Tainted by Temptation (23 page)

“A polite fiction for his wife perhaps.” Lucian planted his hands on the table and leaned over the map. Lines of potential rail routes covered the map. The culmination of the plans he had been striving toward for years. His forehead furled. “I suppose I must not step out of line, then.”

Was he to marry Miss Bowman? Had she lost any chance for a future with him? Her mouth quivered and she fought the sting in her nose. She’d known that men didn’t regard intimacy with the same depth of feeling women did, but she’d hoped his proposal meant more than that he felt guilty. If she’d said yes to his offer and allowed him to announce their plans, she could have had marriage to him. And even if he didn’t want children, he’d risked it on the cliff’s edge. Couldn’t she have hoped for more incidents of his getting carried away with passion?

Feeling beyond foolish, she looked down. “I’m sure I don’t mean to interfere in your decisions, but I thought you should know.”

Mr. Bowman’s tone had struck her as evil.

Lucian looked through her. “It would take more than a woman’s disappearance for me to be hanged for murder.”

Chills rolled down Velvet’s spine.

His dark gaze swept down her new dress as if it revealed her body rather than modestly concealing it. “It would have to be a woman with whom I’d had intimate relations, and there would need to be a corpus delicti. Which is why I suggested you reside in Bath.”

Stunned and confused by her quickening pulse, Velvet took a step back. Even knowing he had little interest, she wanted to feel his body against hers. “What?”

“There would need to be a corpse, Miss Campbell. One cannot be hanged for murder without a corpse.”

The hairs on the back of her neck raised. How could he discuss murder and hanging so calmly? How could she think of intimacy with him, when everything was so wrong?

“If I want this, I must marry Miss Bowman.” He pushed the map so it floated to the floor. “My hands are tied.”

For a second the only sound was the flap of the paper and the soft crumple as it landed. His jaw pulsed and his cold anger scared her.

Velvet took another step back. How could he cut deals with men who threatened to kill an innocent woman just to keep Lucian in line? “What kind of men do you do business with?”

He turned toward the window. “The kind of men who will lie down with the devil if need be. These men are willing to overlook certain things in exchange for making a profit. They don’t care if I am a murderer.”

“Are you?” she whispered. She swallowed hard. He’d never denied it.

The question burned Lucian like a hot poker rammed through his chest. Velvet had never given him the impression she suspected him of murder. Now that she seemed to come to the conclusion that everyone else jumped to, he could hardly breathe.

He rarely bothered to answer, because no matter how he answered, he wasn’t believed. Miss Bowman seemed excited by the idea that he had murdered his wife even though he’d told her hadn’t.

If Velvet believed he had murdered Lilith and Myra, whatever affection she thought she felt for him would be destroyed. She was too good to yearn for a man she believed capable of such heinous acts. And if she no longer cared about him, she could move on and have a chance to pursue her dreams.

He opened his mouth but could not force out an affirmative response. Instead he said, “If I told you I was, would you consent to go live in Bath?”

She made a mewling sound.

He couldn’t turn and look at her, because then he would cross the room and hold her. Even now in the midst of one of the worst conversations in his life, he wanted her. He wanted her in the worst possible way. He wanted her goodness and her pushing for him to be the best man he could be, and he wanted to show her how wicked she could be in his bed.

All of it was tangled up in his mind, and he could find no way that he could take what he wanted and make her happy. He was more than willing to marry her, but that would mean no children.

“I don’t know what you’re asking,” she said softly.

“I’m asking you to remove yourself from my household. I don’t want you at risk. You’d never have to see me again. I would ensure you could live modestly and perhaps meet a man who would marry you, give you children, and love you as you deserve to be loved.”

In a feathery voice, she asked. “Is that what you want?”

No!
He leaned his heated forehead against the cool glass window but found no relief. “I want what is best for you.”

He sounded rational and calm, but inside he was frothing and churning like a storm-whipped sea. He couldn’t turn around and look at her for fear of what he would do.

“I don’t know that Bath is the solution,” she said softly.

Oh God, please let her understand. “There will be no good outcome if you stay here.”

The paper crinkled as she picked up the map. She smoothed it on table.

Ten years of dreams and hard work were represented on that map. If Myra then Lilith hadn’t both died, his plans would have been coming to fruition long ago.

Velvet’s hands rattled the paper. She drew them behind her back.

“When I complete that, no man will dare speak ill of me,” he told her.

Her gaze rose from the plans. Her green eyes looked bruised. He hated the pain he must inflict so she would move on with her life and search for happiness. A happiness he wanted her to find. Marriage to him would have brought her endless misery.

“I see,” she said.

What did she see?

“I must get Iris to the schoolroom.” As if she could no longer stand to be in his presence, she bolted toward the door. “We have delayed lessons too long.”

“Will you go to Bath?”

She paused at the door with her head dipped. He wanted so badly to close the distance between them and press kisses on her nape.

She answered so softly he had to strain to hear.

“Yes.”

Then before he could call her back, she had opened the door and exited the room.

His success at getting her to accept the arrangement clawed at him. It would be for the best. She would not be his mistress, a role she was ill-suited for. She would not be a childless wife. She would not be a part of his life. Undoubtedly, she would come to realize she had escaped from the hell he could offer her. He ripped the map from the table, balled it up and threw it in the fireplace.

As the paper caught and the different colored inks flared in purple and green flames, Lucian wished for Velvet to come back, because without her nothing was left of him.

V
elvet paced the sitting room floor. Just feet away, Iris was tucked into bed and sleeping soundly. But Velvet had spent the day in a welter of emotions. Now in the quiet of the night, she sorted through the things Lucian had said and done.

Putting together the railroad lines and expanding his shipping enterprise had been his driving ambition over the last few years. It was the only thing that made him animated. To achieve it he had to marry Miss Bowman.

The income would make him wealthier, but Velvet could see no indication he found any particular joy in money or the things it could buy. He would gain power, but he lived too isolated to reap the real benefits of his potential clout. Besides, working for the Langtrees had given Velvet plenty of exposure to people who craved power for power’s sake. Lucian didn’t fit their mold.

So why was this shipping empire so important to Lucian?

He’d said,
When I complete that, no man will dare speak ill of me
.

Velvet rubbed her face. She understood the absolute helplessness and fury when accusations leveled against her were false. Though this morning when Mrs. Bigsby had insinuated she was “entertaining” the master, she was embarrassed, but the undeserved pain and impotent anger she’d felt over the last year were curiously absent.

If Lucian had murdered his wife or his mistress, surely he would find the accusations annoying, but not hurtful. The way Iris reacted to being accused of destroying her school books, compared to her reaction when being questioned about the destruction in Velvet’s room, was as different as night and day. The accusation pained him, not like a guilty man, but like a man who didn’t know how to prove his innocence. But he thought by gaining power he could at least silence the gossip.

Velvet checked the door to the corridor. Satisfied that it was locked, she moved to the connecting door to Lucian’s bedroom. Drawing a deep breath, she unlocked the door and twisted the handle.

Her heart skittered and her palms were wet. By willingly going into his room, she was turning her back on her upbringing and morals. She only prayed God understood.

“Lucian,” she whispered on a shaky voice.

She searched the darkened room, expecting to find him abed. Instead he stood facing the fire, leaning against the mantel, his hand wrapped around a bronze bust.

He turned his head. For just a second his face reflected stark yearning. Anticipation shivered through her.

“What do you want?” he asked harshly. His gaze dropped over the chocolate brown dressing gown and returned to her face with a hint of confusion.

A shiver threaded through her. “Could we talk?” she asked. Her voice sounded small, hardly the persuasive tone she wanted.

He gestured toward the door to the sitting room she’d just left.

She shook her head. “In here.”

“Not a good idea, Velvet,” he growled.

“Why not?” she asked.

He straightened to full height and turned to face her. His dressing gown was loosely belted at the waist. The gaping lapels revealed his bare chest. He glanced toward his bed and back at her.

Heat skittered down her spine. She swallowed hard and tried to smile but failed miserably. Her nerves were stretched taut and she had no experience in these matters. But she remembered the feel of his chest and her all too short exploration of it. “I wouldn’t wish to risk Iris overhearing.”

Disappointment flicked across his face.

“I wish to explain—”

“Please do,” he interrupted.

“I will not stand in the way of your achieving success with the expansion of your freight and shipping business.” Her decision had not come lightly. She would fade quietly into the background, and he could marry Miss Bowman.

He grunted and folded his arms.

She took another step into the room. “I will go to Bath as you asked.”

“Velvet,” he said on an anguished note.

Her breath drew in rapidly. “I know you have tried to repulse me because you thought it best for me. You have even tried to convince me of your guilt, but I know you did not murder your wife.”

He covered his face with his hands and sank down into the wing chair by the fire. “Velvet, you must leave now, or I can’t be responsible for what happens.”

“I’m not leaving, but I think it is time you told me the truth. I deserve that much.”

He dropped his hands and watched her. For a time there was only the crackle of the fire and the sound of their breathing.

As if it required Herculean effort, he turned toward the fire. “You must understand,
I am
responsible for Lilith’s death.”

“No, whatever happened was beyond your control.” Velvet said with complete conviction. Claiming responsibility was not the same as admitting he’d committed murder. Her brother’s death was her fault, but it wasn’t as though she’d pushed him from the bell tower. She could not believe Lucian had thrown his wife over the cliff. At the worst there had been some terrible accident. “Tell me the events of that night, so it no longer hangs between us. I hate feeling that I should fear you.”

“You do not want to know,” he protested.

He might be right, but she trusted him. Every time she turned around, he surprised her with his kindness. He was not the monster he allowed people to see him as. “I, of all people, understand what it is like to be falsely accused. Or to have the truth warped beyond all connection to reality and to just accept everyone around you will have a distorted view of you. But I know you. You are a good man. Whatever happened was not planned by you.”

He just stared at her, and Velvet felt her resolve crumbling. How could she love a man who wouldn’t tell her about the most significant event in his life? “I told you of incidents that I had no wish to recount.”

But as the silence stretched thin, disappointment curled coldly down her spine. He would not allow her to share the burden of whatever horror occurred the night his wife died. She tried one last time. “If nothing else, you would not have wished to hurt Iris by harming her mother.”

Lucian’s heart pounded. He wanted to twist away, protest she had no right to know anything. She had refused to be his wife—or perhaps after learning the truth, she would change her mind about his goodness.

“All right,” he said. “I will tell you, if you will stay the night.”

Her cheeks pinked and she looked away.

He was ashamed of himself, but the bargain was on the table.

Seemingly gathering resolve, she met his gaze with a defiant gleam in her green eyes. But her blush had deepened to a bright red. “I had intended to.”

Heat rushed through him. But if she intended to stay, he’d made a poor bargain, far below his normal standards. “I should insist you marry me, because a wife cannot bear witness against her husband.”

He searched her face for a hint that would indicate she wanted to marry him.

Instead her eyes narrowed and she lifted her chin. “Quit trying to scare me.”

Admiration for her audacity mingled with the desire to bed her. Although his desire was bittersweet. Nothing in her indicated she wanted marriage. But then he’d pledged he would not stand in the way of her having the kind of marriage with children she wanted. They would both be giving up too much to marry each other, but marrying Miss Bowman and letting Velvet go seemed a special kind of curse he had to bear.

She waited, her face earnest and her eyes large. She rubbed her arm, and he wished she touched him so. “Well?”

“I will tell you everything you want to know before the sun rises.” With any luck he would lull her to sleep long before he had to reveal anything.

Her mouth twisted, and she turned toward the door. “You have no intention of telling me anything,” she said on a low note.

Oh God, she was leaving. His chest squeezed as if he’d been too long underwater and couldn’t breathe. He crossed the room in quick strides and caught her around the waist, her unfettered waist. The lack of corset registered in his mind even as he feared he had pushed her too far. “Don’t go,” he whispered.

Her sweet scent swirled in his head, and her hair was loose, only tied back with a length of ribbon. He bent and pressed his lips to her exposed neck.

“Please, don’t go,” he pleaded. Of course she couldn’t while he confined her, but to let go would be harder than anything he’d ever done.

She twisted and pushed at him. He had to release his hold, but he tugged the ribbon free, releasing her glorious fiery hair. The strands of molten copper and gold caught the fire’s light as it shifted and spread over her shoulder.

Her chest rose and fell as she stared at him. Desire, thick and unrelenting, surged through him. Her lips parted. He bent and sampled them.

Her soft mew told him everything he needed to know. She had come into his room with every intention of sharing his secrets and his bed. His heart soared, while his member rose. Sliding his hands along her jaw, he tilted her up for a deeper kiss. All the while he watched her, until her eyes fluttered closed and she sighed into his mouth.

Once he tasted her surrender, he scooped her up and carried her to his bed.

“Lucian.” Her palm flattened against his chest as he bent to lay her down on the green counterpane.

“Shhh. I have dreamed of seeing you lying here with your hair undone almost from the first time I saw you,” he said.

She pushed up to her elbows. “I want to know what happened.”

“I pledge to tell you, but first let me show you what it should have been like the first time we made love.”

Her lips parted and her eyes rounded.

Reaching for the fasteners on the dressing gown she had tried so hard to refuse, he undid the top button.

Her hands closed around his, hindering his progress.

“Could we get under the covers?” she asked in a small voice. Her lips trembled.

He frowned. Wanting nothing more than to shed his dressing gown and hers, he hesitated. “What is wrong?”

“I don’t know what to do. I’ve never . . .”

“I’ll take care of you. Trust me.” He caressed her silky hair. “No rushing this time, love.”

She worried her bottom lip with her pearly teeth. He pushed the coverlet back, urging her between the cool sheets. He shed his dressing gown.

She gasped and looked away from his nude body. Her innocence reminded him that he needed to take care of her in all ways.

The cool night air teased his heated skin. Turning, he went to his dresser to retrieve the sheath he needed to wear and then slid into the sheets beside her.

Velvet couldn’t help but peek at him. His long form was ridged and rippled with muscles, and his manhood stood at attention. An answering softness in her called to him. Yet, her mind raced. By refusing to tell her what had happened with his wife, he confirmed her worst fears.

She should leave, but there was no way she could tear herself away. As he stretched out beside her, she scooted farther under the covers. Her dressing gown twisted. Lucian followed her until the length of his body rested against her. He rolled up on an elbow and looked down on her. “Don’t be frightened.”

His dark gaze made her edgy, but she couldn’t look away. Not even when he trailed his fingers down her cheek. He ran his finger over her lips. Anticipating his kiss, she wet her lips. He groaned as he lowered his mouth to hers and slowly kissed her and kissed her until she went soft all over.

Unlike on the cliff, he seemed in no hurry to free her breasts or pull up her shift. He skimmed her face. Running his hands down her arm, he ended the caress by entwining their fingers together. All the while his tender kisses evoked a sweet delight.

The energy she’d been alarmed by on the cliff simmered and built within her. She wanted the pressure of his weight on her. She wanted to be brave enough to bare her body as he did. She wanted him to feed the sensations instead of tormenting her heart with his gentle ministrations, which were more like an expression of love than just a drive toward physical pleasure.

A sigh of impatience left her.

Lucian smiled against her lips. Pulling back slightly, he asked, “Want more, dear heart?”

Dumbstruck, she nodded. He was so beautiful, if a man so masculine could be called so. Thick lashes rimmed his dark eyes. His skin was golden from the mornings in the ocean. His smile was so rare it melted her to see it now.

He reached for the frogged buttons of her twisted and too hot dressing gown. With exquisite care he removed her covering, until only her thin shift was between them. He ran his hands up her bare arms, making her shudder.

Wondering if she had the same power to make him feel, she imitated his movements. He sighed and his lashes brushed his cheekbones.

Testing the hard ridges of muscles, she ran her fingers over his shoulder.

“Touch me lower,” he growled.

She complied, sliding her hand against his warm skin, over his back, down his ribs. Her heart pounded as she took in his deep breathing. She hesitated at his hip.

Lucian flattened his hand over hers. He guided her hand between them and pressed it to the hard male appendage. “See how much I want you,” he whispered in her ear.

His kisses against her neck brought a new flood of yearning. Gingerly, she explored the velvety skin over his hardness. He moaned and then shifted her hand back to his hip. “You will make me too eager, and I want to touch you.”

“I want you to touch me too,” she whispered.

“Nothing I would rather do.” He inched up her shift. “Sit up, love, so I might remove this.”

Shivering with anticipation, she complied. Shifting behind her, he drew the material over her head and tossed it away. His lips between her shoulder blades startled a moan from her.

He slid a hand around her ribs and ran the tips of fingers over her quivering stomach and over the curve of her breast. She arched toward the sharp spike in sensation as he caught her nipple.

As he kissed down her spine, jolt after jolt of delight rippled down her back. Her heart tripped.