by Tess LeSue
Luke blinked and recovered himself. A man could get lost in those smoky eyes. “Would you like to dance, Miss Green?”
Alex was still reeling from the intensity of his gaze. It was as though he’d looked right through to the core of her.
When she didn’t respond Luke led her gently toward the dance floor. She was minutely aware of the feel of his palm cupping her bare elbow, and of the heat of his body so close to hers. “Are you always this quiet?” he whispered into her ear, before gliding away to take his position for the reel.
She was as rigid as a tent pole for the first dance; every muscle was tensed. She was painfully aware of his hands on her body, and of the distance between them when he moved away. The air between them thrummed with invisible energy, like the crackling of a summer lightning storm. Her nerve endings were zinging with anticipation, and she felt sure something wonderful was shimmering just out of sight. What was it about Luke Slater that turned her into such a wreck?
It was only after a couple of dances that Alex felt herself begin to relax. Oddly, it was the way his gaze fixed on her, unwavering, that calmed her. Tonight, she realized, he was hers completely. Before long, Alex found she was enjoying the dance immensely. The fiddles were lively, the night was balmy and scented with sugars and spices, and Luke Slater was a wonderful dancer. And why wouldn’t he be, a little voice piped up in her head; the man seems to be wonderful at everything. She caught his black gaze and he gave her an insouciant wink. She giggled. She couldn’t help it. She was helpless against the full force of his charm.
Luke couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed himself as much. When beautiful Beatrice smiled at him, he couldn’t help but smile back. Even her smile was perfect, he realized, wide and enthusiastic—strawberry lips parting to reveal small, even white teeth.
At the end of a particularly lively reel, he spun her to the edge of the floor until she was laughing breathlessly. “Wait here a minute,” he excused himself, and she watched curiously as he took the courthouse steps two at a time, heading for the band. He whispered something into the fiddler’s ear and Alex noticed money change hands.
He ran back down to her, looking boyish and wicked, his cheeks still flushed from dancing, his dark hair flopping over his forehead with every step.
“What did you do?” she laughed.
He grinned and took her in his arms. One strong hand rested in the small of her back as he pulled her close against him, and the other claimed her hand and guided it to the nape of his neck. “I simply drew to their attention the fact that those reels were exhausting the ladies, and that it was time for a waltz. Or two. Or three.”
Alex couldn’t resist the twinkle in his eye. As the music swelled into a slow and lovely two-step, Luke guided her back onto the floor. With every step he seemed to draw her closer, until they were stomach to stomach and chest to chest. Alex was having trouble breathing again. He was so hard against her, and she could feel his legs brush hers through the weight of her skirts.
He captured her gaze and held it, as firmly as his arms were holding her body; his eyes were blacker than midnight, like the surface of a river on a moonless night, like the darkest shadows in the deepest woods. Alex thought she could lose herself completely in those eyes.
As the two-step melted into a waltz, his gaze grew warmer and more intimate and Alex felt herself melting into him. His hand was drifting slightly lower on her back, until his fingers were pressed against the curve of her bottom. Glory, it was fortunate they were in public, or who knew what she’d let him do.
Luke scowled when he felt a hand tapping him on the shoulder. He ignored it, but it grew more insistent, until it was almost thumping him in an effort to be acknowledged. Not now, he wanted to snarl, not when she’s all hazy and soft with desire. He knew that if he could have another dance, he’d be able to waltz her off the floor and under the sycamores, where he could steal a kiss. Or two. Or three. And after that . . .
But now here was damn Henry Watts, looking up at him like a hopeful puppy. And what had Henry done to his hair in the last hour or so? It was plastered flat to his head and still bore the imprint of a comb, like a neatly furrowed field.
“May I cut in?” Henry asked, darting a glance at the lovely girl in green.
“I won’t mind,” a shy voice suggested. To Alex’s horror, Henry’s partner stepped into view from behind Luke’s back. It was Victoria.
Luckily, her attention was on Luke and she hadn’t noticed Alex yet.
She couldn’t, Alex thought wildly, suddenly feeling the full weight of her guilt. What was she doing? Spoiling Victoria’s night, that was what she was doing. Out of pure jealousy. Because she couldn’t bear Luke Slater thinking that Victoria was the pretty one. Feeling sick with shame, Alex spun on her heel and fled, shielding her face with her hands. Please let Victoria not recognize her!
“Hey,” she heard Luke call after her. “Beatrice!”
Thank God for Dolly and her cousin Beatrice. Now Victoria would just think Luke’s partner had been a crazy woman in a green dress. Not her own hateful sister, risking their very lives, just so she could dance with the man Victoria fancied herself in love with.
Alex tore through the empty streets, her breath rasping in her ears and her heart pounding. It wasn’t until she’d run up the back stairs at Dolly’s and shut herself in Delia’s room that she let the tears spring to her eyes. What kind of monster was she?
* * *
• • •
“I GUESS SHE didn’t want to dance with me,” Henry said numbly, back at the dance. He fiddled self-consciously with his freshly combed hair.
Luke ignored him and started after Beatrice. Where the hell was she going?
Victoria gazed after him with a sinking heart. She should have known. Here she’d been feeling like the prettiest girl at the dance, enjoying more male attention than she’d ever had before in her life, but, of course, there was a prettier girl. There was always a prettier girl. It was usually her own sister, she thought glumly. And if Alex could have come in her dove-gray dress instead of in Adam’s baggy old clothes, Luke would probably have been chasing after her instead of some girl in green. Victoria straightened her shoulders. At least it wasn’t that, she thought, cheering up. At least she didn’t have to watch him mooning over Alex. And it was she, Victoria Sparrow, who was about to spend several long months in the wilderness with him, not some woman in green. She barely made it halfway back to the table before she was intercepted by another dance partner, and Victoria found that her spirits were considerably improved.
Luke reached Dolly’s in time to see Beatrice dart around the side of the building. He followed. He was only in town for another day or so, and he didn’t intend to waste the advantage he’d gained tonight. What if he didn’t see her again?
He was astonished when he rounded the house to find Adam in the dark and dusty yard between the building and the stable, walking the stallion in the moonlight.
From the corner of his eye he saw the swish of skirts and noticed Beatrice disappearing across the balcony and into the cathouse.
“Look, Luke, he likes me!” Adam called, his voice loud in the still night.
Luke forced a smile. All he wanted to do was fly up the stairs after her, but he genuinely liked Adam and couldn’t bring himself to brush him off. “What are you doing, Adam? You’re missing the dance.”
A frown crossed Adam’s face. “I know, that’s what I told Alex.”
“Alex is here again?” Luke said with a measure of exasperation. He really was going to have to give Dolly a piece of his mind. She was taking advantage of the boy’s youth.
“Don’t be mad at Alex. We’ll go back before the dance is over.”
“I’m not mad,” Luke assured him.
“Blackie Junior needs the exercise anyway.”
Luke looked at the stallion dubiously. He wasn’t sure the
stallion would regard being led slowly around the yard as exercise. “I’m still not sure about the name, Adam. How about something more dignified, like Apollo?”
Adam wrinkled his nose.
Luke glanced up at the window to Delia’s old room, where a lamp was burning. “Not Apollo,” he mused absently, already moving toward the stairs. “I’ll think of something else.”
“That’s all right, I like Blackie.”
“If I see Alex I’ll send him down to take you back to the dance.”
Adam brightened. “I liked the dancing,” he said, but Luke was already out of earshot.
Luke tried to enter the house as stealthily as possible, worried he might run into one of the girls. When he opened the door he was greeted by muffled sounds of pleasure, both real and feigned, coming from some of the rooms. The sounds increased his sense of anticipation as he approached the door to Delia’s room. Beatrice’s room.
Alex almost leaped out of her skin when there was a soft knock at the door. She froze, unsure what to do. Before she could do anything the doorknob began to twist and her stomach turned over. She’d forgotten to lock the door behind her. Oh glory, and she was in a whorehouse! What if it was a customer looking for a whore? Like Luke the other day, the little voice whispered, and heat flooded her with the memory.
Luke eased the door open, careful to do it slowly, as most of the doors at Dolly’s were still new and prone to squeaking. She was standing in the center of the room, as though she’d been waiting for him. Maybe she had, he thought, as he took in her flushed cheeks and naked shoulders. The demure gauze wrap she’d worn was balled up on the floor, and her dusty slippers were discarded nearby. Maybe her flight hadn’t been a flight at all—perhaps it had been an invitation. She didn’t tell him to leave, and that was certainly invitation enough for Luke. He eased into the room and closed the door behind him with a click.
Alex meant to order him out. She really did. The words were on the tip of her tongue. But the sight of him lounging against the door, large and intimidating, and yet with one boyish lock of hair curling over his forehead, making him so very approachable, dissolved the words in her mouth. She had a mad impulse to push the silky dark lock away from his eyes.
The way he was looking at her caused a loosening in her belly. He looked so very serious . . . no, not serious . . . intense. It’s desire, the little voice sighed, and Alex shivered. She’d had men look at her with lust in their eyes, but never with desire like this. His slippery black gaze was full of silent promises.
If that wasn’t an invitation in those smoky-gray eyes . . .
Desire flooded him and he knew from the charged air between them that she felt the same way. She was breathing fast and shallow again, causing her lush breasts to surge against the near-indecent depth of her neckline. It was the dress that cinched it. Without that scrap of gauze, she was no lady. It proved him right. No virgin kissed the way she did; no virgin looked at a man with such desire; and no virgin wore a dress like that.
Alex felt her knees turn to water as he moved toward her. He walked with a slow predatory grace and she felt like a helpless deer, preyed upon, frozen by the stare of a creature about to devour her. If she could have spoken, she would have broken the spell. But she couldn’t speak. And even if she could have, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
He towered over her. She had to tilt her head back in order to meet his gaze. He stopped so close to her she could feel the heat radiating from his body, and feel his breath on her cheek. The moment stretched out for an eternity, until Alex’s nerves were stretched to breaking point.
And then he lowered his head, and his mouth claimed hers in a searing kiss.
The only part of him to touch her were his lips, but she felt utterly possessed. His full, soft mouth moved over hers, so tender despite his hunger for her. Skillfully, he teased her lips apart and then his tongue was sliding into her, sending ripples of fire coursing through her.
She swayed, and reached for him in order to steady herself.
Luke felt her hands slide up his chest and over his shoulders. It was the final invitation. He moaned and crushed her against him, his strong hands finally seizing her.
She felt the kiss deepen and had to cling to him for dear life. She had no idea what was happening to her. She’d never felt such a storm of sensation. One of his hands gripped the back of her neck, while the other hand curved over her buttocks and pulled her hard against the heat of him.
Luke was growing wild, struggling to control his desire. No kiss had ever driven him to the edge like this. She kissed him with such passion, promising so much. He had to pull away. He wanted to savor the experience, not to have it over in one swift and glorious explosion.
“Slow down, sweetheart,” he whispered against her lips. He tried to set her back from him, but she swayed on her feet and he couldn’t help smiling. He didn’t think she was aware of how her fingers were digging into the muscles of his back. He took her hands in his and lowered them to her sides.
Alex couldn’t think. She could barely breathe.
She almost moaned when he stepped away from her. She didn’t want him to stop. His kisses felt so wonderful; they sent a warm river cascading through her.
It didn’t help, Luke realized. Standing back had only allowed him to see her swollen lips and the plea for him to continue in the swirling smoke of her eyes.
He was taut with wanting her.
Alex gasped when his fingers brushed against her mouth. His thumb rubbed over her swollen lips. Instinctively, she kissed it. He froze. Feeling an unexpected pulse of power, Alex shyly flicked her tongue against the pad of his thumb. She heard his swift intake of breath and smiled against the press of his skin.
What was she doing? Some fading, rational part of her mind was appalled when she licked circles against his paralyzed thumb. But she was tired of being rational. She wanted this wild moment when all thought was driven from her head. Right now she wasn’t Alexandra Barratt; she wasn’t responsible for the welfare of her family; she wasn’t being pursued by one man who wanted to own her, and three more who wanted to kill her. Right now, in this moment, she was merely a physical being swamped by sensation. All that mattered was this moment, and this man, who wanted her.
Her tongue was driving him wild. He didn’t understand it. He felt like a callow youth again, struggling to contain himself. She was disappointed when he pulled his hand away, he could tell by the look in her eyes. Well, he wouldn’t let her be disappointed for long.
Alex melted into him when he kissed her again, and didn’t notice his fingers on the buttons at her back. He had her half out of her dress before she realized what was happening. He felt her stiffen and deepened his kiss again. His fingertips traced the line of her spine and she felt shivers of delight follow in their wake.
Was it wrong to enjoy his touch? Was it wrong to want him to keep touching her . . . to touch her everywhere?
She was every bit as perfect as he remembered. His kisses trailed to her neck as he fumbled with the laces of her corset. He found her pulse and grazed it with his teeth; by the time he reached the hollow of her neck and lapped at it with a hot, demanding tongue, the corset had fallen to the floor. Now lush, soft curves were pressing against him. Sweat beaded on his brow and his hands grew rough as they tugged the chemise down over her shoulders. He wanted to see her.
She should feel ashamed, she thought dazedly, but she didn’t. Strangely, as her clothes fell away, she felt freer, and more confident. Maybe it was because of the awe in his face and the hunger in his eyes.
When she was naked, except for the sheer stockings tied with satin ribbons at her thighs, he pulled back again, in order to look at the length of her. She was magnificent. Her skin was rosy and dewy with perspiration, her breasts were full and heavy, the nipples dark and thrusting with desire, and the rest of her was one delicious curve after another.
She noticed the tremor when he reached to touch her and felt her confidence grow. She arched toward him as his hands slid over her, following every dip and crescent. The deep languorous pulse was back, thrumming through her. She had never felt so alive. She wanted . . . something . . . so badly.
She tensed when he sank to his knees in front of her. His fingers pulled at the satin ribbons and then his hands were running over her legs as he eased the stockings over her calves. As he went he trailed kisses over her abdomen, pausing to look up at her wickedly when he reached the dark shadow at the juncture of her thighs.
Alex flushed.
When he stood again she was suddenly aware of the fact that he was still fully dressed. “I don’t think that’s fair,” she breathed.
“What?” he asked as he reached for her.
She eluded him, retreating until the back of her thighs hit the bed. “I want to see you too.”
Her words were almost his undoing. He swallowed hard when she slid onto the bed, her arm draping over the brass post and her eyes all but devouring him.
A dark light ignited in his eyes and he gave her a slow wolfish grin. Alex felt a fluttering in her belly as he removed his jacket and let it fall to the floor. He had no idea that she’d seen it all before . . . and the fact that she’d seen every last naked inch of him only seemed to heighten her anticipation now.
The white shirt fell, revealing the familiar expanse of burnished rosewood flesh and the dark line of hair curling down in a V to the waistband of his trousers.
He could feel the intensity of her gaze focused squarely on his fingers as he undid his buttons. His pulse was racing.
As he was revealed to her she unconsciously pressed against the brass of the bed, and the cold metal felt delicious against her overheated flesh. This time she didn’t look away. She drank in every detail.
He couldn’t take much more. Or so he thought. But then she rose and came toward him. He tensed, expecting her hand to sweep across him as his had caressed her. Instead she paused, within arm’s reach, and tilted her face up to him.