Scandalous by Night

by Barbara Pierce

  “Uncle, you look dashing this evening,” Maura said, surveying him with a critical eye as she traveled to the Kerstings’ town house with her aunt and uncle. “Aunt Georgette’s tonic has put color back into your cheeks again.”

  The earl preened a little under his niece’s praise. “Thank you, m’dear. May I return the compliment? There is a sparkle in your eye, and a blush to your cheeks that heralds good health. Knowing my lady well, I assume you and the entire staff were dosed while I recovered in my bed.”

  Maura was certain the rosy hue darkened at her uncle’s casual observation. She credited her high spirits to a lazy afternoon of lovemaking with Everod. His energy and never-ending fascination with her body had left her aching in odd places and ridiculously happy.

  “Oh, Maura fussed about taking a nap like she used to when she was a small child,” Georgette confided to her husband. “However, I must agree with Worrington. A few hours of rest have vanquished the shadows from under your eyes, my dear, and restored the joie de vivre that has always been a part of your disposition.”

  “You are too good to us, Aunt,” Maura said demurely. She turned away to stare out the window as the coach rolled down the street. Her thoughts often shifted to Everod.

  Though she had dozed momentarily in the viscount’s arms, Everod was a man of action. There was not a single inch of flesh on her body that he had not claimed with his mouth or hands. Reckless enough to drive her to the brink of insanity, Everod had remained in her bed, making love to her, until the maid’s abrupt knock shattered the spell he had woven over them.

  Horrified, Maura shouted to the servant that she was awake and required a bath. She tried to crawl away from him, but the viscount had other plans. With the maid on the other side of the locked door, Everod had picked her up effortlessly and slammed her into the soft mattress. Ignoring her struggles, he had wordlessly parted her thighs, plunged his rod into her drenched sheath and rammed himself wildly into her, giving her straightaway the blissful release he had minutes earlier denied her. Fearing the maid might hear her, Maura sank her teeth into his arm as her body writhed under him, burning like a thousand suns. Seconds later, Everod joined her, her sheath milking his rod much as his mouth suckled her swollen breasts.

  The viscount had departed as arrogantly as he had entered her bedchamber. Withdrawing his turgid rod from her body, he had retrieved her hopelessly wrinkled chemise and pulled it over her head to cover the evidence of his lovemaking. While she fretted about the maid’s return, he had dressed unhurriedly, lingered over their farewell kiss, and then slipped unnoticed from her room.

  No one had sounded an alarm, so Everod had apparently escaped the Worrington household unseen. Maura marveled at the viscount’s nerve. A small part of her was appalled by her own uninhibited response to Everod. There was something about him that dared her to match his recklessness. In spite of her earlier bath, Maura could smell Everod’s essence. Her nether lips were still moist as if her body were preparing for his return.

  Maura was expecting Everod to confront her later at the ball, and demand that they meet again in secret. Even now, her womb clenched in anticipation for she did not have the strength to refuse him.

  “Maura, did you hear me?” Aunt Georgette asked, her vexed expression hinting that she had tried to engage her niece numerous times before Maura had heard her.

  “I beg your pardon, Aunt. You caught me woolgathering,” Maura confessed, hoping she seemed contrite.

  “A note from Rowan arrived while you were sleeping,” her aunt said crisply. “He will be attending Lord and Lady Kersting’s ball this evening, and begs that you reserve several dances for him.”

  “Ho!” the earl chortled with glee. “Several dances, eh? My son is making a public declaration, it appears, Maura. He is warning the unwedded gentlemen of the ton of his claim.”

  Maura smiled faintly at her aunt and uncle. She thought about the bite mark on her left hip, and the one hidden on the underside of her right breast. Everod had made a few claims of his own.

  She would have to gather her wits about her if she hoped to keep the two brothers away from each other. Both gentlemen seemed to desire her, and that placed her squarely in the middle of their personal feud.

  Their mutual affection for her would not prevent either man from destroying her if she outwardly showed her preference for one brother over the other.

  Suddenly, the notion of coming down with the earl’s illness seemed preferable to facing either brother.

  After Maura had waited her turn in line to greet Lord and Lady Kersting, it had been Rowan who had sought her out first. She had been lingering in the large front hall with Kilby Carlisle, Duchess of Solitea. The poor lady was feeling unwell. A stomach complaint, the duchess quietly confessed, explaining that she and her husband were expecting their first child in late September.

  Maura was naturally thrilled for the couple.

  Lady Kersting soon joined the two ladies, after Kilby’s sister-in-law, Fayre, had sent their hostess to aid the young duchess. Having raised ten children of her own, Lady Kersting was sympathetic and promptly invited the duchess to rest in one of the bedchambers upstairs until her stomach misery waned.

  Maura had been about to leave the hall to join the other guests in the ballroom when Rowan touched her on the arm.

  “Dare I hope that you were searching for me?” Rowan asked, bowing over her hand.

  “I was—” Maura hesitated to reveal the Duchess of Solitea’s delicate condition. She did not know if the lady’s pregnancy was common knowledge, but she had no intention of gossiping about a lady that she viewed as a friend. “Aunt Georgette had mentioned your note. You asked for a dance, I believe?”

  Rowan gestured to the small alcove to the right of the staircase. Between two large pedestals displaying two huge vases stuffed with a colorful array of flowers, a bench for two had been cleverly placed.

  “Come let us sit a moment,” he invited cordially.

  Maura could not think of a reason to refuse him. “Aunt Georgette will be expecting me soon,” she warned, giving him a logical reason for them to return to the ballroom.

  “Georgette trusts me. Besides, if you have not noticed, your aunt has been earnestly playing matchmaker. So arrogant and determined is our Lady Worrington, I fear she has already sent word to your parents that our betrothal is imminent.”

  “No!” Maura cried out, sinking onto the bench. “Aunt Georgette would not presume to go against my wishes.” Her belly curdled at her aunt’s betrayal. “No decision has been made. She had no right to write to my parents with this false news!”

  Rowan was calm in the face of Maura’s ire. He gingerly sat down next to her and took her hand. Maura blinked at their clasped hands. “Maura, no one is conspiring against you. We both have been aware of our family’s desire that we marry. For years, I have carefully timed my visits to Worrington Hall when you happened to be visiting. Ours has been a quiet courtship built on years of friendship.”

  Maura felt cornered and cleverly manipulated by her aunt. She internally seethed at the injustice. While her aunt spoke of time and courtship, Georgette had written her sister and announced Maura’s betrothal to Rowan. “Everyone seems so certain of my feelings, Rowan. How could they be when I am not?”

  “My father and Georgette were wrong to bring you to London,” Rowan said, his somber expression clouded with unspoken concerns he seemed reluctant to share. “Since your arrival, you seem distant and more confused about us. I care for you, Maura. You have feelings for me, too. Do not bother to deny it. Say yes, and I will walk into that ballroom and announce our betrothal.”

  It was so unlike Rowan to be so determined. Maura blamed her aunt. Most likely, Georgette was behind the young gentleman’s earnest declaration.

  “I can make you happy, Maura.”

  She did not want to hurt Rowan, but she was not going to be coerced by anyone. “I asked for your patience, Rowan, and my decision has not changed. I cannot give you
my consent.”

  He seemed to deflate before her eyes. “But your parents,” he pressed.

  “Will learn when they return to England that Georgette’s announcement was premature,” she said, knowing her parents had left this marriage business in her aunt and uncle’s hands because they could not be bothered. “Either way, they will support my decision.”

  Rowan nodded, understanding that if he continued to pressure her, she would flatly refuse him. “You have not discouraged me. Pardon my frankness, but I am determined to have you, Maura. I will not give up. If I must follow you back to Worrington Hall, I will.”

  Maura suspected as much. She remained seated when he stood. “I can be terribly stubborn, Rowan. Give me the time I need to make my own decision.”

  They were at an impasse. Rowan tactfully retreated.

  “Dance with me later?” he asked, attempting to lighten the tension between them.

  “Of course.”

  Rowan took several steps, and then pivoted toward her. “Oh, I almost forgot. When I was searching for you, Georgette summoned me to her side and inquired as to your whereabouts. She would like you to join her in the ballroom.”

  “I will. Thank you, Rowan.”

  Maura watched as Rowan walked away. She itched to confront her aunt immediately, but their conversation would have to wait until after the ball.

  “It’s a good thing Rowan refrained from kissing you after his touching speech,” Everod mused aloud from somewhere over her head. The arrogant rogue must have been on the stairs shamelessly listening to her and Rowan’s private conversation. “Regardless, I’m still tempted to seek him out and bloody the sniveling puppy’s nose.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Maura jumped to her feet and whirled around, backing up to find Everod. She found him leaning negligently against the railing on the stairs. His stance might have been casual, but there was a hint of something menacing in his gaze.

  Eyes of a hunter, came the unbidden thought.

  “Gentlemen who have the nasty habit of eavesdropping on private conversations tend to hear admissions that are unpalatable,” she said, her hands clenched at her sides. “Were you spying on me, Lord Everod? Think carefully before you reply.”

  Maura was in no mood for the viscount’s games. Although he could be playful as he had been earlier in her bedchamber, she would not fool herself into believing that Everod could not be ten times as ruthless as her aunt. She was surrounded by people who wielded words and people as skillfully and effortlessly as a foil, and Maura had the good sense to know she could be trumped by all of them.

  His left palm glided down the smooth polished surface of the railing as he descended the staircase to join her in the alcove. “I was merely enjoying Lord Kersting’s hospitality, when I accidentally overheard my brother’s tepid declaration of affection and desire to pledge himself to you.” Everod grimaced as if recalling the painfully awkward exchange between the couple. “Your ambiguous reply was equally humorous. Why are you hesitating, Maura? Holding out for a better offer?”

  Outraged that the viscount could mock her confusion and desire not to hurt Rowan so thoughtlessly, Maura gave him a hard shove. Everod took a step backward only to placate her.

  “You inconsiderate, pompous cretin!” she said, keeping her voice at a pitch that did not carry beyond the alcove. “At least your brother’s intentions are honorable. I do not see you on your knees, Townsend, offering your heart along with your colossally remarkable virile member!”

  She would be lying to herself if she did not privately admit that it stung her pride, knowing that Everod viewed her no differently than the legions of lovers he had seduced over the years. Like the ladies before her, Maura had secretly longed to tame his feral heart, but it was for naught. Everod would never permit himself to be vulnerable to another person, least of all trust the fickleness of a lady’s affection.

  Everod startled her by seizing her by her upper arms and shoving her up against the wall. One of the nearby vases wobbled slightly at the impact. His lips hovered temptingly near hers. “I do not recall you complaining about my virile cock as I vigorously plunged into your sweet, enchanting quim. In fact, you begged me to thoroughly fu—”

  Maura silenced him with an impulsive kiss. She would not allow him to liken their lovemaking to rutting beasts satisfying a mutual instinctive need. Everod had touched more than her body, though he would probably laugh at her lack of sophistication.

  Everod had initially stiffened when she rose up on her toes and stemmed his insulting depiction of their afternoon together. His indifference was blessedly brief. Pressing the length of his body aggressively into her, Everod took control of the kiss she had initiated. His tongue possessively slipped into her mouth, forcing her to accept his physical claim. Maura did not shy away from his dominance. She brazenly tangled her tongue with his, reminding him that his control was tenuous.

  Drawing back, Everod lowered his forehead against hers. “Maura, love, you know how to spoil a perfectly good fight,” he chided, though he did not seem particularly upset. “All I want to do is steal you away into the night and remind you of how wicked you can be when you are not trying so hard to be good.”

  “And I might have let you, if Aunt Georgette were not expecting me to join her in the ballroom,” Maura said, laying her gloved hand against his cheek. She exhaled, gazing at him wistfully. “Oh, Townsend. Why do you persist in testing my loyalties, and then become angry when I refuse to hurt those I view as family.”

  Everod kissed the small patch of skin between her eyebrows. “Perhaps I dislike the people who lay claim to your loyalty and affection. They are unworthy, and you seem deliberately blinded to their faults. Are you seriously considering the puppy’s offer of marriage?”

  “What lady would not contemplate a genuine offer of marriage?” she countered, feigning surprise at his obtuseness. “Nevertheless, I believe I lack the proper temperament to be a good wife to your brother.”

  If only she could convince Rowan of that without hurting his feelings.

  “A wise decision,” Everod said, kissing her again. “May I be present when you reject him?”

  Maura rolled her eyes heavenward. She slipped under his arm, moving away from him. “I wish you were jesting. Rowan does not deserve your condescension or hatred.”

  Everod caught her by the wrist. “He would earn both if he managed to coax you into marriage,” he said, pulling her closer. He picked her up and carried her deeper into the alcove.

  “Put me down!” she said, laughing. “Someone might see us together.”

  “Not if we are quiet,” he murmured, tipping her chin upward to gain access to her pouting lips.

  Neither Everod nor Maura noticed Rowan standing ten yards away from them. Though the large bouquet of flowers hid his presence from the amorous couple, Rowan was certain he could knock the vase off the pedestal and still not betray his position.

  His hands clenched into impotent fists as he glimpsed his brother’s hand curl possessively around Maura’s hip. “Damn them both, he thought, seething in mute fury. From their intimate embrace, Rowan deduced Everod had bedded Maura. He had stolen his future bride’s virginity, and likely her heart, for Maura would not have succumbed to the scoundrel’s charms unless the man had rekindled her affection.

  Her innocence was mine to claim!

  Georgette would be as livid as he was over this latest development. She was insistent that Rowan marry her niece. He had been agreeable, even looked forward to marriage. His brother, once again, had ruined everything. When had Everod seduced Maura? How long had the couple been mocking him while he had been unaware of their betrayal?

  Rowan ground his teeth at Maura’s soft laughter. While she seemed so reluctant to acknowledge her tender feelings for him, Maura had willingly surrendered her virtue to one of London’s most notorious rakes.

  He had seen enough.

  Retreating as silently as he had approached the alcove, Rowan knew what had t
o be done as he headed back to the ballroom. It was apparent Maura was too innocent to understand that Everod was merely using her. Over the years, people had whispered into his ear, regaling him with tales of the viscount’s carnal conquests, his numerous duels, and perchance of mischief with the other members of les sauvages nobles.

  Georgette had often expressed her desire that he marry her niece to protect her from Everod. Rowan now understood the countess’s concerns. Maura needed him. She would not initially appreciate his high-handedness, but with time, her gentle nature would overcome her anger. She would eventually forgive him.

  If he had taken a bolder path, he might have spared her his elder brother’s lust.

  Rowan would seek Georgette’s sage counsel before he took action.

  It was time for Everod to understand that he could not lay claim to all that he coveted.

  Dallying with Maura in the alcove had restored Everod to his former good humor. He had behaved himself to the best of his abilities. He had satisfied himself with a few lingering kisses, and a playful squeeze on her lovely backside before he had turned her loose.

  Georgette had summoned her niece, and Maura was too devoted to openly defy the countess. He trailed after Maura, content to observe her from a distance.

  Before she had run off, Everod had gained her breathy consent that they would meet later in Worrington’s gardens. He was of the mind to kidnap her, taking her back to his town house where her cries of pleasure could be uninhibited while his frenzied thrusts repeatedly drove her to her womanly climax.

  Sensing his presence, Maura halted and gazed back at him.

  “Go away.” She mouthed the words, somewhat exasperated with him because she sensed that he would not heed her command.

  Maura was astute.

  She slipped into the crowd, weaving her way to join his family.