Page 27 of Tempting the Scoundrel
“Is it from the same place you found this nightgown?” she asked, touching the silk fabric. It was well made, if a bit frayed from wear. “From a mistress, perhaps.”
“Mistress?” He lifted his lashes. “Is that where you think it came from?”
Alexandra had always thought black to be a cold shade, as sharp as obsidian. Though forged in heat, volcanic glass made a perfect weapon; it might have been brittle, but it was hard and amorphous—the edge cut easily through flesh. If he wanted, he could wield those eyes of his like a blade. Perhaps he saved that for enemies, for those who were fool enough to challenge him.
For her, that gaze was as hot as coal fire, and every bit as dangerous.
But Alexandra was no coward, to let this man intimidate her. He ought to know her better than that. She lifted a shoulder. “I have no expectations. It’s been four years—”
Nick reached Alexandra before she could blink. His arms pressed into the bed on either side of her, and he leaned in, close enough to kiss. “Aye, four fucking years.” His voice was almost a purr. Did he see her shiver? “I’ve fair worn out my hand, but I’ve never taken any woman since you to my bed.”
Was he telling her the truth? Alexandra hated the flush of warmth that went through her. Had he really—
No. You will not do this again.He was a liar, wasn’t he? A confidence artist with years of practice deceiving people. Why, she probably hadn’t been a challenge at all. All it took to destroy her life was his wicked smile and his pretty face.
What an easy mark she was.
The reminder angered her. “You’ve no need to be dishonest with me now,” she said, pushing at his chest. “You already have my money.”
“Sure, I suppose it’s hard to believe a man like me would remain faithful to his wife. He might wonder if she could say the same.”
What matter? A thousand lovers couldn’t erase the memory of him: his body pressed to hers, cock inside her. Later, the sight of him kissing down her hips to settle his lips and tongue between her thighs. And what did it matter when four years had done little to ease the ache in her heart at his betrayal?
Her lips flattened. “That wife might wonder if her husband has the right to demand fidelity when he began the marriage under false pretenses.”
Nick’s eyes burned into hers. “Have you a lover, Alex?” he asked her, very softly.
“And if I did?” she asked. She relished in the cruelty of her question. Let him be hurt. Let him wonder. He’d done worse. “Would you maim the hand he touched me with? Kill him for giving me what you couldn’t?” She rested her hand at his nape and whispered in a voice as cold as the winter ocean, “Would you find a way to punish me for welcoming another man between my thighs?”
Nick jerked away from her. “Learned a thing or two from those heartless nobs, did you?”
“On the contrary. I learned everything I needed to know from you.”
He let out a rueful laugh. “Ruthless I am. But my enduring regret is lowering myself so far in your esteem that you think I’d punish you, or anyone else, for my mistake.”
How could she believe his words? He’d hurt her so deeply that four years had not lessened the ache. He had the face of the man she loved, but he was not Lord Locke. Lord Locke didn’t even exist. “Perhaps there is no man in my life. After all, how could I trust them after you?”
His expression constricted slightly, as if he held back a flinch at her words. “Then perhaps that ought to be my enduring regret.”
“Enough.” Alexandra didn’t want to feel sorry for him. He’d betrayedher, after all. She tipped her head to the door and returned to an easier topic: “If those children aren’t yours, then whose are they?”
If anything, his expression became more guarded. “Fi and Lottie’s ma died in a building collapse in the Nichol eight months ago. Don’t know who their da was.”
“And they live here? At the Brimstone?”
Nick hesitated. “The orphanage nearby.”
Why was he holding himself so strangely? He was shifting on his feet. Nick was not a man whoshifted, nor one who appeared uncertain about anything. That made her suspicious. It was yet another reminder that the whole of his life remained unfamiliar to her. Composed of secrets she had only pieced together over the years through her work. The picture was incomplete; he was a puzzle with a thousand missing pieces.
Frustrated, Alexandra asked, “But why do they comehere, then?”
“Reckoned they fancied having a sweet roll from the kitchens,” he said with a shrug. “The orphanage takes care of their needs, but most of them have never had full bellies and regular meals before. They take it where they can. They know I’ll give it to them, since I own the—” he made a noise and looked away.
One missing piece in the puzzle of his life filled.
“You own the orphanage?” She couldn’t keep the astonishment out of her voice.
Nick lifted a shoulder. “Few of them. Makes it easier to hire managers who treat the children well, put meals in their bellies, and don’t sell them off to toffs looking to abuse them.”
