosen to take her right there and that just wasn’t like her. However, instead of feeling regrettably loose and easy or ashamed at her behavior, Kate was more disappointed with Brand for not being as defenseless against that passion as she was. It left her with a lingering feeling of desolation.
She didn’t want to be alone in this. Insanity, when shared, seemed to make it all more sensible.
“I can’t be the only one feeling this thing, can I, Brand? Am I forever going to have to ask you to kiss me before you’ll do it? Is it just me? I mean, I can be sitting there just talking to you as innocent as pie but then it all turns on me. I go from friendly banter to flat-out lust in record time. I think you do, too. Don’t you?”
He already had. The moment the word lust had fallen from her lips, he’d been rampant with desire once more. Clearly, however, he had hurt Kate with his rebuff. “I know I have told you that I like you a great deal, Kate, but you are right in assuming more. I do find you an incredibly lovely and desirable woman. A part of me would like nothing more than to take you to my bed.”
Kate’s bright green eyes darkened with his softly worded confession. “But you won’t. Why, Brand? Because an earl doesn’t trifle with the help? Can I say I think you’re taking it all a bit too far? Granted this went farther than I had planned but is it really so horrible? So wrong? Haven’t we gone beyond employer and employee yet? Is that how you still see me?”
It should have been how he saw her but Harrowby knew saying that he saw Kate only as an employee at all would be a lie. He saw her as a woman. A luscious, gorgeous, passionate woman. His refusal to take her went beyond her status… beyond his own honor, he realized abruptly. The desire wasn’t the problem, he did not regret it. It made him feel more alive than he had in years. The problem wasn’t even how strongly it shook his moral foundations, though he knew wanting Kate should feel wrong. Kate tempted him to stray from what he knew was the proper path and he hardly felt the guilt he should.
No, it was more an issue of respect at this point. He might want her with all the strength of his being but it would be wrong to take her knowing it would never be more than that. He could offer her nothing, Harrowby knew. There was no chance that he might make an honest woman of her if they engaged in an affair. He valued their blossoming friendship too much to cheapen her by making a mistress out of her.
He liked her too much to make her an object of ridicule.
Harrowby watched Kate make her way to the door. Her posture was weary as if his dismissal had sucked the joy from her very soul. Perhaps it had. If he had learned one thing about Kate it was that she put her whole self into the things she did. She held nothing back. It was but one of a multitude of things he enjoyed about her.
One of the many qualities he envied.
How could he explain to her those reasons? How did one reach a point with another person that it was acceptable to bare all? A jolt of humor shook him then. Kate, it seemed, had no problem with such intimacies, even on incredibly short acquaintance.
Kate turned back at the door to look at him once more and sighed, shaking her head. “Do you have any idea how sexy you look just sitting there like that?”
“Sexy?” He repeated the unfamiliar word.
“So incredibly sexy.” Kate shook off the remainder of her disappointment and turned to leave.
“Kate?”
Kate looked back and watched Brand slowly pull open a drawer and reach under a short stack of loose paper to pull from beneath it a bundle of paper bound with a string.
His book.
She could see the trepidation on his face as he rose and walked toward her holding the bundle out. She almost felt the urge to refuse the book, sensing that Brand had only found rejection in such moments of trust before. It was apparent that he was uncertain about placing that faith in her but at the same time attempting to reaffirm their friendly standing.
His indecision washed away Kate’s disappointment in his rebuff. She kept forgetting she was not only in a different time but in a different world. Things that had become commonplace in her time had vastly different connotations here. Casual sex as she knew it, didn’t equate here – though the desire she felt for him was anything but casual.
She needed to cut the guy some slack. Give him time to come around to her way of thinking if she wasn’t content to live with his. Somehow, she would make him see that their mutual enjoyment of one another wasn’t going to permanently scar his honor.
If she couldn’t, Kate knew that having his company was far more important than having his person. She wouldn’t risk that in the end.
“I hope you enjoy it,” he said by way of apology. “It’s a tale of a man’s visit to a world filled with fantastical creatures and kingdoms at war.”
“Thank you, Brand.” Kate took the package and hugged it to her chest. “I’m sure I’ll love it.”
“Kate, I…” Brand shook head ruefully before leaning forward and brushing a tender kiss across her forehead. “Good night, Kate.”
“Good night, Brand.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Henley Royal Regatta
Henley-on-Thames, Buckinghamshire, England
Henley-on-Thames was a charming town sitting on the border of the counties of Berkshire and Buckinghamshire south of Ramble House on the Thames. It was filled with quaint buildings, their architecture clearly marking periods in history from Tudor to Georgian to Victorian, each one packed end to end on Hart Street near Falaise Square where the Ramble House coachman dropped Kate and Nathan off the next morning.
The fair coinciding with the Henley Regatta was already in full swing, the lane lined, not only with its normal storefronts, but also with vendors of every sort serving up food and amusements for the hundreds who had come to watch the races.
Reminding Nathan once again to stay close in the tight crowds, Kate took her charge’s hand and weaved through the throng thinking that a fair was the same in any time or place. Noise. Crowds. Too much food.
“The Henley Regatta was first run in 1839 and lasted just one day but everyone loved it so much that the next year the Mayor of Henley decided to make it two days long,” Nathan told Kate cheerfully as he trotted along beside her long strides as they walked down Hart Street.
“Where did you learn that?” Kate asked as she took in the sights, sounds and smells that surrounded them.
“Uncle Brandon told me,” Nate said, though his head was whipping from side to side as well as his attention was caught and snared by sight after sight. “He also said that he suspects one day it will be even bigger though it’s already one of the premier events of the Season since Prince Albert took notice of it.”
Kate paused when Nathan stopped in his tracks and saw that a nearby vendor showing off a hand-made toy had snared his attention. His wooden puppet danced merrily when the stick attached to its back was jiggled, its loosely hinged limbs swinging back and forth. It was just the sort of useless fodder that was typical to any arts and crafts fair she’d ever seen back home. Of course, her sister and she had long joked that in Minnesota there wasn’t a single fair one could go to where someone wasn’t selling a peach pit loon either. Kate explained the concept of a peach pit painted and feathered to resemble Minnesota’s state bird as she towed Nathan along beside her.
Of course he laughed. Who wouldn’t? It was ridiculous.
So ridiculous that it had become their favorite descriptor of any goods sold at such affairs.
Soon Nathan was back to reciting a history of the town as they continued down Hart Street toward the river. Nathan pointed out the sixteenth century tower of St. Mary’s church and just beyond that was Henley Bridge. Once they passed the church and the inn just behind it, the Thames was laid out before then. Kate was captivated by the view of the river and the picturesque Henley Bridge with its five stone arches.
As they passed the inn, Kate discovered that the Thames was lined by a deep cobbled walk and fronted by buildings. The walkways were already swarming with spectators vying for the perfect view of the races, as was the bridge, which was crowded with carriages. Despite the crush, Nate rushed up to the bridge, waiting impatiently for Kate to join him. Nate pointed upstream. “See that island in the distance? That’s Temple Island. There is a folly on the island and on the river right next to that is where the racing will start. The course is a mile long and this bridge used to be the finish line but only for the first year.”
“Aren’t you well informed today,” she exclaimed, leaning over the rail to study the structure. She could easily see why they would change the finish. Any misdirection by the coxswain might send a boat straight into the stone pillaring that supported the arches. “So, where does it end now, Mr. Smarty Pants?”
“Across from that inn just there,” he told her, pointing back to the inn they had just passed. “Uncle Brandon said we should try to find a spot near there or farther up to watch the finish from if the bridge was too crowded.”
“It does seem rather packed,” Kate commented, “but the bank doesn’t look much better.” In fact, the entire area was a crush of bodies and conveyances. The waterway, too, abounded with boats of all sorts teeming with even more spectators. It was a wonder that the boats in the races would be able to find their way successfully downriver with the waterway so congested.
On the left bank near the large inn that marked the finish line, Kate saw a fenced off area brimming with onlookers who were clearly of a different class than those who lined the streets. Before she could even ask, Nathan answered her question. “That’s the Stewards’ Enclosure, I’d wager.”
Kate examined the elite members of the club that sponsored the racing. The men were all almost identically dressed in gray or black morning suits with wide cravats and top hats. Some carried a cane or had stickpins in their ties with jewels so large Kate could see them even from the distance. Like a live-action scene from My Fair Lady, all the women were beautifully gowned in summer pastels trimmed in lace and fringe. Some carried lacy parasols as well but, to a one, all wore large brimmed hats, each more extravagant than the last.
There was one thing that hadn’t changed from this time to her own. British nobility was known for being well hatted. The wedding of William and Kate had garnered some watchers who were only interested in seeing the variety of millinery it would showcase.
At least there were none present as bad as those the Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie had worn to that event.
“I guess that’s where your uncle will be watching the races from,” Kate said looking over the massed crowd for Brand’s distinctive physique.
“Actually, he won’t.” Nathan pointed again and Kate looked across the river near the other end of Henley Bridge. “He’ll be at the Leander Club when he’s watching races, I suspect.”
“When?”
Nathan simply smiled but it was an expression Kate had seen on her nephew’s face often enough to know that there was much more going on. “What’s that look for, Nathan Ralston?”
“It’s supposed to be a secret.”
“Really?” Kate turned to give Nathan her full attention. “What sort of secret?”
“Well, I suppose I can tell you,” he considered. “I’m sure Uncle Brandon wouldn’t mind.”
Now Kate was intrigued. “What is it?”
“Uncle Brandon is going to compete in the races today!”
“Get out! Are you kidding me?”
“Not at all, I’m quite serious. He told me so himself.”
“I can’t believe he didn’t tell me! When is he racing?” she asked but Nathan wasn’t certain, so they searched out a vendor hawking the programs for the two-day event and searched through it together. “What event is he racing in?”
“He should be participating in the single scull and the coxless pair rowing,” Nathan told her as they scanned the sheet together.
“Pair?” Kate asked, distracted by that new information. “Who would he pair with?” There hadn’t been another gentleman about the house since she arrived other than the fathers who had accompanied their daughters to the house party.
“Uncle Brandon told me he has a friend from University who he used to race with who is also a member of the Leander Club though he is not a peer,” Nathan told her. “Nicholas Weller is a tabloid editor now, I think Uncle Brandon said. Mr. Weller has been trying to get Uncle Brandon to race with him again for years.”
“And now he is,” Kate whispered to herself wishing her eyes would reach so far as Temple Island. “We’ll have to watch for him then. When is his first race?”
“The coxless pair is at half ten,” Nathan said reading from the schedule, “and it’s…” he checked the clock on the tower in the center of town, “only just after nine o’clock now. Can we find a snack before we go and watch, Kate?”
Growing boys, Kate thought with a smile. Forever hungry. “Of course we can but then we need to find a good spot to see him from.”
“First food,” Nathan insisted as they wandered to an area where the food vendors were set up.
An hour later, Kate and Nathan had found an excellent location near the center of the bridge to view
the races from. Other boats, which had been clogging the waterway through the morning, had been moored to the side leaving their view unobstructed. While they waited for Brand’s race, others were run including a pair of exhibition races and the coxed eight, a crew of eight oarsmen led and steered by a coxswain.
Between races, Kate was challenged by Nate’s youthful urge to climb onto the bridge’s stone rails. It seemed each time she turned about he was climbing up to sit on the top, straddling it and once, to her horror, standing on it. No matter how many times she berated him or threatened him, he’d do it again. And he was so quick, as well! He could swing a leg over before she had the chance to blink. “Enough, Nathan!” she finally snapped, pulling him off the rail for the sixth time. “If you don’t stop, I’ll have to ground you or worse.”
“What’s grounding?” he asked.
A discussion of the definition of that concept as well as ‘time out’ calmed the spirited lad until he finally seemed content to merely hang by his armpits across the stone rail and continue with his recital of regatta history and rules.
There were, she learned, events specifically for student or club teams and others that were open to any competitor. Though Kate was by no means educated on rowing, there seemed to be very little difference she could see between the sport, past and present. When Nathan went on and on about the subject, a curious Kate could not help but ask him about the source of his knowledge.
“Uncle Brandon took luncheon with me yesterday,” Nathan told her between bites of meat pie. “He told me all about what to expect.”
While it gladdened Kate to learn that a familial affection was growing between uncle and nephew, she wondered why Brand hadn’t mentioned it to her. Nathan just shrugged her concern away. “Uncle Brandon wanted to surprise you when you saw him racing and thought it best that we didn’t talk about it with you present.”
Time Travel 02 Nothing but Time Page 17
