The Pleasure Garden: Sacred VowsPerfumed PleasuresRites of Passions

by Amanda McIntyre

  “What is it you want from me?” she begged, unable to stand the pleasure of his touch. “Just tell me—please. And be done with this.”

  She had asked him that in a quiet, almost wary little voice. It was so easy an answer. Her body. Her love. The heart that was beating so hard in her chest, and the soul that no one ever considered inside the beautiful wrapping that was Catherine.

  Joscelyn did not say those words. Instead, he sank to his knees, skimming his lips between her breasts, down the middle of her ribs to the gentle rise of her belly as he did so. Instinctively, her abdomen contracted when his hot breath grazed her sensitive skin beneath the sheer silk gown. His hands captured her hips, stilling her as he flicked his tongue across her navel. When he heard her suck in her breath, he stood and reached for the lace neckline of her gown.

  His mouth went dry as he saw the shadows outlining the rounded flesh of her breasts. He wanted to rip the gown from her body, but that would be rash and gauche. This time it was going to be different. This time he knew how to control his urges. This time he would pleasure her like a true, skilled lover—and she would come back to him.

  He saw her pink nipples begin to harden through the translucent material. He was standing behind her again, one hand holding the fabric, the other skating up her midriff to rest below her breasts.

  Gooseflesh flared to life all over her body and he smiled knowingly as he watched her reaction in the mirror. “Edward’s blood might be blue, Catherine, but blue is cold. My blood is red. Hot and lusty. Which man will give you the type of passion you’ve always craved? The blue blood or me?”

  She would not answer him, would not give him the response he needed so desperately to hear. But her body was speaking for her. The words she could not voice, but he heard them anyway, in the shaking breath that escaped her lips, felt them in the way her body trembled.

  “What will you tell your husband when he discovers he is not the first? Will you tell him your innocence was taken brutally from you? Or will you admit the truth and tell him how you kissed me, how you let me fondle your breasts, how I coaxed the honey from between your thighs with my mouth? Will you tremble and beg for him, as you did for me?”

  Joscelyn brought his finger to his lips and wet the tip, then dragged it across the bud beneath the fabric. The silk was rendered transparent, the fabric molding to the nipple and areole. She gasped as he slid his wet finger over the damp silk, making her nipple curl and tighten as he repeated the action. She gasped again as he lowered the bodice, exposing her breasts for the briefest of seconds before she shielded them with her hands.

  Reaching beneath her arms, he cupped the undersides of her breasts, feeling the softness, testing the heavy weight of them. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes, refusing to watch his dark hands as he pried her fingers from her breasts and covered her fully with his.

  “Can you not bear it?” he asked, his voice a mixture of need and anger as his thumbs traced circles around her pebbled nipples. “Can you not stand to see my coarse hands covering you? Does it shame you, to have me, a monster, touching you?”

  She refused to answer, keeping her eyes tightly shut.

  Flicking his tongue up the length of her neck in time to his stroking thumbs, he whispered, “Does seeing my hands on you disgrace you, Catherine, or do you feel mortification because you like it, because you know you should be ashamed to desire the attentions of a bastard commoner who has been burned, beaten, left blind in one eye?”

  “You are intentionally being hurtful,” she said in a painful whimper.

  “Am I? No, only truthful. You’re a lady of breeding, and I’m just a mongrel.”

  “You’re brooding for no reason. I’ve told you the scars mean nothing to me.”

  “No reason? I’m sulking, Cathy. Do indulge me. It’s not easy for a man to spend three years away at war, surrounded by death and despair, his only hope and light the thoughts of a woman he loves. I came home broken, but I have faced my demons—I’ve shown myself to you. And now you’re being a coward.”

  “A coward?” she gasped.

  “Yes, you’re either afraid to acknowledge what you feel because you’re a coward, or because of me. My scars.”

  “You’re deliberating goading me?”

  “Am I? I know you so well, Catherine. How you feel. You’re warring with yourself, trying to not yearn, because you know a woman of breeding should not have yearnings for a man who is beneath her. A woman such as you should not be wet and wishing a man such as me would finger her and bring her to ecstasy. Because that is what you want, don’t you? My fingers stroking you until you come. “

  A small inarticulate sound—from excitement, or from shock?—escaped her parted lips. The rush of her hot breath caressed his flesh. He took satisfaction in the way her hands were clutching the gown, which had fallen to her hips. “It’s not you—not how you…look, but how you make me feel. I can’t allow myself the pleasure because you will ruin me. How could I ever be with Edward after you? Yes, you’re right, I am a coward. Please s-stop, Joscelyn,” she stammered, and shivered as he breathed against her. “Stop, please.”

  “How beautifully you tremble for me.” And just to prove it, he took both nipples and rolled them between his thumbs and forefingers, making them stiffen into peaks he wanted desperately to slip between his lips. She shook her head, denying the obvious truth, and he pressed his body closer to hers, brushing his hard cock against the supple flesh of her bottom.

  “I could take you like you this, you know. I could make you so needy that you would grant me anything.”

  “No.” The protest came out as a sigh, but he was certain she meant it to be a scathing denial.

  He admired her tenacity, but she would not win tonight. He was much too intent on his goal. And his goal was to see everything he had missed out on before. He was here in the light. There were no more secrets between them. He wanted her body—to see it, to touch it, to watch them together.

  Skimming his roughened fingertips down the satiny flesh of her abdomen, he rested his index finger at the point where the nightgown dipped teasingly below the small mound of her belly. He captured her gaze and smiled most wickedly. “Now which part will you choose to shield, hmm?”

  She was breathing more quickly, and the pulse in her throat throbbed faster. He sensed her desire, the struggle within her to fight what she was feeling. Slowly he pulled the silk from her body, the swishing sound as it slid across her hips erotic in the charged silence. He was about to reveal the thatch of blond curls when she simultaneously lowered one hand to cover her mound, and made to cover her delightful breasts with her other arm and hand. He intervened then, capturing her wrist and holding her still. She made a small sound in her throat when he pulled her hand away from her breasts and brought it up over her head, to rest against his neck.

  How damn gorgeous she looked like this, arched, pressed against him.

  “We can’t…that is…” She swallowed hard. “I don’t want this.”

  “You don’t?” Reaching for her other hand, he placed it on his neck, watching in the mirror as her body bowed back. “Let us see how much you don’t want this, Cathy.”

  Her eyes widened when he reached down and hooked her leg over his, exposing the slickness that lay between her thighs. “You’re aroused, luv. Admit it. I can see your desire glistening between these plump folds.”

  She cried out, clung to his hair with her fingers as he parted the swollen lips, exposing pink flesh that gleamed like silk. Her breath left her lungs in a whoosh when he raked one long finger from the bottom of her sex to the crest of curls at the top, then tapped her erect clitoris with the tip of his finger.

  “Now that is what I came to see. You completely naked and welcoming me.”

  He slid his finger deep inside her and watched his tanned flesh disappear into her body. His cock swelled further and he pressed it against her, wishing she would reach around and free him from his trousers. He’d give anything to feel those s
oft, supple hands on his rigid shaft.

  “Joscelyn, please,” she cried as she began to ride his hand. “We can’t do this. Edward…” She swallowed, gasped and began to cry. “My parents. He’ll destroy them if sees me with you.”

  Joscelyn stopped, released her leg and held her, letting her trembling body mold against his. Looking into her eyes, he swept his fingers down her cheek. “Believe in me, Catherine. This can work. Trust me to take care of you, and your parents.”

  She hugged him tightly, shaking her head in denial. “No, it can’t, Edward…he’s the monster.”

  “Believe me, Catherine, things are not as desperate as they seem. If you could only see past your fear, you would realize that I can help you. But you’ve got this notion in your head that you, solely, must bear this burden of protecting your parents. That isn’t the case.”

  “You tempt me, and I want to believe you. But Edward would never agree. Furthermore, he would make our lives hell.”

  With a sigh, Joscelyn pulled away from her, slowly sliding his hands from her body. “Come into the garden, Catherine. Whenever you want me, I’ll be there. Trust me….”

  And then he left her. It had been the hardest thing to do, leaving her like that, but Joscelyn knew she needed to come to him of her own free will. It was not only her body he desired, but her trust in him, as well.

  7

  JOSCELYN CONTEMPLATED THE CONTENTS OF his glass tumbler, which glowed amber in the flickering firelight. He was in a hell of a mood, and brandy seemed just thing. Expect he hadn’t done anything to abate the desire and need he still felt swimming inside him.

  “Damn chilly tonight,” his uncle grumbled with a shiver as he settled into the empty wing chair beside Joscelyn’s. Together they watched the crackling logs in comfortable silence.

  Fairfax had grown old these past three years. His body was still large and robust, and his skin ruddy, but the exuberance and energy his uncle had once displayed were gone, replaced with a lethargy that comes with age and illness.

  “You’re well, I trust, uncle.”

  “Very well, I thank you.”

  “And your health?”

  His uncle shot him a questioning glance, the thicket of his gray brows arching in question. “As hearty as ever. What, may I ask, has led you to question it?”

  With a shrug, Joscelyn tipped the tumbler to his lips and tossed back the contents before placing the empty crystal on the table. “You do not seem in your usual spirits, is all. I thought I might inquire.”

  The earl’s smile was faint, and melted away almost immediately. “As you age, Joscelyn, there is a time in your life when you begin to take stock of what you have done with the years you’ve been given. You think on achievements and failures, and decisions that you’ve made—and regrets.”

  Joscelyn wondered if one such regret was taking in an orphan.

  “Sometimes we have the best intentions. Other times, we’re quite merciless. Sometimes,” he said quietly, “our decisions are based on our beliefs of other people, and sometimes those beliefs turn out to be rather shattering.”

  “You speak of me.”

  Fairfax stared at him. “God, no, my boy. Never you. You’ve far exceeded anything I thought you might become. You’re a gentleman through and through. A fine man. And I like to look upon you and think that you were one of my successes.”

  “Thank you, uncle.” He’d seduced Catherine, his cousin’s intended, beneath his uncle’s roof. No, he was not at all honorable, as his uncle believed. He was a true bastard.

  “Edward,” Fairfax sighed. “He’s the shattered hope I hold. I raised him well, in the same manner as you, and yet he has turned out to be selfish and cruel. I can’t fathom it. His mother was an angel, and I believe that I am a fair man. Occasionally I bluster about, but I hope I’m not cruel or callous.”

  What was this? Joscelyn had never heard his uncle speak of his son in such a manner. What could be the reason for it?

  After another deep sigh, Fairfax slid farther into his chair and rested his head against the padded wing. “I knew of the malicious streak in my son when he was but a child. I corrected it numerous times, and hoped he would outgrow his spiteful nature. I believed he had, till…recently.”

  Joscelyn dearly wanted to ask. But he knew his uncle would say more when he was ready.

  “What brings you here tonight?” Fairfax asked suddenly. “You look as pensive as I feel.”

  Joscelyn had the sudden urge to disabuse his uncle of the notion that he was a gentleman. For some damn reason, he despised knowing that he was misleading the man who had cared him—loved him—like a son.

  “I find myself here reflecting on my life. My actions. The consequences. The decisions that have led me here.”

  With a smile, Fairfax snorted gently, then met Joscelyn’s stare. “Catherine Tate, I should think, factors into those contemplations.”

  For the first time in years Joscelyn found himself blushing. “Indeed, sir.”

  “I’ve always known it. There is no need to blush so.”

  Wiping a hand over his face, Joscelyn closed his eye. “I never meant for it to happen.”

  “Does any man mean to fall in love?” Fairfax shook his head and stared into the fire. “The heart goes where it wishes, and yours wished for Lady Catherine. That’s one of my regrets.”

  “Which is?”

  Fairfax slid him a look. “That I didn’t give her to you.”

  Shocked, Joscelyn sat mute and frozen in the chair. “Sir?”

  “I wanted her for the Fairfax dynasty, you see. Penniless they may be, but she and her family come from a long and noble lineage. Their reputations are spotless, despite her father’s gambling ways.”

  “I see.”

  “I thought she would do very well for Edward. Bring some softness into his life. I…thought, or rather hoped, your interest was a passing fancy that would be soothed and replaced by leaving.”

  Straightening, Joscelyn felt his body go rigid. “My commission.”

  His uncle nodded. “You were to be an officer. And you weren’t to be near the fighting. I made certain of that. But then everything went wrong, and now…now, damn it, whenever I see you I am filled with such self-loathing and contempt, because it was me, my ambitions, that put you there.”

  A tempest swirled inside him, and he curled his fingers into fists and strived to calm himself. It was not his uncle’s fault. That was much was certain.

  “My wounds are not your burden, uncle. A commission was more than a man of my background could expect. I was elated with it. And to be honest, I thought perhaps that my separation from Fairfax House and Catherine would do me well. But it did not work. I’ve only managed to fall deeper in love with her.”

  “My son doesn’t love her. He wants to make her his possession, and when he tires of her, he’ll toss her aside, and I will be forced to watch her, her sadness, her longing for you.”

  Where was this conversation leading? Joscelyn wondered. Why tell him all this now?

  Standing, his uncle made his way to his desk and rifled through the drawers, then returned with a packet of letters. “You are the son I’ve always wanted, Joscelyn. A man with pride and honor and a sense of duty. You’ve never asked for a blasted thing since you came here. I…I owe you this.”

  Joscelyn took the folded paper from his uncle and opened it. After scanning it, he glanced up. “Mother’s dowry?”

  “Aye. Your father never got his mitts on it, and your mother, God bless her soul, did not live long enough to return for it. By the time I found her, she was dying. I’ve kept it for you, intending to give it to you when you needed it most. Which I believe might be now.”

  A packet of bundled missives landed on Joscelyn’s lap. “Tate’s outstanding debts. Do what you will with them.”

  As his uncle walked past him, Joscelyn jumped from his chair and faced the man who had been like a father to him. “I—I…” He looked down at the letters in his hand, then back up at
his uncle. “I don’t know what to make of this.”

  “Don’t you? Do the honorable thing, my boy, and take Catherine away from my son. He will only make her miserable—and you, too.”

  “If this stems from guilt, uncle, there is no need. I have never blamed you, not in the past, and not even after learning it was your intention to part me from Catherine.”

  “It’s not guilt, Joscelyn. I’m righting a wrong, that is all. A wrong I did to you and Catherine. That woman is gentle and kind. She’ll suffer at my son’s hands. I may have let Edward rule this estate, and to some extent rule me, but I have eyes, and I see how he treats her. It sickens me that a son of mine could be so cold and uncaring. Catherine does not deserve the fate that I’ve purchased for her. As I said, do what you may, with my blessing.”

  “Uncle,” Joscelyn began. Then, bereft of words, he pulled Fairfax into his arms and hugged him tight. “You have given me the greatest gift I could ever ask for.”

  “Treat her like a treasure. And might I suggest that you take her and leave. Edward has developed a liking for the village pub. Every night he’s there. You can have a decent head start on him.”

  “Thank you, uncle.”

  “My thanks will come when I see you both happy.”

  “And Edward, what about him?”

  “He’ll be placated with the promise of another bride. Desire is fleeting, and that is all he feels for Catherine Tate. Do not worry about Edward, or me.”

  Joscelyn watched his uncle leave the study, and then sat down to plan his day tomorrow. If the weight of this packet meant anything, his day would be spent discharging Tate’s debts.

  It was rather fitting, he mused, that his mother, who had been tricked and deceived into eloping with a rogue, was going to save another woman from the same sort of miserable existence that she herself had endured. Joscelyn knew that his mother would wish her dowry to be spent that way.

  After discharging Tate’s debts, Joscelyn was astonished to realize that there was still a decent amount of money left from his mother’s dowry. Combined with some of his savings, he could buy a small cottage, and perhaps take a job as a clerk. He might even return to the army and work in the offices. He could provide for Catherine and any family they had, but there was one thing he could not do: keep paying off Tate’s debts. This one time would be all he could do for the man. Catherine would have to accept it if she were to agree to marry him.