The Seduction of Viscount Vice (Fallen Book 3) Read online

  Devil sighed. “No, Lady Mairi hasn’t written any letters.”

  Damnation, how did they know?

  “Why would you think for a moment I referred to her? I meant…Prinny, of course.”

  “Of course,” said Sin gravely. “And yes, he did send a note. It’s waiting downstairs. For some utterly unknown reason the future king likes you.”

  “I’m a very likable man,” snapped Vice. “If anyone says a fucking word, I’ll beat them with a whisky bottle. Empty, naturally. God, I need some air.”

  “I would strongly suggest freshening up first.” Grace gave him a look that indicated he was a complete fright rather than a little rough around the edges.

  Eliza nodded. “And a shave.”

  “All right, you’ve made your point, Sassenachs. I look like I crawled out from under London Bridge. Now leave me the hell alone so I can bathe and change my clothes.”

  “We’ll await you in Sin’s parlor,” trilled his mother, with all the musicality of a damned absinthe-drinking canary. “Don’t be tardy now.”

  Thirty minutes later, when his jaw was smooth and his clothing neat, he made his way to the parlor. It would be quite a miracle if their excellent chef and a personal note from the Prince Regent could even slightly improve his mood. At the moment, it seemed like an impossible task.

  “All right.” Vice pushed open the parlor door and strode in. “You may treat me as if I’m royalty, and bring me a plate—”

  He froze.

  Everyone who had just invaded his bedchamber was there. With one extra. A tall goddess with black curls tumbling down her back and her perfect backside encased in tight breeches.

  His heart immediately began to pound like a damned drum. How could he want to fuck her and hold her and heave her off a damned balcony all at the same time?

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” he snarled, hating the turmoil she caused inside him. Hating the fact that he felt anything at all, when he should be utterly indifferent to her.

  Mairi flinched, then lifted her chin. “I’m—”

  “I don’t care. Get out.”

  “Vice!” snapped his mother. “Don’t make me fetch another bucket.”

  “Who let her in?” he continued, his glare encompassing the group. “Sin? Devil?”

  “It was a collective decision.” Sin glared right back at him. “Why do you think we broke your door down? Lady Mairi pleaded her case for some time, and we agreed on one hour. So…the rest of us will be leaving now. Fare thee well and all that.”

  “Now wait just one damned minute,” he began, but in seconds the parlor was empty, save for him and Mairi. He was nowhere near ready for this. Not when the mere sight of her turned him upside down and inside out.

  Why didn’t he just leave? Was he that desperate? Was he that unbalanced?

  “Iain.” The whispered word floated across the room. Just his name on her lips answered his questions. Yes, he was indeed that desperate and unbalanced.

  “Mairi MacNair,” he said coldly, “out for a ride sans horse, I see.”

  Her face was so pale, her shoulders rigid. She gripped the back of an embroidered chaise like it was a rock amid a stormy ocean. “I’ve decided…I’m mostly going to wear breeches from now on.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I like them. They are comfortable. They are practical. And I’m so damned tired of being controlled by others. But m-mainly because someone once told me that legs and a backside like mine should never be hidden by a gown.”

  Something splintered inside him and let in a sliver of light, like a candle in a dark room. “Indeed?”

  “Yes. A smart man.”

  “I would have said incredibly smart. Genius, even.”

  “Far smarter than me.” Mairi’s fingers clenched and unclenched on the chaise, one foot moving out from behind it. “That man saw something in me I didn’t. Something good I dared not believe in. And I have regretted that mistake for ten years.”

  “Have you?” he said gruffly, folding his arms just for something to do.

  “I wish I had run away with you. I wish so hard. Because that afternoon beside the creek was wonderful. So utterly perfect. And I had such strong feelings for you.”

  Vice closed his eyes briefly. “I was seventeen. Two years younger than you. That would have been quite the leap of faith.”

  “But it would have been right,” Mairi burst out. “Instead I let my fears win. And my insecurities. You were so damned handsome and clever and popular. I thought…I thought it was just calf love, gone in weeks. And a marriage couldn’t be built on that.”

  “And what do you think now?” he said fiercely.

  Mairi’s blue eyes were huge, glistening with tears. “I think if I take several steps and you take just one, we could meet. And I could tell you the why…and how very sorry I am for hurting you. Twice. And then perhaps you might hold me so tightly that we make each other whole again. Will you take one step, Iain? And no, I bloody well will not call you Vice. Ever.”

  He rubbed a hand across his jaw to hide the ridiculously unsteady grin threatening to split his face in two. Even humbling herself, his courageous Highland lass, his beautiful contrary Mairi, was a warrior until the end.

  And damned if he didn’t love her more for it.

  …

  Please take a step. Please, please take a step.

  The words whirled in Mairi’s head until she thought she might scream. She’d stripped herself emotionally bare, exposed herself to probable scorn and rejection. Wanted him to forgive her and reach out more than she wanted her next breath. And yet she had no right to demand anything. Not from Iain.

  And then he took one step forward. And another. With a choked sob, she sprinted across the room and flung herself into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist then crushed his lips with a long kiss of love and relief and heartfelt promises she couldn’t even put into words just yet.

  A hearty round of applause and cheers sounded. Startled, she looked over to her right. Practically squashing one another in an attempt to get the best view around the parlor door were Sin, Grace, Devil, Eliza, and Lady Parkton. All were smiling broadly.

  Mairi’s cheeks heated. For possibly the first time in her life, she actually didn’t want an audience. “Um…Iain.”

  He turned to the door. “Diaz!”

  An immaculately dressed mountain of a man appeared in seconds. “Yes, my lord?”

  “Would you have my carriage brought around? Lady Mairi and I are going for an outing.”

  “At once, my lord. My lady,” Diaz replied with a small bow.

  Mairi blinked. It was just as well she’d avoided Fallen’s notorious butler in her first visit here. With his bald head, pierced ears, and scarred cheeks he looked more like a warlord ready to conquer the continent, and she’d have run screaming. It was only slightly reassuring to know the continent-conquering warlord also had impeccable manners.

  Cuddling closer to Vice and inhaling the scent of whisky and herbs, she let out a long breath. “Where will we go?”

  “Far away from those in the penny seats,” said Iain pointedly.

  There were plenty of grumbles before their audience stomped away, and Mairi giggled. “You should probably put me down.”

  “Why? In this position, I can admire the fabric of your breeches with my hands. If I had a third hand, I would also be admiring the fabric of your ruffled shirt.”

  “You honestly don’t care that I have the smallest breasts in England?”

  “Anything more than a mouthful is wastage.” He walked her out into the foyer and toward Fallen’s main entrance. “And are we Scots not renowned for our parsimony?”

  “That is true,” she began, but a jaw-droppingly luxurious carriage pulling up interrupted her. Iain continued down the steps, thanking a footman for opening the door, then she was deposited onto the softest leather squabs ever created. He climbed in behind her, tugged her into his lap, and the carriage jerked
into motion.

  “So,” she said softly. “Let me tell you a story.”

  “I’m listening,” he replied, one hand smoothing her hair with a supremely comforting touch.

  “I was sixteen when the Earl of Farnsworth first came calling. He and my father were friends. I didn’t like him very much. He was so very…English. Now, I know there are Englishmen and Englishmen. Sin and Devil seem very modern-thinking and agreeable, but Farnsworth was not. He was wealthy, very particular, very reserved, and always wore the same clothing every time I saw him: gray trousers, beige waistcoat, and brown jacket. He never wanted to travel because England was superior to all countries. He wore heeled shoes but still only came up to my shoulder, and he always smelled of garlic from an infusion he took to ward off illness.”

  “Sounds like the man every young lady dreams of,” Iain said dryly. “Go on.”

  “As the years passed, his visits became more and more frequent. And sometimes he would stay, too. I hated that. The way he looked at me, stood too close and brushed up against me. But I didn’t think much on it as I’d met a young viscount at a parish picnic and was quite smitten. The viscount brought me gifts. Not meaningless trinkets, but sweet gale because I loved the scent, and my favorite cream cakes, and textbooks to study in private. Unfortunately, I made the grave error of confiding in my maid. Next thing I knew, Farnsworth arrived for yet another visit, and he cornered me in the gardens and attempted to put his hand under my gown. I tried to push him away and he slapped me, telling me I better get used to his touch as I would know it for the rest of my life. I would be an excellent breeder, he said, good sturdy Scottish blood, although I would have to change the spelling of my name to M-a-r-y as Mairi was exotic and odd.”

  “That fucking bastard. Was that when the betrothal announcement was made?”

  “Yes. And that is when I met you at the creek. I thought losing my virginity would be enough to cancel the betrothal. But it wasn’t. My father and Farnsworth said if I saw you again, not only would they destroy you publicly, but they would have my manservant arrested and killed for indecency. I didn’t even know what that meant, so I went to Ramsey and he confessed his preference for men and what his ex-lover had threatened to reveal about him. Then he told me he was going to flee to France. I was heartbroken. First losing you, then him.”

  Iain frowned. “You weren’t leaving at that stage?”

  “No. I thought with a little time, I could somehow change my father’s mind. But that night, Farnsworth forced his way into my bedchamber. I knocked the earl out with a chamber pot, then ran to Ramsey in a blind panic and begged him to take me with him. So instead of meeting you in that clearing the next day as we arranged, I was aboard a creaking, swaying vessel, wishing I were dead.”

  “What happened when you arrived in Paris? How did you first meet Madame Yvette?”

  “Actually, we met in Calais. I was beyond desperate; Ramsey was struck down with a bad fever, and a satchel containing most of our money was stolen from the docks. Yvette saved us both and offered us jobs as a seamstress and a footman at her pleasure club. We didn’t have a choice. I felt like we owed her a great debt, though, so we went with her happily enough.”

  “Ah,” said Iain. “So that was the hold she had over you. Ten years as a theater seamstress. Christ. Not pleasant, I’d wager.”

  “It was awful,” Mairi whispered. “Long hours, backbreaking work. Society ladies have no bloody idea what goes into a gown. But then more and more pleasure clubs were opening around us, so Yvette made the decision to move to London. I made a bargain with her. If I could spy on the most successful club in England—Fallen—and make Worldly better, then she would allow me to be a performer instead of a seamstress.”

  “So you disguised yourself as a footman and discovered…me.”

  “It was a horrible situation, Iain. And only got more so as I kept seeing you and falling in love with you all over again. But I owed Yvette so much, and I had this stupid dream of performing sultry acts onstage. Which has now been crushed completely. By the by, I must confess something else…”

  “Good God.” His hand on her hair stilled. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

  “Before I came over here, Yvette and I had a terrible fight. She said if I walked out the door, I could never go back.”

  Iain burst out laughing. “Highland warrior. I knew it all along. As it happens, Fallen is looking for someone special to fill a most exclusive role. Perhaps you might be interested?”

  Her heart began to pound. “Tell me about this role.”

  “It’s for a lady. Fierce, courageous, and whip-smart. She must be tall, have a backside like a peach, long ebony curls, and enjoy fucking in public. She would take a lead role in Fallen shows, you see. Be feted and envied and applauded by audiences in the hundreds. Oh yes, and in compensation she’d have an unlimited allowance, maids, a chef to cater to her every dessert wish, and a passel of tailors for new breeches and shirts.”

  “That is very, ah, specific.”

  “But there is one non-negotiable condition,” Iain said quietly, a finger under her chin gently turning her head toward him. “While the audience and other players are free to watch forever, the leading lady will be fucked only by the leading man. Her husband.”

  Joy unfurled so powerful she could scarcely bear it, spreading to every part of her body until it felt like she might be glowing like a street lamp. “I see. So what you are saying is, to have my dream life, I must marry the only man I’ve ever loved, or will love.”

  He grinned so sweetly, a tear slid down her cheek. “Yes ma’am. See, I’m not letting you go again. I thought…I thought I would never find someone to love, who could love me, who I could share my life and work with. Because I adore what I do. Truly. And then you returned and liked to dress up and fuck in public and create theater. When I was seventeen I loved you, that is the truth. But I didn’t know you were the other half of my soul. We both had a lot of learning to do. So…what say you, then?”

  “I choose love. I say yes. Yes, yes, yes!”

  With a guttural groan, he cupped her face and brushed her tears away with his thumbs. Then his mouth crashed onto hers, owning and devouring and worshiping, and Mairi wound her arms around his neck and returned it to him tenfold.

  This was it. This was true happiness.

  At last.

  Epilogue

  Vice had never been so damned nervous in his life as he waited to begin the first show at Fallen both overseen and performed by himself and Mairi.

  Well, apart from three mornings ago when everyone from Fallen had yet again descended on poor Archbishop Manners-Sutton at Lambeth Palace to witness a wedding. For a man of the cloth and a Sassenach, the archbishop was surprisingly all right, welcoming them with warmth and humor and a Bible verse to soothe their souls. Although to be fair, the man’s favored hospitals and orphanages had certainly benefitted from the substantial donations made by Sin, Devil, and himself after each special license wedding, so the archbishop was both a kindhearted and practical man.

  What a ceremony it had been.

  Surrounded by his Fallen co-owners, his mother and Parkton, plus Helena. He in a formal jacket and kilt, the Vissen clan badge proudly affixed to his lapel. Mairi in a gown the stunning blue-green of a deep loch, her hair tumbling down her back and swept off her face with silver and diamond combs, and an expression on her face of such love, he’d had to look away briefly to compose himself.

  As for the guests, they’d had Prinny and Mrs. Fitzherbert applauding in the front row. Lord and Lady Castlereagh sat beside them, two very secret members and occasional attendees of Fallen, nodding in stern approval at a love match like they themselves enjoyed. Then Ramsey and Olivier beaming in the second row. Well, Ramsey’s smile had been more of a grimace than anything else, but the understated feeling was there. The two men had confided to Mairi that Madame Yvette was now in negotiations with several investors, and they didn’t like the uncertainty of their positions. S
o just yesterday they had accepted an invitation to come and work at Fallen, Ramsey as a senior footman and Olivier as a props master for the shows.

  In the next row back sat Nell and Charlie, their domme, plus all the maids from the harem, who took up several pews and were twittering like intoxicated birds. Hell, he’d even coaxed Diaz to leave his post for a short while, although their butler had spent most of his time gazing at Charlie, interestingly enough.

  It had been the production of his life, staying upright and remembering to speak in actual sentences as the most beautiful, passionate, adventurous woman in the world pledged her troth to him.

  The second most important was tonight, here in the secondary ballroom.

  “Is everyone seated yet?”

  Vice turned his head from the growing crowd and smiled at his wife. His wife. Christ, no words had ever sounded better together than Lady Mairi Vissen. Apart from “Right there, yes!” and “They’re watching. Harder!” of course.

  “Nearly. How does your costume feel?”

  Mairi twirled slowly in the small anteroom, giving him a complete view of her slender curves. “How does it look?”

  “It is just as well you have a perfect body, my queen, because it looks like those breeches and that shirt have been painted on.”

  “That’s because they have!” she replied with a wicked laugh. “The guests aren’t going to believe their eyes when they see my lady pirate crew tonight. Nothing but body paint! The scandal sheets will be printing fivefold tomorrow and hartshorn sales will soar. I’m so glad I sent Helena an invitation to see this.”

  “What?!”

  “Oh, calm yourself. It was a joke, husband mine. Helena is safely in her chaste bed at the Brimley Finishing Academy. But your face…”

  Vice scowled. “No jokes about my baby sister and Fallen, thank you.”

  “Baby? Good grief, she is eighteen years old. Nearly as old as I was when I had you over and over beside the creek—”

  He put his hands over his ears. “La, la, la, I cannae hear ye.”

  Laughing, Mairi danced over to him, rested her hands on either side of his waist, and tickled him. His arms dropped like falling logs to stop her, and she went up on her toes to whisper in his ear, “Helena could have a different lover for each day of the week.”