“Do you concede?” she asked.

“It would appear I have little choice.”

Her heart leapt in anticipation. “As I’m sure you recall, the winner is entitled to a boon of their choosing.”

“Ah, yes. Now that you mention it, I do recall that.” He chuckled. “So that is why you wanted me to concede rather than call our wager void. I suppose I’ll be spending tomorrow polishing the silver.”

She took one step closer to him. “No.”

“Weeding the roses?”

Another step closer. “No.”

“Mucking out the stalls?”

Another step. Now only an arm’s length separated them. Her heart was beating so hard she felt the pounding in her ears. “No.”

His watchful gaze held hers for what felt like an eternity, but was surely no more than ten seconds. Finally, he said in a husky voice, “Then perhaps you should tell me what you do want, Catherine.”

Carpe diem, her inner voice prodded. Summoning all her courage, Catherine took one more step forward. Her body brushed against his, and his masculine scent filled her head. Encouraged by his sharp intake of breath, she placed her palms against his chest and looked directly into his eyes.

“I want you to make love to me.”

Chapter 14

Today’s Modern Woman should strive to gain a level of sexual expertise. The woman who is well-versed in the delights of the bedchamber can be confident that her lover will not lose interest and seek companionship elsewhere.


A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of

Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment

by Charles Brightmore


Andrew remained perfectly still, allowing his mind and body to absorb fully the stunning impact of her words and actions. Catherine standing before him, desire shimmering in her eyes, her hands splayed against his chest, her lush body leaning against his. The smoky timbre of her voice when she whispered that heart-stopping sentence. I want you to make love to me.

For as many times as he’d fantasized about her saying those words, nothing prepared him for the reality. His heart slapped so hard against his ribs, it wouldn’t have surprised him if she’d said, what on earth is that drumming sound?

Yet, beneath the layers of elation, desire, want, and need, flickered a single, tiny candle of discontent. Yes, he desperately wanted to make love to her, but he wanted a great deal more than that. Given her aversion to marriage, and her belief in the precepts put forth in A Ladies’ Guide, one of which encouraged “women of a certain age” not to remain celibate, she clearly only wanted an affair. If he refused her, would she turn to someone else? The mere thought of her asking another man to make love to her clenched his jaw.

Not that he had any intention of refusing her.

She shifted against him, and his entire body tightened. Yes, he wanted much more from her, but for now, this was enough.

Uncertainty flickered in her eyes, and he realized that he’d remained silent too long. That she thought his silence meant he planned to refuse her. Words and feelings he’d suppressed for what felt like an eternity welled up, clogging his throat, rendering him unable to speak. But it mattered not as he was incapable of forming a coherent sentence. Only one word echoed through his mind, a mantra of all he wanted. All he’d ever wanted from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Catherine. Catherine. Catherine.

She clearly read the inferno of desire he knew burned in his gaze because the uncertainty vanished from her eyes, and her lips parted. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he drew her fully against him while he ran his other hand up her back until his fingers sifted into her soft, upswept hair. He lowered his head as she rose up on her toes.

The instant their lips met, he was lost. In the sweet seductive taste of her. In the incredible feel of her pressing against him. In the delicate floral scent of her. The delicious friction of her tongue rubbing against his. The erotic sound of her moan of pleasure.

Needs and wants that had gone unanswered, unfulfilled for so long, clawed him like sharp talons. Spreading his legs, he gathered her closer, pressing her into the V between his thighs. His erection strained against his tight breeches, and he cursed the barrier of the clothing between them. Another low moan rumbled in her throat, and she rubbed herself against him, stripping away another layer of his rapidly vanishing control.

While his lips and tongue explored all the velvety delights of her mouth, one of his hands came forward to palm her breast while his other hand slid down her back to cup her rounded bottom. She gasped, and her head fell limply back, presenting him with the delicate, vulnerable curve of her neck, a delicacy he instantly took advantage of.

Catherine strained closer, thrilling to the feel of his hard, aroused body. Closing her eyes, she clutched his broad shoulders in an effort to remain upright against the storm of sensations battering her. His lips and tongue blazed a trail of fire down her neck, fanning the flames already burning her. One strong hand kneaded her breast through the material of her gown, tightening her nipple and shooting shards of sharp want down to her womb, while his other hand massaged her buttocks with a slow, hypnotic motion that forced a long, need-filled moan from her throat. The feminine flesh between her legs felt swollen and heavy and moist, and a mounting desperation edged through her.

He lifted his head, and a groan of protest vibrated in her throat.

“Not here,” he whispered, his breathing as ragged as hers. “Not like this.”

Her heart tripped over itself at the naked hunger in his eyes. At the waves of desire all but emanating from him. He looked as if he wanted to devour her, and everything feminine in her thrilled at the thought.

“You deserve more than a quick grope against a tree, Catherine.”

God help her, but a quick grope against the tree- indeed anything to relieve the sweet ache imprisoning her-sounded like heaven. But he was right. This was not the place.

She was about to grasp his hand and lead him toward the gazebo, when he grasped her hand, and headed in that direction.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice an aroused growl. She fell into step beside him, excitement and anticipation coursing through her. “Where are we going?”

“The gazebo. It’s closer than the house. And more private.”

“How do you know about the gazebo?”

“I came across it while riding Aphrodite.”

She was glad the darkness cloaked the satisfied grin curving her lips. Not only would they end up at the gazebo, but he would think it had been his own clever idea. Wouldn’t he be pleased to discover when they arrived that the enclosed structure wasn’t completely empty-it contained the supplies she’d smuggled out of the house and left there earlier this afternoon. She’d longed to bring more, to turn the space into a cozy haven, but hadn’t dared risk anyone discovering her leaving the house carrying more than a basket. That would have led to questions she did not want to answer. After all, she could not very well say that she was preparing the gazebo for a tryst. And while the setting was admittedly rustic, according to A Ladies’ Guide she’d have all she needed for a memorable night-a cozy quilt, a bottle of wine, a wedge of cheese, and… herself and Andrew.

They rounded a corner in the path, and the gazebo came into view. Nestled in a small clearing, the octagonal structure with its domed roof gleamed white in the moonlight, the aged, peeling paint not discernible from a distance. She’d always wanted to refurbish the gazebo, but somehow hadn’t found the time.

Andrew’s footsteps slowed as they approached the structure, and she gave thanks for the sturdy wooden shutters that covered the floor-to-ceiling French windows comprising the gazebo’s walls, as they would provide an intimate cocoon of privacy for them.

A cloud obscured the moon, and Catherine looked down, concentrating on her feet so as not to trip over a branch or stone. Andrew’s hand tightened on hers, a wordless promise that he wouldn’t allow her to fall.

When they reached the door, he turned the brass knob and slowly pushed the heavy oak panel inward. “The door squeaks horribly…”she began, but her words trailed off into nothingness. The door did not squeak at all as it opened wider to reveal the inside of the gazebo.

Catherine gasped, and, clasping her hands to her chest, gaped in wonder. The cozy interior was gently illuminated with the flickering light from a half dozen hurricane lamps set in a wide semicircle around the perimeter of the floor. She inhaled, breathing in the delicate scent of flowers, and saw that a blanket of rose petals was strewn across the wood floor, lending beauty and fragrance to the small room.

The coverlet she’d smuggled from the house was arranged in the center of the otherwise bare room. Two enormous pillows, one maroon, the other dark blue, rested on one end of the cover. Off to the side sat a silver tray holding a bottle of wine, two goblets, a bowl of strawberries, and the wedge of cheese she’d pilfered from the kitchen.

As if in a trance, she entered the room and turned in a slow circle. A soft click echoed behind her, which she recognized as the door closing. Then she heard Andrew step up behind her. Strong arms encircled her waist from behind, gently hugging him to her. She laid her hands on top of his and drank in the seductive feel of him surrounding her, enthralled and touched by the romantic hideaway he’d created.

“When did you do this?” she asked in a hushed voice, afraid to speak too loudly lest she break the magical atmosphere.