Seducing the Enemy (7 page)

His uncle cleared his throat, causing Harrison to give a guilty start.

“So,” Damon said slowly, “have you come to any conclusions about our guest?”

“I came to my conclusions in Monte Carlo.”

“Yes. I’m aware of that. But I’ve been wondering if perhaps your conclusions were hasty.”

Harrison stiffened. “Please explain what you mean.”

“I honestly don’t know. You’ve spent more time with her than I have. But I’m having trouble believing she concocted such an elaborate scheme. And you still haven’t given me a credible theory for what her ultimate aim is.”

“I’m willing to consider the possibility that she wasn’t the one to concoct the scheme.”

“Her grandfather? Maybe. She obviously adores him. But to what end?”

Harrison shifted. “To get us on their side for a larger settlement?”

“It seems too petty, given the context. You’ve gone over your encounters with her in the nightclub? You’re sure they all could have been planned?”

“Yes. I’ve been through every detail. All of it could have been planned in advance.”

“It just seems…excessive. Edwards is a conservative man. He wouldn’t use his granddaughter in the way you suspect.”

Harrison clenched his hand—under the table so his uncle couldn’t see. “We’ve been the victims of much more elaborate scams in the past.”

“Yes.” Damon stared out toward the garden and said mildly, “But I have to say that Marietta is a very different creature than Grace.”

“You think so. I’m not yet convinced.”

Damon cut sharp eyes over to pin him down. “It’s possible. It’s possible she’s the best liar I’ve ever encountered. But I doubt it.”

Harrison had faced the same incongruities. Marietta didn’t seem deceptive. “I don’t think she’s lying about everything,” he allowed.

“But you still don’t trust her?”

Deciding to go on the offensive, Harrison answered the question with one of his own. “What about the accident? What about the inconsistent stories she told as a child about Michael driving recklessly?”

“I’ve thought a lot about that. Is it possible she convinced herself that’s what really happened? She was a child, and she faced a terrible trauma. The mind plays tricks, you know. Maybe she truly believes it.”

“So now the Edwardses are our friends?”

Damon set down his teacup and stood abruptly. “I never said that. It’s the grandfather who has always been the root of this conflict. I’m just wondering if Marietta is as much a victim as we are.”

Harrison didn’t respond, and eventually Damon said, “Cassell commissioned Harvey Grange to investigate her.”

“On whose orders?” Grange was a private investigator whose talent was turning up dirt on people. Harrison didn’t like to use him, and his uncle didn’t either.

“No one’s orders. Cassell arranged it on his own.”

“He oversteps his authority.”

“He does what he can to protect us. I’ve spoken to him.” Damon paused. “Do you want Grange to investigate Marietta?”

“No.” Using Grange made him feel dirty. He didn’t want Grange anywhere near Marietta. If there was any dirt in her background, Harrison would find it himself.

After his uncle left, Harrison sat and thought for a long time. Then he heaved himself up and went into the office to make some calls he’d put off. When he finished up, it was past six o’clock. He hadn’t heard Marietta and his brother get back, but surely they wouldn’t have ridden so long.

When Gordon told Harrison that Andrew and Marietta hadn’t returned, he frowned.

It had been more than two hours. Far too long for Marietta to ride.

He strode out to the stables and was relieved to see his brother dismounting.

“Hey there,” Andrew called out. “Did you think we’d gotten lost?”

Harrison’s gaze bypassed his brother’s grin to focus on Marietta, still on a gentle gray mare. She was smiling, and her cheeks were rosy from the wind and sun, but she looked tired.

Andrew went over to help her dismount. She moved very stiffly. Before he could remark, Harrison gaped at the way Andrew touched Marietta. Under the guise of helping her down, he managed to put groping hands on her thighs, her waist, her ribs, and the side of her breast.

As Harrison watched, Andrew’s fingers came to rest on the curve of Marietta’s ass, and his smile became openly flirtatious.

Harrison experienced a fiery flash of rage and jealousy. He fisted his hands at his sides and held himself back through force of will.

Despite their differences, he and his brother had always been close. Harrison knew—he knew—Andrew wouldn’t make a move on a woman that Harrison…on a woman for whom Harrison had such strong, conflicted feelings.

It only took a moment to figure out his game.

Last year, Andrew had revealed Grace’s true motives by launching a targeted assault of flirtation and seduction. In the end, Grace had shown her true colors, and Harrison had faced the painful but freeing truth. If Andrew suspected Marietta had an underhanded purpose, he might use the same tactics on her.

His brother thought he was helping. But Harrison still wanted to slam his fist into Andrew’s grinning face. Fortunately, Andrew removed his offending hands from Marietta’s ass before any violence could occur.

“Why did you ride so long?” Harrison asked, stepping closer and scrutinizing Marietta.

She was pale beneath her tan, and she still held on to the horse’s saddle.

Andrew gave him an annoyed look. “She wanted to see the estate.”

“It’s beautiful,” Marietta said, giving him a smile that wasn’t quite as bright as usual.

Harrison clenched his jaw and glared at his brother, who appeared oblivious as he unsaddled his horse.

He waited for Marietta to let go of the saddle. When she realized he wasn’t going to move, she took her first step. She faltered, her legs giving out beneath her weight.

Harrison had his arm around her waist to brace her before she fell.

“Damn it, Andrew,” he said. “She told you she hadn’t ridden since she was a child. How could you be so stupid as to make her ride for two and a half hours?”

“I’m fine,” Marietta said.

Andrew looked over at them, his expression surprised and dismayed. “Seriously? I asked if she was all right with going so long. She said she was fine.”

“I am fine,” she insisted, but she clung to Harrison. “Just give me a minute to get the circulation going again.”

Harrison gave his brother a pointed look. “You should have known better. Especially since she wasn’t able to use her legs for—”

“Stop it,” Marietta interrupted. “I said I was fine. It’s not his fault. If anyone, you should blame me.”

“I do. Believe me.” Harrison kept his arm around her but moved forward slowly, forcing her to start walking. “Why the hell didn’t you tell him to stop?”

“I was fine. I didn’t realize—” She broke off as they moved, and Harrison didn’t press her. The next minute or two wouldn’t be pleasant for her.

He kept her walking until she could continue without his support, and he pretended not to notice the glistening of frustrated tears in her eyes.

“I’m okay now,” she said, pulling away from his arm. “Thank you.”

Harrison nodded, but he kept in step with her as she walked through the stable grounds and down the path to the house. She moved more easily now, although she still appeared shaky, and her face was strained.

“I said I was all right.” She gave him an annoyed look over her shoulder.

“I heard you.”

He followed her into the house. At the foot of the long formal staircase, he saw her pause almost imperceptibly. Without a word, he slid his arm around her again, making sure it was bracing rather than affectionate. This time she didn’t pull away.

He would have carried her, but she’d object, so he didn’t offer. They walked slowly up the stairs, and although it was difficult for her, not once did Marietta whine or falter.

When they reached the top, she stopped and looked up at him for the first time. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome.”

“I don’t know what happened. I mean, I thought I was in good shape. I felt all right until I got off.”

“You just rode too long before you were ready for it. The muscles you use and the position of your legs are different than walking or riding a bike.”

Her gray eyes were huge. “You don’t think it’s because… I mean, you don’t think it’s my legs…”

“No. It’s normal. With horseback riding, it’s best to start off slowly.”

She let out a shaky breath. Her hands gripped his shirt, but she hadn’t seemed to notice. Her gaze dropped. “I was scared,” she admitted so softly he could barely hear. “When I couldn’t make my legs move. I was scared.”

“I know.”

She met his eyes with uncharacteristic shyness. And Harrison’s arms, which had lightly rested at her waist, tightened around her.

A flood of hunger swept through him—but this time it wasn’t so much the desire to claim her as an aching need to take care of her. His head lowered and her lips parted in that delicious way they always did before he kissed her.

“Is she all right?” Andrew called out, running up the stairs.

Harrison dropped his arms, and Marietta stepped back. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice a little hoarse. “Please don’t be worried.”

“He could stand to be worried a little more often,” Harrison muttered, loud enough for his brother to hear.

Andrew ignored that and peered at Marietta. “I feel like an ass for not thinking about how long we were riding.”

She smiled at him. “Well, don’t. I feel fine now. Later, I’ll race you around the gardens just to prove it.”

“Right now, you’re going to rest.” Harrison put a hand on the small of her back and nudged her toward her room.

She gave him an exasperated look he figured was mostly habit. Before she closed the door to her room, she placed a gentle hand on his chest in a silent thank-you.

Harrison started back downstairs, trying to ignore Andrew’s curious look.

“I didn’t pop in at an inopportune time just now, did I?” Andrew asked at last, looking rather hopeful.

“Of course not.”

“Because it looked like you two—”

“She was weak. I was bracing her.”

Andrew arched one eyebrow in a way that always annoyed Harrison. “Is that what it was?”

Harrison refused to be put on the defensive. “It really never occurred to you that two hours was too long for her to ride?”

“I already apologized to her, and I’ve already received the obligatory lecture, too. I think I’m covered on that front.”

“He gave you a lecture? How did he find out so quickly?”

“He’s got spies everywhere. And I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that the lecture turned into a formal denunciation of me and all my sins.”

“That bad?”

Andrew shook his head. “I was declared a useless philanderer who brought nothing but shame to the family.”

Harrison stopped in the middle of the hallway and checked his brother’s expression. It revealed nothing. “He didn’t mean that.”

“Oh, he did. You know Lord Uncle as well as I do. If there’s a choice between one of us and his archaic sense of honor, his honor will always win.”

Andrew was half-smiling, as if their uncle’s eccentricity was amusing, but Harrison found his comment troubling. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“You’re blind to him sometimes. Look what happened with Ben.”

There was no disputing the ruthless inflexibility that had led to Benjamin’s desertion. Not wanting to dwell on it, Harrison changed the subject. “He really called you a philanderer?”

Andrew laughed, the slight tension in his mouth relaxing. “Keep hitting on Marietta, and maybe he’ll call you one, too.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Stop it.” Andrew’s voice snapped with startling authority.

Harrison blinked in surprised. “Excuse me?”

“Stop trying to bear the burdens of this whole dysfunctional family. It’s not yours to fix. If I want something said to him, I’ll say it myself.”

Harrison frowned at his brother’s unusual retort. “I thought you were glad I was the lucky bastard who gets to shoulder the weight of this family’s shit.”

Andrew shook his head. “There’s too much to fix, and trying will just break you eventually. I guarantee it.”

Harrison didn’t know what to say to that so he went to his room to shower. But he was still worried about Marietta. So he called up his uncle’s masseur and asked him to stop by as soon as he could to give her a massage.

Chapter Seven

Since Marietta had gone to bed so early the previous night, she woke up at sunrise. Her muscles were still sore from riding, and she had two hours until breakfast, so she decided to take a walk.

She followed the path on the perimeter of the formal gardens, since the interior paths turned and wound too frequently to get good exercise and stretch her muscles. She’d reached the far end and was looking over at the wooded park, thinking it would be an amazing place for a child to play, when she saw a rider on horseback approach from the opposite direction.

As he neared, she saw he was tall with dark hair, and rode with strength and surety across the wide stretch of grass and wildflowers leading to the gardens.

She forced down the romantic notions the image conjured. It wasn’t a prince from a fairy tale. It wasn’t even Rochester approaching Jane for the first time on his horse.

It was probably just Andrew.

She didn’t have any need to see Harrison this morning, anyway. He’d been very kind the previous evening in helping her when she couldn’t walk, and she couldn’t summon the same anger toward him she had before, but still…it was probably Andrew.

The rider obviously saw her because he slowed, turned the horse toward her, and trotted over to where she stood. Then he slid off the saddle.

It was Harrison.

He was dressed in casual trousers and a black T-shirt, and he looked windblown and masculine. Rugged. The coiled power in his presence had transformed into pure physicality.

Her body clenched at the sight of him.

She still wanted him. More now than ever.

It was a ridiculous reaction, since he’d insulted her and refused to trust her, so she shoved her desire back into a safe corner of her mind with her other silly romantic notions. She wasn’t naive enough to be swayed by such things.

She was about to thank him for his help yesterday when he demanded, “What are you doing out alone at this hour?”

Her shoulders hunched. “What do you think I’m doing? Lurking suspiciously in the shadows in the hopes of catching a stray gardener unaware.”

“And then?” he prompted, the corner of his mouth curling slightly.

She tried not to respond to his suppressed amusement but failed. “Then I’ll pounce, of course. Because that’s what I do.” She started to walk the path again, away from him, since she didn’t have any luck in remaining aloof.

“I suspected as much.” Harrison had been rubbing his horse absently, but now he took it by the reins and guided it behind him as he fell in step with her. “I’ve got to tell you, though, our head gardener has been with the estate for more than thirty years and is approaching seventy. He might not be up for any pouncing. There are plenty of younger ones who wouldn’t complain.”

The sexual innuendo was obvious in his tone, but his taunt didn’t seem nasty. Marietta didn’t bristle as much as she would have two days ago. “Well, that’s good to know. Of course, I occasionally lurk around stablemen.”

“We have plenty of them to choose from. As well as footmen, a few handymen, and two chauffeurs. Plus, a rather volatile French chef who once hit on the wife of the prime minister of Belgium.”

“Seriously? And he still works here?”

“Gordon took care of it. We didn’t tell my uncle.”

“Would he have fired him?”

“Undoubtedly. My uncle doesn’t tolerate impropriety of any kind among his staff.”

“Just his staff?” Marietta asked, noticing that Harrison’s gaze, which had seemed teasing, turned sober.

“Or his family.”

She didn’t reply. The only sound in the quiet morning was the clipping of the horse’s hooves and the birds chirping in the distance. “He holds you to high standards.”

Harrison glanced at her. “I’ve always been able to meet them.”

“But it must be difficult. Does he know we…we…in Monte Carlo?” She flushed, not because she was afraid to talk about sex but because it brought up unsettling memories.

“He hasn’t mentioned it, but he’s not a stupid man.”

“And he doesn’t think that’s improper?”

Harrison stopped walking and regarded her. “I assume he knows I occasionally have sex. Or did you think I live like a monk out of respect for my uncle’s sense of decorum?”

Her mouth wobbled at his sarcasm. “That might be taking family loyalty too far.”

“I should say so.”

She smothered a giggle.

His eyes softened, and her breath hitched at the expression. She’d thought he might kiss her last night, and now again—

He cleared his throat and resumed walking.

She couldn’t help but feel disappointed, even though she knew how irrational it was. She should still be angry with him, but she wasn’t. Not much, anyway.

He didn’t appear so angry with her, either.

“There’s a secret garden on the estate. Have you found it yet?”

“No,” she said, perking up at the question. “Where is it?”

He gestured toward the wooded park. “I’ll show you.”

They walked in silence until he asked, “How are you feeling?”

Her lips parted in surprise. She was feeling a lot of things, but none she was willing to share with Harrison.

“After yesterday, I mean. The riding.”

“I’m fine. A little sore. That’s why I was taking the walk, actually. Oh, is that a wall to the garden?”

He nodded. “It’s mostly hidden by the trees. The door’s on the other side.”

“Locked with a key?”

“Of course.”

They strolled the length of the wall until something on the opposite side of the path caught her eye. “Oh, look at that arbor!”

Like the most charming features of the Damon gardens, the arbor was positioned unexpectedly, to be stumbled upon without warning. Climbing flowers and vines wound through the intricately carved trellis, with colorful blooms and green leaves spilling over the sculpted bench beneath it. Marietta had the silly urge to run over and sit on the bench.

Instead, she hurried over to examine it more closely. “I have a little arbor in my garden at home, although it’s not as pretty as this.” She raised her hand idly to stroke one of the blooms and realized with a thud of her heart they were sweet peas.

Her hand trembled on the delicate pink petals.

“You’re allowed to pick the flowers if you want,” Harrison said. “That’s not one of my uncle’s improprieties.”

She smiled faintly and picked one, mostly for something to do. She wondered if he even remembered he’d given her the flower in the hotel room in Monte Carlo.

To not make it all about sweet peas, she leaned over and broke off an iris from a nearby bed.

“Evidently, irises symbolize good news. Did you know that?”

“No. I’m glad I picked it, then, since I could always use some good news.”

Gazing down at the purple bloom, she wondered if she should be interacting with Harrison so pleasantly.

He was a Damon.

She’d hated the Damons since she was ten years old. They took what they wanted whenever they wanted it. Did what was best for the Damons at the expense of everyone else.

She wished Harrison weren’t quite so appealing. Sometimes.

He’d been nice to her yesterday, when her legs hadn’t functioned and it felt like her nightmares might come true. She wasn’t sure what she would have done had he not been there to help her walk and then reassure her.

She brought up the sweet pea to her nose. “What do sweet peas mean?”

He paused before he answered. “Good-bye.”

With a sigh, she sat on the bench under the arbor, setting the two flowers beside her. She wasn’t going to hold on to either of them, but she couldn’t bring herself to drop them on the ground.

Harrison had let go of his horse’s reins, but the animal still stood obediently on the path, flicking its tail and occasionally huffing. When Marietta shifted her eyes from the horse back to Harrison, she saw he was peering at her, studying her, as if trying to figure her out.

“You can’t read my mind just by staring at me,” she snapped.

He raised his eyebrows.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. Then something occurred to her. “Wait, how did you know about the flowers?”

“What?”

“The flowers. How did you know what they symbolize?”

Harrison looked self-conscious.

She choked on a burst of amusement. “I never would have guessed it. Are you some kind of closet fanatic about the language of flowers? Or did you have a secret ambition to be a florist as a child?”

His self-consciousness faded into warmth, and he replied dryly. “You’d be surprised by the random knowledge you acquire when you’re raised in this particular household. Floriography is just one of my esoteric areas of expertise.”

She laughed at his lofty choice of words. When she subsided into soft giggles, she realized he was gazing at her again.

This time, though, his eyes were soft, appreciative, almost tender.

Her heartbeat accelerated and matching emotions washed over her. To recover her wits, she said, somewhat stupidly, “You’re staring at me again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He’d said that to her before, when they were in bed together, just before he’d slid inside her. For a moment, the recollection was so powerful, visceral, her body flushed hot. She couldn’t seem to look away from his eyes. She adored the chocolate brown color of them.

“You were staring.” She stood without thinking and ended up a few inches away from him.

“We’ll have to disagree on that point.” His voice had grown thicker, deliciously textured.

She swayed toward him helplessly, drawn by the heat in his gaze. “We seem to disagree about a lot of things.”

He lifted his hand and tangled his fingers in her hair, tilting her head up more fully toward his. “I’m invariably reasonable,” he murmured. “I can’t imagine why anyone would disagree with me.”

She would have laughed, but he kissed her. Then she was kissing him back.

Her body melted in his embrace, and her arms twined around his neck. His mouth was soft at first, almost hesitant, but as she responded, he grew more urgent. His tongue slid along the inside of her lips, teasing delicious nerve endings, until she opened for him and he hungrily deepened the kiss.

She moaned into his mouth, moving one hand up to his head, loving the texture of his thick hair and the curve of his skull beneath her palm. Either one or both of them changed their positions, because she ended up pressed against the wall of the secret garden, the cool stone hard against the ridges of her spine.

His free hand stroked down her side until he cupped her bottom. He lifted one of her thighs the way he had in the nightclub so he could push her pelvis into his.

The pressure of arousal tightened between her legs, achingly sweet, as she ground against him.

The embrace turned heated so fast. She jerked her lips from the kiss and gasped as his mouth covered the delicate skin of her throat, sucking on her throbbing pulse.

“Oh God,” she muttered, rubbing shamelessly against the hardening bulge in his pants, her whole body pulsing with desire. “Oh God.”

He grunted and raised his head to kiss her again, his mouth moving against hers with rough entitlement, his hand cradling her head away from the wall.

He was intensity, passion, force. And she wanted it, responded in kind, clawed her fingernails into the back of his neck.

They were still kissing when his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her yoga pants.

She whimpered into the kiss when his fingers found her clit. He started to rub in tight circles, and her knees buckled. She would have fallen had she not been pressed between his body and the wall.

Sensations spiraled fast and hard. She clung to his strong shoulders, her muscles tightening around the building pleasure. His shirt muffled her wordless gasps. She could feel him watching her lose control.

Marietta came hard, clutching him so tightly she thought she might strangle him.

She moaned into his shirt as her body relaxed, saturated with deep satisfaction. Wanting to return the favor, she slid her hand down to the front of his trousers. He was very hard. She palmed him eagerly.

“Harry,” she breathed, overwhelmed with a shameless claim to this extraordinary man.

He groaned helplessly at her touch.

Irrationally, the uninhibited sound sent a slice of frigid terror through her.

The unwelcome feel of the world closing in darkened her vision—the way she always felt when she crossed the boundaries of what was safe.

She couldn’t think. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t
breathe
.

She shoved him away and stumbled several steps from the wall, desperate to give herself space to suck in air. She leaned over, her hands on her knees, fighting for each painful inhalation.

“What the hell—” The small, coherent part of her mind that still worked processed that Harrison looked like he’d been sucker-punched—flushed, panting, tense, and utterly baffled. He shook off his disorientation and rushed over. “What happened? Are you all right?”

She jerked away when he extended an arm. “No,” she gasped, “Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me!” She needed safety. She needed space. She needed air.

He froze, his eyes searching her warily. “I thought you were— I thought you wanted it. I would have stopped if you’d said so. I swear I never would have forced you.”

She was horrified by what he thought but too incoherent to clarify matters. She turned from him and struggled to breathe.

“Marietta—”

“Don’t talk to me.” If he kept talking to her in that hoarse, bewildered way, she would lose it completely.

She wasn’t going to sob in front of him. She just wasn’t. She’d already humiliated herself enough with this ludicrous panic attack.

She hated it. Hated it. That she couldn’t control this. That she wasn’t strong enough to just get over it.

It was bad enough to have been cursed with an intense aversion to beer, but that was manageable. There was no justification for her weakness in the last two years, panicking every time her life felt less safe.

She’d been okay when she’d had sex with Harrison last week, but that had been just for the night, with no lasting consequences.