Strictly Forbidden (21 page)

“I did,” said Lady Litchfield.

“They looked…cozy.” Lady Westland leaned in and whispered, “I daresay they looked
intimate even.”

The other women gasped. Kira listened with disbelieving ears.

Her uncle’s wife barely took a breath before she continued. “Such a forbidden relationship
should surprise no one, for they are both Turks and she is no more than a member of
the demimonde.”

Kira’s jaw dropped in shock. Of all the cruel, ignorant lies! Her temper railed, urging
her to confront them. Oh, how she longed to. But doing so would only incite people
to more gossip. So she turned away with clenched teeth and resolved to walk as calmly
away from the party as she could. No one would miss her
,
unless they were seeking a target to deride.

At the door to the town house, Kira grasped the latch and tried to lift it. The handle
would not budge. Behind her, she could hear the trio of ladies laughing like the vicious
hyenas they were. She would not cry. She would not cry!

Kira lifted the latch again. The door refused to budge. Their terrible chortles rang
in her ears. Against her will, tears welled up in her eyes, stinging, blurring her
vision, closing up her throat.

How could they accuse her of incest? How could they say something so awful that was
so untrue? They were ignorant. She wasn’t even Turkish, for heaven’s sake! She was
half
Persian, and why did people always think they must ridicule her for that?

Again, she lifted the latch, desperate to be inside away from the prying eyes and
ears, away from the harridans who would laugh at her pain. Finally, the mechanism
gave way and the door opened. Kira pushed against it
,
and she rushed through the house to find a secluded spot. Finally, she stumbled into
the billiard room and found it empty as angry tears slid down her face.

By God’s grace, would things ever change? She’d been wondering her whole life why
people couldn’t see that she was just the same as everyone who did not have to contend
with mixed breeding. She had feelings, feelings that could hurt or soar, that were
sometimes up, sometimes down. She breathed, ate, slept, wanted, knew right from wrong.
Blast it all, could she not be treated as every other gently bred lady?

They would never consider her thus until she wed an Englishman and proved herself
over time to be a good wife. Kira hoped—prayed—that marriage to James would change
the snickering and ridicule eventually. She so wanted people to simply see her as
a clergyman’s wife, not as a half
Persian living in England, not as a fallen woman. Not as a woman who would share her
favors with every man, even her own brother. She needed James’s name to change the
manner in which people viewed her.

Fear crowded in; dreams teetered precariously. Marriage would solve her problems.
It must! But she could not stop the
ton’s
condemnation, the taunts and the lies, not without wedded vows. Next Tuesday, her
wedding day, could not come soon enough.

* * * *

Gavin paused in his conversation with Lord Westland to watch Kira glide through the
garden toward her uncle’s house. He admired her in profile, the statuesque quality
of her walk, the flat of her stomach, the round, jutting curve of her breasts, the
graceful slope of her jaw, always her pillowy red mouth. Why could he not stop thinking
about her, even after she’d left him with Cordelia, whom he found perfectly congenial?
The woman was confounding him into knots.

Still, he continued his upward perusal of Kira. At the sight of
her
clenched jaw and red nose, however, he stopped cold. From the night of the Baycliffe’s
assembly, he remembered Kira’s red nose came with tears. And she looked damned angry
as well.

Concern punched him. Someone had hurt her, no mistake. Kira was sensitive to thoughtless
comments by society simpletons, damn it. Why couldn’t people simply shut up?

He excused himself and followed Kira into the house
,
discreetly, of course. No need to raise brows.

But the need for discretion chafed him as much as his own concern irritated him. He
shouldn’t care.

Gavin stopped himself just inside Lord Westland’s town house. What was he doing? Kira
was the enemy, a woman who had bared all for Lord Vance without benefit of marriage.
Her feelings should not matter. In fact, Gavin should hope that whatever had upset
her today would induce her to start packing. And that
was
his hope—mostly. But he saw no purpose in welcoming her pain. Besides, making certain
that whatever had provoked her tears had not also sparked more negative gossip about
his family seemed prudent. Yes, he could question her about that.

Once inside, Gavin darted from sumptuous room to sumptuous room, his scowl deepening
each time he found one empty. Damnation, the woman was here somewhere. He had to find
her, discern what had happened,
and
stop any new gossip. In the doing, if he managed to ease her pain, perhaps that would
even help his cause.

Gavin grimaced. Seduction for the purpose of ending an engagement sounded so despicable,
especially when the girl in question had some very likeable qualities. Too bad the
need to have her dismissed weighed so much greater.

Or was it his need to touch her?

No, he would be saving her from an ill-advised marriage. Anyone could see that she
and James did not belong together.

Finally resolved, Gavin entered the billiard room and found Kira perched with her
back to the door upon a wide green and cream brocade sofa. Her shoulders shook hard,
but she made not a sound.

Something in his stomach twisted. And the realization that his actions would indeed
hurt her made him feel even worse.

“Kira?” he called softly, advancing toward her on silent feet.

At the sound of his voice, she jerked in his direction. The sight of her tight fists
and tear-ravaged face made him lose all thought except strangling whoever had done
this to her.

“Gavin, don’t—
”

He ignored her protests and sat beside her. “What happened?”

She looked at him with miserable blue eyes, gleaming with resignation, rimmed in the
thick spikes of her black lashes. She was disaffected with the world. Her stark pain
was evident.

“Nothing new.”

Kira spoke automatically, with very little feeling. It was as if the river of emotion
had ended with her tears, leaving behind only a dry void. Such detached conversation
was so unlike her. Against his better sense, Gavin was worried.

“Someone said something,” he speculated.

She answered with a nod.

“About your
dealings with Lord Vance?”

“No.”

That surprised him. Her behavior with the rogue still shocked him most. Still, her
impassive reply only bit deeper into his gut. “About your heritage?”

Kira stilled, hesitated. Then she nodded. “Among other things, yes.”

“Who?” he demanded without knowing why. What could he do, confront them? Face the
culprit, likely a woman, with dueling pistols at dawn? That would certainly start
unnecessary talk. But a foolish part of him wished he could do something…

“It doesn’t matter,” Kira said quietly. “Everyone assumes it’s allowed, that I have
no feelings.” She frowned, fighting fresh tears. “They assume I haven’t wished a thousand
times to change my birth.”

Uncertain what to say, he merely placed his hands on her shoulders, wanting to make
her pain fade. A small thrill of glory beat inside him when she did not stiffen at
his touch. Indeed, she seemed to melt a bit closer. He swallowed at the feeling of
having her near, of wanting her, yet knowing she was hurting. Men were bloody not
equipped to deal with such conflicting situations, least of all him.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally.

She shrugged, and he released her. “As I said, it’s nothing new. By now, I should
be immune to such
absurdity.”

“But you are not.”

“No,” she admitted softly. “No matter how much I wish I were.”

New tears fell down Kira’s cheeks
,
and she did nothing to stop them. Without thought, Gavin reached up and wiped the
hot drops from her face, his gut twisting more with each one.

“Kira…”

“Oh, don’t frown so. I appreciate your concern, but I’ve lived with this all my life.
I keep hoping that people will change their views about my Persian mother…”

The sadness in her voice sat like a stone in his stomach and sank. He shook his head
against the sensation. Here was something he could use to persuade her to leave. This
need she had for acceptance—a need that would likely never be filled—he could use
it to his advantage…even if the idea appalled him.

“Perhaps returning to Persia might bring you ease from the small minds in England
.”

“Their minds are no different, Gavin.”

“But surely—
”

“No. Our entire four years in Persia, Darius and I were shunned. My mother kept us
shielded as best she could, keeping us separate from her father and uncles. But we
could hear them at night arguing, when my mother thought we were asleep. Every day
for nearly four years, they punished my mother for marrying outside of her race and
religion. My own grandparents acted as if Darius and I did not exist. We were not
spoken to, educated, or fed unless my mother saw to it.”

Horror crashed through Gavin. Who would treat a child with such contempt? As a girl,
Kira would have had no way to defend herself. She had learned hatred way too young.
The fact
that
the core of her heart remained soft astounded him.

“I had no idea.”

“You couldn’t,” she assured him with a sad smile. “Very often, I don’t understand
myself. And you know the worst part?”

At her question, the tears began again, a new torrent that sent Gavin reeling.

“Kira, no.” He grasped her shoulders again and pulled her against him. He barely had
time to consider just how perfect she felt against his body before another sob wracked
her. She
laid
her head on his shoulder, so trusting.

Gavin exhaled, torn. He should not comfort her. It was stupid and futile. But he could
not make himself ignore her pain. He could not deny that he wanted to ease her torment.

“What was the worst part?” he asked softly.

He waited through a few moments of tears, waited while she collected herself once
more. When she spoke, he could not see her face, but her soft voice filled his ear.

“After nearly four years, my mother succumbed to her family’s pressure. She—she sent
for my father. And he came for us, returned us here. Of course, she said it was for
the best, that she’d hoped her parents would relent and accept us. But since they
would not…” She eased back, biting her lip to stop new tears. “The last thing my mother
said to me was that mixing cultures simply did not work. That doing so was impossible.”

Kira directed her gaze heavenward, as if looking for divine intervention. Of course,
none was forthcoming. With one act, her mother had spurned her and made her all too
aware of her unusual background. Gavin hated like hell to see Kira hurt so deeply
with no end in sight. He
suddenly
felt helpless
,
and it was not a feeling he liked.

“I
am
a mixed culture,” she rasped. The anguish in her voice was mirrored in her eyes.
“I cannot escape that fact, no matter what I do. And I can find nowhere to belong.
Marriage is my only hope.”

And he was doing his best to take it away.

Distaste slid through Gavin. Damn, damn, damn! He did not want to see Kira further
wounded, particularly for something she could not control. But for her very birth
,
and her licentious past
,
she could not be allowed the luxury of that marriage. At least not to his cousin.
They did not suit one another anyway.

The need and despair on Kira’s face clawed at him. He should say something. If he
intended to rob her of her future—and he did—he could have the kindness to say something
to soothe her and not be a complete cad.

“You’re not just a mixed culture, Kira. You’re an individual. Have you forgotten that?”

“What does it matter when everyone else has?”

“The slurs you heard today, did a woman speak them?”

Kira nodded.

“There you go.” He snapped his fingers.

Kira peered at him with a puzzled frown. “What?”

“They are jealous. You are…”

Gavin looked at her, really looked. Despite her red nose and swollen eyes, he still
thought Kira one of the most fetching creatures he had ever seen. Even though her
air of innocence was likely a well-polished act, he knew her to be gentle and possessed
of a melodious voice—not to mention a sharp tongue when necessary.