Jacquie D'Alessandro - [Regency Historical 04]

by Never A Lady

  Fire sizzled through her, and she nearly stumbled. “I don’t think Lucky would take kindly to having his walk cut short.” She nodded toward the enthusiastic puppy, who alternated between galloping as far ahead as his lead would allow, then stopping to sniff at every blade of grass.

  “Perhaps not, but I’d wager I’ll end up carrying him before long since he’s bound to run out of energy.” He tilted his chin toward the chatting couple walking several yards ahead of them. “I don’t think my footman would take kindly to having this walk cut short, either. John seems quite taken with your friend Emma.”

  “I believe the feeling is mutual.” She fiddled with the strings on her reticule, then said, “It was very generous of you to purchase Emma’s entire crate of oranges. She’s never finished selling this early in the day.”

  “It was my pleasure, especially as I’ve developed a special liking for the fruit. Besides, I saw the way she and John were looking at each other. By making Emma available to join us, not only could they get acquainted, but her presence provides you with a chaperone.”

  “Do I need a chaperone?”

  “Definitely. Otherwise, I’d give in to the temptation to drag you behind a tree and ravish you in broad daylight.”

  “Oh…my,” she said, rendered breathless by the image his words created in her mind. “And that would be very bad.”

  “And very likely if you don’t cease looking at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “In that way every man wants to be looked at by a woman he desires. It’s…potent. Especially with those big, beautiful eyes. I suppose most other men would compare their color to a topaz jewel. But to me, your eyes look like warm, melted chocolate, sprinkled with cinnamon.”

  “As you’ve admitted a weakness for sweets, I’m delighted. Especially as I prefer chocolate to topaz jewels.”

  He chuckled softly, then discreetly brushed his arm against the outer curve of her breast. “I knew you were extraordinary, but the fact that you would even think such a thing, let alone say it out loud, makes you truly incredible. Hmmm. Extraordinary and incredible…I believe that makes you…incredinary.”

  They paused while Lucky examined an apparently fascinating tuft of grass, and she smiled up at him, shading her eyes with her free hand. “I like the way you create new words. Have you always done so?”

  “No. You’re the first person I’ve ever met who has inspired me to do so.”

  She was tempted to categorize his words as mere jest, but the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice, made it clear he was serious. Confused pleasure seeped through her. “I’m flattered.”

  “And special. Which makes you—”

  “Splattered?” she suggested, realizing the word perfectly described her thoughts and emotions—like raindrops scattered by buffeting winds.

  He laughed, a deep, rich sound she could have listened to for hours. “Splattered,” he agreed, his eyes smiling into hers.

  Lucky barked, and they both looked down at the black ball of fur whose prancing and tail wagging indicated he was ready to move on. When they started walking again, Colin said, “I meant to tell you this earlier, but I was distracted by your charms and forgot. When I left Wexhall’s last night—or rather early this morning—I saw Robbie.”

  A frown pulled down her brows. “Robbie? Where?”

  “Hiding in Wexhall’s bushes. Looking out for you, he claimed.”

  Concern knotted her stomach. “He shouldn’t be doing that.”

  “Precisely what I told the lad. I assured him you were being well cared for and were perfectly safe. And that you would worry about him if you suspected he was lurking about.”

  “Thank you. I’ll speak to Emma—make sure she tells him I’m fine and to stay away and that I’ll be home soon.”

  “The child loves you.”

  A lump of emotion clogged her throat. “I love him in return. And speaking of love…” She nodded toward Emma and John, who were now quite far ahead, strolling with their heads bent close to each other.

  “They seem to be getting on famously,” Colin said.

  “I can’t say I’m surprised. The last time I read Emma’s cards, they predicted she’d meet a tall, handsome, blond man.”

  “And what of your cards? Did they predict you’d meet a man with commanding bearing, superior intelligence, and passable good looks?”

  She recalled her last card reading, and the danger she’d seen. Not wishing to cast a pall on the afternoon, she said lightly, “Yes, but it might not have been you, as I read nothing about this man having a weakness for sweets.”

  “On the contrary, I’m certain it was I. I have so many weaknesses, no doubt that one just became lost amongst all the others.”

  “Weaknesses other than sweets? What are they?”

  “I’ll tell you—for a price.”

  “How much?”

  Deviltry and heat danced in his eyes. “The price has nothing to do with money.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Then you risk never discovering how sensual a game of billiards can really be.”

  “Billiards?” she repeated, intrigued. “Sensual?”

  He settled his hand on top of hers, which was curled in the crook of his arm. Warmth slid up her arm, but then she gasped when he slowly brushed the backs of his fingers over the outer curve of her breast. “It depends entirely upon with whom you are playing.”

  He continued his slow caress, and the fire racing through her made it nearly impossible to think. She pretended to ponder, then blew out an exaggerated, put-upon breath. “Very well, I agree to your terms, heinous though they are.”

  “Noted. Mind you, these weaknesses are of a somewhat recent nature. It appears I have a weakness for oranges.”

  His finger flicked over her nipple and her heart stuttered. “You do?”

  “Yes.” He halted under the shade of an elm, then turned to face her. Less than two feet separated them, a dangerous lack of space that was so very tempting to erase with a single step forward. “And big, chocolate brown eyes, and dark, shiny hair,” he continued softly. “And smooth skin that has just a smattering of freckles right here…” He lifted his hand and brushed his fingertips over her cheek, halting her breath. Then his gaze dropped to her mouth, and heat flared in his eyes. “And full lips.”

  Dear God, surely he didn’t mean to kiss her. Right here, in the open, where anyone could see. Her insides trembled, and although her inner voice warned her to step away, she couldn’t move.

  “You,” he whispered, his fingers lingering on her cheek. “I have a profound weakness for you, Alexandra.”

  “And I for you.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, but as they expressed a sentiment so obvious, there wasn’t much point in trying to deny it.

  The hint of a smile touched his lips. “I’m glad. I care nothing for things that are one-sided.”

  He leaned forward, and her heart thudded with an anticipation that should have appalled her but instead thrilled her. A quick look around assured her that no one was nearby. Still, the voice of reason inside her head whispered that she risked a great deal allowing him such liberties in public. She shoved reason away and waited for his kiss.

  An insistent barking penetrated the fog surrounding her, and he stepped back with a half-troubled, half-sheepish expression. “It appears Lucky is an able chaperone, and clearly you require one, as I nearly forgot myself.” He offered his elbow, and after she slipped her hand back into the warm crook of his arm, they continued their slow walk.

  After a dozen paces in a silence broken only by the warbling of birds, she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “This weakness of yours for me—it truly baffles me.”

  “Now who’s fishing for compliments?” he asked in a teasing voice.

  “I’m not. Truly.”

  “Then allow me to assure you that you are extraordinary. And your beauty is unsurpassed.”

  “You require spectacles.”

>   He shook his head. “Your beauty is much more complex, and encompasses far more than mere physical attributes. It has to do with your essence. Your soul. The extraordinary person you are.”

  Guilt slapped her squarely in the midsection. “I’m not the paragon you’re making me out to be, Colin. I’ve done things I’m…not proud of.”

  “I’d be hard-pressed to name anyone who hasn’t. God knows I’ve done plenty of things I’m not proud of. But regardless of those things, you’ve risen above them and turned yourself into someone to be admired. That in itself is extraordinary.”

  She turned and found him watching her with an unreadable expression, and her throat went dry. His words, the way he said them…it almost sounded as if he knew her past was less than reputable. “What do you mean?” she asked carefully.

  “I’m guessing you endured some hardships while growing up. It has been my experience that hardships either break people or inspire them, firing them with determination. It’s clear to me you’ve triumphed over any adversities and want to help others, such as Robbie. That says a great deal about you.”

  Discomfort edged through her at his uncannily accurate assessment. “What makes you think I endured hardships?”

  Obviously her tone wasn’t as neutral as she’d hoped because he said, “I meant no offense, Alexandra. I tend to study people—I’m afraid that comes with being a spy—and it’s simply a conclusion I’ve drawn based on my own observations. If I’m wrong, I apologize.”

  “Upon what observations did you base your conclusion?”

  He hesitated, then said, “Many different things. Your hands are those of someone accustomed to hard work. The fact that you are so determined to help children like Robbie, whose young lives are fraught with difficulties, suggests to me that you are motivated by a childhood that was likely less than idyllic. When you mentioned your mother died, I had the impression you were young when that happened.”

  An image of her mother, so pale and ill, trying to smile, flashed in her mind. “I was eight.”

  “It’s clear she meant a great deal to you.”

  A frown pulled down her brows. “How? I’ve barely spoken of her.”

  “The look in your eyes when you’ve mentioned her speaks volumes. It’s a look I recognize.”

  She nodded with understanding. “Because of the loss of your own mother.”

  “Yes. What happened to you after she died?”

  A wealth of painful memories flooded her, and even though she had no desire to dredge up that part of her life, she suddenly wanted him to know something of her past—at least enough to realize that she spoke the truth when she said she was common.

  “I went to live with an aunt,” she said. “My father’s sister. She wasn’t fond of my mother, whom she labeled ‘gypsy rubbish’ and was less than pleased to be saddled with me.”

  “What of your father?”

  “He was a sailor. He died at sea when I was a baby. I don’t remember him at all.”

  “I’m sorry.” He again rested his hand, which held Lucky’s lead on top of hers, and gently squeezed her fingers. “Obviously, your aunt provided for your education.”

  A humorless sound escaped her. “No. She provided only for her son, Gerald, who was two years older than I. I learned by listening at cracks in the doors and by hiding in the bushes beneath the room where the tutor instructed him.” She drew a deep breath, and decided it wasn’t necessary to add that she’d been kicked out of her aunt’s home at the age of twelve after she’d blackened Gerald’s eyes for trying to insinuate his hand up her skirt. “It wasn’t a very happy place.” Neither were the cold, dark, frightening London streets where she’d taken refuge after being tossed from her aunt’s house like yesterday’s trash. That was when and where her real education had begun.

  “Which proves that you are one of the people who is inspired, rather than oppressed, by adversity. Whatever became of your aunt?”

  “I’ve no idea. I haven’t seen or heard from her since I left her home. Nor do I care to. For all I know she’s dead. I’ve often hoped she is.” She looked at him and raised her brows in challenge. “What sort of person does that make me?”

  “Human. Just like the rest of us.”

  Deciding she’d walked as far down that road of painful memories as she cared to go, she asked, “What sort of things have you done of which you’re not proud?”

  Colin turned and looked at her, wanting to question her further, but clearly sensing she would not welcome any more queries. He’d hoped she’d confide in him about her former profession, but he understood why she wouldn’t. Yet perhaps if he confided in her, she’d do the same. Or perhaps she’d never look at him again with that same admiration in her eyes.

  Keeping his expression and tone perfectly neutral, he asked, “Do you really want to know? You may not like what you hear.”

  “There’s nothing you could say that would make me think badly of you.”

  “A statement you might regret.”

  “No.” Her gaze searched his. “I understand shame and regrets and making mistakes too well to judge anyone else’s. But if you’d rather not tell me, I understand that as well.”

  Her words, the warm compassion in her eyes, flooded him with a plethora of emotions that tightened his throat. That she’d experienced shame and hurt angered him, and filled him with sympathy, along with an overwhelming desire to tell her heartless aunt precisely what he thought of her treatment of her orphaned niece. Her understanding in that she didn’t press him to expose every detail of his life rendered him all the more willing to tell her things he’d never shared with anyone else.

  “I want you to know.” After drawing a bracing breath, he told her about the night he was shot, how he’d betrayed his brother. Of the estrangement that followed. And of the guilt he still carried. She listened in silence, her brow furrowed in concentration.

  When he finished, she said, “The two of you have reconciled.”

  “I am fortunate that he forgave me.”

  “Your brother no doubt carries guilt with him as well because you were shot.”

  “An occurrence that was entirely my own fault. Nathan had never given me a reason to mistrust him, yet I did.”

  “Why?”

  “I spent countless hours asking myself that very question. And I’m ashamed to say that part of me was jealous of him. Envious certainly. He didn’t have the responsibilities I had. He was free in ways I never could be.” He shook his head and frowned. “I don’t mean to sound as if I don’t care about my obligations to my title or take them seriously, because I do. A great many people depend on my family’s lands for their livelihood, and that is a responsibility I would never jeopardize or compromise. But I cannot deny that there were times, especially when I was younger, when I would have given a great deal to be the younger brother.” He shot her the same challenging look she’d issued to him. “What sort of man does that make me?”

  “Human. Just like the rest of us.”

  A small smile tugged at his lips. “Hoist on my own petard.” He debated whether to continue, then decided to lay the rest of his cards on the table. “But I’ve done other things. Things I’ve never told anyone.”

  He suspected he must have looked as bleak as he sounded, for she gently squeezed his arm and said softly, “You don’t have to tell me, Colin.”

  But suddenly he wanted to. For reasons he didn’t fully understand, other than to know he didn’t want secrets between them. “I spent my spying years living a lie,” he began. “Even my own father didn’t know I worked for the Crown.”

  “I think secrecy can be forgiven in such matters.”

  He slowed their pace, then stopped and turned to face her. And uttered the words he’d never told anyone. “I killed a man.”

  For several heartbeats silence swelled between them. Then she said calmly, “I’m certain you had a good reason to do so.”

  Her quiet composure in the face of his confession stunned him, yet a
t the same time didn’t surprise him. This woman, his unique Alexandra, wasn’t the sort to suffer the vapors and ring for the hartshorn.

  His unique Alexandra. The unsettling words reverberated through him like a heartbeat, filling him with a sensation he couldn’t name, one he firmly set aside to examine later. “He was a traitor to England.”

  “Then he deserved to die. Think of the lives you saved by stopping him.”

  “I do. But…” The images he kept so tightly locked away burst through the dam to flood his mind. “I discovered Richard’s perfidy quite by accident while we were on a mission together for the Crown. Indeed, if not for a small misstep on his part, I wouldn’t have known. I’d considered him a friend. A colleague. A man loyal to England.” All the fury and betrayal he’d felt came rushing back, and he squeezed his eyes shut. But that only served to provide a backdrop to the vivid mental images. Of Richard reaching for his knife. Of Colin being quicker. Of the sickeningly smooth slide of razor-sharp metal into skin. Of the rush of Richard’s warm blood oozing over his hands. Watching the life fade from the dulling eyes of a man he’d once considered a friend.

  “Colin.”

  He opened his eyes. She stood in front of him, her eyes filled with concern and a fierce determination. Reaching out, she clasped his hands. “You did what you had to do.”

  He nodded. “I know. Deep inside I know. But there’s another part of me that cannot forget that I took another man’s life, regardless of how deserving he was. That I left his wife a widow.”

  “She was left a widow by the choices he made.”

  “My common sense knows that. But sometimes even when you know you did what you had to do, what was necessary in order to survive, there’s still a small part that rejects those actions. A small part of your soul you lose and can’t quite get back.” His gaze searched hers. “It’s difficult to explain.”

  She swallowed and squeezed his hands. “I…I understand.”

  “Something told me you would,” he said gently. “That’s why I told you.”

  “You said no one knows of this. Was his treachery not made public?”

  “No. In order to spare his wife the shame of his betrayal, it is assumed by everyone to this day that he died a hero.”