Naughty or Nice? Read online

  Why was she there? It wasn’t to see him—he could tell that from the horrified expression on her face. She wasn’t happy to see him, not one bit.

  “You two know each other?” Regina’s face was bright with surprise. “How very extraordinary! However did you meet?”

  Garrett’s gaze fastened on the woman standing stiffly before him. Anger flared within him. After all he’d gone through trying to find her and here she was hiding in Devonshire—in his own sister’s house! And now he was engaged to someone else and she was lost to him forever.

  “Mrs. Vail was the woman I told you about, Reggie.” Those golden eyes widened, no doubt wondering just how much he’d told his sister about her. He stared at her, a bitter smile curving his lips. “You know, the woman who saved me.”

  Regina’s head whipped around to face her friend. “You’re a spy?” She made it sound so wonderfully naughty. “Oh, Eliza, why didn’t you tell me you knew Garrett?”

  “I didn’t know I did,” Eliza—the name didn’t suit her—replied, breaking their stare to address his sister. “I knew him only as Mr. Maxwell.”

  “We didn’t even know each other’s first names,” Garrett added in her defense, wondering why he should even care if she was the least bit distressed.

  Obviously it was the wrong thing for him to say, for she fixed him with a gaze that was filled with anger and mistrust. “Or titles, for that matter.”

  Garrett’s eyes widened. She was angry because he had a title? His heart seized in his chest. Or was she angry because she hadn’t known? Would she have shown up for their meeting that night if she’d known who he truly was?

  He didn’t want to believe her capable of such behavior, but the fact remained that she was angry at him, and for the life of him, he had no idea why. After all, he’d been the one who’d waited at the hotel for three hours for her to show up. He’d been the one who looked like an idiot, sitting at that table by himself with an unopened bottle of champagne and a dozen roses.

  “No,” he said, surprised at how cold his own voice sounded. “We really don’t know each other at all.”

  Her chin rose a notch. “And how’s your friend? Mr. Willis, did he recover?”

  Garrett held her gaze and replied in the same frostily polite tone, “He’s quite well, thank you.”

  From the corner of his eye he watched his sister as her gaze moved back and forth between the two of them. Reggie wasn’t stupid; she knew there was something going on.

  “Yes, well . . .” Regina cleared her throat. “I think I’ll just go check on dinner and leave the two of you to get to know each other a little better.”

  From what little Garrett could see she practically ran from the room. Neither he nor Eliza turned to watch her go. Neither of them said a word until the door clicked shut again.

  Garrett made the first move, literally and figuratively. “I never would have pegged you for an Eliza,” he remarked, stepping toward her.

  “It’s Elizabeth, actually,” she replied. She didn’t retreat, but he noted with some satisfaction that she gripped the back of the chair so hard her knuckles were white.

  He took another step. “Why didn’t you come that night?”

  Elizabeth—now that regal name suited her—stiffened. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a viscount?”

  “Would it have made a difference?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

  Her eyes flashed with anger. “You know it would have!”

  His stomach clenched. “When? On the boat, or after?”

  She flushed. Two deep crimson spots of color stained her otherwise pale cheeks. “Both. Neither. I wouldn’t . . . wouldn’t have . . . if I’d known.”

  Garrett stood directly in front of her now. Close enough that he could smell her perfume—she smelled of flowers, like the tiny ones embroidered on her garters that night.

  “Wouldn’t have what?” he taunted, staring at her cleavage when she wouldn’t meet his gaze. He could still feel her breasts in his hands. “Wouldn’t have begged me to come inside you?”

  Her flush deepened. “No,” she whispered.

  He took another step closer. Her breasts pressed against his chest. She didn’t try to move away, but her breathing had quickened—as had his own. He placed his hand beside hers on the back of the chair, just enough so that their fingers touched.

  “I still would have wanted to be there, Elizabeth.” His lips brushed her ear as he spoke. She shuddered.

  God, but he wanted to be inside her now! The last eight months didn’t matter. Lord help him, but his engagement didn’t matter. He didn’t care why his title meant so much to her, he just wanted to bend her over the back of the chair and show her what she’d missed by not meeting him that night.

  No, that wasn’t true. He didn’t know what she’d missed that night, other than the chance at something that he thought could have been pretty special. She’d touched something within him that night. He’d thought she’d felt the same way, and it hurt to think the only thing she’d felt inside her was him.

  That didn’t stop him from wanting her, but he suspected what he was feeling right now was a mixture of attraction and the need to vent all his anger and frustration. All these months, he’d feared she was dead and now she was alive, and it seemed the only reason she had for not showing up that night was that she hadn’t wanted to.

  He’d never felt any rejection so acutely in his life.

  She raised her gaze. Her eyes glittered like a thousand tiny daggers. “You can say that even though I didn’t come that night?”

  His smile was mocking. “But you did come that night.”

  It took a minute for the meaning of his words to sink in, but he knew the minute they did. Her cheeks bloomed with color and her mouth, that incredibly sensuous mouth, parted in exclamation.

  “In fact,” he continued, enjoying disconcerting her, “I seem to remember you coming several times.”

  God, but she was magnificent when she was angry! Her entire face was a study in bright and dark.

  “What do you want?” she snarled. “A medal? Anybody with the right equipment and a little stamina could have achieved the same result, my lord.”

  He couldn’t help it, he laughed. It felt good to get a response—any kind of response out of her. At least he knew that he wasn’t the only one who remembered what had happened on the boat. He hadn’t been the only one affected. He had touched her. Only someone who’d made herself vulnerable to a person—him—could be this angry.

  So why hadn’t she met him?

  “Is that why you didn’t meet me? Because you’d gotten what you wanted and had no further use for me?” He let his gaze roam over the pale expanse of bosom revealed by her gown. “You could have used me some more if you’d wanted.”

  Hurt flickered across her features, stabbing him in the heart with remorse. He didn’t want to hurt her. He thought he did, but now that he had . . .

  “I didn’t want to use you,” she replied, her voice dangerously soft. “I wasn’t the one who lied.”

  Lied? What the devil was she talking about? His title? “The Home Office was under strict orders not to reveal my identity.”

  She glared at him. “And what about you? Were you under strict orders, too?”

  Garrett sighed. He was getting tired of this. Why wouldn’t she just come out and admit what bothered her so much about his title? He would almost rather hear her admit to being a fortune hunter than continue on in these verbal circles.

  “I didn’t think it mattered,” he admitted. And it shouldn’t have. That night on the boat they’d simply been a man and a woman, not spies, not a viscount and a widow, just two people sharing themselves, body and soul. At least that’s what he had believed it to have been.

  There was that hurt look again. “You should have told me.” Oh God, was she going to cry? Her voice had that low timbre to it that women always had before they burst into heart-wrenching sobs.

  “Tell me why,” he
pleaded, feeling dangerously emotional himself. “Tell me why it matters so much.”

  Then the hurt was gone, replaced with what experience told him was her spy face. Perfectly neutral, perfectly blank.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore.” She took a step back. He hadn’t realized just how close they’d been standing until she was gone, when all the parts of him she’d been pressed up against—his stomach, his chest—felt the chill of her absence. “Congratulations on your betrothal.”

  Was that what had been bothering her? “I wasn’t engaged when I met you.”

  Her expression was cool. She looked nothing like the hot-blooded woman he remembered. “Would it have made a difference?”

  “Of course it would have!”

  She didn’t look convinced. “I’m sure she’s perfect for you, my lord. I wish you both happiness.”

  Desperate, Garrett grabbed her. Pulling her hard against him, he brought his mouth down on hers. She stiffened but didn’t respond.

  A silent scream of frustration welled up inside him. He couldn’t have been wrong, he couldn’t have been. She’d been as shaken by their lovemaking as he had been. It hadn’t been a dream and these past months hadn’t distorted his memory.

  He slipped his tongue between her lips, tasting her. She tasted of buttercream frosting—his favorite. Groaning, he deepened the kiss, softened the pressure of his lips against hers, poured all the heartache and loss of the past few months into her, and prayed for a response.

  Slowly, her arms wound around his neck. Her fingers tangled in his hair as her tongue met his, tentatively at first, then with more deliberation, as though she were searching for something, something within him.

  His fingers splayed along her back, feeling the warm softness of her through the fabric of her gown. He’d never thought he’d hold her again, and now that he was it felt so completely, utterly right.

  And it was so hopelessly wrong. He had a fiancée, and no matter how Elizabeth affected him, he’d made a vow of honor and he couldn’t just walk away. Even if Elizabeth wanted him, even if she could forgive him for whatever wrongs she accused him of, he could no more turn his back on Caroline than he could pretend Elizabeth didn’t exist.

  He released her. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. She stared at him as though she’d found the answer to whatever she’d been searching for in his kiss.

  “That can never happen again,” she told him, her voice trembling. “Whatever happened in the past is the past. We can have no future, so please . . . don’t touch me again.”

  She left the room with her spine and shoulders as straight as any soldier’s. Garrett watched her go with a mixture of hope and sorrow.

  He couldn’t forget the past, no matter what she said, and he had no idea what the future held in store for either of them. But he did know about the present, and if she wanted to carry out this charade that they meant nothing to each other, then so be it.

  But things weren’t over between them. Of that, Garrett was certain.

  Closing the door of her room behind her, Elizabeth fought the urge to cry. Of all the people who could be Regina’s brother, why, why did it have to be him?

  And why did he have to be bigger and more virile than she remembered? And why did she find it next to impossible to stay angry with him?

  Probably because she had nothing to be angry about. Not really. No, he hadn’t told her who he was, but he was right, at the time it hadn’t been important. And it wasn’t the kind of thing one dropped into casual conversation. No doubt he would have told her had she met him that night at the hotel, but by then it would have been too late.

  And now it definitely was. There could be no future for them. Even if he weren’t above her, even if she dared believe she could be what he wanted, he was engaged to another, and she could never be a man’s mistress. That night on the boat had been different—they’d used their bodies to comfort each other, to fill the emptiness inside them both. She wouldn’t cheapen it by selling herself. It was worth more than that.

  But that didn’t stop her heart from racing at the sight of him. And it didn’t stop her body from responding to his kiss.

  How was she going to survive the next few days under the same roof as him? There was no point in wishing he’d leave. This was his sister’s home. He had more right to be there than she did. She should be the one to leave, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to spend Christmas alone in her little cottage. She wanted to spend it with people she cared about, like she had growing up.

  But how could Regina not have mentioned he was her brother? Oh sure, she knew Regina was the daughter of a viscount, but not caring about titles, she’d never mentioned it. And Elizabeth had been intimidated enough by her friend’s social status that she hadn’t bothered to ask. Oh, if she’d only asked!

  She drew a deep breath. She could do this. She had to. It was only for a few days and then he would be gone.

  Crossing the plush blue and cream carpet, Elizabeth moved toward the window. The heavy blue velvet drapes were tied back with cream and gold cord, giving her a wide, clear view of the grounds below. She could hear David and Elsa, Regina’s two children, laughing below.

  Through the chilled glass, she could see the two children romping in the few inches of snow that covered the grass. It wasn’t enough to make a fort or to lie down and make angels in, but it was sticky enough for making snowballs, and that’s what the two youngsters were doing.

  Smiling, Elizabeth pressed closer to the window. Little Elsa’s face was pink with cold and bright with joy as she drew back her arm and let her snowball fly. She laughed, loud and hard, when it struck its target. Her brother followed suit.

  Suddenly, two snowballs flew back in retaliation. One hit Elsa square in the bottom as she bent to pack more snow. The other struck David in the shoulder. Who were they playing with?

  The answer should have been obvious, she realized as soon as she saw their opponent. Her smile faded. Of course it would be him. Neither Regina nor her husband, Henry, were the snowball-throwing sort.

  Her heart twisted painfully as she watched him laugh as a sloppily packed snowball struck him in the face. He looked different when he laughed. Silly, and young, not at all the fierce warrior who’d made love to her on her boat.

  Regina said he’d been injured during the war. She noticed he limped a bit as he chased after the children. Had it been a leg wound? He could have been killed and she never would have known what happened to him.

  No, she would have known if he’d died. Somehow she knew she would have felt it, somewhere in her soul.

  Shaking snow from his hair, he looked up at her window. Their gazes locked. His smile faded a bit, but not completely. He stared up at her as if waiting for her to either approve or find him lacking. Against her better judgment, she returned the smile.

  “Eliza!” Elsa yelled at the top of her lungs. “Come help me!”

  Elizabeth shook her head at the girl. No, she couldn’t.

  The expression on Garrett’s face changed slightly. He was still smiling, but it was almost as if he were daring her to come out and face him. What did he think? That she was frightened of him?

  She was. Terrified, actually, but not in any way that made sense. And she certainly wasn’t going to let one little toe-curling kiss keep her from enjoying time with the children.

  Besides, it would please her to no end to wipe that smug, arrogant expression off his face with a hard, icy snowball.

  Just as the thought occurred to her something struck the window directly in front of her face. Snow. And she didn’t even have to ask which one of them had thrown it.

  So he wanted to play that way, did he? Well, she certainly wasn’t going to disappoint him. If it came down to childish behavior or having him kiss her, she’d take the childish behavior.

  Lord Praed needed a little cooling off.

  CHAPTER THREE

  My third is another word as familiar as your own name

&nb
sp; And although it is beautiful alone

  I much prefer it stay by me.

  Three days.

  For three days he’d been trapped under the same roof as her. And for those seventy-plus hours, he’d done his best to respect her wishes and stay away from her as much as he could. It was difficult considering that they were expected to join in family entertainment and meals. All he had to do was look at her and the rest of the world faded away.

  From his seat near the fire, he watched as she played the piano for David and Elsa, coaxing them into singing along with her. It didn’t take much effort. The youngsters adored her. Garrett couldn’t say he blamed them. He adored her, too.

  Oh, he was still angry with her for not showing up eight months ago, and he was still determined to find out why. He just couldn’t bring himself to fully believe it was because she thought him penniless. A woman who becomes a spy because of a promise was not the kind of woman angling after a rich husband.

  It really didn’t matter now. Knowing wouldn’t change anything. He’d still be honor-bound to marry someone else. He had no idea how Caroline felt about him. He’d never asked and she never volunteered, but he knew that she had never kissed him like Elizabeth did, and that her body wouldn’t respond to him like Elizabeth’s did. Nor would he ever give himself to his wife like he’d given himself to the woman singing with his niece and nephew.

  He’d allowed himself to foolishly believe that spending time with her would diminish the hold she had over him, that the more he got to know her, the more she would slip from the pedestal he’d once placed her on. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Everything she did only made the ache in his heart worse.

  His fingers went to the tender spot on his temple where she’d hit him with a snowball. Maybe not everything made the ache worse.

  “Uncle Garrett, come sing with us!”

  Fixing his nephew with an amused look, Garrett shook his head. “I don’t think Elizabeth is quite ready to suffer through my singing, thank you, David.”