Dennis, Josie - Wild Heights [Classics Rekindled 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Josie Dennis

shook his head, his eyes wide as he covered his nose. “P–perhaps I was m–mistaken.”
    Somewhat mollified, Henry came closer. “Let me hear of your spreading those lies again, Pickering. The lake at the Grange is quite deep, you know. In the center especially, where one cannot see the bottom.”
    Edward nodded. “Too true. Should one lose something there I daresay it is gone forever.”
    Pickering looked from one to the other. “I must be going.”
    “Your word?” Edward asked.
    “Y–yes,” Pickering answered before hurrying away from them.
    “Bastard.” Henry made for the carriage. “I saw his face, Edward. This story had him randy as a goat in spring.”
    “Look around, Henry,” Edward said in a low voice. “All eyes are on us. Talk of Cathy is spreading and there is nothing we can do about it.”
    Henry looked thoughtful for a moment. “We may have just been given a gift. A way to force our love’s hand.”
    Edward blinked. “Explain.”
    “Not yet. I’ve merely the seed of an idea.” Henry gave a nod. “But I believe I just may let Pickering live.”
    Edward leaned back, letting out a breath. “I hope you have the right of it. I cannot bear the thought of losing her forever.”

    * * * *

    Cathy tossed in her bed, the sounds of the storm outside reaching through to her. Like that day on the moors with Henry and Edward, fierce and wild. In her mind she was back on that ill-fated picnic, back with the two men she’d loved her whole life. Then later, in the hunting lodge…Their mouths and hands, their bodies twined with hers. Heaven and perdition at once.
    Sweat filmed her body, her hair in tangles stuck against her cheeks and neck. Beads formed between her breasts as her pussy wept, hot with need. She kicked aside the coverlet and went to the balcony doors.
    Pressing against the cold glass, she tried to cool her heated blood. Anger at the two of them crashed through her, that and the ever-present passion they’d easily aroused that day and since. Lightning flashed across the sky, as bright and captivating as Edward’s smile. Followed by a boom of thunder, wild and brash like Henry’s spirit. Oh, how she missed them both!
    Crossing to the side table, she eyed the bouquet of heather she’d gathered. Perhaps they were not as perfect as the flowers they had sent to her, roses and peonies she was certain cost a fortune to procure this time of year. The heather was far dearer to her, however. Burying her face among the purple flowers, she breathed in deeply. Her soul seemed to open up, the scent calming her and calling to mind all the many days they’d spent out on the moors over the years. Tears stung her eyes. It was all over. Finished. Never again would she share that with them. Share anything with them.
    The storm beckoned, rain lashing wildly against the glass doors until they rattled in their frames. Unable to resist, she tore the doors open and ran to the railing.
    “How could you do this to me, Edward?” she screamed into the sky. “I gave you everything, Henry!”
    The skies did not answer, just intensified the storm as her night dress was soon plastered to her body. Icy rain and scalding tears streamed down her cheeks, filled her mouth. Another flash of lightning struck and she saw the three of them out on the moors, as they’d been as children. They ran with her, tugging her hands and laughing. Aging before her eyes, taking her on that picnic then running for cover at the lodge. Cursing herself for a foolish girl, she longed to join them. To repeat the mistakes she’d made that day and surrender to the passion once more.
    “I am doomed,” she moaned. “Doomed to love two men who could never fully be mine.”
    She fell into sobs, crumbling to the floor in a shivering heap as the rain pounded against her.
    “Miss Cathy!”
    She heard Maggie’s voice from somewhere behind her, sensed herself being lifted by hands against her numb skin. Stripped of her dripping clothes, bundled