Page 83 of Dangerous

Adam pulled her to her feet and motioned to the settee. “Sit.” He turned and paced the room. “Go ahead. Tell me about the misunderstanding.”

“It was true that I led him to believe I would grant him my favors.”

Adam snorted. He couldn’t look at her. He wanted to throw things, to break things. Something substantial. His eyes lit on a large marble in the corner, a representation of Fortuna. He gave a bitter laugh. How bloody appropriate, yet another duplicitous, scheming woman.

“Adam, I only did it because I—”

He swung around. “I don’t care why you did it, Mia. You brought a servant into my house—under my roof—with the promise that he would become your lover?”

She nodded, her face creased in misery.

“How far did it go?”

“Nothing! We did nothing. He was getting angry because I would not lie with him. I decided to get him out of the house for a time, until I could think what I would do about my son. I gave him my mother’s jewels to take to Eastbourne. I wanted Bouchard to sell them and give the money to Jibril. That was what I was doing the day you came into the room and caught us. It was true I had unbuttoned his coat and waistcoat, but it was only so I could put the packet inside and make certain it was not too bulky and that nobody could see it if . . .” She trailed off, shaking her head. “It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

It did, but Adam believed her. Nobody—certainly not a woman of her intelligence—would make up such a story. But the truth was that she’d brought a man into his house intending to sleep with him, to offer her body in exchange for his help. That was bad enough, but then she’d kept him around, even after their feelings had changed and they’d realized—he stopped. Their feelings had changed? No, his feelings had changed. He still had no idea what she felt about him—if anything. Who was to—

“Adam.” She’d come to stand beside him again, her small hands grabbing his arm. “You must let me go to him, Adam, you must. If I do not and he is hurt, I will hate you forever.”

Adam looked at her tearstained face and felt the force of her words. He remembered the hopeless rage he’d experienced—still experienced—when he realized there was nothing he could do to save his own children. If there was a way to save his daughters from their uncertain futures and if any person—man or woman, stood in his way—he would kill them.

He closed his eyes. Africa? How could he allow it? It would be like cutting off his arm and sending it to the Mediterranean. No, it would be worse. He could learn to live without his arm. He was not sure he could live without Mia, no matter how angry and hurt and battered he felt. He might never be able to forgive her, but that didn’t mean he would ever let her get away from him.

“Adam?”

He glared down at her, at this woman who’d shredded his heart as easily as a piece of paper. Her expression was one of mute misery and crushing anxiety.

He held out his arm. “Come, let us rejoin the others.”

* * *

Mia was too terrified to ask what decision her husband had made. The butler waited for them outside the sitting room door.

“This way if you please, my lord, my lady.”

They found the other two waiting for them in the library. Ramsay came forward when they entered the room.

Adam stared up at him. “I am going to choose to believe you would not have allowed my wife to make a journey of this magnitude without first consulting me.”

Mia hid a smile as her rapier-slim husband challenged the towering man.

Ramsay nodded. “You are absolutely correct, Exley. I had not entertained such a thought even for an instant. No matter how big a bully your wife is.” He smiled amiably and motioned to the tray of food and empty seats.

Adam ignored him, released Mia, and approached Martín.

Mia’s breath caught in her throat as the insouciant Bouchard rose to his feet. The two men were almost of equal height, she realized, but the Frenchman was bulky and broad beside Adam’s sleek elegance.

“Lady Exley tells me you brought her the information regarding her son.”

Martín smirked.

“For that, I thank you. But if you go against me or around me in any way, on any matter concerning my wife, I will not be so sanguine the next time.” His hand rested close to the rapier he still wore.

For a long, horrible moment Mia thought Martín would press the issue. But, whether it was because he did not really care, did not feel like fighting, or did not want to incur Ramsay’s ire, he shrugged and the tension broke.

Adam sat on the settee beside Mia but looked at the baron.

“So, when do we leave?”