In the Garden of Temptation (8 page)

The earl appeared delighted by her
enthusiasm, and she knew he watched her from the corner of his eye
as he uncorked a bottle of wine, now grown warm, and poured them
each a glass. He talked with her then, about nothing of
consequence, as they shared personal tidbits of their lives. She
could feel them becoming imperceptibly closer in the process. They
ate until replete, and the comfortable tone continued unabated.

Lord Ashworth reached for a peach and began
to peel it. He cut a chunk away from the pit and, in gallant
fashion, presented a slice to her.

Catherine leaned forward. Because the piece
of peach was too large to take whole, she sank her teeth into the
fruit, her lips gently grazing the tips of his fingers as she did
so.

The smile edging Adam’s mouth drifted slowly
away while he watched her bite the succulent peach. His eyes turned
black and unreadable.

Catherine was shocked by the intensity of the
earl’s look. Mesmerized, she could not tear her gaze from his as he
withdrew the remaining morsel and very deliberately placed it in
his mouth. He continued to stare at her as he sucked the juice from
each of his sticky fingers, one by one.

She had no idea what that little ritual
meant, however, neither was she a fool. Unsophisticated she might
be, but the overt sexual nature of the communication left no doubt
about the earl’s intentions. He had sent her an invitation, pure
and simple.

Catherine knew he held his breath, her
indecision as obvious to him as it was to herself. Now was the time
to clarify her position with the forward gentleman. Unfortunately,
she felt powerless to deny him. Nothing had prepared her for the
intense onslaught of emotion that had taken her mind and body.
Perhaps one kiss—nothing wrong with that, was there?—just so she
might satisfy a need she was only now beginning to accept.

She closed her eyes, losing the war with
herself, feeling oddly victorious.

The air in the earl’s chest whooshed out in a
shaky gasp. He touched her face and his fingers, resting lightly on
her cheek, trembled. Could he actually be nervous too?

The earl slipped his hand gently along her
jaw, cupping the back of her neck and drawing her to him. He rubbed
the curve of her mouth with his thumb. She did not open her eyes
but could feel his compelling stare as her lips parted slightly,
her breathing coming in short, quick pants.

“
Oh, God,” he whispered
unsteadily.

He kissed her then, his hungry mouth gliding
across the smooth surface of her lips, back and forth with ever
increasing warmth. A groan escaped from somewhere deep in his
chest. His hand at her neck slid into her hair, grasping the silken
mass with almost painful intensity.

Catherine didn’t care. She wrapped her arms
around his shoulders and clung to him as though her life depended
on it. Perhaps it did, for in that instant the peripheral world
ceased to exist. The only thing that mattered was now, what she
felt, what she wanted. And she wanted the earl.

Her pelvis began to tingle unbearably, and
when he drew her up against his chest, the urge to press that part
of herself against him became almost irresistible. Overwhelmed by
desire, she was confused by her response. Wasn’t one kiss enough?
And if it was, why was she burning all over? Why did she want
another and another?

The earl conveyed no such confusion despite
seeming at first unsure. His movements were forceful and skilled.
Undoubtedly, he had been here before and he knew exactly what he
wanted.

They fell onto the picnic blanket, their lips
never parting. He did not rush her as if he knew that would be a
mistake. Instead, he continued to kiss her, that simple activity
relentlessly stoking her passion. She moaned aloud and felt his
excitement surge in response.

At her waist, Catherine became aware of his
other hand as it inched slowly, inexorably up her ribs toward her
breast. She ceased to breathe in an agony of anticipation. His
fingers finally reached their destination, and he gently grasped
the tender mound, rolling it beneath his palm, stimulating the
sensitive peak. She moaned again.

His touch moved downward, slipping under the
edge of her skirt and skimming along the delicate skin of her inner
thigh. Her legs began to quiver uncontrollably. She knew what he
intended, but so lost was she in the magic of the spell he was
weaving, she actually began to fear he might stop.

But his kisses continued unabated, fevered
kisses, covering her eyelids and cheeks and throat, finding her
mouth again. He whispered ardent words against her ear, his breath
hot and rapid, before he buried his face in the sensitive area
between her neck and shoulder.

With a single, deft movement, the earl
reached for the drawstring of her drawers and, loosening the waist,
eased his hand inside the garment to her hip. Splaying his fingers
over the soft flesh, he pressed his erection firmly against her
lower body and began the instinctive cadence of the mating ritual,
infinite pleasure even through their garb. Catherine followed his
lead without thought, moving with him, immersed in the erotic
sensations.

And that’s why one kiss was
not enough, could not possibly be. She had known it all along. But
it was too late.
Much too late.
She wanted him to be part of her, to fill her with
his body—to bring her along on his journey of ecstasy. She would
come with him now. He need not worry, if indeed he had worried,
that she would renege and leave him frustrated. Her frustration
would be as keen as his were that to happen.

The earl grasped the waistband of her
drawers, pulling them down over her hips, and quickly adjusted his
own clothing in preparation for their joining. He touched her
intimately, causing her body to jerk in reaction.

Was that whimpering coming from her?

Catherine’s eyes flickered open, and her
clouded gaze centered on his handsome face, now taut with desire.
He was watching her, his expression a strange combination of
concern and lust. Her vision suddenly cleared.

He was allowing her to reconsider! Yes, she
should have known. The earl’s sense of honor would demand he do no
less. She saw his hesitation and knew the silent question he asked.
And in that instant Catherine came to the conclusion she was very
nearly in love. She smiled sweetly and, putting a hand on either
side of his head, drew him to her and placed a beckoning kiss on
his mouth.

She felt the tension leave his body and knew
he was lost. He came into her then, a swift thrust that took her
maidenhead, although she felt quite certain he didn’t know. And why
should he after all? Why should it occur to him that a woman
married seven years was still a virgin? And in fairness to his
supposed ignorance, her barrier had been fragile as tissue paper
and easily ruptured.

That did not mean there was no pain. It came
as a complete shock because it was so completely unexpected.
Catherine clung to him in desperation, willing herself not to cry
out. She mustn’t let him know this was her first time, for that
would imply some responsibility on his part, and she did not want
to burden him. How disappointing to be so eagerly aroused and then
left wanting. Salty tears gathered at the corners of her lids,
threatening to escape.

Fortunately, the ache began to dissipate as
he moved within her, and a comforting numbness took its place. In a
short time she came to realize the pleasure, though hidden by the
pain, had not been lost to her. The thrusting of the earl’s hips
proved hypnotic, and she found herself helplessly drawn into the
rhythm of the movement as once again her excitement swelled.

Catherine began to thrash beneath him in an
agitated frenzy, reaching for something just beyond her grasp.

“
Come with me, sweetheart,”
he whispered urgently.

Her eyes locked with his, and Catherine
stared into their smoky depths.

All at once she cried out as she was sucked
into a whirlpool of sensation so profound, she was hard pressed to
explain it. But that seemed the signal for which he was waiting
because, at her sudden gasp of pleasure, he buried himself deep
within her. A growl of ecstasy rose from his throat, and he rocked
back and forth, wringing the last of the passion from both of
them.

For several moments, the only sounds in the
little glen were the breathless pants of the exhausted couple. The
earl lifted his head to look at her.

Catherine gazed at him dreamily. “The most
extraordinary feeling overtook me. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt
before,” she said in wonder. “I’d wager it’s a bit like opium,
though—once experienced the desire for more is compelling.” She
laughed softly.

He stared back, his brows drawing together in
disbelief. “Doesn’t your husband see to your needs? What a dolt he
must be.” She was confused by his anger and must have appeared that
way, for he shook his head as if resigned. “Don’t mind me, love.
I’m feeling possessive and I have no right.”

“
I don’t mind.”

Adam smiled at her, a sad smile. “Do you have
any idea just how beautiful you are? I fear you are the
opiate.”

She ran fingers along the bridge of his
cheek. “You’re rather lovely yourself, my lord,” she teased.

Laying his forehead against hers, he
chuckled. “Sprite. If I did not know better, I would say I’ve been
enchanted.” He kissed her, lips lingering on her mouth before he
rose back on his elbows. “I wish I could spend the remainder of the
day resting on top of you in this oh-so-pleasant manner.”

“
I would like that, also,”
she said wistfully.

“
I suppose we should return
to the castle.” His voice was filled with regret.

He rolled off Catherine and helped her to her
feet. They spent the next several minutes erasing all evidence of
their slip from respectability. Packing the picnic basket, the earl
tied it to his horse. He then stood with his back to her as though
uncertain, his hands resting on the basket, the silence stretching
between them until she began to feel uncomfortable. When he finally
turned to her, his features were a mask of regret.

“
I hope you can forgive me.
I should never have allowed myself to give into temptation,” he
said. “It was wrong of me.”

Catherine experienced a stab of
disappointment so profound her stomach did a sickening flip. “I
want no apology,” she said over a throat gone tight with hurt.

“
I took advantage of you. I
know better and there is no excuse for my behavior,” he
insisted.

“
I knew what I was doing.
The responsibility is not only yours,” she stated. She softened her
expression and held out a hand to him. “Please, lie to me—say
anything you must, but don’t say you’re sorry, for I feel no
regret.”

Adam grasped her arms and pulled her to him.
“Do you understand what you’re saying?”

“
Yes,” she said woodenly, “I
know exactly what I am saying.” She released herself from his hold
and looked at him defiantly. “I’m saying I don’t care.” She drew in
a deep breath and, though she tried valiantly for control, her chin
trembled with emotion. “Just once I wished to see what I have been
denied—what I’ll always be denied. Is that so much to ask? I risked
all today to know the answer to my question.”

“
Was it worth it?” he asked
in a gentle voice.

Catherine felt a teardrop escape from beneath
her lashes. “It might have been better had I never known,” she
acknowledged with sudden insight.

She turned away from him then and mounted her
horse unassisted, spurring the animal from the clearing without
looking back.

The earl was left to follow in her wake.

*****

“
The deed is done, my
lord.”

“
Are you absolutely certain,
Willy?”

“
Aye, my lord. I watched to
the very end. It was hard to tell exactly what went on, though,
‘cause they never got undressed.” He sounded
disappointed.

“
That will be enough,
Willy!” the baron roared. “I don’t wish to know all the sordid
details. It causes me much pain to know my wife has been unfaithful
to me.”

“
But I thought that’s what
you wanted.”

“
What I want is not
necessarily what I like.” Lord Bourgeault rose from his desk and
walked to the window to stare unseeingly into the stable yard
below. “I knew it would take only the right bait to bring her
around.” He spoke mainly to himself but Willy answered him
anyway.

“
You’ve brought any number
of gents here what would have been able to do what you had in mind,
my lord. What makes him so special, personally I don’t see
it.”

“
You don’t have to see it,”
the baron said contemptuously. “Aside from being young and
handsome, and it would appear virile, he has the added advantage of
being a gentleman.” When Willy looked as though he might interrupt,
the baron snapped, “I’m not talking about his birth, you fool.
Plenty of men qualify if you use that as your measuring stick. Lord
Ashworth is a gentleman by nature. He prides himself on doing the
pretty, and women eat it up. That’s what makes him
different.”

Lord Bourgeault turned his hooded gaze on his
servant who stood by the door, clearly ready to flee if the
atmosphere in the room turned any darker.

“
I’ve gone to a great deal
of trouble, Willy, to produce this little charade. Let’s hope it
bears fruit. As for you, I suspect your difficult ‘chore’ this
afternoon will provide you with enough licentious daydreaming to
last you a twelvemonth. Get out of my sight!”