Читать книгу Secrets of Sin - Chloe Harris - Страница 9

“Mistress!”

Emiline was stopped by Justine’s breathless, distressed squeal as soon as she entered the house. Hands in her apron, the lady’s maid who had been on Bougainvilla since Emiline’s childhood seemed quite agitated. Her eyes were unnaturally wide, as was her mouth.

With a sad smile, Emiline remembered when she had last seen Justine like this. It was when one of the downstairs maids had broken several saucers of her mother’s most precious china.

Emiline cut the maid off with a simple, weary shake of her head and continued toward the stairs up to her room. “Justine, whatever has you flustered like this, whether it’s another piece of the china or something similarly dramatic, please stop. I’m too tired and I long for a bath.”

Justine clapped her mouth shut. Then her forehead wrinkled. “But…”

Once more Emiline shook her head and handed the maid her old hat and worn leather gloves. Justine could wait. It had been another exhausting day in the fields. A long, hot bath would ease the ache in her back a little and the stiffness in her muscles too. Besides, it was part of her daily routine. After a day in the fields, she’d relax in steaming water; then she’d have tea in the parlor and read a little or brood over the ledgers in the study until it was time for dinner.

When she entered her chamber, Emiline leaned against the door, closing her eyes with a sigh. She felt so tired. The people of Ronde all worked hard for her and she worked with them. There was no day off for the Mistress of Bougainvilla.

When her father had died, Emiline had to learn to take a man’s role, to take on all the responsibilities the trade required without complaint—and she had. She’d made Bougainvilla the most profitable sugarcane estate in the West Indies.

She pushed off the door and began to open the laces of her plain linen dress that was mended in too many places and now dirty from the fields. Emiline made her way to the bathtub in the adjoining room and let herself sink into the hot water.

Having scrubbed herself clean until the water was white from the soap, Emiline allowed herself to linger a little longer. She leaned back, feeling the soreness in her muscles ease.

The scent of bougainvilleas wafted to her through the open windows. That’s where the name of the estate came from. They’d been her mother’s favorite flowers, and the villa was surrounded by them.

The estate and the tiny island were Emiline’s whole world, and she ruled it. She had to. There was no one else to do it for her.

Sometimes she felt very alone. But that was ridiculous really. She had a busy life. There was nothing she lacked, and she was a very successful businesswoman. There was no need, she told herself, for a family.

Once she’d thought herself in love. Once was enough to teach her. That love had been so fierce and all-encompassing, it burnt her. Oh, it had definitely been enough.

The ever-present, soft breeze from the sea through the windows reminded her that the water had turned cool already, so she stepped out of the bathtub and grabbed a towel.

While rubbing herself dry, she was thinking about the parlor. She’d have tea there, as usual. Sometimes, when she was sitting in the parlor, she caught herself still looking out the window there. It had a wonderful view of the little harbor of Ronde.

Some days there’d be ships there. Ships waiting to purchase a load of the finest sugarcane or rum the Caribbean had to offer.

For a long time she’d searched the harbor for the one ship that would bring her beloved home. After a while, her tears had tasted bitter and stung her cheeks as she watched for the ship that might carry her husband back to her. He’d never returned, and eventually there were no more tears left. That fountain dried and her heart shriveled with it.

He didn’t want her and she wasn’t looking for him any longer. And that was just as well.

Still, the annoying habit of looking out of the window in the parlor when she was having tea remained. And still she chided herself for it.

But Emiline would be in control of even that eventually. She controlled every other aspect of her life now. She’d master this too. Only one little obstacle remained in the way of her absolute independence. But that was well in hand and would be taken care of. His whereabouts would be known soon, and the papers would be delivered to him.

Elated by that thought, Emiline went to her wardrobe and chose a simple beige linen afternoon dress to wear for tea. She mustn’t forget to take one of her new books with her, she thought and snatched it from her bedside table before she closed the door behind her. Blessed solitude and tea were waiting in the parlor for her.

Reinier was annoyed. Simply being here irked him immensely. It was bad enough that he’d had to interrupt his very pleasurable life to come here and bring his wife to heel, but waiting this long for her to finally grace him with her presence was enormously irritating.

He felt the muscle in his jaw twitch furiously. He should have known, though. She was probably up in her room making herself look pretty. She shouldn’t flatter herself. He was over that animalistic affection he’d felt years ago. Besides, he hadn’t come here to stay, and he surely hadn’t come here to take care of her loneliness. He was not going to be intimate with her, so there was no need for her to try and impress him.

Reinier had only come to tell Emiline what he expected of her, and he assumed that she’d meekly accept it. Once he’d saved his reputation, he would leave again as quickly as he’d come. Maybe even with the evening tide. He had a shipping business to run and quite a few other pleasurable things to get back to, after all.

The tiny island only felt confining. Especially this parlor he was in now while waiting for his spoiled wife to arrive. Even though he was standing by the window and looking out at the sea, he felt as if his hands and feet were shackled and he was chained to a wall. He longed to be out there, experiencing the salty breeze of freedom on his face.

He remembered that stifling feeling only too well—his past. Sometimes he thought it might still suffocate him, throttle him, and immobilize him. Like he’d felt when…

The nervous clatter of teacups on delicate saucers interrupted his somber memories, and out of the corner of his eye, Reinier could see a maid setting the table for tea. She was struggling not to look directly at him.

His lips twitched. Yes, he was here again, but he’d soon be gone—with the evening tide for sure.

Reinier heard the maid leave as unobtrusively as she had entered. By her quick footsteps, she seemed eager to exit the room. Why? Was it because his wife would soon be here? He really hoped so, because the evening tide waited for no one.

He heard footsteps again, slower this time. The doorknob turned and the door squeaked. Then suddenly there was complete silence, as if time stood still for that very moment.

But the enchantment fled as unexpectedly as it had come when something fell to the floor and there was a sharp intake of breath. Reinier turned around and met the aquamarine blue depths of Emiline’s stunning eyes.

By God.

He’d forgotten how stunningly beautiful she was. His gaze traveled over her appearance. No, she was not simply stunning, she took his breath away. Still.

Gone were the round, youthful cheeks she’d had five years ago, gone to be replaced by sharp features, a little hollow now, but amazingly it emphasized her strong cheekbones. Her arms weren’t as soft looking as they used to be either. They were leaner, muscled.

But, he thought and his face lit up, her ample curves were still all there. He’d always adored her soft curves. They fit to his body perfectly.

And her skin, how could he forget that fascinating bronze color that came from the perfect mix of her father’s dark Afro-Indian coloring and her mother’s pale French complexion.

Seemingly frozen in place as she stood in the door, Emiline’s full rose petal lips were slightly ajar. Goodness, he still remembered what it was like to kiss them, how gentle they were, supple, trembling under his shortly before she’d melt in his arms and arch her body into his. And they tasted like sweet strawberries, seductive, yet innocent.

Perfect.

It’s what he’d thought when he’d first seen her as well. She was perfect. Flawless perfection come to life.

Reinier had forgotten how much he’d wanted her. How much he still wanted her now that he saw her again after such a long time. It all felt so new, yet it wasn’t. Still, it was exciting. Still, she was enticing. Simply seeing her again had his heart pumping heavily in his chest. And something else farther down as well.

He’d always felt physically attracted to her—almost to the point of madness. Yes, he’d always thought he’d go insane if he couldn’t have her.

Time and distance hadn’t lessened her appeal like he’d hoped it would.

She wore a simple linen dress, but nothing looked just plain on her. Whatever she wore, she looked like an angel, especially now that she had her hair down, her still-wet, wild curls fell down her back. He knew they smelt like strawberries as well. Small wood strawberries, like the ones he’d gathered when he was a boy back home.

Reinier also remembered how silken her hair felt on his skin. He’d drape it over him in the night, and lose himself in her utter femininity and mild, soothing fragrance.

The evening tide was almost gone. Almost.

So, while he was here, he might as well renew his memories; he might as well enjoy her soft, pliant body against his. It would be only natural. He was her husband and…

Suddenly remembering why he was here, a cool jolt of reality drew him out of his pleasant musings.

He was not just her husband. She’d made him a cuckold as well. He’d had a purpose coming here, after all.

Upon entering the parlor, Emiline thought she saw a ghost, an evil ghost from her past that had come to unmercifully haunt her. But Reinier was real and standing there in her parlor by the window with his back to her. When he turned around, she thought her heart had stopped beating altogether.

Now he was moving, gracefully, with a certain swing to his every movement, like the predator she thought him to be. Reinier was coming up to her and she knew she should run, should do something, anything but just foolishly stand there, paralyzed by his presence, mesmerized by how he looked at her.

He bowed to her and Emiline blinked. What was he doing? Was he formally…? Emiline gasped as she saw him lifting the book she hadn’t noticed had slipped from her fingers. Absentmindedly, she took it from him and clutched it to her chest, held on to it as if she needed something that felt solid, real.

Nonsense, she chided herself. She needed a shield.

What was he suddenly doing here? Why was he back in her life now?

“Emiline.”

She had to repress the warm, gentle shiver that snaked through her when she heard Reinier’s voice again after such a long time. It was deep and there was still that certain kind of husky mystery in it. Oh, how she’d missed it, how she’d missed hearing him speak, hearing him say her name. He always laid special emphasis on the last syllable, gave it a particular sensual quality that made her skin crawl with delectable memories of how he used to caress her cheek after he’d made love to her and he’d say her name in almost a whisper….

Good Lord.

Emiline had expected anything but this. She’d never again take Justine’s distress lightly. If only she’d listened.

Now not only did she see his eyes wandering up and down her body, she also felt them as they whispered over her. She almost trembled with the sensation that he knew exactly what was underneath her dress.

Her treacherous body instantly started to heat up. When she saw the left corner of his ever-smiling lips move upward, she was so stunned that all she could think was how could she have forgotten how breathtakingly handsome Reinier was.

Yes, his lips were so full that he always seemed to smile, and they made him look soft and sweet. She knew what he was thinking by the way his eyes, his still amazing bright citrus eyes, began to glitter.

She still felt like a rabbit staring at a cougar that had suddenly pounced out of the bushes, just like she had all those years ago when she’d first seen his intense gaze taking her in. All she could do was blink once and swallow hard.

Once more she was mesmerized by his fair beauty. He wasn’t just the most handsome man she’d ever met in her life. Now she remembered why she’d fallen so easily back then. He had a way of making one willingly do almost anything just to hear him say their name, experience his lips against their own, his hands on their body, his body against theirs, his hair tickling their neck and other places the mere thought of which made her blush.

Damn him.

His smile was triumphant even now, because he knew how she felt when he merely looked at her like that.

And curse him. His skin was a sun-baked tan, and Emiline even caught herself wondering for a moment how far his tan would go. His hair, neatly tamed at the back of his head, had faded to a lighter shade in the sun. Now he had small wrinkles around his eyes. Barely there, but they made his alluring, seductive gaze even wilder than ever. He wore a jacket that was exactly the same shade as the green part of his swirling eyes, and his elegant, golden breeches did little to hide the muscular columns underneath.

The years had added to his good looks. She’d thought him handsome then? Well, he was as beautiful as an angel now. So beautiful she’d weep if she could. But she couldn’t do anything at all. She was too stunned.

She bowed her head and gave him the friendliest smile she could manage. “Reinier.”

When he presented his arm, she took it and let him guide her to the table where their tea was set.

Aloof politeness was the right course, Emiline decided while she was sorting through the chaos in her mind. Maybe he’d be gone by the evening tide. If it wasn’t too late for it already?

Emiline busied herself by filling their cups with tea. She could deal with him. She was a strong woman. She was in charge.

Emiline almost believed herself if it hadn’t been for the tiny voice in her head that snickered evilly that she controlled every aspect of her life—save him. But she had a plan to remedy that as well, didn’t she?

The awkward silence in the room now felt oppressing. Emiline brought her cup up to her mouth and sipped elegantly while trying to find a way to start a pleasant conversation with Reinier. But what could she possibly say?

Reinier leaned back and watched her craning her head a little, blinking at him like she always did. She wasn’t showing him any kind of emotion at all. But she had to feel something. Elation or, more likely, anger. Anything that showed him she felt—for him. But she didn’t. Had she ever?

He noticed her hands were trembling. When she put the cup down on the saucer she was holding with her left hand, it clattered. Emiline cleared her throat at the embarrassing noise.

Reinier laughed softly.

“What amuses you?” She was only smiling at him, her stunningly bright eyes searching his face, and as always she didn’t have the slightest idea what he was thinking.

“I see that nothing has changed.”

“Oh…” Emiline set out, but he rose to leave and she didn’t continue.

Reinier had had enough for the moment. If he’d missed the evening tide, then they had plenty of time to talk before morning. “Since I feel fatigued after the journey, I will retire until supper. I expect you to honor me with your presence, Emiline.”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but in the end, she nodded, “Of course.”

Reinier hid his disappointment behind a detached but self-assured smirk, an expression he’d practiced well over the years. He’d have preferred her sneering at him, or screaming she’d rather starve or eat maggots than dine with him. But no, he wouldn’t get any emotional reaction from her.

Emiline. Always polite. Ever the perfect wife.

He’d forced himself to forget, but he remembered now why he needed to stay away from her. She filled his sweetest dreams and haunted his nightmares. Yes, he had loved her. But he hated her for not loving him back—and that was why he could not forgive her.