In the Garden of Temptation

by Cynthia Wicklund

  “I thought I’d have my morning meal and then take a ride,” she said. She made no reference to seeing the baby because mention of Annabelle invariably caused him irritation.

  “Where do you ride?” he asked, staring at her through suspicious eyes.

  “I don’t know. I just wanted to bask in the sunshine.” She tried to sidle passed him, hoping he would let her continue on her way.

  “Perhaps I’ll join you.”

  Damn him, she thought. How could anyone so drunk be so calculating? Now she would have to avoid the nursery altogether. He knew what he was doing. She knew he did.

  “You are, of course, free to do as you please,” she managed calmly as he finally allowed her to pass.

  But the baron’s perverse nature would not let her escape so easily. He trudged behind her to the dining hall, his unsure steps a constant reminder of his despised presence. Catherine ignored him as she poured herself tea, took toast from the sideboard and sat down. Edgar shuffled to the sideboard also and put an obscene helping on his plate before joining her.

  He plowed into his food, eating so quickly she wondered how he had time to taste his meal as it moved from his mouth to his gullet. He seemed oblivious to his own disgusting manners, gobbling mindlessly as remnants of his breakfast dribbled from the corner of his mouth, down his chin and onto his shirt.

  He glanced at his wife who stared at him in appalled silence, and he gave her a food-filled grin. “Good, ain’t it?” he said pleasantly, and then his efforts continued unabated until his dish was eaten clean. He stood from the table, refilled his plate and, sitting down, repeated the process from start to finish.

  By this time Catherine was so completely disgusted, she could not even contemplate tasting her toast. She took a sip of tea, hoping to clear the bile that had gathered in her throat.

  “Not hungry?” he asked innocently, although she could see he watched her more closely now.

  “It would seem not.”

  She spoke carefully as she became aware of the shift in his mood. Her nervousness escalated in response. His bleary vision had sharpened keenly, and she realized he was not as drunk as he had appeared. Perhaps the meal had sobered him somewhat.

  “Are you pregnant?”

  The question came like a shot out of nowhere, and Catherine jumped as if the imaginary bullet had found its mark. She took her courage in hand and answered him.

  “Since Lord Wimberly left here only days ago, it’s too soon to tell. But then, you knew that didn’t you, Edgar?”

  “You don’t take easily, do you?” he asked in a snide voice.

  “It’s not as simple as it would seem. It either happens or it does not. It’s not my fault regardless of the effort.”

  “No, suppose it’s not.” He sighed heavily, and for a moment he seemed almost reasonable. He brought his moody gaze to her face. “Get me the brandy.”

  “Edgar, don’t you—?”

  “Get me the bloody brandy!” he bellowed.

  What difference did it make anyway if he poured more of that poison down his throat? Maybe he would finally go to sleep, and she could go see Annabelle. She retrieved the decanter and placed it before him. Without benefit of glass, he raised the heavy crystal container to his mouth and took a deep swallow.

  Catherine stood uncertainly to one side of the table, wondering whether it was prudent to leave. He had not dismissed her, but he seemed to have forgotten her presence.

  The baron glanced at his wife. “Sit down.”

  She thought to argue but squelched the whim as unproductive. She took her seat once more.

  “I admit I don’t know how to accomplish my aim.” His words had already begun to slur again. “How am I to do it?”

  “Lord Wimberly has promised to come back, Edgar.”

  “I don’t want you to see him anymore,” he barked drunkenly, spittle forming on his loose lips.

  “Why, oh why, Edgar? I like him. It makes it easier.”

  “That’s the very reason—you like him.”

  He drank the liquor as though it were water, one slug after the other, until he was reeling in his chair. He tried to speak again, but the words were unintelligible.

  Catherine sat quietly, hands folded in her lap and watched her husband not figuratively but literally drink himself under the table. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he slipped from his chair, bringing the brandy decanter crashing down beside him. Luckily, it did not break. The whole process could not have taken more than twenty minutes. She picked up the bell next to her plate.

  Robby appeared in the doorway. “Yes, my lady?”

  “Your master requires some assistance in attaining his room. I would like you to get Willy and see what can be done.”

  Moments later the baron’s servant entered the dining hall.

  “We’d best leave him where he lies, my lady.” Clearly worried, his gaze darted to his master. “If he should find out we touched him there will be the devil to pay.”

  “It’s simple, Willy,” Catherine said smoothly. “Tell him he attained his chamber under his own power. He’ll never be able to prove differently.” Try as she might, she could not keep the contempt out of her voice.

  She rose from the table and left the two servants with an unenviable task. Upstairs, she rang for her maid.

  “Edna, I’ve come to a decision.”

  “My lady?”

  “We have to leave. I can’t wait in the hope that Lord Wimberly will return. I’m afraid for Annabelle.”

  Edna stared at her mistress, wide-eyed. “How do we do it?”

  “We can’t take much with us, that’s for certain. Do you think your young Robby will help us?”

  The servant blushed. “He’s not my Robby—” she began.

  “Do you think he will help?” Catherine asked impatiently.

  “Yes, my lady, I do.”

  “Pack a few things and be ready at a moment’s notice. It may take a day or two before we can leave without being accosted, but my husband is drinking heavily again and it’s only a matter time. While he is in one of his stupors is the time to leave, though I want to be certain he will be unconscious for more than a few hours. Willy on his own can do little to stop us, and I don’t think Edgar has any other servants he can fully trust.”

  “Where are we to go, my lady?” Edna asked in a small voice.

  “Home, Edna—back to Eddington. If my father won’t help me, I know my brother will. And now I think I’ll visit Annabelle. After that I’m going to take that ride I promised myself.”

  *****

  Catherine breathed deeply of the scented air. Stepping into the bright light from the dankness of the castle, the warmth of the sun flowed over her body like a soothing cloak.

  She had no idea why she felt so euphoric. She had seen Annabelle and that was cause for celebration, but it was more than seeing her child. Edgar lay in a drunken slumber in his upstairs bedroom, however, that knowledge only produced relief. Perhaps just making a decision was what she needed, for she had come to believe her world would finally be righted. Whatever the reason, she basked in the glow of optimism.

  She crossed the yard in a near-skip and entered the stables. “Mr. Brown,” she called to the old groom.

  Brown materialized from the gloom of the building, a furtive expression on his deeply lined features. “My lady?”

  “I’d like you to saddle my mare. This is too beautiful a day to waste on the indoors.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  The groom set about doing as he was bid, and quickly her horse was ready. He led the animal into the yard and assisted his mistress in mounting.

  Catherine smiled down at him cheerily. “I won’t be overlong, Mr. Brown,” she said, as she turned her mount.

  “Ah…my lady?” the groom ventured in a tentative voice. “Would you be willing to share your direction with me?”

  “Don’t worry.” She smiled reassuringly. “I’m just going for a short ride.” Catherine urged her mou
nt forward, kicking up a hailstorm of tiny pebbles as she galloped from the stable yard.

  As she disappeared from sight Brown returned to the stable, muttering to himself.

  *****

  “Is she gone?”

  “Aye, but she wouldn’t tell me where she was going,” Brown said. “I’m sorry, my lord.”

  “Nonsense, I know exactly where she’s headed.” The Earl of Ashworth stepped out of the shadows of the stable into the light and, in the greatest good humor, clapped the servant on the shoulder. “What luck she has decided to leave the house today.”

  The groom did not smile. “I’m glad you’ve come, my lord,” he said simply.

  Adam sobered. “I’ve been a fool, Brown, but no longer. Thank you for watching over her until I came to my senses.”

  The old man did grin then. “My pleasure, my lord.”

  Adam nodded, but his confidence was tempered with a healthy dose of caution. Before he became too cocky, he had better talk to Catherine. And presently that exceptional lady rode forth, increasing the distance between the earl and herself with every passing second. And he still had to retrieve his horse hidden behind a small outcropping a couple hundred yards from the castle.

  The earl eased out of the building and dashed across the yard. He prayed his movements went undetected by anyone who might not wish him well. Although, if Brown were an accurate example of the prevailing attitude among most of the inhabitants of the castle, Adam was in no danger of being exposed.

  He reached his horse without incident and mounted quickly. His first inclination was to dash after Catherine as fast as his steed could carry him, but on reflection he decided to trail after her at a more judicious pace. He followed the path he knew she had taken, using the short ride to collect his thoughts.

  His heart was racing with such expectation, he wondered if the muscle intended to fail him altogether. Hope is a bewitching emotion, he realized, leading one on with outrageous promises of better things to come, and he could not quite grasp the notion that his fondest desire was finally within reach. If only Catherine would forgive him for his obtuseness, he would spend the rest of his life making it up to her. Strangely, he had stopped considering the baron an obstacle to his happiness.

  Adam broke into the now familiar glen, his eyes scanning the area for signs of Catherine. Had he been mistaken? No, there she sat, perched on a smooth rock at the edge of the tiny brook that flowed through the clearing. She had pulled her skirt to her knees and was dangling her long, slim legs over the bank as she teased the water with the tips of her bare toes.

  She was humming as she was prone to do when she thought herself alone, and his heart turned over in his breast. He stared at her, overcome with desire and something more, something so soul-stirring he did not comprehend until that moment how much he had missed her. He should have known, for these last months had been hellish. It was disquieting to admit such vulnerability, and Adam felt as uncomfortable as any man forced to acknowledge so strong a dependence on another human being.

  Whether Catherine heard him or merely sensed his nearness, he could not tell, but suddenly she turned her head and looked directly at him. She seemed neither surprised nor disconcerted to see him standing there watching her. She eased around on the rock, pulling her skirt over her damp limbs.

  “You spoke to Daniel,” she said after several tense seconds.

  “Yes,” he admitted.

  “You did not have to rush to my aid, Adam. I’ve made some decisions. Edgar is deteriorating and I’m going to leave him.”

  How could she sound so detached when all he wanted was to take her in his arms and hold on with all his might?

  “You need my help, Catherine, whether you admit it or not.”

  “I need more than that, my lord.”

  Her words wavered softly across the still air of the copse, and for a moment he did not know if he had heard her correctly.

  Adam closed the distance that separated them in an instant, coming to rest on his knees next to her where she sat on the rock. He gathered her roughly into his embrace, and he heard the air squeeze from her chest.

  “Why did you send me from you?” he asked in a tortured voice, his mouth pressed against her throat. “Why?”

  “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, I swear.” She gasped, sounding as though she fought for her breath. “I thought it best for you.”

  He pulled back to look at her. “Didn’t you think I had the right to choose for myself?”

  “I was so frightened and confused—can you forgive me?”

  Adam was ashamed. He had come to plead with her, hoping she would give him another chance, and instead she was apologizing.

  “My love, it is I who should be begging pardon, not you. I should have realized something was wrong, but I allowed the lies to turn my head. I should have trusted you.”

  “I’m grateful to Lord Wimberly, though I asked him not to involve you. If it weren’t for him you would not be here.”

  “What did you do to him?” he asked severely. “He came after me like a knight on a white charger. Said either I must see to the situation or he would do it himself.”

  “Then he did mean to keep his promise.”

  She smiled so prettily he felt his irritation rise.

  “Indeed he did. I think the man’s half in love with you. It was disheartening to hear that the woman I adore had tossed herself into the arms of my closest friend.”

  Catherine blushed. “He told you that, did he? Luckily, love does not happen after only one kiss—that is unless one is meant to fall in love as I did with you.”

  He was only somewhat mollified. “I’m relieved to hear it.”

  “I admit, though, it wasn’t an altogether unpleasant experience,” she said on a throaty laugh.

  “What?” he thundered, his brows lowering ominously.

  “I pretended he was you.”

  “Did you, by God!” he ground out and suddenly aroused pulled her from the rock to the soft ground, rolling her on her back and covering her with his body. He lowered his face until his nose touched hers.

  “Then there won’t be any more need for pretense, will there?” he said.

  He covered her mouth with such intensity his senses went reeling. Lifting his head, his respiration came in ragged gasps. Now was not soon enough. He wanted to assuage the desire, but he detected a sudden hesitation in her.

  “What is it, sweetheart?” he asked huskily.

  “Edgar’s man witnessed our last encounter here. I find the possibility of it happening again too appalling to ignore.”

  “Bourgeault told you that?”

  “Yes. He ruined a beautiful memory for me. I think that was his aim.”

  Adam rolled off her into a sitting position. “Bloody hell!” he blurted in frustration. Running his hands through his hair, he tried to control his rampaging emotions. He bent his legs, resting his forearms on his knees as he surveyed the surrounding woodland.

  His gaze returned to Catherine where she still lay on the spongy ground. She watched him, a dreamy expression on her beautiful face. Her eyelids were heavy with desire and her lips were curled in a sweet, alluring smile.

  His groin tightened in response. “If you don’t stop looking at me like a temptress, I will not be responsible for the consequences. There might be an army of spies lurking among the trees, and I won’t be able to resist.”

  She sat up, linking their arms together and placed her head on his shoulder.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “I fear I will ruin your life, but I haven’t the courage to send you away.”

  “It’s too late for that, my love. We are committed to the end.” He placed a reassuring kiss on her forehead.

  “What are we to do?”

  “You really were going to leave?” he asked.

  “I told Edna to be ready at any time.”

  He sighed. “I’ve come to the conclusion that running away is the avenue of last resort, so w
e must meet the problem head on. I intend to speak to your husband as soon as possible.”

  “What good will that do, Adam?”

  He turned to look at her, “Your marriage was never consummated, was it?”

  “No, it wasn’t,” Catherine whispered, and she dropped her gaze, clearly embarrassed.

  He placed his hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “It’s not exactly your fault, is it? As for myself, I find the idea of your virginity excruciatingly agreeable. I admit the sentiment is not very noble, but I can’t seem to help myself. Let’s not question what I consider a gift, what say?”

  She nodded and sent him a smile of gratitude.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked her gently.

  “I was afraid you would think yourself responsible for me. It wasn’t fair to you.”

  Adam winced. “You make me feel very humble, love.” He paused for a moment then continued. “There might be an added benefit, however.”

  “How so?”

  “If I can’t convince the baron to divorce you, perhaps we can force his hand by threatening to reveal the true nature of your marriage.”

  “But that will cause an awful scandal. You will be ruined. I can’t allow you to do that. There must be another way.”

  “If there is, I haven’t thought of it,” he said in resignation. “We’re just going to have to bear up under the weight of society’s censure. Frankly, I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks anymore. I’m more concerned with the effect it will have on you.”

  Catherine shook her head. “I don’t matter—it’s Annabelle who is my main worry.”

  Adam grabbed hold of her arm. “Is that my daughter?”

  “Daniel didn’t tell you about Annabelle?”

  “He did, but I was so busy trying to absorb everything, I forgot to ask her name,” he admitted. He smiled. “I like it.”

  “You don’t mind…about the baby, I mean?”