Everything and the Moon (5 page)

Robert didn't once take his eyes off Victoria. “You'd better leave, Helene.”

“I most certainly will not.” She crossed her arms.

“Helene,” he repeated, his voice laced with low warning.

Victoria heard the veiled fury in his voice, but apparently Helene did not, because she said, “I can't imagine what you would have to say to this…this governess person.”

Robert turned to Helene and roared, “Leave us!”

She blinked. “I don't know the way out.”

“A right, two lefts, and another right,” he bit out.

Helene opened her mouth as if to say more, then obviously thought better of it. With one last nasty glance in Victoria's direction, she quit the scene. Victoria was more than half inclined to follow her. “A right, two lefts, and another right,” she breathed to herself.

“You're not going anywhere,” Robert barked. His imperious tone was just enough to convince Victoria that there was no use even attempting to make polite conversation with him. “If you'll excuse me,” she said, stalking past him.

His hand landed on her arm like a thunderstorm. “Get back here, Victoria.”

“Don't give me commands,” she burst out, whirling to face him. “And don't speak to me in that tone of voice.”

“Goodness,” he mocked. “Such demands for respect. Most odd coming from a woman whose idea of faith—”

“Stop!” she yelled. She wasn't certain what he was talking about, but she couldn't bear to listen to his scathing tone of voice. “Just stop! Stop!”

Amazingly, he did. He looked rather shocked by her outburst. Victoria wasn't surprised. The girl he'd known seven years ago had never screamed like that. She'd never had cause to. She tugged at her arm and said, “Please leave me alone.”

“I don't want to.”

Victoria's head snapped up. “What did you say?”

He shrugged a shoulder and assessed her rudely. “I find myself rather interested in what I missed seven years ago. You're quite beautiful.”

Her mouth fell open. “As if I would—”

“I wouldn't be so hasty to refuse me,” he interrupted. “Of course you couldn't possibly hope for marriage, but there is no longer any threat of my being disinherited. I, my dear, am appallingly wealthy.”

His father had called her “my dear.” And he'd used that same condescending tone. Victoria swallowed down the urge to spit in his face and said, “How perfectly lovely for you.”

He continued as if he hadn't heard her. “I must say, I never thought I'd meet you again under these circumstances.”

“I had hoped
I
never would,” she retorted.

“The governess,” he said, using an oddly thoughtful tone of voice. “What an interesting and precarious position she holds in a household. Neither family nor servant.”

Victoria rolled her eyes. “I rather doubt you're as well acquainted as I with the ‘interesting position' of the governess.”

He cocked his head in a deceptively friendly manner. “How long have you been doing this? I find it rather amusing that England's elite is trusting
you
with their children's moral education.”

“I could certainly do a better job of it than
you
.”

He let out an abrupt laugh. “But then I never pretended to be good and true. I never pretended to be a young man's dreams.” He leaned forward and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. His touch was chillingly gentle. “I never pretended to be an angel.”

“Yes,” she choked out. “You did. You were everything I dreamed of, everything I'd ever wanted. And all you wanted—”

His eyes glittered dangerously as he pulled her closer. “What did I want, Victoria?”

She twisted her head to the side, refusing to answer him.

He let her go abruptly. “I suppose there is no point in reiterating all my foolish hopes.”

She laughed hollowly. “
Your
hopes? Well, I'm so sorry you weren't able to get me into bed with you. That must have certainly broken your heart.”

He leaned forward, his eyes menacing. “It's never too late to dream, is it?”

“That is one dream you will never see fulfilled.”

He shrugged, his expression telling her that he didn't much care one way or the other.

“God, I meant so little to you, didn't I?” she whispered.

Robert stared at her, unable to believe her words. She had meant everything to him. Everything. He'd promised her the moon, and he'd meant it. He had loved her so much—he would have found a way to pull that sphere from the sky and hand it to her on a platter if she'd only demanded it.

But she'd never really loved him. She'd only loved the idea of marrying a wealthy earl. “Torie,” he said, preparing to give her a blistering setdown.

She never gave him the opportunity. “Don't call me Torie!” she burst out.

“I seem to recall that I was the one to give you that particular nickname,” he reminded her.

“You gave up all rights to it seven years ago.”

“I gave up all rights?” he said, barely able to believe that she was trying to pin blame on him. Memories of that pathetic night flashed through his mind. He'd waited for her in the chilly night air. Waited for more than an hour, every fiber of his being alive with love, desire, and hope. And she'd simply gone to sleep. Gone to sleep without a single care for him.

Fury exploded in his body, and he pulled her closer, his hands biting into her flesh. “You seem to have conveniently forgotten the facts of our relationship, Torie.”

She yanked her arm free with a strength that surprised him. “I said
don't
call me that. I am not her anymore. I haven't been for years.”

His lips twisted humorlessly. “And who are you, then?”

She stared at him for a moment, obviously trying to decide whether or not to answer his question. Finally she said, “I am Miss Lyndon. Or these days I am more commonly just Lyndon. I am not even Victoria anymore.”

His eyes swept over her face, not quite recognizing what he saw there. There was a certain strength to her that she hadn't possessed at seventeen. And her eyes held a steeliness that unnerved him. “You're right,” he said with a purposefully bored shrug. “You're not Torie. You probably never were.”

Victoria pursed her lips and refused to reply.

“And for that I thank you,” he continued in a mockingly grand voice.

Her eyes flew to his face.

He raised his hand as if making a toast. “To Victoria Mary Lyndon! For providing me with an education no man should lack.”

Victoria's stomach grew queasy and she took a step back. “Don't do this, Robert.”

“For showing me that women are useless and vain—”

“Robert, no.”

“—that they serve one purpose only.” He drew his thumb across her lips with agonizing slowness. “Although I must say they perform that duty exceedingly well.”

Victoria stood stock still, trying so hard not to let her heart leap at the feel of his fingers on her lips.

“But most of all, Miss Victoria Lyndon, I must thank you for showing me the true measure of the heart. The heart, you see, isn't what I thought it was.”

“Robert, I don't want to hear this.”

He moved with startling speed, grabbing her brutally by the shoulders and pinning her against the hedge. “But you
will
hear this, Victoria. You will hear everything I have to say to you.”

Because she could not shut her ears, she shut her eyes, but this did little to block his over-whelming presence.

“The heart, I have learned, exists only for pain. Love is a poet's dream, but pain—” His fingers tightened around her shoulders. “Pain is so very, very real.”

Without opening her eyes, she whispered, “I know more about pain than you will ever learn.”

“Pain that you failed to snag yourself a fortune, Victoria? That's hardly what I'm talking about. But—” He lifted his hands off her with a flourish. “I no longer feel pain.”

Victoria opened her eyes.

He stared at her face. “I no longer feel anything.”

She stared back, her eyes every bit as hard as his. This was the man who had betrayed her. He'd promised her the moon, and instead stolen her soul. Perhaps she wasn't such a noble person, because she was
glad
that he'd grown so bitter, glad that his was an unhappy life.

He no longer felt anything? She said exactly what she felt. “Good.”

He raised a brow at the malicious pleasure in her voice. “I can see I did not misjudge you.”

“Good-bye, Robert.” A right, two lefts, and another right. She turned on her heel and stalked away.

 

Robert stood in the maze for an hour, his eyes unfocused, his body slack.

Torie. Just the sound of her name in his mind made him shake.

He'd lied to her when he told her he no longer felt anything. When he'd first seen her, impossibly sitting there in the maze, he'd felt such a rush of pleasure and relief—as if she could fill the emptiness that had engulfed him these past seven years.

But of course she was the one who'd carved his heart hollow.

He had tried to erase her memory with other women—although never, to his father's great dismay, the sort one might consider marrying. He'd consorted with widows, courtesans, and opera singers. He'd even sought out companions with Victoria's unique coloring, as if thick black hair and blue eyes could mend the rift in his soul. And sometimes, when the ache in his heart was particularly strong, he forgot himself and called out her name in the heat of passion. It was embarrassing, but none of his mistresses were indiscreet enough to mention it. They always received an extra token of gratitude when it happened, and they merely redoubled their efforts to please him.

But none of these women had made him forget. Not a day had gone by when Victoria didn't dance through his brain. Her laughter, her smiles.

Her betrayal. The one thing he could never forgive.

Torie. That thick black hair. Those bright blue eyes. Age had only made her more beautiful.

And he wanted her.

Lord help him, he still wanted her.

But he also wanted revenge.

He just didn't know which he wanted more.

V
ictoria awoke the next morning with only one thought in her head: she wanted to stay as far away from Robert Kemble, Earl of Macclesfield, as possible.

She didn't want revenge. She didn't want an apology. She just didn't want to see him.

She rather hoped Robert felt the same way. Lord knew he had seemed uncommonly angry with her the previous night. She shrugged, not quite certain why he would have been quite so furious. She supposed she had pricked his male ego. She was probably his only failure at seduction.

Victoria dressed quickly, mentally preparing herself for breakfast with Neville, which was always an unpleasant chore. That boy had learned how to complain from a master—his mother. If the eggs weren't too cold, then the tea was too hot, or the—

A sharp rap sounded at the door, and Victoria whirled around, her heart suddenly pounding triple-time. Surely Robert wouldn't have the audacity to approach her in her room. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, remembering his surly attitude. He probably
would
go ahead and do such a foolish thing.

Fury rose within her. Such behavior could cost her her position, and unlike Robert
she
was not appallingly wealthy. She crossed the room in quick strides and yanked open the door with an angry, “What?”

“I beg your pardon, Miss Lyndon.”

“Oh, Lady Hollingwood, I'm so sorry. I thought you were…That is to say…” Miserably, Victoria let her words trail off. At this rate she wouldn't need Robert to lose her position for her. She was doing a good job of it all by herself.

Lady Hollingwood inclined her head imperiously and entered the room without waiting for an invitation. “I am here to talk with you about your unfortunate disappearance last evening.”

“Master Neville led me into the maze, my lady. I could not find my way out.”

“Do not try to force a boy of only five years to accept the blame for your actions.”

Victoria fisted her hands at her sides.

“Do you realize,” Lady Hollingwood continued, “the extent to which you inconvenienced me? I had a house full of guests to attend to, and I was forced to take time away from them to put my son to bed. You should have been there to do it.”

“I would have been, my lady,” Victoria said, trying not to clench her teeth. “But I was trapped in the maze. Surely you—”

“You may consider this your final warning, Miss Lyndon. I am most displeased with your performance. One more mishap and I shall be forced to toss you out.” Lady Hollingwood whirled on her heel and stalked back into the hall. Then she turned around to say, “With
out
a reference.”

Victoria stared at the open doorway for several seconds before finally letting out a deep breath. She would have to find a new position. This was unacceptable. Unbearable. It was—

“Victoria.” Robert's frame filled the doorway. “As if the day could get any worse,” she muttered.

Robert raised an insolent brow, glancing at the clock on her bedside table. “Really now, how bad could your day possibly be at this time in the morning?”

She tried to brush past him. “I have to get to work.”

“And feed young Neville?” His hand closed around her arm, and he kicked the door shut behind him. “Not necessary. Neville has gone riding with my good friend Ramsay, who has graciously volunteered to entertain the little brat all morning.”

Victoria shut her eyes for a moment and exhaled, a rush of memory overwhelming her. He had always been so organized, always attending to the smallest of details. She should have known he'd find a way to occupy Neville if he wanted to see her alone.

When she opened her eyes he was idly examining a book on her bedside table. “No more romantic novels?” he asked, holding up the book, a rather dry discussion of the study of astronomy.

Her chin lifted a fraction of an inch. “I don't enjoy romantic novels any longer.”

Robert continued to flip through the pages of the book. “I had no idea you so enjoyed astronomy.”

Victoria swallowed, not about to tell him that the moon and stars made her feel closer to him. Or rather, closer to the person she'd thought he'd been. “My lord,” she said with a sigh. “Why are you doing this?”

He shrugged and sat on her small bed. “Doing what?”

“This!” She threw up her arms. “Coming to my room. Sitting on my bed.” She blinked, as if just realizing what he was doing. “You're on my bed. For God's sake, get off my bed.”

He smiled slowly. “Make me.”

“I am not so infantile that you can rile me with such a challenge.”

“No?” He leaned back against her pillows and crossed his ankles. “Don't worry. My boots are clean.”

Victoria's eyes narrowed, and then she picked up the basin full of water she used for washing and dumped it on his head and chest. “I take that back,” she said acidly. “I can be quite childish when the occasion warrants.”

“Good Christ, woman!” Robert sputtered, leaping off the bed. Water ran in rivulets down his face, soaking his cravat and shirt.

Victoria leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, quite pleased with her handiwork. “Do you know,” she said with a satisfied smile, “but I think that all might be right with the world after all.”

“Don't you dare,” he roared, “try a stunt like that again!”

“And do what? Impugn your honor? I wasn't aware you had any.”

He advanced on her with menacing steps. Victoria probably would have taken the cowardly way out and retreated, but her back was already up against the wall. “You,” he said savagely, “are going to be extremely sorry you did that.”

Victoria couldn't help it. She giggled. “Robert,” she said, lapsing into the familiar. “Nothing could ever make me sorry I did that. For the rest of my life I will treasure this moment.
Treasure
it. In fact, this may very well be the one thing I am
least
sorry—”

“Victoria,” he said, his voice deadly. “Shut up.”

She did, but she didn't stop smirking.

He closed the space between them until he was just a heartbeat away. “If you are going to get me wet,” he said, his voice dropping into a husky murmur, “then you are damn well going to dry me off.”

Victoria scooted to the side. “Perhaps a towel…I'd be happy to lend you mine.”

He moved so that he was right in front of her again, and touched her chin with his fingers. His body was hot, but his eyes were even hotter. “I've waited a lifetime for this,” he whispered, pressing his body against hers.

The water from his clothing soaked into Victoria's dress, but she didn't feel anything but the heat from his body. “Don't,” she whispered. “Don't do this.”

His eyes held a strange desperation. “I can't help it,” he said hoarsely. “God help me, I can't help it.”

His lips came down toward hers with agonizing slowness. He hovered for a moment when he was just a hairbreadth away, as if he was trying to hold himself back at the last moment. Then, with stunning swiftness, his hands left her arms and moved to the back of her head, binding her lips to his.

Robert planted his hands into her thick hair, unmindful of the way her hairpins were clattering to the floor. It felt just the same—silky and heavy, and the scent of it was enough to drive him wild. He murmured her name over and over, forgetting for a moment that he hated her, that she'd abandoned him years ago, that she was the reason his heart had been dead for seven long years. He relied on instinct alone, and his body could do nothing but recognize that she was his Torie, and she was in his arms, and she belonged there.

He kissed her savagely, trying to drink in enough of her essence to make up for all their lost years. His hands clutched at her, roving over her body, trying to remember and memorize each curve.

“Torie,” he murmured, trailing his lips down the line of her neck. “I've never…No other woman…”

Victoria let her head loll back, all reason having fled with the first touch of his lips. She'd thought she'd forgotten what it felt like to be held in his arms, to feel the touch of his lips on her skin.

But she hadn't. Every touch was achingly familiar and startlingly exciting. And when he lowered her onto her bed, she couldn't even think to protest.

The weight of his body pressed her into the mattress, and one of his hands wrapped around her calf, squeezing and caressing its way up past her knee.

“I'm going to love you, Torie,” Robert said fiercely. “I'm going to love you until you can't move. I'm going to love you until you can't think.” His hand traveled ever higher, reaching the hot skin of her upper thigh where her stockings ended. “I'm going to love you the way I should have before.”

Victoria groaned with pleasure. She'd spent seven long years without so much as a hug, and she was starved for physical affection. She had known what it was like to be touched and kissed, and she had no idea how much she'd missed it until that very moment. His hand moved, and she dimly realized that he was fumbling with his breeches, opening them and—

“Oh, God, no!” she cried out, pushing at his shoulders. In her mind's eye she could see them from above. Her legs were open, and Robert was settled between them. “No, Robert,” she said again, wriggling out from beneath him. “I can't.”

“Don't do this,” he warned, passion still glazing his eyes. “Don't tease me and—”

“This is all you ever wanted, isn't it?” she demanded, darting off the bed. “All you ever wanted from me.”

“It was certainly one thing,” he muttered, looking as if he were in pain.

“God, I'm so stupid.” She crossed her arms across her chest in a defensive maneuver. “One would think I'd have learned my lesson by now.”

“As one would think I'd have learned mine,” he said bitterly.

“Please go.”

He stopped on his way to the door, just to be contrary. “Please? Such nice manners.”

“Robert, I'm asking you as politely as I know how.”

“But why ask me to leave?” He stepped toward her. “Why fight it, Torie? You know you want me.”

“That's not the point!” Horrified, Victoria realized what she'd just revealed. She wasn't sure how she managed to get the words out, but she forced herself to lower her voice and said, “For the love of God, Robert, do you understand what you're doing? I am within an inch of being dismissed from this post. I cannot afford to lose it. If you were to be found in my room, I would be tossed out on my ear.”

“Really?” He looked intrigued by the prospect.

She spoke slowly, carefully measuring her words. “I realize that you do not harbor any wealth of good feelings toward me. But for the sake of common decency, please leave!” She hated that she sounded as if she was begging, but she had no choice. At the end of the house party, Robert would leave and resume his life. This
was
her life.

He leaned forward, his blue eyes sharp and intent. “Why do you care? You can't possibly love this position so much.”

Victoria snapped. She just snapped. “Of course I don't love this position. Do you think I enjoy attending to the needs of the world's most monstrous five-year-old? Do you think I enjoy being spoken to as if I were a dog by his mother? Use your brain, Robert. What there is of it, at least.”

Robert ignored her insult. “Then why stay?”“Because I don't have any choice!” she burst out. “Do you have any idea what it is like not to have any choices? Do you? No, of course you don't.” She turned her back to him, unable to face him while she was shaking with emotion.

“Why don't you marry?”

“Because I—” She swallowed. How could she say that she had never married because she knew no man could ever live up to him? Even if his entire courtship of her had been false, it had been perfect, and she knew that she would never find anyone who could make her as happy as she'd been those two short months.

“Just go,” she said, her words barely audible. “Go.”

“This isn't over, Torie.”

She ignored his pointed use of her nickname. “It has to be over. It should never have begun.”

Robert stared at her a full minute. “You're different,” he finally said.

“I am not the same girl you tried to take advantage of, if that is what you mean.” She stood straight and tall. “It has been seven years, Robert. I am a different person now. As, apparently, are you.”

Robert left the room without another word, swiftly making his way from the servants' quarters to the guest wing where he'd been given a room.

What the hell had he been thinking?

He hadn't been. That could be the only explanation. Why else would he arrange for Victoria's charge to be entertained all morning and then steal into her room?

“Because she makes me feel alive,” he whispered to himself.

He couldn't remember the last time his senses were so finely tuned, the last time he'd felt such an exquisitely heady rush.

No, that wasn't entirely true. He remembered all too well. It had been the last time he'd held her in his arms. Seven years ago.

It was some consolation to learn that those years had not brought her happiness, either. She had been a scheming adventuress, intent upon marrying into a fortune, but all she had found was a miserable position as a governess.

Circumstances had certainly brought her low. He might be dead inside, but at least he had the freedom to do what he wanted when he wanted to do it. Victoria was desperately trying to hold on to a livelihood she hated, always fearing that she'd be tossed out without a reference.

That was when it occurred to him. He could have her and his revenge, too.

His body sang at the thought of holding her in his arms, of kissing every inch of that delectable body.

His mind raced at the idea that they might be discovered by Victoria's employers, who would then never allow her to watch over their precious Neville.