Forbidden (Scandalous Sirens) (20 page)

“Must we?” She wanted nothing more than to escape to her room. The idea of returning back to the den of those vultures straight after Vaughn’s duplicity was too much to bear.

Rufus’ hand tightened on her. “You will get in there and face them,” he snarled, his voice low. “D’you think I dragged you here just to have you duck out when the water got too hot?”

Elisa felt her jaw sag. “Rufus, I don’t understand. What…?”

He pushed her from behind, his hand on her back. “Get in there, I tell you. You will sit there on that chair and take every single slight and insult they choose to give you. You deserve every single one of them, woman. I don’t want you moving from that room until you remember how much of a harlot you are, dressed up in your whore’s finery.”

“Rufus!” She felt herself resisting his hand, sick horror bursting through her. This had been his plan. This was his retribution.

He smacked her between the shoulder blades, hard. The slap cracked like a gunshot on the open terrace but would not be heard inside because of the music and chatter.

The whole of Elisa’s chest went instantly numb and at the same time felt like it was on fire. She gasped for breath.

“Get inside!” Rufus snarled. “Get in there and remember who it is that gives you a safe bolthole away from all this. Remember that I am the only one who would give you shelter…the only one who cares that you get your son back.”

She stumbled inside, dazed and sick with horror, the world tilted and spinning around her. Nothing was as it seemed.

Not even Vaughn.

* * * * *

As soon as it was humanly possible to disengage from the ball without giving offense, Vaughn walked Natasha to her chamber and gave her a chaste kiss on the temple as a good night offering. He knew she would have invited him inside if he had given her any opportunity or encouragement to do so, but he had ducked that issue with bloody-minded ruthlessness.
 
The last thing he wanted was to be delayed any longer from finding Elisa and talking to her. It was already well past midnight and many of the guests had departed already. Elisa and Rufus had left for their separate chambers long ago.

He cursed cruel fate. What had possessed Natasha to attempt her clumsy seduction tonight of all nights? Well, perhaps it was understandable if one considered both Caroline’s and William’s veiled approval of the match. Perhaps Caroline had even coached the girl on the finer points of catching a man. From all accounts, Caroline had managed to keep a string of beaus panting for her during her glorious debutante season.

Elisa’s ill-fated arrival on the scene, however, was no mystery. He’d only taken one look at the delight on Rufus’ face to know the cause.

Both those points needed to be explained to her. He had not failed to notice the way her face had blanched and her hands had begun to tremble as he’d disentangled himself from Natasha’s clinging arms. After Elisa’s evening of fielding barbs and insults, she did not need to be left believing he was the one who had engineered the intimate moment on the terrace with Natasha.

He reached Elisa’s door and looked around. No one was in sight. Quickly, he tried the handle. It turned.

Relieved, he opened the door and slipped inside.

A flickering candle cast a glow upon her sleeping form. He approached, his relief fading as he took in the sight of her. Her pale hair spilled against the pillow, free and abandoned. Her lips were slightly open and pink, full and inviting. Her dark lashes, spiked from tears, cast shadows against her high cheekbones.

His stomach tightened. Had he made her cry?

Wondering what she dreamed about, he reached out and lightly ran the back of his fingers along her soft jaw, his thumb grazing her full bottom lip.

She sighed and turned her head, exposing her swanlike neck to his gaze, which shifted lower to breasts that were barely covered by the soft, white silk nightgown. The decadent fabric’s dull luster and the way it clung to her breasts, outlining them, caused his breath to catch. He could imagine the feel of the gown under his hand and the soft breast beneath…

Blood flowed to his groin, filling his cock until it throbbed. He’d had an older woman before, an instructor of French who had showed him the true meaning of a few exotic words. It had been an exciting time in his life, an affair he’d wanted to continue, even though he knew their situation and her marriage had made it impossible. He suspected, though, that Elisa could eclipse the pleasure she’d displayed entirely.

“Vaughn?”

The word was said so softly that at first he thought he’d imagined it.
 
Then he looked up to find himself staring into blue eyes wide with surprise. “What are you doing?” she asked, pulling the sheet up to her chin.

He sat down beside her, the bed dipping beneath his weight. “I wanted to see you before I went to sleep.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t get to spend any time with you tonight.”

She frowned.
 
“We danced.”

“Yes, but that wasn’t enough.”

“You appeared to be adequately occupied elsewhere,” she said, her voice little above a whisper.

“I like your gown,” he said, pulling the sheet down with one hand while his fingers grazed the neckline of her gown, making sure to stroke more of her skin than the material. He could barely contain himself to that single caress.

Her breath left her in a rush. “Vaughn…”

“Shhh,” he said, putting a finger to her lips. “I wanted you to know—on the terrace tonight…that was Natasha’s doing.”

She shook her head. “Natasha is a child. She knows nothing of what men desire. How could she have known what to do?”

“Every maid dreams of being kissed. That is all she thought to achieve, I suspect. Unlike you, my sweet Elisa. You know what a man needs.” He could feel his throat closing down on him, excitement making his voice hoarse.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You shouldn’t be here.” She sat up against the headboard and crossed her arms beneath her chest. He wondered if she realized it emphasized the fullness of her breasts even more. “I cannot imagine what would happen if you were caught in here. Marianne will be coming to check on me.”

“You brought her with you?” he asked, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“Yes, so you must go at once.”

But he could not leave it at that, with his whole body throbbing with need, not when he was alone with her for the first time in days.

He leaned forward and kissed the top of each creamy breast.

She froze and the pulse in her neck quickened.

“Dear, sweet Elisa, you smell so good…god, how I want to bury myself deep inside you.”

She released a ragged breath, but did not push him away.

He kissed a path from her breast to the place in her neck where her pulse raced wildly. There he caressed her skin with his tongue. With his other hand, he stroked her breast through the delicate silk and felt the nipple grow tight and hard beneath his fingertips. Her breath came still more rapidly.

He felt her surrender, even before her fingers threaded through his hair.

“God forgive me,” she whispered, pulling his face up to meet hers.

Chapter Twelve

Elisa woke to the sound of a horrified gasp.

She opened her eyes to find Marianne standing over her, a frown marring her wrinkled face. “My lady, what have you done?”

Elisa’s heart pounded as she looked beside her. She gasped, for Vaughn lay there, his eyes closed, ridiculously long lashes fanned against sculpted cheekbones. Even in sleep he was irresistibly handsome.

Her gasp must have roused him, for his eyes opened slowly. “Good morning.” His voice sleepy and his smile completely oblivious to the fact he had just been discovered in his father’s fiancée’s bed.

Panic raced through Elisa.

Heads will roll for this
.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Elisa said, scrambling from the warm body at her side.

Marianne shook her head and threw Elisa’s peignoir at her. “For heaven’s sake, put this on before his lordship comes looking for you. He’s been up for hours and so have the majority of the guests. It’s a wonder he didn’t discover you himself.” With an exasperated sigh she crossed the room and closed the door behind her.

God, what had she done?

“Relax, Elisa. We didn’t do anything.”

She whirled around to find Vaughn sitting up in bed, with ruffled hair, but fully clothed.

So was she. Granted, she was in her nightgown, but at least she was not naked.

“We didn’t?” Her memory was hazy—sleep still fogged her mind and having been thrown into a state of alarm immediately upon waking wasn’t assisting her. Last night she had slept better than she had in years and the sound sleep seemed to have drugged her mind a little, too.

Vaughn smiled softly. “When a woman cries in my arms, I’m certain that means she doesn’t want to make love.”

With his words, her memory fell back into place.

Vaughn had held her in his arms, his strong heart pounding against her own as he whispered soothing words in her ear. He spoke of the humiliation she had suffered that evening, the pain she must have felt seeing Natasha in his arms, the discomfort of being ignored by Rufus. She had listened with growing wonder, for it seemed he had not missed a single barb or veiled insult sent her way throughout the entire evening. He had observed and remembered them all.

And his fury was unmatched by any man’s.

He had dampened his anger, shielded her from it, but she had felt it nonetheless. It had emerged in the words he used, in the way his body grew tighter and harder as he listed each little incident, in the way he swallowed and drew a deep breath after his summary. And finally, he had kissed her temple and added softly, “I would take all of it away if I could, Elisa. And for what I cannot alleviate, you have my sorrow. They do not understand. I wanted you to know that I do.”

The words held a sweetness she had long forgotten—the joy of being desired.
 
Of being thought well of.

The pain and horror of the evening slid from her mind, leaving her feeling light-headed. Never in her life had she known such tenderness and it had moved her to tears.

But why had he not taken her offering? Why had he refrained from making love to her? She would have gladly given him that boon after such an endearing display of concern and empathy. Did he not desire her anymore? Her heart lurched, remembering the pain of Roger’s rejection.

He came up behind her and pulled her against him, nuzzling her neck. “You’re so beautiful when you sleep,” he murmured, his lips tasting her nape and sliding to the edge of her nightgown.

He felt good—all hard, tight muscle and he was hot where he pressed against her. His arms around her waist were heavy.

The wanton in her stirred, and low in her belly she felt the warm throb of longing begin. It spread out in a slow wave through her body, making her limbs tingle and her breasts, where they pressed against his arms, ache for his touch.

She could detect his male scent and the clean smell of his hair. It enveloped her, and prompted images of him bent over her prone body, his mouth at her breast and the feel of him hard against her thigh…

“You talk in your sleep,” he whispered.

Instantly she stiffened.

He kissed her ear. “Who is Raymond?”

She jerked away from him, pulling her robe tightly about her. All the hot longing in her congealed and made her head hurt.

He frowned, clearly puzzled. “Elisa?”

Not trusting herself to speak, she shook her head.

His face was puzzled, thoughtful. “He’s your son, isn’t he?” His voice was quiet.

How did he know she had a son?

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?” he asked.

It was as though a wound had been ripped open, the pain was so intense. She turned from him, holding her chest. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why don’t you get him back?”

She turned then, her pain turning to incoherent anger. It gave her an aggressive edge. “Oh, yes, it is so easy. I just get him back.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that.” She shook her head, feeling her fury build. This was the first time she had ever spoken aloud of Raymond and her futile efforts to find him to anyone except Rufus. Now the fissure was open and hot molten pain poured through the rent. “If it was so easy, why is it I have gone months without retrieving him? Why have I agreed to marry Rufus and suffer through solitary nights, dreaming of my little boy?” Her voice suddenly began to wobble. “He’s nine years old. He’ll be turning ten this year. The last time I saw him, he held onto me and told me not to leave him. Roger’s family has no doubt seen to it that he despises me by now.”

She stopped, unshed tears wrenching at her voice and stinging her eyes. Her vision swam. She took a deep breath. All her fury had gone as quickly as it came. She dropped her head, ashamed for attacking Vaughn. “Do you think I would deliberately allow that to happen, if it was so easy to get him back?” she whispered and each word tortured her aching throat. “A woman has no power in our world, Vaughn. I am innocent. The only man I’ve ever made love to was my husband and the last time was five years ago, when he was too drunk to realize it was I who had crept into his bed and not one of the servants. I am not guilty of anything, yet I have lost everything I care about—my son, my home, my very character. I should have lived the life I had been accused of living and enjoyed it. After all, no one believes my innocence.” She sighed heavily.