by Lauren Smith
The thought stopped him cold. The very idea of Alex with another man set his teeth on edge again.
It’s not as though you could marry her, his inner voice reminded him. He didn’t believe in tying himself to one woman for the rest of his life, nor did he have any interest in a country house filled to the brim with squalling babes and a fretful nanny. He preferred London and its wild pace and exciting venues.
Yet when he looked at Alex, standing proud and playful in the garden, wielding a croquet mallet, her hair blowing in the breeze and the heated blue sky that made her skin flushed and her eyes bright… Perhaps the country wasn’t as very bad as all that.
In less than an hour, both he and Vaughn had been soundly beaten by their fair ladies, and in the midst of their defeat, he and Vaughn had been laughing and smiling. A twinge of pain in his chest made him long for days past, for friendships that had withered and died. He rubbed his chest above his heart as he watched Vaughn bending to pick up wickets with Miss Darby’s assistance.
The girl was clearly interested in Vaughn, but he knew what obstacles Perdita faced, and Vaughn’s cold heart was only part of her battle. The Darbys were a country-based family with no real influence in London and no titles. It was not hard for a gentleman like himself who had no title to become a favorite among the ton, but ladies without a blue-blooded lineage to boast of faced tough odds. Of course, if Vaughn was desperate enough, he would take any decent lady with any coin at the ready. Miss Darby didn’t deserve to marry a bounder like Vaughn. She was too nice of a girl to be tricked into such a fate.
“Something troubles you?” Alex stood next to him, her face a picture of intense reflection, as though she was making a study of his thoughts.
He cleared his throat and gave a small nod in Perdita’s direction. She was talking to Vaughn, her smile warm and her manner inviting but by no means coquettish. From what he had discerned of Alex’s friend, Perdita had a generous and open heart. It made her perfect prey for a man like Vaughn.
“That troubles me. It bears watching.” He didn’t wish to elaborate, and thankfully Alex seemed to know his fears. She adjusted her white shawl about her shoulders. It had rosebuds embroidered along the hem, the blood-red petals drawing his eyes as he tried not to look at her face again. He was trapped in dreams of kissing her, plundering her sweet mouth and sliding his hands in the secret places of her body and swallowing her cries of ecstasy.
“And here I believed you were the man to scare us genteel ladies. But if Lord Darlington frightens even you, it is a concern I will keep in mind.” Alex moved to stand in front of him, and he felt the heavy pull of her gaze. He raised his eyes, knowing he was damned.
“Ambrose…” She tilted her head as though sensing his reluctance.
When he locked his gaze on hers, he let out the words that would damn him.
“I cannot look at you without remembering the way it felt to hold you in my arms,” he whispered huskily. “All I can think about is kissing you, the feel of you beneath me and drowning in your sweetness. It is torturing me.” He didn’t look away and neither did she, though her cheeks pinkened. It was a small mercy that the croquet field was a distance from the tea tables so they could not be overheard.
“If we were to start, we might never stop,” she murmured, her eyes fixed on his lips, with a wanton hungry expression that seemed to echo his own soul. They’d started down a dangerous road outside the gardens when they’d pleasured each other, and he knew it would soon deepen when they finally made love. Made love. He’d never really used those words when thinking of bedding a woman, but with Alex, there had been a softness in his heart that frightened him.
Lord, he was damned for wanting her.
Chapter 9
There was no way he could resist kissing Alex once they started. She was temptation wrapped in sin like no other woman had been for him before.
“If we were to start, we might never stop…and I shouldn’t want to—not with you,” Alex confessed in a whisper. They were standing so close he could feel the heat of her, and he hated that they weren’t somewhere he could secrete her away and kiss her in the way they wanted.
“Am I so wicked, Alex?” His voice sounded a little deep and throaty, and her eyes darkened. He couldn’t help but continue. “Do you see me as a phantom who would steal into your bed after darkness falls and ravish you?” The mere idea had his body hardening with arousal. She was staring at him hungrily, as though she was picturing the same thing he was.
“You are wicked indeed,” she replied breathlessly, “because I would be tempted to leave the door unlocked…”
Leave the door unlocked? Was that an invitation? Good God. The short distance between them was charged with such tension that he was afraid if either of them moved, it would create sparks. In that moment, nothing existed outside of being with Alex. They were in their own secluded world, filled with heated breaths and promises glinting in their eyes and at the corners of their smiles.
“Alex, love!” her father’s voice boomed, making Ambrose jump. Lord Rockford was striding toward them, beaming.
“I just heard that your cousin Rachel will be joining us for supper tonight. She brought the children. I thought you might be glad to see them.” Rockford was grinning, and it was clear that Rockford adored children. He had no grandbabies, and once Alex’s reputation lay in tatters on the altar of society’s gossipers, she might never find a husband, at least not a good one. And knowing Alex, she would rather embrace spinsterhood than settle for a man she didn’t love.
And I’m the bloody bastard who will shatter those dreams when I ruin her.
He had no choice. Some man was going to get Alex and destroy her, and better that it be a man who cared about her than one who didn’t. But that didn’t erase the heavy weight on his chest at the thought of being responsible for this. He would ruin two lives, Alex’s and Rockford’s.
“I should get home and see that the cook knows to prepare extra places for supper,” Alex said, her smile infectious as she glanced between Ambrose and her father.
“Good idea. I’d come home with you, but Mrs. Darby has enlisted me in a croquet match. Damned if I know how to tell that woman no to anything,” Rockford chuckled. “So that brings me to a request, Ambrose. Would you mind escorting my daughter home?” Rockford asked.
“Of course, it would be my pleasure.” Ambrose was relieved and excited at the idea of catching a few minutes alone with Alex, but he didn’t look her way lest he betray his thoughts or his excitement in front of her father.
“Let me make my excuses to Miss Darby, and then we shall leave.” Alex left to find their hostess, and Ambrose stood by Rockford.
“Miss Rockford has a cousin?” Ambrose asked.
The earl grinned. “Rachel. She and Alex are very close, almost like sisters. She is the daughter of my wife’s elder sister. Rachel married a nice gentleman from Sussex. They don’t visit often enough. You’ll like her husband. Mr. Brandon is a good man.”
“I look forward to making their acquaintance.” Ambrose meant it. He was curious to meet a woman Alex was close to aside from Perdita, although he wasn’t sure why exactly. But he wanted to know more about her, this beauty who hid herself away in the country.
Alex came back a moment later and looked at Ambrose. “I’m ready.”
She collected her shawl and her bonnet and looked eager to leave. Beyond her stood Vaughn, just at the edge of the croquet field, scowling slightly. He had to remain behind since he was officially a guest of the Darbys and not the Rockfords. Ambrose couldn’t help but flash him a smug smile, which made the other man turn his back and try to wave off the crowds of ladies around the tea tables.
Ambrose offered Alex his arm, and they walked away from Darby House and toward the Rockford estate.
“Today was rather wonderful.” Alex sighed dreamily. “It was quite perfect.”
“I have to agree. I was woken up far too early, had to dine on salty porridge, was lost in a cow field
where I almost fell on my arse when I slipped in cow dung, and was soundly beaten at croquet by two ladies. Yes, absolutely splendid day.” He grinned at her cheekily. “Aside from that, everything else about today has been rather wonderful, especially kissing you senseless.” This time he let his tone turn husky as he spoke. He wanted her to remember every kiss as vividly as he did.
He thought of when he’d pleasured her in a secluded part of the gardens, making her moan his name, and how he’d wanted to lie there forever with her in the warm grass and listen to the hum of bees and the chatter of birds. And then when they’d played croquet and she’d made him laugh at her excitement over beating him soundly. He was usually competitive, but her winning fairly had him strangely full of quiet joy. There was something in the way her eyes had sparkled and her lips had curved into an honest smile.
“Although I’m still cross with you for sending me to a field of cows,” he added, chuckling.
“I couldn’t resist.” She bit her lip, but he saw how she was smiling. “I couldn’t let a known rake stay under my roof without attempting to drive you away. It’s what any decent lady would do.”
They entered the road and left the houses and picnic behind. It was a perfect moment for him to have her back in his arms, even for a brief moment, without the watchful eyes of Lothbrook’s matrons and gentlemen to see. Ambrose stopped them, and she turned to face him. “And now? Will you still try to push me away?” he asked. Please say no… It was fun to chase a woman who resisted, but he wanted no resistance from Alex, only mutual desire, because wanting to be with her was becoming less and less of a game to him every minute he spent with her.
“Now…” Her gaze was cloudy with confusion. “I won’t deny that while you frustrate me to no end, I like you…and I like what we did in the gardens.” This last was uttered in a blushing whisper.
“But…”
He could sense she was hesitating about something.
“What are we doing, Ambrose? This—the kisses, the gardens, and the rest?”
His eager smile faded as he knew what she was asking. There would be no proposal, no declarations of love, and she deserved that, yet he couldn’t give it to her. He was not a man to marry, no matter how tempting the thought of Alex was. He didn’t trust his heart to be loyal. He’d never been able to focus on just one woman, and he would not be a husband who left his wife’s bed. Better to not be a husband at all than to be disloyal.
“Alex, sweetheart, I don’t know.” He cupped her face, gazing deeply into her eyes. “I only know that right now, I’d go mad without kissing you.”
Her breath hitched and her lashes fluttered. It was an invitation he couldn’t resist. When their lips met, the kiss was soft and hot, burning him up slowly from the inside out. How could one kiss be so damned good? Like drinking a glass of warm brandy by the fire while it snowed outside. He dined upon her lips, tasting her sweetness and reveling in the way she curled her arms around his neck to keep them close. It was a long while before they broke apart and had to catch their breath.
“Alex, I don’t know what the future holds, but let’s take it one day, one kiss at a time.”
Alex nibbled her bottom lip and sighed. “One day at a time.” She nodded to herself and then straightened her shoulders. “We must get back to the house.”
They started walking again, and Ambrose’s heart was strangely heavy. He didn’t like the sad, distant look in her eyes. He wanted Alex right there in that moment with him, not miles away. Tonight he would come to her, reclaim her attention and her heart for as long as he could.
*****
“Rachel!” Alex rushed to greet her cousin. Rachel laughed and hugged her fiercely.
“I’ve missed you,” Alex murmured, her eyes burning with tears. Sussex was too far away, and she missed her cousin dearly. They’d been as close as sisters once, before marriage and babes had separated them by time and distance.
Her cousin smiled, and then whatever they might have said was interrupted by the tugging of tiny hands on Alex’s skirts.
“Aunt Alex?” A cherubic little girl of five years was looking up at her with wide cornflower-blue eyes.
“Emma!” Alex bent and lifted the girl into her arms. “My goodness, you’ve grown.” The little girl smiled and clapped her hands.
“And Griffin, where is he?” Alex asked, searching for signs of Rachel’s three-year-old boy.
“Here,” a loud, cheery voice boomed. Randolph Brandon came in the front door, a tiny boy in his arms.
“Randolph!” Alex hugged him as well before kissing little Griffin’s cheek. The boy squirmed and rubbed at his face, scowling in the way little boys always did when they pretended not to enjoy receiving kisses. Randolph set the boy down, and he trundled on chubby legs over to where Ambrose stood, hanging at the edge of the room as though unsure whether he was part of the gathering.
“Hello,” the little boy chirped, tugging at Ambrose’s trouser leg.
“Er… hello…” Ambrose greeted the little boy, and Alex couldn’t help but giggle at Ambrose’s perplexed expression. He clearly didn’t spend much time around children, and had no idea how to act. Alex shared an amused glance with Rachel as Randolph exchanged introductions with Ambrose.
“Come, Alex, we must catch up.” Rachel’s green eyes were bright with mischief as they walked out of the entryway into the drawing room. The green-satin-walled drawing room was warm with the glow of the freshly- lit fire in the white marble fireplace. Alex led her cousin and little Emma to a settee. Emma settled herself firmly between her mother and her aunt, swinging her little booted feet, her tiny delicate hands folded in her lap.
“Well now, Alex. Who is that enchanting fellow talking to my husband?” Her cousin’s tone was full of teasing and curiosity.
“That is Mr. Worthing. He is the son of one of Father’s old friends, and apparently Father has known him since he was a child.”
Rachel played with her elbow-length gloves, her assessing gaze taking in Ambrose’s expensively tailored clothes and his fine physique.
“And he came to visit you from London?” she asked.
“Not exactly. He came to renew his acquaintance with my father. We’d never met before.”
“Is that so?” Rachel looked between her and Ambrose. Little Emma imitated her mother’s quizzical, analytical gaze, and Alex almost laughed. The child was growing up too fast.
“It isn’t like that, Rachel.”
“Oh? I thought perhaps that you’d found someone new, after Marshall…” She trailed off, and Alex winced at the little twinge of pain in her chest. She didn’t want to think about Marshall or how his betrayal of her young, foolish heart had hurt her so deeply. Those types of wounds didn’t simply heal overnight. They lingered, like a bad cough in the middle of winter, leaving one uncomfortable and feeling dreadful for months.
“My dear, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned Marshall. It’s just…”
“Just what?” Alex asked.
“Mr. Worthing hasn’t taken his eyes off you since we arrived, and well, a man doesn’t pay such a marked interest in a woman unless he’s truly smitten.”
Both Alex and Rachel glanced Ambrose’s way, and to Alex’s delight, she saw him showing his pocket watch to Griffin. The little boy was reaching out to touch the golden watch face when Ambrose pretended to shut the lid on his fingers and the boy shrieked in delight at the game. It was just as Rachel had pointed out—every few seconds, Ambrose’s gaze darted to her, then his cheeks reddened slightly, and he focused back on the toddler.
“How do you know?” she asked.
Her cousin smiled. “It was that way with Randolph. We met in the middle of a ball, and he couldn’t stop looking at me. I was flattered, naturally, but I was used to men looking my way since my debut. But when he tripped in the middle of a quadrille and sent an entire line of men falling down in the middle of the assembly room because he was watching me and not his feet…well…I knew it was more than simple attr
action.” Rachel’s lips curved. “Sometimes two people are simply drawn to each other so strongly that it cannot be denied or fought against, only surrendered to.”
“Surrendered to?” Alex was listening raptly to her cousin, her heart beating fast and hard.
“Love is just that, surrendering, not fighting. When you want to be with someone, you must give up part of yourself forever to that other person and he to you. It’s a fair exchange of hearts and souls.”
“You and Randolph truly knew that early that you were meant to be?”
“Yes, we knew, but it wasn’t something I could explain. There was no divine lightning or choir of angels heralding it as our destiny. It came softly, almost slowly, a need to see each other, to hear each other speak, to whisper in the dark and to dance. Lust came first, as it often does, but even lust tempers over time, and when it does, you’re left with the sweetest, most tender passion of all. The passion of the heart.”
Alex’s throat constricted and she tried to swallow. Thinking of that sort of love, something so powerful, so all-encompassing, was strangely frightening, and yet she wanted it, wanted it so much it brought tears to her eyes.
Was Rachel right? Was Ambrose smitten with her? Alex was too afraid to hope that she was right. As much as Alex didn’t want to admit it, she liked Ambrose, more than liked him, and realizing that made her feel weak and vulnerable. It was so much safer not to fall in love, and she feared she was already falling. There might be no going back from where she was. What if it happened all over again? What if she opened her heart to him, let him inside that vulnerable spot, and he wounded her? Could she survive another blow to her heart?