Carrying the Gentleman's Secret

by Helen Dickson

  ‘It didn’t?’ He seemed genuinely surprised.

  ‘Why, you conceited ass,’ she flared. ‘Cast your mind back to yesterday. I made one mistake when I agreed to marry Henry. I have learned my lesson the hard way. I will not make another. I have decided that matrimony is not for me. I will not sacrifice myself on that particular altar for any man.’

  Alex looked at her long and hard, his eyes probing hers like dagger thrusts. He refused to be moved. He was a man who had made his own choices for most of his life and, as much as he would like to make love to her once more, he considered it time to leave. ‘I am glad matters have been clarified between us. You knew I was not prepared to pledge eternal vows or offer you declarations of solemn love or devotion—but I do find you quite adorable and I wanted to know you better.’

  ‘And now you do—at least you think you do. No man will ever know me that well. Looking back, I find it odd that you should have wanted to seduce me—considering the heartache I might inadvertently have caused your sister.’

  ‘Because that’s the way I am,’ he stated.

  His attitude to the female sex was highly critical, his opinions low, but his own popularity among them was high. He was unattached, unattainable, and he would stay that way.

  ‘You presented a challenge. When I see something I want, I go for it. What happened between us was consensual. We each enjoyed what happened.’

  His voice was low, like pure silk, and his eyes became warm and appreciative as they took in her nakedness. Immediately she pulled the sheet over her and, feeling at a disadvantage with him towering over her, keeping the bedsheet wrapped about her she got out of bed.

  ‘You are a lovely young woman,’ he uttered on a gentler note, his gaze lingering on one naked shoulder not covered by the sheet, remembering her delicious curves and how soft her flesh had been to his touch. His desire was quick to ignite. ‘It is unfortunate that it has to end here.’

  Lydia raised her head and looked at him levelly, noting the unleashed sensuality she saw in his expression. ‘That’s the way it has to be. It is what I want,’ she said icily. ‘I have never thought of myself as a romantic.’

  ‘In that we are alike.’

  ‘It is the kind of sentimental nonsense spoken only by silly young girls and idiots,’ Lydia uttered with biting scorn.

  ‘And is only for the naive,’ he mocked cruelly.

  ‘Naive I might have been, sir, but since my unfortunate experiences with Henry and now you, naive is something I am no longer. Where you are concerned I submitted to temptation in a moment that I will no doubt regret to my dying day. I was not mistaken when I accused you of being callous. Your notion of deeper feelings is nothing more substantial than mere indulgence. The only kind you seem to know about is the kind made between the sheets. I have not known you twenty-four hours, and yet to me you appear to be so insecure and disenchanted with life that I find myself feeling almost sorry for you.’

  He fixed his cold eyes on her. ‘Don’t try to analyse me. Others have tried and failed.’

  ‘And I am surprised they even bothered to take the time. I was mistaken in you. Initially you gave me the impression that you were a gentleman, with a sense of honour. It would seem I was mistaken on both counts.’

  ‘That is your opinion,’ he said, torn between anger, amusement and desire as he looked down at her proud beauty and the wild tangle of her wonderful black mane tumbling down her spine as she held her head high. ‘I will not change the way I live my life and I make no apologies for it, either. But I do not recall you complaining when we made love,’ he murmured intimately, moving closer, his gaze devouring her face, feeling the need for one parting kiss.

  Suddenly the room seemed smaller, making each aware of the closeness of the other, of the warmth, the intimacy that had existed so briefly between them. The pull of Alex’s eyes was hard for Lydia to resist, but she had to.

  ‘Do not come near me again,’ she warned, unable to move away because the bed stopped her.

  He laughed mercilessly, his eyes unrelenting. ‘I’ll risk it.’

  ‘No, you won’t!’

  ‘Just one more kiss before I leave.’

  Before she could move, iron-hewn arms went around her with stunning force and drew her against a broad, hard chest. ‘Get off me,’ she objected furiously. ‘I don’t...’

  ‘Don’t what, Lydia? You don’t want me to kiss you?’ He chuckled softly. With one arm about her holding her close, his free hand grasped her chin, tilting her face to his. She was just as alluring, just as desirable as she had been when they had made love. ‘I think it’s a little late for that.’

  Lydia tried to pull away, her determination not to yield as strong as his determination to make her. ‘I don’t want this. I don’t want you to touch me. I want you to leave.’ He held her fast. She saw the burning light in his eyes, and deep within her she felt the answering stirring of longing she’d felt when he’d made love to her. She fought the weakness, not wanting to be completely at his mercy, but her body was already beginning to respond with a gross miscalculation of her will. She wasn’t made of stone. She was flesh and blood, and her blood was on fire.

  ‘I have a hankering for one more kiss before I go—one more kiss to remember you by.’

  As he lowered his mouth to hers, Lydia flamed with a fiery heat that warmed her whole body. Her eyes closed and the strength of his embrace and the hard pressure of his loins made her all too aware that he was treating her as he would any woman he had an overwhelming desire for. Her world began to tilt and once again she was lost in a dreamy limbo where nothing mattered but the closeness of his body and the circling protection of his arms.

  His lips caressed and clung to hers, finding them moist and honey sweet, and for a slow beat of time, hers responded, parting under his mounting fervour. And then as abruptly as he had seized her, so did he release her, so that she stumbled back from him.

  In the tearing, agonising hurt that enfolded her, Lydia was ashamed at how easy it had been for him, following all his harsh words, to expose the proof of her vulnerability. ‘How dare you?’ she attacked. ‘How dare you do that to me? I asked you to go, now please do as I ask. I do not want to see you again—ever. If you touch me again,’ she added with quiet firmness, ‘I will fight you with my dying breath. Now go.’

  Never had Lydia been so humiliated or made to feel so worthless in her life, she told herself, whipping up her temper until her cheeks were scarlet with anger. He looked so powerful, so arrogantly self-assured that she could not believe it was the same man who had... ‘I have not the slightest intention of repeating what happened between us. I will not become any man’s light-of-love, fawned over today and forgotten tomorrow.’

  ‘No? That is a shame. As long as you don’t accuse me of taking advantage of you. If you regret your actions, then you should forget tonight ever happened.’

  But I can’t, Lydia almost shouted at him. That was the trouble. The memory of what she had done would linger far too strongly for her to discount its effect on her. Because she had only allowed herself this one night, she would have to cultivate her secrecy, but she would be haunted by the sense that she would never again know such passion, such ecstasy with Alex ever again.

  ‘Please go.’ Clutching the sheet about her naked form, she turned her back to him, waiting for him to leave.

  At the door, Alex paused and looked at her. He wasn’t to know that what had just passed between them had been the most humiliating event of her young life. Her head was bent forward and her shoulders slumped. She looked so young and vulnerable, he felt momentarily disgusted with himself and his conscience gave a sharp wrench. But at that moment her head lifted and she squared her shoulders. He stiffened, feeling reluctant admiration for her stubborn, unyielding refusal to cower before him.

  Lydia heard him leave before turning and looking at the closed door. She hated her
self, which was a new feeling for her. She hated herself more than she hated Alex Golding who had brought her to this moment. It made no difference that every kiss, every act of love had been built on their mutual need, because they had wanted each other. What mattered was that she had been a party to it. So she was filled with self-loathing and consumed with the fact that she should have known that what she was experiencing now would be the ultimate outcome of their passion.

  * * *

  Later, waking in his own bedroom in the hotel, all manner of thoughts raced through Alex’s mind. Lydia Brook was very much a feature. Glowing and warm after their lovemaking, she had been a picture of alluring innocence and intoxicating sensuality and he had wanted her with a fierceness that still took his breath away.

  He had a powerful sex drive, but he craved intensity, not variety. Lydia had provided that intensity in spades. But he was forced to question his own actions. He must have taken leave of his senses, he thought as he contemplated the irony of the situation. Here he was, one of the most eligible single men in England, and yet he had made the fatal mistake of taking to bed an inexperienced young virgin. His stupidity galled him and he cursed himself for a dim-witted fool.

  But then he remembered the stunning beauty of her. She was certainly an interesting, unconventional female. When he had watched her walk into the dining room he had seen she was beautiful, dignified and ladylike in her demeanour, but he now knew that beneath the facade of serenity and gentleness she was also sensual and provocative. They had been incredibly sexually attuned to each other and she had satisfied him completely.

  He could easily fall in love with her and that troubled him, for he would not allow that to happen. Having been shackled to a difficult woman for three years of his life, he had no wish to sacrifice his freedom just yet—if ever. But if he saw Lydia again, how long would it be before he found himself wanting to share his life with her in every way? How long before she betrayed him with another man? He’d been there once and had no mind to travel down the same road twice.

  Besides, if Lydia Brook thought her virtue of such little importance that she could sacrifice it without a qualm and with a virtual stranger, then who was to say she would not do so again whenever she felt the need to look elsewhere for sexual fulfilment?

  But no matter how hard he tried, he could not deny that she had stirred his desire as no other woman had succeeded in doing for a long time, so, remembering with a surge of remorse the harsh words he had said to her, furious with himself and unable to leave things like this between them, he was up early the following morning to speak to her before she boarded the coach for London.

  * * *

  Having no wish to see Alex, Lydia didn’t go down to breakfast. She had arranged for her baggage to be taken to the coach and didn’t leave her room until it was time to leave. She was about to climb inside the coach with the other passengers when she was surprised to see Alex striding towards her. He was wearing a dark brown jacket and buff-coloured trousers, and his neckcloth was expertly tied. His jaw was set with cool purpose and there was a confidence emanating from every inch of his tall frame.

  She watched him approach, wondering how he could look so utterly casual after the things they had done to each other. But then, he probably made a habit of making love to every woman who drew his fancy, so in all probability it had meant nothing to him at all. He smiled, and she wished he didn’t look quite so nonchalant, not when she was struggling to appear normal in the aftermath of their night together and their acrimonious parting.

  ‘I’m glad to have caught you before you left.’

  She looked at him frankly, openly, and with a dispassion so chilling that he was intensely moved by it, yet he sensed that beneath it all was heartbreak and dejection. Seeing this and remembering the joy of her, he experienced another wrenching pain of unbearable guilt and a profound feeling of self-loathing. He looked at her for a long time before speaking again. His light blue eyes, in stark contrast to his dark hair, intently studied her face, bathed in the light of the early spring sun. She was so poised, so still.

  ‘You look pale,’ he said quietly.

  ‘My state of health need not concern you.’

  ‘But it does. I feel that I am responsible.’

  ‘Please don’t flatter yourself.’

  ‘I don’t. It was not my intention to insult you and I could not let you leave Gretna without trying to put things right between us. I owe you an apology. It was wrong of me to say what I did. If it makes you feel any better, I am deeply ashamed of myself.’

  ‘Ashamed, Mr Golding!’ Lydia exclaimed with a hint of sarcasm, stiff with pride and anger, the humiliation and the hurt she had suffered at both his and Henry’s hands still all too fresh, too real. She had been insulted and sorely wounded and she was determined not to make it easy for him. ‘Yes, you should be. As for apologising to me, I think it’s a little late to withdraw all that you said to me—what you insinuated.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I do apologise—and I shall not be happy until you tell me I am forgiven. I quite understand how upset you must have been.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ she replied coldly. The coach driver climbed up on to the box and asked for everyone to board. ‘Excuse me. I have to go.’

  ‘Miss Brook, if there is ever anything I can do...’

  ‘I don’t think there is anything you can do for me, Mr Golding.’

  ‘Even so, the offer is still there. And Henry...’

  ‘What about him? I fully intend to forget him. In fact, I intend to put this whole sorry episode behind me for good. Whatever connection existed between Henry and me—and you—is severed. I will chalk it up to a bad experience.’

  ‘Then I wish you well, Miss Brook—and I sincerely hope that you achieve all you set out to do.’

  Taking a step towards the coach, she paused and looked at him. There was a burning intensity in her eyes. ‘Oh, I shall. Despite this unfortunate interlude in my life my ambition remains the same. No power or persuasion will deter me.’ On that remark the only course that seemed open to her was a dignified exit, which she attempted to make, adding, ‘I think we’ve said all we need to, Mr Golding.’

  Before he could answer she turned away, but she did so slowly, deliberately, so as not to betray anything that he might take as an adverse reaction to their altercation.

  ‘Before you leave, there is something that we should take into account.’

  She turned her head and raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Oh? And what might that be?’

  He held out a card. ‘Take this, in case you should find yourself in, shall we say, a delicate condition. If that turns out to be the case, I would like to know. It is as well you know where to find me.’

  Lydia stared at him uncomprehending, momentarily at a loss for words. That a child might be the result of their night together had not even entered her head. ‘I—I had not thought...’

  ‘Clearly,’ he murmured. ‘Please take it.’

  She did as he asked. ‘If that should turn out to be the case, then it need not concern you—indeed, I’m surprised that you would even want me to contact you.’

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘I am sure you have no wish to see me again after today, any more than I wish to see you—especially after you condemned me in so cruel and harsh a manner.’

  ‘For which I have already apologised. Do not for one minute think I would abandon you should you find yourself with child.’

  ‘Do not feel you have a duty towards me. I would not want that—to hold you through some obligation that would make a mockery of what we shared last night, however brief it was.’

  His expression hardened. ‘And I told you not to confuse physical desire with love.’

  ‘I don’t,’ she replied coldly.

  ‘Do not think that just because we shared a bed—because I made love to you—it means tha
t you touched my heart. However, should you find yourself with child it would change everything.’

  ‘It needn’t. I realise that this would complicate matters for you and, to avoid any future embarrassment, I am telling you to do what you have to do, Mr Golding. Forget about me and, if there is one, the child, too. I would not want anything from you, I can promise you that.’

  ‘My obligation would be towards the child—unless, of course, you had it adopted. But please don’t do that without contacting me first.’

  Lydia stared at him as if he had struck her. Alex saw the pupils of her eyes dilate until the green had almost disappeared. ‘Clearly you do not know me at all,’ she said, with so much anger in her voice that every word was clipped. ‘That is precisely the kind of arrogant assumption I would expect you to make. But you could not be more wrong. No matter what my circumstances are, if I were the poorest and meanest creature on God’s earth, nothing and no one would ever persuade me to part with my child. I’ve told you I want nothing from you. Now go on your way, Mr Golding. I promise I shall not come looking for you in the future.’ Having no wish to say anything further, she turned from him once more and climbed into the coach.

  Alex’s jaw tightened, his eyes burning furiously into her back, while feeling a passionate surge of relief and thankfulness that she had spoken as she had. With all the passengers aboard the coach the driver closed the door. With a curt bow of his head Alex turned and walked away.

  Chapter Four

  As Lydia settled into her seat, isolated in her own private misery, swamped with self-retribution and tortured by memories, she tried to sort through her muddled thoughts. The whole episode from leaving London with Henry and what had transpired when she had met Alex Golding had left her numb. She gave fleeting thought to the point he had made that she might find herself with child, but it was too dreadful to even contemplate.

  She had always sensibly believed in the teachings of her mother, that it was a sin for a woman to give herself to a man in carnal lust outside wedlock and that she must learn to exercise the strictest discipline over the demands of the flesh—even though she herself had not adhered to her own teachings when she had taken up with Alistair. Indeed, Lydia’s ideals had always dictated that for her there would be no frenzied coupling with a lover, that any attachment for her would engage body and mind, but not the heart.