of smoke and heather. He wanted something that would set his throat on fire, burn out the thoughts that were torturing him.
Pulling on a quilted blue robe, Alex strode from the bedroom. He went through the columned hall that connected the east
wing to the grand central staircase.
His steps slowed as he heard the betraying creak of one of the steps. He stopped and tilted his head, waiting in the darkness. Creak. There it was again. Someone was descending the stairs. He knew exactly who it was.
A grim smile crossed his face. Now was his opportunity to catch Lily in a clandestine meeting with one of the servants. He
would use the excuse to throw her out of the house. With Lily gone, things would return to the way they had been before.
Stealthily Alex made his way to the side of the balustraded corridor. He caught a glimpse of Lily below in the domed central
hall. The hem of her thin white nightgown trailed gently behind her as she drifted across the marble floor. She was going to meet
a lover. Gracefully she wandered in what seemed to be a mood of dreamy anticipation. Alex was conscious of a bitter sensation seeping through him like poison. He tried to identify the feeling, but its precise nature was obscured in a mixture of anger and confusion. The thought of what Lily was about to do with another man made him want to punish her.
Alex went to the staircase and froze.
What was he doing? The earl of Wolverton, renowned for his moderate, sensible ways, sneaking around his own house in
the dark. Nearly wild with jealousy—yes, jealousy—over the antics of a little madcap and her midnight trysts.
How Caroline would have laughed.
To hell with Caroline. To hell with everything. He was going to stop Lily. He’d be damned if she was going to have her
pleasure tonight. Purposefully he descended the stairs, and fumbled at the small porcelain and wood table in the entrance hall, where a lamp was always kept. Lighting the lamp, he turned it to a soft glow. He ventured in the direction Lily had gone, toward the ground-floor kitchen. As he passed the library, the sound of whispers floated through the door, which had been left ajar.
Alex’s brows lowered in fury as he heard Lily murmuring something that sounded like “Me … Nick …”
Alex flung the library door open wide. “What’s going on?” His gaze swept the room. All he could see was Lily’s small form
curled in a chair. She had wrapped her arms around herself. “Miss Lawson?” He walked closer. The lamplight gleamed in Lily’s eyes and cast a golden shimmer on her skin, and revealed the shadows of her body beneath the gown. She was twitching and rocking, her lips forming silent words. There were furrows in her forehead, lines that seemed to have been carved from intense misery.
A sneer pulled at the corner of Alex’s mouth. She must have realized he was following her. “You little fraud,” he muttered.
“This playacting is beneath even you.”
She pretended not to hear him. Her eyes were half-closed, as if she were caught in a mysterious trance.
“That’s enough,” Alex said, and set the lamp on a nearby table. With rising annoyance he realized that she intended to ignore
him until he left her. “I’ll drag you out of here if necessary, Miss Lawson. Is that what you’re hoping for? A scene?” As she refused to even look at him, his endurance snapped. He seized her narrow shoulders, giving her a hard shake. “I said that’s enough— “
There was an explosion of movement that astonished Alex. Lily gave an animal cry and struck out blindly, springing from the chair. She stumbled back against the table and nearly overturned the lamp. In a quick reflex Alex kept her from falling as he reached out and grabbed her. Even then her panic didn’t cease. Alex jerked his head back to avoid the frantic swipe of fingers curled into claws. Although she was a small woman, her wild struggles were difficult to contain. Somehow he managed to
crowd her against him, crushing her flailing arms between them. She flinched and went rigid, breathing in rapid pants. Alex
slid his fingers through her thick curls and forced her head against his shoulder. He muttered a string of curses and tried to
soothe her. “Christ. Lily, it’s all right. Lily. Relax … relax.”
The heat of his breath sank through her hair to her scalp. He kept his hold on her tight enough that only the slightest movement was possible. She was too disoriented to speak coherently. He tucked her head under his chin and began to rock her gently.
“It’s me,” he murmured. “It’s Alex. Everything’s all right. Easy.”
Lily regained herself slowly, as if she were waking from a dream. The first thing she became aware of was being held in
an inexorable grip. Her cheek and chin were pressed against the opening of a quilted robe, where the brush of wiry hair tickled
her skin. A pleasant masculine scent stirred her memory. It was Alex Raiford, holding her in his arms. Her breath caught in amazement.
His hand moved in a slow stroke on her back. She wasn’t used to being touched so familiarly, not by anyone. Her first instinct
was to wrench away from him. But the circling motion was gentle, softening the brittle tension of her body.
Alex felt the shift of Lily’s weight as she accepted his support. She was light and lithe against him, her small frame trembling
with aftershocks. There was a tugging, twisting sensation inside him, alarming in its sweetness. The pronounced silence of the room seemed to enclose them.
“Wolverton?”
“Easy. You’re not steady yet.”
“Wh-what happened?” she croaked.
“I forgot the old maxim,” he said dryly. “Something about waking a sleepwalker.”
So he had found out. Oh God, what would happen now? She must have betrayed her fear, for he began to rub her back again,
as if she were an overwrought child. “This is what happened the other nights, isn’t it?” His palm moved down the delicate ridge
of her spine. “You should have told me.”
“And give you the idea to put me in some as-asylum?” she replied shakily, making a move to push herself away.
“Be still. You’ve had a shock.”
She had never heard his voice so gentle … it didn’t seem to be his voice at all. Lily blinked in confusion. She had never been
held like this before. Giuseppe, with all his impetuous passion, hadn’t even held her this long during their lovemaking. She felt uneasy, helpless. The situation was beyond her imagination. Alex Raiford, clad in a robe, no starch, buttons, or cravats anywhere in sight. The chest under her head was like the timbered side of a frigate ship, while his muscled legs were impossibly hard
against hers. The beat of his heart resonated in her ear. What would it feel like to be so invincible? He must not be afraid of anyone.
“Do you want a drink?” Alex asked quietly. He had to let go of her. Either that or sink to the floor with her. He was hovering
on the brink of disaster.
She nodded against his chest. “Brandy.” Somehow she mustered the strength to pull away from him. She lowered herself into a leather armchair, while Alex went to the corner cupboard where the liquor was kept. He poured a small amount of cognac into
a glass. In the light of the lamp, his hair shone with the gold luster of a doubloon. As she watched him, Lily bit at her lower lip.
So far she had known him as a arrogant, judgmental figure, the last man in the world she would accept help from. But for one astonishing moment she had felt all his strength surround her. She had felt safe and protected.
He was her enemy, she reminded herself silently as he approached. She must remember that, she must remember …
“Here.” Alex pressed the glass into her hands and sat nearby.
Lily sipped at the drink. The brandy had a light taste, unlike the fruitier distillations Derek always stocked. The mellow liquor
had a steadying effect on her.
Lily drank slowly and glanced at Alex, who hadn’t moved his gaze from her. She couldn’t quite work up the courage to ask if he intended to tell anyone what had happened.
He seemed to read her thoughts. “Does anyone else know?”
“Know about what?” she parried.
His mouth tightened impatiently. “Does it happen often?”
Staring into the brandy glass, she swirled it in feigned absorption.
“You’re going to talk to me, Lily,” he said grimly.
“You may call me Miss Lawson,” she shot back. “And while I’m certain you’re quite curious about my nocturnal habits, it’s
none of your concern.”
“Do you understand that you could hurt yourself? Or someone else? Just now you nearly knocked the lamp over and started
a fire—”
“That was because you startled me!”
“How long has this been going on?”
Lily rose to her feet and glared at him. “Good night, my lord.”
“Sit down. You’re not leaving until you give me some answers.”
“You may sit here as long as you wish. I’m going upstairs to my room.” She walked toward the door.
Alex reached her instantly, spinning her to face him. “I’m not through with you yet.”
“Take your hands off me!”
“Who’s Nick?” Alex knew he had hit a vulnerable spot when he saw her eyes widen to dark pools of fear. “Nick,” he repeated
in a low jeer. “Some man you’re keeping company with? A lover? Does your cher ami Craven know about Nick, or have you—”
With a muffled sound Lily threw the brandy into his face, anything to make him stop, anything to silence the stabbing words. “Don’t say that name again!”
The brandy trickled down Alex’s face in golden rivulets, bright drops sliding down the harsh grooves that were carved from his nose to his mouth. “Not only Craven, but a lover on the side,” he sneered. “I suppose a woman like you would think nothing of crawling from one man’s bed to another’s.”
“How dare you accuse me! At least I confine my infidelities to the living!”
His face went pale while Lily continued recklessly. “You’re planning to marry my sister, even though you’re still in love with Caroline Whitmore. A woman who died years ago! It’s morbid, not to mention unfair to Penelope, and you know it. What kind
of husband will you be to my sister, you obstinate brute, when you’ll insist on living in the past for the rest of …”
Lily stopped as she realized she’d gone too far. Alex’s face looked like a death mask. Once she had read a few lines that would have described him perfectly … More fierce and more inexorable far, than empty tigers or the roaring sea … His eyes bored
into hers with an intensity that terrified her. He was going to kill her. The brandy glass dropped from her nerveless hand and
fell to the thick Savonnerie carpet with a thump. The sound broke Lily’s paralysis. She turned to flee, but it was too late, Alex
had caught her. There was nothing she could do but writhe helplessly as he jerked her head back.
“No,” she whimpered, thinking he might break her neck.
Instead his mouth came down hard on hers, his fingers gripping her nape to hold her still. Lily stiffened in surprise and pain.
Her lips were ground against her teeth until the taste of blood mingled with brandy. There was no way to break free. She
closed her eyes and clenched her teeth.
Suddenly Alex lifted his head with a groan. His gray eyes were hot and radiant, his tanned skin burnished with rising color.
One by one his fingers unclenched from her nape. Almost tentatively, he moved his thumb over her bruised lip.
“You bloody bastard” Lily cried, childishly spiteful. She writhed as he bent his head again. “No-”
He took her lips in a savage movement, sealing off all sound and breath, suffocating her until she inhaled deeply through her nostrils. She made a move to free herself, but Alex gathered her close, tight, his hand sliding down her back and molding her
hips to his. He shaped her mouth with bites and nudges, and sought the silkiness inside, his tongue delving in hot surges.
Helplessly she shoved at his powerful body, dislodging the blue robe from his shoulder. Her palm came against the hair-roughened surface of his chest. Underneath her fingers, a driving pulse seemed to burn through her hand. He made a sound
in his throat and cupped his hands around her head, holding her steady for the deep push of his tongue. His breath rushed hotly against her cheek.
Only half-conscious of what he was doing, Alex moved down to her throat, rubbing his mouth over her skin. His body was
shaking with passion. The past years of loneliness seemed to melt away into nothing more than a dark dream. Feverishly he
buried his lips against her soft shoulder. “I won’t hurt you,” he muttered, his breath burning through her gown. “No, don’t pull
away … Caro …”
The syllables fell so softly on her ears that it took Lily several seconds to realize what he’d said. She froze.
“Let go,” she spat.
Abruptly she was set free. Her dazed eyes flew to his face. Alex looked as confounded as she was. They each backed away
a step. Lily shuddered, crossing her arms over her chest.
Alex passed an unsteady hand over his jaw, wiping away the moist traces of brandy. Aroused and ashamed, he fought the
urge to reach for her once more. “Lily.”
She spoke rapidly, not meeting his eyes. “It was my fault—”
“Lily-”
“No.” She didn’t know what he intended to say, she just knew that she couldn’t listen. It would be disastrous. “This didn’t
happen. None of it. I … I … good night.” She disappeared from the room in a flurry of panic.
Alex shook his head to clear the red mist of passion, and made his way to the chair. He sat down heavily. Finding his hands
were clenched, he opened them and stared into his empty palms.
Caroline, what have I done?
You poor fool, he could almost hear Caroline’s laughing voice say. You thought you could hold on to me forever. You planned to marry a sweet innocent like Penelope, and then you would never have to let me go. As if the memories would always be enough for you.
“The memories are enough,” he said stubbornly.
Why have you always considered yourself above ordinary human weakness? Above grief and loneliness. You think
you need less than other men, when the truth is you need more, much more …
“Stop it,” he groaned, clasping his head in his hands, but Caroline’s mocking shadow-voice persisted.
You’ve been alone for so long, Alex. It’s time to go on …
“I am going on,” he said raggedly. “I’ll make a new beginning with Penelope. God help me, I’ll learn to care for her, I’ll make myself—”
Alex stopped suddenly, realizing he was talking to himself like some poor mad fool, holding an imaginary conversation with a
ghost. He lifted his head and stared unseeing into the empty fireplace. He had to get rid of Lily, if only to preserve his own
sanity.
*
Lily crawled into bed and pulled the covers high under her neck. She couldn’t stop shivering.
How could she face Alex after this? She could feel herself turning scarlet, even in the darkness of her room. How could he
have done that to her? What was the matter with her? Grinding her hot face into the pillow, she remembered his mouth against hers, his arms locked around her body.
He had whispered Caroline’s name.
Humiliated, strangely hurt, Lily rolled over and groaned. She had to settle things between Zachary and Penelope and leave
Raiford Park as soon as possible. She couldn’t manage Alex as she did other men, using her sarcasm, temper, or charm.
He
was impervious to those things, just as Derek was.
She was beginning to understand some of what Alex Raiford concealed behind that implacable face. From his reaction to her mention of Caroline, she knew he had never come to terms with her death. He never would. All his love had been given to Caroline—she’d taken it to the grave with her. For the rest of his days Alex would be haunted by her. He would resent every woman for not being Caroline. An innocent like Penelope would spend her life trying to please him, and find only misery in the effort.
“Oh, Penny,” she whispered. “I must get you away from him. He’ll grind you into dust, without even meaning to.”
*
Contrary to his expectations, Zachary was not announced to Lily upon his arrival at Raiford Park. Instead he was shown to
the library, where the earl of Wolverton awaited him alone. “Raiford?” Zachary questioned, shocked by his appearance.
Alex was sprawled in a chair, his thighs spread wide. A half-drained liquor bottle was balanced on his knee. The golden copper
of his skin was pallid. Dark circles rimmed his eyes. Hard, bitter lines were etched on his face. The smell of whiskey was rank
in the air, as was the acrid odor of tobacco. He was smoking heavily, and had been for some time, if the thick haze in the room was anything to judge by. His fingers were curled loosely around a cigar. Zachary doubted that many people had ever seen
Alex Raiford in such a condition. Some terrible misfortune must have befallen him.
“I-is something wrong?”
“Not at all,” Alex said brusquely. “Why do you ask?”
Hastily Zachary shook his head and cleared his throat a few times. “Ahem. No reason. I thought perhaps … ahem …
you look a little tired.”
“I’m fine. As always.”
“Yes, of course. Ahem. I’m here to see Lily, so perhaps I’ll just—”
“Sit.” Drunkenly Alex waved a hand toward a leather chair.
Zachary complied nervously. A shaft of morning sunlight came through the window and brightened his ash brown hair.
“Have a drink,” Alex said, blowing out a stream of smoke.
Zachary squirmed. “Actually, I make a habit of avoiding strong drink until late afternoon—”
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