Seducing the Enemy (9 page)

“So you try to keep it from happening by meeting your impossible standards. You try to fix it. And it just makes it worse that you’re a Damon.” She spoke slowly, as if she processed the ideas as she went. “Because…”

“Because what?” Instinctively, he knew she’d stopped because she had something negative to say about his family.

She swallowed and looked away from him.

“Because what?” he bit out.

She met his eyes and pursed her lips. “Because there’s so much that needs to be fixed.”

Chapter Eight

The brunette from the bookstore was at the dinner party wearing another pair of ridiculously high heels.

Predictably, the woman attached herself to Harrison. Every time Marietta looked over, she was pawing him or patting his cheek or laughing enticingly at a joke he’d made.

It was enough to make Marietta ill.

She was wearing her gorgeous new outfit, with her grandmother’s pearls and her strappy black heels. She’d swept her hair up into a French twist and applied dark red lipstick. Marietta couldn’t remember a time she’d looked better, except maybe at the nightclub in Monte Carlo.

Not that anyone seemed to notice.

Harrison hadn’t spoken to her since the party began.

He knew she was here. He’d looked in her direction as she’d entered the room, observing her in his cool, watchful way. He’d nodded but hadn’t come over to greet her the way Andrew and his uncle had. Now he appeared to have forgotten her existence.

Which was fine. How could he remember anything with that brunette draped over him like a stole?

Marietta turned away, telling herself not to be petty or foolish. Obviously her feelings for Harrison made it difficult, but she shouldn’t act like a child just because he hadn’t paid her any attention.

He was probably still bristling about yesterday. He’d been angry about what she’d said about his family, and they hadn’t spoken on the ride home.

His family might have lived the last two decades buried in tragedy, dysfunctional relationships, corporate machinations, and public attention, but he clearly resented her saying anything about them needing to be fixed.

She shouldn’t have said anything, even though she thought her deductions were true. For some reason, she’d felt close to him—close enough to share things she rarely shared with anyone. She’d wanted him to do the same, but she should have known better.

They weren’t friends. They weren’t close.

He was a Damon, and he’d never be anything else.

But surely it wouldn’t kill him to say hi.

She wandered over to gaze out one of the windows at the beautifully lit gardens and fountain when a light finger grazed the back of her neck. Harrison.

She shivered when the finger moved down her spine.

With a gasp, she jerked her head to look back at the finger-grazer.

Not Harrison. She’d recognized the difference in the touch before she’d verified the eyes sparkling at her were green.

“Your neck was so deliciously exposed,” Andrew drawled. “How could I resist?”

She quirked her lips at him, hiding her disappointment. “You didn’t abandon your poor date, did you?” She searched for the gorgeous redhead he’d brought to the party.

“Of course not. She had to find the powder room.” He tsked. “Too much to drink.”

Marietta chuckled.

Her laughter faded when she caught the brunette whispering something into Harrison’s ear.

Following her gaze, Andrew said blithely, “Did you meet Marie? Beautiful, isn’t she? We’ve always assumed she and old Harrison would get together eventually.”

“Oh.”

“The families have been friends for ages.”

“Of course.” Marietta kept her face neutral, conscious of Andrew’s discreet scrutiny.

“I hope you’re feeling better,” he said, idly running a finger down her bare arm.

“Feeling better?”

“After the other day, I mean. I’m still sorry about the ride.”

“Oh. I’m just fine, thanks. I was a little sore, but nothing major.”

The green eyes scanned her face with concern. “I hope the massages helped.”

Marietta sucked in a sharp breath. “The massages?”

“Yes. The masseur came, didn’t he? Yesterday and the day before?”

“Yes, of course.” She swallowed hard and struggled to keep her expression calm. “It was…it was nice of you to think of that.”

“No problem.” Andrew gave her a broad grin. “I thought it might help.”

Marietta glanced away, a sharp pain in her throat. She’d thought Harrison had been the one to summon the masseur for her. She’d thought it such a sweet and considerate gesture. It had meant a lot that he’d thought of her and had wanted to do something else to help.

But it had been Andrew. Not Harrison.

“Oops,” Andrew said, his eyes focused on the doorway. “My date has returned. And it looks like she found another drink.”

He left her with a friendly farewell, and Marietta wandered away, sipping her drink. She’d been relieved that champagne was the drink of choice at the party. There were also mixed drinks and some good red wine, but no beer.

Feeling ridiculously deflated, she went out through a pair of French doors and stood on the balcony. The sun was setting, and the air was crisp. The breeze felt cool on her flushed face.

After a moment she became conscious of a presence behind her. This time she knew exactly who it was. She didn’t turn around. “How old is the fountain?”

“It’s from the eighteenth century,” Harrison said, coming over to stand beside her at the ornate rail. “But it was crumbling when my uncle bought the estate. He had to completely restore it.”

“It must have cost a fortune.”

“Yes. But he loves this old place. And he has plenty of money.”

Marietta gazed at him for the first time this evening. He was breathtaking in his elegant black tux, and the characteristic tension in his body seemed to have eased.

She glanced in through the French doors, speculating how he’d rid himself of his brunette encumbrance.

“I sent her home to get some new shoes,” he said, reading her mind. “I was tired of her always falling on top of me.” His brown eyes glinted whimsically.

Marietta choked on a laugh. “Very rude of you to remind me of my petty remark. She really is very pretty.”

“Yes. She is.”

“Andrew said that you two—”

“Andrew says a lot of things. You’d do well not to listen very closely.” His expression hardened, and Marietta wondered why he was annoyed with his brother.

“But he’s been very nice to me.”

Harrison frowned. “I hope he hasn’t been bothering you.”

“Bothering me?”

“Every time I see him, he seems to have his hands all over you.”

Marietta felt a little thrill at his bristling tone. So that was why he was irritated with Andrew.

“Please let me know if he becomes a nuisance. A guest in our home should not have to suffer being mauled.”

Despite her growing hopefulness, Marietta couldn’t help but arch her eyebrows at the colossal hypocrisy of this statement.

Harrison cleared his throat and glanced away. “Yes, well, I apologized for that.”

“I know,” she said with a smile. “And you’ve been very kind to me, considering.”

“Considering?” He tensed almost imperceptibly.

Marietta was rattled. Did he still think she was a heartless liar? “Considering that you think I’m a…”

“A lying schemer and gold-digging extortionist?”

Her eyes shot to his face, only to see that whimsical expression again. They stared at each other until Marietta got nervous and broke the gaze. She turned around, leaning against the balcony rail and studying the mingling crowd inside.

Maybe he wasn’t still angry about yesterday. Maybe he’d changed his mind about her.

Harrison turned too, and rested beside her on the rail. They didn’t speak, just relaxed in a companionable silence that reminded Marietta of how nice socializing with him could be. Natural. Like home.

She wasn’t sure why she’d panicked in his arms yesterday.

Then his fingers brushed her nape, much like Andrew had touched her earlier. Only nothing like Andrew. Harrison’s soft caress left her tingling, and her breathing quickened.

He didn’t look at her but continued to rub his fingers along her bare skin—from her hairline to the lace of her camisole. Her body responded to his touch with a shudder deep in her core, and her cheeks flushed.

His hand moved lower, stroking down her spine through the silk of her top. The delicate fabric intensified the sensations as his fingers glided in a whisper-soft caress.

Unconsciously, she arched her spine against his fingers, and her head fell backward as she gasped with pleasure.

It was such a light touch—just his fingers along her back—but the result was profound. Her breasts swelled and her nipples tightened. They jutted against her top, and she knew Harrison would notice.

With a naughty thrill, she realized she wanted him to notice. Wanted him to see what his touch did to her—there on the balcony of his uncle’s house, during his uncle’s party.

A voice sounded loudly at the French doors. It was merely a couple passing by, but Harrison dropped his hand, and Marietta took a deep, shuddering breath.

She was too embarrassed to look up at him, but grew nervous when he didn’t say anything. After yesterday, she had no idea what to expect. No idea how he felt about…anything.

“I don’t know what’s going on here, Harrison.”

He sighed. “To tell you the truth, Etta, I don’t know what’s going on, either.”

…

A few minutes later, the guests were called into dinner. Marietta made small talk with the men on either side of her—a kind old gentleman who’d been in politics and a shy man about her age who was the son of someone in British banking.

It was a comfortable arrangement, and Marietta was relieved the dinner conversation wouldn’t be stressful. Harrison sat halfway down the length of the long banquet table, almost out of her view. Directly across from her were two empty chairs.

She prepared to enjoy herself and ignore the fact that the brunette was at Harrison’s side again, taking food off his plate.

All went well through the first course. But then Andrew entered with his red-haired date, earning a disapproving look from his uncle. The redhead had clearly been drinking too much—she giggled and talked too loudly—which didn’t bother Marietta.

What troubled her was that the redhead held a tall glass of beer.

Marietta jerked her eyes away, telling herself the old-fashioned table was wide enough that she wouldn’t smell the beer.

The table wasn’t that wide.

Panic rippled through her, and the color left her cheeks.

This thing with beer was ridiculous. Normal people didn’t have such quirks. Who lost it so completely at the presence of a harmless glass? She didn’t even have the accident for an excuse. There was no reason for her foolishness.

She started a casual conversation with the sweet man beside her to take her mind off her anxiety. She laughed at a silly joke he made, hoping she sounded engaged.

Marietta could still smell the beer.

Under normal circumstances, she’d leave. But Damon was a stickler for propriety and she dreaded making a scene at his fancy party. The last thing she wanted to do was offend him.

Surely she could talk herself out of this. She grasped her champagne and held it to her mouth, breathing the scent to mask the beer. It helped, and she took several deep breaths, willing herself to calm.

The next course was served, and Marietta began to hope she would make it through. She didn’t relax, but kept her eyes from the redhead and concentrated on making polite conversation. She pretended to eat, stirring her food around the plate. She didn’t dare taste it, because every time she got a faint whiff of the beer her stomach churned. During the third course, she asked a server for red wine, hoping the stronger fragrance would further mask the offensive smell.

She hated being this weak and silly, as if the beer represented everything in the world she was still afraid of.

Her hand shook as she raised the wineglass to her lips. She took only the tiniest sip, breathing in as much as she could.

When a burst of raucous laughter came from across the table, Marietta couldn’t help but look over.

It was a mistake. The redhead was telling some sort of dramatic story, but she had the glass in her hand. Though the beer was nearly gone, the remainder sloshed around in a way that made Marietta sick.

She broke out in a cold sweat and clunked down her wineglass down for fear she’d drop it. Panic rose so quickly she struggled for breath.

Then she felt pressure on her shoe.

She looked up with a gasp. Andrew must have stretched out his leg to toe her under the table. His brows drawn together in concern, he mouthed, “All right?”

She gave him the brightest smile she could manage and nodded.

Oddly, his concern helped.

She glanced down the table at Harrison, but he hadn’t noticed her distress. The brunette had her hand on his shoulder, clearly such a stimulating dinner companion that Harrison had forgotten Marietta existed.

To her infinite relief, the redhead finished off the last of her drink. Marietta let out a long, shaky breath after a server removed the empty glass, and picked up her glass of wine again. She hadn’t exactly triumphed, but she hadn’t lost it completely. She should be able to make it through the rest of the dinner.

But just as the next course was brought, a server—ever efficient—offered a full glass of beer to the redhead.

Marietta stared at it, shifting in her seat as nausea slammed into her. What was wrong with her? It was just beer. It was just—

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Harrison call over one of the servers and murmur something.

He was busy with other things. He wasn’t going to come to her rescue this time.

She was on her own.

Marietta knew she needed to leave. She had to think of an excuse and pray Damon wouldn’t be offended.

The smell of beer overwhelmed her, invading her senses, making her shudder helplessly.

She started to push back her chair.

The redhead gesticulated. Her hand knocked the full glass. It toppled over in Marietta’s direction, the liquid spilling out, streaming across the table and around her place setting.

Marietta gave a choked sob as thin trickles of beer dripped off the edge of the table. Onto her dress. Onto her.

She gagged.

She jumped up, her chair falling backward in a loud clatter. Too terrified to be humiliated, she fled the room, running down the hall as her stomach heaved.

Vaguely, she remembered there was a bathroom at the end of the hall. She raced for it, getting there just before she was painfully and violently ill.