In the Garden of Disgrace

by Cynthia Wicklund

  Outside the bedchamber a disturbance in the hall arrested Jillian in motion. She heard what sounded like a large body hitting the wall, and suddenly she remembered Riley. Dear Lord, if that brute joined the fray, she didn’t have a chance.

  Her glance flew to Lionel, who had slipped from the mattress to the floor still holding his head, but he appeared to be recovering. He looked up, his gaze filled with venom.

  “I’ll make you pay for that,” he said, coming to his feet on legs that appeared to wobble. “You could have enjoyed yourself, you know. But now we’ll play it your way.”

  It had grown quiet in the hall, and she wanted desperately to look over her shoulder at the door which hung slightly ajar, but she was afraid to take her eyes from the marquess. Jillian gripped the candlestick more firmly in hands now slick with nervous perspiration, holding it like a club.

  “Perhaps you will win in the end, Lionel, but I swear you will suffer before you celebrate.”

  He opened his mouth to respond but his gaze was drawn to something or—more horrific—someone at her back. Jillian’s heart lurched with dread. It must be Riley.

  “I raced here like the perennial white knight to save the damsel in distress, but it would appear that damsel is quite capable of taking care of herself.”

  Adrian!

  Jillian whirled around, overcome with relief. When she did, she allowed her hands still grasping her improvised weapon to fall, and the weight of the heavy candlestick brought her arms down so quickly she staggered.

  The earl was leaning casually in the doorway, radiating an air of quiet menace. Jillian moved toward him but Adrian’s gaze was riveted on Lionel.

  “How did you get in here?” Lionel spluttered, clearly upset by the sudden change in events. “What did you do to my man?”

  “One question at a time, Edgeworth,” Adrian said, the words deceptively cool. “I came in the front door because, believe it or not, it was unlocked. I would have rung, but under the circumstances that seemed inadvisable. As to your man, I admit he is large with the strength of a bull, but some fights are better won with finesse. That is where ‘your man’ fails.”

  Lionel’s gaze skittered about the room, looking for escape. He had begun to sweat, and his hand shook when he ran his fingers through his hair.

  “All right, Wickham, you are the victor. I admit defeat.” His regard glanced off Jillian. “These last hours have convinced me that the lady and I do not, as she has insisted, have anything in common. Please take her off and we’ll let the matter drop.”

  Such patent cowardice caused Jillian to stare at the marquess with distaste. She took a quick check of Adrian’s features and found her reaction reflected on his face. His lips curled contemptuously.

  “Let me see if I understand you,” the earl said, standing away from the door. In that instant Jillian realized he was in a deep rage although his features remained bland. “You’ll allow me to take Jillian away and all will be forgiven and forgotten. Is that correct?”

  “It is the easiest way, isn’t it? We don’t wish to start tongues wagging,” the marquess said. “Jillian is the one who will suffer most.”

  “You bring my future wife to this house where you entertain your paramours,” Adrian’s voice cracked across the predawn gloom like a whip, “and you expect me to believe you care about gossip, especially gossip that will hurt Jillian? Are you implying, because of the chance of talk, I’m to pretend all is well? I’m afraid it won’t be that easy.”

  Lionel sagged against the bedpost. “What do you suggest?”

  “Name your seconds, Edgeworth.”

  Jillian gasped. “Adrian, no!”

  Both men looked in her direction, Lionel’s expression one of outright terror and the earl’s coldly implacable. Adrian returned his attention to his opponent apparently unmoved by her outburst.

  “Well?” he said.

  The marquess, white around the mouth, squared his shoulders, appearing resigned to his fate. He could not refuse the challenge, Jillian knew, and still call himself honorable. Strange how a man could act with such vile deceit as he had when he kidnapped her, yet feel bound by the rules of conduct assigned to a gentleman.

  “I must make preparations,” the marquess said.

  “How long?”

  “This afternoon?”

  Adrian nodded curtly. “I will send Phillip Angsley here before the supper hour to meet with your people.” He turned to Jillian, taking her hand. At the door, he said, “Tomorrow morning, Edgeworth. Fail to show and I’ll find you. This will be settled between us one way or the other.”

  Jillian’s last glimpse of the marquess as she left the room revealed a man on the verge of collapse. Evidently, Lionel was only stouthearted when he did not fear for his own skin.

  They entered the hall, stepping around Riley’s large body where he had fallen after tangling with the earl. She wanted to ask what had happened but Adrian’s grim expression did not encourage discourse. They descended the stairs to the entry and walked out the front entrance of Lionel’s illicit hideaway.

  As they reached the curb she recognized Phillip’s phaeton. The earl helped her into the vehicle then climbed in himself, but his stony attitude did not ease. With a fierce snap of the reins he sent the carriage into the lane.

  Though the last remains of the night still lingered, dawn was fast approaching, the sun pinking the horizon to announce its arrival. The morning felt cool and damp, and Jillian wrapped her arms around herself, as much to ward off the chill of the man next to her as the chill in the air. Abruptly, she realized they were not headed back into town.

  “Where are we going, my lord?”

  “Adrian.”

  “What?”

  “Call me Adrian. I’ve had enough of your efforts to keep me at bay. ‘My lord’ is impersonal and I don’t like it.”

  Jillian slid a glance at him. Oh, he was furious, so furious the heat of his displeasure singed her where she sat.

  “Where are we going, Adrian?” she asked in a small voice.

  He snapped the reins again, not sparing her a look. “It will be light soon. Can you imagine the uproar that will ensue should I be seen bringing you home at this hour of the day? I don’t want to take the risk of exposing you to more talk.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t thought of that.

  “There is a small inn down this road. Hopefully, the dark will continue until I can get you ensconced in one of the rooms. You’ll be safe there until Phillip comes back for you later this evening.”

  “This isn’t my fault, Adrian.”

  “I didn’t say it was.”

  “Then why are you mad at me?”

  He did look at her then. “How could you let that fool bastard talk you into leaving the townhouse? Surely you went with him of your own will, or your maid would have heard the commotion. To make matters worse, no one was available to tell us who your visitor was.”

  “Hannah?”

  “Had been told you were entertaining someone. Your footman failed to mention who that someone was before he left. But that’s neither here nor there—why did you go with Edgeworth?”

  “He said Meredith wanted to see me. I-I thought him sincere. I mean, why should I not?”

  “Bah!” He shook his head, not hiding his contempt for her reasoning. “I’ve known Edgeworth since university, and in all that time he has never given me reason to believe he can be trusted. His actions lately should have warned you.”

  He had a point.

  “Tell me,” Adrian continued, “what did I interrupt back there? It appeared that you were the one with the upper hand.”

  “I boxed his ears.”

  “What?” He barked a laugh. “How did you manage that?”

  “I’m not certain if you must know. He made me mad and I retaliated.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He kissed me.”

  The earl’s expression sobered. “Did he…? Was that the extent of it?”

  She knew
what he asked. “Yes,” she said curtly, refusing to elaborate.

  They rode in silence after that, shortly pulling into the deserted yard of a small inn. The earl yanked on the ribbons to halt the horses then handed the leather straps to Jillian as he climbed from his seat.

  “I’ll be back shortly. Stay where you are,” he said and jogged across the yard and into the building.

  Even though the only activity Jillian could see came from the stable some fifty yards away, she still felt conspicuous sitting in the phaeton all alone. She kept her head down, not looking up when another vehicle pulled onto the pebbled drive.

  As he had promised Adrian was gone only briefly. He reappeared at the side of the carriage, his voice low. “Here, put this on your head.” He handed her a knitted wool shawl.

  “How did you obtain that?”

  “Money, dear heart—how do you think?”

  “That doesn’t say from whom you bought it,” she muttered, not pleased at having to don the grubby-looking shawl.

  “Come on, come on,” he said, “it is almost light.”

  Jillian did as he asked, and the earl helped her from the carriage. He put his arm around her, spiriting her through the yard and into the inn, then took her directly up the stairs without speaking to anyone.

  The earl led her to the chamber at the end of the narrow corridor and, slipping the lock with a key he produced from his pocket, pushed her into the tiny space. He came behind her and closed the door.

  A lumpy bed, a night stand and one dilapidated chest of drawers made up the furnishings. Jillian walked to the window before turning around to face her companion. Adrian gazed back at her from where he leaned against the door, although he did not appear as peeved as he had earlier.

  Since leaving Lionel’s home Jillian had been struggling with one worry, and it wasn’t her fear of being caught in another disgrace. The earl had challenged Lord Edgeworth to a duel. Somehow she must dissuade him from such a disastrous course.

  “Adrian, I would ask a favor of you.”

  His brows lowered ominously. “The last time you said that to me, I’d have sworn you wielded a dagger rather than your tongue. Your favors tend to leave scars.”

  Jillian felt her cheeks warm with regret. If an admission now would aid her cause then the sacrifice of her pride was worth it. In fact, she began to wonder why that sacrifice—in the face of what she had to gain—had ever mattered.

  “If it makes you feel any better, it was an out and out lie. Even though it is an insane thing for an unmarried lady to wish, I hoped for a child—your child.”

  His features softened instantly. “What is it, love?” he asked. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Cancel your duel with Lionel.”

  Adrian shook his head. “I can’t do that, Jillian.”

  “Why?”

  “It is not negotiable,” he said, his voice becoming hard.

  “But if I can allow the matter to drop, why can’t you? I am after all the one who was insulted.”

  “It doesn’t happen that way.”

  “But you haven’t said why.”

  The earl reached for the doorknob, clearly unwilling to continue the discussion. “Phillip will return after dark. I’m sorry you must stay here alone all day but we have no choice.”

  All at once Jillian was seized by panic. If he left now there was no hope. “Adrian,” she said, moving toward him.

  “Yes?” He turned to look at her, but she could not tell what he was thinking as he watched her through light blue eyes.

  “Please…please, don’t leave just yet.”

  He went immobile, staring at her for so long her heart began to rattle oddly.

  “Now I must ask you why,” he murmured.

  Though she feared her courage might fail her, she forced herself to walk across the room, holding the earl’s mesmerizing gaze as she came toward him. When she was but a few inches away, she raised cool fingers to brush his jaw. His skin felt hot, the stubble of his course black beard rough beneath her touch, proof positive he had not bothered with mundane matters like shaving when he believed her in danger.

  Still his gaze did not shift from hers, and her nervous heart surged with something new, something only now she could freely admit.

  “Kiss me, Adrian,” she whispered.

  His sensuous mouth curved into a smile of delight. “If I do,” the words deepened to a husky rumble, “I can’t be held responsible for the consequences.”

  “And if you don’t I shall be disappointed, for it is the consequences that tempt me.” She grabbed hold of the lapels of his coat, and pulled him down to her.

  She could see the minute he understood, for his eyes ignited with anticipation. “Ah, Jillian…” he ground out and, gathering her into his embrace, he took her lips.

  His beard burned her chin, her cheeks as he kissed her, but Jillian relished the feeling. She kept her grip on his coat, afraid to let go for fear he might withdraw, meeting his onslaught with an aggression of her own.

  She felt his fingers at her back, unfastening her hooks. He slid his hands inside the opening he created, and she aided his impatient efforts, shrugging out of the frock. They undressed in a frenzy, flinging their garments this way and that until the floor was littered with clothing.

  Now both naked, he enveloped her in his arms as he found her mouth again. Edging toward the bed, he dragged her with him then fell backwards onto the mattress, pulling her on top of him lengthwise. Jillian came up on her elbows to look down at him, causing her breasts to float just above his face. The temptation must have been too much, for Adrian lifted his head, taking one of the pink tips in his mouth. He sucked hungrily. Exquisite sensation burst in her belly, and she moaned deep in her throat.

  She leaned against him and she could feel the agitated knocking of his chest muscle, keeping time with the beating of her own. Adrian ran his open hands down her back, stopping at the curve of her waist then slowly, enticingly he moved lower. Cupping her bottom, he crushed her tightly to his aching groin. Abruptly he grew still.

  Jillian sensed that he wanted something from her, and again she rose up to look at him. Blue eyes glittered back at her, filled with lust.

  “Take me,” he grated.

  She stared into his handsome face, for a moment confused before his meaning finally came clear to her. He had handed her the initiative—what a heady thought! Should she? she wondered as a thrill of excitement quickened her blood. Before she had time to more than consider, she positioned herself above him, and with one swift thrust, sheathed her body on his engorged member. She shivered in ecstasy as she engulfed him, that part of him feeling like warmed marble layered in silk.

  At that same moment she heard him gasp aloud. “Jillian…my God!”

  Adrian, his breathing coming harshly, grabbed hold of her, halting her movements.

  “Be still, love, or you lose me now,” he said in a voice raw with hunger.

  She could feel him calming himself, his chest expanding and contracting as he took deep, shaky breaths. Only after he had gained control did he grip her hips and begin slowly pulling her back and forth along his tempered length, setting up an irresistible rhythm.

  Sweet, sweet pleasure—over and over the motion continued. Now Jillian knew where he was going—down an erotic path with a fiery conclusion—and she wanted to go with him. She pulled back then pressed against him, meeting his strokes as her excitement swelled.

  “Kiss me, Jillian,” Adrian implored, the words seeming to come straight from his heart.

  Jillian peered down at him, his dark features unmasked by a fierce craving, not just for the moment but for something more, and instantly all her doubts were banished.

  “I love you, Adrian,” she said, the words feather-light, pristine, in the earthy heat that surrounded their lovemaking.

  She saw his eyes widen in sudden comprehension, and she saw elation flare in his gaze. He clasped the back of her head, pulling her toward him, and as their lip
s met he bucked beneath her, releasing himself. He groaned savagely into her mouth, and when he did he drew her into the rapture.

  For long moments neither moved as they strained against each other, and then Jillian went limp. Adrian also slackened his grip, gently rolling her onto her back and moving on top of her. With shaky fingers he brushed back a few damp curls that dusted her forehead.

  “Do you know how long I have waited to hear those words?” he asked, cradling her in his arms. He dropped a lingering kiss on her mouth.

  She smiled dreamily when he came up again. “Nearly as long as I’ve wanted to say them.”

  Adrian eased off Jillian, laying next to her atop the muslin sheet, side by side. The morning sun flooded into the room from the small window, gilding their naked bodies with its healing warmth. He reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers, his hold tender and reassuring.

  After such draining lovemaking—not to mention a night’s loss of sleep—Jillian could not remember ever having been more exhausted. She felt warm, sated and utterly paralyzed. And loved, she felt loved. She squeezed Adrian’s hand, returning his affection, and closed her eyes.

  *****

  CHAPTER 16

  Jillian came awake with a start. She lay on the bed, covered in a sheet, instantly aware she was alone. However, she could hear someone stirring in the room. She opened her eyes, sitting up as she did. Adrian was donning his coat.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, voice thick with sleep.

  “It’s after eight, love. I have to leave. You have some anxious relatives waiting to hear that you are all right.”

  She came up on her knees on the bed, bringing the sheet with her to shield her nakedness. “What are you going to do?”

  “Nothing’s changed, Jillian.”

  “How can you say that? Everything has changed.”

  “Phillip will be here in a few hours,” he said, not looking at her. He walked to the door and placed his hand on the knob.

  “Adrian, please, listen to me.”

  He glanced at her then, and when he did she let the sheet slip. His gaze, as she intended, wandered down her body, lingering. It was an obvious ploy and Jillian cringed inwardly, certain she would see derision in his eyes at her blatant attempt to distract him. Instead she saw compassion there, a gentle understanding.