Hidden Paradise

chapter EIGHTEEN



Lou

“What?” He stared at her, dazed, and then laughed. He backed off and sat down on one of the stone benches at the base of a pillar, and she could tell he was embarrassed by his erection.

“Look,” she said, “we’re both in a state of turmoil at the moment and, if you like, we can just forget this and move on. I’m too old for you, and—”

“Wait.” He held up a hand, grinning. She’d never seen him smile so broadly. “There’s only one direction I want to move in, and that’s into bed with you. How old are you, anyway? And, shit, this is all coming out wrongly, but what’s your state of turmoil? You’ve been listening to me rant and I didn’t even notice you were upset.”

“Oh.” She flapped her hands at him. “My ranch—well, that’s a bit grandiose, it’s more of a small farm but it’s in Montana—I put it on the market, not even expecting it would sell and not even knowing whether I wanted to sell. It’s complicated. I found out today there’s been an offer, the asking price, and now I don’t know what to do. And I’m twenty-seven.”

“I’m nineteen. Eight years. Is it that big a deal?”

“Actually, yes. I teach kids—sorry, young adults—your age. You’re taboo.”

“You perv, Mrs. Connolly. Doesn’t that give you a tingle?”

“You give me a tingle. And you’re nice—no, really, you are. You’re kind. You’re a decent sort of guy. You helped me upstairs when I was drunk as a skunk, and didn’t even grope me. I don’t want to be a corrupter of youth but you’re obviously not that innocent. And I certainly don’t want to play the cougar.”

“Yeah. Well. I wouldn’t worry about that too much. I don’t think an eight-year difference qualifies you as a cougar. You’re not my idea of a cougar.” He studied his feet, crossed at the ankle, as though finding something fascinating there. “So what’s the deal with the ranch? Do you think you’ll sell it?”

She was surprised at his thoughtfulness. “Do you really want to know?”

He nodded, so she continued, “I’ve lived there for just over a year. I have about ten acres, a few head of cattle, a horse and a couple of dogs. It’s very small, but it’s in a beautiful setting. I was married there. My husband’s ashes are scattered there. I don’t know if I can bear to leave, but I don’t think I can bear to stay, either.”

“Do you have to tell them yes or no right away?”

“I emailed that I was thinking about it. With the way the market is right now, I thought I could wait months for an offer, let alone one where they agreed to my asking price. My sister wants me to move back to Boston—most of my family is on the East Coast—but it’s hard to get a teaching job anywhere. My job is pretty crappy but it grounds me.”

He nodded. “But you’re out in the middle of nowhere, right? Don’t you get lonely?”

“Yes. It’s a two-hour drive to the campus. My nearest neighbor is five miles away, and that’s considered virtually in each other’s backyards.” She hesitated, thinking again of his situation. “Would you like me to talk to Peter and Chris about your dad? It’s okay, I know about Peter’s indiscretion.”

He snorted and stood up, swinging his arms. “Indiscretion. Yeah, that’s one way of putting it.”

“He said you were very mature about it,” Lou said.

“It happens. You fancy the wrong people. You get over it. There’s no need for you to talk to them on my behalf, but thanks for offering.”

“Okay,” she said, thinking a quick word with Chris might not be a bad idea, and Rob hadn’t actually told her not to. She suspected he was smart enough to know she’d do it anyway. “I’d better get back to the house.”

“Me, too. I need to get things going for dinner.” He took her hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world and they started walking toward the house.

“Do you like being a footman?” she asked.

“It has its moments. We get to laugh at the guests. It’s funny how they forget we’re around. I suppose it means we’re doing our job well. We have a lot of inside jokes, and nicknames for the guests, and so on.”

“Really? What’s mine?”

“Schoolmarm.”

“Oh, come on. For real?”

He stood aside to let her bypass a puddle in the path. “Absolutely. Sarah’s Most Likely. It’s short for Most Likely To Put Out. Ben’s Vegetable Love, because he’s so thick. And Mr. Salazar… Are you and him, uh…”

“No. What’s his nickname?”

“You came up with it— Mr. Darcy. Remember, the first night you were here? It stuck. And you know about the Paint Boys. They’re rather creepy, aren’t they? We call Viv the Jam Tart. She found out and pretended to be mad but I think she likes it.”

“How about Dave and Cathy?”

“Ruggerbugger and Giggles.”

“That’s appalling,” Lou said, laughing despite herself.

They walked in silence together. Rob picked, or rather, tore off a rhododendron blossom as big as his fist in a great spray of raindrops and presented it to her with a bow. She tucked the dark pink flower behind her ear.

“Well,” Rob said, “we’re nearly at the house and…” He looked shy. “Look, Lou, was that it? A quick snog?”

“You know where my room is.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself. It all seemed so uncomplicated, all of a sudden—she liked him, she desired him, and in a week or so she’d go back to the States and he’d go to Cambridge at the end of the summer. They might email for a few weeks or months, she might advise him on girlfriends or his studies, they’d follow each other on Facebook, and then gradually their correspondence would fade.

“Oh. Yeah, yeah, I do.” He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and retrieved his iPod. “Tonight, right?”

“Sure.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He didn’t respond and she wondered if he regretted their sudden intimacy. So maybe he wouldn’t show. No big deal.

“Okay, then.” He plugged his earbuds in and headed for the back of the house.

Lou shook her head as he walked away. Men, sometimes even the most straightforward of them, were at heart creatures of mystery.

* * *

“YOU LOOK LOVELY, DEAR. I can’t wait to see your ball gown. I hear it’s rather daring.” Chris handed Lou a glass of something garnished with mint and laden with slices of fruit as the guests mingled in the drawing room before dinner.

“Chris, is this some sort of lethally alcoholic and historically inaccurate cocktail?”

“No, dear, it’s sangria. Drink it slowly.”

She raised the glass and sipped. “Peter and I had a chat the other day.”

“That must have been nice for you, Loulou.”

“Stop it.” She put her arm around his waist and squeezed. “Come out onto the terrace with me. I need to talk to you.”

He accompanied her, but looked apprehensive. “I can deny you nothing, my dear, but I fear you’re poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Probably. You know you and Peter are my best and dearest friends. Do something for me.”

“If it involves that little tart of a footman—”

“Oh, please, Chris. That’s grossly unfair. He’s a nice kid.”

“Really? How do you know? Uh-oh, Loulou. You haven’t been messing with the help, have you? Bad, bad girl. Did you have fun?”

She rested her glass on the stone balustrade and looked out over the lawn. A herd of deer moved like delicate ghosts from the shelter of the trees. “You’re not getting any lurid details.”

Chris moved to stand beside her. “What do you want, Lou?”

She gave him a brief version of the Temple family’s predicament. Chris raised his eyebrows. “She left her kids?”

“Two of those kids are grown up and are intensely loyal and loving to their little brother. Their father needs to get his act together, and he’s applied for the groundsman position.”

“So have twenty-three others, most of whom seem nuts, including an Australian who expects us to fly him in for an interview and at least two Wiccans. Your Mike Temple likes gardening, he knows one end of a hammer from the other and, most importantly, he’s local, and all of that definitely puts him on the shortlist. But I’m not making any promises, love.”

“I understand.” She hesitated. “I don’t even know the guy. I suspect he’s a total jerk. He’s trying to make Rob feel guilty about going to Cambridge, which of course he absolutely has to do—it’s the only chance he’ll get. But maybe if Mike gets his own life together, he’ll lay off his son and Rob won’t deny himself the education he deserves.” She took his arm. “I know you’ll do the right thing.”

He started as though he’d forgotten she was there. “I love seeing those deer,” he said, nodding toward the herd. “It gives me such a lord-of-the-manor feeling. If only they didn’t want to eat the roses. But that’s life, isn’t it? Let’s go into dinner, Lou. You know that whenever I get philosophical it’s because I’m hungry.”

* * *

SHE BARELY NOTICED WHAT SHE ate, because Rob was there, moving around the room, handing dishes, organizing the other footmen. He paused, one hand on the back of Mac’s chair, to have a short conversation, giving Lou the opportunity to compare the two of them: Mac’s dark, saturnine looks and strong profile; Rob’s fair skin and the copper glow of his hair by candlelight. Opposites, but both men she desired—and to her regret she still desired Mac. She sighed as she saw them together: innocence and experience, light and shadow, a sun god and a prince of darkness.

She smiled at her own fancy, and Peter next to her tut-tutted and moved the wine bottle away from her.

“Apparently, I have quite a reputation as a lush,” she commented.

“I’m hardly one to preach the virtues of a clear head,” he said. “Drink or love, they make fools of us all. But at least Chris and I are talking to each other now.” He raised his wineglass to Chris at the other end of the table. Did Lou imagine it, or was there a slight hesitation before Chris responded?

“I’m glad,” she said.

“And you and our Mr. Darcy?”

“Not a chance.” She tossed back the remains of her glass of water, thinking that the same gesture with wine would have so much more significance.

“A pity,” he said. “Viv speaks very highly of him.”

“Even if he does come with references, I’m unimpressed.”

“Okay. Let’s change the subject. We have one room that’s completely unrestored, stripped down to lathe and plaster, and I wanted to ask your advice. Do you think we should leave it as is—with its underpinnings on view, so to speak—and make an exhibit area?”

“I think that’s a good idea. Or you could have the Paint Boys restore sections of it to various periods. After all, the same family lived in this house for over two hundred years and you’ve got lots of examples of different paints and wallpapers.”

“Let’s look at it together soon.” Peter stared at a dish laid before them. “What on earth is this, Rob?”

“Beef tongue, sir. Looks gross, tastes good.”

“Go on. Try it.” Lou seized the carving knife that lay on the dish, pushed aside a careful garnish of herbs and marigold blossoms and sawed Peter a slice.

He poked at it with his fork, took a bite, and nodded in appreciation. “Not bad, but I see you’re not partaking.”

“Oh, my plate’s full.” She smiled at him in all innocence. “Besides, I own cattle. It’s too personal for my tastes. What if I was eating the tongue of a cow I knew?”

He shook his head. “And what do you plan to do with your best friends, the cows? Have you made any decisions?”

“Not yet,” she said, not wanting to tell him or even think about the offer. A week, that’s what she’d told her agent. She’d make up her mind in a week. “It’s too soon.”

Rob’s arm brushed against her shoulder as he reached for an empty dish near her and she almost jumped out of her skin. She hoped Peter hadn’t noticed. But he had such lovely manners, he wouldn’t say anything even if he did. At that moment, she wanted to ask his advice as though he was some sort of genial father figure.

Looks like I have the hots for Rob, too. I’m not in love with him or anything, but he’s so sexy and nice, and he kisses like a dream. And I invited him to my room tonight and now I don’t know whether he’s going to show or not and it’s driving me insane.

The third remove was cleared away. Lou, as the most senior lady present, gathered gloves and fan and stood, and by some miracle all the men at the table remembered to stand, too. “Ladies, we should leave the men to their port.” She tapped Peter on the shoulder with her fan. “Sir, I trust you won’t leave us pining for you too long.”

As she led the ladies out, Rob bowed and opened the door. His gaze locked with hers for a second before he lowered his eyes and a jolt of lust shot through her.

If he showed up, things might be very interesting tonight.

* * *

TO HER RELIEF, IT WAS ROB WHO choreographed their assignation. There was no music tonight, but a couple of raucous card games, with Sarah, to everyone’s amusement, offering Ben as a stake.

After a cup of green tea and at the end of a round of whist, Lou stood and announced that she was having an early night. Rob opened the drawing-room door and told the nearest footman to take over for the evening—and that was it.

In the hall, he plucked one of the fake candles from a tray. “Light you upstairs, ma’am?”

“Certainly.” There was no one else around, as far as she could tell, but other staff members might lurk in the shadows and she waited until they were halfway up the stairs before dropping the formality. “What will the other footman think? The one you asked to take over?”

“Oh, they’re convinced I get more than them all put together. They think it goes along with being head footman.” She could hear the laughter in his voice.

“And do you?”

“I think they’re all lying through their teeth about what they get up to.”

Well, that was an ambiguous answer, confirming her suspicion that despite the expertise of his kiss, he was relatively inexperienced. She’d find out soon enough.

They entered her room and he placed his candle on the bedside table. She switched on another candle on the mantelpiece and wondered what she should do to put him at ease. But he advanced on her, pushing his coat off and onto the floor, and she met him halfway, thrilled at his ardor.

“You’re so lovely,” he said, reaching for the bodice of her gown. “How do I get this off— Ouch!”

“Sorry. Let me unpin it. Don’t—if you bleed over it, the Jam Tart will get mad at me. Okay. Everything else unties.”

“Your tits are amazing.” He blushed.

“Once the corset’s off they’re not nearly as impressive.” She made a start on the buttons of his waistcoat and he unknotted his neckcloth as he bent to kiss her. Her petticoat dropped away, joining her gown and his shoes on the floor, and he managed to get his breeches off and his shirt over his head. He wasn’t shy. He was in a hurry, and she found his excitement infectious, unlacing her corset as fast as she could and stripping off her shift.

“You’re wrong. Your tits are still amazing.” He cupped them in his hands and bent to kiss her.

She let her hands savor and sample him, the strong muscles and smooth skin with only a dusting of hair on his chest. His cock hard and eager, pushed against her belly, but when she ran a finger down its length he gasped and moved away. Later, she promised herself, later she’d touch and play and tease, but now his tongue did just that in her mouth and her nipples rubbed against his chest and she wanted him in her. Now.

She let him take the lead, let him guide her onto the bed and continue to kiss and caress her. When he slipped a hand between her thighs and touched her, sure and deft, she trembled and arched and came, fast, so fast it almost hurt.

And he stopped. “Lou?”

She opened her eyes. “Mmm?”

“This is sort of embarrassing.”

She touched his face. “What’s wrong?”

“This is as far as I’ve got before.”

“Rob, honey, you’re doing very well. You made me come.”

“Oh. Good.” He rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. “I, um, thought you did. But I haven’t actually, you know, f*cked anyone yet.”

She was touched and charmed by his admission. “Now’s your chance. If you want to.”

“Oh, yes. Please. But I don’t want to f*ck it up.”

“You won’t.” She reached into the bedside drawer and prepared to sheathe him. “How would you like to do it?”

“Very competently.” He gasped as she rolled the condom onto his cock. “But—”

“Rob, just f*ck me, okay? I’m not going to grade your performance.” She pulled him onto her and he slid inside her and his face held a look of awe and wonder that disarmed her. A tear slid from her eye into her hair and she hoped he hadn’t noticed, but he was caught up entirely in his own pleasure and she watched as his face changed and his jaw tightened. His eyes darkened and fixed and he shuddered against her and groaned.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t hold back.”

She ran her hands over the muscles of his back. “Hey, no need to apologize.”

“That was amazing. Absolutely amazing.” He smiled at her, shy and proud at the same time. “I don’t think it did anything for you.”

“You will. We’ll make sure of that.”

“I’m not a virgin anymore,” he said with a grin.

“I don’t think you were much of a virgin before.”

“Okay, a technical virgin.” He eased himself off her and became absorbed in kissing and fondling her breasts. “What would you like me to do?”

“Keep doing that. What would you like to do?”

“I’d like to look at your cunt,” he said. “Is it okay to call it that? I’ve only ever done it—or as much as I’ve done—in the dark, and she was shy, and, well, I’d like to have a look.”

“Okay, but it probably won’t look like anything you’ve seen on the internet.” As he swooped down between her thighs to begin a thorough investigation by the light of one of the LED candles, she added, “Rob, I’m so glad that isn’t a real flame.”

“Here,” he said. His finger played and caressed. “Is that it? Can I make you come again? Can I make you come all night, Lou?”

She was quite sure Rob could make her come all night with his tender, careful touch, but she found herself greedy for his body, eager to make him tremble and cry out and arch beneath her.

“Let me touch you,” she said, and he abandoned himself to her. He shuddered when she scraped her nails across his scrotum and groaned in pleasure when she took him in her mouth. She explored him, found his preferences, what pleased him, what sent him into a frenzy, and in so doing rediscovered simple pleasure herself, becoming Eve to his Adam.

It was all so easy, so uncomplicated. She loved kissing him, loved the sound he made when she took his cock in her hand and stroked him, circling his shaft with thumb and forefinger, fast and rough, or slowing to a teasing, sensual slide. He was embarrassed, at first, by the ease with which she made him come, apologizing after he spilled in her hand. But he surprised her, seconds later, by laughing and stretching out against her, murmuring how sexy she was, and asking what she’d like next.

“Would you be disappointed if I said I wanted to sleep?”

“No, that’s okay. We can do it in the morning. If it’s okay for me to stay.”

“Sure.” She turned in his arms, burying her face against his chest, smooth except for a few silky hairs. “I’d like you to stay.”

It was he who fell asleep first, his face nuzzled against her neck, his breath soft and even. She switched off the bedside light and lay awake for some time, having doubts about what she’d done, and if tomorrow would be awkward. And the day after that? And at some point, she’d have to return to the ranch. It struck her that sex with Rob had been an effective means of escaping that reality. And quite likely he was using sex to escape his problems, too, as well as fulfilling the strong sexual urges of a young male. But to her relief their coupling didn’t exclude tenderness and kindness.

* * *


Rob

HE AWOKE AFTER A COUPLE OF hours and listened to a clock somewhere, probably the big grandfather clock in the foyer, strike the hour. Three o’clock. He pressed against Lou, resting his face in the sweet fragrance of the nape of her neck, rubbing his hard-on against her. He could f*ck her just as they were. He wasn’t sure if she was awake or not, but he’d have to fumble around for a condom, and he wanted her absolutely conscious of what he was doing. He wanted to do it right. He still couldn’t figure out exactly how to make her come without using his fingers. She seemed to do okay on top of him. His cock stiffened a little more as he remembered the way she fluttered inside against him.

She sighed and slipped her own hand between her legs, turning slightly so that her uppermost leg twisted over his. “F*ck me,” she whispered.

Bloody hell. Definitely awake.

He turned the light on and reached for a condom.

She blinked at him.

“I want to see what you do,” he said.

She grinned. “Okay.”

He slid into her with a little help from her—it was an unaccustomed angle for him—and then watched as she rubbed her *, hoping he’d last out, amazed at her ability to draw out her own pleasure and his, too. He had to slow down a couple of times and ask her not to move. He discovered that she whimpered in pleasure when he put both hands on her breasts and thumbed the nipples.

“* and nipples,” she said drowsily, drunk with pleasure. “They work together. But I guess you knew that? That’s so nice, Rob.”

She didn’t have to say a word when she came. Her whole body told him; the way she arched and tensed, her hand moving faster and then slowing to the barest touch, her lips parted, and moaning as he thrust hard. Inside there was an unmistakable clench and pulse on his cock and he gritted his teeth, staying with her, letting her ride out her orgasm before she relaxed and it was his turn to tense, approach the brink and go over.

Bliss.

She fell asleep almost immediately, her hand still between her legs. He disentangled himself from her and went to take care of the condom. When he came back, he slid beneath the sheets, debating whether he should get some sleep or start again. He smiled at the thought of her touching herself. His cock rose again.

Shit. He could jerk off, he supposed. There was something very sexy about the idea of masturbating next to someone you’d f*cked and who didn’t know—or maybe she did—what you were doing.

He slid his hand up his shaft. He told himself he’d stroke enough to calm but not excite. Maybe. Then he’d stop. But not just yet. A little more.

She stirred. “Rob?”

He froze.

“It’s okay. Keep going if you want.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Sorry.” She propped herself up on one elbow. “Did I take the fun out of it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve f*cked you and I’ve got another hard-on and I didn’t want to disturb you…” He found himself babbling.

She ran her fingertip around his nipple.

He shuddered. He’d never had anyone touch him like that before, looking into his eyes in the near darkness, daring him to continue, while his hand slid helplessly on his cock.

“Do you like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Were you hoping I’d wake up? What would happen when you came? You’d have to be very quiet.”

He understood now. She was playing with him, pretending to be shocked. “I wanted to come on your tits.”

“That’s pretty perverted, Rob.” She smiled. “But if you insist…” She stretched out and touched her own nipples.

“Christ, Lou.”

“Do you like the idea of being discovered when you jerk off? Who do you think is going to walk in on you?”

“You,” he said. “Viv. My maths teacher from primary school. She was really hot. My sister’s best friend, Shannon, she has a huge bum. Sarah, though I can’t stand her—”

“Okay,” she said, and he could tell she was trying not to laugh. “So I discover you jerking off. You’re so excited. You can’t help yourself. You can’t stop even though I’m looking at you as though I can’t take my eyes off you. And you can’t tell whether I’m disgusted or turned on or whether I’m thinking of punishing you, but it doesn’t make any difference, because you’re going to come. You can’t help it.”

“Lou,” he groaned, and came copiously—he felt like some sort of sperm machine. He’d lost count of how many times he’d come tonight.

“Wow,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “You liked it, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but it was…I didn’t know people did that.”

“It’s a common enough fantasy.”

“Do you… Have you…?”

“Oh, sure. I used to let Julian, my husband, catch me all the time.”

“What did he do?”

“He’d pretend to be very stern and order me to come. Or he’d take over. Or…” She heard from her voice that she was smiling. “Sometimes he’d pretend he had a whole bunch of guys with him and that I was the floor show. I liked that. Or he’d tell me my mother was about to walk in and that always did the trick. Apparently a lot of women find that sexy, although the idea always made me uncomfortable after.”

“Jesus,” he said.

“But I think that’s part of it. Knowing you’re going to push yourself, reveal something potentially shameful to yourself and your partner. You make yourself vulnerable and get beyond it. It’s all about trust—love maybe—but absolutely trust.”

“What else do you fantasize about?” he asked.

She reached for a tissue and dabbed at the semen drying on her chest. “Oh, having two guys. That’s something I’ve always wanted to try. I thought this evening about you and Mac.”

“I didn’t think you and he were still…”

“We’re not. Don’t get all bent out of shape. We’re talking fantasy, remember? I’d like to see you two together.”

He frowned. “Together? You mean, jerking each other off or something?”

“If you felt like it. I’d like to watch you but if you just wanted to concentrate on me that would be fine, too.”

“Yeah, well, that’s nice, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. And I don’t know if I’d want anyone up my bum.”

“I’m quite shocked you take it so lightly.” She ruffled his hair. “Even though I robbed you of your technical virginity a few f*cks ago.”

“It’s a fantasy, you said.”

“Well, we’re in Paradise Hall, where anything goes. This is a fantasy experience.”

“I think that meant dressing up and stuff, not kink.”

“It seems to me there’s not much difference between kink and dressing up. They’re very much related. Peter and Chris definitely had sexual adventures in mind when they went ahead with this, just one step beyond the sensual experiences of food and drink and clothes in this gorgeous historical setting.”

“Mmm.” She could argue rings around him and he was too sated and sleepy to argue back.

“So what if I wanted to be with you and someone else at the same time, Rob? Would you be okay with it?”

“So long as it’s not Ben. He’s an arse. People talk about having threesomes all the time, so I guess it’s not that weird. If it’s what you want.”

Her arms were around him, his face in the fragrance of her hair. It was almost as good as f*cking, and his cock twitched in anticipation. But he was tired, far too tired, safe and comfortable. Falling asleep was like a homecoming.