He paused. “Good night, Miss Hart.”
Miss Hart? Not Vivienne?
She fought the sickening churn of rejection and continued to the drawing room. Despite leaving the door open in invitation, the clip of Mr Sloane’s boots on the marble stairs confirmed his retreat.
Chapter 13
The bitter taste in Evan’s mouth had nothing to do with Vivienne Hart. This crippling feeling of malcontent had nothing to do with abiding by a contract made seventy years ago. No. Evan’s rude awakening came from the realisation he’d been living a lie.
Strange that he had spent his life fighting against the failings of his ancestor, proving his valiance, showing the world he was no cowardly pirate and had courage abound. In truth, his need for casual relations made him as weak as every other man.
Having seen the destructive power of love—how his father had lived in a constant state of mourning—the thought of being dependent upon one person had left Evan avoiding commitment.
And then Vivienne Hart had hammered on his door amid a raging thunderstorm to play havoc with his rationale. Seducing him with the prospect of an adventure. He’d been enticed by her bravery, her tenacity and cavalier attitude, not by hidden treasure or the prospect of vengeance.
Miss Hart deserved the moniker Valiant. She had defended him in front of Charles Sloane. Stood beside him like the king’s own guard, ready to fight to the death. She trusted him. With resounding confidence, she had placed her beating heart in his hands.
And how had he repaid such loyalty and devotion?
By dragging her into a lewd conversation with an old paramour.
By dragging her down to his low level.
She deserved better. Yet despite finding the strength to walk away from her downstairs, he couldn’t calm his craving. He couldn’t let her think him indifferent to her charms. He couldn’t let her settle into bed, believing he didn’t care. Hence the reason he sat in a chair in the corner of her bedchamber, hidden in the shadows. Waiting.
He remained alone with his thoughts for half an hour, had dismissed the maid who came to stoke the fire, light the lamp and turn down the bed.
The rattle of the doorknob sent his heart shooting to his throat. It was laughable that a man with his experience should feel nervous about being in a woman’s bedchamber, but such was the power of Vivienne Hart’s allure.
Evan watched the figure enter the room, hoping it wasn’t Mrs McCready with her penchant for snooping. Fitchett mentioned he’d found the servant examining the portraits in the drawing room. And Evan was sure he’d seen her walking the corridors late last night, too.
It wasn’t the cranky old crone. He knew it was Vivienne Hart when she braced her hands on her hips and scanned the room.
“How odd.”
“Odd the lamp isn’t lit?” he said from the depths of the dark recess. “Or odd the maid isn’t here to undress you?” That task was unreservedly his. Indeed, his voice held the smooth drawl of a man intent on seduction.
Miss Hart didn’t gasp or stumble back, terrified. “Odd this isn’t the first time I’ve been accosted by the smell of your cologne in this room.”
He stretched languidly and crossed his legs at the ankles to ease the ache in his loins. “I’ve been waiting for some time.”
“You entered my bedchamber last night while I slept.”
“Is that a statement or merely conjecture?” He threw a pack of playing cards onto the bed. “Pick a card, Vivienne. Let’s see who will be the question master and who will bare their soul.”
“It seems I have the devil’s luck, sir. Are you sure you want to play?”
“The law of averages suggests you will confess a secret at some point. You can pick my card. I have the utmost faith you will do what is right.” It was time she knew she had his trust and respect.
He felt the spark of excitement in the air before hearing her light laugh. “Very well. Be warned, this is a game of truths. Play only if you’re brave enough to speak from the heart.”
“It’s also a game of forfeits. Play only if you’re willing to do as I command.”
The hitch in her breath fed his growing desire.
“Perhaps I’ll be the one issuing commands,” she said. “In the absence of a maid, I might have you light the lamp and pull back the coverlet.”
And he would do both willingly, for he would have every inch of her naked body bathed in light when he lowered her down onto the bed.