Lady of Scandal

by Tina Gabrielle

  Lady Devon’s advice sounded contrary to common sense. Wouldn’t a man despise and distrust a woman who flirted with his friends?

  “You must exude confidence at all times,” Samantha said. “A man is drawn to a woman’s aura as much as, if not more than, her beauty. And never tell him your true feelings, especially if you love him. If you keep him guessing, he will spend many sleepless nights with his insecurities until he is driven mad with his need to mark you, to possess you, as his own.”

  “Oh, my,” whispered Victoria, sitting motionless. “I had it all backwards.”

  “Use your sexual power to entrance and arouse him. Find false excuses to stroke his arm, his chest, even his thigh.”

  A hot shiver rippled through Victoria at the thought of purposely touching Blake in an intimate manner. “More, tell me more.”

  Samantha shook her head. “I planned on giving you detailed instructions—from what a man looks like naked to what he will do to a woman in bed, to how best to pleasure him—but I’ve changed my mind. Please do not be angry. My reasons are simple. Your virginity is an extraordinary prize. It is also a lure that gives you enormous power over a man that an experienced courtesan only dreams of attaining.”

  Victoria held her breath as the idea sent her spirits soaring. She would love to have enormous power over Blake Mallorey.

  Samantha leaned forward. “Men have killed for innocence, have paid treasures to possess it. A dominant male like Ravenspear is a natural-born hunter, impulsively enticed and aroused by the scent of untouched flesh.”

  Victoria’s pulse quickened at the thought, and her fingers fluttered to her lips.

  “It is a dangerous game you play with an experienced man like Ravenspear, a man you already have feelings for. Are you certain, darling?”

  The warning in Samantha’s tone was clear as day.

  The true question was: could Victoria lure Blake to her side without losing her innocence, her very soul along the way?

  Chapter 15

  Victoria’s hand trembled as she knocked on the library door.

  “Enter,” a deep male voice responded.

  Victoria swept gracefully into the room. Gifting Blake with an inviting smile, she asked, “If your work permits, my lord, would you like to play chess tonight?”

  An expression of pleasant surprise crossed his face. Dropping the papers in his hands, he was up at once and headed for her.

  “I’d be delighted, my dear,” Blake said. “I’m working on a new company Justin and I have established, but I always have time for you.”

  With a light touch at her elbow, he led her toward the chess table and held out a chair.

  Victoria sat, arranging her flowing skirts. She had taken great care with her dress this evening, choosing to wear one of the new gowns Blake had purchased for her. It was her favorite, made of white silk. Adorned with pink crepe trim and heart-shaped silk buttons, it had puffed short sleeves, and a low, rounded neckline.

  She had arranged her hair in the Grecian style with the front parted, falling in loose raven curls down her back, with a small jeweled comb on one side—another costly gift from Blake. Opals and pearls in the comb enhanced the pure whiteness of the silk gown.

  The color of her dress was virginal, and Victoria had selected it with Lady Samantha’s speech in mind.

  Would Blake’s base masculine nature to hunt untouched flesh spring forth at her display of innocence?

  More importantly, would it give her enormous power over him?

  Blake sat in the opposite chair, and his blue eyes darkened as he gazed down at her. “You look beautiful in white, Victoria.”

  “You work long hours, my lord. It becomes lonesome in such a large home by one’s self.”

  He reached across the table to grasp her hand, an intense look on his face. “You are never alone here, all you need do is summon me.”

  She leaned forward, tilted her face toward his and squeezed his hand.

  A strange, faintly eager look flashed in his eyes.

  A tremor of excitement ran down her spine at his fervent response. Samantha’s instructions echoed in her mind—a light touch, a coquettish glance, an inviting smile—they seemed to work so far.

  “I’m pleased you came to me, Victoria. Even when you are not near me, you are never far from my thoughts.”

  Her heart thumped uncomfortably at his smooth words. Careful, Victoria. You are playing a calculated role. You must not let him entrance you.

  She was convinced he was attracted to her appearance, and only then because she had refused him and pricked his masculine pride. If she ever gave her body to him, the prize would be seized and its value tarnished and diminished. His ego would inflate at the knowledge that Charles Ashton’s daughter had thrown herself at Blake Mallorey.

  No, she had to keep her wits about her and remember what she wanted, had always wanted—a man that appreciated intelligence before beauty. Such a person was rare indeed, and Ravenspear did not fit this description.

  “Would you like wine?” he asked.

  At her nod, Blake rose and opened a liquor cabinet in the corner of the library.

  Victoria fidgeted with a pawn on the chessboard and stole a sideways glance at his back as he poured two glasses. She wondered how many men were jealous of him. She knew firsthand that the cut of his jacket over his shoulders was not artificially padded to appear broad like many other men’s jackets were.

  He returned to his seat and raised his glass. “A toast,” he said, “to the loveliest chess companion I’ve ever played.”

  “To a challenging game,” she added as she raised her wineglass to his. “I’m quite good, you know.”

  “I never thought otherwise, my dear.”

  After playing for an hour, it was evident they were evenly matched. The flowing wine heated her blood, and Blake’s steady conversation calmed her nerves. He talked about the improvements he planned for Rosewood’s tenants and mentioned his idea for updating the kitchens for Cook.

  Remembering Lady Samantha’s advice, Victoria set out to listen attentively as he spoke, but she soon realized there was no need to feign interest. He did not speak extensively about himself like Jacob Hobbs did. Rather, Blake discussed the needs of the people who depended on him for their livelihood and care.

  She grudgingly admired his driving intelligence and creative solutions to improve the lives of his tenants and servants. She made suggestions of her own, and to her surprise, he did not dismiss her ideas outright but agreed with several of them.

  Blake then turned the topic of the conversation to her childhood.

  Victoria, suddenly uneasy, toyed with a marble chess piece in her hand, turning it this way and that.

  “Forgive me if I made you uncomfortable,” Blake said. “I meant only to learn what happened to you and Spencer after I left. Spencer and I were boyhood friends, remember? I have no interest in ruining an unexpectedly pleasant evening by resurrecting our fathers’ past.”

  Raising her eyes from her lap to look at him, she saw the sincerity in his expression, and his tone soothed her. The tension eased from her shoulders, and she returned the pawn to its position on the chessboard.

  “We moved to London on my twelfth birthday,” she said, “two years after you left. By then, father had officially gained membership in the Stock Exchange and he needed to be in the city. At first, Spencer and I missed country life terribly, but we soon realized the advantages London has to offer and adjusted to city life.”

  “I take it Spencer did not waste time in immersing himself in London’s pleasures.”

  She eyed him warily. “You’re already aware of his preferences for gambling and drinking.”

  “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disgusted by Spencer’s lack of discipline. I suspect he is capable of much more.” Blake leaned slightly forward, his blue eyes intense. “But I’ll say this, I have no intention of calling in the debts Spencer owes me. I never have.”

  “I feared you had brough
t Spencer’s markers with you when you came to our town house that morning. I thought you were going to tell Father what Spencer had done.”

  “Your father doesn’t know?”

  She shook her head. “Not the extent of Spencer’s habit.”

  “Then he shall never learn of it from me. I promise you. My quarrel is not with Spencer.”

  Relief flooded her at the knowledge that Blake had no ill feelings toward Spencer. Her irresponsible brother had his fair share of creditors hounding him without his having to also worry about his significant debts to Ravenspear.

  “Let us continue playing,” Blake said, offering her an arresting smile, “although I’m enjoying the conversation as much as the game.”

  “Me too,” Victoria said, and she realized she spoke the truth.

  They played until the hour grew late, yet there was still no clear winner. They agreed to leave the pieces untouched and return to the game another night.

  Blake carried their wineglasses to a table close to the fireplace, and she joined him on a sofa.

  Sitting side by side, she found herself extremely conscious of his virile appeal. His familiar cologne, sandalwood and cloves, stirred her senses. She stole glances at his handsome profile and couldn’t help thinking that she would have given anything to spend a similar evening with him in her youth.

  If only their circumstances were different…

  Blake passed her wineglass to her, and she drank deeply. It was an unusually cool summer evening, and a low fire burned in the fireplace.

  “Is there anything you need, Victoria? I want your stay at Rosewood to be comfortable.”

  “Mrs. Smith sees to everything. She is quite competent.”

  “I apologize if my selfishness in forcing you to stay by my side has grown tedious. If you are bored during the day, you may ride the grounds or visit Lady Devon at any time.”

  Watching you will never become tedious. Blurting out the first thing she could think of to cover her wayward thoughts, she said, “I miss Spencer and my mother.”

  “I can arrange for them to visit.”

  Victoria knew her father would never permit either to visit without him accompanying them. And she doubted Blake would allow Charles Ashton to cross Rosewood’s marble threshold. Yet, she found herself saying, “I’d like that.”

  The warmth from the fire combined with the heady effects of the wine caused a tingling in the pit of her stomach.

  He set down his glass on an end table and turned to look directly at her. His expression stilled and grew serious as he studied her face unhurriedly, feature by feature.

  She tried to quench the dizzying current racing through her at his intense perusal. Control yourself. This is a tactic, not a lovers’ tryst.

  Edging closer, he trailed a finger down her cheek. “Never before have I been attracted to a woman’s intelligence and wit as much as her beauty. You are a rare treasure indeed.”

  Her heart hammered at his admission. It was as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, what she wanted most of all, and delivered the smooth words at the precise moment.

  Plucking the wineglass from her limp hand, he set it next to his, then returned to her side. He leaned forward slowly, his gaze dropping to her lips, and she knew he meant to kiss her.

  “I’d like to kiss you, Victoria.”

  She froze as his mouth came coaxingly down on hers. His lips feather-touched hers with tantalizing persuasion. She released a pent-up sigh and rested a quivering hand against his warm chest. Feeling the solid power of him beneath her palm, she sat with eyes half-closed and kneaded the rock-hard muscle beneath his shirt.

  He groaned and, putting a large hand to her waist, drew her close to him. The pressure of his kiss increased, and her mouth parted beneath the domination of his lips. When his rough tongue brushed against hers, an unbidden shiver of wanting coursed through her. She kissed him back, lingering, savoring every moment.

  Blake’s insistent fingers splayed through the hair at her temples and held her captive for his mouth’s plundering. His lips seared a path, seeking the sensitive skin of her eyelids, behind her ear and down her neck. His moist mouth reached the low neckline of her gown, and her nipples firmed instantly in response. When he gently nipped at the swell of a breast, she gasped in surprise, and liquid heat pulsed between her legs.

  All her inhibitions dissipated beneath a smoldering need that begged for satisfaction. Her head fell back of its own volition, her hands reached up to clench his shoulders, and her spine arched forward in submissive offering to his continued ravishment.

  Blake stopped suddenly, breathing heavily. His expression was strained, passion burning in his blue eyes. “Tell me you want me, Victoria. That you don’t want me to stop.”

  “What?”

  “Tell me,” he demanded. “I need to hear you say it. That you want me to touch you.”

  Her mind fuddled. His words were slow to penetrate the haze of passion that threatened to overwhelm her. What was she doing?

  Her plan to soften his attitude yet keep a safe distance had been easily unraveled by his skillful fingers. It was clear that she could not be in close proximity to him and still keep her senses. In the back of her mind was the nagging truth that all that kept her from lying with him tonight was his self-control in keeping his promise not to force her into his bed.

  She pushed weakly against him. “I cannot.”

  Easing back to study her face, Blake rubbed her trembling bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “I promised not to force you, swore that you would come to me as a woman full-grown, embracing your sexuality. The intense attraction between us is rare between a man and a woman. It should be appreciated, explored and savored. Even in your innocence, you recognize the heat when we touch. Your body cries out for more, is begging for release. All that keeps us apart is foolish stubbornness.”

  Victoria touched her swollen lips with cold fingers. Could she lie with this man, give him her innocence, knowing his true motive was pure revenge? More importantly, knowing there was no future?

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It is more than just stubbornness. I cannot give freely the part of myself I value most.”

  She rose on shaky legs and left the library, knowing a night of restless sleep awaited her.

  Blake watched her leave, his body tightly coiled and tense, ready to explode into a thousand pieces. He must have her soon. She responded with fire to his touch, like a ripe fruit begging to be picked.

  Only honor and his wretched promise had stopped him from pushing her back onto the soft cushions and raising her silk skirts. Even though he felt she would not have protested, would, rather, have urged him on eagerly, his pride demanded that she ask him to make love to her—or, at the very least, acknowledge her own passion.

  He took a deep breath, focused on his labored breathing, and counted to ten. His body was slow to calm, his arousal that strong.

  Tonight, he had jumped at her offer to spend time together, never once searching for the true meaning behind her invitation.

  Not true, he thought.

  The moment she stepped into the library looking like a virginal temptress come to rob him of his mind and his senses, disbelief and suspicion had clouded his brain. But as quickly as those thoughts developed, they vanished beneath a need so great it made his mouth water. Unbelievably, as he roused her passion tonight, his own starving need grew stronger.

  “Christ,” he swore out loud as he ran his fingers through his dark hair. Starting to rise from the sofa, his palm pressed a hard object deep into the red cushions. Glancing down, he picked up a marble queen and frowned. It was the piece she had last moved. She must have dropped it when he had first kissed her.

  It had not surprised him how adept she was at chess. A complicated game, he enjoyed strategizing his next move against a worthwhile opponent.

  And she was a challenging player. With the wine flowing freely, she had played passionately, enthusiastically, and her eyes had shone wit
h excitement. It was in the middle of the game, when she had chewed her lower lip as she contemplated her next move, that he was struck with the realization that he admired her intelligence even more than he enjoyed her beauty.

  A combination that could easily unman him and deter him from his purpose.

  Every moment they spent together made it more difficult to focus on the reason he had brought her to Rosewood.

  Reaching for the pillow she had leaned on, he raised it to his face and inhaled her unique fragrance. As the sweet scent of lavender tickled his senses, a picture of long raven curls contrasting against flowing white silk flashed in his mind.

  How much could a man take? How much longer could he live with her, have fantasies about her, and not bed her?

  He now wanted much more than avenging the greedy, traitorous enemy whose selfish deeds resulted in the ruin of the Ravenspear family.

  The simple had now become complex. His goals were changing—to seduce her, for sure, yet shelter her from her father’s rage afterward.

  Chapter 16

  Victoria stared at a note in her trembling hand, her brain in tumult. “What did you say?”

  A disheveled boy, who had popped out of a nearby alley to hand her the note, looked at her as if she were an idiot.

  “’Tis from a gent who paid me to deliver it to ye. He said you’d be expectin’ him to contact ye.”

  Beneath the torn brim of the hat that the boy wore pulled down to his ears, greasy brown hair hung down and framed his dirt-smudged face. His skinny bare ankles protruded from ill-fitting trousers, reminding her of some of the street urchins she had often seen scurrying about London.

  Victoria looked about on the crowded street, bile rising in her throat. “Is my father here? Now?” Her voice sounded strained to her own ears.

  She turned back to the boy, but he was gone, disappeared in the throng of shoppers and street peddlers.

  Clutching the note in a tight fist, she hurried back to the spice shop she had walked out of when the boy had startled her by grasping her arm and thrusting her father’s message in her hand. Glancing into the establishment’s bay window, she searched until she spotted Lady Devon sniffing samples of tea leaves in the back of the store.