Sweet Enemy (35 page)

Finally, she came to the last trunk. It was filled with bric-a-brac, a letter opener, a magnifying glass, a polished stone…the odds and ends of a life that made no sense to someone who didn’t know the owner. There was also a book, a hefty tome some four inches thick. Odd that it wouldn’t be in the library with the rest of the books.

Liliana used both hands to lift it out of the box, nearly tossing it as it flew upward, much lighter than she’d expected. This wasn’t a book at all, but something else. She ran her hands over it, marveling at the realistic page edging, the supple leather cover. Then she opened it.

It was a book, after all, but one cleverly sliced and converted to hold a secret cache, a cache of letters. Her
father’s familiar script leapt off the page and Liliana’s vision blurred with tears.

Sorrow and outrage bubbled inside her, warring for supremacy. There was no doubt now that she’d been on the right trail all along, which brought a sweet stab of justification, yet profound regret tempered it.

As much as she’d been anticipating their upcoming rendezvous in the library tonight, she now dreaded it tenfold. She had no choice but to tell him the whole truth. Geoffrey would be devastated. And worse, there was no way to avoid his realizing that he had been used.

L

Liliana’s steps faltered and she hugged the wooden box to her chest. She tried for a deep breath, but her lungs refused to expand. That was all right. She could manage on minimal oxygen for a time—this would be over soon enough.

She needed to look at the next few moments as she would a festering wound. The more quickly she cut, allowing fresh blood to flow and cleanse, the faster healing could begin. For Geoffrey, that was, not for her. She would never be whole again. The infection ran too deep, and her immunity was spent. He had invaded her system and she feared she would forever bear the scars.

When she stepped through the opening, Geoffrey turned. He must have sensed her presence, as she’d made no sound. A slow smile spread over his face and lifted even the corners of his eyes. A particular warmth shown from his gaze—not the heat of passion, though a flicker of that banked emotion flashed in the blue depths—but something more tender.

Something that made her want to weep.

“You’re here,” he said, his shoulders relaxing as if he’d worried she might not come. He crossed the room toward her. “I thought this day would never end.”

Geoffrey stopped before her. “I have much I wish to share with you, but first…” He opened his arms, reaching to embrace her.

She couldn’t let him touch her. If she did, she’d be lost. Not knowing what else to do, she thrust the box out in front of her, blocking him.

Geoffrey pulled up short, blinking. His gaze darted to the box, then to her face, and he gave her a questioning look.

She shook the box, once, continuing to hold it out like a shield, but Geoffrey took it with both hands and, without giving it another glance, sat it on the table near her and stepped easily into the space he’d cleared.

“But
first
,” he repeated, dropping his head as he simultaneously angled his mouth toward hers. She was prepared for the flash of fire in his kiss, so the gentle brush of his lips instead sent a piercing ache through Liliana’s chest. His hands glided over her shoulders and back. His touch conveyed warmth, caring…beyond just the sexual. How had she missed that? And how much more would that hurt him when she confessed all?

Geoffrey tightened his embrace, breaking the kiss to nestle his cheek against her temple. The piercing ache sharpened at this display of affection, coming to a razor point when he breathed in deeply and released a contented sigh.

“I never used to care for the smell of apples, you know. The taste, either.” He dropped his mouth to her neck, and Liliana shivered as his tongue tasted her. “Yet every morning for the past week, I’ve demanded apple tarts drizzled in honey for my breakfast,” he murmured. “Cook thinks I’ve gone quite nutty, but I can hardly explain why I crave them so all of the sudden. Do you know why?”

Liliana shook her head, unable to utter a word as his
mouth returned to feasting upon her skin, just below the lobe of her ear this time.

He brought his lips up a fraction, his hot breath brushing her as he whispered, “Because I dream of you in the night. I awaken so hungry for the taste of you on my tongue that I am nearly mad for it. I cannot even wait until our morning ride, so desperate am I for you.” He lifted his head, pulling his torso away from her while retaining his hold. Liliana opened her eyes to find his gaze intently upon her.

“Yet the substitute never truly satisfies.” He let his words sink in before the corner of his mouth twitched. “I fear I shall become quite portly if this continues. The barrage of sweets cannot be good for my health. As I see it, there is only one cure, and that is to have you beside me every morning when I wake.”

Liliana’s stomach dipped wildly. What was Geoffrey saying? She must put a stop to this madness. She reached an arm toward her box of evidence. “Geoffrey, I’ve brought—”

His kiss cut her off, and she closed her eyes against the growing hunger she sensed in him. But it ended as abruptly as it had begun, leaving her spinning.

“I can’t imagine what you’ve brought me.” He let her go, walked to the hearth and fetched something from a shelf. He returned carrying a long, narrow box of his own, plain and undecorated. “But I insist you open my gift first.”

He thought she’d brought him a gift. This couldn’t be any more awful. Liliana shook her head forcefully. “No, I—”

“Indulge me,” he said, almost a plea, as he held the offering out before her. An indefinable emotion lurked in his cobalt eyes, and Liliana reached for the box, unable to disappoint him.

She took it, turning it gingerly in her grasp. It was lighter than she’d expected and gave the impression of
fragility. What could he possibly have gotten her and why?

“Open it.”

A terrible idea, yet Liliana still lifted the lid from the box. She reached inside and felt the cool kiss of glass against her fingertips. Curious, she circled the neck of the object with her fingers, pulling it from its container.

She gasped. “Oh my.” A thick glass matrass emerged. The vessel was well made and oval shaped, with a long neck for distilling. Chemical glassware was not inexpensive—or easy to obtain. He must have gone to some trouble, yet it was the key tied around the matrass’ neck by a silken ribbon that drew her attention—another key, given to her in good faith. She glanced up at Geoffrey, who watched her avidly. “What is this?”

“It’s the key to my folly,” he said, “which I hope to convince you to convert to your laboratory when you agree to become my wife.”

The matrass slipped from Liliana’s fingers. The heavy glassware did not shatter but rather made a dull clank as it struck the Aubusson rug and rolled off onto the wooden floor.

Geoffrey’s rich laughter joined the rotating rattle as he grasped both of her hands. “Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for, but as long as you say yes, it will do.”

Liliana tried to tug her hands away, but she couldn’t seem to muster the strength. Had Geoffrey just asked her to
marry
him?

A hysterical giggle slipped out before she could silence it, and all she could think of was how Aunt Eliza would finally be pleased by something she’d done.

But that ridiculous thought was quickly followed by a burst of pain behind her breastbone that brought tears to her eyes. Dear God.
Geoffrey had asked her to marry him.

And, oh, how she wished she could forget everything else and say yes.

The realization shocked her to her toes and at the same time devastated her. Liliana succeeded in pulling her hands away and turned from him, crumpling onto the chaise like a moonflower when touched by the morning sun.

A rustling of fabric alerted her that Geoffrey had followed, but she couldn’t turn to him. Couldn’t face him.

“Liliana?” His warmth registered, seeping into her leg where he knelt beside her. “Sweet, look at me.”

She took a deep breath and complied. His intense eyes contracted with concern, which only made her feel worse. How beautiful he was, this compassionate soul—an honest man who put others’ needs before his own. She should have known, should have known by the way she’d opened herself to him, how she’d responded to him from the beginning. She should have known, but she hadn’t.

And now, as he reached up to touch her face, she could no longer deny the glaring fact. She was in love with Geoffrey Wentworth.

“Tell me what is the matter.” He ran his hand behind her neck, cupping it while skimming his thumb along her jaw. “I knew something was wrong last night. I shouldn’t have let you go without…”

His voice faded away. Oh, he was still speaking, but she could not focus on what he was saying.

Dear God. She was in love with Geoffrey.

Liliana shook her head, words failing her. She was in love with him. And now that she was aware of it, it rose in her, like an experiment gone wrong, boiling over until it couldn’t be contained—

“I love you.” The declaration spilled from her lips.

Geoffrey stopped speaking midsentence, his mouth remaining open as if it hadn’t quite gotten his brain’s message.

She shouldn’t have said it, but she wouldn’t take it back. She’d never expected to say the words to any man. Yet they were the most honest words she’d ever spoken. When this was all over, at least she could console herself
with that. Geoffrey, on the other hand, was certain not to believe anything she’d said or ever would say again.

He remained on bended knee, seemingly not breathing, apparently stunned.

This was her moment, her one moment to show him her heart. He might decide her words were all false, but maybe, just maybe, if she could make him believe her love was true by her actions, then he would forgive her when the rest came out. Maybe he would understand. Maybe they could have a future.

And if not, then she’d always have this night in his arms to remember.

She slipped off of the chaise, dropping to her knees as he was. His other hand came up, as if automatically, framing her face. Liliana rose as high as she could while kneeling and wrapped her arms around his neck in a similar fashion.

Please. Let him understand.

She pulled his head down and kissed him.

Geoffrey burned, his feelings a conflagration that seared through him, leaving nothing unscorched.

She loved him.

He hadn’t dared hope. Certainly he’d suspected Liliana was coming around to the idea of a relationship, but he’d expected it would take months, possibly years, to break through the wall she kept around her heart.

And yet she’d said she loved him.

He squeezed her to him, tightening his hold as he deepened the kiss. Christ, he never wanted to let her go. There was only one way to ensure that, and she’d yet to answer him.

He broke the kiss, gasping for air. He reframed her face between his hands, waiting for her violet eyes to open. Purely male satisfaction stole through him at her dazed expression. “So your answer is yes?”

Liliana’s slow blinks became more rapid. “Let’s discuss that later,” she murmured, arching herself toward him and brushing his manhood.

Geoffrey pulled back, though the effort cost him. His body screamed to conquer her, to take her here and now. Yet he would not let her get away. Call him a cad, but he wasn’t above using her obvious desire to get his way. After all, she’d already admitted her love for him. He wouldn’t let her retreat. He’d push his advantage now, knowing if she gave her word, it was golden. “No, now. I will not make love with you unless you agree to be my wife.”

She shook her head, tugging at him, trying to bring him back to her.

“No, Liliana. Not until you say yes.”

She closed her eyes with a frustrated moan.

What could she be thinking? He knew she’d never wanted to marry. He suspected she feared a husband would control her as her aunt had tried to do, would forbid her work. Most men would. But surely she knew by now that he would not, that he would encourage her and could indeed help her by using his influence. Surely she saw, as he did, what they could do together, how good they’d
be
together.

Liliana lifted her lids and looked him directly in the eyes. “I will marry you,” she said.

“Thank the Lord,” he muttered, struck by the balm of relief that soothed his suddenly overwhelming need to own her, to possess her, not as an object or a person to control, but so that she would never leave him. He moved in to seal her promise with a kiss, but Liliana’s hand snaked up and she pressed four fingers against his lips.

“If,” she whispered, and his heart stopped. “If you still wish me to in the morning.”