“Sponsor me?” Aunt Cornelia’s excitement nearly matched her own.
“Think of it, my dear. First, you would live with me, of course. You would have a coming out debut before a betrothal is announced. An entire wardrobe of new gowns. I must inform my modiste. You will be decked from head to toe in the latest fashion.”
“Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? The duke has not agreed. He thinks I’m too young for him.”
“Balderdash. You are of a marriageable age. The perfect age for Almacks.”
“Almacks?”
“The Marriage Mart.”
Marriage Mart? What had she gotten herself into?
“We have a lot of work to do if you are to be presentable at court. I will instruct you on all that’s necessary to make you a diamond of the first water. Only a few months before the start of the London Season. You will be the belle of the balls. Men will take one look at you and profess undying devotion.”
“But I don’t want anyone else. I want Giles.”
“My child, you cannot address a duke, thus.”
Alex didn’t miss her aunt’s look of horror, but she concentrated on the word child.
“Aunt Cornelia, this is the very crux of my dilemma. The duke thinks of me as a child.”
“He is not a young man, but he is not in his dotage. Men much older take young brides right out of the schoolroom,” Cornelia explained. “Besides, we will change all that. We will turn you into a woman even His Grace cannot ignore.”
Alex liked the sound of that. She threw her arms around her aunt’s neck and pecked a kiss on her plump cheek.
“We must devise a well-laid plan. First, you must learn to walk.” Cornelia disentangled herself and rose, gesturing toward the door. “Come with me to the library.”
Walk?
“Why are we going to the library?”
“To get a book, of course.”
“I need a book to learn how to walk?”
“You balance a book on the top of your head.”
An image of her performing such a feat quickly appeared. It was all Alex could do to avoid laughing outright.
“You must pay attention, Alexandria. The clock is ticking.”
Chapter 10
Scents of oranges and cherry blossoms dawdled on a gentle wind. Giles lounged in a meadow on a bed of grass with his hat pulled low over his eyes. His boots crossed at the ankles, he laced his fingers behind his head and chewed on a twig. He couldn’t remember a day when he’d lolled without watchfulness or caution. There was something to be said for a life of leisure.
His eyes heavy, his body tired, maybe he’d take a nap. Through the night, visions of Alex had kept him awake. When sleep finally claimed him, he woke with the blasted girl on the edge of his dream. Deny as much as he liked, a vivid awareness assaulted him.
He desired her company.
Surely he’d lost his mind. A child should not affect him so.
A child should not kiss like a bloody courtesan.
He’d thought to shock her, but the minx had in turn stunned him. The girl was alarming.
Terrifying.
Tempting.
She had him at sixes and sevens. Since his first introduction to the opposite sex, he’d been chased and pursued by all manner of female, enjoying each and every one. Yet he had never settled on a particular woman. One day, he would choose. There were no delusions of happy-ever-after. Honor bound by his duty to marry and produce an heir, he would have permanence with a wife.
Why was he even thinking of such considerations now? Did it have anything to do with a certain obstinate urchin, with that small chin of hers hinting to willfulness? Or her chocolate eyes full of adoration and exhilaration?
The chit dogged his heels. Everywhere he went, somehow Alex showed up—in a gown showing her agile body, accenting her curves, leaving nothing to a man’s imagination. Not that he should notice, of course. But . . . Damnation. She didn’t look the least like a child. Her eyes seemed always sparkling, a youthful ember in her gaze. He fancied the vibrant color of her hair, golden wheat shining like the sun’s rays.
A rather incredible wrench jerked at his insides.
Never had a female had such an impact on his sensibilities. Thinking of her, his heart sped up an anxious beat. He imagined her rosy cheeks while his calloused fingertips traveled over buttery, youthful skin. If he’d been standing, the powerful jolt in his loins could have knocked the legs right out from beneath him.
He shook his head to clear his imaginative musings, and tried to enjoy the quietness around him. But before long, he found himself thinking again of his fingers twined in blonde silk, cascading over velvety flesh.
God’s teeth.
He’d always prided himself on his self-discipline. He controlled his actions. His desires did not control him. This weakness astounded him. Never before had erotic thoughts commanded him. The girl was half his age, and beyond his reach. Considering a courtship with her was impossible. Especially with three brothers ready to protect their sister’s honor.
“There you are.”
He came to his feet with the speed of a panther. The very object of his deliberations stood before him.
“Goodness, you’re quick,” Alex said. “You startled me.”
“You’re the one sneaking up on people.” Damn. He hadn’t heard the girl. Seemingly, he’d let down his guard. Who thought he’d need it while basking in a moment of privacy-enjoying solitude?
“I’m not sneaking. I thought you were asleep.”
“So you decided to wake me?”
“Maybe I just wanted to watch you.”
Good God. The thought of Alex ogling his body while he slept sent a surge of blazing heat to his groin. On top of that thought pounced another. Would the chit restrain herself to mere looking?
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“You spend most of your time with my father, either in the library or touring the plantation. I hardly ever see you alone.”
It was too dangerous to be alone with her. So he practiced avoidance. But he had seen her in the corridor, in the sitting room, at her mother’s elbow. She and her decorous aunt seemed to have their heads together a lot of late. He hadn’t missed Alex’s coquettish actions, either.
“Why would you want to see me alone? Don’t you have your new stallion to keep you occupied?”
“I want to spend time with you. I think you’re handsome.”
Where had he slipped, thinking Alex demure? Giles scraped a hand over his face, wishing he could just as easily wipe her from his existence. “We’ve already had this discussion.”
“I want to kiss you again.”
This girl is a bloody loose cannon.
“You should not be playing grown up games.”
“I am not a child.” She angled her head and tilted her nose slightly in the air. Then ruined the effect by stomping her foot.
He raised a brow and dropped his gaze to her boot before returning to her face—clearly signifying her very action did not support her statement.
“You didn’t treat me like a child when you kissed me.”
“Well laid plans gone awry,” he mumbled.
“I’m not unschooled. Aunt Cornelia has taught me many things, and I’m a quick learner.”
“Very well. What kind of things?” He’d appease her. Giles stretched to his full height.
“Your English customs.”
“Why are you bothering with those? You live here in the Americas.”
“Aunt lives in England. Maybe one day, I will visit, or . . . live there, too.”
“You aunt is quite a dame of the haute ton. One would do well to follow her example.”
Her brow scrunched, as if making an importa
nt decision. “Will you sit and talk with me a while?” She bit her lip.
“I should . . .” Get the hell away from her. But his gaze returned to the flesh caught between her teeth.
“Please. I would love to hear about your home.” She sank gracefully to the ground, arranging her skirts around her, much as a young debutante would.
“My home?”
“Yes.” She glanced up at him with a stunning smile. “You are a duke. What does a duke do? Where do you live?”
“I live in a house. Most of my day is spent in Parliament.” With his arms crossed, he stared at the bit of fluff on the grass.
“Are you vexed with me?” She looked at him with wounded eyes.
Now he felt guilt-ridden. Damned females, and their manipulative ways.
“No, I’m not vexed with you.”
Her mouth curved up in another blinding smile.
He dropped on his arse and draped an arm on his propped knee, unwilling to admit how much her smile affected him.
“I live in a house, too.”
He glanced over and found a mocking expression on her face. He couldn’t hold back a response. His lips lifted at the corners.
“If I were to tell you about my home, I would describe the rich land along the Mississippi. The two-story house with its white walls and curved stairs on each side adjoining the balcony.” Her eyes met his. “See? It’s not so hard.”
“A man does not wax poetic about his home the way a woman does.”
“Ah. Then you are ready to admit I am a woman?”
Did he think her keen? Admirably so.
“I admit you are a female.” He frowned. “An exasperating one.”
“It is a start.” Her fingers smoothed a wrinkle in her gown. “Do you miss your homeland?”
“There is no place like a man’s home.” He studied the sun in the middle of a clear blue sky. Swirls of white gave hint of the clouds lingering on the horizon. On the other side of the ocean lay the land of his birth. His chest rumbled with a deep sigh. He missed his old life more than he missed Nethersall Castle.
“My house is made of stone and timber, built in the thirteenth century. Generations of dukes have lived there.” He snatched a blade of grass and stuck the thing between his teeth. “With each generation, the new duke expanded the structure, adding more rooms, another tower—as if it weren’t big enough. Three stories, five towers, a maze of rooms such that you would need a charted map. Iron grillwork, stone stairs on the outside, polished oak on the inside. Trees, meadows, flowerbeds, high-climbing rose bushes. A vineyard. The Okeanos Tower, which means ‘ocean,’ borders the cliff’s edge. Oft times I stand on the balustrade watching the waves smash against the rocky shore. Do my best thinking then.”
“It sounds enchanting.”
Her voice echoed too close to his ear. Her breath grazed his cheek. He jerked back. When the hell had she moved so close? He tossed the weed aside.
“Don’t you like me?”
“As much as I like any member of your family.”
“I meant you might like me a bit more. Like a . . .”
“The daughter of a friend,” he finished for her.
She chewed her luscious lip again. “Well, yes. And . . .”
“And what?”
“Do you desire me?”
God spare me. When he kissed the girl, he should have spanked her instead. The thought created an image of her body spread across his lap, her rump covered in tan breeches, sticking up in the air waiting for the hand he’d rather use for caressing instead of delivering punishment.
He bounded to his feet. “I think this conversation is over.”
“But we haven’t settled anything yet.” Large brown eyes pleaded.
“Heed me well.” Hands fisted on his hips, he glared down at her. “You’re a child.” He was the one who needed to remember.
Skirts shuffling, she climbed to her feet in exasperation. “I’m a woman.”
“I’m a man. And you should not be alone with me.”
A blonde brow rose in impishness. “Because you might kiss me again?”
The scamp.
She sashayed closer, her arms out toward him; a spitfire playing the seductress. Preposterous.
Shouts drew his attention to the paddock. A gathering of men yelled in earnest. A horse snorted and bucked, trying to dislodge the rider on his back. Then, the man flew into the air. Another jumped the fence, distracting the steed while the rider tried to avoid getting stomped by the incensed beast.
Small fingers wrapped around his arm. “Giles.”
He glanced back to Alex. Her eyes fluttered while she leaned in for a kiss.
“That does it.” He bent down, grabbed the urchin by her thighs and tossed her over his shoulder. With angry strides, he marched to the paddock as her fists pounded on his back.
As he drew closer, Alex’s indignant yells drew the men’s attention. Three in particular. He paused and dropped the wriggling bundle on the ground. Right in front of her brothers.
In the middle of a cloud of dust Alex fumed, and glared daggers.
Giles scowled at her and then turned to three stunned faces.
“Keep the brat away from me.”
Chapter 11
Humiliating. Never had Alex been so embarrassed. Giles stormed off like a stallion bolting through an open gate. Kit arched a brow. Sam belted out laughter. And Ben looked mad. At her.
“What did you do . . . Brat?” Kit studied her with both bushy brows raised.
“I kinda like the Brit,” Ben said.
Why didn’t anyone go after Giles? Weren’t her brothers supposed to protect her? She thought things were going swimmingly. A lovely conversation, then suddenly Giles had come at her like a raging storm cloud. At first, she’d been excited—even though she gave a shriek while her arms spun like the wooden slats on a windmill. She’d had no idea her brothers were close by.
Alex crawled from the dirt and brushed the back of her dress. “What did I do? He dropped me on the ground.”
“Gor, Alex. You’re wearin’ a dress.” Sam acted like it was the first time.
“Yes, you clod-head. And now it’s dirty.”
“Let me get this right,” Kit said. “You didn’t do anything.”
She stuck her nose in the air.
“Our little sister? Of course, she didn’t.” Ben’s smirk only made her madder.
“You’re worried about your dress,” Kit continued. “Am I supposed to go after a man because he got your dress dirty?”
“Uh . . . no.” She couldn’t have Kit fighting with Giles. No, she didn’t want that. She waved a hand. “Never mind.”
“Wait a minute, sister dear.” Ben blocked her way. “What were you doing with the Brit?”
“The Brit has a name. And it’s none of your business.”
“Well, I’ll be darned.” Sam shook his head, drawing Ben’s attention.
“What’s that, Sam?”
“Haven’t you noticed?”
“Noticed what?” Kit turned his scowl on her.
Her cheeks heated as her irritation grew.
“Can you not see, Brother? Our little sister has set her sights on the Englishman.”
“She what?” Ben shouted.
A lump clogged her throat.
“That true, Alex?” Kit’s voice might have sounded calm, but his eyes challenged that she deny Sam’s accusation.
“I like him, that’s all.” She drew a circle in the dirt with the toe of her boot.
Kit crossed his arms over his wide chest. “It’s not going to happen.”
She glared at Sam. “Traitor.”
“What does she mean, ‘traitor?’” Ben asked Sam.
&
nbsp; Angry fire brightened Kit’s irises. “You knew about this?”
Ben grabbed Sam by the collar of his shirt. Sam fought to get free. “Been holdin’ out on us?” Ben tightened his hold.
“No.” Sam struggled. “I just figured it out.”
“You three go ahead and beat on each other,” Alex shouted. “You’re not telling me how to live my life.”
“So you admit it?” Ben dropped Sam. “You fancy the Brit?”
“Why do you think she’s been wearing dresses?” Sam rubbed his throat.
“Figured Aunt Cornelia‘s influence had Alex finally acting like a girl.”
“She was in trousers only last week. Before the duke’s arrival. And very much after Cornelia’s.”
Why couldn’t Sam keep his mouth shut? She couldn’t allow Kit to find out her intentions. Alex stomped her foot. “I am seventeen. Old enough to make up my own mind.”
“Not about this, you’re not.” Being the oldest, Kit had always thought his siblings should obey him.
She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I’m old enough to marry.”
All three of them looked at her as if she’d just sprouted horns. When would she learn to curb her tongue?
Alex spun on her heel. “I will not abide your bullying.”
Kit grabbed her arm and practically dragged her to a wooden stool.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she sputtered, trying to jerk her arm away.
He pointed. “Sit.”
She opened her mouth to argue.
“Now!”
Glaring, she plopped on the wood and immediately regretted it when her bum stung.
“Explain what you just said.”
“What?” She wanted to rub her aching bottom.
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