Enticing Eve: Scandalous Secrets, Book 2

by Tracy Goodwin

It was time.

  Colin reached into his jacket pocket, removing the velvet lined ring box he had carried with him for so long.

  Leaning against the billiard table, he turned the box around, so it faced Eve. “It’s been a year since I bought this for you. I think it’s time I see it on your finger.”

  He pried the box open as he said with quiet emphasis, “You are the only woman who has ever touched my heart. Now and always, my heart belongs to you.”

  Her mouth formed an “o”, and she gasped aloud. For a brief moment, Colin could swear that Eve was holding her breath. When she tore her gaze from the shining gem at last, her eyes were over-bright with unshed tears. “It is the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen, Colin.”

  “It’s for the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known,” he whispered, his voice rough with such emotion that it caused her pulse to quicken. Then he added, “I kept my promise.”

  Eve was well aware of the promise to which he referred: I will purchase a flawless emerald for you, one as magnificent as your eyes – those same beautiful eyes in whose depths I will forever be lost.

  Unable to contain her tears, she allowed them to fall freely now.

  “Don’t cry.” With great care, Colin wiped her tears with the pads of his fingertips.

  “I can’t help it,” she said, her guilt weighing heavily upon her heart. More tears drifted down her cheeks, but she didn’t care … she had to say it. “I stopped believing you loved me, and you give me a ring you bought a year ago. Long after I thought you’d forgotten me.”

  “It’s over now. Our future is all that matters,” he pulled her closer against him with his free hand then kissed the crook of her neck.

  “Colin,” she clutched him tighter, refusing to break the spell woven by his warm embrace. “I’m sorry that I lost faith in you.”

  His kisses trailed from her neck to her cheek, then to her eyes. He kissed her closed lids before saying at last, “It was nothing less than I deserved.”

  “No, that’s not true.”

  He shushed her again, this time with a kiss, his lips still salty from her tears. When their lips parted, he asked again, “Will you marry me, Miss Weston?”

  They were the sweetest words Eve had ever heard, second only to his I love you.

  She smiled, blinking back tears as she nodded.

  “Say it,” he coaxed.

  “I will marry you,” she nodded, wiping her eyes with the pads of her fingers. She then spoke louder, her words echoing against the wood paneling, “Yes, I will marry you.”

  Colin tossed the ring box on the billiard table behind him then slid the large emerald ring onto Eve’s finger. “I never thought I’d hear those words,” he admitted, kissing the palm of her hand in a tender gesture of undying devotion.

  Until tonight, she dared not consider that Colin still loved her, that he was as besotted with her as she was with him. It was in response to that realization that Eve decided not to play any more games with him. For the first time since his proposal, Eve decided not to hold back. If she ended up hurt, it wouldn’t be because she didn’t try.

  His love was worth more to her than her pride, even her life.

  “I have never stopped loving you,” she said aloud, with even more resolve than before, “and I could have made that last shot if I wanted to.”

  “I know,” Colin’s tone conveyed his exasperation. He then crushed his lips against hers while Eve said a silent prayer of thanks.

  Thank you, God, for bringing him home to me.

  Since her heart was light at last, a chill of dread coursed through her veins because in an instant there was so much to lose.

  For the first time since Colin had returned, Eve realized just how much she was risking. Her heart, her happiness, her future lay in the hands of a man who had once deserted her. How could she be certain he wouldn’t do so again? What made his love so different now than it was then?

  Eve tore her mouth from his, her eyes searching his for a sign, some sort of confirmation that this time Colin wouldn’t abandon her.

  Tell me it will be different this time, her heart pleaded.

  She found the reassurance she sought in the warmth and candor of his eyes, which were the color of lapis lazuli and now brimming with emotion. Reflected within those depths were his love and devotion as well as his hopes for their future. She hadn’t seen such an outpouring of emotion from him since his return and, although not a guarantee, it was enough to sustain her.

  It also conjured a flutter of uncertainty in her chest as she still had no idea where he’d been or what made his eyes dull and devoid of happiness much of the time.

  Colin was haunted by something, of that she was certain. Eve would have to be strong for him, fully prepared to fight for the man she loves.

  Please God, help me save him from himself.

  Chapter 12

  Victoria’s gleaming carriage emblazoned with the Duke of Davenport’s family crest arrived in front of Tristan’s townhome somewhere around mid-morning. She was residing at her brother’s London residence with Meg, her maid and chaperone on this excursion. Hers would be a brief visit with one goal in mind – help Tristan get through this day.

  Still feeling betrayed by both his brother and his former betrothed was sure to make the day of Colin and Eve’s wedding challenging at best. Then there was the list of those in attendance. Though small, it included Sebastian and Gwen.

  Although they refused to take sides, nor did Tristan ask them to, Victoria suspected that the fact that they were celebrating Colin and Eve’s union with the happy couple would distress him.

  Meg accompanied her mistress up the stone steps to the mahogany front door, reaching for the gilded knocker and rapping for entry. Tristan’s butler, a slim man with exaggerated cheekbones, salt and pepper hair and deep-set eyes greeted them with what sounded surprisingly like a warning.

  “Lady Victoria, my master hasn’t specifically instructed against callers; however, now may not be the best time for a visit.”

  Victoria steeled her shoulders, attempting in her most haughty tone to broker no argument. “You shall take me to him nevertheless.”

  The tall man led her down a hallway carpeted in rich hunter green and burgundy hues to a closed door. Before the butler could reach for the handle, Victoria announced, “I’ll let myself in. Please see to it that my maid is provided some refreshments.”

  Tristan’s butler bowed then retreated with a deep sigh though whether it was one of warning or relief Victoria knew not. The doubt it conjured was enough for Victoria to take her own deep, fortifying breath before entering. She then silently closed the door for privacy, standing stock-still for several seconds as her eyes adjusted to the dark room cloaked in shadow.

  The heavy drapes were closed as if the inhabitant was in complete denial of the bright day beaming outside. Instead, a few gas lamps emitted a soft glow; barely illuminating what she suspected was Tristan’s home office.

  The room was masculine with what appeared to be a mahogany desk and a flank of matching bookshelves against the far wall. The hearth was ablaze – simply unheard of due to the warm temperature outside. Surrounded by a leather sofa and two overstuffed chairs, it was a small sitting area.

  From the looks of it, an oriental rug accentuated the cozy space as did a table in front of the hearth – that same sitting area where she found Tristan seated in silence on the sofa, his boots resting on the table before him, a tumbler half-full of what she assumed to be liquor resting in his hands.

  “I expected to find you in seclusion today,” Victoria said, her tone gentle with understanding as she added, “I never expected said seclusion would be obscured by shadows and a raging fire.”

  Tristan raised his glass in a silent toast, “The sunshine mocks my misery.” He failed to turn towards her.

  “Oh, my, that is morose,” Victoria replied with a jaunty grin. “I see I have my work cut out for me.”

  Glancing across the room, she found t
he sideboard containing several crystal decanters and matching tumblers. Victoria then tossed her gloves and reticule onto one of the overstuffed chairs and crossed the room before grabbing a decanter of something, precisely what she knew not, and a tumbler for herself before returning to Tristan and placing her bounty on the table before him.

  Victoria settled next to him on the sofa and poured herself some of the dark amber liquid. She sniffed it, the alcohol strong from the mere scent, before taking a swig.

  It was the first time he turned towards her, she noted, his eyes wide with surprise as the alcohol burned a fiery path down her throat.

  She clutched the glass and gasped for air. “Good God, what is this?” Victoria was certain her breath was on fire.

  “Bourbon,” Tristan chuckled. “It is imported.”

  “That explains it,” she muttered with a cough before placing her glass on the table.

  Tristan studied her for a moment then noted, “I didn’t expect to see you today. Shouldn’t you be with Colin and Eve celebrating their marital bliss?”

  “I chose to see how you are faring on this fine morning,” she raked him from head to toe. Tristan wore no jacket, but his shirt, cravat, vest and trousers all seemed in fine condition. Though he had imbibed, he wasn’t foxed, at least not yet. She suspected that was his intention, though.

  Reaching for her glass again, she took a smaller sip this time, noting the burning sensation had lessened. “Besides, you have imported bourbon, something I am certain their ceremony is lacking. Then, of course, there is the fact that the bride verbally trounced me the day after you caught her with Colin.”

  Tristan’s brows furrowed.

  “It is a very long story,” Tori explained with a shrug of her shoulders. “She needed someone to blame, and I possessed the good fortune of being present at the time.”

  He clinked his glass against hers in a toast. “Here’s to outcasts, then.”

  They both took another swig though Tristan’s was much heftier than Victoria’s.

  “Dare I ask what the fire is for? I fear it is some sort of funeral pyre,” Victoria quipped, arching her brow as she placed her glass on the table.

  Tristan followed suit then rose, heading to the fireplace in swift, panther-like strides. She noted a small, simple wooden box positioned on the mantel, seemingly out of place between the gilded clock and matching frames with renderings of Gwen and the twins. He grabbed the box and tossed it upon the sofa beside Tori.

  “A pyre is an adequate description,” he said at last.

  She opened the box with care, noting that it was filled with a stack of letters, folded neatly and tied with a green satin ribbon. Eve’s letters, Victoria realized it in an instant as Tristan poured himself another glass of his fine liquor.

  Only after downing half his glass did he reach for the letters and toss them into the fire one by one. The red and orange flames danced around each sheet, charring the edges before consuming the coiling paper in an impressive blaze.

  Victoria noted that one thing remained in the box – a topaz ring with a gold band. She knew it to be Eve’s betrothal ring from Tristan. Although pretty, it was no match for the brilliant emerald she now wore.

  “I am sorry, Tristan,” Victoria whispered.

  “That is a club you do not wish to join,” his words dripped with sarcasm.

  As if reading her confusion, he explained, “She sent me the package by messenger a few days ago along with a note telling me that she and Colin are sorry.”

  Sorry.

  Oh, he was certain they were sorry. Their apologies weren’t enough though. For God’s sake, he had been Eve’s protector, along with Sebastian.

  “She used me.” His words tasted like the ash of countless letters burning in his damned grate. “She lied by omission every time I discussed Colin with her, during every conversation about my investigations into the whereabouts of my missing brother. Eve could have admitted the truth a thousand times over yet made a conscious choice not to.”

  Victoria placed the ring back in the box and set it down on the sofa before walking in silence to Tristan’s side. “You were guided by your need to be her savior. She and her grandmother were all but destitute, relying upon the kindness of you and Sebastian. You were Eve’s knight in shining armor.”

  “No, I was her court jester,” he gripped the mantel tighter until he thought he might pull the damned thing off the wall.

  “You are being much too hard on yourself,” Tori said, her voice devoid of any censure, her kindness too much for him to bear.

  “Don’t tell me how to feel,” he growled, his tone low and dangerous.

  Instead of Victoria heeding his warning or even cowering as most sane men did when they heard his commands, the woman standing beside him steeled her shoulders in defiance.

  Dressed in a gown of crimson satin and brocade with a jacquard print, she was the embodiment of regal nobility, even down to her square neckline, trimmed with matching gold lace. Yet there was a fire within the woman and, once that spark ignited, her luminous effervescence lit up the room.

  Of course, Tori always possessed an engaging personality but she had become beguiling, with her sarcastic wit, keen observations and courageous insolence. When the hell had Tori, the young woman he’d known for what felt like a lifetime, grown into such a seductive siren?

  The fact that Tristan was studying her so intently seemed to incite further fury as her resplendent azure eyes flashed with unabashed ferocity. “Don’t you lash out at me, Tristan MacAlistair. I’m not the person you wish to confront.”

  She then proceeded to the table, picked up her tumbler again, and took two hefty gulps of the bourbon she detested upon her first sip mere moments before. Tristan stood anchored by the mantel, utterly impressed by her ability to hold his liquor.

  “You and Eve,” she said, her glass now half-full, liquor sloshing about, her tone laced with ire. “You both think that I should act as your sparring partner, taking aim at me instead of those you truly wish to tackle. Well, I have news for you both – I will not be the object of your anger and frustration.”

  Victoria took one more swallow before setting the glass upon the table with force then grabbing her purse and reticule as if she were about to take her leave.

  Blame it on the alcohol or Victoria’s newfound hellion demeanor and downright stubbornness, but for some unfathomable reason, he couldn’t allow her to leave. Instead, Tristan grabbed her by the elbow and turned her to face him.

  “Don’t go,” he chided. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

  She took a couple of steps back as if suddenly feeling the effects of the alcohol she had quickly consumed. Tristan matched her step for step, placing his hands on Victoria’s waist to steady her until she backed into the mahogany paneled wall behind her.

  He stood less than an inch away noting with an overwhelming intensity the heat emanating from her sultry form.

  What had taken him so long to notice that her gown of crimson and gold perfectly accentuated her thick auburn tresses? In the warm glow of the firelight, her hair shone like dazzling flames and her azure eyes, those same eyes he had seen countless times before, suddenly became more expressive and more exquisite than he had ever noted.

  Without a single word, she commanded his complete attention. It was as if Tristan were viewing Victoria for the very first time. No, it was more than that – his vision had cleared at last and he was witnessing the splendor that was Victoria.

  He silently cursed himself for failing to notice sooner.

  Tristan pried her gloves and reticule from her delicate fingers, flinging them haphazardly over his shoulder onto what he knew to be the sofa behind them, his intent stare fixed upon hers a few more moments. He then lifted her arms upwards, pinning her hands against the wall behind them. Her penetrating azure gaze showed no sign of anxiety by his close proximity or his touch.

  No, this woman was anything but meek. She was strong-willed and independent, facing him as
his equal.

  “Well, hello,” he leaned against her, his hands still pinning her wrists to the wall behind her, noting with a thrill that her creamy flesh above her voluptuous bodice rose and fell with every breath. The gentle rhythm incited a desperate hunger within him.

  Tristan’s gaze traveled upwards, to the beauty mark above her full, heart-shaped lips and her high cheekbones tinged with the soft pink hue of a sunset. At last his perusal reached her indigo eyes, now smoky with desire.

  “Where did you come from?” he quizzed, more to himself than Victoria.

  Her eyes remained fixed with his, piercing his very soul. “I’ve been in front of you this entire time. You were too preoccupied to notice.”

  Her response, her bravery and spellbinding beauty made his pulse quicken. “Have you always been this magnificent?” He was stupefied.

  Why had he never before noticed?

  “Yes,” Victoria’s answer was simple.

  She hadn’t tried to break free from his grasp, he noted, reveling in the fact that she was still so close, still under his control and so very courageous.

  Had he ever truly known this woman? Evidently not for why else would Victoria surprise him so on this particular day?

  Tristan bent his head, inhaling deeply as the intoxicating scent of her perfume caused his pulse to quicken. Gardenia had never before had such an effect on him. He leaned into her, his lips hovering above the crook of her neck. Her scent was divine, and he yearned to taste her. He thirsted for her, in fact. “I’m going to kiss you,” he said the words before he could filter them. “If you stay here one moment longer I will kiss you.”

  It took every ounce of effort he possessed to push away from her, but he did indeed do just that. Content with the fact that he had offered her an out, Tristan released her, taking a few steps backwards, allowing his guest to take her leave while refusing to meet her gaze.

  Victoria failed to move, choosing instead to stay put.

  The fact that she didn’t budge, that she wanted him to kiss her, exhilarated him causing his entire body to react violently. Molten blood pulsated through his veins as he quickly bridged the distance between them, placing his hands on her waist, crushing her against him. His fingers skillfully traveled up her torso, past her bodice then to her neck where his thumb idly caressed the soft, creamy flesh at the nape of her neck. God, her flesh was even softer than the fine satin fabric that swathed her, he noted with delight, his fingers trembling ever so slightly from the realization.