A Scandalous Passion

by Kelly Boyce

  His words challenged her. Did he think she would swoon at the idea of bucking expectations? Was that the impression she gave him? If so, how tepid he must think her. The need to prove him wrong rushed through her. Maybe she had been a timid mouse before, but only because she’d had no other choice. It had been a matter of survival then. She would have done whatever she needed to in order to escape Mother’s wrath. But Mother had abandoned her for Italy and Caelie’s survival no longer depended on timidity but on courage. Like Elsie, she was her own woman now.

  “I am quite certain, my lord.”

  “Very well, then.” Lord Huntsleigh split the deck in half and shuffled the cards like a seasoned veteran, all the while explaining the game in rapid fire. She picked up what she could then glanced at the cards he dealt her.

  It took her several hands before she finally managed to get the basics down. Lord Huntsleigh displayed great patience as he taught her the rules and she could not deny the times he came out of his chair to lean over her shoulder to assist her with her cards left her entire body aflame. As it turned out, the attraction she felt for her instructor became far more risqué than playing Three Card Brag. Part of her was relieved when he reclaimed his seat and announced she knew enough to manage on her own. The other part, however…

  Well, best not to think about that.

  “Now that we are playing for real, we must ante,” Lord Huntsleigh said as he dealt her three cards. “Then, you can either bet, or fold.”

  “But I have nothing to wager with?”

  “Hm.” He leaned back and a slow smile cut across his face. “Well, there must be something we can wager.”

  Chapter Six

  Lord Huntsleigh stared at Caelie but his expression had shifted from amused to something else. Something…heated. Her heart picked up speed and she pulled in her bottom lip, sinking her teeth into it to keep from responding. She did not want to say the wrong thing and break the spell that wove its way between and around them.

  Lord Huntsleigh cleared his throat and looked away first. Caelie blushed. What had just happened? How foolish to think he held any interest in her. She had nothing to offer. A scandalous name and a depleted fortune. Not to mention, at three and twenty, she drew perilously close to being put on a shelf and left there to collect dust.

  “Why don’t we wager a question,” she said with a smile, as if the strange tension had not occurred. But it had. And it had affected both of them, she could see it in the set of his shoulders, the desire that had sparked in his eyes.

  She needed to distract his thoughts away from anything scandalous. As much as her attraction for him tempted her, she could not risk it. Temptation was a slippery slope and waiting at the bottom, ruination and despair.

  “A question?”

  She nodded. “The winner of the hand may ask the loser a question and they must answer it honestly.”

  “That seems a far more dangerous proposition than exchanging money.”

  “Are you afraid to gamble, my lord?”

  His gaze narrowed. “Very well then, lay down your cards.”

  “You first.”

  Lord Huntsleigh set his cards face up on the table with a flourish. He had a straight run. “You’re turn.”

  She twisted her mouth to one side and set down her hand. “High card. It appears you are entitled to one question, my lord.”

  “To the victor, the spoils!” He rubbed his hands together with unmitigated glee.

  The sight caught Caelie off guard and she laughed. The sensation of it filled her with a sense of…freedom. Yes, that’s what it was. Here, society’s constraints could not find her. She stayed in a room with a man pretending to be her husband, playing a game that would have sent Mother into a swoon. If caught, her already dismal fate would be worsened; but in that moment, she cared not. No one could touch her here. London was far away. She would have to go back soon enough, but for now she embraced her freedom. She would relish this time for as long as it lasted.

  “What is your question, my lord? I am at your mercy.”

  “What are your plans when we return to London?”

  She’d had plenty of time to think about it over the past few days. Her prospects were few and she did not want to be a burden on her cousins. “I thought I might consider employment.”

  Lord Huntsleigh stopped his collection of the cards and gave her a confused look. “Employment?”

  She shrugged. “The chances of my making a suitable match are rather dismal, I’m afraid, and I do not relish the thought of being a burden to my family or sitting about idle with nothing useful to spend my time on.”

  “But employment?” He made it sound as if she planned on contracting the plague.

  “I will hardly be toiling in the mines. I only wish to use my time to better service than working on my needlepoint and making inane conversation. I have had the benefit of a good education. I could be a governess or teach if I can find a family or institution willing to hire me.”

  His fingers picked at the corner of the cards as if her suggestion agitated him. She didn’t quite understand his response. What did it matter to him what she did?

  “Is that what you truly want for your future?”

  She avoided his gaze. “I grant you, it is not what I had originally planned for, but my circumstances have changed and it is the one I am faced with.”

  “What is the future you had planned?”

  “That is two questions, my lord.”

  “No, it is an addendum to the original question.”

  She lifted one shoulder and gave a small smile. “I suppose the short answer would be marriage, of course. I had hoped for children, a home of my own. A place to belong, a person to belong to.” Lord Huntsleigh made a face and she laughed. “I assure you, marriage is not all bad, my lord.”

  “Is it not?” Lord Huntsleigh crossed his arms over his chest. The superfine wool pulled at his shoulders and diverted her attention momentarily. “I beg to differ.”

  “You may beg all you like, but not everyone shares your views on marriage. Some of us desire the chance to build a life with someone else.”

  “Hmph.” He sat on his side of the table and stared at her until the hair on the back of her neck stood up and the butterflies that had settled down fluttered wildly once again.

  “Will you deal another hand? I believe it is my turn to redeem myself.”

  He chuckled and dealt three more cards each. “Very well. Let’s see what you have.”

  She placed her cards in front of her and grinned. “Three threes, my lord. I believe you called that a prial and I believe it means I win.”

  He scowled. “So it would seem. Ask your question then.”

  Caelie didn’t have to think long. Her curiosity had been piqued when they spoke on the deck of the Windswept and again now, with his comments on her previous answer. “Why are you so averse to marriage?”

  “Ah.” He leaned back in his chair and once again crossed his arms over his chest.

  “You do not want to answer the question, do you?”

  He smiled and there was a warmth to it, a vulnerability that touched something inside of her and ignited it deep within. “It isn’t so much the answering part I wish to avoid, but the honestly part.”

  Caelie returned his smile and propped her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her hand. “Gambling is a risky venture. One should not take part in it if they are not prepared to pay the piper.”

  A log in the fire tumbled into the embers. For a few seconds the flames rose and illuminated the table before they tapered off and the room became dimmer than before.

  “My parents, I suppose. They did not set the best example.”

  “In what way?”

  “That is two questions.”

  “No it isn’t. It is an addendum to the first question.”

  “You are a very quick study, my lady. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

  She shook her head slowly. A strange intimacy tangled a
round them. “I believe there is much more to the story. My parents did not set the best example either, but I do not cower at the thought of taking a husband.”

  “I do not cower.”

  Caelie gave him a dubious look.

  “I avoid. There is a difference.”

  “You’re avoiding the question.”

  “You’re rather nosy, aren’t you?”

  “I’m desperate for entertainment.” She smiled. “And you lost the wager.”

  He sighed, then picked at a piece of lint on his coat and after that rubbed at a spot on the table. Caelie sat quietly and waited.

  “Very well then. If you must know, my father fell madly in love with my mother.”

  “Is that not a good thing?”

  “It would have been if my mother returned his affections, but she did not. Instead, she flaunted her lovers in his face and mocked his feelings. Their relationship was a series of battles and arguments and physical altercations on both sides that I had the great displeasure to witness.”

  As he spoke, Lord Huntsleigh’s voice grew in strength as did the anger that punctuated his words. He drew an ugly picture. That he had witnessed it all as a child was nothing short of heartbreaking. Her parents did not love each other, but their relationship had never descended to such depths. At its worst, they behaved toward each other with cold indifference, not the heated rage Lord Huntsleigh described.

  “You do not have to say more.”

  He shook his head. “No. You are right. I lost the wager and must pay the piper. It’s the honorable thing to do.”

  “I did not mean to—”

  Spence cut her off. Now that he had started, the words tumbled out of their own accord. He couldn’t have stopped them if he tried.

  “One day my mother decided to leave my father and take off with her latest lover.”

  “How old were you?”

  “It was just before my tenth birthday. I tried to talk her out of it, tell her that I did not want to leave Nick and Bowen and my grandparents. But she told me to hush. To pack a few things, that I would have a new father and make new friends.”

  How long had he tried to bury that day? Yet without even trying, Lady Caelie had set the words free and he found himself inside the carriage with his mother once again, racing along the rutted road as if the Devil nipped at their heels.

  The carriage moved at a quick pace, faster than was necessary. Spence worried the horses might collapse from the strain. The sky had turned a purplish hue by the time he heard Father’s shouts from behind.

  He leaned against the window and tried to see him, but by then the darkness had overtaken the day and the only thing visible was the light bobbing in the distance, steadily growing closer. Mother yelled at the driver to go faster.

  Spence’s teeth ached from clenching them against the constant battering of a carriage not made to travel at such high speeds on rutted roads. Soon his father caught up, his lathered horse level with the window. Mother shouted and cursed, words he’d never heard her speak before. They were silenced when Father’s foot smashed against the window and shards of glass splintered around them. Mother had screamed.

  Spence glanced up. At some point in his story, Lady Caelie had reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. It anchored him to the present, but not for long.

  “Did she stop the carriage?”

  “No.”

  She had screamed for the driver to go faster. Spence remembered little after that. The carriage tilting, the pain of impact. The sickening sound of wood splintering and horses screeching. He remembered bouncing and being dragged, though he had no sense how long any of this went on for.

  And then all went still.

  Deathly still.

  “Both carriage doors were gone, as well as a section of the exterior.” It had looked as if a giant had reached down and tore it off. “The carriage lay on its side and through one empty door I could see mud from the road and part of Mother’s dress.”

  Lady Caelie’s hand tightened and he lifted his thumb to caress her fingers. The small motion calmed his heartbeat and he continued.

  “My head was cut.” He touched his hairline where a small scar still remained. “From the glass or the accident itself, I’m not sure.”

  “And your parents? Where were they?”

  It had taken several attempts before Spence had been able to pull himself out of the carriage. He landed where the wheels should have been, but only two remained, one broken and hanging at a precarious angle from the axle, the other still spinning. The horses were gone. The driver laid a little ways away near a tree, unmoving.

  He had called for his mother and his voice shook in the still night air. No answer came. He did not want to go around to the other side of the carriage, fearing what he might find. Darkness shrouded the wooded area. A small fire burned where one of the lanterns had broken upon impact and caught on some of the leaves and underbrush. Spence ran toward it and stamped his feet on the low flames until he snuffed them out. Overhead, the full moon shone down and provided him with a little light. He turned away from the burned ground and a scream caught in his throat.

  “Mother was partially covered by the carriage. I could not see her legs. She lay on her stomach, her arms reaching over her head as if she had simply lain down for a nap. I knew something was wrong but fear had paralyzed me.”

  “Oh, Spencer…” Somewhere he noted she had used his proper name. It was like a balm to his heart.

  “My father called for me.” Spence remembered wanting to cry, but he could not. He had to be brave. He turned to face his father. Both of his legs were twisted and bent. “His legs were broken and he wore only one boot.”

  “But he was alive.”

  Spence nodded. “I went to him. Touched his hand. It was ice cold. He told me I needed to go for help. It was dark and the horses were gone. I would have to walk the road alone. I wanted to be brave, but I wasn’t.”

  “You were just a child.”

  Spence remembered the taste of fear, tinny and harsh. He took one of the lanterns that had survived the crash and did as his father bade him. “I do not know how long I walked for. It seemed forever. After a bit, I started to run. I yelled for Grandfather until my throat grew hoarse, but no one came. I thought maybe I had gone the wrong way, so I turned back.”

  His heart pounded in his chest, his memories as real as the day it had happened.

  “When I reached the site of the wreckage…” He closed his eyes tight against the memory but it came anyway, as it always did. Her hand over his had disappeared and he desperately wished it back. He needed it. Needed her.

  He wrapped his arms around himself and felt her crouch in front of him. He leaned forward until he could rest his forehead against hers and breathe in the scent of wildflowers to ward off the stench of death in his mind.

  “You don’t have to continue.” Her hand touched his cheek and he leaned into it and shook his head. He had no choice. The words kept tumbling out and he didn’t know how to stop them.

  “When I returned, my father had moved. He’d managed to crawl over to my mother. He’d grabbed her hand, as if to offer her comfort. I knelt next to him but…he wasn’t breathing.”

  “And your mother?”

  His mother, when he looked at her, stared back at him with lifeless eyes. He bit down and shook his head.

  She had been dead the entire time.

  They were both dead.

  He had failed.

  Soft lips pressed against his cheekbone and the warmth of the gesture sent a shiver through him. How could such an innocent kiss have so much power? But it did. He lifted a hand and touched her face.

  “Caelie…” Her given name whispered between his lips.

  “Yes?”

  He didn’t know what to say. How to say it. He needed her. He had no right, but he did. Her reputation could not withstand another scandal, and he could not risk what having her would mean for him, but society and its dictates se
emed very far away. In that moment, the two of them existed in their own little world where society had no place.

  Dangerous thinking, but heaven help him he needed to kiss her. Just one kiss.

  But before he could make good on his desires, her fingers gripped his lapels and pulled him closer. Desire flooded through him the instant their lips touched and he let himself go, let himself be lost in the sensation of his mouth on hers.

  Chapter Seven

  This must be what it felt like to die. This exquisite torture of Caelie’s mouth on his, her body pressed between the alcove of his legs, his hand as it slipped to her back to hold her close against him. Her kiss was that of an innocent and yet Spence could feel the passion behind it begging to burst forth.

  She pressed closer to him and the pressure on his groin intensified as the thin tendril of willpower he held onto weakened. She was a beautiful woman, and more than that, she had surprised him. He’d thought her a placid little thing with barely a spark of life in her, but with each passing day she had proven him wrong. She was warm and resilient. And passionate. The last had surprised him most of all.

  He could not remember the last time he had been surprised.

  Somehow, that left him more intoxicated than her uncommon beauty.

  All of these things had worked together and enticed him into opening up. He’d told her things he had revealed to no one. Even Nick and Bowen did not know the full scope of what had happened that night. How had she done that? What bewitchment had she used to muddle his brain to such a degree emotions and memories poured out of him?

  She had made him feel safe. Such an odd, unnecessary thing, yet he had reached for it the way a drowning man grasped for an extended hand.

  He would not reward that by—

  Her fingertips traced the line of his jaw with a gentle pressure and in that slightest touch he could feel her character, her strength and her weakness, what she needed, what she could give in return.

  God help him but he wanted it all.