Enticing Eve: Scandalous Secrets, Book 2

by Tracy Goodwin

  “That man was depraved,” Sebastian murmured.

  Colin didn’t trust his voice, so instead he nodded his agreement. Lachlan MacAlistair was indeed a vile man. Upon hearing the news of the man’s demise, Colin felt relief combined with a small tinge of happiness.

  To this day, the knowledge sickened him.

  He had become despicable like his father. Hell, like both of his fathers, for he was sired and raised by two such men, devoid of all morals.

  Sebastian leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, “There isn’t a soul alive who wishes Lachlan was still alive.”

  “Not even his mistress? Or his bastard son?” Colin asked, his words dripping with sarcasm.

  “Gwen spoke to his mistress at the memorial service. She understood what an evil man Lachlan had become. As for his bastard,” Sebastian puckered his lips as if disgusted by the mere mention of the man. “Keir cares only for himself. I’m certain he doesn’t grieve.”

  Colin nodded then turned his attention to the console table that held a few other opulent crystal decanters of various liquors. He was beginning to wish he’d downed the whole damn vessel of brandy before beginning this conversation.

  His father, if he could call him that, deserved no one’s grief. Then the thought occurred to him: would anyone grieve for Colin MacAlistair?

  It wasn’t the first time he’d considered such a thing. After all, war led to death, and Colin found himself obsessed with the prospect at one point in time, his mortality representing an end to the torment that seemed to weigh more heavily upon him with each passing minute.

  Death never came for him, though. Apparently neither God nor Satan wanted Colin any more than his father did.

  He made a silent correction – fathers.

  Neither his blood father nor the man who raised him had ever wanted him.

  Eventually, Colin was given the choice to live or die, and like so many men in his situation he chose his survival. With that one rather simple decision, from that fateful day forward, Eve had been his only diversion, becoming somewhat of a mirage to him. The promises they made to one another, the future they could have once shared. She had become his true North.

  Nothing could stave his love for her – not the carnage of war, his family’s secrets or his own sins. She was on his mind every night as he searched the constellations twinkling in the endless night sky. She even permeated his dreams.

  When his sister’s investigators found him, Colin was reminded for the first time in what seemed like an eternity that he had a family awaiting his return. Now a large portion of his family had every reason to despise him.

  Who would mourn Colin MacAlistair?

  Certainly not Tristan and, in spite of Sebastian’s avowals to the contrary, Colin was certain that neither would Gwen. Not after what he had done to her twin. Sebastian and Victoria might, but if so, would it be out of pity – mourning for their unfortunate brother who suffered because of their father’s terrible indiscretion?

  Colin despised Lachlan, and now he had done far worse – he destroyed their family. A feat even Lachlan was incapable of despite his best efforts.

  “You’re not like him,” Sebastian’s voice was deeper than it had been mere moments before.

  Colin turned his attention back to his brother, noting the tension that was emanating from his clenched jaw. He remained silent, uncertain of what to say.

  “You’re not like either of them,” Sebastian added.

  “Good God, your intuition is impressive. That must drive your wife mad,” Colin was proud of his jovial banter when his nerves were jarred by his brother’s alarming ability to read his thoughts.

  Sebastian’s tone remained serious. “I’m no clairvoyant. You and I are very much alike. We always have been.” He placed his empty tumbler next to the half-full decanter on the gilded table in front of him before continuing. “It’s what I would be contemplating.”

  Colin was now certain that no amount of alcohol could numb his taut nerves. He placed his glass down then stretched before striding over to the large window, well aware that it faced the terrace then the gardens beyond, though pitch-blackness had befallen the scene. Clouds now shrouded the moon, hiding the landscape from view. Instead, all Colin could see was his own reflection staring back at him in the pane of glass.

  The sight of his eyes reminded him of Eve’s remarks … I see it in your eyes, the sadness. Her observation was accurate. His eyes were hollow, devoid of happiness, and he was certain they always would be.

  Turning away from his reflection, Colin decided instead to study his brother. Sebastian was happy. It was evident at present, even when he was concerned for his family. His eyes were bright, emanating hope.

  “Hurting Tristan wasn’t my intention though I did seek the truth tonight,” Colin admitted, gauging his half-brother’s reaction.

  Sebastian stood, crossing the room to join Colin at the window. “Were you aware that Eve kept the truth from him?”

  Colin shook his head. “I assumed she had told him but it makes no difference. The blame falls on me. I kissed her fully aware that she was betrothed to him.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Marry her,” Colin paused noting that Sebastian didn’t seem the least bit surprised. “Tristan didn’t need to explain the ramifications, the ruin to Eve’s reputation. I knew the moment I kissed her that she’d have no choice but to marry me.”

  Sebastian patted his brother’s arm in a silent show of support. “It’s the right course of action, Colin.”

  “Is it?” Colin shook his head. “I will make Eve a horrible husband and she will never be happy with me. Nor I with her, for I will always know that I stole the life meant for my younger brother.”

  Sebastian exhaled before he spoke. “Do you honestly believe that Tristan would have been happy marrying a woman who loves another?”

  “Victoria articulated the same thing to me this afternoon,” Colin grinned at his half-sister’s intelligence and infallible insight – were they familial traits? “She also recognized that I was in love with Eve.”

  “Damn, she is clever!” Sebastian retorted, his pride evident. “Victoria knew I was in love with Gwen long before I did, and it annoyed the hell out of me. I should have warned you about her.”

  “Victoria was correct yet again. I do love Eve,” Colin admitted, certain Sebastian already knew it. “But I won’t make her happy.”

  “How can you be so certain?” his brother walked over and poured more brandy into his tumbler.

  “Because she doesn’t know the truth,” Colin need not elaborate. He would let Sebastian think he was referring to his parentage. His brother didn’t know the rest and, if Colin had his way, no one would ever learn what unspeakable acts he executed while he was abroad.

  Sebastian’s hand stilled in the process of lifting his glass to his lips. “If Eve loves you, your bloodlines won’t matter.”

  Colin turned again toward the window, avoiding his reflection by staring at a smudge at the bottom corner of the glass, no doubt made by his niece or nephew. “Eve observed that I’ve changed.”

  “Everyone changes. Days become years, and we all evolve.” Sebastian made it sound so simple.

  “I wanted a life with her,” Colin again turned towards Sebastian. “God forgive me, I kissed her and ensured that she wouldn’t marry Tristan. Perhaps I am as manipulative as Lachlan?”

  Colin studied his brother’s expression and witnessed Sebastian’s jaw clench. Momentary though it may have been, Colin witnessed it nonetheless. “You can’t deny it.”

  “It’s not that,” Sebastian placed his glass upon the table. “I was you, once. I loved Gwen and was willing to do anything to marry her, including lying to her father, convincing him that she was carrying my child then hiding the truth from her.”

  “Is this an attempt to make me feel better?” Colin narrowed his eyes in disbelief.

  Sebastian raked his hands through his hair. “It’s the honest to
God truth, one which I’m not proud of. It nearly destroyed my marriage and my family.”

  “But Gwen forgave you?” Colin already knew the answer, but the distraction was a welcome one from their previous topic.

  “Yes, she did. That’s how I know that Eve won’t care who fathered you, or how malevolent the man who raised you was,” Sebastian clapped his brother on the arm as if to solidify his words. “She will also forgive you for staying away.”

  “You’re assuming she loves me as much as Gwen loved you.” Colin’s brow furrowed.

  “Eve wouldn’t have risked scandal if she didn’t love you.”

  “History books are filled with women who have ruined their reputations for less—”

  “Not Eve,” Sebastian’s tone brokered no argument. “I’ve known her since she was a child. She and Fiona are part of our family. On this, I am certain.”

  For the first time in a very long time, hope spread wings within Colin’s chest, taking flight.

  Perhaps Eve did love him enough to forgive him.

  The memory of her kiss seized his thoughts. Even after Tristan knew the truth and her world had imploded, she still kissed him. That must be significant.

  Colin couldn’t quiet his inner voice, nor did he want to. It asserted that Eve did indeed love him. Even if his suppositions were wrong, she certainly shared a passion with him, one that could grow with time.

  It would grow with time.

  He’d make sure of it.

  Yes, Eve would love him once more. It was his solemn vow. Colin was once willing to sacrifice his own happiness for that of his youngest brother.

  Not any longer.

  Colin had decided to pursue his happiness, and it was time for him to follow through. If he is to be damned for taking the life and the wife meant for his younger brother, then so be it. He would rather be damned with Eve than without her.

  Hell was a life without Eve. He’d once lived it and survived it. He refused to go back.

  No, Colin was once again fighting for his life. He wouldn’t rest until Eve Weston loved him again.

  Chapter 6

  “I thought I’d find you here,” Victoria’s cheerful voice drifted through the walls of her cozy little art chalet that Sebastian erected for her on Kellington Manor’s grounds.

  Tristan sat cloaked in shadow, in a room jutting off the foyer. As the clouds scudded away, the skylight above offered just enough glimpses of moonlight to bathe his reflection in a bluish hue.

  He met her arrival with a scowl. “How in God’s name did you find me?” Tristan asked, seated on the settee across from a cold grate. “I was certain that this was the one place no one would look.”

  Victoria proceeded through the shadows to a dresser upon which sat several tallow candles. She reached into the top drawer, fumbling for the matchbox before striking a flame. She then illuminated the candles, noting with a grin the cozy glow that now warmed the once-dark room.

  “Let there be light,” she announced, ignoring his question.

  Tristan noted with a sigh of relief that the windows faced the grounds. Therefore the warm glow of the candles wouldn’t be visible to the main house or its inhabitants. “How did you find me?”

  “I know your sister all too well,” she quipped, reaching into the cabinet and withdrawing a bottle. “Kellington Manor may possess a hundred rooms, but you would be unable to hide from Gwen under its roof. On the other hand, she would never think to look for you here.”

  “But you did?” He concluded.

  She offered him a wry grin before joining him on the settee. “Have a sip. You look like you could use it.” Victoria extended her arms, placing the decorative bottle within his reach.

  “Is this claret?” Tristan scoffed, scrutinizing the liquid before him. “What in bloody hell do you do out here when your brother thinks you’re painting?”

  “I paint,” she laughed. “And sketch.”

  Tristan arched his brow.

  “Don’t glare at me with that sense of skepticism and superiority,” she added with mock indignation. “I am an artist. I work at all hours of the day and night. When inspiration strikes, I don’t always remember to stoke the fire within the grate. Occasionally, claret is my only source of warmth and I’ll have you know that it gets quite nippy in here.”

  He smirked as if unconvinced.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she grabbed the hand-painted bottle from him, yanking the stopper free before tracing the lilies and leaves painted upon the transparent glass. “As proof that I do indeed paint, I extend to you this bottle. It is one of my creations. Now drink. I assume I don’t need to offer you a glass. If your foul mood is any indication, the bottle will be more than sufficient, and we needn’t rest on formalities.”

  She then thrust the bottle at him once more.

  Tristan shook his head as he accepted her offering and took a hearty swig. “If I were your brother—”

  “Well, thankfully you are not, as your mood leaves much to be desired,” she teased him. “Besides, the role of my brother is presently being played with aplomb by my brother, Sebastian. Instead you are my friend, and I am concerned about you.”

  “Did you know?” he asked, before taking another robust swig. “Did Eve confide in you about Colin?”

  “No,” Victoria assured him. “I had no idea until this evening.”

  “Why keep it a secret from her friends? We were friends, Eve and I, before our betrothal. You’d think that would be part of the natural course of conversation.”

  Victoria tipped her head to the side, a frown marring her flawless visage. “One would think but I suppose Eve had her reasons.”

  “Yes,” Tristan grimaced. “There are always reasons to lie.”

  He referred to his father.

  “I don’t think Eve’s intentions were malicious, Tristan. I knew your father, remember? You can’t compare the two.”

  Though Victoria knew him too well, he remained unconvinced.

  “No?” Tristan’s voice shook, and he took great pains to censure his mounting anger. “A lie is a lie, Victoria. Our families have suffered more so than most because of the machinations of those closest to us.”

  She nodded in agreement.

  “Don’t you ever get angry? That your father cheated on your mother? That he used her?” Tristan took another swig.

  “Of course I do,” her tone was gentle. “I just don’t allow it to consume me.”

  “How is that possible when everyone we trusted has lied to us?” his eyes searched hers.

  “I remind myself that there are those dear to us who have not. Sebastian and Gwen, for instance. They are our constants, are they not? The fact that we can trust them means that not all is lost, Tristan.”

  He didn’t trust his voice. Instead, Tristan reached for a stray curl noting as he brushed it in place behind Victoria’s ear that it was soft and was quick to spring into place.

  When had she become such an indispensable friend to him?

  He couldn’t pinpoint the specific moment but somehow he knew that Victoria had become a constant in his life, just as his sister had always been.

  “May I voice my opinion in regards to this whole Eve and Colin debacle?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

  “No,” he murmured then added, “no offense.”

  Victoria smiled. “None taken, though you know me well enough to predict that I shall speak my mind regardless.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” Tristan adjusted, leaning his elbow against the back of the settee and faced his friend. He then traced the paint strokes that delicately adorned the bottle of claret with his fingertips.

  “Eve should have told you about her relationship with Colin. That is obvious. I say that as your friend as well as hers.”

  He nodded.

  “Still, she did keep the truth from you,” Victoria’s tone was soothing in spite of her words. “Given those circumstances, would you rather not have known? Lived your
life with her all the while kept in the dark?”

  Tristan studied the brush strokes on the bottle, the lilies and leaves that wrapped around the glass with variations of light and shadow. He was reminded of Victoria’s talent, as well as her insight.

  “Never,” he admitted. “I can’t fathom being made a fool of.”

  In truth, his stomach lurched at the mere thought.

  “Tristan, you’re angry and hurt. Rightly so, if you ask me.” She studied him. “But I do not believe that you are heartbroken.”

  “Perhaps I hide it well,” he scoffed.

  “Is your heart wounded or is your pride?” Victoria asked.

  His brows furrowed in confusion.

  “Do you love Eve?” Victoria paused as if gauging his reaction. “I ask because you’re not fighting for her.”

  He shrugged. “My father was incapable of love. Maybe I am, too.”

  “I don’t believe that for one moment,” Victoria’s tone turned thunderous in an instant. “Tristan MacAlistair, you are not your father. You defied his wishes and joined the legal profession in spite of the reputation it would garner you among the aristocracy. You chose that path so you could rail against social injustice, the same way you fought for your sister’s happiness and fought for Eve when she and her grandmother needed help. A man like that, a man who wins over nobility with determination and a fierce sense of morality in no way resembles your father.”

  “When did you become so intelligent?” he winked at his companion, certain that his pride in her was evident in his expression.

  How was he able to smile on this night, after the events that transpired?

  Inhaling deeply, the scent of lavender lingering throughout the room filled his senses. Candlelight flickered, and Tristan’s attention was drawn to a vase of dried lavender on a hutch at the far side of the room. The vase was painted in a similar fashion to the bottle of claret, only this time with lavender blooms in varying shades of violet, long green stems and what appeared to be a violet colored ribbon. He stood, walking towards the hutch to find that the scene traveled to the tabletop and down the sides, where it blossomed into a field of thriving lavender bushes.