Chapter 2

2

S omething wasn't quite right.

Seated in her usual spot at the dining room table, Samantha Croft sent her husband a careful glance. He was reading the morning paper as was his daily habit. A serious expression firmed his features until he caught her gaze and gave her a smile.

According to appearances, all was as it should be within their marriage, yet a niggling feeling deep in her stomach warned that something had changed between them. The problem was she couldn't say what, exactly.

Nothing was amiss as such. Adrian treated her well. He showered her with attention, spoke to her as though she were his equal, and gave her free rein to purchase whatever she might desire – encouraged her to do so.

They'd visited his ancestral home, Deerhaven Park, where they'd ridden together and gone for walks. He'd even gotten into the lovely habit of kissing her when she retired at night and again in the morning when she woke.

However…

A month and a half had passed since they'd spoken their vows yet they'd still not consummated their marriage.

She reached for her tea and sipped the hot liquid while Adrian returned to his paper. To be fair, she had been wounded when they'd wed, shot through the shoulder the previous day. It had taken over a week for the wound to heal. Longer for the ache to abate, upon which she'd gotten her courses.

No sooner had they ended, than Adrian had caught some sort of cold that left him feeling unwell for two weeks. After which there had been a slew of work for him to catch up on, resulting in late nights that led to his sleeping much of the day.

So although they'd shared the same bed, they'd not retired or woken at the same time. Which made it incredibly hard to consummate anything.

The fact that he was presently breakfasting with her was therefore immensely uplifting. It surely meant that he was returning to his regular schedule. Which would hopefully allow them to start their lives together properly as husband and wife.

She bit her lip and frowned at her toast. While he did kiss her, he didn't do so as often as she'd have expected him to now that she was his wife.

It was as though his ardor had cooled.

Or maybe her expectations were simply hard to slot in between everyday tasks and obligations.

She set her tea aside and took a bite of toast, mulling this over while she chewed, barely noting the flavor of creamy butter and raspberry jam.

No, this didn't make sense. He'd shown passion and impatience before the wedding. She'd expected him to act on those right away.

And yet, he refrained.

If she didn't know any better, she'd think he'd discovered the truth about her.

But that didn't make sense either. Had he done so, she doubted they'd be sitting down to breakfast together, never mind sharing the same bed.

It had to be something else, though she couldn't figure out what.

Unless of course she was reading more into the situation than what was actually there. Perhaps, if she were to raise the issue instead of waiting for him to act, progress would be swifter.

She swallowed, acknowledging the rapid beat of her pulse brought on by discomfort. Though she might be well-trained in combat and knew what it meant to skewer a man, speaking of copulation made her break out in a cold sweat.

Still, there was no such thing as backing away from a challenge. Only cowards did so and she was anything but. So she straightened her spine and turned to her husband. "I'd like for us to retire at the same time tonight."

There was a sharp pause, almost imperceptible though it stood out in the slight flinch of his hand and the rustling sound the paper made in response. A less perceptive person would have missed it, but Samantha took note.

A smile formed on his face – gentle and warm – while strong emotion filled his gaze in a look so intense it stole her breath. It seemed like forever since he'd looked at her in that way.

"Am I to understand that you've an interest in bedsport, Mrs. Croft?"

She forced herself to hold his gaze. "It's past time, wouldn't you say?"

"Perhaps." He was studying her, she realized then, like a cat might study a mouse, as though trying to figure out whether to toy with it a little or simply pounce. Leaning back, he set his paper aside, sipped his coffee, then stood. "Let's discuss it later. When I'm not on my way to an important meeting."

And there it was – the avoidance he hid beneath layers of seeming affection and consideration. She saw it now, even as he bent to press a kiss to her cheek, as he told her how lovely she looked and wished her a pleasant day. There was a distance between them, a line he'd no wish to cross.

It felt like a large crevice, and she'd no idea how to breach it.

"Why don't you meet your friends for luncheon?" he suggested, his hands on her shoulders as he stood behind her, thumbs gently massaging. "Then you and I can visit the Hunterian later. How does that sound? "

As though the width of the crevice might be decreasing. "Wonderful."

He kissed her again and departed, leaving her with a flicker of hope. Their last outing had taken place the day after their wedding, when they'd gone to the theatre. It would be nice to have another, a chance to focus on each other and reconnect.

Especially given the decision she'd made upon her marriage to turn her back on Harlowe and Kendrick. To instead protect her husband.

She doubted her former guardian or the chief constable knew she'd taken Adrian's side in the end – that she would guard him against their plan to use her against him – a plan now putting the two men at odds.

Despite Harlowe reminding her on her wedding day that she had to locate Adrian's files and discover the names of the people listed there, he'd since told her she was to pause in her mission.

Kendrick, however, insisted she stay the course. He wanted her to link Adrian's name to blackmail threats made against high-ranking individuals, aid offered to criminals, smuggling operations, and whatever else could build a case against him. Preferably something that would help put Adrian away for good. Or see him hanged. It went without saying that she would do no such thing. The man she'd married had proven himself to be someone she greatly respected and admired.

She would never betray him.

The exhibition at the Hunterian was certainly different from anything else Samantha had ever seen. Strolling from display case to display case, she studied the various specimens, from insects to reptiles, to the giant skeleton of a man who stood at nearly eight feet in height, and a series of odd-looking animals kept in glass jars.

"These are beautiful, don't you think?" Adrian asked when they paused to admire a collection of colorful butterflies, their wings pinned back to showcase their unique designs.

Samantha drew closer to his side. "I'd love to visit the exotic places they come from one day."

"Duly noted." He smiled at her. "It's been a while since I last travelled. Perhaps we should study the globe when we return home and plan our ideal trip."

Warmth settled within her breast, creating a surge of excitement. "I'd love that. Truly." For them to escape, get away from this place that seemed to have him in its grasp and enjoy having nothing to do but savor each other's company.

"I'm glad we did this," Adrian said when they settled into their carriage later. He drew Samantha against him and dropped a tender kiss to her brow. "It makes me realize how much I've neglected you lately."

"You've been busy with work," she reminded him since she'd no wish for him to feel guilt over it.

"That's no excuse." He laced his fingers with hers, then raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "I promise I'll try to do better. "

Turning, she gazed into his dark eyes, expecting to find the same longing she felt in her heart, but was met by a look of determination instead. Ignoring it for a second, she leaned toward him. They were husband and wife, after all, completely alone in their carriage and with at least fifteen minutes left of their ride.

Enough time for a bit of abandon.

Yet when she pressed her mouth to his, it was as though it was he who lacked the experience, barely moving his lips and making no effort to take things further.

She finally gave up and sat back in frustration. Whatever was going on was untenable. She had to address it. So she forced herself to ask the one question persistently preying upon her mind. "Have I done something to displease you, Adrian?"

"Of course not. Why would you ask such a thing?"

He made it sound as though all was as it should be and any suggestion to the contrary was utterly preposterous. It would not deter her from figuring him out. "Because you don't seem to want me as much as you did before we married."

There. She'd said it. With the sort of boldness most women would blush at.

A gruff sound was his first response. "Did we not just spend the afternoon together?"

"Yes, but—"

"I've apologized for not giving you more attention lately, but the truth is, I'm a busy man, Samantha. I thought this was something you knew and understood. "

"This has nothing to do with that. It's the lack of interest I'm sensing from you that has me concerned. You used to kiss me as though you were eager to rip my clothes off but now…it's like you're doing the bare minimum simply to appease me."

"You're being unfair," he countered, withdrawing his hand from hers and setting it in his lap. "All I've done is show endless consideration for you and your comfort, yet you reply with ingratitude and an almost childish demand for more."

"Is passion really too much to ask for?"

"When you and I have both been sickly and I've spent the rest of the time exhausted, then yes. It most certainly is."

"Adrian, I—"

"We'll discuss this no further." He turned from her, his attention on the view beyond the window. When they reached Croft House he alit, his posture stiff as he helped her down. He escorted her into the house, removed his hat and gloves with unparalleled swiftness, and strode to his study where he shut the door, leaving her alone in the foyer.

Adrian poured himself a measure of brandy, downed it, and poured himself another. Bloody hell, he was in a tough bind. The act he'd been keeping up since he'd learned of his wife's deception was starting to crack and crumble .

She was beginning to see straight through him. Soon, she'd uncover the truth – that he loathed being near her, loathed himself for every conflicting emotion she forced upon him with her presence, and loathed the fact that he did not hate her nearly as much as he ought to.

Had she been anyone else, she would have been carted off to some desolate field and shot without much thought. He'd done precisely that to others who'd crossed him. Murry, his valet, still couldn't believe he'd allowed her to go unpunished. Her betrayal was, after all, destructive in more ways than one.

Yet he couldn't deny the weakness he harbored for her. It would likely ruin him in the end, but the fact was, she had saved his life. There was no getting around that, even if she might have done so purely to win his trust. He still owed her that debt. Besides, he'd hoped pretending all was well between them might prompt her to offer some insight.

All he knew was that she'd been working with the authorities, spying on him and trying to weasel her way into his life – an endeavor she'd succeeded at with spectacular results since she'd bloody well managed to make him propose. But he still didn't know what her end goal was. Not for certain, anyway, though he did have suspicions.

In any event, his hope of discovering any additional details had led to nothing. According to his own sources and observations, she hadn't met with Harlowe or Kendrick since settling into his home. Nor had she spoken with Hazel, Melody, Tara, or Holly, the four women with whom she'd been raised at Clearview House.

And since she'd not seen the boy who'd run errands on her behalf either since Murry had caught and questioned him, it stood to good reason that she had no clue about Adrian's knowledge. Whatever her suspicions, they were entirely based upon his inability to keep up the ruse past a certain point.

For while he could hold her and kiss her and let himself block out her lies while they chatted, he could not make himself take her to bed. Not when he feared he'd resort to violence, as he might very well do since she already spoke to his baser instincts. That sort of need could easily turn ugly when it collided with anger and pain. He'd no wish to risk that, so he'd come up with every excuse he could think of to try and postpone it.

He drank another measure of brandy and puffed a weary sigh. Perhaps Murry had a point. Maybe he ought to confront her outright and demand she provide him with answers. His lips twisted with perverse pleasure as he considered how shocked she would be to discover that he knew her secret.

Maybe then, once everything was out in the open and they'd had whatever heated row it might lead to, when he'd forced her to crawl through glass on her hands and knees as penance, they might stand a chance of saving their sham of a marriage.

Brows knit, he stared at his desk while considering this, only to realize he'd find no pleasure in causing her pain.

Still, she would have to be punished somehow. Allowing her to get away unscathed with what she'd done was not an option. The greatest obstacle in this regard was his own moral code which prevented him from hurting women. He'd never done it and would not start now. Certainly not with his own wife. So what then?

It was a conundrum that kept him perplexed until Elks, his butler, came to inform him that there was a caller. The Earl of Orendel wished to see him.

Adrian set his nearly empty glass of brandy on his desk and frowned. This was unusual. Though he was familiar with the earl, having met him at various social functions, they'd never conversed at greater length. In fact, he was one of those men whom Adrian thought of as less than an acquaintance.

Strange that he'd choose to stop by.

Despite having little desire to meet with the man, curiosity got the better of him. He gave Elks a nod. "Please show him in."