Margaret Moore (14 page)

“Perhaps because I have encountered the same prejudice so often. Men born poor are generally assumed to be dullards.”

“It must have been so hard for you, Rob.”

He looked into her eyes and smiled. “Right now, I think everything I ever suffered was worth it. Otherwise, I would never have met you.” He leaned closer, and she was sure he was going to kiss her.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. They drew back and let go of each other’s hands as Owens shuffled past.

Although Owens didn’t even look into the room, Vivienne realized Rob had grown even more tense. “I wish we could be somewhere else, where we could be alone.”

“Perhaps this is safer,” Robert murmured, his deep voice a low, incredibly arousing growl.

“Safer?”

“Have you any idea of how tempting you are, Vivienne? The moment I see you, it is as if I can scarcely remember my own name, let alone anything else. All I can think about is touching you, and kissing you.”

“When you spoke to my uncle, you certainly sounded as if you were thinking about the marriage settlement more than me, except in a legal sense.”

His grin charmed her. “Only with very great effort. In truth, I was nearly completely distracted by this little groove below your nose and above your lips.” He placed a finger there. “Being this close to you is driving me mad,” he whispered huskily.

“Rob?”

“Yes?”

“You burgled houses, did you not?”

He gave her a puzzled look. “Yes. Long ago.”

“Could you still get into a house other than by the door?”

He frowned. “What are you suggesting?”

“My bedchamber window is the one a short distance above the stable roof in the mews behind here, and there is a very convenient drainpipe. That is how I was able to climb down the night I ran away. It should be easy for you to get in, especially if the window is unlocked.”

“You want me to sneak into your bedchamber?” he asked incredulously.

“I can think of no other—”

She heard her uncle’s heavy tread on the stairs and moved farther away from Rob.

“Forgive me for taking so long,” Uncle Elias said as he strode into the room. “Did you manage all right without me?”

“Not really,” Vivienne replied, keeping a straight face.

“I understand perfectly,” Rob said evenly without so much as a glance at Vivienne.

Did that mean he would come to her bedchamber that night?

“Of course you do. You’re a lawyer,” Uncle Elias replied. “If you don’t understand entails, what are the rest of us to do?”

“Yes, of course,” Rob replied with a deferential cough. “Perhaps we should leave the matter of the entail, for the time being. If you look at this portion of the settlement, you will see that I made the change you requested.”

Vivienne said very little as Rob continued to discuss the settlement with her uncle. She was too excited and anxious about the possibility of Rob coming to her, and too certain that Philip’s cause was utterly hopeless, to pay much heed to the legality of a surely pointless document.

Instead she was content to listen as Rob went through the terms, and study the way the light played on the angles of his face or the curve of his jaw. Occasionally she found herself staring at his fingers as he pointed at a particular phrase or sentence, and had to subdue the urge to touch his hand.

After all, she would see him soon, and under more intimate circumstances.

Or so she hoped.

“I’m quite sure I don’t need any help,” Vivienne insisted later that night, a smile on her face but determination in her voice as she addressed Owens in her bedchamber.

Since Rob’s visit she had spent the time in a fever of anticipation. Fortunately, her uncle believed it was the anticipation of Lord Cheddersby’s fete that explained her lapses of attention and propensity to blush as the evening wore on, and she, of course, did not tell him otherwise.

“I’ll help you put away your gown,” the elderly maid said halfheartedly, leaning her head back a little to look at Vivienne with her crossed eye.

“No, no, I can manage, I assure you,” Vivienne replied.

“Then I’ll just latch this window,” Owens muttered as she turned that way.

“No!” Vivienne blurted. The window had to be open for Rob to get in. The moment the word was out of her mouth, however, she realized she should have been more cautious. Owens regarded her as if she had just announced she intended to fly out into the night sky.

“I’ll close it,” Vivienne said, this time keeping her tone normal.

“Very well, mistress,” Owens agreed with a shrug. “Just as long as you do. That night air will kill you. I remember a cousin of mine—”

Vivienne had to bite her tongue to keep silent. Owens might not be the swiftest of mortals, but even she would wonder why Vivienne was so anxious for her to be gone if she pressed her to hurry. That meant Vivienne had to endure Owens’s description of her cousin’s fatal, night-air-inspired illness as the maid slowly made her way toward the door.

“Good night, Owens,” she said as the maid finally finished. “I promise I’ll put everything away carefully.”

Owens nodded and went out the door, leaving Vivienne alone.

After carefully hanging her gown in the armoire, she went to her dressing table and began to take down her hair, reminding herself that there was a chance Rob would not come tonight. Perhaps he would decide it was too risky.

As excited and hopeful as she was by the possibility of seeing him again, she had to admit it was dangerous. How would it look if her suitor’s solicitor was discovered sneaking into the bedchamber of his client’s intended bride?

If she were being practical, she would not have suggested this plan. She would have thought of another way.

Practicality, however, seemed to disappear when she thought of being alone with Rob.

As her hair tumbled about her shoulders, a soft rap sounded on the casement window. Turning swiftly, she spotted a face—Rob’s face—peering in the window like a ghostly spirit.

She ran to the window. He stood on the sloping roof of the stable as comfortably as other men did a ballroom floor. Despite the chill night air, he wasn’t wearing his jacket, but only a shirt and breeches. Shockingly, his feet were bare.

“Open the window full, then stand back,” he said quietly.

She did so and he swung himself up and over the sill. He jumped down into her room as lightly as if he had been sired by a cat.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Vivienne murmured with awe.

Rob glanced around the unfamiliar room and, with the instincts of a thief, noted the thick red and white damask bedcurtains and spread, the bronze candle stand bearing several beeswax candles, the small feminine items on the dressing table, and the armoire near the door where she probably kept a cask of jewelry, the contents easy to carry off or throw to the ground and take from there to be pawned.

“It is simple enough when you’ve had practice,” he said, his dishonest observations slipping away as he looked at Vivienne.

She was like a heavenly vision, with her thick hair curling loose about her shoulders, her white nightgown ethereal. If she had sported a halo, it wouldn’t have struck him as surprising.

Even if the feelings she inspired were all too earthbound. He wanted to sweep her into his arms, carry her to the bed and make love with her until morning.

In order to calm himself, he fastened on the subject of his past experience. “This was very easy. Finnigan used to lower me down from the roofs holding on to my ankles,” he explained. “It was my job to get into the house and sneak down to open the door for him.”

“Good God!” she cried softly, clasping her hands before her. “You must have been terrified.”

“The first few times,” he admitted.

Going to the window to close it, she passed him, and he caught the subtle, enticing scent of her rose perfume. She leaned over the sill and looked out the window. “Where are your other clothes?”

He moved farther into the room, away from her. “I left them on the stable roof. Leather soles and wool stockings are too slick for climbing on slate. I found that out the hard way. It slowed me down, and Finnigan didn’t like that.”

She turned to face him, her expression full of sympathy. “Oh, Rob, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “I am just glad I was never caught. It would have been the noose for me, or transportation, I suppose. Given what I have heard of what happened to some of the boys I knew, I think I would have preferred hanging.”

“But you were a child.”

“In the eyes of the law, I would have been nothing but a thief.”

She moved toward him, her silk gown softly swishing against the floor. “I suppose I should be counting my blessings.”

In his rational mind, he knew he should back away. Better yet, if he were being truly rational, he would never have come here. Indeed, he had spent the better part of the day trying to convince himself to stay away. Not only did he find Vivienne too passionately tempting—although that should be enough to dissuade him—it would be disastrous if he were caught with her.

Her reputation would be destroyed.

Yet when night fell, all he could think about was being with Vivienne and that he had never been caught housebreaking.

When she came toward him and put her arms around him, he couldn’t tell her to stop. He couldn’t even move, because he loved the feel of her in his arms, the scent of her perfume, the way the candles made her skin like gold.

Then she raised herself on tip toe and kissed him, the movements of her lips as soft and light as the brush of a moth’s wing.

Now, at this moment, he could dare to hope that a future with Vivienne was not impossible. As his embrace tightened around her, he could believe that anything was feasible.

She stopped kissing him and splayed her hands on his chest, looking up into his face. “I fear, Mr. Heartless Harding, that I am clay in your hands. There is no other man I would allow to sneak into my bedchamber.”

The warmth of her hands penetrated his clothing, and as her touch sent the blood thrumming through his body, he thought he might always feel their imprint. “There is no other woman I would take that risk for.”

He ran his hands up her slender arms in a slow caress, over the soft silk of her sleeves to her shoulders shrouded with her unbound hair.

She had the most marvelous hair, and he wanted to run his fingers through it, to feel it slip over and around his hands.

He heard a sound and glanced sharply at the door. “I should go—”

“No, not yet. The floorboards creak in this house, but that doesn’t mean somebody is right outside my door. Still …” She took his hand and led him toward the bed.

“Vivienne, what are you doing?”

She gave him an enticing smile. “Please sit.”

“Where?”

“On the bed.”

He looked at that massive piece of furniture, covered in a fine damask coverlet that matched the curtains. The headboard was ornately carved with vines and grapes, like the posts. He guessed that he would sink six inches if he got upon the featherbed.

In his chambers, he slept on a bed slung with ropes and a mattress stuffed with straw, and considered himself lucky.

But the expensive nature of the bedding was not what made him hesitate. “Vivienne, this might not be wise.”

“If I were wise, I would not have invited you here,” she replied with a charming smile. “If I were wise, I would never have kissed you when we stood in the street. Indeed, if I were wise, I would have fled from you the moment you spoke to me in Bankside. Fortunately, while I am not a fool, I am apparently not at all wise.”

“Are you not afraid to be alone with me and on your bed?” he persisted. “You know I was not raised a gentleman.”

“You are more of a gentleman than most supposed gentlemen I have met. Now please sit down.” When he still hesitated, she suddenly put her hands on his chest and shoved. Caught unawares, he fell back—and landed on the featherbed, sinking six inches into the down.

His heart beating like a musician’s drum, he struggled to sit up. As he did so, she lifted a single candle from the stand, put it in a smaller holder and blew out the rest of the candles.

By the time he had succeeded in sitting up, but before he could get to his feet, she was beside the bed, the glow from the candle lighting her lovely face. “Please, Rob, I want to be alone with you, without fear of interruption.”

“But Vivienne, I am in your room. On your bed. If anybody were to enter—”

“They will not see you.” With another smile, she slowly began to draw the curtains around the bed. “And I trust you are an honorable man.”

Simple words simply spoken, but they meant the world to him.

He would stay, at least a little while yet.

Just before she closed the curtains completely, and still gripping the candleholder, she got upon the bed, then reached behind her and tugged the curtains together so that there was no opening.

This was like some beautiful, glorious dream. With the dim light glowing upon her beautiful face, enclosed in such intimacy, the luxurious surroundings and the delicate scent of her perfume, he might have been in a fairy tale, or some fantasy upon the stage, or a potentate’s tent in an Oriental land. She even sat cross-legged, her silk gown billowing out around her. “There. Nobody will see if they open the door,” she said softly as she settled into place.

This was too private, he thought with something akin to panic. He didn’t know if he had the strength to keep away from her.

A lustful assignation was not what he wanted. He wanted everything to be as honorable as possible, and he should not put himself in the way of such enticement.

She shifted closer.

“Vivienne,” he said with a hint of desperation in his voice, “we should not be here like this.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be.”

“Why?”

“Because I am but a mortal man, and you are a very tempting woman.”

“Yet you always manage to be so restrained.”

“I am not normally sitting on a bed with a desirable woman.”

“I am holding a candle,” she noted. “You must be careful, or you will set the bed on fire.”