Seducing the Enemy (6 page)

…

The next morning, Marietta found the breakfast room empty, although the sideboard was filled with trays of eggs, potatoes, bacon, toast, tomatoes, and pastries.

It was just seven o’clock, but apparently Damon and Harrison had already eaten, and Andrew wasn’t yet out of bed.

She disliked being in the house alone, although she wasn’t sure the company of Damons would be preferable.

She ate. Then she wandered around aimlessly without anything to do. Gordon told her that Damon had left instructions that she should make herself at home and that the staff was at her service. Apparently, he was busy with work all day. Harrison had gone to London until late afternoon.

She took a walk around the grounds, trying to feel scorn rather than admiration for the beautifully kept gardens and wooded park. After lunch, she went to the library, hoping for something to read.

What the hell was she even doing here, if everyone ignored her?

She could have been home by now, surrounded by her friends and family and familiar landscape. She could have relaxed and fallen back into her real life.

She’d taken this huge step, been victorious over her instinct to panic, only to be ignored—as if it were all for nothing.

The library was huge and had a vast collection of books, but not the kinds she wanted. She needed something light and enjoyable—a romance or a cozy mystery. After browsing the shelves, she finally picked up
Little Women
and stretched out on a chaise near the window to read.

It seemed strange that a male-dominated home like this one would have Louisa May Alcott on the shelves, but she would take her pleasures where she could find them.

She’d gotten through a few chapters when something buzzed by her ear. She jerked away instinctively.

A wasp darted toward her, hovering at the corner of the pages.

She waved the book, but the wasp circled angrily, staying just outside the range of her book. Afraid it was going to sting her, she scrambled out of the chaise and backed away.

She had no quarrel with the fat, friendly bumblebees that frequented the gardens in Provence, but she hated wasps. Thin and angular, they’d always struck her as looking malicious.

When the wasp flew over to the bay window and buzzed around the glass, she warily sat back down on the chaise.

In a minute, the insect flew over to join her again and Marietta jumped up, waving her book to shoo the wasp. She knew she shouldn’t rile them up by hitting at them, but how else could she get rid of them?

The wasp made a few vindictive sweeps around her head, then returned to the window.

She scanned the room and found a pile of magazines on a side table. Grabbing a glossy business publication, she stalked toward the window.

The wasp had landed on the glass. She very slowly brought the magazine up and smacked it hard against the window.

The wasp flew out of range just in time.

With a snarl of annoyance, Marietta slapped at it again. She missed a second time, watching as it flew toward the ceiling, beyond the range of her arm.

She waited, determined and on guard.

This was war. She had to put up with arrogant, heartless Damon men, but she wasn’t going to be bullied by a Damon wasp.

She stood perfectly still until the wasp alit on a delicate antique table that looked like it might be Chippendale. Inching toward it, she swung the magazine and once again missed her target.

She chased the wasp to the arm of a leather chair, then the wall next to the window, and then a bookshelf. As it continued to elude her, she got more and more annoyed, and whirled to chase it full speed toward the library door.

It was then that she discovered she wasn’t alone in the room.

Harrison and Andrew stood in the doorway watching her antics in stunned silence.

At that point, however, there was no way she could halt her momentum.

The wasp cleverly flew between the two men in the doorway.

Marietta’s magazine landed hard on Harrison’s face, the impact forcing her to an abrupt, clumsy halt.

Harrison made a muffled sound of surprise and clutched at his eye. “What the hell?”

Marietta froze with dismay, jarred by the unintentional blow. Still clinging to the magazine, she gaped at Harrison.

Andrew gave a whoop. “Assaulted in our own library!” he declared, choking on poorly hidden laughter. “Don’t deny you deserved it.”

“Oh no!” Marietta gasped. She’d landed a really good blow to Harrison’s face. “I’m sorry. Did I get your eye?”

“Looks like it.” Andrew was nearly doubled over now with his hilarity. “And I’m usually the one women want to smack in the face.”

Marietta shot him an annoyed look and stepped over toward Harrison. “Did I hurt you? Let me look at it.”

Harrison avoided her investigative hands. “Enough,” he gritted out. “Woman, you are a disaster.”

This sent Andrew off into new peals of laughter.

“I didn’t mean to.” She was distressed at having whacked Harrison, but Andrew’s amusement was infectious. And Harrison looked so outraged, clutching his eye and shaking with fury.

“There was a wasp—” Her voice cracked on the last word. She had to glance away to keep from giggling, which did nothing to ease his mood.

With a growling sound in his throat, Harrison commandeered the magazine, folded it in half, and swung. He didn’t appear to have even aimed, but his smack landed precisely on the wood molding, neatly squishing the wasp.

“Oh!” Marietta felt a surge of indignation that Harrison could have so easily killed the wasp that had gotten her into trouble.

Her response was evidently too much for Andrew. He fled, his howls of laughter echoing through the hallway.

Because he’d lowered his hand, Marietta could now see the damage to Harrison’s face. His left eye wasn’t fully opened, and the cheekbone below it was bright red.

She tried to feel pleased that she’d given Harrison a black eye.

If anyone deserved it, he did.

…

Harrison was still stewing over Marietta that night.

The woman was a disaster. A full-fledged, unmitigated, hopeless disaster.

When he finished in his office, he took the long route back to his room so he could walk past Marietta’s door—in case she was up to something.

He shouldn’t have been surprised—much less faintly disappointed—when Marietta verified his suspicions by sneaking out of her room. She closed the door quietly and turned down the hall.

Only to draw to an abrupt halt as she saw him.

“Taking a midnight walk?” he drawled.

She scowled at him. “Were you staking out my room?”

“I promise, Ms. Edwards, I have better things to do.”

“Well, why don’t you go do them?” She gave her head a quick shake. “If you must know, I was going to the library to return this book and get another.”

She held up the book as proof.
Little Women
, he noticed.

“I see.” He fell in step beside her as she started down the hall.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going with you.” His tone was mocking in its excessive civility. “We would hardly let a guest wander our halls at night unchaperoned.”

Her nose wrinkled with annoyance, but she made no objections. They walked in silence to the library. He watched her browse the shelves, and it seemed to him she took an inordinate amount of time picking out a book. Probably being slow on purpose.

She wore a white cotton nightgown with lacy straps and a ruffle on the hem. It was oddly old-fashioned. Almost virginal. But when she moved in front of the only light in the room he could see the outline of her body silhouetted beneath the thin fabric.

His own body tightened at the sight of those curves—the flat belly, rounded bottom, and peaked swells of her breasts. He told himself she’d probably worn the nightgown to tempt him, and he made himself fight the arousal.

Once she finally picked out her book, he escorted her back to her suite.

In the hall outside her room, she glanced up at him, speaking for the first time in ten minutes. “I am sorry about your eye. Is it very bad?”

She seemed genuinely concerned and his resistance softened slightly. He remembered with a glimmer of amusement how exasperated she’d been in the library in battle with that wasp. “It’s fine. Next time, you’ll have to try harder.”

After a flicker of indignation, she offered a faint grin. “Yes. Next time, I’ll make sure I use a marble bookend instead of a magazine.”

He chuckled until he realized what she’d done. Then he slammed down his defenses again. She’d always been able to make him laugh, but what an absolute fool he was to so easily believe her sincerity.

The best defense was a good offense. “What is your game here?”

Marietta’s lips parted, and her gray eyes grew huge and round before blazing with anger. “I don’t have a game. And if you had a brain in your idiotic head, you’d know it.”

“I won’t let you harm me or my family.” He wasn’t touching her, but he’d stepped forward to trap her against the wall. “And I won’t let you take advantage of my uncle.”

She nearly sputtered with fury now. “What do you think I’m going to—” She broke off, and her teeth nearly snapped as she caught his implication. “Of course that’s what I’m doing! I’m here to seduce your uncle and trick him into marrying me. Then I can give him a son and disinherit all of you pesky nephews!”

He had briefly considered that possibility, but her sarcastic, bitter tone confirmed it probably wasn’t the truth. His uncle would never go for it anyway.

Still, her evident sincerity made him even more suspicious. He edged closer. She was so much smaller than he was—soft and seemingly fragile, quivering with her back against the wall.

But she wasn’t afraid of him.

“It won’t work.” He wanted to use his viper voice but couldn’t control himself enough to do it well. “Whatever it is you’re trying won’t work.”

She sucked in a harsh breath and stared up at him.

The sound of her caught breath reminded him how she’d sounded when he’d brought her to climax. He forced away the memory of Marietta’s passionate sweetness in bed. Her sensual, yielding body. Her apparent innocence. She’d been a virgin. At least, that’s what she’d said.

“You won’t be able to seduce him. And you won’t get me in bed again either, so you can save your pretty virgin routine for someone else. I’ve already offered to pay you for services rendered.”

“You bastard!” she hissed. She slapped him hard on the cheek.

He grabbed her wrist and pressed it against the wall, next to her head. “That’s the second time you’ve struck me today. I won’t let you do it again. Now answer my question.”

She trembled visibly, but he knew it was from rage rather than fear. “Damn you!”

“Ms. Edwards,” he bit out, still gripping her wrist. He refused to think of her as Etta. “Tell me why you’re here.”

Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes flashing. Her dark golden hair tumbled around her face, and one of her lacy straps had slipped down over her smooth shoulder.

She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. A fact that made him even angrier.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she spit at him. “One taste of your irresistible self—your alluring charm and unbridled sexiness—just wasn’t enough. I’m here to throw myself on your mercy and beg you to take me back.”

Harrison lashed out at her venom with the only means he had available.

He kissed her—hard, deep, and punishing. He pressed into her with the length of his body, and his mouth devoured hers with a fervor that stunned him.

She remained motionless until he drew his head back, panting.

Her lips red and swollen, she glowered. “See?” she said, shaky but undaunted. “It’s working already.”

Irrationally, inexplicably, Harrison felt a flood of admiration. She might be a selfish, deceptive predator, but never had he met another woman with such a vibrant will and courageous spirit.

He kissed her again—still hard and angry. But another passion consumed him as he claimed her mouth with his. This time, she responded.

Her free arm hooked around his neck, and her soft form clung to his. Aroused improbably soon, he pressed his pelvis against her lower belly, wanting her to feel every part of him.

She whimpered into his mouth, and their tongues tangled together. Even through his blur of desire, he knew the passion was mutual. He wasn’t the only one overwhelmed. Wasn’t the only one whose body hungered to once again claim the other’s.

He broke the kiss so he could mouth his way down her jaw to her throat. One of his hands still held her wrist to the wall, and the other had slid under her nightgown to palm her bottom. She wore deliciously flimsy panties, and the flesh beneath the fabric was lush. She smelled of something spicy like ginger—perhaps a scented lotion—and of the fainter, more tantalizing scent of her arousal.

Marietta arched against the wall, pressing her breasts into his chest. “Harry,” she gasped.

And that brought him back to his senses.

He jerked away, hot and uncomfortably aroused. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d almost given in—even knowing she’d done nothing but lie.

“My name,” he bit out, “is Harrison Damon.”

Her free hand flew at him as her passion transformed to rage. He caught it and held both wrists against the wall, trapping her completely.

He stared down at her. They were both flushed and panting, but her quaking had intensified. In addition to the anger, tears glistened in her eyes.

In a rush, he realized she was scared and helpless. And he gripped her wrists so hard, they’d probably bruise.

He had no idea what had come over him. He’d never been so unrestrained. He lived his life by certain rules. He was physically stronger than Marietta. She was a guest in his house.

And no matter what the provocation, he didn’t treat women this way.

He dropped her wrists brusquely and took two quick steps backward.

A wave of guilt mingled with the lingering ire and passion. It was too much.

Without a word, he strode away, leaving Marietta alone in the hall.

Chapter Six

The next morning, Marietta decided to go into town. She wanted to get out of a house full of Damons for a while, and needed to buy clothes and some books to read, since evidently she would have a lot of time to herself this week.

When she’d explained to Gordon what she wanted to do, he’d sounded amenable. She expected one of the staff would drive her into Dover, so it startled her when she went out to the garage and found Harrison waiting for her.

He was dressed more casually than he’d been the last couple of days, in khaki trousers and a dark brown dress shirt. The bruise under his eye was faint, which relieved Marietta’s conscience.

“I’ll drive you to town,” he said.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure you’re busy. I could just take a taxi.”

“Nonsense. You’re a guest.”

She assumed that fact covered all possible arguments. Harrison shared his uncle’s sense of values—including those connected to hospitality. Damons treated their guests to every courtesy and privilege. Except when they were demeaned and insulted in the middle of a hallway at night.

“Before we go,” Harrison said, his lips tightening as he glanced away and then back to meet her eyes, “I wanted to apologize for last night.”

Last night had been very upsetting. She shouldn’t have expected anything different from a Damon, but she’d still been shocked by the intensity of both his anger and hers. What she found most troubling, though, was that she’d responded to his kiss—the second one, the real kiss, not a channeling of anger. She’d been swept away and would have let him take her to bed.

She’d wanted him to take her to bed, no matter how enraged she’d been and how hurt by his accusations.

Realizing Harrison was waiting for a response, she asked, “Which part of last night did you want to apologize for?”

His brows drew together. “For the way I treated you. I was… It was inexcusable.” He offered no justification, proving that his apology was sincere.

“So you’re not apologizing for your accusations?”

“You think I have reason to trust you?”

She shook her head, feeling sad rather than furious. “I think the reasons you don’t trust me aren’t strong enough to hold up.”

He didn’t respond. He just regarded her with that quiet scrutiny she’d seen so often over the last two days.

Exhaling loudly, she said, “Thanks for driving me to town. Why don’t we get going?”

The trip wasn’t as awkward as she’d feared. Since he’d apologized, it would be petty to keep being rude. They talked about the estate and the countryside, and she grew interested in the Damon history he shared. It wasn’t long before they parked at a department store.

“Maybe I can meet you somewhere in a couple of hours. I’m buying clothes, which I’m sure will be of no interest to you.”

“Why do you need clothes?”

She looked at him like he was crazy. “Because I’d packed for two days and I’m staying a week. And I certainly don’t have anything appropriate for that fancy dinner party Friday night. Your uncle invited me, you know.”

“I know.”

“It’s formal, right?”

“Black tie, yes. But we could have—”

“I buy my own clothes. I’m sure I can find something here. I can meet you—”

“I have nothing else to do. I’ll go with you.”

Rolling her eyes, she stopped arguing, figuring he’d give up after a few minutes of trailing around after her. Harrison didn’t complain, but he kept looking at his watch while she bought another pair of pants, and picked out a couple of tops.

He perked up when she got to the lingerie, though. He shook his head gravely at the simple cotton panties she examined and instead offered her the most outrageous bright pink lace thong trimmed with fur. She couldn’t repress a giggle at his deadpan expression, although she strove to stifle her merriment, to keep him from knowing he’d scored a victory.

She compromised on a few pretty pairs of satin panties and grabbed some fine stockings for the party.

When they moved on to formal wear, she was at a loss. She’d rarely attended formal functions, and wasn’t sure what would look best on her. To be safe, she considered a rack of long, simple black dresses. Not particularly exciting, but at least she’d look decent and wouldn’t stand out.

She was about to take one in her size when Harrison nudged her.

With that same deadpan expression, he handed her a dress he’d picked out.

Her eyes widened. From his expression, she would have thought he was joking again, but the garment he’d given her was quite lovely.

It wasn’t anything she would have picked out for herself. But she was curious about why Harrison had chosen it, so she checked the size—the right one—and took it to the dressing room.

The dress was actually two pieces. A camisole-like top in ivory silk with delicate embroidery and beading and a long black silk skirt with a very high slit on one side.

She stared at herself after she put it on. She’d never looked better in her life. It was perfect for her—showing off her tan and the contours of her shoulders, arms, and cleavage. The contrast between the old-fashioned delicacy of the top and the simple elegance of the skirt struck the perfect balance between the classic and the unique.

She left the dressing room stall to view herself in the three angled mirrors and check herself out from behind.

As she twirled, astounded by how pretty she looked, she noticed Harrison leaning against the wall, watching her with his hands in his pockets.

“Do you think it’s all right?”

His gaze ran up and down her figure. “It’s good. I think you should buy it.”

Not high praise. Certainly nothing like the hoarse endearments he’d murmured when she was in his arms in Monte Carlo. Then, he’d said she was beautiful. She wondered if he’d meant it.

He’d probably just picked the dress out to hurry her along, but she loved it anyway.

She bought the garment, and they left the department store. In the car, she took malicious pleasure witnessing Harrison’s disgruntled expression when she declared she also needed to go to a bookstore.

“We have hundreds of books in the library,” he said, staring at her as he pulled out of the parking garage.

“Not the kinds of books I’m in the mood to read.” She shrank against her seat as they approached an intersection and he still hadn’t turned his eyes back to the road. “There’s a red light!”

He’d already started to put on the brakes. He rolled his eyes but bit back whatever grumble he’d wanted to make.

He really was on his best behavior. She’d seen the flood of guilt in his eyes last night, just before he’d walked away. She’d known he wouldn’t hurt her, no matter how angry he got. Whatever else he was, he was at heart a gentleman—and it would trouble him that he hadn’t been gentlemanly last night. Today he appeared determined to be civil and decent to her.

He drove her to a large bookstore. A wonderful one, with shelves and shelves of books in all genres, as well as armchairs and a coffee shop.

To her relief, Harrison bought himself a coffee and sat down to read the paper while she browsed. She hadn’t wanted him at her heels while she picked out books.

She went to the mysteries first and found three by authors she liked. As she passed by the coffee shop area, she happened to see Harrison checking his watch.

An irresistible urge to tease him overtook her. He thought she was a lying schemer. He deserved a little payback. Giving in to the urge, she brought her books to his table.

He glanced up with pleased surprise. “Ready to go?”

She frowned. “No. I’ve just started looking.”

“It looks like you have three books. Surely that’s enough.”

“All I have are mysteries. I need some romances, too. Here, can you watch these for me?”

He cut wary eyes up to her face, but she kept her expression innocent. Then she headed over to the romance section.

She took her time, reading cover blurbs and skimming through first chapters. She came away with a historical romance, a couple of romantic comedies, and three series contemporaries. The sight of a racy cover piqued her interest, so she picked up an erotic romance from the shelf. Glancing through it, she decided it looked pretty good.

With a smile, she added it to the top of her pile and headed back to Harrison.

His eyes widened when he saw the number of books she had in her arms. “Are you really going to read all those this week?”

“I have a lot of free time,” she said. “And I read fast.”

She set the books on the table just as he moved to get up. His eyes narrowed.

“I’m not done yet. But if you’re in a hurry, I’m happy to take a taxi back to the manor.”

He clenched his jaw. “Of course not,” he ground out, grabbing his newspaper again.

“I’ll be quick,” she lied.

She’d made sure the erotic romance was on top of the pile, then found a rack of popular biographies situated where she could view Harrison’s table discreetly.

For about five minutes, he read his paper and finished his coffee. Then he folded the paper and must have caught sight of the sexually provocative romance cover.

His eyebrows lifted, and he picked it up. To her delight, he opened the book and riffed through the pages. He must have found a good part, because he stopped skimming and started to read.

His dark eyebrows shot higher and higher, and she fought to stifle her laughter.

Then he looked up as a man approached his table. He must have been an acquaintance, because Harrison smiled and reached out to shake his hand.

When the man turned, Marietta saw his clerical collar.

Harrison realized he was still holding the erotic romance. He flopped the book onto the table, but not before the priest’s eyes doubled in size.

Marietta giggled at Harrison’s mortified expression. Her mirth made her careless. She forgot to duck behind the rack of books and Harrison’s glare landed on her.

His narrow-eyed look of icy rage sent her into another fit of hilarity, and she had to hide her face behind a biography she’d pulled off the shelf.

Figuring he needed a little time to cool off, she fled to another section of the store, where she found a new bestseller that looked interesting. After several minutes, she decided he had suffered enough.

When she returned, she expected to find him waiting impatiently, determined to call her to account.

To her surprise—and not at all to her pleasure—he wasn’t alone.

A young woman was with him. Very much with him. A slender brunette was practically hanging on him, stroking his arm and leaning in toward his chest. She was probably rich and cultured. She wore a trendy pantsuit and a pair of gorgeous stiletto-heeled boots.

Marietta jerked to a stop, all her amusement vanishing. A wave of jealousy slammed into her, and she felt the irrational need to run over and jerk the brunette away from Harrison.

She fought the ridiculous emotion. She had no claim on him. Even when they’d been on friendly terms, they’d only shared a one-night stand.

Now, she didn’t even want him.

Marietta summoned her anger and indignation by remembering all the nasty accusations Harrison had leveled at her last night. She was cool and controlled as she strolled over to join them. Pretending indifference to the brunette who couldn’t keep her hands off of Harrison, Marietta gathered her books.

Harrison looked at her, but his expression was unreadable.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” Marietta said. “But take your time. I’ll just go pay for these.”

The brunette shot Marietta a look of venomous curiosity. Marietta ignored it and headed for the cashier.

By the time she’d gotten through the line, Harrison was waiting for her at the door,
sans
brunette. He gave her a sideways look as they left but offered no clue to the woman’s identity.

Don’t say anything catty and predictable. Don’t say anything catty and predictable. Don’t say anything…

“Your friend was very pretty,” she said sweetly. “But she should think about wearing shoes she can actually walk in. I’m sure it was rather awkward for her to keep falling on top of you like that.”

…

Harrison was relieved when the shopping expedition finally ended. Torn between wanting to strangle Marietta and wanting to haul her into bed and claim her as his, he’d had a frustrating day.

They returned just in time for tea, and Harrison was surprised that his uncle had decided to take a break to join them on the terrace.

They ate scones with cream and little sandwiches and cakes, and Damon asked Marietta about her years in the wheelchair.

Harrison tensed at the personal topic, but Damon seemed interested, and Marietta didn’t appear offended or self-conscious about the questions. She told them about her disability and the various medical procedures she’d gone through to fix it.

She made a point of not playing it up for sympathy. Despite her matter-of-fact attitude, it was clear how much she had suffered.

But she talked of the years she’d been unable to walk without bitterness or self-pity, with that same sunny spirit she poured into everything. He remembered what had drawn him when he first saw her in the club—something fresh, alive about her. She always seemed to glow, illuminated from within.

Harrison was angry by the time he finished his tea. Angry in a way that was impossible to channel. Angry that she’d had to go through all that.

It was absurd, given that he couldn’t trust anything she said.

But he couldn’t stop his anger any more than he could stop breathing. And then he grew frustrated for being so weak to give in to such feelings.

Andrew came out too late for tea, but he chatted for a few minutes and then asked Marietta if she wanted to ride. She said she hadn’t ridden a horse since she was a child—before the accident—but she’d love to give it a try.

Harrison started to get up to join them when Andrew gave him a pointed look.

“You weren’t invited.”

Harrison blinked.

Marietta looked in confusion from Andrew to Harrison, but she went off with Andrew willingly enough.

Harrison stared after them, vaguely troubled.