“Vulgar.”
Her whispered word made Alec scowl. By God, how he loathed that term. He’d heard it far too often in his childhood.
“Not vulgar, exactly,” Sydney corrected her. “But Mother never approved of my father’s friendship with yours. Even you must admit that the squire was a coarse and immoral fellow. Not to mention that your mother is rather—”
“Crass. Yes, I’m perfectly aware of my family’s faults.” The woman’s voice held such wounded dignity that Alec winced. “I know what you’re trying to say, and I don’t blame you for deciding we shouldn’t marry.”
“No! That’s not it at all! You know you’re the only woman for me.”
Alec gritted his teeth. Blast. For a moment there, he’d thought—
“I merely need time to bring Mother round,” Sydney went on.
“I don’t have time,” the woman said regretfully. “Mama has warned me that if you don’t offer in the next two weeks, she’ll tell everyone I’m free and take the best offer for my hand that presents itself before we return to Cornwall.”
Alec pricked up his ears.
“She can’t do that!” Sydney protested.
“Of course she can’t. She knows I’d never comply with such a Gothic maneuver. But until I do, life at home will be horrible. And we do need money—”
“I know.” Sydney gave a heavy sigh. “All right, give me the two weeks to bring Mother round. If I can’t, I’ll ask your mother for your hand anyway.”
Alec rolled his eyes. Offer for the woman and be done with it, or give her up and let someone else take the field.
“What difference will two weeks make?” the woman asked quietly.
Smart wench.
“Dash it all, Kit, what do you want from me?” Sydney’s voice turned bitter. “Unless you’re the one changing your mind. Perhaps you’ve decided you want to marry a more exciting man than a quiet poet.”
“Like who, pray tell?”
“Well, there’s Iversley, for one, and all his staring at you.”
Alec chomped down hard on his cigar to restrain his laugh. This was priceless. He ought to feel guilty for causing the poor blighter’s misery, but any man who let his mother run his life brought that misery on himself.
“Just because he stared—” she began.
“You stared back. Why, you had that devil toasting you, of all things. Right in front of everyone.”
“How do you know he wasn’t toasting you? You’re his school chum.”
Alec frowned. Did he know a Sydney from Harrow?
“I was never his chum—he wouldn’t have toasted me. And you know it, too, or you wouldn’t have blushed so furiously.”
“How else should I react when a man you called ‘wild and reckless’ stares at me?”
Alec’s eyes narrowed. Wait a minute—wasn’t there a versifying twit at Harrow who’d always eyed him with contempt? Ah yes, Sydney Lovelace, heir to a baronet and a mama’s boy.
“You didn’t have to encourage Iversley,” Lovelace grumbled.
“I doubt a wicked fellow like that needs encouragement. Don’t his sort consider it their mission to debauch everything in skirts? Lord knows Papa did.”
By God, the woman was frank. But at least she understood society’s hypocrisies, another point in her favor.
“Honestly, Kit,” Lovelace said, “sometimes you know more than any respectable young lady should about… well… things like that.”
“Now we reach the heart of the matter—how much my character resembles my immoral father’s,” she said bitterly. “Well, you may be right. Because I want to know even more about ‘things like that.’ ”
Alec found this conversation more fascinating by the moment.
“Good Lord, what are you saying?”
That she wants you to show her those things, you clod-pate. Then you won’t have to accuse her of flirting with complete strangers.
“I’m saying I want to know how you feel about me,” the woman retorted.
“But you do. You’re the only woman I want to marry. Why, I’m dedicating my poem to you at the reading tomorrow. How much more do you need?”
The man was thick as a post, for God’s sake. If this was the competition, Alec would be married within the week.
“I need something more than a poem from you!” Her voice turned low and pleading. “For goodness sake, I’m twenty-two, and I’ve still never been kissed.”
“Katherine!”
Sydney’s unreasonable shock made Alec shake his head. Following propriety in public was one thing, but in private—
“We’re as good as engaged,” Miss Merivale pressed on, “and engaged people sometimes kiss. Even the proper ones.”
“Yes… but… well… I would never show you such a lack of respect. And surely you wouldn’t want me to.”
“You might be surprised,” she muttered.
Alec smothered a laugh. Seized by an urge to see as well as hear this fascinating discussion, he edged out from behind the pillar. Lovelace wore a look of sheer panic, but Miss Merivale stood resolute, her cheeks fetchingly flushed and her expression imploring.
The man was either stupid, blind, or mad. What sane man could resist a woman like that? Was there another woman, perhaps? Lovelace didn’t seem the philandering type.
“I swear I don’t know what’s come over you.” Lovelace scowled. “It’s Iversley, isn’t it? He’s got you all confused, thinking about things you… shouldn’t. Him, with his toasting and his flirting—”
“It has nothing to do with him!” the woman snapped. “I don’t even know the man. But I’ll bet he would kiss me if I asked him to.”
As soon as she said it, she clapped her hand over her mouth in horror.
Too late for that, sweetheart, Alec thought smugly. Now you’ve attacked the poor man’s pride. Even a cock-robin like Lovelace won’t stand for it.
Lovelace drew himself up stiffly. “If that’s the sort of reckless behavior you want, then perhaps I’m not what you need in a husband. But if you want a man who sees past the superficialities of the physical, and who adores you for your cleverness and your responsible character, you know where to find me.” Turning on his heel, Lovelace stalked back into the ballroom.
Leaving Miss Merivale behind and the field clear.
Alec stepped out of the shadows. “As it happens, Miss Merivale, you’re right. I would definitely kiss you if you asked me to.”
Chapter Three
Sometimes a proper female’s public
behavior merely hides her thirst
for passion.
—Anonymous, A Rake’s Rhetorick
Katherine couldn’t believe her eyes. Lord Iversley? Here on the gallery? Bad enough that she’d quarreled with Sydney so awfully, but to have a witness to her humiliation… Bother it all, had he heard the entire conversation?
“H-How long have you been there?” she stammered.
“Long enough.” The moonlight glimmered over his handsome features as he fixed her with a decidedly predatory look.
What incredible eyes he had, direct and focused and unearthly blue. Although he couldn’t be more than twenty-seven, his eyes said he knew secrets about life and the world beyond her ken. About her now, too, depending on how much he’d just heard.
Mortification seized her anew. “Why were you spying on us?”
Tossing down his cigar, he crushed it under his booted foot. “I merely came out for a smoke.”
“It’s rude to listen to other people’s conversations.”
“No more rude than talking about people behind their backs. Though I didn’t realize I was such a wicked rascal.”
Her face flamed. This was horrible. “We didn’t mean… that is… My goodness, you must think us awful.”
“I didn’t really mind. Especially after hearing about your plight.”
His low rumble of a voice and daring smile made her shiver deliciously. “My plight?”
“Twenty-two, and never been
kissed. I stand ready to oblige you. As you said I would.”
A thrill coursed through her, and she stamped it out. The last thing she needed was a man like him pursuing her. Especially when his only purpose was seduction. Perhaps Sydney was right about her gown—perhaps it had given his lordship erroneous ideas about her chastity. She’d lose both Sydney and her virtue if she weren’t careful.
“Thank you for the offer, my lord, but I’m not yet sunk so low that I must beg a stranger for kisses.”
“I’m not exactly a stranger.” He stalked toward her with a tiger’s lazy grace. “In the last ten minutes, I’ve learned quite a lot about you.”
“Like what?” Edging back, she came up squarely against the marble rail.
He stopped only inches away. “You’re straightforward and practical and—”
“Wanton? Isn’t that why you’re here—because I asked for Sir Sydney’s kiss within your hearing?”
His eyes riveted her. “I’d call it brave. And honest. You go after what you want without apology. I admire that trait in anyone, but especially in a woman.”
“Oh? Why ‘especially in a woman’?”
A shadow eclipsed his rakish smile. “Because women are too often taught to do as they’re told without question. That’s never wise for anyone.”
“Strange advice, coming from a man accosting a young woman alone.”
The rakish smile reappeared. “I’m not accosting you. I’m only confirming what you already claimed—that I’d kiss you if you asked me to.” His gaze trailed leisurely down her throat to her breasts, then her belly, then lower. Bold and seductive, it seared her wherever it touched. “Believe me, if I’d been in Lovelace’s place, you wouldn’t have had to ask.”
Despite the thundering of her heart in her ears, she tried to sound light and sophisticated. “I’ve no doubt of that, judging from what I’ve heard about you.”
His eyes narrowed. “Oh?”
“I’m sure you know the tale. Irresponsible young lord behaves badly, is sent off to foreign shores to keep him out of trouble, where he cavorts across the Continent until his father dies and the older—but probably not any wiser—lord comes home to see what havoc he can wreak there.”
Amusement glinted in his eyes. “How clever of you to reduce my life to a clich�.”
“How careless of you to turn it into one.”
His amusement vanished. “So you believe what’s said of me?”
“Your present behavior certainly confirms it.”
He advanced on her until she was staring right up at the boldly carved cheeks and two slashes of eyebrows that gave him a roguish appearance. “And here I’d thought you might give a man the benefit of a doubt. You certainly gave Lovelace quite a lot of it.”
She blushed. “I know that for all his faults, Sydney cares deeply for me.”
“Just not enough to kiss you when you ask.”
“You don’t understand—”
“Ah, but I do. He’s too much a coward to stand up to his mother, so he blames you and your family for his shortcomings.” He bent close to add in a whisper, “But I’m no coward, and I, too, go after what I want, Katherine.”
Exactly like the great Alexander himself, who’d conquered not only Asia, but several women, too. And why did his lordship’s husky voice make her own perfectly ordinary name sound as exotic as Cleopatra? “How do you know my name?”
“Aside from the fact that Lovelace used it, I asked Lady Jenner about you.”
Excitement shot through her. No man had ever asked about her before. Of course, she’d hardly been in society at all, but it was still flattering.
Which was probably why he’d said it. Her eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t call me Katherine. It’s not proper.”
“Would you prefer Kit? I don’t think that suits you nearly as well.”
Oh, he was very good at this—he’d probably memorized The Rake’s Rhetorick by the age of twelve. His compliments muddled her thoughts when rational thinking was crucial.
She forced herself to sound cool and unaffected. “I prefer ‘Miss Merivale.’ In fact, until we’re formally introduced, you shouldn’t even speak to me.”
He chuckled. “Aren’t you rather strict about the proprieties for an unmarried woman who only moments ago was angling for a kiss in the moonlight?”
She lifted her chin. “Sydney and I are very nearly engaged.”
“And he apparently intends to keep it that way forever.”
Although she’d thought the same thing, she hated hearing it from this eavesdropping wastrel. “You don’t know anything about him. He’s an accomplished poet, well respected for his verse, and a better man than you are, for all your lofty title.”
“No doubt. But he won’t kiss you. And I will.” Catching hold of the gold sash tied around her waist, he tugged her closer.
Her pulse jumped in a frenzied dance. “I don’t want you to kiss me,” she protested feebly.
He cast her a mocking smile. “No? Then why are you still here, instead of racing off inside to join your lackluster suitor?”
No wonder he’d formed the wrong impression. Taking him off guard, she yanked her sash free, then hurried toward the gallery door.
She made it only a few steps before he caught her by the elbow. “Come now, don’t leave yet. There’s no one to see if you break a rule or two.”
A shiver went through her as he skimmed his gloved hand down her bare arm to capture her hand. It had to be fear she felt. So why didn’t she resist when he tugged her back to stand between him and the railing?
Because sometimes she grew tired of being responsible. Ever since Grandfather’s death, she’d been the one overseeing the servants, dealing with merchants, and teaching her siblings.
Still, she mustn’t forget the lesson her parents’ behavior had taught her daily—that recklessness led to ruin. “Sydney says you’re very good at breaking rules.”
“He also says you shouldn’t want to be kissed. But you do.” He braced his hands against the marble on either side of her to trap her between his arms. “So why not take advantage of a man who wants to satisfy your desire?”
How clever of him to make it sound as if she’d be taking advantage of him. “I don’t want to impose,” she said sarcastically. “I’m sure you’re much too busy obliging the Lady Jenners of this world to bother with the likes of me.”
“At least I’m not too busy catering to my mother.”
That hurt, especially since it echoed her deepest fears. She swallowed. “Sydney will kiss me when the time is right.”
The earl looked unconvinced. “Let’s say he finally does unbend enough to do it.” His warm breath wafted over her cheeks. “Perhaps on your wedding night, if that ever comes. That doesn’t mean you can’t kiss me tonight… to form a basis for comparison in the future.”
“Why should I want that?”
“So when you’re settled into your very dull marriage with your very dull Sydney, you’ll know exactly what you’re missing.”
She eyed him askance. “And I suppose you can show me what that is.”
“Most assuredly.”
“Tell me, do most women find your arrogance appealing?”
He cast her a rueful grin. “I’ve never tried it on anyone but you.”
“I seriously doubt that.” When his eyes darkened, she added, “I hear you’ve had plenty of experience with women. You don’t need me to add to your store.”
“Ah, but you need me to add to yours. Because if you wait for Sydney, you might wait a lifetime.”
The truth of that statement struck her mute. And it kept her mute when Lord Iversley lowered his head.
To be fair, he gave her plenty of time to protest. His lips lingered a breath away from hers for a long moment. When she did nothing, he took that for consent, which she supposed it was. She was curious, after all.
But the minute their lips met, she knew why curiosity was so dangerous. Because although her mind sputtered its
outrage, her body gave in like the shameless wanton Sydney probably thought her to be.
Then the earl fit his mouth snugly over hers, and Sydney became irrelevant. He had never smelled of smoke and secrets. He had certainly never made her pulse race madly, except in her dreams at night.
Now her dreams would never be the same. But how could she have guessed kissing would be so… so delicious, even with the wrong man? And Lord Iversley was definitely the wrong man. Too bad he kissed like heaven, his lips gliding over hers softly… subtly—
She jerked her mouth away. How could she have let him go so far? “Enough, sir. You’ve shown me what kissing is. Now let me go.”
Seizing her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he turned her face up to his. “Ah, but there’s more to kissing than that. So much more.”
“How can that be?” she blurted out, then cursed herself for the question.
His gaze smoldered as it played over her flushed cheeks and quivering chin. By the time it rested on her mouth, the fire was rising inside her, too. “I’ll show you if you like.”
If there was more, perhaps she ought to learn it, so she wouldn’t seem completely inept when Sydney finally did kiss her. “You may show me, I suppose.” She added quickly, “But only for a moment.”
With a chuckle, he ran his thumb sensuously over her lower lip. “Such a sweet mouth you have. Let me inside it.”
Inside it? Before she could question the curious demand, he bent to kiss her again, but this time his thumb pressed down on her chin, urging it open. And then his tongue slid right into her mouth.
Ohhhh. Inside it. So that’s what he meant. How very… odd.
And hot. And bold and thrilling and…
His tongue withdrew, only to advance again. He repeated the intimate motion until she grew too flustered to think, too dizzy to stand. Grabbing at his shoulders, she held on for dear life.
With a low groan, he pressed against her. His arm gripped her about the waist, plastering her to him from breast to thigh, igniting fires wherever his body joined hers.
Lord preserve her, she’d had no idea kissing felt so… wonderful. And reckless. Anything this intensely pleasurable had to be reckless. She should stop him, really she should.
In the Prince's Bed Page 3