11. Chapter 11

Chapter eleven

As they made their way back inside, Iris handed the deed over to her maid to take up to her study, and Mr. Oliver practically sprinted over to them.

“My lady, there’s a visitor for you—”

“Out of the way, Oliver.”

Iris’s spine went rigid. Mr. Oliver stepped aside to reveal the unfortunately familiar face of her ex-husband, Lewis, though she recognized him from his voice. That New York accent that still haunted her dreams. New lines around his mouth and eyes aged his face. And his black hair was speckled with gray above his ears at the hairline. His stature was exactly the same—proud bordering on arrogance. Always making himself taller than the people around him. His lips curled into a sneer at the sight of her.

“Well, well, well,” he said. “It’s about time.”

She frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“Collecting my pocket watch.”

That honestly stumped her. “What?”

“I’ve been writing to you about it for years. It wasn’t in the things you mailed to me after our divorce.”

“I certainly don’t have it.”

“There’s nowhere else it could be. I left it here before we sailed on Titanic .”

“I assure you, any and all of your belongings were—”

“I don’t have it, Iris. As I said in my letters.”

“I don’t read your letters,” she snapped.

“And that’s Lady Iris, to you,” Rowland interjected.

Lewis’s eyes flicked to him, as if just realizing he was in the room, which was likely the case. Lewis hardly noticed anyone who was of no value to him. Iris was inexplicably warmed by the correction.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“Rowland Sinclair.”

“And do you think it is any of your business how I address my wife, Mr. Sinclair?”

“ Ex -wife, Mr. Mooring.”

Lewis’s chin jutted out, and he directed his scowl at Iris again. “Seriously, who is this?”

“Mr. Rowland Sinclair,” Iris retorted, and she saw a fleeting smirk from Rowland out of the corner of her eye.

Lewis rolled his eyes. “I just want to take a look around in my old rooms. I wouldn’t have even bothered you if your damn butler hadn’t kept me from going upstairs.”

“Mr. Oliver was right to keep you here,” Iris said. “You are no longer family, Lewis. You cannot go rummaging about in our home.”

“Where’s your brother? He might be more reasonable about this.”

“Hugh is out.”

“Convenient.”

“It is, rather.”

She could see the wheels turning in his head for what to say next. He stole a sidelong glance at Rowland, who glowered back with the fierceness of a panther.

“Look,” Lewis huffed. “I have a son now. The watch is a family heirloom. I want it back.”

A stinging feeling seeped into her chest. Lewis had a child with his new wife. Probably more than one now, though she hadn’t bothered to find out. He had the one thing she had refused to give him. She hadn’t wanted to give it to him, and now she knew she wanted to give it to no man. So why did it hurt to hear?

She swallowed. “Well. I suppose you can have a look.”

“Thank you, I’ll just—”

“Under supervision. I’ll come with you, and Mr. Sinclair will join us.”

“Seriously? You need a bodyguard?”

Ghosts of his bruising hands on her arms, her neck, and her face crawled over her skin. She held back a shiver. “Yes.”

She didn’t wait for a response before she marched up the stairs. She heard the footsteps of the men behind her, but did not turn around. Her heart pounded with each step she took. She hadn’t so much as glanced inside those rooms since she and Sybil had packed Lewis’s things from them, despite their position next to her own.

Lewis swept inside determinedly, going straight for the nightstand and yanking open the drawer. When he slammed it shut, Iris flinched.

“There’s no need to be rough with the furniture,” she said.

He sighed, making his way to the dresser. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m irritated. It’s only been eight years since I’ve seen a prized possession that you forgot to send me.”

“This is just like you,” Iris scoffed. “One little flaw, one mistake, and you dangle it over someone’s head forever. Does your new wife receive the grace that I never got, or is she subjected to your tantrums as well?”

He shoved a dresser drawer shut and turned dangerous eyes on Iris. But she didn’t flinch this time. Instead, she stood straighter. She had never let him see her scared when they were married, and she wasn’t about to give him that satisfaction now. He forced a pinched smile.

“Elaine is subject only to my devotion, if you must know,” he said. “Unlike you, she is sweet, obedient, and blessedly fertile.”

Iris opened her mouth to retort, but Rowland beat her to the punch.

“Sorry, are you talking about your wife or a broodmare?” he said.

Iris had to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

Lewis bristled. “I’ll have you know—”

“Not to mention she’s hardly old enough to be anything else,” Rowland went on. “How old was she when you got married, eh? Fifteen?”

“Seventeen,” Lewis spat.

Rowland whistled. “My, my. What a grown up.”

Lewis’s scowl impossibly deepened. “You English think you’re so clever with your sarcasm. But in truth, you don’t have anything valuable to say.”

He turned his back on them and strode over to the wardrobe, flinging the doors open and moving things around. He grumbled to himself as he carried on, but Iris couldn’t make out the words. She turned to Rowland to whisper another snide comment to him, but he crossed into the room quietly, knelt down beside the dresser, and reached a hand underneath it. When he stood up again, a gold pocket watch gleamed in his hand. He put a finger to his lips as he tucked it into his pocket.

“So much for a prized family heirloom,” he whispered.

Iris bit her lip to keep a snicker at bay.

“Goddammit,” Lewis swore as he slammed the doors shut and whirled around. “It’s not here. Let me check your room.”

Iris blinked. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s not anything untoward. I just want to see if it’s there.”

“It isn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it’s my bloody room!”

“Don’t be a bitch, Iris—”

He hardly got the words out before Rowland grasped him by the jaw, kicked his legs out to get him to his knees, and had a knife poised inside Lewis’s mouth. He made a gagging sound and tried to struggle, but Rowland’s grip was too tight.

“Mind your manners, Mr. Mooring,” Rowland growled, and Lewis winced. “And put some respect on her pretty name or I will cut it out of your mouth.”

A jolt of arousal surged through Iris, sending heat from her core all the way to the tips of her fingers. It crept up her chest, coloring it a soft pink. She hastily buttoned the top button of her blouse to hide it, but there was nothing she could do for her cheeks, which she was sure were rosy and flushed.

She wasn’t sure what was so attractive about it—his voice, the flex of his arms, or perhaps it was how safe it made her feel. Rowland stood in front of her like a fortress.

“Now, if the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘I’m sorry,’ you’ll be out one tongue,” he warned.

Lewis shot Iris a pleading look. She folded her arms over her chest and raised an expectant eyebrow. Rowland eased the knife away to give Lewis the room to speak.

He let out a deep breath as he met Iris’s gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“Very good,” Rowland said, and he patted Lewis on the head before backing away. He tossed the pocket watch in front of him. “There’s your fucking watch.”

Lewis, face scrunched as if he’d swallowed a sour candy, bent to pick it up. He examined it, tucked it in his pocket, and then got to his feet.

“You know, when we were married, you kept much more suitable company,” he said.

“Luckily for me, I’m no longer required to live up to your idea of suitable,” she replied.

His eyes locked onto hers. Those eyes she knew so well, filled with resentment, anger, and pride. Bereft of warmth or tenderness. She never saw affection from him, not even when they shared a bed. She was a trinket to him. A thing he could show off to the people around him and stow away to be ignored until he needed her again. Until she yanked herself free.

“I’ll see myself out,” he said. “Goodbye, Iris. And I believe it’s for good this time.”

“It had better be.”

With a scoff and reproachful sneer, he was gone.

Rowland took his place in front of her. Her eyes fastened to his, and she saw in their blue depths not the ice she originally thought. No, his gaze was lightning, passionate and strong. And it set her ablaze.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She answered by throwing her arms around his neck and crashing her lips into his. A gasp came from his chest in surprise, but he quickly replied in kind, his hands finding their way to her back and pulling her flush against him. His mouth, surprisingly soft, was magic. It had ignited something inside her she thought long gone; cold and frozen with resentment. When he nipped at her bottom lip, a moan escaped her throat.

When he chuckled, they parted.

“What?” she asked breathlessly.

“Just…told you I’d win you over.”

“Shut up,” she said, rolling her eyes and pushing him toward the bed.

He let her lead the way, but took her with him and they fell onto the mattress together. She slid her legs up to straddle his waist, grateful she’d worn a loose skirt so it rode up without constricting her movement. She broke the kiss and sat up. Already, she could feel his desire for her against her thigh. With a smirk, she unbuttoned her blouse.

“Iris,” he said, grasping her hands to stop her.

“Yes?” she returned, not bothering to insist on using her honorific.

He sat up, cradling her in his lap and letting his hands fall to her thighs. He inhaled deeply and dropped his gaze.

“I can’t even fucking believe I’m asking, but before this goes any further, I have to know—what’s this about? Me or him?”

She stiffened. The question doused the hot embers of desire within her. Her chest heaved as her mind scrambled for an answer. But she didn’t know how to make him understand when she didn’t completely grasp it herself.

He reached up to cup her cheek with his palm. His thumb traced the line of her jaw, so gently that her eyes misted over. “You don’t know.”

It wasn’t a question, but her mouth opened to reply. “I…”

“It’s all right. Just…let me know when you’re sure, eh?”

With that, he eased her off his lap. The loss of the heat of his body made her shiver. Rooted to her spot on the mattress, she fixed her eyes on the carpet. She couldn’t watch him leave her like this. Not when she felt stripped bare and humiliated. He left the room without a word. She flopped onto her back with a massive sigh.

“Fuck.”