In the Garden of Seduction

by Cynthia Wicklund

  Penelope Ingram preened under the simple praise. She patted a silvery blonde ringlet, and her lips curled into a smug smile. A tiny dimple appeared at the corner of her puckered mouth, and she looked at Cassandra through large, shiny blue eyes wide with innocence.

  “You are too kind. I hope you don’t feel I’ve ruined your evening. I would hate for you to be out of charity with me.”

  “Ruined? In what way?”

  Penelope’s attitude turned coy. “Competition, cousin.”

  Cassandra had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from laughing. If ever anyone lived who couldn’t be bothered about the feelings of another, her cousin was that person. In the two weeks since they had met, Penelope had exhibited an artful shallowness that had left Cassandra breathless.

  “Don’t give it another thought. You’ve had no effect on my evening whatsoever.”

  Cassandra glanced at her companion then, fearful her words had been unkind, but she need not have worried. Penelope was too self-absorbed to perceive a slight unless it was administered in a very direct way. It simply did not occur to the young lady that anyone might consider her lacking. Penelope wasn’t listening anyway, for someone across the room had diverted her attention.

  “Roger is about to join us,” she whispered behind her fan. “He’s rather fascinating, don’t you think?”

  Cassandra’s heart sank. Another cousin, other side of the family, and he had plagued her footsteps like a confident hound ever since Lord Whittingham had made the introductions on the day of her arrival. Roger Morley was her grandfather’s heir. And though she could not quite put her finger on it, this cousin made her uncomfortable.

  “Cassandra, dear girl, please forgive me for being late.” He swept down on her, bringing the scent of an overpowering cologne with him. Grasping her hand between his two moist ones, he stared into her face through avid hazel eyes. “You look ravishing. It seems an age since I saw you last.”

  “You were here for breakfast, Roger,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice. She withdrew her fingers as politely as she could and, with some effort, controlled the urge to shudder. He seemed pleasant enough, so why couldn’t she like him? His features were nice, attractive even, and his light brown hair curled thickly on his crown. He was tall and slim—perhaps a bit too slim for her taste—but he displayed no obvious traits that explained the aversion she felt when she looked at him.

  With such a baffling reaction, Cassandra wondered if she were being unfair to Roger. She’d been prepared to dislike everyone on this visit and nearly to a person she hadn’t been disappointed. Maybe that was it. Still, his interest had been too quickly engaged and she didn’t trust his motives. Until she had reason to believe otherwise, she refused to let down her guard.

  “May I escort you into dinner?” Roger looked at her, hope visible in his gaze.

  “I’m not very hungry. This is my first respite from all the excitement. I think I’ll take this opportunity to get a little fresh air,” Cassandra said.

  “I could join you.”

  Good grief, couldn’t he take a hint? “No, really, I need some time to myself. But Penelope hasn’t eaten. Perhaps…?” She left the suggestion unfinished as she glanced first at Penelope and then at Roger.

  It was settled. Penelope looked thrilled and she saw Roger’s eyes light with pleasure. Intrigued, Cassandra studied her cousins as the two proceeded arm in arm to the dining room. She turned, so glad to escape the tiresome pair, she wasted no more time on idle speculation. Moving along the rim of the ballroom, she made her way to the double doors leading to the balcony.

  A gentle breeze welcomed her as she slipped from the room into the peaceful night. It felt wonderful to leave the warmth and the chaos of the party inside, and she savored the feel of the crisp air where it cooled her heated skin. Luckily, no one was around to disturb her peace as she moved to the edge of the balcony and leaned against the railing. After a few minutes she felt herself relaxing. She threw back her head and filled her lungs with air.

  “Ah, Miss James, you provide a most tempting picture, standing there alone in the moonlight.”

  Cassandra froze, her breath stalling somewhere between her chest and her mouth. She knew that voice! She swung around to face the intruder.

  “You! What are you doing here?”

  Simon Fitzgerald stepped from the shadows, a crooked grin creasing his handsome features. “You remember me then?”

  Did she remember him? The man had given her the most stinging insult of her life, and he wanted to know if she remembered him?

  “Yes, I remember you.” She spoke on a near whisper, but her response was so strained even to herself the words shrieked at him.

  His expression turned serious. “I see you have not forgiven me.”

  Now here was a quandary. If she acted nonchalant he would probably assume she had no bruised feelings. On the other hand, if she admitted there was something to forgive then he would know how much he had injured her. She found that thought unbearable.

  Surely, there must be a way to show her disapproval without exposing the hurt she had felt. Cassandra’s tongue flicked nervously over her lips as she debated the best way to answer him.

  “Perhaps I haven’t forgotten you because I don’t usually associate with gentlemen who have deplorable manners,” she said at last. “I don’t think there is anything to forgive though, for I suspect nothing personal was intended.”

  A silent moment passed as he studied her, his opaque gaze gleaming intently in the moonlit shadows of the balcony. Then he shook his head as a slow indolent smile played upon his mouth.

  “Now there you are wrong, dear heart.” His deep voice skimmed along her nerves causing her skin to prickle in response. “I meant what I said, and,” here his words lowered to a husky rumble, “I meant it quite personally.”

  Cassandra gaped at him. She had given him the perfect excuse—why did he refuse to take it? Instead, he threw it back at her as if he were issuing a challenge.

  “It would appear you wish me to think the very worst of you, my lord,” came her pinched reply.

  “On the contrary. I desire nothing more than your good opinion. But make no mistake—I have not and will not lie to you.”

  “Meaning…?” She wanted to convey the impression that she felt indifferent, but much to her consternation she sounded flustered instead.

  He advanced on her, moving so close she could feel the heat emanating from his lean body. She edged back until the railing interrupted her retreat. She resisted the urge to place her hand flat against his chest to keep him from coming any closer.

  Then Cassandra made the mistake of looking into his face. His pitch-black eyes ensnared her, dragging her into their smoldering depths. Her mouth dropped open, and in her agitation she began to breathe in short quick pants. She returned his stare, unable to tear her gaze from his.

  “What do you want from me?” she begged as her respiration increased, causing her bosom to expand and contract with each labored breath.

  It seemed the marquess was no match against such temptation. His gaze fell to her chin, slowly following the line of her throat, before coming to rest on the rounded flesh at the top of her gown.

  He brought his attention back to her face. “It’s very clear, isn’t it?” he murmured. “I want you.”

  At that point Cassandra found her anger. “Are you mad?”

  “I fear I must be—mad for you.”

  “How dare you speak to me like that. If you find you can’t respect me, then leave me in peace.”

  The marquess pulled back from her, a look of surprise clouding his vision. “I hold you in the highest regard. Haven’t I made that clear?”

  “What you’ve made clear, my lord, is that you think I am the variety of woman who would welcome the advances of a man I do not know. When you spoke to me at Mrs. Witherspoon’s, I assumed you thought me lowly-born and, therefore, approachable. But since you are now aware that the earl is my grandfather, your cond
uct tonight would indicate it’s actually me you hold in low esteem.”

  “Why would I have thought you lowly-born?”

  Cassandra opened her mouth to speak then shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Actually, in London it was a case of mistaken identity. I saw a beautiful young woman, one I thought I knew. After I realized my blunder in the Chinese parlor, I assumed you were a lady. Mrs. Witherspoon did not tell me differently.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “Because it’s the truth.” He grinned at her as though suddenly struck by inspiration. “And because I’ve already said I won’t lie to you.”

  “You propositioned me,” she said indignantly. “How can you defend that?”

  He shrugged. “Wishful thinking. Nothing ventured, as they say. I certainly didn’t expect you to agree. Frankly, it was you who gave yourself away.”

  “I don’t follow you.”

  “A lady of quality would have understood an outrageous proposal when she heard one and treated it as such.” He sighed as if he had encountered a puzzle. “We will have to rid you of your Puritan ways.”

  Cassandra stiffened. “What are you saying? A lady can take an insult better than one who is not? I hardly think that is something for which I should aspire.”

  “No, not exactly,” he said on a chuckle, “but perspective is not such a bad thing. Men have a tendency to make fools of themselves over beautiful women. The sophisticated female understands that. And if she decides the man pleases her, she might even decide to give him some latitude.” He peered at her expectantly, eyebrows raised as though he anticipated some of that latitude.

  He was so handsome and—dare she admit it?—engaging, for just an instant she felt inclined to give it to him. Fortunately, the insanity ended almost before it began.

  Gathering all of her defenses, she looked at him squarely. “I think, Lord Sutherfield, it would be best if you and I did not socialize with each other. It seems pointless and, quite frankly, I rarely engage in things pointless.”

  There, she’d been direct. She could almost feel proud of herself. Her attitude was confident, in fact bold. Regrettably, she had not reckoned with the gentleman’s determination.

  He leaned down so his face was inches from hers, his expression intensifying, narrowed eyes glinting dangerously. He clenched his jaws together as he stared at her, his lighthearted bantering clearly forgotten.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Miss James.”

  “Excuse me?” she ventured in a tiny voice. Her bravado of a moment before gave way to uncertainty. She edged away from him, pressing so tightly against the railing it jabbed her painfully in the back.

  He moved closer.

  “I said I don’t think that’s a very good idea. I’ve decided I like you and I’m not a man of easy decisions. I’m afraid you are going to have to tolerate getting to know me, for I am if nothing else, stubborn.”

  Cassandra blinked at him, his provocative words sending a quiver of excitement coursing through her body to the tips of her toes and fingers. She must have looked as bewildered as she felt, for his features softened, and he took her chin in his thumb and forefinger.

  “Don’t worry, my dear, I promise I don’t bite. What I propose is that we take the opportunity to become acquainted. And then, who knows…?”

  A silence ensued as he slowly scanned her face before allowing his gaze to settle on her mouth. He brought his eyes back to hers, and the predatory glow illuminating their blackness produced a delicious shiver along her spine.

  Cassandra didn’t know when she first realized he meant to kiss her, but of a sudden every nerve in her body came alive. He leaned down, moving toward her with such resolute deliberation, she was startled into submission.

  He found her parted lips then, but only just, as the smooth, satiny surface of his mouth barely grazed her. She felt the light touch of his tongue, and an erotic thrill sent her blood surging forth to roar in her head, to rush through her veins, like warmed honey, thick and sweet.

  As quickly as the contact began, it ended. He drew back from her, and Cassandra was dismayed by a stab of disappointment. Her legs had grown weak and she tightened her knees, afraid she might tumble to the ground at his feet.

  “Let me pass,” she demanded in a stricken voice.

  She pressed her forearm against his middle she brushed past him, but she refused to look him in the face. The thought of the mockery she felt certain she would see on his dark features kept her from chancing a peek.

  Cassandra thought she heard him whisper her name, but her courage had completely deserted her. She dashed from the balcony to the safety of the ballroom. Probably not a bad decision all things considered, for on that balcony lurked a dangerous, albeit fascinating, destiny. She’d be the greatest fool alive even to think about a journey down that seductive path.

  *****

  Simon watched Miss James leave, his narrowed gaze trailing along her lovely back. He was disconcerted and he disliked the sensation. Somehow he had lost control of the situation.

  He had wanted to arouse the lady, and on that score he sensed he had been successful. On the other hand, he had found himself drawn in as well, and that had not been a part of his plan. His sudden lack of control was troubling. But Miss James excited him, made him act out of character, and he had no intention of allowing this opportunity to slip away as it had in London.

  Simon refused to think what this opportunity could mean, for then he would be forced to give his motives some serious thought. Suffice to say, tonight had brought Cassandra James back into his life, and he meant to take advantage of it.

  *****

  Cassandra knew her face burned like a beacon, announcing her embarrassment to every curious eye in the room. She had managed to totter a few steps into the ballroom where she made an effort to check her ragged breathing. It was difficult, though, for every time she thought of the gentleman on the balcony her chest tightened again.

  “Cassandra, where have you been?”

  “Grandfather, I…” she began, shocked by the earl’s sudden appearance. “Have you been looking for me?”

  “You disappointed Roger when you refused to go into dinner with him.” Was that censure in his voice?

  “It’s been a stressful evening, sir.” That was the truth, though she had trouble meeting his gaze. “I couldn’t bring myself to eat. I needed some fresh air and a few moments to gather my composure.”

  “You’ve been on the balcony?”

  Cassandra looked at her grandfather because an odd inflection shaded the old man’s words. His pale eyes were trained on something beyond her, and she felt her stomach lurch as she turned to peer over her shoulder. Lord Sutherfield had chosen that moment to emerge from the gloom of the balcony.

  The marquess lingered in the doorway where he pulled at the cuffs of his coat with casual indifference, while lazily surveying his surroundings. His glance fell on Cassandra, and it sharpened noticeably before he looked past her to Lord Whittingham.

  For several moments Lord Sutherfield’s expression remained unchanged, his scrutiny flicking back and forth between the earl and Cassandra. Then the ghost of a smile eased his mouth, and he nodded almost imperceptibly in their direction. Having done so, he showed them his back and slowly sauntered from the room.

  Cassandra could feel her grandfather stiffen beside her.

  “Do you know that man?” he demanded of her.

  “Only to meet.” She cocked her gaze in her grandfather’s direction, wondering what he would say if he knew she had just kissed that brief acquaintance. In all fairness, she really hadn’t kissed the marquess—he had kissed her. Still, she knew she had been involved in something highly improper.

  “Who is he?” he asked.

  “I know who he is.” Roger interrupted the conversation.

  Unaware of his approach, Cassandra turned an irritated look on him. The one thing she had gleaned about her cousin was that he “knew” a li
ttle about everything.

  “Yes, I know him,” Roger continued, his nose pinched in disapproval. “He is the Marquess of Sutherfield, and I’ve heard he’s not to be trusted with the ladies.” This last was said presumably for her benefit.

  Cassandra gritted her teeth.

  “That’s Sutherfield’s heir?” her grandfather asked. “I invited him tonight. I wouldn’t have done so had I known of his reputation.” He turned to her, concern etched on his features. “Cassandra…?”

  How irksome that she had been put in a position of having to reassure him. If she had needed to convince Quintin James, she would have put her arm around her father and told him not to worry his dear old head on her behalf. But this was different. She did not know the earl, and she resented having to answer to him. Her feelings for the marquess, nonexistent as they were, belonged to her. She risked a little rebellion.

  “The marquess and I are just met—there is nothing more to it than that.” Her tone was haughty and dismissing.

  A thundercloud gathered on the earl’s brow. “That’s a good thing, for I guarantee that man has no place in your future.”

  Her heart skipped a panic-stricken beat. What in heaven’s name had he meant by that remark?

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand you, sir. Even I’m not in a position to guarantee my future. There are many decisions still to be made, and I am quite capable of doing that myself when the time comes.”

  He had frightened her. Cassandra admitted that to herself since her heart had not yet resumed its normal rhythm. But she wasn’t a coward, either. This was the very thing her father had warned her about, and she’d better take a stand right now or this man would own her life.

  Lord Whittingham’s next words made it clear how difficult a task she had in front of her. “Make no mistake, Cassandra, you will do as you are told. Whether you like it or not, with your birth comes certain obligations. You will do your duty.”