The Scandalous Lady Sandford (Lost Ladies of London Book 3)

by Adele Clee

  “What would your maid think if she could see you now?” he drawled as he reached around and fondled her breasts.

  Lillian arched her back, pressing her buttocks against his already engorged cock. “She would swoon on the … hmm … on the spot.”

  He gripped her hip with his left hand while his right hand stroked a sweet rhythm between her thighs. “Tell me you want me.” Regardless how many times he’d taken his wife, after her harrowing experiences in the past he would always seek permission.

  “I want you, Fabian.” Her breath came in ragged pants. Soon her climax would be upon her, and he wanted to be inside her when she came apart. “I want you now.”

  Needing no further inducement, he entered her in one long fluid movement until buried to the hilt. Good God, she felt divine. In her quest for satisfaction, she rocked back and forth, slapping against him, hugging him tightly.

  “Hurry, Fabian.” Her movements grew wild, urgent. Water splashed onto the floor.

  This was different to the slow, tender lovemaking they’d shared hours earlier. This was about lust, about being free to express one’s passion without thought or censure.

  “Come for me, love,” he breathed as he pounded hard and deep. Each thrust brought him closer to the blissful edge, too. “Let me hear you cry out. Let me see you soar on the dizzying heights of your release.”

  She shuddered against him, her thighs shaking.

  “Let me hear you, love,” he whispered. “Tell me how it feels.”

  “Oh, Fabian. It feels so good.”

  His groan of satisfaction reverberated in his chest as her words of praise drew his release from him. He stilled. Amid the intense burst of pleasure came a moment of pure clarity: a peace that he had never known, an overwhelming sense that everything in the world was right.

  The distant rumble of thunder reached Fabian’s ears as he lay sprawled and exhausted on his back in bed. Lillian’s luscious leg was draped across his thigh as she drifted in and out of sleep. He waited for the moment of calm to best gauge the distance and ferocity of the storm — but it didn’t come.

  Somewhere, doors slammed with hurricane force. Groans and curses rained down in torrents. The thunderous growls moved ever closer. Only a fool would think that the loud crack ripping through the air was lightning.

  Bloody hell!

  Vane had wasted no time chasing after his quarry. Nor had he knocked the door politely and asked to see the master.

  Fabian tried to move without disturbing Lillian, but the commotion continued outside the bedchamber door.

  “Is this his room?” Vane’s commanding voice was unmistakable.

  “God’s teeth, you can’t go in there,” Mackenzie protested. “Let me wake them first—”

  “Them! Move out of my way, Scot. I’ll not tell you again.”

  Lillian stirred. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. With mussed hair and swollen lips, she looked as though she truly had been ravished by a pirate.

  A thud preceded a splintering snap as the door burst open.

  Lillian gasped in shock, but Fabian pressed his finger to her lips.

  “I would resist tugging the curtains if I were you.” Fabian grabbed the edge of the sheet and pulled it up to cover Lillian’s modesty. Although he couldn’t see Vane, the tension in the air was like a lead weight pressing down on them. “Wait downstairs, and I’ll meet you there once I’m dressed.”

  As soon as he heard the growl of disapproval from beyond the curtain, Fabian knew he’d been careless with his choice of words.

  “Get out of there now, before I drag you out.” The material suddenly ballooned in the middle as Vane hit out in temper. “I swear I shall hang you from a gibbet and watch while the crows peck at your rotting flesh.”

  “He’s got a pair of duelling pistols, my lord,” Mackenzie shouted. “Make no sudden movements.”

  “Please, Vane,” Lillian cried, gripping Fabian’s forearm. “I beg you. If you care for me at all wait downstairs, and I shall explain everything.”

  “Lillian?” Panic and relief clung to that one word.

  A heavy silence ensued.

  Fabian’s racing heartbeat filled his ears. This was what he’d been waiting for: a chance to confront Vane, the opportunity to get him on a side. He sensed Vane retreat before he heard the clip of booted footsteps on the stone floor.

  Mackenzie must have trailed after the lord, for when Fabian peered through the gap in the curtain the room was empty.

  They set about dressing quickly. Neither spoke. The stillness belied the internal roar of minds bombarded by questions, of a growing unease that made their limbs work clumsily.

  Once ready, Lillian stopped and stared at him. From her ashen face and rapid blinking, he knew fear filled her heart. He stepped towards her and drew her into an embrace.

  “Vane’s anger will abate once he hears my story, once he sees that you’re happy here.” He cupped her cheeks and kissed her tenderly on the mouth. “You are happy?”

  “Ecstatically so.” She glanced briefly at the floor. “But I cannot bear to see hurt and disappointment in his eyes, Fabian.”

  “It will pass. Tomorrow we will look upon a bright sky absent of clouds, but for now, we must ride the storm.”

  Lillian nodded weakly. “Then let us go and find him. Patience is not a trait Vane has mastered.”

  With a firm grip of Lillian’s hand, Fabian led her downstairs. Some of his men were standing in the corridor outside the great hall. They shuffled back sheepishly upon his approach.

  “The man has pistols, m’lord, and he ain’t afraid to use them.”

  “Return to your work,” Fabian said with an air of confidence. “It is nothing I cannot handle.” Fabian opened the old oak door and gestured for Lillian to enter. “Regardless what you hear, you’re to remain outside.”

  Mackenzie sat on the bench, watching Vane pace the floor in front of the dais. Both pistols lay on the table. Dressed in black, the man had the menacing aura of the Devil. Vane turned to face them. Were it not for his glacial stare, Fabian could have believed the lord had risen from the fiery pits of Hell.

  Mackenzie came to his feet. “I’d give Trevane a wide berth. The man is madder than a wet hen.”

  Lillian ignored Mackenzie’s advice and rushed forward. “Vane! I’m so glad to see you.”

  Her brother embraced her, stroked a hand down her loose hair and examined her face. He took hold of her chin and tilted her head to better study the cut above her eye.

  Fabian groaned inwardly.

  Vane moved Lillian aside. “What the hell have you done to her?” Deciding not to wait for a reply, a guttural roar pierced the air and he charged forward.

  Fabian braced himself for an attack. Vane had broader shoulders, was an inch or two taller, but had not spent years sailing the harsh seas.

  Vane lunged and tried to take Fabian down to the floor but even in the lord’s rage he struggled to unbalance the Raven.

  “No man is steadier on his feet than me,” Fabian mocked. The skill came from clinging to the rigging during high winds, from trying to steer a ship through turbulent waters.

  With his jaw clenched so hard one could hear the grinding of teeth, Vane threw a punch that landed on Fabian’s cheek and almost knocked his head off his shoulders. An uppercut to the ribs stole Fabian’s breath.

  Fabian stumbled, but as a participant in many brawls in the seedier ports dotted around the West Indies, he knew how to take a hit.

  “Fight back, you damn coward.”

  “Stop this,” Lillian cried.

  By rights, Fabian deserved a beating. He would thrash Vane to within an inch of his life were the roles reversed. “Don’t think I can’t take you. I’ve fought fiercer men than you and lived to tell the tale,” Fabian goaded him. The sooner Vane achieved satisfaction and his anger subsided, the sooner they could converse like mature, rational men.

  Vane took the bait and charged at Fabian again, this time swiping his leg from undern
eath him while gripping him around the waist. They wrestled on the cold flagstones. Vane came above him and gripped his shirt.

  “Go on.” Fabian smirked. “You may hit me until your knuckles bleed but it won’t change a damn thing.”

  Vane drew back his fist. “You arrogant bastard.”

  “No! Please, Vane.” Lillian rushed forward and tried to step in between them. She tugged the sleeve of Vane’s black coat. But when that proved futile, she dropped to her knees and threw her arm across Fabian’s chest. “Don’t hurt him.”

  Despite having received numerous punches, Fabian’s heart swelled at her concern for his welfare.

  Vane turned on her. “Good God! After what he’s done to you, I should kill him.”

  “Why, when you have not even given him a chance to explain?”

  “Explain! What the hell is there to say? He abducted you from Vauxhall, all because I wouldn’t play the obedient lord and go on his pathetic ghost hunt.”

  Fabian’s blood boiled. “Estelle is alive. Why won’t you trust my word?”

  Vane released Fabian’s shirt and straightened. “Let us say for one ridiculous moment that you speak the truth, and in a desperate bid to save your sister you ruined mine. What I cannot fathom is why you thought such an idiotic plan would persuade me to help you?”

  “I have not ruined your sister,” Fabian snapped. “If anything, I have saved her from spending a life living in your shadow.”

  Deep lines appeared on Lillian’s brow. “Don’t fight.”

  “Och, can’t you see you’re upsetting the lass?” Mackenzie added.

  Vane ignored them. “Oh, you think preying on a vulnerable woman is honourable. She has suffered enough.” His glassy eyes resembled the surface of a frozen lake: a cold hard exterior that promised danger beneath its icy depths. “The last thing she needed was to be a pawn in your game.”

  With Lillian’s assistance, Fabian came to his feet. “This is not a game. An innocent young woman is out there as we speak.” He stabbed his finger at the door. “And you have the gall to suggest I find it an amusing way to pass the time.”

  Vane raised an arrogant brow. “Innocent? Is that what you believe? Trust me. Estelle knew what she was doing. I suppose whatever you were doing with my sister behind the bed hangings falls into your misguided definition of innocent, too.”

  “I’m misguided?” Fabian clenched his jaw. “I’m not the cold-hearted bastard who offered marriage and reneged.”

  Lillian sucked in a breath. “Fabian, please. Let us all sit down and discuss this in a proper manner.”

  “Proper?” Vane chided. “Ravenscroft knows nothing about integrity or decency.” Vane stared down his nose at Fabian. “Find a pistol. I shall wait for you outside the castle walls. Pack your things, Lillian. We are going home.”

  “No!” Lillian rushed to her brother’s side, grabbed his arm and shook it repeatedly. “Stop this, Vane.”

  “This pirate has treated you with nothing but disrespect. I will have satisfaction on your behalf.” Vane seemed confident of success. “Now gather your belongings.”

  “Don’t underestimate my skill in combat. And Lillian is not going anywhere.” Fabian was about to break the news of their recent nuptials.

  “I can’t go with you,” Lillian blurted. Her pained expression was like a knife to Fabian’s heart. “I can’t go with you because … because Fabian is my husband. This is my home now.”

  A deathly silence ensued.

  Vane’s eyes bulged. He opened his mouth but said nothing.

  Mackenzie sidled towards the door. “I’ll be outside should anyone need me.”

  “As her husband, it falls to me to protect her.” Fabian could see Vane was struggling to absorb the news. “Lillian is my responsibility.”

  Vane shook his head. He turned to Lillian. “You married without telling me?”

  “Under the circumstances, I had little option.”

  “You mean to tell me you married this heathen because he forced you?”

  “No!” Lillian’s frantic gaze shot back and forth between them both. “I wanted to marry him. We were good friends once. More than friends now.”

  The comment should have given Fabian hope for the future. Indeed it did. But he needed more than a mild expression of affection — he needed her love. A burning passionate love that poets professed was possible. The love Aristotle described as one soul occupying two bodies.

  Vane shrank back. “And at no time before reciting your vows did you think to inform me?”

  “There was no time. Please, Vane,” Lillian implored. “What if Fabian is right? What if Estelle is alive? After what Father did, surely you owe it to them to offer your assistance.”

  “A man is not responsible for the sins of his parents,” Vane countered. “Besides, Estelle chose her fate when she boarded The Torrens with another gentleman.”

  It took Fabian a few seconds for the words to penetrate his addled brain. “What the hell do you mean? Don’t shift the blame. Everyone knows Estelle worshipped you.”

  “Perhaps none of us are fully apprised of the facts.”

  “Then surely it makes sense to find Estelle and put an end to the mystery,” Lillian said with some frustration.

  Vane’s lip curled up in disdain. “Husband or not, I’ll not help the man who used you so callously.”

  Lillian groaned. “Oh, we are going around in circles.” She threw her hands in the air in resignation. “Come and find me once you have settled this matter like gentlemen. Only then can we sit down and decide what to do about Estelle.” With that, she turned on her heels and strode from the room.

  Fabian contemplated asking her to stay. But some things were best said far from a lady’s ears. He waited until Lillian closed the door before speaking again. “What will it be? Shall we roll up our shirtsleeves and wrestle until one of us is the victor?”

  “We both know who that will be.”

  “I’ve gained experience since we last partook in a little gentlemanly sport.”

  “Experience counts for nothing when a man has a grudge to settle.” Fire flashed in Vane’s eyes. Inside, he was hurting. Anyone could see that. Whether it stemmed from his guilt over Lillian, or Estelle, remained to be seen.

  “Then you should know that I blame you for Estelle leaving.” The pain in Fabian’s heart had been eased by his growing feelings for Lillian. Still, Vane needed to have his anger beaten out of him if they had any hope of moving forward. “Eight years is a long time to hold a grudge.” Fabian dragged his shirt over his head. “I vowed to make you pay for the part you played, and the Raven never breaks a promise.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The group of men standing huddled around the door jumped back as Lillian exited the great hall. Mackenzie stood with them, his anxious face showing concern for the welfare of his master.

  “Why is it men act like children when they have a point to prove?” Lillian observed the men’s blank expressions. Why would they understand? They often fought over the last piece of chicken.

  “Come on now, move yourselves.” Mackenzie shooed the men out into the bailey. “The work won’t get done if we’re all standing here gaping.” Mackenzie returned to her side. “Do I need to act as referee?”

  “No. Give them an hour to settle their grievances in their own way.” Vane’s reaction came as no surprise. She had expected him to bring the roof down. If anything, she was thankful he’d only thrown a few punches. “But I refuse to stand and watch them banter and brawl like schoolboys.”

  “It’s clear Trevane has your best interests at heart, and his lordship will do anything to ensure your happiness.”

  A smile touched Lillian’s lips despite the loud roar emanating from the ancient room. “You have faith in your master. He is lucky to have such a true and loyal friend.”

  The Scot’s cheeks turned as red as his beard. “You know how to make a grown man blush, lass. But happen I don’t deserve your good grace.”

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p; Lillian put her hand on Mackenzie’s arm. “Do you say that because of what happened at Vauxhall?” Some might say she was far too forgiving, but at the time she’d been too weary to persecute the man for his mistakes. Now, she didn’t see it as a mistake but a fated event beyond anyone’s control.

  A chorus of masculine curses reached her ears.

  Mackenzie glanced at the studded oak door and tutted. “I know I should feel ashamed for taking you from your home, but I’d heard the way the master spoke of you. I knew his need to bring you here had as much to do with saving himself as it did Estelle.”

  The Scot knew what to say to placate her fears. “There was a time when I envisioned marrying Lord Ravenscroft. And now …” Her mind conjured an image of the dark-haired pirate plundering her mouth. She had only to mention his name and her insides performed a series of somersaults. “Now, even after such a short time, marriage to the Raven is everything I hoped it would be.”

  Mackenzie covered her hand and gave it a gentle pat. “You should come with us on our next voyage. I can’t see his lordship leaving you behind, and there’s nothing like the sea air to invigorate the spirit.”

  While she had no love for long voyages, the thought of being squashed in a cabin with Fabian certainly had appeal. “Perhaps I could bring Mary with me as a companion. Would you like that, Mackenzie?”

  “Happen I’d be tripping over my own feet with Mary aboard ship. How’s a man to navigate the waters when his mind is away with the fairies?”

  It suddenly occurred to her that she’d not seen Mary since the night of the attack. She had been so preoccupied with Fabian, one day had merged seamlessly into the next.

  “Did you see Mary yesterday?” Lillian had seen Ursula. She’d asked the maid to style her hair despite taking part in the parrying competition. It had been a ploy, purely to gauge the woman’s reaction after the incident with the intruder.

  The corners of Mackenzie’s mouth turned down. “I’ve not seen her since we shared supper. What with his lordship’s return and watching the prisoner, I’ve not had a chance to visit her.”