Scandal's Daughter

by Emma V. Leech

  She tried to sit up, to push him away but he was too heavy and she stilled, suddenly afraid. Not afraid of him, but afraid of what she would allow him if he continued to persuade her in such a fashion, for she had no defence, no argument to pit against such voluptuous enticements.

  He was staring down at her, such need in his dark eyes that her heart began to thunder as it just had when he had mastered her own flesh.

  "Please, Beau," she begged, feeling tears spring to her eyes. "No more, please."

  She looked up at him and saw the desperation, the raw desire to take her, fighting with whatever care he may have for her. In the end he rolled away and lay on his back with a curse and she let out a shaky breath.

  "I want you," he said, his voice heavy with all of the same sensations that rolled over her skin at his words.

  "I want you too," she whispered. "But we cannot be together, and I must be a virgin when I wed. I can't ..."

  "I know!" he shouted. She jumped, shocked by the anger in his words. Without another word she sat up, intending to leave now, while she still could but he reached out and grasped her hand, yanking her to him so that she fell across his chest. "Would you leave me now?" he demanded. "Leave and not come back? Is that what you intend?"

  She gasped at the fury in his eyes and shook her head, even though she had thought just that. This was too dangerous, he was too dangerous. "N-no ..." she stammered.

  "Liar!" The accusation made her jolt with alarm but she had no time to react as he rolled her onto her back once more, finding his place between her legs. Grasping her thigh he pulled it around his hip and pressed himself against her, rocking against her tormented flesh. She could feel the hardness of him sliding over her as he moved and desire blazed to life beneath her skin like a spark hitting kindling, devouring it all in a fierce burn that left nothing behind but ashes.

  "You want this," he said, his dark eyes treacherous with passion. "You want me."

  "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I do." She blinked up at him, willing him not to take it any further. For even as she knew she would struggle to deny him, it would break her heart to know he held her so cheap.

  She saw the moment he realised it in his own eyes. With regret he moved away, though he pulled her with him and held her close in his arms.

  "It's like a kind of madness," he said, his voice rough. "I've never known it feel this way before."

  "Truly?" she looked down at him, wanting to believe she wasn't like all the others. But wasn't that what all the women before her had thought, that they were different, special. But he would leave her the same way he had left each of them. Moving onto the next challenge, the next conquest.

  He grasped her face in one large hand and she saw desperation in his eyes. "I feel like I will lose my mind when I leave you."

  She tried to smile at him but her heart was too numb to make it work as it should. "I'd settle for your heart," she replied, tracing a finger over his lips.

  "You have it," he said, and the words were angry and urgent. "You have it all."

  Chapter 9

  "Wherein the truth is hard to hear, and harder still to act upon."

  If Jeffries was troubled further by his demeanour when he returned he didn't remark on it as Sebastian flung Azor's reins at him and stalked into the castle without a word. He was less lucky with Beau.

  Entering the book room, he'd hoped at this hour his friend would be dressing for dinner and he could help himself to a drink and try to calm his temper. His nerves seemed all too close to his skin, the slightest drag of fabric over his flesh tormenting him with memories of repressed desire. He was wound too tight, his body aching with the need for Georgiana, her body and heart both, and his own heart was raw at the idea neither could ever be his.

  He had to get away. He knew it. For both their sakes before he dragged them into disaster. For while he could walk away from a scandal with no outward sign of hurt if he ruined her, he knew he would never forgive himself. The stain of it would taint his heart and soul for the rest of his days.

  So finding Beau's speculative gaze weighing him up the moment he stepped through the door was not something to make him feel any easier in his skin.

  "Well, well, the wanderer returns," he drawled, raising a crystal glass to his lips and sipping, his eyes never leaving his friend.

  "Beau," Sebastian nodded a greeting and went to pour a large measure of his own. He downed it in one large swallow, savouring the burn for a moment before pouring another.

  "You look like you needed that," Beau said. Sebastian threw him a warning glance and found he was being watched intently, those cool blue eyes assessing. "She must be quite something to have you in such a lather," he added, swirling the amber liquid in his glass with a bored air.

  "I'm going to dress," Sebastian said, turning, drink in hand. He didn't reply to his friend's observations. There was nothing to be gained by it.

  "Not so fast, Sindalton."

  He paused, Beau rarely used his title, and though he wanted to avoid the coming discussion he could hardly slam the door in his face when he clearly had something to say.

  "What?" he demanded, not bothering to hide the annoyance.

  "What the devil are you playing at, man?" Beau gave him a hard look as he got to his feet and went to stand beside the vast stone fireplace. "You've got enough ladybirds here to satisfy any man ... even me for God's sake! And yet you're careering all over the countryside from morning till night like some lovesick mooncalf. What the blazes has gotten into you?"

  "Don't be ridiculous, Beau," he snapped, turning away and taking a large swallow of his drink. He walked to the window and stared outside, the night was drawing in and the room seemed cold despite the fire that blazed in the hearth.

  "Don't you Beau me," his friend continued, clearly unimpressed by his denial. "I know you too well, my friend. And I know that I've never seen that look of desperation in your eyes before. You've gone and fallen for some unsuitable piece haven't you? Haven't you?" he demanded.

  Sebastian swung back around, fighting the desire to clench his fists. "Mind your own damned business!"

  "Good God I knew it!" Beau ran a hand through his thick blond hair and looked at him in exasperation. "Tell me she's a widow or some such?" he said, and Sebastian was jolted by the real concern in his eyes. "Tell me she's not going to cause you trouble because if you think I'm accompanying you to Scotland for the duration you've got another thing coming I assure you!" Despite his acid tongue Sebastian heard the agitation behind his friend's words.

  Sebastian snorted in disgust and shook his head. "She'll cause me no trouble I promise you, and there is no scandal," he said, hoping this at least would reassure him. Though he'd come close enough to playing the fool today. "We leave next week in any case," he added, wishing those words hadn't sounded quite so dejected.

  "No." Beau shook his head, a determined gleam in the blue. "We leave Friday. That gives you one day to say your broken-hearted goodbyes and consign her to the past where she belongs."

  "Dammit, Beau!" he exploded in fury, grasping the glass in his hand so tight it was a wonder it didn't shatter. "You are not my father. I don't need or want your help in this."

  Beau stalked towards him and poked him in the chest with one elegant, manicured finger. "Well that's a pity because you have it. I'll not see you tangle yourself in a dreadful scandal because some chit has discovered she's snared a duke."

  "She's not like that!" Sebastian roared, truly furious by now and realising he'd said too much, but Beau merely snorted.

  "They never are, until they are," he replied with a cynical sneer twisting his handsome face.

  "She's not, Beau. I swear it. She's sweet and innocent and ... I'm a damned bastard." Sebastian shook his head, suddenly exhausted. He didn't want to fight, he wanted to talk about her. He wanted to explain to Beau just how wonderful she was, how she didn't look at him and see money or a title but teased him and put him in his place. He wanted to tell him that he'd never fe
lt like this before but he didn't dare. He swallowed the rest of his drink and headed back to the decanter to pour another.

  Despite his reputation he didn't like to drink until he felt out of control, and liked the aftermath even less. But tonight he wanted to lose himself in it, so that he might drown the ache of desire and sorrow that had taken root in his bones. He turned back to Beau and shook his head in despair. "I'd marry her if I could."

  Beau gaped at him. "You bloody fool. What have you been playing at?"

  He laughed and flung himself down in the chair Beau had recently vacated. "Damned if know," he replied, his tone bitter.

  "Is she married?"

  He looked up and met Beau's eyes, knowing he must indeed think him a fool. Cold hearted and sophisticated, no one had ever touched his friend's cynical heart, nor would they. Sebastian would think he didn't have one if not for his rather arbitrary acts of selfless generosity that would come out of the blue from time to time. He'd been a good friend to Sebastian, if one he still didn't fully understand.

  "No," he said, his voice weary. "Not married, but her parents are dead and her uncle is her guardian. He's the local doctor," he added with a wry smile. "And of course she has no fortune to compensate for her lack of breeding."

  "Oh, Sebastian." This was said on a groan of despair as Beau sought the chair next to him and stared at him with a pitying expression.

  "I'm sorry, old friend. Are you terribly disillusioned in me?" he said, mockery in his eyes.

  "I should be," Beau replied, shaking his head in disgust. "After the pains I have taken with your education. But I knew at heart you would not attain the heights of villainy I have gained. Your heart is still intact despite everything, and it's this troublesome organ that will lead you into far more misery than any other part of your anatomy I assure you."

  Sebastian chuckled, acknowledging the truth of it, though he turned his gaze on Beau with a grin. "Then you'd best have a care, for I'm not quite certain you are as heartless as you make out."

  "Oh do be quiet," Beau replied with a tut and a wave of his hand. "You've never seen me weep over a woman and you never will.

  "I don't remember weeping yet," Sebastian said, his tone droll, though if he hoped to fool Beau he was far from the mark.

  "No, but you've not endured your tender farewell yet have you?"

  Sebastian scowled at him.

  "For God's sake get it over with," Beau urged him, leaning forward in his chair. "We'll go back to London and busy ourselves in something sordid until you've forgotten all about her. You can't marry her. If you want to have her before you leave then so be it, but get on with it and then turn away. There is nothing else to be done."

  His hand clenched around the crystal glass once more, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt. Forcing himself to relax he stared back at Beau. "How do you know I haven't had her already?" he said with a sneer.

  Beau got to his feet and bestowed him with a shrewd glance. "Because I know you and your principles, probably better than you do. Seducing a girl set on seducing you for your title is fair game, but this one ... She's got under your skin, and you care for her. No," he said, with a mocking laugh. "If you'd had her there would be guilt in your eyes rather than the self-righteous gleam of a broken-hearted lover." He turned and walked away, pausing at the door. "Do what you will, Sebastian, it's all one to me. But say goodbye to her. No matter if I advise it or not, you know you must."

  Sebastian watched as the door closed behind him and had to hold back on the urge to fling his glass at the shut door in a fit of temper. He wanted to rage and sulk like some sullen young man in the clutches of his first love affair. It's not fair. The words raged in his mind with just as much impotence as they had when he'd been told his father was dead, drowned at sea when his ship went down. Both him and his beautiful lover lost in a raging ocean as they ran from the duel during which he'd shot her husband dead. Now there was a scandal to set tongues wagging. Nothing he could ever do could surpass that at least.

  But now he had to try and restore some of the tainted gilt to the family honour. He had to marry a bride whose lineage was impeccable. A woman whose manners and breeding would return the shine to their sullied name. Perhaps then, by the time his heir was of age, the name Sindalton would stand for something other than murder and adultery.

  He got to his feet and poured another drink. Dammit if he wasn't the biggest fool alive. But tomorrow he would do as he must. Not because Beau had told him to, far from it. Only because it was the right thing to do. If he stayed any longer he would take from her more than he already had and perhaps leave her with an illegitimate child to compound his villainy. And Beau was right in that at least, he wasn't bastard enough to scale those heights.

  He tried to think of something he could do for her, something that would leave her with a tender place in her heart for him, no matter how the years passed for them both. In the end he decided to head into Truro in the morning. He would find something, small and discreet, something that wouldn't give her away and make her blush. And then he would walk away, and he’d leave her behind.

  Chapter 10

  "Wherein two lovers part."

  Georgiana sat on her bed and wondered at the way love could change a person. She had always thought love a gentle and sweet emotion, something to be sought out and cherished once found. In her aunt and uncle she had only seen the best of it. Theirs was the happiest of unions, between two people of like minds. But what had it been like for them in the early days she wondered now? When Aunt Jane's parents had issued their warnings, that if she chose Joseph Bomford she would be dead to them, cut from their history as if she'd never been. It had never crossed her mind to wonder before, what kind of love could have made her give everything up that she'd ever known, for a man her family deemed was beneath their association.

  But this wasn't her choice to make. Only Beau could choose to ignore his family's wishes and she knew he could not. No matter if he wanted to. He needed money, she knew it, and even if he had it, she was so far below him in status that it would be talked about. People would stare at her and gossip, and wonder how she trapped him into it. She wondered if love could survive such trials. Hers could have. She had always considered herself a sensible woman, not the kind to swoon and fall into hysterics. No Cheltenham tragedies were acted in this house, her uncle would say with pride. The idea of what he would say if he ever discovered ... the look in Aunt Jane's eyes if she knew the liberties she had allowed him to take ...

  Her face burned and she buried her head in her hands in shame. Perhaps there was bad blood in her. For what kind of nice young lady would writhe and moan and allow a man who had no intention of marrying her to touch her in such an intimate fashion? What nature of innocent young woman would spend all night lying awake, her skin burning with desire and with the desperate need for him to touch her that way again.

  She took a breath and forced herself to her feet. It was time to go and meet him. She prayed that he would tell her he was leaving and in the same breath prayed that he would not. Though if he didn't end it, she knew somehow she must. She must find the strength to say goodbye. She was enmeshed, but she must find her way clear so that nothing could hurt her family. For she would not repay every kindness bestowed upon her by her aunt and uncle by bringing scandal to their door. Even if it broke her heart to do it.

  She took a moment to check her hair, and pinch her cheeks, aware that she was looking dreadfully pale. She had felt guilt squeeze her heart just that morning as Mary had enquired if she was feeling quite well and offered to make her a posset to bring some brightness back to her eyes. Putting such uncomfortable thoughts aside, she tied on her bonnet, and smoothed out the pale green sarsnet of her walking dress before doing up her pelisse. With the lie coming all too easily to her tongue she told Aunt Jane she was taking Conrad for his afternoon walk, and headed out of the house.

  It took little more than half an hour to reach their secluded little corner of the world. A place w
here impossible dreams had tried to make her believe in an unlikely future. Though at least she was not quite so foolish and green as to have fallen for them.

  As ever he was waiting for her and she took a moment to admire the width of those impressive shoulders, the sheer size of him in that impeccably tailored superfine jacket. If ever she had been able to stand beside him in company, with her head up, instead of snatching clandestine meetings, she would have been so very proud. That was not her affair, she reminded herself though the pain welled in her throat. That was for his future, and she ... She was merely a small chapter in his past.

  Taking a deep breath she tried to put a smile on her face, and walked forward.

  She was rewarded at least by the look in his eyes, by the way he jumped down from the rock he'd been sat on and ran to her. Folding her in his arms and kissing her like he would never let her go, even though they both knew it was a lie.

  "I was afraid you wouldn't come," he said, his big hands cradling her face.

  She laughed and shook her head. "Don't be foolish, Beau," she said with that teasing note he seemed to enjoy. "You never doubted it for a moment. You know I really shouldn't have done, I can't help but think the set down would do you good."

  He shook his head and her heart was gratified to see the misery in his eyes matched hers. At least it wasn't her alone who felt the pain of his leaving. That would have been hard indeed.

  "A set down," he repeated, his dark eyes reproachful. "Is that all you think it would be for me?"

  "Beau," she began, wishing he wouldn't make it so hard for them both. If perhaps they played their parts, if perhaps they teased and smiled and put on a brave face they would survive this. At least then she might be able walk away without breaking down and begging him not to leave her.