Forbidden (Scandalous Sirens)

by Templeton, Julia

  She swallowed hard. “With whom?”

  His bloodshot eyes pierced hers. “You spent the night with Vaughn. You were with him yesterday as well. That is why your gown has dirt and grass stains.”

  She winced as he twisted her wrist painfully. How had he learned of her ruined riding habit? Was she surrounded by spies?

  “I want the truth. Now!”

  “You’re hurting me!” She tried to pull away, but he was unrelenting.

  He thrust her from him, and she fell into a table. “Now, Elisa!”

  “I had Marianne with me yesterday. And I fell from my horse. That is why I had grass stains.”

  “You took Marianne riding?”

  “She is an excellent horsewoman and I thought it more respectable to go calling upon neighbors and retail establishments with a maid to accompany me.”

  “You are a lying whore!” Rufus declared.

  Above all she knew she could not rise to the bait in his insult. She could not afford to break off her relationship with Rufus yet. She must placate, must play for time. And then she realized the train of her thoughts, the idea that Vaughn had planted yesterday: once Raymond was back with her, she would leave this odious, dangerous man without a backward look and consider her debt to him paid in full.

  Play for time.

  “Why don’t you ask Marianne yourself and put this behind us?” she told Rufus. She crossed the room and pulled the bell-pull.

  It was a huge gamble she took, hoping Marianne would back her without coaching, but it would buy her more time than a less risky gambit—if Marianne played along.

  Joshua appeared almost immediately, making her wonder if he had been hovering by the door, listening. “Yes, my lord?”

  “Send Marianne to us right away,” Rufus said, before Elisa could request her maid attend for herself. He threw himself into the nearest chair. “Then we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  Afraid her legs would give out, Elisa sat in a high-backed upright chair and waited for her maid. She kept her hands in her laps and fought not to wring them anxiously. A few silent moments passed before a knock sounded on the door.

  “Come in,” Rufus said, sparing Elisa a quick glance before they both turned their attention to the maid.

  Marianne looked terrified. Elisa prayed she wouldn’t fail her.

  Rufus stood abruptly, nearly overturning the chair in his haste. Marianne visibly cowered as he approached her.

  “Tell me what you did with your day yesterday,” he demanded.

  Elisa’s stomach clenched tight and she thought her heart might burst through her chest, it was beating so hard. Rufus had asked an open question! How could Marianne possibly provide the correct answer?

  “Why, my lord, I went riding with my lady Elisa,” Marianne said, her tone puzzled, as if she couldn’t see the point of the question.

  Elisa nearly sobbed aloud her relief. Marianne had found some meager clue that told her the lie she must give.

  “Really? Was it a pleasant day?” Rufus asked with oily concern.

  “Pleasant enough in this chilly countryside, m’lord. But…the lady, she did fair ruin her riding habit. I’ve despaired over the cleaning of it.”

  “So say you. How did she ruin it?”

  Elisa knew Marianne could not possibly answer this one correctly.

  “Well?” Rufus demanded when Marianne did not answer straight away.

  “My lord, Miss Elisa would not want me to reveal that, I am sure.”

  “I am her future husband, woman. If you wish to keep your position in this household you will answer me at once.”

  “I understand, my lord. My lady prides herself on her horsemanship, so she will not like me telling you that she fell from her horse.”

  Elisa bit down on her lip and did not bother hiding her reaction when Rufus whirled to face her. She could not believe her good luck, and judging by Rufus’ red, blotched complexion, he did not believe it either. His fury was almost palpable.

  He turned back to Marianne and his movement put Eliza in a position where she could see her maid once more. Marianne did not so much as glance at Elisa. She held her chin up and her shoulders square, proud and elegant.

  “Did you look in on your mistress last night?” Rufus asked.

  Marianne answered without hesitation. “Yes, my lord, I did.”

  “What time was it?”

  “I’m not certain. It was the middle of the night and I thought I heard something.”

  “It is not your custom to check on her?”

  “Not usually, my lord. My lady used to sleep peacefully until of late.”

  “And why is that?”

  “She’s been worried about you, my lord. She told me you appeared tired and she feared your attending the Munroe’s ball may have been too taxing.”

  Instantly Rufus’ shoulders relaxed a bit and he turned toward Elisa. She forced a soft smile.

  “Is this true?”

  She nodded. “Yes, my lord. You slept much of yesterday—longer than usual and last night you seemed—”

  “Exhausted,” Marianne finished for her.

  The frown left his features instantly. “That will be all Marianne. Thank you.”

  The maid left the room and Rufus turned his full attention to Elisa.

  He watched her several minutes, saying nothing, leaving her with nothing to do but watch him in return. She must look completely innocent. She must carry this out. Marianne had done her part.

  He approached her and took her hand in his. With the other hand, he traced a line from finger to wrist. Slowly he brought the hand to his lips and kissed where he had so furiously twisted it. Already the skin was turning black and blue. “I didn’t know you were worried about me.”

  The urge to rip her hand from his grasp was near overwhelming, but she resisted. She did not believe the gentleness of his tone was a true indication of his thoughts. “How can I not be?” she responded. “You’ve taken such good care of me.”

  “It pleases me you understand your place in this household, woman. It appears I was wrong about you and that wretched son of mine, which is just as well—” He twisted her wrist the slightest bit, causing her to cry out. “It saves me the bother of killing you both.”

  He let go her wrist, tossing it back into her lap like damaged goods, turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

  Elisa remained seated until the violent trembling subsided.

  She was not fooled by Rufus’s words. He had not thought he was mistaken at all. He had fallen back for a short time because he had no proof and that was all. The last words had been a direct threat: he knew about Vaughn and her. If he found any proof at all, he would follow through on his promise and kill them.

  * * * * *

  Vaughn walked amongst the old ruin of what in Henry II’s day had been a grand castle protecting the county from French marauders. Now it was nothing but a heap of old stones, sitting upon on a cliff overlooking the ocean.

  It seemed like a lifetime has passed since last he’d visited this spot. The last time he’d kicked at these stones had been before his mother’s death. They had picnicked beneath the enormous oak that had once graced the bailey of the great fortress. While waves pounded against the cliff, he’d listened to her soft voice as she told him about the brave knights who had lived in the castle and protected it from enemies.

  Everyone had an enemy, she’d said. Kings and beggars, thieves and queens. At the time he’d wondered who his enemy was. He found it fitting that his enemy was his own father, in keeping with the Greek tragedies his schoolmasters had once forced him to learn and recite in perfect ancient Greek. A tragic stage seemed to fit his mood, but what didn’t suit him at all was that most of the characters in Greek dramas ended up dead.

  On his real-life stage they were all helpless players in the plot that was unfolding. This morning Marianne had woken him hastily, warning him that Elisa might be in danger. She had hurried from the study straig
ht to his bed to inform him of the interview Rufus had put her through.

  After clearing his mind of sleep, Vaughn tried to put the pieces together. “How on earth did you know what to tell him?” he asked Marianne.

  “Because Joshua listened outside the door and told me enough before I got in the door to let me know what my lady had told the master,” Marianne answered him as if it was perfectly clear and logical.

  He was surprised at the maid’s complicity in this matter when she had made it perfectly clear that she thought Vaughn a no-good scoundrel. “You hate him that much?” he asked.

  “He is a stoat in human clothing,” she declared calmly. Vaughn liked the analogy. Stoats were small, vicious creatures that attacked without provocation. They would take on a man if he got in the way and the creatures could do considerable damage. Fatalities were not unheard of. Luckily, there were very few of them left in the world.

  He’d penned a note and handed it to Marianne with instructions to hand it to Elisa as soon as possible. Then he’d dressed and gone straight to the stable to collect his horse and ride here to the ruins. He would wait all hours of the day and night until she came, if that was what it took. Rufus would think he was out wooing Natasha as he had ordered.

  Vaughn spared a passing thought for the young girl. True beauty she was, yet she compared not at all to Elisa. By giving into his seduction, Elisa had managed to entwine her presence ever more firmly into his mind. Taking her to bed had not cured him of the obsession, but merely intensified it. How could he have thought it would be easy to walk away from her?

  How could he possibly leave her with Rufus?

  The sound of an approaching rider brought him to his feet. Even before he could make out the features of the rider he knew it was Elisa. Her gown was tucked up to her thighs, her hair, coming lose of its chignon, flew behind her as she raced toward him as though the very devil were on her heels.

  Was she being followed? He looked behind her, but the long flat plane that lead to the brink of the cliff was empty of all but Elisa. He released the breath he’d unconsciously been holding.

  For a moment he thought she intended to ride him down, for she showed no signs of stopping or even slowing. But at the last possible minute she reined in and brought the mount to a stop in a flurry of sods. Without pause, she slithered from the saddle, straight into his arms.

  Her words were almost a jumble, so quickly did she speak, her voice trembling.

  “He knows, Vaughn. He knows! Marianne lied for me—god knows how she knew what to say, but she stopped him for the moment—but only for a moment. I could see it in his eyes. He knows and he waits only for proof. Vaughn, he warned me he would kill us if he found us together. You must leave Fairleigh Hall.”

  He put her at arms length. “Shh, Elisa. Calm down, sweet one. Marianne told me what happened. There is nothing to fear yet. He is only guessing, or he would have taken his retribution this morning.”

  “He waits only for proof!” she cried. “Somehow he knows.”

  “No, he only suspects. He would like it to be true so that he can kill me with a clear conscious, but that is all.”

  “You must leave then, before he decides he’ll kill you anyway.” Glancing over her shoulder, she scanned the horizon before turning back to him. “We’d best tether our horses and keep hidden.”

  They walked the horses into the only standing structure left: the great hall, where it was rumored Henry and Eleanore and their feuding sons had once held court. One day he would tell Elisa all the stories his mother had shared about the castle’s past, but now she needed assurance, not talk of enemies or Greek tragedies. Yet he could not speak reassuringly here amongst the ghosts of another family that had torn itself apart through petty jealousies and squabbles. Taking her hand, he led her back outside to the shade of the old tree.

  When he tried to take her in his arms, she shrugged out of his reach and took his face between her small hands. Her expression was resolute. “Vaughn, you have to understand. You must leave, or he will kill you…and me as well. He told me as much.”

  “It’s just an old man’s bluff. Elisa, he knows nothing.”

  She released him and shook her head. “We’ve only been together once at the hall and he learned something. He even knew I hadn’t visited Caroline. For all I know I could have been followed that day at the pond. He appears to have spies everywhere.”

  Vaughn’s attention was caught by another matter entirely. He reached for her arm and pushed back the loose sleeve cuff to see for himself. Purplish bruises covered her wrist and the flesh appeared swollen. Anger rushed through him. “Did he do this to you?”

  “He was angry—”

  “You defend him?” His voice rose. “That son of a swineherd’s bitch!” He started toward the horses when she stopped him by grabbing his hand.

  “No, Vaughn. Forget him. For a little while. For now. Let us enjoy the time we have.”

  He stood locked to the spot by helpless fury.

  “Make love to me,” she whispered. Stepping into his arms, she lifted her face to his. “Please, Vaughn.”

  He could not respond to her request. His anger was too great. She covered his face with a flurry of kisses and he tried to move his mouth away from hers, although he could not bring himself to actively push her from him. She caught his face in her hands again and this time she managed to capture his mouth with hers. Her tongue slipped inside, exploring his teeth and tongue. She pressed herself up against him, her breasts flattening against his chest. The yielding swell of them and the protruding nipple told him that beneath the cotton of her dress she was again naked. Indeed, he could feel the mild rise of her mound pushing with gentle insistence against his thigh, bereft of any intervening petticoats.

  He knew that if he was of the mind, he could slide inside her with three quick movements and experience once again her hot, moist sheath. The thought caused him to stir, even though his anger had not subsided.

  Her hands were fumbling at his breeches and she proved yet again how quick a study she was. Within seconds she had the fastenings undone and the breeches sagged around his hips, then her hands were inside, closing around him.

  His resistance broke and with a growl he lifted her and pinned her against the tree. She gasped at the contact, but reached eagerly for him, wrapping her legs about his hips as he lifted her skirt out of the way. With the one thrust that he had conceived of, he buried himself inside her and groaned aloud his satisfaction. But she goaded him on with words and cries of pleasure. He thrust into her again and again in a venting of frustration, rage and obsession. He poured it all into each hard thrust. He freed her breasts from the low bodice and partook of them, feasting upon them with his mouth and hand. He rubbed a nipple with his thumb while suckling on the other, drawing it into his mouth, and circling the tip with his tongue, flicking it, lapping at it.

  Her head fell back against the tree in ecstasy.

  The mating was frenzied, Vaughn setting a pace that was both savage and desperate in its intensity. Her fingernails raked into his back through the shirt as her climax began to build within her and explode. He gritted his teeth, the chords of his neck straining, and he moaned low in his throat as he came within her.

  * * * * *

  She rearranged her skirt as Vaughn dressed. He appeared calm again, not so apt to ride off wildly. He kissed her forehead. “You deliberately distracted me, Elisa. While I can’t gainsay the distraction, I won’t be deterred.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she said, but she couldn’t look him in the eye.

  “If I am to leave here, I will not leave without you.”

  She looked at him, and swallowed. This was what she had been afraid of. “I cannot,” she said quietly.

  “I will not leave you in the lair of that monster, Elisa.”

  “Where would we go?” she asked practically.

  He shrugged. “Who cares? London. I know lots of people in London. They would love you.”


  Tears stung her eyes. “London? I can never return to London.”

  “Why not? It’s not like you’d have to mix with the people you knew before. My townhouse is right by Hyde Park. The neighbor on the right is a good friend of mine—Henry Fitzgerald. And Jonathon Wright, on the other side, I went to school with. Oh, and Jonathan’s wife is about your age. You should get along marvelously. She has a wicked sense of humor.”

  He was growing visibly more excited as he planned ahead, but Elisa could feel her heart sink with each sentence he spoke.

  “Tell me,” she said quietly. “Henry Fitzgerald, if I remember correctly is the earl of…”

  “Sussex,” Vaughn responded.

  “And Jonathon Wright—I know his name, too.”

  Vaughn frowned. “He’s the grandson—no, nephew, of the Prime Minister.”

  “Vaughn, listen to yourself. These people would have even less reason to accept me than those who pushed me out of London in the first place.”

  “That’s ridiculous. They don’t know you.”

  “They know who I am. I was banished years ago, yet you saw the way I was treated at the soiree. The people there knew me as well as your neighbors do. I could never return. Not ever!”

  He considered this, his head down, impatience thrumming through him, communicated by the tense set of his shoulders. “Fine. Kirkaldy then. Wherever. I truly do not care, Elisa.”

  The tears that had been prickling her eyes for moments now finally escape to roll down her cheeks and she dashed them away with the back of her hand. “No, I cannot,” she repeated.

  “Elisa, what happened in the past is exactly that…the past. Would you rather stay here with him?”

  Her heart ached as she watched him. He was so certain that everything could be fine, but she was old enough to know better. “You know that’s not the case. You know what society thinks of me. You’ve seen it for yourself. Even you have said my past is not sterling. A plaything, you called me.”

  “I said that out of anger.”