Carrying the Gentleman's Secret

by Helen Dickson

  Alex was reluctant to let her go. The light shone on her soft dark hair and he visualised himself touching it, loosening it from its pins, running his fingers through it, feeling it caress his naked flesh as they shared an embrace. Despite her lowly background she was not of the common kind and there was also about her a mysterious, almost sweet and gentle allure. She had the poise of a woman fully conscious of her beautiful face and figure, and his instinct detected untapped depths of passion in her that sent silent signals instantly recognisable to a lusty, full-blooded male like himself. The impact of those signals brought a smouldering glow to his eyes as he imagined what it would be like to possess such a glorious creature.

  ‘It need not be like that.’ His expression suddenly changed and the lightness disappeared from his tone as he came to a decision. ‘You strike me as a sensible young woman—and a beautiful one—although from my experience the two do not always keep good company.’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘I realise that this should have been your wedding night,’ he said, speaking softly, holding her with his gaze, knowing that she, too, was the victim of irresistible forces at work between them. ‘You don’t have to be alone tonight.’

  He waited for her to reply, watching her, knowing that her reaction to his suggestion would determine everything between them. She looked startled by his question and for a moment held his gaze with innocent perplexity. A sudden shock of hunger that she might accept shot through him, but he was to be disappointed.

  His words and their implication did indeed take Lydia by surprise. What shocked her even more in that second when it registered was her inclination to accept his offer. She had spent most of her life in the more deprived areas of London—she was not naive and would have had to be a fool not to have known the implication of his words. Throughout the meal and the warmth that had developed between them, and the way he’d listened to her as she had told him about her work and hopes for the future, she had been quite carried away.

  She watched his smile. It was a most appealing smile. Her resolve hardened automatically at the sight of it. After today she knew well enough what degree of complicity an appealing smile was able to conceal. Henry had taught her to discount any warmth she might feel for another human being. To feel that way led to weakness, which could be fatal.

  Hot colour flooded her cheeks and she took a step back abruptly. ‘Either I am mad, sir, or you are,’ she said, keeping her voice low so as not to overheard by others drifting in and out of the hall. ‘What kind of woman do you think I am? I do not want to sound ungrateful for your kind attention, but I feel that now you are either carrying gallantry too far or pitying me to the extreme.’

  ‘I am not being gallant, Miss Brook, nor do I pity you,’ he said, his eyes held by this vibrant, graceful woman who was so close he only had to raise his hand to touch her. ‘That has nothing to do with it. I assure you I am completely serious.’ He spoke softly, so cool, so self-assured, holding her gaze.

  ‘Yes, I can see you are, and if you wonder at my decision to turn you down it is because I have a well-developed instinct for self-preservation.’

  ‘Not so well developed, otherwise you would have seen through Henry from the beginning,’ he murmured.

  ‘No doubt you think that because Henry picked me up from the back streets of London I am fair game. You are mistaken. How can you suggest anything so improper? I am not a whore. I am not for sale. If you were any sort of gentleman, you would not have said what you just did.’

  The savagery in her tone startled Alex. ‘It was merely a suggestion. I thought that after all that has happened today you might not want to be alone.’

  ‘I like my own company, Mr Golding. Henry has turned out to be most unworthy. If I agreed to what you suggest, I could well be uniting myself with another equally unworthy.’

  Alex’s jaw tightened, and he stepped away from her. So, she thought she could impose on him with her ladylike airs. But then, furious with himself, more than with her, after all she had been through that day, he understood how insulted she must feel by his improper suggestion. ‘If you are going to cast doubt on my good intentions, then there is nothing more for me to do than bid you goodnight and wish you a safe journey.’

  ‘Goodnight, Mr Golding,’ she said in a shaky, breathless voice, trying to ignore the dull ache of disappointment in her chest, regretting this new turn of events that had ruined the closeness that had developed between them throughout the meal.

  Alex looked at her face, drawn by the candlelight reflecting softly in the depths of her eyes and the appealing pink of her lips slightly parted to reveal shining white teeth. His conscience rising up to do battle at what he had suggested, he tried flaying his thoughts into obedience, but he could smell her perfume in the air, which weakened his resolve.

  He had known and made love to many beautiful women, but he could not remember wanting any of them on first acquaintance as he wanted Lydia Brook. What was it about her that he found so appealing? Her sincerity? Her innocence? Her smile that set his heart pounding like that of an inexperienced youth in the first throes of love? He told himself that what he felt was the ache of frustrated desire, but whatever it was he could not deny that she affected him deeply. Almost without conscious thought, as she was about to turn away he found himself reaching for her.

  Lydia was surprised when he suddenly took hold of her arm and drew her into a curtained alcove beneath the stairs. The light was muted, the space small, forcing them together. She gave a sharp jerk, trying to pull herself free, but his arms went around her, drawing her close.

  ‘Please,’ she gasped, lifting her head and dragging her eyes past his finely sculpted mouth to meet his gaze, suspecting he was going to kiss her. ‘This should not be happening.’ Raising his hand, he gently brushed her cheek with the tip of his finger, moving it down with sensuous slowness. Her skin grew warm with pleasure.

  ‘I know,’ he said, bending his head to whisper quietly against her hair, and she impulsively turned her head slightly to meet his cheek with her own. ‘Just one kiss, Miss Brook. Where’s the harm in that?’ The contact with her flesh was electric. He raised his head, his smouldering eyes gazing down at her face as if he were memorising it, then they fixed on her lips.

  Quite inexplicably Lydia’s heart gave a leap of desire and, when her gaze settled on his mouth, she was lulled into a curious sense of well-being by his closeness as a rush of warmth completely pervaded her and her lovely eyes became blurred. ‘Just a kiss, then,’ she whispered.

  ‘Just a kiss, Miss Brook,’ he murmured in a husky whisper.

  Very slowly, he lifted his hands and placed them on either side of her face. His eyes darkened as he leaned forward, and at his touch Lydia trembled slightly—with fear or with excitement, she didn’t know which—but she did not draw away as he lowered his head the final few inches, and placed his mouth on her soft, quivering lips, cherishing them with his own, slowly and so very tenderly. His gentleness kindled a response and a warm glow spread over her, but also a fear began to possess her, a fear not of him but of herself and the dark, hidden feelings he aroused within her.

  Suddenly his arms encircled her and she was drawn closer to his hard chest, moulding her body to his rigid contours. A flame of white heat rushed through her. She allowed him to hold her in his embrace, feeling the strength of him against her as slowly his warm parted lips, tender and insistent, continued to claim hers, moulding, caressing and possessive.

  The shock of his kiss was one of wild, indescribable sweetness and sensuality, violent yet tender, evoking feelings Lydia had never felt before. She felt her body ignite as she responded eagerly, pressing herself closer still and opening her mouth to receive his. He smelled of brandy and cologne, and it intoxicated her senses. Blood pounded through her veins and her stomach tensed, but she didn’t try to move away. Imprisoned by his protective embrace and seduced by his mout
h and strong, caressing hands, which slid down the curve of her spine to the swell of her buttocks and back to her arms, her neck, burning wherever they touched, Lydia clung to him, her body responding eagerly, melting with the primitive sensations that went soaring through her. Nothing in all her twenty years could have prepared her for his kiss and she became lost in the joy, the heat and the magic of the moment.

  A soft moan interrupted the quiet space, and Lydia realised it came from her. Suddenly her world had become exquisitely sensual, where nothing mattered but this man and what his mouth locked hungrily on hers and the closeness of his body was doing to her.

  Alex held her unresisting, pliant young body close, his lips caressing her cheek, her jaw, before finding her lips once more. He was a virile and an extremely masculine man, well used to the pleasures of the flesh that were available to him. But this woman confounded him. She was pure, untouched innocence, a woman who had never known a man’s intimate embrace. As her mouth fed his hunger, his body strained towards her.

  When he finally released her lips they were both breathing heavily. Standing unmoving, as though still suspended in that kiss, her lips moist and slightly parted, slowly Lydia began to surface from the dangerous cocoon of sensuality where the absolute splendour of his kiss had sent her and where she had no control over anything.

  Tenderly, Alex caressed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. She was utterly lovely, breathtakingly so, and he was moved by emotions almost beyond his control, wanting so very much to kiss her again, but this time with all the hunger and passion that threatened to engulf him. He told himself to slow down, to be content with what she was willing to permit, not to push her into anything, but at that moment his desire was to continue to be close to her, to savour the sweetness of her. He was seized by an uncontrollable compulsion to make love to her—reluctant to allow this glorious young woman to slip through his fingers. He cupped her face in his strong hands, gently brushing a strand of hair from her cheek and tilting her face to his.

  ‘Don’t spend this night alone. Stay with me.’

  She gazed up at his face, darkened in the dim light, feeling a numbing of her senses as her desire for him took on a dangerous life of its own. There was a need in her and she couldn’t understand the nature of that need. Where had it come from? All she knew was that this man was the man to satisfy that need. She wanted him. She wanted more of what he could give her, but she must not. Her own thoughts shocked her. What was she thinking? This man was of a different class, living in a different world. He might not have a title like his brother-in-law, but he was of the gentry. It seeped out of him in volumes. It spoke of power, confidence and strength—and more than a little arrogance.

  ‘No. I really must go.’

  For a moment Alex stood there, looking down at her face flushed with desire in the dim light, her eyes glazed with it.

  ‘Why? Are you afraid of me?’

  ‘No, of course I’m not,’ Lydia said shortly, but she realised as soon as she had said it that it was a lie. Of course she was afraid of him, afraid of what she might do with him if she stayed any longer, because that was exactly what she wanted to do. To feel his lips on hers once more, to feel those exquisite feelings his lips had ignited in her.

  ‘I must go.’ She flung herself away from him and even though her legs were trembling and her flesh was on fire she began to climb the stairs with all the dignity she could muster, knowing that he continued to watch her like some dark brooding sentinel. Never had anyone affected her like this in her whole life. The thought of giving herself to Mr Golding sent a tremor down her spine, but it no longer shocked her, the events of the past twenty-four hours having finally drained her of all feeling so there was hardly any emotion left in her.

  And yet she could not put what had just happened from her mind. The feelings she had experienced when they had talked over dinner took some understanding—she had felt herself being drawn to him against her will by the compelling magnetism he seemed to radiate and the memory of his smile and how he had looked at her, how his incredibly light blue eyes had hardly left hers for a moment and the intimacy of his lazy gaze made her tremble and heat course through her body.

  She told herself that to enter into any sort of relationship with a complete stranger could be both foolhardy and ruinous. But Alex Golding’s suggestion in the aftermath of Henry’s betrayal constituted a phase in her life that was both flattering and essential for her pride. His desire for her had aroused an equal desire in her. It was the kind of desire that was completely new to her, the kind of desire that, despite all his efforts, Henry had never been able to stir.

  She tried telling herself that the two men were not in the least alike, but how could she know that? She didn’t know Alex Golding.

  She had a flicker of doubt that what she was about to do was foolish, but then she reminded herself that the steps she was about to take, that what would happen, would be on her terms and that afterwards she would walk away and no one would be any the wiser at what she had done.

  She shivered, but it was not because she was cold. Suddenly she felt warm—far too warm. Something was happening to her. It was as if a spark had been lit that could not now be extinguished. A need was rising up inside her—a need to be close to the man who still watched her, to this stranger—to wallow in the desire that had suddenly taken hold of her, to saturate herself in this newfound passion his embrace and his kiss had awoken in her.

  Chapter Three

  Alex watched Lydia go with a brooding attentiveness in his eyes. Left alone with a raw ache inside him, wanting more of her, the vexing tide of mortification which had consumed him since, like a mindless idiot, he had put his proposition to Miss Brook only to be rejected, began to subside. His mind was locked in a furious combat with the desire to seek her out and beg her pardon and the urge to shrug his shoulders and forget her, but he knew that was impossible.

  Everything about her threw him off balance. Her mere presence stirred emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time—not since... But as he was about to let his thoughts wander and resurrect the past, angrily he thrust them back into the darkest corners of his mind, unwilling to allow them to intrude into the present.

  What had he been thinking of? He should not have tried to take advantage of her. He realised just how devastated she must have felt when she had discovered that Henry was married, the inexplicable anguish she must have been through. The girl was traumatised, vulnerable. After the way Henry had dealt with her she wanted someone she could trust, someone to sympathise with her situation, not some stranger who wanted to take her to bed.

  With his hand resting on the newel post, he continued to watch her as she climbed the stairs, seeing her pause when she reached the top. He could sense the tension in her. After a moment she slowly turned and looked down at him.

  * * *

  With her heart pounding in her breast and deeply affected by her desire and aroused by his kiss, Lydia felt something stir within her—something she had never felt before. A flicker, a leaping, a reaching out. The memory of the burning kiss and the dark, hidden pleasure it had roused in her was something she wanted to experience once more. She remained motionless, looking down at him. His eyes captured hers, a lazy seductive smile passing across his handsome face, curling his lips, and against her will she felt herself being drawn towards him, knowing she should go on her way, but she was too inexperienced and affected by him to do that.

  She allowed her captivated senses full rein. She was trapped and she knew it. She was mesmerised by him, like a moth to a flame, and she felt her heart suddenly start pounding in a quite unpredictable manner.

  He was looking into her eyes, holding her spellbound, weaving some magic web around her from which there was no escape. There was a weakening in every muscle and bone in her body as it offered itself to Alex Golding. She felt an upheaval inside her and a melting in her secret parts. Her need flashe
d like a current, charging the air between them and there, in a hotel bustling with other people, her eyes bestowed on him a silent carnal promise as binding as any spoken vow.

  Alex read the message her eyes conveyed. It was all the encouragement he needed. With a knowing smile curving his lips, he began to climb the stairs.

  * * *

  At the top of the stairs there was a corridor with closed doors on either side. Lydia entered one of these. Alex followed. The room was warm. It was not a large room, but it was comfortably furnished with everything the occupant needed—or occupants, as it should have been this night, had Henry’s plans come to fruition. The curtains were drawn across the window. The air was hushed and a single candle burned on a small table beside the bed.

  Alex stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Lydia stood watching him, so still she could have been a statue. In the soft glow of candlelight her eyes were huge, like those of a wide-eyed kitten, luminous and infinitely lovely. Her chest rose and fell with each breath she took as her conscience chose that moment to rear up and do battle, for what she was contemplating went beyond anything she had ever contemplated before. She trembled, her desire triumphing over her better judgement. She was more frightened than she had ever been in her life and she was both appalled and ashamed that she could even consider doing such a thing after all Henry had put her through.

  Without taking his eyes off her, Alex crossed to where she stood. The darkening of his eyes, the naked passion she saw in their depths, seemed to work a strange spell on her and conquered her.

  Alex’s thoughts turned to what was happening between them. If what she had told him was true, that Henry had failed to coerce her into becoming his lover, it was highly likely that she was still a virgin. In which case, if he, Alex, had any scruples whatsoever, he’d walk out of that room right now. But that brief stirring of his conscience was not strong enough to deter him and, as he gazed at her lovely, apprehensive face, the feeble protest melted away.