In the Garden of Temptation Page 7

  Not to say the dress was perfect, just less imperfect than her other choices. She slipped the wispy garment over her head and stared into the mirror.

  The gown was the first one Edgar had bought her after their marriage. It still had her husband’s hallmark neckline which was embarrassingly low, but aside from that it was quite attractive. Soft puffy sleeves to the elbows were enhanced by a bow on each cinched cuff. Nipped at the waist, the full skirt flowed gently to the tips of her feet, while floral appliques edged the rounded bodice and hem.

  All in all, though outdated, it would do. Even the problem of the plunging neckline would be solved if she found a piece of lace to insert in the bodice to cover her chest. The baron would not like it but she felt too belligerent to care.

  “My lady, you look beautiful.” Edna had returned to the apartment and stood uncertainly in the doorway. She dropped her gaze and scurried across the room to where her mistress waited for her assistance.

  “Would you please do my hooks, Edna?”

  “Aye, my lady.”

  The baroness faced the mirror and exchanged a glance with the little maid in the looking glass. She felt a stab of remorse, for Edna’s eyes were red-rimmed from weeping. How could she have hurt her devoted servant?

  She knew she should apologize, but the words stuck in her throat like a lump of cold porridge. Perhaps later when the wound was not so raw and her anger had abated, she would do the right thing. For now she felt incapable of assuaging anyone’s pain but her own.

  In a voice less than steady, she directed her maid to the dressing table. “In the top drawer right-hand side, you will find a square of lace. Bring it to me.”

  The servant retrieved the lace, and Catherine tucked it into the immodest neckline. Several minutes passed as she adjusted and readjusted the delicate netting so it would fall in precisely the right way. When she felt certain she could not make it look any better, she turned to Edna for approval.

  “What do you think?”

  “Yes, yes, my lady,” Edna breathed. “It’s just the thing. Now you look perfect.”

  “Thank you,” Catherine said humbly. She did indeed owe this sweet person an apology. She reached over and patted the maid on the shoulder as she turned to leave. “We’ll talk later,” was all she could manage.

  The baroness navigated the stairs seconds later with greater ease than the night before, and it buoyed her spirits to know that she was in the best of good looks—good taste as well. She only wished the hammering of her heart would ease so she could take a steadying breath. The last thing she wanted was to appear discomposed by the evening to come. Pride might come before the fall, but at the moment it was all she had.

  *****

  Adam stood when his hostess entered the parlor and allowed his gaze to feast on her dignified beauty. Last evening she had been every man’s secret fantasy, an enticing temptress gift-wrapped in a package of a most sensual nature, while this afternoon she had been lovely and unsophisticated, though no less alluring. But now as the baroness walked regally into the room, her head held high, he felt overwhelmed by the lady she had become. Her true potential rushed at him like a mad sea, and a feeling of sadness welled within him.

  Here stood the woman for whom he had searched so long. He believed himself half in love already, and there was no way he could have her. Twenty-four hours ago they were barely met and now they were lovers. How could he walk away from her as though nothing had happened?

  And presently she refused to look at him. She did turn briefly in his direction, but her glance bounced off him with a minimum of recognition. Damnation! Why wouldn’t she understand? She must know he had not meant to hurt her.

  “I see you have decided to dress more drably this evening, my dear.” The baron spoke in a sly, needling voice. “To whom do we owe the honor of your sudden good taste?”

  “We’ll not burden you with that distinction, will we, my lord?” Catherine returned. “If it were left up to you, I’d be attending your dinner parties sans clothing altogether. I thought we’d show our guest we can be prettily behaved when absolutely necessary.” With a snap of her skirts she turned and entered the dining room.

  Lord Bourgeault looked dumbfounded. Adam would have laughed out loud had he not been acutely aware that much of the hostility following the baroness from the room was directed at him and not his host. He and the baron jockeyed for position as they trailed behind the irate lady.

  Dinner proved less than a congenial affair. Antagonism thick as paste hung over the disgruntled trio. The baron as always ate in greedy silence, but only a simpleton could have missed the dark antipathy that emanated from his bony frame.

  Adam didn’t care. His main concern centered on the only woman at the awkward meal. Catherine had managed, with some degree of success, to spurn his discreet advances. He was frustrated by her unwillingness to acknowledge his contrition and, with her husband at the table, the earl had little hope of introducing the subject.

  “Ashworth,” the baron began, leaning back in his chair. He studied his guest through malevolent, opaque eyes. “You’ve had many hours to contemplate the wisdom of purchasing my grays. Have you decided to rescind your hasty decision of this morning? I assume it has been the most pressing thing on your mind.” His voice was laced with venom.

  Was this the attitude of a man who wanted to bargain? Adam wondered if he was imagining the malice in the man’s voice, but a peek at Catherine made him reconsider. She was staring at her husband with something akin to fear, and she darted a look of uncertainty at the earl. This was the first real communication he had shared with her all evening, and he would take it even though it did not bode well.

  “Of course, you are right, sir. The suspense has consumed my day. Would it surprise you if I told you I might be willing to meet your price?”

  An arrested hush descended over the diners that shrieked with intensity. The first indication of how severely the baron was affected came by way of a spot of bright red color in each of his cheeks. He sat forward in his chair and, grasping the table linen, began to knead the material in agitated fingers.

  It must have been a terrible blow to the baron’s pride to back down, but open conflict would not serve his purpose. Whatever his purpose was. With an effort not lost on his guest, he took another tack.

  “You surprise me, Ashworth. I thought my asking price was more than you were willing to pay.” The words were spoken cautiously.

  The earl grinned. “Now, sir, I had the distinct impression you set your asking price at more than I or any sane person would pay. That leads me to wonder why you’ve gone to such lengths to bring me here.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?” The baron’s voice rose dangerously.

  “I’m saying your motives are suspect, Bourgeault.” Unlike his host Adam remained unruffled.

  “I put a price on my beauties that reflects their true worth to me. If you assumed it would be painful for me to part with them, then yes, I admit it.” Lord Bourgeault rose from his seat and loomed over the table. “I will not have my word called into question. Write a draft on your bank for the full ten thousand, and you may leave with the grays in the morning.”

  Catherine gasped. “Ten thousand pounds, Edgar?”

  The gazes of both gentlemen shifted in her direction before Adam brought his back to the baron. “Not going to meet me ‘halfway,’ Bourgeault?”

  “No, damn you! I’ll not lighten the price by so much as a sou. You want those horses you’ll have to pay for them. My first offer is my final offer.” The baron paused. “Well, what will it be?”

  The earl drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Tell you what, Bourgeault, I’d like to think on it for tonight. If you have no objection, I’ll give you my decision in the morning.”

  That ought to keep the old bastard wondering for a few more hours.

  “Right,” the baron sneered the word. “Wouldn’t want you to make a hasty decision.” He stood to leave. “I seem to have lost my
appetite, so I’ll bid you both good evening. Catherine, see to our guest’s pleasure.”

  A peculiar feeling of insinuation followed his parting words.

  What had he meant by that?

  *****

  “Convenient to lose one’s appetite when the platters have all been eaten clean,” Adam murmured aloud.

  “What? I’m sorry, what did you say?” Catherine watched her husband’s retreating back, a pulse in her throat throbbing with apprehension.

  “I said you are looking lovely tonight.” The earl grinned at her, his eyes filled with things remembered.

  Catherine felt her face flush. “You are a rogue, sir.” She bit her lip in an effort not to respond to his charm, but against her will a begrudging smile tipped the corners of her mouth.

  “Ahhh…there’s a sight to warm a lovelorn gentleman’s heart. May I hope that you’ve found forgiveness for whatever I’ve done to offend you?”

  How was she supposed to protect herself from this assault on her defenses? She felt vulnerable and, though she wished to deny it, his nearness still had the power to disconcert her. She’d better be careful or the fragile fortress she had erected around her raw emotions would crumble without a fight.

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” she said.

  “You disappoint me. I had hoped you would be honest with me. Please give me a chance to make amends.” His tone, though bantering, was underscored with a note of seriousness.

  What could she say? The only hope she had of saving her cracked heart came with distancing herself from him as soon as possible, yet he seemed determined not to let that happen.

  Perhaps it was already too late.

  “Come, walk in the garden with me,” he tempted her. “Share with me some of your thoughts.”

  “What of Edgar?”

  “Last evening I was angry with your husband for deserting you to the company of a stranger. But tonight,” here his voice dropped intimately, “I find I’m grateful for his boorishness. Is that wrong of me? Moreover,” he suggested ingeniously, “he said to see to my pleasure. I desire a walk in the garden.”

  Catherine could not help smiling. “All right, my lord, I’m at your command.”

  Adam stood and bowed as he bent his elbow to her. He took her slim fingers and, placing them on his forearm, covered her hand with his own.

  Night had arrived with a hint of nippiness in the still air. The sky was decorated with an impressive display of tiny, twinkling stars, while a brilliant moon cast illumination on the unkempt garden. They strolled down the walk to a stone bench enclosed by an overgrown boxwood hedge. The greenery provided some privacy once the couple seated themselves.

  For several moments they sat without speaking, enjoying the peace and tranquility of the moment and the nearness of one another.

  “Are you cold?” Adam asked.

  Catherine shook her head. “No, the air feels delightful. I think I was overheated when we were inside.”

  “Will you tell me what I’ve done to displease you?”

  She searched the planes of his face in the darkness, looking for some sign of the humor she had seen before, but she detected none. She shrugged her shoulders.

  “It’s very difficult sometimes to put into words one’s feelings,” she said, “especially when one is not quite certain what those feelings are.”

  He chuckled. “Would it make you feel any better to know I am also grappling with disturbed emotions, also?”

  “Really? I thought it fairly easy for you.”

  Adam frowned. “Why would it be easier for me than for you?”

  “You’re a man,” she stated simply as if that explained everything.

  “I see. My being a man means I’m less complicated. I couldn’t possibly feel as deeply as a woman.”

  “Is that what I said?” she asked in a small voice.

  “It’s what you implied.” His tone was brusque.

  Catherine allowed several seconds to pass before she continued. “I didn’t mean to suggest you are insensitive. You must admit, though, it is not uncommon for a gentleman to find his pleasure where he will without giving a thought to the women he possesses.”

  “Is that why you’re angry with me? Do you think I have used you and will discard you like rubbish? There are men like that, but I’m not one of them.” His eyes glittered in the dimness as he brought his face close to hers. “And what of you? Was I the only one in that little glen who enjoyed himself?”

  Catherine swallowed painfully, but an inherent honesty would not let her lie. She turned misty eyes on him. “It was wonderful,” she whispered. “I’ve never been so moved in my life. I’m having a terrible time separating what was purely passion from what was more. One does not love in a day, does one?”

  Against her better judgment she was opening her heart, entrusting him with her innermost feelings, allowing him to see the bewilderment and hurt.

  Adam grasped her upper arms and turned her to face him. “I don’t know, love, I swear. But if it offers you any comfort, I’m drowning in confusion too. I know I want you,” he averred huskily. “The attraction is unbearable, and yet, like nothing I’ve experienced before. I’m no school lad. I’ve seen something of the world, so you tell me, for I haven’t a clue.”

  And that, of course, was the crux of the matter. They didn’t have time to find out how they felt about each other. In fact, they didn’t even have the right to explore their feelings. Tomorrow would bring the premature end to a budding romance filled with promise, and nothing could stop the inevitable.

  “I can tell you, I will regret one thing—that I’ll never be able to do this again.” Adam clasped her to his chest and roughly covered her lips with his fiery mouth, demanding she respond to him.

  He had said the one thing she wanted most to hear. Catherine threw her arms around his neck and kissed him in return.

  His breathing grew harsh as he continued to ravish her mouth. He hooked his fingers in the sleeves of her gown and tugged the diaphanous material down her shoulders. Slipping his hand into the plunging neckline, Adam scooped out one breast, dislodging the carefully arranged lace. He brought his tongue to the tender peak.

  There are moments in life that can only be described by sensation. For Catherine this was such a moment. The blood surged in her temples and soared through her body. Tossing her head backward, she reveled in the intense carnality his mouth produced. She gradually became aware of a soft keening that broke the calm of the night. Shocked, Catherine realized she was the source of the sound.

  The excited mewling evidently acted on Adam’s senses like oil on a raging fire. He pulled Catherine from the bench and onto the ground, rolling on top of her. He freed her other breast and, grasping a rounded globe in each hand, began to knead the silken flesh as he rained frenetic kisses on her neck and shoulders.

  “God! What am I doing?” he groaned hoarsely. “Have I no integrity when I’m near you?” He drew himself up on his knees, pulling Catherine onto her knees as well. He lay his cheek against her forehead as she felt him fight for control.

  Catherine was dazed. She had been sucked into an erotic play that had ended long before the actors had finished their scenes. To say she was disappointed would be a monumental understatement.

  “Why do you stop?” she queried fretfully.

  Adam drew in an unsteady breath as he pulled back from her. His gaze trailed along her naked torso like a caress. He squeezed his eyes tight as though to shut out the provocative display.

  His face was lined with pain, and Catherine reached out to him. “My lord…? Are you all right?”

  His eyes flew open, and he stared at her fiercely. “I’ve already dishonored you once today. I’ll not do it again.”

  “I don’t feel dishonored,” she said.

  He snorted as he shook his head. “You don’t make this easy, love.”

  Adam’s hands shook as he began to fumble ineffectually with the bodice of her dress. His palm accidentally grazed the
nipple of her left breast, and they both froze at the intimate contact.

  “Help me,” he entreated in an anguished voice, “for both our sakes.”

  He was right and she was wrong. The earl’s conscience would suffer if he continued on in this way—although she had to admit it seemed a little late in the day to begin worrying about her honor. She leaned forward and deftly eased herself back into the top of her gown.

  “It’s not as though I pulled it down myself,” she said with some spirit.

  Her throat ached and she wished desperately to cry, but she controlled the urge because to break down now would only cause him further grief.

  Adam, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, stared into her eyes. “I think I will rue all the days of my life that I made myself end this. How in God’s name am I to forget you?”

  “If it’s all the same to you, my lord, I’d rather you didn’t forget me. After all, I will always remember you.”

  She scrambled to her feet and brushed her skirt, more from a need to do something than from any real concern over her dress.

  Adam came to his feet also and stood awkwardly, hands at his sides, while she finished adjusting her clothing. Catherine glanced up and caught him watching her, his features a study in sadness. She moved toward him, and he took her in his arms in an embrace so tender, she felt certain her heart would break. The passion was gone, and in its place came a deep awareness of what might have been.

  “Do you come to the city?” he asked.

  She shook her head against his shoulder, not trusting herself to speak.

  “Parting is such sweet sorrow,” he quoted, his voice gruff with emotion.

  Pulling back, Catherine looked at him, determined to memorize all the details of his handsome face. “I’ll not come down tomorrow unless Edgar insists. Please forgive me, but I think it’s best that way.”

  “I won’t say good-bye—it’s too final,” Adam said.

  She stood on tiptoe and brushed a feather-light kiss on his mouth. “Till we meet again,” she agreed.