Cheryl Holt (16 page)

Shortly, she was ushered into a parlor, complete with sofa, bookshelves, lace curtains, and paintings on the wall. The normal furnishings dispelled her worries as to his status. He appeared to be a gentleman of some means.

Beyond the initial room, she espied his bedchamber and a bed with a carved headboard. The view made her
stomach swarm with butterflies, and she twirled away, pretending it didn’t exist.

Someone had prepared the space for their arrival. A fire burned in the grate, and candles established the mood. A table was positioned in front of the hearth, set with china, a white tablecloth and napkins, shiny silverware, and a bouquet of flowers. Two chairs were cozily situated, food and wine laid out.

It was the most romantic sight she’d ever witnessed, and she was assailed anew with the evidence of how drab her life was, with how little attention Alex paid her. They’d never had an intimate meal, and the lack had her unaccountably angry, but she chased away the spurt of temper.

Alex had no business popping up in the middle of her special rendezvous.

She listened as James shut and locked the door, but she wasn’t concerned over being sequestered with him. Whatever transpired, it would be brought about by her own choices, and it would be marvelous.

He came up behind her, took her cloak, and hung it on a hook, and she could feel his gaze roving over her, and she wondered what he saw. He was very worldly, and likely had women guests to his residence all the time. She imagined they were gorgeous, exotic females who knew which clothes to don for such a tryst.

As for herself, she’d had great trouble dressing. She hadn’t wanted to arouse suspicion, so she’d had her maid help her to bed, but after the woman left, Rebecca had risen and selected a functional gown she could pull on without assistance.

Her hair had been the major problem. She couldn’t pin it up by herself, so the brunette tresses dangled in a braid down her back.

“I want your hair to be loose,” he said. “May I remove the ribbon?”

The request surprised her. From the year she’d turned twelve and had begun to wear corsets, no man had ever observed her hair flowing free. The notion of granting him permission was disturbing, but she was resolved to explore every novel avenue he suggested.

“I don’t mind,” she replied.

He tugged away the ribbon and unraveled the lengthy mass; then he leaned in and bit at her nape, sending goose bumps down her arms.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Oh, James . . .”

He’d rendered her speechless, and she reached over her shoulder to cradle his cheek. He kissed her palm, the simple gesture making her weak in the knees. He spun her, and he unbuttoned her gloves and drew them off, which was another unusual experience.

Her hands were never bare, and though it was foolish, she felt half-naked. Once again, he instantly noted her distress and sought to reassure her.

“I love your skin,” he claimed. “It’s so smooth and soft. Don’t ever hide yourself from me.”

He escorted her to the table and held her chair; then he sat next to her. They were so close that they were touching all the way down.

“I thought we’d serve ourselves,” he explained. “So we’d have more privacy.”

“That’s fine.”

“Are you positive?” he inquired. “I can ring for a servant. It’s no bother.”

“No, no. This is perfect.”

The dishes were covered, so she didn’t know what
meal he’d arranged. The food smelled delicious, but she couldn’t start eating.

She was caught up in the gray of his eyes. He was so handsome, so masculine. He exuded a rough aura that was different from every other man of her acquaintance. If he hadn’t been attired so fashionably—in a blue coat and tan trousers—she couldn’t have guessed how he earned his living. She might have pegged him as a highwayman.

His circumstance seemed a pretense, where he was eager to shuck off his jacket and become someone else. He was always coiled for action, as if he expected to be attacked from the rear so he needed to watch over his shoulder.

She’d noticed his limp, as well as a scar on his face, and she traced across it. “How did you acquire this?”

He shrugged her away. “It was a minor quarrel, long in the past.”

“Did it hurt?”

“At the time, very much.”

They stared, neither able to speak or look away, and he bent nearer and kissed her, his lips delightful and demanding. She was deluged, by his heat, by his scent, by the hard planes of his body. She couldn’t think or pull away; she could only hold on.

His tongue was in her mouth, his hands in her hair. As constantly happened when she was with him, she was propelled much deeper into the passionate frenzy than she’d ever planned to go.

He slipped his fingers inside her gown and massaged her breast, pinching at the nipple, and she was electrified. At that moment, he might have persuaded her to engage in any recklessness.

With a wrenching gasp, she yanked away.

“Please stop,” she begged.

“No.” He was ablaze with desire and another emotion she couldn’t name. “Why did you come to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re here in my bachelor’s abode, when it goes against everything you’ve been taught. Will you leave him? Will you run away with me?”

“No. I never could. Alex is my life, my destiny.”

“He doesn’t love you!”

“He doesn’t have to love me.”

“And why shouldn’t he?”

“It’s not required!” She felt compelled to defend their staid relationship, but the statement sounded so idiotic. “Alex is just. . . Alex.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“I. . . I. . .”

She couldn’t put into words the strange impulses that were driving her. She’d had to be with him, had had to revel in the thrilling rush she enjoyed when in his presence.

She was surrounded by people, her world peppered with parties and friends, yet she was so lonely! When she peered down the road to her marriage and beyond, she didn’t see that fact changing. If anything, she suspected she might be even more forlorn.

Tears surged into her eyes, and suddenly she was about to weep. At witnessing her upset, he appeared stricken, and he hugged her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Don’t cry.”

“I can’t help myself!” she wailed. “Since I’ve met you, I’ve been so confused.”

“Everything will be all right,” he soothed.

She struggled against a dam of despair that was waiting to burst. She was laden with a desolation she hadn’t
realized she’d been carrying, and she’d like to dump it on his sturdy shoulders, but she wouldn’t.

He was fascinating and exciting—sort of like a prancing, untamed stallion—but she’d never be brave enough to actually ride such a wild beast. She was who she was, despite how she might secretly pine to be different.

“I wish I was who you assume me to be,” she told him. “I wish I was free to do whatever I wanted.”

“You are!”

“No. It’s simply not in me to behave so badly.”

“Stanton wouldn’t miss you for a second,” he scathingly contended.

Though she was certain he was correct, she declared, “You’re wrong. He would be terribly shamed and hurt.”

She pushed her chair away from his, needing to separate herself, to create space. When he touched her, she couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t render appropriate decisions.

“I shouldn’t have come,” she murmured, and she stood. “Would you be so kind as to take me home?”

“You can’t leave yet. I won’t let you. Not when you’re so distraught.” He stood, too, and he gestured at the table. “At least eat a bite. Have a glass of wine. It will calm you.”

“You’ve gone to so much trouble, and I’m being so ungracious.” Tears threatened again, and she gulped them down. “Please, may I go?”

He studied her, cataloguing her features, but she couldn’t abide his scrutiny, and she glanced away.

“I could make you so happy,” he insisted.

“No, you couldn’t. You have no idea of what I need or who I am.”

“I know exactly what you need. You need
me.”

He drew her toward him, his lips finding hers for the
sweetest kiss. It coaxed and urged and pleaded, and she clung to him, gripping him so tightly that if she’d released him, she’d have fallen to the floor.

It was a magical, charged instant, as though a portal had opened and she could walk through it—or not. She dawdled on a threshold between who she was and who she could be, but in the end, she hadn’t the courage to step across to the other side.

“I can’t stay,” she whispered.

He was ready to argue, ready to cajole, but on noting her determination he sighed with resignation. “So be it.”

He fetched her cloak, and she tarried like a statue as he draped it around her and tied the hood. She was overcome by the most weighty impression of conclusion, as if there were a stone on her lungs that was so heavy she couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t be angry with me,” she implored.

“Angry? With you? I never could be.” As if he might caress her a final time, he reached out, then thought better of it and dropped his hand. “Let’s be off.”

He led her out, and the carriage was still parked at the corner. The driver and footman were huddled together, sharing a flask, and they leapt to attention. As the footman assisted her, he and James exchanged a significant look she didn’t understand. James shrugged imperceptibly but had no comment.

The door was closed, and they were away. They traveled in an awkward silence, but she didn’t know how to break it. There were so many things she wanted to say, so many parting remarks she wanted to utter, but none of them seemed fitting.

After an excruciating interval, they arrived in the alley behind Alex’s mansion, her one pitiful adventure cut
short by cowardice. She suffered a wave of embarrassment at how she’d sneaked off, at how she was slinking back to Alex, with James lurking in the shadows.

She had to exit, but after she did, she’d never see him again.

Don’t go! Don’t leave him!
The voice rattled so loudly in her head that it ached, and she fought the strongest compulsion to fling herself into his arms, to tell him she’d changed her mind, but she said nothing; she did nothing.

“I’ll watch till you’re safely inside,” he advised.

“Thank you.”

“If you ever need me—for any reason—promise you’ll send for me.”

He furnished her with directions to a pub on the Thames, which she found odd, but as this was farewell, it wasn’t necessary to question him about it.

“I won’t ever contact you.”

“You just never know what might happen,” he replied, and he gave her fingers a squeeze. “Good-bye.”

With all the words clogging her throat, she couldn’t respond, and she lingered, absurdly hoping for a last kiss, but the footman was observing all, the residence so nearby.

She tugged at her hood and climbed out; then she raced to the rear gate and flitted across the lawn to the house. Without incident, she crept up the servants’ stairs to her room. She shut the door, went to the bed, and sat down in the quiet, and it was as though she’d never left, at all.

  11  

Alex walked the last few steps to Ellen’s room, unable to believe he was being so reckless. It was wrong to persevere with his infatuation, but he couldn’t stop. His nocturnal visits meant everything to him. They’d taken over his life, every minute agonizing, as he watched the clock tick toward evening and the moment he could be with her again.

He never saw her during the day. She had been living in his house for weeks, yet she was like a phantom, hiding and changing her schedule so that they never crossed paths. Should they suddenly come face-to-face he couldn’t imagine how they’d act.

Her stealthy behavior was driving him mad, and though it was insane to wish it, he yearned for a relationship that included memories generated outside her bedchamber.

She would leave soon, would finish her employment and move on, and her imminent departure was eating at him, though he couldn’t figure out why. She was nothing to him, and had no hold over him, other than the fact that
they were compatible in their amorous pursuits. Previously, he’d never been tempted to more than a fleeting fling. He was aware of how rapidly desire could spiral, how quickly it could wane, so his libidinous habits were appalling, the practice of fidelity never contemplated.