Page 93 of Scandalous: Family Ties and Spies

“Yes.” Tension knotted his muscles. God, this was harder than he’d ever dreamed it would be. “I know why you fought so hard not to marry me. Why you despised me.”

“Ye do?” Surprise and trepidation dulled the sweet siren notes he loved so much.

“I know it was you sitting on the other side of the wall in Rules. I know you overheard the entire conversation and every vicious thing Lady Chattfield said.”

At his confession, she made a small squeak of sound. The unintelligible noise emulated that of a mouse caught in the sharp claws of a cat. Worried he was bungling things, he drew in a deep breath, then pushed on.

“I heard you cry out in pain, and when I saw the table out of place, I realized you had left quickly, but your fragrance still hung in the air.”

“I do not want to hear anymore.” Her voice was the nondescript one she’d used for two years as she’d hidden from him in the shadows. With a hard shove, she tried to break free of his hold, but he held her firmly in place.

“Damn it, Amalie, will you at least listen to me? I’m trying to explain why I didn’t tell the woman to stop talking…or why…why I must have sounded so thoughtless and cavalier, mouse.” The moment he used his nickname for her, Amalie inhaled a sharp hiss of air. An angry cat couldn’t have sounded more furious.

“Dinnae ye ever call me that again.” She shoved hard at his chest, but he simply tightened his hold. Good, she was angry. That he could deal with, not that wooden, emotionless voice that told him nothing of what she was thinking.

“Listen to me, goddamn it. I have a good reason for my conversation with the woman. The only reason I was with Lady Chattfield that day was because I was investigating the woman and her husband for connections to a Prussian spy ring.”

“Prussian spy ring? Next ye will tell me ye work for the Crown.” she sneered.

“I do work for the Crown. I work in the foreign section of the Secret Intelligence Service.” Valeran tightened his grasp and threw his leg over hers as she tried to push free of his hold.

“Do nae insult my intelligence, my lord. Ye cannae be a spy.”

“Why? Because I’m blind?” he snarled. His anger suddenly matched hers, as the disbelief and scorn in her voice was like salt being rubbed into an open wound. “It’s why I’m good at what I do. No one would ever suspect a blind man spying for the Crown.”

“Next ye will tell me your reputation with women is a lie.”

“It is. I allowed gossip to build a reputation for me. I didn’t want a wife. It kept—”

A hand cuffed him upside of his head. Grunting at the brief pain, his grip on Amalie loosened, and she moved faster than a mouse escaping a cat as she streaked toward the door.

“Damn it to hell, Amalie, stop.”

He charged after her and heard something hit the floor as she darted down the corridor between the bed chambers. Valeran was halfway to the short hallway when his foot hit an obstacle in his path.

“Fuck.”

His momentum threw him forward, setting him off balance. Instinct and years of practice were the only reason he managed to quickly curl his body up into a ball and land in a crouched position. The delay was the extra two seconds Amalie needed to slam and lock her bedroom door closed behind her.

Racing through the short corridor, he blindly crashed head first into the wood barrier. Valeran released a low cry of pain. Damnation, he’d not made that kind of mistake since before he'd left his uncle’s house to enter Eton. Ignoring the onset of a headache, he tried the doorknob, despite knowing it would be locked. Frustration barreled through him, and he slammed his fist against the door.

“Amalie. Open up this door, now,” he commanded. “You didn’t give me a chance to finish.”

“Go, fuk yourself, Lord Sommerville. Ye had your fun toying with the mouse, but she’s nae a fool. It will nae happen again.”

Something in Amalie’s voice shot a bolt of fear through him. She wasn’t just angry. Another emotion hovered just beneath the surface. He’d hurt her, and it sickened him. Valeran closed his eyes, slowly inhaling, then exhaling several deep breaths.

“You know I’m a man of my word, Amalie. As hard as it might be for you to believe me, I’m telling you the truth. I am an agent for the Crown,” he said with a quiet firmness, praying his words would push their way past her anger. “You don’t know how much I regret not defending you that day in Rules.”

“And yet you accepted the woman’s challenge to seduce a—plump—country mouse.”.

“I did not accept any challenge,” he snarled. “If I had, I would have found you the same day I arrived at Callendar Abbey.”

“Need I remind you, Lord Sommerville, of that day on the cnoc beag, you told me you could make me whimper with need? If that isn’t a man determined to win a challenge, then pigs can fly.”

“God almighty, Amalie. You know damn well I didn’t know who you were when I said that,” Valeran bit out, slamming the flat of his fist against the door. “That sharp tongue of yours was flaying me alive, and a man can only take so much. I thought shocking you would silence you. That didn’t work, did it?”

Silence greeted his sarcastic retort. His head pressed against the door keeping him from reaching his wife, Valeran’s sigh was more of a groan. Sarcasm would only make matters worse. Worse? He snorted softly with suppressed fury at how badly he was bumbling his way through this entire apology like a drunken sailor.