Tainted by Temptation (11 page)

“Velvet,” he whispered just behind her ear. “Nothing has changed in what I want.”

An icy chill stopped the melt. Nothing had changed. All he wanted was to share her bed. He wasn’t offering promises of marriage or babies or a life together. She wasn’t foolish enough anymore to think a man equated the act of physical love with real love or commitment.

She tore away. “I can’t do this.”

No matter how much she wanted to.

He’d lit her fire before leaving. Velvet had paced in the schoolroom, protesting. Lucian ignored her, draping her cloak over the iron railing of her bed and then kneeling down on the bare hearth in her room.

Never had the master of the house lit a fire for her or shown concern about her health and welfare. He’d asked if she wanted anything to eat before retiring. Her heart melted at his care. He would probably be a tender and generous lover.

Even now, hours later as she stared into the orange glow behind the grate, her body tensed with an energy she didn’t understand and didn’t know how to dissipate. She tried to shove the thoughts away, but all through the day their eyes had connected. Often over Iris’s head. When he spoke, his voice rumbled through her like the heat of a generous fire.

Her breasts tingled as she remembered his open mouth against her throat. The slide of his fingers over her shoulders provoked a clenching of her thighs. Her woman’s core had grown slick with moisture. She couldn’t erase the thoughts of Lucian from her mind. What would his mouth against her breast feel like? What would the slide of his fingers along her bare skin do to her? Would his manhood inside her ease the ache in her loins and in her heart?

She groaned and flipped to her other side. Pulling her pillow over her head, she tried to will herself to sleep. But it was no use. In the dark, with nothing to distract her, she thought of Lucian. He might present her last opportunity to experience the connection between a man and a woman.

No, at church tomorrow she might catch the eye of a man in the village interested in a genteel wife. But fishermen and farmers were intimidated by the breadth of her knowledge, and her cooking and laundry skills were subpar.

She flipped back to stare at the fire.

Before she knew her mind, she was out of bed and reaching for her dress.

Thumping down on her knees, she prayed for the strength to ignore temptation. Then she slowly dressed. She would walk past his room and go downstairs to the library. If she could find a book that engrossed her, surely the wicked thoughts of lying with Lucian would go away. With a spill, she lit the stubby night-light and held it out in front of her.

She kept her head down as she scurried past his room. No light peeked under the door. He had probably gone to bed a long time ago. Unlike her last employer, Lucian rose before dawn to swim. The undersecretary had snared her into many late night conversations she never should have allowed. Harold Langtree would have her read a treatise or a bill and then ask her opinion. She ended up helping him edit his papers, offering suggestions he often incorporated into his work. She should have noticed when he began to think of her as more than an intellectual sounding board.

Harold was married to a beautiful woman. That he might feel the need to have a mistress had never occurred to her. She hadn’t even thought of him as a man in that way. At least with Lucian there wasn’t a wife, nor had he made any bones about what he wanted.

But just because he wasn’t married didn’t mean he entertained the slightest inclination to offer for a fallen woman. She just couldn’t act on these urges.

Velvet heaved a sigh of relief as she slipped through the library door and was greeted with the calming musty scent of books.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Lucian asked.

She blinked past the black spots burned in her eyes by holding the candle in front of her. Lucian sat in one of the leather chairs by the fire. He had a book on his lap, and he wore his dressing gown over a snowy white shirt open at the collar.

Oh God, surely her mind had conjured his apparition and he wasn’t really there. He couldn’t be there, but as her eyes adjusted, they didn’t lie.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I thought you’d be abed.” Velvet closed her eyes. If he kissed her now, she’d fall into his bed with no resistance. How could God allow her into Lucian’s proximity when she’d asked to not be lead into temptation? Yet, the word bed echoed in her head as though it were some lure she’d cast out.

Her lips parted as if she couldn’t get enough air to breathe. She could cross the room and stand before him, and he would know the wild yearnings hammering in her body. He would see it in her face, in the rapid crest and fall of her breathing. She lowered the candle so its orb of light wouldn’t betray her.

The corner of his mouth tipped. He stood and closed the book around his index finger.

She whirled and grabbed for the doorknob. The candleholder tipped and hot wax splashed on her knuckles. The burst of pain was a welcome distraction.

She plucked at the quickly drying wax revealing reddened skin.

“Don’t go. Much as it disappoints me, I assume you were looking for reading material, not me.” He took a step toward her. “I can leave you to it.”

If he came too close to her, he’d know her turmoil. She darted to the side. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You’re not disturbing me. If I am not disturbing you, I shall continue reading.”

“Please ignore me.” Her heart hammering, Velvet tried not to look at him as he sank back into his chair, opened his book, and reached for the glass beside him on the table.

“You’re welcome to stay here and read.” Lucian’s voice was low and inviting.

A shiver tumbled down her spine. Velvet pulled out a book and opened it to realize she’d found a book on mining. Any other night, it would have probably bored her right to sleep, but tonight it wouldn’t hold her attention long enough to distract her from Lucian.

“Most of those are my business books. If you are looking for a novel, they are over here by the fireplace.” His book was closed around his finger again.

“Business books?” she echoed weakly. To pick out a novel she’d have to go closer to him.

“Are you interested in mining?” He raised the glass to his lips.

“I don’t know.” She tried to read the preface but all she could think about was Lucian. The way the firelight glinted off his dark hair made pulling her gaze away from him impossible. The shadow at the base of his throat made her mouth water. The words blurred on the edge of her vision. Her heart was beating so hard she thought it might jump out of her chest. She tucked her chin down tighter.

“That book is a bit on the dry side. I could probably answer any questions you have.” He set his glass down. His voice dipped lower. “About mining, that is.”

He wasn’t really talking about mining. And she wasn’t sure she could ask a sensible question about it at the moment. She gave up on the book and pushed it back in the slot. Shipping, railroads, and fishing books were included in the titles, as well as books on newer technologies. How many different business books did one man need? She tilted a look toward Lucian.

“I have several business interests, beyond the railroad ventures you know about,” he said. “After my parents passed, I expanded my family’s shipping business to include overland freight as well as a fishing fleet. The railroads will be a further expansion.”

“And mining?” she asked, giving in to the inevitable discussion.

“Locally I own a copper and a tin mine and have a partial interest in a quarry.”

He was undoubtedly a wealthy man. Although the trappings of the household wouldn’t give him away. He could have almost any woman he wanted as wife, perhaps even a daughter of an aristocrat. He had no need to align with an impoverished governess. The harsh reality of her situation penetrated the frenzy of want she’d been in for the last few hours.

“Would you like some brandy or sherry?”

The disjointed memories of the last time she’d been handed a glass of brandy in a library assaulted her. Her hand shook and the candlelight wavered. She set the light down on a library table. “N-No. Thank you.”

He’d stood and closed the distance between them. “These are my plans.” He gestured toward the map her candle illuminated. “All my holdings and the routes are penciled in.”

The way she had allowed herself to get drawn into conversations with her former employer hung heavy on her mind. “I really just came down to get a book.”

To her shame, her voice quivered.

“Are you all right, Velvet?”

She pressed back into the shelves. He had only to touch her and she’d shatter.

His hair dipped onto his forehead. And as when she first saw him, she thought he had the beauty of an angel. Only his cheeks were shadowed and he almost looked menacing. She was lost.

If prayers couldn’t save her, God must suspect her lack of sincerity in her entreaties.

V
elvet’s eyes were luminous and wide, her lips parted and her skin flushed. Lucian didn’t think she’d ever looked more beautiful. He’d certainly never wanted a woman more.

Not even Lilith in the days leading up to their wedding. And Lilith had employed plenty of tricks to entice. She could put any man into a frenzy if she thought she had something to gain.

Velvet stirred feelings of protectiveness in him. She managed to project a lack of worldliness and uncertainty, in contrast to her reputation. But to not bend and press a kiss to her enchanting lips strained his control.

He’d meant to stay in his chair and coax her into coming to sit with him, but he couldn’t stand the distance. As if a gravitational force pulled him into her orbit, he stood in front of her with his hand outstretched.

He didn’t know if she would take it. Perhaps it was her reluctance that wound him in knots.

“If I might offer a suggestion. I have a book by Currer Bell that might appeal to you. Or have you already read it?”

“
Jane Eyre
? I have only read the beginning chapters.” She slipped her cool hand into his.

His heart thudded heavily in his chest. He wanted to draw her to him, wrap his arms around her, but continually forcing his attentions on her was a bad tactic. She might eventually submit but would never be easy about it. He needed her to come to him. She would, if he could manage patience. “Did you not like it well enough to finish?”

She smiled wryly. “The bookstore owner did not look kindly at my reading the books without purchasing them.”

“You were too frugal to purchase novels? Or does reading purely for pleasure offend your sensibilities?”

Her brows drew together for a second. “No, I had neither the space nor the funds to purchase books willy-nilly.”

He frowned. Surely, a good protector would have indulged her. “Did the undersecretary not pay you well?”

Her chin dipped and her eyes darted side to side. “I was paid well enough.”

The stilted quiet of her voice suggested this was not a subject she wanted to discuss. Perhaps her affair with the man had not lasted long enough for her to exact gifts.

Lucian was starting to wonder if the adultery had happened at all. Velvet just didn’t seem that jaded. If her affairs were exaggerated or cut of whole cloth, he did her a grave injustice in asking her to share his bed. Guilt pricked at him and stopped him from simply pulling her into his arms.

“These are foreign language books. Italian, French . . .” He pointed to the shelves, then tugged her toward those that were filled with novels. “You may make use of any of the books here.”

She fingered the spine of a book. “I may read them all.”

Lilith had never read a book or the newspapers. He didn’t know if they’d made it a half year into their marriage before their conversations bored each other. He couldn’t imagine ever being bored by Velvet. Her mind was quick, as well as stocked with a great deal of knowledge. “I would enjoy discussing them with you,” he answered.

A shadow crossed her face. “Do you mean to discuss literature with me or s-seduce me with other men’s words?”

He supposed he had the gibe coming. He’d said he wouldn’t accost her. Then, when he bumped into her in the dark schoolroom, he’d gone and nuzzled her neck. Hardly the move of a man who did not intend a coerced seduction. “Would it serve?”

She hesitated. “I would hope I am not so foolish.”

“What would serve?” he asked.

She shook her head and folded her lips around her teeth.

He found the book and pressed it into her hands.

“Does it end well?” she asked.

Lucian paused. Unwittingly he’d offered her a story of a governess who in the end married her master. How could he have been that stupid? “I’ve read it.”

“You will give nothing away, I see.” Her eyes crinkled as if she might smile with the right prompting.

He’d made a horrible blunder. Turning, he dropped her hand and returned to his chair. Would she take the story line as offering her a message of hope? He didn’t mean it that way. He would not marry another loose woman. He should not even want to have her. If he had thought her a woman of good moral fiber, he never would have allowed thoughts of seducing her to enter his brain. He clenched his fist.

“Is it at least happy? Because I do not think I am in the frame of mind to read a tragic or dreary ending.” She took a step toward him.

He groped for his book as if it would provide a lifeline. “For the said Jane, a young woman of good character, it ends well enough. Better than it would in real life, I imagine.”

Velvet’s eyes widened and she reared back.

“I suppose it is a homily on how remaining pure allows for reward in the end,” he added.

“But do you not think that is true? People must get their just deserts.” She pressed the book to her chest.

“I do not think life is so just.”

She bit her lip and managed to look worried. “If not in this life, then in the next.”

“Platitudes to keep the masses in line, Miss Campbell.”

“I certainly hope it is more.”

Was she counting on redemption through repentance? A surge of want broke through him. If she would sit down and continue the discussion. . .

The long case clock chose that moment to chime midnight.

“Oh it is so late. I will bid you good-night.” She picked up her night-light.

“You will not stay and read by the fire?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

“Another evening, then.” Lucian picked up his glass and drained it dry.

As she scurried toward the door, it occurred to him that he didn’t need to correct any misunderstanding that might arise from the story. After all, he’d made no promises or offers. In fact he’d been quite clear about what he wanted. And Velvet was not a virginal young woman who should harbor high expectations.

*  *  *

Iris knew it was Sunday because Nellie hadn’t laid out her clothes for the day and Miss Campbell was helping her dress.

“Hurry, Iris, or the Bigsbys will leave without us.”

“I don’t care,” Iris mumbled through the petticoat over her face. “I don’t want to go.”

“You don’t have a choice,” said Miss Campbell. “As long as I am here, you will go to church every Sunday.”

“I never had to go before.” Iris poked her arms in the sleeves of the pink dress over her head. Part of her was excited, though. Just to travel out of the house two days in a row made her life seem exotic. She just didn’t want Miss Campbell to know she might enjoy the trip to the village.

“If you don’t go to church, people will think you a heathen.” Miss Campbell buttoned up the back of the dress.

“Do they think my papa is a heathen? Because he hates to go.” Iris watched her governess’s reflection in the dressing table mirror.

Miss Campbell frowned, “I suppose some do. But more latitude will be granted a man.”

Iris crinkled her nose. “Latitude?”

“Freedom,” said Miss Campbell.

“Why?”

“Because men rule the world and can do as they please, but women’s job is to civilize the world and make it orderly and good.” Miss Campbell pulled a brush through tangles. Her stroke was much gentler than Nellie’s yanks. “Besides, someday you will wish to marry, and you would not like it if his family will not have you because you never go to church. And wouldn’t you like to meet other girls your own age?”

“They would be just poor village girls. No one like me will be there.”

The corners of Miss Campbell’s mouth pulled back. “All the more reason you should be kind and gracious to everyone. They have less than you do, but that does not mean they are any less worthy of respect than you.”

“Mama said there was no one of any consequence in the neighborhood.” Iris wasn’t exactly sure what she meant, just that there was no point in wasting time on the locals.

“One day you will be presented to your betters. I would suggest you think carefully about how you would like them to treat you and remember to follow the Golden Rule.”

“What is that?” Iris scowled.

“Oh, my child.” Miss Campbell shook her head. “Do unto others as you would them unto you.” Reaching for a ribbon to tie around Iris’s head, she added, “That means you must treat other people as you would like to be treated.”

“Then I shall tell everyone how pretty they are,” Iris said. She skipped toward the door.

“Pretty is as pretty does,” muttered Miss Campbell.

Iris turned at the door. “But you look very pretty today with your hair like that.”

Instead of scraping her hair back tightly into a bun as Miss Campbell usually did, soft copper wings fell back from a center part. Instead of a single coil of her shiny hair, several lumps and bumps made a pretty confection on the back of her head, like a special bakery bread made with braided loops. Iris was content for Miss Campbell to look her best, since Papa would remain at home while they traipsed to the village.

“Why thank you, Miss Pendar. And you look quite lovely too.” Miss Campbell actually smiled. “I will be down directly, I just need to fetch my cloak and hat.”

Iris was in good charity with her as she clattered down the bare stairs to Papa’s floor. She skipped down the hall to the main staircase. As soon as she turned the corner of the main staircase, she saw her papa pacing with his hands held behind his back.

His top hat and gloves rested on the cabinet by the door, and he wore his outdoor coat.

Her excitement curled up and died. He would ruin the day. He turned silent and sad anytime they even passed the churchyard. Not to mention he would be more interested in Miss Campbell than anything else. Any
one
else.

“Papa?”

“Good, you are down. The gig is ready. Where is your governess?” He turned and watched the staircase as if he was only interested in Miss Campbell’s descent.

“She’s not going. You are to take me.” Iris ran down the last of the steps and picked up his hat and gloves. “Come, let us hurry. I should like to be very near when they ring the bells.”

Her papa frowned at her. “Is she too tired—ah, Miss Campbell.”

Iris swiveled to see Miss Campbell descending with her valise that held the four dolls.

The tilted straw hat with its straggly green ribbons made her eyes show too pretty. Now Papa would be staring at her the whole time.

The monotone of the vicar washed over Velvet as he gave a windy sermon on lost sheep returning to the fold. Lucian’s face was stony. She couldn’t tell if the vicar’s sermon was directed at Lucian or if it was just one in his usual repertoire.

The locals whispered behind her. An occasional word drifted to her burning ears. “
Evil.”
“Wife-killer.”
“Devil’s spawn.”
She looked over her shoulder, trying to identify the offenders. The murmurs and whispers just seemed to intensify. Her father would never have tolerated this kind of behavior in his church.

“Lucifer,”
was hissed just after Velvet turned back to the front.

Velvet stiffened her shoulders and tried to concentrate on the sermon. But it was no use. She’d heard so many sermons over the years, she could anticipate the points before the vicar delivered them. She knew what a church should be like. The parishioners should be concerned for the soul of a young girl, not casting aspersions on her father. Perhaps she could suggest a lesson about casting the first stone to the vicar.

The cold of the slate tile floor seeped through her thin soles. The small church had none of the ornate carving or plasterwork of her father’s church. The colored glass in the windows only made the interior dark, with red and blue splotches falling across the worshippers’ faces as if they had turned mottled in grotesque caricatures of death.

Iris wiggled on the seat, kicking the portmanteau holding the dolls. Velvet reached to put her arm around the girl’s shoulders, only to encounter Lucian doing the same. Their eyes met over Iris’s head.

For a second she couldn’t pull her gaze away or settle her arm hanging awkwardly above his. His dark eyes held hers until his fingers nudged her arm down around Iris’s shoulders. He’d settled his elbow on the back of the plain pew. He turned back to face the pulpit.

They sat through the rest of the service like an intimate family group. Her arm was around Iris, and his was seemingly around the both of them. His sleeve brushed her arm every time Iris shifted. Moving it away would only cause more attention to land on them. Velvet’s ears buzzed. Her heart thumped. She knew when he breathed, and as if she were a shadow moving in concert with him, her breathing matched his.

The service droned to a close, and Velvet wasted no time in approaching the vicar. Lucian introduced them and stood back. The man of God had the beefy paws of a laborer. Was his parish so poor he must work throughout the week?

“We are so pleased to have you in our humble church.” His hands manacled hers.

Velvet wanted out of his sweaty grip but forged ahead with her plan.

“Miss Pendar would like to find new homes for a few of her dolls. Are there any girls who would enjoy a doll in the church today?”

Disdain flashed across the man’s face before a big smile stretched his lips. His pale blue eyes appeared watery. “Are you getting too big for playthings, Miss Pendar?”

Iris ducked behind Velvet.

Velvet pulled her hands free and resisted wiping them on her skirts. She leaned down to prod an answer from Iris.

“Yes, sir,” Iris managed.

“I do not know if it would be appropriate for you to give your discards to others,” said the vicar slowly. “Or that they would receive them.”

Velvet was shocked. The dolls, while not perfect, were certainly better than most of the villagers could afford.

“Arrogant nobs,” said one woman in the back of the church.

Velvet spun to look, but could not tell which woman had spoken. The locals were dressed in drab black and gray dresses, and she should have fit right in with them, except her cloak was a dark forest green, a remnant of better times.