The Pleasure Garden Anthology -- Perfumed Pleasures Coming April 1, 2011 from Harlequin Spice Many lifetimes ago, the beautiful May Queen found exquisite seduction not with her husband, but in the arms of the Green Man - the passionate ruler of all that is warm and light. And thus began the earth's most torrid love triangle. Now three women of diverse eras are drawn to the mystical site of the Celtic queen's tragic demise. Their fiery obsession ignited by Beltane Magic is barely perceived, but erotically felt. With each kiss, their passion would break an ancient curse - and reunite a love most profound... Cinnea Driven by an unseen force, the goddess maiden seduces the one man forsaken by law and principle - an Irishman soon for the priesthood... Catherine The future countess of Fairfax House yearns for the illicit nights and perfect love in the arms of her betrothed's cousin... Emmaline She inherits a decrepit house and garden that awakens in her a raw sexual awareness, the likes of which she can abide alone no longer... Read Excerpt

Leaving her chamber, she traveled down the stairs, gliding in her heels, the train of her gown trailing behind her. When she reached the first level, she turned down, past the earl’s study, and down another hall that led to the dining room and adjoining salon. And that was when she heard it. The scrape of a boot. The sound of male breathing. The feel of him, and the way he had the power to fill up a room with his presence.  

“Hello, Catherine.”

Stopping abruptly, she whirled around, only to see Jocelyn lounging against the silk papered hall. One shoulder was propped against the wall, while his arms were crossed over his chest. He was looking at her with such scrutiny that she backed away from him.

“Have you no welcome? No kind words for a future family member? No whispered expressions for a lover?”

She couldn’t speak, just kept walking backwards, unable to take her gaze off him. He had changed these past years. There was a hardness about him now, even though he had only grown more handsome. To her, the wounds on his face did not detract from his handsomeness. The eye patch, worn over his left eye gave him a rakish, dangerous appearance. Everything about him made her tremble. Made her want.    

“Where is your fine gentleman now?” he asked. “The one who you said you would love forever. Gone. Left for dead on the fields. Replaced by this.”

The velvet timber of Joscelyn’s voice caressed the length of her body and she tried to run from it, from that reawakening inside her. He captured her before she could dart away, trapping her against the wall with his broad chest and well muscled thighs.

His gaze flitted over her hair and then down her face. Then, his callused finger reached up and traced the contour of her cheek.  His gaze lowered to her lips and she felt the rough pad of his finger slide along her cheek to her mouth, the sensation causing ripples of awareness along her nerves as her lips parted beneath his touch.

He peered up and into her eyes while his thumb caressed her lips, and she stared back, taking everything in, wondering how he had survived. How he had withstood the agony of healing from his wounds.

“It’s not the gentleman you want, is it?” he asked darkly, sending a thrilling tension knotting in her belly. He lowered his mouth to hers, all the while watching her with his unreadable, hooded gaze. “What gentleman could make you feel this way? It is the monster that you yearn for.”

“Joscelyn, please,” she whispered, weakening. She couldn’t, absolutely mustn’t weaken. Her family. Edward. He could walk in any time and discover them. And then it would be over. Her father’s debts would be called in, and with no means of paying them, they would be forced out into the streets.

“Tell me you want me. Tell me that you’re wet, dripping between your thighs.”

She was, and if he didn’t quit talking like that, she was liable to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him.

“Tell me you want what we had last night. That you still want me after you’ve seen the horror of my face.”

Oh, that was so unfair. How could she admit the truth to him when she planned on turning from him forever? But then, how could she deny him the truth? To leave him with the impression that she was repulsed by what she saw. That was too cruel. Wrong. She could not hurt him. Not that way. Not when she saw the fear, the insecurity shining in his eye.

“Cathy,” he whispered, using his pet name for her. “Tell me you’re not lost to me.”

There was nothing she could do now. She was Edward’s. Forever. Steeling herself to be unkind to the only person she had ever loved, Catherine straightened her spine and summoned all her courage to do what must be done—the final betrayal. The act that would take Joscelyn away from her, and protect her family.  

“You are misguided, sir,” she said, gathering her strength and wits and evading his impending kiss by ducking beneath his raised arm. “I feel nothing for you—nothing deeper than a base instinct, which you satisfied last night.”

He reached for her and spun her around so that she was facing him. He drew her roughly to his chest, which was rising and falling much too fast. “You’re a damned liar.” he spat, then he brought his lips down to her mouth and kissed her with such mastery that she felt her knees tremble, and she was obliged to take the lapels of his waistcoat between her fingers and grip them to save herself from running her hands through his silky black hair. He groaned then deepened the kiss, felt his fingers caress the column of her throat and she knew that she was a fool to play into his hands this way. Just as she was about to break the kiss, he moved his mouth away from her lips, kissed her chin, tipping her head back and grazed his lips across the skin that crept up above the neckline of her bodice.

“Tell me, Cathy, does he know I had you first?”

She couldn’t hide the tiny whimper that escaped her lips. “This isn’t right,” she said on a gasp of shock and pleasure as he licked her throat where he knew she was most sensitive.

“And yet you want it.”

Her cored bloomed, damping at the dark, erotic way he had said that. His tongue came out and licked the swells of her breasts that edged the silver lace of her blue gown and the sapphire pendants. She was unable to hide the gasp that escaped her lips. His palm, large and hot engulfed her breast, and one long finger pulled at the fragile silk in an attempt to expose her nipple which was erect and waiting to be touched.

“Admit you want it, Catherine,” he teased as his finger circled perilously closer to her nipple. “Admit you want me. To be taken into my arms and fucked until you can’t breathe. Until you forget everything but just us.”