One Sinful Night

by Kaitlin O’Riley

  Vivienne felt very pretty and utterly feminine in a pale pink and white striped dress. Silk ribbons in a darker shade of pink trailed daintily at the end of her short elbow sleeves and she wore an adorable white straw hat trimmed with more pink ribbons. It was one of her favorite gowns from the collection she had acquired after an extravagant shopping spree with Aunt Gwen when she first arrived in England. It was a flirtatious dress and she acted the part with surprising ease. Something she had never done before with such abandon.

  “Because I am flirting with you,” he whispered decadently, his voice dropping low. “I have a decided weakness for flirting with beautiful ladies. And you, Miss Montgomery, are the loveliest one here by far. So you see, it’s all your fault, my lady. You are preying upon my most dreaded weakness.”

  She glanced at him playfully above the rim of her glass. “Am I really?” It was very satisfying to be in the company of a man such as Jackson Harlow and to have his complete and undivided attention.

  “Most definitely.”

  “How shall I end your misery then?”

  “I’m afraid you cannot,” he said with a sly laugh, “and still remain a lady.”

  Vivienne felt her cheeks turn scarlet at the implied meaning of his words. She had to remind herself that he was not flirting and teasing her in the same innocent manner that she was used to with the twins. This charming man belonged in another league of men all together and she needed to remember that.

  “Judging from the look on your pretty face, I’m afraid I have offended you, Miss Montgomery. Please forgive my blundering foolishness.” A solemn and serious expression appeared on his handsome face. “I assure you that was not my intention.”

  Wanting to return to the easy bantering they had enjoyed all morning while playing croquet, she nodded her head and smiled. She did not want to put him off, especially after he had agreed to look into the matter of her father’s disappearance next week in London. He was quite possibly the last link she had to her father. Besides, she really did think him charming. “Mister Harlow, I am positive you had no intention of saying anything in the least to offend me.”

  He simply said, “Thank you.”

  Vivienne gazed up at the bright green leaves on the tree above her. The light breeze rustled them gently. It was quite beautiful outside, and she was having a lovely time at Bingham Hall. With the exception of interacting with Aidan. She briefly scanned the lawn for a glimpse of him, but did not see him any longer. He had not joined in their game of croquet, but watched them from the sidelines. She caught him looking at her a few times, but he had kept his distance from her, and after their awkward exchange the night before, she was grateful.

  After the disastrous parlor game, Gregory had cornered her on her way upstairs to ask what had happened between her and Aidan in Galway. She explained very little and rushed off to bed. But her cousins and new friends were not oblivious, and they surely suspected there was more to her and Aidan’s acquaintance than appeared on the surface.

  “You play a determined game of croquet, Miss Montgomery,” Jackson interrupted her thoughts.

  Vivienne glanced back at him with a sly smile. “Is that a compliment?”

  “Of course. It was a pleasure being on your team. I admire a competitive spirit and you are a girl who plays to win.”

  “Hmm. I suppose I do sometimes. It depends on the game. Do you like winning, Mister Harlow?”

  “That is something you should know about me, Miss Montgomery.” He leaned in close to her and whispered, “I always play to win.”

  “And do you always win?” she asked with the strangest feeling that he was referring to something quite specific, and not just a picnic game.

  “Always.” He moved back from her and she exhaled, realizing she had been holding her breath.

  Intrigued by his words she questioned him, “What about playing for the fun of it? For simply enjoying oneself?”

  “I am not talking about a mere game of croquet. I am referring to winning life in general.”

  “What is it that you hope to win?” She stared at him, puzzled by the predatory gleam in his eyes.

  “Everything I want.”

  “Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it.”

  “What made you say that?” he asked, his expression curious and intent on her.

  “I don’t know,” she laughed lightly. “It’s something my grandmother always said to me growing up and I was never sure what it was supposed to mean. Isn’t that the only reason we wish for things? To get them? But as I grew older, I eventually began to appreciate the meaning of wishing wisely.”

  “And what do you wish for now, Miss Montgomery?”

  She stated clearly, with no hesitation, “I wish to find out what really happened to my father.”

  He tilted his head to one side and looked at her carefully. “Then I have the power to grant that wish for you. But again, remember your grandmother’s words. Your wish may come true, but you may not like what you learn.”

  “I am well aware of that, Mister Harlow. It is the very fact of not knowing that is unbearable to live with. I have already been told that my father is dead. There is nothing I could learn about how he died that would be worse than knowing I will never see him again.”

  “I understand that feeling, which is why I am more than willing to help you. As long as you understand what the possible outcomes are. Tell me, what do you know of your father’s last voyage? Was there anything unusual about it that you can recall?”

  She shook her head. “It seemed just like all his others.”

  “Did you hear from him during the voyage?” Jackson paused for a moment, then asked, “Did he send you anything before he disappeared?”

  “Yes, he did. With the last letter I ever received from him, he sent me a beautiful jewelry box of carved wood and ivory. He always sent me things from his travels that he thought I might like.”

  “Did he mention anything in the letter that something out of the ordinary or unusual was happening?”

  Vivienne hesitated. She wanted this man’s help, but something held her back, preventing her from telling him what her father had written her in his last letter. Unsure what kept her from divulging the contents of that letter, she trusted her instincts. At least for now, she would wait. She would reveal that information if she thought it necessary, until then she would bide her time.

  “No, he wrote nothing unusual, just that he missed me.”

  “I’m sure that was the truth,” he said staring at her with intense brown eyes.

  Vivienne smiled gratefully at Jackson’s thoughtful remark.

  “Well, we shall see what, if anything, I can discover when I return to my offices in London. In the meantime, you must try to recall every fact he mentioned to you from his last voyage. Even the smallest detail might be of importance.”

  Vivienne agreed to try but felt a little pang of regret at not telling him about her father’s strange words regarding the box.

  “Hullo!” Gregory called out to them, as he came sauntering over the grass with George, Helene Winston, and Sarah Atwood.

  Their conversation thus interrupted, she and Jackson Harlow greeted the others.

  “Are you ready to go out on the lake?” George asked enthusiastically. “Aunt Jane is having the boats prepared now for those who wish to row out and have a picnic on the other side of the lake.”

  “Oh, that sounds like fun!” Vivienne exclaimed. “Let’s all go, shall we?”

  “Anything for you, Miss Montgomery,” Jackson declared. He stood and helped Vivienne to her feet, while she brushed the bits of grass from her dress.

  As they made their way down to the dock, they joined Lord Harry Gardner, Wesley Lawrence, and Victoria Atwood. Vivienne was disheartened to see Aidan already waiting there for them. Well, at least she had successfully avoided him for most of the day. Looking darkly handsome in his buff-colored breeches, crisp white shirt, and bottle-green coat, he stood taller and broader than
any of the other gentlemen. The unusual brooding look on his face had finally disappeared, and he seemed relaxed, his green eyes cool. She did not relish having a picnic with him.

  They learned that in all there were four small rowboats: two boats that held three passengers each and two that held only two passengers. If more than ten people wanted to journey to the other side of the lake, it would have to be done in shifts. With the addition of Jackson Harlow to the group that played games together the night before, their total reached ten.

  After much discussion, it was determined that Lord Harry and Wesley, and George and Aidan would take the two smaller boats with the picnic supplies out first, while Gregory and Jackson would row out the four ladies, and then come back for any others who wished to join them. As they settled into the wooden boats, which were painted in crisp colors of royal blue, cherry red, bright yellow, and leafy green, bursts of laughter and girlish squeals punctuated the spring air.

  Aunt Jane admonished them to behave, but to have a good time, and waved at them from the dock.

  Vivienne rode in the bright blue boat with Lady Helene and Jackson Harlow, who moved them across the calm waters with long, easy strokes. It was a rather large, kidney-shaped lake. Once they made the turn they were out of view of the Bingham Hall dock and the sandy beached shore of their destination was almost visible.

  Peering under the brim of her lace parasol, Vivienne observed Aidan rowing his little boat ahead of them, almost across the lake already. His tall, muscular figure impressed her as he rowed with a fluid, effortless grace. Once again they had not spoken to each other at all while on the dock, and she had been relieved she had not been placed in a boat with Aidan.

  In fact, she had maneuvered herself to sit with Jackson Harlow and she did not think she imagined that Jackson was quite pleased with her choice. He had given her a winning smile when he assisted her into his boat. However, she would have preferred to be with either of the Atwood sisters, rather than Helene Winston. She felt uncomfortable in her presence, although she really could say nothing against the girl.

  “Isn’t this picnic a lovely idea?” Helene asked Vivienne with a shy smile.

  She answered, “Yes. And it is a perfect day for it.”

  “How did I get so lucky as to have the two most beautiful ladies in my boat?” Jackson said gallantly.

  Surprised to see Helene roll her eyes at Jackson’s remark, Vivienne grinned at her conspiratorially.

  “Mister Harlow, do you think you could reach the other side before Mister Cardwell does?” Helene asked with an arch look as delicate wisps of her wheat-blonde hair wafted in the breeze.

  “With one hand tied behind my back, Lady Helene.” Jackson grinned with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Would you care to race, ladies?”

  “Oh, yes!” Helene exclaimed excitedly. “But only if you win!”

  “Oh, I’ll win,” he declared, with a knowing look at Vivienne. “I always win.” He turned his head toward Gregory and called out, “The lovely ladies in my boat wish to race you to the other side, Cardwell.”

  With his face breaking into a defiant grin, Gregory heartily agreed to the challenge. Instinctively, Vivienne snapped her parasol shut and instructed a perplexed Helene to do the same. She wasn’t a sea captain’s daughter for nothing.

  “But why?” Helene asked, as she closed her yellow parasol.

  “If they are open, they will create a drag on the boat,” she explained.

  “Good thinking, Miss Montgomery!” Jackson praised as he exerted all his effort into rowing. His movements strong and powerful, their boat flew across the water.

  A little thrill raced through Vivienne as their speed accelerated and she gripped the sides of the boat tightly. She faced backward, looking at Lady Helene and Jackson Harlow and had to turn her head to see where they were going. Now the two boats moved neck and neck, since Gregory quickly caught up with them. The girls were shrieking in delight and shouts of encouragement were heard across the water. Vivienne, filled with a growing sense of excitement, glanced ahead and could see the opposite shore. Lord Harry, Wesley Lawrence, and George and Aidan had already beached their boats, and having gathered that a race was under way, cheered them on loudly. Both men rowed fiercely; their speed increasing. Jackson’s oars glided swiftly through the water as they pulled ahead of Gregory’s boat.

  Suddenly a panicked shout erupted from Gregory. “Watch out!”

  An odd scraping noise grated from beneath their boat and it suddenly lifted out of the water, tilting sharply to the left and throwing all three off balance. Startled cries, one must have been her own, pierced the air and the little blue rowboat tipped over completely. Vivienne caught a brief glimpse of Helene’s terrified face and Jackson’s stunned expression before she was tossed out of the boat and plunged into the cold, dark waters of the lake.

  Watching the race from the shore, Aidan had seen Gregory’s boat overtake Harlow’s and immediately felt better. It rankled him that both Vivienne and Helene had elected to ride with the likes of Harlow. They were both more than likely still vexed with him for his churlish conduct last night. And justifiably so.

  Suddenly Jackson’s boat overturned, throwing them all into the lake. With his heart in his mouth, he watched Vivienne, who was seated near the bow, thrown clear of the boat, while Helene and Harlow were trapped beneath the upturned rowboat.

  Amidst shrill screams from the Atwood sisters, Gregory had already jumped into the lake and was swimming to the scene. Aidan and George jumped back into their two-seater boat and raced across the lake with Harry and Wesley following close behind them. Aidan rowed as fast as his arms would go. As he intended, his boat neared Vivienne first.

  “Go help the others. I’ll get her!” Aidan called to George as he tossed aside his jacket and dove into the lake.

  Immersed in the bone-chilling water, Aidan saw Vivienne surrounded by the pink and white fabric of her dress, looking like a wilted spring flower floating on the surface. Aidan knew from experience Vivienne was a strong swimmer but now, stunned and cold, she struggled to stay afloat with her cumbersome dress weighing her down.

  “Are you all right?” he asked as he reached for her.

  “Aidan?” she gasped, looking up at him with wide blue eyes.

  “Hold on to me,” he commanded, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her close to his chest. “Are you all right, Vivienne?” he repeated more softly, close to her ear, his lips brushing lightly across her wet cheek.

  She nodded numbly, not saying a word. Although thankful she was not hurt, he knew he needed to get her out of the very deep and cold water. He guided her to the side of his boat. Lifting her up by her waist, he managed to get her and himself into the small craft without tipping it over, which was no easy task.

  When they were both safely out of the water, he saw that George and Gregory had already returned the hysterically wailing Helene back into their righted boat. On the other side, Wesley and Harry wrestled Harlow’s limp form into the smaller boat. Blood dripped from his forehead and he lay motionless.

  “What in blazes happened?” Aidan called out incredulously. He had been so intent on Vivienne’s safety that he had nearly forgotten about Helene and Harlow.

  “I think their boat hit that large boulder,” Gregory explained, pointing to a shadowy outline in the water. “Do you see it there? The waterline barely conceals it below the surface. I saw it just a second before they hit it, but it was too late. They were going too fast. Looks like Harlow hit his head on the rock, judging from the gash on his forehead.”

  Fortunately, the boat was not badly damaged and was deemed seaworthy enough to ferry them back. Harlow lay sprawled in a boat with George, while Wesley climbed in the boat with the distraught Atwood sisters, who were the only ones still dry by that point. Aidan observed Gregory comforting the sobbing Helene, who, aside from being wet, seemed perfectly fine, while Harry rowed them slowly toward the dock. He could not help but admire Vivienne’s calm manne
r, especially in comparison with Helene’s hysteria. They both had been unceremoniously dumped into the lake, but Vivienne bore the upset with a surprising calm.

  As each boat made its way back across the lake, he and Vivienne were left alone. Aidan looked toward her. Her little straw hat now floated in the lake and her black hair hung in long, wet strands around her delicate face, which was dotted with crystal droplets of water. Her pretty pink and white dress clung seductively to her lush curves, the front of which had torn apart, revealing a more than tantalizing amount of her creamy breasts.

  She looked like an exquisite water nymph come to life. To Aidan, the most amazing part of it was that she was completely unaware of how desirable she looked and the effect she had upon him. Suddenly the urge to hold her in his arms again raced through his veins. He wanted to kiss each tiny droplet of water off her soft cheeks, her pink lips, her graceful neck, her full breasts…Good Lord, he had wanted to kiss her last night as well. Vivienne had always had that power over him and the cold dunk in the lake had done nothing to cool his ardor.

  “Aren’t you going to row us back?” she asked with a puzzled expression. She wrapped her arms around herself for warmth, unaware that she only amplified her bosom’s exposure.

  “Of course,” Aidan answered shortly, surprised he could find the breath to speak. Wishing he’d had the foresight to toss his jacket into the boat instead of the lake, he removed his wet shirt, leaving himself bare-chested. Better him than her. Casting another hungry glance at her open dress front, he handed her his shirt and muttered, “You might want to cover yourself.”

  An aghast “Oh!” sprung from her lips when she glanced down and saw where he had been staring. She accepted his sodden shirt and struggled to slip it on, clutching the front together with her hand. Because it was wet, the white cotton shirt was almost sheer and virtually useless, but at least it gave her the appearance of a covering.

  “Thank you, Aidan,” she murmured with a shiver.

  He nodded. “You’re welcome.” He picked up the oars, not taking his eyes off her. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”