As he stepped out into the night, his mind spun with thoughts of Eden and Egypt, of their past and this uncertain future. The city was quiet as he began the long walk home, the streets empty, the night crisp and unrelenting.
He couldn’t believe he was actually thinking about accepting this job and knew he had to sober up and weigh all theramifications before he made any binding decisions. But right now, all he could think about was the fact that she hadn’t ever been with her husband the way she’d been with him.
That shouldn’t make him so bloody happy. But it did.
Chapter Four
Two days after her visit to The Smuggler’s Lantern, Eden sat in front of the fire in the library, an unread book upon her lap. She had long since accepted that true passion was gone from her life, which was why she had poured so much of herself into planning this expedition. But seeing Max again, rough-hewn and more fiercely attractive now than in their youth, had utterly undone her carefully constructed resolve. Now, her nights were filled with aching, restless dreams of him, threatening the very focus she needed.
She hated to admit that every name on her compiled list had turned her down. Max would have been the perfect guide—a man with both academic and military experience and a vested interest in keeping her alive. What would she do if she couldn’t find a way to make this happen? The thought of simply returning to Willoughby Hall to spend the rest of her days staring out at the sea was intolerable.
Her butler, Carson, gave a discreet cough that drew her attention. “There’s a man at the front door, Lady Eden,” he said with practiced deference, handing her a calling card. “I told him you weren’t at home, but he refuses to leave.”
Her pulse leaped when she saw the name on the card.
Maximillian Thorne.
“Whyever would you tell him that?” she asked, her heart in her throat. What was Max doing here? After their disastrous meeting at the tavern, she’d never expected to see him again.
Carson sniffed. “He doesn’t look as though he should be calling at the front door, my lady.”
“Where is he?” she asked, pushing to her feet, too excited to chide Carson for his highhandedness.
“In the foyer, my lady.”
She rushed to the grand entrance, hope swelling within her. Had he changed his mind?Dear lord, let him have changed his mind.
He stood with his back to her, his hands clasped behind him as he stared up at the somber paintings lining the walls. The contrast was shocking. His imposing figure, more at home among the untamed terrains she longed to explore, looked incongruously vibrant against the muted tones of the elegant decor. He turned as she approached, his eyes sharp and clear. Gone were the bitter cynicism and drunkenness that had marred him at the tavern.
“Max,” she managed, afraid to ask him why he’d come, afraid to hope, even for a moment, that all was not lost.
“Eden,” he replied, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “We need to talk.”
Her pulse raced, but she managed to remain calm. “I’d like that. Come with me.”
She led him to the library, her hope growing with each step. If he hadn’t changed his mind, he wouldn’t be here, would he?
He took the chair opposite her, and she studied him closely, still afraid to say anything that might drive him away. As she continued to stare at him, his lips quirked upward, revealing the charming dimples that had always been her downfall. She swallowed dryly and forced a smile in return.
“I’m sorry about Carson,” she finally said. “I intend to have strong words with him later.”
Max waved a dismissive hand. “He was just doing what he’s been trained to do. Can’t say I blame him.” He gestured to his casual tweed suit, devoid of cravat or hat. “I’m not dressed as a gentleman. Thus, in his eyes, I’m not.”
Eden pursed her lips, as she couldn’t argue with that logic. Still, he’d been raised as one, and Carson’s behavior had embarrassed her. What if he’d just stormed out instead of insisting that she see him? She could have lost him again and not even known it. “It’s good to see you, but why are you here, Max?”
