Enticing Eve: Scandalous Secrets, Book 2 (5 page)

Look at me
, he willed.
Just look at me, and I will know you still love me.

Not once did Eve glance in his direction. Instead, she ascended the steps of her carriage and disappeared out of sight, her words haunting him like a phantom howling in the harsh wind.

You mean nothing to me.

Colin believed her. Because he judged her, taunted her, insulted her until he was certain that he indeed meant nothing to her. Crossing the room, he leaned against the fireplace mantel where an antique tulipiere rested front and center, flanked on either side by brass candlesticks and several porcelain figurines in the shape of various birds.

“Damn it to hell,” Colin moaned through gritted teeth as he shoved the contents from the mantel with one swift motion, the delicate antiques crashing to the floor with an ear-piercing mixture of shattering porcelain and marble.

Colin studied the wreckage, his fingers tightening around the now empty mantel. For years, he had devoted himself to amassing a fortune for the sole purpose of proving himself worthy of Eve Weston, and in the end it was hopeless.

Damn it to hell! Why did I goad her?
 

He knew the answer all too well – Eve was betrothed to his younger brother and Colin knew himself well enough to realize that he would still want her, perhaps even attempt to take her away from Tristan. After everything Colin was capable of, destroying his brother’s happiness would pale in comparison to some of his other sins.

Quite simply, he had eliminated the unavoidable temptation that he would no doubt feel. After all, if Eve despised him, it would be impossible for Colin to win her back.

Colin’s heart hung heavy within his chest, laden with regrets. How could he watch Tristan and Eve wed, knowing all the while that his brother would be claiming the life that Colin himself so desperately sought?

She loves Tristan.
 

He wanted it to be true yet, deep within his subconscious, lay a nagging suspicion that Eve did not love his brother.

If she loved Tristan, would Eve have allowed Colin to take such liberties as he had today? An embrace or two, caresses of her cheek and neck, standing in such close proximity that they almost kissed were not the acts of a woman committed to another man.
 

Then there was her admission of love for Tristan. It caused Colin to remember her avowals of love to him years earlier. Her eyes danced as she spoke the words yet no such emotion shone through her declaration of love for his brother.
 

Regardless, Eve was betrothed to Tristan – his brother – and there were some lines even Colin would never cross.

With his every breath, Colin’s love, his hope, his very future drained from his heart, and he wondered if he would ever again feel joy. The answer hit him like an anvil.
 

Never again. Not without Eve.

How could he live without her, without the hope of her, knowing she would never again be in his arms? His conscience affirmed that he would survive, of course. He’d done so before. He would do so again.
 

But he would do so in spite of himself.
 

Colin surveyed his surroundings – the rich green furnishings, dark mahogany paneling, and accent pieces. He always considered the drawing room décor to be rather masculine, yet when he first entered the room today it shimmered with the presence of an alluring goddess, golden sunshine, and infinite possibilities. For a brief moment, he felt like all was right with humanity, bolstered by the fact that Eve sought him out. Then his world buckled, collapsing into a cold, lonely place. It was all too familiar. Such had been his colorless, humorless world ever since he left Eve.
 

No matter how much he loved her and as difficult as it was for Colin to admit, perhaps Eve was better off without him. He could never impose such a dark, dreary life on the woman he loved.

Your brother is twice the man you will ever be.

Eve’s statement wounded him. Not because she was wrong. To the contrary, she was correct. Tristan was kind, generous, respectable and whole. Colin remained haunted by too many secrets ever to feel complete again.

Colin would allow Eve to think that he had abandoned her and that he never cared about her. To do so would be far kinder than revealing the truth.

* * *

The intruder studied the structure before him, taking care not to be seen. Though making an appearance during the day was a risk, it was well worth taking since it led to the very sighting he hoped for – MacAlistair, in all his artificial glory, staring through the window.

He didn’t look happy.

Nor did his guest.
 

At one with his surroundings, dressed in brown, he found shelter behind a large tree and leaned against its sturdy trunk. What could MacAlistair have argued with that blonde about? Could it be possible that she, too, knows the truth?

Having waited so long for this moment, he could barely contain his delight.

“I saw him,” he taunted in a singsong voice, his hoarse falsetto joining the birds chirping in the trees amid the lush gardens that surrounded him.
 

At last, the bastard son had resurfaced, claiming a home and an inheritance that did not rightfully belong to him. As far as the trespasser was concerned, Colin MacAlistair had returned to a life he didn’t deserve.

“I shall right this wrong,” the interloper vowed.
 

Yes, he would systematically destroy the man who had taken everything from him. First, he would uncover Colin MacAlistair’s greatest weakness then exploit it.
 

Oh, how he loved games.
 

This would be his favorite yet.

“Let the amusement commence.”

Chapter 2

Eve clenched her hands into tight fists in a valiant yet fruitless attempt to stop them from shaking. Having survived her first encounter with Colin, she knew that she should feel relieved, thrilled even. Instead, Eve found herself at an impasse, struggling to decipher the maelstrom of emotions threatening to overtake her.
 

Her pulse raced at a frantic pace causing her to feel unbalanced. There was more to it, though – an emptiness combined with an agonizing sadness had seeped into Eve’s soul sometime between her initial confrontation with Colin and her exit from his residence. The powerful mixture of emotions caused her chest to ache as if her heart had been bruised. Even the familiar sway of her grandmother’s carriage failed to cheer her.

My affection for you hasn’t changed …
 

Such was the sentiment that she had longed to hear for what felt like an eternity, until Eve dared no longer hope. On this very day when she least expected it, Colin’s admission disarmed her. Why? Could it stem from the fact that his gentle cadence and avowals of devotion were so very convincing? Is that why she felt unsteady? Eve never expected that Colin would be happy to see her let alone admit to caring for her.
 

Anger came so easily when she thought him to be a liar, when she suspected she would never hear such avowals again, when she ceased believing Colin ever meant the words in the first place.

Clutching her reticule against her chest in an attempt to steady her erratic pulse, a myriad of emotions warred within Eve. She wanted to despise Colin, wanted to remain angry with him from now until the end of time.
 

Why couldn’t she?
 

Was it possible that she still cared for the man?

Damn her for even contemplating such a notion! Eve squeezed her reticule until her knuckles turned white. How could she possibly care about Colin MacAlistair? After he had forsaken her, after all the hateful words he uttered to her on this very day, how could she feel anything other than a profound loathing towards the man?
 

In her current state of turmoil, Eve began to question her sanity, certain that she had gone utterly mad. What other explanation could there possibly be for such foolishness?

Consumed by her silent contemplation, Eve failed to notice the carriage sway to a stop in front of her family’s estate known as Waltham Manor. After descending the steps with the assistance of her driver, she paused in the cobblestone drive, taking a moment to view the impressive brick structure that represented generations of Westons – Viscounts, Viscountesses, and their children. A legacy to uphold. One Eve took to heart, though the rich history that Eve often sought strength from offered her no such relief on this day.
 

Eve waited, instructing herself to breathe.

Gather your wits. You are a Weston.

Eve placed her hands flat in front of her. Steady at last. She exhaled a substantial sigh of relief as her plump, russet haired butler greeted her at the heavy, mahogany front door.

“Good afternoon, Miss,” her butler pronounced, viewing her through his thin gold spectacles. “Did you have a nice outing?”

“Yes, Durstan, thank you,” Eve smiled, noting how proficient she had become at feigning happiness since Colin’s original departure.
 

“Do you know where I may find my grandmother?” She asked as the elderly man relieved Eve of her gloves and reticule.

“In her suite, Miss,” he replied with a formal bow.

Eve nodded then ascended the grand staircase, all the while wondering what she would say to her grandmamma. She wanted the kind woman’s advice, longed to unburden her soul to the one person who mattered most to her, but Eve couldn’t do so.
 

Blame it on her stubborn pride. It dictated Eve’s silence. After all, the last thing Eve ever wanted to admit is just how much of a fool she had been over Colin MacAlistair. Or perhaps she couldn’t bear to see the inevitable disappointment in her grandmother’s loving gaze?
 

Pausing in the doorway of her father’s childhood bedchamber, Eve leaned against the doorframe. Upon further reflection, she couldn’t tolerate disappointing her grandmother. Moreover, Eve refused to hurt the dear woman. Not the way Eve’s own father had.

Although her grandmother never spoke of it, Eve was well aware of the deep wounds her father had inflicted. The Viscountess loved her son and pampered him. Too much it turned out, since Eve’s father matured into a spoiled and reckless man, gambling away his inheritance while spending most evenings inebriated.
 

James Weston was a rake, the type of man most reputable families wouldn’t allow near their eligible daughters. His title and annual income were enough, though, to convince some members of the
haut ton
to forgive his indiscretions – one such person being Eve’s mother. When the Viscount of Haversham met Anne Wycliffe, he found a kindred spirit, a woman as carefree as he. Recognizing the perfect match, he married Eve’s mother without hesitation, eager to begin their adventures.

Although he loved his title as well as the power and importance that it afforded him, the Viscount detested work. Because mundane duties bored him, he soon shirked his responsibilities thus causing the family’s wealth to evaporate at a rapid rate. He cared not for the future, living only for the present.

When his wife gave birth to a baby girl, James wasn’t daunted. Far from it, in fact, as he was relieved to be free of the constrictions raising a male heir would impose upon his relaxed lifestyle.

Eve squeezed her eyes shut as a memory seized her. She was about eight years old and had entered her father’s office in search of him. Instead, she found her grandmother sitting behind his grand birch desk; the sweet woman’s shoulders shaking as she sobbed. It was the first time Eve had seen her grandmother cry.

“What’s the matter, Grandmamma?” Eve ran to her, kneeling in front of the older woman, clutching her skirt as icy tentacles of fear inched up her spine.
 

The lines of despair etched in her dear grandmother’s proud features soon frightened Eve more than the fact that the woman was crying.

“My darling girl,” the Dowager Viscountess exclaimed as she pulled Eve onto her lap. “I’m saddened by a missive I received from your father.”

“What is it, Grandmamma?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about my darling,” Fiona answered as another tear drifted down the woman’s cheek. Eve wiped it away with her fingertips.

“My brave girl,” the Viscountess whispered as she encircled her granddaughter in a tight hug. Only after she released Eve from her embrace did the Dowager Viscountess explain while tears clung to her lashes, “Your father and mother have decided to spend more time abroad. They’re leaving you in my care.”

The heartbroken woman must have seen the blend of disappointment and pure panic reflected in her granddaughter’s eyes, for she squeezed Eve’s hand, the reassuring gesture failing to bolster the child’s spirits.

“They don’t want me anymore?” Eve asked, her voice no louder than a faint whisper.

“Of course they do, dearest, as do I.” Eve had never seen her grandmother so pale. The Dowager Duchess dabbed her eyes with a lace handkerchief before continuing, “Your mamma and papa know I can give you a proper home, one which they can’t. I love you dearly, my sweet girl. You and I shall have a grand time together, and your parents will visit us often – they promised.”