Tempting Sin

by Ann Lethbridge

  “I see you like my gift. I have something much more valuable for you upstairs.”

  She clenched her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering and turned inside his embrace. She stared up at him boldly. “My lord, I am sorry, but—” she slid the hood from her head “—Miss Eckford has declined your invitation.”

  His expression of seductive warmth froze. “Has she, by God?” His narrowed eyes hardened to look like splintered glass. “And what the deuce are you doing here, Miss Yelverton?”

  He reached out and tugged at her mask. The strings held. Cursing, he jerked it over her head. Hairpins rattled onto the floor, her hair tumbling to her shoulders.

  He smiled, a dangerously rakish smile.

  Dread filled her. Not of him, but of herself. A frisson of awareness of his radiant heat, his scent—horses and sandalwood—and his knowing smile. Her breath caught in her throat. She stepped back.

  He followed, overshadowing her with his massive form and strength, his jewel-hard eyes probing into her very soul. “Well? I’m waiting for your answer.”

  Defiant, she kept her gaze steady on his and brushed her hair back from her shoulders. “I came to inform you of Miss Eckford’s decision.”

  “And?”

  His soft tone turned her blood to ice. Instead of fleeing, as every instinct of self-preservation warned her she should, she forced herself to speak with practical commonsense. “I wanted to explain. You see—”

  “Explain what?” His scornful gaze raked her from head to toe. “You are no different from the rest of them, after all, are you? Knowing she doesn’t have a brain in her pretty little head, you conspired to take her place, didn’t you, Miss Butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-your-mouth?” His lip curled in contempt. “What a pleasurable surprise, then. But be warned. I won’t marry you, any more than I was prepared to marry her. Does that arrangement suit you?”

  She gasped, horrified by his assumption.

  Menace emanated from him in chilly waves. His broad shoulders blocked her view of her only path to escape. She dodged around him. In two swift strides, he cut her off and relentlessly backed her against the wall beside the door.

  With a wickedly seductive smile, he picked up one tress of her tumbled hair and rubbed it between thumb and forefinger. “Like silk,” he murmured.

  Feet frozen in place, Victoria trembled. While prepared to face his anger, she’d never imagined this. She placed the flats of her hands on his chest, pushed hard, yet he did not budge an inch. “I did not come here to replace Miss Eckford, as you put it. I simply came to tell you it is wrong to force her when she loves another.”

  “Force her?” His face darkened. “You think I needed to force her?”

  She winced at the suppressed fury in his voice. Now she’d offended his honor. Decidedly unhelpful. He hadn’t forced Cassandra; her mother had. Clearly he hadn’t known.

  She twisted in his grasp, felt his thigh against her hip. “My lord,” she protested. “Please—”

  “Please?” His teeth gleamed white as his sensuous smile returned. “I do like the sound of that.”

  Moving closer, he trapped her hands between them. The heat from his body warmed her skin through her light gown. Her heart beat wildly. She shoved at his chest. “Step back.”

  He caught her hands in one of his. Large and strong, hot, his fingers curled around hers. His brilliant gaze fixed on her face as he brushed his lips, warm and dry, across her knuckles. “Or what?” he murmured, his breath moist on her skin.

  She wrenched her hands free. “You are no gentleman.”

  “How very perspicacious of you.” His chuckle, velvet soft, sent a shiver snaking down her back.

  He stroked a length of her hair, following its path to her shoulder, sliding along the curl which that rested on her bosom. One warm finger slipped inside the neck of her gown and trailed over the rise of her breasts, leaving tingling skin in its wake.

  “No,” she whispered.

  He pressed a swift, moist kiss on the sensitive path left by his hand. His glance rose and scorched her face. “Dear God. Do you know how much I have wanted to touch you all these weeks?”

  The words fired her blood. Searing heat raced through her veins. Her core fluttered with a deep longing. She, too, wanted him to touch her, to put his hands on her body, his lips on her mouth.

  His mobile mouth curved in a wicked smile. “Of course you do. Women always know when they are wanted. God, but I’ve wanted you.”

  She stiffened.

  “What is it, poppet?”

  The casual endearment pierced her breast. This was not love or respect. It was lust, animal urges she should not know about. One woman was as good as another to him. The thought chilled her blood.

  She pushed at his shoulders with all her might. “Stop it. You have to let me go. I only came because I thought it was unfair not to tell you.”

  His chest rose and fell, brushing her sensitive breasts with each deep breath. His heart hammered against her chest. He frowned. “You little tease. If that was the case, you would have sent a note.”

  A note? Her mind scrambled with the thought. Why in heaven’s name hadn’t she thought of writing a letter? “I’m telling you the truth. Miss Eckford loves someone else and I offered to help her. I didn’t like to think of you waiting and not knowing she wasn’t coming.”

  A slow, sensuous smile dawned on his lips. “So you do care a little.”

  “I....” She couldn’t pull her gaze away from his mouth, mere inches from hers. “I didn’t want your feelings to be hurt.” It sounded lame.

  “They are hurt.” His smile twisted wryly. “I’m wounded to the quick. Stay, little sweetheart. Heal my pain.”

  A master of manipulation, he was toying with her emotions. She shook her head, clinging to a slender shred of sanity. This dissolute devil had seduced more women in his life than she had met in hers. She meant nothing to him. “I am leaving now that I have delivered the message.”

  As if he had not heard her, he pulled her close, nuzzling her neck, his face buried in her hair, inhaling deeply, before he raised his head to look into her eyes.

  Desire glowed phosphorescent in his gaze, and when he captured her chin in his hand, she watched in helpless fascination as his mouth descended. His lips met hers in a blazing kiss. His tongue traced a hot, wet path, exerting pressure on the seam of her mouth. The urge to yield, to open to him, swept her as his thunderous heartbeat resonated against her breasts. She pressed her lips firmly together.

  His cupped her head and tilted it until their mouths harmonized, two halves of a perfect whole. With his other hand he stroked her cheek, traced a path down her neck. Tingles sparked to her core.

  She jerked her head back and heard his knuckles thud against the wall. His grasp remained firm, his lips affixed to hers. He teased her lips with his tongue, flicking at the corners. She felt dizzy with her need to taste him.

  She held herself rigid, her only defense against a flooding desire to discover all his mouth promised.

  The pressure softened and his lips moved tantalizingly against hers. His teeth nibbled at her lower lip. She gasped at the sweet streak of torment, which started in her breasts and tore to the pit of her stomach. His tongue slid between her parted lips and swept her open mouth.

  Struggling to draw breath, her senses swam, her limbs melted with a strange invasive languor. She clung to his coat.

  “Stay, Victoria,” he murmured softly against her cheek. “Stay and let me love you.”

  Raw yearning roughened his voice and caught at her heart.

  “I must not,” she said, her voice a ragged whisper. “It is wrong.”

  “How can it be wrong? You feel it, too. The needing and the wanting. I see it in your face.” His voice, low and urgent, pulsed with tension.

  He lowered his mouth to hers again, demanding her surrender. She closed her eyes, powerless to prevent his expert pleasuring of her enthralled body. Fearing she might fall, her hands slipped around his neck,
his silky hair caressed her fingers, her sips of air filled with his scent—sandalwood, man, horses, leather.

  He eased the domino off her shoulders and it whispered to the floor, a shining puddle at her feet.

  “You are so beautiful.”

  The husky words, whispered against her mouth, vibrated in her core. She leaned into him. His strong, warm hands moved in caressing circles over her shoulders, stroked her back, cupped her bottom. He pulled her tight against his steel-hard body.

  Fire-licked and brilliant sapphire, his gaze devoured her. The angles of his face stood out stark and hard in the window’s light, his full mouth moist from hers. She wanted to run her hands along his jaw, touch the lips which that melted her bones, feel his warm skin. A cry of longing forced its way from her throat.

  “Ah yes, my darling. Don’t deny what you feel.” His soft whisper shivered to her core. “You’ll want for nothing, I promise. And when it’s over, I’ll give you enough money to set up a home of your own. You’ll never have to depend on anyone again. I swear it.”

  Cruel torturer. Her dream to be free, to make her own decisions, dangled before her like a precious bauble.

  He kissed her neck, nibbled her ear. Pleasure thrummed through her body.

  “Say yes, Victoria. I promise, you won’t regret it,” he murmured.

  She would, because he would leave her in the end. Because all these weeks she’d fought his allure, it was because she had known she felt a strong attraction to this man. An insidious longing that she had not dared acknowledge.

  She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, giving him access to her throat, the top of her breasts above her gown. He scattered scorching little kisses across skin that tingled all the way to the center of her being. She wanted him.

  If she did this, nothing would ever be the same. He was handsome, virile, all male, impossible to resist. She wished she wanted to resist him. It would be so much easier to do so, if she really did not like him.

  Like a thief in the night, like Romeo on Juliet’s balcony, he had stolen into her heart and she was no match for his practiced seduction. She had known it for days. When he had looked at her with hungry, soul-deep longing as she lay injured on her bed, she’d known her feelings went far beyond attraction.

  Her calm, ordered life, a millpond, deep and still, had become a raging torrent of emotions. Since meeting Travis, it seemed as if those feelings were rushing unchecked down a mountain slope, carving out a new course only to be cast over a jagged cliff. A leap into space, with nothing but trust in him to save her from the rocks and boulders shrouded in boiling mists below.

  But in the end he’d abandon her, the way everyone else in her life had done.

  He groaned softly in her ear. “For God’s sake, Victoria. Tell me you will stay. I want you more than I have ever wanted anyone else.”

  She thrilled to his words. He did not love her, but he needed her. At least for now. And later she would have her precious freedom and her memories.

  “I will stay, my lord.” Even as the words forced themselves from her lips; tears scalded the backs of her eyes knowing she’d been defeated by his hands, his lips, his heat, and his torture of her senses.

  “Simon,” he murmured softly against her lip.

  She opened her eyes. His smile of pure seduction danced in her watery gaze. “What?”

  “My name is Simon. Let me hear it on your lips.”

  Still struggling to comprehend the enormity of what she had done, she repeated, “Simon.”

  He captured the sound in his mouth. His searing kiss spoke of possession. His fingers raked through her hair, he ran his hands over her back, pressing her against his hard body.

  Panic filled her. For one brief moment, she fought him for control, but then pleasure rolled through her. Her body molded to him and reveled in his unyielding strength against her softness. She could not stop now. Did not want to.

  He swept her up and, gazing down into her eyes, carried her out the door.

  Simon was drowning in the dark-purple depths of her eyes in her lovely flushed face framed by black curls. The sound of his name, a throaty whisper, caused a fist to squeeze inside his chest. A pain so unutterably sweet, it left him breathless.

  He ached for her so badly, he wasn’t sure he could wait until he got her upstairs. She lay in his arms, her gaze so trusting, he swore to do nothing destroy it. He would love her well, shower her with jewels, make her happy for as long as she would allow. He’d let her go whenever she wanted to leave. He swore it. As long as he could have this.

  Sweet Christ, he did not deserve her, but he could not stop wild triumph from filling his soul. The idea that she was his swelled his heart to bursting. His for now.

  The front door crashed open.

  Three steps up the curved staircase, Simon turned with a curse on his lips. Who dared to burst in on him?

  Unbelievable. Ogden framed in the doorway, sunlight streaming across the marble floor, glared at them.

  “Goddamn you, Ogden. How dare you barge in here? Get out.”

  “You had to do it, didn’t you? You bastard. You took Miranda from me, and now you take Victoria.”

  A black void of horror opened at Simon’s feet. He glanced at Victoria, her face drained of color. Had she been Ogden’s already? She’d made a point of meeting and talking with him often enough. Christ. He should have known. She had given in far too easily.

  Finally Ogden had him trapped.

  He tasted acrid bitterness. Idiot. Again he’d been completely fooled. Had he learned nothing about women like Victoria—like Miranda?.

  He lowered her Victoria to her feet. Her body slid down the length of him, the scent of jasmine floated around him.

  Ogden’s sneering gaze raked him before turning to Victoria. “How could you? After I warned you. He’s a licentious cur and the man who caused your brother’s death, remember?” Regret filled his expression. “I would have married you. You didn’t need to go to him.”

  Red haze filled Simon’s vision. Ogden had already bedded the only woman he had ever really wanted since Miranda. He would kill him. Simon leaped down the stairs. Ogden managed two backward, stumbling steps before Simon’s fist crashed into his jaw.

  Ogden lay dazed on the floor, his fingers probing his cheek.

  Simon shook his hand to ease the numbing pain. “Get up, you coward.”

  Victoria brushed passed him, kneeling at his feet, touching Ogden’s shoulder. She glared up. “Stop it. What are you doing?”

  Simon turned his back on her. He could not bear to see her hands on Ogden. He had let her get too close. He began to rebuild the wall of ice around his heart.

  “Get out, Ogden.” He threw the words over his shoulder. “Before I kill you.”

  He heard Ogden get to his feet. “Victoria, come with me.”

  Simon swore. “Oh, no. Not with you. I am sending her back to London.”

  “You can’t believe anything he says,” Ogden said.

  “Won’t one of you explain what is going on here?” She sounded angry. “Who is Miranda?”

  Simon turned to face her, his heart slamming a warning.

  “Will you explain it, or shall I?” asked Ogden, his bow ironic and his eyes full of fury.

  Simon kept his face expressionless, his voice calm. “You know what will happen if you say anything more.”

  “Victoria is family now. As good as,” Ogden said. “Either yours or mine, from the look of it.”

  Simon lifted an eyebrow and leaned against the carved baluster, his arms crossed over his chest. He saw the wildness in Ogden’s eyes. Now Victoria would hear it all, or as much as Ogden knew. He steeled himself to bear her reaction. “If you say another word, I’ll kill you.”

  He heard Victoria gasp. He smiled wryly as she placed herself between him and Ogden, protecting her lover.

  “I’m not anyone’s family, not yours or his,” she said, glaring from one to the other.

  Temper flushed her cheeks
—that and his kisses. Why the hell did the sight cause his heart leap? He briefly closed his eyes against her allure. He forced himself to speak coldly. “This has nothing to do with you.”

  “Not so,” Ogden said. “You should know the sort of man with whom you are clearly becoming entangled.”

  “I am not entangled with anyone. But I would appreciate an explanation.”

  Simon felt her gaze fix on his face, sensed her growing bewilderment. He hardened his heart. It didn’t matter. “You’re digging your own grave, Ogden.”

  “I have never heard such fustian in my life. Stop it, the pair of you,” Victoria said.

  Ogden took a step towards her. “Miranda is my sister. Miranda Du Plessy, before she became a St. John. Travis keeps her locked up in Yorkshire, isolated and a prisoner, hiding what he did to her.”

  Victoria gasped. She turned to Simon, her eyes dark and full of question. “You are married?”

  Fleetingly, he wondered what she thought, what she imagined. It wouldn’t be half as bad as the truth. He shrugged. Wanting Victoria Yelverton for his own had been pure madness.

  Ogden’s expression twisted with malice and loathing. “My sister Miranda was his mother, and he debauched her and cuckolded his father.”

  Silence echoed in the grand hall.

  Victoria shook her head as if to clear her hearing. “You seduced your mother?”

  Simon’s gut cringed at her look of horror. “Stepmother, actually,” he said and brushed a piece of lint from his sleeve.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The hot knife buried in Simon’s heart twisted at Victoria’s expression of revulsion—a heart he’d buried beneath a wall of ice he’d thought impenetrable.

  He retained his bored expression. Ogden must not know that Victoria was one of very few people in his life who had the power to wound him.

  The man continued to babble on as if years of silence had dammed a torrent that now burst its banks. “Tell her, Travis, how your father sent you away. How he couldn’t bear the sight of you after what you did to Miranda.”

  Hated the sight of him came closer to the truth. The memory of that day was carved into his soul. His father, in the library in this house, his broad back turned on a miserably confused Simon, his broad shoulders shaking with agony. Miranda had stood beside him, her eyes full of malicious triumph.