The Perfect Wife

by Victoria Alexander

  Instinctively she took a step backward. “Very well. Talk.”

  “Who is he?” Nicholas grated through clenched teeth.

  “Matt?” she said innocently.

  “Of course Madison. Who else are we talking about?”

  There was no doubt in her mind now. He was definitely jealous. This was glorious. Sabrina could barely keep the grin off her face.

  She widened her eyes and smiled sweetly. “Why, Matt’s the captain of the ship, of course.”

  Nicholas glared. “You know perfectly well that’s not what I meant. And don’t give me that insipid look. You and I both know you’re not stupid. That’s simply part of the ridiculous act I suspect you’ve put on for years. The serene, dull, boring Lady Stanford certainly doesn’t exist now, if she ever did.”

  Sabrina stared, shocked into silence. Had she so let down her guard with this man that he could see right through her? Had the freedom of the voyage and the adventure of the quest broken down all the walls and barriers she had so thoroughly built? Or was ten years simply long enough, or too long, to hide? She drew a deep breath.

  “Very well.” She clasped her hands in front of her and gazed straight into his eyes. “What do you want to know?”

  Nicholas’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at her compliant response. “How do you know Madison? What does he mean to you?”

  “Years ago we were involved in, oh, a sort of business proposition. You could consider us partners.”

  His brows drew together in a puzzled frown. “Business proposition? What kind of—” Understanding broke on his face. “Is that why we’re here? This current so-called business venture we’re involved in now? Is he a part of it?”

  She shrugged. “Hopefully.”

  “And your previous venture, what sort of business was that?”

  “Oh, shipping, trade, that sort of thing.” Sabrina deliberately kept her manner vague. How in the world did one describe smuggling anyway without it sounding like, well, smuggling?

  Nicholas cast her a thoughtful glance and seemed to consider his next words carefully. His voice was quiet and intense. “How close a partner was he?”

  Sabrina’s throat tightened. “Are you asking if we were lovers?”

  Nicholas nodded. She stilled the impulse to reach out and touch the tension in the air. It would be so easy to let him believe what he wished. It would very likely serve him right.

  “I’ve always loved Matt,” she said slowly. The muscles in his jaw tightened. “I’ve always thought of him as I would a brother.”

  “A brother?” Nicholas said, disbelief on his face.

  Sabrina nodded firmly. “A brother.”

  “That was no brotherly embrace.”

  She could scarce believe her ears. “You are complaining about an insignificant greeting? I haven’t seen Matt in years.”

  “I don’t care if it’s been a lifetime; I think complaints are well warranted when I find you in the arms of someone like Madison.”

  “What do you mean, someone like Madison?”

  A lofty note sounded in his voice. “From what I’ve seen, the man has no scruples when it comes to women.”

  “And you would certainly recognize that attribute when you see it.”

  Nicholas ignored the well-placed jab. “As to the behavior I witnessed from you today, I will not allow it.”

  She fought to keep her mouth from dropping open in amazement. Jealousy or no jealousy, this was too much. “You will not allow it? I scarcely think you have much to say about it, since under the terms of our marriage, it was my distinct impression you planned on continuing the little dalliances you are so well known for. And if you have that right, I certainly assume I do as well.”

  “Well, you don’t,” he snapped.

  Fury washed over her. “I’ll do what I bloody well please, and if that includes kissing an old friend, a man I have strictly brotherly affection for, that’s what I’ll damn well do.”

  “That’s hardly how you kiss a brother.”

  “Oh really?” Sarcasm dripped from her words. “And I imagine with your vast expertise in such matters, you are an expert on how one kisses one’s brother?”

  Nicholas grabbed her shoulders and yanked her into his arms, her hands trapped flat against his chest. “I have a sister, remember? And this is how one should be kissed by a brother.” He brushed his lips lightly over her forehead. A thrill shivered through her that had nothing to do with sibling affection. “Or this.” He placed a soft kiss first on one cheek, then the other.

  She glared up at him and pushed against the hard muscles of his chest. “Very well, now unhand me.”

  His black eyes gleamed. “I don’t think the lesson is quite over yet. A brother should never kiss like this.” He skimmed his lips lightly over her eyelids. “Or like this.” He ran kisses down the side of her neck. Her breath caught in her throat. Anger ebbed away under the onslaught of his touch.

  He stared down at her, his endless gaze drawing her closer, melting her defiance, sapping her control. “And never.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Ever.” He nuzzled her ear. “Should a brother kiss like this.”

  His mouth descended over hers, firm yet gentle. She lost herself in the spiraling sensations brought by the mere touch of his lips. Desire rose unbidden within her and she clutched his shirt convulsively. Her knees weakened and she clung to him. He stole her breath, her will, her soul.

  He pulled away, his expression set and hard. She stared back, past caring that he would surely see her need for him in her eyes.

  “Now that you know what not to do with a brother, see that it never happens again. Especially with Madison.” He released her, strode toward the door, and turned back. “I forbid it.”

  At once desire turned to disdain. “I told you, I’ll do what I please. You have absolutely no right—”

  “Ah, but I do, my dear.” He opened the door and smiled pleasantly. A heavy knot weighed in her stomach. “I am, after all, your husband. I have every right in the world.” He stepped through the door and snapped it closed behind him.

  Sabrina stared, anger welling within her. What an insufferable, arrogant, self-righteous, condescending ass! She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, to rage uncontrollably. Not in years had this urge to do something, anything, just to release pent-up frustration, assaulted her like this. She turned and paced the cabin. If he walked back in at this moment, so help her, she’d be hard-pressed not to tear him apart with her bare hands.

  A sharp knock sounded at the door and it swung open. He was back. Without thinking, she grabbed a heavy mug off the table and hurled it with all her might. It shattered above the door, bits of pottery flying in a furious rain.

  Matt leaned in the door frame, arms folded across his chest, amusement evident in his sea blue eyes. “And here I thought you were glad to see me.”

  “Matt, good Lord, I’m sorry.” She brushed her hair back from her face. “I thought it was him.”

  “The husband?” He raised an inquisitive brow. Sabrina grimaced in acknowledgment. “I see. We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

  “Very probably.” She sighed.

  He closed the cabin door and stepped to the chest that stored his best brandy. Matt pulled the bottle out, eyed it thoughtfully, and cast her a questioning glance. “Was it good?”

  She moved next to him, picked up a mug, and held it toward him. “Delightful.”

  Obligingly he filled the cup. “Why did you marry him?” he said, his voice quiet.

  Sabrina shrugged helplessly. “I’m not really sure. It seemed like a clever idea at the time.”

  “Simon told me you got angry and the next thing he knew, there was a wedding.”

  She took a deep swallow, the sting of the brandy biting and hot. “Something like that.”

  “You could have married me, you know. You always seemed to be mad at me.” He grinned a lopsided smile that had melted more than one woman’s heart.

  “Matt.” She lau
ghed. “I have certainly missed you.” She stepped to the table and set her mug down.

  He came up behind and wrapped his arms around her. Sabrina rested her head against his broad, powerful chest. It was somehow comforting to stand here, close and secure. She had missed him.

  “Do you remember the last time we saw each other?”

  “Of course.” Her mind wandered back beyond the years to a time when intrigue filled her days and adventure charged her nights. She could still recall the delightfully sinful excitement of danger. “It was the night of our final run. That annoying government agent was making life too difficult, and we had to bash him on the head to get him out of the way.”

  Odd, she hadn’t thought of him for a long time. For years, the man whose face she’d never seen had filled her fantasies. In her dreams, she had relived the memory of her impulsive kiss. He was the second man she’d ever kissed, and when she thought about it later, wasn’t certain what had prompted the rash action. She hadn’t told Matt about the kiss then, and wouldn’t tell him now.

  “I remember, when all was completed, we walked on the beach before you sailed.”

  “I wanted you to come with me,” he reminded her.

  “Matt, I had a child to raise and a life to build.” She laughed softly. “We wouldn’t have suited. You’d have been off chasing lightskirts in every port. And I would have had to cut your heart out.”

  “But I loved you, Bree,” he said mournfully.

  She laughed again. “If I remember correctly, we settled that.”

  “Remind me,” he growled, resting his chin on her head.

  “I said we were too good as friends to be lovers. I told you, you were the brother I never had. And then you kissed me. And?”

  He sighed. “It was just like kissing my sister.”

  Sabrina smiled at the thought of her discussion with Nicholas over the proper and improper ways for a brother to kiss a sister. Matt’s kiss was pleasant enough, but it never took her breath away or turned her knees to mush and her heart to fire. Not like that bloody man she’d married.

  Matt stepped back and turned her around. His gaze searched her face. “Does he make you happy? Do you love him?”

  “Love?” Sabrina scoffed and pulled away. She retrieved her mug and took a sip. “Love has nothing to do with it. This is strictly a marriage of convenience.”

  “A marriage of convenience?” Matt snorted. “What in the hell is that?”

  “Damn difficult actually.”

  “It shouldn’t be.” He picked up his own cup and drew a deep swallow. “I’ve seen the way the man looks at you. Like a shark sizing up a minnow.” He nodded toward her. “I know that look. The man wants you. He even threatened to kill me if I so much as touched you.”

  “Truly?” Sabrina couldn’t suppress a smug smile. “How rude of him.”

  Matt threw her a skeptical glance. “Somehow I don’t think the thought of my death at the hands of your husband has you quite as distraught as I would have hoped you’d be.” Surprise washed across his face. “You really do care for him, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know how I feel about Nicholas.” She shrugged. “And I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “I’m more than happy to oblige on that score. I can think of a lot of things I’d rather discuss than your husband.” He strode to a chair and sat down, swinging his legs up to rest on a second chair nearby. He leaned back until he tottered precariously on two wooden legs. “So let’s talk gold instead.”

  Sabrina swept his feet off the chair with a wave of her hand, and Matt thumped to the floor. She sank into the now vacant seat. “What has Simon told you?”

  “Not much. Something about gold hidden in Egypt by the French.”

  She leaned forward eagerly. “It’s a fortune, Matt. Worth at least half a million pounds. Left there for twenty years. Waiting. For us.”

  “I can’t say it’s not an interesting story, but why are you after this gold? The last time I saw you, you’d amassed quite a sizable fortune for yourself.” He narrowed his eyes and studied her face. “Are you broke, Bree?”

  “Not exactly,” she hedged. “I’ve simply had some financial reversals. A problem with the management of my investments. And with Belinda about to be wed and the need for a respectable dowry, well…” She glared defiantly. “I need the money, that’s all. And what about you? I can’t believe you couldn’t use a few additional funds.”

  “I don’t know.” He thought for a moment. “Money doesn’t seem as important as it once was. The Lady B’s just one of a half-dozen ships I own now. So you see, I’ve done pretty well for myself. Of course”—he flashed her a grin—“making my fortune in legal and respectable ways isn’t nearly as much fun as when there’s a little larceny involved.”

  Sabrina’s heart sank. The search for the gold was a speculative and possibly dangerous quest. If Matt really didn’t need the money, there would be no reason for him to help her. And without Matt, she wasn’t at all sure how she’d handle Nicholas.

  “Very well,” she said slowly. “I understand why you don’t want to be a part of this. Still, I do appreciate your—”

  “Hold on there, Bree.” Matt leaned toward her and grabbed her hands. “I never said I wouldn’t do it. It’s just that the money itself doesn’t mean a lot. But life these days has been resoundingly dull, and what you’re proposing sounds a great deal more exciting than anything that’s crossed my path lately.” His eyes twinkled. “Besides, you really didn’t think I’d pass up the chance to work with my old partner again, did you?”

  Relieved, Sabrina returned his grin and quelled the impulse to throw her arms around him. Matt’s agreement left only one man to convince, and she wasn’t at all sure how to handle that. At this point she didn’t even know when she would spring her treasure hunt on Nicholas. But with every passing day, the ship drew closer to Egypt, closer to the treasure, and closer to telling her husband at least one of her secrets.

  “But tell me something else, Bree. You’ve got this rich husband now; why are you still worried about money?”

  She removed her hands from his grasp and leaned back in the chair. “Matt, you remember when we met, I was struggling to turn a ragtag army of villagers and fishermen into something resembling a competent smuggling operation.” He nodded. She drew a deep breath. “Jack left me with practically nothing. Only my jewels, the London house, and quite a few debts.”

  “I had suspected as much.”

  She gazed across the room, at a distant spot and a far ago time. “All my life, I always thought someone would be around to take care of me. Actually expected it. First there was my great-aunt after my parents died. And even though she packed me off to school eventually, she still paid the bills. Then there was Jack, who didn’t feel a mere woman should be involved in matters of finance. So, while I long suspected our pockets were nearly empty, he would not discuss it or even admit it to me. And he did seem to manage to handle everything.

  “When he died, I returned to my great-aunt’s, fully expecting to be taken care of once again. She lived about a day’s ride from the village where you and I met. There I was, a young, virtually penniless widow with a small child, and one day I overheard the servants talking about what a great strain on the household our presence was. I don’t know if they knew I was listening or not; regardless, the entire discussion brought home to me how dependent I was.

  “Odd, I had never thought of it before, and perhaps if I had, would not have considered it a problem. I daresay most women don’t. But somehow, listening to those hardworking people and knowing I contributed nothing, was practically worthless, in fact, filled me with shame and a certain amount of self-pity. After all”—she laughed softly—“there are few ways for a respectable female from a good family with a good name to provide for herself.”

  She took a deep pull from her mug and stared directly into Matt’s eyes. “The pity became determination to help myself. I vowed right then never to have to depend on any
one ever again to provide for me. And so far”—she raised her mug in a toast—“I haven’t.”

  He pulled his brows together in a thoughtful frown. “Why haven’t you told me this before?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “When, Matt? When we first met and you were highly suspicious of a titled Englishwoman proposing to help smuggle goods into her country? Later, when I’d occasionally sail with you? My dear friend, the question of why I was doing what I did never came up.” She tossed him a wry smile. “And you never asked.”

  He toyed with the mug of brandy before him and refused to meet her gaze. “I do understand now, of course, but are you sure it wouldn’t be much simpler, and safer, for me just to give you the money you need? Strictly a loan, of course.”

  “Matt.” She laughed, and his startled gaze met hers. “I fear you have not been listening. I have to do this myself, just as I had to do it before. I don’t want your money. But I needed your help then and I daresay I shall need it now. Besides”—Sabrina tossed him a cocky grin—“if you think your respectable life has been boring, I can’t begin to tell you what mine has been like. I’ve been sedate and serene, always minding my manners and doing what’s proper. I’ve been so well behaved, my dear husband even refers to me as dull and boring.”

  The moment the words passed her lips, Sabrina realized what she’d said, and her eyes widened in horror. She had her own personal code of honor, and despite her problems with Nicholas, it dictated there were some things that should stay strictly between husband and wife.

  Matt’s face split in an ear-to-ear grin. “He doesn’t know you very well yet, does he?”

  “I suspect he’s beginning to.”

  Matt flicked his gaze over her. “And what does he say about those quite fetching, but definitely improper, clothes you’ve been wearing?”

  “You know, it’s extremely odd,” Sabrina mused. “I fully expected him to demand I change at once, yet he hasn’t said much more than an occasional compliment.”

  Matt raised a speculative brow but said nothing.