“Yes,” Adam replied, his voice suddenly cool. “Is he in Saratoga too?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Sarah tranquilly declared, “with a crowd of this magnitude. It’s almost unmanageable, don’t you think?”
“Do you know where she is?” Adam enunciated each word with a distinct clarity.
“I saw her last on the piazza … that way, I think, or was it that way?” Sarah airily motioned. “Oh, dear, my sense of direction is so …” Her words trailed off as Adam briefly bowed and left. She smiled up at Caldwell. “My, what a precipitous young man,” she sweetly declared.
“I’d say he’s off to woo that niece of yours, Sarah,” Caldwell jovially said. “I reckon she’s in for a surprise.”
“She certainly will be,” Sarah Gibbon said with the gloating smile of a matchmaker. “He’s remarkably hot-blooded.”
In swift, stalking scrutiny Adam searched the entire length of the quarter-mile piazza, not certain whether he’d find Flora with Ellis, not certain what he’d do if he found them together. But when he finally discovered her behind a half screen of wisteria vines, he simply stood arrested for a moment, her beauty more breathtaking than he’d remembered.
Her skin was pale against the violet of her gown, her hair piled high in studied disarray with wispy tendrils framing her face. She half reclined on the filigreed settee with one leg on the seat, the other fallen over the edge of the garden bench. Her head lay against an ornate scalloped shell design, her hands were lightly clasped in her lap, the beaded bodice of her gown sparkled in the subdued light as her breasts softly rose and fell with each breath. The diaphanous chiffon of her gown lent an illusion of nudity in the shadowed light, as if her flesh were only lightly veiled by glimmering jewels. And the diamonds at her throat and ears shimmered icy cool against her skin.
He shouldn’t have come looking for her. He’d tried not to for that small amount of time it took to listen to Sarah Gibbon’s explanation of Flora’s presence in Saratoga. And now that he’d found her, he wasn’t sure what to do—what was possible or impossible with her slumbering form so available, her thighs lushly open beneath the filmy chiffon and silk. His fingers flexed, an unconscious gesture of repressed action, and he drew in a deep breath of restraint. He pulled up a chair and sat down, a compromise measure to less prudent impulses pressing the boundaries of good taste. He didn’t suppose her aunt would benignly overlook public lovemaking or an abduction.
As he gazed at Flora—rocked by indecision … one second thanking the spirits for bringing her to him … the next, half rising to leave—he remembered other times when he’d watched her sleep, when she’d not been dressed so elegantly—when she’d not been dressed at all.
He sat back down again, his fingers clamped hard on the chair arms.
“Don’t you dare, Bertie, what will people say if they see, Bertie, no!” And a high squeal of delight pierced the quiet corner of the veranda. “Bertie, no, no, no …” But the voice was playful, teasing, drifting away now toward the opposite side of the garden.
Flora wakened with a start at the feminine cry, and it took her a moment to remember where she was, for Adam Serre was seated very close, his dark eyes trained on her.
“You’re here,” she whispered, still half-asleep, her words a tentative measure of reality.
“I came looking for you.”
His voice was deep and low as she remembered, and the vague possibility she was dreaming vanished at the familiar tone. She still wasn’t fully awake, or she would have responded to the intensity in his voice. “Have you been here long?”
He shook his head. “A few minutes. I saw your aunt inside, and she mentioned you were here.”
“Sarah seems acquainted with everyone at Saratoga.”
“She and Caldwell are friends. I was with his party.”
“I know that.”
His brows rose.
“Sarah knew it too. I came here to find you.”
“As I did just now. Although,” he said with a small, bitter sigh, “I don’t have a damned thing to offer you.”
“That’s all right,” Flora replied. “I don’t want anything.”
“And yet there’s much I want,” he softly said. “You look very beautiful tonight,” he murmured. “All glittering undress.”
“My seduction dress. I came here to seduce you, but …”
“But?” No more than a husky intonation, subdued like the light in their cloistered corner.
“I decided against it. I found myself unnerved by the artifice and the unwonted intrusion in your life. It’s enough to be friends.”
“I don’t know if it is for me.” His head moved in a minute gesture of negation, exposing a glimmer of pink shell earring.
“I won’t be staying long,” Flora said, realizing suddenly how difficult it might be to resist. “Just a few days; surely we can act like adults,” she added in bolstering defense.
He smiled. “Tell my libido that.”
“I know about your libido,” she said with a tentative smile. “But there are masses of women here. And you’re not the celibate type.”
“Nor you, which is a real problem for me.” His voice took on an edge. “Is Ellis here?”
“I don’t think so, but I just arrived this afternoon.” Her lacy brows came together in a small frown. “And I’d never sleep with Ellis. He likes docile women.”
Adam grinned. “Surely not your style.”
She smiled back. “Not in memory. Friends now? Come, Adam, say yes. I’d adore seeing Lucie while I’m here.”
He inhaled deeply, his expression shuttered, and then, slowly exhaling, said, “I’ll try.” He smiled. “And Lucie will be ecstatic. You’ve become the bellwether for pleasure in our family.”
The word “family” hurt for a moment, the sweet intimacy at Adam’s ranch her own gold standard for idyllic happiness, but she managed a courteous smile, as was expected of well-bred ladies. “Have your horses been winning?” she asked on a less personal note.
He nodded. “Magnus is taking every race he enters. Come see him run tomorrow. Lucie would love it.” He paused. “And I would too.”
“I’d enjoy that.” Flora spoke in her modulated social voice, the one without undue feeling. It was a test of her nerves.
“I’ll have a carriage come for you at half-past ten tomorrow morning.” He stood abruptly. “I think I’ll go back to the casino now. If I stay here much longer, looking at you in that seduction gown”—his smile was tight—“I might have to put it to the test.”
And if he’d stayed, she thought, watching him walk away, broad-shouldered, powerful, his stride all fluid grace, his dark beauty as extravagant as his passion, she would have allowed him anything.
She shivered in the humid heat.
It was much easier in the bright light of day to repress her most ardent longing, particularly with Lucie in tow, and their day at the races was pure delight—the very best of harmonious friendship. Conversation centered on horses, speed, jockeys, stables. Lunch with Caldwell and his friends was raucous, the discussion amusing, energetic, hysterical at times, and Flora laughed more than she had in ages, her enjoyment giving Adam enormous pleasure.
Adam’s thoroughbreds won all their races, so both Flora and Adam made a tidy sum on the betting.
“I’m going to have to buy some bauble with my winnings,” Flora gaily declared. “Something completely useless.”
“I’ll take you to Tiffany’s tomorrow,” Adam said.
“When?” Her face was wreathed in smiles.
“Whenever you like. They’ll open the store anytime.”
“Tomorrow morning is fine.”
“At nine, then, before the races.”
“Perfect.”
How easy it is to love him, she thought.
How easy it is to make her happy, Adam cheerfully reflected.
The day sped by, the mood serious at times when Adam’s horses were running. He watched every move of horse and j
ockey with a stopwatch in hand, taking note of the minutest details. At other times Lucie kept them busy with her questions and comments, her Baby DeeDee a participant in the conversations as well. And after the races that afternoon, when they brought Flora back to Sarah’s, at Lucie’s insistence Adam agreed to come in for tea.
“You don’t have to go gambling until nine o’clock, Papa, so we have plenty of time for cakes and tea,” Lucie had cheerfully maintained when Adam had hesitated at Flora’s invitation.
How could he refuse such logic?
They were seated in the garden under the shade of the elms with a silver tea service gleaming on a table set near a bed of pansies, their white wicker chairs arranged in a half circle around it.
“Don’t you just love frosting?” Lucie declared, licking her fingers with relish.
“It’s my favorite,” Sarah agreed, “which is why I always have Cook make these cakes for tea. Flora was just telling me yesterday how much she liked them.”
“I like any sweets,” Flora said with a smile.
“But chocolate best,” Adam said.
And the look passing between her two adult guests caused even a worldly woman like Sarah to take pause. “You’re not drinking your tea, Mr. Serre,” she said in the sudden hush, feeling decidedly de trop. “Would you care for something stronger?”
It took Adam a moment to respond, and when he turned to his hostess, he said almost abstractedly, “Brandy would be fine.”
“Papa doesn’t usually drink tea, although Maman would always complain and say he was—what was that long word, Papa? It started with ‘un.’ ”
“Uncivilized,” he said.
“It’s just a matter of taste, darling,” Sarah quickly interjected into the abrupt silence. “Many men find tea much too weak. My dear husband always preferred a cup of rum. It came from his days at sea when he was running the China clippers. Rum was his favorite—hot, cold, with sugar and lemon, with eggnog, well … just about any form of rum … pleased him.” Realizing she was nervously running on, Sarah came to an abrupt conclusion. “Let me call the maid to bring you some brandy,” she quickly added, ringing the small bell on the table with obvious agitation.
Adam debated saying he didn’t really need brandy but realized that would only further fluster her.
Flora wondered how a few words could bring back a flood of memories with such clarity. Adam had often fed her the rich chocolate desserts she’d ordered at the Planters House. She recalled the tempting variety of ways.
“What’s a clipper?” Lucie’s chirpy question punctuated the humid quiet like a drumroll.
“Let me show you some paintings of clippers,” Sarah immediately replied, not sure whether she wasn’t making a cowardly retreat or kindly leaving the two lovers alone. “They’re big sailing ships, darling, and I’ve several paintings of my husband’s favorite ones in the library.”
“I’ve never seen a big sailing ship. Only the steamships on the Missouri. My nanny Cloudy came up the river on a steamship,” she added in clarification of her knowledge. “I’ll just take one of these cakes with me in case they’re all gone when I come back.” And with the spirit of an adventurer, she followed her hostess without a backward glance.
“She certainly isn’t timid,” Flora said with a smile, watching Lucie skipping alongside Sarah.
“I’m sitting here at the tea table,” Adam said with a grin.
“When you don’t drink tea.”
“And making your aunt very jumpy in the process.”
“You shouldn’t have looked at me like that.”
“I’m sorry. Actually, I’m not sorry about that,” he candidly admitted, “but about a dozen other things in my life that are keeping me from touching you.”
“Which subject makes me very uncomfortable because my notions of restraint are much like Lucie’s.” She smiled. “Almost nonexistent. And I’m trying to be mature about this.”
“It’s an edifying experience, at least—this notion of honorable intentions. I’ll be taking cold baths with great regularity.”
“How sweet.”
He looked at her from under his dark brows and muttered, “Don’t press me.”
“Would I be sorry?” She felt safe in teasing him because he was so noticeably under control.
He grinned. “I don’t think so.”
“Immodest man.” Her voice was ingenue flirtatious.
“Damn you, you just feel secure because we’re in your aunt’s garden.”
“And Lucie’s here.”
He laughed; then his eyes took on a speculative look. “But she goes to sleep quite early,” he said. “Which room is yours?” His gaze swept the garden side of the two-story mansion.
“Good Lord, Adam! You can’t come to my room. The servants would talk. I’m not even sure Sarah would approve, tolerant as she is. This town lives on gossip, and I wouldn’t want to implicate her in any of my—”
“Indiscretions?” he mildly interjected.
“You’re definitely an indiscretion, darling. Henry tells me Morrissey’s taking bets on whether your nursemaids stay or go.”
“This is a damned small town,” Adam noted with astonishment. “Lucie just told me last night.”
“Losing your vigilant perception, monsieur?”
“Apparently,” he murmured. “And for your information, they’re on their way home.”
“Did I ask about your entanglements?” she said with feigned artlessness.
“They’re not my entanglements,” he muttered. “Dammit, how the hell did Morrissey know?”
“So soon, you mean. Sarah tells me he has most of the servants in town on his payroll. So kindly stay away from my bedroom, or they’ll be betting on how long you stayed.”
“I’ll be careful no one sees me.”
“That’s not the right answer.”
“I’ll be very careful.”
“Adam!”
“Look, this is all very new to me, this carnal restraint. I hope cold baths work.” His smile was boyish, sweet, and impossible to resist. “If they don’t, I’ll kill any servant I meet in your hallway to suppress gossip.”
“I can see who will have to be firm about this denial.”
“Right,” he dryly said. “The lady who offered me twenty-four hours of sex as a side bet.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“I hadn’t … well, completely resolved the issues in my mind.”
“And now you have.”
“More or less.”
His brows rose. “That seems unusually firm.”
“Well, it is.” Her voice sounded childish even to her ears.
“Good,” he smoothly declared, his eyes half-lidded. “I’m glad one of us can handle this competently. Because I’m not real sure about myself.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t see each other.” A tentative avowal.
“No,” he emphatically said. He had no intention of giving her up, even if her company was constrained by prohibitions.
She smiled from her wicker chair under the cool shade of the elm trees. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“You’re very confusing.” His voice was clipped, restrained.
“I like being with you under any conditions.”
“Yes, I know the feeling, and on that disturbing note, I need a brandy—a bottle, I think. Where the hell is that maid?”
The maid appeared shortly with the brandy, having been sent out by Sarah, and Adam commenced to enjoy tea with a new appreciation, although the degree of innuendo in his conversation increased in direct ratio to the decreasing amount of brandy in the bottle. By the time Sarah and Lucie returned after a lengthy interval in the library admiring clipper ships, Flora found herself blushing on occasion at the softly put double entendre. And after Adam and his daughter took their leave, half a bottle of brandy later, Sarah said to her niece with breathless awe, “If you manage to keep Adam Serre at bay, my dear, it will be not only a miracle of vas
t proportions, but a testament to your self-denial. He’s unutterably tempting. And impatient.”
“Also the object of every female’s lust from nursemaid to lady. He’s had enormous practice.”
“But Lucie said her nursemaids were sent back home. Cook is helping until they can find someone suitable. Surely it’s a gesture of some kind.”
“You needn’t defend him, Auntie. He already told me very plainly, he can offer me nothing.”
“Surely not a surprise to you. Did you expect more?”
“No.” Flora traced with a fingertip the embroidery on the napkin lying on her lap. “But I find I want more.”
“You’re serious about him,” her aunt murmured, her expression sympathetic.
“A very ridiculous posture with Adam Serre, wouldn’t you agree?” Abruptly crushing the linen napkin, Flora tossed it onto the table.
“I don’t know him well enough,” her aunt carefully said, although she had her own perceptions of Adam Serre’s regard for Flora. A man of casual conquests in the past, he seemed curiously possessive of her niece’s time. He’d asked what entertainment they’d be attending that evening and promised to come. Adam Serre at Charlotte Brewster’s party for her granddaughter, Sarah reflected, would be a startling sight.
“And I know him too well,” Flora retorted with a grimace. “He’s simply intent on overcoming my resistance. It’s part game, part true interest, but predominantly motivated by carnal impulses.”
“Unlike other men, you’re saying?” her aunt archly queried. “Most of the men wooing women here are consumed with the same fundamental desires, my dear. Don’t be too hard on the boy. He seems devoted to your entertainment. And his darling child adores you.”
“And I her. Isn’t Lucie the most wonderful child? She’s charmingly inquisitive, never difficult, and so precocious, I forget she’s only four.”
“Adam clearly worships her. Not the pose of an unfeeling man.”
“I’m not taking issue with his capacity for tenderness or emotion, simply with the duration of his interest.”
“Are you actually contemplating settling down in one place on the globe”—Sarah tipped her head slightly and cast a speculative eye on her niece—“after all these years of wandering?”
Pure Sin Page 21
