He just continued to stare at the letter, saying nothing.
“Please, Jack,” she whispered hoarsely, unable to bear it a moment more. “Don’t torment me so. Just answer me this—is it too late? Did you…are you and Claire—”
“No!” he interjected, his hazel eyes widening. “Good Lord, no. Is that what you thought? I would have waited for you forever.” His mouth curved into a smile, making her pulse leap.
Emmaline shook her head. “I should not have made you wait a single day. Will you ever forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” he said. “If you’ll have me, that is.”
Her heart soared and her blood thrummed hotly through her veins. “How long were you planning to stay?”
He shrugged. “I was thinking perhaps forever. Unless, of course, you have other plans.”
“But your home is in Dorset. However will we man age—”
“My father’s home is in Dorset,” he corrected. “Mine is wherever you are. I say, you’ve a spot of dirt, there on your nose.”
Emmaline laughed, reaching up to swipe at it. Only Jack could finish off a romantic declaration in such a fashion! “There, is that better?”
“Come here,” he said, voice breaking slightly on the last syllable.
She didn’t waste a moment complying. Tears of relief flooded her eyes as he wrapped his arms around her. She could hear his heart hammering against his ribs, matching the rhythm of her own. She felt his lips against her hair, sending a shiver of delight down her spine.
“So, did he answer you?” Jack murmured against her ear.
Emmaline pulled away, looking up into Jack’s amused eyes. Heavens, but she’d almost forgotten that such a lovely shade of hazel existed. “Did who answer me?”
“Why, the Green Man, I suppose. Isn’t that who you were speaking with when I arrived?”
“Oh, do shut up!” she said, playfully punching his arm. “Besides, it’s not polite to spy on someone unawares.”
“Then why is there a peephole in the gate?”
“A fine question, indeed.” The breeze stirred, warm and sultry against her cheeks. Soon it picked up momentum, making that odd sound that happened when it blew over the garden’s stone walls. Emmaline reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from her eyes.
“It almost sounds like laughter, doesn’t it?” Jack asked, glancing around. “I think we’ve pleased him.”
Emmaline rolled her eyes. “Pleased who? I vow, you speak in riddles!”
“Why, your Green Man, of course. I’ve an idea,” Jack said, grinning now.
Emmaline decided to play along. “Oh?”
“Let’s give him a show,” he suggested. “One he won’t soon forget. If he’s to be imprisoned here forever, we might as well entertain him, don’t you think?”
“He’s not imprisoned forever,” she corrected. “Just until three couples find true love in his enchanted garden. Wasn’t that how the legend went?”
He shook his head. “I’ve forgotten. Maybe it was ‘unleash their passion.’ Something like that, I suppose.”
“Perhaps we’re the third,” she said. “Wouldn’t that be grand?”
Jack’s grin grew wicked. “Let’s show him, then.”
“Here?” She glanced around, watching as the wind blew a twig across the flagstones behind him.
“I can’t wait a moment more, Emmaline.” Jack’s voice was hoarse, laced with desire.
She nodded. “Nor can I.”
12
EMMALINE’S FINGERS FLEW OVER HER BUTTONS. Jack stood back and watched, barely able to believe that this was happening—his wildest dream come true. He let out his breath in a rush as her blouse parted, revealing the creamy skin above her chemise.
“Come,” she said, crooking one finger, then turned and led him farther into the garden, toward her favorite stone bench. He’d pictured her there so many times in the past two hellish months that the image was burned into his brain. Now she looked like Eve herself, removing her clothing bit by bit as she made her way across the flagstones. By the time they reached the bench, nothing remained but her chemise and lacy knickers.
He quirked one eyebrow. “My turn?” he asked, his fingers already hovering over his jacket buttons, his cock hard and straining against his trousers.
“It’s only fair, don’t you think?” she asked, sitting on the bench and primly crossing her legs.
He glanced back over his shoulder before returning his attention to a near-naked Emmaline. In seconds, he’d doffed his coat and unbuttoned his shirt. “You’re not expecting Mrs. Talbot, are you?” he asked, pulling his shirttails from the band of his trousers. “She does have a knack for arriving at inopportune moments. And there is a peephole, as we’ve discussed.”
“Are you afraid of being caught in a compromising situation, Jack Wainscott?” A smile danced on Emmaline’s lips, lighting up her entire face.
He unbuttoned his trousers and stepped out of them, tossing them to the bench beside her. “Well, she is the vicar’s wife. We would not want to shock her too horribly with our scandalous behavior. I haven’t yet made an honest woman of you, after all.”
“Oh, had you planned to?” she asked, reaching for the hem of her chemise and pulling it over her head, baring her breasts to his hungry gaze.
He stifled a groan, nearly shaking with anticipation now. “Dear God, Emmaline,” he groaned, barely able to keep his hands off her. “Just as soon as you’ll let me. Tomorrow, if possible.”
She laughed, rising to stand before him. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of her knickers, and he held his breath as she slowly slid them down, past her hips, to her ankles. Graceful as ever, she stepped out of them, entirely bare now.
His gaze skimmed down her body, from her face to her rose-tipped breasts, to the tantalizing dark triangle where her thighs joined, to her shapely calves down to her toes, and back up again. He saw her shiver in response, her skin flushed pink, her dark eyes burning with unconcealed desire.
“You are so very beautiful,” he said in awe, amazed as ever that she was real, that she was there, that she was his.
“Tomorrow’s a bit soon, don’t you think?” she asked, taking two steps toward him. Her fingertips skimmed down his chest, drawing gooseflesh in their wake. “After all, I’m not going anywhere. And if you’re here to stay…” Her fingers pushed past the waistband of his drawers, moving toward his cock.
“I’m here to stay,” he answered breathlessly, watching incredulously as she lowered herself to the bench, her dark head bent toward him as she pushed down his drawers, till his erection sprang free. Devil take it, if she did what he thought she was going to—
A groan caught in the back of his throat as Emmaline’s lips closed over his cock. Slowly, she eased him deeper into her mouth, until the tip pressed against the back of her throat. Her lips tightened against his shaft, increasing the pressure as she drew him out again. Instinctively, he reached out to cup the back of her head, resisting the urge to close his eyes.
No, he wanted to see her, wanted to watch as her tongue darted out to lick the drop of moisture from the tip of his cock, her fingers closed around his ballocks now. Holy hell and damnation, he wasn’t going to last another second—he was going to come right here and now, before he’d even had the chance to pleasure her.
He tugged her to her feet, swinging her around so that she faced the bench now. In a matter of seconds, he’d managed to free himself of his drawers and pull her down atop him, straddling him, ready for her to ride him.
Their coupling was quick—hurried and frantic. With each stroke, he pulled her down harder, wanting to fill her entirely, wanting to make her writhe against him and cry out his name as she came.
Only when she began to do just that, her cunt pulsating against his shaft, did he find his own release.
Emmaline laid her head against his shoulder, her breathing slowing as they sat there, their bodies one as they listened to the songbirds calling gaily
to one another, to the breeze ruffling the leaves, to an automobile horn off in the distance.
Jack could have sat like that forever, his heart thumping against hers, their bare skin warmed by the sun. A sense of peace filled him, and he bent to kiss her fragrant neck.
“That should do nicely,” she murmured, sounding entirely sated.
He raised one brow. “Oh?”
“To convince the Green Man that we’ve found true love, I meant. Though if you’d like to try again…”
“Give me ten minutes,” he said with a laugh.
She nodded, her tongue tracing lazy circles on his shoulder.
“I would say five, but I’ve been ill, remember?”
She sat up, her gaze meeting his. “Thank God for the influenza. Otherwise, who’s to say what might have happened?”
“Regardless, I would have preferred a more…well, masculine way of getting acquainted.”
She brushed back a lock of his hair that had fallen across his forehead. “You were charming, even unconscious.”
“How many days was I out again?”
“Nearly five. You talk, you know. In your sleep,” she clarified, grinning at him. “Even when unconscious.”
His brow furrowed. “Should I be worried?”
She shook her head. “You called out my name, more than once. Even though you’d only learned it moments before you collapsed.”
He shifted her in his lap. “When I first awoke, I had no memory of you—of your name. Odd, isn’t it?”
“Your subconscious must have remembered, that’s all.” She shivered against him. “It’s getting cool. We should go inside.”
He rubbed his hands down her arms, trying to warm her. “I suppose we should. As much as I’d love to stay here, just like this, forever.” Though in truth, the rough stones beneath him were starting to feel abrasive. Amazing how he hadn’t even noticed before.
She disentangled herself and stood, reaching for her discarded clothing. “Let’s go in and I’ll give you a full examination, to make certain you’ve recovered fully,” she offered, and he wasn’t sure if she was teasing or not.
“No examinations! I’m no longer your patient.” Dear God, the humiliation of it all.
“Well, then, perhaps you’d like to examine me, instead?” she teased.
“I say, now that’s a fine idea.” He nodded, excited by the possibilities.
She reached down and plucked his drawers from the stones, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Catch me, then,” she called out, dashing toward the garden gate.
He wasted no time at all in complying.
As the gate latched shut behind the pair of lovers, a voice on the wind could be heard, laughing in delight.
Then there were three, it seemed to say.
And now…I am free.
Two weeks later…
“But—but it’s impossible,” Emmaline stammered, turning in a slow circle.
Jack shrugged. “It would seem so. And yet…just look.”
Emmaline could barely believe her eyes. She was standing amid a sea of color. Green, blue, purple, pink, yellow…color, everywhere. The garden was a veritable Eden.
The roses, well past their season, were in full bloom. Bluebells, violets, lilies, irises, hollyhocks…they all blossomed in a lush profusion of color and scent, creating a multicolored palette that filled the entire walled-in space.
Emmaline blinked rapidly, thinking that perhaps her eyes were playing tricks on her, but the view remained the same.
The well still stood in the center, and the bench remained in the shady corner. That much hadn’t changed.
Only the garden had come to life around them.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Mrs. Talbot asked. “I declare, I simply did not think it possible.”
“Nor did I,” said Jack, the fading sun turning his hair a dull copper.
Emmaline planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t see how anyone could have thought it possible.”
Mrs. Talbot nodded, her eyes shining brightly. “I should bring Mr. Talbot here to see this. It’s almost like…like a miracle.”
“Or something like that,” Jack said, holding up the tattered leather book he’d retrieved from the library just before they’d stepped outside.
“You don’t think…” Emmaline trailed off, unwilling to voice her thoughts aloud in front of Mrs. Talbot.
Jack strode purposely toward the stone bench, tapping the Green Man’s image while grinning at Emmaline. His look seemed to say I told you so.
Emmaline grinned back at him.
“Shall we go inside for dinner?” he asked, reaching for her hand.
“Indeed. I’m famished,” said Mrs. Talbot.
Emmaline nodded, allowing Jack to thread his fingers through hers. She glanced up at him—her Beltane miracle—and smiled, saying a silent thanks to whoever had brought them together.
And then, no longer alone, she fell into step between them—Jack and Mrs. Talbot—and headed toward home.
THE PLEASURE GARDEN
ISBN: 978-1-4592-4281-4
Copyright © 2011 by Spice Books
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:
SACRED VOWS
Copyright © 2011 by Amanda McIntyre
PERFUMED PLEASURES
Copyright © 2011 by Charlotte Featherstone
RITES OF PASSION
Copyright © 2011 by Kristina Cook Hort
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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