“Don’t wear your corset tomorrow,” he instructed.
The low words raised the hairs on her skin. Wordlessly, she turned and hurried from the library, back down the wide gallery to the cold marble floor of the foyer. By the time she reached the spiral stairway, she was running and gasping with the release of belated fear and relief at her close escape.
She reached her bed and burrowed beneath the covers, trembling.
She would not go riding on the morrow. I will not go riding with Vaughn tomorrow. It is unthinkable.
Chapter Three
Vaughn had been up for hours when Elisa finally made her way downstairs.
He spent the time brooding and kicking himself over his behavior in the library the night before. What on earth had possessed him? He’d been sitting there, having decided that the sane thing would be to go back to London and fight with his father over Kirkaldy via lawyers, until she walked in—and it was as if he’d made no such decision at all. He’d acted without thought, without sense.
Even this horse ride was madness. A moth did not hover around the flame once he’d discovered it had the power to pull him in and burn him. So why was he, Vaughn, hovering around Elisa?
He did know the answer to that one. In the moment he had offered to take her riding, there had been a softening in her face that had stopped his heart. He would not depart for London now and take that pleasure from her.
One short ride, then he should leave and never come back. The forbidden flame was far too perilous. Rufus was extraordinarily skilled at exacting retribution. He was a fool to even consider staying here and risk being overtaken by the madness that had possessed him last night.
As he wandered about the shining marble floor, Maud, the oldest maid in the hall came through from the kitchen carrying a heavy silver tray laid with breakfast dishes, her old, deformed fingers clenched around the handles as she hunched over the load. She had not changed from what Vaughn remembered of her. It seemed she had always been old. He took the tray from her despite her protests and carried it to the door of his father’s suite after asking her who it was intended for. At the door Vaughn paused and waited for her to catch up with him and open the door. Before she took the tray back she reached up to pat his cheek. She smiled fondly.
“You used to open doors for me, too, young master.”
“I did?”
“Whenever your father couldn’t see you do it. It’s good to have you home, Master Vaughn.”
He descended the stairs back down to the ground floor, thoughtful. Who else in the hall thought he was here to stay? That this was home for him? He rested against the newel post at the bottom of the stairs, frowning. He was here to retrieve Kirkaldy and that was all.
Then Elisa came down the stairs and he straightened, abruptly and foolishly glad to see her. Dressed in a demure riding habit of dark blue velvet that made her eyes sparkle, she was not quite the temptation she had been last night when her golden curls had swung loose and brushed her waist.
Personally, he preferred women in riding habits. They couldn’t wear so many petticoats and disguise the true line of their legs. He had noticed last night that Elisa had long legs and today he could enjoy their length yet again, as they were not disguised by flounces.
Obviously she was not going to make excuses as to why she could not ride, as he’d expected her to do. Unwillingly, he felt a touch of admiration for her courage. She was going to abide by their agreement, regardless of the duress she’d been under when she’d made it.
However, she managed to avoid looking at him as she slid on her leather gloves and put on a wide-brimmed bonnet.
“Good morning, Elisa,” he bid her. “Have you eaten?”
“I ate in my room, thank you,” she said softly.
“Then there’s no reason not to start out immediately,” he said. “I’ll have the horses brought around.”
“I’d rather go to the stables,” Elisa returned, a touch too quickly.
Vaughn studied her anew. Did she want to be away from the house? He noticed the hint of dark circles beneath her eyes, the high color in her cheeks. Then he understood; she wanted to get this over and done with as swiftly as possible. She wasn’t about to wait idly with him for the horses to be brought to her. She wanted to go to the horses instead.
He suppressed a smile. Did she really think she was safer walking through a garden than standing here in the foyer?
“Very well,” he agreed and offered his arm. When she did not take it, but instead stepped around him and marched to the tall French doors at the back of the foyer, he let himself smile fully. Oh yes, indeed, she was avoiding him.
The doors led out onto the large formal garden at the rear of the manor. It was a tamed, regimented and manicured area filled with straight paths and symmetrical borders of flowers and plants.
Elisa walked swiftly down the path. It led directly to the stables at the foot of the garden. Vaughn quickened his pace a little and easily caught up with her.
“Are you wearing your corset?” he asked.
“A lady always wears a corset. That is not a question you have a right to ask me, either.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is all the answer you will get from me.”
He grinned. He would see about that. Deliberately, he stepped a little sideways, and brought his foot down upon her train. Elisa was jerked backwards. Immediately, Vaughn took his foot off the train and she was thrown forward by the sudden cessation of force from behind.
Swiftly, Vaughn stepped around to catch her before she could measure her length on the path and she fell neatly into his arms, her own outstretched to save her.
He gripped her by the waist and put her neatly back on her feet. He kept his hands around her incredibly small waist, feeling the warmth of her beneath the soft velvet.
He could also feel the unyielding wall of corsetry.
“Elisa, you disappoint me,” he murmured, although he was not at all unhappy. He may have been a little dissatisfied if she had given in so easily.
Her chin jerked up. “Vaughn, you expect far too much of me. I am your father’s fiancée and propriety demands—”
“Sod propriety!” He tightened his grip on her waist. “Propriety, morals…they’re just words, Elisa. You know the difference—I know you do. Just as I do.”
She was studying him. Listening. Weighing. It was a trait he’d never seen in a woman before—to have his words considered with such care, to be so taken to heart.
“What do you want, Vaughn?”
Yes, what did he want? What was he doing, standing here in the middle of the rose garden, holding her by the waist for all to see? To what end? He’d already decided to go back to London. He shrugged. “To go riding.”
“No, Vaughn. What is it you really want?”
“What I want I cannot have,” he answered truthfully.
“You must take your hands from my waist. People might see us from the house.” She was staring at him steadily with her intense blue eyes, made brilliant by the color of her gown. There was not an inch of retreat in them.
Let go of this delicate, gorgeous creature? Suddenly, he found it almost impossible to lift his hands away, even though he knew she was right—there might well be servants observing them from the windows. There was no danger Rufus would see them. The old sot was most likely still snoring off last evening’s claret.
“Vaughn, please…whatever you think of me personally, you do me an injustice by risking my public reputation in this way.”
Never had he expected to find anything innocent about her—not a woman of her sordid past—but there she stood, wisps of golden hair escaping her bonnet, framing her delicate features. Her big blue eyes were entreating him to do the gentlemanly thing and turn her loose.
And then there had been the moment of pure joy in her eyes when he’d offered to take her riding last night. Its appearance made him wonder how mournful the rest of her life was, if such a simple offer co
uld bring such delight.
Elisa, he realized, was a complicated woman. The assumptions he’d made about her were not an exact fit. It intrigued him.
He let go of her waist and stepped back a little. “If I can’t have what I want, then I would accept friendship, instead,” he said and was mildly astonished to realize he was sincere.
“Friendship?” she repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief.
“Yes, friendship. Or is that too much to ask?”
She watched him for a few moments, as though she expected him to say he wasn’t serious. Then a slight smile came to her lips. “Of course it is not too much to ask. I would like your friendship very much. Yes, very much indeed.”
The way she said the words made him think that perhaps she was trying to convince herself.
“Then let’s not waste this beautiful day.”
She nodded and walked beside him toward the stables, her shoulders erect, her chin high, her cheeks flushed a flattering shade of pink.
As the stable master readied their mounts, Vaughn watched her fidget with her gloves. She was going out of her way to look at anything but him. He took a step closer and she glanced up, her breath leaving her in a rush.
“I make you uneasy,” he said, not bothering to state it as a question.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You don’t.”
“Then why are you so on edge?”
Her gaze shifted to something beyond his shoulder. Then relief flooded her face. “Look, our horses are ready.”
She brushed past him and hurried over to the gray the stable master was holding for her. It had been readied with a sidesaddle. As she settled herself into the saddle and arranged her skirts properly, he smiled a little, forming an image of what she must have looked like in those years when she rode astride like a man, defying society, convention and death all at once. This properly stiff-backed lady who controlled her horse with a gentle, deft touch was nothing like that image.
Impressed with her skill already, he mounted his horse and with a challenging smile, he was off like a shot, sending up grass and dirt in his wake.
He heard the thunder of pursuit. His blood raced, excitement flaring through him, pushing him to go faster. He told himself he should be careful for she might be hurt, but he knew she needed to feel the wind whipping her hair and feel the excitement race along her spine—just as he did.
They were far from the hall already, racing across ripe fields and fallow green meadows, through copses of trees and fens.
Her laughter rang out behind him and he glanced over his shoulder to find her leaning over the horse’s neck, pushing it harder and faster. She had removed the cumbersome bonnet and her golden hair gleamed. She laughed. Her smile was devastating—all white teeth and dimples.
Such a strong response to such a simple stimulation as a horse ride was a measure of Elisa’s potential sensuality. What would she be like in a man’s arms? In his bed? The possibilities made his gut clench with a raw excitement completely unrelated to the swift clean joy of riding a galloping horse.
Then he heard her laugh again and the pretty, silvery sound was much closer.
She was gaining on him!
He spurred the horse onwards, entirely caught up in the spirit of the chase. What a delight it was competing against such a carefree and challenging rider. And his mind was busy with an illicit dilemma: Should he let her win and claim compensation, or should he win and claim the victor’s spoils?
* * * * *
Elisa’s heart pounded, matching the rhythm of the horse’s hooves hitting the hard-packed ground. It was a glorious day and the sun shone down on her and Vaughn as they raced across the meadow.
She had lost her bonnet long ago—they would have to retrieve it on the way back. Her hair was threatening to break free of the careful braid. There was hot blood flowing through her veins and she felt absurdly excited, skittish like a colt. She was determined to beat Vaughn despite the severe limitations of a corset and sidesaddle.
It had been so long since she’d felt this free, this alive, and she had Vaughn to thank for it.
If only she could look at him without remembering his hands about her waist, and the color of his eyes as they stared into hers. If only she could look at him without thinking of making love to him. She wanted to erase the memory of last night completely, to rid her mind of the sensation of his thumbs smoothing their way across her flesh. Just the memory of it brought her nipples taut and alive and caused her body to tighten and throb.
She was truly evil. What kind of a woman would desire her fiancé’s son? She must purge this longing.
At least Vaughn seemed to have settled for only her friendship. She should be happy he had made the compromise.
Or was she beyond wickedness—was it that she really wanted him to tell her he had to have her, that he felt a desire for her so intense he could think of nothing else? What else could last night have been but an outward hint of such an obsession?
But she knew with a hard-earned wisdom she was hoping for something that wasn’t there. He was a striking man, used to flirtations and casual affairs. No doubt many women had fallen victim to his charm, for that charm was clearly potent enough for any woman.
Vaughn brought his mount to a halt a good ten yards in front of her. Following his lead, she reined in. Before she stopped, he was at her side, helping her down.
“Come, I want to show you something.” He took her hand in his own and headed towards a copse of trees.
She had never ventured from Fairleigh Hall before. She had no idea what to expect. But in Vaughn’s company, she felt safe from the world at large. He had the authoritative size and power to protect her from anything and now he had declared he would settle for friendship, she felt she could trust him.
“When I was a boy I used to come here to fish. There’s a stream that runs from the northwestern corner of Fairleigh land to the southwestern corner. Only here is it deep enough to swim.”
Stopping abruptly, she let go of his hand. “You don’t intend to swim today, do you?”
He shrugged. “Who knows? It is rather warm.”
It suddenly seemed warmer than it had been moments before.
He took her hand again, sliding his own warm one around hers. “Come on.”
The trail ended at a swimming hole larger than she’d anticipated. Clean, sparkling water rippled over smooth rocks. The water was so clear she could see rounded rocks and pebbles at the bottom. It was difficult to judge how deep it was. Further out, it shone invitingly in the hot sun.
I am not remotely tempted to swim, she told herself.
However, it appeared Vaughn was, for he was already stripping off his jacket and shirt.
Her heart missed a beat as the items landed on the grass by her feet. Naked to the waist, he was a sight unlike any other she had seen in her life. A broad, well-defined chest tapered down to an abdomen that was rock-hard, the sinew flexing beneath the tight olive skin as he removed his boots. He was watching her.
Elisa swallowed hard and quickly looked away. “It isn’t too warm,” she said, her cheeks turning hot.
“Really? I feel like I’m on fire.”
The tone of his voice made her turn quickly, only to find he had divested himself of his breeches as well, giving her a full view of his firm backside. She gasped aloud. Her stomach clenched at the sight and her breath stopped. A heartbeat later he dove in, disappearing beneath the surface.
“I do not want him…I do not want him…” she chanted under her breath, but even as she said the words, she found herself taking a step closer to the edge of the pond.
Just then he broke the surface, whipping his hair out of his face, his smile wide and inviting.
“Sweet Jesus,” she blurted before she could stop herself.
It was hopeless. There was no way she could not want him. He was everything she had been denied for far too long—a friend, a person she could laugh with, a man close to her own age…a lover. H
ow many years had it been? Too many.
“Come in, Elisa,” he said, his eyes smoldering.
She took a quick step back, tripped and fell onto her bottom.
He swam toward her, but she scrambled to her feet and held a hand up. “No, stay there. Do not get out!”
His dark brows furrowed into a frown, but he remained still.
The water lapped at his narrow waist, scarcely hiding that part of him she yearned for. She knew that part of him would be as impressive as the rest. A warning voice whispered in her head.
“Why don’t you want me to get out?” he asked, his voice soft.
“I…just do not want you to.”
“But what if I want to?”
“Then I will leave.”
“No, you won’t.” His smile fled. “I will not get out. Sit down and relax, Elisa.” He motioned to a large rock five feet to her left.
She nodded, grateful to be looking somewhere else and to get off her feet. Smoothing her skirts around her, she sat down and glanced up to find him swimming across the pond, away from her, his strong arms gliding through the water with an ease she’d seldom seen.
He was entirely too handsome and much too unsuitable, she told herself. Worse, since he would be her stepson, he was also forbidden to her. She should be looking at him in a maternal way. He had grown to manhood without a mother. Perhaps he lacked a matronly guiding hand…
He stood up at the far side of the pool, water streaming from him and she was again given a view of his back and buttocks. He was turned a little and she could see the start of the highly pronounced ridge of muscle that ran in a V down to his pelvis. She followed it with her eyes. If he was to turn only a little more—
Quickly, she shut her eyes. It was no use. She could not possibly view him in a purely maternal manner.
“Elisa, are you sure you won’t join me?”
She opened her eyes to find him closer, treading water again, watching her with an intensity that made her nervous.
“I cannot.”
“Cannot or will not?”
“Both.”
He smiled devilishly and she jumped to her feet. “I’ll meet you in the clearing.” She didn’t wait for his response. She only knew she could not sit there a moment longer with him so close, and so…naked.
Forbidden (Scandalous Sirens) Page 4