Wicked Nights With a Proper Lady (20 page)

He pressed his forefinger to her lips. “You needn’t say anything. I know my reputation is well deserved. But I did promise you could trust me.”

“Then I can do no less than just that.”

“Thank you.” And because he liked holding her hand, he took it back and led her through the doors of the greenhouse. “I know you enjoy the flowers in the Carletons’ gardens. I’ve seen you out there enough times picking flowers and putting together bouquets.”

“I didn’t realize you took notice.”

“There isn’t much I don’t notice where you’re concerned, Genny.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I thought you would enjoy seeing the little piece of heaven my parents created on the estate.”

“Didn’t you say it was your stepmother’s garden?”

He nodded. “My mother died shortly after my birth. My stepmother came to live with us when I was five and I think I loved her from the moment she gave me that first motherly hug.”

She cleared her throat. “She must have been a wonderful woman.”

“She was. But enough about me, tell me what you desire to see most.”

“I have a certain fondness for roses. Do you have any?”

He nearly snorted. Didn’t every gardener have their fair share of roses? “More than a handful of varieties. My parents were fervent horticulturists.”

“I never knew.”

“It was a great hobby and passion of theirs. I keep on a large staff to maintain this place in their memory. My father might have been a bit stuffy and old-fashioned, but he loved nothing more than spending time in here, especially after my stepmother died.”

“Your father passed away around the same time my aunt did. I remember someone telling me. I’m very sorry.” She squeezed his hand affectionately with her condolences.

“No more sorry than I. Now, enough of this reminiscing; tonight is supposed to be about us.”

“I didn’t intend to stir up sad memories.”

“I know. But thank you for the condolences. As I was saying, there is a whole arboretum dedicated to some forty varieties of roses. But they will come in due course. Orchids first, since they are the closest.”

He twirled her around, quite taking her by surprise. When she was standing next to him again, she clutched her fist to her chest and laughed. She had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

“What was that for?”

He shrugged as though he’d done nothing out of the ordinary. “I like to see you laugh.”

She dropped her gaze demurely, and when she looked at him again, she asked, “Why haven’t you ever suggested a morning expedition from the Carletons’ estate?”

He didn’t miss the note of excitement in her voice.

“It’s my private place. I don’t want people who don’t appreciate this as much as I do tromping through here, breaking flowers, and wearing down the paths.”

Her hand tightened around his. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

Opening the first door, they stepped into a tropical garden filled with various orchids. He threaded his fingers through hers, enjoying the feel of her skin against his. What he really wanted was to pull her into his arms and taste her lips.

“It is warm in here,” she said.

“Orchids need a stable temperature. They won’t thrive in our damp cold for long, so the temperature is controlled with steam pipes.”

Her gaze followed his pointed finger that indicated the piping about twelve feet up that surrounded the perimeter of the greenhouse. He led her down the stone path that rounded the small hothouse, her arm threaded tightly through his as the path narrowed and he felt the press of her bosom against his arm. He pointed to a stalky plant that was only starting to furl open.

“Those beauties are called birds-of-paradise. Not an orchid, but they enjoy the hotter temperatures in here. I’ve seen them grow as tall as eight feet. And the dark blue centers turn to deep shades of burgundy, orange, and red when they open up.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen one before.”

“You’ll see a lot of firsts here,” he promised. “Do you hear the water trickling down the rock façade?”

“Yes, I hear it but don’t see it anywhere.” She turned, like a child in a confectionary for the first time, looking for the source of water. She really did have the most splendid smile. “It’s just missing the sound of birds to make one feel as though we really are in a tropical paradise.”

That depended on the type of paradise she referred to because she certainly played his Eve in the Garden. He could swear the serpent whispered in his ear, telling him to do wicked things to her. He shook his head and walked into an adjoining hothouse. He had promised only an evening out. That’s not to say he’d stop her if she felt inclined to initiate something more.

“The odd warbler and yellow tit tend to find their way into this little haven from the outside world, but they won’t be up and chirping for another few hours.”

The source of the water was before them. Water cascaded down from large boulders his parents had thought to put in here to create a miniature waterfall and to keep the water in the koi ponds refreshed and clean.

She put her hand out and brushed it along the stone rail that lined the three-foot bridge and stared down at the large gold and black koi that swam and created a tide of sunshine beneath them.

Her shawl fell from her shoulders to rest in the crook of her bent arms.

“It’s not too hot for you, is it?”

“No,” she answered, a little breathless.

“I probably should have had you dress more appropriately for the different temperatures.”

He hoped the heat in the arboretum would have her removing her shawl to reveal the gentle scoop of her evening dress and the nip of her laced-in waist. Hell, he wanted her to take off more than her shawl. But not here. Well, maybe he did want her to take it all off here.

Damnation,
what was wrong with him?

He needed a hell of a lot more focus than he currently had.

“Come along.” He took her hand again and led her down the shale path. “The orchids come in every color and size; flowers ranging from tiny bulbs to palm-sized petals. Some stems are taller than you or I.”

Her gaze was everywhere, taking in the rainbow of beauty around them. “It’s all so wonderful.”

A broken pink flower head lay below the bloom it looked to have been accidentally torn from. He picked it up and ran it down the side of her face. She stopped walking and faced him, bringing them both to a standstill.

Water misted down on the cocooned world they created in their orchid realm. She gave a cheerful laugh and tilted her head back to catch the mist full on her face as it fell. Her tongue reached for the water that lightly sprayed them both. Glancing up to the piping that ran the length of the ceiling he, too, tasted the fresh water on his tongue.

“What a glorious surprise tonight has been. I can’t thank you enough for bringing me here.” She dropped her shawl, obviously uncaring that it landed in a heap in the dirt-trodden path as she stretched out her arms, catching the cool water on the tips of her fingers as it sprayed down on them.

All the beauty in the world didn’t compare to the expression on her face in that moment. He wanted to taste the liquid building on her eyelids, her lips, her pale dew-covered skin. He wanted to lick at her neck and dip his tongue into the swell of her breasts above the tight-laced corset.

But he would not allow temptation to overwhelm his better judgment. He settled for taking only the slightest of liberties, and lowered his knuckles to skim the damp exposed skin at her collar. She turned her head to the side in invitation, but because the words to invite him closer did not fall from her lips he released her instead of curling his hand around her delicate neck to pull her to him.

The mist stopped just as suddenly as it had started, piercing the privately shared fantasy they’d indulged too briefly in. He pulled away reluctantly, pushed the orchid low between her breasts, and picked the shawl up to drape it back around her shoulders. She said nothing, just pressed her fingers to her heart, though the smile on her face told him exactly how she felt.

She wanted more, and she had enjoyed the moment just as much as he had.

He tucked her arm through his and they walked on. He clenched his jaw and focused on breathing deeply. Focused on the blooms, beauty, and the sights around them. He tried unsuccessfully to shift his thoughts away from only her.

He brought her outside and down the path that led toward the rose room. He’d lost his control and his sanity back in the orchid house and hoped to gain some of it back before they found themselves in a similar situation.

When they reached the door for the rose arboretum, and pushed it open, her expression lightened as the scent of the flowers tenderly surrounded them.

She took a step away from him, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply.

When she opened them again, she turned to him and said, “It’s spectacular.”

She reached her hand out to touch one of the multitudes of soft-petaled flowers surrounding them. Clasping his hand tightly around her wrist, he pulled her hand back too late; a thorn caught the side of her finger. She hissed in a sharp breath and jerked away from the smarting.

A small well of blood beaded where the thorn had stuck her. “Damn,” she muttered.

He took his necktie from his pocket and blotted away the evidence of her injury without a word.

“Thank you,” she whispered, as though afraid of being heard by anyone who might be nearby.

“Don’t thank me.” His voice didn’t come easy and he was sure she’d be able to tell just how aroused he was by the rusty quality. “Here…” He plucked a pink rose by pinching the bottom of its head at the stem, and pressed it into her hand. “I have a feeling these are your favorite flower.”

“Hard not to guess when my first inclination was to ask if you kept roses. My mum used to call me her little rose because the slightest exertion would turn my face pink. They are like a namesake to me.”

She spun in a small circle, head back, as she breathed in the scent of the gardens and took in the sight of the rosebushes from the stone-cobbled dirt floor to the glass-covered ceiling. That damned smile she wore so naturally was doing something to him. He wanted to always see that expression on her face—day and night … for an eternity if he could.

When she turned back to him she reached for his hand this time. He didn’t hesitate to clasp her hands in return and pull her nearer; knowing he was going against his word but unable to stop himself. Only a few inches separated them and it wouldn’t be hard to pull her in the remaining distance.

He threaded his fingers through her hair and clasped the back of her head lightly to draw her face closer as he lowered his mouth. He gave her all the time in the world to object, but the only thing to fall past her lips was a soft sigh.

She relaxed into him when their mouths fused and he took her lips between his in a gentle persuading kiss. Her head angled back to give him better access to her open mouth and he licked his tongue inside, sucking on her upper lip as he pulled back. When she still didn’t protest his taking advantage of her, he did it again. This time, her tongue met his in the middle and danced around his as she went up on the tips of her toes and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

One of his hands lowered to the top of her buttocks and rested at the small of her back. He edged her closer, pressing her belly against his arousal, letting her feel just how much he wanted her.

She moaned into his mouth and rubbed the front of her body tightly against his before she slowly pulled away, inching back a step but looking reluctant as she did so.

“We should go,” she said.

“Stay a while longer. I’ll do no more or less than you ask.”

“We can’t.”

The enthusiastic smile slipped from her face. In its place was something more alluring and seductive. There was dew left on her cheeks and lips from the mist that had showered down on them. It was hard to suppress his desire to lick it all away.

“You’ve barely gone around the room.”

“I think it wise we stop everything that we are doing, Barrington. My reputation cannot withstand whatever it is you have in mind.”

He spread his arms wide. “Look around you, Genny. It’s only the two of us here. There is no one to offer censure or tell you what you can or cannot do—least of all me.”

“I can’t do these outings with you and not involve my feelings.”

Her words stung. “Do you think I’m so coldhearted that I feel nothing? So carefree that I don’t feel some of the same things you do?”

“No … I didn’t mean it in that sense.”

“Then what did you mean? Aside from telling me repeatedly that I am a bad sort and not worthy of your company, you insist that I have every intention of ruining you. Why won’t you let me prove myself otherwise?”

“And why should I believe you when you have yet to tell me why you sought out my cousin all those weeks ago? I know you have no prior association with her. What was it you planned?”

That he couldn’t tell her. Not yet. Not when he was trying to convince her that he was a decent man. But, really, was he decent when he was lying to her about his original purpose in pursuing, however briefly, Lady Charlotte that first evening they had run into each other?

Eventually he would tell her the truth but that time was not now. Not when she didn’t completely trust him. Not when she would turn her back on him and not think to give him another chance. He knew he was being selfish, but he wanted it to be harder for her to walk away from him.

“Let us get back to the main house.” He tugged her down the cobbled path, intent on going back the same way they’d entered since it was the shortest way back to the Carleton Estate.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed your desire to keep your secrets.”

“For now, they must and will remain my secrets, Genny.”

Before they exited the indoor rose garden, he picked up the gardening shears and cut two pink roses high on the stem and scraped off the thorns before he pressed them into Genny’s hands.

She looked down to the flowers that were half in bloom and brought them up to her nose to smell their intoxicating scent. “Thank you for tonight.”