In the Garden of Seduction (33 page)

“Cassandra?” he croaked at last, still
unbelieving.

She moved forward, falling to her knees. Her
beautiful face came into focus as she neared him, and her concern
was apparent. “Please, don’t send me away, my lord.”

He swallowed and blurted the first thing
that came to him. “Don’t call me my lord,” he commanded.

The words were spoken harshly but a dazzling
smile lit her lovely mouth. She threw her arms around his neck.

“Simon, I’ve missed you so.”

Simon was undone. A tide of emotion rose in
his chest, and he grabbed hold of her waist and buried his brow in
the warmth of her soft breast. He breathed deeply, allowing her
sweet scent to cascade over his hungry senses.

“Why are you here?” he asked when he felt
capable of speaking without his voice cracking.

Cassandra pulled back and looked at him. “I
like to fish, especially with a handsome gentleman.”

“Is that your only reason?”

“And because I love you,” she said simply,
her blue-green eyes shining into his.

“Do you?” Despite a fierce effort, his voice
did shake then.

“Yes. I apologize for taking so long to
admit it.” Cassandra, her gaze warm with sincerity, combed slim
fingers through his hair, and Simon’s scalp began to tingle
deliciously. “How did you get here?” he asked, changing the subject
to mask emotions spinning out of control.

“Lydia.”

“I received her note this morning. She is
here, also?”

Cassandra shook her head. “Your sister went
back to the inn,” she said.

“Lord, what was she thinking? Lydia knows
how I feel about you. The temptation is…hard to resist.”

“Is it?”

“What are you implying?” He snapped out the
words.

She licked her lips as she stared back at
him. “I’ll not say it. The last time I did you refused me.”

“By God,” he growled, coming to his feet.
“Are you foolish enough to believe that’s what I wanted?” He took
her hand, yanking her from the ground and into his arms. He held
her tight and glared into her face, now inches from his. “Did you
think I should possess you when I wasn’t absolutely, and I mean
absolutely positive that is what you wanted? You were very drunk,
you know.”

“You’re right, but I felt terrible
afterward. I was certain you were disgusted with me for being
forward.”

“Disgusted? I’ve felt many things for you,
love, however, disgust was never one of them. Aside from the moment
I found out you had accepted Morley’s offer, I cannot think when I
suffered more pain than that night at Vauxhall. I knew I had hurt
you, although Lydia assured me I could have done nothing else.”

“That’s right, you told your sister. How
could you?”

He shrugged. “I would have preferred to talk
to my dearest friend, but at the time it was impossible.”

Cassandra began to struggle from his grasp.
“You intended to tell Mr. Stiles?” she squeaked.

Simon held her fast. “Harry? Couldn’t have
spoken of it to him. That wouldn’t have been gentlemanly.”

“Then who?” she demanded, continuing to
struggle.

“Don’t you know, Cassandra?”

She went still. “Me?”

“I did try to explain, I swear. You were in
no mood to listen, but there must have been something I could have
done differently. Can you forgive me for being so clumsy?”

He watched her expression transform in the
face of his apology, the last of her reserve flowing away and
leaving behind the joy of acceptance. Cassandra melted back into
his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pressed her
cheek against his chest. Simon knew his thudding heart next to her
ear exposed his chaotic emotions.

For several moments they stood there, each
absorbing the warmth and the nearness of the other. Finally, she
looked up at him. Simon met her gaze before slowly lowering his
mouth to hers.

“Simon?” she murmured, coming up for
air.

“Yes, love?”

“I’m not drunk now.”

Simon stared at her, his heart executing an
eager flip-flop.

Cassandra was sending him a look of sultry
appeal, her eyes glowing with a come-hither fire, her mouth pouting
seductively as she pressed against him.

Suddenly lightheaded, what remained of the
blood in his head converged with a burning intensity on his lower
body.

“Cassie…?” he rasped.

“Yes!” was all she said.

The soft utterance like an erotic caress
skimmed along his senses, giving him permission. He slipped his
hands into her glorious red hair and clasped her mouth to his. He
kissed her fiercely, a deep, intimate kiss.

She whimpered into his mouth, and Simon’s
control snapped.

He pulled her to the ground, vaguely aware
of the musky smell of earth and vegetation on the riverbank, the
crackle of dried leaves.

Cassandra accommodated him as he lay on top
of her, purring her satisfaction as his lips found a sensitive spot
on her throat. He trailed ardent kisses downward, gently nipping
the rounded flesh at the top of her gown.

Impatient with the cloth in his way, Simon
opened her bodice to the sound of ripping stitches. He growled, his
hot gaze taking in her lush breasts. He placed his mouth over one
pink tip, flicking his tongue repeatedly until the nipple hardened.
He felt her shudder, and a surge of aching need slipped unchecked
through his loins.

Their frenzied movements caused Cassandra’s
dress to shift upward, exposing her limbs, and he eased slightly
away from her, tugging her skirt to her hips. As her lovely legs
came into view, what was about to happen fell full force on
Simon.

“Cassandra, are you certain?” He grated out
the words, not sure he could comply if she told him to stop.

“Oh, Simon, please,” she whispered. “Love
me.”

The sound of her feminine voice, thick with
desire, begging him to do what he wanted most to do, delivered him
from all doubt. A few frantic adjustments of clothing wrought with
hands that shook almost uncontrollably found Simon poised above
her.

With one swift thrust he took her
innocence.

He gasped, suspended in ecstasy as the silky
warmth of her passage surrounded him. Simon groaned savagely.

Even as he immersed himself in the pleasure,
he was aware of her indrawn breath, the sudden sob that escaped
her. Though dazed, he raised up on his elbows to look at her.

She was staring at him wide-eyed, the
blue-green of her irises nearly obliterated by her dilated pupils.
Moisture clung to her lashes, forming a spiky fringe on her lids.
One tiny teardrop slid down her face, leaving a wet trail.

“Forgive me,” he rumbled, experiencing her
distress as if were his own.

All at once Cassandra smiled at him, a soft
dreamy smile that held no accusation. “I love you, Simon,” she
whispered. She lifted her arms, wrapping them around his neck, and
pulled him close to her again. She kissed him, a kiss soft and
yielding, her lips trembling beneath his.

Simon had thought he understood the more
tender emotions, knew what love was, but in that instant he
realized he had understood nothing. And so with the hunger igniting
his senses came something else, a feeling less physical, but
equally profound. Humbled, his heart felt as though it might burst
apart.

He nestled into her embrace as he nestled
into her body, moving slowly, willing her to respond, determined to
wait for her. He began to ache, every muscle stretched and shaking
with suppressed tension, when a sudden convulsive movement on her
part told him she had entered the pleasure.

Cassandra moaned in soft pants against his
ear, calling his name in a passion-soaked voice that snatched the
remainder of his control. Triumphant, Simon took one final plunge,
and with it he released himself, seeking his own gratification as
he joined her in the rapture.

*****

“Cassandra?” he murmured long moments later,
his breath unsteady.

“Umm…?” She sounded faraway, lost to all
things worldly.

“I love you,” he said simply.

“I know,” she said, a soft smile playing on
her lips.

He chuckled. “Oh, do you? What makes you so
certain?”

“Lydia told me.”

This time he laughed outright. “Of course. I
should have known.”

Simon kissed her again, a slower kiss meant
to convey the overwhelming emotion rippling from the center of his
chest. When he released her mouth, her lids fluttered open and she
gazed at him dreamily.

“Can we stay here forever?” she asked.

“What a tempting idea. I wish we could.”

They shared another gentle kiss, and
reluctantly Simon eased off her and came to his feet. He fastened
his trousers, tucking in his shirt. Cassandra stood, working at her
clothing as well.

Simon leaned over and picked up his fishing
pole and sat back down on the embankment. “What about Roger?” he
asked, not looking at her.

“I suppose he’s proposed to Penelope by now.
Honestly, I don’t care.”

“Why this sudden change? I thought you had
decided to please Lord Whittingham.”

“I confronted my grandfather. I should have
done it a long time ago.” Cassandra removed the pins from her hair
as she talked, then replaced them, restoring some order to her
damaged tresses. “Papa told me the old man’s threats were
empty.”

The marquess scowled. “I knew it. He held
something over you, didn’t he?”

She eased her backside down on the ground,
joining him. “He said he would have my father charged with
kidnapping. I don’t know if anything would have come from it
because the episode is very old, but I didn’t want to take the
chance.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I have influence. I
could have helped.”

Cassandra glanced at him before dropping her
gaze as if suddenly uncertain. “That’s rather complicated, I’m
afraid. Lydia pointed it out to me.”

“Ah, yes, my dear sister,” he said wryly.
“What did Lydia point out to you?”

“She said I don’t trust you, that I’m
afraid.”

“Is she right?” he asked, keeping his voice
gentle.

“I’m afraid to be with you, but I’m more
afraid to be without you.”

“I’ve been afraid as well,” he said roughly.
“Afraid that I’d never see you again and, if I did, it would be on
Roger Morley’s arm. That thought was unbearable.” Simon leaned over
and touched his mouth to hers. “I’ll never hurt you, sweetheart,
not willingly, I swear. I love you too much.”

“Do you know what are the loveliest times
I’ve spent with you?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“When we’ve talked and only that. It’s the
comfort of being with a person one admires, without restraint and
no need to prove anything. On those few occasions, that’s when I
knew I loved you.”

Now, there was a heart-warming disclosure,
but one that nudged his guilt. “Lydia’s right,” he said, feeling
disgruntled. “I’ve been too aggressive.”

“No, no,” Cassandra spoke quickly, “I wasn’t
suggesting that I didn’t like your lovemaking. In fact I was
worried that you had lost interest in me when your behavior became
less forward.” She lowered her lashes as if embarrassed. “What I
meant to say was just being with you is wonderful as well.”

Simon placed his arm around her shoulders
and pulled her firmly against him, his body filling with relief and
exaltation.

“How about we do some fishing?” he asked
hoarsely, clearing his throat. “Have you ever baited a hook?” He
handed her a worm.

“Never.” Cassandra wrinkled her nose. “But
there’s always a first time for everything.” She took the squirming
creature delicately between thumb and forefinger, and her features
pinched in disgust as she slid the worm on the hook with a soft
squish. She shuddered. “Well, now, I don’t suppose that was
entirely unpleasant.”

The marquess laughed. “Of course, not.”

He took her line and tossed it in the water
then threw in his own. As he leaned back she curled up next to him,
and Simon experienced the first real peace he had felt in a long
time. “Where’s Tim?” he asked, realizing in his excitement over
Cassandra’s arrival that he’d completely forgotten the boy.

“He agreed to stay at the lodge so you and I
could talk. He promised to make us something to eat. Is he the only
servant you have here?”

“I wanted to be alone,” he said, looking at
her meaningfully. “I sent the caretaker on holiday. The only reason
Timothy is with me is because I wanted him brought to Sutherfield,
and it seemed easiest to do it myself since I was coming anyway.
I’m glad I did. His cooking’s not half bad for a young one.”

“We’d better get this fishing out of the way
then, for he’s making us a stew.” Merriment laced her words. “He
swore it is your favorite.”

“Ah, yes…Tim’s stew. That is an experience
you won’t want to miss.”

Cassandra smiled as though nothing would
please her more than to dine on one of Timothy’s culinary
creations. She snuggled closer to him and as Simon watched her
protectively, she slipped into a light slumber, fishing pole
clearly forgotten.

*****

Cassandra stared down into the large cast
iron kettle that hung from a hook in the stone fireplace. Great
chunks of beef and potatoes seasoned liberally with onion swam in a
runny gravy.

“My, this does look good, Timothy,” she
said, hoping she sounded more sincere than she felt. “Where did you
learn to cook?”

“Me ma,” the child said. “If you want to eat
you learn to cook. Ain’t no mystery. You and ‘is lordship sit
down—I’ll dish it up.”

“I do believe our Tim missed his calling,”
Simon stated. “He has the temperament of a king. I think we should
take our places, what say, Miss James?”

He pulled a heavy oaken chair back from the
kitchen table, seating her and then himself across from her.