Tempting Eden

by Margaret Rowe

  After a quick, lonely breakfast of coffee, muffins and baked eggs, he made his way to the library, only to find the room deserted. All traces of the schoolroom had vanished, from globe to experiments. The liquor cabinet was once again stocked and tempting even at this hour. Eden had restored the room to a manly haven as if by magic. More likely, many little hands were involved at an unconscionably early hour.

  Hart had never given much thought until last fall to what it took to run an estate. He had been preoccupied keeping himself and his men alive under perilous conditions too long to think of the soft life the future might hold for him upon his uncle’s death. But his life was blessedly cushioned now due to the ministrations of servants, tenants, John Pinckney here and the inestimable Calvert in town. He’d done nothing lately but view the world from the bottom of a brandy bottle.

  Hart took the stairs up to the nursery suite two at a time. He stood outside the schoolroom door listening as the girls took turns conjugating verbs in English, then French. Eden murmured encouragement over their accents, with special emphasis on driving the poverty out of their native tongue. It was clear to Hart she had aspirations for these girls beyond training them as housemaids. But whether it was the subtle shadow he cast or their sensitivity to male invasion, the chatter ceased. Eden came out into the hallway, looking beautifully irritated.

  “How may I assist you, my lord?”

  “I thought I would observe your classroom lessons. Perhaps discover how I might assist you.”

  Eden gaped up at him. “You wish to tutor the girls?”

  “Why not? I expect my responsibilities here are not so onerous that I shall not have any free time. Between you and Mr. Pinckney, I daresay the estate hardly requires my presence at all.”

  “Now that you’re here, there will be no need for my oversight,” Eden replied, her back stiff.

  “Nonsense. The tenants and servants obviously hold you in high regard. I shouldn’t wish to interfere.” He’d been stopped for what seemed a hundred times yesterday afternoon as he rode aimlessly over his land.

  “Don’t be ridiculous! I’ve only filled in for you in your absence. You are more than welcome to take up the reins.”

  Hart smiled. “Well, then, perhaps we shall share the responsibilities. Of everything. You may tutor me on your improvements, and I can help you with the education of my wards.”

  He watched as Eden processed his words. She appeared totally confounded. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw four faces, eyes goggling, as the girls eavesdropped from behind the door. “Girls,” he said smoothly, “come out. Don’t be shy. Have you any objection to having a gentleman teach you some subjects? Riding, for example? Perhaps some archery? History is a passion of mine, too. I’ve traveled quite extensively in His Majesty’s service and could bore you senseless with my anecdotes.”

  “Coo! A cove like you could never be boring,” said Jane, earning her a shove from Helen’s elbow.

  “We’re very satisfied with Miss Eden’s instruction,” Mary said loyally.

  “Oh, I should not like to usurp her role as your primary teacher. I would be merely a bonus. Rather like pudding after a hearty meal,” Hart said, his eyes twinkling in mischief. He noted almost immediately that Josie looked as though she might like to devour him on the spot with or without a spoon and regretted his choice of words.

  “You cannot be serious,” murmured Eden.

  “Indeed I am. I haven’t the experience you have with children—young ladies, really—but I’m sure we could work out a schedule to everyone’s satisfaction. It is far too lovely to be trapped indoors in a musty schoolroom.”

  “The schoolroom is not musty! And just yesterday we were outside sketching!” Eden said hotly. “Until you came back and turned everything upside down!”

  “I have no intention of making anyone stand on their heads, least of all you, Eden.” He squelched the amusing mental image of Eden with her skirts down and long legs pointed to the ceiling as he saw her thunderous expression. This foray into wooing was not going as he planned, but then nothing seemed to go right for him with his prickly mistress. He watched as she tried to get hold of her emotions. But perhaps that was the last thing she should be doing. She had been ignoring her own needs and desires, indeed her very self, trying to please others, for far too long. Hart half hoped she’d tear his head off.

  “It’s most irregular. We have a routine already in place.”

  “I expect you do. But it’s time you looked after yourself, had a bit of fun. I’m sure the children wouldn’t mind doing without you this morning.”

  “I would!”

  Hart put a hand on Eden’s round bottom and swept her up in his arms. “You girls stay here and study until whenever you would normally finish. I’m counting on you to supervise yourselves, then go about your regular day. We’ll talk later.”

  The girls were too surprised to say anything. Eden was not so shy. “Put me down!”

  “Not a chance.” He carried Eden down the hall.

  “What on earth do you think you are doing?”

  “I reminded you yesterday we had a contract. The terms, should your memory need refreshing, are this. I paid a pretty penny to secure your services as my mistress until November. A mistress, as you recall, is at the mercy of her master. That would be me.”

  He snatched her wrists together before she could pound him. “Careful. We’re on the stairs. I wouldn’t want to drop you.”

  She stilled in his arms but couldn’t still her tongue. “It is the middle of the morning!”

  “The perfect time to undress you and see the benefits of country living. You’re getting heavy.”

  “Oh! You odious man!”

  He grinned. “I am, aren’t I? I’ve decided that virtue is vastly overrated. I’m prepared to be an utter villain. Number one on my list is to fuck you until you cannot walk.”

  Hart was growing into this role, his arms full of a writhing Eden, her every curve etching itself on his body. He shouldered his way into the bedroom and shut the door with a slam. As soon as he deposited Eden on the bed, she scrambled up. He got to the door before her, locked it and pocketed the key.

  “Too bad you’ve bolted the door to your room. There’s no escape.”

  “I’ll jump out the window.”

  “It would be a shame to break your pretty neck.”

  Eden looked as if she wanted to get her hands around his. “Hart, you are being ridiculous.”

  “Am I? You’re probably right. I haven’t gone about this the right way at all.”

  “Good. I’m glad you’re coming to your senses.”

  He examined the carved oak posts and took a playful bounce on the feather mattress. It had seemed vast and lonely to him last night, but the thought of having Eden next him gave him hope, even if she kicked him to kingdom come.

  If he was wrong, he’d ruin everything.

  But he’d tried it the good way, the Hart way. He had not been able to convince her he was what she needed. And perhaps he hadn’t been. She was still afraid of living, of loving. Eden could surround herself with all the children in the world and decline verbs until the end of it, but there was something missing.

  She had haunted his dreams for weeks no matter how hard he had tried to drink them away. Now Iris Brown’s words haunted him. “I’ll be back,” he said abruptly.

  He’d have to warn off the servants and the girls. The pounding and the screaming—and, my goodness, the inventive cursing—were rather deafening as he took the stairs. Hart had no intention of turning Eden loose anytime soon. He was on a rescue mission, but had to make sure no one else rescued Eden before he had his chance.

  After some brief instructions to Collins, he went into the blue and white striped parlor. New soft blue silk curtains hung on the windows, looped back with smooth gold cording. How clever of Eden’s redecorating to provide just what he required. He untied the lengths from the curtains and, leaving the room in sudden dimness, stuffed the lengths in hi
s pocket. There would be no blindfold. He wanted her to watch him as he took her with the utmost care.

  He’d never tied up anyone but prisoners of war. Eden might be considered such—she was fighting him, wasn’t she?

  He found the path to the stairs blocked by Eden’s four charges, their bony little elbows linked. Up above came a steady thud on the heavy oak bedroom door.

  “Now, see ’ere, guv,” Josie began, sticking her dimpled chin out, “Miss Eden’s been good to us. Better’n our own mums. Don’t you do nuffink to ’urt ’er.”

  “Anything,” murmured Mary.

  “ ’E knows wot I mean.” All of Eden’s elocution lessons had vanished.

  “You have my solemn oath. May I pass?”

  Four sets of eyes bored into him. If Eden didn’t kill him after this, the girls would. Reluctant, they stepped aside.

  Maybe he should have waited until dark. Maybe he should have waited until tomorrow. Next week. Next month.

  He’d waited too long already. He had so hoped her misgivings had long been put to rest. Foolish of him, to be sure. They had spent hours in the early days, Eden whispering in the dark, as though voicing the words in too loud a voice would bring the horror back to life. He had held her and shown her in the only way he knew how that she had nothing to fear anymore. When he doubted her, all the wounds reopened. Doubts and fears had had plenty of time to fester in the months they had been separated. No wonder she had thrown herself so wholeheartedly into so many reclamation projects with the girls, the house and the local people.

  She was standing at the open window when he entered the room, a stiff breeze blowing at her starched white apron. He hoped that in her deep pockets she didn’t have a pair of scissors with which to stab him.

  “It’s a long way down.”

  “I told you I would resume—” She bit her lip. “There’s no need to force me. You’ll get your money’s worth.”

  “This is not about money. It’s about trust.”

  Eden snorted. “You’ve made it plain you don’t trust me.”

  “I was wrong. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does—” He pulled the tie of her apron string and tossed the apron out the window. It jerked like a white kite in the wind before it settled on the gravel path below.

  “Please don’t throw the rest of my clothes out the window.”

  She stood still as he unfastened the tiny buttons at the back of her dress. “I hate to see you in black.”

  “I’m in mourning, remember? People would think it very odd if I gave up my blacks.”

  “I don’t care what people say.” He nuzzled her back, right where her wing would be if she were an angel. She smelled of roses and starch. He pulled the dress down her arms and then to where it puddled at her feet. Her corset and shift were not the naughty French confections Juliet had ordered but plain, serviceable garments he made quick work of. She wore nothing now but rough cotton stockings and black slippers. Her nipples peaked. “Come away from the window. You’ll get cold.”

  “It’s spring.”

  “Yes, when everything becomes new again.” He cupped her cheek and kissed her.

  Ah. Wondrous. A taste of tooth powder and rose salve on her lips. She held her mouth open for him, permitting invasion without a skirmish. Her straight dark lashes dipped to the dusky blue beneath her eyes. She had slept as little as he. Her hands still hung at her sides, when he wanted them to touch him—anywhere.

  But no. He broke the kiss and reached for the cording in his pocket.

  Her eyes flew open, one hand going to her swollen lips as though she wanted to make sure the kiss had truly happened. He pulled her close.

  “We talked of trust a few minutes ago. Do you trust me, Eden?”

  “I used to.”

  “I want to tie you up.” He realized with a shock that he meant it. The image of Eden, open and waiting for him, swamped him with longing.

  “Wh-what?”

  “We can take turns. Tomorrow you can tie me.”

  “You are absolutely mad!”

  “I want this, Eden. Don’t deny me.”

  “Just because I am your mistress doesn’t mean I’ve completely lost my mind!” She struggled against him, but he held her tight.

  “But I want you to lose your mind,” he said softly. “I want you helpless with need. Unable to stop me from what I need.”

  “And what is it that you need, Hart?”

  “I want to feast upon you, kiss every inch of skin. Starting from those pretty toes, to the curve of your calf. Work my way up your white thigh to here.” He cupped her mound of Venus, covered again with dark brown curls. They were damp with her dew from just one kiss. “Lick you. Taste you. Put my tongue in your pussy, then my fingers. Fuck you. Hard.” At his crude words he felt her shiver and his own cock rise. “But never hurt you. You need do nothing except receive pleasure. And make no mistake. There will be plenty for both of us.”

  He saw the doubt in her eyes. Saw, too, the interest. Her eyes darted to the bed. “Oh, yes. We’ll do it on the bed this time, although you liked it up against the wall, didn’t you? I know I did. I had you pinned. Trapped. There’s nothing wrong whichever way we try it, Eden. There never will be anything wrong between us. And whatever I do to you, you may do to me. If you want to.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes black. “You know that’s not how I like it. There’s something wrong with me.”

  “Hush. There’s nothing wrong with you. Nothing in this world. Come.”

  He led her to the bed. “Lie down.”

  She did as she was bid, her hands covering her breasts. Gently he eased her fingers away. “Do you want your arms together over your head or each tied to a bedpost?”

  “Together,” she whispered.

  More helpless. More exposed. He looped the cording around as tight as he dared, anchoring her to the finial on the headboard. A delicious flush was spreading from her cheeks to her throat to her chest. Hart pushed her legs apart, pulling her shoes off and stockings down. Eden watched him, licking her lips nervously as he weighed one cotton stocking in his hand.

  “If I place this across your mouth, it means I won’t be able to kiss you. But it also means you may cry out as loud as you wish and no one will hear. Which is it?”

  “Constrain me.” If Hart felt disappointment, he must not show it. This was her choice, her fantasy. He would only benefit in the end. Lifting her head from the pillow, he knotted the stocking, wishing it was silk and not common cotton. Her legs were already open to him, spread even farther. He wrapped her ankles and lashed them to the bedposts.

  He sat beside her, taking the pins from the untidy knot in her hair, fanning the waves across his pillow. “Open your eyes, Eden. Do not be ashamed. I’m honored by your trust in me. I won’t ever betray you.” A tear slid from the corner of one dark gray eye and he bent to lick it away. “If I don’t please you—if you become uncomfortable, you must tell me. Ah,” he said, laughing, “and how can you do that when I’ve muzzled you? Blink once for yes, twice for no, five times if you want me to stop at anytime. Agreed?”

  She lowered her eyes slowly, then raised them. There was no trace of fear, just curiosity. He wondered if he could remember to ask permission and notice winks when he wanted so very badly to impale himself inside her and never get out.

  “I believe I said I’d start with your toes. I hope you had a bath this morning, as foot odor is not my favorite thing. Believe me, in the army I smelled more than my share.”

  She blinked once.

  “Excellent. But what am I thinking? I’m overdressed, aren’t I?”

  He stripped, freeing his rampant cock from its confines. It would be a while before the fellow got its reward, but it couldn’t be helped. He then did exactly what he had said, sucking each toe and stroking the pad of her foot. She groaned beneath her gag as he kneaded and licked first one leg, then the other. He set to showering kisses on the sensitive flesh under her knees, then traced his tongue straight to
her center. The rose scent was strong here, mixed with her own distinctive fragrance. He buried his nose in her silky curls as his fingers busied themselves parting her labia to expose her bud.

  And then pure instinct took over. Oh, there was nothing pure about it. His tongue was wicked, his mind blank of everything except to devour the morsel of flesh between his lips. As his fingers slid into her heat, she began to convulse under him, her muffled cries ensuring there was no blinking “no” up above. Her walls clenched and rippled around his fingers, her clitoris swelling and pulsing in his mouth. He brought her over twice more before leaving reluctantly.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  Two rapid blinks. As if he could anyway. He kissed her belly, rounded now, her body as beautiful as the first pictures of her in his uncle’s book. Before he turned her submission into slavery. Hart would never cross that line, but the power she had given him over her made his blood sing. He doubted he’d ever been harder or more desperate, but he had inches more to cover.