Deceived

by Jess Michaels

  And as if he sensed her second thought, he began to move. Unlike the first time, where everything had been fast and blurry, Evan went slowly. He guided back, letting her feel the full length of him, then rolled forward. Their pelvises ground together with the action, her clitoris stimulated by the rocking of his hips.

  He repeated the motion as he claimed her mouth, driving his tongue in time to his cock. She melted away under his care, her entire focus becoming the press of their bodies, the rub of his skin on hers. She found herself lifting to him, meeting his thrusts with ones of her own, and soon their rhythm was the same. Take and give, press and retreat, building toward the crescendo of pleasure she felt building deep between her thighs.

  It came on slowly, rising with promise until she dug her nails into his shoulders, silently pleading for relief from the mounting sensations.

  He drew back from her lips and met her eyes instead. “Come for me, Josie,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Let me see you.”

  His growled words were enough to push her over the edge, and she let out a keening cry as the pleasure washed over her in never-ending waves. She bucked beneath him, breaking the smooth cadence of their bodies. Not that it seemed to matter. As she cried out his name, his threw his head back, the tendons in his neck straining. He roared out his own pleasure and she felt the hot splash of his seed deep within her.

  He collapsed against her still twitching body, holding to her like she was a lifeline. She smoothed his hair, pressing kisses to his neck as her pleasure faded away.

  “Amazing,” he murmured, his voice muffled before he rolled away to his side, dragging her against him.

  She looked up his body. “Which part?”

  “All of it,” he said. “You. Us. It is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.”

  She sat up slightly to stare at him. “You cannot mean that.”

  “Ah, doubting me already,” he said as he reached up to curl a lock of her hair around his finger.

  She shook her head, refusing to be distracted. “Evan, you have been with women before. Many, if gossip is to be believed.”

  He frowned. “I was no monk before, no. Though I was no libertine.”

  “Either way, you’ve been with women of experience, ones who knew what to do, what to say, how to be.”

  He leaned up and cupped the back of her neck, drawing her close. As the heat of his breath warmed her lips, he said, “None of them was you. Do not doubt yourself, Josie. You most definitely know what to do, to say, to be when it comes to me. And I do not lie when I say that no one has ever made me burn more, want more, need more.”

  “Evan—” she began in further protest, but he silenced her by dropping his mouth to hers even as he cupped one breast. Pleasure overtook her again, passion he could both extinguish and ignite in the same breath.

  And she didn’t speak again, didn’t think again until the fire had burned low and they were both spent.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Evan glanced over at the outline of Josie’s sleeping body. In the dying firelight, her skin looked even more like porcelain. Except it wasn’t. She was real and warm and he had made her his so many times that night. A night of new beginnings.

  But as he watched her smile gently in her sleep, he was troubled. His thoughts had been so jumbled since talking to Gabriel the day of his engagement. In truth, even before that.

  He’d started down this road with Josie only to find out what she knew about Claire. Of course things had become more complicated. Emotions had become involved even if he hadn’t wanted them to. But Gabriel’s words hung in his ears. Taunted and tormented him. Was his brother right? Was he abandoning his lost sister just for his own pleasure?

  He pushed out of the bed and found his discarded trousers on the floor beside it. Quietly he tugged them on, and then he paced to the fire to toss a log onto the dying flames. They rose slowly, brightening the room that had gone dim when the candles burned down.

  He looked around. This was Josie’s private room. It was filled with her things, knickknacks and clothing and jewelry that said she belonged there, rather than him. They were only sharing it because it was their wedding night. He supposed he could make a case now that they were man and wife that all these little things of hers were now his, including any correspondence between Josie and Claire, but he had never been that kind of domineering man. His father had never forced his mother to report her every move, and he wouldn’t like it if Audrey were asked to do so. Why should he do that to his own wife?

  But Claire…it always came back to Claire.

  Claire was out there somewhere. And the few reports they had on her told him that she was being misused in far worse ways than merely having her privacy compromised.

  “Damn it,” he murmured.

  What if he never had another chance to search these rooms? Tomorrow they would not stay here, perhaps they never would again. What if Gabriel was right that if he didn’t do this tonight, right now, that Claire might…might…he couldn’t even think it. It was too horrible to ponder. But if he searched Josie’s chamber tonight and found some evidence, could he save Claire?

  He found himself gently sliding open the drawer on Josie’s bedside table. Inside was only a book and a stub of a candle, which he took and lit to guide him.

  He hated himself for doing this. But he knew he would hate himself tenfold more if his sister was harmed because he hadn’t. With a sigh, he crept to the opposite side of Josie’s bed and found nothing of more interest in the other table.

  He looked around the room again. He doubted she kept much correspondence here. There wasn’t a good space to respond to letters. He looked to the connecting dressing room that Josie had stepped from in all her bridal glory just a few hours before. He shivered as he recalled that moment when she’d entered the chamber with her hands shaking in anticipation.

  In that moment he’d been so proud to call her his.

  And to reward her, he slipped into her dressing area and betrayed her by looking around. Gowns were hung on racks in the tiny room, and her wardrobe was along one wall with likely even more clothing inside. There was a table there, but it wasn’t a desk. From the bottles and brushes lined up along the top, he thought this was likely where her maid did her hair each day. He could almost picture Josie sitting here, smiling and chatting while she was prepared for her activities. He suddenly wanted to watch that transformation.

  He shook his head. That wasn’t why he was snooping through her chambers. There was another door here. He pushed it open and found it led to a small, private sitting room. There wasn’t much to it, really. Just a pair of chairs before an empty fireplace, a bookcase—and there, across the room, an escritoire.

  He lifted his candle and moved to the little writing desk, his heart throbbing. As he set the candle on its surface, he found himself praying that there would be nothing noteworthy inside. That Josie had left any letters from his sister in London. Then he could report back to Gabriel that he had searched but found nothing. It would buy him time to decide how to handle the situation once they had returned to the city.

  He opened the top drawer of the desk slowly and found it to contain only materials for letters. Paper, ink, a quill. He slid it shut and moved on to the second, deeper drawer. It squeaked a little as he opened it and he flinched at the accusatory sound. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t now. The sin was already committed, now he had to finish what he’d started.

  Inside the drawer were letters. He stared at the small stack, bound with a ribbon. He reached out to take the pile and tugged the bow loose. The finer point of how he had loosened another bow a few hours before, on Josie’s robe was not lost on him. The first had been for pleasure, the second, disloyalty.

  He leaned in closer to the light to examine the first letter. It was from her oldest brother. He put it aside, face down so he would remember the order when he put everything back. The second letter was from a friend, but not Claire, and he added it to the stack. A third
was from her sister. His heart both soared and sank with each successive failure to find anything from Claire. Soared because he didn’t have to commit the ultimate act of treachery and sank because he had no information to draw him closer to his wayward sister.

  He turned past another letter that was of no interest to him, and froze. There on the next folded piece of thick vellum was Claire’s handwriting. He would have known it anywhere even though there was no name on the outer sheet aside from Josie’s. His breath hitched as he turned the paper over and broke the seal. There were two sheets within. He sat with the letter in his lap, staring at it.

  There were his sister’s words, meant not for him but for the best friend she loved and trusted. The same friend who cared for him and trusted him. Reading what was not meant for him was a violation of both women, but Gabriel’s words rang in his ears. Was he willing to do anything to save Claire? Images of her being hurt jumped before his eyes, and he unfolded the sheets and began to read.

  He had gotten no further than the greeting and the date of six months ago when he heard a shallow gasp behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t need to look to know who had found him here.

  “Evan!” Josie burst out, her voice shaking.

  He set the letter aside and stood. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face his wife. She had put her robe back on and tied it loosely, but he could see the outline of her naked curves beneath the silk. With her hair mussed by sleep and passion, she made quite a lovely sight. One he might have had the opportunity to cherish.

  Except that the betrayal in her eyes was already bright as she stared at him and the pile of her private correspondence on her desk.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her tone flat and pained.

  He swallowed. “Josie—”

  She shook her head as if in disbelief. “What are you doing, Evan?”

  He could have lied in that moment. A dozen stories filled his head, ways to make that look of pain and betrayal leave her face. But Josie was too smart, and to lie to her would only sport with her intelligence. It would only make the situation worse.

  “You—you told me you had received letters from my sister,” he admitted. “I thought perhaps I would find some of them here.”

  Her lips parted as his words sank in and he watched her face go from confused to angry to betrayed to heartbroken in a flash of horror that made his stomach hurt.

  “You left our wedding night bed to search through my private things.”

  Her words were not a question, but he answered her anyway. “Yes.”

  She blinked at him, looking at him like she had never seen him before. That expression stabbed him, and he moved toward her as if he could make her see that nothing had changed.

  “How could you?” she asked, her voice soft but trembling. “Why? Why would this be your focus on our wedding night? Why would you want to—”

  She stopped herself suddenly and her gaze jerked to his face again. Her mouth twisted and tears filled her eyes. Tears she blinked away before she spoke again.

  “Was this why you pursued me, Evan? To get closer to the truth about Claire?”

  He opened and shut his mouth a few times, trying to find an answer, but apparently his silence was a good enough response, for she spun away from him, staggering back through the dressing room and into the bedroom. He followed her in a few long strides.

  “Wait, Josie, listen to me.”

  She pivoted to face him. “What is there to say, Evan? How stupid was I? I believed you when you said this wasn’t your goal. I believed you even though you asked me about your sister several times when you spent time with me. I pretended it was because she was a common bond between us, that you needed a friend to hear your fears. But no, of course that wasn’t it.” She shook her head. “How foolish was I to believe I was your confidante? You only wanted me to tell you what I knew. And you would have done anything to obtain that information.”

  He winced at the pain in her rapidly rising voice. The pain he had put there. “Josie, you need to listen to me. It wasn’t like that.”

  “Wasn’t it?” she asked, turning away from him. “Wasn’t it?”

  “No!” he insisted. “It wasn’t.”

  “Then how was it?” She looked at him again, but the guard she had finally dropped with him over the past few weeks was back up. “Explain to me, Evan.”

  He drew a deep breath. “Josie, when you came back to the village, I admit I was perhaps less than thrilled. After all, you hated me. And your presence was always a reminder of the worst of myself.”

  She folded her arms and said nothing. So he continued.

  “When I saw you at my sister’s wedding, I was taken aback by you. Genuinely attracted to you.” She snorted derision and he scowled. “Please do not deny what I’m saying. It’s the truth.”

  “But?” she encouraged, her tone cold. “Because there is obviously a but to all this poetry or else I wouldn’t have found you snooping through my things.”

  “That same afternoon, I realized you might know something about Claire,” he admitted. “I spoke to Gabriel about it and he pushed me to pursue that truth.”

  Her bottom lip trembled, but her voice was strong as she said, “Why you?”

  He hesitated. “I’m going to tell you the whole truth, Josie. Even though it may hurt you, but I want you to understand, to see—”

  “Why you, Evan?” she repeated, folding her arms in that shield once again.

  He dropped his gaze from hers. He didn’t want to look in her eyes when he said the next words destined to fall from his lips. “Because…because Gabriel believed you might like me.”

  She barked out a pained laugh and moved to the chair beside her fire. She collapsed into it and stared silently into the flames for a long time. He wanted so badly to speak, but her expression was a warning to him to wait. To let her guide what would happen next.

  After all, she had been a victim of everything that had transpired before.

  “So you and your brother concocted a plan to take advantage of whatever feelings you thought I had for you,” she finally said, her voice rough and almost foreign. “Did you laugh while you did it?”

  He moved toward her, guarded as he took the chair next to hers. Her hand was close, but he didn’t take it even though he wanted to. Instead he fisted his fingers against the chair arm and said, “Never. I was never comfortable with the idea, Josie. I swear to you that is true. But Gabriel is so desperate to find any information about Claire. He is certain if he could just find her, he could fix this, save her. And his desperation drove me. Just as thoughts of what my sister might be enduring drove me.”

  Her lips pinched, but he could see his words had somehow hit their mark. She shook her head. “I can’t imagine what your loss must be like. Actually, I can, for it is much like mine. But that you would go so far, Evan, that you would woo me, seduce me into giving you information?”

  “That wasn’t it,” he said. “I swear to you it wasn’t. The more time I spent with you, the more I wanted you. You. That had nothing to do with Claire or Gabriel or anyone else. Everything that transpired between us was the truth, Josie.”

  She took a long breath and turned her face toward his. Her expression was so pained that it made his own chest hurt. Once more the power of what he had done was evident.

  “You can say that all you want, Evan,” she whispered. “But your actions tell me that it’s a lie. You took me, you pleasured me and you waited until I was asleep to snoop through my things.”

  “I didn’t come here intending to do it. I told Gabriel I wouldn’t,” he insisted.

  Her face drained of what color remained and she stood up slowly, staring down at him with renewed upset and anger. “That was what Gabriel meant.”

  He wrinkled his brow in confusion. “What?”

  “At the party celebrating our marriage,” she explained. “He was drunk and I approached him, hoping to offer some comfort after you told me you two had argued.
I wanted to make peace for you.”

  Of course she would do such a thing, try to be a balm on the trouble between them. That was an utterly Josie thing to do, one of the main things that had drawn him to her despite any connection she might have to Claire.

  “What did my brother say?” he asked.

  “He said I was what you two argued about. Because you wouldn’t do what he wanted.” Her voice caught with hurt. “He was babbling and I had no idea what he could possibly mean at the time. But now it’s so clear. He wanted you to continue to use our connection to leverage information about your sister.”

  He jumped up. “And he told you I refused, Josie. So that must mean something to you, doesn’t it?”

  She stared at him, holding his gaze until her scrutiny made him shift with discomfort.

  “It might,” she finally said. “Except that I found you doing his bidding not five minutes ago. In the end, using me was just as easy for you as it was for him.”

  He couldn’t let that stand. Not now. He reached out to catch her upper arms and drew her closer. She didn’t struggle, though her eyes went wide.

  “Listen to me, Josie, please, please listen. I didn’t seduce you or wed you in order to use you. I care for you. Truly care.”

  Somehow he expected that confession to soften her. That she would hear him and understand. But her face twisted with more hurt and anger, and she struggled from his grip to back away from him.

  “Don’t toss me your bones, Evan,” she snapped. “Don’t think that just because you have found me pathetic enough to trick that I will continue to dance to your tune.”

  He drew back in horror. “That isn’t what I’m doing. I just want you to see—”

  “I see!” she shouted, her anger finally bubbling over as a tear slid down her cheek. “I see perfectly clearly, I assure you. And a part of me even understands. The loss of Claire is so painful and so horrifying and so deep, that perhaps if I thought I might have a chance to find her, I would also betray someone who was in lov—”

  She cut herself off with a painful gasp, but Evan knew the word she was going to say. Even the truncated version hit him like a shot to the chest. In love with him? Did Josie truly love him? He had never asked for that, never expected it. If someone had asked him a month ago if he wanted it, he would have said no.