Tainted by Temptation (5 page)

Velvet’s gasp made him realize how badly his words must sound to a woman who suspected him of killing his wife. No wonder she had barred her door.

He bore the marks of his last struggle with Lilith, so he didn’t know why the mistrust always shocked him. He wheeled and headed out the door. He needed to be outside where the cool sea air would fill his lungs and the icy water would purge his body of carnal longings. Where he could plunge his arms into the surf until he was too tired to think, too tired to remember. Swimming was the only peace he ever had.

Iris risked looking at Miss Campbell. She stood wrapped in her cloak as if she might go out in her nightgown and bare feet. She didn’t know the new governess well enough to have a clue what she would say or if there would be punishment. The slight frown didn’t look promising.

The best defense might be to forestall the punishment. “You’re very pretty,” she said.

Miss Campbell studied her. “Burning books is usually the action of tyrants or those afraid of new ideas.” She raised a slim eyebrow. “Which are you?”

Her heart banging in her chest, Iris tried again. “My mama was a great beauty. I take after her.”

“Fairness of face is a gift or curse from God. You cannot take credit for it. Your nature, intelligence, and behavior are the true measure of beauty.”

Iris scowled. Not according to her mama. “How can beauty be a curse?”

Miss Campbell’s lips tightened. She picked up the book covers and dropped them in the dustbin. The dustbin clinked. “You must never destroy a book again. Is that understood?”

“Are you going to punish me?”

“Do you not think you deserve to be punished?” asked Miss Campbell. Her voice was even and calm. She opened a cupboard and peered inside.

Iris felt a little bit as if she were swimming beyond her depth. Was Miss Campbell biding her time or was she too busy snooping around to care what happened? “You didn’t tell Papa.”

“I hoped you would inform him. As it is, you will have to tell him and apologize for destroying his property.” She pulled out a bundle of squared sticks.

“He won’t do anything. He never does.”

Miss Campbell glanced over her shoulder at the splintered door frame. Her brows knit. “I do not think it would be wise to press him.”

“What does relish mean?” asked Iris. “Like if you wouldn’t relish doing something?”

“In that sense it would mean you wouldn’t enjoy it.” She unfolded the sticks and made them into a tripod.

“Oh.” Why hadn’t Meg just said she wouldn’t like preparing the house for Miss Campbell? Although Iris couldn’t see that any preparations were made. She suspected Meg was just putting on airs.

“Why don’t you get dressed, and I will too. And then you can show me where we eat breakfast.”

“There won’t be any breakfast until Papa gets back from his swim.” Iris ran over to the window. “Look, you can see him down there.”

Miss Campbell made no move toward the window. Instead she brushed off her hands. “Then you may pick out three of your dolls to give away at church next Sunday. I’m sure there are poor village girls who would love to have a pretty doll. Since you destroyed three books I think it would be fitting—”

“No!” A wall of astonishment crashed down. “You can’t take my dolls.”

“Well if you do not pick the three, then I shall. I do not think you will like my picks.”

Iris ran into her room and grabbed a doll, flung open her window and tossed it out. It fell and fell until it smashed on the edge of the cliff.

Miss Campbell went pale, which gave Iris a moment of gloating satisfaction.

But in her resolutely calm voice, she said, “Now you will have to pick out four dolls.” She picked up Eve, the doll Papa had given her that he said Mama had chosen for her before she died.

“Or I will choose her and . . .” She pulled three more of the best dolls off the shelf and lined them up next to Eve. “I’ll just take these until you’ve decided which ones you’d like to give away. And if you destroy another one, I will not return these to you.”

“I hate you!” Iris screamed. Her chest felt like it would explode. “I’ll never let you teach me anything.”

“That is too bad,” said Miss Campbell. “Because if you do not learn to play the piano, you will never play the harp.” She quietly closed the door behind her and left with Eve.

Velvet dragged a second chair from the schoolroom into her bedroom and wedged it under the broken door handle. She was shaking as she laid the four dolls on the bed.

She replaced the other chair and wondered if she had made a grave mistake. Obviously, Iris suffered from a lack of discipline.

Hopefully, the mild punishment would lead to Iris feeling good about giving to a few less fortunate girls. Did the child have any playmates? The isolation of the house might preclude it.

The door to the schoolroom rattled. “I want Eve,” wailed Iris.

“I will return to the schoolroom when I’ve dressed. I suggest you do the same.”

“I’m telling my papa. He’ll make you leave.”

Velvet sighed. She should have consulted Mr. Pendar about the limits of discipline.

Making quick work of stripping off her nightgown, she said, “Iris, please go back to your room.”

“I’ll get her back, you know.” The door thumped as if kicked. “I’ll find her. You can’t stop me.”

Wary of another intrusion while she wore only undergarments, Velvet stepped into her corset. “You may have Eve back when you pick out four dolls to give away.” Velvet tried to sound calm. “Until then there will be no more discussion.”

Tensed, she waited for the child to respond. But only quiet came from the schoolroom. Velvet was sure this wasn’t the last of it, but she needed to enlist Mr. Pendar’s indulgence for her plan. She finished dressing in the cleanest of her three serviceable gowns.

A rapping on the passage door startled her.

“Iris?”

“No, ma’am. Evans.”

Why was Mr. Pendar’s valet knocking on her door? She had yet to address her hair, but she didn’t want to make him wait. Or was she already being summoned to Mr. Pendar’s study to be dismissed?

The chair screeched as she pulled it out from under the door handle.

The slender man dressed in black held out a handkerchief wrapped bundle. “The master asked me to give you these, until new can be purchased.”

Velvet frowned and looked up at the man’s face. She could make out nothing from his pale eyes and nearly invisible eyebrows. He practically shoved the bundle in her hands as if he couldn’t wait to be rid of it. His gaze transferred to the hard chair by the door.

She lifted the corner of the bundle, revealing sturdy corset cords and gray shoelaces.

Mr. Evans took an edgy step back. “As soon as Cook arrives, she will send up a pot of chocolate and hot cross buns.”

The idea of an early breakfast sounded heavenly.

The kindness of hot chocolate and replacement strings for her corset brought a sting to her eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Evans.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he cleared his throat. “Would you like it brought to your room or to the schoolroom?”

“It isn’t for Miss Pendar, too?” A stone dropped through her innards.

“You wish it brought to the schoolroom, then?” Mr. Evans blinked his pale lashes, his expression portraying the utmost discretion.

A valet was privy to his master’s affairs. His efforts to keep his thoughts far from his face made her suspect his master’s motives were less than altruistic. Had any other governess been treated so lavishly?

“That won’t be necessary,” she said stiffly. Her stomach protested. “Please tell the cook not to bother with a tray for us.”

He gave a slight shake of his head, then bowed. “Very good, ma’am.”

He turned to walk away.

“Mr. Evans?” called Velvet.

He turned, his thin features twisted.

She wondered at the pained look, but quickly dismissed it. “Is Miss Pendar allowed in her father’s room?”

“No, ma’am. Of course not.”

“Would you be able to store these dolls in his room until I can discuss their disposition with her father?”

He looked rather startled by the idea, but seemed to consider a moment and then returned with a smile. As she watched Mr. Evans leave with the dolls, she felt like the worst sort of kidnapper.

Hoping she’d not made a foolish blunder, she closed her eyes. She hadn’t considered how she would retrieve the dolls from a room that was off limits to
her
too.

L
ucian clawed into the rowboat, physically exhausted but still on edge. He heaved in a deep breath, filling his lungs with briny air. His quivering muscles were on the verge of turning to mush.

“Good swim today, sir,” said Bigsby.

Lucian didn’t agree. He’d expected the swim to help him regain control, but it hadn’t calmed him. His skin was red from the cold of the water, but a pair of mossy green eyes fueled a furnace inside him. It had been a long time since he wanted a woman—or at least wanted a woman badly enough that the physical urges intruded in his waking hours.

Bigsby held out the Turkish robe. Lucian buried his face in the thick material and rubbed off the water. Eventually he shoved down the sleeves of his soggy bathing suit and pushed his bare arms into the thick robe. Bigsby’s rhythmic dipping of the oars drew them closer to the shoreline.

With luck, the tray he’d ordered would keep Iris and Velvet from the breakfast table. He’d been concerned about Velvet’s potential for morning sickness, but now he just hoped she would stay away until he had his passions in check.

He splashed into the surf and helped drag the boat onto the rocky beach. A wave broke over his feet, soaking his robe’s hem.

Bigsby shook his head, but the grizzled old man didn’t say anything.

“Go on up. I’ll take care of the skiff,” said Lucian. He needed to be alone with his foul mood.

The older man tossed him the rope and then began the slow climb to the top of the cliffs.

Lucian stared out at the ever-changing sea. The calm morning with gentle swells and lapping breakers gave no hint of last night’s storm. On a morning like this, following another storm, he’d found his wife’s body not far from here. The ocean hadn’t taken Lilith’s body. He wished it had. Then he could have pretended she’d just gone away.

After securing the boat, he shed his sodden bathing suit. The heavy saturated wool chafed on land. He wouldn’t bother wearing the damn thing, except Iris often watched from her window. He flopped the wet material over his shoulder and then belted his robe.

He couldn’t delay a return to the house any longer. Evans would have drawn a hot bath for him and would be waiting with clean linen.

The carved-out stone steps of the cliff defied his urge to rush. Some steps were three paces apart, some two, making finding a rhythm impossible. But Lucian knew them well enough to take them at a fast clip.

He cleared the edge of the cliff and halted. A hundred yards away was the house. Behind it, a mere ten yards from the cliffs, Miss Campbell knelt on one knee, the back of her hand pressed against her mouth.

He wanted to ignore her and go inside, but if she was ill, he couldn’t just leave her.

His rubber shoes silent on the scrub grass, he closed the gap. A steady breeze blew in from the ocean, masking the sound of his approach. Her attention was focused on the ground. She plucked chunks of white and pink porcelain from the grass. They clinked in the schoolroom dustbin beside her. What had Iris destroyed now? Wearily, he glanced up to see the rose curtains of Iris’s room directly above Velvet. He supposed he should be grateful he didn’t have to deal with morning sickness.

Velvet stopped and squeezed her eyes shut. Tears leaked out the edges.

His insides twisted. And he’d thought he’d grown impervious to tears.

“Miss Campbell?”

“Oh!” She twisted away and dashed the heel of her hand against her face. This was not a woman who planned to use her tears for effect. She was either hiding her illness or her distress from the household.

“Are you all right?” He closed the last ten feet that separated them.

“I’m fine,” she said too hastily.

A painted blue eye stared up at him from a triangular shard on the ground. He bent and picked it up. “What did Iris do now?”

“She took exception to my proposed discipline for destroying the schoolbooks.” Velvet put a hand on the dustbin and shifted it between them. “But it is of no matter.”

The remains of a doll, her porcelain fingers broken and her head smashed, were inside. So Iris had taken to throwing her dolls out the window.

He added the eye. “You didn’t seem to want to admit to me that she tore up the books.”

“Yes, well that was before Iris assured me you never punish her.” Velvet watched him as if looking for confirmation.

Feeling guilty, he rolled his shoulders. “I’ve never felt comfortable taking a rod to her backside.” He’d barely felt comfortable with the child at all. After Lilith’s death, Iris had stared at him with solemn eyes, left with no one but him. He probably had bought her too many dolls, but he hadn’t known what else to do, but try to make her life as carefree and comfortable as possible.

Velvet stood and he reached out to cup her elbow. She looked unsteady, and he wasn’t sure she was entirely well.

The move brought them too close, and he was all too aware he wore nothing under his robe. His hand tingled where it was in contact with her arm. The tingles spread along his arm and down his body. With the ocean breeze putting roses in her cheeks and the blue-green of the ocean off-setting her coppery hair, she looked like a dream come true. His prurient thoughts rushed back.

He shouldn’t have touched her.

“There are other punishments beyond corporal,” she said softly.

“Yes, there are.” His voice was rough. Having beautiful off-limits women in his household seemed to be his particular punishment. He fought the throbbing change in his body. He should go inside, but he couldn’t bring himself to drop his hold on her elbow.

She turned her head toward him. “I wanted to ask you if you would allow Iris to give away four of her dolls at church this Sunday.”

He watched her pale pink lips move, but the words failed to penetrate. He wanted to kiss her, but what kind of a man seduced a woman whom he was practically holding hostage with her wages? “We don’t go to church.”

She jerked her arm back and her eyes flashed. “You will not object if I take Iris.”

Her statement was defiant. Not even a question. The corners of his mouth slid up, but he fought to suppress the smile. She was like a Valkyrie in her fearlessness. Most of his staff were afraid to cross him.

Her expression fell as if she feared she had overstepped her place. “A girl in society will be expected to have a proper Christian upbringing.” Velvet ducked her head. “And she needs playmates her own age.”

“Why?” He folded his arms and resisted saying he hadn’t had friends his own age until he’d been sent to school.

“We females are social creatures. We rely on our friendships.”

“Who do you rely on, Miss Campbell?”

Her eyes looked bruised before she turned away. He regretted the question.

“If you would like me to have her ready to interact socially with others, she will need to have contact with people outside of the household.”

Lucian took a step toward her and reached for the dustbin. She reluctantly released it to him, and he returned it to the ground. She talked, and her voice curled around him like warm tendrils of a summer breeze.

“If you will not back me on this discipline, then I will have her stand with her nose to the corner. But I thought giving away the dolls would help teach her charity. She has so many. She can’t possibly play with them all.”

Velvet stared at him, and he was caught in her eyes.

Her words tumbled faster. “If you don’t want to give away dolls you bought . . .”

He leaned toward her, catching her feminine scent, wanting to hold her, bury himself in her softness, and ensure she always treated him like a partner in her concerns, or so he deluded himself.

“ . . . help her to make friends with the village girls.”

“No.” The rush of heat ebbed. “I don’t want her mixing with the villagers.”

Furrows appeared between her brows as she studied him. Her silent inquiry drew an explanation from him.

“She’ll hear things she shouldn’t hear.”

Velvet bit the corner of her lip and seemed to consider her answer. “I understand you want to shelter her from the rumors you killed your wife, but hiding away isn’t the answer.”

He was used to unnatural silence when he entered a room and the gradual roar of whispers and sidelong glances. He wasn’t used to people being direct about the accusations leveled at him. He waited for his anger to spurt forth, but her broaching the subject made him feel lighter. Instead of the issue hanging between them like an unspeakable horror, it was out and exposed.

But more was at issue than Lilith’s manner of death. There were other secrets he wanted kept from Iris’s ears. Skeletons he shared with no one. His relief tightened back into a knot.

“What is the answer?” he asked sharply. “How does one shield a child from gossip and innuendo?”

Velvet’s mouth tightened and her gaze lost focus, as she seemed to turn inward. Pain flashed across her face.

“I don’t know the answer,” she finally said, as if she hated to admit ignorance.

He wanted to comfort her, hold her. Rumors had affected her life too. But she hadn’t turned to him for comfort, and she’d put a chair under her door handle to keep him out. She wasn’t here for him.

He moved past her, taking a couple of steps toward the cliff. He stared out at the ocean, but the calm it usually gave was elusive. Velvet filled his thoughts.

He turned and studied her. Her back was to him and she seemed extraordinarily interested in the gray granite of the back wall. Her neck curved in a way that invited kisses. The urge to have her resurfaced. His blood quickened and his body hummed with an awareness of her.

“If you do not . . .” The warm wash of her voice made him shudder. Her dulcet tones were the kind he wanted to hear when engaging in the flirtation that proceeded seduction. “ . . . then I shall need to retrieve them from your room.”

His room.
All he heard was that she wanted to come to his room. An image of her copper hair spread across his green counterpane flooded his mind. Blood roared in his ears and pulsed low in him. If she came to his room, it must mean she was willing . . . to . . . he shook his head. She was talking to the wall instead of him.

Not everything added up. “You want to come to my room, Miss Campbell?” He closed the distance between them.

“Four of Iris’s dolls are in there. I had Mr. Evans take them host—”

Needing to see her face, he gripped her shoulder and whipped her around to face him.

“—age. Oh, God,” she whispered. Her eyes rounded, the pupils tightened to black pinpoints in a sea of green. The bloom in her cheeks drained.

She took a faltering step back.

Terror was not what he expected, not what he wanted.

She squeezed her eyes shut and took more steps backward until she ran into the wall. Her nails scrabbled on the granite.

Was his arousal so obvious and so abhorrent to her?

He whirled around to face the sea. He wanted to hide the scars that marked him. Many feared him. And obviously Miss Campbell had heard the charges leveled against him. Did she believe he’d tossed his wife over the cliff?

“You may do as you like with Iris’s discipline.”

“Th-Thank you,” said Velvet on a shaky breath. “Pray, excuse me.”

She slid along the wall and around the corner.

Velvet was fierce in her determination to do the right thing for Iris, even if it meant crossing him. He admired her at the same time he hated that she probably thought him guilty of tossing his wife over the cliffs, as everyone did. That she would confront him about the rumors surrounding his involvement in Lilith’s death was incredibly brave. He shook his head.

His last argument with Lilith echoed in his head. He knew he was responsible for his wife’s untimely death. He didn’t deserve the comfort of a woman as beautiful and good as Velvet in his bed.

Velvet fought the bile rising in her throat as she gripped the rail. While she was pulling herself up as much as climbing the stairs, her shaking legs weren’t helping her ascent.

She knew she would have difficulty with the cliffs so close to the house, and she’d wanted to face them on her own. Going out to clean up the doll’s remains mere feet from the plunge to the sea had seemed like a good idea. But in her head the shattered doll kept blending with images of her brother’s broken body. She swallowed hard against her emotions. A smashed human head left pools of blood; dolls didn’t. She shouldn’t have been so affected, but she was still shaking.

Or perhaps it was because Mr. Pendar had come upon her.

She’d tried to focus on him, not the cliffs mere feet from her. Keeping her back to the ocean, she’d been doing all right. His energy seemed to fill her. But when he spun her around, the fear of falling had gripped her by the throat and she panicked.

“Miss Campbell?” Nellie stood at the head of the stairs, her arms folded across her chest.

Hoping she didn’t look as wild-eyed as she felt, Velvet answered, “Yes.”

Worrying a broken nail, Velvet concentrated on slowing her breathing. All she wanted was five minutes in her room to regain her composure, but the scowling woman blocked her path.

“What can I do for you?” asked Velvet. She hoped the question would disarm Nellie.

“I understand you took Eve.”

“The doll, yes.” Velvet sighed.

“I’d like her back now.” Nellie leveled a fishy eye gaze at her.

“I’m sorry, no.” Velvet resumed her climb up the narrow stairs.

The woman looked taken aback by her refusal and lack of explanation.

“That doll is special to her.” Nellie looked over her shoulder.

Velvet was weary of battles. “Perhaps you can help her pick out four less special dolls to give away, then.”

She’d reached the top step and stood waiting for Nellie to move out of her way.

“Mr. Pendar won’t approve,” said Nellie.

“He already has. I just spoke with him. Now if you will excuse me.”

Velvet pushed past. Was she to have no allies in this household?

“You spoke with him?” said Nellie, her voice hushed.