In the Garden of Seduction

by Cynthia Wicklund

  She tried to speak, but couldn’t. She meant to struggle, but didn’t. Instead, a dark excitement deep in her belly burst forth and radiated through her body. She relaxed against him, the fight completely deserting her. Her only denial was a vague shaking of her head.

  Her lids drifted downward, and briefly she wondered if he would do to her what he had done before. She need not have worried. His mouth came down on hers as if he were thirsting for her.

  Cassandra’s heart rattled with such force, she feared it might explode. A great welling of sensation surged forth immersing her in its sweetness. Nerve endings came alive in places she had never acknowledged, a delicious feeling steadily increasing to a pulsing warmth.

  A soft whimper escaped her. It shocked her but she could feel the marquess feasting on her excitement, drawing from her his own gratification.

  He did not let her go, instead wrapping one arm around her waist while bringing his other hand to the base of her neck. Snaking his fingers into her hair, he dislodged the ribbon, loosening the red curls.

  She melted into his embrace as his fiery mouth continued its relentless exploration, moving aggressively across her parted lips, forcing her to respond. And then his tongue found her, tasting her, pleasuring her.

  All at once the marquess released her mouth, although he continued to hold her fast against him. Breathing harshly, he stared down at her, his dark features contorted by lust. His stimulated body was pressed indecently against her hip.

  “See what you do to me?” he growled. He made it sound like an accusation.

  Cassandra looked at him, stricken. She was reeling, not only from wounded sensibilities, but a raging passion gone out of control. This was dreadfully wrong, and still she had not wanted him to end it. If he kissed her again she was lost.

  For several long moments he held her, his gaze traveling over her fevered face. The examination seemed unending, and she stared back at him because his compelling eyes would not free her.

  At last he spoke. “Are you angry with me?”

  “No, my lord, but you’ve made my point,” she forced the words through a throat gone tight with emotion. “We should not be alone together.”

  Lord Sutherfield brought his hand from the back of her neck and set his index finger beneath her chin, lifting her face to his. He ran his thumb across her bottom lip, his eyes taking on a predatory glow. He chuckled softly.

  “Ah, Miss James, what an intriguing woman you are. You never fail to entertain me. We do have something in common, you know.”

  “We do?”

  “Yes, indeed.” He gave her a slow smile. “We are both fighting a burning desire for the other. You do desire me, don’t you, Miss James?”

  Was he taunting her? His attitude did not appear derisive. His words did bring her around, though. She felt as if she were surfacing through the sensual layers of an erotic dream. She began to struggle from his grip.

  “I may be naive, Lord Sutherfield, but even I know desire does not have to mean anything. I refuse to pretend there is more to it than that.”

  The marquess dropped his arm from her waist, and she stepped away from him.

  “The man who loves you had better protect his ego,” he said in a dry voice, “for you won’t make it easy.”

  “You are the most insufferably conceited man I’ve ever met. You don’t need me to confirm your self-worth.”

  “Maybe not, but for some reason it’s important to me.”

  He looked deadly serious, but Cassandra was afraid to trust him. She sent her troubled gaze across the room to Timothy. The child slept despite the charged atmosphere in the room.

  “I shouldn’t have come. I was so worried about the boy and so angry with my grandfather, I didn’t think.”

  “Hindsight,” he conceded. “Though I, for one, am glad you did.”

  “You will let Timothy know I was here?”

  He nodded. “I will tell him his beautiful red-haired angel flew in and blessed him while he slept.” His eyelids drooped. “I’ll not tell him what the beautiful angel did for me.”

  Cassandra’s hand went to her warm cheek. “I blush more in your presence than I ever have in my whole life. Is there nothing you won’t say?”

  “If I put before you everything that is teeming in my lust-filled brain, you would run from me in fear.”

  “I’m already afraid of you, my lord.”

  She reached for the doorknob. Stepping into the hall, she tossed him one more look filled with misgiving and, with as much dignity as she could muster, made her departure.

  *****

  Simon watched her leave. He stood at the threshold of the chamber, his arm over his head, elbow resting against the doorjamb.

  It wasn’t him she feared. He had felt her response to his kiss. But when she had moaned against his mouth, he had thought his own desire would rise up and overtake him. Although he could not deny her face and body drew him in the beginning, her passion incited him. Her fevered answer to his kiss had been the reason he had almost lost control.

  He wondered, reentering the room and closing the door, if she knew how near she had come to losing her virtue. He suspected she had been close to yielding to him, and that had been a heady discovery. So why had he allowed her to slip from his grasp when it seemed his most fervent desire was about to be realized?

  Simon did not seduce virgins, yet somehow he had separated Miss James from those tiresome females. She wasn’t a woman of easy virtue, either. She was different. He had pulled back because he did not want to hurt her.

  He had probably scared her away once more. The last time they were together it took a fortnight and an emergency to bring her back to him. And he couldn’t take credit for that. What would he do if she decided to avoid him again? The idea that he might have to simply wait made him groan with frustration.

  Simon sighed as he took his seat next to the bed. “Well, Tim, it’s just you and me,” he said.

  He leaned against the chair back and closed his eyes. He had just begun to doze when a tap at the door interrupted his rest.

  Harry entered the room. “Do you have a minute, Simon?”

  “I thought you had gone to bed.”

  “Couldn’t sleep.” Harry crossed the chamber and dropped down on the edge of the mattress. He stared at the marquess for a moment before continuing. “I just saw Miss James to her horse.”

  “Is that why you could not sleep? Afraid I might eat her?”

  “This isn’t amusing, Simon. She looked upset when she left.”

  “Did she say anything?” Simon asked cautiously.

  “Not a word but she seemed on the verge of tears.”

  “What are you asking me, Harry?”

  “Damned if I know. No, that’s not true. I suppose I want to know what happened in here. You can tell me to go to the devil if you like, but I’m not going to deny it has me worried.”

  Simon pulled in a deep breath and expelled it through his mouth. He came forward in his chair. “I kissed her.” Suddenly, he was unable to meet his friend’s gaze.

  “I had a feeling about all this,” Harry said. “Miss James is a fine young lady, Simon. You will compromise her if you continue this way. It would be different if you were not playing cat and mouse with her, but you and I both know your intentions are not serious.”

  The marquess’ eyes narrowed. “What is Miss James to you, Harry?”

  “I like her—nothing more, nothing less,” Harry said in a bland voice.

  “So do I,” Simon agreed, relaxing. “Thing is, I feel compelled to pursue her when I’m in her company.” He raked his hands through his hair, chagrined with his inability to explain himself. “I don’t like my behavior anymore than you do.”

  “Perhaps she is becoming important to you,” Harry said, his attitude turning appraising.

  “I hardly know her. Only foolish people believe that love happens instantly. No,” he said, shaking his head to emphasize his point, “it’s passion, Harry, that’s all.
It’s that damnable red hair—you know how I am about red hair.”

  “I see what you mean. That hair on a bran-faced woman, twice the size of Miss James, would have the same effect. A shrew with that glorious mane would be turning you into knots. Yes, yes, what you say makes perfect sense.”

  “Bloody hell!” the marquess barked. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m aware that I seem unreasonable.” He stood and walked across the room, then spun around to face his friend. “You want to know the truth? I want to bed her, and if she gives me half a chance I’m going to do just that. If that makes me an unprincipled fiend, so be it.”

  Harry stood as well, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s not my aim to be a man’s conscience, Simon. I do feel some responsibility, though. Lord Whittingham is my neighbor and Miss James is his granddaughter.”

  “I think we’ve had this discussion before,” Simon said intractably. “I’ll just have to see this thing through to the end, and I’m afraid you will have to bear with me.”

  “Maybe you ought to think about settling down. After all, you are of an age,” Harry ventured. “Heirs and all that.”

  “Dammit, man, you’re older than I am. How about taking some of your own good advice.”

  Harry sent him a smile filled with mockery. “When I find a woman who does to me what Miss Cassandra James does to you, I won’t hesitate for a moment. And why should I? When fate takes a hand, you’re lost anyway, dear boy. All a fight does is ensure much blood will be spilled before the ultimate surrender. I never was one to engage in a battle I couldn’t win.”

  And on that enigmatic note he exited the chamber.

  Simon gritted his teeth. That annoying little bastard had a full-blown talent for making one think. Unfortunately, thinking was the last thing he wanted to do right now.

  What he did want was to steep himself in the memory of the kiss he had shared with Miss James. He wanted to remember her rising passion and where it could have led them. He wanted to imagine her voluptuous body beneath his probing hands, her warm thighs cradling his hips as he made love to her. Those reflections were more than welcome.

  Too bad the very fantasies meant to distract him from thinking about the future had the added effect of keeping him awake and frustrated. He returned to his room, but it was some time later before he finally fell into a restless sleep.

  *****

  The ride home for Cassandra was a blur as a host of images clouded her brain. She had believed Lord Sutherfield when he said he would help Timothy, but until she had seen for herself she could not rest. Still, she had not expected to walk into the situation that awaited her. She was as green as grass, she thought angrily.

  Why did he hound her, forcing her to experience feelings that were completely unwelcome? It was wrong for a gentleman to attempt to seduce a virtuous young lady. Cassandra wondered if his actions came from a lack of respect.

  Yet he had held himself back tonight. She had been dangerously close to losing her virginity, and she had not been the one in control. That more than anything frightened her. Given another day like today, if he decided to finish what he had begun, would she be able to resist?

  She could not honestly answer in the affirmative. She must make sure not to be in that position again, she decided. Lord Sutherfield posed a very real threat, and it was her duty to keep herself out of harm’s way.

  The day had broken. The sky glowed pink with the coming sun, and Cassandra entered her grandfather’s stable yard with trepidation. She had no hope of evading the servants. They would be up and moving about by now, but perhaps she wouldn’t have to face her relatives yet.

  The head groom met her at the barn entrance.

  “Mr. Donner, how are you this wonderful day?” she greeted with false enthusiasm.

  “I do well, miss,” he said coolly. “You’ve been out riding? I want you to please call someone if you need a horse saddled. Surely your grandfather would not like you riding without a groom in attendance.”

  Cassandra cringed under his disapproving stare. She had forgotten that she was riding astride. She wanted to ask him not to tell on her, but she was too proud to grovel. He had probably made up his mind, anyway.

  She slid from the mare’s back without waiting for the groom’s help. “You are right, Mr. Donner. I’m still learning the rules, I’m afraid. I’ll do better next time.”

  He thawed a little. “Yes, miss, I understand. You just ask for me. I’ll help with whatever you need.”

  Cassandra flashed him a brilliant smile as she turned toward the house. She had lied to the groom, of course. Quintin James would have scolded her roundly if he had caught her riding without a saddle and groom.

  She let herself in through the kitchen, ignoring the startled looks of the servants preparing the morning meal. Her grandfather would not be down to breakfast for at least twenty minutes, so she headed for the main staircase. She was grateful that he lived by a rigid schedule.

  Only a half dozen steps from her door and safety, her game was discovered.

  “Cassandra?” Roger approached her from his room at the end of the hall, a deep furrow creasing his brow. “Why are you awake at this hour?”

  She swung around to look at him. “Roger, are you awake as well? This must be an early morning for everyone. Except Penelope, that is.”

  “Why are you dressed like that? You look terrible.”

  “I wanted to ride my horse in comfort. That’s why I went early, so no one would see me.” She sent him a hopeful smile.

  He sniffed, his nostrils pinched with disapproval. “You must learn, Cassandra, there are some things a lady does and some things a lady does not do. Riding over the countryside like a hoyden is unacceptable behavior.”

  Her conciliatory effort evaporated into anger. This had been a difficult morning, and she was in no mood for a lecture, especially from the likes of Roger.

  “I am sorry you don’t approve of the way I spent my morning, but it’s none of your business, Roger.”

  He puffed up like an indignant toad. “It is my business,” he countered. “As your future husband it’s my duty to see that you conduct yourself in a proper fashion. I have my reputation to consider as well as yours. I’ll not be embarrassed by you.”

  He could not have said anything to aggravate her more. “Frankly, I don’t care if I embarrass you or not. I’ve told you before and I will tell you again, there is no marriage in our future.”

  Something shifted in his gaze that served as a subtle warning, and Cassandra’s breath caught in her throat. Roger grabbed her by the arms, much as the marquess had done, and set his fleshy lips to hers. It was an angry kiss, passionless, and she was filled with disgust.

  He flung her from him. “We will marry. I suggest you get used to the idea.”

  He turned and stalked away, leaving her with her mouth hanging open.

  Cassandra found her room and twisted the knob with a shaky hand. She crossed to the bed and sat down, her knees weak. She had grown careless where Roger was concerned, but this last episode served as a reminder that her cousin was not as harmless as he seemed. Suddenly, she felt less certain of her ability to control what was happening to her.

  Strangest of all was the realization that not only Roger but another gentleman had kissed her in the span of an hour. Her response to each man had been so different, she wondered if something was wrong with her. The marquess had left her trembling with desire. Roger had made her feel like emptying her stomach in the nearest chamber pot.

  One thing was for certain, she had no intention of spending the remainder of her life married to a man she prayed would not be too demanding. She must convince her grandfather and Roger that their plan for her future was not possible. What she hoped with regard to Lord Sutherfield, she refused to think about.

  *****

  CHAPTER 8

  “Miss, there’s a commotion outside on the drive. Your grandfather has requested your presence.”

  Cassandra pushed back her
chair, coming to her feet from the desk where she penned a letter to Sophy. “What is it, Toby?” she asked, smoothing her skirt.

  “A man has arrived demanding the return of his son.”

  Her chest tightened with dread. If it was who she feared, she was about to be in a great deal of trouble. She nodded at the servant, following him from the room.

  She passed through the main hall and out the front entrance. A disreputable looking person had taken up a belligerent stance on her grandfather’s front step. The man reeled on unsteady feet, seemingly unconcerned with his drunken condition.

  “That’s her,” he yelled.

  She sent her grandfather an uncertain glance as the old man turned to look at her.

  “Cassandra, this is Mr. Bailey. Says his son Timothy has been missing for more than four days. Claims Timothy was the boy you found by the side of the road.” The earl gave her a penetrating stare as he continued. “I’ve explained to him that his son was taken back on the very night that you discovered him. He disagrees with me.”

  Cassandra was not an easy liar, but the need for an immediate answer gave her inspiration. She took a deep breath and blurted, “We discovered the little boy was not Mr. Bailey’s son.”

  An odd hush descended upon the servants who had gathered on the drive to watch the proceedings. Mr. Fennigan, part of the small group, watched his mistress with a keen but impassive expression. Presumably, he waited to see what she would say next before he indicted himself.

  “I don’t recall you mentioning that,” her grandfather ventured doubtfully.

  “He was a little beggar boy. I didn’t think it was important.” She allowed a hint of the disapproval she felt to color her answer.

  “She’s a liar,” Mr. Bailey interrupted, slurring. He continued to dance on wobbly legs while jabbing a wavering finger in Cassandra’s direction. “She knows where my Timothy is, and I want her to tell where she’s hiding ‘im.” He spat on the ground.