by Gayle Eden
Sometimes her head cluttered and life seemed so complicated, particularly in London where everyone waited with baited breath for the women “like her” to slip up and do something scandalous. Not that she had to do anything. However, one was never really relaxed.
Here, she had learned to let all of that go from the first visit. Of course, she was part anxious; partly bemused by Alexander’s turning their friendship into something more…
After he had done with his cheroot, they rode a bit further and then returned home. Sonja thanked him again for the horse, and he offered to keep it at Hawksmoor. An offer she saw through, but allowed. It was not a mount for sedate rides in the London parks.
Jackets removed at the manor, she in lace blouse with jabot, a camisole and her riding skirt, himself in plain linen. He made even that look good. They retired to the study. The rain started soon afterwards. A game of chess was finished before dinner. The storm picked up force by the bedtime hour.
At the foot of the stairs, where he had escorted her, Alexander’s hand on her arm prevented her from proceeding.
Sonja’s heart sped. She could not help but react. She glanced at him, breath trembling out. His gentle cupping of her face nearly made her faint.
She was still wrestling with her emotions toward him when it happened…. “Sleep well, m’dear.” He leaned down and kissed her, delicately. A kiss that should not have made her weak, but did.
All the way to her room, then undressing, putting on gown and robe, she watched lightening flash, heard the boom of thunder—and marveled at the intensity his simple kiss produced.
Sonja combed her hair and let it lay in waves down her back. Idly fingering the silver streak in the front, frantically searching her eyes for she knew not what.
Too restless to sleep, the storm making the hour seem late, yet it was not. She was pacing again, hands to her quivering stomach. Sonja searched back in memory for those long ago encounters. Two men, whom she could scarcely remember, save that she found them physically attractive. They had not noticed her trembling, nor her lack of participation. She had been too detached, conscious of her scarred back and shoulders, and too distant—viewing the whole thing and examining, as if to assure herself she was normal and sexual relations were natural.
It had not worked, as much from their intent on their own satisfaction, as it was from her own emotional distance. She had simply given up. Sonja took the blame. Somewhere she had separated herself from the acts in order to endure, and she had no notion how to get that back.
Well, Alexander’s kiss had…
The knock on her door nearly gave her heart failure. Whirling, Sonja watched it open, swallowing a lump of surprise as Alexander entered.
“Coffee and brandy.” He offered one, able to navigate the dark room simply by flashes of lightening.
“How did you know I was up?”
“Because, I was, too.” He smiled a bit, and when she took the coffee, walked over to the window.
“Would you not prefer to go below—” she offered nervously.
“No. Although I am aware of the proprieties, this is my house. Unless, you insist.” He turned. “I thought perhaps you were feeling as restless as I.”
She carried the cup over to a chaise and sat, holding it in both hands. “I suppose that’s an apt description.”
He strode over and took the chair from her vanity, carrying it so he could sit facing her.
The chair turned backwards, his arms over the back and hand holding his cup, she was not unstirred by his posture, by the long legs in snug black trousers and the fact his shirt tail was out, half done buttons, as if he’d had it off and put it back on.
His hair looked finger combed.
“Are you frightened of storms?”
“No. I love them.”
“I enjoy them, too.” He supplied dryly, “So long as I’m not traveling in one.”
She nodded and sipped, her thoughts going in several directions.
“You’re very beautiful during the day, dressed as you do, with such dash. Your hair up. Now, like this, you are incredibly so.”
Sonja did not clutch her robe closed. She had worn lower cut gowns. Yet she was conscious that the champagne silk was delicate and the thin strapped gown beneath it, no more than a wisp. Sonja realized she had not worn her hair down in many, many years. It used to remind her of her vulnerability and youth too much. Self-consciously though, she tucked it behind her ears. “Thank you.”
“No need. I am selfishly intruding on your privacy and admiring what I see. That is a mild word, you understand. Compared to what looking at you does to me, anytime.”
Lifting her gaze to his handsome face, trying not to foolishly blush at his intimate tone, she privately searched for that cool aloofness, but could not find it. Instead her voice betrayed her when she returned, “You’ve always been generous with compliments. You’re very good at it.”
Alexander’s black brow quirked. “I’m also telling the truth. However, in case you missed part of it, I was admitting that not only are you beautiful, your looks stir me. It goes beyond the surface. You have an interesting face. Your eyes can be cool or show a glimmer of emotion—that always has me wanting to ask what you’re thinking.”
She drew in a weak breath. “I’m thinking—that I’ve been honest about my mistrust. At least, hinted at it. It is not only you, and your success with women, shall we say. It is me, also. I’m thinking—right now, that what you might perceive as me playing hard to get, is not that at all.”
He pursed his lips a moment. “Risk. That is open for both of us. I am willing. Nevertheless, I cannot read your mind. Your boundaries have been high and wide since I met you, Sonja. I am pleased we have a friendship. Nevertheless, this relationship is as new for me as it is you. I do not know where the boundary is now. I am trying to discern which to push…”
Sonja could not help but smile. She hid it by taking a sip from the cup.
For a moment, heavy rain and thunder pervaded. Then, during a spray of lightening, she met his gaze again. “The ultimate goal being, an affair that may well destroy even our friendship, not to mention, make it awkward for family…”
“Now there is where you are wrong, duchess.” He unfolded his frame and set the cup down on the floor. Alexander lowered on his haunches before her. He touched her chin with his fingertips. When Sonja met his gaze, she did not expect it when he supplied, “The goal is marriage, Sonja. I want you to marry me.”
Nearly losing her hold on the cup, she whispered half-strangled, “Are you mad?”
“Not at all.”
He covered her hand on the cup with his free one but did not look from her eyes. “You were worth patience and waiting. I knew that even before I spent more time around you. In fact, the more time I was with you, the more I was convinced that we would have a very happy life together.”
She started to speak, though her voice seemed stuck.
He said on however, “I could state the obvious, that you and my daughters are friends, that, we enjoy each other. Although, I will insist you buy trousers and learn to fish.” He winked. “I can imagine very easily enjoying anything with you; balls, or family gatherings, formal dos or simple days, here at Hawksmoor.
I have imagined it, many times, whilst you have been here. And, when in London, I wanted so often just to take you in my arms, and dance with you…”
Sonja jerked her chin free, covering her face with one hand, too aware she was trembling. “You cannot be serious about this, Alexander.”
“Why? We have a few hurdles to cross as yet? Because we have not been intimate? You fear that on some level. I understand it perfectly. It is not my proficiency that assures me we can cross it, but rather I am more than willing to take all the time necessary, to ease those fears, no matter if ‘tis yourself you doubt.”
The pad of her thumb and finger pressed into her eyes, she could still feel his warm hand covering hers. “Why would you wed now, after all these years?”<
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“Because—I want you.”
Sonja could not believe she was saying it, but she offered stiffly, “An affair would…”
“—Not be enough for either of us,” he cut her off. Reaching up, he forced that hand down, and held it too. “You do not enjoy being with me?”
“Of course I do.”
“Do you at least, find me attractive?”
“Of course.”
“That’s not the right answer.”
“Yes.” She opened her eyes, wanting to guard her gaze so he could not search it. “I am human, Hawksmoor. I find you handsome, charming, interesting, and all of those bloody things.”
“Then?”
“Alexander. You cannot—be serious about this.” Her flexing throat made her voice too husky. She was reeling, honestly. This, she had never expected.
“What is your objection? I do not intend to change you, have a plan of controlling you, or discouraging you to be independent, remain a woman with your own ideas. I do not intend to do anything but enhance your life. Share mine. Build something, with you.”
After a moment he added, “I once loved Johanna’s mother. With all the reckless passion of one knowing, he cannot have something. Moreover, looking back upon it, I think we would have been an explosive combination. I am not sure at all, that I would have greatly changed my ways, even with a babe. She knew that, better than I.
I think that I cared deeply for all of them, and I certainly know they cared for me—more than I deserved. Nevertheless, that was years ago, and before I broke it off with Constance, some five, no six years or longer ago, I was soul searching—searching, in every way, for an answer.”
“To what?”
“The emptiness and restlessness—some illusive meaning to my life. Getting my daughters was the wisest and most responsible thing I have ever done. It was the right thing, no matter how they resented me at first. Right now, I am a different man, a more seasoned man, this is for me.
I can list all the reasons why it is right, as you will why it may be wrong, but this is for me. Selfish? yes. My desire and want of you, in a permanent way, a deeper way—than mere friendship.”
She sighed and half groaned, “There are times, Alexander, I wish you were superficial. This is one of them. I could put it down to your usual Rakehell rep,” Sonja uttered that and heard his soft, irresistible laugh.
She wanted to think, to process. She could not believe he had purposed. She had too much to examine and give careful answers to.
Sonja heard him say, “I hadn’t expected to tell you this soon—sometime this week, but not this soon. I intended to tell you at some point, that I can prove my seriousness by wedding you at first opportunity.”
“This is… too much.” She pulled her hands free and set the cup down. Her fingers trembled.
Sonja smoothed her hands down her thighs, her gaze on him, searching his visage half in shadow. Bloody hell. He was perfectly serious. His eyes were very light and much too calm for what he had laid out there.
Alexander husked, “It cannot be so much a surprise. Have you not felt the attraction? The currents?”
“Yes,” she admitted that. Lies did nothing because he knew the truth obviously.
He rose slowly and sat beside her.
Sonja found her face cupped, her head turned, and then he looked at her deeply. “I’m going to kiss you.”
She knew that. Though, she had never been kissed the way Alexander kissed her. Never felt that brush of lips, the way he caressed mouth to mouth, before his tongue entered.
The kiss was warm, intimate, more sensual than anything she’d felt in her life. It was ridiculous to be her age and feel butterflies in her stomach, to feel her head actually swimming. He swept his tongue in, in a way that made it seem binding, intimate, more—than a kiss.
When she tasted him back, helpless to that compulsion suddenly, his masculine sound vibrated under the storm. His arm went round her, the other hand on her cheek still. He nudged her to lean back against the curved armrest.
Sonja did not panic exactly. She expected to, but he was so good, tasted so lovely, and the experience was so pleasant, that she tentatively put one hand on his arm, the other at his side. Touching him seemed to make all the difference. Participating, desiring…
Slowing, pulling back a bit, he murmured against her mouth, “Your lips are soft. Your mouth inside, is sweet and warm and silken.”
Alexander kissed her longer the next time, giving her the feeling he sought out every corner and texture, spending endless moments letting his tongue slowly pet and glide across hers. When he pulled back again, she automatically opened her heavy lids, not even aware of how aroused she was. Or, the fact that she was aroused. Her head was still spinning. Sonja struggled to breathe.
Hawksmoor’s thumb brushed her damp lower lip. “Did you enjoy that?”
“Yes.” She laved her lips, blinking, and trying to clear her head.
“I like your eyes this way; a bit dreamy. Your lips are plump from my kisses.”
He was very good, she moaned. So very good at this. He knew how to talk to a woman intimately.
The kisses he bestowed subsequently were soft, short, mere whispers of the former and were no less potent.
Alexander grew a tad bolder, kissing her cheek, her ear, and she experienced all sorts of pleasurable sensations from his mouth touching her cheek, his breath warm and stirring as he kissed just below her ear. Her skin was flushed, yet taut, sensitive.
She was aware of more than how good his mouth tasted, how sleek and warm it was inside. Sonja could smell his manly scent, his warmed skin, in a way that was arousing too. His virility was as amplified to her, as was her own femininity.
When he parted from her, Alexander took her hands, weaving her fingers with his. She tried to ignore his gaze going down her body. Her nipples were hard and tingling. Sonja was simply amazed and reminding herself she had known, in some part of her mind, simply known, he could affect her. Just not like this, this fast, this intense, this heady.
“If it were not so soon—I’d not leave you aroused and unsatisfied. I never will.” He winked.
This time she did blush, thankful for the darkness.
“I discern despite what intimacy you avoid, that you are a sophisticated woman. Do you give yourself any pleasure?”
She was going to sink through the chair. Sonja knew what he was asking. He was that bold.
He murmured, “It is an arousing thought. I want to touch you, bring you to your peak. But I’ve pushed further than intended tonight, yes?”
“I didn’t anticipate it.”
“What?” He released her hands, stood, and leaned to retrieve his cup.
“Specifically, I did not expect kissing you to…do that, to me. To feel like it did. You see what a ridiculous woman I am, for my age?”
“Age has nothing to do with it.” He stood but reached out and caressed her hair. “My dear, I could spend hours pleasuring you.”
Sonja blurt when he had taken her cup too, “I am scarred, Alexander.”
He turned back in the process of leaving. “I’ve seen them. I hate that pain has marked you, but you are in no way marred, Sonja. I’ll kiss them to prove it, with pleasure, as I will kiss, every inch of your skin.”
“Alexander.” She could not believe this.
He offered quietly yet somewhat tense, “I cannot bring myself to apologize, although it is the gentlemanly thing to do. I have wanted you a long time. I have this one chance, Sonja. I know that. I am risking everything, too.”
Long after the door closed behind him, she lay there, waiting for her heart to stop thudding, waiting for her body to calm. Even after she was snug in bed, Sonja replayed every moment, every word, repeatedly. It was frightening indeed, how her aroused body tried to urge her to be bold and take everything he offered.
It was amazing—in every part of her mind, that a kiss could inflame her—long after she’d thought herself so distant from her intim
ate soul such a thing was impossible. She thought herself dead in that part of herself, too removed and too used to separating herself.
He had proved to her that she was not. He proved that he, Alexander, could awaken and reach her. He could give her pleasure.
She half sighed, half moaned. What would Edmund say?
As if her internal voice became him, she heard, “Trust him. Trust yourself. Passion can be beautiful. Life can be full, shared—and beautiful.”
Oh. My loyal brother. You have something extraordinary and special. How often does that happen?
* * * *
Alexander was not surprised the duchess slept in the next morning. He took his breakfast in the study where a fire was lit, sipping two coffees whilst he did correspondence and read the papers. It was still misty and raining when he got his hooded cloak and went out to the stable, spending some time with the grooms before taking a walk around the lake. The mud sucked at his boots and though not too cold, it certainly was not the most pleasant of days.
He could curse himself for pushing, had done a bit of that, but she’d only planned a week’s stay—and he’d held things in so long, he bloody couldn’t help it.
Visions beyond what his eye could see went through his head. Pictures of her, hair flowing down, eyes dreamy with pleasure. They were near torment to the level of desire he felt for her.
Her mouth was heaven, her skin like satin cream, and her scent lingered in his head, intoxicating him. He was worse than his first sexual-emotional experience. Some part of him just knew it was right, that it could be exquisite between them.
He climbed the knoll and strode across the lawn, aiming to enter by the back way, because his boots were a mess. He saw her on the path, her cape misted with moisture and the hem of her dress damp, as if she had walked too.
“Appears as if the rain will linger,” Alexander offered while searching her face.
“Yes. Although, it is not terribly bad today. I walked in the garden.”
Grinning wryly, he gestured to his boots. “I chose the lake. It is a habit, but it clears one’s head.”