The Scandalous Lady Sandford (Lost Ladies of London 3)

Just like the night Mackenzie abducted her from Vauxhall, events happened so quickly she couldn't quite catch her breath. Lips locked together, Fabian drew her to her feet. With one swipe of his arm, he cleared away the cutlery and plates and sent them crashing to the floor. Strong hands fixed on her waist, and he raised her up to sit on the table.

The musky scent clinging to his clothes teased her senses. Her head whirled, but it had nothing to do with drinking potent punch and everything to do with the man running his hand up past the top of her stocking.

Please, Fabian. Don’t make me want you.

Sweet heaven. His caress wrung a sigh from somewhere deep in her chest. She had waited a lifetime to feel lust, to feel anything remotely close. She had waited so long to taste the only man ever to visit her in her dreams.

The thought forced her to tear her mouth from his. Wanting Fabian would only cause further pain.

“What’s wrong?” Fabian panted. “There’s no one here. The men left minutes ago.”

She hadn’t noticed. Oddly, she didn’t care. “It’s not supposed to be like this.” Experience had taught her to handle rejection. Indifference she could cope with. But this … the power of it robbed her of all logical thought.

Fabian frowned. “What are you afraid of?”

“Afraid?” She gave a mocking snort. “I’m not afraid, Fabian.” She was petrified. What if she grew fond of him? What if she craved his company?

The pads of his fingers stroked circles on her upper thigh. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it when I touch you.”

Lord above. How easy would it be to lie back and take him into her body? Would she feel the same sense of coldness and disgust she’d suffered at Lord Martin’s hands? Might she feel differently with Fabian?

“Everything is happening too quickly. Two days ago, I stood watching the balloon at Vauxhall. Now I sit here the wife of a man who admits to using me for his own gain.” The truth sliced through her lonely heart. “You expect too much from me.”

His hand slipped from her thigh, and she almost cried out in anguish for the loss. But this was lust, not intimacy she reminded herself.

“I expect nothing and take only the gifts you are willing to bestow.” He stepped away and straightened his coat. “We must find a way to muddle through this mess together.”

There it was, the one word that promised more than she could give. In the eyes of God, they were joined together, were husband and wife together — so why did she still feel s

o dreadfully alone?

“Give me a little time.”

“Time is something we do not have. You know what will happen when Vane arrives.” A frustrated sigh left his lips. “Every day we delay is another day Estelle is out there suffering.”

Despite everything she’d said, the need to soothe him took hold. “We don’t know that. We must hope that her circumstances are not as dire as you fear.”

The change in him was instant. Lillian watched the curtain fall, watched him retreat to his inner sanctum, to the place one escaped to in their mind when reality became too painful to contemplate.

“Come.” He offered his hand. “Allow me to give you a tour of the castle. It will serve as a distraction, for both of us.”

She spent the next few hours with Fabian, wandering the dark corridors, strolling around the grounds of the castle and meeting all the servants. He took her down to the cove, where they threw pebbles into the water and ambled along the sandy beach while he regaled her with tales of his adventures at sea. Like the man she’d known years ago, he was charming, courteous, shrugged out of his coat and draped it over her shoulders when the wind grew bitter. But whenever the conversation turned to Vane, the cold, cynical pirate surfaced to mock and sneer.

Lillian knew to ignore his snipes. Vane would behave in the same way if she was the one lost at sea. When reunited, perhaps both men would cast aside their differences in a bid to find Estelle. That’s if Fabian lived long enough to explain his actions, and if Vane chose to listen.

On their return to the castle, they met Mackenzie. “May I have a wee moment of your time, my lord?” The man struggled to keep the frown from his brow.

Fabian cast her a sidelong glance and waited for her nod of approval before moving to a space a few feet away, a place the men presumed was out of earshot.

Lillian fiddled with the silk ribbon on her dress while she strained to listen to their conversation. From what she could gather, when Fabian’s men were transporting the reverend to the mainland, they spotted another small boat on the far side of the island. A hulking figure clambered from the vessel and came ashore.

“Duncan turned around and came straight back.” Possessed with such a deep voice, Mackenzie struggled to whisper. “He examined the boat and scoured the cove but found no sign of the stranger.”

“Was it Doyle?” Fabian spoke in a low, hushed tone.

“Duncan said not.”

“What about Trevane?”