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To her core, she trusted him or she wouldn’t even be asking the question—or at least she wanted to trust him.
Trust he better not squander with lies.
Reiner straightened, his chin dipping downward as his look went hard. “I did.”
She took a deep breath, her jaw shifting back and forth. “And that you demanded the new lands be cleared of the tenants as well.”
Dammit. Another test of loyalty. One he better not fail.
She seethed in a wicked breath, her arms wrapping about her ribcage. “So tell me, Reiner, tell me you didn’t just do that. Tell me Falsted was lying. Lying to make sure I hate you. To make sure I hate you just as much as I did when I came here in the first.”
His stance widening, he braced himself. “I did do it.”
“What are you thinking?” She rushed him with a yell, her hands flying at his chest.
He caught her wrists in midair, stopping her in place before her body rammed into his. “Quiet your voice, Sloane.” His words dipped to a whispered roar. “Falsted suggested the stipulation. I didn’t want him to think I cared one way or the other. I don’t need any more of the man’s suspicion. I would never sign the actual agreement to do so. I just need him believing all is the same as always—I don’t question him and he feeds off of that. It is just until he introduces me to the last man in the smuggling scheme. That’s the target. That’s the puppeteer that has caused countless lives.”
“And what about the lives Falsted has taken? My brother’s life? You say you won’t sign a thing. But what will you do? How do I ken? How do I ken you haven’t already signed the agreement?” She twisted, savage, trying to free her wrists. “How do I ken anything at all about you? I walked into a web of lies and I appear to still be caught in them.”
He shook her wrists, tried to shake the suspicion free from her body. “You know the man you married—I married you in that baker’s shop when we were covered in mud. That is the man you married—not this. Not this spectacle of people and parties and deals and schemes.”
He yanked her toward him, their bodies colliding, his hot breath mingling with hers. “I am the man that taught you to dance the waltz. The man that held you against the terrors of your arm. The man that walked across a bog for you. The man that waits every morning to open his eyes and find your perfect, smiling face. The man that lives to hear your laugh. The man that took your naked body and made it mine—mine for all time. And if you dare to think I would betray all of that to be cruel to a few farmers on some measly strips of land, then maybe I had better be worried about your web of lies, Sloane.”
Her body stiffened as her lip snarled. “I have told you everything—everything.”
“Just as I have to you. The only difference being I have trusted you. Yet you—you still cannot trust me. Still.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” His left hand dropped from her wrist, his hand going under her arm to the side of her ribcage as he dragged his thumb over her nipple. The nubbin hardened instantly under his touch. “I know this curve on your body, Sloane.” His other hand released her wrist and he set his palm along the crook of her neck. “And this one.”
His left hand moved off her breast and dipped along the curve of her waist and hip. “And this one. I know your body. And I know your mind. I know how your brain is already working, trying to figure out who is what. Suspicion on everyone, including me. But don’t let the voices in your head take over what is in here.” His right hand slid from her neck to cover her heart as his looked sliced into her, his voice a growl. “Don’t let them take over what you know in your soul.”
She held his stare for breath after breath. Not moving. Not blinking.
In one motion, her eyes closed and she inhaled, her chest rising under his palm. Her eyelids parted, the dark lashes fluttering, unable to decide on opening or closing. They closed, defeated, her words a whisper. “Don’t destroy me, Reiner. Please. That is all I ask.”
“Your destruction would be mine, Sloane.” His words ripped from his throat, raw. “So no. I’ll not let that happen.”
{ Chapter 19 }
For how he parted with Sloane in the gardens, it was a feat of Roman proportions that he managed to walk halfway normal to his chambers. As much as he wanted to drag her deeper into that alcove and dive under her skirts, he also didn’t want to risk the last moments of keeping her reputation somewhat intact.
He paused as he passed Sloane’s already closed door. He’d given her ten minutes to reach her room before he left the gardens for his own chambers. He wasn’t about to leave her alone outside with Falsted on the prowl.
His ear tilted toward the door. Her bare feet padded across the wooden planks of the floor. Drawers of a chest opening. Fabric rustling.
He moved on down the corridor.
Three steps before reaching his chambers, he heard a soft wail through the door he passed.
Vicky.
He knocked once, opening the door before there was an answer.
Vicky didn’t cry. Ever.
His heart beating hard in his chest, he searched the dark corners of his niece’s room only to find her sitting up in her tester bed. A little pixie in the enormity of what had been her mother’s bed. The low light from the fireplace reflected off her face, sending sparkles onto the fat tears rolling down her face.
