“That was different,” he gritted out. “We didn’t think the place might be a nest of vipers then.”
“I would have supported your decision regardless.”
“I am a spymaster. It is my job?—”
“And what, pray tell, do you think I have been doing these twelve years past? Hosting tea parties? Parading around in the latest fashions? Twiddling my thumbs, perhaps?”
Her sarcasm chafed at him. When they fought back in the day, her condescension had been tinder to his temper. The haughtier she became, the angrier he got until they had to fight or fuck—most often both—it out of their systems. Whilst he was not averse to plowing his wife, he wasn’t about to let her treat him like he was some uncouth idiot.
Stay in control. Don’t make things worse by losing your temper.
“I know you run a successful investigative society.” He was proud of how reasonable he sounded. “Whilst you have undoubtedly aided many an individual lady, what we are dealing with is a matter of national security. The First Flame regularly slaughters innocents as part of its agenda.”
“My Angels and I have dealt with evil in all forms,” she said flatly. “We have stopped groups as well as individuals from wreaking havoc on society.”
He set down his fork, his appetite lost at the thought of how the First Flame had threatened her in the past. He’d left to protect her, sacrificed twelve years of their marriage. Why couldn’t a woman as intelligent as Lottie understand the severity of the risk she was courting and, more importantly, why he couldn’t allow her to take it?
“Not like the First Flame.” It took effort, but he maintained his calm demeanor. “My team of trained agents has been after them for a decade and a half. Whilst we have won some skirmishes, they’ve stayed one step ahead of us. Now that there is a chance to put an end to the terror, it is only logical that we—my team and I, that is—should take it. We have years of experience behind us.”
When Lottie said nothing, merely sampling another dish, he took it as a sign to push his advantage.
“I will contact Delaney,” he said. “She can pose as a worker and infiltrate?—”
“Over my dead body will that woman stealmyplan.”
Too late, he realized his mistake. And if he hadn’t, the way Lottie shot up from her seat and flung her napkin on the table, with enough force to make a magnificent ring of meringue tremble upon its bed of custard, would have enlightened him. He rose automatically and was treated to the sight of his wife looking like a vengeful goddess. If looks could kill, he’d be seeking passage across the River Styx.
He tried to soothe her. “Delaney is an experienced agent. She has taken countless covert assignments. You have to admit that she is talented: back in Greece, her disguise as Eleni Pappas fooled everyone—even you.”
“Yes, she did a singular job convincing the world that she was your lover,” Lottie said acidly.
“Well, she wasn’t. And that is beside the point,” he said in frustration.
“What about after you left me? The pair of you looked quite cozy in the cave.”
“Now you’re grasping at straws.” He clenched his hands, feeling the reins of his self-control slipping. “You know there hasn’t been anyone for me but you. Which, by the by, is more than I can say.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She crossed her arms, looking at him as if he were a piece of dung that got stuck to her shoe. Her superiority snapped his tether.
“You heard me,” he shot back. “I have been faithful to you, but you will not even tell me how many lovers you’ve entertained in your bed.”
“That is none of your dashed business!”
“I am your husband,” he roared. “Who you fuck is entirely my business.”
She marched over, but he was quicker, and they faced one another, toe-to-toe, near her end of the table. She swiped her tongue over her lips in an angry motion, and he flashed back to the cave. To the way she’d sucked his cock until he lost control, then swallowed his seed. Remembered pleasure and jealousy tightened his scalp, his muscles bunching. Who had taught her that depraved skill? How many men had she taken in that manner?
“Youleftme. Made me grieve over your supposed death,” she said in scathing tones. “You have not been my husband for twelve years. If I wanted to console myself with five men or fifty, it would bemyprerogative.”
“Five to fifty?” He felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. “That is the range?”
Her chin took a mutinous angle. “I am a widow. I can tup who I want, when I want, and wherever I dashed well please. In fact, if you hadn’t acted like a troglodyte at the Kendall Ball, who knows?” Her smile was sharper than a blade, and that was before she plunged it into his chest. “I might have added an orangery to my list.”
Scarlet filtered his vision. In the next instant, he trapped her against the table, wrapping a hand around her nape and forcing her to meet his eyes.
“No other man is touching you again. Ever,” he growled.
