In the Garden of Temptation (3 page)

“
Next week?” Lord Ashworth
asked casually, unwilling to admit to anything more than mild
curiosity.

“
I wait upon your
convenience, my lord. I’ll just let myself out so I don’t impose on
you or your guests any longer.”

The earl nodded tersely.

Bourgeault reached for the latch on the
French doors and opened them. As he turned to leave he looked back
at Adam. “I do believe,” he murmured, an unnatural light flickering
in his avid black gaze, “you will find your stay to be a most
memorable one.”

*****

“
Has Lord Wimberly been in
today?” Adam stood in the foyer of White’s gentlemen’s club and
handed his hat to the nearest waiter.

“
Yes, my lord,” responded
the waiter. “He was here briefly but said he had some errands to
run and would be returning about three o’clock. He asked you be
informed in case you arrived.”

“
Right then, I’d like my
usual table and a snifter of your best brandy.”

Escorted to the designated table the earl
took a seat, and within minutes the waiter returned with his
drink.

Adam swirled the brandy around the inside of
the goblet and watched as the fragrant liquid coated the glass with
an oily film. Putting the snifter under his nose, he drew in a deep
breath and allowed the fumes to drift seductively over his senses.
He followed this ceremony with a discreet sip that elicited a sigh
of pure ecstasy.

Adam leaned back in the
comfortable leather chair he occupied and surveyed his
surroundings.
Wonderful
. The next few hours would be spent in congenial, masculine
company, imbibing fine spirits and dining on the finest victuals
any establishment had to offer. And later he would pay a visit to
the lovely, redheaded Helen. That expectation alone gave him reason
to anticipate an enjoyable evening.

It was a very mellow Lord Ashworth to whom
Daniel Evans, Viscount Wimberly, was conducted sixty minutes later.
The earl’s head rested against the padding of a wing-back chair,
eyes closed, feet propped upon a brocaded footstool. He cradled a
glass of brandy in his hands, his thoughts flowing nowhere in
particular.

“
I say, old man, are you
sleeping?” Daniel asked. “If you are, you must be dreaming
something remarkably inane if the look on your face is any
indication.”

Adam did not move, nor did he lift his
shuttered eyes. “Ah, Daniel, have a seat. I’m enjoying the restful
atmosphere and ensuring my present languorous mood by tippling on
that wonderful bottle of brandy.” As he spoke his lids eased
upward, and he smiled.

The viscount smiled in return, his crystal
blue eyes crinkling at the corners, and the earl felt the old
familiar affection that always came over him whenever he saw his
friend. They were, in fact, the best of friends and had been since
before Adam could remember.

As boys, Daniel and Adam had grown up on
adjoining estates and later had attended the same schools. They
chased the same women without acrimony and found companionship with
the same fellows. The earl knew himself to have the more commanding
personality, but Daniel with his pale blondness and slender build
projected a gentleness that seemed nearly poetic and, for some of
the fairer sex, nearly irresistible.

The viscount poured a drink then made himself
cozy in a chair identical to the one comforting the earl. “That was
quite an affair at your place last night. Every year your mother
outdoes herself.”

“
Yes,” Adam said pleasantly,
“and I will tell her you said so just as soon as she and I are on
speaking terms again.”

Daniel raised his brows. “Oh?”

“
I’ve had the misfortune of
being on the opposite side of a disagreement with the countess,”
the earl said. “She can make one suffer for having the temerity to
counter one of her edicts. Judith accused me of running away—of
course, that was said as she rushed passed me out the front
door.”

Daniel chuckled. “And how is your dear sister
today?”

“
On her way back to the
country with her husband Walter. I swear my mother can empty a
house faster than any one I’ve ever met.” Adam paused before
continuing. “Have you heard of a Baron Bourgeault?”

Daniel shook his head slowly. “Can’t say I
have.”

Adam spent the next few minutes detailing the
events of the previous evening. “Mother is determined I make no
further effort to contact the baron. Despite her assurances that
she is only worried about my safety, I believe her reasoning to be
based in snobbery.” He shrugged. “Besides, I’m so damned curious I
feel compelled to go.”

“
I could accompany you, you
know. I’d have to stay at the local inn, though. Bad manners to
drop in without an invite. I know the baron would agree.” Daniel
smirked at his companion.

“
You’re a cheeky devil. You
think I need a nursemaid? And you’re just the fellow to keep me
from harm’s way? Mother will be so relieved.”

“
Do I detect a note of
sarcasm? Pour me another dab of that fine wine and I promise not to
take offense.”

Adam laughed and reached for the bottle. “I
won’t be winning a war of words with you today.”

The viscount’s lips twitched. “No sense
arguing with the obvious.”

Adam raised his glass to salute his
agreement, and the two gentlemen settled back to enjoy their
evening in complete harmony with one another.

*****

CHAPTER 2

Adam had been riding the better part of the
day, beginning with the predawn hours that found him packed and
ready for his journey. The weather was glorious, and he reveled in
being away from the city, soaking up the atmosphere of the lush
countryside.

Sims, the earl’s valet, was infuriated to be
left behind. Why, he had asked stonily, was it so difficult to load
the phaeton so a personal servant could accompany his master?
That’s what a respectable gentleman would do. The earl had
responded—tongue firmly in cheek—since he cared not a wit for
respectability, he had none.

Frankly, Adam had not relished being confined
to a carriage, or relegated to the roads he must follow if he chose
a vehicle over his mount. He also suspected his mother had asked
Sims to go along as protection. He tolerated the dowager’s meddling
with equal parts humor and irritation, however, he did not let her
alter the outcome.

Adam added an extra half hour to his trip by
missing the road Bourgeault had insisted would be no problem to
find. It was, in fact, an obscure turn-off, unmarked except for a
small sign that had become overgrown with vines. Assured that he
had found the spot he was seeking, he cantered down the
weed-infested lane. He traveled another mile before he broke into a
clearing, and the baron’s residence came into sight.

Ahead of him stood a thirteenth-century
Norman castle in the advanced stages of neglect and decay. It
looked to be neither a large nor prime example of that
architectural form. And since he saw no natural fortifications,
such as a river or cliff formation, he was at a loss as to why the
structure had been built in the first place. Adam sat on his mount,
staring at the incongruous building in amazement. He shouldn’t be
surprised, he thought, for it was exactly the sort of domicile he
would have expected the baron to occupy.

The earl urged his horse forward over what he
believed had once been a moat but was now a large and unkempt
circular drive. It occurred to him that he should tether his horse
and announce his arrival at the front entrance, however, he was
curious to see the condition of Bourgeault’s stables. Since he
doubted the baron stood on ceremony, he risked a breach of
etiquette. He rounded the corner and entered the stable yard.

Here, at least, he saw activity. From the
deserted aspect of the castle as he arrived on the drive, he had
begun to doubt this pile of stones had any inhabitants. His horse
Felix danced sideways through a squawking flock of hens that
scattered in several directions in protest.

“
Steady, old boy, not going
to let a few chickens get the better of you, are you?” He leaned
over and patted his steed affectionately. Adam dismounted and,
taking Felix by the reins, entered the stables.

Here the neglect and apparent disregard
sullying the rest of the baron’s estate was absent. The stables,
clearly erected in more recent times, did not reflect the age of
the castle. The odor of sweet-smelling hay scented the air.

The stalls—and there were plenty of them—had
been recently mucked out, and the fresh hay had been strewn on the
wooden floor. A well-organized tack room to the right contained all
manner of riding paraphernalia neatly placed on three of the four
walls. In the middle of that room, an elderly man sat at a
workbench repairing a harness.

The man looked up as Adam entered. “May I
help you?”

“
You are…?”

“
Name’s Brown, head groom.
And you?”

“
I’m Lord Ashworth. I
believe I’m expected.”

The groom stared at him a moment then give a
curt nod.

“
Lord Bourgeault mentioned a
pair of grays he wished me to inspect.”

“
That would be Abel and
Cain. They’re out in the back pasture gettin’ some exercise. I
reckon the baron would prefer to make the introductions.” Brown’s
tone was cool, just short of unfriendly. “Those horses are special
to him. He likes to see the effect they have on people.” The groom
returned to his work as though the matter were settled.

“
Uh…yes, I’ll make my
presence known to your master,” the earl said, taken aback by the
man’s lack of welcome. “See to my horse, please.”

The man grunted a reply and Adam stepped from
the darkness of the stables into the waning sunlight. Idly, he
glanced around the dirt yard, his gaze sharpening as he caught
sight of a woman scattering feed to the chickens.

He didn’t know why he stopped to watch her,
although his male interest was certainly aroused. He couldn’t see
her face as she leaned over tossing grain to the hens, but he had a
gratifying view of an attractive female backside. His footsteps
took him in her direction.

She straightened and turned at his approach.
What he began to say would remain unsaid, for he was so overcome by
the flawless beauty of the woman, his train of thought deserted
him.

An oval face provided the setting for
features so in harmony with one another he gaped at her like a
callow youth. She had a straight nose over full lips and large,
expressive gray eyes. Her wheat-colored hair was pulled into a
casual knot atop her head, tendrils of near white hair dancing
delicately about her cheeks and forehead in the soft breeze. With
one lovely hand, she pushed the errant strands behind her ear.

She watched him, brows raised in patient
inquiry as though she were used to men responding to her in
open-mouthed stupefaction. When he still did not speak, she broke
the silence.

“
Is there something I can do
for you?”

Her voice was cultured and melodic, and it
sent a thrill over his heightened senses.

“
I beg your pardon,” he
said, aware his respiration had increased. “I was staring, wasn’t
I? I’m not usually so slow-witted, but I’m afraid you took me by
surprise. I was not expecting a goddess in the stable yard serving
dinner to the chickens.”

The compliment came easily, but all at once
he felt sheepish, as her expression turned more and more skeptical
with each successive word he uttered.

“
I see. I assure you I am no
goddess, and I’m feeding the chickens because they’re hungry.
Someone has to do it.” She tempered the gentle rebuke with a
smile.

Rather than being put off by her lack of
flirtation, Adam was fascinated. “Are you employed here?”

For several long moments she looked at him
through those lovely gray eyes as though deciding how to answer
him. That’s an oddity, he thought, for the question required either
a yes or no answer. What else was there?

“
You could say I work for
Lord Bourgeault,” she said at last.

“
You’re not sure?” he
probed, surprising himself because he was genuinely interested in
her response.

The woman averted her gaze. “I’d best get
back to it.” Her tone was dismissing, although she smiled at him
once more.

Adam reached out and touched her arm as she
started to walk away. “Will I see you again?” He felt foolish for
asking but could not prevent himself.

She turned to look at him, again seeming to
hesitate as she searched his face. He was amazed by the sudden
import he placed on her reply.

“
I suspect you
will.”

With that, she turned on him that remarkable
backside, her skirts swaying side to side as she strode purposely
to the rear entry of the castle. If she were tempted to turn around
and look at him he was unaware because her posture implied she had
already forgotten him. He watched her until she disappeared from
sight then began his own trek to the front of the baron’s home so
he could make a more suitable entrance.

As he walked, Adam reviewed his encounter
with the lovely maiden—at least he assumed she was a maiden.
Perhaps hoped expressed it better. He guessed her age at early
twenties. Considering her extraordinary good looks, to reach that
age without becoming attached seemed impossible. Surely, she’d had
the opportunity, for what man wouldn’t want such a prize.