Enticing Eve: Scandalous Secrets, Book 2 (13 page)

“The ceremony will take place at my estate, in the gardens. It will be modest,” his words tumbled forth without much effort, the plan materializing with ease. “Marriage overpowers even the hint of scandal.”

 
“I c-can’t marry you.” Her voice was a tremulous whisper.

“Yes, you can and you will,” his tone brokered no argument as he gently dabbed her tears with his handkerchief.

Shaking her head, Eve was insistent. “No, I will not.”

“Eve,” Colin chose his words with care. “You know how much I care for you. I have no doubt that you feel the same for me. Successful marriages have been based upon much less.”

 
“You’re not marrying me because you care about me,” Eve insisted as she pushed his hand away, wiping her eyes. “No, you had three years to marry me because you cared and failed to do so. This is about trouncing your brother. Or, God forbid, you really didn’t intend for any of this to happen, which would mean you’re doing so because you have no choice.”

She couldn’t have been more wrong in any of her assumptions, especially her last. He would have married her regardless. To admit such a thing would make him vulnerable, and that was a trait he couldn’t condone.

“We will marry.” He reached for her, this time tracing her cheek with his thumb. The mere touch caused her breath to catch.
 

Colin bent his head and traced a gentle trail of kisses up her neck, to her cheek salty from her tears then to her lips, still plump from their earlier passionate encounter.
 

Unlike their earlier kiss, this was gentle and heartfelt. Since he was unable to annunciate the words, he wanted Eve to feel just how much he indeed loved her. He never expected her to kiss him back. He’d hoped for it, but never expected she would. Eve surprised him once again by seeking his tongue with hers.

It was as if lightning had stricken Colin during a tumultuous summer storm. His heartbeat slammed against his chest while molten blood coursed through his veins, his momentary shock replaced by an urgent hunger.
 

Crushing her against him, Colin devoured her with his fiery kisses. It was at that very moment, when the inferno intensified within him, that Colin admitted the truth to himself.

No matter how difficult the days ahead would be, Eve did indeed belong to him.
 

Relief washed over him at the realization that Eve wanted him as much as he wanted her. His happiness was short-lived, though, as Eve tore her mouth from his.
 

Breathless, the creamy flesh above her bodice rose and fell as she struggled for air. “I—I can’t marry you.”

Anxiety formed a lethal lump in his throat. “You have no other options,” his tone was hoarse and more unyielding than he intended.

Pressing her fingers against her lips, now pink and swollen from his kisses, Eve insisted, “I will suffer the consequences of my actions, but I cannot marry you.”

She refused to meet his stare willingly, so he tipped her chin up until she faced him. “Tristan refuses to marry you. Your reputation won’t recover from such a scandal.”

When Eve averted her gaze, he commanded, “Look at me, damn it.”

Once she complied, he continued. “We care for each other. You can’t deny it. You feel it when we kiss. Many marriages succeed with much less in their favor.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Tell me then,” he pleaded with her, unable to assimilate the sound of his own desperation.

“I wanted to marry Tristan because he’s honorable and dependable … qualities you don’t possess.” She paused, as if ensuring that her words like swords were indeed slicing his soul in two. “I knew he would never leave me. I trusted that he would never lie to me. How can I ever trust you again?”

Her words pounded against his temples like an anvil. Colin felt bruised, battered, and cornered. In turn, he countered with the first thing that came to mind. “Yes, my brother is a saint. Still, he wasn’t the man you kissed with unbridled passion tonight and based upon your initial surprise, he has never kissed you the way I did.”

He regretted his assessment the moment he vocalized it.

Eve’s cheeks grew a deep crimson as her expression hardened, her eyes narrowing with reproach, “You bastard!”

Of course, she had no idea just how accurate her statement was. Such were his thoughts as Eve slapped him for a second time that day. His cheek stung and Colin welcomed the pain. It proved to him that he was alive, that his suffering was real.

She stood, taking several steps away from him before pausing long enough to shrug off his jacket. Eve then fumbled with the fabric as she raked Colin with a look of sheer contempt. “Make no mistake, Mister MacAlistair. I’d rather be damned for all eternity than become your bride.”

Tossing his jacket at him, she missed her target and instead knocked over an antique vase on the gilded table behind him. The heirloom teetered before finally shattering into dozens of sharp shards with an ear-splitting crash. Eve then turned on her heels, storming out of the room in a sea of gold and jade skirts.
 

Colin knew he deserved to rot in hell for eternity. Hell had responded in kind, seeking him on earth it would seem. His perpetual torment would come in the form of loving a woman who didn’t want him, one who made it quite clear that she would never offer him her heart or her soul.

Despite Eve’s protests, Colin would indeed marry her. It would be his penance, he thought as he picked up the debris from the broken vase. Fitting since his own heart had been slashed and torn, left in tatters along with his brother’s future.

His shoulders slumped as Colin felt the full weight of what had transpired. If tonight were any indication, Eve wouldn’t readily agree to marry him. She made that quite clear. Then there was his brother, whose forgiveness he’d have to earn.

God help me.

Colin knew his whispered plea was in vain for his sins were too many, even for a deity to forgive.

Chapter 5

Eve fled from the Duke’s home as if the hounds of hell were chasing at her heels. With each step she took the look on Tristan’s face haunted her.
 

How could she have hurt him like that?
 

The truth wounded her almost as much as the pain she inflicted upon him: when Eve was on that terrace with Colin, she didn’t consider Tristan at all.

The realization nauseated her.

Her heels slipped on the cobblestone as she ran to her grandmother’s carriage, rounding the corner with such force that the driver jumped. The tall, middle-aged man was caught so unawares that he dropped his cheroot onto the drive before recovering his senses and extinguishing it with his boot.
 

“This is a surprise, Miss Eve,” he muttered as his gaunt, usually expressionless features were quickly replaced by lines of concern once he noticed her obvious agitation. “Are you well, Miss?” he asked, fear emanating from his sable eyes as he walked backwards further into the shadows.

Was she well?
No
, Eve wanted to scream. Her carefully crafted future ceased to exist on this very evening – all because she romanticized a man who had abandoned her years ago.
 

How could she have kissed Colin not once, but twice? What in bloody hell possessed Eve to kiss him that final time?
 

It was sheer madness!

The coachman gaped at her as if she were some foreign creature he couldn’t quite comprehend.
 

Struggling to regain her composure and slow her breathing to a normal rate, Eve straightened her posture. “Martin, the steps,” she commanded in her most haughty tone. Once he had complied, Eve added, “Please instruct the duke’s butler or one of the footmen to inform my grandmother that I am waiting in the carriage.”

He gulped then glanced toward the estate house, eyes wide. “You are instructing me to approach the main house?”

Eve clenched her jaw and counted to five.
Patience is a virtue
, she silently reminded herself. After all, the poor man standing before her had no idea that Eve’s life had been reduced to cinders in a matter of minutes. The fact that he felt intimidated was understandable.

“Please inform the duke’s butler that I am unwell. He will know what to do.” She was surprised at how calm her voice sounded when she was teetering on the brink of a breakdown.

The coachman nodded then hurried off to do as he was bid.

Squeezing her eyes shut failed to quell the stream of hot tears threatening to wash her away. Eve wiped her wet cheeks with her palms before ascending the carriage steps and ordered herself to stop crying.
 

“For heaven’s sake, tears do no good!” Her ragged whisper sliced through the carriage interior as Eve settled against the worn velvet squabs. She must control herself if for no other reason than her grandmother would be frightened out of her wits at the sight of her granddaughter in such distress.

Grandmamma!
She buried her face in her hands.
Oh, gracious God in heaven!
How would Eve confess to that sweet woman of her granddaughter’s absolute ruin?
 

Never before had Eve felt like such a failure. She had devoted her life to making her grandmother proud and now she was responsible for disgracing their family – just like her father.
                                                                 

Eve clutched her arms over her chest and began to shiver. Disgracing her grandmother was the last thing she ever wanted to do and yet Eve had done just that.

“Dear, God,” she beseeched in a hoarse whisper. “Please let my grandmother forgive me.”

The possibilities of losing the one person Eve could always rely on caused her tears to flow more freely.
 

“What have I done?” she muttered.

The faint reverberation of heels tapping against the drive grew closer. In response, Eve wiped her face one last time before smoothing her hair.
 

“Darling,” the Viscountess ascended the stairs with Martin’s assistance, clutching her colorful skirts with her free hand. “What is it? Martin claims you are ill.”

Grandmamma took one look at Eve and her shoulders slumped in immediate response. “Oh, dear girl, what has occurred?”

Deep lines of concern framed Fiona Weston’s eyes. It reminded Eve of the expression on her grandmother’s face after Eve’s father had forsaken them. It was too much for Eve to stomach, knowing she had disappointed her grandmother as much as her father had.

“I am so sorry, Grandmamma,” Eve managed before her shoulders wracked with violent sobs.

“Oh, my dear girl,” the Viscountess whispered as she settled beside her granddaughter, wrapping her in a motherly embrace “Please tell me what has happened,” the Dowager Viscountess encouraged in a gentle tone.

Eve heard the door close and felt the carriage bounce as their coachman returned to his post. All appeared normal though it was not. No, nothing would ever be the same again, and her lack of restraint was entirely to blame.

The thick silence surrounding them was suffocating, causing Eve’s mouth to go dry. She inhaled though the air felt stale and all Eve could manage were shallow breaths. Perhaps her confession would be easier if the carriage were in motion, once the heavy hush was replaced by the comforting sound of the horse’s hooves?

 
“Please take me home,” Eve asked in a ragged whisper as her tears continued to fall.
 

Her grandmother rapped against the roof with her walking stick. The coachman’s response was immediate, nimbly directing the carriage while it gently swayed as they began their journey home.
 

Eve closed her eyes, welcoming the familiar rhythm as she sat frozen in her grandmother’s warm embrace.

“I am so sorry, Grandmamma,” she whispered.

“Enough apologies, darling,” The Viscountess spoke, a tinge of fear evident in her gentle cadence. “You must tell me what has you so distraught.”

Though she preferred not to witness the disappointment on her grandmother’s face, Eve straightened, meeting her gaze, aware that the benevolent woman deserved her complete attention and respect. In truth, the Dowager Viscountess deserved so much more. Eve should have considered that before leading herself down the path of absolute ruin.

“I did something unspeakable. Tristan has cancelled our betrothal.” Their wheels encountered a rocky patch, and the carriage shook as the cold, hard truth of Eve’s confession sliced through the cozy interior like a jagged blade.

Eve had expected to see shock, sadness, perhaps even disbelief reflected in her grandmother’s angelic visage. Instead, her grandmother expressed no such surprise.

“Tristan told you, then?” Eve whispered.

Her grandmother nodded before adding, “I came upon him when I was searching for you. Sebastian’s butler informed me where you’d gone immediately after my conversation with Tristan.”

Eve’s pulse pounded at a rapid rate. “What else did Tristan tell you?”
 

“That I must ask you for specifics,” Fiona spoke in a soothing tone, her cold fingertips gently caressing Eve’s tearstained cheek. “He also apologized for disappointing me.”