Page 8 of When a Lady Desires a Wicked Lord
Until you showed up.How very unexpected it was to speak those words. A sadness she’d thought long dead welled within her.
Benedict swept his thumb over her bottom lip, a tender caress, far too sensuous. Her mouth went dry with a dangerous longing.
Taking a single step back, she edged away from his touch. Reading her so very easily and so clearly, his mouth quirked into something she might’ve called a smile.
“I can recall a time when you would not have not demonstrated such…self-control,” he murmured. “Alex, you’ve changed.”
His words seemed a small dagger to the heart. She squared her shoulders. “I might say the same of you.”
His eyes flashed at her words, an emotion she could not read. His gaze wandered, settling over her shoulder. At more than six feet in height, the action did not pose a challenge. His attention appeared to light on her mahogany desk.
A shiver of warning danced over Alex’s nape. What was it he sought? Had he come for the amulet?
Startled as she’d been, she’d still possessed the presence of mind to put the pendant out of sight. Professor Stockwell’s letter had provided a somber warning of the dangers faced by any who possessed the ingot. Her mentor had been blunt—the intricately carved Egyptian piece had escaped grave robbers for millennia—now it remained a target of thieves and unscrupulous collectors.
And now, Benedict—he would never be Marlsbrook to her—was here. Had his greed for antiquities driven him to acquire it? Did he believe he might convince her to profit from the artifact Stockwell had requested she examine? Or did he think to simply take it from her?
A lump materialized in her throat. She swallowed against the raw emotion that filled her. Not that she felt any fright. Benedict would never hurt her…well, other than that nasty business when he’d crushed her heart beneath the heels of his polished boots.
His dark gaze met hers. Held it for a fleeting moment. His mouth hardened into a line. If he were a stranger, she might have found the gleam in his eyes a trifle menacing. But the man she’d known would never raise a hand to her.
He had changed in those long days since he’d left London. Once, he’d promised to love her until he took his last breath. Now, he stood before her, a cold-eyed stranger. His skin bore a golden-tanned hue from years of exposure to the desert sun, and his face had grown leaner, the contours more well-defined and sharply carved. If anything, the chiseled hardness of his features and bronzed hue of his complexion brought out the browns and greens of his intriguing, intelligent eyes. He’d always been lean, without an ounce of spare flesh on his middle, but now, he’d gained sleek layers of muscle on his upper arms and chest, exuding a sense of power he had not demonstrated before he’d left to seek his fortune. His expression radiated a raw confidence, brash and arrogant to the core. The sense of barely leashed power triggered an innate response within her, intensifying her body’s response to him.
But Benedict was not the same man she’d loved. The path he’d chosen had stripped his soul bare.
Was he now a man she had cause to fear?
Pity she did not know the answer.
Turning from her, he rubbed his jaw, as if to relieve a dull ache. A part of her longed to reach out to him, as if she might confirm through the sense of touch that he had not truly changed. An old craving surged through her. Such a shame there was nothing to be done about it. She knew better than to entertain any notions where he was concerned. She’d learned a bitter lesson, one she did not intend to repeat.
“In life, the choices we are forced to make shape our destiny,” he said, his voice low and edged with flint. “Some are bitter as bile. But in the end, the outcome justifies the means.”
“Or so you say. In your case, your choices destroyed your bond with Professor Stockwell. You were his most accomplished student. You were like a son to him. Until—”
“Until I cast it all aside for my ill-gotten gains.” Derision colored his tone. As he faced her again, his eyes darkened to a deep mossy green. “I’ve heard it all before. Spare me the lecture.”
Pain she refused to acknowledge scalded her throat. How had the man she’d once loved changed so very much? Once, humor and a love of life had flashed in his smile. Now, the hard-edge of his mouth revealed a well-cultivated cynicism. If only she could understand… Then, perhaps the lingering scar of his betrayal would finally fade.
“You are the one who must live with what you’ve done. Fortunately, you spared me that burden.”
“I never wanted to expose you to the life I’d chosen. But now, fate has intervened.” He motioned her to the door. “I presume this can be secured from the outside.”
She slipped the key from the lock. “Of course.”
He cast her assailant a contemptuous glance. “What do you say we leave this fellow? It’s not as if he’s going anywhere,” Benedict said, leading her from the chamber. “He’ll be unconscious for a while, but if he revives, I’d rather not take the chance of revealing information he might be able to pass along to his employer.”
She watched as he tested the lock. “If he manages to work his way out of his bonds, I doubt that door will imprison him.”
“No sense making it easy for the rotter. At the least, this will provide fair warning.”
“Point taken. Shall we proceed to the parlor?”
He nodded his agreement, and they walked in silence to the small, darkened chamber. Before she could light the lamps, Benedict went to the windows to draw the curtains.
Alex paced the length of the room. Her slippered feet sank into the plush pile of the Oriental carpet. “Why did the professor send you here?”
He turned to her. “I’ve already told you.”
