“What did you do with the letters you wrote me?” she asked, her tone nonchalant, as if she hadn’t changed the subject from A to Z in a matter of seconds.
It was his turn to be dumbfounded. “What?” Colin was aware that he was blinking rapidly in an attempt to keep up.
She steeled her shoulders. “I want my letters. Since you kept my betrothal ring in your pocket for over a year, I assume that you brought the letters with you. My guess is that you never parted with them.”
“Why do you want them?” Her request made no sense to him whatsoever.
“Consider it part of our divorce settlement,” Eve retorted, her eyes remarkably cold.
It was as he suspected … over. He’d pushed her too far, called her bluff, and burned his marriage to the ground.
Colin walked across the room and opened the mahogany door to his wardrobe then bent down and removed a medium-sized oak box. He picked it up and nearly bumped into his wife as he turned, unaware that Eve had silently followed him. Before he could offer it to her, she had already grabbed the box and marched towards the door.
She paused, as if she wanted to say something but thought better of it. Instead, she reached for the knob and turned it, jerking the door open with force before slamming it behind her.
At that moment, Colin knew from the gaping hole where his heart once lay that he had ruined everything.
He hadn’t trusted her. If he’d given Eve a modicum of credit, the outcome would have been much different.
Instead, Colin reacted like an animal under attack and did the one thing he knew best, retaliated by offering her an out – divorce. He couldn’t blame her for taking it, scandalous or not.
For one brief shining moment in time, his life had been perfect. Perhaps that was why he had turned soft, underestimating the person behind the bloody notes. He thought he could control everything, even the stranger hell-bent on destroying him.
Colin had sorely miscalculated.
Damn it to hell, he should have known his happiness would never last. Men like Colin MacAlistair don’t get second chances.
Why had he failed to see it sooner?
* * *
Eve was furious. No, rage didn’t begin to describe her feelings. Her heart was racing so violently, beating so erratically, that she thought it might explode as she paced the span of her suite.
Damn him!
She marched to the door that separated her
bedchamber from Colin’s and turned the lock. Not that Colin would ever attempt to enter her bedchamber again. No, he was willing to sacrifice his wife, shove her out of his life, in an attempt to salvage his pride.
Damn his pride.
Just as she was finding comfort in her rage – for it was far better than the heartache she experienced when he first blamed her for everything and mentioned divorce – the pain again seeped into her chest.
He mentioned divorce. She was certain the mere memory would kill her.
As she crossed the room, tears again began to blur her vision, and the box she was carrying fell to the floor. She glanced down at the mess … the latch had opened, and several envelopes had fallen out.
Eve sank to her knees then placed her head in her hands and sobbed. She wasn’t certain how much time had passed, nor did she care. Tonight, her world as she knew it had ended.
All because of Colin MacAlistair’s damned secret.
Wiping her eyes with the back of her hands, she ordered herself to stop this madness. She survived him once. Of course, she would do so again. Who cared that her meddling inner voice told her that she was lying to herself.
What did it know, anyway?
She reached for one of the sealed missives. There must have been at least fifty letters, maybe more.
After turning one in her hand, she broke the seal and unfolded a three-page missive. She noted the dates as she skimmed the pages. Extremely hot … elephants … what was he writing, a travel advisory? Then she reached the part that would forever change her life.
I know it was cowardly of me to leave with a note, but I wanted to make more of myself for you. You’d think I wouldn’t want a relationship let alone a marriage after learning the sordid truth about my parents, but I do. I still do. I love you more today than I did when I first proposed.
The more notes she read, the more she cried, not for herself but for Colin. His heart, battered and bruised, lay open on these pages. So too did his feelings of shame and inadequacy, as if he could control the family he had been born into or the circumstances by which he had been conceived.
As Eve reached the last of the letters, she noticed that he had written her even after he’d returned home. The last one she read was dated the night of their wedding.
As I wrote to you of the many secrets, the silent misery my parents evoked in their children, I felt I should end these writings with happiness.
I never thought you’d love me the way you do. The fact that you believe me capable of such goodness almost makes me believe that I am worthy of you.
That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Colin didn’t believe himself worthy of love, happiness, or understanding. Could she really blame him for not trusting her? He had discovered that his parents, the very people who were supposed to love their children unconditionally, who were to protect them, had lied to him.
In truth, they had forsaken him.
Eve sobbed for him, the boy who was so lonely that he spent his evenings with his servants because his father didn’t love him or want him. She sobbed for herself, because she loved him even more with each minute that passed, with each horrible secret revealed.
It was then that she noticed the latest of the intruder’s missives, leaning against the crystal clock on the fireplace mantel.
You’re married to a murderer.
When Colin admitted the truth about India to her in their glen, she understood why he had to kill; he was protecting others. With this latest missive, a memory of Colin’s expression earlier flashed across her line of vision.
The pulsating vein in his neck, clenched jaw, and his eyes emanating a rage she never before had witnessed or even knew he was capable of.
What else was he hiding?
At first, the notion of Colin committing murder sounded as farfetched as a summer snowfall yet, in the wake of Colin’s latest response, a queasy wave of uncertainty washed over her. It could be true. Then again, of course, it was true. He had gone to war. War begets death.
Colin was haunted by something he had done or seen. Eve racked her brain, trying to remember what she had learned of the Sikh War. Her friendship with and subsequent betrothal to Tristan aided her in this as his professional contacts made him aware of incidents many were not. He shared some of it with his family and Eve.
As if the pieces of a puzzle were being shuffled neatly into place, Colin’s guilt and desperation for secrecy made sense.
Colin had withheld so much from her, but she knew something he did not. He wasn’t the sum of his parents’ sins, nor was he to be measured by the acts he committed during a time of war.
How would she ever make him see that?
If Eve was to break through the barriers Colin had erected, she must prove to him that she didn’t find him inferior, whether it be due to his parentage or any other reason.
Another piece of the puzzle righted into place, as Eve knew precisely what her next move must be. After glancing at the clock on the mantel, Eve noted the time.
One o’clock in the morning.
It was time to face her fate … and face her husband.
* * *
Eve stood outside the door adjoining her suite and her husband’s for several minutes, dreading the inevitable. She had to face him. He was her husband, after all. Besides, waiting would only make it worse. The bright light of day might further shame him.
Clutching a card tightly, she rapped on the door with her free hand. Nothing but silence greeted her causing her to press her ear against the door for several seconds,
waiting for a sound, any sign that he might be awake. None manifested itself.
What should she do? Her inner voice suggested she run, hide under her covers and never rise. Eve found that very same inner voice to be rather cowardly and unrealistic.
It hadn’t taken her long to realize that she did indeed want to marry Colin. What had taken a while, and what shocked her to discover, was the relief she experienced when Tristan found them together. As awful as that sounded, as horrible as it made her feel, she was relieved nonetheless because Colin would finally be hers.
For the first time in her life, she had everything to lose. One might think such a realization would make her fretful; however, the knowledge had the opposite effect.
It made Eve determined to get what she wanted.
What she wanted on this night, above all else, was her husband.
Placing her hand on the cold, brass doorknob, Eve prayed that he didn’t lock the door on his side. Turning it slowly, she continued to repeat her silent prayer, please, dear God, let it be unlocked until she heard a faint click and pried the door open.
She breathed a sigh of relief before peering around the now open door. The hearth emanated a warm, orange glow as embers crackled, making the room seem less silent, less tomb-like.
Scanning the room, she looked to the bed first. It was still made. Her eyes then spanned the shadows until she saw his silhouette seated in a chair near the hearth.
“Colin?” She asked, not quite in a whisper, yet not loud either.
He remained silent.
As she crept across the carpeted floor in her bare feet, her eyes searched for his face but he kept it hidden from view, staring into the fire she assumed.
“Are you awake?” Eve was pleased that she sounded normal when her quickened pulse was pounding in her temples.
He shifted in his seat, alerting her that he was indeed awake.
Silence engulfed the room.
“Should I light a lamp? Or maybe a candle?” she suggested.
“No,” Good God, no more light. He didn’t want to ever again witness the look of pity in her eyes, the look of disgust.
Eve crossed in front of him, wearing a cream-colored silk robe while her blonde tresses glowed in the light of the raging fire behind her. She looked like an angel, he thought, as silence hung thick in the air between them. Eve then knelt before him, placing her hand on his thigh.
Colin didn’t move, nor did he react at all, fearful that she would retreat again.
“Did you honestly think that your paternity would matter to me?”
“Eve, you’re the daughter of a viscount—”
“What a coincidence because you’re the son of a duke,” she countered in a haughty tone. In the warm glow of the hearth, Colin could see that her cheeks held a faint pink flush.
“It’s not the same as you are well aware,” Colin couldn’t believe his ears. She knew better than this. He turned away from her; however, Eve reached for his face and tugged his head towards her. She met his gaze, her bright green eyes locked with his.
“Your father far outranked mine in prestige, wealth, and power. It doesn’t matter to me that you are illegitimate,” her expression was gentle.
Only she could argue that it didn’t matter. “It matters to the ton, and if this gets out—”
“Colin, it doesn’t matter to me.”
“How can you say that?” Colin pushed away from her, striding over to the mantel. “If anyone else discovers the truth, you’ll be ruined right along with me. It was selfish of me to marry you, I thought no one would ever find out but now, with these cryptic messages, God only knows who else knows the truth.”
“Regardless, I don’t care.”
“Stop saying that!” He squeezed the mantel, fighting to control his mounting temper before adding in a softer tone, “Please.”
Eve stood, walking over to him. “It’s the truth, and I refuse to pretend it matters when it matters not. I will never love you any less. As a matter of fact, I love you more with the knowledge that you survived this secret, and that you’re still a kind man. You are the antithesis of both of your fathers.”
Their eyes locked. Colin was met with pure determination in her familiar features: her deep-set eyes, her regal jaw line, her heart shaped lips, her proud stance.
He remembered everything about her, or so he thought. He realized now that he failed to recall her fierce determination.
“I’m not a good man. What I did while I was in India …” he paused. Allowing his words to sink in. “It wasn’t just war, Eve. Both sides were merciless.”
“Your brother is a barrister, Colin, and runs in political circles. I heard the rumors of mercenaries working for one side to spy on the other. Forgive me for jumping to conclusions, but I assume that’s how you acquired your wealth.”
He stared at her slack-jawed. Would this woman ever cease to amaze him?
“There was more to it than that,” he whispered.
Eve nodded. “I’m sure there was.”
He met her piercing gaze. “How can you be so blasé about this?”
“Because I know the man you are now, and accept you for it,” she said before a thick silence enveloped them.
He couldn’t believe his ears. Eve was so willing to accept the terrible truths he had hidden for so long. Surely it wasn’t this simple?
Just when he thought his world was righting itself at last, Eve handed him a card, engraved in burgundy and gold script:
Madame Clarisse Delacroix
Designer and Artiste of
Fashionable Confections
C’est Magnifique!
Colin stared at it blankly. “You want me to buy you a gown?” he asked drily.
“No,” Eve rolled her eyes. “I am not the woman I claim to be either. This is me.” She pointed to the card.
“I don’t understand,” Colin was utterly lost.
“This is my business. I am, albeit secretly, Madame Clarissa Delacroix. I created this alter ego for myself, with Victoria’s help.” Eve leaned against the mantel, her guilt for how poorly she treated Victoria weighing even more heavily with these admissions. “Victoria and Gwen are my top clients though Tori is the one that has sold my alter ego to the ton more than anyone. I meet none of my clients and use young village girls to take measurements and make deliveries. I communicate through correspondence. This is my way of making a living while polite society never knows that it is me doing their bidding. No one in the ton, short of my family and yours, knows the depths to which I have sunk.”
Colin’s gaze moved from the card to Eve’s eyes, which remained fixed upon his.
“You’re not the only one with secrets,” she admitted, her tone brokering no argument. “I’m not who I claim to be, so we’re even. In my estimation, we deserve each other. Since I refuse to agree to a divorce, if I am discovered, you will be disgraced along with me.”
He couldn’t believe her admissions, let alone the fact that Eve was now issuing ultimatums. His heart slammed against his chest. Not in anger. No, Colin wasn’t angry. He was proud as hell that this determined woman belonged to him. She was beautiful. Hell she was bloody brilliant. Yet, here she stood discussing divorce when Colin knew deep down that he’d never be able to give her up.
Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.
Apparently Eve was unable to read his train of thoughts, for she continued, “If I must wreak scandal upon us, I will. Someone could easily discover the truth about Madame Delacroix. Not to mention the scandal that would ensue if word got out that Tristan called off my betrothal because he caught me with you, especially if I leak it to the—”
“You won’t do anything of the sort.”
“Yes, I will and you can’t stop me.”
“Eve—”
“I am not going anywhere.” As she spoke, she leaned forward, clutching his arms. “What do I have to do to make you believe me?”
Her eyes, the color of spring even in the glow of the fireplace,
were pleading with him. It was more than he could bear. He reached for her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “I do believe you.”
Leaning into her until their foreheads touched, Colin murmured, “I love you.”
“I love you and I belong with you,” Eve placed her hand on his bare chest and midriff. She began stroking it absentmindedly.
“I don’t care where you came from or where you’ve been,” her voice was a raspy whisper. “All I want is your love. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “You have it, now and always.”
“Then there won’t be any further mention of divorce?” she asked as she snuggled against him, her arms encircling him.
“I couldn’t let you go, even if I tried,” Colin answered, his heart in his throat. He then kissed the top of her soft curls before adding, “I had no idea you were quite so determined. Were you really going to announce that I’d ruined you?”
“Yes, I was,” she murmured.
“Not only are you determined,” he teased, kissing her head again. “You also appear to be stark-raving mad,” another kiss. “With a self-destructive streak,” he teased, kissing her head again.
Eve tilted her head back so she could face him, a wide smile on her face. “Just think,” she spoke, her tone syrupy sweet, “I am all yours.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Colin bent down once again, this time kissing his wife’s lips.
Eve pulled away from him. “One thing,” she said.
“Anything.”
“Let’s go home,” Eve beseeched him. “These notes and this house are tearing us asunder. I fear we won’t survive this place.”
“I was about to propose the same thing,” Colin said, tipping her chin up.
Enticing Eve: Scandalous Secrets, Book 2 Page 26