An Impossible Attraction (18 page)

He winced, waking immediately, sitting up. “What? What time is it? Did I fall asleep?” The bleary look left his eyes. “You got engaged, by God! This calls for a drink.”

She clasped his shoulder, restraining him from getting up. “It’s the next morning, Father.” She turned. “Olivia, would you bring Father his coffee?”

“What time is it?” he groused, now glancing outside.

“It’s only half past eight,” she said, sitting down beside him. “Father, I have come to my senses. Olivia and Corey have been right all along. I cannot—and will not—marry the squire simply for the means he can provide us.”

Edgemont seemed confused, and then he was clearly taken aback. “You were engaged last night, Alexandra,” he warned.

“No, Father, you and Mr. Denney agreed to a betrothal, but no one has signed a contract, and I am not wearing a betrothal ring.” She was firm.

He stood up; so did she. “We are signing contracts
tonight
,” he said ominously. “We are announcing the betrothal, as well.”

She stiffened. “I will not marry him.”

Edgemont’s eyes widened. “You are the obedient one. You are the giving one. You are, in fact, exactly like your mother—the glue holding this family together. Of course you will marry Denney and save this family from ruin.”

Guilt began. Clarewood seemed to give her a dark look, in her mind, as if he sensed she was about to back down and retreat. “I cannot marry him.”

“You can and you will!” Edgemont shouted. “I am your father. I am head of this household. You will obey and respect me, Alexandra!”

She trembled. “Sign what you will. I am twenty-six years old, and legally, I am my own keeper—I cannot be forced into marriage against my will.”

He trembled with rage, and Alexandra thought he might hit her, when he’d never laid a hand on her, not once in her life. “You will do as I say!” he commanded. “You will go to that altar!”

She shook her head, mouth pursed, hating having to refute him this way and reveal that he had no power, none. For, unless he physically dragged her into church, she was not going to marry Denney. They stared at one another, Edgemont trembling with rage, Alexandra grim with sorrow. Then she turned and left the room.

Her sisters were standing in the hall, Olivia holding a cup of coffee, both of them ashen. “What will you do now?” Olivia asked, her tone hushed.

Of course she could not tell them that she meant to accept Clarewood’s indecent offer. She could not tell them that she meant to take him as a lover and accept payment in return. It was sordid. It was wrong. But her sisters would have a future, and it was better than a lifetime of pretense and compromise.

T
HIS TIME, THE JOURNEY
to Clarewood had been a swift and easy one—as far as the logistics of travel were concerned. Ebony had picked up a trot the moment she’d asked him to upon leaving the house, and he hadn’t faltered even once since then. A glance at her pocket watch showed her that less than two hours had passed and they had just turned onto Clarewood’s long shell drive, though the magnificent house was not yet in sight.

Her pulse raced. Her mouth was dry. She’d never been as nervous, not even the last time she had gone to Clarewood to return the roses and the diamond bracelet. He had won. Of course he had. Had the outcome of their contest ever been in dispute? she wondered.

And it would not be the end of the world. Some good would come of it. There would be no going back. Alexandra knew she was giving up all self-respect, but it seemed a small price to pay for her sisters’ livelihoods.

And there was more. She might be losing self-respect, but when she thought of being in his strong arms, her heart leaped and raced, and her tension instantly changed in character. Her heart had been racing ever since leaving Edgemont Way. There was no denying that she felt anticipation as well as dismay. In a few more days she would be the Duke of Clarewood’s mistress!

Alexandra inhaled. As Ebony trotted up the shell drive toward the fountain ahead, she reminded herself that she had to stay focused on the terms of their arrangement. She wished to have a complete and detailed understanding, one that would protect her interests—which included those of her sisters. She’d already decided to ask Clarewood to provide dowries for her sisters. The question was, how much more should she ask for?

Her stomach churned with revulsion. Corey had accused Edgemont of selling her off to Denney, but what she was doing now made her father’s efforts to marry her off seem noble. She was selling her body to the duke. There was only one word to describe that. It would be so different if this was a love affair, or even one of purely physical passion.

She thought about turning back. It wasn’t too late; they could continue on as they had for the past nine years. But Clarewood’s image was so forceful now, compelling her, and her sisters’ future was at stake.

“Ebony, whoa,” she called, pulling on the reins.

And then she heard galloping hoofbeats coming up rapidly behind her. She twisted to look at the approaching horseman. And even before she could recognize the rider on the magnificent black stallion, she knew it was Clarewood.

He rode the way he did everything else—with power and authority, as if he were not just a prince but a king.

Her tension spiraled. He halted beside her carriage so precipitously that shells sprayed its wheels. As she stared, she realized he was even more dashing than usual in his riding clothes. And now that he was beside her, she once again had that odd sense of being safe.

Alexandra met his intense dark blue stare. It was filled with speculation. “Good afternoon,” he said, his mouth softening. “Are you returning my horse?”

She trembled, her heart lurching. If she said yes, she would go home holding her head high. If she said no, she would begin a new journey, one that would change her life forever.

“Miss Bolton?” he murmured, still staring. “Can I entice you to come inside and take tea? Perhaps you can then work on forming the answer I wish to hear.”

She wet her lips. “I am not returning the horse.”

He started, and then, slowly, he smiled. “I see.” He was obviously pleased. He gave her a direct look, one that caused her body to tighten impossibly, and he dismounted, leading his horse to the back of the carriage and tying him firmly there. Alexandra didn’t move as he came around to the driver’s side of her small vehicle. She wasn’t sure she was even breathing. She was about to become his mistress, and she was acutely aware of the magnitude of that decision.

He smiled again. “May I?”

At first she didn’t hear him, too busy staring at his handsome face, at his high cheekbones, that straight, patrician nose and those brilliantly blue eyes. She felt helpless and lost, a small rowboat churning in the sea of his charisma. Then, when he said her name, his tone more forceful now, she came to her senses, moving over so he could climb up and take the reins. “Of course.”

But the moment he settled down on the seat beside her, it became even harder to think. Only centimeters separated them now. It was hard to breathe, even harder to pretend he did not affect her so completely. She was acutely aware of his big, male body, so close to her.

“I am thrilled to have your company,” he remarked, driving the horse forward. “Can I assume the journey over was a pleasant one and that you are enjoying Ebony?”

She inhaled and realized he’d heard it. “It was very pleasant—in marked contrast to the other day.”

He smiled, eying her closely now. “You seem overwrought, Miss Bolton.”

She was not going to tell him how she felt, or why she felt as she did. “You are mistaken. I am…suffering from a mild migraine.”

One brow arced upward, indicating mild disbelief. “We shall have to remedy that. My housekeeper has some miraculous potions. And how is your father?” he asked politely, as they rounded the fountain.

My father is furious with me. He continues to drink himself silly and to gamble our means away
. She smiled. “Very well, thank you.”

He gave her a sidelong look. “By the way, I happen to detest trivial speech and rarely find myself in the position of having to instigate it.”

She turned to look at him, and their gazes locked. It was so hard to speak when he stared at her as he did, with slightly smoldering eyes. “If you must know, it has been years since I have been out in society. I’d forgotten how much casual banter there is. I am afraid I am now lacking in that particular social grace.”

“Good,” he said flatly, surprising her. “Can we agree that no conversation at all is better than the mundane and the inane?”

She inhaled sharply, surprised. “Yes, we can.”

“So you will not mind long silences?”

She continued to stare, aware of how handsome he was, and now, how powerfully masculine. Did he know why she had come? Was he assuming there would be many more moments like this one? “I will not mind long silences.”

He seemed amused. “Then you will be the first, Miss Bolton. And may I say that I find you refreshing and original in many respects?”

Her eyes widened. Surprise became an absurd pleasure. “Have you just flattered me, Your Grace?”

“I have.” He halted the gelding in front of the house. “I have no patience for coquetry and am frankly bored with coquettes. I am glad you are not one of them.”

She trembled, shocked. Was he implying that he was not only attracted to her but that he
liked
her?

He leaped down from the carriage with impossibly athletic grace, as if a man of twenty. Then, as a stable boy began running over to take the horse, he held up his hand to her. “May I?” He smiled.

She felt as if the earth were spinning wildly now. The regard he was sending her was so frank and so intimate that it was as if she were the only woman who existed.

If he truly cared, this would be so much easier, she thought. Alexandra gave him her hand. And the moment she did, a jolt went through her, one very much like lightning. She let him help her down, hoping he hadn’t noticed how affected she was by his praise, his warmth and his touch.

“You are trembling,” he said softly.

She jerked and looked into his blue eyes.

“I am glad.”

Realizing he still held her hand, she pulled it away. She’d meant to hide her anxiety, but his candor was tugging at her. “I am nervous.”

His eyes widened. “Then I am sorry,” he said. “Because, in spite of my reputation, I do not bite, and in spite of what is transpiring, I intend to be respectful.” He gestured, and Alexandra preceded him into the house, even more surprised by his last words.

In the front hall, as she gave her coat to a servant, she said, “Your Grace, I was hoping to have a private word.”

“I am hardly surprised. Shall I delay tea?” His gaze was searching now.

She nodded, wanting to get the impending negotiation over with. He touched her waist lightly—a gesture no stranger would ever dare—and Alexandra walked forward, thinking,
He knows.
He knew why she had come, otherwise he would not be looking at her as he was, or touching her so improperly, as if they were already intimate.

He guided her into his library, closing the ebony doors behind them. A fire burned in the green marble hearth, and Alexandra quickly went to stand there. There were no more doubts as her mind raced; instead, there was only the question of how to proceed and best protect her sisters’ futures.

Suddenly his hard body bumped her from behind. She jumped, whirling to face him; he steadied her by clasping her elbows briefly. “You are very anxious. You need not be. Maybe I can make this easier for you.” His gaze remained intent and searching. “You have come to accept my offer.”

She nodded. “I have rejected the squire. There will be no marriage.”

His eyes blazed. “Good. I never share.”

She inhaled, taken aback.

“Alexandra,” he said softly. “Come, let’s be frank now. You will be my mistress. I expect absolute loyalty from you.”

“God, it sounds so sordid!”

He took her arms. “There is nothing sordid about the desire we share. It is natural, my dear. It is hardly as if we are two young innocents.”

She trembled as the conflagration instantly began, warming all parts of her body. Because she
was
innocent, and moral, not that he would ever know.

“What is it? I can see doubt in your eyes.”

She hesitated, tempted to tell him the truth: that she never had had a lover. Then she could ask him why he had assumed the worst of her. But she was afraid he might change his mind about their affair. It was so ironic. “How can you possibly respect me?”

His eyes widened. “You are a gentlewoman. It is my duty to respect you.”

Lovely words, but they would not change her own lack of honor. “So you have respected your previous mistresses?”

He released her. “That is an interesting question.” He stared. “No, actually, I have not.”

She wondered at that. “But somehow I will be the exception?”

“Why are we dwelling upon respect?”

“It is important to me.”

He was thoughtful for a long moment. “You are an interesting woman, Alexandra, and I find myself constantly intrigued. I am aware that, somehow, you are not like the others. You do not take our liaison lightly, obviously.”

“No, I do not.”

His gaze narrowed. “You truly wished to marry the squire and would have done so if I hadn’t interfered?”

“Probably. It was my intention.”

“And was it my charm that has changed your mind?” He was wry.

She trembled. “I believe you know that you are very hard to resist. It is also obvious that you do not take no for an answer.”

“I do not.” He touched her cheek. “Especially not in your case, when so much desire rages between us,” he added softly.

She was throbbing acutely in every fiber of her being now. “We must discuss our arrangement,” she managed.

He became bemused and dropped his hand, but in such a way that his fingers slid across her jaw, sending a spiral of pleasure through her. “Very well, if you insist.”