Scandal's Daughters

Chapter 8

...You cannot take ownership of anyone’s decisions but your own...

Lucas’ words echoed between them as Eve stood there, allowing them to wash over her.

How long had she done precisely that? The muscles of her throat worked and, God help her, she fell in love with Lucas Rayne. Loved him for seeing her as a person removed from her father’s crimes. She loved him as a man who didn’t see a servant but rather a woman—a woman of value and strength—who’d helped her see those gifts within herself.

He opened his mouth once more, but she went up on tiptoe and kissed him. He went still. Then with a groan, Lucas guided her back against the wall and slanted his lips over hers again and again.

There was nothing gentle about this meeting. Eve moaned, tangling her fingers in his hair and layering herself against him. She parted her lips to receive him. He cupped her buttocks and she moaned again, but Lucas swallowed that sound. He ran his hands searchingly over her, coming up to palm her breast and through her modest nightshift, her nipple puckered under his ministrations.

“Lucas,” she pleaded, as he trailed his lips down the curve of her neck, sucking at the tender flesh where her pulse pounded.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his breath fanning her skin. The fire of his touch spread like an out of control blaze, threatening to burn with desire for him.

A bang penetrated the haze he’d cast and brought them apart. Their chests rose and fell in a like frantic rhythm. The distant footfalls of an approaching servant drew closer.

Lucas fixed his gaze briefly on the door and panic riddled his features, replacing all earlier desire.

Her heart tugged, hating the chains that bound him still. “Go,” she urged gently.

He hesitated and then with several long, silent strides, marched across the room and drew open a panel door built into the wall. And just like that, he left.

With Lucas gone, she wandered over to the hearth and gripped the stone mantel.

Lifting her gaze, Eve found that gleaming sword affixed above the mantel. It stared back, mocking her with the truth. With her lies. With the barrier that would forever exist between her and him. For no matter what bond they shared or how deeply he’d slipped inside her heart, she would always be an Ormond and he a Rayne. And love was not enough to ever—

The door opened, and she spun around. Her heart promptly sank to her toes. “Mr. Rayne,” she finished lamely. In a bid to shield herself, she folded her arms at her chest.

The tall, commanding gentleman stood framed in the doorway. His midnight black jacket and breeches enhanced the edge of danger to his dark good looks. Where Lucas’ gaze warmed her, this man’s iced her from the inside out. How was it possible for these two to share blood?

Mr. Rayne flicked a cool stare over her and briefly shifted his gaze over to the point beyond her shoulder where the gladius rested. Then he returned his eyes to Eve. “Miss Ormond,” he greeted and slowly yanked off his stark white evening gloves.

Desperate to place distance between her and Lucas’ brother, Eve cleared her throat. “If you’ll excuse me?” she murmured and took a step to leave, when his words registered. Her stomach lurched and she spun to face him.

His face was set in a hard, unforgiving mask. “Yes, that is right, Miss Ormond. I know precisely who you are,” he murmured, folding his arms at his chest.

Oh, God. She shot a hand out and steadied herself with the stone mantel.

“You see, my family has been robbed of our due too many times in history.” Mr. Rayne flicked a hand. “I’ll not bore you with the details, as I expect, you, being an Ormond, well knows them.” Abandoning that relaxed pose, he took a step forward and Eve sidestepped his advance. “My sister saw the gladius rightfully restored and hung here after Lucas’ return as a testament to our reversed fortune.” He flared his nostrils. “I have not, however, forgotten the battles waged and won for this sword and, as such, I’m far more suspicious of strangers who are granted rights to this home. I took the liberty of uncovering the details of my brother’s latest servant and returned the moment I pieced together who you, in fact, are.”

Understanding dawned. “You believe I’m here for the gladius?” she blurted. Of course, it made sense and he was deserved of that suspicion.

Mr. Rayne snapped his eyebrows into a single black line. “Are you saying you’re not?” Not allowing her to respond, he flicked her white sleeve. “Wandering inside this room where the gladius is held, in the dead of night in your nightshift.”

Heat burned her cheeks and she balled her hands. She’d rather be thought of as a thief than a whore meeting his brother. Eve cast a desperate look beyond Mr. Rayne’s shoulder, searching, hoping—

“I want you gone,” the gentleman stated bluntly, wringing a gasp from her.

She shook her head as panic set her heart beating a frantic staccato. He’d order her gone and never again would she see Lucas. What would happen to Lucas and all that slight forward momentum he had made? Eve fought for a semblance of calm and found pride when her words emerged smooth and unaffected. “I am no thief,” she said coolly, favoring him with an up and down glance that earned another hard frown. She may be the daughter of a traitor but she was not responsible for their crimes. Lucas had shown her that. “Nor are you my employer. I’m here in your father’s employ and in Captain Rayne’s.” Lucas will not send me away.

“I raced here as soon as I learned your identity. My family is close to follow, at which point my father will order you gone.”

Oh, God. She drew in a jagged painful breath. “What about what Lucas...?” His eyes narrowed at that familiar address. “Captain Rayne,” she swiftly amended, “…wants?”

“Tell me,” he asked with a casualness that set her teeth on edge. “Do you truly believe my brother will want you here when he discovers who you are?”

“Yes.” The answer sprang immediately to her lips. A man who could see past her connection to the traitor who’d landed him in a French prison, was a man who could forgive her birthright.

Mr. Rayne tightened his mouth. “Very well. My father, however, will not. His love for the legend and power of that sword,” he motioned to the weapon at her back, “runs deep and true. And your insisting Lucas choose you over his own sire, proves the selfishness in your soul.” He sneered at her with that same derision that had stripped her of so much pride through the years. “Then, sacrificing my family’s peace for your own well-being? What else would one expect of a traitor’s daughter?”

He may as well have yanked that weapon free and splayed her open with it, as his charge ran through her. Lucas’ brother was a cold, unfeeling bastard; a man who had judged her, as so many others had before...and yet, in this, he was correct.

I have to leave Lucas. A sheen of tears blurred her vision and she looked away, refusing to allow him that victory.

“I’ve had a carriage readied and your belongings packed,” he said in bored tones. And with that, he turned on his heel and left her standing there, her world ratcheting down around her once more.