by Diane Darcy
“Inspired. Aye, that’s a good word for it.”
“I know another good word for it.”
“What’s that?” His eyes laughed at her, and she had a sudden memory of the young boy he’d been, laughing and teasing. One she’d long forgotten, in favor of the scornful young man she remembered.
She shook the thought away. “Plagiarism. That’s the word I was looking for.”
He laughed, as did the girl now behind the bookshelf.
“If only my parents had chosen an illiterate bride for me.” He was teasing, obviously, but it reminded her that he didn’t choose her. She was foisted upon him.
He was still grinning. “Ye have to give me credit for trying. I do believe I delivered it far better than Sir Scott ever could have.”
“If I ever meet the man, I’ll be sure to let him know you said that.”
He laughed again. “Would ye like anything? Can I purchase a book for ye?”
She shook her head and turned away from the shelves, unwilling to let him by her anything.
“How about a lemon ice?”
Except a lemon ice. She nodded, and when he offered his arm she took it, and as they left, she caught the young girl’s eyes once more, to find her grinning at her. The expression on her face one of yearning. Hoping for a man like Alexander for her own one day?
Well, she couldn’t exactly fault the girl.
~~~
They walked down to the corner and he helped her find a seat at a local café. Within a few minutes, they both had a lemon ice in front of them. She lifted her spoon and took a bite of the tart treat.
“Good?”
She nodded as it melted on her tongue. “Yes. I love this.”
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, enjoying the treats, as they watched the crowds and the carriages roll by.
But he sensed she had pulled away.
They were having fun together, weren’t they? At least he thought so. But her reserved demeanor, when it popped up like it did, drove him crazy.
Thinking of another man? The cowboy mayhap? That man needed to get on a ship and go home. And mayhap drown along the way. What was he doing here, anyway?
Mayhap it was time he laid claim to his lady, in a way that would be unmistakable to her.
He glanced at her lips as she ate the ice and wondered at the reserve he’d sensed earlier. He simply wasn’t thinking clearly where she was concerned.
He needed to lay claim to her.
He needed to make sure she knew who she belonged to.
He thought of their earlier kiss, at the ball, and how angry she’d been afterward.
Angered at the kiss? Or simply angered that they’d had an audience? He certainly knew of one way to find out.
When they’d both finished their ice, he held his hand out to her. “Ready to go?”
When she nodded, and he escorted her out onto the walkway and into his carriage, when the door shut behind them, and he had her alone, he finally had her exactly where he wanted her.
~~~
They were back in the carriage and Alexander had gone quiet.
She glanced out the window to avoid his gaze, still thinking about how it was their parents who had brought them to this, and not their attraction to each other. They hadn’t chosen each other.
Though she couldn’t lie; she was attracted to him.
And the fact that he was trying, well she had to admit it meant a lot to her. Perhaps they could make something out of this, after all.
She glanced at him and caught a look of determination on his face. “Alexander?”
She’d barely said his name when he reached for her. With easy strength, he drew her onto his lap, her legs hanging over one of his.
She was so startled by the action that she gasped, her hands flailing for a moment before settling on his chest. Breathless, she looked up at him. “Alexander?”
And then he was kissing her. Kissing her as if she held his next breath, as if kissing her was the most important thing in his life.
His lips were warm and firm against her own, and as much as she claimed to be an expert at kissing, she actually had very little experience. A few pecks on the mouth, here and there—enough to make her feel dangerous, and seductive.
This, though … this was something different. He kissed her deeply, his arms holding her tight against him, strong, competent, male.
Her heart was thundering, and she slid her arms up around his neck to hold on for dear life, and she couldn’t help but remember her first kiss. The one she’d received from him when she was fourteen, the slightly damp pucker that had disgusted her so.
This—his firm, warm, seductive mouth against her own—didn’t repel her in the least. Rather, it had the opposite effect, setting her senses alive and astounding her, drugging her, making her clutch him close.
Her entire body felt afire, and the way his big hands roamed over her back, drawing her closer was heady, exciting. The pressure of his mouth, as he gifted her with small, pulling kisses, and then longer, deeper ones was driving her to madness.
Her entire body shivered, shuddered, and when he finally pulled back to look into her face, she couldn’t help but lift her gloved hand to his tanned cheek and smile. “My goodness!”
He grinned, leaned in for one more deep kiss, and then pulled back to smile again. “I like that much better than the word revolting.”
“Revolting?” She felt as if her brains were addled. “What do you mean?”
“When I kissed ye when we were children, that was your comment at the time. Ye said ’twas revolting.”
She smiled at him. “I never said such a word.”
“’Tis seared into my memory. A young man, bestowing a kiss on a young girl for the first time. Your response was memorable.”
She imagined it might be, and considered that perhaps his response, the one that had hurt her so much, had been ugly and unkind for a reason.
She pulled away.
He let her go, but it seemed as if he did so reluctantly.
Settling on her seat, she was once more aware of her surroundings, wondering if anybody had happened to look into the carriage and see what they had been doing.
He leaned forward and took her hand, raised it to his mouth, moved her glove and sleeve apart at her wrist, and kissed the skin there.
Eyes wide, she shivered again at the hot press of his mouth. “Alexander,” his name was a breathless whisper.
“Are ye busy tomorrow? Would ye like to go on another adventure?”
She gazed at him. “Are you courting me, Alexander?”
He smiled at her. “Aye, I do believe I am.”
Chapter Seven
By the time Alexander dropped her off, she could barely look at him.
She hurried up the steps to her house and turned to him. “Thank you for a wonderful day.”
“Thank ye for going with me.”
She nodded at him, and hurried inside and shut the door.
Mother came out of the parlor. “Lizzie, whatever had you gone so long?”
She’d been going to let Alexander field that question, but as she’d left him on the other side of the door, she’d have to come up with her own excuses. “Oh, we just became caught up in conversation. We decided to go to the bookstore, and went for lemon ice, as well.”
Mother seemed to consider what to say, and then her face softened. “Oh. Well, I suppose that’s all right, then.”
At age twenty and three, Lizzie was used to her mother monitoring her every move, especially when they were in London. So the fact that her mother was being so lenient, and so obvious, made her want to laugh.
“You’re sure?” she asked her mother. “I mean, we were gone for a long time. If you feel the need to punish me, or reprimand me, I will completely understand. In fact, Alexander is supposed to take me out again tomorrow, but perhaps I should send a note telling him it’s not all right?”
Mother waved a hand in the air and her smile said
she knew exactly what Lizzie was doing. “Oh, no. It’s fine. It’s all fine.” With a satisfied smile, her mother turned and walked back into the parlor. Lizzie slowly went up the stairs, and into her room. Once she arrived, she dropped her reticule on the bed, and sat down in front of her mirror. She gazed at herself, and was horrified to realize her lips were slightly swollen, and reddened.
She slowly put her fingers to her lips, remembering their kisses in vivid detail, and also realizing her mother must have known she’d been kissing Alexander!
She stood, overturning the chair. “Oh, dear lord!” Horror had both hand flying to cover her mouth as she spun away from the mirror. Looking this way and that, she finally threw herself on the bed and started to giggle.
Apparently, something that with any other man would have gotten her the switch, even at this age, was all right with Alexander.
No wonder her mother had looked so self-satisfied as she’d gone back into the parlor.
Lizzie pressed her face into the coverlet. What was she feeling? Embarrassed? Humiliated? Happy? Excited?
As always, Alexander seemed able to engender a range of emotions in her that she hadn’t even realized she harbored.
Perhaps, as Mrs. Trimble had said, she was meant for him? Why was she fighting it? She liked spending time with him. She’d certainly enjoyed it today.
She rolled over to stand again as that old uneasiness cropped up. At one time, he’d been very clear that redheads were not his type. Could men truly change?
He was being sweet, and there seemed to be real attraction between them, didn’t there? Her experience in such matters was limited, but she thought it was going well.
She let out a deep breath.
Perhaps she could marry him after all.
~~~
The next day, they were out and about again and this time he surprised her with a horse race.
When they arrived, she turned to him, her eyes bright and shining, and Alexander’s own spirits rose as well.
He knew Lizzie, he assured himself. He did know what made her tick, and this week he was proving it. He hadn’t been able to get the kiss out of his head since yesterday, and sincerely hoped she’d not been able to either.
Dressed in a yellow gown, she looked splendid in the springtime air. Her glorious hair was pulled up and she wore a hat, baring the base of her neck. He had to force himself not to lean down and press his lips there. They’d be married soon enough, and then he could do whatever he liked.
The thought filled him with satisfaction.
As they stood off to one side of the green, three riders lined up their horses and carriages. Racing was a dangerous occupation, and not one he’d willingly enter himself. Very aware of their linked arms, he pressed her hand with his, holding her in place against him. “Do ye know the rules?”
She shook her head.
“In an event such as this, there truly are no’ many. The course itself is about a half-mile, and they will end where they start. We’ll be able to see most of it because they will ride in a circle and we can cross over and see how they’re faring.”
She let go of him and moved forward, standing on tiptoes as she tried to get a better view. “Have you done this yourself?”
“Nae, ye’d not catch me in such a foolish endeavor, risking life and limb for naught.”
She smiled at that. “Who are we cheering for?”
He chuckled, again, charmed by her enthusiasm. “To tell ye the truth, I dinnae know who the participants are. I heard about this at my club a couple of days ago, and haven’t kept up on the gossip.”
He glanced down at her, a meaningful glint in his eye. “I’ve been a little busy.”
She smiled at him, obviously taking his meaning, and he slid a hand to her waist. He only left it there for a brief moment, as he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but it was enough to feel her shiver, and that telling reaction filled him with satisfaction.
He was glad to know he was having an effect on her, as well, for she had invaded his dreams.
The participants lined up to race, and he was watching Lizzie so he saw her mouth fall open in surprise. “Alexander, in the middle there, it’s the American cowboy, Mr. Russell.”
At that, Alexander searched the lineup, and, sure enough, his new nemesis, looking capable and dashing, was at the starting line, his reins held in a firm grip.
The first ugly thought that entered his head was mayhap the man would break his neck and save Alexander the trouble. “So it is.”
He was proud of his neutral tone, as what he really wanted to do at this point was snatch Lizzie away, and escort her off the field.
Even as he watched, the cowboy looked directly at Lizzie, grasped the top of his hat, and lifted it off his head with a nod in her direction. Blast that man, anyway.
The men lined up to the starting line, and another gentleman, looking slightly lost in his cups, lifted the gun in the air and fired.
The horses flinched, untrained to firearms, and Alexander shook his head at the idiot move.
The three men perched atop their carriages wielded the reins and yelled as their steeds surged forward.
Much of the enjoyment of the day drained away for him.
He watched as the men rounded the corner. One of the wheels on the carriage to the right lifted off the ground then settled back again as the course straightened out.
Along with the rest of the crowd, Lizzie moved forward, and came back and grabbed him by the hand and tugged.
He liked that well enough.
Gripping her hand in his, he allowed himself to be pulled forward over the slight rise so they could watch the racers round the second bend.
The cowboy was in the lead, curse him.
One of the other men had a wheel that wobbled precariously, and Alexander wondered if the man had the brains to pull up, and save not only himself, but potential harm to his cattle.
Even as he thought it, the man tugged on the reins, urging his horses to a stop.
The cowboy and the other man were neck and neck as they came into the last corner. Both looked to be competent horsemen, and Alexander mentally urged the other man, who he recognized as Lord Lambert, to outrace the cowboy.
On the curve, Lambert’s horses went too far onto the green, and his right wheel struck a rock, making the carriage bounce, wobble, and lose precious seconds of time.
By the time Lambert straightened his cattle and made a run for the finish, it was too late; Mr. Russell’s horses surged forward to finish first.
The man won by several lengths.
Alexander offered Lizzie a tight smile and hostility settled like a lump in his stomach as she jumped up and down, screeching her pleasure.
Blast it! The man came out a hero, and after Alexander said he would not have anything to do with such a race.
He must look weak, or boring, in her eyes.
Did he look weak or boring in her eyes?
He felt the desire to offer up some story about the war in which he’d come out sounding heroic, but didn’t want to be obvious or make himself foolish.
As the crowd rushed forward to offer their congratulations, Mr. Russell accepted it as his due. After a few moments, he handed his team off to another, and headed toward Lizzie with a bouquet of flowers that had appeared out of nowhere.
Oh, this just got better and better, didn’t it?
“Lady Elizabeth! Did you see me win?”
She clung to Alexander’s arm, which took away some of his ire. “I did! We did! Very impressive, Mr. Russell!”
“These are for you.”
“For me?” She glanced up at Alexander, and then reached for the flowers. “Oh. Thank you.” Of course, in reaching for the flowers she had to let go of his arm, which didn’t please him in the least.
Was he jealous?
Aye, he was. Burning with it.
Was it appropriate for the other man to give his intended flowers?
No, it wasn’t.
&n
bsp; Alexander reached forward and took the flowers out of Lizzie’s hand and slapped the blooms into the other man’s chest. “Sorry, old man. But Lady Elizabeth is taken and doesnae need any more admirers.”
The other man grinned, a smirky twisting of lips. “Oh, I don’t consider myself an admirer so much as a contender for her hand. And I do like to win.”
When the man tried to hand Lizzie the flowers once again, Alexander batted them to the ground. “She’s mine.”
“Alexander, don’t,” Lizzie whispered.
He wanted to do something more, perhaps strike the man down as he’d done with the flowers. They locked gazes, and Alexander watched to see what the man’s next move would be.
“Alexander, please.”
The distress in Lizzie’s voice had the other man looking at her. “Don’t worry, Lizzie. I’m sure this will get sorted out one way or another.”
As Mr. Russell walked back to his admirers, Lizzie turned her angry gaze on him. “Why did you do that?”
“If ye want flowers, I’ll be the one to buy them for ye.”
She snorted and turned and walked toward the carriage. “The last time you bought me flowers, they meant something horrid.”
“Apparently I’m not a flower enthusiast. What of the flowers Mr. Russell tried to give you?”
“They were forget-me-nots.”
He growled his impatience. “What was their meaning?”
She turned her face away and murmured, “True love.”
He drew in a breath, wanting to go after the other man and throttle him. “And is he?”
“Is he what?”
He needed to keep the words behind his teeth, but uttered the anyway. “Is he your true love?”
She shot him a vexed glare as he handed her up into the carriage. When they were seated across from each other he asked, “Well?”
“Well, what?”
He scowled. “Is he your true love or not?”
“Are we truly going to have this conversation?”
Again he told himself to desist, but jealousy stabbed into him and he couldn’t refrain. “I want an answer.”
“Fine. Here’s your answer. It’s none of your business.”
“It is my business.” He signaled the driver to take them back to her house. Fuming, he glared at her profile and she looked out the window, no doubt hoping for a glimpse of her cowboy.