by Joanna Shupe
Chapter Twelve
Alice nearly chuckled at the outrage on Kit’s face. He was adorable when he didn’t get his way. She suspected it was a rare occurrence.
He wagged a finger at her. “You think you are clever, but I will just ask it in my next turn. Here.” He placed a card on the bed. “Flip.”
She had the higher card once more, which caused his scowl to deepen. The urge to poke at him, to tease him, danced in her chest, but it was cruel to make light of his frustration. She wouldn’t like it if the tables were turned. So, she decided to take it easy on him. “What is your favorite word?”
“Fuck.”
Blinking, she let out a strangled noise at his immediate and crude answer. “Really?”
“It’s the perfect addition to any sentence. Plus, it happens to be my favorite pastime.”
Fire coasted over every inch of her skin, flames licking everywhere and undoubtedly turning her a bright shade of red. Good God, did he say these things merely to embarrass her?
They dealt another hand and Alice won a third time. He drummed his fingers on the armrest. “Damn it. All right, toss me another easy one.”
Well, she certainly wasn’t going to do that now, not after the last answer. She took another sip of wine, liking the warm, relaxed feeling rolling through her veins. It was like a hug from the inside. Cradling the glass in her hands, she studied him, from the deep brown eyes and sharp nose, to his perfectly formed cheekbones and a jaw that could have been carved from stone. Dark evening whiskers covered the lower half of his face, which only enhanced his appeal in her opinion.
Handsome was an understatement when it came to Kit, but he was more than a tall Adonis. There was a magnetism, a charm that drew people to him, yet he made those around him feel included. He didn’t act snooty or above anyone else, even if his looks were extraordinary.
And despite his compelling personality, he was surprisingly private, which only made her greedy to know more. Perhaps this was the ideal game for the two of them.
Inhaling for courage, she asked, “How many women have you been with?”
His mouth twisted in apparent amusement. “Are you truly broaching that topic with just your third question?”
“That is a question, Kit, not an answer.”
Shaking his head, he let out a deep chuckle. “I see. Indeed, I would ask what you mean by ‘been with,’ but since I am not allowed to ask a question then I must assume you mean taken to bed.” Long fingers stroked along his jaw, rasping over the whiskers, and she longed to feel that scratchy skin for herself. When they’d kissed, he had been freshly shaven. What would the stubble feel like on her neck or chest? On her breasts?
Biting her lip, she tried to rein in her wayward thoughts. She had to keep reminding herself that Kit was not the marrying kind. Losing her heart—and possibly more—to him could never happen.
Just as she was about to prompt him for an answer, he reached forward, took both cards and placed them in his deck. He doesn’t want to answer. Her stomach sank. No doubt it was a ridiculously high number, one that would only depress her and cause her to feel inadequate.
I can have companionship any time I want.
Of course he could. And the instant the house party ended, he would return to New York and his women and parties and clubs. Soon he’d forget all about silly Alice Lusk and her inability to watch where she was walking and her embarrassingly cruel mother.
“Alice, look at me,” Kit said quietly. When she dragged her eyes up to his, he said, “I don’t believe in keeping track, like it’s a contest or something to brag about. Women are a gift, a treasure. I am honored when they trust me in such an intimate way, and it feels wrong to break that trust by turning them into a cheap tally.”
“Oh.” She swallowed around the thickness in her throat. “That’s a very good reason for not answering.”
“You assumed it was because the number was high.”
“I did.”
“Would it matter if it was?”
“Not to me. I mean, we’re just friends. As you said, once a scoundrel, always a scoundrel.”
Expression serious, he said, “I don’t hold women to a different standard, either. If I did marry and my bride was not a virgin, I wouldn’t care. As a society, we place too much importance on a woman’s innocence. Let me assure you, there are plenty of women who enjoy what happens in the bedroom. To suggest that women must remain pure, that only men should enjoy the act, is pure garbage.”
The intelligence and practicality of the answer stunned her. He was more progressive than any man she’d encountered—and many of the women, too. “And you think you are a dim bulb,” she chided. “Nothing could be further from the truth, Kit.”
He grew very still, his gaze sharpening, hardening, as he studied her with an intensity that made her squirm. What had she said? She had merely wished to compliment him—
Oh.
He clearly didn’t remember that particular drunken confession.
“I said that last night, didn’t I? In my bedroom?” When she nodded, he rubbed his forehead. “I always complain about my family when I’m that drunk. Don’t pay any attention to those inebriated ramblings.”
“I didn’t.” She certainly didn’t agree with any of the horrible things he’d said about himself.
But if those had been inebriated ramblings, then what about the compliments he’d paid her? The desire he’d confessed? Were those also forgettable drunken ramblings?
“I said more, didn’t I? God, Alice. Please tell me. I hate not remembering and I am panicked over the possibilities.”
She took pity on him. How could she withhold this when he was so tortured by the lack of knowledge? “You paid me some very nice compliments. You offered to remove your clothing, which I declined. And you told me your father said you are as shallow as a saucer.”
“Is that all?”
My cock is hard all the time for you.
The words floated through her mind again, as they had many times since last night, and the effect was the same, the statement causing a barrage of tingles in her bloodstream. Chaos in her lower half. She felt both hot and cold at the same time, the area between her legs throbbing.
“You are blushing, sweet Alice.” Angling in, he rested an arm on the edge of the mattress. “What did I say to cause such a reaction?”
No, she could never repeat it. If she did, she would combust and disappear in a cloud of ash and cinder. “The compliments, they were very graphic.”
“That does not assuage my concerns, actually. Perhaps you could elaborate.”
“I’d really rather not.”
“You are embarrassed to repeat it.”
“Yes.”
His brow wrinkled. “Did I offend you?”
Quite the opposite. The revelation was both flattering and arousing, but there was every possibility he hadn’t meant a word of it. “Not at all. As you said, I shouldn’t pay attention to those ramblings.”
“Hmm.” Sitting back, he sipped his wine. “I never said I lied when I was drunk. If I paid you compliments, they were undoubtedly true.”
Alice choked on the piece of cheese in her mouth. After several coughs and a long drink, she got her breath back. “I see.”
Kit flipped another card. “Let’s keep playing. I intend to get it out of you one way or another.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then you’ll keep collecting cards and lose the game.”
A clever strategy, but one she could employ, as well. “Then I will keep asking why you left the kitchen so abruptly.”
“Damn it, Alice,” he said on a huff that sounded part exasperation and part amusement. “Fine. During the card game, no questions about the kitchen and no questions about last night. Deal?”
“Agreed.”
When the cards were revealed Kit’s was higher in value. “My turn. Do you want to continue our bargain once we return to New York?”
More lessons for recipes. The
thought of not seeing him, of never talking with him again, sat like a boulder on her chest, pressing down and robbing her of breath. She’d grown fond of him in such a short amount of time, and besides, she wasn’t yet transformed into a vixen capable of luring the man she wished to marry.
However, there were practical issues to consider, like how she would dodge her mother and avoid the many pairs of prying eyes at the hotel. “I would like to, but I cannot see how. Besides, you have your life there. Your parties and friends.”
“I could make time.”
Yes, between his many assignations and planning his supper club. Her throat burned with irrational jealousy—which was ridiculous. She had no hold on Kit. They were barely friends. Definitely not lovers. So, why would she care where he spent his nights?
Yet, she did.
And the more time she was in his presence, the stronger the attachment to him grew. Right now, it was a giddiness in the bottom of her stomach when she thought of him, a shiver coasting down her spine when he approached. The longer this went on, though, those reactions would deepen. Soon, she’d find herself heartbroken and miserable because he didn’t return her regard.
It was best to stick to their original plan, which was to confine this bargain to the length of the house party. “It would be impossible.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw but he inclined his head. “I understand. It was silly of me to ask.”
“No, it wasn’t silly. I—” As she talked, she sat up straighter and her injured foot slid off the pillow and thumped onto the bed. Pain exploded in her ankle and she gasped, her eyes screwing shut.
“Shh, it’s all right.” He was there, gently repositioning her foot onto the pillow. “Deep breaths, Alice. In and out. Try to relax.”
“Ow, ow, ow,” she said through gritted teeth.
Gentle fingers clasped her hand. “Squeeze as hard as you can. Breathe and squeeze my hand, Alice. Listen to me and try not to think about your foot. Just breathe and squeeze.”
Using all her strength, she crushed his hand and tried not to cry.
“Breathe, sweetheart.”
The reminder worked, and she dragged air into her lungs. Without letting up on the pressure on his hand, she forced deep breaths. Soon her heart rate began to slow and the pain ebbed slightly. Time stretched and she began to relax, bit by bit, and she became aware that she was still holding on to him as if he were saving her from falling off a cliff.
But she wasn’t ready to let go, not when his free hand was lightly brushing the crown of her head. The long sweeps of his palm soaked into her skin and filled her with tenderness. She’d never had anyone show her this much kindness before. Her mother wasn’t fond of hugs and Daddy wasn’t one for sickbeds.
Just a few more minutes so I can store this feeling up. A pleasant memory for when the house party ended and they left this little bubble of happiness.
“Better?” he finally whispered, his hand stilling on her hair.
She couldn’t lie, so she nodded. “Thank you.”
Neither of them let go.
She kept her eyes closed, unwilling to break whatever spell was happening in the room. “That was surprisingly effective. Where did you learn that trick?”
“My mother. I used to sit at her bedside when she was ill. She was in a fair amount of pain near the end and hated laudanum.”
Alice’s heart twisted for the little boy who had tried to take his mother’s pain away. God, this man was so easy to love. It almost wasn’t fair. “I’m sure she appreciated it.”
“I hope so. It was awful for me at the time, but looking back I am glad I did it.” Clothing rustled and she felt his lips press to the top of her head. “I should let you get some sleep. It’s late.”
Please, stay. Don’t ever leave.
Stupid, stupid Alice. Hadn’t she just convinced herself of the need for space, that she couldn’t allow herself to feel anything more than she already did?
He started to release her. “Wait,” she heard herself say as she clutched his hand harder. “It still hurts.”
His gaze turned speculative as he scrutinized her face. “Does it?”
“Yes,” she lied.
The clock softly chimed the late hour, but she wasn’t tired. It was as if electricity had been injected into her veins, rushing through her blood and giving her power. Her pulse pounded, a steady drumbeat deep inside, and she was slipping, falling, the world disappearing as she stared into his dark brown depths.
Slowly, he bent toward her. “Perhaps a kiss will distract you.”
Kissing her was madness, but Kit couldn’t seem to help himself. Her lips were these perfectly plump, bow-shaped temptations just begging for his mouth. He’d been trying to resist her all night, since the moment he entered her room and saw her luscious hair spread out over her shoulders. Up until now, he’d been doing a fine job.
But then she’d been in pain, and the sight had wrecked him. He’d crumbled, rushing over to make her feel better. The more he touched her, however, the more he seemed to crave it. To need it. Then his reason departed the instant her big eyes met his, beseeching him not to leave.
Christ, he was a fool for those eyes.
He paused just before their lips met. “Or would you rather I left?”
She pulled on his hand, doing her best to bring him closer, so he gave up fighting it and pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her hard. This was different from their earlier explorations. Those had been lessons, a guided descent into vigorous kissing. Now she was on equal footing, giving as good as she got from the start, and the result set his insides ablaze. All the desire he’d been storing the last few days came out in this kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth almost immediately, twining and stroking with hers.
His hand cupped the back of her head, holding her as he devoured her. Delicate fingers slid up his chest and over his jaw, exploring, and blood pooled in his groin in sweet pulses. God, he wanted her too badly. It was all he could think about lately, ever since she sucked on her finger in the kitchen.
She’s a virgin, not a mistress.
And yet his body hadn’t received the message, apparently, because his cock was already hard, pushing against his clothing in a desperate bid for friction. That would have to wait until he returned to his room, however. Kissing was as far as he could take this tonight.
So he continued, making the most of what he could. He changed the angle, deepened the kiss, loving the way she softened to accommodate him and bring him closer. Her mouth was wet and lush, her tongue slick and greedy. If only he could stretch out next to her, feel the length of her alongside every part of him. Wrap his arms around her, sink inside and just stay there for days.
She let go of his other hand and shifted to put her arms around his shoulders. His free hand drifted to her waist, then higher, where he caressed her ribs through a few layers of flimsy cloth. More wasn’t possible with Alice, but it didn’t stop him from wanting it, from contemplating sliding his hand under her dressing gown and finding her breast, tugging on her nipple.
As if reading his mind, she arched her back and thrust her breasts higher in offering. His thumb swept over the plump side, and she moaned in her throat. Yes. He could live on that sound for the next fifty years. It was honest yet bewildered, as if she couldn’t believe what he was doing to her and never wanted him to stop.
She didn’t pull away. Instead, she whispered, “Please,” against his mouth.
He didn’t tease her. If she was bold enough to demand it, then he would deliver. His palm covered her breast over the dressing gown, the supple weight filling his hand. Her nipple was hard, begging for his lips and teeth—
A nearby door closed, the sound penetrating the fog in his brain.
He drew back, panting. “Who—?”
Alice slapped her hand over his mouth. She put up a finger, telling him to wait, her head cocked toward the sound of the noise.
A few seconds later, she turned to him, her face pale. You have to g
o, she mouthed.
Had it been her mother? He wasn’t certain who slept in the nearby rooms. It could have been Nellie, for all he knew. He kept his voice barely a whisper. “Who was it?”
“I’m not certain, but you need to go. Hurry, before someone catches us.”
He tried to ignore the disappointment crawling through his gut like a spoiled egg. There was nothing to do but pack up and sneak out, hoping like hell they avoided discovery. Being found in Alice’s room would ruin her and he would hate for that to happen.
He soon had the wine and food all hidden away in the basket. He returned the chair across the room and then stood at her bedside, unsure what to say but reluctant to leave.
Go, she mouthed, and waved her hands toward the door. “Hurry.”
Now was not the time to press his case. Tomorrow. They would discuss this tomorrow with clear heads and no one listening. Then he could give her another lesson, possibly two, and convince her that finding time in New York wouldn’t be as difficult as she believed. They could make this work, at least for a little while.
Nodding once, he lifted the basket and crept to the door, watching for loose floorboards. The latch opened silently and then he was in the corridor. He gave her one last look before he eased the door closed. Her lips were swollen, the silken strands of her hair mussed from his hands. The swell of her breasts pushed against the dressing gown as her chest rose and fell with the rapid pace of her breathing. She was deliciously rumpled and absolutely gorgeous.
Yes, they would definitely speak tomorrow.
Alice might be stubborn, but so was he. They got along and there was no harm in kissing, was there? He wouldn’t take it further and between kisses he could answer all her questions about men. She would provide him with a few more of Franconi’s recipes and they would go their separate ways. It was a perfect plan, actually.
The corridors were empty, no sound he could discern. Whoever had been walking about was settled inside their room. Still, when he arrived at the other end of the chateau, he exhaled in relief. He and Alice escaped discovery, just as he had promised.
Good to know I haven’t lost my touch.