Free In the Garden of Temptation by Cynthia Wicklund Page A

fool.
Plenty of men qualify if you use that as your measuring stick. Lord
Ashworth is a gentleman by nature. He prides himself on doing the
pretty, and women eat it up. That’s what makes him
different.”
    Lord Bourgeault turned his hooded gaze on his
servant who stood by the door, clearly ready to flee if the
atmosphere in the room turned any darker.
    “ I’ve gone to a great deal
of trouble, Willy, to produce this little charade. Let’s hope it
bears fruit. As for you, I suspect your difficult ‘chore’ this
afternoon will provide you with enough licentious daydreaming to
last you a twelvemonth. Get out of my sight!”
     
    *****
     
     
    CHAPTER 4
     
     
    Adam paced the floor of his apartment,
agitated. He was put out with himself, for he had offended
Catherine. He hadn’t meant to hurt her by apologizing. He had
wanted her to understand that he respected her, that he held her in
highest regard. Instead, she had been insulted as if he were trying
to ease his conscience by taking responsibility. She had certainly
disabused him of the notion that she thought him to blame. His
admiration for her had grown dramatically with her refusal to play
the innocent.
    A knock at the door brought his head around.
“Enter.”
    A pair of footmen came into the room and
poured two buckets apiece of hot, steamy water in the tub next to
the hearth. In the following ten minutes the process was repeated
twice again before the tub was full enough to accommodate the earl
with a comfortable bath. He waited for the footmen to exit after
their final trip then began to disrobe.
    He removed his shirt and riding breeches and,
as he unbuttoned his undergarment, he noticed a red-brown stain
spattering the front of his crotch. Curious, he peeled off the
drawers to examine them. On closer inspection, much to his
amazement, he decided it was blood.
    Where had that come from? Had his lovemaking
been so rough he had hurt Catherine? He had to admit he didn’t know
for certain. She had not complained. In fact, he could have sworn
she was in the same condition that had driven him. And yet, since
he could detect no bodily injury to himself, it must be Catherine’s
blood.
    He stepped into the bath and sighed as the
heated water enveloped his body. Puzzled, he continued to ponder
the odd turn of events. Surely, if he had been hurting her
Catherine would have said something.
    All at once the simplest of solutions
occurred to him. The high drama of their lovemaking had brought on
Catherine’s menses. The thought pleased him, maybe because the
hypothesis was so sensible he could absolve himself from the
unwelcome guilt. He accepted the argument because he could think of
no other, completing his bath in thoughtful reflection.
     
    *****
     
    Catherine stared at herself in the mirror.
The young woman who looked back at her appeared no different than
she had this morning when she had dressed for the day. And still,
there was something, something she could not quite put her finger
on. She stepped closer to the glass, trying to discern the subtle
change. It wouldn’t show on her face, would it? Of course not. The
loss of one’s virginity did not alter one’s features, but no doubt
about it, between dawn and dusk this day a transformation had taken
place.
    Perhaps it wasn’t so much a visual thing as
an emanation from within. She felt different, therefore, she was
different. But that did not explain the ache that was now her
heart. Deep inside tears poured in a torrent of grief, but
outwardly her eyes remained dry and remote.
    What a fool I am, she thought. How could she
possibly believe she could touch the fire and not get burned? What
had she told the earl? She wanted to know what she had been denied.
It would have been better had she remained ignorant.
    Why had he ruined everything by apologizing?
The most dramatic moment of her life had been reduced to an
impetuous act that begged pardon. She wanted him to rejoice with
her, to be as profoundly touched as