In the Garden of Temptation

by Cynthia Wicklund

  Adam’s gaze drifted down her figure.

  “My lord?” she ventured again, suddenly unsure.

  His attention continued to linger on the frumpy gown, and now Catherine knew for certain the garment had been an uninspired selection. She was thoroughly unnerved when at last Adam chose to look into her face, his expression avid with undisguised lust. Perhaps, she thought with sudden insight, it was not such a bad choice after all.

  “Come here,” he growled.

  Catherine put her hand to her throat and traveled the short distance that separated them, her emotions a potent mixture of anxiety and excitement. He continued to watch her, his nostrils flaring, his respiration visibly accelerating.

  As she drew near, he placed his hands on her shoulders while pulling her roughly against him. He stared into her pale features, his own face inches away. At last his gaze dropped to her parted lips and, slipping his fingers into her hair, he began to ravage her mouth.

  He rained kisses on her eyelids and cheeks before bringing his tongue to the tender hollow at the base of her throat. Adam ran his hands down the small of her back to grasp her buttocks. He pressed her tightly against his pelvis, and a groan exploded deep in his chest.

  Catherine felt overwhelmed by the onslaught of Adam’s passion and completely unprepared for her own violent response. “You go too quickly, my lord,” she managed weakly. “Please…”

  He lifted his head. “Adam,” he demanded, his breathing harsh.

  “Wh-what?”

  “My name is Adam. When you call me ‘my lord,’ you place a wedge between us I cannot like.” He lowered his voice to an erotic whisper. “I would have nothing between us—not even this gown.”

  Adam deftly released the string that held the top of her nightdress together. He ran his thumbs along her collarbone while easing the thin cotton garment from her shoulders.

  The pulse in her throat began to throb unbearably, and she crossed her wrists over her breasts, forestalling his efforts.

  Adam frowned. “Are you fearful?” he asked gently. “I’ve not perceived that as a problem before.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head, “uneasy, perhaps. It’s simply that…well, we’ve hardly spoken. A supper’s been prepared. Aren’t you interested in eating?” She indicated the small dining table with the covered dishes.

  Adam drew her into his arms again and placed his mouth next to her ear. “Ah, Catherine,” he ground out, “there is only one appetite I feel compelled to satisfy. We’ll talk, I promise. But don’t make me wait. I beg you—it’s been so long.” He pulled back and, taking her face in his hands, forced her to look at him. “Love me now, sweeting, lest I splinter into a million wretched pieces.”

  Surely the good Lord had never intended a flesh and blood woman to resist such an exquisite entreaty. The man knew about seduction, no doubt about it. A pleasurable heat unfurled in her belly and radiated throughout her lower body.

  Catherine gave the neck of her gown one good yank, opening it completely. As she dropped her arms to her sides, it flowed in a wispy rustle down her naked form to pool at her feet.

  Adam went very still, the sudden tenseness around his eyes and mouth revealing a barely controlled fire. He did not ogle her, however, instead scooping her up into his arms and striding toward the bed. He laid her atop the quilted coverlet with the deference accorded fragile glass. Only then did she see him take a sidelong glance down her exposed length, lingering briefly before bringing his burning gaze back to hers.

  Leaning over her, he placed his hands on either side of her body, his expression serious.

  “Before we begin,” he said, “I think I should tell you something I’ve only recently discovered for myself.” He paused and drew in a deep breath. “I’m in love with you, Catherine. What we do here is in honor of that love. I would have you feel no other way.”

  He was wooing her with every wile at his command, reassuring her of his devotion, yet she detected vulnerability in his confession. He need not have worried. A sense of well-being drifted over Catherine, and a caressing warmth seized her heart, long frozen from disuse and despair.

  “Oh, Adam, I knew anything was possible in this room.” She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into her embrace. “I do perceive one problem, though.” She bit her lower lip, watching him coyly.

  “What might that be, love?” he asked, seemingly bemused by her quicksilver temperament.

  “I think it unfair that you are overdressed. After all,” she murmured, “I’m more ready to proceed than you are.”

  That provided all the encouragement he needed. The Earl of Ashworth disrobed in record time, flinging his garments willy-nilly about the tiny apartment in his haste.

  Catherine watched in fascination—and something more—as his handsome body surfaced from beneath the layers of discarded clothing.

  Adam stripped off his drawers and looked up just in time to intercept Catherine’s wide-eyed gape of astonishment as she became aware of the physical results of his arousal. Her gaze shifted to his face and a pregnant silence filled the room. A sudden merry twinkle lit her eyes as she noted his embarrassed expression.

  “Should I be afraid?” she asked.

  “Witch!” He laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls and dancing over their heads. He fairly leapt upon Catherine as he joined her on the bed. Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled on his back, pulling her on top of him.

  Catherine gazed down at him, heavy tresses trailing over her shoulders and onto his chest. Her cheeks felt flushed as she watched him, and a slow smile touched her lips.

  “My God, you’re ravishing!” He spoke in hushed tones.

  She was acutely aware of the taut masculinity of his nakedness where she lay pressed against him, and her breathing intensified. Leaning forward, she set her mouth to his and ever so slightly touched her tongue to his bottom lip.

  It was as though she released the cork on a bottle of champagne. Adam’s rigidly controlled emotions erupted, spewing forth to overwhelm them both. And, like the uncorked wine, there would be no turning back.

  Adam grasped the back of her head, pressing her face firmly against his own, so her lips parted beneath the urgency of his kiss. Grabbing Catherine around the waist, he brought her onto her back, covering her with his body.

  “Look at me!” he rasped.

  She glanced at him, only to be riveted by the passionate frenzy transforming his face. His dark eyes flashed wildly with unchecked desire. At that moment he took her, and Catherine was sucked into a maelstrom of exquisite sensation. She felt no pain this time, just burgeoning arousal promising the ecstasy of release.

  Adam pushed into her, penetrating the slick, tight passage completely. He paused at once, clearly shaken as though he fought to stave off a climax that came dangerously close before he was anywhere near to being ready. He inhaled a quivering breath, seeming to steady himself, and chanced the thrusting again. He withdrew then plunged deeply, shuddering.

  Catherine reveled in his passion, a passion she sensed had gone nearly out of control. This time she knew what he sought and she wanted it, too. She wanted to be closer to him, to intensify the sensation. All she could think of was where his body was joined to hers—the hypnotic motion, the pressure.

  Mindless now and panting breathlessly, she wrapped her legs around his hips. Straining hard against him, her movements became as intense and frantic as his. That was all it took. She came immediately, her gratification so violent she opened her mouth in a silent scream.

  At that moment, Adam slipped his hands beneath her hips and, drawing her even tighter to him, he buried himself in her one last time. Rearing up, a low, guttural rumble tore from his throat. He rocked back and forth, as though wringing the last of the feeling from his climax. Then he slumped, exhausted, on top of her. He groaned into the heated flesh of her neck.

  “I’m sorry. I left you behind. I swear I’m not usually so selfish.”

  Catherine cradled his damp b
row next to her breast. “I was with you every moment.”

  Adam raised his head, sudden hope lighting his gaze. “Are you certain? You are not just trying to console me?”

  She pursed her lips, considering the weighty matter. “No, no. I’m fairly certain,” she said, amusement tingeing her words. “It’s a difficult thing to mistake, you see.”

  The earl chuckled. “True, true…”

  She hesitated then, suddenly shy. “There’s something I forgot to mention.” As he hovered over her, Catherine traced a pattern on his chest with her finger before looking at him through her lashes.

  “Yes?” he encouraged her gently.

  “I love you as well.”

  The Earl of Ashworth was plainly undone, the emotion flooding his features revealing how much her confession meant to him. Easing off her onto his side, he pulled Catherine into his arms with her back to him. His touch was no longer sexual, instead tender as if seeking something else, something he had not even known he needed.

  “I should be leaving,” she mumbled, her voice drowsy.

  Adam drew her closer. “Stay with me awhile, sweeting,” he implored her. “I cannot bear the thought of you leaving me so soon.”

  Catherine nestled deeper into his embrace and allowed herself to be persuaded. Within moments, she slept.

  *****

  “Where are you going?”

  “It grows late, Adam. I risk discovery if I wait any longer.” Catherine stood in the middle of the room dressed only in her shift and drawers.

  “What is the hour?”

  “Nearing five o’clock. If I hurry I can be home before dawn breaks.”

  “Damn, I don’t like this part of the arrangement.”

  Sitting up in the bed, Adam made an effort to rub the sleep from his bleary eyes. When last he glanced at the clock it was half past three. Rest had been long in coming, but now it did not want to release its hold on him.

  Catherine nodded. “I had the devil of a time forcing myself from under the covers. It was very pleasant there.” She smiled regretfully at him, before reaching for the drab brown gown and stepping into the voluminous skirt.

  “This is unacceptable,” he grumbled as he leaned against the headboard. “I want you again, and now you are leaving me.”

  The last catch on her bodice in place, Catherine put on her shoes, and climbed back into the bed to sit next to the earl. She took his hand and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “This is not nearly as bad as when you left me at the castle,” she reasoned with him. “Then I thought I would never see you again. At least now I know I can see you all the time, and occasionally we can be here together. That gives me comfort.” She placed a kiss on his cheek.

  Adam gathered her into his arms, sighing heavily. “I’ll not be approaching you in society anymore.”

  “Oh…?”

  “Your very good friend, Lady Richards—and mine, I might add—has deemed my public displays dangerous to your reputation. She gave me a tongue lashing at the Farthington’s ball last evening after I took you onto the balcony. It seems we caused quite a stir.”

  “I don’t care what people think of me,” she said, attitude defiant.

  “I do, my dear. You’re a fine, honorable woman. I’ll not have the cats shredding your character because of my indiscretion. We have the ton guessing. I suggest we not compound the error by confirming the gossip.” Though he was apologetic, she sensed his resolve was steadfast. “I disliked Charlotte’s lecture but, I must admit, she was right.”

  “When will I see you again?”

  Adam cupped her chin in his hand as he turned her to face him. “That’s up to you, my darling. Night or day, I will be eagerly awaiting your summons.” He bussed her lightly on the lips. “Please do not make me wait too long.”

  “I’ll send Edna with word when I’m able.” She climbed off the bed and headed for the door.

  “I would accompany you, but I don’t think we should chance being seen together,” he said. “I told the driver to stay in the hall and escort you to the carriage.”

  “He’s been out there all night?”

  Adam grinned. “He’s been duly rewarded, I promise you.”

  “Well, then…” Catherine paused in the doorway, her smile sad as she gazed at the man who was now her lover. “This isn’t going to be easy, is it?”

  “No, love, it’s not going to be easy.” Adam wanted to tell her differently, but he knew it would be a lie.

  She continued to watch him for a moment more then slipped into the hall, pulling the door behind her.

  The earl listened to her footsteps until they faded from hearing before easing back under the coverlet. He stared into the pre-dawn dimness, unable to resume his rest. He missed her. Her fragrance clung to the pillow, and where she had slept the bedding had turned cold and forbidding.

  No, it wasn’t going to be easy—not easy, at all. Trouble is, he thought, it’s a bit like sticking one’s foot in quicksand. One did not sense the danger until it was too late. By then, of course, the struggle only served to ensure the outcome.

  Had he been warned of what lay in his path when he consented to the baron’s invitation, would he have accepted so readily? He wanted to believe sanity would have prevailed, but when he thought of his sweet lady he knew foresight would have made no difference, no difference at all. Destiny had determined his future, and he might as well enjoy it because he damned sure couldn’t change it.

  “Right then, I give up,” he said in disgust.

  The bed ropes creaked under his weight as he hauled himself off the mattress. With Catherine gone, the roomed seemed empty and sterile and he had no wish to stay.

  Five minutes found the earl donning his coat. He glanced at the bed wistfully as he remembered his last hours there. Strangely, it wasn’t the passionate lovemaking that filled his thoughts but the comfort of time spent in the arms of one more dear than life itself. Adam fervently prayed Catherine would send word soon.

  *****

  “I tell you, my lady, Emily swears she saw him.”

  Arriving from her assignation with the earl, the baroness was confronted by her harried servant. “You’re giving me a headache, Edna. Who is Emily?”

  “The new parlor maid—you remember.”

  “Oh yes, I do. What is it Emily thinks she witnessed?”

  Catherine sighed inwardly. She did not want to deal with domestic problems right now. All she wanted was to climb into her bed and allow her thoughts to dwell on her evening with Adam as she drifted into sleep.

  “Emily doesn’t understand what she saw, but I do.”

  “Edna, I’m exhausted. Please get to the point.”

  That was enough to subdue the little woman’s enthusiasm. “Yes ma’am,” she said contritely and swallowing began anew.

  “I overheard Emily telling Cook that the baron went upstairs early yesterday afternoon. He was very drunk and swearing like a sailor. Mr. Gant attended him. It shocked me so I made her repeat her story.”

  Puzzled, the baroness said, “I don’t think there is a person in this house who did not realize my husband imbibed most of the day. The big surprise would have been if he had not been drunk.”

  “Don’t you see? Mr. Gant told me Lord Bourgeault had become unconscious and had to be taken to his room. He said he expected his lordship to sleep for hours. If the baron went upstairs without help, he was not passed out. Maybe he never was.”

  Catherine looked at her maid. “Why do you suppose Willie would purposely misrepresent the situation?” she asked slowly.

  Edna shook her head. “I don’t know, my lady, but having had most of the night to think on it, I believe he made a special effort to do just that.” She eyed her mistress before continuing. “I’m certain he expected me to come to you with the information.”

  Catherine sat down on the nearest chair and stared into space for several moments before bringing her gaze back to her maid.

  “It’s hard to believe the
only person to witness this charade was Emily.”

  “Of course, his lordship did not wish to be seen, so he waited until no one was around.”

  “Except Emily.”

  “Except Emily,” Edna agreed. “Although I’m sure he didn’t mean for her to see him, either.”

  “Do you think he’s spying on me?”

  The maid shrugged. “It did occur to me. I just don’t see how Lord Bourgeault could participate in a hoax, him being so drunk and all.”

  “Don’t let that fool you, my dear. Edgar is at his most cunning when he is in his cups.” The baroness stood up. “I think I’ll step across the hall and see how the baron is getting on.”

  Opening her door, Catherine slipped into the corridor and tiptoed toward her husband’s room. Loud snores emanated from within the baron’s den, and she felt a sudden panic as she reached for the doorknob. He sounded as though he slept, she thought. Perhaps she should leave well enough alone.

  On a whim she twisted the knob and eased the door open slightly, peeking through the ensuing crack. The early dawn did not penetrate the darkened apartment, and several seconds passed before her eyes adjusted to the gloom. She pushed the door wider.

  At that moment, the baroness caught sight of Willie Gant sitting upright in a rocker by the head of the baron’s bed. He stared at her from across the murky room, and it took all of Catherine’s self-control not to screech with alarm.

  The little man’s eyes gleam malevolently in the blackness, but he neither moved nor spoke. He watched her like a ruthless serpent, unhurried, as if waiting for the precise moment to strike. A prickle of foreboding slithered across her backbone, and Catherine turned and fled.

  She dashed back into her own room and, closing the door, leaned against it as if the hounds of Hell were soon to follow. Her heart drummed painfully, and Catherine clapped her hand over her breast in an effort to still the erratic motion.

  “My lady…?” Edna stepped forward. “Has something happened to upset you?”

  “Willie Gant! He’s in Edgar’s room.”

  The maid looked nonplussed. “Is it unusual for Mr. Gant to spend the night in Lord Bourgeault’s quarters?”