“You be yourself, nothing else, or I’ll find some way to reprimand you, and you’ll not like that,” he warned her with a smile.
“I suppose with your brothers and all these servants looking on?” she mused aloud.
He pulled her up to him and held her. She was glad to have the warmth of his arms around her, the heat from his chest transmitted to her body, warming her warm breasts til they throbbed hot. She knew they have each other again before the night was out; there was too much passion still within her. She’d demand it of him, and he would respond. Joshua was likely right. It was better to be herself, than put on useless airs, that only made her feel washed up and pinched.
“You come to bed with me tonight, Joshua, and make love to me again,” Fiona said, nuzzling against his neck. “Don’t talk to your brothers, love, they’ve claimed enough of your time.”
“I will, lass,” he said. He pulled her clothes up to cover her breasts, and pushed her skirt down to cover her privates. Making her decent enough, he picked her up in his arms, and carried her out of the pantry, up the back stairs to their room.
Chapter Eleven
Days later, Joshua pulled Fiona from bed much earlier than she was used to getting up.
“Out now, lazy one, you’ve stayed in bed much too long.” He was sounding kind, but very firm.
“What?” she looked up at his bearded face with its mischievous eyes staring into hers. “Ah, come back to bed,” she said, a reminder of the lust that had driven them the night before. It was returning with a potent hunger raised again by just seeing his face.
“No, not now,” he affirmed. Tugging at her arm, he pulled her from the bed. Though she was resisting, he pulled anyway.
“What are you doing to me?”
“Making you work,” he explained.
“Work? How? What?”
She was naked, and quite provocative looking, though for a change Joshua refused to pay attention to her jiggling breasts and shimmering thighs. Instead, he drew a dress from her closet: a work dress she’d not worn since she left the cottage. Slipping it over her head, he even buttoned it for her.
“Why my old dress?” she asked, still bewildered by her husband’s strange behavior. “For what?”
“Curing your boredom,” he said.
Her eyes widened in curiosity. “And how are you going to do that?”
“Inspiration, the stars, perhaps my dreams reminded me, lass. The perfect thing to keep you happy here, and out of my hair.”
“Out of your hair, I bother you so?”
“You make my life worth all this trouble I’m enduring here, but you need something to make yours worthwhile too. So this is for both of us.”
“And tell me, sir, what is it?”
He refused to answer her directly. Finding her shoes, he sat her down on her chair, and the kneeling at her feet, he slipped each one into the tiny footwear and laced them. Taking her by the hand again, he lead her down the stairs and out back door of the house.
“Where are we going?”
His smile was generous, his eyes twinkled with merriment. “This, my love, is a magical place,” he said with as much magic in his expression as in the allusion that he teased her with. She followed him into the garden, through familiar paths she’d walked several times since she arrived at the estate. And then, without warning, he disappeared into the depths of an enormous hedge that lined the pathway.
“Where’d you go?” she exclaimed, as if her eyes were playing tricks on her.
Joshua’s hand reached out and tugged at her, pulling her into the hedge with him, into an unseen, and overgrown entrance to yet another small garden beyond.
Breaking free of the scratchy bush, Fiona dusted herself off, and then stared in wonder.
Joshua was right. It was a magical place, like some fairy land, even though it required the eye to see beyond the lush foliage and arms of the thick vines that entangled it, to a place that had once been an enchanting and well-kept retreat.
Circumscribed by the enormous hedge, it was a private place, and cool, much cooler than the formal garden on the other side, that was now bathed in sunlight. It would be a couple of hours before the sun would reach inside these walls.
The garden floor was covered with the undergrowth that had gone wild, but on close inspection, it appeared there was a brick pathway that circled its perimeter. Much of the faded red clay was broken by moss, bursting through the cracks, displaying the most delicate white and lavender flowers amid the tiniest of green leaves.
There had once been cultivated rosebushes that were now uncultivated and growing freely, their thorny branches entwining like savage lovers, spreading everywhere. The roses surrounded a fountain in the middle of the garden. Fiona could just barely see a gray statue rising from the center, and though the marble was now caked with grime, the form still took the most splendid shape: the nude body of a woman with her hands upstretched as if she was reaching for heaven, or perhaps posing for her lover. A delicate smile could still be seen on her dainty face. Her aquiline nose depicted an aristocratic bearing, and downcast eyes revealed her humility as she exposed so much of her physical treasures. Like most statues of the naked female body, her attributes were perfectly formed from her breasts to the soft swell of her belly, to her firm thighs and the crotch that was left uncovered by even the merest figleaf design. Fiona suspected that viewing the other side of the piece, she’d find the woman’s rounded rear would be as accurately depicted.
The young redhead could have looked at it for hours, were she given the time. She could study the face, and the perfection, and note the similarities between her own sensuous form and this fine lady’s. It didn’t escape her, that the hair on this maiden was not tied into some severe bun behind her head, or even classically piled atop her head; but was left loose, so that it dangled in curls about her face and down her back, very much the way Fiona often liked to wear hers. A fashion that her husband dearly loved.
“What do you think?” Joshua asked.
“I think this place must be the garden of pure carnal passion. Such an earthy quality.” Fiona’s loins were engaged as much as her curiosity. There was more to explore, but it would take some time, time to get beyond the bushy thorns and creeping wisteria and ivy. The task of doing so would be arduous, for she wouldn’t want to tear away the beautiful flowering vines, at least three kinds she could distinctly make out. She would protect them as she pruned them back.
There was a particular fragrance that hung in the air … remarkable for its delicacy, it seemed each breath she took suggested another form of plant life with its own distinct aroma.
This was one teeming jungle of sensation, that to touch or smell or look at required concentration, and an openness to detect, not just what was on the surface, but what was underneath. Only after some moments of careful scrutiny, did Fiona realize that encircling the fountain were stone creatures, little wood nymphs, or fairies perhaps. The architect of this place had a whimsical sense of humor as well as a libidinous appetite for sensuality.
“It was my mother’s garden,” Joshua said.
“Oh, my,” Fiona gasped. This was far more an entrance into that woman’s character than anything that had been said of her by Joshua, or Mrs. McCready, or the brothers. “And she created this?”
“It was a pleasure she could enjoy outdoors, though she had a gardener of her own, especially hired to keep the place well groomed. I’m afraid that it looks nothing like the way she had it. So wild, it’s rather lusty, almost savage, don’t you think?”
“I would agree.”
“It’s yours, Fiona, if you want it. I know how you love flowers, the out of doors, and I thought perhaps it could use your touch. Though I don’t expect you to do the heavy work with those thorny vines. You can direct the gardener, Mr. Stubbs, to take care of them as you see fit.”
“I think I’d rather do it myself,” Fiona said, in a very dreamlike way. That was the effect this place was having on her, ass
aulting her with such powerful messages of erotic sensuality.
“Whatever you wish, lass,” he answered.
“Strange that this is secluded. I know your mother was a bit of a recluse, but certainly she might have wanted to share this with other people?”
“I understand that once it was just another corner of the larger estate gardens,” Joshua told her. “But when my father saw what she’d done with the statuary she commissioned, he was so offended by it, he swore he would tear the whole thing apart. But, it was one thing about which she turned out to be more adamant than he; and instead of destroying it, she had the hedge enclose it. I think she liked it better this way anyway. As far as my father was concerned, out of his sight, it was no longer his concern; and he made sure that the opening to it was concealed so well, that people walking by wouldn’t easily realize that there was something on the other side.”
“I hope you won’t feel that way, Joshua,” Fiona responded. “I rather like the thought of entertaining you within these green walls.” There was wicked look on her face, and Joshua smiled, as she walked further into the interior of the overgrown haven.
Joshua stood back from her, and watched her fascinated green eyes move from place to place, looking as if her mind was furiously working already. She belonged here as wild as it was, as untamed and earthy and sensuous. He suspected that his common wife would be more at home than even his mother had been. Priscilla Kane had been a woman too interested in perfection to allow nature to do the work it did best, giving the place a sumptuous and carnal appeal it now held.
“So, you could spend some time here, Mrs. Kane, and not find yourself bored?”
She turned to her husband and smiled. “You know me well, Joshua,” she said.
“I do. I’m so glad that I thought of it. Hidden away, I’d almost forgotten. The gardener has completely neglected the place, and I’m afraid without a woman’s hand to rescue it, it would be gone completely unfit for any kind of restoration in a few more years.
She was quiet, unlike the sometimes talkative wife he was used to. She would get this way when she was overcome with thoughts and feelings too weighty for her to understand. This time however, Joshua hoped that her silence was a positive sign, this happenstance one that would delight her, not confuse, as she’d been so many times in their short time together. He suspected by the winsome smile on her lips that she was pleased. He would know soon how much, by the enthusiasm that she would put into reclaiming this garden for herself.
***
Fiona adored the garden and the work.
For six days following the unveiling of his mother’s private sanctuary, she slaved away within its untamed walls, taming the wildness into something she could manage.
She insisted on wearing pants several days, when the hardest work needed to be undertaken, and Joshua managed to find some of Galen’s old clothes for her to wear.
“My, how you excite me,” he said, when he first saw her in them. He eyed the way the garment fit tightly over her round bottom. He massaged her there, and in the crotch, rather pleased he could do it so easily without having to fool with long billowing skirts and her bloomers—when she wore them.
“You’ll have to hold off your lust, unless you plan to come take me in the garden; because I have much work to do, and I don’t have the time to make love.”
Joshua smirked at her, pleased to see her so happily engaged at last. Giving her a gentle kiss on the lips, he left her to her tasks, realizing he was more free to pursue the business that was claiming so much of his own time.
Fiona emerged each day tired from her task, scratched and bedraggled, but with a smile on her face. Even after washing herself for dinner and changing into presentable clothes, she looked more earthy, her complexion healthier, even it if was not as ladylike. In a house of men, the men appreciated her fresh robust attitude.
“Do I get an invitation to your fresh air boudoir?” Lowell asked her after dinner one day.
“I’ve no plans to invite a crowd to tea, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Then it could be tea for the two of us.”
“I’d think you’d have learned your lesson already,” she answered snappily as she walked off.
Lowell hadn’t changed, it was unlikely he ever would, but for the time being she was content to take Mrs. McCready’s and Joshua’s advice to ignore his annoying advances.
Some weeks after Fiona began working on the garden, Joshua announced his plans for the a short trip. “Three perhaps four days, I’ll be gone. You should have enough to keep you happy here?”
“I’ll miss you,” she replied worried about his absence. She was not feeling comfortable about being alone at the estate. Certainly there was nothing that would happen to her, but he was the rock on which she leaned. And the loneliness seemed to descend on her even while he was still at her side.
“You can bear it, lass. You’ve far more courage than you sometimes pretend.”
“I could go with you,” she suggested, but Joshua quickly shot that idea down with a scowling expression.
“There are some places women are not welcome, and others like your garden where they are. You keep to your own pursuits, and I’ll be back before you even miss me.”
Joshua was nearly right, except for missing her husband in bed at night, she was content enough to enjoy the work on the garden, and the other few things that kept her from discontented boredom.
On the second day of Joshua’s trip, she donned her britches and went to the garden as usual, slipping inside the opening in the hedge and finding herself instantly warmed by the sight before her. Much of the more difficult work was complete, the roses returned to their proper places, the vines clipped back and disentangled, except where she liked the effect of their wildness. She was going to have scrub the sculptures clean of the dirt and grit that appeared to be welded into the very stone. It might take some time, but she planned to chip it away and smooth the surfaces, so she could bring out the exquisite features that made the pieces so stunning. The little fairy sprites were almost like little children, their smiles needing the attention of an attentive mother. It made her think of having children herself, though she wondered at her barren body, wondered that it had been quite some time since she’d been making love regularly to Joshua, and there was no child yet in her womb.
On this day, Fiona was working about a stone bench on the far side of the hidden garden, something that it had taken days to even find for the undergrowth had covered it. On hands and knees, she worked on cleaning out around it, her bottom bobbing in the breeze, she thought undetected.
She wiggled about and squirmed in closer to get behind the stone, which was crumbling on one side. Hoping that it could be salvaged with a new leg, she was inspecting the back leg, not realizing as she did, her bottom was being thoroughly inspected by an admirer.
The man stood to one side of the garden, almost hidden by an arbor that Fiona was erecting at the gate. Without being readily noticed he could see her upper thighs covered in Galen’s pants fitting quite tightly about them. He could see how the crotch of the pants was riding up her rear crack between her bottom cheeks. He could just imagine his hands fondling her there, taking liberties to go between her legs, and caress her still lower. He would like to strip her of the pants altogether, and plant himself in a wet moist hole.
How to have her was a constant thought battering Lowell’s brain. With his brother gone for three days, hopefully more, he planned to take advantage of the moment.
When Fiona finally sat back on her haunches, and breathed a deep weary sigh, it was time to announce his presence lest he annoy her with surprise.
“Fiona,” he called softly.
She was startled and jumped a little looking in his direction. “What are you doing here?” she asked him.
“Initiating a truce?” he said with a pleasant grin.
She was immediately suspicious of the suggestion.
“Since we live in the same ho
use, and will likely for some time, I thought perhaps we should bury our differences.”
“We have no differences, sir. You’ve been a boorish ass to me, made comments I’ll never entertain, and I’ll not tolerate it. So, I’d appreciate your leaving me to my work.” She maintained a haughty proud bearing, even while he continued a pleasant smile.
“You’re right, Fiona, I’ve been very bad. Please forgive me?” He raised his eyebrows attempting to look chagrined. “It’s been sometime since we’ve had the advantage of one so beautiful in this house. I daresay, not since mother was gracing our table with her presence.”
As much as she was suspect of his motives, Fiona found herself softening just a little at the man’s overt ploy to lay her fears and angers to rest. Perhaps she could tolerate him for an innocent conversation.
“Why don’t you find a wife for yourself, Lowell?” she asked. “Certainly your good looks and your position would be sought after by many women.” She meant the question seriously.
“Ah, I cannot think of giving myself to just one woman my whole life.”
“Then take a mistress on the side. You could even change them with the season, and keep your need for variety taken care of.” She didn’t even try to hide her sarcasm.
“You think I would demean a wife so?”
“I think you’d have no problem with it. After all, it’s done all the time in these grand circles, is it not? Then you would not need to make indecent advances at your brother’s unwilling wife.”
“Again, Fiona, I apologize for my behavior.”
She continued to eye him suspiciously. “Please don’t be upset that I don’t believe you.”
He nodded, ever maintaining his sweetness and gentlemanly bearing. “I understand your reluctance to rest your fears, Mrs. Kane. But be assured that I am sincere.” He nodded to punctuate his vow. “I’ll leave you be,” he said, and turning away, Fiona watched as the man slipped out of the opening in the hedge.
She was certain his purpose for the visit was only to appease her aggravation, so he could make further advances. She had seen men like him work their duplicity with young women. The tavern had hosted many such men with cunning ways of talking to unsuspecting women. She’d been taken in by some, before Jerud had claimed her with his sincerity. And now, she was quite certain Lowell was doing nothing but being the scoundrel in a different guise.
In the Forest of the Night & The Barmaid and the Blacksmith Page 20