Seven Nights of Sin: Seven Sensuous Stories by Bestselling Historical Romance Authors

by Victoria Vane

  “Well! Has all of London arrived at our doorstep?” Mama asked.

  “I need to speak with you and Squire Taylor. Alone.”

  “Alone? Why?” Char asked. Joshua turned his powerful gaze upon her. There was a message in his look. What? A slight smile adorned his face for a moment. No, he wasn’t here about his misguided proposal—it was something else.

  “The matter is very serious. Is the squire home?”

  “Not at the moment. In an hour perhaps.” The girls had gathered behind Mama. “I am not questioning your integrity, Mr. Forrester, but why are you and my sisters here? You traveled together?” Char asked.

  “Misses Taylor, will one of you explain this scandalous scheme or would you rather have me? I’m sure I will be very harsh in describing the details.”

  “Should we wait for Papa?” Char asked. Scandalous scheme? She glanced at Kat, who possessed a self-important look—brows raised, chin up—when she thought she was right and the world gravelly mistaken.

  “No! I don’t want Papa to know,” Kat said.

  “Nor me!” chimed Prim.

  “He’ll find out eventually,” Jenny said.

  “What has happened?” Char asked.

  “You are a terrible chaperone, that’s what’s happened.”

  “Kat! Sit down please,” Mama said. “Now, Mr. Forrester, I think I’d better hear more of this tale. Since I want the truth, you should be the one to tell us.”

  Joshua leaned against the mantel and told about his visit to the salon, without a hint of embarrassment, Char noted. And why weren’t men tainted by such participation?

  All of her indignation vanished at his next words.

  “Your daughters were Mr. DuChamps’s nude models. Each taking a turn.”

  Char’s stomach heaved. Mama’s lips pursed, but she said nothing. The girls were ruined. No man would want them. Poor Mama and Papa, landed gentry, always on the periphery of polite society. And now this? They’d suffered enough when Char’s reputation had been impugned after Arthur’s death.

  When Joshua’s story came to an end, Mama heaved a great sigh.

  “Have I missed anything?” Joshua asked, glancing at the girls. They were sufficiently chastened and embarrassed. Jenny was crying; Prim somber. Even Kat held her tongue.

  “Mama,” Char said. What she wanted to do was lock them in their rooms for the next five years. Perhaps Papa could find a good willow switch.

  “Prim. Jenny. Go to your rooms,” Mama said.

  “Yes, Mama,” the duo whispered, and remembered to curtsey to their guest on the way out. “Kat, you will go to your father’s study. I will be along in a moment.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She bobbed quickly and was gone in a swirl of skirts.

  Mama pushed to her feet; Joshua was there with a hand at her elbow.

  “Sir, we are forever in your debt. You will stay for dinner?”

  “May I defer until another evening? I think this night is meant for family, not guests.”

  “Certainly. We look forward to it. If you will excuse me.” Mama strolled from the room as if she hadn’t a care in the world but Char could see the slump of Mama’s shoulders. Disappointment, certainly. Resolve, definitely.

  Char listened for the study door to open and close; instead she heard the back door.

  “You will stay for a moment, Mr. Forrester?” she asked.

  He nodded and took a seat across from her. “Please call me Joshua. After what I’ve seen, I might as well be a member of your family.”

  Char laughed a little. “This is so embarrassing. We are ever grateful you discovered this plot of Kat’s. You’ve no idea the trouble she has caused Mama and Papa. May I ask how you discovered it?” If one person had discovered the truth, could someone else?

  “Do you really want to know?”

  His expression sent small shivers through her body. The kiss they’d shared still made her breathless, thinking of it.

  “Oh, my dear Mr. Forrester. I should have thought… This must be embarrassing for you as well.”

  “I have seen naked women before, Char. I thought I was going to DuChamp’s studio to see you.”

  His gaze bore into hers again and the room seemed unusually warm.

  “What? Me?”

  “When we danced together at the Carlisle’s ball…” He turned his neck and touched a spot behind his ear. Char thought the gesture very intimate. “I saw the mole you have there. It was the same mole the model had when I first went to DuChamp’s salon.”

  “Oh. We all have one. Even Mama. But they’re not in the exact same place.”

  “Enough that a man could be mistaken.”

  “Such a gentleman should be commended for wanting to assist a lady.”

  He nodded.

  “I see. It makes more sense now. You were trying to save me from myself.” She laughed a little. “Well then, I relieve you of your marriage proposal. I haven’t told anyone, so you are not bound by some gentlemanly agreement you think you’ve made with me.” She took a deep breath. It was a relief and a sadness. “You are free, Joshua.”

  “And if I do not want to be freed?”

  “Aside from the obvious dysfunction you’ve already encountered, I do have my own difficult circumstances that make me an unsuitable wife for a man like you. I should have been honest with you. Before the kiss.”

  Char had to stand. She was drowning in his gaze. He also stood but remained in place while she walked to the window and stared at the expanse of garden and walkways behind their house.

  “I doubt there is anything you could tell me that would take away my desire to kiss you.”

  “Oh no!” She braced her hands against the windowsill, nearly pressing her nose to the glass.

  “What is it?” Joshua came beside her and saw what she saw.

  “Look. Mama must be furious. She cut her own willow switch.” Mama marched across the grass, one hand gathering up her skirts, the other carrying the switch.

  “I’m glad I am not Kat at this moment,” he said. Then he laughed.

  “I’m glad I’m not her bottom.” Then they both laughed. “If only it would do some good. Mama has not spared the rod with her.”

  “Maybe she needs a strong husband.”

  “You are right. Do you know anyone?” She glanced his way.

  He quirked his brow and shrugged. “If you are insinuating I volunteer, I will have to decline your generous offer. I’m actually worried your father might think it necessary that I wed Jenny.”

  “Because of—”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.”

  “I would prefer it didn’t come to that,” Joshua said.

  “Papa will understand. It’s not as if you were trying to seduce one of them.”

  “Well, I was. Just not one of the three I caught.”

  At their uncomfortable pause, they heard the sound of Kat crying as the thrashing proceeded. Mama’s arm wasn’t as strong as it used to be, but Char remembered from her past experiences that it hurt nonetheless. Mama had never spoiled her children; Papa, on the other hand, might have espoused leniency and tried to persuade with reason. Either way, Kat wouldn’t listen. Char didn’t know what it would take to tame that girl.

  “I do feel cheated, somehow,” Joshua said.

  “You do? Why?” she asked.

  “I had imagined a few more of those kisses. A form of blackmail, I suppose. To keep me quiet in the coming years.”

  “So you’re a gossip?”

  “Don’t forget blackmailer. But not a gossip like my mother,” he said. “I have told a few tales in my day. Oh, and speaking of gossip, please assure your parents I will collect and destroy the painting.”

  Char didn’t want the conversation to end. The pleasant little frisson between them, the possibility of a kiss…the possibility of so much more.

  “We do owe you thanks. That is perhaps worth a kiss.”

  “Only one? There were three sisters.”

  “Four, co
unting me.”

  One strong hand went to her waist and touched her lightly. He leaned, her eyes closed at the same time acute longing welled in her chest.

  His lips touched hers. Oh, she could expire from the sheer wonder. The warm touch, the slight damp when his tongue touched her lips, and the ache when they opened their mouths together.

  It was the sort of kiss that should never end.

  It was the sort of kiss that inspired poetry, healed the sick and raised something other than the dead. When she felt his erection between them, she had to back away.

  Mama didn’t need to see Char kissing a man in her sitting room, not after the day the Taylors had. Even if he was a Forrester.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE DUCHESS OF STERLING, Eloisa—née Larkin—swept into her sitting room, radiant as a blossom. Joshua had expected no less from a woman who could keep Adam’s attention. According to his mother, Eloisa had been Adam’s mistress for four years before he’d married her, just a few months ago.

  How had Joshua not known? Of course, Adam had always been closer to Roman, the second son and third heir to Sterling, after Adam’s sons, so it was possible Adam had confided in someone, just not Joshua. Still, Mother knew, and that might have been the most insulting of all. However, his mother was nothing if not astute.

  Eloisa held out both hands. He gripped them and kissed her cheek.

  “We didn’t know you were coming to Long Leaf. I would have prepared.”

  “Please do not fuss on my account. I am only here for a few days.”

  “Adam is out riding with George and Samuel. He will be so happy you are home.” Would he recognize his nephews? When he last left, the boys were just the age to begin sprouting.

  “I had business with Squire Taylor but plan to return to London.”

  There was a small quirk of her brows, but she did not pry into his business. Or the Taylors’. “Well, you must have tea with me, otherwise I won’t get a moment of your time.”

  She yanked at the velvet pull rope. He doubted they’d have to wait more than a moment before the servants arrived, knowing that a son of Sterling had returned. He waved his hand, waiting for her to take a seat. He took the chair opposite.

  “How is Lady Carvelle?” he asked.

  “She misses me, but not so much she would wish I wasn’t married. She’ll be visiting next week.”

  “Missing part of the Season? I am shocked.”

  “These days my aunt would rather sit with her friends, gossip, take tea and discuss roses. Long Leaf is the perfect place for that. Your mother is coming along with her.”

  “Then I shall endeavor to hurry back to London and miss them. I’m not much for roses.” He would want to read. They would want to talk.

  Eloisa laughed. “Ah! And here’s the tea.”

  Joshua had met Eloisa before, but it had been many months—it might have been as long ago as her come out. Even then they had talked very little. One thing struck him: Adam was a lucky man. And, well, he was happy for his brother.

  Joshua wanted that kind of happiness for himself. And selfishly, he wanted to share that happiness with Char Dunlevee.

  After tea, Eloisa sent him off to his room to rest. Instead he headed to the family library, but it did not hold his interest as it should have. He brushed a finger along the book spines, stopping now and then to tilt out an intriguing title or to examine certain fine leather bindings. The smell reminded him of his father. This room wasn’t quite Adam’s yet; his father lingered in the polished wood, in the hint of smoke, in the ash of the fire place. The library had been built over time, each generation adding its distinctive character and interests.

  Riding with Adam would have been an adventure, to travel the old paths and see the places of their boyhood. They must do it before he left. Before he left for Greenland or points unknown.

  If he left.

  The pull of home seemed like a weight on his heart and soul.

  For a boy, there was no better place to grow up. Long Leaf had many lakes, rivers and rock cliffs. And there were plenty of outbuildings too, which became ships, castles and prisons.

  Yearning overwhelmed him—for his past and his future. For something he should have but could not obtain on his own.

  He walked to the double doors and pushed outward, opening onto a wide veranda. In the distance, he could see the chimney smoke from the Taylors’ Georgian manor. There, walking in the green hayfield, was Char Dunlevee—it could only be her. Her sisters were likely confined to their rooms for the rest of their lives. Less than a mile separated the two homes, and nearly at the middle point was one of the Forresters’ large barns.

  It had started a petty feud when the barn had been built, until Joshua’s grandfather had offered stud rights to one of the Forrester stallions. To this day the Taylors had excellent horse stock.

  Char appeared tiny against the horizon. She seemed to be walking toward the outbuilding, dragging a shawl or light scarf behind her. The sunlight made her glow and the field shimmered with green and silver as the wind blew over the grass. He could almost feel the blades brushing against his legs and see the bugs hopping from stem to petal to leaf.

  Drawn toward her, he stepped off the veranda and hurried along the path. With each step, lightness lifted his heart. It had only been a few hours ago since he’d left her in the sitting room.

  She’d worn an enigmatic smile, as if they shared the most important secret. And they did to a certain extent. After their kisses, she’d shared her heartache about Arthur and the burden she’d carried. Joshua said nothing, only let her talk. Any woman who would raise her husband’s bastards had something special in her heart. Maybe a place for Joshua too.

  He was nowhere near the barn when she disappeared inside. As he drew near, the earthy scent of fecund animals and old hay made for a strange, homey bouquet—that is, if one grew upon in the country. He supposed it was downright ripe for a city dweller.

  The barn was silent except for the creaking of boards and the rush of a gentle breeze.

  Where was she? He glanced about. The timber framing soared overhead. The stalls were empty—the new calves wouldn’t arrive until later in the spring. The first of this year’s hay harvest would be cut in a few months.

  He shoved his hands in his pocket and turned, confused because Char wasn’t in the building. There was nowhere else she would go. A sprig of hay floated down from the mow and landed on his sleeve. He brushed at it, intending to exit the building and locate Lady Dunlevee. More sprigs came floating down around him.

  Glancing up, he saw her head disappear and then a light giggle.

  “Lady Dunlevee, I know it’s you.”

  “You’re no fun,” she said, peeking over the edge. A vision, strong and striking, took him back to his youth. Except there was more than one face peering back at him. “You little twits,” his voice had scolded.

  Char held a golden straw between her fingers, twirling it. “This is my hiding place.”

  “It’s my father’s land.”

  “Should we start another feud?”

  “It was no feud. Your grandfather was a charlatan.”

  “I’d advise care, sir. You are talking to a suspected murderess.”

  “You have an odd sense of humor.”

  “I have to laugh about it. There is nothing else for me to do. Why don’t you come on up. I could kill you with pleasure.”

  His brows winged. “Hmm. That does give new meaning to ‘you’ll be the death of me’. I’ll be right up.”

  Joshua glanced about and saw the ladder, wooden slats nailed into the side of the barn and leading up to the loft. He made haste, wondering as he did so how Char managed with all her skirts.

  She rolled to watch him as he heaved himself through the half-round cutout in the floorboards. When he shoved to his feet, he dusted his palms against his trousers.

  “Neither of us is really dressed for this,” he said.

  “Hessians look good in any setting.”<
br />
  “I’ll keep that in mind. How did you manage with that heap of material?” He pointed his chin at her frothy skirts.

  “Well, I was alone, so I could cheat.” She demonstrated, showing a bit of leg as she drew the skirt between her legs.

  “Shocking.”

  “And how did you manage climbing up, what with your recent injury?”

  “Well, I have my own bit of shocking news. Men forget such things as wounds when they are invited to spend time with a woman in a hayloft.”

  The hay was loose and there was no convenient place to sit, so he dropped beside her. She laid back, the straw she’d held now between her lips. Her hair spread about her, not in the usual upsweep she wore. And now the strands were full of straw and hay bits.

  “You’ll never get all that from your hair. What will they think when you get back to the house?”

  “Oh, it is simple enough. What I miss, my lady’s maid finds. Are you worried someone will notice?

  “I take it you come here often?”

  “Only when I’m home and want to be alone. There’s something very wonderful about revisiting the happy past. And what are you doing here?”

  “Adam and his sons are out riding. And suffering as I was with worry about the Taylor girls, I decided to get away from the house. Clear my head.”

  “Kat isn’t going to be able to sit for a week.” Char laughed. “You should have seen Mama! All red in the face. Shaking her head and talking to herself. Papa will get an earful when he gets home. I didn’t really want to be part of it. And I feel a bit guilty since I was supposed to be their chaperone. I should have known one of them would be up to no good. Ah, correction. I should have known Kat would misbehave.”

  Char glanced up at him. Her wide-eyed gaze was full of happiness in spite of the day. And her marriage. And the lies of her husband’s mistress.

  From his vantage point, looking down, starting at the top of her head and glancing over her forehead, along her shapely nose and then skimming over her chin—the next sight was a very lush valley between her breasts, a most enjoyable view.

  He leaned forward, kissing her on the lips but in an odd position. Almost an upside down kiss, but a little to the left. It was quick, not a continuation of what they had done earlier.