Seducing the Enemy Read online

  When she returned, she expected to find him waiting impatiently, determined to call her to account.

  To her surprise—and not at all to her pleasure—he wasn’t alone.

  A young woman was with him. Very much with him. A slender brunette was practically hanging on him, stroking his arm and leaning in toward his chest. She was probably rich and cultured. She wore a trendy pantsuit and a pair of gorgeous stiletto-heeled boots.

  Marietta jerked to a stop, all her amusement vanishing. A wave of jealousy slammed into her, and she felt the irrational need to run over and jerk the brunette away from Harrison.

  She fought the ridiculous emotion. She had no claim on him. Even when they’d been on friendly terms, they’d only shared a one-night stand.

  Now, she didn’t even want him.

  Marietta summoned her anger and indignation by remembering all the nasty accusations Harrison had leveled at her last night. She was cool and controlled as she strolled over to join them. Pretending indifference to the brunette who couldn’t keep her hands off of Harrison, Marietta gathered her books.

  Harrison looked at her, but his expression was unreadable.

  “I’m ready whenever you are,” Marietta said. “But take your time. I’ll just go pay for these.”

  The brunette shot Marietta a look of venomous curiosity. Marietta ignored it and headed for the cashier.

  By the time she’d gotten through the line, Harrison was waiting for her at the door, sans brunette. He gave her a sideways look as they left but offered no clue to the woman’s identity.

  Don’t say anything catty and predictable. Don’t say anything catty and predictable. Don’t say anything…

  “Your friend was very pretty,” she said sweetly. “But she should think about wearing shoes she can actually walk in. I’m sure it was rather awkward for her to keep falling on top of you like that.”

  …

  Harrison was relieved when the shopping expedition finally ended. Torn between wanting to strangle Marietta and wanting to haul her into bed and claim her as his, he’d had a frustrating day.

  They returned just in time for tea, and Harrison was surprised that his uncle had decided to take a break to join them on the terrace.

  They ate scones with cream and little sandwiches and cakes, and Damon asked Marietta about her years in the wheelchair.

  Harrison tensed at the personal topic, but Damon seemed interested, and Marietta didn’t appear offended or self-conscious about the questions. She told them about her disability and the various medical procedures she’d gone through to fix it.

  She made a point of not playing it up for sympathy. Despite her matter-of-fact attitude, it was clear how much she had suffered.

  But she talked of the years she’d been unable to walk without bitterness or self-pity, with that same sunny spirit she poured into everything. He remembered what had drawn him when he first saw her in the club—something fresh, alive about her. She always seemed to glow, illuminated from within.

  Harrison was angry by the time he finished his tea. Angry in a way that was impossible to channel. Angry that she’d had to go through all that.

  It was absurd, given that he couldn’t trust anything she said.

  But he couldn’t stop his anger any more than he could stop breathing. And then he grew frustrated for being so weak to give in to such feelings.

  Andrew came out too late for tea, but he chatted for a few minutes and then asked Marietta if she wanted to ride. She said she hadn’t ridden a horse since she was a child—before the accident—but she’d love to give it a try.

  Harrison started to get up to join them when Andrew gave him a pointed look.

  “You weren’t invited.”

  Harrison blinked.

  Marietta looked in confusion from Andrew to Harrison, but she went off with Andrew willingly enough.

  Harrison stared after them, vaguely troubled.

  His uncle cleared his throat, causing Harrison to give a guilty start.

  “So,” Damon said slowly, “have you come to any conclusions about our guest?”

  “I came to my conclusions in Monte Carlo.”

  “Yes. I’m aware of that. But I’ve been wondering if perhaps your conclusions were hasty.”

  Harrison stiffened. “Please explain what you mean.”

  “I honestly don’t know. You’ve spent more time with her than I have. But I’m having trouble believing she concocted such an elaborate scheme. And you still haven’t given me a credible theory for what her ultimate aim is.”

  “I’m willing to consider the possibility that she wasn’t the one to concoct the scheme.”

  “Her grandfather? Maybe. She obviously adores him. But to what end?”

  Harrison shifted. “To get us on their side for a larger settlement?”

  “It seems too petty, given the context. You’ve gone over your encounters with her in the nightclub? You’re sure they all could have been planned?”

  “Yes. I’ve been through every detail. All of it could have been planned in advance.”

  “It just seems…excessive. Edwards is a conservative man. He wouldn’t use his granddaughter in the way you suspect.”

  Harrison clenched his hand—under the table so his uncle couldn’t see. “We’ve been the victims of much more elaborate scams in the past.”

  “Yes.” Damon stared out toward the garden and said mildly, “But I have to say that Marietta is a very different creature than Grace.”

  “You think so. I’m not yet convinced.”

  Damon cut sharp eyes over to pin him down. “It’s possible. It’s possible she’s the best liar I’ve ever encountered. But I doubt it.”

  Harrison had faced the same incongruities. Marietta didn’t seem deceptive. “I don’t think she’s lying about everything,” he allowed.

  “But you still don’t trust her?”

  Deciding to go on the offensive, Harrison answered the question with one of his own. “What about the accident? What about the inconsistent stories she told as a child about Michael driving recklessly?”

  “I’ve thought a lot about that. Is it possible she convinced herself that’s what really happened? She was a child, and she faced a terrible trauma. The mind plays tricks, you know. Maybe she truly believes it.”

  “So now the Edwardses are our friends?”

  Damon set down his teacup and stood abruptly. “I never said that. It’s the grandfather who has always been the root of this conflict. I’m just wondering if Marietta is as much a victim as we are.”

  Harrison didn’t respond, and eventually Damon said, “Cassell commissioned Harvey Grange to investigate her.”

  “On whose orders?” Grange was a private investigator whose talent was turning up dirt on people. Harrison didn’t like to use him, and his uncle didn’t either.

  “No one’s orders. Cassell arranged it on his own.”

  “He oversteps his authority.”

  “He does what he can to protect us. I’ve spoken to him.” Damon paused. “Do you want Grange to investigate Marietta?”

  “No.” Using Grange made him feel dirty. He didn’t want Grange anywhere near Marietta. If there was any dirt in her background, Harrison would find it himself.

  After his uncle left, Harrison sat and thought for a long time. Then he heaved himself up and went into the office to make some calls he’d put off. When he finished up, it was past six o’clock. He hadn’t heard Marietta and his brother get back, but surely they wouldn’t have ridden so long.

  When Gordon told Harrison that Andrew and Marietta hadn’t returned, he frowned.

  It had been more than two hours. Far too long for Marietta to ride.

  He strode out to the stables and was relieved to see his brother dismounting.

  “Hey there,” Andrew called out. “Did you think we’d gotten lost?”

  Harrison’s gaze bypassed his brother’s grin to focus on Marietta, still on a gentle gray mare. She was smiling, and her cheeks were r
osy from the wind and sun, but she looked tired.

  Andrew went over to help her dismount. She moved very stiffly. Before he could remark, Harrison gaped at the way Andrew touched Marietta. Under the guise of helping her down, he managed to put groping hands on her thighs, her waist, her ribs, and the side of her breast.

  As Harrison watched, Andrew’s fingers came to rest on the curve of Marietta’s ass, and his smile became openly flirtatious.

  Harrison experienced a fiery flash of rage and jealousy. He fisted his hands at his sides and held himself back through force of will.

  Despite their differences, he and his brother had always been close. Harrison knew—he knew—Andrew wouldn’t make a move on a woman that Harrison…on a woman for whom Harrison had such strong, conflicted feelings.

  It only took a moment to figure out his game.

  Last year, Andrew had revealed Grace’s true motives by launching a targeted assault of flirtation and seduction. In the end, Grace had shown her true colors, and Harrison had faced the painful but freeing truth. If Andrew suspected Marietta had an underhanded purpose, he might use the same tactics on her.

  His brother thought he was helping. But Harrison still wanted to slam his fist into Andrew’s grinning face. Fortunately, Andrew removed his offending hands from Marietta’s ass before any violence could occur.

  “Why did you ride so long?” Harrison asked, stepping closer and scrutinizing Marietta.

  She was pale beneath her tan, and she still held on to the horse’s saddle.

  Andrew gave him an annoyed look. “She wanted to see the estate.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Marietta said, giving him a smile that wasn’t quite as bright as usual.

  Harrison clenched his jaw and glared at his brother, who appeared oblivious as he unsaddled his horse.

  He waited for Marietta to let go of the saddle. When she realized he wasn’t going to move, she took her first step. She faltered, her legs giving out beneath her weight.

  Harrison had his arm around her waist to brace her before she fell.

  “Damn it, Andrew,” he said. “She told you she hadn’t ridden since she was a child. How could you be so stupid as to make her ride for two and a half hours?”

  “I’m fine,” Marietta said.

  Andrew looked over at them, his expression surprised and dismayed. “Seriously? I asked if she was all right with going so long. She said she was fine.”

  “I am fine,” she insisted, but she clung to Harrison. “Just give me a minute to get the circulation going again.”

  Harrison gave his brother a pointed look. “You should have known better. Especially since she wasn’t able to use her legs for—”

  “Stop it,” Marietta interrupted. “I said I was fine. It’s not his fault. If anyone, you should blame me.”

  “I do. Believe me.” Harrison kept his arm around her but moved forward slowly, forcing her to start walking. “Why the hell didn’t you tell him to stop?”

  “I was fine. I didn’t realize—” She broke off as they moved, and Harrison didn’t press her. The next minute or two wouldn’t be pleasant for her.

  He kept her walking until she could continue without his support, and he pretended not to notice the glistening of frustrated tears in her eyes.

  “I’m okay now,” she said, pulling away from his arm. “Thank you.”

  Harrison nodded, but he kept in step with her as she walked through the stable grounds and down the path to the house. She moved more easily now, although she still appeared shaky, and her face was strained.

  “I said I was all right.” She gave him an annoyed look over her shoulder.

  “I heard you.”

  He followed her into the house. At the foot of the long formal staircase, he saw her pause almost imperceptibly. Without a word, he slid his arm around her again, making sure it was bracing rather than affectionate. This time she didn’t pull away.

  He would have carried her, but she’d object, so he didn’t offer. They walked slowly up the stairs, and although it was difficult for her, not once did Marietta whine or falter.

  When they reached the top, she stopped and looked up at him for the first time. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I don’t know what happened. I mean, I thought I was in good shape. I felt all right until I got off.”

  “You just rode too long before you were ready for it. The muscles you use and the position of your legs are different than walking or riding a bike.”

  Her gray eyes were huge. “You don’t think it’s because… I mean, you don’t think it’s my legs…”

  “No. It’s normal. With horseback riding, it’s best to start off slowly.”

  She let out a shaky breath. Her hands gripped his shirt, but she hadn’t seemed to notice. Her gaze dropped. “I was scared,” she admitted so softly he could barely hear. “When I couldn’t make my legs move. I was scared.”

  “I know.”

  She met his eyes with uncharacteristic shyness. And Harrison’s arms, which had lightly rested at her waist, tightened around her.

  A flood of hunger swept through him—but this time it wasn’t so much the desire to claim her as an aching need to take care of her. His head lowered and her lips parted in that delicious way they always did before he kissed her.

  “Is she all right?” Andrew called out, running up the stairs.

  Harrison dropped his arms, and Marietta stepped back. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice a little hoarse. “Please don’t be worried.”

  “He could stand to be worried a little more often,” Harrison muttered, loud enough for his brother to hear.

  Andrew ignored that and peered at Marietta. “I feel like an ass for not thinking about how long we were riding.”

  She smiled at him. “Well, don’t. I feel fine now. Later, I’ll race you around the gardens just to prove it.”

  “Right now, you’re going to rest.” Harrison put a hand on the small of her back and nudged her toward her room.

  She gave him an exasperated look he figured was mostly habit. Before she closed the door to her room, she placed a gentle hand on his chest in a silent thank-you.

  Harrison started back downstairs, trying to ignore Andrew’s curious look.

  “I didn’t pop in at an inopportune time just now, did I?” Andrew asked at last, looking rather hopeful.

  “Of course not.”

  “Because it looked like you two—”

  “She was weak. I was bracing her.”

  Andrew arched one eyebrow in a way that always annoyed Harrison. “Is that what it was?”

  Harrison refused to be put on the defensive. “It really never occurred to you that two hours was too long for her to ride?”

  “I already apologized to her, and I’ve already received the obligatory lecture, too. I think I’m covered on that front.”

  “He gave you a lecture? How did he find out so quickly?”

  “He’s got spies everywhere. And I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that the lecture turned into a formal denunciation of me and all my sins.”

  “That bad?”

  Andrew shook his head. “I was declared a useless philanderer who brought nothing but shame to the family.”

  Harrison stopped in the middle of the hallway and checked his brother’s expression. It revealed nothing. “He didn’t mean that.”

  “Oh, he did. You know Lord Uncle as well as I do. If there’s a choice between one of us and his archaic sense of honor, his honor will always win.”

  Andrew was half-smiling, as if their uncle’s eccentricity was amusing, but Harrison found his comment troubling. “I don’t think that’s true.”

  “You’re blind to him sometimes. Look what happened with Ben.”

  There was no disputing the ruthless inflexibility that had led to Benjamin’s desertion. Not wanting to dwell on it, Harrison changed the subject. “He really called you a philanderer?”

  Andrew laughed, the
slight tension in his mouth relaxing. “Keep hitting on Marietta, and maybe he’ll call you one, too.”

  “I’ll talk to him.”

  “Stop it.” Andrew’s voice snapped with startling authority.

  Harrison blinked in surprised. “Excuse me?”

  “Stop trying to bear the burdens of this whole dysfunctional family. It’s not yours to fix. If I want something said to him, I’ll say it myself.”

  Harrison frowned at his brother’s unusual retort. “I thought you were glad I was the lucky bastard who gets to shoulder the weight of this family’s shit.”

  Andrew shook his head. “There’s too much to fix, and trying will just break you eventually. I guarantee it.”

  Harrison didn’t know what to say to that so he went to his room to shower. But he was still worried about Marietta. So he called up his uncle’s masseur and asked him to stop by as soon as he could to give her a massage.

  Chapter Seven

  Since Marietta had gone to bed so early the previous night, she woke up at sunrise. Her muscles were still sore from riding, and she had two hours until breakfast, so she decided to take a walk.

  She followed the path on the perimeter of the formal gardens, since the interior paths turned and wound too frequently to get good exercise and stretch her muscles. She’d reached the far end and was looking over at the wooded park, thinking it would be an amazing place for a child to play, when she saw a rider on horseback approach from the opposite direction.

  As he neared, she saw he was tall with dark hair, and rode with strength and surety across the wide stretch of grass and wildflowers leading to the gardens.

  She forced down the romantic notions the image conjured. It wasn’t a prince from a fairy tale. It wasn’t even Rochester approaching Jane for the first time on his horse.

  It was probably just Andrew.

  She didn’t have any need to see Harrison this morning, anyway. He’d been very kind the previous evening in helping her when she couldn’t walk, and she couldn’t summon the same anger toward him she had before, but still…it was probably Andrew.

  The rider obviously saw her because he slowed, turned the horse toward her, and trotted over to where she stood. Then he slid off the saddle.