In the Garden of Disgrace (20 page)

If he had left her tonight when she had
asked him to, she might have a distorted view of passion, perhaps
be afraid. That was the last thing he wanted. When they made love
again—and they would, Adrian was determined—he wanted Jillian to
come to him eagerly, knowing the pleasure that awaited her. To him,
anything less was unacceptable.

Of course, they had not precisely made love
the second time, because he worried that he might hurt her again,
so he had done the next best thing. How she had pleased him! The
lady had a voluptuous nature—something he had already suspected—and
he was delighted by her response.

At the door he glanced at her again,
wondering how much deeper his motivation went than mere lust.

She looked beautiful in sleep, soft and
alluring, with no evidence of the prickly attitude that surfaced
whenever she felt vulnerable. Jillian lay on her belly, her
glorious dark hair fanned on the pillow, the curve of one breast
tantalizingly in view, her arm flung across the spot he had
recently vacated. The earl wanted to believe that even unconscious,
she had begun to miss him.

The coverlet had slipped, revealing her
back, a shapely back. He clenched his teeth. He’d better leave
while he still had the strength, he decided, or else he would climb
back beneath the blankets and take what he had forfeited not long
ago.

Adrian stepped into the corridor, making
certain he was not seen, and entered the guest chamber. He fell
across the bed, exhausted. Resigned to the knowledge he would get
only a few hours sleep, he closed his eyes.

He began to drift as visions of a delectable
woman swam through his mind. Yes, he hoped she missed him, he
thought drowsily, for right now he damned sure was missing her.

*****

She was alone. Jillian knew immediately,
even before she opened her eyes. The sun shone into the room
proving morning had arrived, so Adrian had done the only thing he
could by leaving. Still she felt abandoned.

She moved gingerly beneath coverlet, aware
all at once that she was naked. She groaned into her pillow as the
night before came rushing back. Jillian waited for the disgust, the
out and out loathing to seize her, but oddly she felt a stirring of
desire instead. She sat up, impatient with her reaction. The
disgust would have been more appropriate—and more reassuring.

Slipping from the covers she moved across
the room to the basin, almost furtively, self-conscious of her
unclad state. She wanted a full bath but felt so guilty at the
moment, she was afraid to call her maid. Hannah would suspect
something was wrong. Washing herself with a cloth would have to do
for now.

Jillian began her ablutions, only to stop
when she discovered blood on her thighs. Her first response was to
glance in horror at the bed. Lord, if she had stained the sheets,
how would she explain it? Her menses? It wasn’t time. And as much
as her monthly was a private affair, it was hard to keep the secret
when her laundry betrayed her.

Dashing across the room, she yanked back the
covers. Two tiny drops of blood stained the bottom sheet. The soapy
cloth was still in her hand, and she scrubbed frantically at the
spots. The blood faded from the muslin, but now the bedclothing was
wet.

She glanced at the clock. Hannah would not
be upstairs for an hour. Hopefully the sheets would dry by then. If
forced to explain, Jillian decided to say she had spilled a glass
of water while sitting in bed. She could already imagine the
dubious look on the servant’s face.

Now thoroughly unnerved, she dressed
quickly. She put on her old boots so she might leave the house for,
though the morning at last promised a sunny day, the surrounding
countryside was still a muddy swamp.

At the door she hesitated. She had forgotten
something, she knew she had. Jillian sent her regard skimming over
the chamber and, sure enough, there by the window seat on the floor
was the brandy decanter and two goblets.

In the back of the chiffonier she kept her
mending bag, an item she had not touched in a very long time.
Perhaps there was room in it for the decanter and glasses, so she
might spirit them down to the parlor. Nothing for it, she thought,
best give it a try. That task complete, bag in hand, she left her
bedchamber. As Jillian stepped into the hall, she glanced at the
door across from her. It was slightly ajar and, though she knew
better, she could not resist the temptation that open door
provided. Looking both ways to make certain she was alone, she
crossed the narrow space and peeked into Adrian’s room.

The earl lay on his stomach, crosswise on
the bed, apparently in a deep sleep. His face was turned toward
her, and her breath lodged in her throat. The dark shadow of a
beard covered his jaw, giving him a dangerous aspect, and yet he
looked like not much more than a boy, the world-weary expression he
wore when awake erased by slumber.

How handsome he was, how fascinating. Few
women had the opportunity to be partnered by such a man. Perhaps
she should give serious consideration to his offer because what
happened last night must not happen again until she was married.
And that there might not be another night like last night gave her
pause.

Jillian wished she had the courage to join
him on that bed right now, wished she could bring herself to tell
him how she felt. Would he welcome her? she wondered. Almost
certainly he would, and that knowledge made her heart thump
wistfully.

Well, she didn’t have the courage, she
thought bitterly as she turned for the stairs. All her blatherings
about not caring what other people thought was just rubbish meant
to keep everyone off balance, from getting too close. She did care,
sometimes so much she did not think she could bear the ache. But at
least if she pretended well, she had her pride.

Unfortunately, pride was a cold and lonely
emotion to take to bed at night, and for the first time due to a
handsome man who insisted on showing her how badly she erred,
Jillian feared it would not be enough.

*****

The earl awoke with a start. Where was he?
He rolled onto his back. Oh yes, now he remembered—last night—and
Jillian. Smiling in satisfaction, he yawned and stretched like a
lazy tiger.

He was hungry, starving in fact. The clock
on the mantel read ten o’clock. Five hours of sleep—not
terrible.

Adrian came into a sitting position and ran
his hands through his hair. He intended to dress quickly and seek
out Jillian. Hopefully he could wedge a hasty meal somewhere in
between those objectives.

Less than five minutes and he was on his way
to the dining room. Aunt Prudence was there instead of her
niece.

“Morning, Aunt Pru,” he said, hiding his
disappointment. “Glad to say, I think the storms are all gone.” He
heaped a plate at the sideboard and sat down across from the older
woman. “How are you today?”

“My joints ache,” Pru said grumpily. “They
do that from time to time. And,” here she looked at him rather
guiltily, “my head is paining me as well. Why does the end result
of something as pleasant as wine have to be so miserable?”

The earl smiled. “Haven’t a clue, my dear.”
He paused, a fork of food midway to his mouth. “Where is Jillian
this morning?” He took the bite while he waited for an answer.

“Jillian?” She reached up to rub her temple,
evidently needing a moment to think. “She has gone out about an
hour ago. I wish she had refrained, for I’ve never seen so much
mud. I must tell you,” she said, at once sounding petulant which
was completely out of character, “I despair of ever getting that
young lady to do as she ought.”

Adrian patted her hand. “Not
despair,
Aunt Pru, never that.” When she did not respond to his gentle
teasing, he said more seriously, “Jillian is a fine person who has
had a difficult time. It’s painful to be shunned by one’s peers. I
can attest to that. She does what she does to spite those who would
hurt her. It’s like being in a card game where one is losing—better
to toss all the cards in the air, making certain no one wins,
rather than accept defeat.”

Pru merely stared at him as though
confused.

“Jillian feels she is in a situation she
cannot win,” he explained. “People will gossip, that she can’t
prevent. But by doing the things she does, she can at least control
the direction the talk takes. She decides what people will say and
that makes her feel less helpless.”

The old woman’s gaze seemed to clear as she
gave him a steely-eyed look, and Adrian was reminded that there was
more to this little lady than a vacuous personality.

“You care for my niece, don’t you, young
man?”

“Yes ma’am, I believe I do,” he said
candidly.

“Do you think she is ready to accept your
offer?”

Remembering last night, he grinned. “I hope
so.”

Aunt Pru sighed then, appearing to retreat
back into her pain. “So do I—for all our sakes.”

Adrian nodded. She had a point.

*****

Amazing how twenty-four hours could make the
world seem so different, Jillian thought as she sat on a large rock
overlooking her favorite fishing place on Squire Lindley’s
property. The rain was gone and overnight she had developed a new
perspective on romantic relationships. She felt different—not
physically, although she was sore today—but inside, somewhere in
the region of her heart.

Was she in love with Adrian? As much as she
enjoyed the idea, she was afraid of the condition. To love meant
being vulnerable, and she had decided long ago never to be
vulnerable again. And how did he feel about her?

The earl had been attentive but that did not
mean his feelings went deep, deeper than what he perceived his duty
to be. After all, if her brother had not forced the issue, Adrian
would not have approached her.

“Will I be forever running you to ground, my
love?”

Jillian heard his voice before she saw him,
and the insinuating timbre of his words caused the memory of last
night to come flooding back in a thrill of excitement. She turned a
warm face to him, thinking of those excruciatingly pleasurable
moments after he had awakened her in the predawn hours. The look in
his eye told her he was remembering the same thing.

Adrian had dismounted, leading his horse
into the clearing. His boots were covered in mud much like the
previous day but he seemed not to care. Several quick strides
brought him to the rock where he joined her.

“Well?” he said as he settled his long frame
next to hers, hip to hip.

“I wanted time to think.” She had returned
her attention to the stream, but she watched him from the corner of
her eye.

“Concerning…?”

“Need you ask?” she managed in a strangled
voice.

“I’d rather you were not upset about last
night.”

“I’m not upset precisely. Confused is more
apt, I think.”

“Do you wish to talk about it?”

“Do you?”

Adrian leaned close to her. “What I wish is
to repeat it,” he murmured huskily, “but I’ll talk first if you
like.”

Jillian shrugged away from him impatiently.
“Can’t you be serious? You make it sound as if we play a game. It’s
gone far beyond that now.”

“Yes, it has.”

She looked at him then, for she detected a
more sober note to his words. The expression on his face reflected
his tone.

“I want you to set a date, Jillian, as soon
as possible.”

She felt her stomach plunge to her feet.
“Why?”

“Because under the circumstances it becomes
appropriate.”

“Under what circumstances?” she asked, at
once suspicious.

“Come now, do you wish me to state it
baldly?”

“Perhaps you had better do that.”

“It’s clear, isn’t it? We have become
lovers, thus we must marry. We’ve done things out of the proper
order but no one need know except the two of us.”

“No!” She stared at him appalled, the sudden
realization of what he had done striking squarely at her pride.
“You—you tricked me!” When he said nothing, she wailed, “Didn’t
you?”

“Jillian…”

The earl reached for her as she scrambled
from the rock but she dashed his hand away, scraping the back of
her leg as she slid to the ground.

“Will you listen to me?” he barked,
following her.

She flung around to face him as his feet hit
the sodden turf. “Listen to what?—more pretty words?—words that
mean nothing?”

“It wasn’t like that, I swear.”

“You had a good laugh at my expense, didn’t
you, my lord?” Her voice shook, and she was dismayed to find
herself close to tears. “‘Poor old maid, so in need of a man she’d
listen to any lie.’ How weak you must have thought me, how
pathetic.”

He looked as distressed as she felt. “I’ve
never thought you weak
or
pathetic.”

“Let me see now,” she said, pretending to
sound more reasonable. However, a painful lump in her throat
distorted her speech. “The plan was that you seduce me, and then I
would have to marry you. Do I have it right?”

“Why must we wait?” he asked quietly.

“Because,” she snapped, “you’re not the only
one who gets to decide.”

Adrian frowned. “Is that what this is
about?—who’s in control, who makes the decisions?”

“I don’t want to be pushed. I’ve told you
that from the beginning. And from the beginning you’ve pushed
me.”

“We made love last night, Jillian. If people
found out—”

Jillian interrupted him. “What would they
say? Seems to me they can’t say anything they didn’t say eight
years ago. Who would care if we took up where we left off?” She
narrowed her eyes as she shook her finger at him. “You see, there
is a flaw in your plan. I must have a reputation that needs
protecting for your trickery to succeed. Unluckily for me, my lord,
you ruined me a long time ago.”