It wasn’t so much the money that bothered him, it was the lie of it all. For her to have duped him so successfully was more than galling.
It was bile-inducing.
It was humiliating on a deeper level than any public shaming of him she’d attempted.
She made himlove herand still, she hid things from him.
Because he did love her.
He’d begun to suspect it whenever his heart stopped when she smiled at him, when he counted the hours and minutes until he could see her again, when he struggled not to touch her at every opportunity, how he wanted nothing more than to hold her against him and shut out the rest of the world. She’d charmed him with her strong will, bewitched him with her body. He’d thought they’d finally reached a point where they might plan for a future, but how could that be the case when she continued to lie to him? What was keeping from him? His mind spun with the possibilities. He’s seen enough of the dark side of human behavior in the last eight years that his mind automatically went to the worst possible scenario, even though he realized he was being ridiculous. Still, he couldn’t let it be.
He rationalized that his lies were all in the past—that he hadn’t been anything but as honest as possible with her since his return—but she clearly could not say the same. After all he and Alaina had shared, she still didn’t trust him.
Anger fueled by pain boiled within his breast until it threatened to overflow. He was cut more deeply than any physical wound he’d ever endured in his years of training beneath Ramsay and the rest of the masters in his spy society. He’d made no secret of wanting to give Alaina everything, yet she couldn’t even be honest about where she went. And who she might be involved with.
How dare she?
His actions decided, Sterling shoved himself to his feet and snatched up the papers in his fist. He flew from the study like a furious hurricane and stormed up the stairs and down the hall with his boots falling like thunder until he reached Alaina’s private study. He saw none of the vibrant furnishings, the small oil paintings she’d selected so carefully, his eyes only focused upon the woman seated at the dainty writing desk. The smile upon her face when she saw him—the moment before she registered his barely masked rage—fully shattered what was left of his heart.
Her expression fell and she set aside her quill. “Sterling, whatever is the matter?” The concern in her tone served only to chafe the wound in his soul.
“The orphanage,” he demanded in a low, dangerous tone.
“I beg your par—”
“Mrs. Worthy’s. The donations.” He held the crumpled sheaves of parchment in her face. “Tell me about your donations to the girls’ home,” he growled, sounding more like a monster every second, but he cared not.
Alaina shook her head. “I don’t—”
“Don’t lie!” he demanded, one decibel below a roar. “No more lies.” He shoved the documents at her until she had no choice but to take them.
*
Her heart poundingin her ears, Alaina could only skim the pages Sterling had shoved into her hands. He paced furiously back and forth, raking his hands through his chestnut hair and making it stand up in odd tufts. A deep notch was carved between his brows, and his mouth was set in a grim line.
Rather than explain his agitation, she grew only more and more baffled as to how he’d discovered so much about her schedule. Somehow, he’d tracked her movements to and from the girls’ home, down to the minute. The notes listed the names of the matrons and staff with whom she was most closely acquainted; there was an accounting of her donations made directly to the orphanage. Her confusion swiftly grew to anger when the full realization of what she held struck her.
He’d had her followed.
He’d had reports written up on her like some sort of errant employee or suspect of a crime.
Despite his words of honesty and sincerity, it turned out that he trusted her less far than he could throw her.
It was Alaina’s turn to twist the papers in her fists. “How did you obtain this information?” she ground out.
“What does it matter?” Sterling whirled on her, though he was unable to meet her gaze. It was telling that his hazel eyes were evasive, aimed at a point above her left ear. How had they once looked upon her so warmly and now they reflected only frigid fury?
“It matters because you had me followed!”
“Clearly, with good reason.”
“Good reason?” she scoffed incredulously.
“It is obvious you were hiding something.”
“If this is about the funds, then you know I tracked them in the household accounts. I balanced the funds from my unused pin money, so I took nothing that was not mine—”
“Damn the money!” Sterling snarled. “It is not a drop in the bucket. I gave you a chance for honesty; I might have forgiven you had you told the truth weeks ago. I deserve to know why my wife is lying to me about her whereabouts!”
