A Tempting Ruin (GreenFord Waters #3)

by Kristin Vayden

  A Tempting Ruin

  by Kristin Vayden

  Blue Tulip Publishing

  www.bluetulippublishing.com

  © 2015 KRISTIN VAYDEN

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  A TEMPTING RUIN

  Copyright © 2015 KRISTIN VAYDEN

  ISBN: 978-1-942246-48-0

  Cover art by Melody Pond

  To my mom, who has faced life fearlessly.

  God has completely brought you through every obstacle,

  especially your recent fight against cancer.

  And each day I'm thankful for your love, wisdom, insight,

  and strength as you point me to Jesus, our Savior.

  I love you, Momma,

  and just because I know you're thinking it right now,

  I love YOU more!

  PROLOGUE

  AT FIRST, SHE THOUGHT SHE WAS ALONE.

  To be honest, at first she was… sitting in front of the fire in a rather comfortable chaise and immersing herself in a fantastic book.

  Then the door opened and closed so quietly she almost didn't glance up from her page.

  However, as providence would have it, she did indeed glance up and saw a gentleman enter and stride purposefully toward the window overlooking the back wood.

  She should have spoken up, for it was forbidden to be in a room alone with an available gentleman, but she couldn't find the moral power to open her mouth. Rather, she simply watched him.

  His olive-green jacket accentuated his shoulders, and the tan breeches highlighted the contour of his muscular legs.

  He was glorious, with raven black hair cut shorter than the common style, but it fit his angular jawline, or what she could see of it. The rest she imagined, knowing his face, having seen him before, but it was unlikely that he could boast the same recognition of her.

  "Are you quite done?" he asked, causing a painful blush to heat her face as she realized he was aware of her study of his person.

  However, feeling a bit of her hoyden streak, she simply replied, "No, if you'll please shift to the side however…"

  His slow turn as he shifted to face her gave a view of his amused expression as he held out his hands, proving his amicability to her request.

  "Is this better?"

  "Indeed. Though I must ask why you felt it necessary to hide in the library," Beatrix asked, setting her book aside and straightening her posture.

  "I aim to please." He nodded then took a few lazy steps toward her. "I'm not hiding… I'm simply… enjoying some peace."

  "In a room you thought to be empty?"

  "What if I told you… I knew it wouldn't be empty."

  "Then I'd say that I'm no fool… easily led to believe a lie," she shot back. "I have sisters, you know."

  "Indeed… Miss Beatrix." He bowed then raised a daring eyebrow.

  "Hmm… either we've been introduced, and I've already forgotten your person — which isn't a recommendation — or you're exceedingly forward."

  "Says the lady that just asked me to turn for her visual benefit."

  "True…" Beatrix shrugged. "…though I am curious how you know my name, Lord Neville."

  "Ah, so I am not unknown. You are indeed a minx, are you not?" he teased.

  Beatrix studied him. This was likely the oddest conversation she'd ever have in her life… completely against the rules of society. Yet it was entirely diverting!

  "Perhaps."

  "Ah, keep your secrets then." He shrugged and then approached her, glancing at her book. "Enjoying it?"

  "I was…" Beatrix let the words linger.

  "You wound me. Is my sparkling conversation not enough to satisfy your need for amusement?"

  "No." She shrugged and picked up her book. She studied the page for a moment while watching him from the corner of her eye.

  His grin broke through, giving her an unfocused view of his white teeth.

  "It's working, you know." He spoke as he moved to sit in the wingback chair across from her.

  "What is working?" she asked dryly as she continued to study the page.

  "Graham is practically going mad."

  At this, Beatrix glanced up, feeling her brow furrow. "I'm sure I don't understand what you mean." How was it possible that he had caught on to their ploy? In truth, the whole house party was simply a strategy to get Lord Graham to finally offer for her sister; helped along by the implication that Lord Neville was pressing his suit for Bethanny's hand as well. Even if he wasn't…but he wasn't supposed to know it wasn't true! Either of them!

  "Do not pretend with me. Anyone with half the sense of a toad can discern your stratagem. I was just letting you know it was indeed successful. I must admit that adding my involvement was a nice touch. Though I'd never actually offer for Miss Lamont, I could have put on quite the show." He shook his head.

  "Who are you?" Beatrix felt the need to ask. How was it possible he knew so much about their private endeavors?

  "Edwin Rowland, Eighth Earl of Neville, my lady." He gave a jaunty nod of his chin.

  She studied him then tentatively offered her own name. "Beatrix Lamont, Miss Lamont to you."

  "A lovely name, I say."

  "Thank you."

  The silence lingered for a few moments, but it wasn't uncomfortable, rather a peaceful lull.

  Beatrix lifted her book once more.

  "What is it you are reading?"

  "Ah, I doubt you'd approve." She shot him a glance over the page.

  "Try me."

  "Lady Maybelle's Mysterious Suitor."

  "It's the butler." He leaned forward and grinned evilly.

  "What? No. You did not… I—" Beatrix stood, closed the book and paced irritatedly. Opening the book, she glanced to the last page and read, her fury rising by the moment.

  "It was the butler! You ruined it!" she all but shouted as she lifted the book. For a fleeting moment, she wanted to throw it at him! How dare he ruin the fantastic book, the sweet mystery, by giving away the ending! Of all her pet peeves, this was champion.

  "I do hope you're a poor aim if you decide to follow through with hurling the volume at my head." He stood and held up his hands.

  "Why? Why would you do that?" Beatrix lamented, tossing the book on the chaise and glaring at him.

  "Because it amuses me."

  She stilled, knowing her glare grew more menacing by the moment as she studied the horrible creature she had, only moments ago, thought so devastatingly attractive. "It… amuses you?"

  "Rather, you amuse me. Your reaction." He lifted his shoulder in a blasé manner, as if he hadn't just provoked her!

  "I — you — you!" Beatrix ground out then stomped.

  "Did you just stomp?" he asked, his grin growing.

  "A lady doesn't stomp. There was a spider," she lied and stalked away toward the window, hoping the horrible man would get the point and take his leave.

  The sound of footsteps approaching had her stiffening her back.

  "I'm sorry for offending you so greatly. But I do thank you for being the cause of such a prized few moments of amusement. It was… delightful. And I'll tell you a secret…" His voice was close, sending prickles of awareness up her arms as his velvet voice spoke softly.


  "Humbled to be your entertainment, sir," she replied frostily, trying to keep her reaction to him hidden away and forgotten. Turning to face him, she shifted her gaze from him to the door meaningfully.

  His amused chuckle was the only response.

  Drat.

  "If you read the next book, you'll find out a little bit more about the butler… because, Miss Beatrix, things are not what they always seem," he replied kindly and then turned to leave.

  "Wait," she called out before she thought about it.

  He paused and turned to her, his grey eyes clear and completely drawing her in. "You don't have to leave just yet."

  "I do believe that is the kindest thing you've said to me." He bit back a grin.

  Barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Beatrix walked over to the bookshelf where she had originally found the book and looked for the sequel. "What is the title of the second book?" she called over her shoulder.

  Lord Neville smiled and glanced down, then strode toward her. "The Butler's Secret."

  "Oh! I can't wait." She smiled as she searched for the book. "Ah! There it is!" She stood on her very tiptoes, reaching for the book, her fingers brushing the spine and missing in the effort to withdraw it.

  "Blast it all," she mumbled.

  "Such language from a lady!" Lord Neville scolded, tsking his tongue.

  In spite of his grin, which bespoke his unoffended nature, Beatrix still felt her face heat with a painful blush.

  "Allow me."

  "No, I've got it." Beatrix tried again.

  "Very well." Lord Neville stepped back, crossing his arms.

  After several additional attempts to dislodge the book, Beatrix sighed and turned to face him. "Can you please help?"

  "I thought you'd never ask, though I must say the… stretching… offered a very pleasant view of your ankles," he replied as he brushed past her and began to reach for the book.

  "Ooo…" Beatrix elbowed him in the ribs just as he stretched.

  "What the—" He dislodged the book only slightly and turned to glare at her. "Was that necessary?"

  "You were looking at my ankles," she replied haughtily.

  "You were looking at me earlier." He crossed his arms, knowing he had won the argument, judging by the triumphant gleam in his eyes.

  "The book, please?" Beatrix shifted the topic of conversation.

  "Here." He easily reached the book's spine and removed it to the point of where it was teetering on the edge.

  "You simply could not resist, could you?" Beatrix grumbled as she reached and pulled out the book.

  "No," he answered honestly, "but to be honest… if you were in my position, would you have done any different?"

  "No… wait. Yes."

  He cocked his head, waiting.

  "I would have tried to make the book fall on your head," Beatrix replied then dashed across the room.

  "Unbelievable!" he called out and gave chase.

  "You're simply jealous I thought of it rather than you." She spoke as she strategically stepped, placing the chaise between them.

  "I'd never do anything so diabolical to a lady," he shot back then slowly circled the chaise.

  Beatrix matched him step for step till they'd made a full lap around the piece of furniture.

  "This is pointless," he replied, walked away and sat in the chair. He reached for a book on the side table and began reading.

  Beatrix watched him for a moment then took a seat as well.

  Halfway into the first chapter of her book she glanced up, noticing that Lord Neville was not across from her any longer.

  "Lesson one… never let your guard down," he whispered from beside her.

  "How did you do that?" she asked, startled that she had missed his movement.

  "Shouldn't you be more concerned with why?" he asked.

  Beatrix swallowed, trying not to notice how his nearness radiated comforting warmth or how the very air was permeated with a masculine spicy scent that called to her. "Why?"

  "In this case… it was the only way I could get close enough to do this," he whispered as he leaned in slightly. His hand reached up and gently placed a lock of hair behind her ear.

  "What if… if I don't want you to?" Beatrix asked, knowing full well how much she did want him too; however, the last thing she wanted was for him to know that!

  "Then simply say no," he murmured, his gaze darting from her lips to her eyes once more. "Are you… going to say no?"

  Beatrix blinked, unable to break the swirling fog of desire that wound around them like mist from the sea. "No."

  He leaned away, and Beatrix realized the misunderstanding. He had thought she'd meant she didn't welcome his affection!

  Quickly, she reached up and placed her hand against his cheek, immediately feeling his warm skin through her glove.

  Hope dawned in his expression, and immediately he closed the distance and pressed his lips to hers, caressing them softly.

  Longingly.

  He withdrew slightly, but only to tilt his head further before placing another kiss to her lips, sliding his across hers softly, invitingly. She reached up and placed her hand at his shoulder, pulling him in closer, a request he immediately obeyed. His kiss deepened, and Beatrix lost herself in the thousands of blissful sensations that were all awakening each moment. She almost gasped when his velvet tongue slid across her lower lip a second before his teeth playfully nipped at it.

  Not wanting to be outdone, she tentatively mimicked his actions, glorying in his reaction as her hand at his shoulder felt the telling bunching of his musculature as he leaned in deeper to their shared kiss. With each nip and caress, she gave and took, a constant partner in the dance, moving with the music of desire awakening.

  The sound of voices, angry voices, interrupted Beatrix's blissful state and shook her back to the reality of her situation.

  She was alone.

  With an unmarried gentleman.

  Which was enough to consider her compromised, not to mention she had been willingly participating in a far-more-than-chaste kiss.

  Heaven's above, Carlotta would have her hide!

  As if sensing her thoughts, Neville withdrew. His stormy grey gaze searched her face, memorizing her. "I'm… I shouldn't have." He glanced away, as a cold chill hit her chest. "You are fascinating in a way that is dangerous, Miss Beatrix, and, for that reason, I must leave. Regardless of how… right now… I very much want to stay."

  What did one say to that? For that matter, what did one say after a kiss? Speechless, Beatrix nodded, confused.

  However, as the voices grew louder, Lord Neville stood and straightened his jacket then strode to the door.

  Beatrix only saw him one other time before he quit the house party they were attending.

  Then all thought of stolen kisses and ruined novels faded into the background when the duke received a cryptic threat against her. Though orphaned, she and her sisters, Berty and Bethanny were staggeringly wealthy, not to mention the wards of the Duke of Clairmont. With Bethanny safely married to Lord Graham and Berty still quite young, Beatrix had been left with the target at her back, or so the officer from Scotland Yard had said to the duke.

  It had been less than two weeks since the house party, yet it felt like several years. At first, the duke had been told that the death of her parents had not been accidental. Yet, as horrific as such a claim had been, it hadn't added up. Within a few days, another officer had informed them of new evidence that suggested it was a false lead. The only tangible information they could disclose was that Beatrix was a target for something.

  Helpful.

  Each time an officer would come to the door, Beatrix would find herself holding her breath, wondering, fearing.

  Enough was enough. So when the duke devised a plan to remove her from the public eye, just to be cautious, she'd agreed. Anything would be better than simply living in fear. No one could know where she traveled. To cover their plan, the duke would claim she'd been taken
, kidnapped.

  Beatrix thought the whole ordeal overly dramatic, but what could one do?

  So she played along, hoping everything would conclude quickly. And, in the meantime, she'd dream about stolen kisses, and try to forget about an evil that lurked in the London shadows.

  CHAPTER ONE

  A year later

  EDWIN ROWLAND, EIGHTH EARL OF NEVILLE, flexed his hands as he gripped the bannister overlooking the small garden of the inn that housed him for the night. The song of the crickets did nothing for his taut nerves. Paradoxically, his heart pounded with a fierce dread and anticipation. There was no sign of her.

  It was as if she had vanished. Of their own accord, his fingers bit into the stone railing, grasping for control of something.

  Lord only knew how much he needed control right then.

  Of anything.

  The sun had long set, and the stars twinkled in the ink sky, yet he didn't notice their beauty, only forced his thoughts from the woman he couldn't forget.

  A woman he had not known nearly long enough to create such an… attachment.

  But that didn't make it less real.

  Her ebony hair beckoned for his touch; rather, he burned to test the weight of the unbound tresses. Eyes the color of warm caramel and a smile that was equal parts sass and intelligence haunted him.

  And as quick as he'd found her…

  She'd been taken.

  Life was too ironic. The unwelcome sensation of déjà vu tickled his mind, yet he repressed it.

  He'd not think of that now. No, now he needed to focus, to think. Harboring himself in the Fox Inn, he was grasping at straws.

  But he had promised, to a duke no less.

  And with his experience with the war office, he was truly the best man for the job. London held no lure anyway, not when he knew the price paid to withhold the truth, and when only judgment and a reclusive life waited for him.

  As he searched for Beatrix, Miss Lamont, he reminded himself, it was as if life held more purpose, more value. It was a bright temptation to hope once more.

  Yet with each day that passed with no sign of her, the bleak realization poured over him anew.