Chapter 6

6

S amantha savored the peace and quiet of the dining room while enjoying her breakfast. It had been a relief not having to face Adrian immediately after Kendrick's visit. She'd been worried it would lead to an argument between them last night. When she'd realized he wouldn't be coming home for dinner, she'd allowed herself to relax.

And had managed to do so to some extent until he came to join her. He entered the room, the edge of his lips pulling upward the moment his dark gaze settled upon her. "Good morning."

She greeted him in return even as uncomfortable shivers danced over the nape of her neck.

There was something especially predatory about his energy today. Something dark and dangerous – a threat that made her stomach clench.

He slid into his seat at the head of the table, allowed her to pour him a cup of coffee. A murmured, "Thank you," before he picked up the morning paper, neatly folded next to his plate.

Samantha's muscles uncurled like a frightened creature daring to come out of hiding. She allowed herself to breathe. Her pulse started to slow. A sip of hot tea helped quiet her nerves even further.

He turned a page, the fluttery crispness filling the silence between them. And then, just when she'd started to think he would not choose to strike at this moment, "There's a matter I wish to discuss with you after breakfast."

Every part of her drew tight at once. "Pertaining to?"

He didn't so much as glance her way, his attention remaining on the news. "I'm sure you can guess."

Of course she could. Her heart was already bouncing against her breast. It was the strangest thing. She'd never been truly frightened before, not even when Wycliff had made her return the favor she'd owed him and she'd had to fight off those lethal thugs. Her training had kept her mind calm.

But now…

It felt like there was so much more at stake. Because she cared. Despite her best efforts to the contrary, her heart belonged to Adrian. Knowing her actions had jeopardized his feelings for her was crushing. Worse was not knowing where it might lead.

She'd betrayed him and he knew it. Thus far, he'd at least let her live. Had even allowed her to remain at Croft House. But all of that might be about to change .

A feeling of dread whispered through her. The future of their relationship hinged on what she decided to tell him. One mistake and she'd lose him forever, unless of course, she'd already lost him.

The painful notion not only speared her but made her resent every order she'd ever received. So many lies and deceptions. And for what? Where had it led her? Not to the goal Harlowe or Kendrick intended, but to an understanding that left her stranded behind enemy lines.

Because that was better than placing her bets on the man who'd raised her – who'd had no qualms about making her lower herself for a cause she'd started to question. Harlowe had betrayed her trust in him as thoroughly as she'd betrayed Adrian's trust in her, if not more. So she'd made her choice, clawing her way into Adrian's life like a wounded kitten looking for sanctuary in a wolf's den.

No regret there. Her heart had been true and full of hope. It would remain so now. Anything less would result in failure.

She drank some more tea while sending her husband a wary glance, and prayed he'd listen to what she intended to tell him.

Even though he'd sent all the servants out, Adrian shut the door to his study, closing himself away from the world, together with Samantha. Muscles tight in anticipation of what had to happen and where it would lead, he sent her an assessing look. She was like a cat preparing to fight, her posture tense, eyes slightly narrowed.

"Have a seat." He swept his hand toward one of the chairs.

"I'd rather stand."

Defiance carved her expression. He held her gaze for a long-drawn-out moment, accepting her challenge. It was time to begin.

Stepping away from the door, he kept his pace deliberately slow while moving toward her. "I was twelve years old when my father asked me to join him in the basement for the first time – in the room behind the stairs, the one you inquired about. An associate of his had stolen from him. Not an especially large sum, but a theft nonetheless."

He halted before her, allowed a slight smile when she raised her chin.

"My father told me to break the man's fingers. Only I couldn't make myself do it. The sounds I expected to hear and the guilt that would surely follow paralyzed me. So Papa did the deed in my stead, forcing me to endure the crunch of bone and the screams of pain. It was a hellish nightmare from which there was no waking up. But he explained himself to me, clarified the importance of loyalty and what must happen if anyone ever betrayed it."

She held her chin high, her gaze boldly locked with his. "Sounds like he was an awful man to include you in something like that at such a young age."

A fair point. He'd hated his father, no doubt about it, but he'd also acknowledged the import of paying a price if one chose to cross him. It kept people in line, made sure he was both respected and feared.

"I nearly pissed myself, I was so bloody scared, but he didn't take pity. On the contrary, he whipped me for my disobedience."

Something dark and dangerous broke through her gaze – a violent rage burning brighter than any fire he'd ever seen. For the boy he'd been, perhaps, but not for the man he'd become. Considering what she had done, she did not care for him in the slightest.

"My view of the world was altered that day. I learned that my father was either my enemy or my protector, depending on whether I chose to stand with or against him. Loyalty, he told me later that day, was the only thing worth basing relationships on. Without it, you're in constant danger."

He huffed a breath. "I believed in your loyalty after you saved my life. That's when I knew you were the woman I wanted to marry. Not because I enjoyed your company or because I found you attractive, though both of those increased your appeal, but because I thought I could trust you completely. Only I was a fool. It was just another trick, wasn't it, Samantha?"

She shook her head. "No, it wa—"

"Stop. Lying." The words he'd shouted filled the space between them, adding weight to the air .

Her lips thinned as her gaze hardened, as though she had any right to feel hurt or offended. "Our interactions were real."

"Not true." His anger increased with every attempt she made to deny the destruction she'd caused. "Nothing between us could ever be real as long as you plotted against me."

"You don't understand." Her voice had an edge to it too now.

He bared his teeth and felt his upper lip curl. "I know you were working with Kendrick."

"Yes." Sparks flashed in her eyes. "But it's not that simple. I had orders, not just from Kendrick but also from Harlowe."

His hand lashed out, fingers catching her beneath her jaw. He felt the leap of her pulse and heard her breath hitch. Teeth clamped together, he leaned toward her, prepared to demand an explanation, when her hand came crashing down over his forearm so hard he was forced to release her.

A punch followed, knocking him further off balance.

Unprepared for the sudden attack, he staggered backward, but managed to reach out and grab her, his strained fingers latching onto her bodice.

He'd almost managed to regain his footing when she surprised him again, catching hold of his jacket's lapel, her body twisting as she swept a leg behind him. They went down together, landing with a hard thud that made them both grunt. Which was all he had time to reflect on before she was rolling away, using momentum to turn him, attempting to force him onto his belly.

Enough.

He swiped his arm outward in a wide arc and felt the effect as her hold on him wavered. Taking advantage, he pushed himself upward while constantly turning, only to feel himself start to fall sideways as she used her weight against him once more.

Panting, he did what he could to avoid landing on her directly, only to fail when her legs wound around both of his, her arm hooking around his neck and pulling him into her much smaller frame.

Devil take it, he'd married a hellcat.

He clawed at the floor, tried to find purchase, crawl forward. Anything to regain the upper hand. Overpowering her should not be this hard. Yet he had to acknowledge her ability. Another aspect that threatened to make his blood boil. Whatever she'd learned at Reed's, it didn't come close to the level of skill she revealed to him now.

Another lie.

Pretending to be a weak woman desperate to know how she might defend herself if danger found her had merely been one more act – a means for her to get closer to him.

There was a sudden pounding at the base of his skull. A red hue colored his vision. He thrust his elbow back into her side, ignored the small yelp, and spun her with all the force he possessed, smacking her into the carpet.

Furious not only with her but with himself for being so utterly blind, he straddled her body and grabbed both her wrists, effectively pinning her down.

"Who the hell are you?" His breath tore up his throat with each word.

"Your wife." An insolent hiss that only enraged him further.

Had she been a man, he'd have beaten him until his face was no longer recognizable. But she wasn't a man. She was a woman. Not the ideal opponent when what he needed more than anything at the moment was some means by which to unleash his wrath and frustration. Every muscle in his body shook. Blood roared in his veins, demanding he act – do something – dominate her in a way that would prove him the victor.

Instinct clicked into place, driving him forward. His hold on her wrists tightened, and his mouth descended on hers with punishing force.

Samantha gasped. Adrian was kissing her for the first time in weeks. Yet there was no tenderness in it, no deeper connection, but rather a callous display of power.

It broke her heart even as her body and mind both responded, so desperate for this sort of closeness with him, they perversely wanted more. So she didn't resist any further or try to fight back, choosing instead to submit and turn the kiss in her favor.

This was what she'd been missing, this heated passion he'd shown her when he'd first kissed her. He'd swept her into their own secret world back then – a place in which nothing besides them mattered. She longed to find her way back there with him, to take their relationship one step further and fully cement it once and for all.

He reared back, a horrified look in his eyes, chest rising and falling with each labored breath. A shake of his head as he leaned back farther, releasing his hold on her in the process.

She reached for him, attempted to hold him to her, but he brushed her aside and was suddenly rising. Flint hardened his gaze as it traveled the length of her body, observing the way her skirts bunched at her knees, her slightly askew bodice.

A hint of appreciation surfaced for a split second before it vanished once more. Pivoting, he strode for the door and thrust it open, allowing the forceful sound to accompany him from the room.

Defeated, Samantha pushed herself into a sitting position, adjusted her gown, and hauled herself upright just in time to hear the front door slam shut. Her gaze drifted toward the window overlooking the street, to Adrian briskly walking away.

She watched until he'd vanished from view, annoyed with herself for the counterproductive way in which she'd reacted. Going on the offensive – hitting him – had been a mistake, albeit an instinctive reaction to his menacing manner. To the increased tension between them.

Inhaling deeply, she reminded herself that the battle between them was far from over. He would return and when he did, she'd make sure he listened to everything else she wanted to say.

Spitting mad, Adrian tore along the pavement, ignoring those foolish enough to greet him. Lord help him, he'd never been so enraged by anyone in his life. And all because of a blasted kiss.

But no, it was more than a kiss, and he reckoned she bloody well knew it.

Never mind the initial reason behind it. All that mattered had been the result.

As soon as his lips had touched hers, he'd been back in that blasted field where he'd learned what it meant to hold her for the first time. Only now, he was her husband. They'd had no need to stop. Something his body had been too aware of.

Shit.

The heat from all that suppressed desire was like an inferno burning him up. By God, she was his nemesis at the moment, yet there was no denying the need she instilled in him. It was even stronger now than before, like a dangerous spark ignited by all the pent-up tension between them .

A groan of frustration ripped through him. He wanted her. Desperately. No denying that inconvenience. But how the hell could he let himself have her when she'd invented the woman he'd lost his heart to?

This question had thankfully forced itself through the fog in his brain when she'd responded with fervor, saving him from making what would have been a colossal mistake. He fisted his hands. Ridding himself of his mistress had clearly been a foolish decision, but it had been made based on what he'd believed to be true. Not on reality itself.

He stormed toward Brook Street, cutting a path directly to Reed's. If only he hadn't sent Murry out, he'd have asked him to join him for a good bit of sparing. But maybe luck would prevail and Wrengate would be there instead. One could only hope.

The boxing club came into view. Adrian moved to the edge of the pavement and stopped to wait for a gap in the traffic to let him cross. Only to have his path blocked by a carriage that pulled up directly before him. The door opened and Orendel leaned out.

His stark expression and troubled gaze sent a warning down Adrian's spine. Right before the earl told him, "There's been another murder."