Secrets of Sin

by Chloe Harris

  The penknife was back in the box and he twirled the quill briefly, thinking. Taking the sharp implement to scrape the parchment, he erased the generous sum she’d suggested. “I won’t accept the money you offer, though. I’ve got plenty of my own.”

  Reinier then opened the papers to the last page, grasped the quill, and flipped the lid of the inkpot open with the tip of his middle finger.

  Finally, he looked up at her. She was blanching and her chest heaving with quick breaths, her eyes round and liquid. She was probably worried he could change his mind or that this would be another devious scheme he’d thought up. But she’d be wrong in her assumptions.

  “No need to panic, Emiline. I won’t reconsider this. Your well-being is what matters to me, and if that entails being rid of me, then so be it.” He attempted an awkward smile, then stared at the inkpot before him and hesitated.

  He loved her. But it didn’t change where they were now. He had to set her free; it was the only possible solution to their failed marriage. How could he make her see he truly loved her otherwise?

  Life would never be the same for him. It would be poor and petty. He’d be an empty shell in a waking nightmare, because each and every day he’d know what he’d lost. But knowing she was better off without him gave him the courage to grab the quill harder, bringing it closer to the ink bottle.

  Emiline leaped forward. The sudden commotion stunned him. She reached for the inkpot and closed it with a swift flick of her wrist.

  Bewildered, Reinier glanced up at her. Her breath had pitched even more and she moistened her lips with a small flick of her tongue.

  “Don’t.”

  “I’m sorry?” Reinier was too numb and too puzzled to understand.

  “Don’t sign the papers, Reinier.”

  “But—”

  Emiline wasn’t aware she’d been holding her breath until the very moment when her lungs began to burn, doubling the fierce, rapid staccato of her heart beating in her chest.

  “I thought you wanted me to sign them. I thought you wanted to be rid of me? Isn’t…isn’t that what you wanted?”

  Much to her chagrin she didn’t know the answer to Reinier’s perplexed outburst; she didn’t even know if there was just one answer.

  “Yes.” She meant it, she did, but she didn’t want it to end like this. “No,” she corrected herself, frowning at her own puzzling reply.

  “Yes? No? Which is it?”

  Reinier’s befuddlement wasn’t supportive. The pungent aftertaste of resentment in his words made it even harder. The situation now was even more awkward than it had been before.

  What had she done? An independent woman for so long now, she’d relied on reason as her sole guide; but suddenly she’d let go of all that common sense and logic, thrown her precious practicality to the wind, and stayed his hand.

  How could she explain what wasn’t even clear to her?

  Letting the quill drop, Reinier crossed his arms on his chest and stared at her, the cream silk of his frock tightening around his shoulders despite its immaculate tailoring. His face was blank but for one eyebrow slightly raised.

  Emiline caressed the stomacher she wore just where it met the rim of her dress, the knobs of the flowery pattern wobbling in her palm. The ache didn’t dull and the aggravated blows of her heart didn’t stop either.

  “I don’t know. In the beginning I did, but…now I’m not so certain. I mean—” With a crestfallen sigh, Emiline turned away from him.

  “You have no idea what it’s like, what it feels like—” She curled the hand over her heart into a fist. “Here. Inside. When I see you looking out at the sea with so much affection…Like it’s the most important thing in your life—a position I thought I’d petitioned for when we married.”

  “Emiline, I—”

  “No, please. Do not interrupt me.” She wouldn’t hide, not now. This moment was too important to waste it behind pretense.

  Turning, she faced him. “You are brusque and arrogant with your exalted airs and your fancy clothes, Reinier, but you’re also caring and brilliant and ever charming.”

  His mouth went rigid and he thrust his chin up a little. Despair had her voice diminish to a weak whisper. “I understand now. I do. We’ll never have the kind of marriage my parents had. You will never be a man to stay in one place for long. It’s not in you. You need your freedom.”

  “But—”

  This time, Emiline raised her hand, palm out, to silence his objection. “I know it’s unreasonable and illogical and against everything I know is good or right for me, but—God help me—I love you, Reinier. I love you with all my heart. Despite your flaws.”

  Walking around him, Emiline grabbed the divorce papers and carried them to the cold fireplace. She held one corner of the parchment into the flame of a flickering candle on the mantel and knelt down by the grate, watching what she’d imagined to be a bright and independent future sputter and curl until it blackened under the hissing fire’s assault.

  Looking back at Reinier, she saw him standing as if rooted to the rug, his spine rigid like the trunk of a tree, his amazing lime and golden eyes blinking with leashed emotions she couldn’t decipher.

  Was this where he’d wanted her all along?

  It didn’t matter. Not anymore. She’d bared her soul to him and she’d made her decision final. The fuming cackle of the papers being reduced to soot before her proved it.

  Bracing herself on her knees, she got up and walked toward him. “Please go and come back whenever you choose to. Know that you’ll always be welcome here. This is your home. Our home. Just…” Her voice broke.

  Even though he made her feel alive like she’d never before thought was possible, Emiline had to give him freedom or else he would never return at all. She would never have what it took to hold him.

  Averting her eyes, Emiline half turned, ready to walk out of the study, ready to give him the kind of freedom he craved whether it broke her heart or not. “Just don’t let it be too long until the next time you return. That’s all I ask.”

  She grabbed the doorknob, although more for physical support than to open the door. Her knees had turned to wobbly pudding. The weight of tears filled her eyes. Closing them, she leaned her forehead against the cool wood of the door.

  She had to be sensible, had to be resolute in spite of that deep sadness that filled her now. It felt like she was breaking apart, shattering into so many pieces she’d probably never be able to put them back together again.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  A cold shudder ran down her spine. What if she’d just made a complete fool of herself?

  It didn’t matter anymore. She stood by her decision.

  “I believe ‘until we meet again’ is customary under the circumstances.” Emiline swallowed the heartfelt sob that constricted her throat. “You’re free, Reinier. Free to go wherever you want. Just think of me every once in a while.”

  His hand wrapped around her upper arm and urged her to release the doorknob and turn to him, but she kept her eyes down, much too embarrassed to let him see the well of tears in them.

  “You understand, you say?”

  She nodded once, certain that if she spoke now, she’d completely break down.

  “I’m sorry, but you don’t.”

  Astonished at the haughty tone in his words, Emiline looked up. “What?”

  Seeing that austere frown on his face, she gasped, fearing he was about to deliver the final blow to her wounded and bleeding heart.

  But then the corners of his eyes crinkled with the minuscule smile on his lips, and her heart missed a beat.

  “If you really understood, Emiline, you’d realize that all I ever needed was to know that you loved me.”

  “But I do!” she spluttered.

  “Yes, I know that—now.” His other arm wrapped around her other upper arm and he lowered his head with a sigh.

  “Emiline, can’t you see?”

  “See what?” She didn�
��t know what to make of this. Her mind was numb. She curled her clammy hands into fists at her hips to stop them from trembling.

  “I want to be a part of you, your life, not just some fine-looking face you can show around. I want to fall asleep with you in my arms. I want to wake up beside you. I don’t want to leave. I want to remain here, by your side.”

  Nothing he said made any sense. What was he babbling? “But you are!” Emiline exclaimed, stepping up to him. “You are a part of me. You have my heart, Reinier.”

  That disconcerting, level stare on his face softened into a strange, somewhat fatuous smile. “And you have mine,” he said. “Be more careful with it from now on, will you?”

  “What?” She didn’t care that bafflement had her voice pitch into a shrieking gasp. This situation was beyond her grasp. Was he saying that—

  “I’m nothing without you, Emiline.”

  “You’re…?” Like a demented half-wit she was about to parrot what he’d just said. She hadn’t thought it possible, but her heart beat even heavier in her chest.

  “Will you let me stay—as your husband?”

  Slowly, the torrent of gibberish in her mind abated and his words reached through the fog. “Why, what kind of wife would I be to forbid it? If that is your wish…stay as long as you want.”

  Reinier’s whole demeanor seemed touched with a warm glow from within. “I should give you fair warning, though. It could be quite long.”

  “Really?” Emiline had difficulties coping with the happiness suddenly blooming and pulsing, threatening to burst out of her. “How long are we talking about? A fortnight? A month?”

  Tilting his head, Reinier pursed his truly superb lips and finally suggested, “How about ‘indefinitely’?”

  Time suddenly stopped. Emiline felt like she was falling, no, flying, elation carrying her one step closer to heaven.

  Taking a step back, she tapped her forefinger against her chin, pretending to consider what he’d just said like they were engaged in bargaining over a barrel of her island’s rum.

  “That could mean years. Decades even.” Her tone was deliberately stern.

  He searched her face for a moment, then expanded his perusal over her whole body. Emiline felt stirred by that glance, his eyes darkening with that wonderful mixture of playful wickedness and sensual promise. Her gown was too tight in too many places all of a sudden.

  “It does not fit your plans?” Reinier walked around her, his heated gaze wandering all over her. “I wonder why. Do you have a prior appointment?”

  With a blasé shrug, Emiline asked over her shoulder, “In general or tonight?”

  “Both.” She shivered as his whisper tickled her earlobe and sweet curls of gooseflesh were bouncing up and down her back.

  “None I can think of. Why?” She brought her lips closer to his. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Oh, nothing too strenuous.” He brushed his lips over hers.

  “Is that so?” Her words were low and disrupted by gasps of yearning. “How disappointing, Reinier.”

  He gave a low chuckle and stood right in front of her again. The fingers of his one hand played along her spine. Her awareness of the soft pressure was so acute it was as if she didn’t wear anything at all. His hand came to rest at the small of her back, pressing her body close until she felt the prominent bulge of his arousal against her belly. A quiver of yearning shot through her body, and velvety moistness settled between her legs.

  He brought his free hand up between their bodies, his fingers playing over the low rim of her dress where her stomacher was held in place. He squeezed her breast through the gown’s material; then his fingers sneaked in, teasing the hungry flesh right above her erect nipple. Emiline bit back a moan.

  “Well.” His voice was reduced to a croak drenched with desire. “I suppose it will be strenuous, but only for me since I intend to do all the work.”

  “Do you now?” Arousal sent her heart into a frantic drum southward.

  “Uh-hm,” he nodded, bringing his mouth closer.

  Emiline took quick, shallow breaths through her slightly open mouth. “And what—”

  His lips sealed hers. Her eyes fluttered closed and she answered him, yielding to the frenzied desire stirring in her; her tongue chasing his, her hands roaming his arms, shoulders, and back.

  His kiss was delicious—feverish, yet slow; possessive, yet tender; fervent, yet oh-so-skilled. Her head spun even more than it already had.

  Reinier swept her up in his arms, and when she felt her knee softly bump into the door, one hand, trembling and reluctant to let go of him, groped blindly for the doorknob.

  His lips never left her. He began to nibble down her neck. She laughed with all the joy and longing that filled her.

  19

  Upstairs in her room, Emiline grasped his frock coat impatiently. She felt reckless and wild, and tore at his garments, her legs wrapped around his waist, her hips instinctually seeking the hardness in his breeches with gyrating movements.

  Lips bruised in the kiss that had turned frantic in yearning. She felt him pulling at her stomacher hard; then his fingers got tangled in the laces of her dress, which loosened only after a tiny ripping sound.

  “No!”

  Despite the devouring fire burning in his eyes, Reinier drew back. “No?”

  This was taking too long. She wanted him. Now. Hard. Fast. She wanted to feel him claiming her. “I mean, don’t bother. I need to feel you in me.”

  He fumbled at his breeches.

  “Now, Reinier.” Another tearing sound. “Now would be—”

  She cried out with relief as he filled her and stretched her wide. Lifting her hips even farther off the bed, her muscles contracted to grip him and guide him in.

  “As my lady wishes,” Reinier groaned, rolling his hips in a rhythm that was too slow and too steady.

  Her skin was tingling and tight, and the soft fabric of her dress was scratchy and intolerable, but she held him cradled both in her arms and her core, moaned when he thrust into her, gasped as he retreated.

  She tasted his lips and they tumbled deeper into the kiss. Emiline shuddered at the feel of his body covering hers. Pleasure coursed through her, making her head light and her hands clench, bunching the silk of his frock and the shirt underneath.

  She blazed, she melted. She saw the passion in his look, reveled in it, and let him see how deep pleasure ran through her.

  The coil in her belly tightened until the pressure became almost unbearable. It twisted closer and closer with each thrust he delivered.

  “More.” She moaned, urging him on. “More, Reinier, please.”

  He obliged, pumping harder and faster into her. His hands found hers and opened the death grip she had on his shoulders. Fingers entwined, he guided her arms up over her head, pressing her hands into the mattress with the weight of his body as he braced himself on them. Opening his legs, he forced her to spread her legs wider with his thighs. Stretched like this, she felt him slide even deeper.

  Long, roughened, and relentless strokes shocked her body and blinded her mind. His hunger steamed through her, and she burned brighter and surged higher. She was heading toward the edge, only remotely aware of his soft, low groans of pleasure echoing her own loud, deep moans.

  The coil in her belly finally sprang, sending her pulse hammering to where he was sheathed tight. Tremors washed through her whole body like a thousand silky tongues and a thousand feathery kisses crawling over her.

  He quickly brought one hand down and left her. Gasping for breath in the overwhelming bliss she’d just found, she watched him shiver as he climaxed too.

  Reinier threw his head back, his eyes wide open. He groaned as release found him, and his mind exploded in the gigantic wave of ecstasy washing over him. Totally spent, he fell down on the soft cushion of her body, his breath coming in long and deep gasps.

  He braced himself on one arm only to rid her of most of his weight. His hand came up to wipe a curly cho
colate strand off her face and tuck it behind her ear.

  The flickering light of the lonesome candle on her dressing table illuminated her ethereal beauty. She was so stunning, especially now in the aftermath, that his heart leaped once. He leaned closer, brushing his lips against hers. His tongue flicked over their fullness to taste her once again. The image of strawberries flashed in his mind for a moment.

  The soft caress had her shiver under him. Her brilliant turquoise eyes shone for him only. Everything around him ceased to exist. What was important was to touch her, to feel her, to drink in her sweet taste, to take in her delicious fragrance in the aftermath when musk had her natural scent become deeper and richer.

  Reinier smiled softly at the stillness in him. When had it happened? That absolute peacefulness that filled him in her arms only. Had it been there from the start?

  Blockhead. How had he managed to overlook it? How had he been able to breathe without it all the time?

  Lying on his back, he wrapped his arm around her, dragging her to him. His hands wandered up and down her back to press her against him. He reveled in the feel of her, soft and oh-so-sweet. Her body was where it belonged, close to his, wrapped around him, halfway covering him.

  “I swear…if you tear another one of my gowns, I will kick you out.”

  Her words were slurred. Yes, he had done that. He had made her speech blurry, and he had torn her dress in his haste to bury himself in her and claim her.

  His woman. His wife.

  At her muffled giggle, pride pulsed in his chest and made his head light. “It will be my pleasure to employ a dozen modistes to have a whole new wardrobe made for you for the sole purpose of ripping those dresses apart while you wear them.” His fingers took hold of the delicate back of her neck, his thumb caressing her cheek. “Until then, I promise to behave.”

  “Behave?” Emiline’s eyes widened. “Reinier, we both know you’ve never been good at that.”

  He burst into laughter. “Very well, then. I promise to peel you out of those garments before I ravish you until your new wardrobe is ready.”

  His fingers started to fiddle with the laces of her gown, loosening them and brushing the garment down her shoulder so that he could reach the laced shift underneath.