Scandalous by Night

by Barbara Pierce

  It was only later that Maura realized that she had not spoken a single word during the odd encounter with Everod. Of course, if she had managed to utter something clever, what could she have said? Kilby, Patience, and Fayre had done their best to prepare her for any deception from Everod. Her aunt, uncle, and Rowan also believed Everod was dangerous.

  Everod in his own swaggering manner had also warned her off.

  She held up her hand and stared at the ornate pearl and silver ring on her finger. Everod had secretly given her trinkets that belonged to his mother. Should she listen to his words, and the words of others, or judge the viscount by his actions?

  Everod had expected, nay, dared her to condemn him at the park. He was a man who liked to gamble and play games. Was he wagering that Maura might possess the cunning to glimpse the man beneath the polished, sarcastic mask that he presented to the world or was it all a ruse to strike at the family?

  The questions circled around in Maura’s brain all evening. Fortunately, she and Georgette had attended a music performance which concealed her inattentiveness. She barely listened to the opera singer, though her aunt had praised the lady’s voice.

  Worrington had not joined them. He had become ill while visiting one of his clubs. Abbot had told her privately that the earl had collapsed in the front hall, though her uncle kept insisting that he was just tired. Concerned about her husband, Georgette was prepared to cancel their evening out, but Worrington insisted that they attend the musical recital without him.

  With her aunt worrying about the earl, and Maura distracted about Everod, both women were relieved when the evening ended.

  Georgette kissed Maura on the cheek. Moving to the stairs, she said, “Forgive me, little one, for not being a better companion this evening.”

  “I understand, Aunt,” Maura said softly, joining her aunt at the base of the staircase. “Give Uncle a kiss from me. I pray that he has recovered his strength.”

  “I will.” Georgette embraced Maura. “I think we both forget that Worrington is not a young man. He is seven and sixty, and though he will not admit it aloud, he suffers from many ills related to his old age.” The countess tapped her first finger against her forehead. “However, if I have anything to say on the matter, Worrington will live another sixty years. I have several treatises on potent herbs in my bedchamber. What Worrington needs is one of my restoratives!”

  Maura grinned at her aunt’s enthusiasm. Like her sister, Georgette had been born a scientist, though the lady would deny that she possessed the intellect or ambition. “I love you, Aunt Georgette. I have no doubt that Worrington will improve under your care.”

  Her aunt hooked her arm through Maura’s as they climbed the stairs together. “You know me, my treasured girl. I can be most determined when I want something.”

  Maura awoke to the low rumble of thunder in the distance. Or so she thought. The sound could have been part of her tumultuous dreams. Sitting up, she tilted her head and listened. Everything was quiet. Perhaps she had been dreaming, after all.

  She pushed back the blankets and slid out of bed. Going to the window, she leaned against the stubborn sash until her window opened. She stuck her head through the opening and inhaled. The air was humid. The wind picked up, smelling ripe with the scent of the approaching storm.

  Maura smiled when she saw a flash of lightning. Thunder followed seconds later.

  While some people cowered in fear at the thought of a violent storm, Maura loved them. The wind caught her hair, lifting the dark strands in front of her face and making them dance. She did not know how long she had been sleeping, but the hour mattered little to her. Retreating back into her bedchamber, Maura searched the floor for her slippers. Another blind search in her wardrobe produced a hooded cloak of dark blue made of fine wool with an inner lining of gold silk. The garment was a bit extravagant for a walk in the gardens to watch the approaching storm, but it offered her some modest protection.

  The dark cloak also covered her nightgown, allowing her to blend with the night. Like a ghost she slowly made her way downstairs, and slipped into the back gardens through the conservatory. She had not bothered lighting a candle or fussing with a lantern. Maura knew the layout of the house and gardens, and the occasional flash of lightning guided her when she hesitated.

  Stepping outdoors, she spun around and savored the feel of the air on her face. The wind caressed her like phantom fingers coaxing her to play. A flicker of lightning whitened the midnight sky overhead, revealing a gazebo to her left. Her gait was unhurried as she made her way to the wooden structure. From there, she could watch the storm and spare her pretty cloak from the rain.

  The first drops of rain struck her face when she was halfway between the house and gazebo. Pulling the hood of the cloak up, Maura pinched the ends together at her chin so the wind did not catch the fabric. Several yards later, the heavens opened and the sudden downpour was as blinding as the darkness.

  “Oh, very wise of you, Maura Keighly,” she muttered, reaching out with her right hand so she did not run headlong into the gazebo. “A late-night walk in the gardens with lightning singeing the heavens. Just to watch a silly storm. Your aunt will think you are daft, my girl!”

  She stumbled as her foot connected with the first wooden step. With her rain-soaked cloak tangling her limbs, Maura pitched forward, her knees and elbows taking the brunt of her fall.

  Maura groaned. She crawled up the remaining three steps before she sat down. Gingerly, she touched her left elbow. “If I broke a bone, I will never hear the end of it.”

  “I grant you, it was not the most graceful arrival I have witnessed,” Everod mused aloud, causing her to whirl around and shriek. “Fortunately, I am a charitable gent.”

  The viscount was just a disembodied voice until the quick flash of lightning revealed him. He was leaning against the railing just to the right of her, bareheaded, his black hair glistening from the rain. If he grinned at her humiliating predicament, Maura intended to murder him.

  “You are a brave lady, Maura Keighly,” he said, extending his hand to her. “Just how brave remains to be seen. Come to me, pretty Maura. If you do, I will tenderly kiss your wounds and vanquish all your hurts.”

  While Everod had entertained a rather delicious fantasy of Maura coming to him in the night, he never expected the lady to be so obliging. Especially after Kilby, Fayre, and Patience’s noble attempt to warn Maura off. He had been flabbergasted to see the four women walking together at the park. Another gent might have been flattered that his friends’ wives had taken such an interest in his liaisons.

  He wasn’t amused.

  When his sluggish brain began working again, he could only guess that Kilby had overheard part of his conversation with Solitea.

  Christ, a man had no privacy once he married. The next time he visited his friend, he would personally lock the nosy duchess in her bedchamber to keep her from interfering in his life.

  Maura winced as she stood. Apparently disgusted and a little embarrassed, she thrust back her hood. She looked magnificent. Her pale creamy skin glowed even after the lightning had faded. The hood had not spared her long curling tresses from the rain. The hair framing her oval face was damp, and dangled like black strings. Maura wiped away the strands of hair sticking to her cheeks.

  Noticing that he had shifted his stance, she held out her hand. “Stay where you are, my lord. No one has kissed my skinned knee since I was …” She glanced down at her hands, her eyelashes fanned over her cheeks like obsidian spikes.

  As he crossed his arms, her abrupt silence prompted a forgotten memory to surface. “Since you were ten,” he said, and her head snapped up in surprise. “I had taunted you into climbing one of the large oaks. You were too mad at me to worry about reaching the lowest hanging branch. However, you panicked when you tried to climb down. You took half the bark off that old tree before your bottom smacked the ground.”

  “Good grief, the tree was fine! I, on the other hand, got nast
y scrapes down the front of both legs and the inside of my left arm while I tried not to break my neck.” A hint of a smile shimmered on her face, but she was too annoyed with him to reveal it. “You were laughing so hard, you were of little help.”

  “You insult me, Maura,” Everod said, edging closer. “I was quite chivalrous for my young age. While you sat beneath the tree sniveling—”

  “I was not sniveling!”

  The girl had been sniveling. Most little girls were champion snivelers. It seemed rude to disagree so he refrained from repeating his observation. “I raced to the stream and moistened my handkerchief. It was I who washed the worst of your scrapes and—”

  “Kissed both my knees.” Her bare arms slipped from the confines of her cloak as she pointed to a spot near her left elbow. “And here.” She gave him a sad, enigmatic smile. “You were my hero that day.”

  It was likely the last day Maura had deemed him heroic. Weeks later, he had succumbed to his curiosity and Georgette’s wiles, and his life had taken its devilish course. Not that Everod was the type to complain about his life. His banishment had not been filled with strife. Worrington would have never permitted his heir to perish from the elements or starvation. Through his solicitor, Everod had received an allowance for his living expenses. There had been only one stipulation. Everod was to stay away from his family.

  It had been a fair deal.

  Besides, Everod had been too angry to desire reconciliation with his beloved family.

  “Why are you here?” Maura demanded, some of her former spirit returning now that her fear and embarrassment had eased.

  Everod suspected that his answer would only frighten her again. Instead, he asked, “Why are you not in bed?”

  Maura gestured awkwardly at the blowing sheets of rain that separated her from the safety of the house. “I was. I awoke to the sound of thunder.”

  “Ah … you fear storms,” he said, feeling indulgent at what he viewed as a feminine weakness. Since he was sharing the shelter of the gazebo with her, he would happily offer her a protective arm and shoulder to rest her cheek upon.

  “Of course, not!” she said scathingly, causing him to blink at her temper. “I love storms. This particular one sounded miles and miles away. The air was so warm and sweet, I thought I might sit and watch the storm as it blew in.” She gave him a chagrined glance. “The storm won the foot race.”

  His affection for thunderstorms was growing. “How providential I was available to keep you company until the storm passed.”

  “And why is that, Everod?” Maura asked, returning him to the question he had neatly avoided in the first round. “Skulking around Worrington’s garden must be low on your list of evening amusements.”

  Maura could be quite sarcastic when she chose to be. Since he had been accused countless times of the same bad habit, he found it rather endearing.

  “What if I told you that I knew of your habit of walking the gardens when sleep escaped you,” he said, approaching her so she was forced to back against one of the railings.

  “Oh.”

  “I suffer from insomnia on occasion,” he confessed, the corner of his mouth quirking when her expressive eyes widened. “Is it so far-fetched that I might seek out a fellow sufferer, and perhaps share the night with her?”

  Maura nibbled her lip as she contemplated his explanation. “Yes!” She shoved at his chest, and moved away from him.

  Everod was content to let her go. After all, the storm raged around them, and her only shelter was the gazebo.

  “You are lying.” She whirled around and pointed an accusing finger at him. “You want to know the details of my conversation with Kilby, Fayre, and Patience.”

  “Already chums, and calling one another by your first names,” he muttered, marveling at how quickly ladies could bond in friendship, particularly when a man was involved. He parted his hands in surrender. “You’re correct. I was lying. I am curious about your outing, and more to the point, what was said.”

  A wind gust caused Maura to shiver. Her cloak was damp, and it was chilling her even though the air was warm. She reached for the clasp, but hesitated, shooting him a disgruntled look.

  “Your cloak is soaked, and you are clearly uncomfortable,” he said reasonably. “With the exception of the occasional flash of lightning, your modesty is safe.”

  “I was not expecting gentlemen callers so late,” Maura said crisply. “I wear only my nightgown underneath my cloak.”

  “Sweet Maura, I swear I have glimpsed countless nightgowns,” he said, deliberately adding a patronizing tone to his voice. “I doubt you will shock me by revealing yours.”

  Everod grinned in the darkness. The air around them heated as her ire with him increased. “Perhaps. However, I will kindly pass on your arrogant invitation for me to show you mine!”

  He crossed the distance between them swiftly. Before she could protest, he unfastened the clasp at her throat. The sodden cloak plopped in a heap.

  “How dare you!” she fumed, raising her hands like claws as if she were planning to throttle him.

  Everod seized her wrists. Lightning flickered violently and the echoing thunder shook their humble shelter. As she struggled to free herself from his grip, he noticed the twinkle of silver on her hand. Intrigued, he dragged her against his unyielding body, so he could study the trinket on her finger.

  “Let me go!”

  “What is this?” he said, hinting that he had made a monumental discovery. He already recognized the piece. The next bout of lightning confirmed his suspicions.

  Maura wore his mother’s ring.

  Mayhap, his fears about what Kilby and the other ladies had said to Maura were unfounded.

  “You are wearing my ring,” he said, bracing his hands on the railing on each side of her, effectively caging her with his body.

  “Your mother’s ring,” Maura countered, attempting to diminish the significance of her decision.

  “Same thing, since I gave you my mother’s treasures.”

  The white nightgown Maura wore to bed was so thin it floated around her calves like dandelion seeds on a spring breeze. His right hand on the railing tightened into a fist. His longing to touch her was ruining his good intentions to handle Maura gently.

  Maura stared at his chest. Earlier, he had removed his coat and waistcoat due to the humid quality in the air. He had also untied his cravat, allowing the ends to hang loosely around his neck.

  “Forgive me for not thanking you properly for returning the necklace and giving me the rest of the matching pieces.” Maura cleared her throat, and seemed to brace herself before raising her lashes to look him directly in the eyes. “I would have, had there been a proper moment.”

  A moment when neither his friends nor family were observing them.

  What they shared was private. Everod was growing tired of everyone standing in his way from what he wanted. He was a man who rarely hesitated in laying claim to what he considered his.

  Maura was too innocent to understand the temptation she represented for him. Too trusting. He was ruthless enough to exploit her weakness for his benefit, and possessed enough recklessness to risk his life for a taste of her unguarded passion.

  “Here’s your chance to show your gratitude,” Everod said, shuffling his feet closer so her soft breasts pressed into his chest. “A quiet moment with no one watching while you thank me properly.”

  Maura peered at him. She did not trust him. “You have my thanks, my lord.”

  “And?” he prompted, content to hold her body against his the rest of the night.

  She shook her head in confusion, searching his shadowed face for some clue. “A kiss?”

  “It’s a start,” he murmured, tipping her chin up so he could claim his prize.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Listening to the rain as it battered the roof of the gazebo, Maura closed her eyes, surrendering to Everod’s kiss. Like the storm that had lured her outdoors, his mouth caressed her with the li
ghtest touch. The sensation spun her around like a whirlwind, making her dizzy and giddy that she was experiencing something unfettered and forbidden to her.

  Maura leaned up on her toes, encouraging him to take more. She was unprepared for his response. Crushing her back into the railing behind her, Everod threaded his fingers into her long hair and devoured her with his mouth. The gentle kiss that she had savored became almost punishing in its intensity. He nipped her lower lip sharply, and pushed his tongue past her teeth, capturing her tongue with his. He was overwhelming her. A low sound of protest vibrated in her throat. He ignored it. Her lips felt bruised as he kneaded the tender flesh under his rough demands. Breathless, she clutched his arms in an attempt to push him away. He seemed encouraged by her actions. Panic rose in her belly when Maura felt the viscount’s hand close over her breast.

  She tore her mouth away from his. “No! No! No!”

  Maura shoved at him until he released her. No longer caring if she was drenched by the rain, Maura ran into the night.

  “Maura!”

  The downpour muffled his shout, spurring her to hasten her pace. Everod caught her only yards away from the gazebo. Belatedly, she realized that she had never stood a chance in escaping him. He always had the advantage.

  Both of them were soaked to the skin. The storm she had come to watch no longer seemed friendly. She flinched at the next clap of thunder.

  “Are you crazy?” Everod roared into her face.

  She pushed her wet hair out of her face, and turned to fight her way back to the house. The late hour guaranteed that no one would see her when she slipped back into the house. If she cleaned up the mess, no one would have to know that she had left her bedchamber at all.

  Everod grabbed her arm, determined to drag her back to the gazebo. “We’re not finished!” he snarled. When she slipped in the mud, he picked her up and carried her.