Enchanted by Your Kisses (13 page)

"If you leave, I will disown you."

Nathan turned back once again. "If you do that, you will be doing me a favor."

Ariel wondered if he really meant the words. He was a remarkably good actor if he didn't. They moved toward the door. Nathan held the door open. He didn't look back as he placed her hand on his arm or as he crossed the threshold. Not until he'd handed her into the ducal carriage, then settled himself opposite, did he say something, and then it was to absolve himself from guilt.

"You know I had nothing to do with what just transpired."

The carriage lantern outside the coach lit the interior of the plush vehicle, showing off its red velvet squabs, brass door handles and mahogany walls. It smelled like lemons inside, as if someone had just cleaned it. Rich. Decadent. One day to belong to the traitorous wretch in front of her.

"You do, don't you?"

At last she looked at his face. He appeared concerned. She gave a silent, ironic laugh. Concerned. She would wager he was. And, yes, she knew he spoke the truth. He would never have risked angering her by arranging such a performance.

"His words were beyond deplorable. They were despicable."

As despicable as his own? she wanted to ask. Instead she remained silent, her hands curled into her elegant skirts. All dressed up with nowhere to go.

She felt her eyes burn with unwanted tears.

"I am sorry, Ariel."

"Are you?" She used a clipped voice. He would say something sweet, she would wager, something geared to softening her pique.

He surprised her when he said nothing at all, merely leaned across the space between them to grab her hand. She was surprised by how much she wanted the contact, nay, needed the contact, despite her loathing for the man.

She tried to pull her hand away. He wouldn't let her, despite the fact that she grew more and more disturbed by the way her traitorous body reacted to his touch. He looked out of the carriage, his expression troubled. Aye, he probably worried she would refuse to see him again. He had a right to be concerned.

She studied his profile. His scar was evident, even though he sat across from her. And out of nowhere came the thought: Why, oh, why did he have to be such a lying cad? And why, oh, why did she care? She turned away lest he see the disappointment that surely shone from her eyes.

"They have not been very kind to you, have they?"

She glanced back at him, surprised to note he was back to staring at her. Yet for the first time his look seemed almost sad. Her eyes narrowed, wondering if this, too, was part of the act.

"If by ‘they' you mean the
ton,
then, yes, it has been less than kind to me."

"Has it always been this way?"

"What do you mean?"

He looked uncomfortable for a second, almost as if he did battle with himself over something.

"Is it always this way when a young lady is ruined?"

"Yes. Always. I have overstepped the mark by coming back to
London
."

"So you are expected to retire to the country for the rest of your life. . .never to marry, never to have children?"

"I am."

"Even if you were duped into being ruined?"

"Ah, but they do not think I was duped. They think I had as much to do with Archie's behavior as he did. Blood tells, and all that rot." And despite her resolve not to cry, she felt more tears come. She turned her head away, staring out of the carriage. The night was so black she could see nothing but her own reflection, a pale face with shocking dark eyes.

"You refer to your mother?"

She tilted her chin before looking back at him. "You know about her, do you?"

"My uncle," he explained.

"Hmm. And what did your uncle say?"

They bounced over a bump. It was a second before he answered. "He said that your father had fallen in love with a woman unsuitable to his station. A gypsy."

"She was that." Ariel looked away, and much to her surprise, she found herself saying, "But my father was said to have loved her very much."
More than he's ever loved me,
she privately added.

"And do you miss not having a mother?"

Another bump. She reached up for the hand-strap with her free hand. "I miss not knowing what she was like. She died while giving birth to me, you see. And though my father tried his best to raise me, we do not get on." She frowned at herself for revealing too much. "It has not helped that I ruined myself at the tender age of eighteen."

"You are not on good terms with your father, then?"

Ah, was he concerned? He should be. "That would be an understatement," she found herself answering, yet at the same time wondering why she bothered to share so much. She should be directing the conversation elsewhere, perhaps to his life in the colonies. Perhaps she could glean a clue as to what it was he wanted in
England
.

"Tell me why he has not forgiven you for your mistake," he said, when she dropped into silence.

"Surely you don't want to hear my opinion on that?"

"I do." He squeezed her hand from across the carriage. Ariel found herself momentarily taken in by his look of sincerity before she remembered who he was. A spy. A master spy. Someone so good at playing games, the Admiralty considered him one of the best spies in the American colony. No doubt she was merely his latest victim.

"Can you not figure it out on your own?"

If he seemed taken aback by her surly tone, he didn't reveal it. Instead he said, "He blames you for ruining the family name."

"Indeed. My father does not suffer fools lightly, and I was the queen of fools." And never had she felt the truth of those words more.

The lantern flickered as they turned a sharp corner. He hadn't released her hand, she noticed. She tried to tug it away. He wouldn't let her. They rounded another corner, and suddenly she found herself leaning toward him. She leaned the other way.

"Did you believe yourself in love with him?"

The pain of his question took her by surprise. Long ago she'd thought herself recovered from Archibald Worth.

"Ariel?"

"Yes," she snapped. "I did believe myself in love with him. I trusted him. He told me he loved me, but all he wanted to do was bed me. I was a challenge to him. An earl's daughter who happened to be half gypsy. And I had a dowry. Not as much as Lady Mary Carew, as it turned out, but I was a nice second in case Lady Mary did not come up to scratch. So you can see why my father is right to loathe me. I loathe myself for being such a fool. Never again will a man use me in such a way. Never."

Nathan stared at her in mute surprise. He had the oddest sensation that she spoke directly to him. And perhaps she did. Perhaps she thought him after something, as this Lord Archibald had been.

How right she was.

And from nowhere a mass of guilt reared its ugly head.

For the first time he found himself doubting the wisdom of his plan. Perhaps his doubts came from his hope that whoever had sent him the note last eve would come forward. Perhaps it was seeing the way she'd been treated by society over the past few days. When those same people found out she'd been used yet again, how much more hateful would their spite be?

He didn't want to think about it. Instead for the first time since meeting her, he felt a genuine rush of sympathy for her plight. She might be of noble blood, but he suspected she was as different from most of
England
's ladies as light was from darkness.

"Have I made you speechless, Mr.
Trevain
?"

"Nathan. You should call me Nathan."

Did he imagine it, or did her eyes narrow. Oh, yes, they narrowed. Obviously she mistrusted him. Damnation.

"Very well, Nathan. Have I shocked you?"

"No," he answered honestly. "I admire your candor."

"Candor? Is that what you call it?"

"Yes. Or honesty. Take your pick. Either way I appreciate your straightforward answers."

Her nostrils were pinched. What was it that he'd said that had irritated her so?

"I'm sure you do," she murmured. "Would that you were as honest with me."

Once again he had the feeling that she suspected his duplicity. Her lids were narrowed in suspicion. Her sensuous lips were pressed into a firm line. Her right hand clenched in her lap even though she tried to shield it from his eyes.

"Ariel, I am not trying to deceive you."

He heard her release a huff of disbelief. "No?"

And for the first time the lie stuck in his throat. Bloody hell, what had happened to him?

He'd been taken in by a pair of lovely eyes. Eyes that reflected a deep-seated disappointment he'd never noticed before.

"Damnation," he muttered, releasing her hand to wipe his own over his face. He looked away from her, out of the carriage, suddenly, unaccountably, feeling a scoundrel. "You don't believe me."

"No, I do not."

He looked back at her. There was such a look in her eyes. . .so much anger, so much hurt and so much bitterness that he found himself thinking something had changed in their relationship, something that had started last night.

He straightened in his seat. She couldn't know of his scheme, could she?

From nowhere came the notion that she had mentioned his code name yesterday, albeit in an offhand way. But had the mention been coincidence? Was it more than a coincidence that he received a note the very same day? Yet if she knew, why had he not been apprehended? Surely she would tell the War Department what she knew? Yet here he was. No, she couldn't know. She must merely be reacting to her treatment tonight. Obviously she thought he'd been in on it.

"You look blue-deviled, Mr.
Trevain
."

"Nathan," he corrected her automatically.

"Nathan," she conceded.

"I am."

"And why is that?"

"Because you do not trust me, and I am stymied as to how to prove I can be trusted."

She stared at him intently, her eyes narrowed. Then she leaned toward him a bit. Her dress dipped down. He found his gaze dipping down with it. Her scent enveloped him. Elusive. Provocative. Enticing.

"Have dinner with me tomorrow night," she shocked him by saying. "Alone. At my father's home. He is not in residence, and we shall be private there. You can prove you are trustworthy by sharing a simple meal with me and keeping your distance."

What was this? He could hardly dare believe his ears. She invited him to her father's home? Dare he trust his good fortune? Excitement had his blood pumping. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

"Very well, I accept your challenge."

She nodded. The carriage slowed. Much to his surprise he realized they were near her cousin's home. Seconds later he handed her down.

"I shall see you tomorrow?" she asked.

Lifting her hand to his lips, he smiled. "That you shall."

She didn't smile at him in return, didn't even glance back at him as she turned away. He watched her go, wondering if she truly desired to test him or if there was another reason, a nefarious reason for her invitation.