My Lady Rival

by Ashley March

  “No, let me look at you.”

  “A ll right.” Settling back against him, she listened to the sound of his breathing near her ear, concentrated on the circles he traced beneath her breasts with the pads of his fingers.

  A nd in that moment as he held her, Willa realized she had never felt so happy.

  Or so immensely desolate.

  Miss Willa Stratton: Greedy. Impatient. Very, very hopeless.

  Chapter 19

  Alex sat in the main room of the Three Crowns the next morning, waiting for Willa to descend from her chamber. He’d watched her fall asleep, then rose quietly so he wouldn’t wake her as he returned to his own room. It was difficult to leave her. It shouldn’t have been.

  The pair of men at the table beside him stopped discussing the various issues with their sheep’s dung—thankfully—and began whispering. “Well, look’ee there.”

  “Now, that’s a sunrise I wouldn’t mind waking up to each morning.” A lex’s gaze jerked toward the staircase. Willa walked down the last few steps, her hand gracefully sliding along the banister, her back straight like a queen’s, and her chin held high. She was as common as any street rat, as common as he, and yet with her bearing and confidence it was no wonder she mingled among the aristocracy well. She appeared born to marry a lord, to breed an heir and multiple other ladies and honorables.

  God, he’d made a mistake. He should never have kissed her again, never written those letters, never gone to her bedchamber, not even if he’d discovered the secret of alchemy. If he’d simply forgotten and ignored her as best he could, it was possible he wouldn’t now be burning for her again or desperately desiring to maim and mutilate her future unnamed, faceless husband.

  She is not for me.

  She had money but not the connections or influence needed to grow the business of Laurie & Sons. Even with the nonsaturation process working, he needed the aristocracy to fulfill his vision of its success. She couldn’t give his family legitimacy and help his other siblings make aristocratic marriages. Not to mention the fact that she was her father’s daughter, his greatest rival. She’d proven her loyalty three years ago when she’d stolen his secrets in Italy. That truth, if nothing else, removed her as a choice for anything beyond one night in a bed at an inn in a small village in Northamptonshire.

  He’d been her lover, but he couldn’t marry her. He couldn’t even be her friend.

  A t that moment Willa turned toward him, the most beautiful, open, lovely smile upon her face. The men at the table beside him stared, speechless, and for a moment A lex did the same, his chest tightening, every pore soaking in that smile as if she truly were the sun and her smile the sun’s rays.

  He couldn’t blame himself for wanting her; any man with breath in his body would. But he should have stayed away despite the temptation. She might be his rival, but she deserved better. She deserved a man who would throw everything at her feet and desert all just to make her happy.

  at her feet and desert all just to make her happy.

  Sprawling back, A lex hooked an arm over the back of his chair. “Good morning, dear sister.” He couldn’t be charming—she might think he was encouraging a relationship. He couldn’t banter with her as before—the heat between them turned to fire too quickly. But he could be negligent. He could pretend like she meant nothing at all.

  “Good morning, A lex,” she replied, her smile still as bright.

  “Did you eat breakfast?”

  “Yes, thank you for having it sent up. That was very thoughtful.” He’d done it deliberately. More time for them to spend apart. The question now, of course, was why he’d waited for her at the inn instead of going to the factory to work more on the nonsaturation.

  They stared at each other, memories of the previous evening exchanged in their gazes. Knowing they couldn’t return to where they’d been before, but also knowing they had no future together. It should have been a relief that she understood the role she would play, and yet he was inexplicably disappointed that she didn’t ask for more, that she didn’t even hint at marriage. A s if he meant nothing to her, either.

  “Well.” A lex planted his hands on the table. “Shall we go?” He helped her inside the carriage he’d had waiting for their short journey to the mill, then climbed inside after her. If he sat beside her rather than on the opposite side as he should have, it was only because he truly did despise riding backward—

  not because he took any pleasure from her nearness.

  A s soon as the groom closed the door behind him, A lex turned his head to stare out the window on the carriage door.

  “You’re very quiet,” she said.

  A lex tensed. He didn’t reply. He barely breathed. But he did begin to hum.

  “Is this how it’s meant to be, then? A couple of romps and then we ignore each other?” Her voice wasn’t harsh; it wasn’t even judgmental. Hell, he wished it had been. Instead, she was quite, quite cheerful.

  She laughed, a merry, pleased sound—as if he’d done something greatly amusing. A lex shifted his gaze toward her, wary.

  “Come, A lex, do not believe me to be one of the young debutantes. I am six and twenty, an old, wise woman. We had our fun, didn’t we? There’s no need to act as if I mean to throw myself at your feet at any moment, begging for a pledge from you. A lthough, if you were so inclined to beg at my feet, that should be something I’d like to see.”

  She grinned at him, teasing him for his fears, his anxiety. She wouldn’t ask for more from him; she didn’t want to give him anything, either. With her jaunty yellow hat perched at an angle on her head, a smart yellow-and-white pinstriped walking dress showcasing the tiny circumference of her waist and the creamy-white skin at her throat, she was happy sophistication, optimistic and without a care in the world.

  He should have felt relieved that she knew him so well and saw through him so He should have felt relieved that she knew him so well and saw through him so easily. Instead he wanted to kiss that happy, content, I-don’t-give-a-damn smile off her face.

  Without a word, he leaned forward and took her face between his palms.

  “A lex? What are—?”

  He ravished her mouth, sealing his lips to hers, battling her tongue with his, giving her no quarter, no space to breathe, seeking to brand her so that she would never be able to dismiss him so easily again. She didn’t fight or stiffen as he might have expected. Instead, her hands clutched at the front of his coat and little moans issued from her throat, urging him on, speaking for her pleasure.

  A lex tore his mouth from hers, unable to catch his breath. No other woman had ever made him feel so demanding, so possessive, so desperate. He’d always been able to enjoy the moment and charm the woman, then walk away. Not now. Not with her.

  Forcing a smile to his face, he pulled his hands away only with the greatest amount of discipline. “You’re correct. You don’t taste like a debutante, either.” She blushed, lifting her hands to right the hat he’d set askew. “Thank you for the appraisal. I’m almost afraid to ask what that means. Do I taste old and wise?” His gaze lowered to her lips, and when he spoke, he spoke to seduce, to arouse.

  It came easily now, his intention not to manipulate but to show her his desire. He could give her that, at least. “On the contrary. You taste like the sweetest nectar, beautiful and ripe. I believe you could quickly become an addiction, Willa, if a man weren’t careful.”

  He slid closer to her. Deftly removed the pins of her hat and laid both hairpiece and accessories at his other side. Lifted her from the seat and settled her over his lap, one arm braced around her back and the other settled across her thighs. “Tell me you don’t want me to kiss you, and I’ll let you go,” he said, noting the flutter of her pulse at her throat. He rubbed her back in small, soothing circles.

  She stared at him with her large blue eyes, stray wisps of hair floating above her head where the pins had once helped to tuck them down. She sat rigid in his arms, so different from the woman who’d opened
herself to him last night with such generosity and desire. “I don’t want you to kiss me,” she said.

  “Liar.”

  He kissed her, anyway.

  There was, Willa decided, such a thing as an A lex kiss. Whether he was slow or savage, passionate or teasing, whether it was a peck, a brush, or a long, consuming kiss, he made her feel that she’d been nothing more than a dry piece of kindling waiting for his touch, then set aflame and burning as soon as his mouth touched hers.

  I need you.

  Thank God she didn’t say that aloud. Neither did she tell him how she resented him for the need. Nor how, after more than two years of trying to escape from the loneliness presented when her brother finally became a man and her father the loneliness presented when her brother finally became a man and her father began to depend on him instead of her, A lex’s arms finally felt like a place she could stay. She was tired of traveling, tired of trying to impress her father when she could never measure in his eyes as a son could and . . . tired of running. The only honesty she’d allowed herself recently was that she’d rather have a family, a home. Not because her brother had one of his own, but because she remembered her mother stroking her hair at night with her fingers and singing her lullabies.

  She wanted love. She wanted to love and to be loved. Safety, security, permanence . . . and this.

  A lex’s arms were strong about her. He wouldn’t let her fall. He would protect her.

  For now.

  Suddenly the meeting of their lips was too much, and Willa tilted her head back.

  She wouldn’t break away, but she knew she would give herself away in a kiss. He would understand her desperation and her need.

  “A lex.” She sighed his name as his lips glided down her neck, a hot, sensuous trail ending in the hollow of her throat. She waited for him to descend farther, to try to kiss her breasts, but he stayed there, his breath warming her skin, his mouth resting on her skin. “A lex?”

  He pulled away, not meeting her eyes, and gently set her aside. “I’m sorry, Willa. I can’t kiss you again.”

  A deep humiliation ached in her chest as she drew herself together, her chin rising. “If you’ll recall, I told you I didn’t want you to kiss me.”

  “I know. I apologize.”

  He handed her the hat and pins, and Willa stared down at his long, masculine fingers holding the flimsy feminine headpiece. She glanced up into his eyes. He was watching her intently, tracking her movements. “Very well, then.” She didn’t ask why he’d stopped; she didn’t need to know.

  “I respect you. I am going to marry another woman, and you are going to marry another man. I respect you too much, and I respect my future wife too much in order to continue this—” He paused, closed his mouth, and swallowed.

  “This . . .”

  She took a deep breath and waited.

  He stared at her for a moment longer, then smiled. A nd then it was as it had been before, and there was nothing between them that mattered. He was harmless. She needed to be watched to ensure she didn’t mess with something he wanted. A nd they were both charming and beautiful.

  She smiled at him. He smiled at her. A nd all was well with the world.

  Chapter 20

  Willa stared out the window. Pressure built inside her chest, a burning, aching hollowness that swelled in her throat, in her nostrils, and in her eyes. She would not cry.

  Damn him.

  She would not cry.

  A n hour passed by. Two. The entire day, until the sun faded behind the horizon and they sat there in the darkness of the carriage side by side, not speaking.

  When they finally arrived in London at the Mivart Hotel, he held his arm across the door so she couldn’t exit. Willa stared at his arm, clenched her jaw, then dragged her gaze toward his face.

  There was nothing left to say.

  Don’t look back.

  Don’t look back.

  Don’t look back.

  This time, she didn’t.

  “Where have you been?”

  A lex glanced up from his desk, his eyes bleary. Jo stood half hidden by the open study door, one hand planted on her hip.

  He hadn’t been able to go to sleep after taking Willa to the hotel.

  “You know where I’ve been,” he said.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to return. It took you a long time to check on the testing.”

  “I took Miss Stratton with me. The nonsaturation works.” Those were the main points. He was sure she’d have liked to hear the entire story, but he was too weary to oblige.

  “The nonsaturation works? A lex, congratulations! That’s wonderful!”

  “Thank you.” He stared at the list and blinked. He was so tired, his vision clouded.

  “Well, I’m relieved to hear how thrilled you are,” she said drily.

  He looked up then. She smiled.

  “I have something to tell you,” Jo said.

  A lex stood, scrubbing his hands over his face. “You’ve become betrothed to a lord.”

  “Good God, no. A llow me to begin again. I have something exciting to tell you.” The image that had kept him awake after returning to Holcombe House flashed The image that had kept him awake after returning to Holcombe House flashed again in his mind. Willa, walking away as he stared after her through the carriage window. A gain and again the scene repeated itself.

  A lex strode around the desk toward the sideboard. “Whisky?” he offered.

  “If you’re not going to oblige me by acting curious, then I suppose I won’t torture you by dragging this out. I terminated your bookkeeper.” A lex stilled, the bottle in his hand frozen midair. He slowly set it down and turned around. “You fired Mr. Swarthing?”

  “I found the books where you hid them and went over everything while you were gone. Only a few months, A lex, and he’d made a mess of it.” The fog of sleep had cleared away instantly. A lex narrowed his eyes and strolled forward. “How did you fire him? He’s my employee.”

  Jo shrugged. “I threatened to summon the law. There were inconsistencies—

  glaring inconsistencies that even you wouldn’t have been able to miss if you’d taken the time every now and then to look over the accounts. Instead of chasing after Willa. Or is it Lady Marianna you’re chasing after? I become confused sometimes.”

  A lex gritted his teeth. “I’m no longer courting Lady Marianna. A s for Miss Stratton—”

  “I should also mention that I went through your letters while you were gone. It appears Willa has been a very busy little bee on your behalf.” He stilled. “What do you mean?”

  Jo stepped away from the door, revealing a large sheaf of papers in her hand.

  “Letters from various people. Some lords and relations to lords, so I know you’ll be pleased. Some from businessmen—in England, Europe, and even A merica. A ll asking about your nonsaturation process.”

  “She told them my secret.”

  Jo slapped his shoulder with the papers. “She told them to invest in Laurie and Sons for the greatest textile invention this century. They all mentioned her name, wrote about how she recommended they contact you for more information.” Willa had tried to help him, even though they were rivals, even when she could have been the one to inform her father about the process for the benefit of Stratton’s company. But most important, he’d been wrong. Idiotically wrong.

  A rrogantly wrong. He’d never been so happy to be wrong in his entire life.

  A lex whooped and picked Jo up. He spun her about, just like their father once had.

  “I’m thrilled that you’re excited,” she drawled once he put her down. “Truly, I am. But aren’t you going to congratulate me for getting rid of Swarthing?

  Compliment me on how clever I am? Or are you just going to ignore my accomplishment of keeping the man from robbing our company and family blind?”

  A lex inclined his head. “Well done, Jo.”

  “I want the books,” she said.

  “No.”

>   “No.”

  Her mouth gaped, and A lex smiled. “You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

  She pursed her lips. “A ctually, I did. I just gave you two pieces of good news. I expected something in exchange.”

  “You deserve more than hours spent hunched over the accounts. I’m not refusing you to make you upset, Jo. I’m refusing you because I want to see you happy.”

  “You say you want me to be happy. I want the books because they make me happy. They’re a piece of him, a piece of me that won’t get lost in this huge house. You can have the rest of the business, the nonsaturation, your aristocratic bride or whomever you choose. I want you to have those things. I want you to be happy. But let me be happy, too, A lex.” She paused a moment, then asked, “Have I made you feel guilty enough yet?”

  A lex sighed, raking his hand through his hair. “A s if I didn’t already feel like the biggest bastard in the world tonight.”

  She smiled. “Wonderful.” She held out the letters to him. “I did hide the books before I came to see you, just in case you said no.”

  “I assumed you did,” he said. “A nd, if you must know, I rather look forward to having someone competent to review the accounts again. It’s true I should have taken more time to look over them myself, but I did see there were quite a few errors from Swarthing.”

  She quirked a brow. “A nd yet you still refused to let me have them.”

  “I know, I know. But he came with the highest recommendation. I’m not sure what to say, other than that I should have listened to you from the beginning.

  Though you’re older and thus at times I do fear for the workings of your mental faculties, you’re much wiser and—dare I say it—usually much more intelligent.” Jo scowled and turned away. “Stop trying to charm me. I know your tricks.”

  “A ren’t you going to tell me what a wonderful, marvelous brother I am for giving you the books now?”

  “You’re very adequate, thank you.”