“Yes,” he agreed, uncertain why he felt protective toward her, as if he wanted to argue with his friend.Good God, he had every reason to trust Eli. He had no reason to trust his wife.
“The woman who went to every effort to destroy your reputation and send you into penury,” Decker added.
Sin drummed his fingers on his empty glass. “That as well.”
But she was also more than that.
So damn muchmore.
How could he explain it to his friend when he could not even make sense of it himself?
“The author of vicious lies about you,” his friend continued, quite unnecessarily.
After all, he was not saying anything Sin had not already thought. Nor was he revealing information that was new. And yet, Sin found himself wanting to believe better of her. He found himself strangely attuned to her. It was true that they had not known each other for very long. But he had been as intimate with her last night as a man and woman could be.
“She believed everything she wrote about me,” he said. Speaking the words removed a weight from his chest. “She thought it was true, that I had killed her brother and then somehow Celeste as well.”
“Because she is mad,” Decker snapped. “Good God, Sin. You cannot possibly be defending the wench, can you? She was ruthless in her determination to strip you of everything. You must treat her in the same fashion. Use her dowry. Restore your good name. Have your vengeance upon her.”
“Vengeance is hollow, Decker,” he said bitterly.
There was the crux of the matter. After suffering a union with Celeste, a woman who had been undeniably mad, he had been quick to believe the same of Callie. But he could see the differences between the two women already.
Celeste’s moods had vacillated wildly, even from the beginning. She had gone from delirious happiness to deep, endless bouts of despair. And when she had despaired, she had done the most damage. One day, she would have professed her undying devotion to him, and the next, he caught her sucking a footman’s cock. Then, she locked herself in her chamber for a week. Sometimes, he still woke in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, having been trapped in nightmares of listening to the sound of her sobs.
But Callie was not the same woman. She was brazen and bold and daring. She fought him every step of the way. But she was not possessed by the same demons which had claimed Celeste. She fought him face-to-face. There was no pretense about her. She had owned her authorship of those vile books about him.
Sin blinked and realized his friend had somehow risen, gone to the sideboard, and retrieved the decanter of whisky without his notice. Decker hovered over him now, his expression grim as he splashed some more spirits into Sin’s glass.
“Vengeance does not taste nearly as good as whisky,” Decker quipped. “Drink up. I dare say you need it, old boy.”
“I do notneedyour whisky,” he growled at his friend, but he brought the glass to his lips just the same.
“Fine, then. Youwantit. Drink, my friend.” Decker threw himself back into the overstuffed chair at Sin’s side. “If you keep carrying on as you are, I will have no choice but to suspect you are falling in love with your sworn enemy. What the hell has gotten into you? Is her cunny made of gold?”
Sin choked on his whisky. He inhaled, and it burned a path of fire down his throat and nose all at once. “Bloody hell,” he said on a cough. “I am not in love with her. And do not speak of her so rudely ever again, or I will blacken your eye.”
Decker raised his glass. “There you have it! You are in love. You have never before objected to me speaking frankly of your conquests.”
“Callie is not a conquest,” he found himself saying. “She is my wife.”
“Callie, is it?” Decker cast a knowing look in his direction.
“Go to the devil,” he bit out. “I do not believe in love, and even if I did, I would not find it with a she-devil who has ruined my life.”
“Hmm.” Decker took another sip of his own whisky. “Promise me something, Sin? That you will not forget what she has done to you? This cannot be another Celeste.”
Sin bowed his head, staring at the glass he held in his lap. The amber liquid taunted him. Tempted him. He wanted to drown himself, to numb his thoughts, his feelings. Most of all, his emotions.
“There can never be another Celeste,” he agreed. Because he would not survive it.
Wisely, he kept that bit to himself.
“Christ no,” Decker agreed. “But enough of all that. Do you want to see my newest acquisition? It is a piece of true distinction, of Japanese origin and very cleverly done. You will not even know what you are looking at unless you know what you are looking for.”
And was that not the way of it in life, not just in Decker’s collection of erotic art?
He tossed back the rest of his whisky. “Show me.”
