Forbidden (Scandalous Sirens) (3 page)

“What brings you to Fairleigh Hall, boy?” his father asked again.

“I thought it was time to pay a visit before I settled in at Kirkaldy.” The mention of his estate was intentional and he didn’t blink as he waited for his father’s response.

Rufus shifted in his chair. “So…will you be leaving at first light?”

Vaughn’s indirect challenge had completely misfired.

“Surely it has not been twenty years since last you were here?” Elisa remarked, and Vaughn was grateful for the interruption, although irritated it was she who supplied it. He didn’t want to be grateful to the whore. He didn’t want any association with her at all. Now he must play out the little social by-play.

“Indeed, it has been twenty years. Fairleigh Hall has not changed in all that time. Tell me, Elisa,
 
how do you find Fairleigh?”

She lightly touched the napkin to those pink lips. “It’s very nice.”

Her words completely lacked conviction, as well they should. The manor sat in rocky countryside and had little to offer anyone under the age of fifty
.
He could only imagine how lonely it would be for a young woman to live in such a cold, desolate place.

“How long have you been here?”

“I arrived a little over a month ago, along with my maid, Marianne.”

So, her maid was with her. How very proper. “Do you ride?” he asked. He already knew she did. Rumors of her shocking skill in the saddle had reached every men’s club in London and beyond. Vaughn’s friends had taken great pleasure in telling him about his soon-to-be stepmother’s shortcomings. She wasn’t content to keep to a decorous trot upon a sidesaddle. In her teens she had ridden astride like any man, her dress hoisted up to her thighs to give her the freedom to ride recklessly.

 
It was rumored she had bested many men on horseback.

“I fear I have little time for riding these days.”

He watched her intently. “Why not?”

His father slammed his drink down, bringing Vaughn’s attention back to him. “Vaughn, you’re making Elisa uncomfortable.”

“He’s not making me uncomfortable, Rufus,” Elisa told him. She smiled soothingly at Rufus before glancing at Vaughn again. “I’ve missed riding.”

“I’m certain Father has a vast array of mares to choose from.”

“I’ve asked Rufus to go with me, but his back pain prevents him from doing so.”

“Certainly a short ride wouldn’t tax you too much, Father?”

Again, he received one of his father’s icy glares. Rufus took a long drink of his claret,
keeping his eye upon Vaughn. “I’m too old.”

The response came from him unbidden, unplanned. “Very well, I’ll ride with her, then.”

His father’s face turned purple with anger, but Vaughn barely heard what Rufus was trying to say, for he had seen Elisa’s surprised expression. Then, briefly, a flare of joy followed by a soft, warm smile lifted her lovely full lips. The smile was for him and her eyes sparkled. Vaughn felt his heart give a painful leap in response.

Then abruptly, all expression was removed and her gaze dropped to her plate, as if she had suddenly remembered her place. But the afterglow bathed Vaughn in a heady warmth that threatened to make his hands tremble.

Rufus finally found his voice. “You’ll not be here long enough to have idle time on your hands.”

How like Rufus to dictate how and when he should come and go. Some of the earlier fury leapt in Vaughn’s chest. “Father, long ago you gave up any right to tell me what I can and cannot do.” His voice echoed his anger, emerging low and strained.

Rufus’ eyes narrowed a little. The moment of silence between them grew and Vaughn knew his father was studying him anew, reassessing. Vaughn did not look away. He had no intention of backing down in this petty game of willpower.

Finally Rufus cleared his throat with a harsh hack and reached for the wine.

Vaughn drained his own brandy, needing the small sustenance, knowing he had won but a small victory that would make Rufus all the more determined to bring him down in the very near future. Rufus bent on vengeance was a dangerous man indeed.

While Rufus called for another decanter, swearing at the lack of foresight of the footman, Vaughn dared to glance at Elisa once more and he recognized fear in her eyes. She shook her head a little, her lips opening as if she breathed a warning. She understood what was happening then.

Vaughn smiled at her reassuringly, pretending a confidence he did not wholly feel.

Her hand came to her mouth as if she was distressed and she looked away. After a moment she looked back as if drawn, perhaps reluctantly.

Vaughn struggled to hide the shock her glance sent through him, for he had understood that searing gaze with perfect clarity.

Elisa wanted him, too.

Chapter Two

Elisa’s heart ached as if she had run too hard, too far. An invisible hand was squeezing at her insides, making her feel wretchedly ill, but at the same time there was a heady, intoxicating bubbling in her blood and her mind.

Her entire attention was focused on the man sitting across from her. It was her inability to dismiss him from her mind that made her fearful. She stood to lose far too much if she gave this little attraction any freedom to grow.

Vaughn Wardell. She let the name roll through her mind. As much as his appearance had surprised her, so did his actual existence. Rufus had never mentioned having a son. There was not a single portrait of the heir to the Fairleigh dynasty to be found anywhere in the manor and she had been in every public room since her arrival a month ago.

One servant had told Marianne that all portraits of the previous marchioness had been burned. Apparently Rufus wanted no reminder of the woman who had betrayed him—or that woman’s son.

Elisa had been a little shocked at the barely disguised venom emanating from Rufus. Vaughn’s welcome home had been grim at best. Why did families feel it was permissible to treat each other that way? Against her will, it drew upon her own memories—the hatred Roger’s family had done little to hide from her once he was dead. While Roger had been alive she’d had no idea of the extraordinary depth of that vile emotion buried inside them. Its emergence had been twice as shocking because it had been hidden so completely.

She studied Vaughn discreetly, wondering if he was reeling from the same sense of shock she had once suffered. Her sympathy rose a little higher. He was hiding it well, for he must surely be suffering some sort of reaction after Rufus’ less-than-endearing display.

Standing well over six feet in height, dressed in a dark gray suit, Vaughn dominated the room. His wide shoulders were emphasized by the way the fabric of his coat fit snug against them. Elisa glanced at Rufus’ diminutive height then back at Vaughn. Where had he acquired such stature and such power? His height could only have come from his mother. The power? Men had a unique ability to build power from nothing; they were naturally endowed with more strength than women to begin with. Yes, men had power, certainly. But Vaughn’s whole body radiated strength of both muscle and mind, working in concert, which gave him a potential far greater than those who used only physical force to get their way.

When Vaughn had looked at her over the top of her hand, his eyes had casually swept across her face, drawing her breath from her. His eyes were astonishing; emerald green, framed by long lashes as dark as his hair. Then he’d lifted the square chin, which spoke of a determination that belonged to a much older man and smiled a little, the white teeth revealed behind unexpectedly full lips. Lips made for passion, her treacherous mind had whispered.

Such abundant good health and sleekness was to be found in any young male, but there was an added quality about Vaughn—a sensuality, an animal magnetism that reminded her of her womanhood in a way she had not truly experienced for many years. Her heart would not stop pounding and her breath grew quick. There was a tension, low in the pit of her stomach that stirred and throbbed. How many hearts had this man broken? How many women had sought his arms and enjoyed his virility?

A surge of envy raced through her as she remembered what life had been like as a married woman—before it had all come to a shocking end. There had been privileges of the marriage bed she had secretly enjoyed while women in her social circles had whispered of the disgusting lewdness and depravity their husbands demanded of them. Roger had been a willing and excellent teacher in that regard and it had never occurred to her to ask who had taught him.

Of course it was different for men before they were married—they were expected to sow their wild oats. Because of that leniency, she had been slow to realize Roger’s philandering was systemic and had gone completely unchecked despite their engagement, wedding, or the birth of their son. His conscience had not appeared to hinder him, either. His endless parade of mistresses made it virtually impossible for her to leave her London townhouse or show her face at any social gathering.

Roger’s death, which should have been the end of her exile, had instead turned society’s pity of her into an unyielding condemnation. Their disapproval had been unanimous and unrelenting. Then she had met Rufus who had, astonishingly, believed her. It seemed he was the only one in the world who did.

Rufus, who was barely tolerated by polite society himself, was the one man who would help her find her son and get him back. Of course, Rufus, being a man, could afford to disdain society’s approval and thrive despite it.
 
She, on the other hand, had no help or offers of security, making his friendship impossible to refuse.

She bit into her bottom lip, harried by doubts she wished would cease plaguing her. Marrying Rufus was the only door open to her now. For her son’s sake, she would do anything.

Elisa let her mind run through the litany of her past, deliberately recalling her reasons for accepting Rufus’ marriage proposal. The repetition of reasons for her decision usually calmed her emotions and helped her accept the distress her new role created.

It should have calmed her now, but it did not.

She looked at Vaughn, taking in his features like a woman starved for the sight of her lover. A warmth spread through her veins, down low into her belly.

This will soon be your stepson
, she reminded herself, but it didn’t matter, because her body was responding to an attraction that was ageless, wordless and far beyond logic or sense.

For her son’s sake, she had to resist her own betraying body.

Then Vaughn’s gaze met hers. Her thoughts scattered under the direct, challenging stare. There was a sensuality in that look, an implied promise that made her heart jump. The dizziness imparted from his first appearance leapt high and made her senses swirl until all she could do was stare into his eyes. His gaze had reached out wordlessly across the table and stroked her soul.

Flustered, she reached for the barely touched wineglass by her plate, only to topple it to the cloth. Blood red liquid flowed across the spotless linen, as the overturned crystal clattered against unused cutlery.

Rufus shook his head. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” he raged, throwing his napkin on top of the mess.

She breathed deeply, trying to gather her scattered wits, to bring herself back to normal. She must keep her mind upon mundane realities!

Vaughn rose to his feet. “It was a simple accident. Linen will wash.” His voice was a lazy drawl.

“And you, you unwelcome upstart…If you’ve finished your brandy you can get the hell out of my dining room. You’re spoiling the mood.”

Elisa couldn’t help but look up at Vaughn. Rufus’ snarled obscenities would have been enough to send her running for her room. But Vaughn merely smiled and gave a graceful nod of his head. “If your claret is of the same inferior quality as the glass of brandy I just drank, you’d best look to your victuals for the source of the sour mood. Since I’ve depleted my tolerance for both mood and brandy, I’ll bid you goodnight.”

“Don’t you mean goodbye?” Rufus shot back.

“Hardly. I’ve decided to make an extended visit, Father. After nearly twenty years of silence, we have so much to discuss.”

 
Rufus’ cheeks turned a deep red. “You’ll be out of here before dawn!”

Vaughn turned abruptly. His back was facing Elisa, so she could not see his expression. “Throwing me out is certainly your right as master of the house,” he said coolly to Rufus. “But if you try to have me ejected from this house one moment earlier than I intend to leave, I will immediately seek a hearing with a solicitor in London, to discuss with him certain irregularities in the stewardship of my mother’s estate and the execution of her will.”

Rufus stared at Vaughn, his eyes narrowed in disdain.

“Do we understand each other?” Vaughn added after a moment.

The corner of Rufus’ mouth curled. “Yes,” he snapped.

“Then I’ll bid you goodnight.”

Vaughn turned toward Elisa. She rose from her chair, staring at him, trying to fathom the cryptic exchange she’d just witnessed. How had Vaughn managed to bring his father to heel so easily?

Vaughn reached for her hand. She allowed him to lift it to his lips. For another small moment time halted, as his lips touched her skin, igniting it with a delightful heat that spread up her arm.