Margaret Moore

by His Forbidden Kiss

  “What of it? It is yours that will be sullied more than mine, and I assure you, I can overlook that with suitable remuneration.”

  “He has a point, Vivienne.”

  She ignored her uncle. “You would sell your wife to the king?”

  “If the price was appropriate, of course, just as you must have leapt into his arms expecting some compensation. You know full well he is already married, so what can you hope for but the material rewards of being a royal mistress?” Philip’s lips jerked into another smirking smile. “Or will you claim to be in love with him?”

  Merciful God, had she endured the king’s horrible embrace for nothing?

  It was all Vivienne could do to shout that she most certainly did not love Charles. She loved Rob—but because she loved him, she held her tongue.

  “I should think you would be glad I still want you.”

  “You don’t want me. You want money or a title, or anything else legally possessing my body will get you!”

  Desperate to have some good come from the king’s unwanted lustful act, even more anxious to be rid of Philip once and for all so she would be free to marry Rob, she regarded her uncle with fierce determination. “While this man may have a financial reason to want to marry me, I do not necessarily need him to get a title if I become the king’s amore,” she pointed out. “Charles will give me one if I ask, will he not?”

  “That’s true,” her uncle said, his eyes widening with that realization.

  Philip grabbed her arm. “Without a husband, you’ll be nothing more than a whore.”

  She yanked her arm away. “And if I agreed to this disgusting proposition, what would you be but my pander?” She faced Uncle Elias. “Why should we tie our family to this impoverished noble if we don’t have to?”

  “You do have a point,” he mused aloud, regarding Philip as he might an overpriced commodity. “And he does not have nearly the influence he led me to believe.”

  “Think again, Burroughs,” Philip growled, reminding Vivienne of his earlier implied threat. “We have an agreement.”

  “Do we?” Uncle Elias retorted. “I know I have not signed anything, nor has my niece. Have you, Vivienne?”

  Was that it? Was the promise of marriage all he had to claim? “No, Uncle.”

  “You old buzzard!” Philip snarled, his face feral in the dim confines of the coach as he turned to glare at Vivienne. “What kind of greedy harlot are you, to play such games with me? I’m a nobleman willing to tie myself to you and this fat tradesman when you are nothing.” He shoved his face close to Uncle Elias’s. “I will marry your niece and get that dowry, by God, or I shall take you to court for breach of promise.”

  “What?” Uncle Elias cried, while Vivienne could only stare incredulously—and wish Rob were here.

  “You heard me. I shall sue you for breach of promise, per verbe de futuro.” Philip’s smile grew with smug satisfaction. “You think only lawyers know Latin and the law?”

  Now more than ever Vivienne wished Rob were here, to give them the benefit of his legal expertise.

  “That is ridiculous,” Uncle Elias retorted, his jowls quivering with angry indignation. “I have never heard of a man bringing such an action. You’ll be laughed out of the courts.”

  “I think not. Have I not been led to believe the marriage would take place? I most certainly have, and I have the draft of the marriage settlement to prove it.”

  Her uncle flushed and looked away.

  His silence further unnerved her. Could Philip indeed take them to court if she didn’t marry him? Lawsuits could be costly. What would her uncle consider the least expensive: fighting Sir Philip, or giving in to his demands? He might try to force her to marry the odious man after all.

  If only Rob were here!

  Philip looked at her with his cold, cruel eyes. “So prepare yourself, my dear. You are either going to marry me or your rich uncle can damn well compensate me. I should at least get the full amount of the proffered dowry, if not more.”

  Desperate, Vivienne grasped at one thing that might dissuade the man. “I am no longer a virgin.”

  Both of them stared at her, but she didn’t care what they thought of her. She must and would rid herself—and her uncle—of Philip.

  Philip stuck out his chin. “So what if Charles has had you? We can both enjoy your considerable charms—as long as I receive sufficient remuneration. Then I shall be able to buy all the virgins I want.”

  “You are disgusting!” Vivienne hissed.

  “And what are you except a slut?” he demanded. “You gave yourself to a man not your husband.”

  “Does it not trouble you in the least that you will be famous as a cuckold?” her uncle said, finally speaking.

  “You really are an ignorant upstart, Burroughs,” he sneered. “Chances are I would be cuckolded sooner or later anyway. It is the way of the world. At least if I marry a mistress of the king, I get something out of it. I should think you, being a tradesman, would understand the nature of trading.”

  “I do indeed,” he retorted. “So I appreciate when someone tries to trick me into overpaying.”

  He rapped on the roof of the coach and it rocked to a halt, nearly sending Vivienne tumbling onto the floor. “Get out, Sir Philip,” her uncle commanded, opening the door. “As my niece has pointed out, she has a royal protector now, so there will be no wedding between you and this fat tradesman’s niece.”

  “How dare you—”

  “I dare because I am her guardian, and I decide who she will wed,” Uncle Elias snapped as the coachman put down the step.

  “You’ll regret this, the pair of you!” Sir Philip declared as he disembarked, stepping down into the stinking gutter. He cursed as he looked at the sole of his soiled boot.

  “Close the door,” Uncle Elias commanded the gaping driver, who hurriedly obeyed. In another moment, the coach was again making its way down the street.

  “I fear we have made an enemy, Uncle,” Vivienne said quietly after a long moment.

  “Perhaps, but the king is much more important.”

  That observation brought Vivienne no comfort.

  She chewed her bottom lip. Despite the results so far—dissuading Lord Cheddersby and ridding her of Philip—the king’s scheme seemed to be more and more wrong-headed with each passing moment.

  What might her uncle do when he discovered that the king had no real interest in her and was only pretending in an effort to help her?

  At least, she hoped the king had been pretending—that the lust she saw in his eyes was merely habit and nothing more than a part he was playing to get back at her uncle.

  What if it wasn’t? What if his motives were not entirely unselfish? He had certainly kissed and fondled her with more enthusiasm than the situation warranted.

  And underneath all these ruminations ran another thread, of more importance than anything else: Where was Rob, and would he come to see her tonight? She desperately needed to see him, and talk to him, to discuss the possible repercussions of tonight’s events—and to be held in his arms, where she felt safe and secure in his love.

  “I wonder when Charles will invite you to live at the palace,” Uncle Elias reflected. “If he does, you should ask for your own house instead. On the river, of course, so he can come and go as he pleases. I can think of two or three available. And be sure to ask for jewelry whenever you can, Vivienne. Smaller pieces are generally easier to sell later. Diamonds are best. And make sure he supplies plenty of servants and clothing. Oh, and a coach-and-four, as well.”

  As the coach continued on, Vivienne paid no heed to her uncle’s mercenary observations and thought only of Rob.

  Rob shivered as he waited on the cold slate tiles of the stable roof outside Vivienne’s window. A chill drizzle dampened him, making his shirt cling to his back.

  As a coach rattled into the mews, he moved closer to the wall, both for shelter and to be more in the shadows. Listening carefully, he heard voices. Vivienne and
her uncle had finally returned, thank God.

  After what had happened tonight, he was so anxious to see her alone that he could not even bear to wait until the morning.

  He had had no idea that the king intended to make it look as if he had been with Vivienne, not him. Neither had she, he was sure. When he had returned with her uncle and the others, she had looked as upset, angry and distressed as he felt.

  Since leaving Lord Cheddersby’s, however, he had decided that he and Vivienne were surely wrong to be so upset, that what had happened had been the king’s only means to help them. It was quite obvious from the look on Lord Cheddersby’s face as he passed Rob that he was no longer interested in Vivienne, and surely Sir Philip would not be, either.

  Unfortunately, the price for that freedom was going to be Vivienne’s reputation.

  He should have acted with more restraint, not made love with her. Then they would not have been at the mercy of the king and his impromptu plan.

  A light was kindled inside Vivienne’s bedchamber. Peering inside, he waited until the slow-moving, elderly maidservant finally left the room. Then he tapped on the window. Vivienne ran to the window and unlatched it.

  “Oh, Rob,” she cried, throwing her arms about him after he climbed inside.

  He held her gently. “Vivienne, if I had known what he was going to do—”

  “If I had,” she interjected.

  “I wish I had behaved better. Then we would not have found ourselves desperate for any aid, and so at the mercy of whatever Charles proposed. I should have guessed he would do something like that.”

  “You may be a very good lawyer, Rob, but you’re not a seer. I didn’t know what he was going to do until he did it.”

  “This has gotten much more complicated than I ever thought it could,” Rob replied. “We have been too hasty.”

  “Blame my impetuous nature, then. It was I who kissed you first.”

  “It was I who made love to you.”

  “With me, Rob, and I do not regret that.”

  “Truly, Vivienne?”

  “Truly,” she replied, meaning it.

  He sighed and stroked her hair. “What happened after he ordered me to go?”

  She raised her eyes. “My uncle and I are probably going to Whitehall.”

  “What for?”

  “I don’t know.”

  One reason came to Rob’s mind, but she looked so worried, he sought to reassure her. “I daresay it’s part of the ruse, to make them believe his feelings for you are genuine.”

  Vivienne pulled away and went to the window, looking out over the stable roof, away from him. “I fear they may be.”

  Rob had tried not to think that, but he could not disagree. He could, however, hate the man. “I dreaded that, too, but I hoped I was wrong.”

  “After you left, he implied that if I didn’t come to Whitehall, he would tell Uncle Elias what he saw.”

  “Oh, God, Vivienne!” he cried softly, going to her.

  She tried to smile, and her effort touched his heart.

  “What have I done?” he said remorsefully. “I have ruined your reputation, and now—”

  “I don’t care about that.”

  “Are you sure about your feelings, Vivienne?” he asked, voicing the question that had been haunting him ever since he had left her with the king. “You have already lost much, and I think only of your honor.”

  “Although I regret losing Lord Cheddersby’s good opinion, I am grateful for the outcome,” she assured him. She backed away a bit. “You’re wet. You will catch a chill.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not raining hard. I have been wetter than this many times, and I am rarely ill, or I would have died long ago, given the less than tender care I received.”

  He saw the sympathy in her eyes and looked away, toward the fine furnishings that cost more than he had ever made in his life. “I wonder if you really understand what you give up for me,” he mused aloud.

  “And I wonder if you can understand what I would suffer without you—a loveless marriage to a greedy, grasping man who thinks of me only as an item he has purchased. You will save me from a terrible fate, Robert, if you marry me.”

  “Gossip doesn’t trouble you at all?”

  She shook her head. “Not if the reward for my endurance of it is you.” Then her expression clouded.

  “What is it?” he asked, the look on her face filling him with new dread.

  “Lord Cheddersby is out of this, and out of danger from Philip, too,” she replied.

  “That is good, is it not?”

  “Yes, but I fear we have not seen the last of Philip.”

  Chapter 18

  “What do you mean?” Rob asked, puzzled.

  “He says that if I do not marry him, he will sue my uncle for breach of promise.”

  Rob’s mind worked as fast as it ever had.

  Sir Philip had a case, possibly a good one. Mr. Burroughs had agreed to preliminary terms; Rob had the notes to prove it. He also had the tentative draft of the marriage settlement, finished and sitting in the drawer of his desk.

  To be sure, the contract itself was unsigned, but there was enough to establish a case for Sir Philip, and women had won judgments with less evidence.

  “You think he could do it?” she asked anxiously. “You think he has a case?”

  “Unfortunately, he may. Your uncle did make verbal assurance in my hearing that the wedding would take place.”

  “Nothing was signed, was it?” Vivienne asked, worried that things had happened of which she was ignorant.

  “No, not yet—but I have the preliminary documentation of the wedding agreement, proof of both parties’ belief that the marriage was forthcoming.”

  “This is bad, isn’t it, Rob?”

  “Yes.” He raked his hand through his damp hair. “I confess this never occurred to me. I fear Sir Philip is a smarter man than I took him for—and it is always a mistake to underestimate your adversary.”

  “But surely he won’t win.”

  “He might, if he has a good lawyer.”

  “Not you?”

  Rob had to smile. “No, my love, most certainly not I.”

  “You could—No, you must not.”

  “What?”

  “I was going to suggest you represent my uncle and me.”

  “I could not, for I would have to testify on Sir Philip’s behalf as to the documentation and your uncle’s remarks.” He sighed heavily. “Which will not endear me to your uncle.”

  “No—but he has only himself to blame should this lawsuit come to pass. He will be paying for his haste to accept Philip at his word, and for his refusal to listen to my protests when this marriage was first proposed.” A hopeful look blossomed on her face. “Perhaps when Philip realizes my uncle will be like a fighting dog with his opponent’s ear in his teeth, he will think better of his plan.”

  “I hope so,” Rob said with a sigh. “Your reputation has already been forfeit, and I fear that will not be the end of it, especially if Sir Philip does what he threatens. There will be more scandal.”

  “I truly don’t care about that. You have already endured more prejudice and innuendo than I ever will, and for no good reason, so I think I can endure some whispers.”

  “When we marry, there will be more whispers and rumors.”

  “Yes, I suppose so. Therefore, while I would quite happily wed you tomorrow, I believe we must be patient and wait for a few months, even if Philip does reconsider suing my uncle.”

  She sounded so confident, and yet he had thought of something else that obviously she had not. “Vivienne, it could be that we may not be able to wait.”

  “I am as anxious as you, my love, but—”

  “But what if we have made a child?”

  Her glorious smile reached into his heart and lightened it anew. “If it is so, we shall have to reconsider our plans. But let us look at the good side. If I am with child, my uncle will surely want to marry me off as qui
ckly as possible. There is no way on earth Philip will have me if I bear another man’s child, unless it is the king’s, so there are worse fates that could befall me than bearing your baby. Indeed,” she concluded in a loving whisper, “I would welcome that more than I can say.”

  He laughed quietly, but joyously. Wondrously. In a way he had never really laughed in his life as he gathered her into his arms. “Gad, Vivienne, whatever comes, I will face it, and gladly, if you are by my side!”

  “And once we are man and wife, I will never leave you, Rob. Not as long as I live.”

  The old sense of unworthiness came back to him, and before he could conquer it, he said, “Not even for the king?”

  “Certainly not,” she replied without hesitation. “If our sovereign does harbor any lascivious notions, I will make sure he knows I do not reciprocate.”

  “He is the king, Vivienne.”

  “He is a man, Rob, and one who has plenty of women eager to be in his bed. As he said, he has never had to take a woman by force.” Her embrace tightened. “Let us think of other things now, when we are together and alone.”

  “Very well,” he agreed as her hands began to stroke him and the light scent of her perfume entranced his senses.

  “Let us think of our future together,” she whispered, shifting closer and sliding her hand down his chest, “when I will have you in the house every day, and every night.”

  Rob grabbed her hand and pressed a hot kiss to her palm. “You are a temptress, Vivienne.”

  “Determined,” she corrected, running her other hand up his muscular thigh.

  “Passionate,” he sighed as his lips stole along her cheek.

  “Stubborn,” she moaned as his hand stroked her breast and he kissed her with all the fire she roused within him. She arched toward him, her mouth moving over his with unspoken desire and invitation.

  Slowly, slowly, her hands moved up his arms, her touch inflaming him even more.

  “Oh, Vivienne,” he sighed, reveling in her embrace. “I love you more than I have words to express. I will love you till the day I die.”

  “Then love me tonight, in my bed,” she said, her voice a low, enticing whisper.