Authors: Victoria Alexander

My Wicked Little Lies (14 page)

BOOK: My Wicked Little Lies

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“Oh, I think it’s excusable—”

“Do you really?” She glared at him. “Beyond the rest of it, if I was going to have an affair, do you think I would be so foolish as to meet a man at a public hotel? A hotel with a popular tearoom?”

“When you put it that—”

“So not only do you believe I could be unfaithful but you think I’m an idiot as well.”

“I have no doubts as to your intelligence,” he said staunchly.

“Oh, I am a lucky woman.” Sarcasm rang in her voice.

“As for the rest of it, I was wrong, I admit it. And I am sorry.” He paused. “But you must admit you do flirt quite a bit.”

She gasped. “I do not.”

“You most certainly do. I’ve seen you. Take, for example, dinner parties. Inevitably you have the man beside you smitten by the end of the second course.”

“I can be most charming.” She sniffed.

“Hah.” He scoffed. “You are an outrageous flirt.”

“Before we were married perhaps.”

“Before we were married you—”

She sucked in a hard breath. “I what?”

The charge hung in the air between them.

“You weren’t exactly ...” He paused, obviously realizing what he was about to say and thinking better of it.

It was too late. “I wasn’t exactly
virginal
? Is that what you were going to say?”

“But I didn’t,” he said quickly. “You must give me credit for that.”

“You don’t deserve credit for anything,” she said sharply. “And isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black. Your escapades were legendary.”

“I’m a man,” he said staunchly. “It’s different for men.”

“Is that what this is all about?” Disbelief and shock gripped her. She glared at him. “Because I was not a virgin when we wed, you think I’m willing to fall into bed with anyone?”

“No, of course not,” he said firmly. “Not anyone.”

“And yet you did.”

“Yes, I did,” he snapped. “And I apologize.”

She glared at him. “And that’s it? You apologize and I am supposed to forgive you? To go on as if nothing has happened?”

“That would be preferable.” He glared back.

“I am furious with you!”

“I can see that.”

“You lied to me!”

“I did not.” He paused. “When?”

“When you said that nothing that happened before we were married was important. That our lives began when we met.”

“That was years ago. But I did mean it,” he added quickly.

“Not enough apparently.” She narrowed her eyes. “Now, not only have you thrown my past in my face—”

“No, that’s not—”

“But you have used it as an excuse for why you believed me to be unfaithful.”

“I know it may appear that way ...” He stepped toward her. “But your past was the last thing on my mind.”

“I’m not sure if that’s better or worse.” She studied him for a long, hard moment. “Do you understand that I am not only angry but deeply hurt?”

Shock crossed his face as if she had slapped him hard. Pity, it hadn’t occurred to her to do so. He shook his head. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“And yet ...” Without warning her throat tightened. She absolutely refused to cry in front of him. She was in the right. She was the injured party. She was the one who, in very many ways, was betrayed. “You have.”

“Can you forgive me?” His gaze searched her face.

“Probably.” She shook her head. “But not yet.”

“I see.” He studied her. “When?”

“I don’t know.” She drew a deep breath. “I am going to spend a great deal of your money.”

He nodded. “If you wish.”

“I’m going to refurbish the house Celeste resides in. And I’m going to do it in a grand and extravagant manner.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

“And while I am doing it ...” She made the decision even as she said the words. “I intend to live there to oversee the work.”

“You’re going to move out?” he said carefully.

She nodded.

“For how long?”

Wasn’t he going to stop her?
She shrugged. “As long as is necessary.”

He studied her for a long moment. “You’re not talking about the refurbishing, are you?”

“It seems we have a question of trust between us now. Or rather lack of it. I have always trusted you and thought you trusted me—”

“I do!”

Then stop me!
“Not enough obviously.” She chose her words with care. “Trust, my love, needs to be nurtured. And when torn asunder, rebuilt.”

“But I do trust you.”

“Perhaps. But I’m not sure I trust you.”

“I see.” He nodded in a thoughtful manner. “It’s not necessary for you to go.”

Thank God. He was going to stop her.

“This is your home, you shouldn’t have to leave.” He drew a deep breath. “I can go to my club for the time being.”

Her heart sank. “No.” She shook her head. “It makes more sense for me to stay at my house, to oversee the work. You understand.”

“I’m afraid so.” He straightened his shoulders. “Very well then.”

He was going to let her go?
How could he? How could she go? But if she relented now, it was as much as saying there was nothing wrong in what he had done. How he had behaved. And worse, what he had thought of her. She had no intention of spending the rest of her life with a husband who wondered about her fidelity every time he looked at her.

Anger surged anew and she turned toward the door. Nor did she have any intention of having one of those marriages where husband and wife went their separate ways. No, she would leave him to simmer in his own guilt and remorse for a few days. Then, and only then, would she forgive him. But she would indeed forgive him eventually because no matter what else happened between them, she loved him with her whole heart and soul. She was now wagering everything she held dear that he loved her every bit as much.

She reached the door and looked back at him. “One more thing in regards to my intelligence.”

“Evie, I never meant—”

“While there is not a man alive I want to be with more than you, if I ever were to have an affair, I am smart enough to make certain you never know.”

He frowned. “Is that a threat?”

“No, my dear darling husband.” She met his gaze firmly. “It’s a promise.”

She was magnificent.

In spite of the heavy weight settled in the pit of his stomach, Adrian wanted to grin with the sheer delight of her. He’d seen her in the throes of passion, but this was passion of a different sort and she was amazing. God, he wanted her. How many men felt that way about their own wives? And she was his. His jaw tightened. And he intended to keep her.

He returned to his desk and sat down. She was right, of course, about all of it. He couldn’t blame her for being angry and embarrassed and hurt. He was indeed an idiot. He hadn’t trusted her when he should have. He should have realized right from the beginning that she was again working for the department. Certainly she hadn’t told him but then she couldn’t really. And she hadn’t lied to him unless one counted those irksome lies of omission. It was in his best interest not to consider those important, given all that he had never confided in her.

And he never, never should have brought up her past. He winced. Especially since he knew everything there was to know about her, right down to the names of the few lovers she had had. The department had always been thorough in investigating the backgrounds of its agents.

He pulled out the paper he’d been writing on and studied his words thus far.

My Dearest Eve,

It was best that they would not share the same roof while he put his plan into effect. It would make it all much easier. As much as he had planned to ease into this seduction of words, it seemed wiser now to move quickly. He could not live without her in his house, in his bed, for long. And while Sir’s efforts would be on paper, Adrian would do all he could to win his wife’s forgiveness.

As stupid as he knew this deception was, it was perhaps the nature of men or the nature of love to continue under full steam straight into what could be unmitigated disaster. But he knew himself and he couldn’t have this question hanging over him, hanging over them, for the rest of their lives. Until he knew for certain that her husband was the true love of her life, he would always wonder who was first in her heart. This was something she might well never forgive him for although he could argue the truth: the man who was trying to seduce her and the man she had married were one and the same. Still, she would not see it that way. Not that she would ever find out.

Unless, of course, she chose Sir. That was a bridge he would cross if he came to it.

Max was right. This was the most dangerous game he had ever played.

Chapter 12

C
eleste straddled him, pinning his arms with her legs, and clapped her hand over his mouth. Maxwell came awake at once, his body tensed beneath her, poised to throw her off.

��It’s me,” she said to forestall his immediate reaction.

He relaxed beneath her and she removed her hand. Even in the hazy light of early dawn, she could see the gleam in his eye. “Who?”

“You know full well who.” She kissed him quick and hard. “Wicked man.”

“Wicked? Who is straddling whom? Not that I mind.” He grinned. “This is a delightful way to awaken.”

“I’m not here to delight you.”

“No?” Max grabbed her and rolled over until she lay pinned beneath him, then nuzzled her neck. “Are you sure?”

She shivered. Dear Lord, the man did things to her. “I am.”

“You don’t sound sure.” His lips murmured against her skin. “Perhaps then
I
should delight
you
.”

She tried and failed to stifle a soft moan.

He chuckled. “What do you want to wager I can change your mind?”

“Goodness, Max.” She did hate the breathless quality in her voice, but she didn’t seem to be able to do anything about it. “I would never wager on something I am certain to lose.”

“You are mad about me, you know.”

I am.
“Nonsense. Any woman with even a modicum of sense would not be so foolish as to be anything about you, let alone mad.” She pushed him away and scrambled off the bed. “I need to talk.”

“First?”

She ignored him. “I don’t have much time.”

“We don’t need much time.” He grabbed her and pulled her back onto the bed. “And you always like it when we are hard and fast and eager and hungry—”

“Stop that, you annoying beast.” She struggled half-heartedly against him. Unfortunately, the man was right. She did love it when he took her hard and fast. Or when she took him with a hunger only he had ever ignited in her. He made her as insatiable for him as he was for her. And they were always ready for one another. Even now, the feel of his naked body against her fully clothed one was enough to make her ache with desire.

“You don’t mean that.” His hands slipped under her cloak. “I suspect I can make you scream my name in—”

“Stop it at once!” She wrenched out of his arms and slid off the bed, quickly stepping out of his reach. “I need to talk to you, and you will wish to hear this.”

“There’s nothing I really wish to hear except the way you moan—”

“Max!”

“Very well then.” He heaved a resigned sigh. “What is it?”

“You have to do something.”

“I did offer to—”

“About Evelyn.” She sighed. “She has left Lord W.”

“What do you mean, she has left Lord W?” Max was abruptly alert.

“Just what I said. She has moved out of the house.”

“Permanently?”

“Good God, I hope not, as she is now residing with me.”

“Well, that is awkward.”

“Isn’t it, though?” She pinned him with a firm look. “And you have to do something about it.”

“Why do I have to do something about it?” he said cautiously.

“Because one could easily argue that it’s your fault.”

His brow furrowed. “How is it my fault?”

“Admittedly, it’s not entirely your fault, but some of it is. At least, it started with you.” She positioned a chair closer to the bed, far enough away to be out of his reach, and sat down. She’d never noticed before how badly in need of refurbishing the chair was, but then it was usually covered with his discarded clothing or hers. “She told me everything last night right after she swept into my house with at least a dozen bags, only enough for a few days, mind you, her maid, and an additional two other servants.”

“I thought it was her house,” he said mildly.

“Of course it is but it’s my
home
. And she has invaded. Which she has every right to do,” she added. “She is my dearest friend and I am pleased that she turns to me but ...”

His brow rose. “But?”

“But her constant presence will be extremely inconvenient.”

“Incon—” His eyes widened. “Oh, you mean for you and I?”

She glared. “It’s not only about you, Max.”

“I doubt that.” He grinned.

“There are other things in my life, besides you, that will be complicated with Evelyn underfoot. I quite value my privacy, you know.” She nodded. “And yes, it will be difficult, if not impossible, to slip away in the evening without having to lie to her. I am still trying to avoid lying.”

“Damnation, I hadn’t considered that.” He thought for a moment. “But again, how is this my fault?”

“She confessed all to me last night.” Celeste leaned closer and met his gaze. “Her manner has been different of late because of this new assignment of yours. She can’t get it out of her head. Not the least bit surprising really. I hadn’t noticed it, but then I also knew what was afoot. At any rate, her change in manner, and apparently an encounter with Lord Radington in Lord Dunwell’s library, led Lord W to assume that Evelyn was having an affair.”

“Did it?” Max said in what Celeste had always thought of as his department voice. Cool, calm, and neutral. How very odd.

“I’m not sure how he discovered this, but somehow he learned that Lord Radington was meeting a woman in a room at the Langham Hotel.”

“Excellent spot for tea,” Max murmured.

“Not only tea apparently.” Celeste nodded. “Suffice it to say that when Lord W burst in upon them, the lady he surprised with Lord Radington was not his wife but ...” She paused for effect. “Lady Dunwell.”

Max laughed. “I would have liked to have seen that.”

Celeste bit back a grin of her own. “I have no doubt it was most amusing unless you were one of the parties involved.” She sobered. “The man has been unbelievably stupid. Evelyn naturally was upset. Furious, really, that he would think her capable of such a thing, and they had a dreadful row. The first, I think, since they married.”

“And she is now residing with you.”

“She’s planning to refurbish my house.”

“Her house,” he said pointedly.

“Yes, yes. She owns the house and pays the servants. She doesn’t want to sell it, and she prefers to have someone she trusts living in it rather than strangers.” She got to her feet and circled the room restlessly. “I like the house the way it is.” She’d paid no more attention to his one-room flat through the years than she had to his chair. She usually had other things on her mind. Glancing around now, it struck her as a typical bachelor’s abode. It was large enough, which might well be the best thing one could say about it. “She spent the evening directing me to send notes to paper hangers and painters and plasterers and anyone else she could think of. I am to make certain they are delivered first thing this morning.” She twisted her hands together. “She was also talking about what great fun we will have together living in the same house. We will play cards and games and attend the theater together and read aloud and ...” She shook her head. “I’ve never seen her this way.” She stared at him. “I don’t want to read aloud.”

“Oh, I’m sure she won’t force—”

“This was only the first night, Max. I don’t even want to think what tomorrow will hold,” she said darkly. “And the day after. And the day after that. You have to do something.”

“What do you expect me to do?”

“I don’t know but you are the head of the department. You are all-knowing, all-seeing, all-powerful.” She paused. “Or so you would like me to believe.”

“I do try,” he said in a modest manner.

“And you started this. You needn’t have called her back to the department.”

“I had my reasons.”

“Perhaps.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “But she hasn’t heard from you in days.”

He shrugged. “There’s been no need, nothing for her to do really. Not at the moment.”

A thought struck her and she widened her eyes. “Can’t you talk to him then?”

“To who?”

“Lord W. You know him, don’t you?”

“I am acquainted with Lord Waterston.” Caution underlay his words. “However, I would hardly presume to tell a man, with whom I only exchange the briefest of greetings, how to manage his wife.”

“Manage?” She raised a brow. “Surely you didn’t mean to say manage?”

“No, of course not.” He shook his head. “Never.”

“No doubt.” She drew her brows together. “I’m not suggesting you tell him how to
manage
her. I daresay Evelyn has never been easily
managed
, and you, of all people, should know that.”

“Evelyn is a practical woman. I am sure she will come to her senses soon.”

“Maxwell!
She
did nothing—”

“Or rather
he
will come to his senses soon,” he said quickly. “Accompanied by copious apologies, much groveling, begging for forgiveness, and all that.”

“Her work for you needs to end and soon. Then she can return to her usual manner. Her husband will have nothing to arouse his suspicions. And my privacy will be restored.”

“I suspect it will be at an end soon.”

“Oh?” She studied him curiously. “Are you closer to finding your file?”

“I practically have it within grasp as we speak. However, I will no longer be directing Evelyn’s activities. I am turning this matter over to ...” He paused. “Sir.”

She stared. “Evelyn said he was no longer with the department.”

He shrugged. “He’s back.”

“Bloody hell,” Celeste said under her breath.

“Not exactly the reaction I was expecting.”

“Evelyn was always intrigued by Sir. If she hadn’t decided she’d had enough of this life ...”

“What?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “It’s no more than an impression I’ve always had.” She cast him a wry smile. “There is something quite intriguing and rather romantic about a man one only knows through his words. He could be anyone you imagine him to be.”

“He issued you orders on occasion. Did you
imagine
him?”

She laughed.

He gasped. “You did!”

“I am a weak woman, Max.” She moved closer and sank down on the edge of the bed. “With a wicked imagination.”

“As long as that wicked imagination is reserved for me ...” He pulled her into his arms. “I suppose I can live with it.”

She slipped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. For a long endless moment, even her imagination could not compete with the feel of his lips against hers, the heat of his body next to hers, the warm, rich, sleep-soaked scent of him. In the back of her mind she wondered what it would be like to wake up with him every morning.

Without warning, he pulled away. “I have been thinking.”

“Oh no.” She gasped with mock dismay. “Not that.”

He ignored her. “I have given some thought to our discussion when you were last here.”

“What discussion was that?”

“About making an honest woman of you.”

She raised a brow. “Are you talking about marriage?”

He nodded.

“If you cannot say the word, Max, it seems to me there is little to discuss.”

“I can say the word,” he said firmly. “I’ve been thinking about your comment that you are not the type of woman I should marry.”

“Oh?”

“I think it’s rubbish.” He met her gaze directly. “I fully intend to marry whomever I wish.”

“Bravo, Max. I have never been prouder.”

His brows pulled together. “You are deliberately being obtuse, aren’t you?”

“Not at all.” She stood, found his dressing gown and tossed it at him, then turned away. It was best for her own sense of purpose not to watch him dress. “You say you intend to marry whomever you wish and I think that’s admirable. Impractical perhaps but admirable.”

“I don’t especially want to be admirable,” he muttered behind her. “What I want is you.”

She shrugged. “And you have me.”

“Not entirely.” He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her back against him. “Not in the eyes of the rest of the world.” He rested his chin on her shoulder. “Celeste, would you do me the honor—”

She laughed. “Don’t say it, Max.”

“Why not?”

“Because right now, this morning, this minute.” She shook her head. “This is certainly not the time and definitely not the place.”

“I should think—”

“Besides, right now, this morning, this minute ...” She pushed out of his arms and swiveled to face him. “You would not like my answer.”

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