Reckless by Anne Stuart Read Free Book Online

tastes had made themselves evident later in life, by keeping the question of physical affection at a distance. To put it bluntly, he didn’t care who or what Montague fucked, as long as it wasn’t him.
    â€œI’ll look elsewhere, I think,” he said casually, his eyes still on the new monk. He could tell by the way he walked that he was quite young, and he moved farther into the gardens decorated with impressively explicit statues. Adrian could tell by the rigidity in the young monk’s shoulders that he had never seen or considered what was going on between the carved participants, and—
    A slow smile curved his mouth. “I believe I’ve found my muse.”
    Etienne followed his gaze. “You’ve changed your habits, mon cousin. I thought you didn’t care for your own sex.”
    â€œShe’s female,” Adrian said briefly, watching as she moved away, deeper into the Garden of Delights. She hadn’t screamed or fainted—perhaps he’d underestimated her. She must be far more experienced than he’d guessed.
    â€œAh, I see. And you’ve chosen her? Enjoy yourself, then. If she’s game, come find us.”
    Adrian’s only response was a faint smile. He started after her, moving silently with the shadows so as not to alarm her, only to find her starting up at the coup de grâce, the undeniably lovely and undeniably pornographic statue of the Rape of the Sabine s.
    In this case, rape seemed to hold the more common meaning rather than the classical one of simple abduction, as the ever-ready marble Roman was in the midst of mounting his new bride while on horseback.
    He’d always found that particular move highly unlikely—even the most reliable animal would have a difficult time not responding to his master’s rhythmic movements. He’d tried it once with his most recent mistress during his stay in Italy. After a great deal of tumult, they had retired to a bed, laughing, and he hadn’t attempted it again.
    The young monk had frozen, and Adrian knew she was staring at the exaggerated member of the Roman soldier, yet another historical inaccuracy that in no way detracted from the erotic power of the statue. Adrian could sense dismay in the set of her shoulders, and he chuckled. Poor innocent lamb.
    She was walking into the torch-lit gardens, away from the crowds. The Heavenly Host was dividing now, in pairs, in groups, and occasionally voices called to her, inviting her to take off the white ribbonand join them, either to watch or partake, but she shook her cowled head, moving on.
    She hadn’t taken any of the communal wine as far as he could tell, and there was nothing to ease her fears. How well had Lina advised her? Did she know enough not to pass through the Portal of Venus? Once a celebrant chose to pass through that enchantingly landscaped orifice she would be fair game unless already claimed by another.
    What the hell was she doing here anyway? He could think of no earthly reason why a well-bred, disapproving, virginal spinster would come to observe the haute ton at their most libidinous. Nor could he imagine why Evangelina Whitmore would have agreed to bring her.
    He strolled after the young adventuress, similarly ignoring the invitations that came his way. She was moving inexorably closer to the Portal, and she probably had no idea what the peculiar gate into the inner gardens signified, not unless she spent time naked with a mirror. Or unless she and Lina were a great deal closer than society suspected.
    He chuckled again. As divine as that particular image was, it didn’t have the ring of truth. Lina was too devotedly single-minded in her pursuit of men. And he suspected Charlotte Spenser could barely fathom such a pairing.
    The ruins of the ancient abbey were growing quieter. Adrian glanced behind him. The Chapel ofPerpetual Erection, the newly built gathering place, was ablaze with activity, as most of the celebrants