Maggie Shayne - Weddings from Hell

If Villiers hadn't thought him mad before, he certainly did now. Payen could smell his fear, his disgust. There was anger there as well—defiance.

"You go too far, sir. Whom Violet marries is not your decision, and there is nothing vile about the Order. I would explain that to you were I not sworn to secrecy by our ancient laws. Every male in my family for generations has been a member, and none of them have ever broken any laws or betrayed any confidences."

Payen smiled—coldly. "Not to other members at any rate. But your family wealth is tainted by the blood of good men, Mr. Villiers. Men who were murdered so that your precious Order might thrive."

Villiers turned his attention from Payen to Henry and Eliza, then Violet. "The three of you cannot believe this?"

"Not of you, Rupert," Eliza said softly.

"But of my family?" He shoved his hands through his hair, laughing almost hysterically. "I can't believe this! Vi, you don't believe him, do you?"

She stared at him. "I don't want to, Rupert, but I know that Mr. Carr has reason to feel as he does, and if you belong to such a despicable group…"

"Despicable? Good God, listen to yourself! You would judge as such an order you know nothing of? An order to which I, the man you are supposed to love, belongs?" His hands came down on her shoulders. "I would never harm anyone. You know that."

She nodded. "I know."

Payen watched the confusion and indecision play across her features. He hated doing this to her. Any satisfaction that came from preventing her marriage to this bastard dissolved in the wake of her pain. He knew then that Villiers was going to press her, and that she would give in out of guilt. Then what would he have to do—steal her away? Because he would, if that's what it took.

Time for more underhanded measures.

"Did Violet ever tell you about me?" he asked, his tone conversational—convivial even.

Villiers shot him a scowl. "No."

"Hmm. That surprises me." Violet shook her head at him, face pale as she realized exactly where he was going. He hoped she could see the regret in his gaze.

"Why would that surprise you?" The younger man couldn't keep the sneer from his voice or his face. "I don't see how you are of any significance."

Arsehole . "But I am," Payen info rmed him, squaring his shoulders. "You see, five years ago, Violet gave me a wonderful gift."

Violet pressed a hand to her lips. "Payen, no."

Villiers took another step toward him, still scowling. "Why should I care?"

Payen smiled grimly. "Because the gift she gave me, Mr. Villiers, was her heart. You see, Violet cannot marry you because she's in love with me."

She could kill him. Would that someone give her a sword so she could take his smug head right off his divinely broad shoulders.

Instead, Violet was forced to stand there, impotent and humiliated as her fiancé and her guardians stared at her. And Payen, she noted, didn't look all that smug after all. In fact, he looked rather ashamed. He should, the bastard. Of course, it might have been worse. He could have mentioned that matter concerning her virginity.

Why of all reasons did it have to be the Order of the Silver Palm? She'd heard enough to know why he hated them and agree that he had every right, but why did that have to be the basis for his objection to her marriage? Why couldn't he have professed undying love for her instead of reminding her of how she had declared her feelings for him that night? Did he know that he was the only man she had ever loved enough to give herself to? Was he so stupid he couldn't see that she loved him still?

"Is it true?" Rupert demanded, his voice hoarse, his face white.

She stared at him helplessly before turning the same gaze to Eliza and Henry. Henry looked as though he could cheerfully murder Payen himself. Too bad the vampire could take on all four of them and not even break a sweat.

"Come," Eliza said sharply, directing a glance at both Payen and her husband. "We are going to leave Violet and Rupert alone to speak."

"I'm not leaving her with him," Payen growled. "No goddamn way."

The little blond woman glared at him. Softly, so that only he and Violet heard, she murmured, "You do as I say, Payen Carr, or I'll make sure the drapes in your room get opened just before noon."

Payen's jaw tightened, and those perfect lips thinned, but he didn't argue. He shot one last contemptuous glance at Rupert before following Henry and Eliza to the door. Violet didn't feel one ounce of sorrow toward him for the confrontation he was about to have with her adopted parents.

She was, however, feeling a great deal sorry for herself.

The door clicked shut, leaving her alone with her fiancé, a wonderful man she never meant to hurt. A man whose attention she had felt lucky to have, if she were truthful, having come to believe that no one but Payen could ever find her attractive.

Rupert lifted his gaze from his shoes, which he appeared to have been contemplating. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were bright with disappointment and hurt. Before she had thought him handsome, now he simply looked like a boy to her. Handsome meant nothing after Payen's overwhelming beauty.

"I don't deserve you," she said softly, not just because it was true, but because it was all she could think to say.

"Is it true?" He demanded, brow knitting. "Do you love him?"

She hesitated, and knew from his expression that she shouldn't have. He knew there was more now. "I did." Do.

"Did you…make love with him?"

That phrase made her want to giggle. Make love? She had thought so at the time, but what she had done with Payen…it had been crude and sweet at the same time, so wrong and yet so right. It was nothing so banal as making love—love had already been made long before she let him into her bed.

She could lie, tell him what he wanted to hear, but that wasn't fair to him. She had been looking for an out and she had been handed one. It was time to be an adult and face her mistake—face the man she had wronged. "Yes."

Rupert closed his eyes, but not before she saw the anguish in them. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think it was any of your business." Perhaps that was a little too honest.

"None of my business?" Anger replaced hurt, easing the guilt that pierced her chest. "How was it none of my business that my fiancée had spread her legs for another man?"

This was a side of him she had never seen before. It made it easier for her, and she took advantage of that, as shameful as it was. "Have I asked you if you've been with other women?"

He looked affronted. "That's different."

"Because you're a man?"

"Of course. Men are expected to be experienced, just as a wife is supposed to be a virgin to ensure the legitimacy of the first born."

Violet laughed. She couldn't help it—this really was so ridiculous. "It was five years ago, Rupert. I think you could safely claim any children as your own."

His face was a mask of disgust. "With no guarantee that you had not lain with someone else before or after our vows."

He had every right to be angry, Violet knew and accepted that, but that she would not be spoken to in such a manner. She would not have what she had shared with Payen turned to a defect of her character.

"Yes," she agreed. "Perhaps you should make sure I haven't shagged the priest—or better yet, your groomsmen."

He flushed. "A lady doesn't use such language."

"You've already established that I'm no lady, Rupert, at least not in your eyes. I made a youthful mistake and you would punish me for it, despite the fact that I know that you went to that brothel, Maison Rouge, last time you were in London."

His mouth fell open. "How did you…?"

"I overheard your friends Halpert and Gibbs talking about it that night we went to the theater. I forgave you because I thought you deserved one last indiscretion before settling down. Tell me, how does knocking boots with a whore make you better than me?"