One Sinful Night (7 page)

Helpless to answer, she just gazed back at him, filled with an incredible sense of longing that made her want to cry. Seeing him again left her feeling open, vulnerable.

“Hey, Whitlock!” Gregory called loudly, finally breaking their little reverie, waving his hand. “Gardner just asked you a question.”

Blinking, Vivienne disengaged from their powerful stare to see Gregory looking at them with a curious expression. They were all observing her and Aidan. Surely they were as confused by their behavior as she was herself.

“Sorry,” Aidan said in a rather clipped voice. “Could you please repeat the question?”

“I asked you to describe what Miss Montgomery was like when you knew her. It's only fair.” Lord Harry smiled engagingly at Vivienne. “Fact or forfeit?”

Again Vivienne looked toward Aidan. But whatever they had shared in that brief, fleeting moment of intimacy completely vanished. Aidan, her Aidan, had disappeared and the haughty Earl of Whitlock took his place. That hardened, distant look returned to his green eyes and his dark brows furrowed in consternation. Everyone's attention was fixed on him, waiting expectantly to see what would happen.

“What was Miss Montgomery like when I knew her?” he echoed the question blankly as if he did not understand the meaning.

Oh, this game was interminable! Would it never end? She felt the avid stares of the others, watching her reaction. How could they not sense the animosity between them? Could they not feel it?

“The fact is…” Aidan stated softly, but there was an edge to his voice that did not bode well.

Vivienne held her breath. If he chose to, Aidan could ruin her completely with a few simple words. She looked toward him once more, but he avoided her eyes.

“Tell, tell,” Lord Harry prompted excitedly.

When Aidan spoke his voice was calm and low, his posture tense. “Miss Montgomery was much the same as she is now. She is a woman, just like any other, who knows how to manipulate situations to get exactly what she wants.”

Vivienne held her head high, appalled by his remark. There were many negative connotations in what he said, none of which reflected nicely upon her.

“Well,” Helene whispered after an awkward silence, her injured expression betraying her surprise at Aidan's harsh words, which in essence insulted all the women present.

Vivienne uttered not a word.

“Aidan, my friend, your manners are sorely lacking this evening,” George said, obviously confused by Aidan's antagonism of Vivienne. “This game is supposed to be fun. Remember?”

“I told you this game gets Whitlock in trouble,” Gregory mumbled under his breath.

“Maybe we should play something else,” suggested Sarah Atwood with an uncertain smile.

“The game is not over. It's my turn to ask a question now,” Aidan continued casually as if nothing at all were amiss. Before anyone had a chance to make an objection, he asked pointedly, “Miss Montgomery, have you ever been in love? Fact or forfeit?”

All eyes, once again, turned to Vivienne. It was ridiculous, really. What was Aidan thinking to confront her this way? And honestly, how did he expect her to answer such a barbed question? To say yes? No? To say that she was once desperately in love with him? Would he dispute her if she gave a “wrong” answer?

Her anger rose at his manipulative measures to back her into some sort of a corner. Her presence at Bingham Hall obviously disturbed him, causing him to make a spectacle of himself, in front of his future fiancée no less. He acted as though she had come there to deliberately ruin his visit. As if Vivienne had any choice in the matter! To be technical about it, this was her family's home and
he
was ruining
her
visit. If he didn't like it, he could very well leave! Was it a battle the Earl of Whitlock wanted? Then she would certainly give it to him.

She glanced around the circle at everyone, seeing the unsmiling expressions and confused looks. She managed a light laugh. “Apparently Lord Whitlock is taking this little game far more seriously than the rest of us.” Then she turned her gaze pointedly at Aidan. “I choose not to answer that. I shall pay the forfeit, please.” Her heart pounded and she knew from the stunned look on his face that he had expected her to answer.

Gregory stared between the two of them and whistled low, sitting back and folding his arms across his chest.

 

Aidan wanted to kiss Vivienne. Wanted to demand it as her forfeit. He wanted to pull her against him and place his mouth over hers in a searing, possessive, mind-numbing kiss. He could think of nothing else.

And he did not know what had gotten into him, why he had even bothered to play this absurd game in the first place. He should have just stayed in his room and gone to sleep early as he originally intended. Lord knew he needed the rest. But after catching half-glimpses of Vivienne through the flickering candles across the formal dining table all through supper, he was intrigued. She looked as if she belonged in this manor house and seemed different from the young girl he remembered. Chatting vivaciously with the guests near her, she looked beautiful and elegant, making him wish he were the one sitting beside her.

Her beauty fascinated him. With her dark hair fashioned atop her head providing a view of the graceful curve of her neck, her silky skin glowed like warm ivory. Her blue eyes glittered with animation. The low décolletage of her rose silk evening gown showed her perfectly proportioned breasts to their best advantage. He could not take his eyes off her. Not once did she look in his direction, and again that irritated him. Especially after what the twins had divulged to him about her life after he left Galway.

He thought he had recovered from what happened. It had been ten years. He should have no feelings left for Vivienne Montgomery at this point. She had betrayed him, wounded him so deeply he didn't think he would ever survive the pain. He had worked hard to forget her, devoting his every waking moment to building his shipping company and taking up with beautiful women with black hair and blue eyes. None of them made him forget her. He simply became accustomed to his new life without Vivienne. Over the years he had moved forward, managing his growing business and creating some semblance of a social life in his position as the Earl of Whitlock. But nothing had prepared him for the shock of seeing Vivienne again and having to deal with the onslaught of turbulent and powerful emotions that she conjured within him.

And here he was, making an ass out of himself over her.

After supper, his head still throbbing, he had slipped away to his rooms to take a draught to ease his headache. But he could not resist the temptation of seeing her again, knowing she was just downstairs, and he had been compelled to join his group of friends in the grand parlor.

And ended up playing this preposterous game.

He was in the wrong, asking her those questions. He had behaved boorishly in reaction to her coldness, but some angry part of him wanted to get a rise out of her. Get her to admit something,
anything.
He wanted to trap her with her own lies.

Then she answered Helene's question about what he was like years ago, her candid and earnest response taking him by surprise, and they had shared something, looking into each other's eyes. For the briefest instant he saw Vivienne as he had always loved her. His sweet, sincere, adoring girl, with her laughing smile and flashing eyes.

It was almost his undoing, because he could feel himself falling under her spell again. It terrified him, for he could not allow that to happen. She had irrevocably destroyed his love for her ten years ago and there was no going back. He knew her true nature. Deceptively cruel and treacherous, he could never trust her again.

Although he admired her sense of spirit, for she did not shy away from anything, even when he quite callously attempted to embarrass her. In trying to wound Vivienne, he knew he appeared rude and surly, and he had clearly upset Helene. All he succeeded in doing was making a fool of himself.

Now he forced himself into a position where he had to give her a forfeit for refusing to answer his more than inappropriate question. Although he truly wished to demand that she kiss him, he opted to do the decent thing.

“The forfeit is that you must accept my sincerest apology for my ill-mannered questions to you this evening,” Aidan said in a low voice.

Vivienne's blue eyes widened in surprise and he realized he had startled the others as well. He watched her carefully, holding his breath, awaiting her answer. According to the rules of the game she had to pay the forfeit or be disqualified, but she could in all honesty, refuse his apology. Sitting there in her rose silk, a few dark curls framing her exquisite heart-shaped face, she nodded her head gently.

“Yes, Lord Whitlock. I accept your apology.”

Gregory called out, “Let's play something else, shall we?”

“Actually, I think I shall retire for the evening,” Lady Helene stood abruptly, bringing the gentlemen to their feet. Aidan knew she was irritated with him, and rightfully so.

That signaled the end of the evening, for the jovial lightheartedness that had set their little game in motion had been darkened. The ladies bade them a stilted good night and left the parlor. Ignoring the stern looks from the Cardwell twins, obviously unhappy with his treatment of their beloved cousin, Aidan ventured outside for a solitary walk in the cool night air to clear his head.

 

“That's it, my pet,” Jackson Harlow whispered with increasing urgency as Lady Annabelle Worthington took his large cock into her mouth, licking and sucking it with skillful, practiced movements. He ran his hand over her curly blond head, but Annabelle slapped at his arm, abruptly stopping her decadent ministrations. His eyes flew open in startled surprise.

“Don't muss my hair, Jackson.” She looked up at him with pert annoyance. “You know I hate that.”

From her position on the floor kneeling between his legs and wearing only her lacy garters and stockings, he laughed at Annabelle's outrage over her elaborate coiffure's disarray. She practiced a whore's tricks but worried about her hair. He grinned at her in helpless apology as she stood and came to him.

Jackson wondered idly what Annabelle's husband would say if he could see his wife at this moment. She straddled his hips, her creamy white thighs spreading for him, as he reclined in an armchair in his guest room at Bingham Hall. Lord Worthington, who was down in the drawing room playing chess, was an old buffoon who did not deserve his gem of a wife. Jackson grunted in satisfaction as Annabelle slid over him, taking the large girth of him within herself, and he reached for her luscious breasts.

As she rode him expertly, he gripped her wide hips to move the momentum along. Groaning with pleasure, he strained against her, both of them panting with exertion. A few frantic moments later, he exploded within her and then she cried out his name and collapsed against his bare chest, which was still heaving. He sighed deeply, replete and relaxed.

All in all it had not been a bad day.

Coming to the Duchess of Bingham's house party had turned into an incredible bit of luck. He rekindled the little affair he had had going with Annabelle Worthington
and
managed to taunt the pompous Earl of Whitlock.

But the best part of all was finally finding Vivienne Montgomery!

“I have to go now, darling,” Annabelle whispered in a seductive voice, as she delicately removed herself from his embrace. “Same time tomorrow night?”

“Absolutely,” he promised her. He slapped her shapely bottom to send her on her way.

“Oww!” she squealed, staring at him crossly.

He flashed her a beaming and devilish grin, meant to apologize for his rough teasing of her.

Annabelle sighed in exasperation, gathering up her clothes and dressing hurriedly. “Honestly, Jackson, you know I cannot resist that smile of yours. Those dimples just melt me and I can't stay angry with you.”

“Go back to your husband,” he whispered wickedly, as he helped button up the back of her burgundy dinner gown. “I'm sure the old fool is missing you.”

“You make me crazy, you know that.” She planted a wet kiss on his mouth.

“And that's what you love about me, Lady Worthington.” He grinned. “I'll see you tomorrow night.”

She gave him a flirtatious wink and flounced from the room.

Jackson lit a cheroot and laid back on the bed, his powerful, muscular body still naked, and inhaled deeply.

Yes, it had been a splendid day. Lord, how he loved big house parties! He could live in the lap of luxury for a week and enjoy himself to the utmost. They certainly made conducting affairs an easier task. He idly wondered how many husbands would be spending the night in beds other than those of their wives…Or vice versa. Relaxing, he took a long breath on the cigar and exhaled slowly, watching the pungent smoke drift lazily around him.

Vivienne Montgomery. He had finally found Vivienne Montgomery!

He had been seeking John Montgomery's daughter for weeks now, traveling all the way to the Godforsaken country of Ireland and the city of Galway, only to discover that she had already gone to live with her English relative, Lord Cardwell. After that fruitless journey, he returned to London empty-handed, much to his older brother's dissatisfaction. Pompous, ailing old Miles, looking at him over his spectacles in disappointment. Shortly afterward, Jackson learned the Cardwells were visiting the Duchess of Bingham, and he manipulated an invitation to their house party. And there, to his immense surprise, he discovered the elusive Miss Montgomery.

And she was a stark, raving beauty.

He could not believe his good fortune. She could have been an ugly cow like her wretched cousin Glenda. He got stuck sitting next to the awful Cardwell chit at dinner. Miserable creature that one! Fat and mean.

But Miss Montgomery…Ah, she was going to make the business of stealing from her all the more pleasurable! Not that it mattered to him one way or another to steal from an ugly girl or a pretty girl. It just suited him better to spend time with a beauty rather than a homely creature. Hell, what man wouldn't? Flirting with Miss Montgomery would be fine sport, for she was quick-witted and charming to boot.