The Pleasure Garden: Sacred Vows\Perfumed Pleasures\Rites of Passions (6 page)

Cara studied the girl’s excited expression, a pang of hurt pricking her heart when she looked into her stormy gray eyes. “What have you discovered today, my dearest Moyran?” Cara placed her on the ground and took her hand, walking with her toward the wooden fence
surrounding the thatch-roofed house. Kiernan was hanging clothes in the yard, her belly round again, her baby due in the next few weeks, if the midwife’s timing was correct.

“I can make a flower crown, to wear in your hair.”

The young girl’s face was radiant. Cara smiled, grateful that she was a happy child, and grateful that at least she’d been able to be a part of her upbringing. “You’ll show me then, in a bit? I want to visit with your mother and see how she fares, all right?”

The child nodded, wisdom much older than her years shining in her eyes. She gave Cara a peck on the cheek and, spotting her brother, ran off to play.

Kiernan looked over and offered Cara a weary smile. “You are a sight for sore eyes, to be sure. My back is aching today, more than usual. I could use help with the rest of the wash, if you’ve a mind to.”

Cara took the wet laundry from her sister’s hand. “Go on now. Find a place to sit out of this sun.” She watched her waddle to a small bench in the shade of a giant oak, then shook out a wet shirt, preparing it for the line. “Where is Conner?” she called over her shoulder. Kiernan’s time was at hand and Cara wondered at the wisdom of his absence.

“He’s gone to the village with Jacob, to do some trading. They left early, so they should be back before long.”

“Mother will ask me if you are eating well. I hear about her concerns for you on a daily basis, you know.” She finished hanging the clothes and went to sit at her sister’s feet. Moyran reappeared and plopped unannounced in Cara’s lap.

“Mother says I got the color of my hair from Grandda. It’s the same as yours. We are lucky, as we are the only ones who have hair that looks like it’s on fire. That is what
Da says.” She focused on weaving the flowers together in her chubby hands. Cara glanced up at her sister and saw the look of pity in her eyes.

“Have you had any nibbles?” Kiernan asked. Cara knew that she worded the question so the child would not catch her meaning.

“Scoot now, Moyran, I have a few things I need to visit with your mother about. We’ll go for a walk in the woods a bit later.”

Unaffected at being shuffled off, the little girl gave Cara a grand smile, hopped from her lap and ran to a rope swing that Conner had fashioned for the children.

“Father has arranged a marriage for me, Kiernan.”

Her sister sat silent for a moment, searching Cara’s face. “A good man, yes?”

Cara’s eyes welled. “Aye, I suppose for a used daughter, it is. He is a widower, nearly Father’s age. But he swears he will be good to me, and he would like many children surrounding him in his old age.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her sister reached out, drawing Cara’s head to her lap, stroking her hair.

“It could be worse, to grow old alone.”

“Do you think he would allow me to bring Moyran with me?” Cara considered wistfully. An older man might appreciate a ready-made family.

“She is safe here, Cara, and happy. Are you sure that is what is best?”

Cara lifted her head, her eyes stinging. She wiped her cheeks. “What is best?” she huffed. “Isn’t it obvious that I’ve much to learn in that area?”

“Dinna be so hard on yourself, Cara. What happened is in the past. You are older now and able to make your own judgments.”

Cara thought for a moment and nodded. “I wish Father thought as much.”

“’Tis unfortunate that your choices are what they are,” Kiernan remarked.

Cara caught a movement from the corner of her eye and turned to watch Moyran at play. Would she have done anything differently had she been able to?

5

LOST. DAY AFTER DAY, FOLLOWING THE SAME routine, Cara felt no more comfortable being cast as the wayward daughter, estranged from her own parents in their house, than she was in not being able to be a mother to her own child. She found herself spending more and more time alone, taking long walks through the woods between the two households, seeking solace for the loneliness inside her. Today, on her way to Kiernan’s, she’d chosen a path less traveled closer to the edge where the English and Gaelic boundaries met. Nestled deep in the woods, she discovered a secluded pond and paused to rest her weary form in the arms of the grassy bank.

“Imagine meeting you again, after all this time.”

Cara opened her eyes, startled to find Gregory leaning against a tree, watching her. She bolted upright from her nap.

“I did not wish to disturb your sleep. You looked so peaceful,” he stated with a pleasant smile.

The last time she’d seen him had been that fateful night three years ago. It seemed an eternity now. The thought crossed her mind that he might have stayed in contact with
Edmund. She stood, brushing the grass from her gown, aware that she’d perhaps strayed too far off course this time. “My apologies, is this your land? I was walking and must have wandered too far.”

Gregory tossed a twig into the water. “It’s quite all right. My father’s land, really, that of Dublin castle, meets against this line of woods. But you’ve no reason to be alarmed. I’m glad to see you again.”

Cara was aware from listening to her father speak about the English that it was Lord DeVerden who lived in Dublin castle. “You are Lord DeVerden’s son?”

He gave a short laugh. “Guilty as charged.” He bowed low and came up smiling. “I’ve never given my position much thought, to be truthful, Cara.”

She eyed him, uncertain whether to believe what she remembered about him. He did appear more like a man, and certainty as to his physical features…

Cara looked away, suddenly aware that she’d been staring.

“The years have been kind to you, Cara. You are still as beautiful as I remember.”

Overwhelmed by his presence and mindful of his social position, she held her tongue, unsure what power he welded. She watched a dragonfly skirt along the water’s surface. A fish leaped from the water, snapping the bug in its jaws before disappearing into the dark depths.

“Cara, I can understand why you would not be able to find it in your heart to look at me, much less speak to me. I behaved horribly to you when last we saw each other. You are well, then?”

His questions, too intimate, unnerved her. “I am well, thank you.” She bent down to retrieve her shoes. “If you will excuse me, sir, I must be going.”

“Must you?” he asked, taking a step toward her. “You have not even asked how I am, or about Edmund.”

Cara’s heart stopped at the mention of Edmund. “Forgive my manners, milord. I hope you are well, but I must take my leave. My sister will be expecting me.”

“Ah,” he said with a look of resignation. “Then you still carry feelings for him.”

She met Gregory’s steady gaze, stopping herself before she could blurt out that Edmund was, after all, the father of her child. She had no reason to believe she could trust this man to get word to him that he had a daughter, despite the fact that Gregory was her only connection to him. But the urge was powerful, just the same, to reveal her secret. “He is taking his orders?” she asked instead. Time had dulled the pain of his leaving, and Cara had finally resigned herself that he’d come to his senses, seeing the danger of fighting the law and betraying his king.

“It was strange,” Gregory responded. “The last I knew from Lord Collier, Edmund was living in a monastery in the French mountains. They live very stark lives, giving away everything to the poor, living off the land. His family, of course, was furious. His father all but disowned him for abandoning the more profitable priesthood.”

Cara was not surprised somehow that Edmund might find a way to quietly defy his family. She raised her eyes and met Gregory’s dark brown gaze. There was no malice nor mischief in them as before; in fact, there was very little sign of the boy she’d met at the festival.

He picked up another stick, aiming it toward the pond. “If I know Edmund, he’s created a sanctuary for every living thing in need of help.” Gregory tossed her a side glance. “He was always better with people than was I.”

A rumble in the rolling gray clouds above caught her
attention, and Cara looked up just as the rain began to pour. Gregory beckoned for her to join him under the shelter of the tree.

“Nay, I should be going,” she called above the din of the torrential downpour.

“It will be over soon. Quick, before you get soaked to the skin.” He offered his hand.

Cara looked down at her gown, seeing it was already sticking to her body. Reluctantly, she took his hand and joined him beneath the dome of leafy branches.

“There now, that’s not so bad, is it?” He smiled and plucked a wet strand of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear.

His gentle kindness surprised her in a way that she found admirable. Perhaps he’d changed from the egotistical young man she once knew. Cara remained on guard about his intent, just as she did around all men.

“Do you believe in fate?” he asked.

He was standing close enough that she could feel the warmth from his body. What alarmed her was her own body’s reaction. Was it fear or something else that made her heart beat wildly in her chest? It was not as though she held any wistful thoughts about romance anymore. “Nay, I believe we decide our own fate.”

He ran his knuckle softly down her cheek. Cara’s eyes met his.

“In that case, I cannot tell you enough times how sorry I am for how I behaved in my youth.”

She averted her eyes, wishing the rain would cease, yet confused why she should let that prevent her from leaving. “There is no need for you to make your confession to me, milord.”

“I know I have not given just cause why you should
listen to me, but I hope in my heart that you will.” He paused, placing his fist to his mouth, as though deep in thought. “Edmund was—and is, no doubt—a better man than me. Unselfish, full of love for his fellow man. God knows he was more than tolerant of me when we were young.”

She glanced at him. “I thought this was about you.”

His finger touched her chin, drawing her eyes back to his. “Edmund made his choice.” Gregory searched her eyes. “And did what he had to do.”

One question had burned in her mind all these years, and unable to ask Edmund, she chose to ask his friend. “Did he love me?” she blurted without thinking.

The corner of Gregory’s mouth lifted with a sad smile. “I believe that he
believed
he loved you.”

It was not the answer she had hoped to hear. After years of imagining what it would be like to have Edmund return and see the three of them as one happy family, Cara realized suddenly that she’d painted an unrealistic picture, just as Edmund had done that night.

“I would never have left you, Cara.”

She frowned, jarred from her thoughts. “My apologies, what did you say?”

Gregory gently cupped her face between his hands, and Cara’s feet froze where she stood. “From the first moment I saw you at the festival I was lost.”

She studied his face. What was this? “What is your meaning?” She could barely breathe, staring into his intense brown eyes, eyes that seemed able to look deep into her soul and see her painful loneliness.

He lowered his head, watching for her response as his lips hovered over hers. “I lost my heart that day, Cara. But
Edmund was certain that he would have you. What could I do? He was, after all, my friend.”

His lips, cool and moist from the rain, touched hers, sliding over her parched mouth. He did not press any further than she wished, but hesitated, his breath warm, waiting for her to choose her fate. Need pushed her to her toes. It had been so long since she’d felt the heady pull of desire, the taste of a man’s lips. Cara gave in to her curiosity little by little. Could another man’s kiss affect her as Edmund’s once had?

Tender yet insistent, Gregory’s hungry mouth coaxed her lips until she opened willingly, letting her tongue mate with his. Cara’s hands dangled lifeless at her sides, lost as she was in his rapturous kisses. He lifted her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. His palms drifted down her back, cupping her bottom, drawing her close, leaving no question of his arousal.

This was all too surreal. Perhaps it was a dream, a strange dream of him nuzzling the warm spot below her ear, eliciting pleasured sighs from her. Making her feel sensations she hadn’t felt in years. The image of the Green Man on the garden gate emerged in a sensual fog in her brain. Her fingers twisted into his shirtsleeves as a rush of cool air washed the shoulder where he’d tugged down her dress. His mouth left fire in the wake of his hot kisses.

“Why are you doing this?” she gasped. She was breathless with wonder at how desperately she missed the touch of a man.

He slid his fingers down the front of her gown, pushing away the fabric, lifting her soft mound in his palm. He closed his mouth over the sensitive tip, causing her blood to heat with desire. His unshaved cheek rubbed against her tender skin.

“I have never forgotten you, Cara,” he breathed against her rain-soaked flesh.

Three years?
What was she doing? Cara moved her hand over her breast, halting his ministrations, and stepped away. She lifted her bodice back in place and forced herself to look at him. “Are you telling me that in the time since we met, you have never taken a wife?” she asked incredulously, distancing herself as best she could under the confines of the tree. Something didn’t seem right.

“I found no one to compare to you, Cara. It is true. Please, it pains me to see the look of mistrust in your eyes.”

“But you are Edmund’s friend.”

He nodded, raking his hand through his hair. “One of the reasons I waited so long to find you, I’m afraid. I wanted to be sure Edmund had made up his mind.”

“And how did you find me?” she asked.

Gregory smiled. “I was preparing to ride to your father’s house in the next few days, but in truth, I am glad that fate gave us this opportunity to speak together first.”

She shook her head. Surely she was dreaming this. “Visit with my father? About what? What about the statutes? You should not even be here.”