One Sinful Night (10 page)

Ever since Vivienne Montgomery had come to live with them, Glenda's quiet life had been upended. She was now constantly compared to her lovely cousin and found lacking in every way. Her parents thought Vivienne could do no wrong and treated her as if she were a crowned princess. Her idiot twin brothers were besotted with the girl, singing her praises till Glenda thought she would scream. Even her older brother Gerald, who was married and lived in the country, had been won over by Vivienne when Glenda had always credited Gerald as having more sense than Gregory and George combined.

“Glenda, lend Vivienne your shawl,” her mother commanded, startling Glenda and forcing her to focus on the present. “Can't you see she's shivering?”

Indeed Vivienne's teeth were chattering and her wet dress clung to her. She looked a mess.

“Oh, by all means,” she answered sarcastically.
Shall I remove my dress for Vivienne also?

Glenda sullenly whipped off the light gray knit shawl that she had draped over hers shoulders and tossed it to her mother. She wrapped it around Vivienne's petite shoulders and they ushered her off the dock and back to the house. As everyone made their way inside, it was obvious the picnic day had ended. Ruined. By her feeble-minded brothers and their dimwitted friends.

“Aren't you fortunate you didn't join the boating party, Miss Cardwell?”

She turned to see Lady Whitlock standing beside her. Tall for an older woman, Susana Kavanaugh perpetually wore a serious expression. She carried herself like a queen, and unconsciously Glenda stood straighter.

“I have more sense than that, Lady Whitlock. If I had gone, believe me, I would not have ended up in the water.”

“I have no doubt of that,” Lady Whitlock murmured approvingly. “You, unlike some others, are a sensible girl.”

“And even if I had ended up in the lake, I wouldn't be carrying on the way those silly girls are,” Glenda declared as they walked slowly across the lawns toward the house together.

“You have a point there. They were very dramatic. Except for Miss Montgomery, that is.” There was an edge to Lady Whitlock's brittle voice.

“But she got all the attention anyway,” Glenda could not help pouting. “Everyone loves Vivienne and I don't know why. There's nothing particularly special about her.”

“I happen to agree with you.”

“You're the only one who does.”

“Have you forgotten that I have known her for years? The real Vivienne. Not this sweet façade she displays for all the world to see.” Lady Whitlock's voice became a sharp whisper.

Glenda glanced at her quizzically. A determined look gleamed in the woman's cunning gray eyes. She was quite intimidating, but Glenda did not fear for herself.

Glenda had known Aidan Kavanaugh socially for years, due to his being close friends with her brothers, but she had only recently met his mother. She liked Lady Whitlock immediately because she could see through Vivienne's sweet but false exterior to her true heartless character. Lady Whitlock had not divulged much, but she credited Glenda's good judgment in not being taken in by Vivienne and that made Glenda feel worthy.

“How would you like to help me reveal Vivienne's true character to everyone here, expose her for what she really is, before this week is over?” Lady Whitlock asked her.

Making Vivienne look the fool in front of everyone? Now that was an intriguing thought. Someone finally understood what it was like to be Glenda. Suddenly seeing the advantages of an association with Aidan's mother, Glenda gave a most eager smile. “Why, I would be happy to help in any way I could.”

Lady Whitlock smiled knowingly. “I thought you might, Miss Cardwell, being the clever girl that you are. Why don't you come for a nice long walk with me now and we can have a little chat?”

The next day dawned with dark gray skies and a steady dripping rain. Vivienne groaned inwardly at the thought of being inside all day. After a hot bath last night she had completely recovered from the boating accident and, with her very legitimate excuse, she kept to her room. This morning she had breakfast in her room also, grateful that Glenda had already gone downstairs without her.

Dressed in a simple day gown of dark blue with pale yellow trim, she was now restless. She knew the twins would be more than willing to entertain her, but she was not in the mood for their sort of fun this gray day. And she
felt
gray today. Maybe there had been too many social activities over the past few weeks for her.

Living with the Cardwells had provided her with constant companionship, a concept that was new to her. For the first time in years, there was always someone with her: her aunt, her uncle, one of her cousins, or a servant. She enjoyed this novel life tremendously, especially after she had spent so many years living with just her and Aggie. Now she realized that she was never alone at all anymore and she needed some of that solitude again to sort through her thoughts and clear her head. Of Aidan.

Aidan.

She wondered why he dove in the lake to rescue her instead of Helene Winston yesterday. Given that the two were practically engaged, it made no sense for Aidan to come to her first. Yet he held her so tenderly in the water, and she could have sworn that he kissed her cheek. His concern for her welfare confused her. When they talked, he seemed genuinely hurt by the deaths of her father and grandmother. She did not know what to make of Aidan's behavior. His compassion toward her had been so unexpected, especially after the obvious hostility he displayed during the parlor game the night before last.

Longing to take a solitary walk along the shore of Galway Bay and to feel the brisk sea air on her face, she succumbed to a restlessness inside Bingham Hall. She missed Ireland; she missed home. Everyone in England looked down on the smaller island nation, but Vivienne loved her country even more because of the hardships the country endured. Admittedly there were problems, for great sorrow and tragedy reigned in her home country. The famine years had been devastating, although her family, fortunately, had been spared much of that anguish.

But now, she yearned for misty days and green fields. The sound of the sea. The scent of burning peat fires. The lilt of a gentle brogue. In spite of the luxury that was lavished upon her now in England, pangs of homesickness washed over her.

A stroll by the sea was out of the question today, however. She toyed with the idea of walking in the gardens, but the torrential downpour outside deterred even her love of walking in the rain. Instead she opted to explore the seemingly endless maze of corridors that comprised Bingham Hall. Although she had been in the house for days, there were wings of the massive estate in which she still had not set foot. With everyone trapped inside for the day, most of the houseguests engaged themselves in solitary pursuits, while the servants were kept busy preparing for the grand masked ball the following evening. But the section of the house that Vivienne intended to explore was still and quiet.

However, after more than an hour of wandering aimlessly through the dim hallways, her troubled spirit was not soothed. Although she peeked in the many drawing rooms and gazed out tall windows washed with raindrops, the restlessness she felt was unappeased. As she made her way down to the corridor to return to her room, she noticed an oddly shaped wooden panel just outside her bedroom.

Intrigued, she ran her hands over the smooth, polished oak. She pressed one corner and the panel sprung open, revealing itself to be a little door. Peering in, she saw stone steps leading down in a spiral and she laughed. She had actually found one of the secret staircases the twins had mentioned! Nothing if not adventurous, Vivienne went through the opening, closing the door carefully behind her.

Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the lack of light. Keeping one hand on the wall, she descended the steps cautiously in the darkness, feeling her way. When she reached the bottom she could see the outline of another door, for a faint light shone through from the other side. Pressing her hand against the door, it sprung open, and she stepped out to find herself in the portrait gallery!

Pleased with the prospect of telling Gregory and George what she had discovered, she closed the door, purposely noting that it was next to the painting of some elderly Bingham relative in a violet frock coat.

Vivienne walked aimlessly along the white marbled floor of the silent portrait gallery, hung with formal pictures of generations of the venerable Bingham family. The imposing array of paintings left her feeling very small. What would it be like to have the history of such an illustrious family supporting you? It was certainly unlike anything she had known in Galway, although her mother's side of the family boasted a long and colorful past.

Vivienne was half English, but she felt more Irish, because that was how she was raised. Aggie had always taught her to proud of her heritage, unlike Aidan and Susana Kavanaugh, who hated Ireland and everything about it. Even though she believed Aidan didn't truly feel that way in his heart. That was just his mother's influence over him.

Aidan.

His feelings for her were a mystery. He acted cold and standoffish with her and had been unbelievably rude and nasty to her during the parlor game. Yet, yesterday on the lake he treated her with such caring and tenderness. It seemed he was cruelest to her in front of others…Why?

And how did she feel about him after all this time?

She had to admit that she cared for him. He was more handsome than ever, and in spite of everything he made her heart race. She still felt a strong attraction to him, wanted to be near him, wanted to talk to him. When he entered a room, she could not help but look at Aidan. His presence demanded all her attention, no matter how desperately she attempted to ignore him. As it had always been with him.

Suddenly she became aware of heavy footsteps echoing in a familiar rhythm through the marble corridor. And she knew, just
knew
, without turning around that Aidan stood behind her. She did not even need to look to confirm her feelings.

“Looking for me, Aidan?” Her tone was sardonic.

“Believe it or not, I had no idea you would be here.” His deep voice resonated slightly through the empty portrait gallery and his footsteps continued as he walked closer to her. “Or I would not have come.”

She turned to face him, her breath catching in her throat, for he was nearer than she had realized. His mere presence always made her a bit light-headed. She was cursed by it. Aidan was too handsome. His sensual mouth was drawn into a grim line, giving him a menacing appearance. Which, surprisingly, only enhanced his looks. “Please leave,” she stated calmly, although his closeness had unnerved her more than she wanted to admit, even to herself.

He folded his arms across his chest in defiance. Obviously he had no intention of leaving her.

“Forgive me, Miss Montgomery. Am I interrupting a secret little tryst with Jackson Harlow? Or were you waiting for one of your many other admirers, perhaps?” Aidan asked caustically, his contempt for her apparent.

Before she realized what she was doing, she slapped him. A slap that made an impression on his cheek and left her hand stinging.

“I despise you,” she breathed heavily. “You always think the worst of me.”

He glowered, his green eyes like dark fire, as he stepped toward her. For a panicked moment she was not sure if he meant to slap her back or—wild thought—kiss her. She did not know which would hurt more.

“Vivienne, I just—” Aidan broke off and reached for her arms, drawing her roughly against his broad chest. He was shaking and his breath was rapid, as he placed his forehead against hers, beseeching her in some way, wanting something from her.

His stare penetrated her and she looked down. The familiar scent of him—clean, spicy, and distinctly Aidan—saturated her. As she attempted to break away from his grasp, the sound of voices entering the other end of the long gallery caused them both to freeze.

In horrified alarm they stared at each other, aware of their scandalous position. Before she could protest, Aidan placed his hand over her mouth and dragged her through the nearest doorway. It was dark inside. The thin sliver of light that glimmered from beneath the door hardly gave enough to see by, but she gathered they were in a storage closet of sorts. She struggled at Aidan's handling of her, but he gripped her tighter, not allowing her to move. What was he thinking to force her into a closet with him?

“Shh,” he breathed in her ear as the voices grew nearer.

She stilled.

Just outside the door Glenda's sharp voice declared, “I know I saw someone come this way and I'm sure I heard voices.”

“Perhaps you were mistaken,” Gregory offered lazily. Their footsteps echoed in the corridor just beyond the door to the closet.

“Where could Vivienne be? I've looked everywhere for her,” Glenda whined.

If they found her with Aidan now…

Vivienne's back pressed against Aidan's broad chest while he held her in place with one arm tight around her waist and one hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. Her breathing was heavy and panicked as she wondered how long they would have to stay hidden. This was the last place she should be.

Alone in the dark with Aidan Kavanaugh.

The length of his strong, muscled body leaned against hers and the intense heat between them radiated steadily through the many layers of their clothing. His warm breath on the back of her neck sent a shiver to the core of her body, which she desperately tried to ignore. They stood motionless for a few silent minutes, but it felt like ages. Their heartbeats echoed in the darkness as they waited. And waited. Neither Glenda's nasal tone nor Gregory's deep laughter could be heard in the gallery any longer. Clearly, it was safe to leave the storage closet now.

Still they did not move.

Aidan's warm hand continued to cover her mouth. He certainly was not holding her to keep her quiet any longer, for she had not uttered a sound nor moved a muscle.

But he moved. His thumb actually caressed her cheek, tracing a gentle path, back and forth along her cheekbone, while the hand at her waist was stroking the curve of her hip, oh so faintly. He barely touched her, yet she felt his contact throughout her entire being. And shivered.

His lower hand then slowly slid up her waist to the swell of her breast. He breathed in deeply, pulling her tighter against his chest.

It had been so long since Aidan had held her. Years and years. It was so familiar and yet so new. Recalling images of the last time Aidan kissed her, she gently tilted her head back until she relaxed against his chest. On an impulse she could not control, Vivienne flicked her tongue lightly along the inside of the palm of his hand.

His body tensed. His breathing stilled, as if he feared she would stop if he moved. She continued licking his hand, delicately twirling her tongue in intricate patterns against his palm, until he carefully inserted his index finger into her mouth. She took it easily, sucked it softly, nibbling with her teeth, slowly running her tongue down the length of it, circling the tip in lazy swirls. His skin tasted warm and salty. One by one, she did the same to each of the fingers on his hand as he offered them to her.

She felt his heated breath on the nape of her neck and the tender brush of his kisses on her hair, sending shivers down her spine. She pushed her body against the length of him, his thumb still in her mouth.

Suddenly he used both hands to spin her around to face him, although she could barely distinguish his features in the darkness. She gasped as his mouth came down on hers. Fiercely. But she welcomed him with an eagerness that matched his own. They kissed with a desperate hunger, as if all that time had never passed. As if this were their last chance to ever kiss again. It was reckless, crazy. It was heaven.

It was Aidan kissing her. And that was all that mattered.

“Aidan.”

The sound of her voice startled her as she realized she had whispered his name aloud. He murmured something she could not understand, but she did not care as his mouth claimed hers again.

Her heart slammed into her chest as a thrill went through her. Aidan still wanted her after all this time. Aidan was kissing her as if she still belonged to him.

She arched against him as one hand encircled her breast, fully cupping her, squeezing her. Desire coursed through her veins like a living thing. Instinctively she knew where this was leading and she let herself be swept completely into the tide of passion that washed through her. This was going to happen.

She felt a forceful tugging on the bodice of her gown and before she realized it, she was exposed to him. His head lowered to her chest and he had his mouth on her bare breast. The exquisite sensations of his heated tongue sucking on her taut nipple coaxed a soft moan from her lips. His mouth was hot on her skin, burning her. Her hands weaved into his thick black hair and she buried her face in it, inhaling the familiar scent of him.

She was with Aidan again.

It seemed as if he had a hundred hands, for now one hand was sliding up her inner thigh, pulling her skirt up with it, and moving between her legs. He touched her through her undergarments with intent, persistent strokes. She sucked in her breath with a hiss as he slipped his fingers beneath the thin fabric and caressed her intimately. He placed his hand against her throbbing flesh and eased a finger inside of her.

“You're so ready for me,” he whispered in her ear.

She breathed his name. Yes, she was ready…Her hands clung to the lapels of his jacket for support and she gasped for air. There was more rustling of clothing and her petticoat and crinoline were no longer under her skirt. He was undressing her and she was doing absolutely nothing to stop him. Because she didn't want him to stop. She didn't care what they were doing, fool that she was. This was Aidan, and despite her anger, she'd always loved him. This is what she was made for. For him. She wanted this to continue through to the end and savor every minute of it. Oh, Lord, but it had been so long.