In the Garden of Temptation Page 5

  Perplexed, she stared after him. He wanted something of her, but what? Why couldn’t he just explain and put her out of her misery? He had given her a puzzle to solve, and she wasn’t even certain she had all the pieces. Worse yet, if she failed to discern his message, the consequence could be a dreadful punishment that would make her existence even more wretched.

  She did know that Edgar wanted her to go riding with the earl, and he had never asked her to ride with one of his guests before. If obscure statements and innuendo were an indication, he wished Lord Ashworth to be impressed by her. Did he simply want others to covet what was his? Catherine was not egotistical enough to consider herself a prize worthy of inspiring that kind of boasting. She shrugged. Trying to understand what motivated her husband was akin to analyzing the unknown—one might wonder, but there was rarely an easy answer.

  Catherine smoothed the creases in the skirt of the modest cotton gown she wore. She could change into another frock, but it would be little different from this one. Frowning into the mirror, she put on a small straw hat, hopelessly outdated, and turned her head from side to side. Oh bother! She looked as dowdy and plain as the wife of a tenant farmer.

  Nothing to be done now, she thought resignedly. She had an appointment to keep. At least, she didn’t look like a strumpet trying to seduce the entirety of the British army, quite possibly all at once.

  *****

  Catherine would never know how charming she appeared to Adam a short while later as she approached him in the stables. Her beauty was so pure and refreshing, she took his breath away. Surely, he must have imagined how lovely she was, but here she stood just the way he remembered her. In her simple dress and hat, a soft smile touching her lips, he felt as though she had dragged the sweet, warm light of the early afternoon with her into the darkened building.

  Unexpectedly, the simmering heat the earl had tried to tamp the previous evening threatened to erupt full force. He knew he was disrespectful to dwell on the vision she had created in that explicit red gown, but he was unable to help himself. Her fine long neck and gentle sloping shoulders, above breasts spilling from her bodice, swam seductively before his mind’s eye. The recollection did not end until his memory had once more conjured the image of exposed ankles and their promise of the shapely limbs hidden from view.

  Control yourself, lad, or you are going to humiliate yourself. He coughed and shook his head slightly in an effort to clear the lecherous thoughts from his head.

  “Lady Bourgeault, lovely as always,” he said. Adam took her hand and brushed a kiss on her knuckles, allowing his lips to linger for just a shade too long. He knew better than to permit even this benign intimacy, for his emotions were not entirely in check, but he was unable to stop himself.

  “Thank you, my lord.” She sounded breathless as she looked back at him.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of having your horse saddled. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No, of course not,” she murmured.

  They led their horses into the stable yard and, as they prepared to mount, a young male servant ran toward them toting a large picnic basket.

  “The baron sent this, milord. Said you might get hungry.” He thrust the wicker container at the earl.

  Adam took the basket and tied it to the back of his saddle, before turning to Catherine. “Seems we are to enjoy a picnic.” When she did not respond but stared at him in consternation, he continued. “Is that all right?”

  “I think it will be enjoyable, my lord.” The expression on her face did not mirror her words.

  Adam, concerned with his own burgeoning desires, knew it was unwise for them to spend an entire afternoon alone in each other’s company. But what could happen, really? Nothing, unless he assumed she was struggling with the same attraction he was. There was no reason he should assume that was so. And yet, something in her eyes led him to believe she was not entirely indifferent to him.

  “Right then, shall we go?”

  He placed his hands around her trim waist, and with a swift burst of energy, lifted Catherine into her saddle. He was aware of the firm flesh under the thin cotton of her dress, and he removed his hands quickly lest she take offense. Her gaze averted, she briskly set her skirts to right.

  No corset, he mused.

  The earl mounted his own horse and, grasping the reins, turned the animal in order to bring himself abreast of his companion. In doing so, he caught sight of the young servant who had brought him the basket.

  “And you, my good lad, I’ll settle with you later. Off with you now.”

  Adam watched as a smile as wide as his old nanny’s backside transformed the youth’s face into an expression of eager delight.

  “Aye, milord!” the boy shouted as he scampered back to the house.

  “You’ve made a friend in our Billy, my lord.”

  Adam turned to Catherine. “It’s not I. Money has that effect on even those of us who do not need it.”

  She gave him a curious look. “He doesn’t usually take to strangers, moneyed or otherwise.”

  “I believe the same could be said of most of the people on your husband’s estate,” he said dryly.

  “I hope you don’t count me in that category, my lord. I’d like to think we are friends…or at the very least, friendly acquaintances.”

  The earl sent her a grin so like the one he had elicited from young Billy, he saw her eyes widen in surprise. “Ah, Lady Bourgeault, you know how to touch a man’s heart.” He bowed to her from his saddle. “Lead on, madam. I find I am suddenly impatient to discover whatever adventure this day might hold.”

  *****

  They could not have chosen a more beautiful afternoon to make an excursion into the countryside. The air was warm and redolent with the fragrance of wild lilacs, and puffy clouds nestled in the sky like rich mounds of clotted cream. The occasional butterfly lit on a beckoning blossom completing an atmosphere of such languid tranquility, Adam felt no urgency beyond riding in silence with his beautiful companion.

  Anyway, there was little to see of domesticated property, only mile upon mile of wild, untamed acreage. And that the baron had in abundance. Those infrequent individuals they did meet appeared to hold the baroness in some affection, but no one inquired after her husband. Adam would have thought that an oddity if he were not already acquainted with the man.

  “Doesn’t Lord Bourgeault require his tenants to farm the land they are allocated?” he asked at last.

  “As far as I know, Edgar has set no conditions on his property, except that he receives an ample portion of the wild game that is hunted. Two or three families do most of the cultivating. They share their produce with the other tenants and are rewarded with a generous allotment of whatever the hunters can provide. Actually, it’s a barter system that works quite well.” She shrugged. “My husband can’t be bothered with something as simple as the well-being of his tenants. Still, as long as they don’t provoke him, he is tolerant.”

  “Yes, but with the baron’s straitened financial situation, it would make sense for him to take advantage of the income that could be realized if he developed his land. Can’t imagine him not wanting to benefit from such a resource.”

  “Edgar has, for whatever purpose, decided to foster the impression that he is near ruin,” Catherine said with an ironical twist to her lips. “That is untrue. In fact, his fortune might rival your own.”

  “Are you telling me he doesn’t need to sell his grays?” He barked the words.

  “I suppose that’s what I’m telling you.”

  He gave her a piercing look. “Does he want to sell them?”

  Catherine stared back at him, her silence more telling than if she had spoken.

  “By damned!” Adam leaned forward on his horse and grasped the pommel of her saddle, bringing her mount closer to him, which brought her closer as well. “Then why did he invite me out here?”

  She drew in a shaky breath and, shifting her gray eyes from his, whispered in an uncertain voice
, “I don’t know.” At his look of incredulity, she began again. “I swear I don’t know. Edgar doesn’t share his innermost thoughts with me. He only tells me what he wants, and I try not to disappoint him.”

  “All right then, would you like to divulge the baron’s instructions regarding me? I would be most interested.”

  “He told me to be pleasant to you.”

  Adam straightened in his saddle and surveyed her, bewildered. “Was that perceived as a problem?”

  “You must forgive me for any reluctance I felt, my lord. If you had seen some of the ‘gentlemen’ my husband has introduced to me, you might understand my misgivings.” She paused then sent him a captivating smile. “I hadn’t met you yet, you see.”

  Adam was no match against such powerful persuasion. He had not been exposed to the full force of her enchanting personality before, and he sat stunned as the beguiling warmth of her smile washed over him like the euphoria of an opiate. The end result was a slack-jawed grin that he feared left him looking like an idiot. If somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if she were just being “pleasant” to him, he chose to ignore it.

  “You are a witch, casting spells. You know that, don’t you?” His words were laced with self-mockery, for he realized his growing weakness where this woman was concerned.

  Lady Bourgeault wrinkled her brow. “I don’t know what you mean, sir. A witch is an old crone with a crooked nose and a hairy wart on the end of her chin.” She glanced at him through her lashes as she continued. “I hope I present better than that.”

  The earl threw his head back and gave vent to a bark of laughter that echoed through the trees above. “And so you do, sweet lady, and so you do.”

  The sun had reached its apex and had begun to descend and, as if to illustrate the point, Catherine’s stomach gave a timid mewl of protest. He watched her cheeks grow pink as she hastened to explain.

  “Pardon me. The toast I ate this morning is no longer with me. Perhaps we could begin our picnic soon?” She smiled wryly. “Otherwise, I’m afraid you’ll have to suffer similar episodes of unladylike behavior.”

  How refreshing she is, Adam thought. If that talking stomach had happened to a London miss, he would have been subjected to mortified hand wringing. He liked the baroness, he decided suddenly. He didn’t understand what game her husband was playing, but he couldn’t bring himself to paint her with the same brush.

  “Let me see,” he said, “should we toss our blanket on the ground right here, or do you have a better place in mind? I understand the correct milieu aids in the digestion. And considering the rumblings coming from your midsection, good digestion would be in order.” Adam winked at her.

  “It’s only hunger, my lord. That can be satisfied anywhere. But now you mention it, I can think of one place…” She trailed off, clearly hesitant.

  “Yes?”

  Catherine straightened her shoulders. “I know just the spot to enjoy our meal.” Giving him a winsome smile, she kicked her mount into a gallop. “Follow me!”

  At that moment Adam would gladly have followed the lady into the depths of Hell without a backward glance. He spurred his own horse into action and shot across a narrow ditch in hot pursuit.

  He could have overtaken her but chose instead to lag several yards behind, enjoying the intoxicating view of a beautiful woman who, as it happened, was also a splendid rider. Her hat had slipped from her head, loosening a mass of sun-brightened curls. She glanced back again and laughed, the tinkling sound dancing on the soft breeze.

  Adam groaned inwardly.

  They charged their horses up a small incline, and a stand of trees appeared on the horizon as they reached the top of the slope. She looked at him mischievously and without speaking dashed down the hill toward the dense grove. The earl raced after her, feeling like a helpless mortal lured by a wood nymph into the magic of the forest beyond.

  *****

  Catherine didn’t know if she wanted to tell Lord Ashworth about her retreat. She had come upon it not long after her marriage to Edgar, and it had offered her the only peace she was to know for a long time. It was dangerous to share the only thing that belonged to one. Yet the thought of spending an afternoon with the earl in her most treasured place, sharing a leisurely meal, beckoned her. She glanced shyly over her shoulder to see if he still followed.

  Lord Ashworth trailed only a few yards behind her, and he grinned when their eyes met. He had a lazy, sensual smile and, when he looked at her like that, she felt an odd breathless catch in her throat. She wondered how it would feel if he were to place those warm lips to hers instead of the back of her hand. Oh dear! There went that catch again.

  The earl was handsome and she feared her taste in men might be superficial. Not the noblest of thoughts but she was unable to control the attraction she felt for him. What did it matter? His company energized and aroused her. Whether right or wrong, it had become a matter of indifference to her. Had she been able to tap into a source of loyalty for her husband, her attitude would have been different. As it was, she ceased to care.

  Catherine made a decision then. She would enjoy whatever today would bring and let tomorrow take care of itself. She had little enough pleasure in life, so why must she feel guilty for wanting to enjoy herself? Her retreat would be ideal and, with that in mind, she threw caution to the wind.

  Within moments they entered a clearing. Catherine dismounted without waiting for the earl’s assistance and swung her arms wide as she turned in a circle about the shaded copse.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  Water bubbled its way in easy contentment along the bank of a small, rock-studded stream, sunlight sifting down through the towering limbs overhead. The smell of clover scented the air.

  The earl, still astride, cast his gaze slowly around the tiny glen as he studied the scenery. He then turned his attention to Catherine but did not speak. A suggestive grin broke the calm of his expression as he continued to watch her.

  “More beautiful than I could have imagined,” he murmured.

  Simple statement that, but it held a wealth of meaning. Catherine dropped her arms while staring back in fascination. Her mouth fell open and her breathing quickened. The air vibrated with unspoken words as they shared a moment of absolute understanding. The specter of desire had been brought into the open and was acknowledged.

  With a monumental burst of willpower, she broke the eye contact and with it the mood. Her hands trembled as she smoothed the wind-blown hair from her face. Unnerved, she avoided speaking lest her unsteady voice give her away. Yet if the earl thought it was he she feared, he was wrong. Catherine did not trust herself. Temptation had made a grand entrance into her cozy wild garden, and she didn’t know if she had the strength to resist.

  Lord Ashworth apparently took pity on her then. He was businesslike as he climbed down from his horse and brought the wicker basket to the middle of the clearing.

  Catherine was relieved when his conduct turned impersonal. One thing to tell the devil to take the hindmost and quite another to follow through with it.

  They conversed little as they spread their blanket on the spongy ground and emptied the contents of the basket. They avoided looking at one another for fear of bringing highly charged emotions to the fore. But where their hands chanced to touch as they arranged their meal on the woolen spread, there was profound awareness.

  Catherine stared in amazement at the well-prepared food, and her stomach gave another growl of discontent. It was a veritable feast, with cold roast chicken, glazed ham and three varieties of cheese. Peaches, tinged with pink, rounded out the repast.

  “I didn’t know Cook could provide such a meal,” she said.

  Adam looked at her curiously. “The baron doesn’t demand excellence from his cook?”

  “Not usually. But since you’ve arrived, I’ve been surprised by what has come out of that kitchen. Either my husband has put his foot down, or Cook has seen how handsome you are.” She spoke without th
inking, and she glanced at him quickly, embarrassed by her boldness.

  He searched her expression for a moment before that wonderful, ready grin appeared that made her nerves tingle with excitement. “Whatever the reason,” he spoke gently, “I’m grateful for what we are about to receive. Shall we?”

  This last did much to ease the tension as far as Catherine was concerned. She tucked her legs under her skirt and reached for a leg of chicken. Taking a bite, she nearly smacked her lips in appreciation. She was too hungry to be dainty, and for some reason she could not explain it seemed unnecessary. The atmosphere between them had become casual and uninhibited, and she was elated by the sudden lack of restraint. She smiled hugely and took another bite.

  The earl appeared delighted by her enthusiasm, and she knew he watched her from the corner of his eye as he uncorked a bottle of wine, now grown warm, and poured them each a glass. He talked with her then, about nothing of consequence, as they shared personal tidbits of their lives. She could feel them becoming imperceptibly closer in the process. They ate until replete, and the comfortable tone continued unabated.

  Lord Ashworth reached for a peach and began to peel it. He cut a chunk away from the pit and, in gallant fashion, presented a slice to her.

  Catherine leaned forward. Because the piece of peach was too large to take whole, she sank her teeth into the fruit, her lips gently grazing the tips of his fingers as she did so.

  The smile edging Adam’s mouth drifted slowly away while he watched her bite the succulent peach. His eyes turned black and unreadable.

  Catherine was shocked by the intensity of the earl’s look. Mesmerized, she could not tear her gaze from his as he withdrew the remaining morsel and very deliberately placed it in his mouth. He continued to stare at her as he sucked the juice from each of his sticky fingers, one by one.

  She had no idea what that little ritual meant, however, neither was she a fool. Unsophisticated she might be, but the overt sexual nature of the communication left no doubt about the earl’s intentions. He had sent her an invitation, pure and simple.