Wicked Again (The Wickeds #7) - Kathleen Ayers Page 0,3
stoking the frustration of her body still clamoring for Haddon’s mouth. His hands. Anything.
“We aren’t done, Marissa.” The words were deceptively calm.
“But you have to hide,” she whispered.
He looked down at her intently before his eyes widened slightly. “Are you ashamed of me?”
“It isn’t shame, exactly,” she started, hating the way his face clouded at her words. More like mortification. Or horror. Marissa wasn’t completely comfortable with her children knowing she sought male companionship on occasion. The current situation was made worse by the fact that Brendan and Haddon were friends. And he was so much younger. “I only—”
The line of his jaw hardened. Pink stained the very tops of the magnificent cheekbones. Apparently, she’d flung the worst possible insult at his exotically handsome head.
Haddon’s eyes never left hers as he walked to the door with purpose, stood to one side and very deliberately flicked the lock.
Marissa’s mouth gaped open in astonishment, rendered speechless. She pulled the robe tighter. One hand went to the tangled nest of her hair. Could she fluff the pillows to dispel the shape of Haddon’s head and pull up the sheets before Brendan glanced at the bed?
The younger of her two sons flung open the door within seconds and stomped into the room. Brendan was a big man and looked larger still in the space of her guest room. Scowling at Haddon, his fingers curled into fists at his thighs. Brendan liked to brawl and, given his stance, seemed about to throw a punch at Haddon.
“Brendan,” Marissa stuttered hoping to avoid bloodshed. “How unexpected to see you so early.”
“Apparently,” Brendan growled, shooting another murderous look in Haddon’s direction.
Haddon stared back, seemingly unconcerned that he may be beaten to death at any moment.
“Did something happen to Petra?” Marissa shouldn’t have said such a thing in front of Haddon, but she was flustered. And Petra was the only thing she could think of which would bring Brendan to her room at such an hour.
“No. She’s fine. Sleeping,” Brendan said, wincing as he realized what he’d given away.
Marissa’s eyebrows shot up, and a knowing half-smile tugged at Haddon’s lips.
Brendan flexed his hands, his gaze shifting from his mother to Haddon. “I’ll thank you to be discreet.”
“Morning, Morwick.” Haddon crossed his arms in no hurry to exit the room despite Brendan’s obvious desire to pummel him. “Did you sleep well? You look tired. As if you were up most of the night. I didn’t get much rest last night either, as it turns out.”
Marissa blinked. Must he be so blatant?
Brendan made a guttural sound and took a menacing step in Haddon’s direction. “Get the f—”
“Good morning, Lord Haddon,” Marissa said sharply, cutting off Brendan’s string of vulgarities.
If the two men came to blows in her room, everyone would wonder why Haddon was here, defeating the purpose of her dismissing him. Besides, there was a much larger scandal brewing, one which would rescind her welcome at Brushbriar. Unless she was very much mistaken, Brendan had just admitted to ruining Petra.
Haddon didn’t move, the grip on his boots so tight his knuckles whitened. He didn’t care to be dismissed—Marissa could tell. In fact, he was bloody furious about it. “We will talk later.”
“Please excuse yourself, Lord Haddon.” She tipped her chin toward the door, commanding Haddon with her eyes to leave. Didn’t he understand the situation?
From the absolutely chilling look he gave her, Haddon did not understand Marissa’s plea for him to leave. He seemed about to comment but must have thought better of it. Instead his lean form bent smoothly into a mocking bow. “Good day, Lady Cupps-Foster.”
Marissa held her ground. She hadn’t wanted them to part in such a way, but maybe it was for the best. There was nothing to be gained by continuing their association beyond this house party. Even so, she took hold of the bedpost in an effort to keep herself from running to him.
He was only a dalliance.
He had to be.
Haddon shot her another frosty look.
She lowered her eyes. Marissa told herself he was only annoyed at being dismissed, his ego bruised at having been asked to leave a woman’s bed. She doubted it had ever happened to him before.
Marissa didn’t look up again until she heard the door close.
Brendan stared at the door for a moment before turning to face her. She expected a barrage of questions or even an angry rant from her son, but his pained expression immediately put her on guard.