In the Garden of Disgrace (12 page)

“Which is why I should not allow the
familiarity of first names. You seem entirely too comfortable for
my comfort.”

“You are the one who suggested it, Jillian.
Do you intend to renege?” He watched her through half-lidded
eyes.

He was baiting her again, turning her own
words against her.

“Why do you insist on pursuing this
relationship?” she asked. “Can’t you see it is the last thing I
want?”

“I told you, I made a promise.”

“But what if I never agree? You can’t make
me marry you. You’ve said so yourself.”

The earl took a long sip of his tea and then
placed the cup in the saucer. “I intend to work on your
weakness.”

For some reason that alarmed her. “What
weakness?”

“After today I think you know.”

Jillian felt the color flow to her face. “I
have no idea what you mean. But if I did—and I do mean
if
—I
would like to thank you for warning me. Now I’ll know to be
careful.”

“It won’t make any difference.”

Something in his tone made her pulse leap.
“Why would you say that? Forewarned is forearmed.”

“So I’ve heard.” Lord Wickham leaned forward
in his chair, bringing his elbows to the table as his eyes locked
with hers. “Do you know of opium?”

She nodded slowly. Where was he headed with
this odd line of questioning?

“Then you know it is a narcotic, a
stimulating, pleasurable narcotic. It has an allure for the user
that is impossible to resist. I do not have personal knowledge of
the drug, but I’ve had it described to me.” He paused, and the look
in his eyes deepened. “Passion is much like opium, I
believe—stimulating, pleasurable and nearly impossible to
resist.”

“W-what does that have to do with me?”

“Everything, Jillian, everything. There is
passion between us. I’ve felt it from the beginning. We can fight
it, you and I, but in the end it will do us no good.”

Jillian felt an uneasiness wash over her
that was akin to superstition. “I think you are attributing
feelings to me that are yours and yours alone. You make it sound as
though you are driven by compulsion. That is not very romantic, my
lord.”

“Is it romance you want, Jillian?” the earl
asked softly. He reached over and sent the tips of his fingers
skimming lightly along the back of her wrist where she rested it on
the table.

She pulled her hand away, slipping it into
her lap. “I don’t want anything from you, my lord, except that you
leave me alone. Haven’t I made myself clear?”

“You promised to try, Jillian. Is your word
no good?”

“And you promised Aunt Pru you would behave
yourself.”

“I am behaving myself.” He gave her a
strange half-grin as he rose to his feet. “Now if I were to move to
your side of the table,” he did that, coming to stand behind her
chair, “and I were to…oh say, rub your neck…”

Jillian felt his hands, warm and compelling,
as he laid them on her shoulders. Immediately, she tried to get up,
but he pressed her back into her seat.

“Now, now,” the earl said, rubbing his
thumbs in a soothing motion along her spine at the nape of her
neck, “don’t be hasty. I’m merely doing this for illustration
purposes. As I was saying, if I were to do these things then you
could question my behavior. But since I’m not…”

“Lord Wickham—”

“Adrian,” he demanded in a silky voice as he
continued the captivating movement.

“All right, Adrian…please, I—”

“Please? I think you are right. I should
carry on for your sake. You are very tense, you know.”

The earl ran his hands along her shoulders,
squeezing then releasing, manipulating the tender flesh covered by
only the thin cotton of her gown. Confounded, Jillian wondered why
she tolerated his efforts, for she knew it was wrong. She guessed
at some point she ceased to care because as the seconds ticked by,
the only thing she felt was an almost irresistible urge to
purr.

“You have beautiful hair, did you know that,
Jillian?”

She heard his husky words as if from a
distance. And she knew the moment he released the ribbon that held
her hair. When he slipped his fingers into the heavy mass, her
scalp began to tingle deliciously. Jillian allowed her eyes to
drift closed.

He had her where he wanted her—she knew it
as surely as he did. He could have continued indefinitely, lulling
her with his sensual massage—if he had not tried to kiss her.

Adrian lifted her hair from the back of her
neck and set his mouth on an exquisitely sensitive spot just
beneath her right ear. She gasped at the contact.

Jillian whipped around to face him. “You go
too far, my lord. You make love to me in my aunt’s home, even
though you promised her you would not.”

She managed to slip from her chair,
staggering away from him as she snatched her ribbon from the table
where he had discarded it. She slid the satin piece into place and
quickly retied it.

The earl dropped his hands to his sides and
smiled at her in apology. “Interesting thing about seduction—if one
is not detached when invoking the powers of Eros, there is the risk
of being caught in one’s own snare. Forgive me, I fear that is what
happened to me.”

“Pretty words, but I wonder if you mean
them.”

Oddly, the earl did look as though he meant
them. He was no longer smiling and he appeared uncomfortable as he
watched her through serious eyes.

His next question surprised her. “Would you
like to take a walk in the garden?”

“Sounds suspiciously like the wolf inviting
the lamb to dinner,” Jillian retorted. “Will you promise to behave
yourself if I do? Auntie Pru’s bedchamber faces on the garden. She
may approve of you, but I can guarantee there are certain things
her tender eyes have never seen.”

“On threat of death,” he said, making a
crisscross motion with his hand over his heart. “Although I would
be careful making assumptions about Miss Milford. I have the
distinct impression she’s more complicated than she seems.”

Jillian gave him a measuring glance but
merely nodded.

They walked into the moonlight through the
French doors in the morning room, wandering down the path. The
night was cool and the scent of many flowers filled the air. The
earl took her elbow but the gesture was impersonal, and she no
longer felt threatened.

Adrian broke the silence. “It’s beautiful
here. This place is much like my estate in the country. And it was
always the country not the city I dreamed of during my exile.
Cities are much alike around the world. They don’t always look
alike but they feel alike—too many people in too small a space,
mucking up things. No, it was the English countryside for which I
pined.”

“Your home resembles this place? This is an
old dower house with only a few acres of land.”

“Actually, Wickham Hall is more like
Sutherfield. It’s very large. But it has gardens such as these. My
mother, by the by, enjoyed growing flowers as you do.”

“She did?”

“Yes. She was also an unconventional sort.
She blamed herself for my wild ways. Said it was in the blood.”

“Have you seen her since your return?”

Jillian regretted asking the question, for
he turned on her a look so full of anguish, her throat clogged.

“She died last winter,” he said. “There was
a message from my man of business waiting for me when I reached the
continent. I usually have little patience for regret because
lamenting the past will not mend what is done. All that can be
hoped for is greater wisdom when dealing with the future. But I had
only one mother—being wiser won’t help me, for there is no future
where she is concerned.”

“I know what you mean,” Jillian said, all at
once close to tears. “My disgrace broke my father’s heart. He went
to his grave disappointed in me. I find that a very difficult thing
to live with.”

Adrian took her hand and gave it a gentle
squeeze. She looked up at him, and even in the dark she could see
the compassion radiating from his warm eyes.

“What about your other family, brothers,
sisters?” she asked, trying to move the subject away from
herself.

“I’m an only child, spoiled rotten from what
I’ve been told. Both my parents are deceased. Oh, I have the usual
assortment of relatives—aunts, uncles, cousins—but no one with whom
I’m close. Frankly, if I dropped off the face of the earth tomorrow
I doubt anyone would miss me.”

That was such a sad statement, for the first
time Jillian felt sorry for him. “We’re a maudlin pair, aren’t we?
This is too beautiful a night to wallow in painful memories.”

“Yes, but those memories give us something
in common, don’t they? I believe this is a case of a little good
coming out of something bad.”

“I suppose,” Jillian said after a minute.
She turned back toward the house. “I think I should go inside
now.”

They retraced their steps on the path, this
time walking in silence until they reached the French doors.

Adrian took her hand. “You won’t believe
this but I enjoyed myself today.”

“You weren’t supposed to,” she muttered.

“I know.”

“Well, I—”

“Jillian?”

There was a peculiar inflection in his voice
that caused her to hesitate.

“Yes?” she ventured cautiously.

“May I kiss you goodnight?”

His features were all dark planes and
intriguing angles in the half-light cast by the moon, his eyes
glittering intently, and Jillian felt the pull of desire despite
her reluctance.

“Oh no, I don’t think…that’s really not a
good idea, my lord.”

“Adrian.”

“Adrian,” she repeated. “I—”

“Kiss me, Jillian.”

For her very life she could not resist the
appeal in the tantalizing words. “Just a kiss?”

“That only,” he whispered.

Jillian placed her hands on his chest and,
rising on tiptoe, touched her lips to his. It was a light kiss, no
more than a gentle caress, but instead of ending the contact
immediately she increased the pressure.

She wondered later why she did it, for her
boldness unleashed a response that was not unexpected. Perhaps the
move was calculated. Perhaps she wanted to know if he desired her
or was merely pretending emotions he did not feel—emotions Jillian
feared she had begun to feel.

Adrian groaned against her mouth, wrapping
her in a tight embrace that snatched the breath from her body. He
gripped her hips then ran his hands up her back, gently kneading as
he went. He slipped his fingers into her hair and deepened the
kiss. There went her ribbon again, she thought, dazed.

Jillian was mesmerized by the earl’s
overpowering virility and the thrill of being close to him. Rather
than evading him, she had to fight the urge to draw even closer, to
steep herself in the sensation. With difficulty she broke the
contact.

She licked her lips, unable to look at him,
instead centering her sight on a place just above his left
shoulder. “That was only kiss?” she asked, ashamed of her labored
breathing.

Since he still held her she felt the
laughter rumble in his chest. “I admit some are better than
others.” He took her chin, forcing her to look at him. “This was
the best, better than this morning because you kissed me
first.”

“I simply did as you asked.”

“But that made all the difference,” Adrian
said in a warm voice as he rubbed his thumb against her bottom
lip.

How could she be sure he was telling the
truth? He was an experienced man who had seen the world, and she
suspected he knew much about seduction. Though not a girl, she was
an innocent in most ways and unprepared to handle his sophisticated
methods. He understood his own charisma, she knew he did, else how
did he ply that charm with such confidence? And how could she gauge
his sincerity when she had forgotten how to trust?

“Do you believe in fate, Jillian?”

“I don’t know,” she said, suddenly feeling
tired.

“I do. I will wager there is a reason you
and I were in that carriage together.”

“If there is I haven’t discovered it,” she
said, freeing herself from his arms. “I really must go in now.” She
reached for the door handle.

“Jillian.”

She glared at him impatiently. “What now,
another kiss?”

The earl gave her a lopsided grin. “Not
exactly, although that sounds excellent as well.” He glanced down.
“I left my boots inside.”

Jillian looked at his feet and clapped a
hand over her mouth to stifle a burble of laughter. “I forgot. You
walked through the garden without wearing your shoes.”

“I managed the garden well enough but riding
my horse is another matter. Even if the boots are still wet, I’d
better retrieve them.”

She led him into the house, and a quick
inquiry of the footman sent them to the kitchen. The earl’s
Hessians were drying on the fireplace along with his clothing, and
he hastily donned his socks and the boots.

“They are mostly dry,” Adrian said, “but
they’ll never be the same.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. Never lost a pair of boots to a
better cause. Anytime you feel like taking a dip in the stream let
me know. I’d be happy to join you.”

“You are an incorrigible man, my lord.” She
smiled because she could not help herself.

Adrian winked at her. “I told you we
suit.”

Before she could respond he leaned over,
gave her a light peck on the cheek and disappeared through the
kitchen door.

*****

The clock said two in the morning and
Jillian could not sleep. Today was the first day in nearly four
weeks Lord Wickham had not come to visit and, though she hated to
think his absence had something to do with her restlessness, she
wondered.

She had not extinguished the candle on her
night table. Rather, it had burned out of its own accord, dying a
reluctant death, first fading then sputtering valiantly back to
life. But in the end the diminishing wax had sealed the candle’s
doom. She now lay in the dark feeling miserable and strangely
alone.