Invitation to Scandal (30 page)

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Authors: Bronwen Evans

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General

BOOK: Invitation to Scandal
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Her smile widened. “You know of them. Then you’ll comprehend what is in them.” She paused, delicately. “
All
of them.”
Rheda kept her face calm, her expression politely interested. “Why tell me? Why not simply hand them to Stephen?”
The woman leaned forward. “Because you have something I want. Something that is to be mine.”
Under the water, hidden from view, Rheda’s toes curled. “I cannot fathom what you’re—”
Fleur cut her off. “Oh, I think you do. Six feet three inches of virile masculinity. He belongs to me, and I want him back.”
“I’ve had a very trying day. What exactly is it that you want?” She managed to keep her voice steady, yet inside her body tightened like a bowstring before it was fired.
“That’s better. Let’s at least try to be grown up about our situation.” Fleur settled back on her stool. “I want you to refuse Rufus’s proposal—I know there will be one, so don’t pretend otherwise. His honor would call for nothing else.”
Rheda inclined her head. “He has a strong ally in my brother. Even if I wanted to I’m not sure either will allow me to decline.”
“You’re a smart woman, Rheda. A woman who set up and successfully ran a smuggling ring should have no trouble extricating herself from a simple marriage proposal.” Lady Umbridge ran her hand over her hair. “I’d hate to have to destroy Christopher’s journal containing the truth about Rufus’s father or allow the journals about your smuggling—and affair with Prince Hammed—see the light of day. Think how the scandal would damage the Strathmore name. It would certainly seal their social demise.”
Rheda took two slow, cleansing breaths. When she spoke again her voice was deathly calm. “My declining Rufus’s offer won’t ensure your suit.”
“Leave the seductive manipulations to the expert. I, too, am a clever woman. I’m pretty sure he’ll do what he needs to do in order to procure the journal.”
“You’d blackmail a man to your bed?”
Fleur made a rude sound. “Not just any man and not to my bed. I’ll force him to marry me.”
Before she could censor her thoughts, Rheda blurted out, “That won’t do much for his honor.”
Fleur surged to her feet, the stool crashed to the floor, and the woman’s palm cracked across Rheda’s cheek in a stunning slap. “I’ll not need ‘other entertainment’ when I have a man of his stature in my bed. You have until tomorrow morning to dissuade him. If Rufus does not wash his hands of you by then, Christopher’s journal, with the evidence of the late Lord Strathmore’s innocence, goes in the fire, and the journals about you will be sent to the local magistrate and perhaps the
Times
.”
She stood staring down her long arrogant nose, as if Rheda was an insect. In the most vicious tone she said, “If you truly love him you know there is only one course of action open to you. I promise I’ll—satisfy him.” She smiled and licked her lips. “More than you ever could.”
The echo from the door closing sounded like the lid being slammed on Rheda’s hopes for the future. As her dreams disintegrated her tears welled. She tried to stem them but couldn’t. For once in her life she had no idea what to do.
She let go and sobbed against the cruel hand of fate. She sobbed so loudly that she didn’t hear the door open and didn’t realize anyone had entered the room until Meg pulled her into her arms.
“Shhh. Don’t cry. Everything will be—”
“No. It won’t,” she wailed.
Meg gently wiped the tears from Rheda’s eyes. “There is nothing women cannot do or overcome. You told me that.”
“I was wrong.” She hiccupped.
“Emphasis on the
women
—two heads are far better than one. Tell me what the problem is.”
And it all came out. During Rheda’s story Meg paced the bathing chamber, hands clenched at her sides. “What a bitch. I hope you told her to go to Hades.”
“You know I can’t do that. She’s right. I can’t destroy Rufus’s life goal or his family’s future in Society. It would be selfish, and I’ve sworn to start afresh and to think of others first.”
“But what of Rufus? He’s asked you to marry him. He has feelings for you. Are you prepared to destroy that?”
“Feelings? Desire is easily replaced. Another pretty face, and men are content.” Rheda dried herself with the towel. “What else am I to do? If you have another suggestion I would gladly hear it.”
“We could beat her until she tells us where they are.”
It was a tempting thought. “With her thick skin, it would probably only tickle.”
The two of them fell silent, remaining so while Meg helped her dress.
“I need more time,” Rheda said finally, not expecting any brilliant reply from her friend.
Meg shook her head and finished lacing up Rheda’s gown. “We have until morning to come up with a cunning plan, so don’t do anything rash. If we can’t think of a solution by then ...” Meg clapped her hands together.
Rheda’s heart leaped up and into her throat. “What?”
Meg shrugged her shoulders and looked away. “You could pretend to run away like a dog with your tail between your legs, then when she gives the journal to Rufus come back and unmask her treachery.”
She sighed. “My selfish self already came up with that idea, but Fleur holds the trump card. She has the journals about my exploits. I can’t walk into Rufus’s life when he’s finally been cleared of scandal only to burden the Strathmore name with my own disgraces.”
Meg dropped her gaze to the floor. “We’ll think of something. I know we will.”
Would they? Perhaps she was deluding herself, thinking she could outmaneuver a slippery eel like Lady Umbridge.
Rheda inwardly scoffed. Rubbish. She’d dealt with cutthroat smugglers, saved Tumsbury Cliff, faced down a French spy, and she wasn’t about to let a vicious whore of a woman take everything that was important from her. She’d find a way.
She had to find away.
If she couldn’t ... She’d have to walk away—for now.
Pushing the thought of failure from her mind, she said, “You’re right about one thing, though. I have until morning, and I am not going to let that woman destroy what might be my one perfect night.”
She welcomed Meg’s embrace and hugged her back as hard as she could, as if doing so would keep the pain from invading another inch of her skin. She had one night left to spend with the man she loved, and she would not waste it on “what could be.”
Pushing out of Meg’s hold, she made for the door. Meg’s words following her.
“You helped save Rufus from Lord Hale. I suggest you confide in Rufus and let him save you from Lady Umbridge. You don’t have to do everything on your own.”
She hesitated at the door, a small smile on her face. “Oh, I don’t intend to spend this night alone.
Nor ruin it by causing Rufus any further distress.
”
She’d give herself to Rufus. Immerse her body, heart, and soul in his passion. She’d create memories to last a lifetime. Only then, if she had no other option, would she have the strength to leave. Only then would she have the strength to walk away. To end up empty—like before.
Chapter 24
 
R
ufus sat quietly before the fire in his bedchamber, drinking a glass of warming brandy. It wasn’t a cold night, yet he welcomed the alcohol’s burn. He’d discarded his cravat and jacket, and undone his waistcoat. His legs stretched out toward the hearth. He could feel the heat from the fire on the soles of his Hessians.
Since escaping the dungeon he’d not been able to rest or have a moment to himself, and he needed to think through the implications of all he’d learned today—both about his father and about himself.
The swim had refreshed him and restored his senses, but the aftermath of Christopher’s death and the revelation Hale was indeed the spy had meant he’d had a busy afternoon.
His men found no trace of Samuel. Tomorrow they would widen their search. He’d promised Alex, and even though Christopher was the likely perpetrator in snatching the boys, Samuel could well follow in his footsteps. The only problem was no one knew Samuel’s identity. Samuel’s mask obscured his features. He could be walking about Hastingleigh estate as any one of the servants.
But Samuel wasn’t the only person on his mind. Rufus had already summoned his mother. Lady Hale would need a friend. His worst pain came from the knowledge he’d hurt Helen, a dear and loyal friend to his family. His mother’s grief would be as deep as his own.
Rufus would keep Christopher’s treason a secret from the world at large. Since he could no longer give evidence as to the innocence of Rufus’s father, there seemed little point in dragging Lord Hale’s name through the mud. It would hurt only Helen, and she was the innocent party in all of this.
Stephen had agreed to his plan. The public story would be that Christopher died trying to stop a smuggler—Dark Shadow. They would tell only Lord Ashford the truth. The spy had been dealt with, and that had always been the goal.
His lips curved in a warm smile. His father would be proud of him. Proud, not because he’d done what he’d aimed to do. No, his father would be smiling down on him because one moment’s clarity revealed to Rufus what was truly important in life. Life was meant to be lived, with and for the living, and he’d stupidly spent his life chasing the dead. It didn’t matter what Society thought. He knew that now. His friends and family. All that mattered was what kind of man he was in the eyes of family.
Shame gnawed at his empty stomach. His living family. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a conversation with his mother or his sister. Madeline—she was about to have her coming out, and he couldn’t remember spending any quality time with her over the past six years. What were her dreams, her hopes? What kind of woman had she developed into? He did not know the answers, and that saddened and embarrassed him.
Then there was Rheda. He took a deep breath. He didn’t quite know what to think of her situation, but she was the most amazing woman he’d ever met. And she’d captured his heart.
He knew that he’d never want any other woman. Rheda had challenged him from the first day he’d met her. She’d brought out the best and worst in him, and still she’d come to his aid at great risk to herself. He gave a sigh and felt his body quicken. Did she love him?
The door opened, and, as if she heard his silent call, she was there in his room. His heart sped up. She looked beautiful. His fists clenched in his lap at the sight of the bruises developing around her slender throat.
When she walked into the center of his room and smiled, his world lit up and his head started to swim.
“Are you all right?” she asked shyly.
I am now,
he wanted to say, but her beauty held him speechless. Seeing Rheda safe ... In answer he rose, and in one long stride reached her, caught her up against his chest, cupped her chin, and slowly lowered his mouth to hers.
 
Rheda closed her eyes, slipped her arms around his neck, and accepted his tongue into her mouth in warm, loving invitation. He tasted of warm brandy. He tasted—like the man she loved.
Rufus pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. He was breathing heavily. “My wild and reckless Rheda. I should put you over my knee for risking your pretty little neck. What were you thinking coming to that hell hole on your own? You take too many risks.”
Her head was so light, her blood so hot, she barely heard his soft censure. “I thought only of saving you.” And she threw herself back into the embrace, kissing him with feverish urgency as if tomorrow would sneak up on her before she’d taken her fill of him. She had a lifetime of memories to live in just one night. The thought spurred her actions.
A groan emitted from deep in his chest as she ran her hands over his body, all the while edging him back toward his large canopied four-poster bed. When they came to an abrupt halt, hitting one corner post of the bed, she pressed him back against it, grasping the flaps of his unbuttoned waistcoat.
For once in her life she was glad of her reckless nature, for his kisses made her boldly impatient to see him in all his glorious nakedness.
She broke their kiss and daringly rained butterfly-light licks and nibbles down his throat until she could part the V of his shirt to slide her hands inside. Her fingers sought his nipples, and she raked her nails lightly over his skin.
He hooked his finger inside her gown at the shoulder and followed her décolletage down to the front, grazing her sensitized nipple as his touch passed over her breast.
“I want you naked,” she panted, feeling her nipples instantly harden.
Never one to be denied that which she wanted, Rheda tore her hands from his chest and pushed the waistcoat off his shoulders and down his arms. She reached and pulled his shirt from his trousers, running her hands seductively up his chest as she helped him to pull the garment over his head.
“You set my world on fire, siren.” He grasped her hips and pulled her closer until she could feel the evidence of his desire hard and pulsing against her belly. More brazen still, she cupped him through his breeches, and he moaned and dropped his head back against the post behind him.
She ran her questing fingers up the length of his arousal, then up his flat belly to his chest. Finally she curled her fingers around his nape and stared at him. He no longer looked like the composed and elegant lord she’d first met on the cliff top. He looked as wild as an unbroken stallion. She pressed a kiss to his chest. He looked at her in tormented ecstasy.
“Life is full of risks,” she whispered. “You once promised to show me such pleasure I’d scream until I was hoarse. I’m not sure my throat is up to screaming, but my body is willing to risk the pain to experience all the pleasure you can give it.”
The wicked smile he gave her sent a thrill all the way down to her toes.
Without hesitation he swung her up into his arms and rounded the bed to gently lower her to the mattress. She lay back and felt her body quicken as he bent down and stole her breath with his kiss, petting her breasts through her gown.
He stepped back.
She shivered in anticipation. He slowly began to unbutton the placket of his trousers. She licked her lips as hungry desire consumed her. She feasted on the breadth of his wide shoulders, the clean sweep of his taut waist, and the sculptured planes of his chest, the marble-like skin covered with sparse brown hair.
She rose to her knees, kissing his tantalizing skin, stroking his fine velvety flesh, exploring with mouth and hands his powerful chest and rippling belly. Her fingers traveled over his skin reverently. She luxuriated in the feeling of his broad shoulders and the rock-hard curve of his biceps and strong forearms.
He gripped her wrists and removed her hands from his body, pushing her gently back onto the bed. “Enough, my wild beauty. I want to last long enough to render you speechless.”
Her body thrummed with impatience as he bent to remove his boots. Then her mouth dropped open as he pushed his breeches and the rest of his clothing down over his slim hips. Her breath hitched as she took in his naked body. Her gaze stayed riveted on his enormous jutting erection. “You are a ... magnificent specimen, Lord Strathmore,” she whispered.
He laughed softly, lifted his lashes, and captured her as she reached to stroke him. He wove his fingers through hers and pulled her into his arms. “You’ve seen me naked far more often than I’ve seen you, and I’d like to rectify that anomaly.”
Her cheeks filled with heat, but she boldly turned around and lifted her hair out of the way, eager for him to proceed. His fingers set about unfastening her gown in the back. She felt her gown gape open, and he ran a finger down her spine.
“I do love your trend of not wearing a corset.”
His husky words sent her heart racing out of her chest. He gently slipped the gown off her shoulders. She moaned as his hands skimmed over her shoulders and he molded his palms to her breasts, his thumbs flicking over her hardened nipples.
Impatient, Rheda wriggled out of her dress and watched with delight as Rufus tossed it on the floor, his eyes never leaving hers. Like a sinful Madonna she rolled onto her back, adoring the way his eyes caressed every inch of her exposed skin.
His warm, sure hands moved up her calf, and he fumbled in his haste to remove her stockings and garters. Once he had her completely naked he stood back, his chest heaving with desire. Under his lashes his chocolate-colored eyes devoured her, and she rose onto her elbows, crooking her finger and beckoning him.
He stood silent for a moment, continuing to drink her in before slowly joining her on the bed. As he moved over her, Rheda discovered the powerful aphrodisiac of skin against skin.
“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he whispered. “I thought I knew the type of woman that was perfect for me. A quiet, pious lady to honor my family’s name. But you—you, my golden temptress—have shown me I desire, and deserve, so much more. I want you and only you. My wild and irrepressible goddess.”
She drew in a sharp breath as the pain and irony of his words almost destroyed her. She’d won his devotion only to lose him due to her past sins. But he was not the only person with honor. She, too, could be truly selfless and do what was right. What was best for him.
She watched as his head lowered to her breast, as he opened his mouth. When he took hold of her and began to suckle, Rheda closed her eyes and blocked out everything but his touch, his kiss, his body, hard and unyielding above her.
He moved and spread her open with his massive thighs. He rose onto his hands above her; she opened her eyes and watched him—watched them, their bodies joining and separating. He teased her to the edge of insanity with the tip of his cock, moving in short, provocative little strokes.
She lifted her hips, begging for more. “Yes, Rufus. Take me—God that feels so good.”
“All good things come to those who wait, little hellion.” But his ragged breath told her she was not the only one on the very edge.
Moving down over her body, he bent his head and tortured her woman’s petals with his clever tongue, laving and flicking and sucking her rigid nub until she was mindless. He was relentless in his quest to bring her pleasure. Again and again his wicked mouth brought her to the sheerest edge of climax, but when her moans heralded her oncoming release, he stopped, returned, and slipped the tip of his enormous member just a little bit deeper than before.
He teased her mercilessly. Letting her scale the cliff face but never fly free. Wildness beat its drum in her blood, and she arched uncontrollably against him, her legs wrapping around his hips.
“Please, Rufus, for the love of God,” she groaned, tightening her arms until his hard chest chafed against her aching breasts.
In one swift movement he plunged deep within her, and she felt him quiver above her. “So tight, so hot ...”
Closing her eyes at the feel of him filling her so completely, she moved her hips, willing him to go deeper.
He needed no further encouragement. He kissed her lips and began to withdraw and reenter her wet sheath in a quickening pace. She joined in, her hips matching his powerful thrusts, the frenzy of their desire shaking her very soul. She could not help the budding cries sounding from within her battered throat. Just when she felt her climax start he slipped from between her thighs and lay back pulling her atop him. He paused, panting hard. “Take me, siren. I want to witness your complete abandonment. I want to hear and feel my wild wanton ride me to completion.”
Rheda couldn’t think of anything more pleasurable as he lifted her hips and guided her down over the full length of him. He was deep inside her, buried to the hilt, and she felt every hard inch of him. His strong hands grasped her hips as she began to ride him. When he slipped a finger between their joined bodies to touch her throbbing center, she shuddered and dropped her head back, quickening her pace.
“You’re so beautiful,” he gasped, watching her with dark, glittering eyes.
He reached up, caught her bouncing breasts in his hands, and then with a ripple of stomach muscles, surged up and took one peaked nipple into his mouth. The feel of his rock-hard muscles rubbing against her mound tipped her over the edge, and she abandoned herself to her shattering climax, heedless of the pain radiating from her throat as she screamed his name over and over and over ... Then she was conscious of nothing except the exquisite feel of him deep within her—touching the edges of her womb.

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