One Sinful Night

by Kaitlin O’Riley

  “I can’t just wait here,” Aidan said after a moment. “I’m going in.”

  Gregory followed in agreement as they made their way through the mud to the entrance. Aidan dismounted and handed his reins to Gregory.

  “Go ahead. I’ll be right behind you,” Gregory said.

  Aidan entered the inn, which was fairly crowded with road-weary travelers seeking refuge from the earlier downpour. He scanned the main room quickly, seeing many faces, but none that belonged to Harlow. Or Vivienne. He walked to the large wooden bar and motioned to the innkeeper.

  The balding, red-cheeked man smiled broadly at him. “How can I help you, sir?”

  “Did a gentleman rent rooms for the evening? A blond gentleman named Harlow with a beautiful dark-haired lady?” Aidan asked.

  “Don’t know about the lady. Or at least the dark-haired part. Didn’t get a good look at her myself. But we got a fancy blond gentleman by the name of Harlow upstairs with his wife.”

  Aidan’s heart flipped over at that description. Wife. They couldn’t have had time to marry. It was impossible. “That’s not his wife,” he said pointedly.

  “Really, now?” The innkeeper’s chubby face lit up with a greedy gleam in his eyes. “Then just who would she be?”

  “My fiancée.” Aidan handed the man a pound note.

  “Ah.” He nodded his shiny bald head in understanding, taking the money eagerly in his fat fingers and pocketing it. “Upstairs. Last room at the end of the hallway. Good luck to you.”

  Aidan turned to find Gregory standing right beside him. “Harlow had an accomplice in the stables. George is posted outside just in case Harlow tries to escape.”

  “He’s not going to escape,” Aidan said determinedly.

  Moving with haste, the two of them made their way up the narrow staircase and down the length of the dimly lit corridor. Listening intently outside, the sound of muffled voices in the room panicked him. His heart pounding, Aidan kicked open the door to the last room at the end of the hallway. The wooden door splintered from its hinges and swung forward drunkenly. Inside he saw Vivienne sprawled on the bed, half-dressed, her dark hair spilling around her. With Jackson on top of her.

  The image spun his mind back to another time and place, but to an eerily similar situation. This time he did what he should have done ten years ago.

  Vivienne screamed when the door burst open. She screamed for all she was worth. She didn’t care who came in, she didn’t care who heard her, as long as it was someone, anyone, who could help her. She wanted Jackson to release her, to stop kissing her, stop touching her.

  She had been fighting him tooth and nail for what seemed like forever. And she was exhausted. When he first kissed her, she had kicked him as hard as she could. Surprised by that move, he had hauled off and slapped her face, almost taking the breath from her. Then he pushed her toward the bed. That was when she first tried to scream. He placed his large hand over her mouth to silence her shouts for help.

  That caused her to fight like a banshee. She bit his hand, drawing blood while still kicking him every chance she got. She managed to land a solid and satisfying kick to his groin, rendering him momentarily stunned. She broke from his grip and made her way to the door, but he still had the key. She pounded on the door, yelling for help. The only response was someone across the hall demanding they be quiet. She raced to the food tray and grabbed the sharp knife she had seen earlier. By then Jackson had recovered, and he had grabbed her legs and tripped her.

  Both of them sprawled on the ground, knocking over the table that held the china pitcher and bowl. As the dishes shattered on the floor, he slapped her again, pulling the knife from her hand and calling her filthy names she had never heard before. She managed to utter a few choice epithets back at him, thanks to her bawdy tutelage from Gregory and George.

  While she lay on the floor, Jackson pinned her arms to her side with his legs as he straddled her. He laughed at her, a gleam of admiration in his eyes. “You’re amazing, Vivienne. Truly an amazing woman. But you can’t beat me. I play to win. Remember?” He uttered menacingly, placing the sharp blade of the knife against the soft flesh of her throat. “I didn’t want to play this way. But you started it.”

  The fight immediately went out of her. Then he kissed her again, his wet lips moving over hers insistently. Fearing the finely honed knife at her throat, she did not move, did not so much as breathe as his tongue entered her mouth. Revulsion filled her and she desperately wanted to shove him away from her.

  Then he lifted his head and ordered coldly, “Now, get up and lie down on that bed or, as much as I’d hate to, I will slice your pretty face to ribbons.”

  Trembling, she did as she was told, all the while she felt the point of the knife at her throat. She lay awkwardly on the bed, horror sweeping through her. Jackson straddled her once again, his eyes feral and wild.

  “This would be so much better if you were willing,” he whispered low and close to her ear. “I don’t know why you had to fight me like that. Be nice now, Vivienne. Be nice…”

  He slowly moved the knife along her throat and slipped it beneath the collar of her dress. With one swift stroke he split open the front of her blue and white striped tea gown clear through to her chemise. He grinned lasciviously at her naked breasts.

  Everything happened at once. There was a splintering crash, loud voices and shouts, the sound of heavy boots on the floor. Suddenly men rushed into the room. That was when Vivienne began screaming. Jackson’s hand came back down over her mouth, silencing her. He hauled her up off the bed instantly, wrapping one arm around her, the other hand holding the knife to her throat once more.

  The knife kept her from screaming.

  Her heart pounded crazily with fright, but she finally managed to take stock of her surroundings, her eyes searching the room. She almost collapsed with relief when she saw Gregory, her endearing and faithful cousin, standing in the doorway. He was frozen in place, ready to protect her, but not daring to move for fear of endangering Vivienne’s precarious position. Her terrified gaze moved toward the other man who had burst into the room. Powerful and dark, a look of undisguised rage on his handsome features, he stood to Vivienne’s right. Aidan’s familiar green eyes locked on her.

  She wanted to cry then. Aidan had come for her. Aidan knew she did not go willingly with Harlow. He would not have been there if he believed she left him. His eyes told her so.

  “Let her go, Harlow,” Aidan demanded.

  “Make a move toward me, and I will slit her lovely throat,” Jackson responded.

  “You won’t kill her. You haven’t married her yet,” Aidan countered. “And you want those diamond mines of hers too desperately.”

  Aidan knew the truth. He knew what had happened. Vivienne was stunned.

  Jackson laughed ruefully. “Get out of here and go marry that haughty blonde your mother chose for you. Leave Vivienne with me.”

  “Let go of her now or I will kill you.”

  Jackson laughed in derision. “You think you have it all figured out, don’t you, Whitlock?”

  “Yes. I have it all figured out.” Aidan’s voice was deadly calm. “And it’s over for you.”

  “Did you know your mother paid me to take your fiancée today?”

  Vivienne actually sucked in her breath at that dramatic revelation. She noticed that Aidan did not look surprised at all, but Gregory’s mouth hung open wide. Susana Kavanaugh had surpassed all Vivienne’s worst imaginings. The woman truly loathed her to go to such lengths to get her out of her son’s life. She had been sold to a madman by Aidan’s mother. But, thankfully, Aidan knew the truth.

  Jackson continued to taunt Aidan. “She actually gave me quite a large sum of money to marry Vivienne. Something I was planning to do all along.”

  Aidan did not react, but said icily, “I know you stole that load of cotton from my ship. I know you set fire to my warehouse. I know that you bribed Travers to set the fire, didn’t pay him, and then kill
ed him when he harassed you for what you owed him. I know you’ve destroyed your family’s business reputation and that you stole all the money from your brother’s office today. I know that you think you’re going to marry Vivienne to get the deeds to her father’s diamond mines, which now belong to her.”

  “Get out!” Jackson yelled, pulling Vivienne closer to him.

  “You’re the worst kind of coward to hide behind a woman.”

  “Don’t push me, Whitlock!”

  “Let her go now,” Aidan repeated, and he deliberately reached into his pocket and removed a pistol. He pointed it directly at Jackson. “Or I’ll kill you.” His intense gaze never left Vivienne.

  Vivienne pleaded with her eyes, praying that neither of them would do something impulsive. She now had a knife at her throat and a gun pointed in her general direction. They were at an impasse and it did nothing to calm her. But suddenly she knew what she had to do to save herself. In a split second, she jerked backward, away from Jackson and the knife. With that fleeting movement she gave Aidan a wider target. The sound of a deafening gunshot echoed in the room and Vivienne screamed as she was rushed by both Gregory and Aidan as Jackson Harlow crumpled to the floor at her feet.

  Gregory grabbed Jackson and held him down, taking no chances with him in spite of his wound. He was shot in the leg, for Aidan had aimed low in order to not hurt Vivienne. Bright red blood pooled on the floor around Jackson as Gregory made sure he couldn’t cause any more trouble and began to bind the wound with a bedsheet. George rushed in, followed by the fat innkeeper while a group of patrons gathered at the door to the room. George hurriedly called for someone to send for a doctor and the constable.

  Meanwhile Aidan had gathered a visibly shaken Vivienne in his arms, wrapping her protectively in his cloak. He lifted her off her feet in one swift motion, holding her securely, and asked the innkeeper to take them to an empty room. He carried her through the growing crowd of onlookers, and followed the innkeeper down the narrow corridor and into another small guest room. The fat innkeeper, instinctively knowing more pound notes would be coming his way, promised them anything they wanted and shut the door discreetly as he left the pair alone.

  In the ensuing silence Aidan placed Vivienne on the narrow bed along the wall, and propped her up with pillows. He sat alongside of her and kissed her forehead tenderly. “Are you all right?”

  “You came for me,” she whispered, looking at him in wonder, as if she could not believe he was really there.

  He felt a pang of remorse at the look on her face. “Did he hurt you?” He gently touched his hand along her cheek where the darkening colors of purple bruises were swelling in the shape of fingers on her white skin. He wished he had killed Harlow and was half tempted to go back down the hall and finish the job, but he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Vivienne now.

  She shook her head wearily at his question. “I’m fine. You got there just in time. I don’t think I could have fought him off much longer.”

  Aidan’s heart had almost stopped beating when he burst in that room and saw Jackson with a knife at Vivienne’s throat. The front of her dress torn apart, her dark hair tangled around her, and a panicked expression filling her sapphire eyes. She’d looked terrified and he could only imagine what Jackson had done to her.

  “I thought you would believe that I wanted to be with him,” Vivienne whispered low, her voice catching. “I never thought you would come for me, Aidan.”

  “I know,” he said ruefully, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. You warned me to stay away from him and I didn’t listen to you. I thought he was trying to help me find out about my father, but now I know he only wanted the deeds to the diamond mines. You were right about him all along.”

  “Oh God, Vivienne, you don’t have to be sorry.” He shook his head again in regret. “You have been wronged more than you realize…My mother—”

  “I know,” she interrupted. “Your mother has always hated me. Jackson said she wrote a note to Harlow asking him to come to my bedroom at Bingham Hall that night. It was a plot to ruin me. They were supposed to discover Jackson with me that night, not you. That’s why they were all there to find the two of us…together.”

  Aidan knew with a terrible certainty that Vivienne’s words were true and felt sick to his stomach at his mother’s treacherous manipulations. He recalled the night less than a week ago when he was caught in Vivienne’s bedroom, and the talk he had with his mother afterward. What he had dismissed at the time as her hysterical ravings now had a new meaning. I never expected to find you with her, she had cried. Aidan, why didn’t you stay away? Why did you go to her tonight? Tonight of all nights? Apparently she had expected to find Jackson Harlow in Vivienne’s room. He had vastly underestimated his mother’s hatred for the woman he loved.

  “I didn’t know that,” he admitted regretfully, “but at this point I’m not surprised to hear it. I’m very sorry, Vivienne.”

  “Your mother is a bit deranged, Aidan.”

  “Yes, she is.” He nodded in reluctant agreement. “Quite deranged. And unfortunately there’s more.” Aidan was not sure she could handle any more news of the deception that surrounded her after everything she’d been through that evening, but he had to tell her the truth.

  “More than that?” she asked in disbelief, her delicate brow furrowed in apprehension. “What else could there possibly be?”

  He took a deep breath. “My mother arranged to have Nicky Foster come to the little cottage that day. She ordered Finley to set up everything. She wanted me to find you with Foster, so I would call off our wedding and leave Ireland without you. And she succeeded.”

  Vivienne’s eyes widened as the momentous implications sunk in. “Oh…”

  “I just learned about that tonight myself.” Aidan shook his head, feeling sick to his stomach. “I don’t know what to say except I’m sorry, Vivienne. Sorry that my mother is unbelievably conniving and cruel. Sorry that I reacted so badly that day at the cottage. Sorry I never talked to you about it, when I know you tried to see me and explain. I’m sorry I believed the worst of you. I’m sorry for all the time we’ve lost—” he suddenly stopped speaking when he noticed what she was wearing around her neck.

  “Oh, Vivienne,” he whispered softly, overcome by emotions at the significance of her symbolic gesture. He reached his hand out to touch the silver locket that he had given her when they were to be married. He recalled that extraordinary afternoon in the cottage when he fastened it around her neck. After all these years, he had completely forgotten about it, but obviously Vivienne had not. There was only one reason she would be wearing that locket two days before their mandated wedding.

  She had wanted to marry him.

  He looked at Vivienne lying in the bed, her pretty dress torn, her beautiful face bruised, her sapphire blue eyes wide with disbelief at the extent of his mother’s scheming to keep them apart, and he was overwhelmed by his love for this incredible woman. She had not deserved any of the misery she had been forced to endure.

  “God, I’ve been a fool, Vivienne, a great fool to ever doubt you. I can only say in my weak defense that I was young and impulsive, and seeing you with Foster that day completely devastated me. It wounded my heart, my pride. You were the only person in my life that I could count on. You were mine, the best part of my life, my best friend. In my eyes, seeing you with Foster managed to negate everything we had, everything we meant to each other. I thought the world of you, and it suddenly seemed that you thought very little of me.”

  “But I didn’t—” she began to protest.

  He stopped her from speaking, placing his finger gently over her lips. “I know that now, and I’m sorry I never gave you the chance to explain it then. I ran from you. I couldn’t bear to think that you wanted another man, or that you only wanted me for my title and money, as my mother suggested. It was easier for me to run away and not face you. Which makes me a fool.”


  She stared at him, her expression curious. “And now?” she asked.

  He owed her at least an explanation of all that happened, especially considering none of it was her fault. “Seeing you again has turned my life upside down, Vivienne. I tried to stay away from you at Bingham Hall. I tried to hate you. I tried to distrust you. I tried to put you out of my mind. And I couldn’t. The day on the lake, I was terrified that you were hurt in the accident and I raced to help you. When we were in the portrait gallery I said awful things to you to push you further away, after we had been so intimate with each other. And that night in your bedroom…I only came to apologize for what happened in the portrait gallery and to warn you to stay away from Harlow. I didn’t intend to end up in your bed. When we were discovered together and your uncle demanded I marry you…There was a part of me that was angry, yes. Angry with myself for dishonoring you. I realize how unfeeling I acted in front of you at the time. But oddly enough, I was mostly relieved. By being duty-bound to marry you, I could have you back, but not have to face or admit the truth to you or myself.”

  “The truth being?” she prompted him when he paused, her face expectant.

  “That I still love you, Vivienne. I have loved you my entire life. And I want to marry you. I was coming to see you tonight, to talk to you. I had been thinking about the words you said to me on the patio, about me punishing you if we married. And I realized that you were right. If we had any possibility of a happy life together, I needed to give us that chance, which is what I wanted more than anything. When I learned that Harlow had taken you, I promised myself I would get you back or die trying, because it wouldn’t be worth living without you. Now I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Just as we always planned. That is…if you can forgive my stubborn pride and all the pain that I have caused you.”

  “There’s a lot to forgive,” she said quietly, nodding, her eyes downcast.

  “Was it terrible for you after I left Ireland?” he asked his voice full of remorse. He brushed a lock of her silky hair from her face.