To Tempt A Rogue (21 page)

They all scrambled to find the best stones. Jeanne Marie wanted only white rocks and Gregory wanted only very large rocks but eventually it was all sorted out. The children listened carefully as Harriet explained the simple rules.

Soon they were all laughing and joking as the piles in front of them got bigger, then smaller.

“You have a most unique approach to education,” Nathaniel said as he lost a round to Gregory. “I am not entirely sure that I approve.”

Harriet shrugged. “ 'Tis a painless way to teach addition and subtraction and far more interesting than trying to memorize and recite countless mathematical tables.”

They played several more hands, but the children began to lose interest when Nathaniel started to win every game.

“You're cheating,” Harriet said.

“Prove it.” He favored her with a wicked smile that she pointedly ignored. “The stream is straight ahead through that small gathering of trees. I've brought gear for fishing, but first we need to find a good spot.”

“I'll go look,” Phoebe offered.

“Me, too!”

“And me!”

The children were gone in an instant, talking excitedly. Nathaniel gave a satisfied smile, then leaned back against a tree trunk and laced his hands behind his head. “Alone at last.”

“With our chaperons very close. As is proper.”

Harriet gave him a stiff, quelling glare that made no secret of her feelings. Nathaniel nearly laughed out loud. Her feisty spirit never failed to ignite his passion and he became suddenly conscious of how much he desired her. Of how much he wanted her—breathless and hungry and thrashing beneath him.

These wanton thoughts were rudely interrupted by the sound of rustling trees. Nathaniel glanced up just as all three children came crashing towards the blanket.

“That was quick,” he said wryly.

“We found the most wonderful place to fish,” Phoebe exclaimed. “There is sun and shade and even rocks for us to sit on.”

“Excellent. You'd best hurry back to save our spot. I shall be along in a few minutes with the gear we need to make our poles.”

The girls rushed off, but Gregory stayed behind. He toed his foot in the dirt and kicked at the pebble he had dislodged. Nathaniel suspected the boy wasn't very enamored with the notion of having to sit silently while waiting for the fish to bite.

“I wish Brutus could have come with us,” Gregory said with a pout. “ 'Tis always more fun when he is here.”

“So, you prefer the company of a mangy old hound to being with me?” Nathaniel dove towards the child and tumbled him gently to the blanket. The little boy squealed with delight and launched himself at Nathaniel's chest. They wrestled for several minutes, laughing and crying out, until they were both out of breath.

Nathaniel pulled himself into a sitting position, then settled the little boy on his knees so they faced one another.

“Would you care to try your luck at a bit of fishing, Miss Sainthill?” Nathaniel turned towards her. Gregory imitated his uncle, pressing his soft cheek next to the rough stubble of the older man.

Nathaniel heard Harriet's breath seize. Her eyes fluttered from his face to Gregory's, then back to his. She made a peculiar sound in the back of her throat, then started slowly backing away from them.

“Excuse me, I think I hear the girls calling.” She ran from the clearing, tearing leaves from the small shrubs in her haste to get away.

Puzzled, Nathaniel gathered up the fishing gear, took Gregory by the hand and followed her.

Harriet picked her way blindly down the path. Behind her, she could hear Nathaniel and Gregory's voices as they gradually closed the distance between them. She gritted her teeth and moved faster, her mind playing and re-playing what she had just seen.

Those two faces pressed cheek to cheek. One small, round and innocent, the other lean, handsome and strong. But the resemblance was so marked, so true, she was amazed at herself for not noticing it sooner.

It was all suddenly, startlingly clear. The secrecy surrounding the children's past. Servants who occasionally treated them with disrespect. Nathaniel's cryptic remark to the boy, reminding the child that
we are of the same blood and share a bond that can never be broken or forgotten.

They were Nathaniel's children. And since he was not openly claiming them as such, they must be illegitimate. What a shock! Base-born and therefore needing to be brought to this remote area of Scotland, away from London, away from the scrutiny of the public eye. Or perhaps even hidden from Nathaniel's family. Hidden from his wife.

Nausea churned in Harriet's stomach at the thought. She clasped her hand over her mouth and swallowed the bile. The pain in her side forced her to slow her stride. For a moment Harriet thought she might collapse. She leaned her shoulder against a large tree trunk and held herself erect, forcing in deep gulps of air.

“Ah, there you are,” a cheerful male voice called out. “Is everything all right? You seemed to be in a bit of distress when you left us.”

Turning toward Nathaniel, Harriet felt nothing but pain. She had trusted him, had allowed herself to care for him. Hell, if she were completely honest with herself she would admit that she was in love with him.

She, who had so steadfastly avoided love after her last disastrous experience. Harriet bit the inside of her cheek, cursing herself as she felt the hot, urgent tears well up behind her eyes. She was twice a fool to have allowed this to happen.

He continued to approach. She stared into his face, searching for signs of the truth, knowing she would not find them. The air around her seemed too thick to breathe. She needed time to get herself under control, time to think and absorb what she had just discovered. She was terrified of what she would say to him, terrified of what she might reveal.

“Your face is rather pale. Are you ill? Do you need assistance?”

The concern in his voice sounded so genuine, but Harriet refused to become susceptible to it. “I just need a few minutes of privacy.” Harriet painstakingly gathered her composure. “To answer the call of nature.”

It was a fairly crass statement for a lady to make to a gentleman, but Harriet was beyond caring. And it produced the desired effect. Nathaniel inclined his head, grabbed young Gregory by the hand, and scurried off.

She forged ahead through the dense trees, walking toward the sound of rushing water. Fearing she might be seen by the children who were waiting by the stream, Harriet moved in the opposite direction. She followed a sharp bend in the river, finally coming to rest when she had found a large boulder to hide behind.

She knelt in the damp earth, linked her fingers together and scooped a handful of water up to her face. It cooled some of the heat from her cheeks, but could not wash away her shock. Or her pain. Removing the linen handkerchief from her pocket, she dipped it in the clear water, then pressed the damp cloth to her temples.

Harriet knew logically that she had no right to feel so deeply, horribly wounded. She was the governess, for pity's sake, not an affronted wife. What had she expected? Just because he had pursued her, most likely because he was bored and she was available, was he required to share his secrets?

It was partially her fault for placing such importance on their relationship. She thought of herself as his equal. She believed that he respected her, valued her opinion. And when he took her in his arms, it seemed that nothing existed in the world except the two of them.

Yet he did not feel he could trust her with this truth about the children. His children. Her charges.

Was that wrong of him? It certainly
felt
wrong, but a small voice inside her head cautioned her against being unreasonable. Nathaniel had not blatantly lied to her. He had rather deliberately kept the truth from her, but that was not the same thing.

Besides, what gave her the right to cast aspersions on his character? Her own brother had an illegitimate child. But Nathaniel had three.
Three!

One child could be explained as an impulsive act of passion. That was largely the case with her dear nephew, Georgie. But three children constituted a relationship of long standing. A commitment of emotions, a bond of significant duration, a love of sizable proportion.

That speculation brought even more pain to Harriet's bruised heart. Far more disturbing than thinking Nathaniel was an immoral, jaded man was knowing that he had cared for and loved a woman enough to have three children with her.

Yet he had refused to marry her. Or maybe he had already been married. To someone else!

Harriet crossed and uncrossed her arms. This was ridiculous. Her speculations about the children's mother and her relationship with Nathaniel were limited to Harriet's rather vivid imagination. If she wanted to know the truth, she would have to ask him, and then convince him to be honest with his answers.

It was time to return. She had already been away from them for a long time. Fearful if she did not appear soon, Nathaniel might feel compelled to come searching for her, Harriet rose to her feet. She gave her face a final wipe with the wet cloth and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. She had removed her bonnet when the picnic began and in her haste to escape must have left it on the blanket.

Glancing down, she absently brushed at the mud from the river that had caked on her gown, then laughed at herself for even noticing her appearance. Harriet walked slowly on the winding path, each step a reluctant move towards the stark reality she was having difficulty accepting.

She soon spied the happy little group through the trees. Nathaniel was cutting down a young sapling, obviously to use as a fishing pole. Phoebe already held one in her hand and Jeanne Marie was waiting expectantly beside her sister. Though Harriet was not yet close enough to hear their conversation, whatever Nathaniel was saying had put smiles on the girls' faces.

For a brief, stark instant she wondered if the children knew the truth about their
Uncle
Nathaniel. Probably not. It would mean so much to them, knowing they had a father who loved them.

“Have you caught anything yet, children?” Harriet asked. She pushed her feet, which felt like lead weights, forward and attempted to smile.

“We haven't started,” Gregory complained. “Uncle Nathaniel is still making our fishing poles.”

“I am working as fast as I can, boy,” Nathaniel grumbled good naturedly. He turned towards Harriet and smiled. “Would you care to fish, Miss Sainthill?”

The sound of his voice echoed through her. She was never very good at pretending, at putting on the social niceties merely because it was expected. But there were innocent bystanders present. This was hardly the time to make a scene.

“I prefer to watch,” she replied primly.

“Good. That means less work for me.” He tilted his head towards the children and winked.

“Oh, do hurry, please,” Jeanne Marie entreated.

“If we don't start soon all the fish will run away.”

Nathaniel laughed, but he increased his efforts and in short order had all three children set along a quiet stretch of the river. Harriet noticed he did not prepare a pole for himself, but instead moved from one child to the next, making sure they had all the assistance and attention they needed.

Harriet walked to a spot beneath the shade of a tree and watched him openly, trying to see beyond the façade, beyond the face that he put forth to the world.

He was natural and at ease with the children. Baiting their hooks, casting the lines, securing a safe spot away from the river's edge to sit and wait for the fish to bite. He showed them how to hold the pole so their arms would not tire so quickly and gently admonished Jeanne Marie of the necessity for quiet so the fish would not be frightened away.

“I think I've caught something.” Phoebe's voice, edged with nervous excitement, broke through the required silence.

She jerked her pole skyward, pulling the line out of the water. Dancing on the end was a fish, its silver streaks winking brightly in the sunlight, on the verge of escaping its fate.

Both adults moved forward at the same time. Nathaniel reached the child first. His arm shot out and he hauled the line in just as the fish fell from the hook. It landed on the water's edge, but a swift kick from his booted foot put it in a soft pile of pine needles.

“Well done, Phoebe.” Nathaniel proudly displayed the fish for all to admire. “Here's one for tonight's supper table.”

The children all applauded. At her sister's encouragement, Phoebe took a brief bow, then returned to her spot. Her eyes sparkled with excitement and her cheeks were flushed with pride.

Above her head, Harriet's eyes met Nathaniel's. His were warm, intimate and cheerful. She felt anew the knife of betrayal and turned away. She turned to once again place some physical distance between them, but in her haste to flee she did not notice the tree root in the middle of the path. Her feet stumbled and she tripped over the gnarled wood.

Catching her arm, Nathaniel kept her on her feet, but once she was steadied, he did not withdraw his touch. Harriet's arm prickled at the contact. She was suddenly aware of every heartbeat, every breath of air that coursed through her body. And his.

“Is anything wrong?” he asked. “You seem distracted.”

Harriet didn't trust herself to speak, so she remained silent. Nathaniel raised his eyebrows, but all Harriet could manage was a tight, closed-lipped nod of dismissal.

Oblivious to the undercurrents, the children turned their attention back to the stream and the schools of fish they believed were waiting to be caught. Even Gregory managed to stay in place for an impressive ten minutes. When his fidgeting became too distracting, Nathaniel set him to the task of digging up worms, a job the little boy took to most enthusiastically.

Harriet remained beneath her tree, tapping her toe impatiently against a rock. It was sheer torture for her to sit here and say
nothing,
while these questions swirled about in her brain. Yet she forced herself to be calm. The air was warm, the sound of the water babbling in the stream restful, the merry spirits and excitement of the children infectious.

It all seemed so natural, so ordinary. Still, it could not distract Harriet from her pain.

“I've caught one!” Jeanne Marie shrieked. The little girl yanked on her pole, imitating her sister's actions, but when her hook came into view there was nothing to be seen. “Drat! That nasty old fish got away.”

Jeanne Marie sighed with exaggerated tragedy, and attempted a swoon on the rocks, which nearly landed her in the cold river.

Harriet found herself scrutinizing the gesture. Maybe the children's mother had been an actress? That would certainly explain Jeanne Marie's flair for dramatics. And why Nathaniel would not marry the woman.

Actresses were known to live by a different code, a different set of rules. They did not feel it was a betrayal of their family or their upbringing to enter into such an arrangement with a wealthy man.

Yet, how much had the poor female sacrificed for her love? 'Twas often said that a man cherished his mistress while he tolerated his wife. Was that the case here? Had Nathaniel taken a proper, acceptable wife and then lavished all his attention and affection on his mistress?

Had they shared a love that crossed the barriers of class, a love that was so pure it survived without the legal bonds of matrimony, without the honor of wedded security? Was that why he now showed such great concern and regard for his children even if he did not publicly acknowledge them as his own?

“I am tired of fishing and I'm tired of digging for worms,” Gregory announced suddenly. He picked up a sizable rock and tossed it into the river. “Let's do something funner.”

“More card games?” Jeanne Marie asked, as she quickly abandoned her pole and scrambled down from the rock where she had been waiting, unsuccessfully, to catch a fish.

Phoebe caught the tip of her sister's pole just before it slid into the rushing river. “I don't want to play cards. 'Tis no fun if Uncle Nathaniel wins every hand.”

All three turned to stare accusingly at Nathaniel. He struggled manfully to hide a grin. “How about a race? The first one back to our picnic blanket wins.”

He didn't have to suggest it twice. In the blink of an eye, all three children had disappeared down the path, shoving and laughing and running as hard as they could.

Caught off guard, Harriet scrambled to follow them, but Nathaniel grabbed her arm and held her back.

“A word please, Miss Sainthill.”

“The children—”

“Will be perfectly fine on their own for a few minutes.”

Harriet did not like the commanding look he was giving her. Earlier he had ceased questioning her mood and seemed to accept it. That apparently had changed and Harriet was not about to listen to a lecture on her attitude or answer any questions about it. So instead she straightened her spine and went on the attack.

“Will you answer a question, Mr. Wainwright?”

“Certainly.”

Harriet wasted no time. “Will you promise, nay, will you swear that your answer is the solemn truth, that you are being honest and forthright, no matter how you imagine I will react?”

Nathaniel jerked his head up. “I shall endeavor to try,” he said slowly. He rubbed his palm on his breeches, looking decidedly uncomfortable.