Free Dennis, Josie - Wild Heights [Classics Rekindled 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Josie Dennis Page A

had.”
    “For me, as well.” Henry placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “What are we going to do?”
    Edward shook his head. “I have no notion. I shall tell you this much, however. She cares for us more than she wants to admit.”
    “Her reaction! Her anger as she talked of our marrying other women.” Henry nodded, a slow smile curving his lips. “Do you think she loves us?”
    “I have to believe she does. How else could a previously innocent girl give so much of herself?”
    “We shall get her back. Convince her that we mean to keep her with us forever.”
    Edward snorted. “How?”
    “We shall sleep on it.” Henry yawned lustily. “I daresay after that orgasm I shall sleep like the dead.”
    Edward finally felt a touch of Henry’s optimism for the situation. “It was incredible. She was incredible.”
    “She will be ours, Edward. Count on it.”

Chapter 9

    Cathy sobbed in the carriage on the too-short ride back to the manor. What had she been thinking, to presume she knew the workings of such matters? To have both of them inside of her, holding her, caressing her, had been too much. Afterward, as they held her and stroked her so tenderly, she had let her heart believe that perhaps she could have kept them to herself forever.
    “Ha,” she grumbled.
    Edward said they’d planned this. Started on this course to seduce her. Well, she’d been an oh-too-willing participant, that was certain. Now she was left with nothing. No Henry. No Edward. Her heart clenched. And no future.
    Climbing wearily out of the carriage, she stepped into the manor. Maggie gasped when she saw her.
    “Miss Cathy!” She rushed to her side. “What has happened? Are you hurt?”
    She shook her head. “Not physically.”
    Maggie frowned then crossed her arms. “It was that Middleton girl, wasn’t it? I heard from the Richardson housekeeper that she was at the card party, spreading more of her vicious lies.”
    “Lies?” Her head shot up. “Maggie, what are you talking about?”
    “All of Highmoor has heard the tales she’s been carrying since the Pickering recital. Tales of you and…”—Maggie leaned closer—“the gentlemen from Thistle Grange.”
    Cathy gasped. “No!”
    “She said that you and Mr. Henry have been intimate. That you and Mr. Edward were more than friends as well.”
    Hot rage boiled through her. “Bitch.”
    Maggie nodded. “I attempted to quash the stories then and there, but those fools are titillated by the merest gossip.” She wrapped her arms around Cathy. “I’m sorry, dear. From what the housekeeper said it seems this tale is far too juicy a bone for them to release easily.”
    “Oh, Maggie.” She fell into another crying jag, her throat burning. “What have I done?”
    Maggie froze then pulled back to stare at her. “What are you saying?”
    She could not answer her, not all of it. “I foolishly gave my heart to both of them and they trampled on it. That is the only thing that matters now.”
    Maggie held her close again, rubbing her back to soothe her as she had nearly all her life. “Now, now. Matters will look brighter in the morning.”
    “That,” she sniffed, “is highly doubtful.”
    “No matter. Go to your chamber, dear. I’ll have a bath readied for you.”
    Suddenly the thought of a bath was infinitely better than going right to bed. Goodness knew she’d never be able to sleep now.
    Maggie sent her on her way, and Cathy went up to her bedchamber. Her maid fussed over her hair, her dress.
    “I shall see to myself, Lucy,” she told her.
    At last alone, she sank into the soothing water. She could smell the heather infused in her bath soaps, the scent immediately bringing to mind the events of tonight. That balm they’d used, before Edward put his cock deep in her bottom, had smelled of it. It was scented for her, they’d told her. Tears tracked down her cheeks, and she dunked her head beneath the water.
    When she emerged she took a deep breath. How could