Chapter 11

The next morning, after they had shared breakfast with Lady Beauvais, the countess left the manor, and Easton and Vanessa returned to the art room. Vanessa resumed the chair she'd previously occupied, so Easton could commence with the rest of the portrait.

"I promise that I won't allow you to perish from sitting so long," Easton teased, as he began to set out his supplies.

She smiled in return, that same, secret smile that he adored. "I will try to remain still and allow you to work with little distraction."

He paused, his voice dropping slightly as he said, "You seem to forget that you are my only true distraction."

Her lips parted, and Easton had to clench his jaw to keep from crossing the room and taking her into his arms. He had thought of little else but the kiss they had shared, however brief it might have been. It was enough to fuel his fantasy long into the night, burning with desire until he'd been forced to take himself in hand to ease the painful ache.

"I'm not sure about that. You seem rather distracted just now."

Easton blinked. It took him a moment to get back to the conversation. When he did, he realized he couldn't tell her the reason for his sudden lapse. "I suppose I am pondering the reason someone would go to such lengths to have me arrested for a crime I didn't commit."

"You still can't recall anyone who might have a grudge against you?" she asked, that slight line between her brows becoming pronounced. Again, he had to resist the urge to kiss it away.

"Not in the least," he muttered. When he lifted his brush and looked at her expectantly, she obediently moved into the previous pose. It took him a moment to acclimate himself to the sight of her appearing so seductive. The muse that forever taunted him, but who he could never possess. It was a tragedy as sure as the disheartening tale of Romeo and Juliet.

"I have no doubt that Lady Beauvais will discover something of import."

"I hope so," he added with a heavy breath. "I would like to return to Ireland a free man instead of one in irons."

"I know what you mean," she noted softly. "If Frank finds me, I feel it will be very much the same."

He stopped abruptly, setting down his brush. "I won't let that happen."

She smiled sadly. "You won't have any way of stopping him."

"I will if he's dead." She gasped, but he continued. "If I'm going to be sent to gaol for something I didn't do, I might as well make it worth my while and save one of us a worse fate."

She let her hands fall to her sides. "That's not funny, my lord. You cannot think to do something so foolish."

He crossed his arms. "I'm not laughing, am I?"

He saw her clench her fists as she got to her feet. "If you are going to speak nonsense, then I'm afraid I can't stay here and let you finish the portrait."

She started to head for the door, but he smoothly intercepted, blocking her escape. He reached out and grasped her arms, finding it impossible to keep from touching her somehow. His voice was harsh when he said, "I can't abide the thought of you returning to that bastard. I'd rather die than think of you being in pain."

She swallowed visibly. "Don't say things like that."

His focus moved over her strawberry-blonde hair, the gentle curves of her face, before he fixated on those enchanting, blue eyes. "How can I when it's true?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but he intercepted before she could. "I know. An affair between us is impossible." His hands slowly moved down her arms. "But what if I wanted to give you a gift? Would that be so wrong?"

Her lips parted again, and it was difficult not to press her against the wall with his body and kiss a slow burning path from her lips to the tops of her full breasts. "What are you talking about?" she whispered.

He didn't break contact. "Pleasure," he murmured. "Something I'm sure that scoundrel never bothered to show you."

She shook her head, but she didn't demand that he release her. "I cannot—"

"Why?" he demanded harshly. "What sort of loyalty do you have for him that he doesn't hold for you? You told me he has a mistress—"

"It doesn't signify," she countered, although her argument was lacking the proper conviction. "Two wrongs do not make a right."

"Perhaps not," he concurred. Slowly moving his hand along the side of her breast, he dared to toy with her hardened nipple through the material of her gown. She sucked in a harsh breath as he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "But how can it be wrong if it feels this right?"

* * *

God forgive her, but Vanessa didn't want him to stop. His touch was… magical, as if he had the ability to set her body aflame, and yet it was more than that. He seemed to touch her very soul.

"Let me pleasure you," he cajoled, his warm breath fanning the side of her neck and causing gooseflesh to ripple over her skin. "Give me the chance to show you how it is meant to be between a man and a woman."

Vanessa should stop this. Now. Before it went any further.

And yet…

Something compelled her to remain silent. Lord Fane made a fair point. Frank had already broken their marriage vows by lying with another. If this man wanted to do the same, without taking it as far, wasn't she without blame? Or at least her guilt shouldn't be as severe.

She closed her eyes momentarily, and when she spoke, she intended to decline his enticing offer, but instead, she found herself saying the opposite. "Kiss me, Easton."

Vanessa didn't even feel as if it were her voice that uttered those words, but she had, and now there was no turning back. His lips were on hers without a second request.

His mouth was warm and inviting, but more than that, the embrace was intimate, passionate, urging her to break down her barriers and allow him access to her innermost desires, to her darkest fantasies. He wanted everything that she had dared to push aside.

With his kiss, she discovered that those urges were still there from long ago. They hadn't perished, but merely lain dormant, waiting for the right man to come along and fan the fire that coursed through her blood.

He flicked his thumb over her nipple again and she moaned against his mouth. Taking advantage of her response, he slid his tongue inside, and suddenly, Vanessa found it difficult to remain upright. She clutched at his broad shoulders, surrendering to his sensual persuasion.

He moved from her mouth and made a path of liquid heat along her neck and exposed collarbone. "I wish I could rip these clothes off your body," he growled, and she shivered at the thought of lying naked with him. She had no doubt that he would be a tender lover, completely opposite from the awkward and shameful experiences she had known before. She had always remained in her nightdress with the light off when Frank came to her. She had gritted her teeth and prayed for him to find his release so she would be left in peace when it was over.

She did not feel the same with Easton. She wanted to see every inch of his hard, virile body as he made love to her.

Vanessa started to tremble when she realized that he was lifting her skirts. The cool air touched her upper thigh just before his palm pressed against her mound. She gasped, feeling the air abruptly leave her lungs. The sensation became more intense when he dared to slide a finger along her wet core. "God, Vanessa, you are perfection."

He was panting, and she could tell by the sight of the bulge in his trousers that he was just as excited as she was. However, he ignored his own needs as he continued to tease her. He found the sensitive bud within her feminine folds and flicked it until her head was spinning. When she could feel something starting to build within her, he paused and slid a finger inside her.

She arched her back and felt her knees become weak.

Easton moved until she could feel the solid wall at her back, but it didn't help the storm that was brewing inside. She moved her legs restlessly as he began a rhythm—moving his finger in and out of her while he continued to circle her clitoris, applying just enough pressure that her nails were digging into his back.

"Let go, Vanessa. You're safe. I've got you."

It was the gentle reassurance, the firm urging that sent her spiraling over the edge of ecstasy. She cried out his name as wave after wave of explosive energy coiled and burst through every limb, through every nerve ending. It was as if she had broken apart and mended her soul at the same time. She felt as if she could reach out and touch the heavens and all the promise of forever that it held out in its ancient hands.

When the tremors had finally subsided, Easton removed his hands from beneath her skirts. He smiled as he set his forehead against hers. "That was magnificent."

Vanessa could hardly utter a coherent word. She wasn't sure if she could stand on her own, but when he gently pulled away from her and she was forced to test her legs, she was surprised to find that they actually accepted her weight.

He reached out and tugged on a stray strand of her hair. "Shall we continue with the portrait?"

"I will make the attempt to remain upright," she murmured, and she was glad when he smiled. Sobering slightly, she said, "I have never experienced anything so—" She couldn't find the right words to describe the sensation. "Thank you."

He shook his head. "There is nothing to be grateful for. You should have been experiencing this sort of life long before now."

As he returned to his easel and Vanessa found her way to the chair, she realized that Easton was right. She'd allowed herself to refrain from life, from any sort of pursuits, because she hadn't wanted to disrespect Frank. For her entire life, she had been doing her best to please men like her father, who hadn't cared for her feelings. She loved her father because she knew that her mother's death had caused him much grief, but that didn't mean he'd had the right to dismiss her completely. Frank was the same. He might have had a mistress, and perhaps Vanessa might have looked the other way if he had only been kind in return. For three years, she had given up everything she had, everything that she was, in order to be the perfect wife to Frank, until she'd had enough.

From now on, things would change. Easton had taught her that she didn't have to settle for less when there was so much more to life. She refused to be a pawn to Frank any longer. If he demanded that she return to Nottingham, he would have to drag her there kicking and screaming the entire way.

The days of obedience were at an end.

* * *

At dinner, Easton couldn't stop looking at Vanessa. Not only was their encounter continuously playing over and over in his mind, but Lady Beauvais had also wondered if there was something different about Vanessa.

He decided that there was a new confident set to her shoulders and a determination in her gaze that hadn't been present before. She had been so meek and withdrawn when he'd first met her that he could hardly imagine that she was the same person. He didn't think the change had happened immediately, but perhaps he was wrong. Their tryst might have unlocked something within her that she'd tried to keep hidden.

It caused him no end of satisfaction to think that he was partly responsible for this change. Dare he admit that he was proud of her? He didn't want her to be a submissive woman who accepted defeat easily. He wanted her to fight for her right to be treated fairly.

"Why don't you share the reason for that broad grin, Lord Fane? I could use some entertainment."

He glanced at Lady Beauvais, whose eyes sparkled with more than mirth. The lady certainly saw much more than she might let on. "I was just thinking of how amusing it would be to be the subject of society gossip."

She sniffed. "I should know. I am raked over the coals most every day in the London paper. I just choose to accept it for what it is, the empty opinions of others that do not affect me in the least."

"Aren't you concerned about the possibility of a scandal?" Vanessa asked with a curious mien to her tone.

"Scandal?" Lady Beauvais waved a hand. "I am the very definition of a scandal by English standards. The difference is that I do not care. It takes away some of their power to wound me with their scathing tongues if I don't react. They are merely words. Like promises, they can easily be broken."

Easton would have said that was a cynical statement, but in essence, she was absolutely right. There was no point in lamenting something that would always be there. The only thing anyone could do was keep going. "I shall endeavor to do the same if I am to be branded a thief for the rest of my days."

"Don't be nonsensical," Lady Beauvais chided. "There are few things in life that give me true joy, and putting someone in their place is one of my favorite pastimes."

The butler entered the room in that moment, and she glanced up. When he inclined his head, she smiled broadly. "Ah. Speaking of liars and cutthroats. I was able to find your thieftaker, Lord Fane. He has kindly agreed to meet with us this evening. Shall we reconvene to the parlor?"

Easton's brows rose in surprise. "How did you find Mr. Porter? In our brief association, I've found him to be quite elusive."

"That may be." The countess paused and tossed over her shoulder. "But you underestimate the power of my persuasion."

As she left, he turned his focus on Vanessa, who had also risen from her seat.

He didn't have to say anything, and she agreed with him. "She is quite remarkable, just as I said."

Easton shook his head in bewilderment as he brought up the rear of the group. There was a moment when he wondered if perhaps the lady had discovered the correct man, but when Easton entered the parlor to find Mr. Porter standing near the mantel with his arms crossed and the same low hat slung over his brow, there was no mistaking that smug grin on his face. "Ah, Lord Fane. We meet again."

"Indeed," Easton returned tightly, as he took a seat next to Lady Beauvais. "I daresay it hasn't been long enough."

The man had the audacity to chuckle, and then his attention was piqued by Vanessa, who had taken a seat across from their hostess. "I assume this is the charming Miss Carter you told me about?"

Vanessa shot a nervous glance at Easton. He realized he'd made a foolish error by mistaking that Mr. Porter had been hired by McGavin. He hadn't believed he would see the man again, and yet, the first thing he does is remind him of the danger he had posed to Vanessa. His hands itched to wipe the knowing smile off the other man's face.

Easton watched as Mr. Porter walked over and offered Vanessa a gallant bow. He took one of her hands in his and brought it to his lips for a kiss that was a bit too lingering in Easton's opinion. "You are a treasure, m'lady," he said smoothly, although his flirtations were wasted on Vanessa as she slowly moved her hand out of his grasp. However, when he uttered the next sentence, that is what got her attention. "It's no wonder your husband is offering a hundred pounds for your safe return."

Vanessa gasped, and Easton shot forward. "You bastard!" He grasped the other man's lapels and shoved him against the wall. "How do you know that?"

Mr. Porter kept his cool composure as he faced off with Easton, although the dangerous glint in his silver eyes was unmistakable. "It's not that difficult to obtain information if you're looking for it." He moved his face closer to his. "And if you want to keep all your appendages intact, I suggest you release me."

"Come now, gentlemen," the countess interceded with a cluck of her tongue. "We are here to discuss Lord Fane, I believe? Vanessa is not the subject of interest here." She glared pointedly at Mr. Porter. "I should ask that you remove your cap indoors, but I know it wouldn't do any good to try to import any further manners upon you."

After another glare at Mr. Porter, Easton released his grip and took a step back. "Quite true," he murmured. "The countess is right, and if you won't engage in any proper behavior here, then at least I can." When he resumed his seat, he asked calmly, "What can you tell us about the accuser?"

Mr. Porter's lips thinned, and Easton knew it would be almost impossible to gain anything from him now. He shouldn't have allowed his anger to get the better of him, and yet, he wasn't sorry for his actions. "I'm afraid it was an anonymous benefactor."

"Come now," Lady Beauvais cajoled. "We both know that isn't true. Why conceal the true nature of the request?"

"It isn't my story to tell," he returned smoothly. "I was hired to do a job. I don't ask questions. If I did, my line of work would get particularly dangerous. The less I discover, the better it is."

The countess folded her hands in her lap, as if she was growing annoyed. "I asked you here under the assumption of good humor, Mr. Porter, but I'm sure you understand how difficult I can make things for you should you lie to me."

"I am well aware of your tie to the Prince Regent," Mr. Porter returned evenly. He seemed neither surprised nor nervous about the fact she had a powerful ally. "But perhaps I have the same ear."

Lady Beauvais laughed. "You are quite a formidable man, Mr. Porter. I do not wish to cause either of us any trouble, but you must see that I am inquiring in the service of a friend and fellow peer."

Mr. Porter's silver eyes glittered beneath the shadows of his hat. "I didn't realize you had known Lord Fane in such an intimate fashion. I was under the impression he had only been under your safekeeping for a handful of days." He slid his gaze back to Vanessa. "Or rather, the time it took for him to seduce Mrs. McGavin."

Easton shot back to his feet. "That's enough."

Mr. Porter tilted his head to the side. He looked completely unconcerned that he might be engaging in a battle of fisticuffs. Although he did straighten from his nonchalant position and start to walk slowly about the room. "How about I propose an exchange? I shall give you the information you require about Lord Fane, but in return, you give me Mrs. McGavin. I have heard that her husband is quite bereft without her by his side—"

"Never," Easton growled. He took a threatening step toward his adversary. "I won't allow her to go back to him."

"I'm not sure you have much of a choice, my lord." Mr. Porter paused and looked at him directly. "All I would have to do is say the word and the Nottingham magistrate would happily make his way to Burnham-On-Sea to retrieve his errant wife—"

"Stop this!" Until now, Vanessa had been sitting quietly, but now she stood and glared at both Mr. Porter and Easton in turn. "I am capable of making my own decisions. If Frank is that despondent, then he can come to Burnham-On-Sea himself. Otherwise, I find your games quite tiring and ridiculous, Mr. Porter. If you can't offer anything of use, then perhaps you should leave."