Meagan studied his face. Alexander was handsome, almost unbearably so, but he had a sharpness that kept him from ordinary attractiveness. Animals were beautiful like him, not men.
She remembered Prince Damien’s eyes, how blue they’d been and how watchful. Alexander had the same watchfulness, but with differences. Damien hid his scrutiny behind smiles and teasing, while Alexander did not bother. You knew Alexander watched you; you felt his gaze slice you open and dissect what was inside.
Behind his watchfulness lurked a man who knew he had to be careful all the time and wished he did not. Alexander possessed warmth and an intense passion she’d glimpsed when the love spell opened him to her. Meagan had the feeling that no one else in the world, not even his wife, had ever seen that passion, the piercing flame of emotion he kept locked away from everyone.
Meagan rested her palm against his gold and blue sash of office, feeling its stiff threads. “I do not want you to be more like Damien. I like you as you are.”
His gaze softened the tiniest bit, imperceptible if she hadn’t been looking for it. “You please me.”
“Remember, it might be the love spell making me say such things. I properly should be terrified of you. Everyone enjoys telling me how dangerous you are.”
“Yes, I am quite dangerous.”
He said it neutrally, a simple and undisputed fact.
She cleared her throat. “For instance, Nikolai told me that you once ordered half a city in Nvengaria flattened. Did he exaggerate?”
“Yes.”
Alexander turned abruptly and began walking again. Meagan stared after him a moment, watching his lithe body move, then she hoisted her parasol and hurried after him in exasperation.
“You do know that your answers are short as well as blunt,” she said when she caught up to him. “Quite cryptic. Maddening, really.”
“It was only a section of the city,” he said without looking at her. The sun burnished his swarthy face and made his dark hair glisten. “Not half. Narato, the capital.”
He spoke with no defensiveness and no regret in his tone. Meagan remembered what Nikolai had said about people fleeing and barges filling the river, trying to escape Alexander’s wrath.
“Goodness, did you wake up one morning and decide, What a nice day, I think I will flatten half my city? I beg your pardon, I mean a section of it.”
He continued walking, shadows from the high yew hedge dappling his face and his black hair. They had left the crowds far behind, and the long paths were shadowed with thick trees and hidden fountains splashing cool moisture into the air. “Nikolai enjoys the story.”
“Nvengarians are dramatic people, I grant,” Meagan answered.
“Slavers.”
Meagan trotted a few steps to keep up with his longlegged stride. “Pardon? Did you say slavers?”
He nodded. “Slavery and the slave trade has long been forbidden in Nvengaria. With the old Imperial Prince dead and Prince Damien off on a quest, a group of slavers tried to set up shop in Narato, kidnapping free black women and Gypsy girls along the way to fill their bawdy houses. They peddled opium as well, which they brought in through the lands of the Ottomans. I told them to free the young women and leave. They did not listen.”
His tone was so matter-of-fact that Meagan shivered. Slave traders and opium men were dangerous, but what fools they’d been not to be afraid of Alexander.
“You arrested them?” she ventured.
“I sent in the army.” He stopped walking, his eyes hard and opaque. “I told my men to do their worst and raze the area they had infested. The young women were to be freed to either return home or stay in Nvengaria as they chose. The slavers were executed.”
“Oh.”
“It is important for you to understand. If I had arrested them they might have escaped justice, gone elsewhere to continue what they did. Others would have moved in to take their places. I had to end the problem with a final stroke and leave nothing standing for others to take.”
“So the people fleeing on barges…?”
“Innocents who lived in the area. I arranged for them to get out before the army struck. They knew to heed me.”
Meagan imagined most Nvengarians knew that if Alexander said he was sending in the army, then he was sending in the army. “Nikolai needs to modify his story,” she said.
“Nikolai is Damien’s man.”
“Which means he leaves out the part about your compassion to the young women? I suppose having such a ruthless reputation is useful for terrifying people like the new king of England.”
Alexander stopped, his expression guarded. “Yes, it can be useful.”
“You are Damien’s man too, are you not? You work for him now.”
“I work for the good of Nvengaria. Prince Damien has proved himself to be good for Nvengaria.”
“Is marrying me good for Nvengaria?” she asked hesitantly. “A nobody English miss caught in a love spell?”
His lips turned up in the corners, an almost-smile. “I do not give a damn. Marrying you is good for me. As I said, the Nvengarians will find it very romantic. I imagine the ballads will begin the moment word arrives that we are betrothed.” His tone softened. “The very menacing Grand Duke smitten with a red-haired lady with beautiful eyes.”
Meagan’s face warmed. “It is good of you to flatter me.”
“It is not flattery. It is truth.”
“The love spell…”
He reached for her, his voice going low. “Makes me pleased that I have brought you here alone far from the crowd. Because the things I wish to say to you are not the sweet sentiments of an English groom for his bride.”
She found it hard to breathe all of a sudden. “Things like what?” she asked faintly. “Do tell.”
He captured her hand and peeled back her glove. “I believe I will show you instead.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Immensely dangerous.” He lowered his lips to her wrist. Hot fires stirred inside her, the love spell flaring to life.
To her disappointment, he released her hand after one kiss, but the look in his eyes made her heart speed.
He slowly removed his own gloves, tucking them neatly into his waistband. “Since you believe me a compassionate man, I will give you a chance to flee back to your father.”
An innocent miss should have a fit of the vapors when a man, even her fiancé, implied such things to her, but Meagan reasoned that if she had the vapors now, she would miss whatever it was he wanted to show her.
“I would like to stay, please.”
Alexander took her parasol and reticule from her and placed them on a nearby stone bench. “The next time I offer to let you run, I urge you to consider it.”
“Why?” Her mouth was dry.
“For your own good.”
“You sound like Dominic.”
“He is wise.”
He untied the ribbons of her bonnet, lifted it from her head, and placed it next to the parasol. Then he gently unwound her fine lawn fichu from her shoulders and folded it into a thin strip. “Place your hands behind your back.”
Meagan felt a frisson of worry, or perhaps it was only heightened excitement and anticipation.
“Why do you want me to?” she asked.
“It is a game.”
“A Nvengarian game?”
“I believe it is played more places than Nvengaria. I will not hurt you, Meagan. Do you believe me?”
“Yes.” She did, with her whole heart and body.
He stepped behind her and waited. “If I ever do hurt you, if I cause you any pain in any way, even the slightest bit, you tell me. Do you promise? You say ‘Stop, Alexander,’ just like that. Promise me.”
It seemed to be important to him. “Very well, I promise.”
“Good. Now, shall we play?”
Meagan slowly eased her hands behind her back and clasped them together. Alexander wound the lawn fichu around her wrists, gently tying the ends. It was not tig
ht and did not hurt, but she could not move her wrists apart.
She gave a little laugh as he walked back in front of her. “Will you now walk off and leave me to try to get free on my own? Is that the game?”
For answer Alexander cradled her face between his palms and kissed her.
Meagan suddenly understood why the love spell had not plunged them into visions. It did not need to, with them alone in the gardens, a spring breeze touching them, birdsong mixing with the sweet patter of fountains. They could touch each other and kiss to their heart’s content, no need for the love spell to drive them insane.
Alexander scooped her against his tall, warm body, and she melted into the kiss. The velvet heat of his tongue moved against hers, swirling fires through her mouth. She’d never had more than chaste pecks from inexperienced swains, and now Alexander invaded her with a man’s kiss, showing her what kissing truly meant. Not affection, but deep longing and so much need.
Alexander eased the kiss to an end. Then, to her surprise, he sank to his knees, his hands sliding down her torso and the curve of her hips as he went. She felt his fingers on her calves, and he began to move the skirt of her walking dress upward.
“I have imagined you bare to the sun,” he said, touching her thighs with his naked fingers. “The sun on your skin, beautiful on your body.”
“Perhaps it should be high summer when we do this,” Meagan tried to jest. The spring air was cool, although under the heat of Alexander’s breath and touch, the coolness did not seem to matter.
“Yes,” he said, utterly serious.
“Nvengarians are mad,” Meagan said with a half laugh.
“We are a passionate people,” he corrected. “We only pretend we are civilized.”
“If we are discovered here, this could be quite embarrassing.”
He pressed a kiss to the twist of hair between her thighs. “No one will pass Dominic.”
“The Duchess of Gower is a determined lady.”
“No one will pass Dominic,” Alexander repeated.
“Very well, I grant that Dominic is a pillar of strength. But…”
She broke off and gasped as Alexander slid his tongue over the curls, then flicked boldly inside her.
He kissed her as he had kissed her mouth, strokes of fire, deep and deliberate. The delightful friction made her rise on her toes, trying to move her hands apart, frustrated that she could not.
“Alexander, you are a very cruel man,” she gasped. “No wonder the love spell works.”
He parted her legs, his hands warm on her thighs, his ruby and silver rings cool bands amid the heat. She struggled not to cry out as the wonderful feeling went on and on, knowing that somewhere in the garden, held back by Dominic and the screen of trees and yew hedges, the ladies and gentlemen of the ton waited and speculated.
This feeling of his tongue on her was different from when he had been inside her. Then, she’d been stretched and sweetly aching—this was hot joy flying through every limb.
He murmured something into her flesh, and she felt the burn of his whiskers on her thighs. Meagan wanted him to tell her what he’d said, but she couldn’t speak. She was wicked and bad and not a lady, and she loved it.
No wonder women and men pursued one another with such wild ferocity. No wonder they paid Black Annie enormous sums to make ensnaring love spells. The reward was this—a feeling of utter bliss, and though it lasted only a moment, it was worth the heartache of pursuit.
She fought her bonds, wanting to touch him and hold him, the need making what he did still more exciting.
As she struggled, a streak of rapture shot through her, and she nearly screamed out loud. He did not stop, his fingers hard on her flesh, his tongue a point of madness.
She rode on the wave of darkness, her eyes squeezed shut, arching to his mouth. She wanted more and more, and she could not break her bonds….
What a wanton she’d become. Her wantonness should have bothered her more, but here with him, she felt no shame. The magic of Alexander took it all away.
A cry escaped her mouth, one she tried to suppress.
“Yes,” he said against her. “Feel it.”
“Alexander, what have you done to me?”
“Pleasured you,” he said, and then, heartbreakingly, he pressed a last, long kiss to her female mound and rose to his feet.
Her rapture abated, but her heart still pounded, her body streaked with shivering delight. She was marrying him, happy thought. They could do this again and again throughout the long nights of their life.
Alexander straightened her skirts with a gentle hand, but his eyes were anything but gentle. They were filled with fierce possession and wicked glee, just as they’d been at the betrothal ceremony when he’d pressed their blood-streaked hands together.
“You are a bad man, Alexander,” she said.
He nodded, feral smile in place. “Dangerous, I thought we agreed.” He loosened the cloth that bound her hands and draped the fichu about her shoulders again.
“Dangerous to my sanity,” she answered. “I am falling for you.”
“It is the love spell. Love spells make one obsessed.”
“Are you obsessed?”
Alexander held her face in his hands, his rings cool on her skin. “I am obsessed with you. I find I will do anything to be near you.”
“You have stayed away from me for nearly two weeks,” she pointed out. Her body felt tight and flushed, hovering between satiation and craving more of him.
“I know. I have been in hell. I want to be with you every minute I am awake. I want to hold you when I sleep and make love to you upon waking. I want nothing else but you. That is why we must break the spell. It distracts me from everything but you.”
She loved his touch. “I would agree it is inconvenient.”
“I must do so much. I spend every day with the damn king or his ministers, making their treaties favor Nvengaria. I am so good at it that I remain in London, talking and cajoling and keeping the English king under my thumb, instead of returning to Nvengaria, where I long to be. Nvengaria is an astonishing place. I want to show it to you—because that would mean I was home.”
The ache in his eyes stung Meagan’s heart. She did not experience homesickness very often herself, always having her father nearby and knowing that they’d never stray too far from Oxfordshire. But sometimes, in the gray bustle of London, she thought of the green hills of home and the quiet peace of the woods and walks along the river with longing.
Alexander was thousands of miles from Nvengaria, in a strange and alien place to him. According to Penelope’s letters, Alexander had rarely left Nvengaria before this. He must miss it dreadfully.
Meagan ran her fingers through his sun-warmed hair. She realized there were two Alexanders: the one who had people scrambling to do what he wanted at the snap of his fingers; and the passionate Alexander who loved his home with all his heart.
“I am certain Damien will let you return if you tell him how much you long to.”
Alexander barked a laugh. “You are far too innocent, Meagan. Far too innocent to be bound to a man like me.”
“Well, you cannot call off the wedding now,” she said. “My reputation would be in tatters.”
He growled and pulled her tight against him, no longer the controlled, suave man who’d calmly walked her away from the crowd. He snaked his hand through her hair and pulled her head back for another deep kiss.
His eyes were open, glittering and intensely blue. He pulled away from her mouth, as though he could not keep still, and kissed her face and lips and eyes. He muttered in Nvengarian, a question in his voice.
“What are you saying?” she begged him. “Teach me, so I may understand you.”
He closed his eyes, tightening his body, his muscles hardening under her fingers. He seemed to retreat in on himself, his eyes taut, mouth a hard line.
She touched her palm to his face, alarmed to find it unnaturally hot. “Alexander, what is the matter? Yo
u are frightening me.”
He pulled his eyes open, pupils so wide they were almost black. “You should be frightened of me.” The words were English, but harshly accented, as though he struggled to remember the language. “You should not be with me, not now. But I want this marriage. I need it.”
He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, his lips burning like a brand. He said nothing, but she felt it, this strong, strong man wanting to hold on to her and wishing he didn’t want it.
Meagan determined, as he drew his tongue across her fingers, that she would find out absolutely everything about him. She would discover all there was to discover about him, beginning with why Black Annie had decided that she should create a love spell to bind Meagan to him forever.
When Alexander came to himself in the middle of the night, he was standing in the center of his bedroom with his clothes in shreds. Myn stood by the window, watching calmly, his arms folded over his chest.
“Hell,” Alexander snarled in Nvengarian.
Myn said nothing.
Alexander pulled off the tattered remains of his shirt. Nikolai had been undressing him after Alexander had returned from another tedious ball where the Duchess of Gower had tried to pump him for information of what he and Meagan had done in the gardens that afternoon.
It was none of the fool woman’s business if Alexander was ravishing his beloved in the sunshine. He and Meagan were betrothed and they could enjoy each other’s bodies as they pleased.
Meagan stunned him. She’d looked at him with understanding when he’d confessed how much he missed Nvengaria and told him not to worry, everything would be all right. No woman in his life had ever tried to reassure him, to comfort him.
He’d spent the rest of the day in wonder at the sensation. He’d had to master himself when the spell had encouraged him to carry her off to his carriage and make love to her all the way back to London. His blood had boiled hot all day, angry at him for trying to follow the damn English rules. When he finally was able to play by Nvengarian rules, he would let nothing stop him.
“Where is Nikolai?” he growled at Myn. “What happened to him?”
“He has not taken much hurt. He will recover.”
The Mad, Bad Duke Page 12