“No one gets away with betraying Rufus Fairleigh. Your bloody mother found that out the night she died.”
“You killed her,” Vaughn said softly.
Elisa felt invisible hackles rise on the back of her neck. The danger in Vaughn’s voice!
Rufus gave a chuckle. “With this very same pistol. Fitting, hmmm?”
Vaughn leapt at Rufus and Elisa heard herself scream in reaction, for the pistol was already pointed in Vaughn’s direction. He stood no chance. None at all.
The pistol fired and Vaughn fell to the cold marble with a cry and lay still.
She went to her knees beside Vaughn. His eyes were closed. Blood was already pooling on the floor beside him, collecting at the bottom of the stone stairs.
Rufus dragged her up by her hair and released her with a shove. She staggered towards the arch that led into the front foyer. Escape lay in that direction and now Rufus had no gun.
“Take another step and I’ll shoot you now,” Rufus said from behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder, in time to see him reach beneath his jacket and withdraw a second gun—the twin to the first, that lay by Vaughn’s still body. She halted instantly. Of course, a dueling brace.
“This one is loaded, too,” Rufus assured her and cocked it.
She backed up a few steps and found her back was against one of the cold pillars. It was one of the pair that she and Vaughn had stood between one night—what felt to be eons ago.
Rufus pointed the gun at her breast.
“Kill me, Rufus, and you will never have a plaything of your own.” It was a last desperate gamble.
“Your use has expired, whore,” Rufus growled. “You’re not worth the trouble and upkeep.”
Behind Rufus she saw a shadow of movement and her breath caught. Was Vaughn still alive? Suddenly, she found herself babbling inanely, speaking any sort of drivel, in an attempt to keep Rufus’ attention upon her. It was utter nonsense and perhaps that was what tipped Rufus off—or perhaps he saw her glance behind him.
Warned, he spun around to guard his back.
But it was too late. Vaughn’s hand, holding the solid crystal whiskey decanter with the heavy base, smashed into Rufus’s temple as he turned and Rufus dropped to the marble like a stone and lay still.
Hysteria and relief roiling in her, Elisa skirted the still body. Vaughn stepped back a little and reached out blindly for the newel post behind him. He propped himself up against it and held his side. His shirt beneath the black broadcloth was bright with blood and he hung his head a little. His face was an alarming shade of gray.
Elisa reached for him and he held up his hand, covered in blood. There was a trail of it behind him.
“I thought you were dead.”
“It’s still undecided,” he whispered. “Elisa, you must get me somewhere safe, far from here.”
“Vaughn?”
He collapsed forward, into her arms.
* * * * *
Elisa stared out the window, though she could see nothing through the rain that streamed down the glass. The lack of reflection forced her to deal with her thoughts instead. For nearly two weeks she had not been able to think beyond the immediate moment. For all of that lengthy fortnight she had been fighting to preserve Vaughn’s life.
Tonight, for the first time since she had seen his still body on the marble floor, she knew for certain Vaughn would live. He was clear of any infections that might have plagued him because of the wound. No one had found them at the small inn a few hours away from Farleigh Hall.
She had no idea if Rufus lived or had died and cared less, save that if he lived he might have people out looking for them both. She had stayed tucked up inside the inn, caring for Vaughn, taking barely any food or drink herself. In her worry over Vaughn’s condition, her appetite had completely disappeared.
That awful night she had called out the servants and loaded Vaughn into a covered carriage, she had planned to flee far from the hall—as far as she could get the coachman to take them. But her frantic ministrations to Vaughn’s wounds in the carriage had told her that with every mile they traveled Vaughn would become weaker. He needed attention she could not provide in a moving carriage. Seeing the small inn tucked away beside a bridge, she had decided that until Vaughn could travel that was where they would stay.
Aside from visiting a nearby mercantile establishment for supplies and food, Elisa had stayed at Vaughn’s side. The first night she’d wondered if he would see the dawn. She couldn’t bear to close her eyes for a moment during the first forty-eight hours. Then the fever had overtaken him and her fear was renewed.
Yet the fever had also subsided and now his face held color and with each day he grew a little stronger. Tonight he slept peacefully.
If only she could sleep, too! Every time she closed her eyes an image of Rufus appeared. Every day she feared he’d find them and finish what he’d started.
Tonight she was free to wonder if Vaughn had killed him, but knew if that were the case, word would have reached them. Rufus was the richest man in the region and stories of his death would surely make the rounds, even in this small place.
Elisa wished she could turn back the calendar by five years and return to the time when Roger had first died. Had she known what she knew now, she would have taken Raymond and run far and fast. It wouldn’t have mattered that they would be poor, just that they were together.
But she could not go back and just like five years ago, she now faced an uncertain future.
Her gaze was drawn back to the bed, as it had constantly since she had taken lodging in the room. Vaughn was asleep, his long lashes feathered against his high cheekbones. His dark hair was unruly, sleep tossed. His body was leaner from lack of nourishment. Her heart clenched as she stared. He was so young. She should release him, give him back to the world and let him find his way. Now he knew the truth about Rufus, perhaps he could search for his real father.
She had to leave him. She would only destroy his life—had nearly destroyed it already.
Just then his eyes slowly opened. Elisa caught her breath. He was awake! He blinked a little and looked at his pillow and the canopy of the bed above him.
“I’m alive,” he said to himself. The croaky voice did not hide his surprise.
“You most certainly are alive,” Elisa said.
He turned his head to look at her. A soft smile formed on his lips. “Come here,” he said, motioning to the space on the bed beside him.
She sat on the very edge of the bed, not willing to disturb him more than necessary. “How do you feel?”
He reached for her arm, gently pulled her down to his level and kissed her. “Better now,” he said with a smile.
The smile turned her mind to wicked thoughts. The sheet had fallen back to his waist, leaving his torso with the white bandage revealed, the olive skin gleaming in the dull light from the candle.
Her stomach clenched tight. It had been two weeks since they’d made love and though she knew he was hurt, she wanted him. She looked at his strong chest, then his abdomen and the line of hair that disappeared beneath the sheet.
“Join me,” he said.
Elisa looked up to find him watching her, a heat she recognized in his eyes. Excitement tingled along her spine. “You’re hurt.”
“My wounds have patently healed.”
“But what if—”
With a growl he lunged for her and pulled her on top of him, proving that although he was wounded, he was not at all incapacitated.
Through the sheet she could feel him against her, hot and hard. She pressed her hips against him, sending heat to the very core of her.
“Take off your clothes, Elisa.” Vaughn’s eyes were dark, his lashes lowered. That he wanted her was very clear. By his tone she knew he would not brook delay.
Rather than disrobe as he demanded, she slid her gown up about her hips, slowly revealing her nakedness beneath. Though he had lain unconscious or in a stupor all these days sh
e had kept herself bare and ready for him beneath the dress. She would recall his request—his low voice asking that she make herself so for him, and him alone, for no one else would know, so she would leave off her underclothes and hug the secret to herself as something she shared with Vaughn only.
As she revealed herself, she heard him draw a deep breath. “Ah, but I have dreamed of this,” he murmured, and his hand smoothed its way up her thigh.
She pulled the sheet aside, revealing his already erect shaft and straddled his hips, as he tugged on the strings that held her bodice together, loosening it. As he pulled the bodice apart, baring her breasts, she sank down on his shaft, taking him slowly within her body.
Once his cock was fully embedded within her she began to ride him, the tempo intentionally slow. His hands were on her breasts, caressing the nipples, stroking the soft round swell of flesh around them, as she moved slowly around him.
He grinned, as though knowing what she had in mind. “You test my stamina.”
She shook her head. “No…I’m testing my own.” As she shifted her hips, rotating in a circle, he held onto them and thrust. He had been too long without her and his body betrayed him. A groan ripped from his throat as he filled her womb with his seed.
Elisa stared down at her lover’s face. Vaughn’s eyes were closed, his lips slightly open, his chest rising and falling as he filled his lungs with air. Slowly he opened his eyes and she smiled down at him, loving the feel of his thick, heavy cock within her. “That didn’t take long,” she teased, shifting her hips the slightest bit.
Immediately his shaft filled with blood and he grew hard once again. She arched a brow, the side of her mouth lifting. “I believe you’ve made a quick recovery.”
“I am eager to please my lady.”
My lady. The words were said like a caress and she felt it all the way to her soul. Did he truly feel that she belonged to him? Did he love her, as she loved him? For she knew without a doubt their relationship had grown from lust to love—at least for her.
“Take that blasted gown off,” he said, his hands impatient as he stripped her of the gown and threw it aside. “That’s better.”
She attempted to give him a look of pure innocence. “And now what will you do with me?”
He flipped her on her back and beneath him. “I’m going to ravish you,” he said against her lips, his mouth hovering close, teasing her. But rather than kiss her, he wandered lower, his hair falling against her breasts. He teased relentlessly, kissing her breasts, yet ignoring her nipples that were hard and sensitive. How she wanted his mouth there, sucking, tugging, laving her until she couldn’t stand it.
Her breath caught in her throat as he proceeded downward, his tongue circling her stomach, then lower still. Her abdomen rippled in anticipation, for his breath blew hotly against her thighs. She looked down at him and found the sight an erotic one: his dark hair bent at her mons, his large hands cupping her hips, pulling her toward his mouth.
He kissed the fold lightly. She moved her legs, opening her thighs for him as a silent urging to stroke her properly. She saw his smile and then his tongue caressed her pearl, tickling, stroking, flickering against the sensitive bud. She grabbed hold of the headboard, biting down on her lip to keep from crying out.
Vaughn felt a hot triumph as he watched Elisa writhe beneath him, opening herself up fully to him. He knew she came to him completely without reservation this time, unshackled by any commitments. She was his in every sense of the word. His erection was near bursting, but he held himself back, controlled it, wanting her to experience the same joy she’d brought him. He took her breasts in his palms, teasing the pink colored areolas.
She moaned low in her throat and he felt her climax grip and release her.
“Vaughn…make love to me,” she whispered, pulling him toward her.
On his knees, he probed her with the head of his erection. She shifted her hips, trying to take him in, but he held back, studying her gleaming, welcoming cleft, the engorged folds of flesh, and the little tilt and movement of her hips. “You’re so wet for me.”
“Yes.”
He filled her with a single thrust and she cried aloud her pleasure, her head thrown back, her throat extended. With a smile, he lifted her legs and thrust into her a little further, causing her to gasp once more. But the little movements inside her tight sheath were already pushing him too close to his climax. He gripped her thigh, and with shortened thrusts, little movements of his hips, kept the climax at bay.
This time he would wait for her. He wanted them to come together, to experience that rare mutual pleasure. Concentrating on reading her responses, tracking her growing excitement, he found his own pleasure was not building with the direct, swift climb to the peak, but was lifted up by a deep well of sensation that was more intense, more overwhelming than any he had ever experienced. Perhaps his profound pleasure communicated itself to her—he didn’t know if it was possible, for this was a new experience for him—but Elisa was moving with complete and utter abandonment, pushed towards that same exquisite peak. She was tightening around him, her body tensing as the moment drew closer. Then she arched hard, and clenched about him, and the internal caress sent the cascade of rippling, convulsing joy through his body.
As he spent himself within her, he kissed her, wishing they could stay like this forever.
* * * * *
It was nearing three weeks after the shooting when Elisa knew it was time to discuss the future. They could not spend the rest of their lives hiding away in the small forgotten inn. Decisions must be made, actions taken. She knew it was time for such a conversation, for Vaughn had spent the majority of the morning away from the inn. He didn’t tell her where he’d gone, but she could tell by his quiet manner that it probably had something to do with Rufus. That he did not share his morning with her was unsettling. She could not let the matter rest without discussing it. If she had learned anything from her pathetic marriage it was that secrets between people could fester and rot.
She would tackle the subject over lunch, she decided, as the meal was laid out upon the table in the corner of the room. Vaughn was washing the dust of his travels from his face and hands.
But when they sat before the modest repast, her courage failed her. After all, what was her place in Vaughn’s life now? Did she have any right at all to demand an accounting, a settling? The possibility that she did not kept her silent.
Until, finally, he pushed his plate aside. “I need to go to London,” he said, turning to her, his expression undecipherable.
Her heart lurched. He had said I, not we. Was she meant to stay here? “When will you return?” she asked.
He swiveled to face her properly and took her hand in his big warm ones. “I’m not certain. I do know this much, however. I want us to marry.”
She laughed without mirth. “Vaughn, you know that’s impossible.”
“It would work, Elisa. I know it.”
The words held such conviction, she wished she could believe them. But she shook her head, and shifted her gaze from his steady examination of her. They could not continue to live like this, closeted away from the rest of the world, that was true. But…marriage? “No one would ever accept us,” she said softly. “The moment we revealed ourselves, we’d be shunned by all of society. I know how that feels, Vaughn. I won’t put you through it.”
“I have done nothing wrong,” Vaughn said. “I intend to marry a woman who has been previously married. It’s done all the time.”
“I was your father’s fiancée. I still am, in society’s eyes. And you’re courting Natasha. Our relationship is forbidden and you know it, Vaughn. They will crucify you, as they did me.”
The trials of the past made her think of Raymond. “I would lose any hope of seeing my son again.” Tears burned the back of her eyes and she quickly looked away.
She heard him move, the chair scrape back. Then she was picked up. He took her over to the bed and laid her down as though she w
ere as fragile as crystal. Just as delicately he undressed her and made love to her. When he was within her, she allowed her tears to fall, anointing what might be the last time they ever made love.
Chapter Seventeen
As he hurried into the inn, Vaughn’s thoughts turned to Elisa. How he’d missed her these past five days. Every waking hour he thought of her, wondering what she was doing, praying she would still be there when he arrived. Her refusal to consider marriage hadn’t surprised him, but it reinforced his understanding that Elisa, unlike any woman he’d ever met, was an independent person. He remembered the lesson she had implanted in him in that regard—the bonds and the knife and the control she had exerted over him. If Elisa was still in their room when he arrived, he knew it would be because she had chosen to wait for him rather than leave.
Why she would choose to stay was a matter that puzzled him in the moments when he had the courage to examine it. He had spent the last five days trying to earn that privilege. He would soon find out if he was too late.
He had to force himself not to run into the inn. It was quiet inside—no late customers tonight, either. The door to their room was closed and when he tested it, proved to be locked, too. He pulled out the key from his pocket and turned the lock, cracked the door aside, took a deep breath and stepped inside.
Elisa sat in a chair, her back to him. She appeared to be reading but she didn’t turn as he entered. Her stillness made his heart race. Rufus was not far away—he might have found her while he was not here to protect her…
He hurried to the chair to face her, and his gut loosened with hot relief when he saw that she was merely sleeping, the novel she’d been reading in her lap. Her elbow was propped on the arm of the chair, her hand holding up her head. She was still dressed in her day gown and by the way her body slumped in the chair, she was still without a corset.
His heart ached. She had endured too much of the cruelty life could deliver, yet appeared untouched by it. Her naturalness, her candor and the tiny line between her brows that dug deeper whenever she insisted her demands be met…he had much to do with the emergence of these qualities, but the world had created Elisa, full of promise and potential and he had been lucky enough to watch her flower to full bloom.
Forbidden (Scandalous Sirens) Page 22