The Price of Temptation
Page 7
Her eyes narrowed, their full intent and focus upon him. Every muscle in his body coiled in anticipation as she flexed her hand. The soft squelch of the pasty in his hand reminded him not to lose focus. She raked him with her gaze, not her touch—that, he’d lost forever.
Gingerly, he slipped the mangled meat pasty into his other hand. Without taking his eyes off her, he dug in his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe the dribbling juices. Finding none, he surreptitiously edged his fingers down to wipe his palm on his breeches.
She thrust her handkerchief into the air between them, a white, fluttering flag. When he reached for it, she pulled it back, her expression wary. “If we’re to work together, I have rules. I know you’ve never been a man to mind the rules, but…”
“I accept.”
Her green eyes glinted like jade daggers. “You’re only capitulating so I’ll give you the handkerchief.”
“I couldn’t give a”—he cleared his throat—“a farthing for the handkerchief. If it’s rules you want, you’ll have them.”
“You haven’t heard them yet.”
I don’t need to. He would abide by any laws she laid, so long as she continued to speak with him. No matter the cost to his pride, he must ensure her safety.
Once again uncharacteristically tongue-tied, he pulled his gaze away from the disdainful curve of her mouth and cleared his tight throat. “What are your rules?”
“For one, either eat that pasty or rid yourself of it before you wear it.” With that brisk proclamation, she turned, gauged a gap in the traffic of carriages, and strode between them without hesitation. Her hips swayed with a confidence not only in herself, but in his reaction to her. That swagger proclaimed, you will follow.
Lily had never met the definition for meekness in private, but in public she had held herself to a different standard. Always polite and proper, often forgettable to all, save Adam, who had seen beneath her mousy demeanor. A paragon of the Bancroft family, his Lily.
Now… Zeus, he didn’t know this woman. He’d missed four years with her, and in that time, Lily had metamorphosed into someone else. She didn’t need him. What had he been clinging to these past four years?
Love. Stability. The optimism of her smile. A life free of carnage and violence. A future.
For an indefinable moment, he was on the deck of the Nemesis again, blood leaking through his fingers as the beloved brother he’d just found was lost.
Reaching the far side of the street, Lily turned to look over her shoulder at where he still stood, numb. He saw her in front of him, but the image he had clung to for the past several years shattered like a bullet through glass.
Drawing in a ragged breath, he glanced to his left. A beggar, huddled in rags with a dirty stump of a leg, rattled a wooden cup at him. He passed the man the remnants of his pasty, the base wrapped in Lily’s handkerchief, along with a penny from his pocket. The hollow words of thanks sank into him unnoticed.
Wiping his hands clean on his breeches, he crossed the street to rejoin with Lily. She tapped her toe, the picture of irritation.
“Did you change your mind?” The question dripped with sarcasm.
“Not yet.” The quip lacked its usual bite. For the first time since he’d returned to London, he looked at her—truly looked at her, absorbing all the miniscule changes the years had wrought in her. He’d had a common ground to build from the Lily of old. Although he’d spent years studying people, learning the telltale changes in expression and posture so that he could manipulate them to his end, he didn’t want to begin anew with Lily using that sort of deception.
Would she want to begin anew with him?
“Why did you insist on meeting in public? Your lodgings or my shop would have been more private.”
He couldn’t be seen at the latter—and he feared for her safety if she joined him in the squalid room he’d let for the month.
“Hiding under the public eye grants more privacy than you think. People care more for their business than for yours.”
She glowered at him.
Adam adjusted the cravat around his suddenly tight throat and ushered her into motion. He leaned closer to murmur above the city bustle. “As long as you do nothing to draw attention to yourself, no one will pay us any mind. And yes, that means you cannot smack the expression from my face.” He raised a sardonic eyebrow.
Her scowl deepened. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of glancing at him. “We are married.” She whispered those three words like an epithet.
Tingles swept through him at the reminder. Time had estranged them, but it couldn’t banish the golden memory of the connection they’d had. His love for her had been the one thing in his life he’d taken a true risk to hold. “Yes, we are, darling.”
He lingered on their shared surname, watching her cheeks deepen with scarlet color. She looked as beautiful as she had four years ago—perhaps more. Years and responsibility had carved dignity into her face. Less innocent, more worldly.
Every bit as distracting.
When she gripped his elbow and shoved him toward the mouth of an alley, he stumbled. “What are you—”
“Don’t draw attention to yourself,” she snapped in reply.
His heel squelched in something he’d best not dwell upon. Even as well swept a street as St. James didn’t eliminate all the waste the city produced. “This is far from the atmosphere I’d hoped to find when discussing your predicament.”
Her eyes blazed. “Adjust.” She snatched her hand from his sleeve and flexed it before dropping it to her side. Did he still have an effect on her?
The notion went a long way toward soothing the shock of finding her unfamiliar. His gaze dropped to her mouth. He had spent too many lonely nights imagining what it would be like to kiss her, to hold her again. The thought of seeing her had carried him through these past four years. Their reunion was…not as he had pictured.
“If everyone knows you’re in Town, don’t you think we ought to share the same house? People will talk if they learn we live in different residences.”
Not at all what he had pictured.
He smiled, warmth curling his toes. “Are you inviting me into your bed?”
Her expression turned cantankerous. “The first rule of our association will be that I am not doing my marital duty with the man who stole from me. Ever. I hope my dowry keeps you warm at night, because I never will.”
Never was a very, very long time. Especially considering the way her pupils dilated and she wet her lips when she looked at him. The suggestion had taken root, even if she fought it. Adam burned. The challenge called to him, but he contained his baser desires.
He would not, could not take her to bed if not permitted to keep her.
His voice rough, he asked, “What else?”
She crossed her arms. “I will not agree to any other aspect of our association until you agree to that rule.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I will demand nothing of you that you don’t wish to give.”
She scoffed.
He balled his fists, suddenly cold. “You sound as though you don’t believe me. When have I ever pressed you to perform in a way you opposed?”
Her mouth softened, but she didn’t meet his gaze. His stomach petrified, the knot sinking his mood further as he relived every happy memory he’d had with her. Had it all been one-sided?
“You haven’t.” Her confession was so low, it was almost drowned out by the sound of the mold growing on the walls. Meeting his eyes, she added with more conviction, “At least, not to me. You made a career of parting others from things they preferred to keep. Your silver tongue can be most persuasive.”
“Money,” he choked out. “And that, from men who had too much of it and were too greedy to spend it for anything but their own benefit.”
She shrugged. “Justify it as you will.”
Because she would be unlikely to accept any apologies from him—and he would be unlikely to mean them—he reiterated, “I will not press you to warm my bed. Though I’m surprised you think yourself prey for my silver tongue. You used to be immune.”
She tightened her hold on her arms, making the line of her bodice dance. He forced his gaze away from the swell of her chest and the treasures beneath that cloth. Her freckles extended farther down…
“I am immune.” She dropped her hands to her sides, fisting them. “But my sisters are not, and you must vow not to make advances toward them, either.”
He’d been told, during his brief seafaring career, that when he lost his temper he gained a look that made grown men soil themselves. He’d never thought to turn that look on his wife, but in this she had gone too far. She paled considerably, taking a small step toward the open street.
“I have not been and am not unfaithful to my wife. I never will be.”
Her eyes widened and her lips parted. The vow had slipped out without him meaning to take it. Would he remain faithful to her if she ended their association?
Don’t think on it. These past four years, he hadn’t thought further than returning to London to make amends to her.
As her expression sharpened to one of curiosity, she raked him with her gaze, assessing. That brazen curiosity had aroused him more than once. He stared at the gray sky as he willed himself to regain control before he embarrassed himself.
She didn’t ask the question in those eyes, didn’t confirm that he had taken no women to bed. He didn’t ask her the same question— The answer might ravage him more than wondering. Although he had left her with every intention to return as soon as he’d wriggled out from under Chatterley’s thumb, to her he had abandoned her. She might have chosen to warm her bed with someone else.
The unwanted images of her with another man near killed him.
His voice cold and emotionless, he said, “I will thank you not to accuse me of infidelity again. I presume you have other rules?”
She swallowed audibly. “If you steal from us, I will call the Bow Street Runners down on your head.”
That she hadn’t the first time was a minor miracle. When he’d returned to London, he’d expected to find himself a wanted man and had taken precautions. However, for all these people to assume they were happily married, she must not have spoken a word of the scandal, outside of her family.
“I won’t steal from you.” This time, he hoped to keep the promise. “I presume, since you mentioned your sisters, that you’ll have me move into your house?”
She nodded, curt. “Only so long as we have business together.”
If he thought he slept in a volatile quarter of London now, he had no doubt the reality teetered on the precipice of becoming far worse. And not only because of her sisters. With Lily so close and still out of his reach…
“Do you have any other rules?”
She shook her head. “I think that will do. Once I have the artifact for Reid, your sins will be expunged. Until then, give me your assurance that you will treat this as a matter of paramount importance. Tell me you aren’t working a scheme on Lord Breeding or someone else at the dinner party. I need your full attention.”
As much as he would like to teach a lesson to a lecherous swine like Lord Breeding, he was no longer the confidence man he’d been when he and Lily had met. For the peaceful future they’d envisioned, he’d been willing to relinquish that life. Lily had soothed the anger in him, satisfied the desire to enact revenge against men who used the servants who worked for them as though they were expendable. For the past four years, he’d dreamed of nothing but the retirement he wanted to live with Lily.
“You have my word I’ll help you in this. My sole and undivided attention will be on resolving this matter.”
She studied him for a moment, her eyes glimmering with untold emotion as she held her lower lip between her teeth. “And when it’s finished?”
He matched her breathless voice with as low a whisper. “If you desire it, you need never see me again.” He had always intended to walk away after making amends. After all, a woman as intelligent as Lily would be smart enough not to give him a second chance, even if he could somehow hide the two of them from Chatterley.
“That’s it, then.” Nodding, she held out her hand as if to shake his. “I suppose we’ll have to work together one last time.”
The chasm between them was never more evident than in the stiff bearing of her shoulders and the unwavering look in her eye. This stranger in his wife’s skin was more than capable of dealing with any men on equal footing, even him.
In a foolish, impulsive urge to remind her that theirs had been a matter of the heart, not of business, he raised her hand to her lips and kissed it. “We’re in business, darling. Now, let’s prepare you for the mummy unveiling.”
Chapter Six
“You’ve invited that scoundrel into the house? Have you gone mad?”
Lily grimaced, striding briskly away from her older sister and down the corridor. Mama had shut herself up in her room, refusing to come out and meet “the spawn of the devil” as she had put it. Willa, likewise, had agreed with their mother and spent her time silently brooding and shooting Lily watery, accusing glares. It wasn’t Adam’s fault that Willa’s paramour had callously cast her off last night without so much as the veneer of civility.
Lily paused mid-step before continuing her trek away from the dramatic women in the household. Perhaps Adam’s abandonment of Lily years ago—the only truth of the past that her sisters and mother knew of the matter, as Papa had taken the secret in its entirety to his grave—had proven a catalyst to their situation now. However, he certainly hadn’t taken Mr. Sanderson aside and convinced him that Willa was not worth his time.
The supposedly honorable man had decided that on his own.
And Willa, in her grief, had been too deep in despair to lend any more sense and solace in the matter than her glares and a whispered sentence Lily had pretended not to hear before leaving the room.
“Do you enjoy having your heart broken? I don’t.”
Lily was too busy navigating the precipice between decline and poverty. Her family’s future was in her hands. They might not agree with Lily’s choice, but they didn’t know the full story. Nor would they.
The one person Lily had counted on for support was Sophie. She addressed problems with the gentle balm of her optimism and even temper. She never assigned blame.
Today, however, Sophie had tossed aside her role as the soft-spoken voice of reason. She bristled with malice as she stormed after Lily. They’d both seen the figure alight from the hired hack on the street, a man Lily intended to welcome into the house for the time being. Whether or not Adam slept beneath the same roof as her should have been no one’s concern but her own.
Sophie, on the other hand, had taken it as her burden. Seconds away from the front door, she caught Lily’s arm, her grip like claws of ice. “Don’t do this to us.”
Lily choked, for a moment going limp. “Do what?”
“Invite that demon into our house.”
The breath whooshed from between Lily’s lips, ringing in the silence. Sophie’s grip tightened, her eyes burning with banked fire.
I’m doing this for you. She would never have invited Adam into her home or her life for any other reason. However, she couldn’t tell her sister the true reason for Adam’s temporary stay.
“I told him he would be treated with civility.”
“Then you lied,” Sophie spat, as vehement as if she swore a curse against him. Sophie, the most levelheaded and kind of the three of them. She blinked twice, seeming to
return to herself. Tentatively, she withdrew her hand.
Lily flexed her fingers against the ache her sister’s hold had left. For so small a woman, she was deceptively strong.
Quietly, Sophie added, “I know he did more than invest your dowry in trade and leave to oversee it. Papa never said, but neither of you would have reacted so profoundly if your husband’s intentions had been so innocent.”
Lily said nothing. Her gut churned with unease. How much did her sister suspect? Did she know how the family teetered upon ruin? If so, she had never once tried to lighten the burden Lily carried in caring for her family. Until now. When, ironically, Adam’s presence would only help their plight rather than deteriorate it.
“He’s no husband to you. I don’t care what the law decrees. You owe him nothing.”
The knocker sounded at the door, a hollow ringing sound that echoed between Lily’s ears. She rubbed at her forehead. “I know. This is temporary, Sophie. I promise. I’m not inviting him into my life again.”
Her sister stared at her for so long, Lily considered the conversation over. When she turned away, Sophie raised her voice.
“Willa told me he was at Lady Breeding’s dinner party.”
Apparently, despite her heartbreak, Willa had been perceptive enough of the evening to carry tales home. Lily swallowed hard but had no response. She feared confirming the tale would only rekindle the argument. She reached for the latch instead.
Sophie slipped between her and the door. Her eyes were shrewd as she tilted her face back. “Tell me that was the first you’ve seen of him since he returned to London. Tell me you didn’t know he would be there.”
“I didn’t know,” Lily snapped. “I certainly didn’t insist on attending for his behalf. I was there for Willa, and as much as it grieves me to say it, you were right. She was invited as the entertainment, and with Mr. Sanderson’s treatment of her, she certainly became that.”
Her attempts at distraction were for naught as the man on the other side of the door rapped with the knocker again. Not loudly enough to carry far into the house— He heard the exchange. Lily cursed under her breath.