“Is that unusual, my lord?” Alexandra questioned, one brow raised, feeling in a bit of a goofy mood for what she planned to do next.
“No, though I thought these ones, in particular, might prove of interest to you.”
Though she was curious, Alexandra quickly changed the subject. Pointing to the wall covered in china plates behind him, she asked, “That blue plate, right there in the middle, where did it come from?”
Lord Emberson looked at her strangely before turning in his seat to look at which plate she was referring to. While his back was turned, Alexandra quickly snatched his spare napkin and hid it on her lap so he couldn't see. She then waited for him to turn around and notice.
“I haven't a clue, to be honest,” he said as he turned back towards her. “Why the sudden interest?”
“No reason in particular, just simply curious.” Picking up her spoon, she resumed eating, hoping he'd do the same.
“About the letters. One of them was from Samuel.”
Alexandra stilled, waiting for him to continue. He placed a spoonful of soup in his mouth, and the tiniest of drops dribbled down his chin. He quickly reached for his spare napkin but found nothing there. Alexandra bit the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing.
“What in tarnation?” he muttered, looking around for his napkin, even looking to see if he'd dropped it on the floor.
Alexandra resumed eating as if nothing strange had occurred.
“Geoffrey,” he called out to the footman waiting silently by the kitchen door, “bring me a napkin.”
Geoffrey hurriedly did as instructed, then took up his post near the door, waiting for them to finish their soup so he could clear their dishes from the table.
“As you were saying,” Alexandra urged him on once he had wiped the drop of soup from his face.
“As I was saying, Samuel, sent word today. He received my correspondence informing him of your arrival at Tisdale Manor.”
“And?”
“He says he is making arrangements to travel home. Though he didn't give details of his travel plans, I can only surmise he will arrive home sooner rather than later.”
His news brought a mixture of emotions to Alexandra, ones that she wasn't ready to decipher. So, she decided to change the subject once more. Pointing once more to the wall, she asked, “That yellow plate, the one on the far left, what does that lettering say? I can't quite make it out from here.”
“Why the sudden interest in my plates?” Lord Emberson asked dryly.
“They're right there in my line of vision, my lord. I can't help that they are so distracting.”
With the patience of a saint, he turned in his chair once more to see which plate she was referring to now. Once again, her hand darted across the table and snatched up his now crumpled extra napkin, hiding it in her lap along with his other ones.
“This yellow plate?” he asked, pointing to the only yellow plate on the left.
“Yes, that one.”
He turned around and gave her a strange look. “It doesn't say anything.”
“Are you certain? I could have sworn I could make out tiny words on it.”
“Perhaps I should purchase you some spectacles.”
“So I could look like a bluestocking?” she asked with a laugh. “Never. My vanity would not allow it.”
He surprised her then by noticing his missing napkin sooner than she anticipated. “Blast it all, where has my napkin gotten off to now? Surely it didn't just grow legs and walk out of this room.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked, feigning innocence.
“My napkin. It was just right here, and now it is gone. Geoffrey!” he hollered to the footman once more who promptly replaced the one she had taken. She wondered if he had seen that it was her that had done it.
While Geoffrey was replacing the napkin, Lord Emberson said, “You can remove the soup. We are ready for the next course.”
Geoffrey quickly gathered up the used dishes and disappeared through the doors leading into the kitchen. Alexandra sat with her hands in her lap, sitting atop the ever-growing pile of napkins.
“What other missives did you receive? You mentioned there were several.”
“I received an invitation from the Countess of Paddley to a ball she is throwing in a fortnight. Nothing too formal, you see, as we are rusticating in the country after all. I thought to inquire if you are interested in attending.”
“You'd take me to a ball?” she asked, her eyes alight with excitement.
Before he could answer, she felt something skimming her leg, and she stiffened in her seat. Apparently, he didn't notice, because he continued, “Yes if you wished to go.”
Again, she felt the strange object brush up against her ankle, and she pulled back, afraid it was a really large rodent.
This time, Lord Emberson noticed her discomfort. “What is wrong?”
“Something keeps touching my leg,” she confessed.
“Do not fear, darling; it is just I.”
Alexandra gulped loudly, heating at the realization that he was touching her underneath the table.
“I am merely searching for my lost napkins.”
His eyes remained steadily upon her as she felt the toe of his shoe inch up beneath her skirts and skim slowly, languidly along her calf. Though she was wearing stockings, her skin felt as if it had been burned and her scalp prickled with awareness.
His gray eyes never strayed from her face and she wished she could detect what was behind his intent gaze.
“I don't have your napkins.”
“Oh, but I think you do,” he purred as his foot moved higher up on her leg.
“What are you doing?” she managed to squeak out.
“I told you, looking for my lost napkins.”
“They are not beneath my skirts.”
“Oh, so you do know where they are?”
She was having a hard time thinking while he was touching her. “Perhaps.”
“Well then perhaps I can provoke you to divulge their whereabouts.”
“Provoke me? How so?”
She only asked because she was curious to see what he would do. Though he was only touching her with the toe of his shoe, she felt on fire, anxious for more of his ministrations. Her eyes fluttered closed for the briefest of moments as she imagined what it would be like to be wrapped in his embrace.
Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he rose from his chair and walked slowly, but with purpose to where she was sitting. Placing both hands on her shoulders, he leaned down and whispered right behind her ear, “This is your last chance to tell me where my napkins are.”
Alexandra closed her eyes. She should just tell him, she told herself, stop this game they were playing before it became dangerous. But Alexandra was sick of doing everything she was supposed to. She'd spent the first sixteen years of her life doing just that, and it had not proven advantageous at all.
“I don't have them,” she lied.
“Then you give me no other choice.”
Her breath stilled as she waited anxiously for what he would do. She startled slightly when she felt him brush the back of his knuckles against her cheek, then slide them softly down her neck. She couldn't help reacting as she moved her head to the side to give him better access. Down his fingers trailed till they were tracing along her collarbone. She felt her skin pucker into gooseflesh and wanted to groan. His touch was gentle and alluring and not nearly enough for her.
Alexandra reached up and boldly placed her hand atop his, guiding his hand down her side, over the curve of her hip. “On second thought, maybe I do know where they are.”
“Show me,” he breathed huskily into her ear, causing her to shiver.
A small voice at the back of her mind warned her that she was playing with fire, but she ignored it. She guided his hand over her stomach and then paused. “Tell me how badly you want them,” she urged hungrily.
“More than I've ever wanted anything else.”
/> She smiled coyly. “Truly? Because once I show you where they are, there's no going back.”
“Show me,” he breathed once more, but with more urgency this time.
Unsure of where she got her nerve, Alexandra slid his hand down into the pile of linens in her lap. His fist clasped around the fabric then quickly let go. Before she knew it, he'd turned her around in her chair, so she was facing him. His forehead rested against her own as he breathed heavily against her mouth.
Feeling very much like a temptress, she slid her tongue out and glided it across her lips, moistening them. “Tell me how badly you want them,” she repeated, both of them knowing very well she was no longer talking about napkins.
Lord Emberson let out a low growl before scooping her from her chair and crushing her to his chest, the napkins floating to their feet, completely forgotten.
“More than anything,” he whispered before crushing his mouth to hers.
He'd decided to taste the forbidden fruit, and it was far, far more desirable than he'd dreamed it would be. Her glorious body pressed against his caused all coherent thought to flee. His mouth moved hungrily over hers, tasting the sweetness only she could offer. He was starving for her but knew no matter how much he partook; it would never be enough. He'd never get his fill.
But though he realized that truth, it didn't stop him from trying. His hands clenched tightly in her hair, forcing her head back so he could kiss her neck. Down, down, down he went eager to taste every inch of exposed skin. He thought he'd go mad with longing if he didn't consume every last inch of her.
Her skin tasted sweet, yet sultry and was completely intoxicating. His mind was focused solely on her, and the little groans of pleasure that occasionally escaped her lips, so he didn't even notice when Geoffrey returned until he heard him clear his throat. Not once, but twice.
He and Alexandra, for he could no longer think of her as Lady Alexandra, for it was far too formal for the occasion, stiffened in unison and at once broke their embrace.
“The mutton is ready to be served,” Geoffrey said blandly, trying to appear unaffected though his red cheeks gave him away.
“You didn't see anything,” Aaron said firmly, adjusting his cravat that had gone askew.
“Correct, my lord. I saw nothing.”
“If I learn that tonight's events are being discussed below stairs, you will no longer be employed at Tisdale Manor. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“Very well. Go ahead and serve the mutton.”
Behind him Alexandra piped up, “I'm no longer hungry.”
He glanced at her swollen lips and flushed skin. “Neither am I.” At least not for food, he thought. “Geoffrey, you may clear the table.”
Geoffrey awkwardly turned on his heal, returning to the kitchen with the untouched dish of mutton still in his hands.
Aaron briefly glanced at the discarded napkins strewn about the floor and smirked. “That was a wicked game you played.”
Alexandra's eyes sparkled with mirth. “I didn't intend it to be.”
“Did you not, you little vixen?”
“I swear it was not my intent. I've been tampering with your place setting for days, purely for my own amusement. I find your rigidness humorous.”
His brows arched above his eyes. “I'm not rigid.”
She turned and began walking out of the dining room, and naturally, he followed, watching her hips sway back and forth as she went.
“Indeed you are. Never a lock of hair out of place,” she turned to look at him over her shoulder, “except for now,” then looked forward once more. “Your place setting perfectly arranged every night. I'd wager if you took me to your study I'd find your desk similarly arranged.”
His lips curved in delight. “What an excellent idea. Yes, let me show you my study.”
He wasn't sure what had come over him, luring her into his lair, but now that he'd tasted her offerings, the thought of abstaining indefinitely was too painful to bare. The rational part of him knew he'd suffer the consequences later, this was his son's betrothed after all, but at the moment, he couldn't resist for all the money in England.
Edging in front of her, Aaron grabbed her hand and led the way to his study, shutting the door firmly and turning the key in the lock behind them. He stood with his back against the door as he watched her enter his personal space and begin looking around.
Alexandra's long, slender fingers danced across the polished surface of his mahogany desk. “Just as I supposed,” she said with mock disgust. “Everything in perfect order.”
“Would you prefer it if I were untidy?”
“Does it matter what I prefer?”
He watched as she sat in his leather chair, looking out of place in the overtly masculine room. Did it matter what she preferred? Yes, for some inexplicable reason, it did, but he couldn't voice that to her.
When he didn't answer, she reached forward and pulled open the desk drawer and laughed. It was just as organized as everything else.
“You make me feel as if it is a character flaw to be tidy.”
“In and of itself I don't believe it is. However, I fear it may be an indicator of something else, something more alarming.”
“Oh?” he asked as he came and propped his hip against the desk, both of his arms folded casually across his chest. “Do enlighten me.”
“I fear it may indicate that you are boring.”
Aaron gasped in mock alarm. “How vulgar.”
“Indeed.” She smiled. “For no one wishes to be bogged down with a dull relative.”
He leaned forward, placing his face directly before hers. “I'm not your relative yet, and I can prove that I'm not dull.”
“How so?”
“By this,” he breathed before taking her face into his hands and crushing his lips once more against hers.
He'd kissed her again to prove to her that he wasn't boring, but also to prove to himself that what had happened in the dining room was simply an anomaly. Perhaps he was successful with the first, but he was proven wrong on the second point; she was just as enticing the second time around.
When he finally pulled away, her eyes were heavy with passion and her lips swollen from his kisses. She surprised him by reaching up and tugging at his cravat.
“What was that for?” he asked, amused.
“You appear too put together while I feel like my whole world has turned upside down.”
Aaron shrugged out of his jacket and removed his cravat entirely, laying them over the back of the chair. “There, does that help?”
“Not in the least. It only makes me want to throw myself into your arms and kiss you again. I fear I'm becoming quite the wanton.”
He smiled, and she suddenly sobered. “Lord Emberson, what does this mean?”
Her question was a weighty one, and truthfully, he had no clear answer. “I believe it means I have wronged you greatly.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, her eyes squinting into angry slits.
Aaron turned away from the pained look on her face and went to the sideboard where he poured himself a measure of brandy. He swallowed the entire contents in one gulp then went and sat in the chair across the desk from her, hoping the space between them would help him think rationally.
“Alexandra, what we did tonight was wrong, very, very wrong.”
“You're speaking to me as if I'm a child,” she pointed out, offended by his tone of voice.
Aaron exhaled slowly. “That is part of the problem, my dear. You are a child, a child that is betrothed to my son.”
“Good of you to remember that now,” she snapped. “What about earlier? That knowledge didn't seem to bother you then.”
He suddenly felt very foolish for his actions, having to answer to her for them now. “You are correct, I did forget myself. I acted on impulse, placing my desires above reason. It was wrong of me, and I must beg your forgiveness.”
“No, don't say that,” she exclaimed loudly. “
You keep saying it was wrong, but it didn't feel wrong at the moment.” Her voice was growing more shrill.
Though Aaron had made his share of mistakes in his life, he'd never had the misfortune of having to answer for them so swiftly. Looking into Alexandra's pain-filled eyes tugged at his heart in a way he couldn't recall ever happening before. He was ashamed of his actions, if only for the hurt it was causing her now.
“Sweetheart, I made a mistake, plain and simple. I cannot explain to you my reasons for indulging; I can only hope that you will forgive me and forget this night ever occurred.”
Alexandra rose slowly, yet regally from the chair, her back stiff as a rod. “How can you expect me to forget something like this? Will it be so simple a thing for you to do?”
He looked into her eyes and decided he had to lie to her if only to protect her from further heartache down the road. “I've kissed many women. This will eventually blur with all the other mistakes of my past.”
She flinched as if he had slapped her. “Then I will forget it too. It would be wrong of me to hold a memory dear that is apparently nothing but the vilest of mistakes to the other participant.”
It was his turn to feel as if he'd been slapped. Aaron reached for her, wanting to offer her comfort, but she rightfully stepped away from him, shaking her head. “Don't ever touch me again, sir.”
Her cold formality pierced at his heart. He was tempted to apologize and confess he had lied to her, but he knew it would be futile, for he'd only end up hurting her even worse down the road. She was not his and never would be, and he had been wrong to pretend, even for a moment, like maybe she could be.
“As you wish,” he replied sadly.
Without another word, or even a glance in his direction, Alexandra quit the room, slamming the door so violently behind her that the pictures rattled on the walls.
Alexandra's vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. She didn't even bother blinking them back, instead letting them roll in hot streams down her face as she hurried to her bedchamber. She felt like such a fool. She would never have allowed Lord Emberson to kiss her if she knew it meant nothing, absolutely nothing, to him.
The Marquess's Maddening Dilemma Page 4