One Sinful Night (16 page)

“I love you, Aidan.” Her lilting voice caught a little, but she continued. “I think I always have.”

Aidan held her to him again, flooded in relief and happiness, relishing the feel of her small body next to his. Leave it to Vivienne to be brave enough to state what she felt in her heart first. Her sweet confession completely undid him. “Ah, my beautiful Irish witch, I think I loved you from the moment I met you.”

His mouth sought hers and they kissed each other again, his arms holding her tightly to him.

Rain began to fall. Big fat drops plopped onto their faces as the gray sky turned stormy. Vivienne giggled but kissed him harder while his hands ran the length of her back. Her kisses tasted of the rain and salty air, and their tongues intertwined in heated eagerness in spite of the cold dampness that enveloped them. The rain fell and within minutes they were both drenched. He gazed reverently at her, as her long, black hair clung to her face, her soft cheeks glistening with raindrops.

Smiling lazily, Vivienne disengaged from his embrace. “Hurry!” she called out, reaching for him as the shower intensified. Hand in hand, they ran through the downpour back to her house.

Once safely inside and out of the storm, they found the house unusually cold and dark, and they were completely soaked to the skin.

“We need to get ourselves out of these wet clothes,” Vivienne stated in a soft voice as they both stood dripping on the wooden floor.

“Where is Aggie?” he asked hoarsely, glancing around the room.

Vivienne looked into his eyes and again he felt his heart race. “She went up to Tuam to visit her brother. She won't be back until sometime tomorrow.”

The clock ticked loudly on the mantel, echoing in the empty little house. He knew immediately what that meant. So did Vivienne. The implication hung unspoken in the air as their wet clothes dripped on the floor and the clocked ticked by the minutes.

His brave girl was suddenly shy, eyes downcast. “I'll get some towels,” she murmured. She turned and fled the darkened room.

Aidan threw some peat turf into the fire to warm up the place. As the familiar smoky scent filled the room, his heart beat triple-time and his mind raced with possibilities. He also wrestled with his conscience. He and Vivienne were alone together in this house for the night…A million thoughts sped through his head.

As Aidan knelt before the fire trying to warm up, he heard Vivienne return. First he noticed her bare feet against the polished wood floor. He blinked at the pretty pink toes in front of him. She must have taken off her shoes and stockings. He was still low to the ground, but his eyes moved upward from the sight of her slender ankles to her shapely calves. The bare expanse of legs became covered as her thighs were draped with an embroidered quilt. He looked up at her face. Her gaze was steady, but vulnerable, and her sapphire eyes spoke volumes. The soft blanket draped around her body tantalizingly exposed the flawless skin of her shoulders, arms, and legs. His heart slammed into his chest with such force he couldn't breathe for a moment. Nor could he move a muscle.

Vivienne was naked beneath that blanket.

With her long, dark wet hair, and wearing nothing but a blanket, she was stunning.

“You can wrap this around you while your clothes dry.” She held up another blanket for him, suggesting he do the same.

He slowly rose to his feet. He stood before the fire and, while Vivienne watched him, he unhurriedly removed his shoes, soaking shirt, trousers, and underclothes. Her eyes were riveted at the sight of his naked body, and wordlessly she handed him the blanket to cover himself. Instead of taking it, he dropped the blanket to the floor. He extended his hand to her.

Vivienne gazed at him, knowing what he asked of her. He saw the brief look of hesitation in her eyes, and the sudden lift in her chin. Slowly, slowly she let her blanket slip to the floor revealing herself to him as he had. She stepped toward him and took his hand. Tightly Aidan held her small hand in his, never wanting to let her go. He could not breathe at the sight of her.

They both knew where this path led, and Vivienne nodded her head in silent assent. Overwhelmed by her gift, her beauty, her sheer perfection, his heart pounded and his blood rushed in his head. He loved her.

“You are a fine figure of a man, Aidan Kavanaugh.” Her voice was the barest whisper.

“You, Vivienne,” he murmured, “are more than beautiful.”

In the firelight her skin shone like fine alabaster. Perfectly proportioned, her petite body curved lushly in all the right places. He pulled her to him, their damp naked bodies pressing against each other, instantly creating a smoldering heat between them. He kissed the hollow of her throat and her head tilted backward. He moved lower to the swell of her breasts.

“Oh, Aidan, is this really happening?” she breathed, her voice low and filled with passion. Her hands slid over his upper arms, across his chest and his cool skin warmed beneath her tender caress.

He kissed her rosy lips softly as an answer, for he was too overcome with passion to speak. Her body felt exquisite, warm, incredible in his arms.

“Make me yours, Aidan.”

“You were always mine,” he murmured possessively, his body throbbing with an intense need and desire for her.

He lowered her to the floor onto the two soft blankets that they had dropped in front of the fire instead of wrapping around themselves. Astonished that he was not more terrified, for he had no idea what he was doing, he covered her delicate body with his. He brought his lips to hers once more, devouring her. His tongue swirled with hers and she gave of herself with utter abandon. Her small hands pressed into his back, her fingers caressing his skin, inflaming his already heightened desire. He wanted her more than he ever wanted anything in his life.

They melted into one another, their intense love for each other overcoming their complete lack of experience. In their little cocoon of firelight and soft blankets, they explored each other's bodies and hearts, amidst whispered words of love and fervent kisses. Hesitant touches gave way to passionate caresses, shyness gave way to boldness as they learned how to please one another.

His lips kissed a path to her fully rounded breasts and he licked and suckled her nipples until she writhed beneath him. Aidan caressed across the flat plain of her stomach, while his hand moved lower, stroking her shapely hips and creamy thighs. Gently his fingers glided between her legs, pressing into her soft flesh. Vivienne held her breath while he touched her, and she arched against his hand, wanting more.

Slowly Aidan adjusted his weight over her, rising up on his arms. Instinctively he eased himself inside her, feeling her virgin body stretch to accommodate his size. She gasped with her eyes closed tight. He stilled and her eyes fluttered open, glistening with teardrops, but she smiled reassuringly, kissing his mouth. He began to move within her gently, engulfed by the exquisite sensations she provided. His motions became more urgent, more demanding, more fervent. He could not get enough of her, did not know if he ever would. He loved Vivienne and she loved him. She was a part of him; she was his life. Unaware of where he ended and she began, he heard her cry out his name in pleasure. Suddenly complete bliss flooded his entire being and he collapsed next to her.

He held her lovingly in his arms, their legs intertwined. They were so interconnected he did not think he could live without her. He wanted to keep her with him that way forever. He knew it was time for him to put away his childish dreams of going off to sea. They were silly dreams, really. One day he would inherit Cashelwood and become Lord Kavanaugh. He would manage the estate and lands as his father had. And he wanted nothing more than to have Vivienne share that life with him.

“Marry me, Vivienne,” he whispered fervently to her.

“You really want to marry me?” she asked in wonderment.

“More than anything I've ever wanted in my life.”

“Oh, Aidan, who would I be, if not your wife?” she asked with a smile that lit up her beautiful face.

England
Spring 1870

“Come with me, Vivvy. Here comes Lord Huntington and he looks about ready to devour you,” Gregory Cardwell said as he took Vivienne's hand and led her from the crowded and noisy ballroom. “Let's get some fresh air.”

Grateful for the respite he had offered, for she had been dancing non-stop for the past hour, Vivienne followed her cousin outside. The Duchess of Bingham's masked ball was reaching its peak and the night had been a veritable whirlwind of activity. Wearing a daringly low-cut and stylish gown of sapphire blue shot through with silver thread and a peacock feather mask over her face, Vivienne had barely had a moment to herself all evening.

Out on the portico, the cool night air carried a light breeze.

“So, explain why you don't want me to dance with Lord Huntington,” Vivienne said, wondering at Gregory's reasons for finding a potential suitor lacking. “He's seems a perfectly nice gentleman.”

“Oh, he is. It's just that I've heard he has certain…uh, predilections, shall we say?” he answered with a sly wink through his black mask. His reddish hair lent a look of boyish charm to his already handsome face, while his sky blue eyes seemed to be always alight with laughter.

“Such as…” she encouraged.

“Gambling and wearing women's undergarments.”

“Greg, honestly!” she protested, but couldn't help laughing at his falsely innocent expression. “That's a terrible thing to say about a man. Besides, how could you possibly know such an intimate detail? About the undergarments, I mean.”

He turned and leaned lazily against the balustrade, folding his arms across his chest. “I heard it from a most reliable source at my club.”

“Well, I don't believe you!” Vivienne grinned in spite of herself, but she found herself observing Lord Huntington a little more closely. “Enough about him already. I don't wish to hear anymore. Let's look at ladies for you, shall we?”

“I'm not ready to settle down yet. You know that.”

“Nonsense! At twenty-eight years old, of course you are! Look over there. How about that one?” Vivienne suggested gamely, tilting her head toward a sweet, dimple-cheeked brunette in a blue gown walking by the open French doors. “Now, she's very pretty.”

“But as dumb as a post. I couldn't abide a stupid wife, Vivienne.” He smiled charmingly at her.

“No, I don't suppose you could.”

“And no offense to you, of course, but I prefer blondes.”

Vivienne arched an eyebrow in his direction. “Someone more along the lines of Helene Winston perhaps?”

Gregory responded with a pained look below his mask, his teasing smile gone, his voice low. “Is it so obvious then?”

“No,” Vivienne said kindly. “I think not. Maybe I'm just very observant. But Helene is in love with Aidan Kavanaugh, you know.”

“She just believes she ought to be in love with him,” Gregory stated with a sense of forcefulness. “Their parents wish for them to marry eventually, but nothing is definite.”

“Aidan is your best friend,” she cautioned.

“Yes, but he is all wrong for Helene. I'd be doing Helene a favor by taking her away from Aidan. He doesn't love her or even want to marry her, truth be told. I know for a fact that he's in love with someone else.”

Surprised by his admission, Vivienne felt her pulse quicken. “You do?”

“Yes, and I think you know who I'm talking about, Vivvy.”

She shook her head with a rueful little laugh. “Oh, you're quite wrong on that score, Gregory. Aidan is not in love with me. He may have been once, but not anymore.”

“So there was something between you all those years ago, wasn't there?”

“Yes,” she admitted reluctantly. Thank goodness he had no idea what happened yesterday afternoon! Grateful for the cover of her exotic peacock mask, she felt what she and Aidan did in the portrait gallery was written all over her face and Gregory could see it.

“Do you mind if I ask what happened when you were in Ireland?”

“It's a rather complicated story.” Vivienne let out a resigned sigh. “We were friends since we were little children and fell in love as we got older, but in the end, I suppose Aidan simply didn't have enough faith in me.”

“Yet he still has feelings for you. Anyone with eyes can see that. When you and Aidan sang that pretty Irish song together, there wasn't a doubt in my mind that the two of you are in love with each other.”

Shaking her head, she murmured anxiously, “Don't say that, Gregory.”

“Why, not? It's true.”

“Even if you believe that, I promise you that nothing good will come of it. Aidan despises me.” She needed to put Aidan Kavanaugh out of her thoughts and she certainly did not need her cousin filling her head with fantasies that could never come to pass.

“And you…?”

“And I…I know better now.” Vivienne stepped forward to return to the ballroom.

Gregory put his hand on her arm in a gesture of comfort, stopping her. “I think you are wrong about that, Vivienne. Things have a way of working out the way they were meant to be, and they just might work out for the both of us.”

She gave Gregory a look of thankfulness and was about to add that she thought his situation would work out more easily than her own, when they were suddenly interrupted by Aunt Gwen and Uncle Gilbert.

“Hullo there, you two!” Aunt Gwen called, waving her hand gaily as they joined them on the portico. She and her husband looked charming in their coordinated black-and-white harlequin ensembles and matching masques. Lord and Lady Cardwell were a married couple who clearly still adored each other.

With his florid face and reddish beard, Uncle Gilbert boomed in his usual raucous way, “Vivienne, my dear, you are the belle of the ball! I've had more compliments about you this evening than I know what to do with.”

“Thank you, Uncle Gilbert,” murmured Vivienne, now used to his effusive blustering. The affection she felt for her aunt and uncle had grown quickly in the weeks she had been with them. They could never take the place of her father or Aggie, but she loved them and was grateful to be a part of their warm and loving family.

Aunt Gwen, a thoughtful and gentle woman, nodded her head enthusiastically. “It's true. And the Season doesn't officially begin until next week. I declare, Vivienne, your uncle has had quite a few inquiries about you from some very eligible gentlemen.”

They were thrilled at her popularity, which they believed guaranteed a successful debut in London next week, but tonight Vivienne could not have cared less. Her family simply wanted to see her safely married to an English lord before the year was out. Yet marriage seemed so unlikely to her at this point. There had only been one man she had ever wanted to marry. And he wanted absolutely nothing to do with her now.

“Has anyone caught your eye?” Aunt Gwen asked with a mischievous smile. There were moments when Aunt Gwen smiled that way that Vivienne thought she looked so much like her father. A painful ache at missing her father tugged at her heart. She wondered what it would be like to have him there at the ball, watching over her and proudly accepting offers from gentlemen to court her.

Vivienne shook herself and stated blandly, “No, no one has caught my eye yet.”

“She's very discriminating in her tastes,” Gregory pointed out. “Give her more time, Mother. She's hardly met anyone yet. Wait until she gets to London at least and has had a good look around.”

As Aunt Gwen and Uncle Gilbert chattered away about Vivienne's likely prospects in town, Jackson Harlow stepped out onto the portico and was greeted heartily by the Cardwells.

“I've been looking for you everywhere, Miss Montgomery. I do believe you owe me this dance,” Jackson Harlow said, his masked eyes on Vivienne.

“Go on and dance, Vivienne,” Uncle Gilbert said with a benevolent grin.

After they excused themselves, she followed Jackson back into the noisy and crowded ballroom. The orchestra played a familiar tune.

“You are looking particularly lovely tonight,” he said gallantly taking her arm in his. “Your gown is stunning. But then, you would shine in anything.”

She blushed at his flamboyant accolade and murmured, “Thank you.”

It was the first time she had seen Jackson since the boating accident on the lake, and he seemed none the worse for wear. In fact, he appeared in good spirits and looked dashingly handsome in his black suit and mask, the dark color contrasting sharply with his blond brilliance. The golden brown of his eyes gleamed behind the elegant mask, making him appear somewhat roguish and he moved with a panther-like grace.

She said to him, “I trust you are completely mended from our ill-fated boat trip.”

“Yes, I'm fine now, nothing but a nasty gash on the head and my injured pride. But I thank God it was only I who was hurt. I sincerely apologize for acting so irresponsibly with both Lady Helene's and your safety in my hands. I would never have forgiven myself if either of you ladies were harmed, especially due to my own recklessness.”

“Your apology is not necessary, and you must not fault yourself, Mister Harlow. Helene and I both were excited at the prospect of racing and eager to win. No one had any idea we would overturn in such a manner.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate your graciousness.”

“Your mask hides your injury perfectly, Mister Harlow. One would never notice.”

“And you are the loveliest lady in attendance this evening, Miss Montgomery,” he said with a charming smile.

“You are making me blush with your extravagant compliments!” she exclaimed laughingly.

“That was not my intention, although I must say the color becomes you.”

Vivienne laughed and shook her head at his flirtatiousness as the music for the next dance began. Jackson took her in his arms and she felt her pulse race slightly at the contact. He was a good dancer and they marked the steps to the quadrille quite well together. Afterward he escorted her to the refreshment area and handed her a glass of champagne in a crystal glass.

“We shall all return to London shortly. Are you looking forward to it, Miss Montgomery?”

“Yes, if only to have you find out about my father. You haven't forgotten, have you?” Vivienne asked and sipped some of the sparkling wine. Champagne had a distinct taste and she was becoming more accustomed to it. Gregory and George would be so proud of her.

“How could I forget a request of yours? Looking into the disappearance of the
Sea Star
is my first priority Monday morning. It is my honor to assist you in any way possible.”

“You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“I can only imagine how much it means to you and all I can hope is to bring you a measure of peace. This morning I dispatched a letter to our office, requesting that the files on the
Sea Star
be readied for me. I shall leave no stone unturned in finding evidence of what really happened to your father, Miss Montgomery. You have my word on that.”

She thanked him profusely.

“And I hope I'm not too presumptuous in believing that you will allow me to call upon you when we return to London. I've already asked and been given permission by your uncle to court you, but I would prefer your consent.”

Glancing up, her heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of Aidan across the room. He stood out from everyone and in spite of the black mask he wore, she would have known him just by the way he carried himself. Helene Winston, who looked lovely in a pale yellow gown that matched the color of her hair, stood beside him. They truly were an elegant-looking couple. Vivienne suddenly fought an overwhelming urge to cry.

Then Aidan's dark green eyes met hers, and even through his black mask the blatant look of disapproval he shot in her direction left her feeling sick inside, yet angered her at the same time. She didn't need him in her life and she deserved to be with a man who truly wanted her and treated her like a lady. She would show him.

She forced her gaze back to Jackson Harlow. He was about as different looking from Aidan as one could find. He grinned encouragingly at her. Jackson would be a good husband, she supposed. At least she liked him and felt comfortable with him and, unlike Aidan, Jackson Harlow regarded her as a respectable and trustworthy woman.

“I would be honored to have you call upon me, Mister Harlow.”

“Nothing would make me happier, Miss Montgomery.”

The gleam in his eyes sent shivers down her spine. She recognized that look of desire, but she did not know if she desired
him
in return. There was not a doubt that she desired Aidan and the thought of being intimate with Jackson Harlow left her feeling hollow, especially after yesterday. In an effort to block Aidan Kavanaugh from her mind she smiled brightly at Jackson and sipped her champagne.

 

Although the Earl of Whitlock made concerted efforts to ignore Vivienne Montgomery, he found himself helplessly looking for her in the crush of masked guests in the ballroom, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. When he did finally see her, he was overwhelmed with feelings of desire for her. She wore a peacock feather mask that framed her face exquisitely and lent a bit of drama to her features and was clothed in a deep sapphire blue gown shot with silver that matched her eyes perfectly. A gown cut daringly low, showing too much décolletage. She was a walking temptation.

Unable to shake off the memories of what happened between them in the portrait gallery and acutely aware of her presence in the ballroom, Aidan's eyes followed her all evening attracted by her graceful movements. He watched as she laughed raucously with the Cardwell twins, conversed with her aunt and uncle, and waltzed with the likes of Harry Gardner, Wesley Lawrence, and Peter Templeton. Oh, they were nice men, all of them. He could not fault her on that account, as much as it tried his patience to see them fawn over her. It was typical of Vivienne to have all the men after her.