Free What You Deserve (Anything for Love, Book 3) by Adele Clee Page B

“Everything?”
    “Everything involving your personal situation.” He coughed into his clenched fist. “If I am to attempt to discover a motive for murder, then I must know what financial arrangements were made for you upon your husband’s death.”
    “A motive for murder,” she repeated. He sounded so confident in his ability to succeed. It brought to mind an earlier comment. He had not spent his time in France in pursuit of pleasure, but in catching criminals.
    “You will need to be completely honest with me,” he said, averting his gaze to glance at the floor. “There can be no secrets between us.”
    Being honest with him had never posed a problem for her. “What do you want to know?”
    He paused, swallowed audibly. “The nature of your relationship with your husband. Details of his relationship with his son. Who owns Highley Grange? Why it is Henry Fernall maintains control? Can you trust the staff here?”
    “Goodness.” She placed her hand to her chest. “Why did you not just say you wanted to know every intimate detail of my life. I am surprised you’ve not asked if I have a lover.”
    The comment was made in jest, purely to express her shock at the depth of information required.
    His expression darkened. “Do you have a lover, Isabella?” His penetrating stare made her shift uncomfortably. “Your husband has been dead these last two years. It would be a natural assumption for anyone to make.”
    She had only ever had one lover. There had only ever been one man who made her body ache at the thought of joining with him. Of course, she had given herself to her husband on numerous occasions. But that was not love. It amounted to nothing more than one’s duty.
    Straightening her spine, she decided it was best to be blunt. “You are the only man I would class as such. A lover is someone who rouses an ardent passion, someone with whom you share a deep emotional connection.” She flicked her hair in an act of disgruntlement. “So no, Tristan. Whilst I did my duty by my husband, other than you, there has been no one else.”
    He pushed his hand through his slightly damp locks, rubbed back and forth as though the motion would ease the tense expression on his face. “What … what happened between us … you must know that it meant something to me.”
    “Did it?” Her tone carried a hint of reproof. He wanted honesty, and she would give it to him. “How would I know that?”
    Pain flashed briefly in his eyes. “We were in love. It was inevitable we would find a way to express all we felt, all we meant to one another.”
    Did he not know that his words cut her to the bone? To remind her of what she had lost was akin to torture.
    Thankfully, Mrs. Birch appeared at the top of the stairs. She cleared her throat and offered a curtsy. “I’ve prepared a light repast, my lady, a broth to warm up your bones. It’s always wise to have a hot meal when caught out in weather such as this.”
    Isabella forced a smile. It took a moment for her to focus on forming a response. While her body was in the present, her mind lingered in the past. “Yes. Thank you, Mrs. Birch. We will be right down.”
    Mrs. Birch nodded and made a hasty retreat.
    “Come. Let us go and eat.” He waved his hand for her to lead the way. “We can continue our discussion downstairs, though there are certain questions you should not answer unless we can ensure absolute privacy.”
    He sounded serious, so sober. She preferred his tone playful, teasing, brimming with amusement. Though they remained silent as they made their way to the dining room, she sensed a heavy pressure in the air that suggested he was deep in thought.
    They chose to sit at the far end of the table, in the seats closest to the fire. Other than passing pleasantries (a mutual admiration for the landscape painting that hung above the fireplace, their predictions of how long it would be before the rain stopped) they ate their meal in silence. She watched him from