Weddings From Hell

by Maggie Shayne

  He flushed. “A lady doesn’t use such language.”

  “You’ve already established that I’m no lady, Rupert, at least not in your eyes. I made a youthful mistake and you would punish me for it, despite the fact that I know that you went to that brothel, Maison Rouge, last time you were in London.”

  His mouth fell open. “How did you…?”

  “I overheard your friends Halpert and Gibbs talking about it that night we went to the theater. I forgave you because I thought you deserved one last indiscretion before settling down. Tell me, how does knocking boots with a whore make you better than me?”

  His mouth worked, but no sound came out. He looked around the room, like a drowning man desperately seeking purchase.

  “It doesn’t,” she answered when he remained silent. Any guilt she felt was gone now. She hadn’t expected his forgiveness, nor his understanding, but by God, she would not tolerate this kind of treatment—not from a man who claimed to love her when he asked for her hand in marriage.

  If he had loved her, he would have seduced her rather than going to a brothel. If he had loved her, he never would have gone to a prostitute at all.

  Payen would never have done such a thing. He had his faults, but lack of loyalty was not one of them. After all, he had just destroyed her engagement out of some archaic need to protect her. As angry as she might be with him, as hurt and disappointed, she was also a little grateful.

  “I think you should leave now, Rupert.” Shoulders back, she stood straight and still, not caring if she was as tall as he, not giving one fig about how she looked or how large she was. Even if this was the only chance she ever had at marriage, she would not beg this man to have her.

  She might not be perfect, and she had too many faults to list—but she deserved to be respected by her husband. She deserved love, loyalty, and compassion. It was no less than she would give.

  He looked as though he was about to speak, and she had heard enough. “I’ll tell our guests that the wedding has been canceled and I’ll see that all the gifts are returned, you needn’t worry. And the wedding breakfast will be given to the less fortunate in the village.”

  “You’ve got it all sorted out already.” His tone was a mixture of disbelief, hurt, and contempt.

  “I suppose I’ve been giving it some thought these last few days.” Let him stew on that.

  He didn’t disappoint her—the astonishment on his face gave her at least a bit of satisfaction underneath the guilt that threatened to crush her once more. Ending their engagement was for the best—for both of them.

  “I had no business accepting your proposal in the first place,” she told him. “And for that I am truly sorry, but for anything else I might have done—for whatever transpired between myself and Payen—I refuse to apologize, to you or anyone else. You know the way out.”

  And then she pivoted sharply on her heel and swept from the room with all the dignity she could muster. It wasn’t much, but indignation and a certain amount of relief spurred her on.

  Now she was going to find Payen and have a little chat, because if that vampire thought he could breeze back into her life, muck it up, and then walk away again he was in for a big surprise.

  She wasn’t about to let him walk away. Not this time.

  Chapter 3

  Henry and Eliza were hard on him, but no more than he expected. Regardless of his friendship with them both, he had just ruined their ward’s wedding and possibly her reputation. It was badly done of him, and he’d do it all over again if he had to.

  All he had to do was focus on the here and now and not spend too much dwelling on how Violet’s declaration had terrified and thrilled him five years before. And how it had lit a fire under his heels. He had seduced her and left her.

  Damn it, she had seduced him.

  The earl and his countess at least understood his motivation. They knew about Stephen Rexley—a man who had been Payen’s best friend before his death. They knew of the vile nature of the Order of the Silver Palm and understood that Payen would not want to see Violet drawn into such an affiliation. What they didn’t understand is how someone as “good” as Rupert Villiers could be part of such an organization.

  Personally, Payen didn’t care, but he offered a suggestion to ease their minds—he wasn’t totally cold-hearted. “The family connection would bring him in without him having to prove himself,” he told them. “But now that he’s in, he’ll have to undergo tests and trials similar to an initiate. They’ll want to know what he’s capable of, and whether or not he’s worthy of being a true Disciple.”

  “Then there’s hope for him.” Eliza didn’t bother to disguise her own hopefulness. “He may not be the villain you believe him to be.”

  Payen slid her a sharp glance. “Are you willing to wager Violet’s life on whether he will remain innocent?”

  She frowned, looked to her husband. “But…”

  Payen didn’t relent. “For him to have been given a ring based on name alone, his family has to be in very deep, Eliza. They wouldn’t let Villiers in unless they were certain he would bow to their traditions and do exactly as they want.”

  “It’s been centuries, Payen,” Henry tried to reason with him. “Surely the Order that exists today is different from the one you fought.”

  He had to force himself to remain calm, to remember where their doubt stemmed from. They were not intentionally trying to fight him, they simply wanted to make this all go away.

  “If I walked into one of their meetings right now and announced what I was—Templar or vampire, I would be lucky to walk out alive. And anyone associated with me would be in danger.”

  Something sparked in Henry’s eyes. “You suspect Villiers’ interest in Violet is because of you?”

  “My God,” Eliza breathed, pressing her palm to the breast of her green silk gown. “This can’t be happening.”

  Payen shrugged. Actually he hadn’t thought of that, but now that the idea was in his head…“It’s possible. Has he ever asked about me?”

  “No,” Henry replied. “Until tonight I don’t imagine he’s ever heard us mention you.” His expression turned uncomfortable, even apologetic. “Violet was so upset after you left the last time that we got into the habit of not discussing you in front of her.”

  Eliza’s gaze was cooler than her husband’s. No doubt she guessed that Violet hadn’t declared her love without provocation. “I suppose we know why she was so upset now, don’t we? How could you, Payen?”

  “Yes,” came a voice from behind him. “How could you?”

  He had heard the door open, of course. Heard her soft footfalls and short, angry breaths. Let her make her entrance, let her think she caught him unaware.

  He turned, brow arched, face perfectly composed. Still, the sight of her with her cheeks flushed, her eyes glittering, took his breath away. She looked as though she could gladly run him through—and if he had a sword he’d be tempted to give it to her just to see her try.

  Women with weapons had always been a weakness of his.

  Their gazes met and locked, and it seemed to Payen as though sparks literally danced between them. He grinned. “What took you so long?”

  She didn’t return the smile. In fact, her thickly lashed eyes narrowed as she glared at him. “I had a wedding to cancel.” It was meant to wipe the smile from his face, but it didn’t—not totally.

  Eliza said something in sympathy, but Payen wasn’t listening. He kept his attention focused on the Amazon before him, noting the softness of her cheek, the lush curves of her breasts straining against the neckline of her gown. To him, Violet was like a ripe, succulent peach just begging to be plucked, bitten, and sucked.

  Knowing that he had kept Villiers from being the man to do just that didn’t bother him one damn bit. Knowing that he might have broken Violet’s heart…well, that was another matter.

  “I think Violet wants to speak to me alone,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of his friends. His gaz
e never left the woman whose touch haunted his dreams.

  “I’m not leaving her alone with you.” Eliza’s voice rang with conviction. “Not after what you did.”

  To Payen’s surprise, it was the lady herself who interjected. She swung that hazel gaze to her adopted mother and said, rather calmly, “It’s all right, Eliza. I would like to talk to Payen alone.”

  Ignoring Henry and Eliza, Payen carefully studied Violet as her attention slowly drifted back to him. There was a confidence to her that hadn’t been there before—not in her physical appearance, but in her inner self. She was not a timid little thing like her namesake. Pride warmed the inside of him. Had there ever been such a woman as Violet? As a girl she had captivated and seduced him. As a memory she had haunted his every turn. And now, as a woman, she had him ready to drop to his knees in fealty before her.

  When the door clicked shut behind her guardians, she raised her chin, her gaze locking with his once more. “I should despise you for what you’ve done.”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “You deliberately betrayed a private moment—a private declaration—between you and me just to get your own way.”

  A moment he would never forget. “Yes.”

  “You’ve ruined my wedding.”

  Did he really need to answer any more of these rhetorical questions? He straightened his shoulders. “Don’t expect me to apologize, because I’m not sorry.”

  Her face softened. “Thank you.”

  Payen blinked. Shook his head. “Excuse me?”

  Violet came toward him, fists clenched loosely at her sides. “Thank you for doing what I didn’t have the courage to do myself.” She smiled ever so slightly—sweetly. “You always were my knight in shining armor.”

  And then the damnedest thing happened. Instead of demanding to know what she meant—why she hadn’t wanted to marry Villiers (had the bastard been forcing her into marriage?)—Payen took a step forward, pushed by an invisible hand. Violet moved as well and then she was in his embrace, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers in his hair as his mouth fastened over hers.

  Christ, she tasted sweet. Her lips were so pliant, so lush beneath his as they opened for him without coaxing. Her tongue met his with a passion that shook him. No woman had ever responded to him like Violet—no woman had ever elicited such a response out of him. He was hard already, ready to take her right there, standing in the middle of his friend’s study. He could do it too, support her full weight as she wrapped those strong legs around his waist, hold her as she slid down the length of his cock.

  He groaned into the moist heat of her mouth, and wrapped his arms around her more tightly. She didn’t struggle, didn’t whimper in discomfort. In fact, she pulled at his hair, clutched at his shoulder, digging her fingers into the fabric of his coat until he felt the five points of pressure on his skin. So strong, his Violet.

  He lifted his head just enough to nibble on her full lower lip. His fangs had partially extended, eager for a little nibble of their own. He ignored that hunger for now. At this moment, in Violet’s intoxicating presence, he was more man than vampire.

  “I missed you,” he heard himself confess, breathless and hoarse against her lips. “Vi, I missed you so damn much.”

  She pulled back, smiling at him. For a second he thought she might echo the sentiment, but she didn’t. Then he thought maybe she was going to shove her knee into his crotch, but she didn’t do that either.

  She might as well have, so surprising were her words, “You didn’t come here because of Rupert and the Silver Palm.”

  “No?” He questioned dumbly, still thinking with an organ much lower than his brain.

  Her smile grew. “That was just the excuse you needed to stop my marriage. Ask yourself, Payen, why you needed to do that. Then, maybe I’ll forgive you for making me wait five years.”

  “Violet—”

  She cut him off, shoved him away, and he let her. “Lie to yourself if you want to, but after all this time, don’t you dare lie to me. You owe me that at the very least.”

  And then she left him standing there, hard and horny, feeling every inch the idiot.

  Because she was right.

  Payen Carr was in love with her, Violet was certain of this.

  What wasn’t so certain was if Payen himself knew it. Oh, he had reacted to her in all the right ways, but she had no doubt that in his mind, he had truly destroyed her wedding out of hatred for the Silver Palm.

  “Bollocks,” she said aloud, punctuating the silence as she set a prettily wrapped present in a pile of others to be returned.

  Her friend, Sarah looked up in surprise. “What was that?”

  They had been working all morning, affixing tags to gifts so that the footmen would know where to deliver them, and sorting them according to location. The London ones, and those farther abroad, would have to be delivered by post, of course.

  “I said bollocks.” Violet flashed a tight smile.

  Sarah blinked, wide blue eyes bewildered. “Any particular reason why?”

  “Because men are rubbish.” She jotted down an address on a tag. “Do you know that Rupert actually got into a huff over Payen? It’s fine for him to go to a brothel, but one indiscretion and I’m a slut.”

  Blond curls tilted as Sarah pondered the statement. “Bollocks,” she chirped, drawing a chuckle from the both of them.

  “Do you regret it?” Her friend asked after their laughter faded.

  “Regret what? Kicking Rupert out?” Violet attached another tag. “No, I do not.” She didn’t either. She wasn’t going to admit to having wanted a way out of the wedding, because that was too cold, and even as good a friend as Sarah might not understand, but she had no ill feelings about showing Rupert to the door after what he had said to her last night.

  “No.” Sarah leaned down, as though there was a chance of someone overhearing. “Do you regret being…intimate with Mr. Carr?” Of course she knew. Violet had cried on her shoulder after Payen left.

  Violet stilled, considering the response that had leapt readily to her tongue. “Not at all.” It felt good to admit it to someone other than herself. “I’ve tried to make myself think of it as a mistake, but now I think it was the only right thing I ever did. The only thing that was ever truly for myself, with no consideration given to anyone else.”

  Her friend sighed, resting her elbow on a large floral-wrapped gift as she tucked her chin into her hand. “Mr. Carr is so very lovely.” She arched a fair brow. “Does he look as lovely naked?”

  “Lovelier,” Violet quipped and they laughed once more.

  A few moments passed once more in comfortable silence as the two of them worked. Somewhere in the house a clock chimed out the hour.

  “Ten o’clock.” Violet lifted her head as the last note faded. “We would be at the church right now.” Despite her certainty that it was good that her engagement had ended before this hour, she couldn’t help feel a little twinge of sorrow for the loss of her wedding day.

  And all these presents.

  Sarah sniffed as she peered outside at the gray and misty morning. “Bah. It’s not a very cheery day for a wedding. Although, it would have been much more romantic if Mr. Carr had barged in during the ceremony rather than the party last night.”

  It would have been much more illuminating as well, what with Payen bursting into flames in the daylight.

  “I suppose, but then Payen would have humiliated me in front of Vicar Carlson and all those guests.”

  Sarah shot her a concerned gaze. “At least he waited until it was just the five of you to make such an announcement.”

  “Yes,” she murmured, but she had no illusion as to what would have happened should the situation not have followed that particular direction. “Payen would have announced it in front of everyone if it meant keeping Rupert and myself from marrying.”

  Damn the man, she didn’t know whether she wanted to kiss him or kill him.

  A sigh drifted acros
s the room. “He must love you very much.”

  Violet nodded. “I think so, but he’d deny it if I asked.”

  “Why?”

  “He claims he stopped the marriage because of something he learned about Rupert.”

  Sarah’s nose wrinkled. “I can’t imagine Rupert ever doing anything as exciting as getting himself involved in scandal—until now, of course.”

  “Of course.” Violet’s lips curved. “I’m not at liberty to discuss the details—after all, I don’t know that Payen’s information is true, and it’s Rupert’s concern, not mine. Not anymore.”

  “But still, Mr. Carr must care about you if he went to such lengths.”

  “I would hope so.”

  “Are you going to marry him?”

  “He hasn’t asked.”

  “But if he did?”

  Smiling, Violet set yet another package aside. “If he asked, I would say yes.”

  An exuberant bark of laughter broke from Sarah’s throat, brightening her eyes and cheeks as she clapped her hands in delight. “How wonderful! Do you think he will?”

  Her smile faded. Violet tried very hard not to lie to herself and she wasn’t about to start now. “No.”

  All the joy drained from Sarah’s face. “Oh, Violet.”

  “Never fear, dear. I’m not too proud to ask him.” That brought the light back to her friend’s eyes. She didn’t like seeing pity in Sarah’s expression—not for her. Not when she had been raised by two wonderful sets of parents, had a fortune of her own and friends who loved her. Sarah didn’t have nearly as many creature comforts as she, and yet she never complained. She never compared their circumstances. She had simply shown up on the doorstep one day when Violet first came to Hertford, and asked if Violet would be her friend. Violet had taken one look at the skinny little girl who was a head shorter than her and at least two stone lighter and thought that yes, she would.

  “You would, wouldn’t you?” As always, Sarah never seemed to know if Violet was jesting or not. “You’d ask him?”