Free Pleasure Me by Monica Burns Page A

elation that Crawley Hall was hers or irritation at the notion that Garrick might have been feeling magnanimous by not bidding. There was no doubt in her mind that he’d wanted the Hall almost as badly as she had. With a sharp exhalation, she shrugged slightly. It didn’t matter why he’d failed to make an offer. The Hall was hers. The front door rang again, and tension immediately tugged at her muscles. She wasn’t expecting any callers. Perhaps Garrick had come by to accept her gratitude for not bidding against her. She dismissed the idea as being ridiculous. A moment later, Simmons entered with a medium-sized box.
    “A delivery for you, my lady.”
    “Was there a card?”
    “No, my lady. A boy made the delivery.” At the butler’s reply, she nodded her head.
    “Thank you.”
    As Simmons left the salon, she stared down at the jeweler’s box the servant had given her. Despite the lack of a card, she was certain it was from Garrick. Anticipation made her throat tighten in its effort to rush through her. She squashed the sensation immediately. Determined to remain detached, she slowly opened the box.
    The name Garrard was imprinted on the white linen interior of the lid. It had been a long time since a suitor had sent her jewels from the Crown Jeweler. There were two smaller boxes inside, and the first one she opened contained a crystal paperweight in the form of a jackass. She laughed softly. Not only did Lord Stratfield have a sense of humor, he could laugh at himself as well.
    She set aside the paperweight to open the second box. Nestled in the silk-lined interior was a delicate tulip made of small diamonds. She smiled. A paperweight that said he believed he’d behaved like an ass and a white tulip brooch that represented a request for forgiveness.
    But had he really said or done anything terrible? He’d insulted her, and yet she didn’t believe he’d meant to do so. If anything he’d been quite complimentary, and in a manner that had made her feel young again. And his comment that she could pleasure a man with a simple stroke of her hand had stirred a dangerous excitement in her. Her skin grew warm as she remembered his provocative words. It had been a scandalous observation, but it had made her feel desired. She suddenly realized it was a sensation she’d not experienced for a very long time. Her fingertips trailed across the cool metal and precious stones.
    It was obvious the man was apologizing. She just didn’t know whether she wanted to encourage him. And keeping the brooch, as lovely as it was, would do just that. Accepting his gift would indicate she’d forgiven his clumsy attempt to gain entry into her bed. She sighed. Garrick Stratfield’s attentions were flattering, but the gap in their ages made her hesitant to allow him to court her.
    She had no doubt he would make her feel young again. At least until that moment when he left her for a woman his own age, someone younger than her. It would be devastating. Even more so than when Marston, or Grenville before him, had parted with her. She looked down at the brooch again.
    It was clearly worth a substantial amount of money. But what would she gain if she accepted his gift? She’d be signaling that she would accept him as a suitor, and a liaison with him was certain to be short-lived with a painful ending. Still, he’d offered to buy Crawley Hall for her, which meant he was not without funds. Could she really afford to say no? If he were older—she bit down on her lip. It was impractical not to accept his gift, and she would no doubt come to regret it, but something told her she’d regret it even more if she accepted Garrick’s gift.
    She returned the paperweight and brooch to the box, snapping it closed. Quickly crossing the floor, she sat down at the secretary to pen a brief note of refusal to accompany the jewelry back to the merchant. Just as she rang for Simmons, the front doorbell sounded again. She frowned as she slipped her note into