Page 155 of Her Beast

“Stay out of this, Smith. It’s none of your concern.”

“I beg to differ.”

“And what gives you the right to interfere in my bloody life—or hers, for that matter?”

The change in the other man’s demeanor was subtle—a slight flaring of his nostrils, a thinning of his full, sensual mouth, and a chill in his usually warm gaze. “While you were unconscious and in mortal peril, I spent the last hours of Sukey’s life with her.”

“I know that,” Malcolm growled. It was one of the great regrets of his life that he’d not been the last one to see his wife alive.

“You have always been jealous of that,” Smith said, easily reading his thoughts, as usual. “But youshouldbe grateful, Malcolm.” He made a dismissive wave with one elegant hand when Malcolm opened his mouth to argue. “That isn’t what I want to talk about now. What I want to talk about is her last words to me.”

Malcolm’s hand tightened hard enough to crack the crystal tumbler and he thrust it aside. “You said she was unconscious.”

“I lied.”

Malcolm was out of his chair and clutching Smith’s lapels in his fists before the impulse had even registered. “Howdareyou keep that from me?”

Smith didn’t struggle or resist in any way. “Go ahead and hit me, I deserve it. But before you do, know that I did it because she made me promise not to tell you. She didn’t want you to know how she suffered for three entire days.”

“Three days! I was told she died only hours after we were pulled from the fire. I was awake the second day in the hospital and might have spoken to her. Youcheatedme out of that time with her.” The anguish was so suffocating he could barely breathe.

Smith stared up at him, unafraid and unapologetic. “It washerwish.”

Malcolm flung him away and stepped back, glaring while Smith calmly straightened his clothing.

“You want all of it?” Smith asked.

“I wanted all of it fifteen years ago, goddammit!”

Smith shrugged. “A deathbed promise surpassed my duty to you. Until now.”

“Why are you telling menow?”

“Because I might actually be able to fulfill the second promise Sukey demanded of me.” Smith held out his glass. “A bit more, if you will.”

Malcolm scowled but snatched the glass and stalked over to the decanter. When he returned, Smith had settled into his chair and looked as cool as ever.

“Thank you,” he said, when Malcolm rudely shoved the glass into his hand.

“Go on,” he said, his voice harsh. “Tell me the rest.”

“She made me promise that I’d see to it that you’d not blame yourself, that you’d marry, have children, and live a long, happy, fulfilling life. For fifteen years I’ve watched and waited for a chance to fulfill my promise to her, Malcolm,” Smith went on, relentless. “Sometimes I thought you might be happy going on the way you were. I even hoped you might find a prostitute you could love—a woman who would know about your proclivities and perhaps share them.” He shrugged at whatever he saw on Malcolm’s face. “I’m sorry if you find that insulting, but whores are people with wants and needs—my friend Nora Fanshawe taught me that—and they can make the best mates in the world for men like us.”

“I’m not insulted,” Malcolm growled. “I’m amused—bitterly—that you’re so bloody stubborn and refuse to accept how women—whores included—react to me, which is with revulsion at worst and toleration at best.”

“Did Julia react like that?”

Malcolm hesitated only a fraction of a second before opening his mouth to answer, but it was long enough for Smith to shove his foot into the doorway he’d opened.

“No, I didn’t think so,” Smith said.

“She hasn’tseenme.”

“That’s not true.”

Malcolm thought his head might explode. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Why don’t you ask Julia?”

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