The Pleasure Garden: Sacred Vows\Perfumed Pleasures\Rites of Passions (22 page)

“You tempt me, and I want to believe you. But Edward would never agree. Furthermore, he would make our lives hell.”

With a sigh, Joscelyn pulled away from her, slowly sliding his hands from her body. “Come into the garden, Catherine. Whenever you want me, I’ll be there. Trust me….”

And then he left her. It had been the hardest thing to do, leaving her like that, but Joscelyn knew she needed to come to him of her own free will. It was not only her body he desired, but her trust in him, as well.

7

JOSCELYN CONTEMPLATED THE CONTENTS OF his glass tumbler, which glowed amber in the flickering firelight. He was in a hell of a mood, and brandy seemed just thing. Expect he hadn’t done anything to abate the desire and need he still felt swimming inside him.

“Damn chilly tonight,” his uncle grumbled with a shiver as he settled into the empty wing chair beside Joscelyn’s. Together they watched the crackling logs in comfortable silence.

Fairfax had grown old these past three years. His body was still large and robust, and his skin ruddy, but the exuberance and energy his uncle had once displayed were gone, replaced with a lethargy that comes with age and illness.

“You’re well, I trust, uncle.”

“Very well, I thank you.”

“And your health?”

His uncle shot him a questioning glance, the thicket of his gray brows arching in question. “As hearty as ever. What, may I ask, has led you to question it?”

With a shrug, Joscelyn tipped the tumbler to his lips and
tossed back the contents before placing the empty crystal on the table. “You do not seem in your usual spirits, is all. I thought I might inquire.”

The earl’s smile was faint, and melted away almost immediately. “As you age, Joscelyn, there is a time in your life when you begin to take stock of what you have done with the years you’ve been given. You think on achievements and failures, and decisions that you’ve made—and regrets.”

Joscelyn wondered if one such regret was taking in an orphan.

“Sometimes we have the best intentions. Other times, we’re quite merciless. Sometimes,” he said quietly, “our decisions are based on our beliefs of other people, and sometimes those beliefs turn out to be rather shattering.”

“You speak of me.”

Fairfax stared at him. “God, no, my boy. Never you. You’ve far exceeded anything I thought you might become. You’re a gentleman through and through. A fine man. And I like to look upon you and think that you were one of my successes.”

“Thank you, uncle.” He’d seduced Catherine, his cousin’s intended, beneath his uncle’s roof. No, he was not at all honorable, as his uncle believed. He was a true bastard.

“Edward,” Fairfax sighed. “He’s the shattered hope I hold. I raised him well, in the same manner as you, and yet he has turned out to be selfish and cruel. I can’t fathom it. His mother was an angel, and I believe that I am a fair man. Occasionally I bluster about, but I hope I’m not cruel or callous.”

What was this? Joscelyn had never heard his uncle speak of his son in such a manner. What could be the reason for it?

After another deep sigh, Fairfax slid farther into his chair and rested his head against the padded wing. “I knew of the malicious streak in my son when he was but a child. I corrected it numerous times, and hoped he would outgrow his spiteful nature. I believed he had, till…recently.”

Joscelyn dearly wanted to ask. But he knew his uncle would say more when he was ready.

“What brings you here tonight?” Fairfax asked suddenly. “You look as pensive as I feel.”

Joscelyn had the sudden urge to disabuse his uncle of the notion that he was a gentleman. For some damn reason, he despised knowing that he was misleading the man who had cared him—loved him—like a son.

“I find myself here reflecting on my life. My actions. The consequences. The decisions that have led me here.”

With a smile, Fairfax snorted gently, then met Joscelyn’s stare. “Catherine Tate, I should think, factors into those contemplations.”

For the first time in years Joscelyn found himself blushing. “Indeed, sir.”

“I’ve always known it. There is no need to blush so.”

Wiping a hand over his face, Joscelyn closed his eye. “I never meant for it to happen.”

“Does any man mean to fall in love?” Fairfax shook his head and stared into the fire. “The heart goes where it wishes, and yours wished for Lady Catherine. That’s one of my regrets.”

“Which is?”

Fairfax slid him a look. “That I didn’t give her to you.”

Shocked, Joscelyn sat mute and frozen in the chair. “Sir?”

“I wanted her for the Fairfax dynasty, you see. Penniless they may be, but she and her family come from a long and
noble lineage. Their reputations are spotless, despite her father’s gambling ways.”

“I see.”

“I thought she would do very well for Edward. Bring some softness into his life. I…thought, or rather hoped, your interest was a passing fancy that would be soothed and replaced by leaving.”

Straightening, Joscelyn felt his body go rigid. “My commission.”

His uncle nodded. “You were to be an officer. And you weren’t to be near the fighting. I made certain of that. But then everything went wrong, and now…now, damn it, whenever I see you I am filled with such self-loathing and contempt, because it was me, my ambitions, that put you there.”

A tempest swirled inside him, and he curled his fingers into fists and strived to calm himself. It was not his uncle’s fault. That was much was certain.

“My wounds are not your burden, uncle. A commission was more than a man of my background could expect. I was elated with it. And to be honest, I thought perhaps that my separation from Fairfax House and Catherine would do me well. But it did not work. I’ve only managed to fall deeper in love with her.”

“My son doesn’t love her. He wants to make her his possession, and when he tires of her, he’ll toss her aside, and I will be forced to watch her, her sadness, her longing for you.”

Where was this conversation leading? Joscelyn wondered. Why tell him all this now?

Standing, his uncle made his way to his desk and rifled through the drawers, then returned with a packet of letters. “You are the son I’ve always wanted, Joscelyn. A man with
pride and honor and a sense of duty. You’ve never asked for a blasted thing since you came here. I…I owe you this.”

Joscelyn took the folded paper from his uncle and opened it. After scanning it, he glanced up. “Mother’s dowry?”

“Aye. Your father never got his mitts on it, and your mother, God bless her soul, did not live long enough to return for it. By the time I found her, she was dying. I’ve kept it for you, intending to give it to you when you needed it most. Which I believe might be now.”

A packet of bundled missives landed on Joscelyn’s lap. “Tate’s outstanding debts. Do what you will with them.”

As his uncle walked past him, Joscelyn jumped from his chair and faced the man who had been like a father to him. “I—I…” He looked down at the letters in his hand, then back up at his uncle. “I don’t know what to make of this.”

“Don’t you? Do the honorable thing, my boy, and take Catherine away from my son. He will only make her miserable—and you, too.”

“If this stems from guilt, uncle, there is no need. I have never blamed you, not in the past, and not even after learning it was your intention to part me from Catherine.”

“It’s not guilt, Joscelyn. I’m righting a wrong, that is all. A wrong I did to you and Catherine. That woman is gentle and kind. She’ll suffer at my son’s hands. I may have let Edward rule this estate, and to some extent rule me, but I have eyes, and I see how he treats her. It sickens me that a son of mine could be so cold and uncaring. Catherine does not deserve the fate that I’ve purchased for her. As I said, do what you may, with my blessing.”

“Uncle,” Joscelyn began. Then, bereft of words, he
pulled Fairfax into his arms and hugged him tight. “You have given me the greatest gift I could ever ask for.”

“Treat her like a treasure. And might I suggest that you take her and leave. Edward has developed a liking for the village pub. Every night he’s there. You can have a decent head start on him.”

“Thank you, uncle.”

“My thanks will come when I see you both happy.”

“And Edward, what about him?”

“He’ll be placated with the promise of another bride. Desire is fleeting, and that is all he feels for Catherine Tate. Do not worry about Edward, or me.”

Joscelyn watched his uncle leave the study, and then sat down to plan his day tomorrow. If the weight of this packet meant anything, his day would be spent discharging Tate’s debts.

It was rather fitting, he mused, that his mother, who had been tricked and deceived into eloping with a rogue, was going to save another woman from the same sort of miserable existence that she herself had endured. Joscelyn knew that his mother would wish her dowry to be spent that way.

After discharging Tate’s debts, Joscelyn was astonished to realize that there was still a decent amount of money left from his mother’s dowry. Combined with some of his savings, he could buy a small cottage, and perhaps take a job as a clerk. He might even return to the army and work in the offices. He could provide for Catherine and any family they had, but there was one thing he could not do: keep paying off Tate’s debts. This one time would be all he could do for the man. Catherine would have to accept it if she were to agree to marry him.

Searching the manor for her, he discovered she was not at home, but out in the village with her mother. Slipping into her room, he placed a note on her pillow.

Meet me in the Garden….

Catherine crumpled Joscelyn’s letter in her hand. She was sorely tempted, but knew she could not tempt fate once again.

“Shall I dress you for dinner now, miss?”

Turning, she saw her maid rifling through her wardrobe. “No, thank you, Mary. Perhaps you would be so kind as to have supper brought up here. I have a headache, and do not believe I could sit at the table.”

“Oh, miss, you do look frightfully pale.” With a bob, Mary excused herself. “Let me tell your mother, miss, and then I shall bring up tea and toast.”

Grateful for the silence, Catherine made her way to the window and watched the waning sunlight cast shadows over the garden. She saw Joscelyn standing beside the fountain, waiting patiently. Closing the drapes, she blotted out the sight, putting him from her mind. But he would not leave her heart.

The door banged open and she jumped, whirling around to confront the intruder.

“Your maid says you are ill.” Edward was standing there, his face red. “What is the matter?”

“A headache.”

“Nonsense. You’re not missing dinner because of a headache. I’ve brought a few of my mates around. You’ll be at dinner, dressed in the red silk. I want to show my friends what a luscious little piece I’ve got myself.”

Catherine’s stomach turned sour. She would not sit there and allow herself to be ogled by his friends.

Edward took impatient steps into her room and grasped her hard about her shoulders. “Do you understand me, damn it? You’ll present yourself and entertain my friends, or you will find yourself at the wrong end my hand.”

“Edward.”

The throaty snarl from the door made him release his hold on her. Catherine saw Lord Fairfax standing in the hall. His expression was dark. “Get your hands off her.”

“Or what?” Edward taunted. “Begone, Father.”

“The hell you’ll dismiss me like that.”

Edward’s expression turned florid. “What is it you want?”

“You, out of this room. Now.”

Like a petulant child, Edward glared at Catherine. “Fine. Stay in this room then, but expect me tonight after I return to the house.”

Edward brushed past them. Lord Fairfax watched his son leave, then turned to look at her. “My apologies, Lady Catherine. I assure you, I raised my son better, but he’s chosen not to recall the manners he was given.”

Rubbing her arms, Catherine nodded. “Of course, my lord. There is no harm done.”

“Oh, I doubt that, my dear. But soon it will all be mended. By the by,” Fairfax asked, “have you seen my nephew today?”

“No, milord.”

“I think you should seek him out. It might very well be worth your while.”

Curtsying to him, Catherine watched as her future father-in-law closed her chamber door. What an odd conversation, she thought. Turning, she saw the crumpled missive on the floor and bent to retrieve it.

Edward would be out tonight. Did she dare? Should she risk all and go in search of Joscelyn?

Mary arrived with the dinner tray, and Catherine sat down, contemplating what she should do as she nibbled on a triangle of toast. Was it just her, or had Fairfax been insinuating something when he had suggested that she search out Joscelyn?

There was only way to find out.

8

THREE HOURS HAD PASSED AND STILL CATHERINE refused to come to him. He’d spent each of those miserable hours alone in the garden, waiting for her. But he did not lose hope. It was fear for her family that kept her away, not fear of him. She did not yet realize what good fortune had been bestowed upon them. Her uncle had freed her—had freed him. Now if only he could find her to tell her. She hadn’t been in the house. He could only hope that she had at last arrived at the garden.

Trudging across the damp grass, he made his way there. He had no idea what prompted him to do this yet again. Sleeping on the cold ground, waiting for her, was a penance, but he could not resist doing so. Maybe tonight she would come to him.

Lifting the latch, Joscelyn listened to the gate groan on its rusted hinges. Striding on into the garden, he searched among the shadows for the fountain.

He hadn’t been able to deny himself or stay away. He had thought about her all day, as he saw to both his and Tate’s affairs. During the long carriage ride, he had dreamed of what he was going to do to Catherine that
very night. His need for her was so strong, so compelling. He craved feeling her hands on his body, experiencing the satisfaction of plunging his cock inside a wet sheath he had made ache for him. Would she come to him tonight?