Hidden Paradise

by Janet Mullany

  “Me, too. I need to get things going for dinner.” He took her hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world and they started walking toward the house.

  “Do you like being a footman?” she asked.

  “It has its moments. We get to laugh at the guests. It’s funny how they forget we’re around. I suppose it means we’re doing our job well. We have a lot of inside jokes, and nicknames for the guests, and so on.”

  “Really? What’s mine?”

  “Schoolmarm.”

  “Oh, come on. For real?”

  He stood aside to let her bypass a puddle in the path. “Absolutely. Sarah’s Most Likely. It’s short for Most Likely To Put Out. Ben’s Vegetable Love, because he’s so thick. And Mr. Salazar… Are you and him, uh…”

  “No. What’s his nickname?”

  “You came up with it— Mr. Darcy. Remember, the first night you were here? It stuck. And you know about the Paint Boys. They’re rather creepy, aren’t they? We call Viv the Jam Tart. She found out and pretended to be mad but I think she likes it.”

  “How about Dave and Cathy?”

  “Ruggerbugger and Giggles.”

  “That’s appalling,” Lou said, laughing despite herself.

  They walked in silence together. Rob picked, or rather, tore off a rhododendron blossom as big as his fist in a great spray of raindrops and presented it to her with a bow. She tucked the dark pink flower behind her ear.

  “Well,” Rob said, “we’re nearly at the house and…” He looked shy. “Look, Lou, was that it? A quick snog?”

  “You know where my room is.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself. It all seemed so uncomplicated, all of a sudden—she liked him, she desired him, and in a week or so she’d go back to the States and he’d go to Cambridge at the end of the summer. They might email for a few weeks or months, she might advise him on girlfriends or his studies, they’d follow each other on Facebook, and then gradually their correspondence would fade.

  “Oh. Yeah, yeah, I do.” He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and retrieved his iPod. “Tonight, right?”

  “Sure.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He didn’t respond and she wondered if he regretted their sudden intimacy. So maybe he wouldn’t show. No big deal.

  “Okay, then.” He plugged his earbuds in and headed for the back of the house.

  Lou shook her head as he walked away. Men, sometimes even the most straightforward of them, were at heart creatures of mystery.

  * * *

  “YOU LOOK LOVELY, DEAR. I can’t wait to see your ball gown. I hear it’s rather daring.” Chris handed Lou a glass of something garnished with mint and laden with slices of fruit as the guests mingled in the drawing room before dinner.

  “Chris, is this some sort of lethally alcoholic and historically inaccurate cocktail?”

  “No, dear, it’s sangria. Drink it slowly.”

  She raised the glass and sipped. “Peter and I had a chat the other day.”

  “That must have been nice for you, Loulou.”

  “Stop it.” She put her arm around his waist and squeezed. “Come out onto the terrace with me. I need to talk to you.”

  He accompanied her, but looked apprehensive. “I can deny you nothing, my dear, but I fear you’re poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  “Probably. You know you and Peter are my best and dearest friends. Do something for me.”

  “If it involves that little tart of a footman—”

  “Oh, please, Chris. That’s grossly unfair. He’s a nice kid.”

  “Really? How do you know? Uh-oh, Loulou. You haven’t been messing with the help, have you? Bad, bad girl. Did you have fun?”

  She rested her glass on the stone balustrade and looked out over the lawn. A herd of deer moved like delicate ghosts from the shelter of the trees. “You’re not getting any lurid details.”

  Chris moved to stand beside her. “What do you want, Lou?”

  She gave him a brief version of the Temple family’s predicament. Chris raised his eyebrows. “She left her kids?”

  “Two of those kids are grown up and are intensely loyal and loving to their little brother. Their father needs to get his act together, and he’s applied for the groundsman position.”

  “So have twenty-three others, most of whom seem nuts, including an Australian who expects us to fly him in for an interview and at least two Wiccans. Your Mike Temple likes gardening, he knows one end of a hammer from the other and, most importantly, he’s local, and all of that definitely puts him on the shortlist. But I’m not making any promises, love.”

  “I understand.” She hesitated. “I don’t even know the guy. I suspect he’s a total jerk. He’s trying to make Rob feel guilty about going to Cambridge, which of course he absolutely has to do—it’s the only chance he’ll get. But maybe if Mike gets his own life together, he’ll lay off his son and Rob won’t deny himself the education he deserves.” She took his arm. “I know you’ll do the right thing.”

  He started as though he’d forgotten she was there. “I love seeing those deer,” he said, nodding toward the herd. “It gives me such a lord-of-the-manor feeling. If only they didn’t want to eat the roses. But that’s life, isn’t it? Let’s go into dinner, Lou. You know that whenever I get philosophical it’s because I’m hungry.”

  * * *

  SHE BARELY NOTICED WHAT SHE ate, because Rob was there, moving around the room, handing dishes, organizing the other footmen. He paused, one hand on the back of Mac’s chair, to have a short conversation, giving Lou the opportunity to compare the two of them: Mac’s dark, saturnine looks and strong profile; Rob’s fair skin and the copper glow of his hair by candlelight. Opposites, but both men she desired—and to her regret she still desired Mac. She sighed as she saw them together: innocence and experience, light and shadow, a sun god and a prince of darkness.

  She smiled at her own fancy, and Peter next to her tut-tutted and moved the wine bottle away from her.

  “Apparently, I have quite a reputation as a lush,” she commented.

  “I’m hardly one to preach the virtues of a clear head,” he said. “Drink or love, they make fools of us all. But at least Chris and I are talking to each other now.” He raised his wineglass to Chris at the other end of the table. Did Lou imagine it, or was there a slight hesitation before Chris responded?

  “I’m glad,” she said.

  “And you and our Mr. Darcy?”

  “Not a chance.” She tossed back the remains of her glass of water, thinking that the same gesture with wine would have so much more significance.

  “A pity,” he said. “Viv speaks very highly of him.”

  “Even if he does come with references, I’m unimpressed.”

  “Okay. Let’s change the subject. We have one room that’s completely unrestored, stripped down to lathe and plaster, and I wanted to ask your advice. Do you think we should leave it as is—with its underpinnings on view, so to speak—and make an exhibit area?”

  “I think that’s a good idea. Or you could have the Paint Boys restore sections of it to various periods. After all, the same family lived in this house for over two hundred years and you’ve got lots of examples of different paints and wallpapers.”

  “Let’s look at it together soon.” Peter stared at a dish laid before them. “What on earth is this, Rob?”

  “Beef tongue, sir. Looks gross, tastes good.”

  “
Go on. Try it.” Lou seized the carving knife that lay on the dish, pushed aside a careful garnish of herbs and marigold blossoms and sawed Peter a slice.

  He poked at it with his fork, took a bite, and nodded in appreciation. “Not bad, but I see you’re not partaking.”

  “Oh, my plate’s full.” She smiled at him in all innocence. “Besides, I own cattle. It’s too personal for my tastes. What if I was eating the tongue of a cow I knew?”

  He shook his head. “And what do you plan to do with your best friends, the cows? Have you made any decisions?”

  “Not yet,” she said, not wanting to tell him or even think about the offer. A week, that’s what she’d told her agent. She’d make up her mind in a week. “It’s too soon.”

  Rob’s arm brushed against her shoulder as he reached for an empty dish near her and she almost jumped out of her skin. She hoped Peter hadn’t noticed. But he had such lovely manners, he wouldn’t say anything even if he did. At that moment, she wanted to ask his advice as though he was some sort of genial father figure.

  Looks like I have the hots for Rob, too. I’m not in love with him or anything, but he’s so sexy and nice, and he kisses like a dream. And I invited him to my room tonight and now I don’t know whether he’s going to show or not and it’s driving me insane.

  The third remove was cleared away. Lou, as the most senior lady present, gathered gloves and fan and stood, and by some miracle all the men at the table remembered to stand, too. “Ladies, we should leave the men to their port.” She tapped Peter on the shoulder with her fan. “Sir, I trust you won’t leave us pining for you too long.”

  As she led the ladies out, Rob bowed and opened the door. His gaze locked with hers for a second before he lowered his eyes and a jolt of lust shot through her.

  If he showed up, things might be very interesting tonight.

  * * *

  TO HER RELIEF, IT WAS ROB WHO choreographed their assignation. There was no music tonight, but a couple of raucous card games, with Sarah, to everyone’s amusement, offering Ben as a stake.

  After a cup of green tea and at the end of a round of whist, Lou stood and announced that she was having an early night. Rob opened the drawing-room door and told the nearest footman to take over for the evening—and that was it.

  In the hall, he plucked one of the fake candles from a tray. “Light you upstairs, ma’am?”

  “Certainly.” There was no one else around, as far as she could tell, but other staff members might lurk in the shadows and she waited until they were halfway up the stairs before dropping the formality. “What will the other footman think? The one you asked to take over?”

  “Oh, they’re convinced I get more than them all put together. They think it goes along with being head footman.” She could hear the laughter in his voice.

  “And do you?”

  “I think they’re all lying through their teeth about what they get up to.”

  Well, that was an ambiguous answer, confirming her suspicion that despite the expertise of his kiss, he was relatively inexperienced. She’d find out soon enough.

  They entered her room and he placed his candle on the bedside table. She switched on another candle on the mantelpiece and wondered what she should do to put him at ease. But he advanced on her, pushing his coat off and onto the floor, and she met him halfway, thrilled at his ardor.

  “You’re so lovely,” he said, reaching for the bodice of her gown. “How do I get this off— Ouch!”

  “Sorry. Let me unpin it. Don’t—if you bleed over it, the Jam Tart will get mad at me. Okay. Everything else unties.”

  “Your tits are amazing.” He blushed.

  “Once the corset’s off they’re not nearly as impressive.” She made a start on the buttons of his waistcoat and he unknotted his neckcloth as he bent to kiss her. Her petticoat dropped away, joining her gown and his shoes on the floor, and he managed to get his breeches off and his shirt over his head. He wasn’t shy. He was in a hurry, and she found his excitement infectious, unlacing her corset as fast as she could and stripping off her shift.

  “You’re wrong. Your tits are still amazing.” He cupped them in his hands and bent to kiss her.

  She let her hands savor and sample him, the strong muscles and smooth skin with only a dusting of hair on his chest. His cock hard and eager, pushed against her belly, but when she ran a finger down its length he gasped and moved away. Later, she promised herself, later she’d touch and play and tease, but now his tongue did just that in her mouth and her nipples rubbed against his chest and she wanted him in her. Now.

  She let him take the lead, let him guide her onto the bed and continue to kiss and caress her. When he slipped a hand between her thighs and touched her, sure and deft, she trembled and arched and came, fast, so fast it almost hurt.

  And he stopped. “Lou?”

  She opened her eyes. “Mmm?”

  “This is sort of embarrassing.”

  She touched his face. “What’s wrong?”

  “This is as far as I’ve got before.”

  “Rob, honey, you’re doing very well. You made me come.”

  “Oh. Good.” He rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. “I, um, thought you did. But I haven’t actually, you know, fucked anyone yet.”

  She was touched and charmed by his admission. “Now’s your chance. If you want to.”

  “Oh, yes. Please. But I don’t want to fuck it up.”

  “You won’t.” She reached into the bedside drawer and prepared to sheathe him. “How would you like to do it?”

  “Very competently.” He gasped as she rolled the condom onto his cock. “But—”

  “Rob, just fuck me, okay? I’m not going to grade your performance.” She pulled him onto her and he slid inside her and his face held a look of awe and wonder that disarmed her. A tear slid from her eye into her hair and she hoped he hadn’t noticed, but he was caught up entirely in his own pleasure and she watched as his face changed and his jaw tightened. His eyes darkened and fixed and he shuddered against her and groaned.

  “Sorry, sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t hold back.”

  She ran her hands over the muscles of his back. “Hey, no need to apologize.”

  “That was amazing. Absolutely amazing.” He smiled at her, shy and proud at the same time. “I don’t think it did anything for you.”

  “You will. We’ll make sure of that.”

  “I’m not a virgin anymore,” he said with a grin.

  “I don’t think you were much of a virgin before.”

  “Okay, a technical virgin.” He eased himself off her and became absorbed in kissing and fondling her breasts. “What would you like me to do?”

  “Keep doing that. What would you like to do?”

  “I’d like to look at your cunt,” he said. “Is it okay to call it that? I’ve only ever done it—or as much as I’ve done—in the dark, and she was shy, and, well, I’d like to have a look.”

  “Okay, but it probably won’t look like anything you’ve seen on the internet.” As he swooped down between her thighs to begin a thorough investigation by the light of one of the LED candles, she added, “Rob, I’m so glad that isn’t a real flame.”

  “Here,” he said. His finger played and caressed. “Is that it? Can I make you come again? Can I make you come all night, Lou?”

  She was quite sure Rob could make her come all night with his tender, careful touch, but she found herself greedy for his body, eager to make
him tremble and cry out and arch beneath her.

  “Let me touch you,” she said, and he abandoned himself to her. He shuddered when she scraped her nails across his scrotum and groaned in pleasure when she took him in her mouth. She explored him, found his preferences, what pleased him, what sent him into a frenzy, and in so doing rediscovered simple pleasure herself, becoming Eve to his Adam.

  It was all so easy, so uncomplicated. She loved kissing him, loved the sound he made when she took his cock in her hand and stroked him, circling his shaft with thumb and forefinger, fast and rough, or slowing to a teasing, sensual slide. He was embarrassed, at first, by the ease with which she made him come, apologizing after he spilled in her hand. But he surprised her, seconds later, by laughing and stretching out against her, murmuring how sexy she was, and asking what she’d like next.

  “Would you be disappointed if I said I wanted to sleep?”

  “No, that’s okay. We can do it in the morning. If it’s okay for me to stay.”

  “Sure.” She turned in his arms, burying her face against his chest, smooth except for a few silky hairs. “I’d like you to stay.”

  It was he who fell asleep first, his face nuzzled against her neck, his breath soft and even. She switched off the bedside light and lay awake for some time, having doubts about what she’d done, and if tomorrow would be awkward. And the day after that? And at some point, she’d have to return to the ranch. It struck her that sex with Rob had been an effective means of escaping that reality. And quite likely he was using sex to escape his problems, too, as well as fulfilling the strong sexual urges of a young male. But to her relief their coupling didn’t exclude tenderness and kindness.

  * * *

  Rob

  HE AWOKE AFTER A COUPLE OF hours and listened to a clock somewhere, probably the big grandfather clock in the foyer, strike the hour. Three o’clock. He pressed against Lou, resting his face in the sweet fragrance of the nape of her neck, rubbing his hard-on against her. He could fuck her just as they were. He wasn’t sure if she was awake or not, but he’d have to fumble around for a condom, and he wanted her absolutely conscious of what he was doing. He wanted to do it right. He still couldn’t figure out exactly how to make her come without using his fingers. She seemed to do okay on top of him. His cock stiffened a little more as he remembered the way she fluttered inside against him.