Tainted by Temptation (9 page)

Velvet looked down at Iris and smiled softly. “I think that will do.”

His stomach twisted. What would it take to get Velvet to smile at him? She’d barely looked at him today. All he could do was look at her. Her skin was like porcelain, her hair a molten copper, and he couldn’t remember wanting a woman as much as he wanted her.

Iris scowled. “Are we almost there?”

“We are only half the way,” said Velvet. “Do you know of King Arthur and the knights of the round table?”

She slipped into a rendition of the age-old legends. Her voice lulled and soothed him as they swayed along in the carriage.

He added in details from Cornish legends and was pleased when her questing green eyes landed on him. For a second their gazes locked. Warmth flared low in him. He could only think of tasting her mouth again, but now was not an appropriate time. He had no intention of making overtures today. In spite of his best intentions, he’d very nearly failed to remain circumspect in the library.

Dragging his eyes away, he looked at Iris.

Her mouth agape, Iris looked back and forth between the two of them. The last thing he needed was Iris speculating about what went on between a man and a woman.

“You were saying about Lancelot,” he prompted Velvet.

Velvet’s throat worked, and then she turned to where Iris sat beside her and started again. “Lancelot was a knight from France. He—”

“How do you know all this?” interrupted Iris.

“From books,” answered Velvet.

Iris’s eyebrows and mouth flattened.

Velvet ignored the chit’s petulant expression and continued her storytelling. Artfully she mentioned Guinevere’s lovely blond hair was just like Iris’s. The child leaned against her governess and settled in to listen.

The stop to change horses arrived almost too soon.

Lucian descended the stairs, turned and swung Iris down. Extending his hand to help Velvet, he watched that Iris did not stray. Velvet slid her bare hand into his. Her skin was soft and her long fingers brushed his. He fought the surge of desire. He should be able to assist her out of the carriage without becoming aroused.

He led her down the steps and released her. Ashamed by his lack of control, he clasped his hands behind his back. Velvet kept her eyes down. If she was aware of his pulsing desire, she gave no signal.

Although it was not so cool as to be uncomfortable, her lack of gloves puzzled him. Did she mean to torment him by the skin-to-skin contact?

Instead she leaned forward and cupped Iris’s shoulders, directing her toward the inn, where they could make use of the facilities.

The sway of her hips and her smooth glide as she walked into the building mesmerized him. All the rest of the world fell away as he saw only her.

“Right handsome family, guv.”

The rebuttal on his lips, Lucian swiveled to face an ostler holding the reins on the lead horses. From the deliberately blank looks on his coachman and groom and the smirk on the ostler’s face, Lucian surmised they’d all noticed his fascination with Velvet.

His coachman and groom got very busy with releasing straps and buckles.

Leveling a steely look in the ostler’s direction, Lucian asked, “Did you say something?”

“I asked if you wanted your spare team hooked on straight away or you mean to have a meal,” the ostler said.

As much to regain his composure as anything, Lucian pulled his pocket watch out and flipped open the cover. “Have the carriage ready in a half hour. Thank you.”

That would give his men time enough to have a beer and stretch their legs.

The ostler nodded and moved to help the groom with releasing the first team from their traces.

Lucian snapped the watch closed and tucked it back into his pocket. He strode toward the inn.

He went inside and found the proprietor, ordered drinks and found a table in the common room. Velvet returned with Iris and noted the glasses on the table. Her forehead crinkled for just a second. If he hadn’t been watching her so intently, he would have missed the tiny hint of displeasure.

“You don’t like lemonade?” he asked.

She looked at him blankly. “I enjoy lemonade.” Gingerly she untied the frayed ribbons of her bonnet. “Miss Pendar, won’t you sit, please?”

The crinkle appeared between Velvet’s brows again as she watched Iris slide onto the bench. Iris slumped, and Velvet lightly touched her between her shoulder blades. Iris straightened.

He wanted to reach out, touch Velvet’s hand and ask her what was bothering her, but instead he clenched his glass tighter. Touching her was not a good idea. He’d want more.

Iris picked up her lemonade and downed the liquid in a long series of gulps. She thunked her empty glass on the table. “Can I go outside?”

“May I? And no, you may sit and wait until everyone is finished,” answered Velvet.

“A busy inn yard is no place for you alone,” echoed Lucian. A few months ago he would have just let Iris go, rather than battle with her. But then a few months ago he never would have bothered to take her on an outing. He had to try harder to connect with her as she matured into a young lady.

Iris folded her arms and hunched over. “Didn’t look busy to me.”

Like her mother, she didn’t handle not getting her way with grace.

Lucian opened his mouth to suggest Iris close hers, but Velvet was already speaking in her dulcet tones.

“Sit up straight, please,” she said. “Or do we need to practice the proper way to sit the whole time we’re here?”

Iris sighed loudly and improved her posture. Velvet rewarded her with a smile and a quick back rub. She seemed to have found the appropriate mix of carrots and sticks with Iris. But then he’d probably do handstands if she rewarded him with smiles and loving touches. He stared into his glass of lemonade and wished he’d ordered gin.

“Will we have time for a stroll?” asked Velvet.

“We have time,” said Lucian. He finished his glass and remained decidedly unquenched.

Velvet picked up her glass and sipped.

Iris’s blue eyes followed her every movement. She shifted forward and back on the bench. “Hurry up.”

“That’s enough, Iris,” said Lucian. “Speak only when you’re spoken to.”

Iris’s lower lip jutted out.

Velvet sighed, but did not rush. The silence stretched over the table. She finished and reached for her hat.

“Shall we walk through town?” Lucian stood.

“That would be lovely. Don’t you think, Iris?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Iris was undoubtedly trying to make him feel like a heel for silencing her. Silencing them all. But he didn’t know when she’d become such an ill-mannered child. Then again he’d never taken her out in public or put her much in the way of others. He should shoulder the blame for wanting to keep her away from those who might harm her, and indulging her so much she believed her whims should be fulfilled straight away. Although how much was due to his neglect and how much was because she’d inherited a great deal of Lilith’s faults, he didn’t know.

Velvet managed to maneuver Iris between them as they strolled down the dirt lane that marked the center of the village. But Iris bounced instead of walked, making their progress jerky.

“Would you like to skip ahead to the end of the street?” asked Velvet.

“Can I?”

“May I,” corrected Velvet. “If your father says you may.”

Iris turned her big blue eyes in his direction. Lucian nodded.

“Do not go past the last building,” said Velvet.

They walked a few steps while Iris bounded ahead. The smells of fresh baked bread wafted out of the bakery, while a few of the locals scurried about their business.

“She was very eager for this trip,” said Velvet.

“I overestimated her ability to travel,” said Lucian dryly.

The corners of Velvet’s mouth curled. “Most children her age have a hard time being cooped up for hours, but I’m sure the walk will help.”

“When the train tracks are laid, the journey might only take an hour at most.”

“Are there plans to bring trains through here?”

“My plan is to build new railroads and depots covering the west of England. I have been working on the best routes for years, surveying the land, contracting to buy property, entering into the partnerships I need.”

She studied him. “Railroads will bring a great deal of progress to the area.”

“And I will have a controlling interest in most of it.” If things went as planned, he would attain a great deal of power. “Soon I will be bringing together my partners and finalizing everything. We will getting the final backing of Parliament this coming session and break ground in the spring.”

“Sounds ambitious,” she murmured.

“Yes, but I have benefited from watching the foolhardy mistakes of others. I have even been to the Americas to see how they are handling the rapid building of rail lines.”

They walked along and she asked questions his investors hadn’t even asked, and he found himself sharing his methods and plans with her. Just to have someone who understood the concerns and able to share intelligent discourse about it made him feel light on his feet. She even had insights into the tricky political maze he would need to navigate.

“You certainly have thought this through.” Her thoughtful expression contained perhaps a little admiration. “You are very thorough. Success seems certain.”

Warmth slid down his spine. Yet, he could not monopolize the conversation with his business. “I am sorry. This day should be about pleasure and I have been boring you with my plans.”

“I was not bored. I find it fascinating.” Her brows drew together. “But I suspect Iris is not old enough to appreciate the subject.”

Surprisingly, Iris waited for them at the end of the street. He couldn’t have imagined her following Miss Grimes’s directions so well. “You have worked wonders to get in Iris’s good graces. She is usually too headstrong to mind her governesses.”

Velvet’s chin dipped and the edge of her hat shielded her expression. “She has told me that you will send her away if I fail.”

He rubbed his hand down his side. He no longer trusted anyone to do the right thing without prodding. “I knew of no other way to compel her to behave.”

Did she dislike his manipulations? Suddenly her good opinion meant more than he liked. He pulled out his watch and checked the time.

Two young boys scampered by, one rolling a metal hoop with a stick.

Iris ran toward him. “Papa, I want one of those. There is a store that sells them down there.” She pointed and yanked on his arm.

His watch dropped and swung on its chain.

“Do we need to return to the inn?” asked Velvet.

“We have time yet.” Lucian retrieved his watch and put it back in his pocket. The carriage, though ready by now, wouldn’t leave without them. “Show me,” he said to Iris.

Iris pulled him toward the dry goods shop, which sure enough displayed a metal hoop along with tin soldiers and porcelain dolls in the front window. He paused at the door, Iris trying to tug him through the opening.

Velvet’s lips were pressed together as she crossed the threshold. The proprietor greeted them with a happy smile. He looked over Velvet, quickly dismissed her and turned to Iris. “And what can I do for you, little miss? Would you like a peppermint?”

The man moved to a jar on the long counter and opened it. Iris happily trotted toward him. “My papa is going to buy me the big ring in the window.”

Wondering why the man so quickly wrote off Velvet, Lucian looked toward her as she fingered a length of cloth and then meandered between the bolts of material.

Velvet’s hat ribbons were tattered, her hems were frayed, and her boots were scuffed. Her mended nightgown and lack of a dressing gown crossed his mind. Without wages for a year, she wouldn’t be able to purchase new material for clothes.

He took a step toward her. He wanted to tell her he’d been hasty in his assumption that he had to manipulate her into staying, and that he could release her wages sooner. Or better yet, he could just buy her material and have the dressmaker come make up new clothes for her.

She stared down at a table that held a silver rattle and a tiny embroidered cap. He watched as she ran her finger over the carving on a cradle. His heart stopped cold.

V
elvet stared at the layette and wondered if she would have had a half-dozen children by now if she’d accepted one of the three offers she had before she was twenty. Two of the men were her father’s parishioners, and one was a farmer a county over. Any one of them would have been acceptable to her, but she told them all she could not desert her father while he was ill.

Not one of her suitors remained a bachelor when her father died. They probably hadn’t understood how bad his condition was because he’d always managed to deliver his rousing fire and brimstone service every Sunday. Only she knew he would return to the vicarage, collapse, and not rise out of bed until Tuesday. Until the time he didn’t rise on Tuesday or even Wednesday, then slipped from life on Thursday morning without the thundering hellfire or singing angels he told everyone to expect.

“Is there anything you need, Miss Campbell?” asked Lucian at her side. His voice was low and rough, as if aware he’d caught her in the midst of musing about her past.

“No, of course not.”

He stared at her hand on the cradle.

Embarrassed that he caught her in a moment of regret at not having children of her own, she drew her hand back. “I was just admiring the carving.”

“Lilith ordered a cradle from London when Iris was born.” He looked over to where the shop clerk retrieved the hoop from the window. “Iris was too big for it by the time it arrived.” The flash of pain in his face surprised her. “The cradle is still in the nursery.”

His gaze was intense, and she wasn’t at all sure what he was trying to convey.

“Will this be all for you, sir?”

Lucian looked down at the cradle and then back at her. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

“I—I’m fine,” she said ineptly.

Was he trying to tell her he wanted more children? With her? Her stomach fluttered, and suddenly she was out of breath.

He turned and pulled out his purse to pay for Iris’s hoop.

Uncertain what to do with herself, Velvet ducked her head and turned toward the door. Her mind spun and fired like a Catherine wheel at a fair. Lucian was inept with his daughter, alternatively ignoring her and overindulging her. He wasn’t the type of man she should want to have a child with, and damn it to hell and back, she’d thought she was resolved to being a spinster and childless.

But she was breathless. As he walked toward the counter, she could almost picture a little dark-haired boy trailing behind him. His child . . . and hers.

Lucian knew Velvet was embarrassed and uncertain. Until she confided in him or her condition became obvious, he couldn’t do more than drop the broadest of hints that he’d be compassionate.

When they arrived at the promontory where Tintagel Castle was located, Iris exploded out of the carriage. She hopped up and down and urged the coachman to hand her down the hoop and stick.

Velvet looked toward the round jut of land surrounded by ocean and gasped.

“Almost impregnable, eh?” Lucian handed her down. Prepared for the jolt of awareness, he dropped his hand as soon as he could. He intended to act like a gentleman.

Velvet stepped down gingerly and nodded. But she looked pale.

“It is no wonder Uther Pendragon needed a ruse to get inside a fortress here,” observed Lucian.

Velvet’s cheeks fired and she looked down.

He hadn’t expected his oblique reference to the seduction of Arthur’s mother to embarrass Velvet, but her blush suggested otherwise. That her mind strayed along the same forbidden paths as his heated him. He tucked his hands behind his back and forced his feet to step away. “Shall we go down to the ruins?”

“I should like to rest here a bit.” She turned aside, so he couldn’t see her face.

Why did she need to rest after sitting in a coach for the better part of three hours? With her face averted, he couldn’t search her expression for clues. She must want distance from him.

“I’ll go, Papa,” said Iris. Her hoop, which had proved harder to control than she expected, lay in the grass beside the carriage.

He extended his hand, and Iris put her sticky fingers in his. Now his hand would be sticky too. He suspected the store owner had given her more than one peppermint, but then Iris, like her mother, could have that effect on people. Grimacing, he curled his fingers around hers.

“Have a good time,” said Velvet.

“It really is not a difficult walk,” he said, “and there are stairs. No need to do any climbing.”

Velvet shook her head. Her lips were pressed tightly together. “Perhaps later.”

“Are you feeling all right?” he asked.

“I’ll be all right in a little bit. Please go on ahead.”

She turned to walk back toward the lane that had brought them to the grassy area above Tintagel Head.

Iris pulled on his hand and looked up at him, her big blue eyes beseeching.

“Shall we go explore, then?” he said to her.

His parents had brought him here when he was young. He’d pretended to be King Arthur fighting on the walls with a stick sword. Perhaps Iris would want to pretend she was Guinevere. Although, he had his reservations about her taking on the role of an adulteress. He wanted to sever the connections to her mother instead of reinforce them.

Iris skipped, bouncing his arm up and down. He held on anyway. Moving to the coachman, who was releasing the horses from their traces, Lucian whispered, “Keep an eye on Miss Campbell. If she is ill, come get me.”

“Very good, sir,” the coachman responded.

“Can we have our picnic over there, Papa?” Iris pointed to the far headland.

“Certainly.” He picked up the basket and the blanket.

Iris looked back at Velvet and smiled smugly. “I don’t think Miss Campbell will want to eat.”

He turned and studied Velvet. She walked away, her shoulders stiff. What had Iris done?

Damn, just when he thought she was behaving like an ordinary child, she showed how prone to scheming she was. Although he couldn’t blame it all on her mother. He too had schemed to get Velvet in his company. And his plan seemed to be going awry.

Iris climbed the piled rocks. As a castle, it wasn’t very exciting, just a bunch of jagged walls without roofs or floors. But it was almost like being on an island, and one thing was certain, Miss Campbell didn’t like looking down on the water. Every time she neared the window in the schoolroom, she would gasp and avert her head. The few walks they had taken outside were always away from the ocean, even though she had told Miss Campbell where they could easily go down to the shore. She’d even moved everything in the schoolroom so she didn’t have to get close to the windows.

Now she had her papa all to herself. If only he wouldn’t keep checking the path to see if Miss Campbell was coming.

“Be careful, Iris,” he said.

“I am.” She could climb a stupid wall. The stones bit into her palms. Maybe if she fell off the wall he’d rush to pick her up and forget about Miss Campbell.

She pushed away and leaped to the ground. She tumbled to the side. Waiting, she lay on the ground.

“I told you to be careful,” he said in an even tone.

Twisting to look over her shoulder, she watched him sit back down on a shelf of stones. He just didn’t care about her. “I could have hurt myself.”

“You did jump, not fall.” He sounded bored. He’d probably be all over Miss Campbell if she stumbled.

Iris let loose a puff of air. Miss Campbell hated pretend injuries and fell for them even less than Papa. She rolled to her feet. “Can we eat now?”

“We should wait for Miss Campbell.” He pulled his watch from his pocket and flipped it open. “Or perhaps we should go get her.”

Iris folded her arms. “I’m hungry.”

Her father pinned her with a dark look. “Don’t you want to wait for Miss Campbell?”

She knew the right answer, the polite answer, but instead she said, “I am all the time with her.”

She couldn’t run down and have cook give her an apple pastry or tease Meg into playing a game of hide and seek. It wasn’t that she disliked Miss Campbell, but she was used to doing what she wanted. So far it didn’t work to stomp her foot or pretend to cry. Getting out of the classroom during school hours was impossible now. Miss Campbell would just say to work or suffer the consequences. “She always tells me if I don’t do my lessons, I can’t go to the drawing room after dinner.”

“Well if I don’t see to my work during the day, then I must return to it after dinner. That is the way of the world, Iris.”

“Ladies don’t have work,” she objected.

“Sure they do. They must see to the household, the staff, plan the menus . . . and—”

“Mama didn’t.”

“She should have.” Papa winced and looked away. “She did when she was feeling well.”

Iris could tell he was lying. Her mama mostly laid on her chaise longue and complained she was imprisoned in the house in the middle of nowhere. She said Papa only invited dreary business people and there were never any parties or decent company.

“When I grow up I want to live in London.”

Papa scowled. “Perhaps you should see the city before you decide such things.”

“Miss Campbell likes London.”

His expression turned darker. “Does she?” he muttered.

She described the sights there as things to be seen. She also went on and on about the benefits of books, when Iris couldn’t see any reason to think books were wonderful. They just made her head hurt. But it seemed to upset her papa that Miss Campbell liked London. Speculating on how to best use that information, Iris hopped on the low wall and ran along it.

The picnic basket stopped her progress. Papa was again searching the rise leading to the stairs.

Her teeth clamped together and she suddenly felt hot. He was looking for Miss Campbell again.

“She’s always talking about how wonderful it is there. Buckingham Palace, The White Tower, the museums, the galleries.” That was an exaggeration. Biting her lip, Iris paused. “I am sure she misses it dreadfully.”

Papa turned toward her. His eyebrows flattened and his lips thinned.

Just then Miss Campbell came over the hilltop.

Papa’s face transformed. His lips parted and his eyes crinkled around the edges. He looked . . . happy, and it was Miss Campbell he was happy to see.

Velvet headed down the slight incline toward Iris and Lucian. She hoped her panic didn’t show. Iris scowled, while Lucian stood and watched her. Fearing she’d stumble or her rubbery legs would give out on her, Velvet took slow steps and tried to not wave her arms wildly.

The ocean breeze fluttered her hat’s repaired ribbons and wafted across her skin. The ground leveled out to a smooth grassy patch. She contemplated making herself as unobtrusive as possible.

“Finally,” said Iris with a grand flourish.

“Yes, she’s here.” Lucian picked up the folded blanket. He flapped it out and laid it on the grass in what must have once been a great hall.

Velvet went straight to the basket and carried it to the blanket.

The day would be pleasant if she hadn’t been confronted with the steep descent to the sea on either side of the isthmus connecting this round peninsula to the mainland. She’d barely been able to override her fear of falling to make it across. Attempting the crossing without witnesses allowed her to focus on the ground in front of her feet and take tiny baby steps. She’d made it, but the accomplishment felt hollow. Already she dreaded the return.

She gamely stretched out the corners of the blanket, then opened the basket. The scent of roasted chicken curdled her stomach. She pressed against her abdomen, curbing the sudden rise of nausea. Concentrating on setting out the plates and food helped keep her vision narrowly focused down on the blanket.

A person with an extreme fear of falling shouldn’t be on the coast of Cornwall. She absolutely had to learn to contain her phobia or she’d never survive here. But when a loved one had died from a fall, ignoring the steep precipices was hard.

“Are you feeling better, Miss Campbell?” Lucian stood at the far edge of the blanket with his hands clasped behind his back.

Embarrassed by her helpless lack of control, her face heated. Her gaze traveled up his legs, and her thoughts flashed on the night she’d retrieved the dolls and glimpsed his powerful thighs covered with dark hairs. Her skin flamed hotter. “C-Certainly, I am fine.”

His brows drew together and he dropped to his knees. He’d loosened his neck cloth and unbuttoned his collar. As if she had no control, her eyes were drawn to the dark shadow at the base of his throat.

She twisted to pull a jug from the basket. She didn’t need to know if the hairs on his chest would be silky or bristly. Certainly she would never feel his bare chest against hers, but her nipples tightened as if her body wanted to.

She tried to dismiss her rampant thoughts, but her will was weakened by her terror at crossing the steep-sided land bridge.

Her fear overtook her sensibilities the day she turned twelve, and she’d spent hours in the bell tower afraid to move for fear of falling. She couldn’t bring herself to climb down the stairs. A farmer of the village, putting his mules away, had seen her up there clinging to the rail and rescued her, carrying her down the long flight of stairs. She’d never again been able to stand heights.

“Iris, are you ready to eat?” she asked more sharply than she intended.

“I’ve been ready forever,” said Iris. She plunked down on the edge of the blanket. “What took you so long?”

“I am sorry.” Velvet concentrated on the child. “I thought you might enjoy exploring with your father. I fear I am a poor adventurer.”

She hadn’t always been. She had often talked her younger brother into climbing to the top of the bell tower. Velvet pushed those thoughts away.

Iris blinked and suddenly looked extremely young and vulnerable. She squirmed and then announced, “I fell off the wall.”

“You jumped,” corrected Lucian.

Iris rolled her eyes, and Velvet suppressed a smile. Thank goodness Iris was present to break the tension and steer her thoughts away from the lascivious path they too often strayed upon. Lucian wasn’t the first nearly naked and aroused man she’d glimpsed, but for some reason the images of him in his open dressing gown continued to taunt her.