The Pleasure Garden: Sacred VowsPerfumed PleasuresRites of Passions

by Amanda McIntyre

  “Possessions?” she suggested.

  “Do not tempt me, not today,” Edward warned.

  He was flushed, his fair complexion blotched and ruddy. He despised being the underdog. Winning was his first concern. Being the best was always first and foremost in his mind. Edward felt he needed to beat Joscelyn, but didn’t realize he would never best him. Joscelyn was the better man. Always had been.

  Joscelyn did not covet anything of Edward’s. He desired Catherine for himself. She was not so naive as to fall for Edward’s tricks. What she and Joscelyn had shared last night had been soul shattering. Heartfelt. There was no possible way he had fabricated his feelings in order to take her away from Edward in a fit of pique, and a childish display of jealousy.

  “I’m prepared to let last night go, Catherine, if you promise never to even look at him again.”

  She wanted to fight Edward. To jump up and claw at his eyes, and scream at the injustice of having to marry him. But she remained seated, a paragon of ladylike behavior, suffering under her fiancé’s chastisement.

  “I am a handsome man, Catherine, with a fit body. I daresay if you spent as much time looking at me as you do him, then you would realize that your future husband is not the troll you make him out to be.”

  Troll, ogre, fiend. He was all those things and more.

  “You know how much I desire you.”

  “I know how much you wish to possess me,” she clarified, attempting to lift her chin away when he clasped it in his hand.

  “How you tempt me,” he said. His voice was tight, and his grip on her chin hurt. “So damn proud, aren’t you? You’re not even able to see what a gift you’ve been given.”

  What she’d eaten for breakfast threatened to come up. She was utterly bilious at Edward’s conceit and self-importance.

  “Whatever you think of my cousin, Catherine, you must allow yourself to remember that he is a bastard. He comes to you with nothing, not even a proper name. He certainly hasn’t the means to care for you, or for your family.”

  The reality of that nearly destroyed her. His lineage meant nothing to her, but unfortunately, his lack of wealth did. She could not abandon her parents. Her father and mother had never worked a day in their lives. They would never survive their fate if Catherine did not marry the brute standing before her.

  “Joscelyn can give you nothing, I can give you everything. Everything,” he said with a leer. “You think you desire my cousin, well, that my dear, is a pale comparison to what you will feel for me once I’ve bedded you.”

  “You have an inflated opinion of yourself, my lord.”

  He smiled, but it was empty of warmth and mirth. “I will enjoy breaking your spirit when you are my wife.”

  “I’m not yet,” she challenged, and winced as he came down beside her again holding her chin in his hand. He was hurting her, but she would be damned if she’d showed it, or her fear.

  “Let us have this understood between us. Right now. I am to be your husband. I will be, even if I have to stage your seduction, and arrange for your parents to find us with your legs spread and me pounding into you. Do you understand?”

  “How could I not, after the vivid image you have just painted for me?” She was sickened by the thought that he might do something so vile, but she knew he had it in him. He wanted her, and that was all he could think of. In time he would tire of her, and she would be allowed her freedom. Perhaps she might even live here at Fairfax House while Edward frittered away his time in London.

  She could only hope he would tire of her soon after their wedding.

  “Let me be rightly understood, Catherine. If you or my cousin do anything to prevent our marriage, you and your parents will suffer. I hold their vowels. I could refuse to pay them, or for that crumbling monstrosity you call a home. In fact, I just received another stack of your father’s bills in the post. He’s back at it, luv, gaming and gambling. If I refuse to pay these new debts, I could ruin him, and it would not take much to do so. And then what, Catherine? Where would they go? The workhouse? Debtors’ prison? You haven’t any family to take you in, and your parents’ friends have all but abandoned them. You and your parents are utterly alone, and dependent upon my mercy.”

  She swallowed hard, wishing to refute his claims, but knowing she couldn’t. The sad fact was that they were completely reliant upon this merciless creature.

  “Ah, the lady does understand,” he said, as he caressed her cheek. “You are bought and paid for, darling. But if you refuse to come to me, then it will be your parents who will suffer. Think of that when my bastard cousin is whispering naughty little things in your ears. Think of your mother toiling away in the workhouse as he pleads for you to come to him. Your parents’ fate is in your hands.”

  She wanted to cry. Wanted to rail at him, but all she could do was clasp her hands around his wrists as he cupped her cheeks in his palm.

  “Now what will it be, Catherine? Me or poverty? My future countess or the ruination of your parents?”

  She could hardly speak, her lips were trembling so, and tears were beginning to fall.

  “I knew you would see reason, darling. After all, you always were a most practical female. Hush now,” he murmured, “let me take away the pain.”

  Then he was kissing her and groping her breasts. She clutched at him, trying to push away, until he reminded her that she had made a deal. He was to be her husband, and only then would her parents be safe.

  The Green Man ornament slid sideways, scratching the wood and ancient brass, revealing a peephole. He and Edward had discovered that the brass was not merely decoration, but a way to spy on the occupants of the garden.

  From his bedroom window, Joscelyn had seen Edward leading Catherine here, and he immediately set out to follow. But instead of opening the garden gate, which squeaked, he chose to spy instead. True, he could not hear them, but he could see them, and he was certain he knew his cousin’s intentions for bringing her there.

  If Edward thought he would claim her, he was wrong. After last night, and the love they’d made, Joscelyn knew there was no way on earth or in hell that he would give Catherine up. He loved her. Had always loved her, and nothing Edward did would change that.

  He saw them sitting on the edge of the stone fountain. Catherine’s hands were wrapped around his wrists; Edward was clutching her face. Her eyes were shining, and Joscelyn knew she was crying. What was the bastard saying to her?

  And then Edward’s lips were upon hers, his hands groping and squeezing her breasts overtop her morning gown. She was struggling, and when Edward broke off the kiss and began tugging at her bodice, Joscelyn began to see red.

  When Edward picked her up and placed her on the ground and fell on top of her, hurriedly pulling up her skirts, Joscelyn reached for the latch, giving little thought to what he was about to do. It was daylight. There were no shadows, no corners to hide in. He would be exposed.

  Catherine’s cry made those fears evaporate, and he was sprinting into the garden heedless of the fact that Cathy might very well turn from him forever.

  “So sweet,” Edward panted as he sucked at her neck. His hands were full of her breasts, and his pelvis was grinding into hers. She could feel his arousal sinking between her thighs, despite the fact he was still clothed. She wanted to gag, but instead, she thought of something else—anything else but the man who was on top of her, and what he was about to do.

  “Yes,” he grunted, as he put space between them and looked down at her. “I knew your tits would be fabulous. A little taste, then.”

  She cried out as he suckled her hard. There was nothing tender or loving about his embrace. It was overpowering, as he meant it to be. He was showing her that she was in his control, and that she was supposed to submit to his wishes—any wishes. He was the means of her family’s salvation, and her body was his payment for saving them.

  “Oh, you want it,” he whispered into her ear. “I can feel your fingers digging into my shoulders. You want
this, don’t you?” As if in emphasis, he pressed his engorged shaft against her. “And I’m going to give it to you. Right now.”

  “No, please, don’t!” she cried, struggling beneath his weight. “No,” she screamed, pummeling his back with her fists, but Edward only laughed at her pathetic attempts.

  “Oh, yes, my little kitten, fight me. It makes me burn hotter.”

  In the next breath, and with a bloodcurdling roar, Edward was lifted off her, exposing her naked breasts to the air. Unable to move, paralyzed with fear, she darted her eyes to the left, just in time to see Joscelyn toss his cousin to the ground, his head landing a mere inch from the stone base of the fountain.

  “I told you I would kill you if you ever hurt her again.”

  Wiping the blood from his mouth with the cuff of his sleeve, Edward smiled, taunting Joscelyn. “The monster braves the sunlight.”

  “You would have raped her, and I am the monster?”

  “Joscelyn?” Her voice was quiet, weakened with terror. She feared he would not hear her, but he turned to look at her, his face contorted with rage. His gray eye blazed the color black, and it was then that she saw the eye patch, and the scars on his face. Catherine covered her mouth with the back of her hand when she saw the hate in his eyes, the pain etched in his expression.

  Oh, what he must have suffered! She could hardly bear it, knowing what he must have endured.

  She reached for him, but he turned away from her, focused once more on Edward. “Come near her again, and I will tear you apart, do you understand?”

  “You have no authority here, you bastard,” Edward challenged. “I can do whatever I wish. She’s my fiancée, not yours.”

  When he reached her, Joscelyn knelt on the ground. There was no warmth, no flicker of passion in his eye, only haunted shadows. “Joscelyn,” she whispered, and caught her breath as the breeze swirled around them, lifting his hair and blowing it away from his face. Her hand, trembling, reached for his cheek.

  He pushed it away, refusing to allow her to touch him. If possible, his gaze grew more emotionless as he reached for her, bringing her up against his chest and covering her bosom with her dress.

  “Joscelyn?”

  “Do not look, Catherine.” he growled.

  He told her not to look at him, but she could do no such thing. How could she not look into the face of her savior?

  But he refused to meet her gaze, and instead kept his attention focused straight ahead, while a muscle in his jaw clenched tightly, telling her that the last place he wanted to be was here, with her in his arms.

  “Inside!” he commanded. “I will talk with you later.”

  “Please,” she whispered, trying to make him understand that she was not a willing participant in Edward’s seduction, but the pain and betrayal she saw in his eye, in the hard lines around his mouth, told her he thought exactly that. He was thinking of last night, of the fantasy they had lived in the darkness, and here it was morning, where cold reality faced them.

  “I never wanted to hurt you,” she murmured, then fled, running past both men for the safety of the house.

  It was better this way, she told herself. If Joscelyn hated her now, he would not seek her out. Not tempt her with his touches and kisses. She would be safe, and so would her parents.

  It was what she had wanted all along—for her parents to be free of the choking debt. She no longer wanted to hear her mother weeping at night, or see her father in his study with his head in his hands.

  Yes. She had agreed to wed Edward. That was what she must do. But she had not realized that her heart and body would long for someone else. She had not known how painful it was to love another, and have him turn from her.

  5

  DAMN IT! SHE’D SEEN HIS FACE AND HER EXPRESSION had told him all he needed to know. He disgusted her, sickened her. He’d heard her gasp. He could still hear that shocked breath, and Joscelyn could not help but replay the sound over and over in his mind. He was nothing but a hideous beast to her. He had been a bloody fool to let himself believe his foolish dreams.

  Three years spent at war, living in a trench, sustained only by his thoughts and dreams of her. And all for this. To be cast aside. Pitied. He’d seen the pity in her eyes and recoiled from it. He wanted her love, her desire, but never her forbearance.

  Was she even now regretting their night of passion? Was she thinking of the hideous monster rutting atop her? Did she wish him far away, never to see him again?

  With a roar of outrage, he lashed out with his arm, clearing his dressing table of the metal tins of shaving soap and the brushes. Then, in an insane movement without thought, he drew back and punched the mirror, hating the image it reflected.

  “No!” he cried, then punched the shattered glass once more. “No!”

  His knuckles were bleeding, and he was spent. Collapsing beside the bed, he leaned his head back against the mattress.

  “I will not leave this place without you, Catherine,” he vowed to the ceiling. “I will not. Your place is beside me, monster or not.”

  Moaning, Catherine sank farther into the warm water and rested her neck against the copper tub. Closing her eyes, she allowed the soothing heat and scented water to wash over her skin, taking away the taint of Edward’s touch.

  “Lean forward and I shall wash your back,” Mary, her lady’s maid, instructed.

  Catherine did as she asked, indulging in the pampering being lavished upon her. Where was Joscelyn? she wanted to ask.

  Do not look, Catherine. He hadn’t wanted her to see the thick scars that ran the length of his cheek. He most certainly hadn’t wanted her to touch him. She had seen fear briefly shine in his black eye, but only too soon it was replaced with a haunting sadness that made her want to hold him. In that moment when he had lifted her from the grass and brought her tight to his chest, she had never seen a man more handsome.

  If only he would have allowed her to tell him, to show him that he was wrong, that she was not disgusted by what she had seen. But his pride was pricked, and she knew that Joscelyn had more than his fair share of pride.

  The water splashed over her head and trickled down her shoulders. Catherine sighed, wishing Joscelyn would come to her so that she could tell him his scars meant nothing to her, that she still loved him, desired him. But she had the feeling it would take more than mere words to soothe the ache in Joscelyn’s soul. She also knew that to reveal her true feelings would give him false hope. There was nothing but more hurt to be gained by such a confession.

  “Will you wear the blue gown to supper?” Mary asked.

  Catherine only nodded. She didn’t particularly care what she wore. She could think only of Joscelyn, and the pain he must be feeling.

  “And the sapphires.” Mary prattled on. “They go lovely with that gown.”

  Catherine visibly trembled. Edward had bought them for her, as an engagement gift. They were stunning, but she hated wearing them. They reminded her of what she had sold. Herself.

  “You are shivering again,” Mary whispered. “Come, let us get you into bed.” Standing up, Catherine allowed the maid to help her out of the tub, and stood on shaking legs. “To bed, my lady,” Mary ordered, and taking her by the hand, led her there and covered her to her chin with warm blankets. “Now then, drink this.”

  Catherine reached for the mug Mary handed her, noticing the steam that curled in tendrils. “What is it, tea?”

  “Tea, with a mild sleeping tonic.” Mary smiled. “Herbs that will make you sleep and dream only peaceful dreams.”

  “I’d like that. I vow I feel as though I could sleep a week.”

  “Then sleep,” Mary ordered, when Catherine at last finished the tea. “Sleep and dream. You have many hours yet, and I will make your excuses to your parents. Then I will come in and dress you for the evening. You will be so beautiful that your future husband will fall at your feet.”

  The tea was warm and soothing and the bed so inviting. She hadn’t slept last night; inste
ad, she had spent it making love with Joscelyn. Soon her eyes were closing, and she was drifting on a sea of dreams.

  After what felt like an eternity, Catherine sat up in bed and looked about the room, disoriented and confused. It was dark outside and someone had lit the candles on the commode. In the hearth a fire blazed, snapping and cracking to life as flame engulfed a log.

  Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she looked about the room, realizing that she was very much alone in the chamber. She had a vague, fuzzy memory of Mary coming in and laying out her gown and petticoats.

  She had dreamed of Joscelyn, of running away with him. How desperately she wanted to leave her life behind and forge a new one, with him. But that was not to be.

  The scene in the garden with Edward replayed itself, and she knew, unequivocally, that Edward would hold to his promise. He would ruin her parents if she decided to see Joscelyn again.

  She wondered what had happened after she’d left the garden. Was Edward even now plotting his revenge against her, after Joscelyn had interrupted them?

  “There, my lady,” Mary said. Standing back, the lady’s maid observed with pride the creation she had fashioned. “Your hair looks so lovely coiled like that. And the earrings, they sparkle so nicely in the gaslight.”

  “Thank you, Mary.”

  The sapphires were an extravagant indulgence. They were large, cut for maximum sparkle, and with the diamonds edging them they glittered even more. They were stunning, but she would have been just as happy with jet, if it had been given to her by someone she loved, or at the very least cared for.

  Looking at her reflection, she saw a woman who radiated purity and innocence. Her artless expression and wide eyes lent her the image of maidenly beauty and virtue. But inside she felt like a whore. She’d been bought, and she had allowed herself to be so.

  “Come,” Mary murmured. She fixed her fingers on Catherine’s bare shoulders. “You will make such an entrance.”