Secrets of Sin. Chloe HarrisЧитать онлайн книгу.
a right to meddle with his friend’s life like this?
Perhaps he wanted to do this to silence his own conscience. Reinier had taken his thoughtless words too seriously.
Nonetheless, Connor was sure he mustn’t tell Reinier about the divorce. In his current state of mind, Reinier would sign the agreement only too gladly. Four years was a long time. It changed people, and by the tone Mrs. Emiline du Ronde-Barhydt had laid into her words, as well as her determination to be rid of her husband, she seemed quite the opposite of how Reinier had described her. She might not have been before, but perhaps now she was exactly what his friend needed.
By the time he was taking two steps at once to climb the stairs to Madame Poivre’s, Connor had convinced himself of the best course of action. What he’d come up with may not have been the best of all lies, but it would do. Connor knew Reinier was competitive, especially when it came to what he regarded as his own.
What a shame. The world would certainly mourn the loss of a glorious rake such as Reinier.
“Bonjour, Monsieur O’Driscoll. This way.” A young maid greeted him, opening the door with a curtsy even before he reached for the bell. She must have been spying from behind the curtains.
They walked in silence toward a private room at the back of the house. Quietly, she opened the double doors and motioned with a quick gesture for him to enter. Bobbing another curtsy, she closed the doors to the room, giving the men some privacy.
Three very spacious armchairs surrounded a tiny table in the elegantly furnished room. It was polished and classic, a place where a man could relax before indulging in other, very pleasurable activities.
There were no silly-looking cupids around anywhere, no lush red carpets, no strong-smelling perfume in the air covering more undesirable scents that would indicate this was an establishment of the worst kind. The tasteful and timeless elegance made Madame Poivre’s an outstanding place, genteel and chic, an establishment of the best kind.
“What took you so long?”
Connor’s head snapped toward the voice. He could see only Reinier’s legs stretched out lazily and his hands hanging elegantly over the arms of the chair he was lounging in. Instantly, Connor felt his lips twitch into a smile again, but this time it wasn’t a forced smile. No, there was genuine delight in it—and a certain amount of playfulness as well.
He went to the armchair opposite his friend and made himself comfortable. Reinier returned the smile with one of his own, only his was more. It was enigmatic. It was meaningful, it was charming and unspeakably seductive—a direct assault to one’s senses.
He wore his hair loose today. There was no need to tie it back for what they had in mind. His blond hair was generally straight, but it curled slightly at the tips, and now, as he lounged in the armchair as confident as ever, his mane surrounded his head and brushed over his shoulders like a halo.
His unique eyes were translucent, crystalline jewels of lush green that became so bright they looked as golden as the sun in the center—almost like a cat’s eyes. It was precisely those bright, hypnotizing eyes that were taking Connor in from head to toe and back. The perusal sent a pleasant shiver of awareness through Connor’s body.
“So…” Reinier purred, a husky sound full of heat. “Where have you been?”
Connor relished in his friend’s sensual mouth gradually changing, the corners wandering up until he smiled his typical, breathtaking smile. Reinier knew his appeal, and he took great pleasure in seeing how it affected others.
Letting Reinier’s rich, velvety words trickle down his spine, Connor tried to sit more comfortably in the chair. The fly of his breeches had become dangerously confining.
Slowly licking his lips, Reinier leaned back more. The delightful physical pressure that was an immediate result of their arousing game was too sweet. Reinier loved anticipation. He adored the sensations brought on by withholding what was inevitably to follow.
At last, Connor found a position he was comfortable with. Now it was time to put his plan into action. He knew if he didn’t do it now, he’d forget about it all later. But how to begin?
“Business kept me from joining you sooner,” Connor finally replied. “But what I really wanted to tell you is I have heard some juicy rumors about one of the lonely wives on the islands around.”
“Is that so?” Reinier let the words out in a bored sigh and looked away. He studied a nonexistent piece of lint on the turquoise sleeve of his coat that boasted elegant patterns of gold.
He had definitely caught Reinier’s attention with that. One corner of Connor’s mouth flitted up. If only Reinier knew how much his taste in garments matched his wife’s—matched Emiline with her turquoise eyes and the golden highlights in her chocolate brown hair.
“I hired a new sailor at Ronde when we last stopped there to load up with sugarcane. But I am a little disappointed with him. He seems to not be able to stop prattling on about how he was wrongly accused of theft and thrown out by the mistress.” Connor deliberately paused for effect before he added, “And her lover.”
Now, this wasn’t quite the truth, but it could still be excused as a little white lie. Perhaps it wasn’t that little, after all, nor was it exactly white. But Connor knew Reinier well enough to trust it wouldn’t fail to rattle him.
Wrinkling his forehead, Reinier’s detached façade was unwavering. He was even too disciplined to grind his teeth, although inwardly he felt anything but calm. A flashing memory of brilliant turquoise eyes skirted through his mind. Their recurring image had been haunting his dreams lately.
She’d never do that, Reinier told himself. Not to him. She wouldn’t dare make a cuckold of him.
“Gossip.” With a wave of his hand he brushed off the rumor.
“Yes, it is,” Connor agreed, seemingly unaware of how this all affected Reinier. “But isn’t it entertaining? I thought it was highly amusing myself.”
Reinier snorted with contempt. Closing his eyes, he carefully hid the anger churning in him. If Connor saw his gaze darken, he’d know for sure his mood had changed, and there was no need to give him proof. Most times having such unique eyes was a blessing, but not around somebody who knew him so well, somebody who could tell what Reinier felt just by looking into his eyes.
Why did it even bother him? Everyone who married for convenience sought pleasure outside the marriage. It was almost expected.
Why did he feel that odd twinge in his chest, then? True, he’d married Emiline for practical reasons. But it wasn’t quite that simple. As soon as he realized he’d fallen for her, it became quite inconvenient.
“It was only a matter of time before she felt lonely enough to do it.” Connor’s low voice held a slight hint of reproach.
Only a matter of time. The words echoed in his head. Damn it. If Connor only knew how badly she’d broken his heart. Leaving her had been the only way to make sure she wouldn’t take his soul as well.
As soon as he felt certain he’d rid his eyes of any sign of treacherous emotion, Reinier opened them again to linger on his friend. His teeth ground now, but he made sure his eyes remained blank.
She was his, whether he liked it or not. She was his, whether she liked it or not. She had no right to act like this. She wasn’t free. She wasn’t independent. She belonged to him. Emiline was his wife.
Reinier rubbed his chin in thought. He had pushed that part of his life aside for far too long. She was a pretty girl when he left. Naïve, yes. And eager to please him, that too. Demanding, yet oh-so-unchallenging. At least that was what he had eventually convinced himself of.
Of course, he was completely over that immature infatuation.
Reinier took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out in a rush and along with it the memories that had come to life.
Perhaps it was time he reminded her of