One Sinful Night (26 page)

“That was different and you know it,” Aidan retorted hotly. Again, she had struck a nerve with him. Ever since they were children she had always been able to do that to him. She always made him think and look at the other side of issues. But he didn't want to do that now. He was too angry with her. For the past. The present. For everything.

“No. I don't know,” she demanded. “Explain the difference.”

They did not speak for a moment. He had no response to that. The rational part of him acknowledged that she made a good point, but he was not going to admit that to her. Stunned and angered that she was attempting to get out of the marriage to him, he stood his ground. “I won't discuss that with you now.”

“When will we discuss ‘that,' Aidan, if not now?” she protested.

He stood firm. “There is nothing to discuss.”

“You would think that,” she said derisively. “We shouldn't marry each other. I can manage on my own.”

“I doubt that,” he scoffed at her. “Why were you visiting Jackson Harlow's office today?”

“That is none of your business,” she snapped cuttingly.

By the startled expression on her face it was apparent she was surprised that he knew where she'd been. If he were not mistaken, there was some guilt in those sapphire eyes of hers. “It's absolutely my business when you are involved with a ruthless and dangerous man.”

“Jackson Harlow is a fine gentleman,” she defended him vehemently. “He's simply helping me with an important matter.”

“Your father?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I see Gregory's been talking to you.”

“Yes. But now you listen to me, Vivienne, and listen to me well.” He stepped closer to her and put his hand beneath her chin, forcing her to look up at him like a child. If she were going to act like a careless, spoiled little girl, he was going to treat her like one. Her eyes widened and a defiant expression came over her exquisite features.

“Harlow is not interested in helping you, Vivienne. At least not in the way you think he is. He is set on ruining me and he'll ruin you to get to me. I told you once before. This is the last time I will say it again, and I expect you to obey me.” He paused, then said very slowly and clearly, so she would not misunderstand nor misinterpret his meaning, “Stay…away…from…Jackson…Harlow.”

She placed her hand over his hand in an effort to release her chin, and he reeled from the contact of her warm fingers on his.

“And I told you that you have no right to tell me what to do,” she said between clenched teeth. She pulled away from his grasp triumphantly.

“I do as of Saturday when we marry.”

“But we're not married yet, are we, Aidan?” she replied archly and gave him a withering glance before she turned to stalk away from him.

“Damn it, Vivienne!” he called after her, furious. Without thinking Aidan grabbed her with both hands and spun her around to face him. Her eyes glistened angrily and she struggled to break free once again. “You don't understand, do you?!” he cried.

“That you can tell me how to live my life? No, I don't understand, then. Nor will I ever! I can speak to anyone I want, whenever I want. You cannot tell me what to do!”

“When I'm your husband, you'll do as I say.” He didn't know what he was saying. He had never been the kind of man who expected obedience in a wife.

She laughed at that, a mocking laugh, her eyes glittering fiercely as she struggled against his hold on her. “That's what you think!”

How dare she taunt him that way? She was going to be his wife and she still thought she could visit another man. A man who was obviously infatuated with her.
Not bloody likely!
And she hadn't a clue, a single clue, who she was dealing with. Aidan was not entirely sure what Harlow was up to with her, but he was positive it was nothing good. Harlow was not the altruistic type to do something for nothing. If he actually were helping Vivienne discover what happened to her father, he expected some payment in return. He wanted something from her desperately. Aidan wondered if Harlow were using Vivienne to provoke him. If Harlow harmed her in any way…

Aidan wanted to shake her, make her understand how dangerous Harlow was.

Instead he pulled her against his chest and his lips crashed down upon hers. Instantly she stopped fighting him. Her rigid body softened and her soft, sweet mouth sought his. He wrapped his arms around her and her small hands clasped behind his neck. Their kiss deepened and he lost all sense of time and space, feeling only Vivienne in his arms once again. He breathed her in. Her softness. Her sweetness. The floral scent of her overwhelmed him. Their tongues intermingled and a little sigh escaped her.

His body tightened in response to the feel of her breasts pressed against him. God, how he wanted her. Wanted her writhing naked beneath him. Wanted to feel his body pressing into hers, over and over.

He wanted her to love him again. As she did once before. He wanted his Vivienne back. His friend. His lover. He wanted to forget everything that tore them apart.

He ran his hand down the length of her narrow waist, over the graceful curve of her hip, and around to the tempting flesh of her derriere. He squeezed. She pushed herself tighter against him, maneuvering herself between his thighs and he sucked in his breath. Their hot mouths moved over each other's. He walked her backwards until she was against the balustrade. She continued to kiss him fervently, their lips never losing contact. He lifted her so her bottom rested on the wide marble balustrade. She clung to him, her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck. He cupped her exquisite face in his hands, forgetting where he was, forgetting that she had angered him, forgetting the past. He was drowning in her.
Vivienne, Vivienne, Vivienne…

“For the love of God, Aidan, can you at least keep your hands off her until after the wedding?” Lord Cardwell muttered in exasperation as he joined them on the patio.

Instantly releasing her, Aidan looked abashedly toward Vivienne's uncle. How was it possible that he'd lost control again? In front of her uncle, no less! “I'm sorry,” he said as he struggled to regain control of his senses. Good God! He had almost taken her there on the patio!

He assisted Vivienne off the balustrade and she stood trembling in front of him. He shielded her momentarily from view, to allow her to compose herself. And she looked incredibly appealing; her soft lips kissed to a ripe fullness, her satiny cheeks still flushed with unsatisfied desire. Yet he knew she felt as embarrassed and as mortified as he did. He wished he could protect her somehow. Instead he took her small hand in his, gave her a comforting squeeze, and let it go quickly. Before they turned to face her uncle, she glanced at him, her eyes full of emotions he dared not delve into.

“It's a good thing you're getting married on Saturday,” Cardwell continued in his gruff voice. “I don't think you could hold out much longer than that. But please show my niece some respect in the meantime.”

His mother had followed Lord Cardwell outside and, judging from the infuriated look on her face, she had also seen him kissing Vivienne.

“It's very late and time we were headed home, Aidan,” she stated in a clipped tone.

“I think that's an excellent decision,” Lord Cardwell echoed his mother's sentiment. “We'll see you at the church on Saturday morning. Ten o'clock sharp.”

Aidan dared not look back at Vivienne as he left. He did not know if he had the strength.

“I am offering you money to marry Vivienne Montgomery.”

Jackson Harlow could not believe his ears. Yesterday he had received an unexpected and unusual invitation from the Earl of Whitlock's mother, and now he found himself seated before her in the expensively decorated drawing room of her London townhouse at an ungodly early hour. The invitation had intrigued him and he could not refuse to see her.

“Could you repeat that please, Lady Whitlock?” he asked with brows raised in surprise, not quite sure that he heard her correctly.

She regarded him astutely. She wore an austere navy blue gown, the darkness accentuating the silver-gray of her tightly coiled hair. She sat perfectly straight on the edge of her chair, her hands clasped firmly in her lap. “I had assumed you were a shrewd man, Mister Harlow. Have I misjudged you?” she asked, one steely eyebrow raised above her icy gray eyes.

“I doubt you could do such a thing. Please continue,” he encouraged her smoothly, intrigued by the possibilities she had presented to him.

“It's quite obvious to me that you desire Miss Montgomery. I observed you with her at Bingham Hall and I, for reasons of my own, want her out of my son's life permanently. Now I thought we could serve both our purposes. Are you interested in helping me?”

Hell, yes, he was interested! Lady Whitlock's plan would only further his own cause. She was practically handing him Vivienne Montgomery and her diamond mines on a silver platter. But he could not deny he was floored to discover that Aidan Kavanaugh's mother was such a cold-hearted bitch. He only saw her briefly at Bingham Hall, but he could not help but notice that she was a tough old dragon. Now he knew he had vastly underestimated her. Hell, he'd be doing Vivienne a favor by taking her away from Aidan. With this miserable woman as her mother-in-law, her life would be a living hell. Obviously Lady Whitlock did not deem Vivienne good enough to marry her precious Aidan. She preferred the elegant, blond Helene Winston for a daughter-in-law, which was not a bad choice either in his book. The woman must really hate Vivienne to manipulate her so callously, but far be it for him to judge another's ethics.

“What are you prepared to offer me in return for my assistance?” he questioned her coldly. He might as well make it worth his while. At this point he'd take Vivienne for free, but the old bitch didn't need to know that.

Jackson had been worried that he would not be able to persuade Vivienne to marry him before Saturday and he would have to resort to more drastic measures. He had a soft spot for the Irish beauty and wanted her to come to him willingly, for he sensed she would be more uninhibited that way. He felt he almost had her convinced that afternoon in his office, then that idiot Travers burst in and scared her off with his unintelligible tirade. But he'd made Travers pay heavily for that interruption, and the pathetic man certainly wouldn't be around to bother Jackson ever again.

“The price is completely negotiable, Mister Harlow,” Lady Whitlock continued briskly in a calm and businesslike manner. One would think that she sold off her son's fiancées to the highest bidder every day. “Any amount that you require is possible. What I don't have to give you is time. We must move quickly. I want her out of London before Saturday. Then you must marry her as soon as possible. After that I don't care what you do with her. But it must look like she went with you willingly.”

“What makes you think she wouldn't?” Jackson countered with a sly grin.

“Don't flatter yourself, Mister Harlow.” She shook her head. “I've seen Aidan and Vivienne together. It might not be as easy as you think. She has her greedy claws planted firmly in my son.”

Jackson admitted to himself that that statement surprised and somewhat wounded his vanity. He had been under the distinct impression that Vivienne cared for him, not Whitlock. “She has more feelings for me than it would seem.”

“I don't care about her feelings,” she retorted sharply. “I simply want her out of Aidan's life for good.”

Curious to know the old dragon's motivation, he questioned her. “May I ask why?”

Lady Whitlock grimaced sourly. “Personal reasons, which go back many years and I need not go into with you. Suffice it to say, my son was well acquainted with Vivienne in Ireland.”

“Ah, I see now.” Jackson nodded his head in understanding. So Aidan Kavanaugh and Vivienne had a love affair years ago. It clearly explained why they were in bed together so quickly that night at the Binghams'. “Old love dies hard?”

“Something like that,” she said in a dismissively clipped tone, brushing imaginary dust from her silky skirt. Then she folded her hands neatly in her lap once again. “I had arranged for you to be caught in her room that night at Bingham Hall. I sent you that note.”

“You sent the note?” And suddenly it was all very clear to him. It explained perfectly why the Cardwells, as well as Lady Whitlock, had been at Vivienne's door that night. Only Jackson was the one who was supposed to be caught in Vivienne's bedroom, not Aidan. The Machiavellian woman had not only manipulated her son's miserable life, but she had played fast and loose with Jackson's own fate. Luckily for Lady Whitlock, it coincided with his personal plans, or he would have to vent his wrath upon her for attempting to ruin him. As it was, he would make her pay a heavy monetary price for her deviousness, which impressed him, oddly enough. “You are a cold-blooded woman.”

“That is beside the point. Now, Mister Harlow, do we have an agreement?”

Jackson needed to marry Vivienne Montgomery as soon as possible. There would be plenty of time later to sort through her father's letters and find the deeds. Which would then legally belong to him. He had connections who could procure a special license for him as well. In fact, he could be married to Vivienne himself on Saturday instead of Lord Whitlock. Then it would be all settled. He could leave his failing family's shipping business and his miserable brothers and start a new life with a fortune in diamond mines and a beautiful wife by his side. He would take her to Paris. Italy. Maybe even New York. He was actually looking forward to being with her.

“Yes, Lady Whitlock, I believe we do. I'll have her out of town this afternoon.”

Lady Whitlock looked at him quizzically, her sharp features alert. “What do you intend to do? Her uncle won't allow her out of the house until after the wedding, because he doesn't trust her to comport herself like a lady. And you can't very well go knocking on her front door and ask her to run away with you.”

Jackson smiled his trademark, heart-melting smile and watched as Lady Whitlock flinched from the impact. “That's where you come in, Lady Whitlock,” he said smoothly. “Vivienne could hardly refuse a summons from her future mother-in-law to make peace before the wedding, now could she?”

“I like the way you think, Mister Harlow.” She smiled triumphantly, her gray eyes glittering.

“I thought you might, Lady Whitlock,” Jackson said, and began taking steps to put this plan of theirs into effect.

 

That morning Vivienne sat at the dainty escritoire in her tastefully decorated bedroom at Cardwell House and idly wondered if she shouldn't take Jackson Harlow up on his offer and flee Aidan and his hateful mother once and for all. Marrying Harlow seemed like a simple way out of her disastrous situation with Aidan, but something held her back. Something changed that day in Jackson's office. Perhaps it was when Jackson kissed her. She could not envision being his wife when his kiss left her feeling cold inside. And distinctly disloyal to Aidan.

Not that Aidan deserved her loyalty.

Or perhaps it was Aidan's mind-melting kiss on the patio last night. Or when he squeezed her hand in a show of support when they had been caught together by her uncle yet again. If only she could make Aidan believe in her once more, there might be a chance for them to be happy together. That kiss last night sparked some hope in her that their marriage had a possibility of working. The feelings they had for each other were still there, just as when they sang together at the musicale and the night they were caught in her bedroom, even if Aidan attempted to ignore them. Were their feelings strong enough to overcome the obstacles they faced? They had to be. He simply could not kiss her that way and not care for her.

Could he?

Aidan evoked such powerful feelings in her. And she still loved him, still desired him. In spite of everything. In spite of all the years apart. They could be happy together if only Aidan would see the truth. But she was not certain if he ever would.

Vivienne focused her attention back on the matter at hand. That morning she had gathered all the letters her father had sent to her over the years and reread them methodically, one by one, searching for clues, anything unusual or hints at trouble with the shipping company he worked for. Yet nothing stood out. Each and every letter was perfectly, frustratingly normal.

Jackson told her that her father owned lucrative diamond mines. She could find no proof of that. Not a shred of evidence.

Vivienne could not imagine that her father would have priceless diamond mines and not tell her about it. If what Jackson told her were true, they had to be a fairly recent acquisition, for certainly he would have shared that information with her when she saw him last. That was two years before his ship supposedly went down sailing back from South Africa. His letters to her during that voyage seemed typical, displaying nothing out of the ordinary. He asked how she was, how Aggie felt, asked how things were in Galway. He mentioned the beauty of Africa and how he would love for her to see it one day. He did not refer to Davis or Miles Harlow at all. That left only the note that was attached with the wooden box he sent her just before he disappeared. The last words her father wrote to her.

Rereading it now, she realized something peculiar and her heart quickened. Not only did he warn her not to let anyone take the box from her, claiming it to be worth more than she knew, but the phrase “whatever is
mine
, daughter, is yours” suddenly caught her attention. Was he alluding to the diamond mine when saying “mine”? She had no way of knowing for certain.

As she stared at the lovely wooden box again, she looked at the ivory diamond pattern with new insight.
A diamond pattern.
Was her father trying to tell her about the mines without actually telling her? Why the secrecy and mystery? Why not just tell her? For whatever reasons, he thought it best to keep his daughter in the dark. He obviously sensed some danger.

Lifting the lid of the box, she removed its precious cargo. Aggie's intricate Celtic cross. Now that she was in London, she wanted to buy a new gold chain for it. Her mother's wedding band. It made her wonder about her own wedding band, which certainly wouldn't be given with love. Then there was the silver locket from Aidan. Holding it in her hand, she popped the lock and gazed at his picture inside. He had not changed much since the picture was painted. He looked a little older perhaps, but the image still resembled him. In an unexplainable fit of sentimentality, she placed the locket around her neck. It felt strangely comforting to have it on again.

Now that the box was empty, she gave it a thorough inspection. There had to be something more to it. The box was the message, she was certain. Wondering why she never looked at it that way before, she ascribed it to the overwhelming grief she suffered at losing her father. She shook the box. And heard nothing. She turned it over and over, admiring the lovely ivory inlay, but seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

Until she examined the inside. And suddenly she knew. Why hadn't she thought of it before? Of course! A false bottom. Delicately, she removed the dark blue velvet lining and set it on her desk. Underneath was a thin panel of smooth wood. She lifted it, and caught her breath in a little gasp of surprise. Folded papers nestled inside the bottom of the box. Trembling, she took the papers from the box and unfolded them carefully.

They were deeds, in John Montgomery's name, to diamond mines in South Africa. To think they were in the box the entire time! Her heart pounded at her discovery. Her father had owned diamond mines supposedly worth a fortune. Why on earth wouldn't he let her know such a thing?

Now the question was what should she do about it? What good was a deed, if it were even valid, to a place on the other side of the world? Oddly enough, her first impulse was to show Aidan. He would know exactly what to do and how to handle this situation. But he had no desire to talk to her. She supposed she should bring the deeds downstairs and let Uncle Gilbert take a look at them. Yes, that was probably the best course of action.

“Miss Vivienne, I have a message for you,” Lizzie said cheerily as she entered Vivienne's bedroom.

“What is it?” she asked. Distracted, she gathered the papers and put them back inside the pretty inlaid ivory box.

“It's from the Countess of Whitlock.” Lizzie handed her a sealed note in thick paper. “There's a servant waiting downstairs for a reply. It seems urgent.”

Recognizing the intricate wax seal, Vivienne's interest piqued at receiving a note from Aidan's mother. She was the last person she expected to hear from and she read the elegantly scripted words in surprise.