some of my married friends describe it as awkward and as a duty, but I didn’t feel that way at all. I felt alive.”
A sad smile lifted the corners of Hannah’s mouth. “It isn’t wrong to feel like that, love. In fact, it’s more right than the way those prudes describe it.”
“Is that how it was for you?” she asked softly.
Her friend’s face went a shade paler, and a sadness came into her eyes that made Audrey want to weep. She’d never seen Hannah as fragile as she looked at that moment.
“No, Audrey. It most definitely was not like that for me.” There was an awkward pause. “But what will you do now?”
“Do?” Somehow she really hadn’t thought that far into the future. “I don’t suppose I’ll
Hannah’s eyes went wide. “Even after you shared another man’s bed? How will Lord Berenger feel about that?”
Audrey shrugged one shoulder. How could she explain to her friend that she was ripped apart inside with the knowledge that Griffin would be furious? She wanted to enjoy the memory of what they’d shared, but now it was tainted with the knowledge of what she would soon be forced to do.
“Griffin will have no say in the matter. I may have been his for a short while this evening, but I am not his in reality.”
“You really don’t understand men, do you?” Hannah asked with a short shake of her head.
The laughter in her friend’s tone left Audrey feeling affronted. “What do you mean? I’ve followed Noah around for years, and played the distraction for dozens of men we were investigating.”
“Apparently you’ve learning nothing during that time. Griffin Berenger thought he had a right to comment on your life
“It’s a very good thing he doesn’t love me then, isn’t it?” Audrey snapped back, though her heart gave a queer shiver.
“
Audrey tilted her head with a snide, “And what is that?”
“You’re both stubborn as the devil himself,” she said, shutting her door with a firm snap.
“Stubborn as the devil,” Audrey muttered under her breath as she flopped into a chair and stared at herself in the mirror. “That shows how much you know Hannah Pikard.”
But in the recesses of her heart, she acknowledged the truth. Stubbornness was one of her worst traits. It had driven her from her parents’ home and into a life of spying. It had forced her to love a man for half a decade, despite the fact he could never love her in return.
Yet Hannah said he did. Griffin, love her? For so long Audrey had believed that was impossible. Now she had to wonder if she’d been wrong all along. And if she believed he could and he let her down, would she be able to recover from the heartache that rejection would cause?
Chapter Thirteen
Griffin balled his hand into a fist and stared at his white knuckles in the fading light of the fire. A half-finished drink sat at his side, untouched for at least an hour. He had no idea why he was still awake. The only excuse he had was that sleep would bring him no peace. If his waking moments were so consumed with Audrey, his dreams were possessed by her. Caught in a web of sleep, he would relive their passionate joining over and over, only to wake alone, frustrated and wanting her more than ever.
“Just as I am right now,” he muttered as he downed the last swig of stale sherry with a grimace.
No, frustrated didn’t even begin to encompass how he felt. After they made love, he’d felt so guilty about stealing Audrey’s innocence that he’d been driven to send her away. Somehow he’d expected her to return to him with accusations and recriminations when the glow had worn off.
But she hadn’t.
Instead, she’d faced off with him in his very own foyer as if nothing had changed. She refused to see reason. She wouldn’t admit that she was in more danger than she knew. Her duties and his desire for her put her in equal peril, yet instead of avoiding them, she sought both out, with a blind belief that she would somehow be safe.
Despite all that, Griffin still had the most overpowering urge to kick in her chamber door and ravish her all night. He wanted to make love to her as she deserved. Not in some confined carriage, but in his bed, spread out across his sheets as he taught her all the different ways she could give and receive pleasure.
“Damn, damn, damn!” He slammed his glass down on the table beside him.
“Griffin?”
He stood and turned at the soft voice from the doorway to see Audrey staring at him. She was still in the plain gown she’d worn earlier that evening. While the simple cut and drab color would have made any other woman look dowdy, she looked alive. Her cheeks were rosy with warm color and her eyes darker than he’d ever imagined they could be. She shoved the curls that framed her face behind her ear while she chewed nervously on her lower lip.
He frowned as he realized Audrey had witnessed his outburst. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.”
“Yes.” Her face darkened to an even more appealing pink. “I was having trouble sleeping myself. I didn’t think you’d mind if I went to your library and borrowed the most boring book you have.” He laughed. “Well, all my father’s old coaching books are still in the West library if you’d like. If I recall you always said they were boring.” “I can’t believe you remember that,” she said with a chuckle as she took what seemed to be an involuntary step toward him.
He stiffened when he caught a whiff of her scent. Soft and floral, perhaps roses. What he would do to see her in a bath of rose petals. They were still in season, perhaps if he made a few requests…
With a gruff shake of his head, he said, “I remember more than you imagine I do.”
“We had good times here.” She looked around the room. “When I was a girl, I believed this was an enchanted house. I was so very happy when I was here and I was certain that must be the work of fairies.” He frowned, motioning for her to enter his office and sit beside his dying fire. “Were you not happy elsewhere?”
She sat down in one of the leather seats beside him and shrugged one shoulder. “At times I was very happy. And at others I wasn’t. As I got older I realized what my mother expected of me, and that I could never fulfill those expectations.” Griffin’s heart ached at the small quiver in her voice. Though her face was calm and free from any indication that the subject was a painful one, her eyes and tone told a different story.
“Noah has told me a bit of what you experienced in your second season in London.” He narrowed his eyes. What would be her reaction to his prying?
She stiffened, turning her face toward the fire so he could only see her in profile. “Did he?”
“Yes, but I’d like to know more about it. Noah said there were rumors…”
“Rumors,” she interrupted, her voice suddenly shrill as she gripped the armrest with a steel fist. “Yes, there were some rumors. You know how people can get, especially in London. They want a story and when they cannot find a real one, they create one.” “It was more than that, Audrey.” He ran his fingertips across her white knuckles. Immediately she relaxed her hand, and sent him a quick glance. “I know Luci started those rumors.” A little strangled cry escaped her throat as surged to her feet and rushed across the room to the fireplace. For a long time she didn’t move or speak, just stared into the flames, her trembling back toward him. More than anything he wanted to rise and go to her, to hold her and tell her how sorry he was for anything she’d gone through by his late wife’s hand. Instead, he stayed where he was. He feared touching her would only make her feel worse.
“I wish Noah hadn’t told you that,” she finally murmured, her voice breathless.
