Tainted by Temptation (17 page)

Velvet twisted to look at the house.

“Her room is the only place we could be seen from.” When he understood their encounter would escalate to making love, he should have led her inside to his room and bed, and damn the chance of being found out.

Velvet blanched and bit her lip. Her glance toward him was so fast he almost missed it, but then her gaze fastened on his Adam’s apple.

Her unwillingness to look him in the eye hurt. “Are you all right?”

She gave a quick short nod.

A nearby herring gull screeched. Velvet flinched with every muscle in her body, including those of her woman’s part. His flaccid member throbbed as though called back to duty. The white and gray bird landed on the pile of his wet bathing suit and pecked at it as if to discover hidden treats.

The gull made sure the passion was past, and Lucian reluctantly accepted that this encounter had ended in spite of his desire to continue for her. He pressed a chaste kiss on her cheek, which seemed to surprise her.

Lucian slowly withdrew and pushed to his knees, pulling down her skirt. Velvet struggled to tug up the corset he’d managed to shove down an inch to free the breasts he was sure had increased in size since the first time he’d cupped the rounded flesh in his hand.

Bloody hell, he’d been treating her like a woman awake to every passion, and she was a neophyte unaware of the potential of her response. She was passionate, he’d gotten enough of a taste of that to know. But he’d misjudged her horribly.

“Why?” he asked.

She jerked her head up and her green eyes glittered in the early morning light, but they looked bruised. She dropped her gaze and buttoned her dress. Her hair had completely fallen down and curtained her face. “I thought I was going to die.”

He winced. He supposed he could ask for no better reason for her submitting to an act she’d resisted. Pushing her hair back, he examined her pinched and pale face. “You should have told me.”

“You wouldn’t have believed me.” She chewed her lip and looked away.

Her regret twisted his gut. He didn’t know what to do to change her mind. His lust had gained the upper hand over his tender feelings toward her, and he’d handled her badly. “Velvet—”

She twisted to her feet. “I have to get back inside.”

Belting his robe, he winced at the smear of blood on his penis. As if he needed more confirmation. He still couldn’t fully comprehend everything that had passed and changed between them.

She walked quickly across the expanse of moors. For a second he just watched her glide over the grass. She was his. Completely and wholly his. She just didn’t know it yet. Hurried and rushed as it was, he didn’t think he’d ever had a more fulfilling experience. He felt like he could soar with the gulls. And he was staring at her like a lovesick fool and letting her get away.

Then he grabbed his wet bathing suit and the couple of hairpins he’d popped from her hair and ran after her.

He caught up to her at the side door.

“I don’t think we should go in together.” She stared at the door, as stiff as if a metal rod had been inserted in her spine.

“We would if we had just had a discussion.” He wanted to hold her but settled for holding out the two hairpins. “I’m sorry, I probably lost some in the grass.”

Never once looking at him, she took them, twisted the mass of her hair into a chignon and did her best to anchor it.

He brushed a broken blade of grass from her shoulders. “We need to discuss what just happened.”

She jerked away from his touch, and her mouth flattened as she reached for the doorknob. In a prim schoolmarm voice she said, “There is no need.”

He leaned close to her. “Then will you come to me tonight after the guests retire?”

“No. I don’t want to repeat . . . what happened. I was not in my right mind.”

He jerked back, sharp pain piercing his breastbone.

Before he could think how to respond, she sucked in a deep breath and opened the gallery door.

Stunned, he watched her dart through a nearby servants’ door. It was as if she’d ripped out his heart and taken it with her.

“Sir, your bath is waiting.”

Lucian spun toward the open hall door.

With his head cocked to the side, Evans stood there.

Evans would have been watching from Lucian’s room to know when to run the bath water. Had he seen anything? Whatever he had seen, he could probably surmise the rest.

“Can I count on your discretion, Evans?” Lucian held out his bathing suit as he approached.

“Certainly, sir,” said Evans, taking the wet striped wool with an expression of disdain.

Evans had been with him a long time, but he was generally so unobtrusive, Lucian never gave the man a thought. And he couldn’t now. Not when his thoughts circled and worried over Velvet’s reaction. What had been going through her head? Was it nothing more than having had too close a brush with death, and that he was there to experience her affirmation of life?

In the end she’d acted as though she couldn’t be away from him fast enough; as if she’d made a terrible mistake. Nothing Lilith had done wounded him as much as Velvet’s dismissal.

What had she done? The thought pounded in Velvet as she raced up the narrow back stairs. Oh, God, what had she done?

She’d resisted all advances for the last year, and then
she
had thrown herself at Lucian.
After
she’d begun to suspect him of murdering his wife and possibly his former mistress. Her heart told her that he couldn’t have, but her heart had told her Mr. Langtree was her friend. Yet, Lucian was the one who gave her every opportunity to say no.

She rounded the corner and pushed open her door. All she wanted was five minutes to regain her composure and remove all traces of the illicit tryst. But she couldn’t wash off the stain of sin. That would remain in her heart and soul. She couldn’t believe she’d chosen to lie with Lucian.

Nellie turned, looked her up and down and said, “Where have you been?”

Velvet winced but squared her shoulders. “Outside.”

Her window was open again.

“Cook wants you down in the kitchen.”

“I will be down as soon as I freshen up.”

Nellie nodded and backed toward the schoolroom. Her eyes darted to the made bed and back to Velvet.

“Would you please not open my window every day? It is too cold out.”

“I don’t open it,” said Nellie.

Meg burst through the door, her arms full. A dozen brown paper and string packages fell to the floor. A few thumped and rolled. Others landed with a plop and didn’t move.

“Oh, I’m sorry, miss,” said Meg. “These came yesterday, and Mrs. Bigsby told me to bring them up straight away, but I got busy.”

Nellie stepped back to the doorway and folded her arms.

Velvet’s heart thudded against her chest. “What is in them?”

“Things for the schoolroom.” Meg shrugged. She bent, picked them up, and began piling packages on the chair. “I hope nothing were breakable.”

There was more here than could possibly be the few additional items she’d requested.

Meg glanced at Velvet and did a double take. “What have you been doing?”

Nellie looked interested too.

“I went outside to talk to Mr. Pendar.” That much was true anyway. “I slipped and fell.” Almost true.

“Lord above, you look a fright,” said Meg.

“Yes, I’d like to clean up. Would you please bring me a pitcher of water?”

“Open the packages,” said Nellie.

“Later.” Velvet dreaded the contents. If the packages contained anything personal, Nellie and Meg would guess at the relationship between her and Lucian.

A sob caught at the back of her throat. She turned to the armoire to gather fresh underclothing and hide her emotions. She felt on the verge of cracking. She’d half expected Lucian to follow her upstairs, but he hadn’t. Why would he? He’d gotten what he wanted.

Maybe in her secret heart she’d hoped for him to say he loved her or would marry her. Instead he’d said she was beautiful. In a few minutes she would go downstairs and help the house run smoothly to impress a potential bride for him.

For a second Velvet toyed with the idea of demanding her wages and leaving, but she couldn’t hurt Iris, deserted by so many in her short life. Velvet was nothing more than what everyone accused her of being: a past-her-youth, fallen woman. She bit her lip, holding back tears. Destiny had decreed she would be alone. Any chance she’d had for a decent marriage she’d tossed away in a romp on the edge of a cliff.

For a few moments she’d been soaring, seeming floating on the air like the seabirds, but then she fell, and fell hard.

Paper crinkled behind her.

“Oh look, miss. It is a lovely dressing gown,” Meg exclaimed.

Nellie and Meg had fallen on the packages like gulls on crumbs. Strings and brown paper littered the floor, fluttering from the breeze.

“This one is paints,” said Nellie in a dull monotone.

Meg swirled while holding the chocolate brown dressing gown to her shoulders. Nellie was staring at Velvet with a look of astonishment mixed with disgust.

“Stop!”

Meg quit spinning, and the plush material swayed at her feet.

“Please, wrap it back up.” Lucian probably thought she was showing her gratitude for his present. “There must be a mistake. And for heaven’s sake, shut the window.”

Meg glanced over at the window. “Why do you open it every night if you don’t want it open?”

“I don’t,” whispered Velvet.

Nellie made the sign of the cross, as if she thought an evil spirit was responsible.

Who was opening the window? Velvet shivered uncontrollably. Nothing was right in this mad household. Not even her. She’d behaved like a woman possessed and thrown away the only thing she had of value.

D
ried and dressed after his bath—a bath he should have offered to Velvet—Lucian ascended to the nursery floor. Velvet was right. He needed to make amends with Iris.

He fingered the peace offering weighing down his pocket. How Iris would respond to it he didn’t know.

The girl couldn’t know that her resemblance to her mother pained him to look at her. He couldn’t count how many times he bit back bitter words about Lilith. And he had to acknowledge there would never be a good reason to let her learn of her true parentage. If he meant to denounce her, he should have done so before her birth. The truth now could only wound her.

Velvet’s door stood open. The maidservant inside darted out as soon as she saw him. But Velvet was nowhere to be seen. Not in her room or in the schoolroom. Air rushed out of him as if he were collapsing like a spent balloon. He hadn’t realized how anxious he’d been to see her again.

He retreated to Iris’s room, where his knock on the door elicited no response.

Gently pushing the door open, he peeked inside. Iris lay in her bed, her blond curls haloing her face.

“Iris?” he queried softly.

She blinked.

He waited while the sleep lifted from her. He had no idea how to reassure the child. If Velvet was right, Iris needed more than he gave her. Less things and more of him. He’d known for longer than he cared to admit he could be a better father to her. But like most men, he preferred the much simpler route of giving presents.

“Papa?”

“Would you like to eat breakfast with me?” he asked. Before Velvet came, they’d eaten together in the morning. Even though he’d thought her incessant chatter drove him to distraction, he now believed she’d actually been putting him in a better frame of mind.

“Yes.” Eagerly, she shoved back the covers and scrambled out of bed, but then paused. She tossed him an uncertain look. “Is Miss Campbell going too?”

“I don’t know where she is right now.” He cleared his throat. “I will wait for you in the schoolroom, then.”

Where was Velvet? He closed the door and rushed into Velvet’s room. The unwrapped packages were laid out on her bed. Her portmanteau was tucked in the armoire with her other clothes. He heaved a sigh of relief. For half a second he’d feared she’d left. Turning to the windows, he looked out, scanning the cliffs in every direction.

He closed his eyes, willing his heartbeat to slow. Velvet was not melodramatic like Lilith had been. Surely she wouldn’t fling herself from the cliffs. Especially not when she was so terrified of falling.

He realized her weakness at King Arthur’s castle must have been her fear of falling. He’d thought she’d been feeling faint, but her symptoms just as easily fit freezing in panic. It certainly hadn’t been pregnancy.

He shook his head and retreated to the schoolroom.

Soon Iris opened her door and walked sedately across the room. Her slightly puffy eyes and reddened nose along with her failure to skip or bounce as she usually did stabbed at his heart. Had he wounded her as severely as Velvet claimed? Guilt swamped him.

“I am sorry for yelling at you last night.” He sank down into one of the schoolroom chairs. “There are times when it is painful for me to be reminded of your mother, and I punished you for it.”

Iris hesitated in front of him, carefully watching him. She bit her lip.

He half expected her to ask if he still missed her mother. When she didn’t, he was relieved he didn’t have to lie. Iris’s uncharacteristic silence concerned him. “Miss Campbell tells me it upset you that I did not say good-bye before leaving.”

Iris’s eyes widened. She slowly nodded, not used to him discussing her upsets.

“Did you not know I was leaving?”

Iris shook her head.

“Miss Campbell did not tell you?”

Iris finally spoke in a soft voice he had to strain to hear. “She didn’t know.”

He frowned. Mrs. Bigsby should have informed both of them, but then maybe the housekeeper assumed he had informed Velvet. “In the future, I will endeavor to make sure you know when I am leaving.”

“And say good-bye?” asked Iris.

“And say good-bye,” affirmed Lucian. “I left very early. I didn’t want to disturb your rest.”

Iris’s eyebrows lowered.

He squirmed a bit under her scrutiny. He reached into his pocket.

She brightened. “Did you buy me a gift in London?”

His hand stilled. How much had his ceaseless gifts encouraged Iris to be greedy and grasping like her mother?

He shook his head. “No. I did not know what to get a girl who is too big for dolls.” Resolving to pay more attention to the effect his actions had in the future, he pulled the heavy gold bracelet out of his pocket and laid it across his knee. “This is a family piece, and you must promise to pass it on one day to your child.”

Iris gaped at the ornate Spanish band inset with pearls and topazes. Her voice awed, she asked, “Is that the bracelet in the paintings?”

“Yes. The set has been in the family a long time.” Lilith had refused to wear it in the family portrait because she thought it too old-fashioned. “My ancestors were privateers in service to Queen Elizabeth.”

“Privateers?” She glanced at him, but then as if drawn, she stared back at the bracelet.

“Kind of like pirates with a royal license to plunder from enemy ships.” He lifted the piece. “Would you like to wear it?”

“Isn’t it supposed to be for your wife?” Iris pulled her hands back as if afraid she might snatch it.

“I don’t have a wife, and I want you to wear it.”

She rolled her shoulders and stared at him with wide blue eyes.

“Will you make me give it back when you get a new wife?”

“No.”

Slowly she raised her arm.

He winced at the reddish marks on her wrist—marks he had caused. He fastened the clasp around her slender wrist, hoping the weight wouldn’t be too much. “I trust you to take care of it.”

“Nellie says you’re going to get a new wife.”

“Possibly.” He glanced toward Velvet’s room. Everything had changed now, and he didn’t know what would happen.

“Do you want a new wife?” asked Iris.

Lucian strove to switch the conversation. “Every Pendar eventually passes on the set to his oldest son, but I don’t have a son.”

Iris looked up at him. Her eyes were so blue and clear, without a hint of guile. She probably didn’t understand what he was saying.

“I have you,” he finished with a rough voice.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t a boy,” she whispered.

“No, don’t think that. I wouldn’t trade you for all the riches in the world. You are perfect the way you are. Come what may, you will have the rest of the set on your wedding day to pass to your children.”

Iris shifted from one foot to the other and turned the bracelet on her wrist. Her nature was still compliant enough she might have agreed to wear the bracelet because he asked her to. “What if your new wife wants me to give it back?”

“I will not take it away from you.”

“A new wife could give you a son, couldn’t she?”

The images of his three dark-haired babies, too still and too blue lying in their bassinets, chilled his heart. He couldn’t risk getting another woman with child with his defective seed. He knew that and had been very careful—since Myra anyway. Velvet wasn’t the only one who lost her head on the cliff this morning. “I don’t need a son.”

Iris frowned at his vehemence. Then she tilted her head to the side. “Can—
may
we go eat now?”

“Certainly.” Standing, he held out his hand to Iris.

Iris slipped her little fingers into his and smiled up at him. He heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized how much he counted on her unstinting affection. He didn’t have a right to it, but he needed her ungrudging acceptance.

Velvet was exhausted by the time all the guests began to make their good-nights. She’d avoided Lucian all day, but found almost every time she looked in his direction his dark eyes were on her. Her heart would lurch a little, and he would look away to one of his guests, most often Miss Bowman or Miss Darling. He too seemed intent on keeping his distance.

His aloof demeanor drained her almost as much as Cook’s constant demands and her own striving to keep the guests happy without them being aware that she was doing anything.

She was headed for the door leading to a servants’ stair when a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Without turning she knew the hand belonged to Lucian. A shudder traveled from the top of her head to her toes.

“Wait in the library. I will be there as soon as I am free.” He leaned close, his breath brushing her ear.

What was wrong with her that she went weak in the knees when he was close? “I should like to retire.”

His fingers tightened. “Then make ready for bed and meet me in my room,” he whispered.

She spun away. Despair choked her. In one rash act she had become everything she’d fought against. Just like every other man before him who thought her a whore, he thought he had the right to her.

The corner of his mouth lifted. “The library it will be.”

Velvet closed her eyes. “I should check on Iris.”

“Be in the library in fifteen minutes or I will come for you.” He ran his thumb along her shoulder.

A shudder tumbled down her spine.

After wishing for him to acknowledge her for most of the day, now she wished he hadn’t. What would happen when they were alone? Would they discuss terms of her becoming his mistress? Terms she would find demeaning, no matter how gently broached.

He hovered, waiting for her reply, but his scent flooded her nostrils and his heat made her want to collapse against him.

She should just use the locks he’d had installed, or plead a headache, but she couldn’t force out the words. It took every ounce of her willpower not to cling to him and relive every sensation from this morning.

“I will not be deterred by a locked door, so do not think to avoid me.”

Her first morning here he’d kicked her stuck door with enough force a lock couldn’t stop him.

“Very well,” she said with what dignity she could muster when she had no real choice.

As she hurried away, excitement and dread stewed in a cauldron of emotions. What would happen when they were alone again?

Would he pull her into his arms and kiss her until her judgment evaporated and she became the wild unfamiliar creature she had been on the cliff?

The one thing she was sure wouldn’t happen: he wouldn’t declare his love for her. Even though her heart beat awkwardly with the hope that he cared for her just a little.

She headed up the servants’ stairs and entered the dark nursery floor. In her cold room she found the single candle she’d been allotted and carried it to Iris’s room to light.

Iris wore a heavy gold bracelet. Velvet hadn’t had time to question the girl where she’d found it. The piece, although faintly familiar, didn’t look like any of the jewelry found in her mother’s trinket box. Iris’s heavy breathing indicated her sleep was deep. By now she’d been in bed for hours.

Velvet had missed tucking her in and overseeing her prayers. Instead she pulled the covers around Iris’s shoulders and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.

With her lit candle, Velvet returned to her room. She wanted nothing more than to crawl in bed and hope that when she woke, she’d discover today was just a bad dream. Instead she knelt to ignite the coal in the fireplace.

After she had the blaze going, she carefully folded the dressing gown and rewrapped it in the paper and twine. She couldn’t accept the gift because it made her feel cheap. A dressing gown was too intimate and implied too much.

Pulling her door shut to keep in what meager heat her lump of coal might generate, she headed back downstairs with the package.

The library was dark except for the fire crackling behind the grate. Light spilled from Lucian’s office. For a second she thought she might be alone, and she heaved a deep sigh. The smell of leather-bound books fortified her.

Then the shadows moved, and Lucian appeared in his office doorway.

With the backlighting, she couldn’t see his expression. But he carried the letter from Mrs. Langtree in his hand.

Her throat caught.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Velvet didn’t know how to answer. She was tied in knots and so ashamed she wanted to crawl in a hole. A slight tenderness in her private parts strangled any affirmative response.

“I wasn’t exactly gentle.”

Heat flooded her face. Tightening the package containing the dressing gown against her chest, she choked out, “I’m fine.”

“I didn’t know there was a reason to be,” he continued. “I was not expecting a novice.”

Her knees went weak. “I didn’t know you’d be able to tell.”

“I’ve been trying to understand why you would tell me this letter is factual when clearly this reputation you have is undeserved.”

“Was undeserved,” muttered Velvet. She couldn’t claim innocence any longer, not after she had thrown herself at Lucian.

Lucian crossed his arms and leaned against the mantel. His body was long and lean, and she knew his flesh was firm under his clothes. His brow furrowed as he watched her.

His dark eyes seemed to drink in her every move, and without warning she was trembling all over. She wanted to throw herself in his arms. This morning he had been inside her. A fresh burst of desire spiraled through her.

“And I thought you were pregnant.”

She shook off her fascination with him as she realized what he’d said. “Pregnant?”

“You’ve fainted. You’ve been sick and had a hard time tolerating fish and other pungent foods. You insisted there was nothing wrong with you that time wouldn’t cure. Pretty much a definition of pregnancy. Your figure has grown more rounded. And you definitely are glowing. You said the letter was factual. The only question I had was which one of the men was the father.”

“I’m not pregnant.” His opinion of her was worse than she anticipated.

His mouth twisted. “You might be now.”