Page 29 of The Seduction of Viscount Vice

“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.”