The Price of Temptation Read online

  If anything, the sound punctuated the fact that this study did not befit her old friend. Did he even own any books on Ancient Egypt? She ambled closer to one of the bookshelves, trailing her finger along the books. They were worn, the spines cracked and the pages yellowed with age. Tentatively, she pulled one off the shelf, half afraid it would fall apart in her hands. It withstood the attention, and she gingerly opened it to the first page.

  Egyptian mythology. Would it help her?

  “You’ll like the tale about how Ptah crafted the world. He was the patron god of craftsmen.”

  She jumped and snapped the book shut. Reid stood in the doorway, in his waistcoat with his cravat hanging limp on either side of his unlaced shirt. Apparently, she’d caught him in the middle of dressing.

  She turned away, a blush mantled in her cheeks. She was a married woman. She shouldn’t be acting like a virgin! But the fact was, she’d never seen Reid less than fully clothed.

  “Forgive me. I didn’t want to keep you waiting. I assume you have news?”

  The word scuttled down her spine like a spider. “No news, I’m afraid. I’ve come to ask a favor.”

  The rustle of cloth shortened the silence but left her no less uneasy.

  “A favor?” His voice was flat, far from welcoming.

  “Are you decent?”

  “All save for my jacket. I left it in my bedchamber.”

  At least his shirt was now fastened and she wouldn’t have cause to stare at the hollow of his throat. When she turned, he busily raked his hands through his hair to convince it to lie flat. The image was so much like his former self that she relaxed at once.

  “I’d like to learn about Egypt.”

  His eyebrows climbed. “What particular area of study are you hoping for me to teach?”

  Lily couldn’t begin to fathom the depths of that question. “Whatever you’d like to teach me. When I’m invited into Lord Granby’s, I must be better schooled in the culture and history. Will you do the honors?”

  Her hopeful smile died on her lips when he did not immediately agree.

  In fact, he appeared irritated. His mouth twisted. “I thought you were seeking help from your husband.” He bit off the last word like it was rancid.

  “In this instance, you are the far better teacher.”

  He relaxed, his expression softening. A gleam entered his eye, soon chased by the hint of a smile. “I always hoped you would develop an interest in Egyptian history. You will like Ptah.”

  “And what else will I like?”

  His gaze drifted past her, lingering on the bookshelf at her back. “I still have a few old books. We’ll start with those.”

  …

  For a woman who shared a house with him, Lily was surprisingly adept at avoiding Adam’s company. For the past week, every time he’d entered a room, she’d managed to leave it. At first, she had business at the shop that needed her immediate attention. Then, visits with her sisters to the few friends the family still had. When united, nothing and no one could conquer these three women. The navy should have snatched them up to man their ships.

  No. No, I wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone.

  But the devil take him if he didn’t feel superfluous. Despite the lack of any measurable progression in her plans, Lily acted as if she didn’t need him. He felt like a stranger in her home. He didn’t care for the feeling.

  She hasn’t received the invitation yet. What if she had, but she’d hidden it from him? Frustrated, Adam stormed from his bedchamber to seek out one of the many empty rooms of the house. Save for the family wing, the kitchen, and one lonely sitting room, Lily had stripped and sold all of the furnishings.

  He had done that. Inadvertently, but the root of the problem was Adam…and her sisters didn’t let him forget it.

  The exertion of climbing the stairs burned away some of his frustration. He wasn’t entirely idle in this house. If Lily would only deign to speak to him, perhaps he would find the right time to deliver his parting gift to her. Before she had started avoiding his company altogether, he had fooled himself into thinking that her opinion of him had softened. Perhaps enough that she wouldn’t toss his gesture back into his face.

  But to offer it, he had to find her.

  A small gasp drew his attention to the shadowed stairwell above him. The pale afternoon light only reached so far from the windows on the floor above, but it illuminated the silhouette on the stairs ahead of him. Adam straightened, squaring his shoulders. He hadn’t seen this woman since he’d moved in. Now that he did, his gut clenched. She had lost weight—an unhealthy amount, to the point that it was a wonder he couldn’t see through her like a translucent window pane. From what little her daughters had said of her, he’d gathered that she was a shadow of her former self. He didn’t like the confirmation.

  He reached out his hand to help her down the stairs. “Mrs. Bancroft…”

  Clutching a creased piece of paper to her chest, she turned on her heel and mounted the steps. Her profile was painted in anguish—nose wrinkled, brows hooked together, lips twisted. She looked old, far older than four years should have made her. Despite her adherence to tradition and the polite, pampered air of the Society she aspired to enter, he had always thought her a stronger woman than she let on. That strength appeared to have been shattered into innumerable pieces and only haphazardly stitched together again.

  Had he done this?

  He didn’t pursue her but turned on his heel to give her the space she needed. If he wasn’t needed here, perhaps it would be better for everyone involved if he left. Lily’s sisters had made no secret of their wishes in that regard. But if he left without seeing Lily’s task to its triumphant conclusion, he would be abandoning her again.

  And it wasn’t only her livelihood at stake. Everything she did, she did for her family. Even if it violated her morals. She was so admirably, maddeningly selfless.

  No, he couldn’t leave her to face this on her own.

  As he crossed another landing, thinking now to take refuge on the open street, a muffled sound of frustration made him stop mid-step. He knew that sound—or rather, the woman who made it. With the tumult of emotions raging in his chest, knowing he was not wanted, he didn’t know if he could suffer being told the same aloud.

  He followed the sound anyway. It led down an unused corridor to a door ajar. Lily sat inside, ensconced in what once had been a study. It had the masculine, dark wood paneling and shelves built into the walls, though now the walls and floor were achingly empty. The lack of furniture, all save for a rickety wooden chair that must have been filched from the kitchen, made the room feel cavernous. Lily had opened the shutters, letting in the afternoon light. She huddled on the chair, which was pulled beneath the window, with a book open on her lap. For the moment, she looked…not at peace, with her eyebrows pulled together in concentration. Less thorny than she’d been of late.

  He paused, leaning his shoulder against the doorway as he admired her. She read the book with her lip pulled between her teeth and locks of her hair tumbling haphazardly around her face. At the end of the page, she sighed and turned back to another page to read it again.

  “It seems like heavy material.”

  She jumped. Her eyes widened as she raised them to meet his. Her cheeks flushed with color. “It’s interesting, that’s all.”

  She stuck her finger in the book and used it to mark her place as she closed it. She held the cover to her chest, the title concealed.

  He stepped into the room. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  He remembered this room. The grand, carved desk in the corner had made him feel small as he’d feigned bravado, sitting across from her father on the day he’d begged for Lily’s hand in marriage. The trinkets Mr. Bancroft had collected were insignificant to anyone else’s eye but had each represented a memory. The watercolor paintings that never
quite resembled their subjects—like the flower that sometimes looked like a lake—had been moved to a different room. Lily had gutted the study of every trinket, every piece of furniture, every memory. Adam felt as though a ghost were breathing down the back of his neck.

  You promised not to fail my daughter.

  Adam hadn’t meant to.

  Brusquely, Lily stood, stuffing the book onto the chair behind her. “I asked for your help prematurely. You’ve done your part. Let me do mine.”

  He might as well have been facing down a diamond statue. She was as hard, as unyielding, and as beautiful. At what point had she taken the world onto her shoulders? Or perhaps this bravado was borne of her hatred of him?

  A week ago, as he’d dressed her and advised her, the chemistry between them had been palpable. She had felt it, too— Of that, he was certain. But their compatibility in the marriage bed had never been in question. Her opinion of him outside of it had suffered.

  Softly, he asked, “Would you like me to leave?”

  Surprise flitted over her features. Her hostility faded, her shoulders relaxing, and for a moment, he thought whatever had come between them since that night had been eroded away.

  She curled her fists. “Yes.”

  He should do it. Present her with the satchel in his trunk and never see her again. But he hadn’t wanted to leave her four years ago, and something intangible anchored him to her now. All he wanted was a few more days before he had to rethink his entire life.

  “I don’t want to abandon you again.”

  She lifted her chin, undaunted. “This time is different. This time, I’m asking you to leave.”

  Yes, she was. What hurt him most was the certainty that should he oblige, she would be able to finish the task set her. She was strong and capable and although he brought a different skill set to the table, she would prevail using her own methods. But if he left, Chatterley might hurt her.

  No. That swine had caused them enough pain.

  He relaxed his hands at his sides and met her gaze openly. Trust me. “I’m still willing to help you, Lily.”

  She straightened her spine. “I don’t need your help anymore.”

  He advanced, refusing to give quarter to the accusation in her eyes. “You need me.”

  Her breath hitched, but she turned her face up to meet his mulishly. “I do not.” She clipped off her words like she trimmed back brambles. Quick, efficient, matter-of-fact.

  But she was wrong.

  This close, he could have pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on her head. She was small, thinner than she ought to be, and worn from carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Four years ago, she had known the value of leaning on someone else and sharing the burden.

  Stop comparing her to the woman she was four years ago. A lot had changed since then.

  “If not me, then who?”

  Her eyes flashed with a challenge. She smelled of old books, leather, and the hint of rose petals. “I can finish this on my own.”

  “You haven’t yet.” Adam offered the statement with as much conviction as she had, though with far less aggression.

  She leaned closer, her breath tickling his chin. “I will.”

  “How?”

  She huffed. “Any way I must. I’ll masquerade as an Egyptian goddess if I must, complete with a cat’s head.”

  Lily was beautiful, her freckles adding character to her skin and her eyes as captivating as emeralds. But he had to admit, the cat’s head would spoil the image.

  Raising one eyebrow, he asked mildly, “Is that what you’re reading, Egyptian mythology?”

  “How do you know I’m not reading about the seductive behaviors of felines?”

  He couldn’t help himself— He laughed. A deep, warm, throaty sound that he felt in his entire body. He hadn’t laughed, not like this, since…since Lily. Her eyebrows snapped together, her mouth bunching, but the quiver at the corner betrayed the smile she was holding at bay. She was fearless, his Lily, but she hadn’t lost her wit.

  No, she is not mine. He would do better to remember that.

  She lost the battle with her smile and ducked her head as he fell silent. With far less enmity, she admitted, “The book is one detailing Egyptian worship and ritual. I borrowed another with myths of the gods.” Shyly, she peeked through strands of her hair as if gauging his reaction. “I can read well enough on my own.”

  The warmth of their shared moment was leached away. “Borrowed?”

  Her expression hardened again. “It’s none of your concern.”

  He reached out, cupping her arm as he caught her gaze. “It could be.”

  She pulled away. He ached at the wash of cold air where she had been. He wanted to entwine their bodies and press into her until they forgot that these four years apart had ever happened. Until he forgot how much they both had changed.

  “You should leave.”

  He nearly did. This room, if not this house. But after one step back, he paused. Should, she’d said. A word with far less conviction than earlier.

  “Why?”

  Storm clouds brewed across her expression. “Why?”

  “Yes. Unless you only care for privacy while you practice those feline behaviors.”

  She didn’t laugh at his joke.

  Instead, she stepped closer, chest to chest. Her small frame vibrated with outrage. “Why should I let you stay? You nearly ruined our endeavor at Lord Ednam’s house.”

  He fought back a grimace. “No one recognized me.”

  With jerky movements, she reached into her bodice and thrust something into his sternum. Metal. Pain. He gasped for breath and fumbled to catch whatever she used to stab him. She relinquished it to him without a fight and stormed back to her chair.

  When he opened his fist, he found a cufflink. His cufflink. One he’d thought he’d lost on the street. How long had she been keeping that in her bodice? He raised his eyebrows, wondering what else she kept in there. “What is this?”

  Her fingers tightened on the heavy volume she’d snatched up from the chair. He braced himself to duck.

  “You tell me. I found it in the sarcophagus.”

  He dropped it. The metal clinked as it landed on the floor. It might have been a wedding gift from Lily’s father, but if that thing had touched a cursed, ancient corpse… That body hadn’t been millennia old, had it? That didn’t make him any more eager to handle the cufflink again. If not an Egyptian mummy, then… A shudder crawled down his spine. Nothing good could come of finishing that thought.

  Lily stepped toe to toe with him, not the least bit daunted by the height he wielded over her.

  “Tell me, Adam. Where’s the mummy?”

  Her words doused him like a downpour. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. “You think I stole the bloody mummy?”

  Her gaze flayed him. “You’re damned right I do. You were alone in that house for a remarkably long time before you saw fit to rescue me in the kitchen. Ample time to scout out the location of the sarcophagus. Did you return? Switch out the mummy with some poor soul you…you…”

  He recoiled. “Why would I do that?”

  “I imagine mummies fetch a pretty penny on the underground market.”

  He rolled his eyes. “It’s not against the law to import them from Egypt. There’s no need to sell them illegally.” She didn’t look the least bit like she was listening to him. “I went there to help you, not to steal a cadaver! Where would I have hidden it? I live here with you.”

  “But you were staying at an undisclosed location.”

  He clasped her by the shoulders, holding her when she tried to thrash free. “Look at me, Lily. Listen to me. I’m only here to help you. I did not steal anything.”

  “I’d wager you would have told me the same thing when we met.”

  Zeu
s, she was gorgeous when she was angry. Her cheeks flushed red and her eyes sparkling. Only one other activity filled her with such passion—and he’d best not consider it. Especially not with this churning need to prove his loyalty to her. The fact of the matter was that he would have told her the same when they’d met. He had never intended to steal from her.

  He dropped his hands. “It’s a coincidence. Perhaps the person from whom he purchased the mummy sold him a forgery. With Egypt all the craze, the counterfeit mummy market is thriving.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Who would do that?”

  He shrugged. “Who would counterfeit a jewel? Whoever wants money. It isn’t difficult, to my understanding. Many do it using poor bodies they find floating in the Thames or dead from disease.” Or murder victims, but she didn’t need to know that.

  She gnashed her teeth but seemed to concede the point.

  Having gained a modicum of leverage, Adam held her gaze and added, “If for some unfathomable reason I decided to steal a bloody mummy, of all things, I wouldn’t still be here. I could have sold the mummy and you would only have learned of it after my departure. Lily, trust me. I’m here for you and no other reason.”

  Her lower lip trembled, but she didn’t look away. Unable to resist, he opened his arms in invitation. When she swayed closer to him, he enfolded her in his arms. It felt so damned good to hold her like this again.

  Resting his cheek on the top of her head, he whispered against her hair, “It’s an impossible situation, but you were spectacular the other night. I’m proud of you.”

  “You have no right to be proud.” Her voice trembled, the emotion thick.

  He fought the urge to tighten his hold, to tuck her against him until she wept and released every negative emotion in her veins.

  He toyed with a curl at her nape instead. If she wanted to be strong, he wouldn’t be the person to break her. “Now, are you willing to admit you still need me?”

  She sniffed and shoved away. “Never.”

  He smirked. “Stubborn woman.”