by Josie Dennis
“That, dear brother, is for you to decide.” She began to unpin her hair, effectively dismissing him. “As to my affairs? I daresay you have enough to occupy your mind without worrying over me.”
He could say nothing more to her at present, so he left her room. He would have to keep Frederick from her if he couldn’t keep her away from Frederick. She had a valid point, however. He had to find a way to make Catherine his own before Henry did. A sickening thought struck him. What if Frederick set his sights on Catherine as well?
“I’ll kill him, captain or no captain,” he grumbled.
* * * *
“How is your head?” Henry asked Catherine as they walked about the formal gardens.
She felt ashamed at her lie of last evening and studied the crushed-stone path beneath her slippers. “Much better, thank you.”
“You slept well?” John asked from her other side.
She looked at him, seeing the same concern that colored Henry’s features. “Yes, indeed.”
They walked on quietly for a few minutes, and Catherine felt her gaze drawn to the wildness beyond the low garden walls. The general obviously paid his gardeners well to keep such a manicured showplace here on the grounds, but it was the untamed woods and brambles that caught her imagination. Little surprise there, she’d wager.
“Where is Isabella?” Catherine asked John. “I haven’t seen her since breakfast.”
“She is seeing to correspondence,” John answered. “Or at least she’d better be,” he added in a low tone.
She guessed he worried over Isabella’s interest in Captain Frederick Tilman. It was true the girl talked of little else.
“And where are your father and brother?” she asked Henry with trepidation.
“Frederick went into the village. My father is going out tonight, so I’m afraid you’ll have another delay in making his acquaintance,” Henry said.
She felt the breath at last leave her lungs. Another reprieve, then. She sat on a nearby bench and the two of them flanked her. “That is a shame,” she murmured. “I fear I know very little about you, Henry,” she went on. “Tell me more about your family.”
Henry appeared surprised by her question. Truth be told, she was brimming over with curiosity of both her beaux. John watched her closely, but that was just as well. She planned to ask him pointed questions when she was finished with Henry.
“Well, you’ve undoubtedly heard about my brother.”
The rake and reprobate, she nearly said. “I believe so. Isabella has talked of him nonstop since last night.”
“My sister can be foolish, Catherine,” John said. “Surely you have come to that conclusion in your months with her.”
Catherine smiled. “Isabella is excitable, but I’ve never met such a warm and generous young woman. She and your aunt have both made me feel quite at home.”
John smiled. “Isabella dotes on you as well.”
Henry cleared his throat. “My father you’ll meet tomorrow, I’m certain. He is a…singular gentleman.”
“That is putting it mildly,” John said with a smile. “I’ve seen him about. I daresay his gaze could freeze a man’s bits.”
Catherine blushed as she hid her smile. “I’ve come to know your aunt, John. What were your parents like?”
“My parents were kind, I suppose. My father, Aunt Beatrice’s brother, was stern, but I was scarcely home to worry over that.”
“John and I knew each other at Cambridge,” Henry offered.
She looked at Henry in surprise. “Oh, then you can tell me about his behavior there!”
“He cannot,” John said. “I was a lad, Catherine. Concerned with only my own pleasures.”
She was correct, then. He was a reformed rake. “Then tell me of Henry’s.”
John’s eyes danced and he leaned close to her. “Henry was diligent in his studies and quite dull indeed.”
Henry shrugged off the backhanded compliment. “I do not deny it. Now, however, I find my interests lie in places other than books.”
They seemed to communicate something between them. Henry’s meaning couldn’t be clearer, as his gaze ran over her form. She wriggled on the bench, her body hot for his touch once again. She had but to close her eyes to recall the amazing pleasure he’d given her with his mouth. John looked at her as well, his hazel eyes dark.
“You know, Catherine,” John mused aloud. “For the first time in our acquaintance Henry and I are of like mind.”
He touched her hand, stroking slowly over her palm as Henry moved a bit closer. She was deliciously trapped between the two of them, and her traitorous body reveled in their closeness. She could smell them over the perfume of the tamed and trimmed rose bushes. Fresh and spiced, rich and tempting. When Henry took her other hand she nearly threw herself at both of them.
“What are you about, John?” She swallowed and licked her lips. “Henry, we’re in your father’s garden.”
They both smiled, and then John brought his mouth to hers. “Kiss me, Catherine.”
She opened her mouth to his tongue, tasting deeply of his passion. He held her close, his chest hard against her breasts until she ached. Henry stroked his fingers over her neck, her throat, as John devoured her. Whimpering, she pulled away. “Oh, your kisses!”
Henry turned her to him. “What of mine?”
She blinked. “You’ve never kissed me. Oh, Henry you cannot mean…that!”
He grinned then kissed her as John had. His kiss was different, softer than John’s but just as delectable. She gave herself up to him as John edged his hand beneath her skirts. He touched her, and she jumped.
“Oh, you mustn’t!” She was flustered from their kisses and caresses and knew she must stop. “This isn’t right. Oh, I am a wanton.”
“You are not,” John said, reaching out to take her hand. “You wanted to kiss us both, did you not?”
She hung her head. “Yes, to my utter shame.”
Henry gaped at her. “Catherine…”
She wanted to jump on both of them, to sit on Henry’s lap and feel that compelling shaft of his right up against her pussy. She wanted to caress John to her heart’s content and feel his intimate kiss on her flesh as well.
“I must go,” she breathed, surging to her feet to run from the gardens.
She heard them calling to her, heard their footsteps on the pathway, but didn’t stop. She had to get away, both from them and her feelings for them. She couldn’t go to Isabella about her desires, that was certain. John was her brother after all, and she was as virginal as Catherine. Or as Catherine would be for a short while any way. She knew she would surrender her virginity to one or the other before this visit was over. There was no denying that inevitability.
She gained the library and tucked herself into a corner. What was she to do? She couldn’t choose, for both men seemed to want her as she wanted them. She couldn’t have both of them. She recalled the sensation of Henry’s mouth on hers as John caressed her. The combination was intoxicating. In her fevered dreams she’d been loved by the two of them. Could she have them both?
“Oh, I will be completely and utterly ruined,” she murmured.
What alarmed her was the realization that the prospect didn’t fill her with apprehension. No, she craved the pleasure they promised in their eyes, their touch. Perhaps there were worse ways to lose everything. And she just might gain something she’d never dared consider before.
Happiness, no matter how brief.
Chapter 8
Henry stood in the front parlor with John and Frederick. His brother was already deep in his cups, a common occurrence when at the abbey. Henry hadn’t had the chance yet to speak with John about what had happened in the gardens. Catherine had kissed both of them, with equal ardor if his suppositions were correct. John had nearly touched her beneath her pretty skirts. Had he thought to pleasure her right there? The idea intrigued him as much as it outraged him, however. Her kiss, the first he’d tasted despite their passion of
that day in Lansdown, was just as sweet after her kissing John. She was the same responsive girl as that afternoon, but now there was an element of sensual awareness he’d not sensed before. Did John see that, too?
“So what are you about, Thorne?” Frederick asked. “Still rutting your way through the girls?”
John bristled. “No. After my parents’ passing I find there is more to occupy my time.”
“Pity.” Frederick laughed. “We could have gone into the village and had a go at it together.” He waved at Henry. “My brother would be scandalized so we would just leave him here with the ladies. Perhaps he could work on his needlepoint or color a screen.”
“Never mind,” Henry said. He poured John and himself each a brandy. “As John said, there is more to consider than momentary satisfaction.”
“Momentary?” Frederick laughed again. “Oh, you are surely doing it incorrectly if that is your opinion on matters, eh, Thorne?”
John shrugged. “Your brother may have the right of it,” he told Frederick. “Finding the right girl may be far better than finding the girl of the moment.”
Frederick shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me which girl I find as long as she’s willing to suck my cock and let me fuck her any way I wish. Have you taken a girl in the ass?”
John reddened. “I am not without experience,” he said in a clipped tone.
Henry blinked. In a girl’s ass? He’d never considered that. There was a lot that he could learn from John, apparently. And his brother, though he couldn’t stomach the thought of taking his jibes along with the lessons.
“So where is this pretty companion I’ve heard tell about?” Frederick asked. “Catherine Morse, I believe?”
“Morris,” John and Henry said at the same time.
Frederick stared for a moment then grinned. “Ho! It’s like that, is it? Both smitten with her, are you? Perhaps I should have a go at the chit.”
“You will not,” Henry said. “Catherine is a guest here.”
“Catherine is little more than a servant, Henry,” Frederick said. “A nobody. Why, if the both of you want her you should both fuck her. She is in no position to demand matrimony from either one of you.”
John looked as though he wanted to smash Frederick’s face. “Don’t speak of her that way.”
“Thorne, come on! You’ve shared a wench before, haven’t you?”
“Yes, but that is immaterial.”
“You have?” Henry asked.
John gave a quick nod. “Catherine is not to be trifled with, Captain. I trust you get my meaning?”
Frederick stood straight, obviously attempting to intimidate John. To his credit, John did not back down.
Frederick snorted. “Fine. But what of my brother’s interest? Will you meet him at dawn?”
“Frederick, that is preposterous,” Henry said.
“Of course it is,” his brother agreed. “You would end up with a bullet through your heart. Thorne’s a crack shot, as I recall.”
“First you impugn Henry’s manhood and then his shooting skills?” John asked. “It is badly done of you.”
“I can do what I like in my house,” Frederick snapped. “My brother doesn’t have the ballocks to stand up to me or our father, so perhaps it is a good thing you’re here.”
“John, you don’t have to defend me.” Henry stood and crossed to Frederick. “Tell me you will stay away from Catherine.”
“Who is the chit to me? I’ve never even seen her.”
“That is not an answer, brother.”
Frederick waved a hand. “Fine. I’ll leave the girl to you and your friend there.” He tossed back his drink and poured himself another. “I daresay you’re good for him, Thorne. Perhaps you can make him a man where I and my father have failed.”
John’s eyes boggled at Frederick’s words. “How can you speak to your brother so?”
“Brothers are different from sisters,” Frederick said. “Speaking of which, is your sister spoken for?”
“Don’t think to try a seduction, Captain. I wouldn’t wait until dawn to settle matters,” John said.
Henry watched the exchange. If he’d doubted John’s assertion that he’d changed since school, he did no longer. Here was a man of honor and familial duty, not to mention someone who could become a good friend under the right circumstances. Their rivalry over Catherine would need to be settled and soon. But for now it was nice to have someone at his back. Someone who truly acted like a brother.
“Well, I am off for bed.” Frederick drained his glass again and set it down. “I believe father engaged several new maids since I was last home. Perhaps I’ll show one of them the best manner of cleaning.” He grinned. “On her knees.”
“Goodnight,” John said as Frederick walked out the door. He turned to face Henry. “How have you not planted him a facer? My God, how I wanted to.”
“I as well,” Henry admitted. “How dare he speak of Catherine.”
John let out a breath and settled back down in his chair. “He doesn’t know Catherine, Henry. He was speaking generally.”
“No matter. She is not a nobody.”
“So you have feelings for her?”
“Yes. From the moment I saw her, I had to learn more about her. I know her circumstances, John. They are not ideal.”
“She is my ideal, however.”
“And mine.” Henry was quiet for a moment. “What Frederick said, John. About both of us wanting her. That is true, is it not?”
John nodded, twirling his glass in his hands. “You know, I have never wanted a woman like I want Catherine. She is sweet and spirited and I find I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“Do you suppose we could…” Henry couldn’t put his question forth. “No, it is too much.”
“Both take her, you mean? We could, but she is a virgin. We would have to be certain.”
“Certain of what?”
“Her feelings, Henry. Her plans for her future.”
Henry studied the carpet for a long moment. “I wish I could marry her.”
“You cannot even present her to your father, not really.”
“True. He is worse than Frederick in that regard.” He looked John in the eye. “Thank you for defending her. And me as well.”
“I’ve met many men like your brother,” John said. “Hell, I wasn’t much different back at school. But I am different now. I won’t let your brother or your father shame Catherine, in word or deed. Depend upon it.”
Henry gave a slow nod. “But what of loving Catherine, John? Do you truly believe she would agree?”
“She is sensual and giving, that’s evident. She delighted in both our kisses in the garden.”
“Sex is a far cry from kissing,” Henry said.
John cocked a brow. “You ate her. I daresay that’s a far cry from kissing. Hell, I fingered her and made her come, too. Do you think her body will not welcome us?”
Henry had to give voice to his main concern. “She only has her virtue, John. Will you make an honest woman of her?”
John met his gaze, all humor gone from his expression. “I care for Catherine. I find her sweet and delightful and can think of no greater pleasure than having her in my life forever.”
“But marriage?”
John shrugged, losing his serious air. “If that’s what it takes to keep her, yes. God knows my family will offer no protest.”
Henry knew that was not the case with his father. “Then you should take her.”
“Alone?” He shook his head. “No. She wants you, too. I couldn’t take a wife who longs for another as well. Besides, I’ve come to enjoy your company, Henry.”
“What are you saying?”
John appeared thoughtful for a moment. “I’m not certain, but let’s not put the cart before the horse. We’ll let Catherine lead us in this.” He came to his feet. “Well, I am for bed,” he said, setting his glass down. He smiled. “And not to fuck an unsuspecting housemaid, either.”
Henry
laughed, the tension leaving his body. “Goodnight.”
He sat alone after John left, mulling over all they’d discussed. Did Catherine truly want to give herself to both of them? He didn’t know if they could truly have her forever, but there was a chance that they could at least come to a gentlemen’s agreement on the matter. Amazing, but the thought of both of them loving her caused a heightened awareness he’d never experienced.
John hadn’t known Catherine any longer than Henry, yet he seemed to have the same regard for her. She was a singular girl, to capture such interest through no apparent guile or design. Perhaps that was what drew the two of them to her?
He drained his glass and stood. If he had any chance to keep Catherine in his life he had to throw in with John. John could marry her. Surely if he takes her he’ll want her forever.
Well, Henry might not have the freedom to marry her, but he would do his damnedest to be a part of whatever future would unfold for the three of them.
* * * *
Catherine was in the darkened corridor again, but she was fully awake this time. Her disgrace in the gardens was on her mind all evening, and she couldn’t sleep. The general was no doubt still out on his mysterious calls so she took the opportunity to more fully explore his shameful store of straps and shackles. Something drew her to them, the same fascination she felt for John and Henry. The leathers and metals appeared well maintained, but then again the general was a military man. Didn’t weapons receive meticulous care as well?
She eased past his formal rooms and headed for the dark and gloomy chamber. Sounds reached her, low and guttural. Her skin prickled and flushed goose pimples. When she heard a softer wail, undoubtedly feminine in origin, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose. With a trembling hand, she reached for the thick wooden door barring the entry of the ancient private chamber. The door was as silent as before, the iron hinges well oiled. Her breath caught at the scene within.
A naked, young woman was pinned to the high bed, her body lit by a large branch of candles. She was on her back, her head lolling over the foot of the bed. Her legs were pulled apart, her breasts pointing toward the ceiling. As shocked as she was by the naked woman, she could scarcely believe what the other two occupants of the room were about.
