Читать книгу Secrets of Sin - Chloe Harris - Страница 10

Emiline had lingered in her preparations for dinner hoping to annoy Reinier by making him wait, but now she decided that was a much too petty and cowardly tact for the Mistress of Bougainvilla.

Her foot was tapping with apprehension as she sat at her dressing table. She pictured him down in her parlor, with his typically triumphant smirk, the smile that she hated and loved at the same time.

She mustn’t let him get to her. Not again. Not ever. He wasn’t worth it. Each emotion Emiline let him pull from her was like another stabbing pinprick, and she wanted them to stop. She ruled here, and now she was overly anxious to get downstairs and show him just that.

Justine was humming softly to try and calm her. “Be still, child, or I’ll never be done.”

“Sorry.” It wasn’t a complicated style, just a simple pile of curls to go with her simple tan silk dress and ordinary sea-green cap-sleeved jacket. Still, Emiline found it hard to remain still enough for Justine to finish her hair.

“I don’t blame you, though. That man would try the patience of St. Rita of Cascia popping up here out of the blue like that.”

“What possessed him to come here, Justine? Why didn’t I throw him out of my house as soon as I saw him?” Was it really just a coincidence that he’d returned right when she’d asked someone to find him? Emiline pricked her thumb with the pin she’d been playing with and threw it carelessly on the vanity table.

“Worse of all, my brain was so addled before I could think of any kind of witty reply, he just left—left me alone in the parlor with my tea and a million questions.”

“No use fretting about it now. If I know my girl, you’ll be thinking much more clearly at dinner. Don’t you worry.”

Emiline took a deep, calming breath. “Thank you, Justine. Yes, I do believe I am thinking much more clearly now. It’s of no special consequence that Reinier came here past that of convenience.” She refused to say he’d come home. “I hadn’t thought it was important to meet in person, just that we could handle the matter like any other business transaction. But it might be fortuitous he’s here. This way I can get the things over more quickly.”

“The quicker the better, I’d say.” Justine added the last pin to Emiline’s hair. “You sure you don’t want me to do anything else? Maybe add a string of pearls or pull a few curls down?”

Emiline looked at the plain style in the mirror. “No, this will do fine. Thank you.” She didn’t need to make any kind of impression. There was no need to take any special care whatsoever with her appearance for a man, not husband, but just a man she barely knew and certainly didn’t want meddling in her life anymore.

“If you wish, but I say the more armor, the better to face the devil.” Justine took one more quick look over her handiwork.

“He’s not the devil, Justine, just a shrewd businessman. You know, even if I hadn’t realized it in the beginning, our marriage wasn’t anything but a business transaction. Why shouldn’t the end of it be the same?” She’d make it through dinner with just a little small talk and then casually remind him of how well they’ve both done apart from each other.

Justine’s snort was derogatory. “If you say so, but, darling, I was there when the honeymoon was over and you suddenly found yourself alone. If only you’d listened to your father’s warnings before it was too late.”

“I know.” Emiline sighed, thinking back on how she’d told her father time and again that Reinier wasn’t like the others. Eventually, her father gave up trying with a sympathetic, sad smile. You know there’s nothing I can deny you, he’d said, kissing her forehead.

Emiline knew now she’d been overconfident in her youth. She thought she was oh-so-special and her love was enough to hold Reinier. She’d been completely happy to give herself up to being the perfect wife—had, in fact, believed it would be enough for him.

But bitter realization had woken her from her dream. Reinier Barhydt had never wanted her love, hadn’t wanted the burden of responsibilities that came with being master of Bougainvilla and being her husband. He had only wanted her money. And just as her father had predicted, she couldn’t keep him with her on Ronde.

Emiline walked to the full-length silver mirror and took one last look. “We’re both businesspeople now. I’ll make him see the logic and tremendous profit in him signing the papers. If all goes according to plan and he agrees, then maybe he’ll even be gone from l’Île de Ronde and our lives by the morning tide.”

Justine knit her brows, her frown deepening. Paying that no mind, Emiline opened the door. The stage was set; now all she had to do was play her part. It was easy, really.

“From your mouth to God’s ears, child.” Emiline heard Justine’s murmur just as she stepped out of her room.

Reinier paced in front of the open French doors of the dining room. The fresh evening breeze and scent of bougainvilleas, sugarcane, and sea did nothing to lighten his mood.

He stopped to look out at the cliffs above the caves, wondering again what the hell had really made him come. One thing was for sure, as Captain of the Sirene, he had a reputation to uphold. If word got out that his wife was cuckolding him and doing as she pleased, his ability keep his own house in order might be called into question, and thereby his ability to keep his business dealings in order as well.

Not that he actually wanted any real part in having to keep his own house in order. It was rather annoying to have to take time out of the life he so enjoyed to be forced back here to bring his wife in line. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long to charm her into agreement; then, after a very pleasurable night of husbandly duties, he could be on his way. Maybe even on the morning tide.

He checked the clock on the mantel above the fireplace again and his frustration grew. Obviously, his spoiled little island beauty hadn’t changed at all. Still playing childish games by keeping him waiting.

But when he turned at the sound of delicate yet determined footsteps coming through the door behind him, all his previous thoughts were forgotten and lost in the vision of someone he didn’t recognize standing before him.

This moment Reinier knew she wasn’t the same. This faultless beauty standing just inside the doorway to the dining room was not the girl he’d married.

Already a very appealing and exquisite, comely girl, Emiline had become a stunningly gorgeous woman. As his intense gaze examined her appearance, taking her in slowly from head to toe, he noticed her chin inched higher with indignation. But Reinier paid that no mind. He looked his fill. If anybody had a right to do it, it was him—whether she welcomed it or not. On the contrary, her reluctance to enjoy his sensual perusal made the task even more luscious than it already was.

He was glad she didn’t favor the busier fashions of the day with all their ribbons and lace and bows. She didn’t need them. Her eyes were jewels, her skin was warm silk, and her hair was entwined with its own strands of gold. They were all the accessories she needed. And he hoped to see her with nothing else very, very soon.

Also, Reinier noticed that she was, it seemed, a woman as impatient as he’d just been by the look in those magnificent blue-green eyes.

He moved toward her to lead her to the table set near the open French doors to catch the breeze. The table by the doors had been set without its leaves, creating an intimate and casual feel as if this was how the master and mistress had their dinner every night.

His gaze, he knew, was predatory; perhaps much more revealing than he had at first intended. But it was only natural. She had achieved the impossible by becoming more beautiful than ever, and Reinier couldn’t seem to help the attraction he was beginning to feel for the improved looks of his wife.

The servants, arms laden with food trays, were moving into the room from a side door. Emiline gave Reinier a small nod, lightly placed her hand on top of his, and without a word let him guide her to her chair.

They ate much of their meal of prawns, citrus-glazed chicken, roasted yams, and fresh fruits in little more than an awkward silence.

“You had fair weather sailing in?”

“Yes, it was quite nice. The prawns were excellent. Were they caught this morning?”

“I believe so; there should have been mussels as well.”

“Wonderful.”

It wasn’t that they didn’t have a lot to say to each other. He assumed she, too, was carefully testing, trying to find a way to lead the conversation in the direction she wanted. They both had their agendas, he was sure, only it seemed that no occasion would arise to allow either one to finally start the topic they intended to talk about.

Finally, Reinier had enough. He broke another long stretch of silence right before she could seize the chance to make her excuses and take her leave for the night. “I must tell you, madam, Bougainvilla seems to be doing quite well. Of course, I haven’t had time to see too much of it as of yet, but it seems to be thriving. Who’s your man, by the way?”

Her fork clattered on her plate; the tips of her ears pinkened. Reinier’s lips twitched into a mean smile.

“My man? Sir, whatever do you mean?” She blinked innocently and her gasp was exaggerated. “I was under the assumption that you were under the assumption that it was you.”

Her eyes sparkled with the cold, calculating certainty of her quick mind. Reinier was taken aback with that bit of sarcastic wit. It tasted just a tiny bit of hostility. It would seem that more than just her outer carriage had changed.

“Touché, madam.” He winked quickly.

If she wanted to challenge him, he was more than up for the task—in more than one sense of the word to be sure. If irritating her made her react to him in more than the usual slightly bored and superficial way, then more’s the better. After all, it meant she felt something for him and wasn’t just trying to keep up appearances and be the perfect wife. Just that thought alone made his chest tighten and his breath come quicker.

Reinier took his napkin from his lap and placed it on his plate. “I was speaking of business, not personal matters—for the moment at least. Who have you got running things for you here? He should be commended.”

Her eyes grew unnaturally big. “I don’t wish to seem obtuse, but I’m afraid that I am the man you speak of. I run Bougainvilla on my own. I am the sole mistress here.”

On her own, did she? Reinier didn’t quite believe that. On the other hand, her father had been very smart when it came to business matters. If he’d taught her enough before his unfortunate death, it was indeed possible that she had run the estate ever since, with her lover’s help, of course.

“My apologies, madam. Then you are to be commended for taking on such heavy burdens and succeeding.” For a very small moment her mouth became slack and was in danger of dropping.

“Yes, well, I wasn’t left with much choice.” Her tone was quite sharp and she looked down her nose at Reinier. “And as you can see, I do quite well here—alone. There really was no need for you to bother coming by.”

At that, Reinier snickered. She didn’t know the half of it. Yes, she was rather agitated, maybe it was because he was here and she had to hide her lover or just because he’d annoyed her. Whatever the reason, it was a small victory on the path to triumph. He’d only just begun to play with her.

She staked a piece of mango on her plate and tried to ignore the offending, low chuckle from Reinier. Did he suppose a woman couldn’t possibly be as successful as she was on her own? How insufferably arrogant could he be?

It wasn’t like her to be easily provoked, but her initial irritation turned into white fury now. Why was he now interested in the estate? To get a share of its profits instead of the payoff money she planned to offer to be rid of him? Oh, that was just like him. The estate was none of his business! He was underestimating her if he thought her naïve.

She refused to look at him until her emotions were under control again. When she spoke, her tone was aloof but polite. “Whatever the reason, whatever the circumstances, sir, it is very fortunate that you’ve come here. There is a very small matter I’d like to discuss with you.” She set her napkin on the table and began to rise from her seat.

Reinier rose when she did. In one stride he was in front her, barring her escape from the room. When he inhaled, his nostrils flared. His eyes closed lazily as he tilted his head to the side.

“How do you feel now that I’m back?” Reinier leaned subtly closer.

Emiline halted and stared up at him unblinking, her indignation blazing through her.

“You must feel something.” He walked around her slowly. “Are you angry with me?” He whispered against her lips, looming even closer.

She turned her head away. “No, I’m not angry with you.” She’d given up feeling anything for him a long time ago. Stepping around him, she continued toward the door to get the papers from the study. He could sign them now and be gone. Out of sight, out of mind.

She grasped the doorknob with both hands, but Reinier had caught up with her again and held the door closed with his arms braced against it. A shiver ran through Emiline when she felt the heat of his body, although he was careful not to touch her.

“Or could it be that you’re glad I’m back, Emiline?” His words were low, sensual. Her name on his lips sounded like a promise, whispering over her treacherous skin that rippled with desire as her knees became dangerously weak. Closing her eyes, Emiline remembered what it was like—what he was like when he was on his most charming behavior, when he told her all the sweet things she needed to hear. She could feel his words tickling against the shell of her ear…

Emiline willed herself to come to her senses. She’d be damned if she didn’t go through with the plans she’d made.

Rudely, she thrust her shoulders and upper body back so that Reinier had to give her more room. His arms fell to his sides just as she turned to face him. She wasn’t the naïve girl he’d left behind anymore. She was a woman now—a strong businesswoman at that. He wanted to make this a tough business negotiation? Little did he know that she’d just begun.

“It is of no special consequence to me that you are here.” Her look was cold and callous. “Once again, I do not have any choice in the matter.”

Reinier captured her smaller hand in his and brought it up between them. “Oh, but there is always a choice, wife.” His voice was seductive and dangerously low.

Emiline felt the blood drain from her face as he held her hand. No man had ever dared touch her like that, not since…well, not since their honeymoon. She felt herself quiver inside.

“I wonder…Do you ever wish to be free?”

Did she ever…Oh! Emiline understood now. He wanted a divorce as well! What a very fortunate twist of fate for her. “Of you?” she blurted out, speaking faster than she could hear herself think. “Yes, of course! In fact—”

“No,” Reinier cut her off with a patronizing snort. “No, not of me, I’m afraid.” He used her hand, held close to his heart, to guide her back to the table again. Her fresh hope shattered, Emiline was now more confused than ever. She blinked up at him as he released her and backed up slightly from the table.

Reinier spread his strong arms wide. “Free of all this.”

What was he talking about? The mental image of what he asked was outright ridiculous.

The way her expression changed, the way the light in her eyes died to be replaced by cool determination and prudent intent was simply amazing for Reinier. He found himself eager to taste her confusion in the air. The scent of strawberries filled his mind and let sweet memories tickle up and down his body. He wanted to catch a bit more of her spice, even more alluring now that she was angry with him.

He leaned down and set his hands on the arms of her chair. “All you command. What I mean to say is…Have you ever wished for someone else to be in control? To turn over the burdens of rule, to let go of all the responsibility and control, and just be free to follow?”

Reinier could read it in her eyes. The mere thought that her mind had instantly gone in the right direction was so very arousing. She’d wished it already. But did she have any idea how far this would go, how far he’d take her if only she let him guide her?

He pulled away from her and gave her the space she needed.

Emiline rose from the table without Reinier stopping her this time, and she moved across the room toward the small fireplace in the center of the east-facing wall. She turned to the empty hearth, placing one hand on the mantel. Eventually, she pressed out between clenched teeth, “You do not know me.”

Reinier moved to the fireplace and stood directly behind her. He touched her dark, smooth shoulder lightly with the back of his knuckles and let his breath caress her perfect neck, marveling again at what true beauty he’d sailed away from.

“Oh, but I want to know you, wife,” he whispered.

At that, Emiline spun quickly, too quickly for Reinier to catch her small hand before it connected with his cheek with more force than he’d ever imagined she could have. The smacking sound reverberated throughout the room, the candles on the mantel flickered, and even the natural music of the West Indian night outside seemed to stop in time.

His last words had definitely struck a chord—his tingling cheek was proof of it.

They stood as they were for what seemed like hours but could have been only seconds. In those moments the morning tide was completely forgotten. Reinier couldn’t think of anywhere else he wanted to be tomorrow. He had no intention of rushing things, he decided as he rubbed his cheek tenderly. He was always in the mood for a good challenge—thrived on it, in fact. Right then he was quite determined to spend a few days learning all about this new side of Emiline, the angry, passionate, and quite alluring facets of his wife he’d never seen.

Well, learning and then teaching, of course.

Emiline’s eyes were wide. She seemed horrified by her loss of control. The memory of how she shivered to his touch earlier was still echoing in his mind, but now hatred must be tickling her palm as well. Was she just as furious at herself as she was at him?

In a slow movement, meant to give her enough time to react while the dark light in his eyes dared her not to, his hands lightly gripped her forearms. When he spoke, he hoped the rich sweetness of sensuality in his voice was adding insult to injury for her.

“You’ve changed, Emiline. I have definitely seen—and felt—that now.” He laughed lightly. “But the facts are as they are: You are my wife. And this is my home when I choose it.”

His fingers started to move over her skin on their own accord. There was a brief moment when he asked himself how he could have forgotten how magical her skin felt. His hands followed his fingers, slowly moving up and down her arms.

Telltale goose bumps rose on her flesh, but he could see she was determined not to show any reaction either to his words or his touch. Reinier might not have known in the beginning, but he had been waiting for this moment since he’d first stepped foot back on the island. He leaned down until his lips were a hairsbreadth from hers.

“I have rights here—like it or not.” His breath tickled her soft lips. “I think there’s been enough discussion for our first night. Now, come to bed, wife, and we can continue this tomorrow.”

Emiline stood frozen as she watched his pale, freshly shaven cheek turn an angry crimson and quickly start to fade again. In some small way it should have been a satisfying feeling, but it wasn’t. Nothing about her wayward husband was as it should have been. Looking farther up, she saw those cool, pale citrus-colored eyes twinkle.

Her spine tingled at the thought of what his kiss might feel like. For only a split second she let herself remember what his lips tasted like, how gently they could draw her in. But then she pulled away from Reinier’s arms with all her might.

He had no rights here after sailing out of her life on the ship her money had built. Oh, she would make sure those papers were signed and he was off her island sooner rather than later.

“As I told you, Monsieur Barhydt”—Emiline thrust her chin up indignantly to make her point clear—“I rule Bougainvilla, and I surely do not take your commands. But you are right about one thing, sir. We will continue this discussion tomorrow. Good night.”

Turning away and marching toward the door to the main hallway, the breath flew from her lungs as Reinier quickly came up behind her. His muscular arm gripped her small waist when he crushed her tightly against his body. Through the silk of her dress, she felt him aroused and straining against his breeches. Once again, a deep blush moved from her cheeks to the tightening tips of her breasts.

His breath was hot and demanding against her throat. “You may very well rule Bougainvilla, madam,” he purred into her ear, passion and promise all rolled into one. “But before I leave here again, I will rule you. And rest assured, wife, you will beg me to do it.”

Emiline’s whole body stiffened in resistance. As suddenly as he’d captured her, he let her go.

She wasn’t sure if it was his words or the definite twinge of excitement she felt that scared her most, but she knew she hated him for it. For that and the fact that this man she now considered barely more than a stranger somehow saw into the farthest part of her mind—a part that she only admitted to herself in the darkest of dark and lonely nights.

Not looking back, Emiline moved out of the room as quickly as she could without breaking into a dignity-killing run.